//------------------------------//
// In The Dark Places 
// Story: An Old Mare's Tale: Gadgets, Bringer of SCIENCE! 
// by Forevermore 
//------------------------------//

	A corner of Gadgets' mind watched as Darkfang unfurled his mysterious message, formulating a thousand possible theories on its contents, and then discarding them all for a thousand new ones before it had been fully opened. Curious, he focused one eye on his friend's rapidly changing expression, while the other continued to scan books rapidly, accumulating as much information as possible.

As the dragon's expression became more and more disturbed, eventually morphing entirely into abject despair, Gadgets separated the majority of his consciousness from the wealth of knowledge before him, leaving only a small fraction to continue the task, and focused upon his comrade. The ability to close off parts of his mind to focus on certain things, leaving the rest of his consciousness free to wander, was a special talent of the inventor's. He'd gotten so good at it he could separate multiple parts of his mind from the others, allowing him to think on several different things at once without losing awareness of the world.

On a typical day, the pony's mind could be broken down to something along the lines of: 25% invention modification, 10% retracing every memory for new information, 5% fawning over Minion, 15% new ideas, and 45% watching the world.

"Gadgets," Darkfang was looking directly at him now, his voice cold, emotionless, his eyes burning with icy rage.

Gadgets set down his book and looked directly at his friend; the gesture was unnecessary but he'd learned long ago that others preferred that he looked like he was paying attention to them. He'd spent many hours in detention because a teacher thought he was ignoring them when his eyes were focused elsewhere, even while his ears were carefully taking note of everything they said.

"We need to go. Now."

Without another word, the dragon leaped from where he stood, scroll crumpled in his grasp, and dove over the edge. Gadgets closed his book without a sound and back flipped over the ledge without fully rising from his seat, signaling Minion on the fifth level as he passed her.

The mare immediately dropped what she was doing and leaped to a support beam, running down the outer edge as if she were taking a stroll. Her coltfriend snorted, he'd never been able to perfect wall-running during their training. The most he could do was dash along a vertical surface for short distances but Minion, on the other hoof, was able to cling to walls and ceilings as easily as if she were on a horizontal plane.

A meter to the ground, Gadgets activated his wings, breaking his fall with stylish flare; alighting upon solid stone he galloped out the doors, following Darkfang's trail of dazed ponies and flustered griffons, those unfortunate souls who had not managed to get out of his way in time. Minion appeared at his side just as he broke out into daylight, abandoning the comfortable cool of indoors for the blistering heat and stinging wind.





********





The Governor's Palace was every bit as large as the Library, the only real difference being it was about ten times as opulent. The capstone was made of gold and encrusted with diamonds, the statues were bedecked in jewels, and the magical runes had been written in expensive purple dye imported at great cost from far-off lands.

The entire place screamed unnecessary grandeur and stood as a monument to the power of the Griffon Empire even in this distant province. The arrogance of its builders sickened the humble pony, making him feel as if his self-supposed "betters" were attempting to impress upon him his own worthlessness at their hooves. Nopony should ever make themselves out to be superior to another.

It was one of the many things he greatly respected about Celestia that, despite her great power, beauty, and wisdom, a pony never felt as if she were looking down on them. True, she exuded the gravity and awesome magnitude worn by the truly strong, but a pony could be comfortable in the knowledge that said power was meant for protecting others, not for enforcing obedience. A trait that the Empire did not share.

Darkfang led them through the front hall at a breakneck pace, shoving aside anypony foolish enough to get in his way and flashing the seal on his mysterious letter frequently. They were rushed through without a word by guardsgriffons every time this happened, their expressions grim.

As they passed through hall after hall dripping with treasure and the fruits of a bountiful empire, Gadgets began to notice something strange. While the palace was filled to bursting with government officials, nobility, pages, and servants, the ambient noise so common to large gatherings was almost totally absent. Indeed, the mood was somber, almost oppressive, and it only worsened the closer they got to the pyramid's center.

Noble ponies and griffons crowded close together and spoke in whispers, guards gripped their weapons with more strength than strictly needed, and servants moved with quiet caution as if trying to blend into the scenery even more than they usually did. Interesting, Gadgets thought, what could have happened to make them act this way?

His answer was to come soon as it did not take long to reach the governor's study. They stopped before an elaborate, gilded door made of luxurious redwood which, after a cursory inspection by the soldiers guarding it, led to a small, round room filled with bookshelves and tables cluttered with odds and ends. The governor himself, an aging griffon whose feathers had turned limp and grey with the passing of time and whose beak drooped with weariness, sat behind an expensive-looking mahogany desk, surrounded by towers of parchment and ink bottles.

Also in attendance was Captain Grayshaw, who greeted the trio with a nod of his head, an elderly female gryphon dripping with gold chains and moonstones, clearly the governor's wife, and an aging pony whose immaculate mane and tail resembled the night sky.

"Darkfang," the governor addressed them, his voice tired and soft, "I'm glad you could make it so quickly, old friend."

The dragon approached the desk, crossing the large room in three strides. He stopped when he was about a hoof-length away and placed one clawed hand on its polished surface, leaning in so he could look the griffon in the eye.

"Gripeye? What happened to you?" He asked, his voice uncharacteristically low.

The griffon chuckled and laid a talon over the claw carving trenches into his furniture, "Fifty years is a long time for my kind, my friend, and not even the best of us can stay young forever."

"You two are friends and you haven't seen each other for fifty years? How old are you, anyway?" Gadgets piped up, confused.

Darkfang turned slightly to answer him, still not taking his eyes off Gripeye, "A hundred and nine. We've known each other since we were small, practically grew up together, before I left to take the Trials and we lost contact."

The griffon nodded, patting the scaly hand and smiling sadly up at the much larger creature, "The best of pals we were, but you can't blame yourself for not keeping in touch. That was mostly my fault, anyway."

"How so?"

"My father. He didn't approve of my friendship with a dragon, thought it might damage his career if it got out his son was gallivanting around with a "horned demon". I later learned he'd been intercepting my letters to Toothclaw Village, though by the time I discovered this you'd disappeared entirely."

Darkfang made a noncommittal sound in his throat, still staring intently into his friend's eyes. Gripeye's melancholic expression suddenly turned serious; he gestured for Grayshaw to bring him a box from one of the tables.

"But I'm afraid I did not summon you here to catch up on old times, I have a problem that threatens to destroy everything I've worked to achieve."

Grayshaw set the package down on the desk, then stepped back, his expression indistinct though Gadgets thought he saw a glimmer of rage in those hardened eyes.

"When I heard you were in town," Gripeye continued, opening the box and removing its contents: a map marked with a red X, a compass with three needles, and a scrap of parchment covered by a bloody paw print. "I knew you would be able to help. Please, I need you to save my daughter."

Gadgets stepped up beside his friend, who was carefully examining the items laid out on the table, and addressed the governor, "What makes you think we can help?"

"We?" Darkfang asked him, glancing sharply at the pony, Gadgets nodded.

"We."

The dragon smiled briefly before returning to his study of the strange compass. Gripeye cleared his throat noisily before answering.

"Three days ago, my daughter disappeared while returning from a frontier settlement where she was visiting my nephew. We only learned of the attack when one of her guards crawled into the city, Lieutenant Jawray was his name. His wounds," he blinked away the pain of the memory, "were horrendous. I'm afraid he did not survive long past telling us of the attack, despite our best efforts."

Captain Grayshaw stepped forward, "I served with Lieutenant Jawray myself; he was a good soldier, good griffon. There wasn't much he was afraid of, and even less he wasn't a match for. But those wounds," he shook his head sadly; "nopony, griffon, or even a dragon could've inflicted them. It was almost as if whatever killed him had started eating him alive."

Gadgets felt, more than saw, Minion shiver, and he retreated a few steps to draw her into his embrace, his own heart growing cold with dread. He'd once had an encounter with a nest of carnivorous slugs and though he'd escaped relatively unscathed, the bones filling their lair gave mute testament to their power. Some of them had been dragon bones, big ones. If they were dealing with something similar here, there wasn't going to be enough left of the princess to find, much less save. But when he gave voice to this idea, the governor shook his head and waved a talon at the bloody parchment.

"While I do not doubt your story, indeed I've heard legends of such creatures in some of our library's darker books, I'm afraid we are very aware of what we are dealing with. Jackals."

"Vicious scavengers," Grayshaw added, unrolling a scroll depicting the image of a strange, dog-like creature with an elongated face, pointy ears, and thin legs. "I've had dealings with them before. They are utterly merciless, cannibalistic, and very deadly. They prey on travelers, small caravans, anything they think they can get a quick meal out of."

"Of which a heavily guarded caravan escorting an important VIP is not. So why take the risk? Beakisburg could crush whatever tribe angered them like an egg," Darkfang cut in, holding the parchment up to his nose and sniffing at it. "Griffon's blood, doesn't tell us anything useful," he said, putting it back down.

"The princess was traveling with minimal escort," Grayshaw answered.

"Why?"

"The settlement is less than a day's flight from here, straight across the Greater Desert. Also, the princess is uncomfortable in large crowds and we were having problems at the time with a particularly rowdy band of seafarers led by a particularly bothersome griffon named Griffin. Not much could be spared outside her personal bodyguards."

"And how many of them were with her?"

"Twelve."

"Shit."

Grayshaw nodded, "We're not dealing with your average bandits or scavengers. These jackals are organized, well-equipped, and they're killing my people." The griffon's eyes were cold and calculating, Gadgets could feel the rage hiding behind them.

"I assume the princess wasn't traveling with alot of fanfare with such a small guard, so how'd these jackals get wind of her? Plus the griffons I know always flew everywhere and jackals can't fly...can they?" Minion piped up, speaking for the first time in hours.

Every eye turned to look at her, causing the cute pony to blush and inspect the floor, which had suddenly become much more interesting. The captain looked uncomfortable, having also taken an interest in the floor, and so it was Gripeye who answered.

"We believe they were attacked during a brief rest on the ground, not uncommon for griffons traveling long distances, particularly in the desert where the winds can be...unforgiving."

Minion nodded, "But that still doesn't explain how the jackals would have found them. I can only assume the guards were more than careful about where they'd set down."

The griffons exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Gadgets narrowed his eyes, there was more going on here than they were being told. Before he could raise these suspicions a smooth, silky voice reeking of arrogance cut through the room.

"Oh don't beat around the bush, Uncle, it's obvious they had inside help," the speaker, a new griffon, entered the room. His feathers were black, oiled, and stunk of perfume. The newcomer was swathed in rich robes of expensive purple silk and covered in more jewels than anypony Gadgets had seen yet that day, and that included the one wearing an outfit made entirely of rhinestones.

"Bluebeak," Gripeye greeted his nephew, his voice icy enough to freeze steel, "I was not aware you were coming."

The griffon known as Bluebeak snorted disdainfully, wafting a fan in front of his face as if trying to clear a foul smell from the air, inspecting the adventurers with thinly-veiled disdain. Gadgets had to forcefully repress the urge to open fire, it wouldn't do to splatter so many valuable books with various bodily fluids.

"Oh, Uncle, it's not like you were busy or anything and besides, I have information that could be very useful for your," he looked Minion up and down as if she were an ugly piece of art he was thinking about buying, "let's call them guests."

Darkfang's ears pricked up at this last comment; he turned slowly to face the spoiled noble. Low growling filled the air as the dragon stalked across the room until he was slightly less than a foot away, making it so the over-sized canary was forced to crane his neck back as far as it would go just to look into his eyes.

"Choose your next words carefully, little cub, and remember that I can eat you, if they are displeasing to me," he threatened, his voice filled with quiet rage.

"My, my," Bluebeak slurred, snapping his fan shut, "such harsh words. Are all dragons so violent, or is it just the ones who've been tamed by little ponies?"

"Bluebeak," Gripeye cut in, as Darkfang's claws closed about his sword, "if you do not tell me why you have come, I will have you removed from this chamber. I do not have time for your petty games; a griffon's life is at stake."

"Oh, I know, Uncle. Though you should really work on your terminology, Princess hardly qualifies as a griffon."

"Speak or leave, Nephew."

Bluebeak rolled his eyes, either unaware or unaffected by the murderous glares being shot at him from around the room, "Fine. I had my scouts track the jackals to a cave at the base of the Forbidden Mountain. I think it's likely that Princess is there."

"And how," Grayshaw stepped forward menacingly, "did you acquire this information when my talonpicked soldiers found no trace," he loomed head and shoulders over the oily noble, "at the site of the attack, which is a closely guarded secret?"

Bluebeak smiled coldly, "Do you really have time to be asking these questions? Princess is probably dead by now."

With that, he spun in a flourish and strutted out the door. Gadgets glared after him.

"We should kill him now," he said to nopony in particular, "he could be annoying later on."

Gripeye's audible sigh caused him to turn back around and face the aging griffon.

"I know he's unbearable," the griffon murmured, "but he's still family, and more importantly his information is the only lead we have. It's at least worth investigating."

"What information? He left before he actually said anything useful, the prick."

"That information," The griffon pointed a talon at Darkfang, who started and looked down at his claws. In his left he was clutching a scroll made of high-quality parchment and sealed with golden ribbon. Hesitantly, he unrolled it and stared at its contents for a few seconds.

"It's a map, and it's got what would appear to be your daughter's location. How in the nine rings of Tartarus did that slime-sucking scuzzbag get this into my claws without me noticing?"

Grayshaw took the map from the dragon's grasp before his rage could destroy it. Laying it flat on the table, he studied it intently for a few moments, before nodding once to himself.

"Bluebeak's alot more powerful than he has any right to be," he announced to the adventurers. "He's got no skill with a blade but he's trained with the priests since he was young. He's one of only twelve master sorcerers in the entire Empire, something he takes no shame in flaunting over the rest of us common soldiers."

Darkfang snorted, "Griffon magic, mere sleight of hand and basic alchemy, hardly worthy of the name. It barely qualifies as a children's party trick."

Grayshaw looked at him sharply, "You underestimate them...you should not. The griffon priests may have little in terms of actual destructive power, but what they do have they use with deadly precision. More than one sorcerer has been known to topple even a mighty dragon."

"Doesn't matter, we've got a few tricks up our sleeves as well and, much as I hate to admit it, the spoiled shit was right. We don't have the time to stand around asking questions."

The ponies, griffons, and dragon gathered about the map, staring intently at the golden X which marked their destination.

"Well," Minion gave voice to the thoughts of the room, "guess we know where we're going next."