//------------------------------// // A grue to-do // Story: House of the Rising Sunflower // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// The last words said to him before he was lowered down were: “Be mindful of your back and be nice to Paradox. If I’m hard on her, and you’re nice to her, well… you’re smart enough to understand how this goes. Growly dog, waggy dog.” Indeed, he was, and he was thankful once more that he’d found Corduroy. Below him was murky water, Paradox Sunflower, and what appeared to be a large pulley of some kind. The remains of some kind of hoist perhaps? A means to raise and lower large, heavy objects up and down the shaft? Just how deep was the shaft, anyhow? All of his senses felt wrong, off somehow down here in the depths. Old, rotten rope could be seen in a messy pile, along with spongy, rotted timbers, which might have been the remains of the door that Corduroy had mentioned. Having a better look at it, the coiled mess of rope seemed like a fairly soft place to land. Paradox pulled him from his makeshift harness, levitated him to a level spot free of debris, and set him down. As she did this, the rope was already being hauled up, and Sundance, mindful of Paradox’s anxiety, did his best waggy dog act while he waited for Corduroy to shimmy down the rope. To keep himself occupied, he tried to make sense of the mess down here, but he did not move so that his hooves would not splash in the shallow water. “There’s light down here,” Paradox said in the softest whisper. “Over there, through that door. See?” After waiting for his sight to adjust, Sundance peered through the doorway. Whatever door had once existed here was long gone, but the arch survived. The stonework was beautiful, and the capstone had a sunflower carved into it. Beyond the door was writhing shadow—and light, just as Paradox had said. All the hair on the back of his neck rose as he wondered; why was there light down here in these dark depths? Light implied the living… or occasionally the not-so-living. “Paradox… cousin… if something tries to eat us,” he whispered to his relative, “you explode them real good, you understand?” “Gotcha.” The response almost couldn’t be heard, because it was so softly spoken. It was like a refrigerator down here compared to the other caves to be found in the barony. The barn cave wasn’t exactly warm, it was cool and dry, but it wasn’t cold, not like this place. His nose burned and his eyes watered from the stench of vinegar, which was all that could be smelled down here. It even covered the smell of rot, which seemed like the sort of aroma one might encounter in a place such as this one. Corduroy dropped down between them with hardly a sound. The muffled splash was almost unnoticeable and the big bulky dog was remarkably stealthy. She held one paw over her nose and Sundance could see tears streaming from her eyes, one blue, one pink, which almost seemed luminous down here in the dark. “Don’t let the lights go out,” Corduroy said to warn her companions. “Mister Teapot says we’ll be eaten by a grue.” “There’s lights down here.” Paradox pointed with one soaked, soggy hoof through the doorway. “Oh?” Corduroy leaned forwards, hunched down low, and squinted. “Shit.” Sundance hissed the word and wished he was somewhere else right now. “What a wonderful assessment of our current situation, Baron Bedpan Mouth. Any further adroit observations about our situation you’d like to share?” “Corduroy”—he kept his voice little more than a mere whisper—“you called me that on the first day we met.” “Uh-huh.” It was Paradox who asked the important question. “Hey, who goes first?” “Corduroy?” Sundance suggested. “I’m a pacifist,” the diamond dog replied. “You’re a nurse,” the frightened unicorn countered. “Give them an emergency headectomy. I hear it’s the only effective cure for stupidity.” In response, Corduroy snorted and Sundance found himself smiling. Understanding what had to be done, Sundance drew in a deep breath and puffed out his barrel. It was daredevil time, time to do danger, or have danger done to him. This situation demanded a leader, but a leader was nowhere to be found, so he would have to do. While he wasn’t the smartest creature down here in the murky, slimy depths, far from it, he was canny. “Corduroy should bring up the rear,” he said to his companions. “She’s our nurse. We need her in good shape when we find Amber. That’s our first priority. Paradox, we need you protected, because you’re our best light source and our explosive expert. Which means that I go first. If I get chomped, you can blast whatever is chomping me, and Corduroy can patch me up.” “That’s…”—Paradox hesitated—“logical.” “That’s why I’m the Baron.” “Well, go on then, Grue-Bait. Lead the way.” Corduroy gestured at the doorway. “Be very, very quiet. Don’t step on anything sharp and pokey in the water.” Looking down, a new fear arose in Sundance’s mind, one that left him quite shaken. “You know,” Paradox whispered, “just a moment ago, you first suggested that Corduroy be out front. Now, she’s bringing up the rear. What happened?” Sundance did not reply; he felt no need to explain himself. After a short jaunt down a flooded hallway fetlock-deep with filth, he found himself at a three-way intersection. The hallway straight ahead had faint light, but the left and right hallways were dark—dark as a tomb was a terrible description, but apt. His ears pivoted in search of sound, but it was as quiet as one, too. Looking straight up, Sundance saw smoothed stone, solid and unyielding. The walls however, were stone blocks. Had the walls been constructed in some kind of cave? Was this pony made or a natural cavern turned into a cellar? Ignoring the sensation of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm his senses, Sundance chose left. If they were going into some kind of maze, going left seemed wise. Just keep turning left. Or was it right? He couldn’t remember. “I think I remember an Ogres & Oubliettes module that started out like this,” Paradox muttered in a voice that almost couldn’t be heard at all. “We’re in the oubliette right now… I hope we don’t find ogres. That’d be baaaad.” The hallway was maybe as wide as a pony was tall, which is to say about a yard or so. But it was rather tall, for pony construction. At least two yards tall, maybe more. Sundance tried to make sense of it and paused when he came to the first support arch. Just like the doorway in the first room, this had a keystone that had an elaborately carved sunflower. Beyond the arch, the hallway widened a bit, an almost triangular shape, and abruptly ended in two doors out where the triangle was widest. These doors on the far wall were rotten, but still intact. Sundance noticed that the bottom halves of the doors were more rotten than the top halves. The light cast from Paradox’s horn revealed rusting grey iron hinges, and door latches that sat low on the bottom half of the door, something easily kicked open with a hoof. A door designed for ponies. With his companions crowding him, Sundance chose left again, and headed for the left door. Would it open? More importantly, would it open quietly? “Wait.” Corduroy’s low warning made Sundance freeze. “Over here.” To the right of the archway where they had entered, what appeared to be a bronze plate hung on the wall. It was teardrop shaped, and had a sunflower up in the narrowest part. Corduroy held up her cat-shaped lantern to shine light on the words written below the sunflower, and Sundance crept closer so that he too, could have a better look. Royal Wine Reserves. Do not enter for any reason. Trespassing is a week in the stocks. Theft punished by hanging from the neck until dead. Well, that was grim. Sundance glanced at his companions, and concluded that they were all thinking the same thing as him. Technically, they were trespassing. He wondered if there were any alarms of some sort, and if so, if they still functioned. Having Princess Celestia suddenly appear might be as amusing as it was interesting, at least until they were securely locked into the stocks, and then whatever comedic value the situation had would dwindle fast. “What if my nose itches?” asked Corduroy. “I’d scratch it for you, with my magic,” Paradox offered. “If I had magic, that is.” “Can a baron pardon himself?” Sundance, having asked what he thought was the important question, cast a sidelong glance at his companions. “Or would it be better to spend a week in the stocks to prove I am not above my subjects?” Saying nothing else, Sundance broke away and headed right for the left door. If there were alarms, and if those alarms still functioned, having Princess Celestia show up would be a boon. Raising his hoof, he gritted his teeth, summoned his courage, and then pressed his hoof against the door latch. What happened next was surreal. The door crumbled. Well, the bottom half of the door, anyhow. Ancient, spongy timbers turned into dusty, splintery crumbles, as if by magic, and the latch disintegrated into rust flakes. Stunned, Sundance stood, wide-eyed, and try as he might, his brain failed to register this absurd outcome. Paradox slogged through the muck to stand beside him, and she too wore a startled expression of astonishment. “All those plops…” Paradox’s voice was a trembling, almost fearful whisper. “It’s like turds hitting toilet water. That awful, awful sound. Followed by the embarrassing realisation that the filly in the stall next to you heard everything. And then, when you walk back into class, everypony is snickering at you. I hate it. Why must my past haunt me so?” Moved by the awkward moment, Sundance went to comfort the distressed mare, because, what else could he do? “Paradox, I—” “Don’t touch me.” Paradox’s stern whisper froze Sundance in place. “I was endlessly teased because I couldn’t make a silence spell work. All the other fillies called me ‘Tinkleturds’ and it was awful, just awful.” Since nothing could be done, Sundance peeked beneath the door and had himself a look at the room beyond… Barrels, dozens of barrels, all of them stacked from floor to ceiling. Each of them were in various states of decay, with the ones on the bottom the most rotten of them all. Some of them had collapsed like the putrid corpses of decomposing pumpkins, left out for weeks after Nightmare Night. At least, that was what came to mind when Sundance looked at them; he couldn’t fathom how his companions might describe the scene. The vinegary reek in this room was unbearable. Other than rotting old wine casks and cobwebs, there was nothing to be found. Princess Celestia’s private reserves had seen better days—just like everything else in the barony. It occured to Sundance in a moment of rare brilliance on his part that the tall ceilings allowed Princess Celestia to come and inspect her wine collection without banging or snagging her horn on the ceiling. Since nothing else could be done here, Sundance backed out so that he could resume his search. Back at the intersection, Sundance turned left again, this time towards the light. This hallway was longer, from the looks of it, and crumbling doors could be seen on both sides. Upon reaching the first door, he waited for Paradox to catch up so he could have a look around. A small storage room with shelves—a pantry of some kind, perhaps. It was empty, but a quick examination of the room gave Sundance ideas about cold storage. The door on the other side of the first held a nearly identical room, also empty. He strode past the deserted, forgotten rooms, each of which were about three yards wide and three yards deep, just basic, boring cubes. None of the rooms had anything of note, at least nothing he could see with a quick, cursory examination. Just ahead, he saw the source of the light; a glass globe on a brass fixture. Not a lightbulb, but it was a bulb with light inside, at least, sort of. It wasn’t electrical, but magical—that was his guess. That it still functioned left him stunned. “There,” Corduroy whispered as she pointed. “Look at the wall. Fresh blood.” Sundance looked and didn’t like what he saw. Just a few inches above the murky sludge, a fresh bright red smear of blood left a garish stain on the stone wall. All manner of horrible images bubbled in his imagination, and he hated them all. If something had hurt her, he would… well, he didn’t know what he would do, because he didn’t know what he was capable of. Recently, he had sunk a splitting maul into an owlbear’s skull, and he was still rather surprised that he was capable of such violence. He was a pegasus, an ancient warrior race, and his own warlike nature frightened him. But if something had hurt little Amber Dawn, he would gladly explore the depths of his bloodthirsty, brutish ancestry, until such a time he knew and understood what he was capable of. He had himself a bad case of the adrenaline jitters, and his hammering heart slammed against his ribs as if pounding upon the drums of war. Head low, teeth bared, his eyelids twitching over now-bloodshot eyes, Sundance advanced into the murky darkness.