“I don’t understand!” Ahuitzotl screeched, as Daring ran off with the Griffon’s Goblet. “You should have been at your limits!”
“Limits?” said Daring, turning back one last time before she flew off. “The only thing I do with those is push ‘em.”
“All right, Daring,” says Twilight, reordering her note cards. “Are you ready for the next one?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grin, careful to brush an errant strand of mane from my eyes like Daring always does when she says that. “Let’s do this.”
Twilight nods and takes the first card. “Who is Ahuitzotl?”
“‘My sworn enemy, and a threat to archaeological efforts everywhere,” I tell her. Page 146 of Daring Do and the Crystal Chamber. The words come easily to me as I recite them. Not too surprising, really. I’ve only read that particular line a dozen times. “The absolute most evil, terrifying, and unhygienic villain to ever threaten Equestria.’”
“Correct!” says Twilight, beaming. She flips to the next card. “What has Major Treaton heard about you, Daring Do?”
“‘Professor of Archaeology, expert on the magical, and how does one say it... a collector of rare antiquities.’” Daring Do and the Dragon’s Diadem. Page 246. Easy enough. Foal’s play, as Daring would say.
And so would I now, come to think of it.
“Right again!” says Twilight. She put her notecards off to the side and claps her hooves together. “Word-for-word perfect, Daring! All of them. I bet even Rainbow Dash couldn’t have been that precise.”
“It’s nothing,” I say modestly, though I can feel the hot tinge of a blush growing in my cheeks. “I’m, I’m sure anypony could do stuff like this. Not half as hard as escaping from the Temple of Gloom with the Griffon’s Goblet, right?”
“Nonsense,” says Twilight, giving me an encouraging smile. “And excellent reference there, by the way. It’s only been a couple days, but you’re already three-fourths through the series. Not to mention recalling them perfectly. That’s impressive by anyone’s standards.” She coughs. “Even mine.”
I can feel the blush in my cheeks getting a little hotter, but still it’s nothing to be all that proud of. I’ve only read through the series so fast because I don’t need to eat or sleep or yell at Spike like Twilight does when she reads. It’s fine, though, I guess. I’m still only learning. Just reading up on how to be the best Daring Do I can be. Maybe, in just a few more days, I can move up to something that would deserve all the praise Twilight heaps on me. Like foiling Ahuitzotl again, or saving Timbucktu from an invasion of hippos.
That’s the sort of thing that would be impressive. Time to take this to the next level. “I’ve been practicing hovering and stuff with my wings, too. Not that that’s too big a deal either.” Then I flash her a grin. “Not for the dynamic, bombastic, indescribably fantastic Daring Do!”
I hope I wasn’t being too modest there. That’s just what it said on the cover of Daring Do and the Cove of Candles.
Twilight rolls her eyes. “Princesses preserve me, you’re even starting to sound like her.”
“Really? Like Daring Do?” I ask, eyes widening. That sounds promising. “How do you know what she sounds like? Do some of these things make sounds?” I hold one of the books by both covers and open it with the pages hanging downwards, shaking it like a voice might fall right out.
“ARRRRGH!” screams Twilight, and snatches it back from me, giving it a little squeeze and a hug before gently lowering it back onto the stack. She takes a deep breath and extends a hoof out from her chest before speaking again. “What I meant was, you’re starting to sound like Rainbow Dash. There’s a reason you’re her favorite character in all of fiction... Not that she’s ever read anything else.”
“...Oh,” I say, a little disappointed. Close, but not quite. That’s fine, then. I can do better than sound like Rainbow Not-Daring Dash. I can sound like Daring Do!
I puff out my chest, imitating the pose from Daring Do and the Gardens of Equestria. “Well, naturally she doesn’t! I’m only the greatest archaeologist of all time! Come on, how ’bout we start working on the flying stuff now? I want to show off some of my moves.”
Twilight bites her lip, as if she isn’t sure about that. “All in good time, Daring,” she says gently. Just like the last time, and the time before that. “Remember, we’ve already got the schedule planned out. And you’re doing great so far, there’s no need to ru—”
There’s a loud pounding on the library door, and my new instincts kick in. Pounding on the door never means anything good in the books. I start looking around for escape routes, or things I can use as improvised weapons. “Twilight, where do you keep your easily-torn tapestries to pull down on attackers?”
“Easy there, Daring. It’s probably just Pinkie. We scheduled Tuesday for planning out Dash’s birthday cake. Go wait up in my bedroom, would you?”
I nod, a little disappointed. I’d really been hoping to see some action... but Twilight’s the boss. I race upstairs, as fast as I can, closing the bedroom door behind me just as I hear Twilight answers the front door. “Oh, hello Pink—” I hear, just before the latch clicks shut and muffles the rest of it.
Well, what to do now? I walk over to a chair and set myself down in my usual reading position, only to remember that I forgot to grab a book before I came up here. Ugh. Stupid. Daring Do never forgets the artifact before making her exit. I’ll have to remember that for the next time.
For now, though, I can only throw myself onto Twilight’s bed and stare at the minute hand of her alarm clock.
Tick. A minute wasted I could have spent reading.
Tick. I could have run through at least a dozen flashcards in that time.
Tick. I should be showing Twilight how good I’m getting at flying.
What is taking her so long? I sit up and look around the room for something, anything I can do to practice. I happen to glance over and notice the recliner over in the corner. Hey, now there’s an idea. Page 294, Sapphire Stone: Daring can jump from rock to rock over a pool of burning lava. It’s not that far from here to the recliner. Only ten feet, give or take. Should be foal’s play to make that sort of leap over a simple wooden floor, right?
One way to find out.
I rise up from the bed, hoping Twilight won’t mind a slightly saggy mattress when she she goes to sleep tonight. I bend my knees and prepare myself for a successful leap. A moment before I release it, I hear a new voice scream from downstairs, piercingly loud and terribly shrieky.
“Twitchy tail! Twitchy tail!”
The shout splits my ears right as my knees unbend and I spring into the air. No, no, no! Shoot! I wasn’t ready! Time seems to slow down as I hit the peak of my jump, just below the bedroom’s ceiling. I can already see I’m not going to make it to the recliner. The angle’s wrong. The direction’s wrong. Everything’s wrong. My wings are flapping feebly as I plummet to the floor, but it’s too late for them to do anything but stabilize my fa—
“Gah!” I think I scream as my head collides with the floor and stars shoot into my vision. Pain! I’ve never felt that before. I’ve seen it before—read about it—but that’s nothing compared to the real thing. What does Daring say when it happens to her? The books always skip over that bit. “I curse!”
Page 56, Daring Do and the Griffon’s Goblet: Daring can stand up to any pain to do what she has to. But I’m not that tough yet. All I can do is moan and wail while I’m cradling my aching head, wanting more than anything for the agony to just go away. Can Daring Do really stand up to this? This horrible, awful, please-stop-this-feeling that comes just from falling too hard on the floor? I can’t even imagine…
The bedroom door flies open. “Daring!” shouts Twilight loudly. Too loudly. She runs over to me and helps me up into the recliner—the same one I’d tried and failed to land on. “Are you okay? What happened?”
I mumble... something in response. The pain is too much to even think about... that thing Daring does where she turns the things in her head into words. Wordifizing. Or anything-else-izing.
And suddenly it isn’t. It’s starting to dull and recede, slowly fading from my skull, as some sort of miracle leeches the pain from my joints and knits my torn parts back together again. I look up to Twilight as my vision clears and see her horn glowing purple. No wonder. She’s casting some kind of spell. “This should help for now, at least,” she says. “You wouldn’t believe how much practice I’ve had with Spike.”
“Thanks…” I say weakly, trying to shift myself into a more comfortable position on the recliner, so that I don’t rest on the huge bump where my head met floor. “Feels better…”
“Great.” Twilight nods and runs back to the open door. “No, Pinkie!” she yells. “Everything’s fine, probably! Don’t come up yet!” She stops to think for a moment, then adds, “Or ever!”
She shuts the door and turns back to me. “Let’s have a look now,” she says, parting my mane and inspecting my injured head. “Well, that’s not too bad,” she says, laying me back down. “The bruises ought to go away in a day or two. Less if we use magic. I’ve got a few quick-fix spells I’ve been meaning to try, so we should be good there. Now…” Suddenly her relief contorts into rage, her eyes glaring so sharply they could cut me in half. “What in Celestia’s name were you doing?”
“I… I tried to jump from the bed,” I whimper, shrinking back. This is the angriest I’ve ever seen Twilight, and it scares me a little. “I’m really, really, really sorry. I didn’t think this would happen, I swear.”
For a moment, Twilight looks about ready to tear me to shreds, but she stops herself at the last minute. She puts her hoof to her chest and takes another deep breath, which is her own habit for dealing with anger, I guess. Daring does something similar, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe Twilight picked it up by reading the books, just like I did.
“No, no, it’s okay, Daring,” she says. “Just… you have to remember to take it slow, okay? The spells I cast are good—okay, probably really good, since I cast them—but technically you’re still just a mannequin. You’re not really Daring Do.” She turns her head sideways, giving me a funny look. “You do know that, right?”
“I know that...” I say softly. I do. How could I not? I’m reminded of it every time I pick up a book. I never stopped a doomsday cult from destroying the world, or told Ahuitzotl he needs to shower more often. She did that, though. The real Daring Do. The one all the stories were written about… I know I’m not her, but wasn’t the point that I could be, if I tried hard enough? Worked long enough? Wanted it bad enough? “I’m just trying to be the best Daring Do I can be...”
Twilight sighs and shakes her head, but she’s smiling when she looks at me again. “All right, but you need to learn to pace yourself, okay? I drew that schedule up for a reason, after all.”
“For a reason,” I repeat, giving a shaky nod. “Schedule’s there for a reason. Right.”
“Well…” Twilight says thoughtfully. “That said, you’ve been reading through the books so quickly that we could probably afford to move things along a bit. Maybe we could start you on some real flight practice as soon as...” She taps her hooves on the floor, muttering what sounds like calculations under her breath. “Tomorrow morning, eight-fifteen? Assuming we can double-time breakfast, of course.”
“Really?” I can feel the smile creeping across my face. “We can do that?”
“I think you deserve it,” says Twilight, giving me a wink. “In fact, I’ll tell Spike to start setting up an obstacle course for you as soon as Pinkie—” A huge crashing sound from somewhere downstairs. “—Pie leaves.” She grimaces. “I should really go check on that. Will you be all right on your own?”
“I think so,” I say, gingerly rubbing the bump on my head. Thankfully, it feels a little bit smaller this time. Or maybe that’s just my imagination.
“Just call for me if you feel the pain coming back on, then, okay?” says Twilight. She trots over to the door, grabbing the handle with her magic. She pauses, though, before she opens it, and looks back at me. “Oh, and Daring? I know we’re going to start you on flight practice soon, but just… promise me you’ll be a bit more careful from now on. Rarity’s mannequins are sturdy, but it’s probably best if you don’t try to test just how sturdy they are...”
Another crash from downstairs, followed up by some high-pitched giggling and whoops of glee.
“Oh for Celestia’s sake!” shouts Twilight, throwing open the door and sprinting downstairs. “Pinkieeeee!”
More shouts and crashes from downstairs. Plus some other noises bubbling up from the chaos—I’m not even sure what half of them are. Slowly, I stagger to my hooves, and stumble over to shut the door behind her. The noise is muffled behind the thick wooden door again, bringing the confusion down to a dull roar from a deafening one.
I’m alone again, now that Twilight’s left, but I don’t really mind anymore. In fact, I’m a little glad that Twilight had to leave when she did. Before we could finish that talk. I’m not sure if I could have kept the sort of promise she wanted from me. If I could ever promise to be more… what’s the word? To be more careful?
No. No, I don’t think I could make a promise like that.
Daring Do doesn’t even know the meaning of the word ‘careful.’