Daring placed the second box with its strange idol in the back of Caballeron’s jeep and slammed the door shut. As Caballeron secured the door, Daring glanced up at the monastery. The nuns that were working at the walls and windows or tilling the gardens all instantly looked away and focused their attention on their tasks, pretending that they hadn’t been apprehensively watching the archaeologists at work.
“Dorado?” she asked quietly.
“¿Sí?” Caballeros asked, locking the back of the Jeep.
“Do you really think we should be doing this?” she asked, almost in disbelief at the words coming out of her mouth.
Caballeron turned, his eyes wide. “How could you say such a thing?” he cried, sounding as though she had made some sort of heretical statement.
“You don’t get a weird feeling from any of this?” Daring asked. “These statues, or how the forest goes silent when we dig them up?”
Caballeron hesitated, his face falling into grave lines and the specter of nervousness flickering in his chartreuse irides, then he shook his head with a sound of frustration. “Daring, we are scientists,” he declared. “It does not fall to us to let superstitions get in the way of discovery! Those days are long past us!” He sighed. “You’re being muy tonto, mi amiga. Why are you scared?”
“I…” Daring looked down at the ground, shame squirming in her gut.
I am being silly, aren’t I? It’s…weird, sure. But the Abominations and the Ahuizotl are just legends. And these are just wooden idols. They can’t hurt anybody…
Except that they could. Once more Uncle Ad’s dying scream echoed in her ears, as loud and sharp as in the frosty cave, and she flinched.
Okay, maybe I’m not being silly…but Caballeron’s right. I can’t let superstition or fear get in the way of understanding. Especially not for something as important as figuring out what happened to you, Uncle Ad. You’d be the same…
“No one’s ever scared for no reason,” Fertile Ground declared as she approached. The kirin focused her scowling eyes upon the jeep, as though she could see through the body and into the boxes within.
Caballeron drew himself up. “Who says that we are scared?”
“We see your faces when you come back with those,” Fertile replied, frowning. “We see your pale faces and the way you handle those accursed boxes. Like there’s an angry live snake in there.” She glanced at the other nuns, who had abandoned any pretense of not spying upon the archaeologists. “And we’re scared, too. I’m sure you ‘scientists’ don’t believe in such things as intuition,” she continued, putting a caustic emphasis on the word. “But we can feel something evil coming from those idols. That’s what you feel.”
Caballeron briefly hesitated, then scoffed. “Your timidity and superstitions are merely influencing us. That’s all it is. Children fear the dark and imaginary monsters but grow out of it soon. This is little different.”
“There are reasons we once feared the dark and the monsters that lurked in them,” Fertile Ground gravely countered. “And not all of them were imaginary.”
“Regardless,” Caballeron waved her off. “We must continue our quest, regardless of whatever you think. Come, Daring Do: let us find the last idol!”
Grabbing his saddlebags, he proceeded west, heading into the woods.
Daring hesitated, glancing back at the other nuns. Their wide eyes met hers, silently pleading for her not to go.
“I told you when you first came here,” Fertile Ground whispered. “Some things are best left hidden.”
Daring glanced down at the map and swallowed, forcing down the fear with the logic that she was merely being foolish for believing in superstitions.
“I need to do this,” she answered firmly.
Fertile Ground sighed deeply and clasped her hooves together. “I still say you’re a fool…but if you must, may Clover grant you her wisdom,” she intoned, performing the sign of harmony.
“Thanks,” Daring said, a small bit of relief flickering within her like the guttering light of a candle.
“Come on, Daring!” Caballeron called.
“I’m coming,” she called back, though it was with a certain reluctance that she lifted her wings and flew after her companions, feeling the eyes of the Sisters boring into her all the way until she vanished into the trees.
As the sun fell towards the eastern horizon, the sky over the groaning branches turned a pale orange, then a gray as clouds began to slowly trawl overhead like massive ships. A chill wind blew down through the trees, prompting Daring to shiver and tighten her jacket about her body.
She glanced down to check her compass, then looked up to reorient herself and spotted the last carving into the tree: a warped four-pointed star.
“There it is!” she declared, pausing to look around. She spotted the next symbol etched onto a tree a few yards away to her left.
With a cry of delight, Caballeron turned about and rushed over, picking up the trail with all the nervous eagerness of a bloodhound trailing an animal. Daring followed after him, the thrill of being on discovery in her veins like a fire that burned away doubt and fear; she even felt an excited grin cross her face, as though Caballeron’s excitement was infectious.
But only a few yards ahead, both archaeologists came to a halt, their excitement deflating like popped balloons.
The Whitetail Woods were cut off abruptly, the trees and root-covered ground ceasing at a line of plowed grass. Within the perimeter of perfectly trimmed grass was a square of rolling hills, with a grand white mansion in the center of the artificial clearing. Only a few trees that had once formed this patch of the woods were remaining, all of them forced into trim symmetry. Flapping flags marked out golf holes and tennis nets swayed in the breeze, though only a few creatures were braving the evening chill, most of them groundskeepers tending to work for the day. A well-paved circular driveway led through a set of iron gates and onto Whitetail Road.
“Shit,” Daring grimaced. “The country club. I forgot…”
Caballeron pondered for a moment, then his gaze went over to the smaller but no less fancy house that sat on the opposite end of the club grounds, its back pressed against the trees. Smoke rose from the ivy-covered chimney and the front gallery windows were glowing with light.
“Look, the owners are home,” he declared. “It is possible that they found the final box when they were making the land for the club three years ago. Come, let us ask them.”
He trotted off determinedly toward his target. Daring started to follow when a rustling behind her caused her to whirl around. Her eyes scanned the shadows of the forest behind her, but she didn’t see anything unusual.
In the back of her mind, she recalled the figure that had been watching the Sisters when this whole adventure started. She squinted into the shadows, scanning every shape for any sign of movement or eyes staring back at her.
“Daring, come on! What are you waiting for?!” Caballeron shouted impatiently.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” Daring called back. Giving the woods a final suspicious glance, she flew over to Caballeron and began to trot alongside him. It took a good five minutes to cross the entire club grounds,
The house was clearly relatively young, despite its desperate attempts to appear rustic with the rough-hewn red bricks and ivy tastefully climbing up the sides. The large gallery-type windows looked into a dining room decorated with antique furniture, where a uniformed blue-gray earth pony with the cutie mark of a stack of crystal glasses was currently laying out cutlery for dinner.
Daring Do looked at the gold plate secured to the wall next to the front door and paused. The nameplate declared Knoll.
Knoll…as in Joseph Knoll, the kid who ran away. Might be a coincidence. Might not be. Careful, Daring.
Caballeron rang the doorbell, which prompted a tingling of bells deep within the house. The butler in the window looked up and proceeded to the door, opening it up slightly to greet them.
“Good evening. How may I assist you?” the pale blue stallion asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
“Buenas noches. I am Doctor Dorado Caballeron and this is Professor Daring Do of the Golden Oaks University’s Archaeology Department,” Caballeron greeted him. “We would like to speak to the Knolls, please.”
The butler blinked in momentary surprise, then nodded. “I see. Please wait here a moment, I will speak to the masters.”
He gently closed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the cold.
“This land was heavily tilled,” Caballeron gestured about at the club grounds. “Perhaps they uncovered the last sculpture by accident.”
“It would’ve been three years ago, at least,” Daring replied, stamping her hooves to try to ward off the cold. “I’m not sure they would even remember it.”
A rushing sound overhead made both ponies look up into the darkening sky. “What was that?” Daring asked, scanning the overcast background for any silhouettes. She found herself thinking of her .38 back home, secured in her gun locker. Her hoof went to the bullwhip at her side and she found some comfort in having at least one weapon at hoof.
“Probably just a bird or something,” Caballeron waved it off. “Ay, por joder, relax, Daring. What’s gotten into you?”
Before Daring could explain, the door reopened and the butler bowed them inside. “Mister and Missus Knoll will see you in the drawing room. Please follow me.”
Caballeron and Daring Do entered the glittering hallway, the hardwood floor polished to a sheen and the walls lined with a photograph of two young donkeys standing in front of a building marked Knoll’s Landscaping. Daring and Caballeron both shed their coats and hung them up on the baroque walnut coat rack standing next to the wall.
“May I take your hat, madam?” the butler asked Daring.
“No, thank you,” Daring replied, though she did show enough obeisance to manners to at least doff the pith helmet and tuck it under a wing.
“This way, please,” the butler gestured them down the hall.
The duo proceeded behind their guide down the cavernous hallway with its glittering lights and portraits on the walls. After turning a corner, the butler opened up a set of double doors.
“Professors Daring Do and Dorado Caballeron,” he announced, bowing his guests into a grandiose room. White and yellow walls reflected the light from the chandelier overhead. A fire crackled merrily in the marble fireplace; shelves lined the walls, holding books, various knick-knacks and trophies, and framed photographs. Daring’s eyes went to a larger picture, showing the two older donkeys standing with a young burro in bright blue graduation robes beaming between them, his diploma displayed proudly in his hooves.
She also noticed a conspicuous empty space on a shelf in between a photograph and a snowglobe from Whinnyland. A space, she noticed, that had a dark circle where something had stood for a long time there. A circle that was the same size as the ahuizotl statuettes.
Daring’s heart sped up in her chest as her gaze turned to her hosts sitting on the sofa before them. Jeremiah Knoll was balding, with merely a layer of stringy gray hair like desiccated weeds in a dusty plain, but his brown eyes were keen and his shoulders were still broad and solid as a rock, covered by a pale scarlet dinner jacket. Leah Knoll wore her gray mane in a trim wave. Her pale blue eyes were wide behind her glasses and she wore a dark purple dress with a gold brooch around her neck.
“Professors,” she greeted their guests, beckoning them to the opposite couch.
Daring sat down opposite them stiffly, her heart thudding in her chest and glancing at the patio doors behind them that opened into a back deck and the forest beyond.
“Señor y Señora Knoll,” Caballeron bowed courteously before seating himself next to Daring. “Many thanks for your hospitality. We are here to ask you about something that we believe may have been buried on these grounds.”
The donkeys both raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
“We are following a trail of artifacts that were buried in these very woods many centuries ago by the inhabitants of the Whitetail Monastery,” Caballeron continued, leaning forward with a smile as though telling a tale around the campfire. “A box containing a wooden statuette. We think the last one may have been buried on the grounds of your country club.”
“What makes you think that it’s here?” Leah asked calmly.
“The locations of the boxes are marked by specially marked trees,” Caballeron explained. “The trees for the last box lead onto this property but are then cut off. I believe that you may have cut down the trees without noticing the carvings or realizing their significance, which I can understand.”
“I see,” Jeremiah Knoll nodded slowly, his eyebrows knitting slightly. “And this…statuette. It is valuable to you?”
“Incredibly!” Caballeron cried. “This statuette may be the key to solving an ancient mystery! If there is any chance that it is here, I…er, we must follow up on it!”
The Knolls both exchanged a look. “I see,” Jeremiah said slowly, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
“Well, we’d be…certainly glad to help you,” Leah added, rubbing her foreleg with a hoof. “But unfortunately, we do not recall finding anything of that nature on these grounds.”
“Please, I implore you to think,” Caballeron pressed, leaning forward. “When you cut down those trees, perhaps you found some that had a symbol carved on them? I understand it was years ago, but–”
Daring’s eyes involuntarily went once more to the empty space on the shelf, imagining the Ahuizotl idol sat on the shelf, conspicuously perched between the souvenir snowglobe and the innocent photograph of the country club under construction, staring out at guests, perhaps prompting some idle comments of curiosity that masked a chill.
Leah’s eyes darted to Daring like a hawk that had spotted a flicker of movement in the grass. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion and a bit of fear flickering in the pale blue.
“Uh, Professor Caballeron,” Daring said, rising and grasping her colleague’s arm, interrupting his entreaty. “I think this is a dry lead. We should stop bothering our hosts.”
“But–what?” Caballeron protested as Daring hauled him to his hooves. “What are you doing?!” He wrenched his foreleg from her grasp. “What’s gotten into you, Daring Do? You’re jumping at shadows and–”
A click interrupted him. Both ponies turned to find themselves staring down the barrel of a .45 Colt.
“I’m afraid that I must insist that you stay,” the butler said coolly, the pistol secured to his unwavering foreleg.
“S-Steady?!” Jeremiah Knoll cried in alarm. “Wh-what is this?!”
“They know, Jeremiah,” a dark brown pegasus declared, tugging a balaclava from his head as he entered from the opposite side of the room. The pegasus wore a camouflage jacket, brown and green and black splotches coating his body. He scowled at Daring, drawing his own pistol from a holster and aiming it at her. “Been following these two around; they visited the Monastery and found the other two idols.”
Daring glared back at him, recalling the whooshing sound from overhead as they’d been standing out in front of the mansion. “You were the one watching the monastery, weren’t you?” Daring hissed. “You dropped your bag.”
The pegasus’ eyes briefly widened in panic and he glanced at the butler, who scowled back at him. “You dropped a bag of Revelation?” the butler snarled.
“It was an accident!” the pegasus protested. “I-I-I didn’t…they couldn’t know–”
Caballeron recognized his chance and lunged at the butler, tackling him to the floor. “Run, Daring!” he shouted, seizing the butler’s gun arm and swinging at his face.
Daring drew her whip in one smooth movement and cracked it out, striking the pegasus in the face. He yowled in pain and his pistol clattered to the ground as he clutched his bloodied face.
“Get off!” the butler snapped, striking Caballeron in the throat. The sound of her colleague gagging and retching as he fell off his opponent bid Daring to turn around, instinctively taking to the air with a single flap of her wings.
The .45 came up at her. Daring banked with an adjustment of her wing, sliding her hooves down the coarse cord of the whip; the weighted handle hummed deeply as she swung it in preparation to strike–
A flash of light and a clap of thunder. A hot iron poker pierced Daring’s right wing. She screamed, dropping the whip as her wing failed her, sending her crashing to the floor, clumsily tumbling over the coffee table.
“Stop her!” the butler snapped, lifting his pistol to avoid hitting his employers. The pegasus snarled through the blood smeared across his face as he reached for his gun. The Knolls were sitting stock still on the couch, seemingly overwhelmed by the violence.
Gasping as the pain from the gunshot wound flooded her body, Daring glanced over at Caballeron, who was still lying on the floor clutching his throat. He met her gaze, his panicked gaze urging her to run.
Move, move, move! Gritting her teeth against the pain, Daring leaped over the sofa where the Knolls were cowering in shock. A quick jab to the pegasus’ nose caused him to reel away once more, giving her room to charge through the back hallway.
A patio doorway provided a way out. Daring seized the handle and yanked the door open with a crash, stumbling out onto the back deck. Blood marked out her path as she sprinted for the woods, panting heavily. A bout of dizziness struck her and she stumbled, swallowing back nausea.
Don’t go into shock. Don’t go into shock. Get to the trees...just get to the trees…
“Get back here!” a nasal voice bellowed behind her.
Daring heard another whooshing of wings behind her. She forced herself onwards even as the world turned blurry before her eyes. She broke through the treeline, leaves crunching beneath her hooves. Maybe if she could lose him in the shadows and trees–
Wind rushed at her back and she knew she had a second before he pounced on her.
Leave a mark. Something to prove that you were here.
Daring shook her uninjured wing and a couple of loose golden feathers fell from the limb. With a scuff of a hoof, Daring pushed the feathers beneath a bush, where her assailant wouldn’t notice them, but someone else might see them.
Hopefully.
No sooner had she done this than a sledgehammer crashed down onto her back, driving her to the ground and pressing the air from her lungs with a wheeze; fresh pain flared across her chest as her ribs took the blow.
Turning, she saw the pegasus grinning down at her through his bloodied face, backlit against the darkening indigo sky. He raised a hoof and brought it down hard. Daring Do’s head exploded with pain, stars dancing before her eyes.
And then everything went black.