You Best Believe it That I Got to Get Away
The hoof that slammed into Cheese Sandwich’s face lit his world up with whirling colors and dizzying pain. Visions of sugarplums danced on his grave, and if it wasn’t for the shackles keeping him upright, he wouldn’t have been.
“You will tell me what you know about reaching the Amulet, Mr. Sandwich,” came the heavily accented voice of Dr. Caballeron.
Cheese half-grinned, half-grimaced, and struggled to focus on his captor. Crimson sunset streamed through cracks in the dirt-floored shack’s wooden walls, bathing his already blurry vision in deep shadows. “I already did, Dr. No-It-All!” Cheese’s words came out muffled by his bloodied muzzle, but he spat and tried again: “I’m just a humble accordionist who tried to take the scenic route to his next gig, and ended up lost in this Tartarus-hole of a jungle. I’d never even heard of an ‘Alicorn Amulet’ until you started asking!”
Caballeron scoffed. “I’m afraid I don’t believe you, Mr. Sandwich. We’re three days march from the rump-end of civilization, deep in what was once the Kingdom of Pachacutie, and a stone’s throw from the entrance to its holiest temple. Either you’re remarkably dedicated for a wanderer ‘between gigs,’ or you’ve read the same legends that I have about Pachacutie’s crown jewels, and you’ve also come to rob them from their guardian.”
“Never rob another stallion’s rhubarb,” Cheese spoke through a bloody smirk.
“Perhaps I must be clearer about how serious I am.” Caballeron picked up a floppy and familiar figure: Boneless. “Now, I pride myself on being a reasonable stallion, but it has not escaped my notice that you’ve shown a certain favoritism toward this… rubber chicken… as I’ve gone through your effects looking for concealed information.”
Cheese’s pulse slammed to maximum as Caballeron raised a knife towards Boneless. “Wait, WAIT!” he shouted, lurching forward, straining against his shackles, his mind’s eye filled with the indescribably pink filly who’d gifted it to him so many years before. “There’s no need to be hasty!”
“So the chicken is significant. Then perhaps we may at last drop the pretense? Pachacutie’s temple will be rife with traps and dangers, but the greatest is the guardian lurking in its treasure chamber. I trust you have knowledge that can help me overcome these so I may claim the Amulet’s power?”
Cheese kept his gaze fixed on Boneless, and reflected on his calling to a life of entertainment by the angel in pink. He preferred musical comedy, not the kind of improv that this gig looked like it would call for. Yet he gulped as he watched Boneless’ silent flopping, and steeled himself to do whatever necessary to protect his one link back to her.
“Yep… guiding ponies through temples of doom is my middle name,” he lied.
After an arduous night spent sleeping in chains, Cheese was given a pickaxe at dawn and put to the grueling task of breaking through the tiered temple’s sealed stone doors. Only after he breached them did the rest of the small team of stallions take up tools as well and join him in clearing a pony-sized opening into the silent, dusty antechamber.
Halfway through traversing that chamber, one of the stallions plunged through a cleverly disguised deadfall.
“My bad,” Cheese called out, struggling to feign composure in spite of his shock at seeing—and hearing—another pony’s end.
Caballeron gripped his neck and slammed him up against a wall… which made a faint “click!” sound upon impact. Both stallions gasped and hit the deck. Within heartbeats, a whirling saw blade sliced through a groove that Cheese had assumed was just a join between two carvings. The blade repeatedly retracted and pushed back through.
“Such robust construction,” Caballeron muttered, sitting halfway up. “And to think, the mechanism driving it must’ve been coiled for six hundred years or more, waiting for this very moment.” His eyes hardened. “I have waited far too long to reach the Amulet; if another of my colleagues falls prey to a ‘your bad,’ this blade will be the last thing both you and your chicken will see!”
“They won’t!” Cheese wracked his brain for any way to salvage things. Acrobatics is a bit more in my wheelhouse… “Look, you guys are all alpha as buck, and not amazing listeners. Why don’t I go first, and you just step where I step? That way, if I mess up…” The dread of never finding her again made his throat go dry.
Caballeron nodded. “I will be watching you closely, Mr. Sandwich—especially as we near the guardian!”
“Oh boy,” Cheese grimace-smiled, wondering what kind of fun that would be…
“Giant cat!” blurted one of Caballeron’s henchponies, dropping his torch and bolting from the pitch-black, high-ceilinged chamber.
“Stop, fool!” Caballeron shouted. But Cheese watched with horror as the henchpony stepped on a pressure-plate and was cut down by a fusillade of feathered darts.
A rumble rippled through the chamber, drawing everypony’s eyes and torches high. There among the glittering gold and precious stones stood a creature that was indeed catlike, but with massive wings and a mare-like head that grinned maliciously down at them. It was taller than ten ponies standing on each other’s heads—which Cheese could guesstimate based on a brief stint at clown college.
“Greetings, noble Sphinx,” Caballeron said in a Somnambulan dialect that Cheese had encountered and practiced to semi-fluency. “We honor your undying service to King Pachacutie, and seek the Alicorn Amulet as a boon for answering your challenge!”
The Sphinx laughed menacingly. “Very well, mortal; I would ask you a riddle: ‘I crawl, but do not walk. I fly, but do not run. What am I?’”
Cheese winced as Caballeron elbowed him. “This is your moment, Mr. Sandwich.”
He fought to keep his trembling at a minimum, and nodded, letting his mind race with possibilities. But after nearly a minute of frazzled, sweat-streaked thinking, Cheese still had zip, zero, nada. He knew he had to give an answer if he ever hoped to see her again, but nothing else fit.
“Can I…” Cheese bit his lip, and met the Sphinx’s slitted eyes. “Can I be honest?”
Caballeron bared his teeth, but the Sphinx nodded.
“None of us should take the Amulet. These mooks just want power, but all I want is…” He blushed.
“A girl,” purred the Sphinx. “The Amulet could make her yours…”
“No way José,” Cheese spat. “Consent is sexy.”
“Yet beside the point!” Caballeron shouted, brandishing his torch—
—and drawing the Sphinx’s ire in the form of two huge paws that lashed out, alternately slashing or tossing everypony but Cheese into the hall.
“Answer,” the Sphinx hissed.
“Is it…” Cheese scratched his chin. “A pegasus foal?”
The Sphinx drew back, furrowing its brow. But soon it shrugged and met Cheese’s eyes again. “I was going for ‘time,’ but that’s also a clever solution.” It tossed him a silvery, gem-inlaid amulet, which he caught in midair.
Tension flooded out of Cheese’s barrel. “Thank you! Th—Thank you.” He hefted the amulet, and studied the patterns of light that glinted on its surface. It was tempting to think that it could help him find her. It could, couldn’t it? Using a magical artifact… it was so very, very tempting. And why not, really? The amulet’s gemstone eye stared deeply into his own…
…Until he looked away, shaking his head, trying to clear it. “This thing’s even crazier than I am. You don’t want it back, do you? I don’t need more voices in my head.”
“Regrettably not, mortal. Now that my oath of service to Pachacutie has been fulfilled, I am at last free to take my first vacation in centuries.” The Sphinx winked. “Good luck finding her, mortal… and don’t forget about your chicken.”
“My—?” Cheese glanced at where the henchponies had recently been. Boneless lay upon the ground.
“Come on, old friend,” Cheese said, picking him up and hugging him. Then he glanced at the Amulet. “The road ahead is long, but Pinkie’s out there somewhere. Let’s go find a reputable merchant where we can ditch this thing and pick up some sponge cake and tofu-dogs to celebrate our freedom!”
Author's Note
Also submitted for your enjoyment is a piece of art by Anon Y Mousse that was inspired by the story! This took third place in the Uncharted Territory Writeoff's art competition:
