Braeburn tossed another log onto the fire before sitting down next to Applejack and looking around at the faces of his audience. He turned the crudely sharpened stick once to toast the other side of the marshmallow impaled at its tip, and looked toward his cousin. “AJ, did I ever tell you about the story of the Silver Mountain mine?”
Applejack smiled knowingly before speaking in a sightly louder voice than usual. “No sir, Ah' don't think you did, but since we have time now, Ah' wouldn't at all mind hearing about it.”
“I would!” Fluttershy's shaking voice piped up through the night's air. “I think I'd mind very much to listening to a spooky story about a deep dark mine.” The yellow pegasus crouched low as her eyes shot to each of her friends, her expression pleading with them to agree with her.
“Oh, don't get so flustered, Fluttershy. It's just a story. Nothing real, and certainly nothing to worry about.” Twilight looked toward her friend with a reassuring glance.
“Sorry Miss Twilight, but that's not the case here. This story is, and I swear on my Grandpa Core's hat, entirely one hundred percent true.” Braeburn's face took on a more serious look and his voice held a weight to it that Twilight hadn't heard before. She wrinkled her brow slightly and glanced again towards the cowering Fluttershy with slightly less confidence than before.
“It happened a few years ago. Back then I was just a colt, and liked to think of myself as an explorer every time I would go galloping off just a few miles out from town. Me and Saddle Horn used to go running off when we could and have what we liked to call 'adventures', even though they were only just long hikes that would occasionally get us into a bit of trouble. Nothing too serious at all though.”
“Oh, I never told you about Saddle Horn, did I? AJ knows about him, but the rest of you wouldn't. He's my cousin from an extended branch of the family. We grew up together, and there was a time that we couldn't ever have been separated. Some friends come and go like the wind, and others stay with you, loyal and faithful, as long as they're able. Saddle Horn was the latter.”
“Now, where was I? Oh yeah. It just so happens that there was this old silver mine in the hills, a couple miles outside of town, in that direction.” Braeburn pointed his hoof off into the darkness as he spoke. “It had been something our fair town had relied upon in it's very earlier days, when the first ponies decided to settle in this area. In its hay day, it had been a pretty big operation. In fact there are two other towns in this area that used to work the mine too. I guess you could say, it was a kind of watering hole for pony progress into the wild wilderness. Well, that was all well and dandy, until the mine up and ran out of ore. I heard tell that it was hard times for a little while, but we had gotten the orchards established by that time, so it wasn't going to kill the town to see the mine go.”
“That was around forty years ago. In the years that followed, there have been all sorts of wild stories crop up about ghosts and missing ponies and horrible monsters that roam deep in the mine, just the sort of thing that would attract a pair of young adventure seeking colts to go hunting to find out if they were true or not.”
*******
They had timed it so that they would reach the first shaft about two hours before noon. Even with all the bravado the two tried to show to each other, neither was keen on the idea of wandering around in the mine after dark. The trip was uneventful and dotted with the periodic boasts and declarations of the two ponies capturing a sleeping monster to drag back to town for everypony to see.
As they drew closer to the low sloping rock hillside, they began to be able to make out a rickety shack in the distance. “What do you suppose that is, Braeburn?”
“I don't know. It could be a storage house, or maybe a tool shed. Hey! Lets go see if there's any mining tools left in it!” With that they both took off at a gallop, each trying to get ahead of the other, laughing as they did so.
A few yards away from the small structure the laughing stopped when the door swung open, and out stepped an old white haired stallion with a beard that nearly reached to the ground. His deep set eyes pierced into them as he stood for a long moment in the doorway. The two colts stood frozen and stared wide eyed up at him.
When he spoke his voice was a heavy dusty wind pushing through a trough of gravel. “You colts ain't looking to go do something stupid are you? Something like … going down into the mine?” He stepped out of the doorway squinting his sharp yellow eyes against the sunlight.
The two younger ponies didn't say a word, as the older one took another step towards them. “Them mines are dangerous. Everything there is old, far older than you could know … and it's all falling down. It ain't a fit place for no pony to go into now a days. I should know. I used to be the foreman there when it was operational. It wasn't too safe back then, and it hasn't improved any since.”
Braeburn mustered up his courage to ask. “You're old Scabby?”
“Well, I'll be. They still talk about me to the young'uns.” His face cracked into something that may or may not have been a smile. “And I bet they tell you all sorts of stories, don't they? About why I stay out here and about what I do out here.” He began to stalk towards them as he spoke. “And I bet you came out here to find if they were true or not? Is that it?”
“We … we were just coming to look at the … um … the ...” Saddle Horn found that he wasn't able to invent any sort of believable lie with the pale form of the old stallion lurching toward him.
“Yes, you were, weren't you? You both were gonna go looking for trouble down in them mines. Believe me when I tell you that there's things down there that no pony should ever be involved in. Things that'll turn your mane stark white.”
Suddenly there was a clatter and a thump back inside the old shack of a house, followed by a tapping sound. He turned sharply, moving faster than the two colts thought he was able to, and started to trot back to his home muttering curse words the whole time. They watched him go and, for a moment, just before his body moved to block the doorway, they both saw inside. They saw a table, and on it were laid out a set of metal tools, all of them oddly shaped and made for some purpose they couldn't imagine.
Before slamming the door shut, he turned once again to shout one last warning. “If I catch either of you going anywhere near those mine shafts I'll beat you so hard you'll wish I would have left you trapped down in them. Now get!” After the door had shut the two colts stood staring for a moment listening as the dull tapping sound continued on for a moment before stopping dead. They both looked at each other for a moment before turning and galloping back to town.
*******
“Well, we made our way back to town thinking the most horrible of things. Of course he was right. We both had heard the stories about old Scabby: that he was over a hundred years old, and that he lived that long from stealing the lives of the foals he kidnapped, and that he controlled a group of evil pets that he found deep in the mine long ago. That was the sort of thing our parents told us to keep us out of the mines, and we knew it was all hogwash. But, let me tell you, standing there when he was staggering toward us … I could believe that he was as ancient as any of the stories said he was.”
“Unfortunately our parents weren't so easy to convince. They got mad at us for trying to go to the mine to begin with, and it was an early bedtime with no supper. Funny how we both knew it was gonna be that way, even before we got back to town. We had made plans as we were galloping back, just for that occasion. We each snuck out after dark and met up with each other at the well on the north side of the town. That was our usual meeting place.”
“Before I left the house I was able to grab some apples out of one of the bushel baskets in the pantry, so we split those before setting off back to the mine.”
********
“This isn't a good idea Braeburn.” Saddle Horn was the first to break the long silence after their makeshift meal.
“Of course it isn't, but what other choice do we have? The grown ups wouldn't listen, so we have to do it ourselves.” Braeburn turned to put a reassuring hoof to Saddle Horn's shoulder. With only the stars to light the night he couldn't make out the other colt's expression very well, but was almost certain his face was curved up in worry. “I'm scared too. But there's no telling what that old creep is doing back there, or who he's doing it too. If somepony is caught and being tortured, then we have to at least try to stop him. Even if we can only bring back something like one of them tools, then it'll be evidence to show everypony else. Then they'll believe us.”
“Yeah, but if it was some pony he had tied up, then why didn't we hear them scream or grunt or something?”
“Well … what if he already cut their tongue out? They wouldn't make no sound then, would they?”
“Ah … are you sure you still want to go off and do this, Braeburn?”
“No. No, I absolutely do not. But we're going to anyway. That's just the way it is, because it's the right thing to do to help somepony out when they need it.” With that Braeburn poked his nose into his saddlebag and felt around. He hadn't bothered to unpack it from earlier that day, and it still contained a lantern, his whittling knife, and a sizable length of rope. He figured all of those things might well come in handy very soon. Saddle Horn checked his own saddlebag, and they set off silently into the night.
The trip wasn't fun. They stumbled and groped around in the dark, moving off in the general direction of the old stallion's shack. They didn't dare light their lanterns yet, for fear that they would be spotted and lose the element of surprise. So they staggered on, tripping over rocks and tumble weeds, and shielding their eyes from the wind that blew up dust and dirt into their faces, seemingly out of spite.
After a time they saw the light from the small cabin in the distance. They drew up as close as they dared and stopped about a hundred yards from the door.
“He's still awake. What do we do now?” Braeburn whispered to his friend as he felt the pace of his heart quicken.
“We could always just flush him out. One of us makes a distraction out here, and the other moves in to go see what's inside.” Saddle Horn was hunched down low, craning his neck up from behind a sage bush as he spoke.
“But then what if he caught the one making the distraction? Then there would be two ponies that need rescuing, and only one free to do it. How about we wait here for him to go to sleep, then we can sneak in?” Braeburn was whispering from behind a short rock that covered him about half way.
“You're outta your mind if you think I'm going in there anywhere near him. No sir, he's gonna have to come out to us, and I've got just the thing to lure him out. Best of all it doesn't need either of us to be around when it works.” Saddle Horn reached into his bag and rummaged around a little before producing a small wooden box with a short length of rope sticking out one side. “We just have to light the wick, and it'll spark up and start making noise and light and smoke and be a big show of things.”
“Hey, where did you get that? I want one!”
“It was from the traveling salespony that moved through a couple months ago. You remember? He had all sorts of things, and Dad got a bunch of these. This is the last one left though. I snagged it, and was saving it for something special. But anyway, listen. Let's set this up at the opening to the mine. There'll be less wind so we can light it up right, and the echoing will make it louder.”
“Good thinking.”
So they both silently crept up the slope to the mouth of the mineshaft. As they approached, they became suddenly quite aware of the large pitch black hole before them waiting silently, daring them to enter. Braeburn hung back a few paces as the other colt drew up to his target. He slowly reared up on his hind legs and rested his front hooves against one of the boards that barred the entrance.
“These look pretty solid. Help me pull this one off, and that'll be enough to-AH!” There was a single crack as the board split under the weight of Saddle Horn's hooves and send him tumbling into the blackness. Braeburn ran up to the opening just in time to hear a fading series of thuds as his cousin rolled head over hooves into the depths of the mine.
Cursing under his breath he looked back toward the old shack hoping they still remained unnoticed. He looked back into the darkness and dared to call out in a whispering shout. When there was no response, he felt his heart sink further as he reached into his bag for his lantern.
The shaft extended down at a steep near forty-five degree angle. After securing his length of rope near the top, he held it fast in his mouth as he made his way down, his lantern hanging on one side of his saddle. Leaning back and baring his weight on his hind legs while clamping down onto the rope was all he could do to keep from flipping forward and careening head first into the darkness. It was slow going, and the shaft went down a long way. Images of the sort of horrors that lurk underground began to slip into his imagination, and the dread that the rope would be too short crept into his mind. He had just about finished constructing a mental picture of the worst possible monstrosity he had yet imagined in his young life, when the slope evened off onto a level dirt floor. Ahead of him the tunnel split into three separate ways. Saddle Horn was nowhere in sight.
Thinking that, after such a long trip, he would have just kept rolling, Braeburn walked down the center tunnel. After a few yards he came to a steep drop. Leaning over, allowing the lantern's light to shine down, he found that he couldn't see the bottom. A low pitched, chilling wind blew up from below, threatening to blow out the small flame, and Braeburn couldn't help but imagine he heard a faint wailing being carried along with it.
He turned to go back when suddenly a long ear splitting shout peeled through the darkness sending his mane standing on edge. It was coming from back at the fork in the tunnel. He briefly considered leaping down into the long dark hole, before he realized that his legs wouldn't allow him to move anywhere. When the shout stopped he heard the stumbling of hooves as somepony moved through the dark.
“Saddle Horn? Is that you?” His voice was a whisper, and stuck in his throat as a pony staggered into the light of his lantern. It was his friend, stumbling and tripping, bruised and bleeding slightly. He staggered forward and fell face first to the mine's floor. Braeburn would have run up to him to catch him, had he not been so distracted by the most alarming change in his cousin. His mane had been turned from the usual dull brown to a pure white, like new fallen snow. He approached the fallen colt and shook him muttering his name twice. There was no response. He rolled him over and checked to see if he was still breathing. Satisfied that his friend was still alive he swatted his face with his hooves a few times in an unsuccessful attempt to wake him up.
“I sure hope you're lighter than you look.” Despite being scared out of his mind, he could still manage to find a bit of frustration through all the worry and fear.
Using the lower end of the rope to secure Saddle Horn to his back, he grabbed the line in his teeth and began to climb up. His mouth became sore from gripping and pulling back to step forward. His forelegs strained to securely hold the loops of hemp that allowed his mouth to reach up again and further his progress. This slow steady pace drug both of them up and out. Step by step, baring his unconscious load, he heard the wind blowing behind him again from deep within the mine.
The echoing reached out to wrap itself around his mind, sending a shock of cold shivering up his spine. He could hear it very clearly now. It was moaning. It had to be. What else could have possibly sounded that terrifying. Was it just his imagination or was it getting louder? Was it coming closer? Was it coming for them? All the dark nightmares he had ever dreamed began to twist together, taking on physical forms, and he was sure that were trying to claw their way up from the bottom of that pit. They were coming. They knew he was near, and they wanted him. That series of thoughts and a hundred other questions were invented as he painstakingly inched his way upwards.
He saw the opening now, just yards away. He could do it, just as long as his strength kept up. He was almost there, when a shadow moved to block what little view he could see of the night sky. It startled him so much that he just barely loosened his grip on the rope. He felt himself falling backwards and clamped down hard, as the rope slipped through his teeth and friction burns stung against his lips. Then the shadow was reaching out for him, grabbing him with two hooves, and yanking him upwards to toss him up and near clean out of the mine shaft opening.
“What the Sam-hill you stupid colts doing in here? Especially at night?! I told you both that this place is dangerous! And what in Equestria happened to your friend?”
“Get away! We know you steal away little ponies and chop them up. We're gonna tell eveypony in town. You can't stop us now.” Braeburn turned to run only to stumble headfirst to the ground. He moved to try to stand, only to find that his legs wouldn't respond. “No. No! Help! Somepony help! He's gonna kill us! Help!” He tried again to stand only to feel a sharp ache shoot through his shoulder and see the ground rushing back up toward him to meet his face.
“You got that wrong young'un. I'm not the one that's gonna kill you.” The old pony's cackling laughter stretched out across the night, and Braeburn froze, eyes wide as saucers. Behind him the opening to the mine let loose another gust of cold air that howled up into the sky mixing with that horrible laughter, and the young colt just knew that whatever was in the mine was there now, and it would be his end. “No sir, I'm not gonna be the one to kill you … your parents will, when they find out you were snooping up here in the dark. Not to mention that your friend there stole some of my rightful property.”
“What? He … I … what?” Braeburn's mouth hung open for a moment. “Coming out of the mine ... don't you feel it?”
“The wind you mean? Yeah, that's the breeze that blows through from the underground stream. It cools the entire place off real nice. Keeps it just the right temperature year round for what I store in there.” He reached down and, in one quick snapping chomp, bit the rope from around the two friends. He drug Saddle Horn to his hooves and shook him once. “Wake up, you thief. I know you been sipping some of my private stock. I can tell from how your hair turned the same color as my own. Wake up!”
A few more shakes and the groggy pony opened his eyes. “Wha ... what happened ... ooh … my head. I don't- ow!”
“That's right! I knew you'd drank a might more than you could handled, and from the size of you, it didn't take too much at all! I bet it was you that I heard whoopin' it up down there wasn't it? So help me, you're gonna work off every bit of that hooch by helping me make my deliveries into the-”
Suddenly there was a long low grinding and clanking clatter coming from the rickety house. The old stallion quickly moved his attention to the clamor as his eyes went wide. “Oh no. The still!” He dropped Saddle Horn right to the ground and bolted toward his home. For all his haste he still managed to shout back at them. “So help me, I can't step away from that contraption for so much as one minute without it getting uppity and wanting to ruin things. You colts had better pray that this batch isn't ruined from me having to come out here and investigate your tomfoolery!”
Just as he reached the door a thunderous explosion sent the shack splintering to bits, and old Scabby flying back at least twenty yards into a sage bush. The two colts stared in awe and confusion for a second or two, before realizing that this was their opportunity to escape, which they promptly took.
********
“Well, that explosion woke up every pony all the way back in town, and it wasn't long before the law ponies sent out a group to investigate what had happened. They found us just as we were dragging ourselves back into town, and after hearing our story, they took each of us right straight back to our homes. I don't think I've ever had a whupping that badly in all my days. Well, not unless you count that time I launched that flaming apple custard into the linen shop. Boy howdy, was that ever a mess!”
“Wait, so you mean there weren't ever any monsters or ghosts or ugly horrible things from under the mine?” Rainbow Dash's mouth curved into a slight frown as she asked her question.
“Oh heck no. I figure that was just my imagination getting the better of me the whole time. It was plenty dark down there in the mine, and that kind of situation's able to give a pony frightful thoughts.”
“Gee, Braeburn, if that's the case, then how did Saddle Horn's mane suddenly turn all white?” Applejack smiled as she spoke again, voice dripping in rehearsed curiosity.
Rarity looked sideways at her apple farmer friend before whispering in her ear. “Don't you think you might be over doing it a bit too much?” Applejack gave a sheepish grin and shushed her unicorn friend, before directing her attention back to the story teller.
“I'm glad you asked, Applejack. You see, after he had taken that tumble down the mine shaft, he had rolled down the left tunnel path, and found shelves and shelves of jugs. Naturally he got curious and opened one, and let me tell you what, there is absolutely NO mistaking the smell of silver mountain moonshine. Ask any pony who's smelled it, and they'll agree.” At this Applejack and Pinkie Pie both nodded.
“He knew right then and there what it was, and, honestly, what red blooded colt of that age is gonna pass up a chance to have a swig of something our parents had always told us never to get into? The only problem was that old Scabby made his in a special way that made it about ten times stronger than any other. It was enough to send Saddle horn in to a hooping hollering fit and stain his mane white. It's still that way today, I might add, but he dyes it brown for the mares.”
“Pfft! That was hardly a scary story.” Rainbow Dash crossed her forelegs in front of her as her frown deepened. “I was expecting something really frightening, and we get a drunk pony in a hole?”
At this point Pinkie Pie toppled backwards off the log she was using as a seat, and began rolling around on the ground in a fit of laughter. “Hahaha! That was the joke Dash. Don't you get it?! Hahahaha! That's what makes it so much fun. It never was going to be 'really scary', and he knew it the whole time. HAHAHAHA!” She continued her roll, and the rest of the ponies turned their attention back to Rainbow Dash as she spoke again.
“Heh. Ok, I get it. It is kind of funny, but still … I bet I could tell a better one. A real scary story.”
Braeburn leaned backwards on his tree stump chair before responding. “Really? Well then … let's hear it.” As he spoke he tossed Applejack the briefest of glances. She responded with a small knowing smile, before directing her attention back down into her tin cup of cider.
