//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: The Djinni's Tale // by Snake Staff //------------------------------// “W-what?” the stranger’s mouth suddenly felt dry, while his eyes widened. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. This was bad. This was very bad. It was well-known among those of the adventuring disposition that spirits in ancient ruins were always dangerous. Whether imprisoned or there voluntarily, they were almost invariably driven mad by isolation and violently insane. Some were guardians, by choice or conscription, set utterly on the extermination of intruders. Many others were jealous creatures, seeking to steal the life or flesh of the living. Still more were simply mindless creatures of predation, taking residence in decaying ruins out of sheer convenience. No matter which type it was, many such spirits were deceptively beautiful. A pony who did not keep his wits in their presence soon bitterly regretted it. A pony who listened to them even more so. “I said: don’t be afraid,” the radiant mare answered. “I am not here to harm you. I cannot harm you. It is forbidden.” The stallion’s eyes drifted slightly to the side, towards the way he had come and the inviting darkness. His legs twitched, and he backed up another step. “You called for me, Master,” she continued. “And I am here. What is your–” The stranger turned and bolted as hard as he could. “Wait! Please!” he heard the mare calling out after him. The stallion ignored the sound, certain that if he returned she would consume him. Instead he ran and ran through the empty tomb as fast as his hooves could take him. Through the stone and darkness and ruined traps he raced, desperate to avoid the fate assured to those who roused a spirit’s hunger. For once in his life he wished to be one of the barbaric pegasi, that swift wings would carry him from here. Alas for him, it was not to be. The golden fire seeped from the very walls themselves, once again forming a whirling tornado directly in his path. As he cursed the malady that left him unable to teleport, the mare stepped forth once again. Her tall form and flared wings blocked the tunnel completely – there was nowhere for the stranger to run. “Master,” she said. “Please! Have I done something to anger you?” “Back away, spirit!” His horn flared as he pawed the stone floor. “You will not find me some easy meal! Get back!” His jaw dropped as she did promptly take several steps back, without otherwise moving her body. Perhaps she was not eager for a straight fight. Then she clearly meant to take him by deception. “Meal?!” she gasped, eyes bulging. “Master, I am your servant! You called for me! Why do you say such things? Why do you run? Please, turn and retrieve the lamp, lest I be drawn back inside it.” The stranger did not understand the reasoning of this spirit, and for just a moment felt tempted to believe her. Then he remembered the tales of the Sirens of the North Sea, who lured sailors to their deaths with enchanting voices and beguiling appearance. He recalled the story of the Ghost Queen that haunted the Temple of the Ancients, using her ethereal beauty to enslave those who entered. She would suck the very essence of life from her victims, even while they fawned on her and sang her praises with their last breaths. The griffons spoke of the Maiden of the Mountain, who drew in the foolish with unearthly loveliness, then plucked their feathers and cast them cruelly to their deaths. Spirits were strange beings, and they could not be trusted. He did not know why this one had not yet set upon him, but he had little intention of waiting for her to change her mind. “Away with you!” he called out, advancing and trying his best to appear fearsome. “Begone, spirit! I will not heed your lies!” The spirit’s devotion to her role would have been the toast of any acting troupe, for she shivered visibly and even let out a tiny whimper. She backed off another step, head low. “Please! Do not – nrgh!” she groaned as the bracelets on her forelegs lit up. “Do not do this – argh – thing! I cannot – ugh – resist you! I will bring you – gah – much happin – urgh – if you–” “I said,” he growled, resisting the impulse to show sympathy. “Away with you! Return from whence you came!” The mare rolled back her head and let out a heart-rending shriek of utter despair. The next second her bracelets flared, and her body exploded into streams of fire, which raced away back down the tunnels through which the stranger had fled. In but a moment the fire vanished entirely, the tomb left as dusty and dark as it had ever been. The stallion did not hesitate. Though he had little understanding of why the spirit had seemingly listened – save for one explanation that was utterly impossible – he intended not to waste his reprieve. He galloped back through the emir’s tomb, expecting every second for a ravenous she-demon to burst from the shadows and fall upon him. Yet, as the seconds ticked by and he ran further and further, nothing of the sort happened. In fact, nothing happened at all. The closest the stranger came to harm was when he tripped over a shattered piece of statue and hit the dirt. He scrambled to his hooves a second later and continued, ignoring the blood dripping down his face. To his immense relief, he burst forth from the tomb’s entrance unharmed and entirely unmolested. The sun beating down on his head and heart racing, the stranger continued to run for some distance before coming to a halt behind one of the stones poking out of the sand. He was sweating badly and breathing heavily, while the rock offered shade and a place to sit. The tomb’s entrance was clearly visible from there – a reassuring distance away. Nothing had yet sprung out to pursue him, no hidden traps had sought to keep him there. There was a high chance that the spirit was bound to the tomb, and in any case the stranger himself was bound to the area until his guide returned for him in three days’ time. He knew that he could not survive the desert alone. The stallion sipped from his water supply and watched the tomb’s entrance with the sharp-eyed vigilance of a hungry hawk. Minutes turned to hours and day became night, and still there was no sign of any activity from within. This greatly puzzled him. If he had simply run without ceasing, he could have been many miles from this place, well out of the spirit’s grasp. Yet she made no move to pursue him. She had made only a feeble attempt to even force him to stay. Why? What could she possibly gain from pretending to obey him? Why would she allow him to leave so easily? It did not make sense. Spirits haunted ancient ruins. They claimed the lives of mortals unlucky enough to wander into their path. They were proud and powerful creatures with knowledge and magic beyond the ken of the greatest of unicorn mages. They did not allow intruders to escape. They did not bow and call them Master. They most certainly did not heed the command of a mere mortal to depart. The stranger had seen them before, seen what they could do to a pony luckless or foolish enough to fall into their grasp. So why? Why had this mare acted as she had? What was the point of it all? And moreover, what was a creature of fire doing inside a lamp? He'd never heard of such a thing in all his years. The stranger considered these questions deep into the night, before at last succumbing to exhaustion. That he awoke the next morning somewhat surprised him, for the theory he had most entertained was that spirit was simply toying with him for her own amusement, and that he would find himself in her clutches come first light. But again, nothing happened. Nothing continued to happen as the day went by. Though the stallion stared and stared, the area appeared persistently still, utterly empty of ravenous spirits seeking his end. At length, the curiosity that drew him here, so far from home, began to reassert itself, to war with his fear. He had spent much gold and endured long months of travel to be where he stood. Was he simply to consider all that a waste? And for what – a little creature of embers that had not dared even stand before him? Part of him wished to simply stay outside, to wait until his guide returned and leave this cursed place far behind him. Another part urged him to return, to explore further, to find whatever secrets the spirit might be guarding. Ultimately, there could only be one answer. If he were the type of pony to take the first option, he would never have been there in first place. As the sun set in the sky, the stranger slowly, cautiously crept back into the tomb. It was… as dark and dusty as it had ever been. Though he searched high and low, there was not a soul to be seen. No matter how hard he looked or how many times he checked over his shoulder, he never saw the slightest trace of the spirit. It took the stallion many, many hours of painstaking searching before he even dared to approach the burial chamber itself. It was dark and empty, just as it had been the day before. Only hoofprints in the dust indicated that anypony had ever been there at all. The mare was nowhere to be seen. With the utmost of care the stranger crept along the walls of the chamber, retracing his own steps from a distance. Sure enough he found where he had so recently stood and saw the mare’s hoofprints in the dust. The old bronze lamp, still smudged and only half-cleaned, lay limply on the floor, exactly where he had left it. After a few minutes’ deliberation he walked back over to the thing and picked it up. That it was a magical artifact and a valuable find was self-evident. What to do with it, less so. Leave it here? But then what of the knowledge that could be gained from it? But what of the being presumably inside again? Would she be angry, and attack him on sight? On the other hoof, could he in good conscience simply turn and leave a possible innocent to indefinite confinement in a dusty ruin? What to do, what to do... The stranger placed a gentle hoof on the lamp and rubbed. This time, the effect was immediate. The bronze shuddered and spat the familiar golden flame, as if the occupant were roused from slumber and eager to be released. Sure enough the all-too-familiar mare made her appearance, while the stranger took a few cautious steps backwards. “Master,” she breathed when she saw him, before bowing her head low. “Please, tell me how I displeased you! What did I do to make you flee?” “Uh…” the stranger hesitated, having expected anger or imperiousness. “Please, I beg of you." He could see tears glistening in her eyes. “Do not condemn me again! I swear I will faithfully serve you until your wishes are fulfilled! Merely let me walk free until the time is up! It is dark in there, Master… and so lonely. It has been so long since I last breathed free air. This small boon alone I ask of you.” The spirit bowed her head once again. The stranger blinked. “Umm… what?” She looked, hesitatingly, up. “What do you mean, what?” “Why are you, you know–” he waved his hoof “–doing that?” One of her eyebrows rose. “Bowing and scraping and calling me Master,” he clarified. “You… you truly do not know?” He shook his head. “Master… you called me forth to be your servant and grant your three wishes, did you not?” The stranger cocked his head. “I did?” The mare straightened up a bit, now cocking her head at him strangely. “You sought out my lamp and rubbed it. You awakened me from my slumber of centuries. For what other reason would you have been here?” “I came here to see what of historical value I could find,” he answered. “I had no idea that there was a lamp here, much less that it contained a spirit.” “…Oh.” Her face actually fell a bit. “But I suppose it does not matter. Whether or not you knew it, you still called on me. You are still my master, until your wishes are fulfilled.” She bowed yet again. “I ask that you please allow me to walk free on the earth until such time as they are.” “Alright.” The stranger was not sure how much he trusted her words, but she seemed fairly docile as spirits went. She had had more than enough opportunities to pounce on or bewitch him. Besides, she was... pleasant to look at. “My thanks.” The mare smiled weakly. “But why did you run from me? Why did you banish me back to my prison? Did I offend you?” “I… thought you were going to eat me,” he admitted. “Eat you?” She looked almost as horrified as the day before. “I told you: I cannot harm you!” “I don’t exactly know much about you or what you can do, miss.” “You may ask, if such knowledge would please you.” She bowed her head still another time. “Alright, let’s start out with the basics: who are you? What are you?” “I am the slave of the lamp, Master. I am called Djinni.”