The Adventure of an (After)Lifetime
In the two weeks between leaving home and arriving in the heart of Camelbodia, Daring Do had scaled three mountains, trekked through twenty miles of deadly creature-infested jungle, and accumulated a total of twenty injuries ranging from little blisters to enormous scars. All of it could’ve been avoided had she the ability to fly, but no, she just had to pick a fight with that gryphon back at the capitol, a regret she had every time she accidentally bumped her cast wing on a stray tree branch.
All the same, Daring felt a small burst of joy every time she swung her machete at a large section of overgrowth, hacking her way forward with vigorous force. Sweat poured from her brow as she worked diligently to keep making progress, wanting to spend as little time in the jungle as possible. She never stopped to rest, not even when her legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground with a grunt, forcing her to crawl forward while continuing to swing the machete with her mouth.
While Daring forced her way through the jungle, her body looking like absolute crap and steadily reaching the point of dehydration, A.K. Yearling followed a few paces behind and to the left. Never once did they help Daring, or encourage her to stop for a rest and take another drink from her canteen, for the adventurer had specifically forbade them from doing anything of the sort.
Instead, A.K. typed away at the typewriter they had possessed, using it to record every single aspect of Daring Do’s adventure in a novel format, like they’d done for all of her adventures. The near-constant clicking of the typewriter’s keys behind her had been a source of irritation for Daring in the past, but she’d long since grown accustomed to it. Whenever a page was completed, A.K. would gently nudge her side, and Daring would replace it with a clean one while stowing the completed one in her backpack after a quick check-over for errors.
Whenever A.K. wasn’t typing, however, they would keep their attention on Daring as she trudged onward, in spite of her continually-worsening condition. A.K. wasn’t sure what to make of Daring’s tenacity and determination, the ghost having no understanding of what those, or any, concepts entailed on an emotional level.
And yet, now, as A.K. watched Daring abuse her own body to move towards her objective, an actual feeling had begun to form in the ethereal confines of their misty white person. While they had no idea what the feeling was or what it meant, it manifested as a wish that Daring wouldn’t push herself so hard, lest she end up killing herself before anything from the jungle had a chance to do so. Had Daring not forbidden them from interfering with her adventure, A.K. would’ve asked her straight away what the feeling meant.
The sun’s position in the sky indicated the time was mid-late afternoon when Daring finally decided to take a quick break to look over her map. Setting down her machete, she reached into a small pocket on the side of her backpack and pulled the map out, spreading it on the ground in front of her, all the while A.K. continued to type.
Okay, so I’m here- Daring pointed to a particular section of map which was colored purple, labelled “Wakamonii tribe’s last known location”, -and the sacred ritual grounds are somewhere in the north-eastern quadrant.
Daring spent a few minutes studying the map before stowing it back in its designated pocket. She grabbed her machete again and, with A.K. floating right along behind her, made a left turn and continued hacking her way through the jungle.
The pair spent another solid hour trekking onward, during which time the sun came to rest atop the horizon, its light soon to disappear for the night. After dozens of swings with her machete, resulting in a near-usable trail, one swing managed to finally reveal her destination rather than more overgrowth.
Daring smiled as she took in sight of the ancient Wakamonii tribe’s sacred ritual grounds. From one side to the other, the grounds covered a circular area about fifty meters in diameter. A series of three smaller circular indentations, about ten meters in diameter each, were lined up across the center, but their purpose was completely lost on Daring.
The grounds themselves, fittingly enough for their age, were in a state of disrepair. Dilapidated stone carvings surrounded the area, each face cracked and crumbling and of unknown significance. Most of the statues appeared to depict snake heads, or at least the ones that didn’t have large chunks missing out of them. Ivy and vines covered much of the area, in some places enough that it camouflaged the stonework, making it all but invisible. Directly opposite from Daring, on the other side of the grounds, sat a stone pedestal adorned with intricate carvings. Out of all the stone carvings positioned across the sacred grounds, this pedestal was the only one which had remained perfectly intact, showing no obvious signs of extreme age.
Relieved to finally be at her destination, Daring shrugged off her backpack and sat down on the ground, finally getting a much needed rest now that she’d reached the sacred grounds. A.K. emerged from the overgrowth behind her and settled down onto the stone patchwork next to her, never ceasing to type. Daring reached into her backpack and pulled out her canteen, taking a giant swig of water to quench her thirst. The combined sound of her chugging gulps and A.K.’s typing masked the sound of rustling grass slowly approaching from just behind them.
Daring spent the next minute gaining back her energy, after which she wasted no time in beginning her search for her objective: the Spirit Dagger of Chief Wakamonii the 4th. A.K. floated alongside her, still typing away, but at a slower pace since little was happening then. As they walked across the sacred grounds, a faint shadowy figure emerged at the overgrowth’s edge where they had been.
Going off both gut instinct and years of experience, Daring headed straight for the rock pedestal, believing that to be the likeliest resting place for the Spirit Dagger. She searched all around it, even using her machete to hack apart all the vines surrounding it in case the dagger lay hidden underneath. If it’s true what the legends say about the Spirit Dagger having some sort of ‘special dark magic’, than it’d better be worth all the crap I had to go through to see it.
When Daring’s search yielded nothing, she inspected the pedestal itself for any sign of a button or lever, thinking it may be housed in a secret compartment. She hadn’t spent more than two seconds doing so when her ears flicked in response to a sound from behind, just barely audible over the methodical clicks of A.K.’s typing. Daring spun around and assumed a battle stance. Her jaw fell wide open at the sight which greeted her.
Emerging from the bushes in front of Daring, wearing an expression of predatory curiosity, was a Serpent of Unbelievable Length. Its scales were a goldenrod color with lighter yellow splotches along its body, and eyes that were pitch black with no visible pupils. The serpent had a body circumference of about two meters, making it eye level with Daring’s legs, but it kept its head raised like a cobra, making it appear even taller. True to its name, the serpent’s body length was indiscernible as more and more of it continued slithering out of the overgrowth toward Daring.
Daring quickly pulled out her machete, ready to strike at a moment’s notice if the serpent came too close. The serpent hesitated, stopping and staring at Daring in trepidation over its prey’s new defense. A long, uneasy silence stretched between pony and serpent, broken up only by the soft clicking of A.K. tapping the typewriter’s keys. The spirit, however, began to slow the pace of its typing as the unfamiliar feeling from before returned in greater intensity.
Daring was about to take a step back when a sudden blow to the back of her head sent the machete flying out of her mouth and across the grounds, well out of reach. She stumbled forward, her mind lost amongst the buzz of a semi-concussion, but with enough awareness to recognize the feeling of something wrapping around her barrel and lifting her off the ground. When she came to, Daring found herself staring into the serpent’s cold, doll-like black eyes which had, to her disbelief, gained a hint of malicious glee. The serpent then brought the end of its tail into her field of vision, and the sight of her pith helmet hung upon it told Daring the serpent had used its extensive length to sneak its tail around out of her sight in the overgrowth to disarm her.
Defenseless, Daring wriggled in the serpent’s grasp, desperate to break free. The serpent held its malicious expression as it constricted her, quickly knocking the air out of Daring’s lungs. She used her hooves, unrestrained by the serpent’s grasp, to pound away at its scaly hide as hard as she could manage. It did nothing to deter the animal, only making its amusement more apparent as the corners of its mouth lifted up into a wicked grin.
Meanwhile, A.K. had ceased typing entirely. The typewriter, still sitting on the ground next to the stone pedestal, was twitching feverishly, pushing around the dirt with each movement. The spirit now had two warring urges coursing through itself. The first one told them to obey Daring’s instructions not to interfere, while the other, new one, screamed at them to forget about her instructions and help.
Meanwhile, Daring had resumed her pounding against the serpent’s hide, her attacks becoming increasingly aggressive as she felt her lower body begin to go numb. The serpent, however, grew annoyed by her continued resistance. It readied its tail for another strike to Daring’s head, and shot it forward with blinding speed.
Daring just barely reacted in time, the tail sailing just a hair’s length above her head as she ducked down. The tail struck the rock pedestal hard, to which the serpent winced in pain.
A soft click sounded.
While the serpent was distracted, Daring looked back to the pedestal, and her eyes became dinnerplates. A section of stone, about six inches in width and two inches in height, opened up and a platform slid out, operated by some unseen mechanism inside the pedestal. Sitting on the platform was a dagger with a purple blade and a yellow hilt, with carvings similar to the ones engraved onto the pedestal itself adorning much of its surface. The entire thing was enveloped in a beautiful metallic sheen, showing not a single speck of rust, standing out amongst the surrounding environment. Normally, Daring would’ve stopped to stare in awe at the artifact, but the knowledge that she was about to become snake food kept her focused.
Daring reached over and picked the dagger off of the platform. Positioning it in her mouth, she wasted no time in plunging it as hard and as forcefully as her declining strength would allow into the snake’s hide, snarling viciously. The serpent hissed, its mouth shooting open in a silent scream as it softened its hold on Daring’s body. She twisted the dagger a bit for added effect, and the serpent thrashed its head around wildly in response. Eventually, it released Daring altogether, letting her drop back onto the ground, taking deep, ragged breaths of much needed air.
The creature went stiff as a board. Looking down at the stab wound, Daring noticed no blood sept from it. She then felt the dagger’s hilt steadily increase in temperature, to the point where she had to let it drop to the ground with a metallic clatter. The serpent started convulsing in place, and Daring lifted her gaze just in time to see its eyes go from pitch black to stark white. A yellow glow, identical in color to the dagger’s hilt, enveloped the blade as the snake’s body fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust all around it. The serpent’s tongue hung out of its mouth, and its entire body went limp.
Daring stared blankly at the serpent’s body for a few solid minutes, utterly dumbfounded. Eventually, her mind picked up its broken pieces and she returned her attention to the dagger, its glow having subsided. She inspected it for a moment before experimentally poking it with her hoof, finding its temperature to once again be normal. She pulled it out of the snake’s hide with a grunt; its blade was perfectly clean, not a single trace of blood or internal organs coating its surface.
“Yeah, that’s definitely special,” she mused aloud to herself.
Daring took a moment to retrieve her pith helmet, stowing the dagger inside before placing it back atop her head. She next went to retrieve her machete and backpack, listening to the sound of A.K.’s typing, before returning to the typewriter with a satisfied grin.
“Didja get everything?” she asked A.K.
The typewriter hesitated for a moment before tilting forward twice.
“Alright then,” Daring said, strapping on her backpack. “From here on out, I doubt anything will happen that’s worth writing about, so feel free to talk if you have something to say.”
A.K. nodded again, and lifted the typewriter off the ground alongside Daring. The two then proceeded to re-enter the jungle via Daring’s self-made trail.
They remained silent for the first few minutes of their journey, content to just enjoy the cool night air and thankful lack of predatory serpents. Daring kept at a steady pace, slow enough that A.K. didn’t lag behind. She would’ve held the typewriter herself on her back, but her backpack was already heavy enough that it’d be impossible for her to carry anything else.
A.K. floated over and gently nudged Daring’s side, gaining her attention. A.K. spun the typewriter around, signaling that they wanted to speak with her. Daring nodded, stopping to fetch another clean sheet of paper from her backpack, and inserted it into the typewriter.
With soft, methodical clicks, A.K. typed out their thoughts.
I must confess something, Daring. Back at the sacred grounds, when you were being attacked by that oversized serpent, I was at war with myself over whether to follow your instruction not to interfere with your actions or abandon my mission and help you. You managed to escape before I could decide between the two, but I cannot be certain I would have refrained from interfering if you hadn’t when you did.
However, this is not an isolated incident. For a while now, whenever we’re on an adventure, something has poked and prodded my conscience whenever you find yourself in danger. It started out as nothing major, but steadily grew in prominence with each incident, until this time when I was literally convulsing over the sudden urge to help you.
This sensation is completely alien to me, which makes me think it’s something I might have lost upon death. It only happens in response to seeing you in mortal danger, so is there any chance you can explain to me what this feeling is?
Daring read the long-winded passage, squinting to see it through the dark. When she finished, although A.K. didn’t see it, a slight blush formed in Daring’s cheeks, but she held a face of practiced stern-forthrightness all the same.
“Well, from the sounds of it, you’re growing concerned over my well-being,” she replied, doing her best to push any and all thoughts of romantic subtext out of her mind, A.K.’s passage having read like an excerpt from a corny romance novel.
A.K. pondered for a moment before they resumed typing. Is ‘concerned’ something only experienced by the living?
Daring shrugged dismissively. “Certain kinds.”
Such as?
“Look, this isn’t a dangerous thing or anything, so you don’t need to worry about it.” Daring resumed walking.
She heard more typing from next to her, but ignored it and stayed focused on keeping to the trail. A minute later, she got a face full of typewriter, another reply written on the paper.
With all due respect, Daring, this has the potential to affect our entire agreement. If my urges continue, it’s very likely that, at some point, I’ll be unable to restrain myself when you find yourself in mortal danger. Unless you’re willing to forgo the restrictions placed upon my involvement in your adventures, I would advise you to explain, in no uncertain terms, exactly what is happening to me so that I may have a better chance of controlling myself whenever it happens henceforth from here.
Daring resisted the urge to growl in annoyance. She couldn’t deny that A.K. made a good point, but the thought of how they’d react upon hearing what their urges meant made her afraid to explain, since it could soil their strict relationship as business partners. In the end, Daring realized explaining would at least allow for the possibility of everything working out.
Daring relaxed, and proceeded to explain. “Being concerned is something typically only experienced by ponies who care for each other to some extent.” She glanced downward thoughtfully for a few moments. “Maybe you’ve spent so much time with me that you’ve developed an emotional bond?”
More typing. I wouldn’t know. But if that’s the case, what should I do?
“Just trust me when I say you don’t need to worry,” Daring stated, a very slight hint of cockiness lacing her words. “I’m well aware of how dangerous each and every one of my adventures are, and I always keep that at the forefront of my mind before setting off on one.” A small smile crossed her muzzle. “I appreciate your concern, don’t get me wrong, but rest assured I’ll always be fine.”
So, I should do nothing, essentially?
Daring shrugged. “Pretty much.”
A short silence stretched between them. Daring assumed for a moment that A.K. was done, and was about to step around the typewriter, when the keys began clicking again, and she returned her gaze to the words A.K. produced.
What if you do happen to die on one of your adventures? Will you blame me for not coming to your aid, after the fact?
“I just said it won’t happen,” Daring said, rolling her eyes.
My question is hypothetical.
Daring’s mouth made an ‘o’ as she paused to consider the question. It turned out to be more thought-provoking than she anticipated, and Daring spent a solid minute pondering over her response.
“Well, to be honest, that’s a question without an easy answer. If I had to make a black and white guesstimate, I’d say no, I wouldn’t blame you. In reality, the blame would be shared between us. Me, for being stupid enough to let myself die, and you, for not acting in defiance of my stupidity. In all honesty, if you had to save me from impending doom in lieu of myself, I’d probably be too grateful to still be alive to be mad at you for interfering.”
That’s good to know. Thanks, Daring.
“Yeah.” She chuckled sheepishly. “Listen, can we talk about something else that isn’t related to me dying?”
Sure. Such as?
Daring smiled and softly patted her pith helmet. “Well, I did just acquire a dagger that’s got some pretty nifty magic properties. I’m gonna be honest, a part of me thought it wasn’t true.”
Well, now you have a snake’s spirit as proof.
Daring chuckled. Since when did I become a ghost magnet?
A few more minutes of silence passed between them after that. A.K. returned to their place alongside Daring so she could focus on keeping to the trail. Soon after, however, Daring heard the sound of typing again. Then she felt another bump at her side. Looking back, she saw that the current piece of paper was full, so she lifted it out of the typewriter and inserted a fresh one, after which A.K. resumed typing. Meanwhile, Daring read what else they’d written.
A thought just occurred to me, Daring, and I must ask, what exactly do you plan to do wi
Daring heard the clicking sounds cease, and she turned her head to read the rest of A.K.’s words.
th the Spirit Dagger upon our return to Equestria?
“Oh, I’m gonna turn it over to those scientist bozos in Canterlot for study,” Daring replied with a dismissive wave. “I really don’t care what they do with it, as long as they fork over enough bits to keep food on my plate and a roof over our heads.”
I imagine the snake will provide some trouble if it gets loose. The full extent of the Spirit Dagger’s magic is unknown, after all.
“Ah, they’ll probably use it as a guinea pig or something,” Daring assured. “Why the sudden interest in the Spirit Dagger?”
My curiosity stems from the idea that, maybe, the Spirit Dagger’s magic holds the key to giving me a new corporeal body. If the scientists can learn all there is to know about how it works, perhaps they can reverse-engineer it to insert me into a specially-constructed body.
Daring Do stared blankly at the words on the paper, confusion plainly evident on her features. She wasn’t having trouble deciphering the logic behind A.K.’s words, but the thought of them wanting a new body felt strange. Moreover, there was a nagging fear in the back of her mind which said their partnership wouldn’t last if A.K. had a physical body. She mentally cursed herself for thinking the latter. A.K. wouldn’t abandon her, with or without a corporeal form.
“Why do you want a physical body?” she asked, her new trepidations showing a bit in her tone.
This logic is probably too simple and childish to be true, but perhaps, since I lost my capacity to understand emotions upon death, having a body once again might give it back to me. That way, if it’s true that I’m developing emotional responses as a result of prolonged contact with you, I could fully understand them of my own accord, and not have to ask you for clarification whenever they manifest.
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Daring replied, her fears easing somewhat. “But in order to do that, you’d have to reveal your existence to some ponies, and it wouldn’t be long before all of Equestria learned about you.” She sheepishly rubbed the back of her head, briefly wondering if she should reveal her fears to A.K., before deciding it couldn’t do any harm. “If that happened, it might be tough to continue this partnership, since you’d be hounded by the press every other minute for being the first example of resurrection in recorded history.”
A.K. took a while to mull over Daring’s response. The silence that stretched between them was almost palpable to Daring’s newly-fractured ego, and with every moment that passed, she felt her fears steadily rising to the forefront of her mind. When A.K. began typing out their response, Daring didn’t wait for them to finish and instead read along with the words as they appeared.
I understand if you don’t want me to leave, Daring. I promise, here and now, to never let our partnership falter, no matter what happens. Even if I acquire a new corporeal body, I’ll still be at your side, even if I have to bear all the same hardships that you do on your adventures.
Daring felt a strong sense of relief wash over her, and she suppressed the urge to sigh while A.K. continued typing.
In regards to the problems that acquiring a new body may entail, you bring up some good points. I could always conceal my identity as A.K. Yearling from those scientists, but getting them to agree to figure out how to reverse-engineer the dagger’s magic will undoubtedly be tricky.
“We’ll figure something out,” Daring assured them, softly patting the typewriter. “And since you promised to never leave my side, I promise, in turn, to help you get a new body any way that I can.”
Thanks, Daring.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied.
Then, without warning, she grabbed the typewriter with her fore hooves and brought it against her side in an affectionate hug. In response, A.K. felt a series of two unfamiliar sensations shoot through their conscience. The first manifested as a sudden bolt of alertness, which was quickly replaced by the second that manifested as a warm tingling. Of the two sensations, A.K. found themselves more welcoming of the latter. In fact, they rather liked how Daring was holding them, up against her body...
“Woah, A.K., why’re ya so warm all of a sudden?”
