//------------------------------//
// Infiltration 
// Story: For Want of a Quill 
// by bkaneshiro14 
//------------------------------//

"Okay," Smarts panted, "We made it out. Razorback Ridge is just another three miles away. We can make it before the day's over if we hurry." 

They cantered quickly to Razorback Ridge and were shocked with what they saw. The rock formations jutting sharply from the earth were coated with a crystal blue ice. The birds that sang their ominous songs were silent, giving the ridge an even more foreboding atmosphere. In front of them stood a fortress made entirely of ice standing over one hundred feet tall. After taking a deep breath, they stepped onto the thin ice bridge separating the fortress from the rest of the ridge. The bridge creaked and cracked loudly, and it felt like it wasn't going to hold them up for much longer. Step after step, they finally made it to the other side, just as the bridge collapsed upon itself and fell into a ravine which didn't show any signs of having a bottom. There was no turning back now.

The icy doors to the fortress were locked shut. Grabbing the quill, Smarts drew a picture of a fire and the fire bolted out of the paper and blew the door open inwards. They were then set upon by thirty guards who heard the explosion. "We don't know how you got in here," they said in perfect unison, "but you're not going to get out."

"We'll see." Smarts said with a smirk. He then whipped the quill this way and that, and drew a fully-grown lion. "Attack!" Smarts shouted to the lion. The lion showed absolute loyalty in that it was willing to fight the guards to the potential death. The lion mauled two guards with his paws and slashed at a third with his claws, effectively killing him. His frenzy was stopped by a spear thrust into his midsection, which turned the lion into an inky black sludge. Meanwhile, Smarts was drawing icy spear after icy spear, each of them flinging themselves from the page and skewered multiple guards. At the same time, Sally was engaging the guards directly with a ninjato, deftly dodging the attacks of her allies and slashing mortally deep wounds into the guards. Of the thirty guards that attacked, only ten survived the initial onslaught. "So, I hear your boss likes it cold." Smarts said slyly. "Let this be a monument to his sins." He drew a picture of an intricate snowflake on the paper. However, it shrunk in size to a normal snowflake and floated gently over the heads of the guards. The guards laughed, and Smarts was worried that the ploy had failed and he made himself look foolish in front of Sally. His prayers were answered when the snowflake cast a hurricane-force gale down at the guards. The icy wind froze them instantaneously, and their laughing expression was frozen permanently in eerie ice sculptures.

The two ponies rushed up the ice staircase, crushing ice demons with magic and cutting through guards with swords and knives. It took half an hour to scout the entire fortress before they finally reached the door to the boss's quarters. "Smarts," Sally inquired, "how do you know that this is the door to the boss's quarters?"

"I don't know." He replied sarcastically, while gesturing obviously at a plaque on the door that read: Boss's quarters! Do not enter! "It must've been a lucky guess." He drew another fireball on the paper with intent of melting the door down, but when the fire struck the ice, the fire dissipated with a loud hiss. The door came out without so much as a mark on it. Confounded by this, Smarts drew more fireballs and arcs of lightning as well, only to have the same effect. 

Just as he was about to finish drawing a volcano, Sally pointed out, "Wait, wait, wait. There's something written here. It says 'whosoever has reached this door may only open it by speaking the answer to this riddle.' Uggh. I hate thinking. The riddle says…" She pauses and puts a hoof to her face. "I don't believe this. 'If a train leaves Fillydelphia heading southward at fifty miles per hour and a train leaves Manehatten heading northward at thirty miles per hour, how long will it take for the two trains to meet each other?' Damn it, Smarts, I can't do math!"

"You don't need it." He replied. "You need to know about geography. It's a trick question. Manehatten is southward to Fillydelphia, so the trains could never meet." And after those words left his lips, the doors to the boss's quarters creaked open.