“Get to shelter!” Creek Fog shouted, sprinting for some nearby trees with gray oblong leaves. The other three hurried after her as the sandstorm bore down upon them, the howling of both the wind and the beasts growing louder with every second.
Daring risked a glance over her shoulder as she flew. The churning mass of dust was bearing down on them like a living wall coming to crush them. And as she watched, three pairs of yellow-green eyes flashed from within the sand, glaring hungrily at the slab of meat before them.
“Faster!” Rolling Thunder shouted, putting on speed.
A dark shape blossomed from the cloud, four legs padding hard against the ground as it gained upon them. The two-foot tall sandingo was reddish-brown in color, its “fur” a rough layer of sand that rippled like muscles as it ran. The glowing eyes set over the snarling mouth full of sharpened rocks as teeth were fixed upon Creek, the slowest of the group.
“Help!” the mare cried as the beast leaped at her, its jaws opening wide to seize her.
A greyscale rainbow streaked through the air and slammed into the sandingo just as its teeth started to snap down upon her. The beast blew apart into a cloud of choking sand that fell to the ground.
“C’mon!” Daring shouted, grabbing Creek’s foreleg and pulling her along, gritting her teeth against the protests of her injured wing. Glancing over her shoulder, Daring watched as the sand floated back into the air, swirling and reforming into a smaller dust cloud. The shining yellow-green eyes blazed from within it, glaring at her with not just hunger, but hatred as it was subsumed by the storm.
Rolling Thunder and Phillip reached the trees and Phillip immediately crouched down to allow Thunder to climb up into the branches. Once the elder was safely above ground, Phil grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung himself up just as Daring and Creek arrived, perching in the higher branches as the sandstorm reached them, engulfing them in a vortex of howling, snarling dust.
“What now?!” Daring called over the wind, pressing her pith helmet down onto her head as the gale threatened to snatch it away. She looked down to see more glowing eyes glaring up beneath them, winking in and out of existence as the storm swirled around.
“Stay hunkered up here!” Rolling Thunder replied. “If they can’t reach us, they’ll just move on!”
“How long will that take?” Daring asked, studying the glaring eyes beneath them.
Rolling Thunder started to answer, but suddenly paused, cocking his head to the side as if listening to a distant noise. Creek did the same, her ear twitching about as she listened.
A few moments later, Phil and Daring both heard the anomalous sound: a strange whistling sound, just beneath the howling, like pipes made of bone.
“No, no, they can’t,” Creek whispered, shaking her head in disbelief, a shadow of fear crossing her face.
“What can’t?” Phillip shouted.
He was answered by a sharp cracking noise as the strong, thick branch he was sitting on suddenly bent sharply. “Shit!” Phillip gasped as he dove for the trunk.
But the branch snapped off before he could reach it, sending him tumbling down with a panicked cry, hooves flailing as he futilely tried to grab something.
“Phil!” Daring screamed, diving to catch him as he fell past her. But the stinging wind rushed at her face, debris scratching at her watering eyes and half-blinding her. She felt Phil’s foreleg for a moment and tried to grasp it in sweaty hooves, but then he struck a branch with a smack and bounced off with a grunt. Warned too late, Daring crashed face-first into the branch, agony splitting her head in two.
Phillip grunted as he crashed onto the ground, his hat tumbling from his head as he rolled back to his hooves.
Instantly, one of the pairs of glowing eyes was upon him, the powerful lupine body forming as it leaped, already reaching out to seize him.
No reason to panic yet. Phil’s body moved of its own accord, sidestepping the attack and bringing his hoof crashing down on the back of the canine’s skull. The head exploded into a cloud of dust and the body tumbled to the ground with a thump.
Hot breath to his left. Phillip threw himself into a back hoofspring, narrowly avoiding another dive from a snarling sandingo. The second beast spun about to glare at Phillip, snapping its teeth and growling.
Panting, spitting out sand that invaded his throat and eyes, Phillip turned to see two more sandingoes stalking towards him, their heads low to the ground as they snarled. The sandingo he had first struck was standing up, its head reforming as it glared viciously at him. The four glowing eyes circled him, knowing that they had him trapped.
A memory surfaced in Phil’s mind: a circle formed of salt, and glowing shapes with scorpion-like tails disappearing into flickers of light.
Stabbing his hoof into the sand, Phillip spun about, drawing a circle into the ground around him. One of the sandingoes, as if realizing that he was trying to defend himself, lunged at him with a snarl.
Phil spat onto the circle and pressed his hoof into it, forcing his will down his limb just as he’d done countless times before with his boomerang: close!
The sandingo’s claws were inches from his face...and then its body exploded into sand as though it slammed into an invisible wall. The other three beasts all backed away, staring in confusion.
Phillip let out a sigh of relief. The enchanted creatures, being held together by magic, couldn’t cross his circle...but now he couldn’t get out easily. And the sandingo that had struck the barrier was already reforming, glowing yellow eyes blazing in bewildered hatred as legs formed beneath the cloud of swirling sand.
But then a greyscale rainbow descended from the sky and snatched him up. The thwarted predators barked and snapped their fangs at his retreating form, but he was already beyond their reach, safe in the branches.
“Told you you needed to lose weight!” Daring breathlessly said next to him, giving him a relieved grin.
“Thanks,” Phillip nodded in relief, looking back down at their jailors. The pack of sandingoes started circling around the base of the tree, snarling in frustration. He frowned as one of them trampled his trilby flat as it placed its forelegs against the trunk.
“You two all right?” Rolling Thunder called.
“We’re fine!” Daring called back. Smirking at the sandingoes, she stuck out her tongue at them. “Sorry, guys, but dinner’s cancelled!” she taunted.
The one that had placed its paws up on the tree glared at her, then crouched. With a bound that carried it almost four feet into the air, it seized one of the lower branches and started to haul itself up.
"Why can they climb trees?!” Daring cried in frustrated disbelief.
“Just get it off!” Phillip shouted as the lupine predator started to reach up towards them.
Both detectives kicked out at it, the sandingo’s head exploding into a cloud as their hooves crashed into it. The beast tumbled off the branch and fell to the ground with a thump, but was instantly swirling back into a cloud. Two more sandingoes were already climbing up after them, with the others barking and snarling.
“Great idea, hiding in a tree!” Daring snapped at their guides, drawing her pistol.
“Better than facing them on the ground!” Rolling Thunder pointed out as Daring opened fire, her bullets smacking into the other two lupines and turning their craniums into powder, causing them to tumble back to the ground.
“There’s gotta be some way to get rid of them!” Daring shouted.
“Water!” Phillip shouted, drawing his own sidearm. “Can’t shapeshift if they’re mud!”
“Great!” Daring called back. “You want me to dump my canteen on--?!”
“There’s a river less than a quarter mile to the southwest!” Creek Fog interrupted, pointing. A moment later, she yelped and pulled her tail out of the way as a sandingo leaped up and snapped at her, flailing in fury as it missed and tumbled out of the branches.
“How am I gonna--” Daring stopped as she remembered a trick that Rainbow Dash had once shown her, a weather pony’s technique for controlling storms and carrying water up from reservoirs. She’d mentioned it took a bit of practice, but…
“I’ll be right back!” she shouted, spreading her wings and taking flight southwest. As she flew, she heard more gunshots behind her and the snarls of the beasts attacking her friends.
Her Awely-Awely totem bounced out from beneath her shirt as she flew, rapping against her chest. Almost subconsciously, she reached up to stroke it with one hoof as she spotted the twisting blue line in the distance. Let’s hope this works, she thought.
Spotting a fortuitously low-hanging lone cloud, Daring flew through it on her way to her target. Pausing above the narrow, winding river, Daring took a breath and spread her wings, taking a moment to feel the static buzzing of pegasus magic dancing over her feathers. A soft chill breathed across her body and she glanced at her wings to find that wisps of clouds were already clinging to them like loose balls of cotton.
Here goes nothing!
She dove down towards the river, spreading her wings wide. A slight tilt of her wings caused her to bank up just above the rippling surface, her wind sending a v-shaped wake over the river. She started to fly in a tight circle, pushing herself faster and faster with every beat of her wings, the wind roaring in her ears. She felt a strange tugging sensation from her wings, as if they were magnetized, pulling towards the river.
She focused on that sensation, trying to will the river to come to her, commanding the wind and water to obey her. Come on, come on! Please!
The water began to churn, then drops broke from the surface and began to float upwards, like rain in reverse. Before her eyes, the water twisted and formed into a swirling tube that lifted from the surface.
“Yeah!” Daring cheered as the waterspout formed, spray dripping onto her smiling face. “Okay, now...this way!”
She started to fly back towards her friends, continuing to fly in circles. With every beat, she willed the waterspout that she’d formed to follow her, to stay together, focusing only on that magnetic attraction between her and the twister. Sure enough, the waterspout began to follow her path. Wherever its circumference started to bulge and swell, she circled around it and quickly smoothed it over. Sweat began to run down her face, mixing with the spray; her right wing screamed in agony with every beat and her bandages were wet with blood from her reopened injury, but she pushed herself faster, gritting her teeth against the pain.
It was only a quarter-mile back, but it felt like she’d traveled across a county by the time the tree came into view. She saw that Phillip, Creek, and Thunder had all climbed up higher into the branches; as she watched, Phillip fired twice more at two of the sandingoes that were climbing up towards them, turning their heads into powder, but another was already crawling up the trunk towards them, staying just out of range of Rolling Thunder’s kicks.
A thrill of panic ran down Daring’s spine at the sight, but she suppressed it, focusing on keeping the waterspout together and following her. Her wings and limbs blazed with pain, feeling as though they might drop off, and her heart was about to pound right out of her chest, but she pushed herself forward. Just a little bit further…
The sandingos turned towards her, pausing and staring in seeming disbelief, some even backing away in uncertainty. The three ponies all looked up at the roaring storm, jaws dropping.
“Special delivery!” Daring yelled and snapped her wings forward. The deluge of water rushed over the tree and its occupants, soaking into the ground. The dingos all howled in pain as they were smothered with water; when the waves cleared, only three of the sandingoes remained, all of them having turned into mud. They moved sluggishly, staring at their browned, waterlogged limbs.
Like a torpedo slicing through the air, Daring rocketed at the two that were in the tree, plowing into them both with one movement, leaving crumbles of mud to tumble harmlessly to the ground. The remaining sandingo started to turn and run, only for Daring to bank around and smash into it as well. The sandstorm died away, leaving only harmless clumps of mud upon the drenched ground.
“Ha!” Daring shouted, shaking off the mud that clung to her as she panted, limbs and wings trembling as they struggled to carry her weight. “Here’s mud in your eye, bastards!”
Phillip jumped down from the tree and hurried over to her as she sagged into his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I just need to lie down for a bit…” Daring mumbled as Creek Fog and Rolling Thunder carefully climbed down from the tree.
“That was incredible!” Rolling Thunder beamed as he and his wife hurried over. “I’ve never seen a single pegasus handle a twister like that!”
“Little trick...I learned from a friend,” Daring smiled through her panting as the two stallions carried her over and laid her down in the shade of the tree that they’d sheltered in. Noting her bloodied bandages, Phillip unwrapped the gauze and took out his suture kit and antiseptic.
“Here, here,” Creek Fog urged, pulling a small bag of anzac biscuits out of her saddlebags and offering them to the exhausted mare. “Eat these, you’ll feel better.”
“Thanks,” Daring mumbled, nibbling at the dessert. She lightly flapped her wings, noting that the light dancing of magic was much fainter now. Her right wing was now practically numb, which she was grateful for, since it meant she couldn’t feel Phillip stabbing her with a needle.
“There,” Phillip nodded as the enchanted thread began to gently pull the wound closed again. He started to rewrap the wing in gauze once it was done.
“Thanks,” Daring smiled, nuzzling his cheek in gratitude.
Something caught her eyes: a particularly large, round rock sitting in the shadow of the tree, drenched by the waterspout. Painted upon it was a wandjina’s face, white eyes staring at her; the image had long faded over time and exposure, but the drawing now stood out against the darker colors of the dampened rock.
“Look, look!” she cried, pointing. She tried to stand up, but her hind legs refused to carry her weight, sending her flopping back to the ground.
Spotting the painted rock, Phillip stood up and trotted over, studying the rock. He picked it up and checked beneath it. “Nothing there, but…” He shook the rock. “That’s too light.” He turned the rock over in his hooves, squinting at it.
“Seam here,” he reported, spotting a thin line running around the circumference of the rock, just barely marked by the water. Gripping the rock in both hooves, he started to twist and shake it like it was a stubborn Rubik’s cube.
With a click, part of the false rock rotated around on a hinge and something fell out of it and into Phil’s hoof: a small rusty red key that tingled in his hoof when he held it. “Got it!” he declared, triumphantly holding it up for the others to see, drawing cheers from the other three. Replacing the rock on the ground, he hustled back to the group.
“Let me see it,” Daring said, eagerly holding her hooves out. Phillip put the key in her hoof and she hungrily studied it, turning it over and over like it was a precious gem.
“It’s real,” she breathed, grinning from ear to ear. “Holy shit, it’s real. We found it.”
“Hang onto that tight,” Rolling Thunder advised.
“Definitely,” Daring said, tucking it into one of the hidden pockets inside her shirt. Swallowing down some water from her canteen, she shook her head. “We need to keep moving, get to Cathedral Gorge,” she declared, trying to stand. “Ingwa and Snake could be catching up…”
Her limbs trembled and sagged like wet noodles, refusing to carry her weight. “Oof!” she grunted as she faceplanted into the sand.
“You need to rest,” Creek scolded.
“No,” Daring grunted, trying to stand up again. “Have to keep moving…”
Phillip sighed and shook his head. “Stubborn wanker,” he grumbled, trotting up and bending down so that Daring flopped over onto his back. “There. You happy now?”
“Much,” Daring replied, wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “You know which way you’re going?”
“I’ve been there a few dozen times. Yes, I know where it is,” Phillip replied, turning to the north.
“Good,” Daring grinned. “Now onward, my valiant steed! We have treasure to find!”
Rolling his eyes, Phillip proceeded forward, with their chuckling guides following. “You’d better put some of those bikkies in my mouth, I’m hungry,” he said.
It took them many more hours of walking through the warm desert, the sky above them turning from crystal blue to dark purple and blue as the sun started to set, before they came close to their target. From the distance, they could see great mountains and dome-shaped stone structures of alternating orange and gray bands rising up over the hills, shadows spreading across the natural sculptures.
“They look like beehives,” Daring commented, having recovered enough of her strength and magic to walk on her own. She stared at a cluster of the strange stones, head cocked in contemplation. From its nest atop one of the stone hives, a rainbow bee-eater cocked her yellow-orange head back at her and flitted her iridescent blue-green wings as she contemplated her visitors.
“This region is called Billingjal, or ‘sand falling away,’ by the Aborigineigh tribes who live here,” Creek Fog said, smiling as she looked over the mountainous region. “Those mountains are called the Bungle Bungle range.”
“We’ll be within sight of the canyons soon,” Rolling Thunder declared, already urging them on. “Just wait till you see it!”
They ascended a pathway that led through the cone-shaped stones over a rise and paused at the top, gaping down at the canyon beneath them.
“Wow,” Daring breathed, drinking in the sight of the bright blue river winding its way through the canyon. The banks of the river were lush with green vegetation, contrasting against the colored bands of stone that formed the canyon walls. Birds flew over the river, flitting up to nests and diving into the water in search of food, their calls echoing off the gorge.
“Cathedral Gorge isn’t far off. This way,” Rolling Thunder beckoned them on.
They trotted over the top of the rise, their elongated shadows stretching out before them as the sun dipped lower and lower to the horizon. As darkness spread over the land, the sound of the wilderness changed as the diurnal animals went back to their dens and nests and the nocturnal animals started to come out to hunt.
A faint rustling and scraping of rock caught Daring’s attention and she swiveled around. A pair of black eyes stared back at her, reflecting the light of her torch.
“Ooh, a short-eared rock wallaby!” Creek Fog cried as the squirrel-like creature bounded off into the distance in search of food.
But Daring kept panning her flashlight across the rocks and scrub, frowning. Phillip also started scanning the landscape around them with his flashlight, eyes narrowed and ears flicking back and forth.
“What is it?” Rolling Thunder asked, pausing.
Phil and Daring just stayed silent for a little while, then shook their heads. “Let’s keep going,” Phillip said, listening to the uneasy tingle on the back of his skull. “And keep your eyes and ears open. Let’s not forget that Snake and Ingwa are still out there.”
They pressed on, ears alert for any unusual sounds amidst the rustling of the bush and the calls of nocturnal animals.
The sun was more than halfway beneath the horizon by the time they descended another path down into the canyon and proceeded along the sandy banks of the river around a bend where the river split into two.
“Welcome to Cathedral Gorge,” Rolling Thunder smiled, gesturing before them.
Daring’s jaw dropped as she stared around them. The light of the setting sun, awakening stars, and a dozen natural torches of pale blue luminescent moss set in basket-like constructions set around the ground revealed a natural amphitheater in reddish-orange stone, the entire natural construction large enough for at least a couple hundred ponies without standing in the large greenish-blue pool that the tributary spilled into. The sloping walls were covered in ancient paintings, many of them having been clearly retouched in recent years. A few tents were set up along the banks of the tributary and campers were milling about on the sand, speaking in hushed, awed tones as they admired the beautiful sight; their voices mixed with the flapping and calling of birds and bats flitting back and forth in search of food or returning to their nests in the rocky crags. The sounds echoed musically off of the curved stone walls.
“Wow,” she breathed, slowly spinning around to take in the view.
“Crikey,” Phillip said in agreement, admiring the painted walls. “Forgot how beautiful it all was, especially at night.”
“What’s this?” Daring asked, prodding at one of the iron baskets that carried the faintly glowing lichen.
“Starmoss,” Creek Fog replied. “A rare plant that grows only in the outback. It absorbs sunlight during the day, then glows during the night as it converts that absorbed sunlight into magic.”
A giggling blue earth pony colt splashed in the green waters of the wide pool, sending ripples through the water that distorted the reflection of the lights.
“Aqua! Don’t go too far, honey,” the colt’s mother, a plump yellow mare with the cutie mark of a loaf of fresh-baked bread and a Baltimare accent, called from the tent that her mustachioed husband was pitching near the bank.
“The poem said that the next key was in the pool,” Daring commented, peering down into the water. The beam of her flashlight revealed several rocks of varying sizes within the water. She sighed in exasperation. “It’ll take hours to check all this.”
“Probably best to try that in the morning after some sleep, yeah?” Rolling Thunder suggested. “C’mon, I’ll pitch the tents for you.”
Daring tried to cover a yawn with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she admitted.
“Good spot here,” Phillip said, gesturing to an open space in the sand.
“Ooh, yes, this is nice,” Rolling Thunder nodded approvingly, casting a gaze over the paintings on the walls around them. The largest diorama was of a beautiful yellow mare with a long, flowing mane the color of the morning sky, her glowing yellow eyes smiling upon the plants that were blossoming around her hooves.
“Yhi, the sun goddess,” Creek Fog explained, gesturing at the mare. “She was the one who helped give most life on Earth their shape and form, spawning many of the plants here.” She giggled to herself. “Of course, she needed some practice first. That’s how we got the platypus!”
As they started pitching the tent, Daring looked over the rest of the images decorating the walls, illuminated by the growing starlight and the glow of the starmoss torches. Her eyes focused upon another diorama near them. This one featured a group of Aborigineigh working amongst a field of crops beneath a starry sky, while black, skeletal beings with long, wispy manes stalked them from a nearby line of trees.
“Namorodo?” she asked, pointing to the bony shapes.
“Indeed,” Creek Fog nodded. “No one quite knows where they came from, but they’re as old as the Earth, or nearly. It’s long believed that they came from some forgotten corner of the Dreaming; thankfully, there's very few of them left. Most died of starvation years ago when we ponies learned to protect ourselves from them. As a child, I was always told that if I was out at night and heard the wind whistling sharply, I should stay very, very still and not make a sound.”
“Why?” Daring asked.
“They’re fast and tough, but the namorodo do not have much of their eyes left,” Creek Fog explained. “They can only really see movement, and they’re blinded by sunlight; you can thank Yhi for using her magic to ensure that.” She smiled and shook her head at the sun goddess’ painting. “If only it didn’t take her so long to figure out how to control the sun.” She frowned. “Or if she could hang onto it instead of…”
Daring paused at the silence. “Instead of what?” she asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Creek Fog smiled.
Daring pondered for a moment. “So why do they whistle?” she asked as they returned to help start a campfire.
“The wind passing through their bones: a sure sign that they’re nearby,” Creek explained, gathering up tinder in the circle of stones. “They also have some magic of their own that they can use to cause trouble, though it can be warded off with the right protective charms and spells.”
“And rain,” Daring adds, watching as Creek ignited the tinder.
Creek puffed on the flames until they were crackling merrily. “Yes,” she nodded. “Angkakert and Awely-Awely can enchant the storm to keep them away."
"Any other weaknesses?" Daring pressed.
Creek thought for a moment, head cocked to one side. "Well, they are tougher than any normal pony--not being technically alive helps--but they can be killed by decapitation. Why do you ask? I thought you didn’t believe in these things.”
Daring shrugged. “I’ve always been curious about other cultures and myths and stuff,” she said in what she hoped was a casual tone, glancing once more at the paintings of the skeletal beasts on the wall.
Creek Fog considered her for a moment as if weighing her response, then shrugged and finished putting up her tent.
The blue colt bounced by again, giggling as he played whatever imaginary game was enthralling him. “Aqua! Stay close, honey!” his mother called again as she and her husband started clearing up after their grilled dinner.
Phillip stared after the colt and shook his head. “Stay close to your parents, kid!” he called as the boy danced off past them.
“Promise me we’re never getting one,” Daring commented to Phillip.
“Agreed,” Phillip said. “Now, what’s for eats?”
“How about some cottage pie?” Rolling Thunder grinned, pulling some enchanted freezer bags filled with a potato, bean, and beef casserole. “I got these made before we set out--”
A sharp whistling sounded through the cavern, echoing through Cathedral Gorge. The starmoss flickered strangely, the blue glow fading as shadows overtook the gorge. Even the stars themselves seemed to dim as a sudden chill seized everypony in the gorge. A few visitors cried out in shock and alarm, looking around to try to find the source of this strange darkness.
Phillip and Daring both snapped upright, hooves half-rising towards their shoulder holsters as their suddenly pounding hearts leaped to their throats. They inhaled sharply, the scent of charcoal assaulting their nostrils.
“They’re here,” Daring hissed, eyes and ears darting about.
Rolling and Creek both glared up at the sky. Rolling barked something in Aborigineigh and instantly the darkness passed, the whistling wind silencing immediately. The tourists slowly relaxed, their confusion fading away as they pushed the abnormal incident from their minds.
“Where are they?” Phillip breathed out, lowering his hoof and trying to banish flickering images of red skies and black eyes from his mind.
A mare shrieked loudly. “Aqua?! Where’s Aqua?!” the Baltimare mare screamed, running wildly about and looking around.
Phillip and Daring looked over to where they’d last seen the colt, just past a starmoss torch at the entrance of the gorge. In the faint light of the magic moss, they could see the small hoofprints of the colt leading towards the entrance to the gorge before suddenly stopping.
Intercepting his trail were two sets of larger, adult hoofprints.