Then …
“That’s it?” Daring Do stared down at the pedestal she’d spent the last three hours working her way towards. “That!?” She stepped back, glancing to the left and then to the right, eyes hunting the small stone chamber for any signs of a hidden door, or maybe another false floor. Nothing obvious jumped out at her, and she found her eyes sucked back to the dusty, bronze-colored amulet on display at the center of the room. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She pulled her pith helmet from her head, scratching at her mane as she gave the chamber another look, almost begging for her eyes to spot something else, anything else that looked like a hidden lever, or maybe a false bit of stonework. Anything that would mean she’d not reached the furthest point of the ruin.
But they didn’t. The stone was, well, stone, the reliefs on the wall covered in dust and decay, but none of them showing any signs of movement brought about by the ages. She’d have to make a further check—A careful check, she cautioned as she spotted what looked like another deadfall trap, waiting for an unwary adventurer. One on the other side of the chamber had collapsed some time ago, and from the look of the damage it had done, driving into the floor …
Yup. That’s a trap below it too, she thought, eyeing the tilt to the shattered stones below it. It was a trap that she’d already encountered twice in the … vault didn’t feel like quite the correct word, but it worked. Stone floor tiles that were balanced on a single point, their edges held in place by old, dried reeds that snapped once enough weight was on them, plunging the pony atop them down into a small depression … and then triggering the deadfall.
Clever. And deadly. Thankfully, the first she’d encountered had already been triggered by some other hapless explorer. A zebra from a few centuries back, from what she’d been able to tell from the decayed bits of silk around their bones. The ones that hadn’t been crushed by the deadfall, anyway.
This has to be it. She cast her gaze around the upper roof of the chamber, noting a few more blocks that had “slipped” slightly over time from their positions. Each in a ring that lined up perfectly with the one deadfall that had already given way.
Very clever. The protruding—and by appearances decorative—arches are actually the only thing holding the dome of the roof up.
But why so much protection for … that? In the square middle of the room, illuminated by a beam of light that descended from directly above—a definite magic trick, given that the sun had to be well on its way toward the horizon by now—sat a dusty, almost battered looking bronze amulet on a cord so decayed it looked like it might rot if she breathed on it wrong. Did someone get here first? Is the pedestal trapped? Did they make an exchange, and leave that thing behind? Take the gem and leave?
She winced. If they did, paying for this trip is going to get a lot more difficult. At least there would be the stipend for reporting the location of the vault to the royal archeological society. But such stipends took time to go through, and there were more immediate debts to settle. Like me borrowing a chunk of Professor Eon’s budget for this trip. If I don’t at least make that back … She shivered. He might just kick me out of the program.
Daring took another slow look around the room, searching for any sign of still-functioning air-traps, designed to detect the stirs of air from flight and react accordingly. Thankfully—and to her favor—such traps usually used lightweight materials for the triggers, material that was usually the first to go after a tomb or crypt had been sealed for a few hundred years. And in a place as old as the vault she was now picking her way through …
Okay, we’re cool. Daring spread her wings, giving them a gentle flutter just to make sure, watching as the faint breeze stirred a bit of dust. Up and over that deadfall ring … She moved quickly but carefully, eyeing the stones at the base of the pedestal and looking for any worn patches that would indicate secondary traps. She found none.
“Okay then.” Her voice echoed around the chamber as she entered the beam of light at its very center. “Let’s see what you are.” Because you are not the Eye of Anubis. No way this dusty beat up thing is the Eye. Every text she’d poured over had called the Eye of Anubis a gem beyond all others Ziwati had possessed. Everyone agreed that it had been a real gem. Not this dusty … thing.
Carefully she lowered herself from the air, the dust of millenia slipping and sliding across the stones beneath her. Her hooves touched down, and almost immediately Daring took a step forward, eyeing the odd little bronze amulet atop the pedestal.
“Huh,” she said after a moment, still staring at the small amulet and cocking her head to one side. “What are you?”
The amulet was ancient, that much was certain. Its surface was covered with a fine layer of dust—though not as finely as the floor; another clue that someone else had beaten her to the vault’s true treasure some time ago. “But then if that’s true,” Daring whispered as she leaned closer. “Then why leave you behind?”
She stared down at the amulet, her eyes checking the stone around it for signs of traps but largely finding themselves drawn back to the item itself. It was circular, but ridged along its surface in a manner that reminded her of a seashell. Stylized lines and designs broke up the surface in a pattern that almost looked like a zebra’s stripes, and when she very gently blew on it …
That’s gold! The filigree glistened under the beam of light, shining and shimmering in equal parts. There’s no way someone would have left this.
She pulled her head back slightly, shocked. Could this be it, then? Is this actually the Eye of Anubis, the most prized gem of Ziwati, carried only by her closest champion? Her mouth felt dry, her heartbeat racing already. Is it not a gem?
That would disrupt the history books. And put her name on the map! She’d no longer be “Young Yearling,” the student who’d contested Professor Arches’ assertion that Anubis had died during the fall of the jackals.
I’d be Daring Do. Not just to me, but to everypony! The mare that found the Eye of Anubis, when nopony else could! Because I dared to do it.
She leaned forward once more, again running her eyes across the small amulet. That looks like minotaur metalworking there, she thought. Pre— Her heart stopped. Pre-Breaking! Her throat felt so dry the dust at her hooves had to have more water in it. Even if it wasn’t the Eye of Anubis, a pre-Breaking artifact, undiscovered, was worth fortunes. The last one that had been found and declared authentic—by none other than Princess Celestia herself—had been purchased by the Equestrian government for a price only kings could afford.
I could have everything. Almost unbidden, her hoof reached out, moving to cup the small totem.
Wait. Don’t get ahead of yourself. She froze, hoof just inches from her target. Maybe I should—?
She shoved the thought aside, not even letting it finish. Young Yearling waited, and look what it got her.
Daring Do does. She snatched the amulet from the pedestal, yanking it back with a triumphant yell—That died almost immediately as the cord the amulet was looped through went tight, snapping under the strain of her pull … But not before it tugged at a small lever that had been concealed behind the charm, moving it forward with a faint but condemning click.
“Oh feathers!” Daring snapped her wings down and forward, rocketing her body back, the first deadfall just narrowly missing her right hoof, and not at all missing the strands of her grey tail. “Feathers!” She spun, rolling in the air and beating her wings frantically as the roof began to cave in behind her, the arch giving way with a deafening crack. The beam of light flickered and winked out as hundreds of tons of soil and earth crashed downward, the only illumination now coming from the flickering torch she’d left at the entrance to the chamber—and somehow from her hoof.
Go go go go go! Her thoughts screamed in time with her heartbeat as she slammed her jaw into the base of the torch, ripping it out of its holder and sending a burst of heat sliding across the upper half of her face. GO!
She raced ahead with each beat of her wings, flying as fast and as hard as possible to stay ahead of the roar echoing behind her. How much of the vault had been rigged to collapse when that arch gave way? How had they even managed it? Bits of rock and gravel shot past her, propelled sideways by the titanic forces crashing down on them, and she beat her wings harder, retracing the last few hours at high speed.
There! Past the causeway, its fetid pools long-since dried. Past the pillar room, itself half-flooded, and she felt drops of water spatter across her flank as the collapsing roof crashed down into the depths. Ahead were a set of doors, each already sliding down, and she banged her wing against one as she flew past, the pain making her eyes water, but not enough to make her loosen her grip on the torch or her prize.
The maze! That had been the second trap, an array of narrow, twisting hallways full of traps. She’d mapped it out carefully, the process taking the better part of an hour, but the map had been inside the inner band of her pith hat, and now there was no time—
She glanced back as the first junction neared, eyes widening in horror as the collapsing roof swept toward her. Left, right, or straight?
If she chose wrong, even once, she’d never make it back out. She came to a momentary stop as the hallway forked, trying to remember which way she’d gone. Was it left? She turned—
And something made her hoof shake, an almost electric tingle rushing up her limb. She veered away, turning straight, the jolt only intensifying, and then to her right.
The jolt stopped, replaced by an almost soothing coolness against her foreleg.
What? The roar was almost upon her, dust and debris clicking off her helmet, and she bolted, heading right, following the cool sensation on her foreleg. The collapse was almost on her tail now, a wave of dust racing ahead of it and licking at her barrel. Ahead of her was another split, left and right. Right leading deeper back into the vault.
Not that way. Again a coolness emanated from her foreleg, and she made the turn.
Is it … guiding me? She was already lost, the maze again splitting ahead of her. Uh … straight? Her leg buzzed. Left? Soothing coolness.
Go! Her wings were burning now, and not just from the heat of the torch. She followed the chill twinges from her foreleg, Right! Straight! Left! She shot past traps designed to react to flying intruders, darts and blades missing her only due to her speed and the fact that she was going the “wrong” way.
Then she was out of the maze, into the early atrium, the roar not quite right behind her, but not quite distant either. Past the deadfall trap that had claimed its early victim. She could see roots and signs of animal life now, bones and bedding and there just ahead of her a glimmer of golden light that could only be the setting westward sun and—
She crashed through the growths over the entrance, letting out a cry as pain spiked through both her wings. The torch dropped away, and then she was rolling and tumbling down a hillside, bouncing off of roots and bushes, her hat leaving her head and her mane flying free.
At last she slammed to a stop, landing on her back with a heavy whump that knocked the wind from her lungs. But I’m alive! She rolled, looking back up the hill just in time to see a spray of dust and earth fly out the entrance of the vault, the earth letting out a final rumble as it settled. A nervous laugh escaped her lips, sounding across the jungle. “I’m alive! I did it!”
She looked down at her yellow coat, noting the scratches and dirt that covered her chest. Her wings were missing feathers, and one of them hurt with what was probably a sprain.
But I got it. The strange amulet was still tightly clutched by one hoof. She stared down at it, her mind flying back to her harrowing escape and the odd sensations it had guided her with. What … are you? She held it up in front of her eyes, looking at the clamshell design. There was what looked like a small latch on one side, and she reached for it. Clearly magic, but—
The amulet snapped open as she touched the clasp, a faint, gentle glow filling the air from within its depths, and Daring let out a gasp.
I know what this. Even before her eyes had seen the ancient text inscribed on the inside of the lid, text that she was knowledgeable enough to read even without any aid, the glowing blue arrow floating in the air, pointing in the direction of her campsite—and then her hat, as soon as her thoughts shifted—confirmed it.
“The Arrow of Ziwati,” she whispered in awe, her voice swallowed by the nearby jungle. “It’s real. And that means …”
She stared down at the amulet, her thoughts colliding and bursting into new vectors and paths. “The Arrow of Ziwati … and the Eye of Anubis … They’re the same thing! No wonder no one ever found either! But that means—”
Her eyes read through the text inscribed on the compass’ inner cover. A path to guide where one will rest sure, where death’s reach is beyond. The jolt in the maze, and the soothing coolness.
It’s how Ziwati’s last guard lived through the war. The amulet, when touching your skin, warns you of impending death.
She stepped over to her helmet, her steps slightly woozy, though from shock or adrenaline she couldn’t tell. Her helmet was still there, a little scorched in front from the torch, but better it than her mane.
The map she’d carefully scrawled down was still in it too. I should get a shirt, Daring thought as she placed her helmet atop her head. I’ll be able to afford it. With the Eye, she could afford anything.
She turned, about to head back to her camp, but then paused. “Or …”
Now …
A harrowing howl echoed down the canyon, and Daring slid to a stop, sweat drizzling out from under her helmet and chest heaving as she checked each of the ponies following her lead. One … two … three-four-five. Six. There were supposed to be seven. Where is—?
“Intern!” The mare’s head appeared around the bend in the canyon, rushing at a gallop with a toss of her braided mane.
“Sorry Daring,” the mare said. She was barely breathing hard despite the run. Just like an earth pony. “Spotted a good spot for a trap and set one up. It’ll slow them down.”
Daring shook her head. Even turning back in the direction of their camp was enough to make the Arrow tucked under the band of her helmet apply a faint pressure against her skull. “Come on,” she said, turning back in the direction of the ruins the team had been studying. “This way. And where did you learn to set snares so fast anyway?”
“Back on the farm,” her assistant answered with a grin. “It’s how we played tag.”
“Your family was weird, Intern. And I have an uncle who thinks he’s Celestia’s consort.”
The howls sounded again as they both ran down the canyon, following the hoofprints of the rest of the expedition. We’re being herded, Daring thought as the stone walls around them grew higher. Did they know I was the only pegasus in the expedition? Or were they just hoping? If not for her assistant’s spotting of the airship behind the ridge while out looking for additional signs of relics … We would have been swept up in the initial attack.
And we definitely wouldn’t have had time to break the signal gem and call for help. They rounded another bend in the canyon, the rest of the team coming into view ahead of her. Unicorns and earth ponies all, slowing as the end of the canyon—and the ruins they’d come to investigate—neared.
“Keep going!” Daring called. “Into the ruins! Go!” A few of the expedition members looked nervous, but not one of them hesitated for more than a second, rushing past the narrow, water-worn columns at the ruins’ front.
“Are you sure there’s a secret exit?” her assistant asked, glancing at her with one brown eye. “We haven’t found one yet!”
“There’s no standing water,” Daring said, rushing up the sand-covered steps behind the team. Under her hat, the amulet was still cool against her forehead. “And it’s a garrison bunker, even if it’s a weird one. Those always had a back exit. There has to be a way out.”
Her assistant nodded, slowing and coming through last. “I’ll reset that trap by the entrance. Buy us a little more time.”
“You do that.” Another yeti’s howl split the evening air. “I’m going to take the lead.” She fanned her wings, jumping up and over the rest of the expedition and glancing at the several deeper hallways presented to her, feeling the faint jolt of each wrong choice.
“Is there a way out?” one of the other expedition members asked. “We’ve barely begun to explore the upper levels—”
“There always is,” Daring replied as her forehead went cool. “Pegasus bunkers always had one. This way!” She raced forward, deeper into the ruins, the howls of angry yetis echoing close behind.
Then …
Daring paused, her outstretched hoof just inches from the lever she’d been about to pull, the familiar warning buzz from beneath her helmet sending a shiver down her spine.
“What is it?” Professor Twist asked, staring at her from the side. “Do you see something?”
“Just a hunch,” she said, shaking her head slightly and lowering her hoof. “Are we certain pulling this lever releases that lock?”
“Of course!” the professor replied. “We tracked it all the way back. It’s fine.”
She lifted her hoof, but the buzz returned once more. “No,” she said. “I think we missed something.”
“Oh for—” The professor caught himself before he could say much more. “Yearling, you’ve had a few successful expeditions recently, and dangerous ones I’ll admit. But this is my dig. You’re not even supposed to be here!”
Daring bit back a scowl. This is why it’s easier to work alone. “But I am here,” she said, lowering her hoof. The buzz vanished. “And I’m telling you we missed something.”
“How do you know, Daring?” one of the professor’s assistants asked. Two of the other nearby ponies mumbled something in agreement with the question.
“She doesn’t,” Professor Twist replied, snorting. “You might have the public dazzled with your recent string of luck, Miss Yearling. But I remember when you made a fool out of yourself in disputing Professor Eon’s well-established works with your own theories. You might have gotten lucky lately, but …” His scowl deepend as Daring stepped to the side. “What are you doing?” he asked as she snatched a clipboard from one of his assistants, the assistant themselves letting out a cry of protest. “You barge in here and offer to help, but now you insist you know better than all of us? Who do you think you are? And what are you doing?”
She stepped up alongside the lever, clipboard held carefully in her teeth by one end. The other end she placed atop the lever. There was no jolt.
“I’m Daring Do,” she said, eying the professor as she jerked her head down. The lever dropped with twin thunks. She turned to see the professor and his assistants staring at her with wide eyes, and she spat the clipboard at his hooves. A dart had punched partway through the thin wood, its tip dripping with what was certainly poison. Now that the lever was down she could see the trap for what it was, built into the lever itself and designed to fire when it was pulled.
“And I’m being awesome.”
Now …
Another howl, this one in anguish and matched by a sudden crash, echoed down the hallway behind them. Another yeti falling prey to a trap, and the third so far.
Pity it’s not slowing them down much. Daring glanced back, peering past the glowing light-gems hanging from the saddlebags of her team, counting heads once again and coming up one short. Intern, you’d better stay safe back there.
They were moving deeper into the earth now, and it was again apparent that Cirrus’ theory about the bunker being much more than expected had been right on the money. And for Pegasopalis to have funded it, there must have been something very important done or kept here. Hidden, too, by the amount of digging it had taken to even find mention of the place. Even then the discovery had been an accident. Had they been more up-front when they first approached me about this place ...
“This way,” Daring said, turning back forward and leading them down another ramp, deeper into the earth. The amulet hadn’t given her its familiar glimmer of coolness yet, but it hadn’t buzzed a warning in a few minutes either. So we’re still on the right track to finding a way out of this.
Any time she turned to even move back toward their pursuers, the charm complained. Aggressively. The implications of that were stark.
“What are they going to do if they catch us?” The question came from a young stallion, still a student. Clouded Quartz.
“Bad things,” Daring said, eyeing offshoots to the short hall they were now moving down. Living quarters, from the look of them. Curious. “I had a few run-ins with the Storm King’s yetis before that warlord got himself killed. The dregs have only gotten worse since then.” Really bad luck they happened to spot our expedition. This is why I work alone!
“What are they going to do?” From back down the corridor there was an echoed yelp of pain, followed by a roar.
“Do you really want to know?” The Eye buzzed beneath her helmet, and she slid to a halt, chest heaving. Not as young as you used to be. The expedition piled up behind her as she turned to the left and then the right. This way. “If they follow the trend, they’ll kill a few of us to scare the others into submission, then either ransom the rest back to Equestria or keep them as slaves.”
Clouded’s eyes went wide with fear. “Sorry,” she said, moving down yet another ramp. “”It’s not pretty. And that’s why I won’t let it happen to you.”
“But … you’ll fight them off, right? You’re Daring Do.”
Someone had set up a trip-wire along the base of the ramp, Daring spotting it even before there was any buzz from the amulet. She pointed it out, and a second later one of the unicorns had lit it with magic so that no one would step on it. The pressure plate at the bottom—with a classic deadfall above it—got the same treatment. Thankfully both were small enough to be easily jumped over.
“I’m an archeologist, not a warrior,” Daring said, eyeing the hall. Her assistant appeared at the top of the ramp, sweating but not breathing hard. Her bow was strung and across her back, and likely the source of the earlier cry of pain. “I fight grave robbers and hired thugs. The Storm King’s troops were actual soldiers.”
Faces fell across the group, their fear made all the more apparent by the shadows cast from their lights. Another howl echoed down the corridors, and a few members of the team flinched. Feathers. This is why …
She caught herself. “It’s not going to come to that,” she said as her assistant jumped over the traps at the bottom of the ramp. The light identifying them winked out a moment later. “I won’t let them catch you. I promise. We’re going to escape.”
“How?”
Her assistant skidded to a stop next to her. “I slowed them down, but they’re still coming. Over a dozen. I … had to hurt a few of them.”
“Sometimes you have to,” Daring said, her eyes meeting the mare’s. Then she turned back to the expedition. “Because I’m Daring Do,” she said. “And this is just one more daring escape. I promise.”
With that, she turned and plunged deeper into the ruin, the Eye of Anubis pulsing beneath her pith helmet.
Then …
Daring let out a groan as she shoved her office door open, slinking inside into the familiar comfort of her cluttered desk and scattered papers. “Finally,” she muttered, her wings and shoulders sagging. “Featherbrained harpies.” She took a breath and then kicked the door shut behind her, eyes fixed on her desk and comfortable chair behind it. “Can’t a mare get a break? I’m not fifty anymore. Yes, it’s another pre-Breaking artifact, yes, it was another life-threatening escape, because nobody in possession of one of those wants to give it up, yes there was trouble on the way back because there always is and sun above I just want to rest! She closed her eyes as she rounded the side of her desk, not even looking as she dropped back into her well-worn chair and tossed her helmet atop the desk. Finally. She sank into the comfortable cushions, letting out another sigh of relief.
“Who’s a featherbrained harpy?”
Daring’s eyes snapped open so quickly they could have been the cable suspending a free-falling deadfall. There was a mare sitting in a chair across from Daring’s desk, placed in a position amid the books and clutter so that it would have been behind the door when Daring walked in. She was an earth pony, and looking at her from under a brown, braided mane, her eyes the same shade and a striking contrast to her slate-grey coat.
“Who,” Daring said, drawing the word out carefully and glancing at her helmet. “Are you?” With the right kick, I could send my helmet right for her head. And where did that chair come from?
“I’m your new assistant,” the mare said, leaning forward and pulling a file folder from atop the stack of papers next to her. She gave it a skilled toss with one foreleg, the file spinning and sliding across Daring’s desk.
“I don’t have an assistant,” Daring said. “And I don’t want an assistant. I work alone.”
“I know,” the mare replied, not breaking eye contact. “But I checked the rules. You’ve got an office, and that means you can have an assistant.”
“I don’t want an assistant,” Daring said, not moving to open the file. “And I didn’t ask for one.”
“But you can be assigned one,” the mare said, smiling. “I need a mentor. I want the best. And the best is you.”
“No.” Daring shoved the file away with one hoof. “I work alone.”
If the mare was hurt by Daring’s words she did a good job of hiding it. “You don’t really have a choice, professor. I checked the rules. The university can assign you an assistant if you don’t have one. You’re the best archeologist there is.” She held a hoof to her chest, and Daring noted the taut, tight muscles along her foreleg. The mare was fit, whoever she was. “I requested you, and they agreed.”
Daring frowned, sifting over the mare’s words in her mind. She’s right. “Fine,” she said, leaning forward and sliding the file folder back toward herself before flipping it open. “Let’s say you’re right.”
“I am.”
The mare’s picture was at the top of her file, smiling. Daring ran her eyes down the page. “From a farming community?”
“Yeah. My father—”
“Impressive grades so far,” Daring said, cutting her off as she flipped to the next page. “And accolades.” She straightened in surprise as she saw another few lines of text. “Wait, you were the student that wrote that piece in support of my theory on Romane maseuleums?”
The mare nodded. “Yes. I—”
“Why archeology?” Daring asked, cutting her off again as she tossed the file back down.
“My father was less of a farmer than an amatuer archeologist,” the mare said with a smile. “He gave me a love of it. Wrote a few papers too, though most dismissed him.”
“Wait …One of those wouldn’t have happened to have been A Treatise on the Eye of Anubis, would it?”
The mare’s face lit up. “You read it?”
“I did.” Though not for the reasons you might expect. “I don’t think your father was wrong either. It wasn’t a gem. That was my first expedition ever, actually. To find it.”
“Dad always said he thought you had to be right. Couldn’t understand why you never found it, unless someone else beat you to it.”
“There was a lot about that first expedition that didn’t go the way I expected.” She kept her eyes trained on the mare, fighting the urge to glance at her helmet. “Huh. All right then. I guess you’ve got determination.” She opened the file again. “A wide array of classes, too. Archery?”
“Hobby,” the mare said. “But I’m good at it.”
“Fine. Say you’re right—”
“I am.”
She ignored the comment. “—then what can you do for me?”
“Whatever you need. I want to learn. As much as I can.”
“Follow in Daring Do’s hoofsteps, huh?”
“Yes.” There was an almost desperate need to the mare’s voice. “My cutie mark—”
“Don’t care right now,” Daring said, brushing her off and sitting back. The mare went quiet, but there was a steely look of determination in her eyes.
And she was right. The board could assign her an assistant. No wonder a few of them had been giving her amused glances not long ago. They knew what was waiting for me. Fine then. My turn. She leaned forward. “Right now, what I want to know is: can you file a form twenty-seven-B-dash-six?”
“Yes?”
“What about a form twenty-two-K-dash-one?”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s a travel form. Why—?”
“Get two,” Daring said, giving the mare a thin smile. “I got a tip off while I was on my latest trip about a possible Asterion stash out near the border of the Burning Lands. Fill out the forms, then get us each a ticket. Use my second name, not my chosen one. Something small but speedy, like a high-speed courier. We leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But I have a class—”
“You want this position, Intern?”
“Yes. And my name is—”
“Then go get your classwork from the professor, Intern. If they squawk, tell them to suck an egg. You’re my assistant now, and that means living a life of adventure. Just. Like. You. Asked. For. Are you up to it? Intern?”
She leaned forward, but to her surprise her new assistant hadn’t shied away. Instead the look of determination to her eyes only looked more sure..
“I am,” the mare said, dropping out of her seat. “I’ll send word about the tickets once they’re ordered. Do you want me to meet you here or at the airship docks?”
“The docks.” Daring said, slightly surprised. Her new assistant—Temporary!—nodded and walked out of the office.
Well … Daring thought as the door closed in her wake. That was … not how I wanted that to go. Feathers!
Then she shrugged. “Eh, she’ll give up after one jaunt anyway. How determined could she be? No one else has survived a trip.”
She sank back into her seat, closing her eyes. “She’ll quit the moment we get back. I’m sure of it.”
When she awoke the next morning, there was a form twenty-seven-B-dash-six and a form twenty-two-K-dash-one, filled out and ready, beneath her the mail slot in her door.
Now …
The air had grown cooler as they’d moved further down. Damper, too, with a faintly audible rumble rising as they’d delved deeper and deeper within. And now, several levels down, the source of the chill, the moisture, and what was now a roar far deeper than any yeti’s cry had made itself clear.
“It has to be a forge,” one of the expedition members said as they stepped out onto a cold, slick stone bridge. “Fueled by an underground river! Incredible. You don’t think—?” They looked at another member of the group.
“One of the forges of Asterion? Fueled by the waters of the Earth? Or her followers among the pegasi?” they replied. “Maybe—”
A howl from behind them called an end to their musings. Daring stepped ahead, already being outpaced as she moved across the slick stones. “Watch your step, Intern,” she called.
“Trap!” came the reply. “Middle of the bridge,” Her assistant pointed, and one of the unicorns marked it.
Sharp.
“If there is a hidden exit ...” somepony said.
“There is.” Daring could feel the coolness of the amulet against her skull, guiding her forward. There were no other directions to go now. “We’re close. Trust me.”
They crossed over the bridge, passing by several weighted nets designed to entrap flying attackers. Every bit of this points to a Pegasopalis garrison bunker, except for the signs of a forge … Maybe they built over a place that already existed? Otherwise, why the water?
“Sun and moon!” The cry came from ahead, from her assistant, racing ahead to take the lead. “Everypony! You have to see this!”
Daring increased her pace, hurrying to catch up and feeling her body protest the constant abuse. I can’t do this like I used to. Even her assistant had noticed her slowing over the last few years. She was far from retirement, but her body was, plainly put, not quite as capable as it once had been.
As if to emphasize the fact, several of the expedition members passed her by, rounding the bend and letting loose cries of amazement of their own.
Daring rounded the corner at last, and felt her jaw drop as the pathway opened up into a titanic underground space.
To their left, the underground river they’d just passed became a waterfall, cascading over what looked like a natural drop and across massive frozen paddles that had been extended across the fall’s path. To the right, the path would down a massive spiral, carved around a stone column. The unicorns lit their horns, casting light more tha a hundred feet down to the bottom and revealing rows of stone-carved workstations and what could only be massive forges.
“Pegasopalis didn’t build this,” Clouded said.
“No, they didn’t.” Daring’s assistant pointed. “Look at the chimneys on those forges. That’s an ancient diamond dog technique. But … modified, I think. And those tools—”
A howl came from behind them, followed by a titanic crash as something on the bridge triggered. A moment later the water of the falls turned red, a battered body dropping over the edge and bouncing off of one of the paddles before, dropping out of sight, vanishing into the depths of the earth.
“There!” Daring pointed. On the far side of the massive space was another opening. That has to be it, because we’re not climbing up those tiny chimneys.
“Down the ramp to the bottom! Fast!” Her assistant led the way, racing down the ramp as it spiraled down to the bottom of the cave. Daring spread her wings, jumping from the edge and flying out into the open air, watching the team’s descent.
Whatever happened at the bridge won’t hold the yeti for long. She gave the expedition team a quick look, following in the wake of her assistant, and then darted through the air, breathing hard as she flew for the far egress. If we don’t get out of here soon …
She didn’t need to finish the thought to know, the grim certainty filling her bones with a sense of dread as more howls echoed behind her. Celestia, you’d better have been right!
Then …
I don’t want to do this, Daring thought as she trotted through the halls of the university. I really, really, really don’t want to do this.
A complaint, she could deal with. The board, she could handle. But a royal summons from Princess Celestia herself?
I don’t want to do this.
But she had to.
The conference room was just ahead. She was probably going to be the last to arrive. Even her assistant had probably arrived earlier.
That was fine by her. I can’t turn down the Princess. But I can make her wait.
It was about as much power as she wanted to exercise at the moment. Dared to.
She slowed for a second, adjusting her helmet as the door to the conference room neared. Then, with a quick glance to make sure no one else was around—not even the Solar Guard—she pulled the Arrow out and opened it.
It pointed toward the conference room, though not steadily. It knew how much she didn’t want to go in there. But it also reflected that she’d made up her mind.
She closed the Arrow with a snap and placed it back inside the band of her hat. Time to get this over with. She stepped forward and swung the door open.
“Daring Do.” Celestia’s voice was warm, like a beam of sunlight across the soul. “How nice to see you again.”
I can’t say the same, since I know what this is about. “Princess Celestia,” she said, bowing her head politely. “I got your message.”
She noted a few raised eyebrows among those at the table, save for those of her assistant. She already knew how Daring acted around the Princesses.
“I’m glad you were able to make it,” Princess Celestia replied, motioning with one wing at the table. “Please, won’t you take a seat?”
I won’t do it Celestia, Daring thought as she took her seat. I won’t.
“Daring, I’ve asked you here today to extend an invitation to you,” the Princess began. “These students of the university may have determined the location of a Pegasopalis garrison bunker—”
“I’m aware of their findings,” Daring said. One of the students gasped at her breach of protocol, but the Princess only smiled.
“Then you must be aware that in order for them to mount an official expedition outside our borders in search of it, they must have the permission and presence of a professor.”
“I am.” She crossed her forelegs. Come on Princess. Read me.
“And that, at the current time, you are the only such professor available.”
Daring nodded. ‘I knew that too.”
“And that these students have submitted three requests to you, each of which you have ignored.”
“I don’t really do groups, Princess.”
“You have an assistant.”
“And she can vouch for how grouchy I can be when I’m around other beings.”
“I can vouch for that, Princess,” her assistant said, speaking up. “She’s a terrible grouch.”
Thank you Intern.
“I think she needs to spend more time around other beings. Get used to them.”
Traitor!
Princess Celestia merely smiled. “Daring, I’m not asking you to take charge of the expedition. Simply share your knowledge and experience with it while letting these young students take their first steps into the wider world you’ve devoted yourself to so wholeheartedly. If I recall, a professor once did the same for you.”
Daring’s eyes narrowed. “You’re immortal. I don’t need to remind you how that turned out.”
“You became the greatest modern adventurer archeologist known. With a book series that’s made you a celebrity. Not that you’ve basked in it much as you’ve gotten older.” Celestia let the last word trail off, and the two started at one another.
Part of her wanted to snap back. The reminder of her first expedition stung. But … No. Celestia doesn’t do that. What’s she—? She paused. Of course.
She stood, biting back the faint ember of anger she felt. “Would the rest of you mind leaving the room? You too, Intern. The Princess and I need to have a few words in private.”
“It’s fine, my little ponies,” Celestia said. “Some things are better said one on one.” She waited until the students—and Daring’s assistant—had left the room, and then her horn glowed.
“There,” she said. “A privacy spell. You can speak freely Daring, though if you’re hoping to out-grouch me, you’re going to lose.”
“What are you playing at, Princess?”
Celestia tilted her head to one side. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t have brought up my first expedition without good reason, Princess. Come on. Spill it.”
Celestia’s smile faded, her expression growing solemn. “You’ve heard that I have the gift of prophecy?”
“Rumor. Legend.”
“It is somewhat true,” Celestia admitted. “Not nearly to the degree that many think. More like … a bit of guidance. Insight. A feeling, or a prompting, if you will. Sometimes it’s hard to determine, but every time I’ve ignored it … the consequences have been grave.”
Her eyes seemed to lock with Daring’s. “I suspect you might know a bit about how that sort of thing feels yourself.”
The bottom dropped out of Daring’s stomach.
“In any case, these students contacted me,” Celestia continued. “Came to court, actually. That was how this matter came to my attention. They desperately want you to be their guide in this manner. Because you’re the only one available … and because they are young. They don’t wish to wait another few weeks or months until another is available. I was about to tell them that I respected your wishes, but then …”
The Princess paused, her whole countenance darkening. “I fear that were they to wait, many of them—if not all—would perish. They will go, one way or another. Why or how it has to be you that goes … I don’t understand. But I feel that you must be with them. Only your presence can keep them from harm if they are to go. Do you understand?”
Daring let out a sigh, glancing back at the door. “You’re certain?”
Princess Celestia shook her head. “No. I realize that makes it worse. My gift is sometimes vague. But I am asking you … please go.”
“Fine.” Daring gave the door another glance. “You have my word, Princess.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to keep them safe.”
Now …
“This way!” Daring called, waving a hoof above her head. “Hurry!” The amulet had begun to buzz beneath her hat now, only stopping when she looked at the exit from the cavern. “A way out! Hurry!” The expedition members were racing across the floor of the forge at a full gallop now, spurned on by the cries of the yeti and backed by the Intern. Who, Daring noted, had her bow out and at the ready.
She still got the cool soothing sensation of survival when she looked at the group, or at their exit. Anywhere else … and the buzz returned with a vengeance.
There was just one obstacle. A final trap. The exit from the forge cavern led to another bridge across an underground river. And on the far side lay a massive metal gate, titanic and firm. Ancient gears ran to a paddle assembly beneath the bridge, the current rushing around it.
Above Daring, in the forge cavern, was the lever that raised it.
On the wall, high above the ground. The lever was currently in the down position. And beneath it, on the ground, she’d found both a metal pin and the stone remains of the surface it was supposed to brake the lever against in order to keep the gate open.
The archeologist in her knew that it had been deliberately shattered. A Pegasus Empire “last stand” style trap.
Where one warrior would stay behind.
The soothing sensation increased as the expedition team neared, but she could feel her limbs beginning to tremble, her stomach clenching up in knots. The amulet was buzzing when she looked in any direction now.
Including up.
A howl echoed across the cavern as one of the yeti made it to the top of the ramp. A second later there was a flash and a bang as it triggered a firearm, a bullet bouncing off the ground with a shower of sparks. Someone in the group screamed.
Two or three of them could reach that lever without wings, standing on each others’ backs, Daring thought. Or one of the unicorns could maybe levitate it. Then I could make it out.
But they wouldn’t.
More howls and gunshots sounded. One of the unicorns let out a cry of pain, stumbling and falling. Her assistant spun, firing off an arrow into the black. A howl of pain echoed in reply.
I could make it. She pulled her eyes away from the group, feeling the amulet’s jolts come with greater and greater force.
It’s just an artifact that points out when you might die. No matter the cost around you.
Someone let out a dismayed cry as they saw the gate, skidding to a halt as Daring looked at them. Even now, the Arrow’s jolt became a soothing cool.
Someone has to stay behind. Her assistant fired off another arrow, even as a bullet flew past her muzzle. This time her target screamed, long and loud until it was cut off by the thud of their falling body hitting the stone floor. Her assistant jerked as if struck, body freezing in horror at what she had just done.
I gave my word. Her wings hurt. Her legs ached. I’ve skipped a lot of close calls with the end. One of the expedition members was crying with fear, tears running down their muzzle.
Feathers. She let out a heavy breath. At least it’ll be an awesome story.
“Intern!” Daring’s shout echoed across the cavern, but the slate-colored earth-pony didn’t stir. “Intern!” There was no response. Daring shook her head, then bellowed the pony’s name as loud as she could. “Lapis Croft!”
Her assistant jerked, the sound of her name shaking her out of her trance. “Here!” Daring called. “Now!” She turned toward the rest of the expedition. “Move! Across the bridge!”
“The gate—”
“I said move!” The shout spurned the group into action, and they rushed across the stones.
Daring turned back toward the lever, the jolt in her head so intense it was almost a spike of physical pain, stabbing through the bone.
“Daring?” Croft skidded to a halt, her hooves sliding over the stone. “Daring, what—”
“It’s a last stand trap, Croft,” Daring said, turning to look at her assistant. There was no soothing sensation now. She’d made her choice. “You know what that means.”
Croft’s eyes widened. “No. Daring, there has to be—”
“Croft.” She reached up, pulled her helmet from her head, the buzzing, painful jolt vanishing, only to resume the moment she plucked the amulet from the band. “This is the Eye of Anubis. TheArrow of Ziwati. They’re the one and the same. Your father was right. About everything, including where it was. I … I kept it.”
Croft’s eyes widened, and Daring nodded, beating her to the punch before you could speak. “You’re as smart as I was when I was your age, Croft. Maybe smarter. Here.” She tossed the amulet toward her, Croft catching it. “You know what that does, Croft. I’ve made my choice.”
“Daring—”
“It’s time, Croft. Go. I made my choice.” She started to turn, then stopped.
“Everything’s yours, by the way. Check my will. Your dad never had the money to prove anything. Now you do. You’re an amazing archeologist. Use it.” She couldn’t turn, couldn’t pull her eyes away from the lever. “Make him proud, Croft. Make us both proud.”
She jumped, beating her wings, and slammed into the bottom of the lever, bracing her hooves against the rock and heaving upward with every bit of strength she could muster. The level gave, slowly, but then with sudden smoothness, and from beyond the opening she could hear the clanking of gears as the gate opened.
“Daring!”
“Go!” she shouted, looking down at Croft. “Now!”
Croft swallowed, tears running down her cheeks … and then she bolted, galloping out across the bridge, gunshots echoing after her. A moment later there was a cry.
“We’re through!”
Muscles screaming, Daring let go. A massive crash sounded from the far side of the bridge before she’d even reached the ground. Mechanical energy, she thought. Goes down a lot faster than you’d think.
She could hear the patter of the yeti’s footsteps now, echoing alongside their cries. Her pith helmet was still on the ground where she’d tossed it after giving Croft the Arrow. She limped over to it, picked it up, and then set it on her head.
The expedition was gone, the only light light illuminating the forge now coming from the yeti’s gemlights as they rushed toward her.
She took a deep breath. Her limbs ached and her wings burned. Time for one last adventure. Time to see what’s on the other side.
But I won’t make it easy.
Good luck, Croft.
Tensing herself, she leapt toward the light.
Author's Note
Hey folks! Surprise! Story from nowhere!
Again, apologies about the lack of editing. This was literally written yesterday, in a single blitz. Due to my work on Starforge, I didn't have a lot of other time for writing, but when I saw the contest (to date the only contest I've written for) I got the idea, and well ... ideas are dangerous. Which is why after finishing the draft for Starforge (which weighed in at half a million words), I took a day off and then wrote this story in a single go.
Made it in just under the bar. Could it use some polish? Yeah, and I say that with full knowledge that it retroactively will make readers look back on it less favorably. But it is what it is. There's only so much time in the day, and sometimes you have to make a choice.
As to the story? Well, it was an idea I couldn't get out of my head. With all those artifacts Daring's finding, what are the odds she kept one or two for herself? I played with that, and the "theme" of the contest (change), the idea metamorphosing into a story about "passing the torch" and choosing to do so.
Oh, and Croft? Lapis Croft? "Lapis" literally means stone, while "croft" means as a verb to farm land, or as a noun a small farm with an attached house. Couldn't have worked out better for an earth-pony archeologist for MLP's Indiana Jones reference to pass things on to, huh?
Like the descrip said, every legend has a beginning.
Oh, and Dusk Guard Saga fans, yes this all fits into the world and setting of that AU. There's some little trickles of worldbuilding scattered here and there I hope you enjoyed.
As a reminder, if you've enjoyed my work here, than I'd urge you to check out the rest of my work here on fimfic as well as my website, which is a springboard to a number of my published novels and epics you can enjoy.
