//------------------------------// // Chapter 15: A Merchant, a Camel, and several Bats // Story: Daring Do and the Iron Pyramid // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// As the end of the afternoon drew nearer, many of the merchants were already starting to close their shops and head home early. The day had not been busy, and they saw no reason to carry on their business so late in the heat of the day. At other times, Daring Do might have found it quaint and lovely, but now she just found it almost surreal. They had no idea what was coming for them, the danger that was headed toward them at that very moment. Yet they still seemed to detest her. She understood why. Although their cultural memory did not recall what had once been interred to the south of their city, the fear of it had carried through the ages. And they had been right. The thing they truly feared that they did not even know existed had been awakened, and was on its way. There was no sense in warning them. They would never believe her. But she needed help. It took her only a few minutes to find one particular stall. When she did, she found that it was empty, having already closed for the day. Normally, being a relatively polite pony, Daring Do would have left it at that—but this was no time for politeness. She went to the tent assembled behind the stall and threw open the flap. It took her a moment to realize just how terrible of an idea that was as her eyes were assailed by the sight of a tall, thin stallion and a camel, both completely unclothed, snuggling in a pile of blankets. “CELESTIA’S FLANK!” cried Daring Do, covering her eyes. The camel looked up and cried out, immediately trying to cover her hump. The unicorn merchant, likewise, seemed appropriately surprised. Daring Do retreated from the tent, letting the flap close and breathing heavily. Her face felt hot. That was almost certainly something she had never considered seeing, nor had she wanted to see it. Interspecies snuggling was still illegal in her home country. Even then, she was ashamed about how excited the thought of it had made her. She did her best to try to make her wings less erect. The stallion emerged from the tent, fully naked. That surprised Daring Do for a moment until she recalled that ponies did not, in fact, generally wear clothing. She felt a sudden flick of magic against her nose. “Next time, knock.” “It’s a tent, how am I supposed to knock?” “Figure it out.” The camel emerged from the tent, her hump now covered with a colorful cloth. “I do not stick my nose under the edge of your tent,” she growled. “I would appreciate the same courtesy from you. You are VERY lucky that you did not arrive earlier. It is Thursday morning, after all." “Why? What happens on Wednesday?” The merchant and his wife looked at each other, and then at Daring Do. “You are dense, I believe? Why are you here?” “And dearie,” sighed the camel, “do get your wings under control, you are embarrassing yourself.” Daring blushed, trying to contain her wings, but quickly gave up. “I need help.” “No,” said the stallion, “I will not touch your wings.” “Not that! We have a problem! We went to the tomb, the pyramid in the south and...” “And what?” “We woke up an ancient creature that had been mummified in a temple below the pyramid, and now it’s coming to this town, probably to drain the life-force of the entire population to resurrect its friends and re-establish an ancient empire.” The merchant and his wife looked at each other again. They both sighed. “Yes,” said the merchant. “And what do you need?” “You...believe me?” “I’ve been a desert merchant for the better part of fifty years, to the point where I literally married a camel. These things tend to happen more often than you would think.” “What exactly do you need us to do?” asked the camel. “We need to get the townsponies to safety.” “This town is in the middle of the desert,” said the merchant. “And there are not enough aircraft. Do you think we could outrun it?” “No.” Daring Do’s mind raced. “The fort!” “The fort is ceremonial and barely garrisoned. There is no war in the age of Celestia.” “But it is defensible,” said the camel, “by definition. And there is a tunnel beneath it that leads to Hissan’s Pyramid.” “But if we lock them in there...” “There isn’t a way out.” Daring Do shivered. “But would they be safe?” “Yes,” said the camel, “the pyramid is quite safe. My ancestors once tried to raze it to purge its heretical pony idolatry, and they could barely scratch it. There was a cannon and everything.” “It will work.” Daring Do did not believe that in the slightest. She doubted anything could stop Seht for long, or even at all—but it was all they had. She just needed to buy time, to try to reduce his power until he could be contained. If he was a monster, that might have worked—she just hoped those rules applied to unicorns as well. “We just need to get them in there.” “I have an idea for that.” The merchant turned to his wife. “I doubt they will trust an Arabian to lead them anywhere at all.” “I will do it,” said the camel. “And you will take your role.” “Be safe.” “It is not I who needs to take care. May the Will of Delilah protect you.” “May she protect us both.” They kissed, and the camel immediately trotted away to take her position. The stallion, his gaze heavy, faced Daring Do. “Come with me. If what you say is true, then we must hurry.” The merchant led Daring Do to the roof of one of the buildings. The view from the top of it was impressive, and a thin breeze blew by. It was a welcome reprieve from the heat, even if it was just a precursor of another frigid desert night. At one corner of the roof sat a device. It was badly rusted, and Daring Do was sure that in anywhere but a desert it would have long since collapsed to a pile of oxide and cracked rubber. It was incredibly ancient. “What is that thing?” “There are several in the city. These were placed here during the Third Assyrian Incursion, to warn of incoming war-zeppelins. Back then, likewise, the ponies of this town took refuge in the pyramid, or the fort.” “That was eighty years ago. There’s no way it still works.” “It should.” The merchant’s horn ignited, and his magic erupted around the cage protecting the rear of the machine, bending it off its hinges and snapping its rusted metal to force open a door that secured an enormous crank. “They did twenty years ago. I heard them. But from the wrong side.” Daring frowned. “You...you were a pilot...” “I was a coxswain, and I was young. There is no war in the age of Celestia. And yet these still exist.” His magic grasped the giant crank at the rear of the machine, and with a great shove he compelled it to move. Rust fell away as it began to turn and ancient gears began to cycle. Then, as the mechanism spun up, Daring Do put her hooves against her ears, trying to block out the incrediably loud sound of the air-raid siren. The sound echoed across the city. Every pony passing by suddenly stopped, confused and fearful but unsure of what was happening. The last time the sirens had sounded had been long before their own lifetimes. But some still remembered. At the sound, stallions and mares in the latest stages of their elderly years sprung from their seats, compelled by training to grab their helmets, just as they had so many decades ago when they were still too young to fight the oncoming donkey horde. After all that time, they still remembered that sound, and they remembered their duty. Against the protests of their grandchildren and great grandchildren, they raced as quickly as their old bodies could carry them to the roofs of their respective posts, producing the rusted keys that still hung around their necks. They unlocked the sirens and, summoning all their strength, began to turn the cranks. The sound propagated, spreading as each siren was activated, one after the other, until the entirety of town was shrouded in sound. “To the fort!” cried a voice from the streets. A voice with a strange aspect and tone, the voice of a camel. “Quickly! To the fort!” The elderly remnants of the town’s deference force emerged from their buildings, helmets perched on their heads. “Follow her!” they called. “In an orderly fashion! Turn out your lights and clear the sectors in order of proximity!” And with that, the town began to evacuate itself to its very center. As they passed by, a different elderly pony looked up from his book, watching them through the window. A pony who was easily ten times the age of even the most ancient specimen that the town had to offer--and yet he had never aged, apart from the loss of a leg and the ever-increasing cravings for a particular silver liquid. He heard the sirens, and saw the ponies running in fear—and something else. A voice, calling from the desert. He understood better than the rest, and slowly put down his book. The merchant stopped turning the siren, out of breath from the exhertion. By then, though, the sound had crossed the entire town. “Do you think that will be enough?” “It is the most we can do.” The merchant turned toward Daring Do, and a strange expression crossed his face. “What?” “Friends of yours?” Daring frowned, but then slowly turned to see two ponies standing beside her—ponies clad in hideous black armor inscribed with asymmetric red runes. One had a large sword on her back. Daring could only recognize her by the name inscribed on the chest of her armor, along with her blood type. “Dignity.” “Also Curiosity!” squeaked the other, in smaller armor. “You can’t tell because you can’t see my face, but I can see you! And all your bones! And the things I can SMELL! That handsome guy over there smells like he snuggled a camel!” “Because I did, and do regularly.” Daring Do looked up at Dignity. “I’m glad you’re okay.” “Are you.” “Where is Honor?” Dignity gestured. Daring Do looked, and saw something moving through the air. Something black and oddly shaped, driving through the air but barely managing to sustain its own flight. It was making a sickly whine, and occasionally a sudden pop like a small explosion. Then, all at once, the thestrals disconnected from the body of the biplane, escaping it just as it plowed into the spire of a large building, exploding in a plume of flames. “Oh my,” said the merchant. “I certainly hope the pilot managed to escape.” “He’ll be fine,” sighed Daring Do. “Is that all we have?” “More are coming, mounted on the spiders. Some have passed the Beast. He slows the farther he gets from the Pyramid, as Wisdom predicted.” One of the thestrals descended, landing beside Dignity. Even with his armor on, Daring knew that he was Honor. Mainly because the words “Avatar of Honor, age 19, Blood Type NG-” was inscribed on the shoulder of his armor. His blood type was identical to that of hish sister. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t stop him.” “So I had assumed. And my blade?” “He...took it.” “Then I will require a new one.” Honor looked up. The merchant smiled. “I think I can help with that.” They returned to the merchant’s tent. By now, the streets were empty, and the whole of the world seemed eerily quiet. The few stragglers who had stayed to retake their possessions ran quickly, screaming in horror as thestrals in full-body rune armor dropped from the sky, filling the streets with soldiers. By this time, the first of the spider cavalry had arrived, making the situation only more terrifying. Darning trotted up beside Dignity and Honor. “Dignity.” “Now is not the time to speak, Pegasus.” “I have a question. When it tried to reach your mind--” “She said,” snapped Honor, “that she does not want to speak.” “--what did you see?” Dignity stopped walking. She tapped the side of her helmet, causing the metal covering her face to retract into itself, almost as if it were dissolving. Her pupils immediately narrowed into thin slits, but she withstood the sunlight regardless and faced Daring Do, looking into her eyes. “I saw a world of darkness, tyranny, and slavery. A world of dark anguish. And I shall do everything required to make sure that your mistakes do not bring that world to fruition.” “What did you see?” asked Curiosity, asking Daring Do. “What do you mean ‘what did she see’--” “Not that,” said Daring Do. “Darkness but...it was different for me.” “Perhaps the difference is simply a matter of that between the descendants of the oppressed...and of the oppressors.” Dignity closed her mask and rejoins Honor. Daring Do fell back to where Curiosity was doing her best to walk in armor. “She doesn’t like you,” said Curiosity. “You think?” “Not generally, no. You actually saw something in it? It showed you something?” “I think it tries to communicate if it gets close.” “What did you see, then?” “I saw a city lit by some kind of...red sun. Except it was small, and close. And the Pyramid...and something they were trying to make.” She shivered, the thought of the double-helix within each pony disturbing her deeply for an unclear reason. “But I don’t know what it was trying to say...” “That sounds scary but I totally want to try it.” “Don’t.” “Also, I have another question!” “Just one?” “Well, no, but...how did you know it was Dignity?” Daring frowned. “Why...wouldn’t I? Your armor has your names on it.” Curiosity looked down to her chest, where the magical runes of her armor surrounded the word “Avatar of Curiosity, age 12, Blood Type N+”. Then she looked back up. “There aren’t words there. Even if there were, only Wisdom’s allowed to know how to read or write.” Daring Do stopped walking, looking back down at the name. She realized that it was, indeed, written there—but not in any language Curiosity could expect to read. It was in the strange, indecipherable language that had lined the inside of the Iron Pyramid. A language that Daring Do herself could not read—or, rather, that she had not been able to read previously. The merchant brought them behind his tent, to where an ornate cart sat. He jumped in and levitated out several boxes, cracking off the lids to reveal various colorful, wonderfully scented spices. “GAH!” cried Curiosity. “THINGS! SMELLS! I want to roll in it! I want to ROLL IN IT!” “This is not the time for cooking,” snapped Honor. “I know,” said the unicorn, smiling. He then turned and bucked the boxes to pieces. The spices scattered across the sand, and Curiosity immediately began to roll in them. Daring jumped back, surprised at why he had wasted his goods so readily—until she saw the glint of strange metal in the false-bottoms of the crates. She leaned over and gasped. Inside were a number of silvery blades, all curved strangely and marked with a pair of luminescent angular lines that looked like horns. Among them were odd black things that wriggled and writhed, almost as though they were alive, their chitinous bodies held within frameworks of Equestrian-forged metal. “Those are Storm Kingdom weapons,” said Daring Do, gaping at the contents of the box. “And Changeling Hive biotech! Those—you couldn’t possibly—” “As I have said. There is no war in the age of Celestia. But you do not grow wealthy or prosperous selling spices. Ponies find true value in more...durable goods.” He levitated out something assembled from metal and holding something that looked like a living component of an insect, a biological thing grown in a vat of goo specifically for use against ponies—to protect its owners from the ongoing quest for complete and utter changeling extermination. “Take what you need,” said the merchant. “I will start a tab.” Dignity immediately pulled a long Storm-Kingdom blade from the box, while Honor looked into the box and then up at the merchant. “Handsome stallion. These are indeed impressive weapons, but I require a blade.” The stallion turned his horn to his cart, and produced a belt that he wrapped around himself. One scabbard contained his own sword, a curved scimitar of the Arabian Royal Guard, and a second scabbard he gave to Honor, drawing the blade from its home. It was forged from some kind of strange, mottled red metal, its blade perfectly straight but serrated on the back. The hilt, which had been redesigned for a non-magic bearing pony, bore a carved insignia of a thistle blossom. “Will this do?” “It will indeed.” “We need to distribute these to our soldiers,” said Dignity. She squeaked into the air, and several more thestrals arrived, removing weapons. Daring Do stepped back, allowing them to arm themselves. The Arabian merchant noticed. “You have no weapon,” he said. “Take one.” “Ponies don’t use guns,” she said. “I can’t.” “You can’t face it with nothing.” “You can have mine,” said Curiosity, sitting up from the spices she was rolling in. She unclasped a whip from her side and presented it to Daring Do. “It’s made from the skin of those snakes that like to bite us when we’re asleep. The ones that talk a lot. I don’t even know how to use it. I always whip myself. I’ve started to enjoy it, though.” Daring looked at it, and then took it. “I still must insist,” said the merchant. “At least one. A whip will hardly stop whatever magical beast this may be.” “I don’t want to hurt it.” The thestrals stopped and stared at her. “It wants to hurt you,” said Dignity. The merchant fished through his box and produced a belt containing several semi-luminescent things that resembled green eggs. “Changelings are empaths. Only the cruelest and most depraved among them are capable of causing harm. Their weapons generally produce a kind of adhesive. It works nicely for normal prey, although for this probably not. It might at best slow it down.” He threw the belt of grenades to Daring Do, who caught them only to prevent them from bursting on her. “I highly doubt you can hurt anypony with that.” Daring Do grimaced and muttered—but took the belt anyway. Given the choice between the two, she vastly preferred the whip.