//------------------------------// // The Legend of Amethyst Rose // Story: Pony Legend Bedtime Stories // by The Atlantean //------------------------------// A seven-year-old Flurry Heart bounced around Princess Luna, who tried to keep a straight face. It looked like Twilight when she’d gotten her cutie mark, or so Celestia claimed. Meanwhile, the alicorn filly yelled, “Story time! Story time!” “You must be quiet now, young Princess, or you will not be able to hear our tale.” Luna slipped into the “royal we” like she normally did when her tone became serious. “A tale like none other, we’re sure you will enjoy.” Flurry calmed down and sat on a plush velvet cushion. Luna did the same on a larger one, resting her tired legs. She usually never stayed awake past noon, but it was apparently her turn to foalsit. After a double-fun day in the Ponyville park, it was time to take a break in Twilight’s castle. “Now, young one, what stories have you already heard?” “Mom told me about Harmony Willowbark and Aunt Twilight told me about how you and Princess Celestia met Starswirl the Bearded.” “We see. Both of those are ancient tales, but good ones nonetheless. This next story is not as old as Willowbark but more well-known than my experiences in the Frozen North. Tonight, my dear filly, we shall entertain you the legend of Amethyst Rose.” “Who’s that, Princess Luna?” “Amethyst Rose is much like a freelance adventurer in a way. Her Unicorn magic allowed her to tackle difficult obstacles, and her inquisitive mind helped her to solve even the most challenging of puzzles. You could, technically, say that Amethyst Rose is the ‘prequel’ to Daring Do, although they are separated by more than a millenium.” Luna closed her eyes to recall the tale, as she had done every night to sleepy orphans through their dreams hundreds of years ago. “Unlike most classic legends of the ancient times, this tale does not start with a dark and stormy night. It does not begin with a scene of instant action to hook the audience into a fast-paced adventure. Instead, the beginning of this tale is beyond the two cliches of storytelling. “A mid-age Unicorn of violet coat, lapis blue mane and tail, and shimmering amethyst eyes approached the wall of intricately carved stone nestled in the rainforest. It was an active rainforest, full of life during both the day and the night, and the critters clicked, the birds chirped, and the insects buzzed nonstop. So thick was the air, so saturated with insects and vapor, that one could not walk four steps without accidentally swallowing at least one with the ragged breaths she took… ------------------------ The Unicorn mare stared at the peach-tan wall of stone before her. It was overgrown with decaying moss and creeping vines, with dark brown roots seeping deep into the cracks between bricks. The wall slightly curved away from her on both sides, each direction intervaled by ruined towers in various states of disrepair. Patches of auburn red showed her where the jungle had broken away the protective outer layers and revealed the hard-baked clay beneath. On the section before her, along with various other points on the encircling wall, were intricate carvings of a sort never seen by Equestrian eyes in over a thousand years. The Zen spirals and four-clover symbols were used to identify an ancient tribe of zebras that created various, but never before had they been found on buildings and walls. She pulled a scroll of spellworking paper from her saddlebag and magically inscribed the image into it. That would allow her to study it after the fact. Returning her attention to the image itself, she tried to understand its possible meaning. Well, I've already walked around this entire wall, and I know that zebras have always favored puzzle doors for millennia, she thought. But I've tried everything. She scrunched her eyes in frustration. “Harmony damn it!” she yelled, slamming her hoof into the inscription. Seemingly in response to her admonition, the image glowed green, and its Zen spirals began to spin in hypnotizing patterns. She backed away and stared. Had it really been that easy? “Amethyst Rose, the Equestrian who knows,” a voice rumbled from the spirals. “If your intent is to proceed, you must answer me these riddles three. Should you answer incorrect, from this jungle you shall eject.” “Ask away, spirit. I am not afraid,” she replied loudly. “Despised am I by knave and liar After me, the wise inquire I rise above all death and fire.” Amethyst blinked. “Despised by liars, sought by the wise, above even death and fire.” Her hoof scratched her chin, and one of her lapis blue eyebrows subconsciously arched. “Despised by liars… truth. The answer is truth.” “Very well,” the voice rumbled. “Remember the consequence should you fail, no spell can save you from wind’s assail: “Only one color, but not one size Stuck at the bottom, but easily flies Present in sun, but not in rain Doing no harm, and feeling no pain.” Her ears went flat. She’d never heard this one before. She began to pace, her mind racing against the imaginary clock she knew wasn’t actually there. “What could it be, what could it be?... Oh, come on!” “Is that your final answer?” “No! How could you think that? You're like my sister's shadow, always thinking too quickly. Wait…” “I can do nothing else.” “Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Amethyst stopped cold. “A shadow. That's my final answer. A shadow.” “Correct. For your final riddle told, a classic be unfold: “You can run, but cannot walk. You have a mouth, but cannot talk. You have a head, but never weep. You have a bed, but never sleep.” She blinked. “How can you run but not walk? It doesn't make sense.” “When in the perspective of its brothers, everything makes sense to one or others.” ------------------------- “Does the wall only talk in bad rhymes?” Flurry Heart asked. “Indeed it does, as do most other enchanted zebra artifacts. That has been the way of zebras for millennia, to speak only in rhymes, and their somewhat-sentient creations have always attempted to emulate their creators’ tongue. Most only succeed in rhyming itself, without the natural flow zebras know,” Luna replied as she levitated a cup of coffee to her lips. “Ah. I needed that. As for Amethyst...” ------------------------- “You can run, but cannot walk… run but can’t walk. Well, most ponies can walk. You have a mouth, but cannot talk… a mute? You have a head, but never weep… somepony who doesn’t cry? You have a bed, but never sleep… I don’t know of anything or anyone who wouldn’t sleep in a bed if she had one.” Contemplating the riddle, she knelt by a puddle of water surrounded by leaves and bumped it. The water flowed out swiftly and chaotically, like messengers rushing between generals. “Water flows fast,” she mumbled. Then it hit her. “Of course! A river runs. The mouth is where it meets the sea. The head is where it bubbles from a spring. And the riverbed is the bottom!” She stood triumphantly and strode to the wall once more. “It's a river.” “Correct,” it said. “But these questions you shan't forget, lest you never see the sun set.” At that moment, the rainforest around her morphed into a solid wall and ceiling of coarse-grained granite, with periodic blue mage torches illuminating the cave floor. “Welcome, Amethyst Rose. But much awaits you before your adventure draws to a close.” “WHO SAID THAT?” she cried, whipping her head to the voice’s direction. “I did.” A mysterious hooded figure emerged from the dim torchlight ahead. It had no muzzle, no nostrils, only swiveling, pointed ears and eyes that resembled spotless white marbles on its face, but had a very normal body, albeit one just barely darker than its eyes. “You’re kidding. You don’t even have a mouth.” “A mouth nor muzzle I do not need, as I do without, as per my creed. Magic takes the form of many things, and to understand, one needs not the voice of kings.” Amethyst put her hoof to her forehead and groaned. This was not what she expected at all. Noticing that the figure had begun to walk away, she followed it through the cavern. A few feet ahead, the mage torches lit; a few behind, they went out. Each pair of flames had a different pattern: one was a couple of roaring lions, while the next lit zebra guards, their ceremonial spears at the perfect vertical angle. “What is this place?” she asked. “How did I get here?” “Long ago, the zebras lived and prospered. But while they enjoyed a unified kingdom above, their most precious artifacts were stored with love. They hid these things from the blazing sun in hopes that they would not be stolen. To explain your arrival, a tribe must have remembered the olden days and connected their own small civilization with that of the original, their Zen Mother.” “You didn’t rhyme that. I thought zebra stuff rhymed all it could.” “There was no need to, nor was there a way to.” The figure sighed. “I have stayed here for nigh on a thousand years, wishing that the right pony would come along and bring these artifacts to light for all to see. But alas, I have not the means to open the great gates and set this free.” She raised an eyebrow. “There are gates?” It nodded. “Indeed, Amethyst Rose.” It gestured down a cavernous opening in the wall, where the ceiling reached a whopping one hundred fifty feet high, with dangling stalactites that drooled onto the stalagmite-infested lower jaw of the wolf’s mouth it resembled. With a wave of the figure’s pale hoof, the opening lit by way of six massive mage torches built like medieval-style lighthouses--giant pots held up by thick-walled towers with a magical blue flame burning eternally in their bowls. Around them, arrayed in peculiar Zen spirals, hundreds of cobblestone buildings sat: forges, homes, stores, and smaller torches all basked in the radiating magic of the towers. Beyond the mage-torch towers, a truly enormous stoneworks cast an unearthly shadow over the obsidian archway, skillfully crafted by the most talented of all zebra architects, that supported the rock above its sealed entrance. The obsidian had an iridescent glow about it, as if a lingering spell had been cast upon it centuries ago. “This can’t be in the jungle! The ground is too soft, the bedrock too deep.” Amethyst whipped her head to face the figure. “This… I’ve been searching for seventeen years for this place! This is the Lost City!” “Indeed this place is a city. But that does not mean it is lost.” “Nopony has seen this in thousands of years! How is it still here? Where are we?” “This city was designed to withstand five thousand years of neglect. Standing under the grand Saddleback Range of Saddle Arabia’s southeastern border, this was once the shining jewel of zebra civilization, but they returned to their more tribal ways approximately two thousand three hundred years ago, locking their great city behind an impenetrable wall of rock and calling upon the Zen to build the Saddleback Range. It was well before any other advanced peoples arrived, and nopony assumed it was something besides a range.” “How do I open the gates?” “I do not know. But supposedly there is a key built into the design of the city itself. As it is, I cannot unlock the gates. A pony or zebra must complete the task.” “Well, I see six mage-torch towers, which were used as both gathering areas--like the town square, I guess--and sephamores to alert the guard of possible threats. There were seven.” She scanned the darkness until she could just barely make out the shape of a tower. “And there it is.” Her horn lit with an azure flame that shot an arc ending in the center of the tower. With a muffled foomf, the top of the tower became a beacon of shimmering blue light like its six sisters. One by one, they then beamed magic at mirrors strategically placed on the cavern ceiling and showered the entire underground city in a bath of magelight. More mirrors, hidden from view, reflected some of that magic at seven points on the gates’ arched frame. This time, however, the magic had taken on individual colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Hitting their corresponding place on the arch, the colors formed a magnificent magic rainbow. “Woah.” Amethyst followed the magic as it formed an elaborate matrix of colors that fired across the cave in a single beam, hitting the rock just above her. Molten slag dripped down, but it soon stopped as the magic reached the mechanism behind the rock. Gears turned and belts whirred in a clanking that not even Canterlot could compete against. Then the three great hinges on each side of the gate frame began to spin, and she realized that they had giant gears tucked inside them. But they weren’t hinges. The gates, instead of turning, slid to the side, screeching against the walls. Judging by the gears’ positioning, the gates were perhaps twenty feet thick. “By Harmony, those are sliding doors? They’re huge!” A crack of sunlight burst between the gates, which had to have an overlap and built-in oversized peephole. The beam hit yet another mirror that split it in six, reflecting them into the massive gear-hinges. With a magic wonder, the light pushed the gears, opening the gates faster. Amethyst turned to the figure, but it had gone, dissipating into dust. As she shielded her eyes from the blinding sun, she couldn’t help but let a grin break across her face. ------------------------- Luna looked down at her temporary charge. The filly had curled into a ball and fallen asleep on her cushion. With a soft smile, the Princess of the Night set herself into a comfortable position and closed her eyes. “Sweet dreams, Flurry Heart.”