//------------------------------// // Secret of the Sunken Church Part Five: Preparing // Story: Daring Do: Shadows Over Equestria // by PonyJosiah13 //------------------------------// They reached a small park overhung with maple trees, brown leaves scattered across the grass and paths. A few children were playing on the swings and jungle gym, watched by their parents and sitters. Phillip parked the bike and turned the engine off as Daring landed next to him. “You sure that you can get in there?” Phillip asked. “If my theory is right,” Daring said, taking out the photograph of Eastern Cartographer. “That riddle said that he was the key and mentioned a pattern of knocking. You see the hieroglyphs on his stole? They’re similar to the ones that are carved on the walls.” Phillip considered for a moment, then grunted. “Best lead we’ve got.” “Anyway, we can both agree that we don’t trust the Order, right?” Daring asked. “Agreed,” Phillip nodded. “Scarlet Letter knows more than she’s letting on.” “I think they’re after the Prism,” Daring said. “They thought that Family Tree could get it for them.” “Most likely.” The bells of a nearby clocktower chimed out the hour: quarter to three. Daring grimaced. “Damn, I’ve got other classes to attend to…” “Need to follow up on other leads. We can meet up after classes. Head in during the service tonight,” Phillip suggested. “Yeah, that works,” Daring nodded. “I’d need to get some things from my place anyway.” A thought suddenly occurred to her. “The Order might try to sneak in ahead of us,” Daring pointed out. “Can get a friend to watch the church,” Phillip said. He rummaged in the saddlebags of his bike for a few moments, then pulled out some strange items: a bottle of honey, a small cup, and a long, flat wooden disc with a long rope looped through a hole drilled into one end, decorated with a painting of a kangaroo. “A bullroarer,” Daring named the device. “Mm-hmm,” he confirmed, walking over to a bench with his items. He filled the small cup with the honey and placed it on the table, then stepped back and unspooled some of the rope on the bullroarer. He closed his eyes and took a breath, began to spin the device through the air, producing a constant buzzing groan that thrummed through the air, a vibration that Daring felt in her bones. “Gossamer, apetyeyel…Gossamer, apetyeyel…Gossamer, apetyeyel…” Phillip began to half-whisper, half-sing in time with the rise and fall of the eerie music. A pale gray light the color of an overcast midday sky flickered across his hooves and down the rope to the bullroarer, which cast little motes of energy as it spun. A shiver like static electricity danced across Daring’s wings as the summoning spell passed over her. A light blue glow appeared in the distance, zipping toward Phillip, who ceased spinning the bullroarer. After a few moments, the glow coalesced into a breezy, pale blue with a puffy golden mane. “G’day, Gossamer,” Phillip smiled, holding out his left forelimb and allowing the breezy to land upon it. “Hi, ceannard!” the breezy chirped, buzzing his little wings in greeting. “Daring Do, meet Gossamer Dance,” Phillip said. “I saved him from a band of smugglers that he ran into. Been helping me out since.” Gossamer floated over to Daring and booped her on the snout. “Hi, caraid ùr!” “Er, hi,” Daring said. Gossamer cocked his head as if studying her for a moment, then beamed. “Yes. I like your girlfriend, ceannard!” Both ponies sputtered in shock, heat rushing to their faces. Phillip cleared his throat as he recollected himself. “She’s not my girlfriend, Gossamer.” The breezy tilted his head and gave Phillip a superior smile. “Seadh, of course she is not,” he giggled. Gossamer sniffed the air and spotted the cup of honey. With a little cry of delight, he flew over and snatched up the cup, sipping up the honey. “You need help, ceannard?” “You know the Church of the Seven Pillars?” Phillip asked, the blush fading from his ears. “Church in the woods to the northwest?” Gossamer nodded. “Church that burned down, right? Secret temple beneath it?” “That’s the one,” Phillip confirmed. “Need you and some of your friends to keep an eye on the place. Let me know if anyone tries to sneak in before the service at seven. Can you do that?” Gossamer nodded eagerly as he finished off the proffered drink. “Seadh, I can do that! Gun dragh sam bith!” “Ripper,” Phillip smiled. “Off to it, then.” Gossamer saluted and flew off, fading into a faint blue glow that disappeared into the trees. “A breezy,” Daring commented with a raised eyebrow. “Dead useful,” Phillip replied, packing up his equipment. “They can go anywhere and see and hear everything without being noticed. And Gossamer’s smarter than you’d think.” “And when they migrate home during the winter?” Daring asked. “There are other means,” Phillip said, carefully packing his equipment back into the enchanted saddlebags. “Who taught you how to do a summoning spell?” Daring asked. “My mother,” Phillip answered. “She’s a ngangkari: a medicine mare. Got some of the talent from her.” He climbed back onto the bike. “So. Meet at church at seven?” Daring smirked. “Normally, I’d ask you to buy me dinner before taking me to sneak into hidden temples,” she purred, batting her eyelashes a bit. “But for you, I’ll make an exception.” Phillip’s ears turned a violent crimson and he swallowed. “Daring…not that I don’t like you, or that I don’t like mares, but…” he stammered. “Just because Gossamer said that we…” He paused as realization struck him, then glared at Daring, who threw her head back and cackled. “Oh, you are way too fun,” she snickered. She held out a hoof. “See you at seven.” “Ripper,” Phillip sighed with a small but genuine smile, bumping his hoof against hers. Daring gave him a salute and spread her wings, flying back towards Golden Oaks University in a greyscale rainbow. The school day passed in a blur for Daring Do. She rushed into Ancient Technology and Magic five minutes late, just as some of her students were debating whether or not they should leave, but managed to stumble through it and Origins of Griffons and Hippogriffs from her notes before retreating to her office to go over her Intro to Archaeology quizzes. But as much as she tried to focus on grading her students’ work, her mind kept floating back to the hieroglyphs on the stone walls. Visions of a door opening in the wall danced before her eyes. She saw Family Tree standing there, her eyes twinkling with wonder as they often did when she found something fascinating. She saw the professor descending into the darkness beyond. She saw her being dragged out by shapeless forms, blood painting a trail across the stones. Heat spread across her veins at the thought. Who? Who had killed her? And why? A horrible thought seized her. What if it was the Order? What if they had gotten into the catacombs and found the Prism? But then why would they bother to hire a private detective? Daring groaned and buried her head in her hooves. “Daring?” Daring Do gasped and looked up to see Doctor Caballeron standing at the open door of her office. “You look like a mare with something on her mind,” Caballeron commented. Daring sighed and glanced down at the report on her desk, frowning as she noticed that her notes on Ifaa’s quiz had turned into random doodles. “Yeah, sorry, Caballeron.” “Where did you go earlier?” Caballeron asked. “Blotting Paper was about to throw a fit.” “I…” Something stopped the words before they could escape Daring’s throat. Even forgetting what the Dean would say if she found out that she’d spent an afternoon chasing rumors, a lurking paranoia hung over her. A mare had already died over this. What else might be caused by her indiscretion? “A PI came looking for Family Tree,” she explained. “He asked me to help him out.” Caballeron’s eyebrows rose. “Oh? And did you find anything?” “We didn’t find her,” Daring admitted. “He left to go pursue some other leads.” There. Not technically a lie. Caballeron sighed. “Pobre Family. Do you have any idea what happened to her?” “We’re not sure,” Daring admitted, again reminding herself that that technically wasn’t a lie. Caballeron frowned. “I heard through the grapevine that she was researching the Sunken Church.” “Yeah, we did find that out,” Daring commented, feeling as though she were making her way across a minefield blindfolded. “I’m not sure how relevant that is, though.” Caballeron stared in silence for a beat, a pensive frown on his face, then sighed. “I see. Ojalá, she’ll turn up soon.” “Yes, the gods willing, indeed,” Daring nodded as her colleague exited. She waited until the sound of his hoofsteps faded away and his office door closed to sigh and return to her work, trying to swallow back her bile. Sundown crept up upon the campus, shadows spreading across the quad, street lamps and lights in the windows penetrating the darkness. Daring Do added her final notes to the last quiz and put it in the out basket as she glanced at the clock. Twenty-past six. Plenty of time for her to get home and grab her gear before her meeting with Phillip. She switched off the lights, exited her office, and locked it behind her, checking once more to ensure that the photograph was still in her pocket as she pocketed her keys. She headed out of the History Wing, nodding good night to the janitor on her way out. No sooner had she pushed out of the building than she took flight, streaking eastward towards her apartments. Her heart thumped in her chest as she breathed in the cool evening air, filling her lungs. It’s like a dream, Uncle Ad. Or something out of one of my own books. We’ve found a lot of missing treasures together–like that disc in the palace in Neighros–but a rare treasure in my own backyard? And if it is the Prism of Darkness–if it actually can do what they say it can… Her excited smile flickered as more images danced before her eyes: a stallion with a coat the color of milk chocolate adorned in a gray jacket, his flaxen mane sticking out in straw-like strands beneath a thick winter hat. His blue eyes shone as he stared at the black idol set far back in the antechamber of that lifeless grotto amidst the taigas of southern Yakyakistan. That idol of the dog-like being with an extra paw at the end of its long tail, smirking out at the world. His hooves, carefully lifting the idol from the pedestal. The carved eyes lighting up as though in delight. Biting wind rising out of nowhere, biting against her spine with a sound like a snarl…or a laugh. Movement in the layers of ice that covered the walls; shadows of shapes that she couldn’t identify, glowing in colors that she could not name. Tearing out of the walls and the floor. Lunging at the older stallion like rats on decaying meat, faster than she could react. Screams. The idol spinning through the air and skittering across the ice, back into the darkness. The shadows retreating back into the ice, so fast that she wasn’t sure that they were ever there. A body shivering on the ground, skin withered down to his bones. Ragged breath. Blue eyes, once glowing with wonder at the world, sunken into a shriveled face. Blue coloration creeping across his body. A thready pulse. A final breath turning into vapor. Daring Do shivered and wiped at her teary eyes. I need to understand, Uncle Ad. I need to know what’s out there. So it can’t happen again. And I can’t let the Order or creatures like them get their hooves on that Prism. And with that heavy thought, she hurried on toward home. Daring Do’s abode was located on the second floor of an apartment building a little down the street from a humble bookstore where she’d spent many a happy afternoon. The warm glow in the window revealed a trio of plush chairs set around a table set with an antique coffee pot and cups, a cheese and cracker plate, and a small bowl of chocolate. Tempting, but she had other things on her mind. Daring landed at the front door of the apartment and made her way into the lobby, undecorated save for a token potted plant in the corner next to the bulletin board and the door to the laundry room. She made her way up to the doorway marked 16 in brass letters and inserted her key. The door opened with a creak and she snapped on the light. Her apartment could be called modest if one was being kind. It was the same apartment that she’d lived in since she’d moved to mainland Equestria twelve years ago. The living room was occupied by some beat-up couches, a desk, and a coffee table, most of them covered in books and loose papers; the one area that was always clear was the desk that housed her trusty typewriter, and the tray where she kept her current manuscripts for the next Compass Rose book. The bookshelf against one wall groaned beneath the weight of its contents. A passageway led to a combination kitchen and dining room with a battered table that she’d found in a thrift store in the center. A collection of takeout menus was scattered across the table. A few photographs and maps were posted on the walls. Right next to the door was a framed photograph depicting a younger Daring Do standing next to the stallion with the gray jacket, both of them beaming up at the camera as Daring held up the rusty hipposandal. Daring Do undid her bow tie with a sigh as she tossed her keys and wallet onto a side table. She made her way over to the icebox and yanked it open, rummaging around for a few moments before extracting an apple, a takeout box of Chineighse, and a carton of milk, which she wolfed down. With some food in her stomach, she made her way into the bedroom. She undid the buttons of her shirt and tossed it and her bow tie onto a chair next to the bed. “That’s better,” she sighed, stretching out her wings. She opened up the closet door and snapped on the light to behold her goal. Hanging on the rack, slightly separated from the rest of her coats and formal shirts, was a simple green cargo shirt, slightly battered and stained, but still clean and holding together; hanging on another rack next to it was a small weatherbeaten canvas tote bag, inscribed with the wards that made it larger on the inside. On the shelf above was a matching pith helmet, patches covering old holes and scars. On the floor of the closet was a fireproof lockbox, and coiled up on a hook on the wall was a stockwhip. Daring took it off the rack and donned the shirt, sighing as she took on the familiar weight of the old shirt. She tucked the photograph of Eastern Cartographer into the breast pocket, right next to the notebook and pens. A quick pat-down confirmed that the other pockets had the rest of her more important gear: a headlamp and extra batteries, a pocket multitool, a magnifying glass, miniature binoculars, and a small first aid kit. The tote bag’s interior contained the rest of her equipment: a trowel, a set of small picks and brushes, a tape measure, a sketchbook and pencils, sample bags, a small camera, and a more extensive first aid kit. Daring secured the bag around her shoulder, then took the stockwhip down from the hook and secured it through a loop on the right side of her shirt. Then she knelt down and unlocked the lockbox. Inside was a .357 Forge and Eastson revolver, the metal body well-polished and ready, and a cartridge belt with a holster. She slid her left foreleg through the sleeve of the pistol; the weight of the metal body rested atop her foreleg as she raised it up and adjusted for the fit, checking the weight of the stirrup trigger against her wrist. Nodding in satisfaction, she snapped the chamber open and used her wing to load it, then snapped the chamber closed and slid the pistol’s barrel through the holster on her left hip. Better safe than sorry. Finally, she reached up and took down the pith helmet. She settled it on her head, smiling at the familiar weight and the comforting smell of canvas, dust, and jungle air that the hat carried. With everything secure, she made her way to the door. Daring paused at the photograph next to the door, staring at her younger self beaming back at her through the years next to her uncle, the famous explorer. Sometimes I wish that life could just stay like that, Uncle Ad: just the two of us, heading out to the sites, digging up old pots and arrowheads, occasionally stumbling into an old temple or tomb and having to fight off a bear or some tomb robbers or something. Laughing and smiling and learning whatever we could. She sighed deeply. But this is what I’ve got now. Besides, like you wouldn’t go digging around in there, either. She kissed her hoof and pressed it against Gallant’s smiling face, then stepped out of the apartment, snapping off the light and locking the door behind her. Daring Do slid the hallway window open and climbed out, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Securing her gear close to her body, she closed the window behind her and spread her wings, taking to the sky and heading towards her target.