Gemfire - I

A weird fantasy story with Rarity that I'll probably never finish, so I’m publishing it in parts as a blog to reduce potential prodding about lack of updates. It's almost a freewrite. No notes. No outlines. Character profiles at most. Heavily inspired by Pathfinder (via Ponyfinder). If thou art curious, find it below.

,.-~*´¨¯¨`*·~-.¸-(_Gemfire_)-,.-~*´¨¯¨`*·~-.¸

♦♢ I ♢♦

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The tower she and Sweetie Bell sought was a weathered old thing, teetering off to one side with ivy vines clawing up from its foundations. It cut a striking figure on the grassy hillock upon which it sat, with the full moon rising behind it, and its shadow stretching long into the surrounding briar patches. In fact, there was no clear road leading to the tower that the sisters could detect, which was of no small frustration to Rarity. She was determined--no--adamant that they would retrieve their prize from their mark and make haste back to Canterlot before the night was through. All her intricate future plans, for herself and her sister, hinged on this mission being successful.

They were crouched low in the outlying meadow, the night sky clear and jeweled above them. The fashionable bard had always appreciated the glorious night, her azure eyes alighting with the beauteous heavens, broad and sweeping like any of the various fabrics she liked to tailor for her numerous performances. Rarity liked to think of herself as manifold as the universe, as magnificent and wondrous as any star, and she utterly refused to allow herself to be restricted in her talents.

She was an actress, a storyteller, an artist, a designer, and above all-- a businessmare. As a bard, she specialized her talents in negotiation and oration, thus earning her the classification of Negotiator, though she was completely at home in front of an audience, and her hooves were more than skilled in the art of fashion. At Bardic College, she served the institution by ensuring its funding and tailoring the clothes of its performers. The mission her and her sister had undertaken for this night was highly unusual for them, and out of her wide skillset, but it was necessary. It was all necessary.

With this job done, Rarity would become a fili, or a master-level bard. She would never have to sully her hooves with common guildwork again, and she could finally, finally pursue her most cherished dream-- to open her own boutique.

"Sister," Sweetie Bell whispered, with just the barest hints of a tremor in her dulcet voice. As a Songhealer, her voice often felt soothing, even when suffering stress. Her two-tone mane was hidden under a lavender cloak. "No one has ever entered the Celestial Tower without express permission from the Sun Patroness! How can we get in there?"

"Ah, but those doomed unfortunates who came before us suffered one insurmountable drawback, oh sweet, sweet sister of mine!" Rarity whispered, her eyes trained on the looming tower. She trembled with anticipation under her emerald cloak, but she forced her muzzle to remain relaxed and smiling.

Sweetie Bell furrowed her brow, her ears twisting outward in thought. "What's that?" she asked quizzically.

Rarity giggled, the sound tight and quick, and nuzzled her sibling’s cheek. "They weren't us, darling!"

Sweetie began to crawl backwards, her mouth thinning so much, her lips practically vanished. “Rarity, can’t we do a different task? I’m sure the Bardic College will understand! We aren’t songfilches!” Songfilches, along with Stormsingers and Hoaxers, were a rumor outside of the college, but to all members of a certain rank, they were a firm reality. They were one of the various sub-orders of larcenists that carried out the hidden agendas of the College.

Rarity’s warm demeanor cooled as she swatted her sister’s flank lightly with her tail.  The sharp motion made the younger mare halt her retreat with a small yelp. “Sweetie Bell, you know as well as I do that if we return empty-hoofed, we will find ourselves with far more to worry about than just the rent!” Rarity hissed.

“But I thought you had enough to open your own boutique! Is this reward really worth it? Why are we even here!?” Sweetie whined.

The Negotiator sighed, her azure eyes turning up to the night sky. “Sweetie Bell… I don’t expect you to understand the finer points behind my decision. Just trust your elder sibling, dearest!” She reached over and patted her sister’s hoof. “If all goes to plan, then you stand to benefit a great deal as well!”

“If I don’t get stoned to death for heresy, that is,” Sweetie Bell grumbled.

Rarity shushed her absently, her eyes already returned to their destination.

Well then! No time like the present. Mustn’t dilly dally, lest we become plagued with ticks. The unicorn shuddered at the thought and firmly stamped out the thoughts of darker lurking… things.

Spurred by her repulsion of insects and an eagerness to see their task through, her horn flared with magic. A wave emanated from her horntip, thin, but sweeping. A quick check of the surrounding area. Rarity’s hair stood on end as she felt her aura trace over the thorns of the briars; lapped up the cool soil and green grass at the base of the tower; and finally traced up the roots of the tower itself.  The cold bricks were as unyielding to her spirit as whatever magic that shielded it kept its secrets hidden safely. Still, Rarity had sensed enough to know that the area was clear. There were no guards, no traps, and certainly no ambush spells. Just briar patches, grass, and a magically shielded tower. A little magic trick she had wheedled from an associate some years back.

With care, Rarity rose to her hooves. “Come sweet sister. Let us get on with it. All this... nature is not to my liking!”

Upon reaching the briar patch circle, the sisters carefully used their magic to clear a safe path through the ornery plants, keeping low and making only the smallest changes-- even if Rarity had not sensed anypony outside, it was still possible that somepony could be watching from on high. It wouldn’t do to be picked off by an archer at such an early stage of their mission!

Indeed, at any stage! The Negotiator thought with a flare of anxiety.

After they made it through the briar circle, they were at last able to approach the tower unimpeded. The main entrance was tall, narrow, oak wood doors with stone steps leading up to them. On either side on the wide carved railings, two stone gargoyles sat. One, a broad chested and fierce male. The other, a svelte and regal female.

Rarity eyed them warily as she ascended the steps to the door. She stopped before the entrance and hrmphed.

Sweetie Bell didn’t follow, her body quivering on the grass. “R-Rarity, look!”

The elder sister glanced back briefly with a frown. “Sweetie, I simply must concentrate!” Her eyes fastened on to the doors once again, and they widened.

“These… These have no locks!” Rarity’s brow creased. “Could it be barred from within? But then… How does the tower allow the goddess’s servants inside? I didn’t detect any authentication spells!”

“Rarity--!”

Rarity sat on her haunch and rubbed her chin with a hoof. “Could it be… there is no protection?” She giggled. “My! But what a horrible trick to play. Why then, one would have to question whether a tower unworthy of even the most rudimentary of locks even possesses anything of worth!” She drew herself up with a haughty breath. “Only one way to find out, I suppose!”

“Rarity, please!”

The Negotiator rolled her eyes at her sibling’s incessant, nagging attempts at grabbing her attention. “Not now, Sweetie Bell,” she snapped over her shoulder. She strode the two final steps to the doors and rose up on her hindlegs. “Can’t you see that I’m--”

Thunk.

Rarity blinked, stupefied at the unyielding solidity of the doors beneath her forehooves. They didn’t even budge! Pouting now, the unicorn dropped all hooves back to the stoop. “What in the blazes--?”

“Do you think we should tell her?” Stage-whispered a gruff male voice at her rear.

A feminine laugh answered. “No, no! Don’t interrupt! I always love it when they’re surprised!”

Rarity whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat.

Sweetie Bell had retreated… Not completely out of sight, but instead, just to the ring of briar patches, her slim body huddled low to the ground as her eyes stared up with undiluted fear.

Fear of what?

Rarity was willing to bet it was the two stone gargoyles… the two very much alive stone gargoyles, who had turned on their perches to gaze at her with amused smiles.

The female on the left frowned a little, just as Rarity could feel her face slacken and her body go cold. Drat.  As potential last thoughts went, it lacked a certain panache.

“Oh, poo! You’ve spoiled the fun, Scorpan,” The female gargoyle said to her stony companion.

The male gargoyle just chuckled and shrugged. “My apologies, Haydon.” His fanged smile flared wider. “But you must admit, this is still fairly entertaining.”

It was about then that Rarity fainted.