Urania

“So, that’s why you could not show me the dagger,” Twilight says.

“That’s right, my débutante,” answers Dark Wing. “You see now why I earnestly beg you to be patient. Everything comes in good time.”

“However, that disappearance must have been a big slap for you, the spearhead of materialists, who treats magic as a mere spectacle for dummies.”

“You’re right. I clearly confess that I was flabbergasted at first. Who could have done that? I was frantically trying to figure it out, but it was beyond my ken. Reluctantly, I shuffled back to the group. Something in my countenance should have betrayed my dismay, because Carolyn asked me right away what was wrong, and why I looked so glum. ‘If anypony has hidden the dagger just for fun,’ I said, ‘that’s a tasteless joke.’

“‘What?’ exclaimed Carolyn. ‘You mean the dagger has disappeared too?’

“‘Disappeared, I don’t know,’ I replied, trying to mitigate her reaction. ‘In any case, it is not in the box where I put it anymore. Did someone borrow it in order to examine it?’ I inquired. I gazed at everypony, but they all shook their head silently.

“‘I won’t stay here one more minute’, shouted Carolyn, stricken by a sudden terror.

“‘Wait, hold on, there must be an expl–’

“‘I don’t care to hear your explanations!’ she squealed. ‘I don’t give a hoot to your spiels or seemingly rational ramblings. The great-uncle and his farm: Pfuit! Vanished into thin air. The dagger: Whoop! Whizzed off. Who’s next? Us? Do you really think I’m going to stay here waiting to be assaulted by some lingering evil force? I was hired to decipher inscriptions and for my expertise with palimpsests, not to fend off nefarious spirits. I have a family and I intend to return to Canterlot alive.’ She faces everypony, as if looking for support. ‘Do as you wish. If you want to kick the bucket, please go ahead. I scram. Game over for me. Adios amigos. Good luck.’

“With these words, she turned around and rushed to her cart. I tried to reason with her again, even though I wasn’t feeling quite positive myself. ‘Come on! You know it’s plain baloney. Do you really believe that the skeletons will rise and stab you with a cursed dagger? That’s asinine…’ She ignored me, and kept busying herself adjusting her harness. ‘Okay,’ I carried on, coming closer to her, ‘you win. We beat it right now, cross the brook and run as far as possible from this place. It’s a deal?’

“‘No!’ she screamed, turning around to face me, ‘that’s no deal! I’m sorry but I’m no daredevil: I don’t throw myself intentionally into dragons’ dens. I’m not cut out for this kind of foolishness. My name’s not Daring Do. You have the chosen the wrong fellow; you should have recruited her, not me. Ciao! See you never again!’ She harnessed herself, then galloped away, despite the slick slope.

“‘Pfff… Daring Do… What a nonsense!’ I said to myself, as she was dashing away.”

“Do you despise Daring Do?” Twilight cuts in. “She is but one of the greatest and boldest living archeologists!”

“Actually, I don’t despise her. I know Yearling quite well,” responds Dark Wing. “But she is no gallant adventurer trying to save the world. Neither is she an archeologist, by the way. She is just a talented writer.”

“You’re wrong!” protests Twilight. “I’ve seen her being attacked by henchmen, and later risk her life to recover some powerful ring stolen by Ahuizotl. Yearling and Daring Do are one and the same! She writes her own adventures and feats! I promise you!”

“Oh, I’m aware of that. But it’s just half of the whole story.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she tells nopony, but she’s in cahoots with Ahuizotl.”

“Eh? Are you kidding me? He is notoriously evil!”

“No! He’s just her stooge. Did you ever wonder how come she always saved the day in extremis? Even when she seemed stuck in an utterly desperate situation? It never occurred to you that it was fishy? Clearly, had Daring Do been a fictional character, you could simply have dismissed the doubt considering the conclusion was contrived, however debatably, by the author, in order to save her heroine for the next volume. But knowing it was real?

“Listen to me: Yearling has never taken a course in archaeology. As you know, she studied literature. Well, let’s say she must have followed a basic course in history. But essentially she is a writer, and she was eking out a paltry life from her – meh – works. At a given point in time, she had a bright idea and decided to create this series, Daring Do, featuring the fantastic adventures of a kind of super-heroine, with Ahuizotl, that she had met before but don’t ask me where or when, as the great villain. Although she has some flaws, she is very nitpicking when it comes to telling tales: she wanted them to sound as realistic as possible. And what’s better to write a realistic story than to experience it the hard way?

“She therefore figured out, in accordance with Ahuizotl, to proceed in two steps: firstly, she scrawls an idea of scenario, only very rough highlights. Then, she sets up the scenery, hires extras and stunts, and performs her script as it was laid out. It’s a kind of outdoor role playing game. This way, she dives herself deep into the environment, the atmosphere. And sometimes she even stumbles into unforeseeable snags. Then, she couches everything in her final manuscript, and it gives some extra punch to the text.

When it comes to dough, they somehow made a deal, though I don’t know what’s the exact cut of Ahuizotl.”

“B… But,” stammers Twilight, “what about the traps and the temples that crumble into dust?”

“Faked,” explains Dark Wing. “Basic machinery, powered by extras. Big architectural artefacts, built up in a few days, are mainly made up of plastered papier mâché. Hard and light at the same time. Easy to bring down just by removing a few key pegs. You risk nothing being buried under… fortunately for Ahuizotl, his big cats and the extras.”

“Now I understand,” ponders Twilight, “why she wanted Rainbow Dash to stay away, pretending she worked alone.”

“Exactly. She keeps everypony at bay, lest her trick be discovered.”

“That’s why you dislike her.”

“I don’t really hate or dislike her; well, I don’t dote on her neither. I admit she has done a lot to popularize archeology amidst the youth, and since her books have become such big hits, the courses are always crowded. At the same time, the image she gaves of the discipline is rather misleading: archaeology is not about chasing relics, being caught in deadly traps, saving the world or fighting off mighty villains: that’s entertainment, not science. As a result, many students end up disappointed, and the number of real vocations remains more or less unchanged.”

“Darn!” Twilight says. “I thought I knew almost everything about A.K.Yearling, and I discover that I had missed the crux. How did you learn all that?”

“Archeology is a small small world, Twilight. Sooner or later, everything surfaces, even the most secret stories. In addition, do you really think Celestia would have tolerated the existence of such threatening enemies in Equestria without interfering? No, she would somehow have put an end to it long ago.”

“You’re right,” admits Twilight. “It’s an aspect I had not considered. In the end, I think I’d rather not know the truth: it’s a huge letdown.”

“I’m sorry to have riven your illusions. But so much with Miss Yearling Daring Do, back to the story.

“I walked back towards the rest of the party. ‘Okay, if anypony else wants to quit, now is a fine time!’ I grunted angrily. But nopony budged. ‘All right, thanks! It’s heartwarming to see that nopony is frighten by the whammy.’

“‘I find Carolyn’s behavior rather suspect,’ observed Chromatin.

“‘In what way?’

“‘Firstly, she was almost the only one to examine the dagger closely. Next, she declined your proposal to be accompanied when she went back to fetch her book.’

“ ‘So what?’

“‘She could have pinched the dagger and, just before leaving for the farm, concealed it in her saddlebag. She could have done just the same with her book, picking it up slyly from her stuff and putting it into her pouch. Finally, she could have merely loitered in the forest for a while, dunking the book in a puddle – that’s not a rare resource over there. Being back, she feigns distress, puts on an act to justify her running off with the dagger. You see, it does not seem crazy.’

“‘Could make sense,’ I acknowledged. ‘But still why would she snitch the dagger?’

“‘I don’t know,’ answered Chromatin. ‘To sell it? Barter it? Maybe she wants to be the first to decipher the chiseled inscription?’

“‘Hmmm… Plausible, but I’m not fully convinced. But the good news is that, if what you say is true, there is nothing to fear from this dagger anymore. Neither do we have any business here by the way. It’s too late to set out for Urania today, so I suggest we go downhill and look for a ford where we could cross the stream safely tomorrow. Okay?’

“Everypony seemed relieved to leave this place at last, so they all welcomed my proposal. Soon, we had gathered all our stuff in our carts and were climbing down carefully. When we reached the foot of the mound, we veered to follow the bank of the brook, heading upstream at a sustained pace. After half an hour, I halted and looked back. Through the murk that swirled from the ground, the shape of Tombhill was already distant, barely visible, like the shadow of a tooth fallen from the jaw of a forgotten giant. I sighed, and resumed walking.

“After one more hour at slow pace, the river suddenly widened, and we found ourselves on the shore of a large, but shallow pond. ‘This is the perfect place,’ I said. ‘Let’s camp here for the night.’ We unfastened our harnesses and sagged on the grass, pooped. The drizzling had finally ceased, but the sky was still bleak and ominous with clouds; the ambiant light was so scant that this late afternoon was as gloomy as dusk. I rummaged through my cart to find a few dry twigs with which to ignite a fire, but the meager harvest I made meant we’d have to do without.

“‘No fire tonight,’ I said. ‘Not enough tinder left.’

“‘Let me help!’ proposed Bones. ‘Go get some wood. I’ll start the fire myself.’

“We found some dead willow branches nearby, but, given the weather, soaked. ‘That will do,’ said Bones, satisfied. We made a heap of them; he then cast a spell, and they kindled despite the humidity. We soon felt the warmth of the flames. ‘You see,’ he carried on, smirking at me, ‘sometimes magic can be useful.’

“‘Hmmm…’ I replied, blasé. ‘Give me a jerrican of alcohol, and I will do the same.’

“‘Sure, but a jerrican of alcohol is less talkative than a forensic unicorn physician!” he joked.

“‘Ok, Bones, you win for this time. Let’s enjoy this fire, the last, I hope, before we dive in the unknown.’

“And so we spent the evening bantering and laughing, as if we had to let loose all the strain of the last hours. As we were about to hit the hay, the clouds broke, and the Moon appeared in the gaps. This mere spectacle perked me up, and I fell asleep lighthearted.

⁂

“Something bugged me in my slumber. I opened my eyes, but all my retinæ registered was a pitch, absolute, boundless darkness. Everything seemed to have been dissolved by this dense and slimy nothingness. Complete silence. Where was I? I tried to move my head, but failed, as if I was totally paralyzed. I suddenly realized I didn’t feel my body anymore. In fact, nothing seemed to exist anymore, except myself and this infinite blackness. How had I arrived here and how long would I stay? Stricken with a sudden panic, I shouted for help, but I had no throat with which to make a sound. I lay, helpless, stranded in the center of a formless and smothering void. Overcome, I surrendered and waited.

“How long did I tarry here, alone, lost and powerless, I couldn’t tell. All of a sudden, I became aware of a presence: something, somepony was watching me, first from afar, then nearer and nearer. But I still could not see a thing. A new fear built up in me, a seizing, barely bearable terror, so overwhelming it couldn’t be natural. I definitely heard and sensed a deep and regular breath close to me, which was not mine. Then an invisible eye began to scrutinize me, down to the remotest corner of my mind, laying me bare. I would rather have cowered, hunched, run away, disappeared, rather than undergo such a thorough examination. But I still didn’t have any body to command, no muscle to act upon. I could not move, I had to endure, crying out my distress in a long inaudible shriek.

“As suddenly as it had begun, this dreadful scan came to an end. The anguish dissolved into a feeling of intense curiosity, of thirst for knowledge. In the distance, two faint and flickering lights eventually appeared. They approached, slowly, almost shyly, until I could tell they were two living flames, burning on their own. As they drew close, I was replenished with a tender, almost motherly warmth. Something touched me. A hoof? Life flew through me anew, a boiling, strengthening sap that spread throughout my… body? The hoof fondled me almost lovingly, and with every caress my bones, my entrails, my flesh were reborn. Now one and whole again, I carved to thank the power that had resurrected me, but found I still could not speak, so I bowed my head in gratitude. In front of me, the flames were wavering, lighting my face in a mesmerizing unreal glimmer.

“Unexpectedly, they were put out; darkness fell abruptly. The cozy warmth was blown away by a gust of a freezing cold which almost curdled my blood. The presence was still here, but no longer friendly; it had become threatening, ominous. Very slowly, the gloom that was surrounding me receded; blotches of light appeared, that acquired substance and sharpness, as if my sight was progressively focussing. I finally recognized that they were torches hanging on a wall… made of earth? Shuddering, I understood that this place was none other than the entrance of the cave of Tombhill.

“An evil, sardonic laugh resounded behind me. I tried to turn around, but once again my body did not respond to my will: I could not move. When the last echoes of that grisly giggling had died away, a voice, deep, hollow, uttered strange words in a language I didn’t understand: ‘Mihi evadere non potes, amice parvule mi. Nunc nefas tuo reddere debes. Ambulas! Exspectare victima sua morti non placet.’ Involuntarily, my body twitched and lurched forward, heading slowly downwards. I knew very well where this forced walk would end.

“After a few meters, standing on each side of the tunnel, two rows of ponies loomed out of the shadows, their heads poised in a perfect stillness. Their bodies were fully hidden under a bicolored outfit, made up of strange and grotesque patterns, sometimes black, sometimes red, sewn together by golden strands; only their pupils, glistening with the light of the torches, were visible through purposefully designed chinks. When I reached the first one, he bowed down. ‘Ave sacerdos maximus victimaque’ he recited, his voice full of awe. The second, the third, and so on, repeated the same salute. I was walking in the middle of two arrays twisted by a strange wave that was running down at the same pace than I.

“Arriving at the threshold of the hall, I beheld a portentous spectacle. The room was filled with ponies, clad in the same way than those standing in the tunnel; their conversations were deafening. The onyx altar had been covered by a black and red cloth, on which shined the evil dagger I had thought lost. A brazier had been placed on each side of the table; I caught a glance of the glowing embers. Next to these stood thurifers, who wore plain crimson fabrics and were swinging crook-shaped censers. The bitter odor of the incense was permeating the air. As I was compelled to walk further, the throng parted before me; everypony bobbed at my approach, muttering the same cryptic sentence. Sluggishly, I emerged into a free area around the altar. Here, my body halted, and the very power that had been pushing me forward forced me to grovel.

“I heard a heavy clopping coming from behind, skirting around me, then stopping ahead. I could not raise my head, but I figured out it was the priest that had followed me all this time. ‘Tacete! Nunc oremus!’ roared the voice. A profound hush fell, hardly disturbed by feeble murmurs. It lasted for a while. ‘Cantemus et laudemus deum nostrum, Uran, vindicem maximum!’ As these words were spoken, the crowd exploded with frenzy. A mad beating filled the cave, and everypony started stomping their hooves; so strong was the shaking that I feared the ceiling would crack and crumble. The hall was now overflowing with these thunderous pulses, soon joined by the crazy shrieks and screams of ponies in trance. Immobilized, sprawling on the floor, I could only guess what was going on.

“This unbearable pounding did not cease. On the contrary, it gained momentum, ran wild. Every throb became intolerable, resounding in my skull as if I was continuously hammered by a mallet. A violent headache seized me; I felt my blood thumping in my temples and my brain bloating, as if it were to explode. Slowly, the pain descended through my spine and seeped into every cell of my body. I was nopony anymore, I was just a lump of painful flesh, thrashed between hammer and anvil, bruised, broken, riven to…

“I must have fainted. When I regained consciousness, I found myself lying on the altar. The drumming had faded, at last. The hall was completely silent; the air, muggy. A waft of complex nature was floating around: it reeked of incense, of charred wood, of sweat. A hefty hoof was pressing my head against the stone. I heard the dreaded voice once again: ‘Uran, tu deus deorum, sanguinem vitamque equi illius tibi donamus. Dona nobis potestam tuam, ut hostes nostri vincere possimus.’ ‘Mors!’ answered the crowd.

“I knew I was going to die. Strangely, I was experiencing no fear anymore, just a profound peace, a deep resignation, as if I had eventually given up my will to survive and passed already beyond hope, awaiting almost eagerly the lethal blow that was now imminent. I heard a deep breath, and the hoof that was pinning my head moved slightly. I figured that the other foreleg was now rising, and cringed mentally in anticipation of the final…

“But at this very moment, something unexpected happened. I heard a loud yell, and right after what seemed the sound of a stampede. Something? Many things swished around, and there were shrieks of panic and pain everywhere. In the cacophony, I now distinctly perceived clear clangs, such as weapons hitting each other. Swords? A missile of some sort, then another, whizzed over me, immediately followed by a loud growl and a big thud, as of a body crumpling on the floor. A joyful clamor rose over the fracas. But at this very moment, I was hit by a sudden dizziness. The confusion around me swelled into a thunderous roar, and once again a veil of darkness obscured my senses. The fracas became indistinct. I closed my eyes and fell into a depthless pit of oblivion. I swooned and knew no more.

⁂

“I awoke, drenched in sweat. Above me, the Moon was shining brightly in the empyrean, and the air, fresh and pristine, was full of the scent of moisten earth. In the silence of the night, the sweet singing of the water, flowing lazily down around mossy cobbles, was clearly perceptible. I turned my head around and saw Bones gazing at me.

“‘You dreamed of it, too? Your breath, your moans, your twitches betrayed you.’

“‘What are you taking about?’ I asked, still deeply shaken by my vision.

“‘The void, the fire, the priest, the hall, the procession, the final bloodshed. You saw it too, didn’t you?’

“ ‘Yes, I did. And it was one of worst nightmares I ever had. I don’t want to speak about it anymore. But how come you dreamed of the same thing?’

“‘I don’t know. But we were the only one to explore this cave.’ He pointed at the others, who were sleeping quietly.

“‘Coincidence?’ I put forward.

“‘I don’t believe in coincidences,’ answered the medic. ‘Not in this case, at least.’

“‘But do you believe in homeopathy?’ I inquired.

“‘I have no opinion on that subject,’ he replied. ‘I am a forensic physician. I deal in corpses, not in sicknesses. Some of my colleagues are wild with it, other claim it’s a scam set up by mountebanks. But what’s the point?’

“‘Homeopathy is based on an hypothetic memory of water, if I am not mistaken. You dilute an active substance so much that nothing is left in the end, but the cure is still effective, as if something did remain. Homeopathy, in a sense, works in volume, in space. Could there be also a chronomeopathy? An event happen, something awful or stupendous. Then, as time passes, places change, memories fade, buildings are deserted and crumble, until there is no visible trace of the past anymore; and yet, could it be that something endures, something insubstantial, something so tenuous that only our subconscious could register it? I wonder…’

“’I am rather surprised you ask me that, given your rationalistic quirks. How could we possibly know?’ answered the medic. ‘We something believe we are omniscient, but we soon figure out that the gist of all things still escapes our understanding. Science explains many phenomena, but often raises more questions than answers. I am positive our universe is full of forces we can’t even guess so subtle they are, and our crude instruments can’t even register them.’

“‘You’re right,’ I approved. ‘Too often scientists are prone to scoff at theories only because they sound crazy to them, without even indulging into the teensiest verification. For them, science has become a stiff dogma, same as religion. Everything that crosses the normality border must be banned. Although they are so many riddles yet to solve…’

“‘Yup!’ he said, ‘delicate question.’ He did not speak further, and contemplated the shifting reflection of the Moon on the crystal waters of the pond. ‘I don’t think I’m going to able to sleep anymore tonight,’ he finally murmured.

“‘Neither do I. We are both bound to stay awake until dawn, I guess.’

“I stood up, took a blanket and shuffled slowly away, following the shore. After a few hundred meters, I sat down again. Picking up tiny stones, I threw them one by one in the pond. Splash! Splash! I watched the wavelets ripple the surface of the water, snake towards the bank and die on the cobbles. The pale lunar light was bathing the scenery in a silvery glow. I was mulling over my dream, over this procession, that should have taken place eons ago, over these powerless victims, hobbled by invisible bonds, ruthlessly shoved towards a cursed altar before being sacrificed to this demoniac deity. In return for what, did I ask myself. A fancy favor? A short-lived and vain victory in battle? A futile, transient crumb of power? We ignore, I concluded, how blissful we are to live in such a hallowed time as ours.

“I thus let my thoughts rove between past and present. At last, I caught myself yawning. Despite my restlessness, the quietness and tranquility of nature lulled me. I closed my eyes; a warm and pleasant drowsiness crept into my body, and I soon fell in a deep and still slumber.”