//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: Daring-Do and the Cruise of the Celestia // by CloudCover //------------------------------// The grandfather clock in the hall had just struck ten when Daring-Do pushed her couch back, and rose to her hooves. “Well,” she said, “I’ll be off before the moon gets up; this is the darkest it will be tonight.” Brighteyes looked at her anxiously, half inclined to withdraw from the scheme that already put her niece’s life in jeopardy.  “For Celestia’s sake be careful,” the mare cautioned her niece, and don’t make the mistake of underestimating those thugs outside. They’re used to playing rough in their own country, and will stop at nothing to get what they want.” Daring frowned. “If they try any rough stuff on me, they’ll get as good as they give,” she said shortly. “You’ll probably have a tougher proposition to face here,” she added, putting on her hat and saddlebags. “What about weapons?” asked Brighteyes. Daring shook her head dubiously. “Better without ‘em. It would be far too much trouble, even in self-defence, if somepony got hurt. There’d be no way we could carry on the expedition with the Guards wanting to talk to us.” Daring forced the nailed-up kitchen window open as quietly as possible, using the tongs from the fireplace as a lever. She peered long and steadily into the darkness. “It seems quiet enough,” she whispered, throwing one leg over the window-sill. A moment later she was swallowed up by the night. At the edge of the bushes she held still and listened intently before crossing the exposed drive to the shrubbery beyond. She glanced upwards. A few stars were shining dimly, and, although the moon had not yet risen, there was just enough light to see without fear of colliding with obstacles. Slowly and with infinite care she parted the bushes and peered out. There was not a soul in sight; the only sound was the dismal hooting of an owl nearby. Swiftly but silently she darted across the track, freezing into immobility when she reached the deep gloom of the shrubbery on the other side. Was it or was it not? Had she seen a movement in the bushes a little lower down? She was not sure, for she knew only too well how easily one’s imagination can play tricks at night when the nerves are stretched taut. Suddenly, not far away, a twig cracked, and she knew she had not been mistaken. Despite the cool air her heart beat a little faster and a curious gleam came into her eyes, the look they had worn when, not so long before, she had first seen the Temple of Sapphire Stone. “It looks as if Brightma was right,” she thought, for the enemy obviously kept good watch. With her front left hoof advanced to prevent collision with unseen objects, she stealthily edged her way a few paces further on. Another twig cracked, closer this time. Again Daring stood stock-still, eyes straining into the darkness, trying to make out the direction from which the sound had come. She thought it came from the right, but a moment later a bush rustled softly on the left and she caught her breath sharply. It began to look as if her exit had been seen after all and the enemy were closing in on her. Her lips set in the lopsided grin peculiar to her in moments of impending action. Intuition warned her that something was about to happen, and she was not wrong. The beam of a firefly light stabbed the darkness, swept round swiftly, coming to rest on Daring. Instantly she dropped to her knees, not a moment too soon. Something heavy whistled through he air over her head. She leapt sideways like a cat and collided with a figure that loomed up before him. Acting with the speed of light, she brought a hoof up with a viscous jab into the mare’s stomach. There was a chocking grunt as she collapsed, clutching feebly at Daring’s legs as she fell, but the adventurer, thinking and acting simultaneously as she had learned from her long experience avoiding deadly traps, was no longer there. Casting all pretence at concealment to the winds, she darted away through the bushes, dodging and twisting like a snipe. She heard the crack of a crossbow; out of the corner of her eye she saw another figure and heard the bolt rip through the branches just above her head. “Like old times,” she found time to mutter to herself as she broke through the far side of the bushes and sprinted along the edge. For a few minutes she heard sounds of pursuit; shouts curses and the crash of bodies plunging though bushes. Again the crossbow cracked, and her lips parted in a smile as she heard an angry shout in answer, warning the bowman to be careful where they were shooting. “Bucks looks to be having a rough time if he tries any flying practice,” she thought as, with her eyes fixed ahead, she ran on. Presently the sounds of pursuit died down behind her and she slowed down enough to take her bearings. She decided she must have broken through the cordon, and with great satisfaction headed towards the nearest village at a steady trot. Meanwhile Brighteyes and Bucks had stood staring at the open window through which Daring had disappeared, the former with obvious anxiety, the latter with supreme confidence born of long experience with far greater perils. “I hope I have done the right thing,” breathed Brighteyes. “I should never forgive myself if, after all she has been through-” “I shouldn’t worry,” broke in Bucks. “Daring can take care of herself, never fear.” For some time they stood in silence, listening for any sound which might indicate the discovery of the adventurer, but all was still. “I think she must have got through,” whispered Brighteyes with a sigh of relief. She had hardly spoken the words when there came a sudden shout, and the sound of a ‘bow came from outside, followed by the sounds of a scuffle. Brighteyes whinnied nervously, groaning, “That’s done it.” “Certainly not,” replied Bucks shortly. “Daring has been in danger before, don’t forget.” Again they stood listening, trying to hear some sound that would let them know whether Daring had been captured or made her escape. “Shh!” breathed Bucks. “Don’t move. Under the apple tree, over in the corner- I saw movement. Look! There’s another of them- over by the yew hedge. They’re making for the house. All right, we’ll give them something to think about.” He hurried through to the hall, closely followed by Brighteyes, and picked up the heavy arquebus. “Is it loaded?” he asked quickly. “Yes,” replied Brighteyes, “but-” “That’s alright,” muttered Bucks. “I’m not going to kill anypony.” And, turning, ran quickly up the staircase. He entered the door of a bedroom that commanded a view from the front of the house and opened the window quietly. Not a sound broke again the stillness of the summer night. “There’s one of them,” breathed Brighteyes, “Over there under the rhododendron bushes.” “I see him; leave him to me,” whispered Bucks. He took quick aim at the tops of the bushes and pulled the trigger. The crash as the huge bolt struck a tree-trunk seemed to shake even the house to its foundations. A full minute elapsed before the echoes had died away. “Listen out there!” called Bucks. “I’m giving you fair warning that the first to put hoof within twenty paces of the house will get a little more of that.” Into the silence that followed, a sound of crashing and stumbling came from several places among the bushes. Bucks smiled. “That should give them something to think about, anyway,” he muttered grimly. “All the same,” he went on, “I shall be glad when the week is up; it’s going to be pretty monotonous sitting here doing nothing except keep guard.” The stars were paling in the faint grey light that crept upward in the eastern sky, heralding the coming of dawn. Somewhere in the thick copse that bordered the long pasture a bird began to chirp, followed by his fellows. A blackbird burst out of the hedge with a shrill clamour of alarm. “Dash that bird,” grumbled Bucks from where he crouched low in a thicket near the edge of the wood. “It will give the game away if we aren’t careful.” Brighteyes looked up from where she was curled round a suitcase, and nooded. “I hope to goodness she comes,” she whispered. “I’m wondering how we shall get back to the house if she doesn’t.” “I shouldn’t waste time thinking about that,” whispered Bucks; “you evidently haven’t had much experience with Daring. She’ll come alright. Just pray for the weather to stay fine; that’s the most important thing.” A week had passed since Daring had departed on her quest, and , in accordance with their plans, Brighteyes and Bucks had made their way to the rendezvous, to await the promised sky-carriage. Fortunately the night had been dark, and, leaving a house by a side window soon after midnight, they had been able to worm their way to the appointed place. It had been nerve-wracking work, for in the interval of time they had seen members of the enemy camp repeatedly, and it was obvious the siege was being maintained. The early morning air was chilly, and Bucks watched the sky anxiously. Slowly the light grew stronger, and a bright patch of turquoise appeared overhead as the sun rose over the horizon. “She’s coming!” Brighteyes’ voice literally trembled with excitement. For answer, Bucks pointed to a tiny speck in the sky, which the older mare had seen before even his practiced eye. It was approaching rapidly, and any doubts that they might have had that it was not Daring, but another wandering carriage, were soon put to rest, for it was heading straight towards them. “Don’t move until she touches down,” warned Bucks. The contraption began to slide-slip steeply towards the field in which they lay. “I expect other eyes besides ours are watching her,” went on Bucks. “You’ll have to sprint for all you’re worth when it’s time.” The carriage, perfectly handled, swung round the field, levelled out, and dropped as lightly as a feather on the dewy turf. “Come on, Brighteyes, run for it,” grunted Bucks, snatching a bulky bundle from the ground at their hooves, which contained the few items Brighteyes considered indispensable. “Never mind me, straight to the carriage.” As Bucks took off, she broke from the bushes and ran towards the carriage. The pilot saw them almost at once, and began to move towards them, towing the carriage. The runner heard her shout, but her words were drowned by sudden yells from behind. Without pausing in her stride, Brighteyes snatched a fleeting glance over her shoulder; three ponies were just emerging from the edge of the wood, one wielding a cudgel. Panting, Brighteyes reached the machine, tumbling into the passenger space headfirst as a rock flew overhead, propelled by a unicorn’s magic, but the carriage was already moving forward with Daring’s straining muscles; the pegasus leapt into the air as it raced across the turf. Bump-bump-bump- the carriage rocked over grass-covered molehills as it refused to leave the ground. Brighteyes stared aghast at the line of trees ahead. Would she never lift? She saw at a glance that it would be a close thing. Daring, strapped in the harness, had her eyes riveted on the formidable line of trees and knew it would be touch and go whether they clear them or not. While she was in peak condition, her wings were not especially strong, however manoeuvrable she could be. She flew straight until the last moment to get as much speed as possible, then , when collision seem inevitable, soared upwards. She held her breath as the weight of the carriage threatened to pull her back to Equestria, but then her natural magic asserted itself, stabilising pony and carriage. Bucks saw the shift in weight, and relaxed limply, knowing only too well how near they had been to disaster at the very onset of their quest. He fell into the carriage’s slipstream, checking Brighteyes had come through the traumatic experience intact, and caught Daring’s infectious grin. She held her left hoof high in the air with a triumphant gesture, and they returned the salute, which means the same thing the whole world over. … Estimating her altitude at five thousand hooves, Daring looked a trifle apprehensively down at the unusual scene below as she headed westward, pulling a rugged floating-chariot. Immediately below, a broad, winding silver ribbon marked the course of the Xena. On both sides lay the forest, dark and brooding, a great somber pall on the face of the earth, merging into vague purple and blue shadows at the remote horizon. There was nothing else; not a road, a field or an isolated tree that might be taken for a landmark. It was a far cry from densely-populated Equestria. The utter sameness of it had appalled both Daring and Bucks at first, but now they were growing accustomed to it, for they were far up the river, approaching Mahorse, the strange city founded by gem-hunting pioneers many years ago in the savage heart of a savage continent. Daring glanced at Bucks, harnessed beside her, and smiled, for their plans had gone like clockwork since they had left Equestria a month before. Even the weather had been its best behaviour. They had taken the train at Trottingham, and on arrival at Windsoar, the outpost beyond the southern mountains, found the huge case containing the chariot Daring had purchased had already been emptied by the industrious Shamrock, a stocky red earth pony, tough as a bull, and, as Bucks often joked, maybe even as clever. Bucks had looked her over as Daring explained the reasons for her choice. She was a four-seater that had been specially built as a pleasure craft for a private owner, who had had an unfortunate accident involving a stampede of rabbits before he had even time to take delivery. Consequently Daring had been able to get a bargain. The chariot was open topped, but had a back end, allowing the ample floor space to be used for rest. The dual harness could let either or both of the pegasi pull, as necessary. The formerly luxurious interior had been largely stripped out by Shamrock in order to save weight and make room for the equipment and stores needed for their adventure. Bucks agreed that Daring had just cause to be proud of her bargain, for it could not have suited their purpose better had it been specially designed for the undertaking. There had been some discussion about the selection of a suitable name, but the choice had finally been left to Brighteyes, who had decided on the Celestia, both as a tribute to the Princess and for the Celestial Condor, the huge white bird that rules the mighty mountains of the south. The tests were satisfactory in every way, and they had forthwith taken off on the long voyage southwards to the land of their quest. Daring nudged her flying partner and nodded, her eyes fixed on a spot directly ahead, and Bucks, following her glance, saw in the distance an expanse of whitewashed buildings which he knew must be Mahorse, their immediate destination and the last point of civilization they would touch before plunging into the vast hinterland. The landing of the floating chariot caused a considerable commotion, ponies hurrying from their homes to the waterside, and it was clear that a sky chariot was a very rare bird in the town so removed from the rest of civilization. Canoes and other small craft flocked about them as the pegasi, staying out of the water, towed the Celestia to a suitable anchorage. A larger boat approached, with an official in a gaudy hat standing in the bows. She shouted something unintelligible to Daring, but Brighteyes evidently understood, for she cautioned the other mare to stop. “I’m afraid she’s going to be awkward,” she said, frowning. “That’s the worst of them,” she added; “they must exercise their powers on every possible occasion. We shall have to listen to what she has to say.” The appearance of the official did not improve at close quarters. Her uniform did little to hide a bad case of bed-mane, while her face was flushed with anger. “What do you mean, landing at this hour?” she stormed. “Don’t you know I always rest at this time? You would not dare to treat the officers in your own country in this way-” She broke off with a start and stared at Brighteyes with a flash of recognition. “Ah!” she said softly, and then again, “Ah! It’s you, is it?” She scowled malevolently, and, before Brighteyes could frame a suitable answer, the other mare had snapped an order to the pony at the oars. The craft swung round, nearly fouling the side of the chariot as it did so, and headed rapidly back to the shore. Brighteyes, a frown puckering her brow, watched the departing official in perplexity. “She seems to know me and I strongly suspect she’s going to make things as awkward for us as she can. Never mind; it can’t be helped. Get to the bank; let me go ashore. The sooner I find my contact and ask him about the supplies the better. If he did, we can see about leaving at once. I’m rather afraid we’ve made a mistake in coming here at all, but it was difficult to imagine where we could restock otherwise. If the men who are financing the enemy are in town, they’ll know I am here by now, and will have guessed why. Yes, you’ll have to put me ashore; the rest of you must stay aboard and look after the chariot until I come back. i shall soon find out how the land lies.” Still followed by a crowd of the inhabitants in small boats, they taxied in and dropped anchor near the bank. Brighteyes beckoned one the boats one of the boats nearer, jumped abroad, and, after rattling off some brief instruction to the startled native, was quickly put ashore. With a parting wave she disappeared in the direction of a row of small shops near the waterfront. “I don’t like the look of this,” said Daring to Bucks as they watched Brighteyes’ receding figure. “Some of these ponies look capable of anything. Well, we might as well make ourselves comfortable as we can until she comes back. My word, it’s pretty hot down here, isn’t it?” An hour passed slowly, and another, but still there was no sign of Brighteyes, and Daring’s face began to assume a worried aspect. “I don’t like this,” she said again; “I’ve a feeling in my bones that there’s mischief brewing. If there is, and they try any funny stuff, they’ll be sorry, and that’s that. Those supplies would have been here an hour ago if everything had been alright.” Bucks nodded assent from where he sat watching Shamrock making a minor adjustment with a wrench. “It’ll be dark in half an hour, too,” he went on, with a quick glance at the sky. “Hullo, what’s this coming?” A smallish boat had put off from the shore and was winding its way quickly through the still lingering spectators in their miscellaneous assortment of small craft. it pulled up alongside,a nd they saw at once there was only one pony in it, an elderly white stallion in a battered cap. “Which of you is Daring-Do?” he asked sharply. “I’m Carthorse, your aunt’s agent. Speak up. You’ve no time to lose.” Daring stepped forward quickly and helped their visitor on board. “I’m your mare,” she said quickly. “What’s wrong?” “Everything- no, don’t talk; listen,” he went on with a hurried glance towards the shore. “Miss Daring, I’m sorry to say your aunt is in jail.” “In jail!” echoed Daring incredulously. “But-” “It looks to me as if you’re haunch-deep in it,” broke in Carthorse, mopping his perspiring face with a large yellow handkerchief. “Luckily I was able to have a word with your aunt before they took her away. When I got her note about the supplies I kept my mouth shut, because, being on the spot,  I knew what was going on out here, and had a pretty shrewd idea of what this gang of crooks who are up against him were planning. By a stroke of luck I got hold of the supplies before they knew who it was for.” “Who’s ‘they’?” asked Daring quickly. “La Dorada, the Mayor, and the best hated mare in Mahorse. She’s a tyrant in every sense of the word, and, like many of these local officials, can easily be bought. The crooks, the Rubber Kings, have oiled her hoof for some purpose, and she’s out to stop you. She’s clapped your aunt in jail on some ridiculous pretext that her papers are not in order. it’s utter rubbish, of course, and the Equestrian Consul in Windsoar will soon put matter right when it reaches her ears, but that will take time, which is just what La Dorada is playing for, until the rest of the gang get back from Equestria.” “Meanwhile, La Dorada is cock of the walk back here, make no mistake. What she says goes, without any argument, because she’s got a mob of hooligans dressed up in uniform which she calls Guards, but is really a private bodyguard paid for out of trumped-up taxes and fines on Equestrians like you and myself. Now about these supplies. It would be fatal for me to try to get them to you here. they’d stop me and have the lot. Your only chance is to get off down the river, and I’ll bring it to you there. You might be able to drift down after dark without being spotted, which would be so much the better, but I doubt they’ll leave you heave as long as that. La Dorada would be happy to throw the lot of you in prison then smash your machine before you could get out. She knows she’s safe. There’s no real authority out here. Now listen About two miles downstream you’ll see a creek with a ruined hut on one bank. You get off down there and wait until I get there. I shall have to slip back into town, because they know I’ve worked for your aunt and will probably be watching me. They me be watching now, and if they find I'm playing into their hands I shall land in jail myself, or find myself prone to nasty accidents.” “Bad as that, are they?” muttered Daring grimly. “Worse!” “What about Brightma- I mean my aunt?” “That’s a bigger problem. You’ve got to get her out of that jail, and quickly, though how it’s going to be done is beyond me.” “Where is this jail?” “In the middle of the town, the street with a double row of palms. I dropped one of the thugs a couple of bits and he told me they’re keeping her there until tomorrow, as La Dorada wants to talk to her. Then, unless she tells the mayor what she wants to know, they are going to take her to the proper jail in the native end of the town. If they get her in there, you’ll never see her again. It’s full of criminals, the scum of the earth, and half of them rotting with fever, leprosy and Princesses know what other horrors. It’s a rat-hole, not a jail. If you want to see her alive again you’ll have to get her out tonight.” “In that case she’s coming out tonight,” muttered Daring through set teeth, “and Nightmare take Miss Slimy Dorada if she gets in my way. Thanks very much, Carthorse. It’s good of you to take all these risks for us. We shan’t forget it.” “Well, set off down the river as fast as you can before they come after you. They’d tear this contraption to bits if they got their hooves on it, to prevent you going about your business. And, by the way, I found out that Wily Card and Drizzle have already made it to Windsoar. Apparently they guessed as soon as they you gave them the slip back in Equestria that you’d head here, and they started off back as hard as they could go. You’ve less of a breathing space than we hoped.” “I see,” replied Daring. “Well, you get off back now before you get in trouble. Brightma left your address, but I shan’t bother you unless it is unavoidable. If things become serious, i should be glad if you would get a message to the Embassy. I should hate to see you get pulled into this mess too, through trying to help us.” “Rot! Never mind about that; if one Equestrian can’t help another in a case like this, it’s a poor show.” “That’s how it should be done,” agreed Daring. “When will you be along with the supplies?” “As soon after dark as I can manage it.” “We’ll be there. Thank you, and goodbye.” Daring watched the boat until it reached the bank before she turned to the others with a grimace. “It looks as if we’re about to get busy.” “Horseapples, so it does!” cried Bucks, clambering to his hooves and pointing towards the bank some distance above the place where Carthorse had gone ashore. “He was only just in time. I don’t like the look of this little lot.” Daring swung round and took a look at a large launch that was churning the river into foam as it sped towards them. A group of rough-looking ponies stood near the bow. “Hook us up, Shamrock,” she snapped, pulling on her harness and moving to the front of the chariot. The stallion reattached the yoke for the pegasi, then leapt into the cockpit. “Move!” he cried. With a growl from Daring as she and Bucks pulled, the chariot began moving. A shout from the rapidly approaching launch reached her ears, but she ignored it. The chariot moved slowly at first, but with ever-increasing speed. Turning in a wide curve as it reached the middle of the river, it sped like an arrow down the stream, leaving a broad ribbon of creamy foam in its wake. A twang, and the vicious rip of an arrow through the air nearby brought a snarl to Daring’s lips. “You murdering mules!” she choked, and threw herself against the traces. The chariot leapt forward like a live thing, skimmed along the surface of the water for a moment, and then rose gracefully into the air, climbing steeply. Two minutes later, still climbing, Daring saw the creek, with the ruined hut on the bank, below her; she did not stop, but flew on into the quickly fading light. Not until they were several miles from the town did she turn, beginning a long glide back towards the rendevous. Darkness fell with tropical suddenness just as the base of the Celestia broke the surface of the river, a short distance downstream of the deserted creek. Daring listened intently for a moment, and then, as there seemed to be no sign of pursuit, taxied into the creek itself. “Well, that’s that,” she muttered, relieved, for the prospect of landing after dark on a strange, crocodile-infested river did not fill her with enthusiasm. She hoped the landing had been both unseen and unheard, the gentle current carrying them down until they rested on a flat, muddy beach. “What next?” asked Bucks,as he stepped ashore and moored the chariot lightly, in case another hurried departure became necessary. “We can do nothing but wait here until the supplies come,” replied Daring. “There can’t be more than a day or two left, and I shall feel a lot happier with a full load on board. Goodness knows when we shall get any more. If he brings more that we can carry, we’ll stack it in the cabin. But it’s getting Brightma out that I’m worried about; and that, without most of the locals knowing Equestrian, may be a little difficult. You’ll have to stay here and look after the chariot,” she went on firmly. “I’ll take Shamrock with me on this trip into the town. No! It’s no use arguing about it,” she went on quickly. “I know you’d like to come, and I’d like to have you with me, but you’re the only other one of the party who can fly, so you must stay with the machine. If we lose that, we’re sunk, even if we swim. After Brightma, that must be our first consideration. Whatever happens, they mustn’t get the Celestia. Once we’ve got the supplies and Brightma on board, they won’t see us for dust and small pebbles. Ah! There’s a cart coming now. Pass me that crossbow from the cabin. I’m taking no chances. They took the first crack at us, and they’re going to find that two can play at that game before we’re finished.” The cart stopped near them, the figure pulling it mercifully familiar. “Is that you, Miss Daring?” called a voice softly. “Alright, Carthorse,” replied the mare in question. “Do you have what we need?” “Yes, it’s all here. Carter, please.” “Good stuff! Let’s see about getting it all on board, then. All hands on deck. Shamrock, help pass it up, we’ll pack it. Sling the empty crates away, we shan’t want them again.” For an hour they toiled with feverish speed and without a break, and at the end of that time they had provisions packed for at least another month. “That’s a good job done,” said Daring with satisfaction, mopping her streaming face, for the moist heat of the tropical forest was intense. “Are you going straight back to Mahorse, Carter?” “Yes, I’ve nothing else to wait here for, unless you want anything.” “Do you mind if I come with you?” “Not a bit. Come by all means, although I’m hanged if I can see any way of getting your aunt out. If I can be of any help-” “You’ve taken enough risks already,” interrupted Daring. “Is there any hope of bribing the guards, do you think?” “Not a hope. I’ve tried that already. It’s not that they’re loyal, but that they’re scared stiff of La Dorada. If your aunt got away, they could be for the high jump, and they know it. No I’m afraid it’s force, or nothing.” “Force it is, then,” replied Daring smoothly. “Come on, Shamrock. I may need some help. Bucks, you stand by for a quick move.” She dived into the chariot and emerged with a pair of crossbows and a steel mooring-spike. “Take this, Shamrock,” she said, handing the buck one of the crossbows, “but don’t use it unless you have to, and then use the stock for preference. If we kill somebody, my conscience will never let me forget it. All set? Off we go then. Cheerio, Bucks. Stay sharp.” A brief nuzzle and they had climbed aboard the old cart and were back on their way to Mahorse.