Curse of Coltinado

Curse of Coltinado
Chapter One: Bitter News and Broken Hearts

By Feather Scratch

A peal of thunder rolled through the jagged mountains of the Frozen North. Towering black storm clouds blanketed the sky, suffocating any natural light the moon and stars could provide. A biting wind shrieked through the myriad peaks with the rage of a land that had never felt a summer’s warmth and, on the weather worn streets of a lonely town nestled in the shadow of a looming rock face, a single pony ran for his life.

Clicking a rapid, steady rhythm on the slick cobbles the brown Earth Pony galloped as fast as his aged legs would carry him. The heavy clouds and torrential rain made it almost impossible to even see the ground under his hooves, let alone the street ahead, but at each twist and turn he deftly swerved, meeting the unseen obstacles without missing a beat.

Another wave of thunder boomed across the sky. The pony skidded to a halt and turned his gaze to the street he had just come down. He willed his eyes to pierce the curtain of rain that hid the world so persistently from view. His erect ears swivelled restlessly trying to sift through the chaos of the storm. There had been another sound, hidden behind the thunder. It was so faint that the untrained ear would have missed it entirely but the keen senses of the Earth Pony had caught it. Flapping leather?

Ignoring the protests of his burning lungs the pony redoubled his efforts. He was approaching the outskirts of the town where the train station was situated. He needed to escape. He was in over his head and needed to find help.

A small smile crossed his face as the granite arch that marked the town’s main gate came into view. Almost there.

His relief was short lived however as a flash of lightning cut the sky, causing him to start and trip on the uneven cobbles. He hit the stone paving with a dull crack and his momentum threw him into a wild tumble that ended with him splayed on his back, head spinning, staring bleary eyed up at the sky. A thin trickle of blood poured from his snout only to be washed away by the rain.

In his dazed state he just lay there. His eye lids were heavy, his mind was weary and his body ached. The steady patter of the rain was surprisingly soothing and the pony may have just let it lull him to sleep then and there had another flash of lightning not illuminated the sky and revealed, just for a second, a dense swarm of large silhouettes circling overhead. Silhouettes with leathery wings.

Coughing up the blood and rain that had pooled in the back of his throat and shaking his head to dispel the daze, the pony hauled himself slowly onto his haunches. With a Celestian effort he clambered back to his hooves and stumbled onwards. He couldn’t run anymore. He was too tired and was pretty sure he had twisted a fetlock in the fall.

The heavy beating of hundreds of membranous wings became more prominent with each painful step he took. They were toying with him. They must have been. Any one of them could have swooped down at any time, picked him up and dropped him to his doom. So why didn’t they?

After what felt like an eternity of dragging his aching bones through the downpour, made all the more arduous by the icy wind shear the high town walls had previously sheltered him from, the lights of the train station came into view. The hanging oil lamps may as well have been the radiance of Celestia herself. Just knowing his goal was in sight was enough to push the pony forward. One more step, then another and another.

Reaching the station he dragged himself up the few steps to the wooden platform, teeth gritted against the pain. Never had three small steps presented such a challenge. The sodden pony couldn’t suppress a grin of triumph as he alighted onto the platform and turn towards the train only to freeze where he stood.

A faint light was on in the caboose of the small engine and flickering shadows passing over the drawn blinds betrayed the presence of at least two passengers. This wouldn’t have been so strange if it wasn’t the middle of the night in a storm which should have seen both train and platform abandoned.

The pony sighed and took a deep steadying breath, steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation. Moving as quietly as he could on the warped wood under hoof he limped towards the main engine of the train. Whoever was in the caboose no doubt expected him to come in through the passenger door at the back, so he would take them by surprise and get the jump on them from the front. It wasn’t much of a plan. He was still outnumbered and in bad shape but even the slightest advantage could make all the difference if he acted quickly.

He hooked his one good fetlock into the engine’s guard rail and pulled himself up, only to be propelled back down with a velocity that suggested he wasn’t so much pushed forward as yanked, bodily, backwards.

The world exploded in a shower of glass and splinters as the pony crashed through the main window of the ticket office. He came to an abrupt and painful stop as he hit the back wall of the office with a wet thud, slumping into a heap on the floor.

His ears rang as he heard what his muddled brain vaguely recognised as approaching hoof beats. He was running out of time. He needed to take stock of the situation and end this quickly while he still could. He forced his eyes open and focused.

First things first: what state am I in? Sprain to the Annular Ligament in the right fetlock with a possible fracture to the Proximal Phalanx, three cracked ribs; possible fractures on the seventh and eighth Thoracic vertebrae, left lung defiantly collapsed, multiple points of internal bleeding and trauma at the base of the skull. Summary: reaction time and agility drastically impaired, physical confrontation, ill advised.

The pony turned his gaze to the stallion who had bucked him clean out of the engine as he swaggered into the remains of the ticket office with all the confidence of a predator that had its prey cornered and had nothing left to do but savour the kill.

Next, the enemy. As suspected, a Bat Pony. Male, young adult, heavily built, in prime physical condition. Discernible ailments, none. Damn! Exploitable weaknesses, sensitivity to bright light and loud noises.

The pony quickly surveyed the remains of the ticket office looking for anything he could use as a weapon. The desk and chair had been reduced to kindling. Unless the Bat Pony had a sawdust allergy they’d be useless. The brass till had fallen to the ground, scattering the few bits it contained. In his condition it’d be far too heavy to wield. There were scattered papers, a “Mares of the Month” calendar, a chalkboard noting the train schedule and hanging in the corner, an old ticket belt.

A plan formed in his head. Not his most brilliant or elegant by far but one that never failed in a tight spot. And his spot was indeed tight as, no sooner had he devised his plan than a powerful hoof pressed against his neck and lifted his prone form with arrogant ease off the floor. The Bat Pony smirked.

“Any last words Detective?”

“T’ks P’ls,” the detective pony choked.

“Eh?” The Bat Pony loosened his grip slightly and leaned in closer, ears cocked forward.

“I said,” the detective pony leaned in as close as he could and took as deep a breath as his one good lung would allow, “TICKETS PLEASE!”

The Bat Pony threw the detective across the room as though he had suddenly become red hot. Crying out in pain the stunned brute fell to his knees, clutching his sensitive ears. The pain wasn’t terrible and he would recover quickly but the shock alone of an auditory assault was enough to put the Bat Pony out of commission for a few seconds.

Those few seconds were all the detective needed. He grabbed the heavy iron ticket belt, which had fallen to the ground beside him, in his teeth and summoning the last vestiges of his strength, got to his hooves and swung the belt round in a wide arc like a Morningstar. It connected with the crown of the cringing Bat Pony’s skull with a sickening crack. The Bat Pony immediately fell, twitching, to the ground, a pool of blood slowly forming beneath his head.

The old classic of the bar room brawl: throw a distraction in their face, then hit them really hard with the nearest heavy object. It was crude and damn unsporting but it never failed.

The detective spat out the belt and stared sadly at what he had done. Sometimes he hated his line of work. The bigger the case, the more innocents and witless pawns seemed to get hurt. He shook his head and pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind. He limped back towards the train, doubting very much that his struggle had gone unnoticed by the ponies inside.

He was right.

The sight that greeted him as he stumbled out of the wreckage of the ticket office made his blood run cold. His pupils contracted to pin pricks as the weight of a hundred pairs of golden eyes bore down on him. Bat Ponies crowded onto the platform, sat on the roof of the train, leaned down from the roof of the ticket office or just hovered in place in the air. It seemed they were finished toying and weren’t thrilled to find the detective walking out instead of their brother.

To his credit, the detective didn’t panic. If anything he found the glares, snarling and hissing of the imposing crowd to be a relief. At least they were finally behaving the way an angry mob was supposed to. That he could handle. No. The thing that filled his chest with a gnawing dread was the part of the platform not occupied by chiropteric equines.

A path had been cleared through the crowd leading from him straight to the open door of the caboose and, undoubtedly, the hoof pulling all the strings. Somehow the empty space and more importantly, what it represented were more daunting than the prospect of being torn apart by an enraged swarm of fangs.

He briefly scanned his surroundings, looking for an escape route he knew in his bones he wouldn’t find. His ears splayed and he lowered his head, letting out a long, ragged sigh. He had lost. Somehow in all his long years such a prospect had never even occurred to him as a possibility. His sharp wits had spelt the end of even the most cunning and esoteric criminals. No matter the threat, no matter the magic, no matter the puzzle he always won. Yet here he was, alone in the middle of nowhere facing the short walk to his longest fall.

He raised his head and fixed his face with a determined glare. He wouldn’t beg or break down. If this was to be his end he would at least face it with dignity.

Step by step he limped forward, his broken body running on nothing but will power and pride. The closer he drew to the caboose, the denser the crowd around him became. The Bat Ponies that had been hovering above landed in the space behind, quelling any thought of retreat.

As he clambered into the luxurious train car the shadowy figures waiting within stepped forward. The single candle on the coffee table wasn’t nearly enough to light the space but it did provide just enough illumination to see the mirrored eyes sparkle with glee. It provided just enough for him to identify the ponies that would stamp out his legacy once and for all.

“Feathers?” He gasped as one of the figures approached, a malevolent grin crossing their face.

“Feathers!”

~~~

“Feathers!”

Artemis spat out the mouthful of cupcake he had been chewing and hurriedly guzzled down the contents of his bottle of apple juice. It didn’t take nearly as long as he thought it would to transport the Fillydelphia tourists to Ponyville. It turned out they had already taken a connecting train to Canterlot and saved him half a trip. Now with some unexpected time to himself he decided playing tourist sounded like fun and he may as well take in the sights of Ponyville.

The little town had developed quite a reputation in the past few years. Not only was it the scene of more epic conflicts than any other town or city in Equestria for generations but it was home to multiple award winners and celebrities like the Best Young Flyer, the upper crust’s most talked about up and coming fashionista, a world renowned supermodel, the stars of the Canterlot Hearths Warming Pageant and the co-winners of last year’s National Desert Competition.

It was the thought of the delectable, award winning treats that had led Artemis to Sugar Cube Corner first and his unfortunate decision to try the “House Special” that the enthusiastic pink pony behind the counter offered free of charge, because he was new in town.

“Wha’ i’ Eq’es’t’ia wa’ ‘at?!” Artemis tongue hung limp and lifeless from his mouth as he pointed at the offending crimson cupcake, leaning back as though it were a poisonous snake that could jump up and bite him at any second.

“Aw, don’t you like it?” The pink pony’s ears drooped and a disappointed frown crossed her face. “Why does nopony ever seem to like my jalapeño hot sauce cupcakes? I think they’re good.”

Artemis scraped his tongue with a hoof and winced. It was going to be numb for hours, he could tell. He just hoped the inability to form a coherent sentence wouldn’t make visiting the rest of the town too awkward. He dropped a few bits on the counter for the apple juice and stalked out of the bakery, ignoring the pink pony who seemed to have descended into a debate with herself over the tastes of ponies and just where the line between “boldly experimental” and “cruel and unusual” lay.

Taking in a deep lung full of air Artemis relaxed. Compared to the blistering heat out west Ponyville was pleasantly cool even in the heart of summer. The breeze carried the mixed scent of apples, roses and cinnamon from the local market. Smiling ponies walked the streets, chatting away without a care in the world, birds sang in the trees and fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the cyan sky. It was difficult not to be washed away by a wave of contentment when exposed to the small town’s rustic charms.

He shook his head and gave a small chuckle. The treat may not have been exactly what he was expecting but there was no way he could say it wasn’t at least memorable.

Not really having a notion of his next move, Artemis set off along the street at a leisurely pace and let his mind wander. The last few days had certainly been eventful. He had left Daring in Dodge Junction with her new friend Braeburn for a few days. They were just supposed to have been following up on some research. They weren’t even supposed to leave the town. So when he returned to the news of a death defying adventure full of bandits, booby trapped temples, life changing self discovery and a treasure far greater than any of them had imagined he was understandably a little shocked. That goddaughter of his seemed to attract trouble like a magnet.

He stopped to smell the flowers on display at a stall in the town square. The delicate, creamy scent of the fresh blossoms drew a sigh of pleasure from deep in his throat. He closed his eyes to better indulge his senses. This was what life should be about. Enjoying the simple pleasures as they presented themselves and not having to fear for your life or the lives of your loved ones every other day.

“Would you like to try one?” Artemis opened his eyes to see the mare behind the stall smiling politely at him and indicating with a hoof towards the lilies he had been hovering over.

His face reddening as he realised he must have been standing there longer than he thought. Artemis gave a sheepish smile and waved a hoof in dismissal.

“’Oh ‘ank ‘ooh.”

Before the confused flower pony could respond Artemis trotted off as fast as he could without seeming impolite. He kept his head low until he was sure his cheeks had stopped blushing and only when he felt he had calmed down enough did he lift his head and slow down.

He bit down on his tongue experimentally and gave a small groan when he felt nothing. That was embarrassing. On the other hoof, he smiled and added a spring to his step for good measure. It’d make a funny anecdote one day so there was no reason to let it get him down.

After a few more minutes of enjoying the scenery, Artemis once again allowed his thoughts to wander.

Yes, trouble seemed to follow Daring wherever she went. She’d worry him to death one of these days. It wasn’t always a problem. Daring undertook most of her expeditions with a team of archaeologists who looked out for her and, usually, rained in her more reckless tendencies, but she did go on a painful amount of adventures alone or with only a single companion and every time she did she would come back with a new injury and a tale of a narrow escape. Why couldn’t she be more careful?

Then again, Artemis chuckled to himself, who was he to judge? At her age he had diced with death more times than he could count and would have fallen under the hooves of some very nasty ponies, had he not been dragged out of the gutter by an eccentric genius who had kicked his flank back onto the straight and narrow and given him a sense of purpose in life.

Artemis was suddenly pulled back to the present when he caught sight of a gray and yellow blur out of the corner of his eye flying in the direction he had just come from. Was that Daring? What was she doing in Ponyville of all places?

Whatever it was, Artemis decided it must be important and he’d better meet her at the station. Without another thought he turned around and galloped back through the town, not even acknowledging the flower pony who still looked rather off kilter, not knowing whether to be insulted by or sympathetic towards the pony who had just spat gibberish in her face.

~~~

Daring Do beat her wings as hard as she could. They ached from her crash course in stunt flying but she didn’t care. She had to put as much distance between herself and the apple farm, herself and him, as she could as fast as she could. She needed time to think and didn’t trust herself not to turn back if she paused, even for a moment.

Snarling at herself for her own indecision she forcefully wiped the tears from her eyes with a fetlock. The sooner she was back in Dodge Junction the sooner she could pack up and head to the ends of the Earth to be alone with her thoughts.

So wrapped up in her own woes was Daring that, as she arrived at the station she nearly collided with a blonde, wall eyed mare flying in the opposite direction. Safely swerving at the last second Daring nevertheless misjudged her landing entirely and tripped over her hooves, plunging face first towards the paving stones. With a small yelp she screwed her eyes closed and braced for pain; pain which to her surprise, never came.

She opened her eyes and realised she was being held up by the forelegs of another pony. The pony had a gray coat, a sleek black mane and tail and was panting as though he had just been running. The pony was as familiar to Daring as her own reflection and, at a time like this, was the most welcome sight in the world. She threw her own forelegs around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Artemis! What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”

Artemis pulled away from the hug but kept his hooves on the mare’s shoulders and a warm smile on his face.

“Ah di’,” he paused and coughed. The adrenaline from running had forced a little feeling back into his tongue and he was sure he could speak clearly if he just focused.

“I did. But I finished faster than I expected. Daring,” his brow furrowed as he noticed the redness around his goddaughter’s eyes, “what’s wrong? Did something happen with Braeburn?”

He took his hooves away and turned back in the direction of Ponyville, a blinding anger quickly rising in his chest.

“It did, didn’t it? I swear, if that no good mule hurt you I’ll tie him to the rails an-"

“Artemis!” Daring interrupted, grabbing the stallion’s head and forcibly turning him to look at her. “Braeburn didn’t do anything. In fact, he’s been nothing but wonderful so you can dial back the overprotective routine.”

Unconvinced, Artemis snorted but, reluctantly, turned back to face Daring, “Fine. Well why don’t you tell me what is wrong because when I last saw you, you were on top of the world.”

He led her to a bench on the platform where they sat, Daring with a distinctive slump, the customary gleam in her eyes missing. Her gaze fell to the ground and she absentmindedly scratched circles into the wood of the bench with a hoof.

“It’s just,” she began, “everything’s happened so fast. For so long I’ve kept my feelings bottled up. I’ve kept everypony at a distance because I didn’t want them to get hurt. I didn’t want to get hurt. Then I meet Braeburn and in less than forty eight hours he has me crying like a filly, spilling my heart out and talking about things I’ve tried so hard to forget. I told him my darkest secrets and he didn’t run away. He actually accepted me, warts and all. I just... I don’t know how to deal with that kind of affection. I don’t know if I’m capable of returning it the way he deserves so... I ran. I... need time.”

Any anger Artemis had been feeling dissipated instantly. He wrapped a comforting hoof around Daring’s shoulder and pulled her closer to his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and let silent tears run down her face.

“You know, even a block headed mule like me can see how much you care for him. I don’t think you need as much time as you think. Like you said, it all just happened so fast. You just need a little while to let it sink in. Hey,” he gave her shoulders a playful shake, “you’ve spent your whole life living in the past with your head in the sand. Maybe it’s time to live in the here and now for a while. Take some time to smell the roses.”

Daring gave a weak laugh. “Well, listen to you Mr Sensitivity. Since when has the stallion who hasn’t had a date in twenty years been such an expert on romance?”

“Hey!” Artemis chuckled, a tinge of faux indignation in his voice. “I have my moments. And for your information I do have dates.”

“Flirting with Minerva while you think I can’t hear you doesn’t count.”

Both ponies burst into fits of laughter at the thought of the prim and proper museum curator flirting. They laughed long and hard, straight from the heart as the tension that had built up in the air blew away like a thin fog in a brisk wind.

After several minutes they had to stop to gasp for air. There were few things more precious in the world than the moment when tears of sadness turn to tears of joy and even if the source of the elation was irreverent such moments were to be savoured for all they were worth.

“Ah,” Artemis sighed, wiping a tear from his eye, “speaking of Minerva. What are you planning on doing now that you’ve been 'outed'?”

Daring sighed and lolled her head lazily back to watch the clouds. “I don’t know. I need time away from Braeburn so I can’t stick around Dodge but with this publicity storm I can’t go back to Canterlot for a while either. Maybe I’ll head out to Fillydelphia or Los Pegasus and look up some old friends or I could always take up that teaching position at Trotingham University they’re always begging me to take. Either way, I’m probably going to have to whip out the old disguise kit again.”

“Well whatever you decide you know I’ll be right there with you. In the mean time,” Artemis stood up and popped his neck, “why don’t I give you a lift back to Dodge so you can sleep on it?”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The two ponies crossed the empty platform to the dark engine idling on the tracks. They were just about to board when a stallion with a blue visor and walrus moustache came trotting out of the ticket office towards them.

“Pardon me,” he said, his voice clipped and nasal, “Are you Artemis, engineer of train 221B?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Artemis turned to the stallion, one eye brow raised.

“A telegram arrived for you through the main office.” The stallion hoofed Artemis a folded piece of paper and trotted away as Artemis muttered his thanks.

Artemis unfolded the paper and quickly scanned the note. The colour immediately ran from his face and his pupils shrank to pin pricks. He reread the telegram two more times, convinced he had misunderstood, willing the words themselves to change. Finally he dropped the paper to the ground and just stared off into space, his mind reeling from the impossible news he had just received.

“Artemis, are you okay?” Daring edged closer to her godfather, her brow furrowed with concern.

“I need to go to Transylmaneia.”