//------------------------------// // Part VII: Catching the Swindler // Story: Dinky Doo and the Quest for the Sacred Treats // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// Soon the heroes arrived at the home of the fourth Hero of the Kitchen, a vast, circular castle topped by a roaring carousel of windigos that snapped their vicious fangs at any who dared approach the door. It was clear to the Paper Squire that this was the home of one who wielded the dark arts, for the large structure was bedecked in leering jack-o-lanterns, swarming with ill-mannered bats and guarded by not one but dozens of headless horses! Bravely did the adventurers stand before the gate of this fortress, undaunted by the gloomy non-stares of the immaculately attired, decapitated equines. Or at least, the Paper Squire wasn’t scared; the shaking in her legs came purely from the cold, that was all! Unlike her many friends, all of whom crowded behind Marelin when a wicked shadow sped over their heads, cackling as a multi-hued trail followed in its wake. Yet the courageous squire did ignore their trembling and used her own, certainly not-trembling hoof to knock upon the ominous gate. All braced as the gate creaked open, but to their surprise there was naught at the doorway but a small frankenSpike, a misshapen creature held together by stitching and bolts. When the heroes inquired as to the fourth Hero of the Kitchen Table, the thing clutched at its tail. “Forgive me, my friends,” he did speak in curiously good pony, “but my Lady Batherpony is wrought with despair and can offer no sacred treats this night.” At this time the Lady Elzibet Batherpony did appear, resplendent in her red gown of cobwebs and playful star spiders. Yet for all her glamour and beauty, the hero could only sob before her visitors. “Do forgive me, my friend Marelin,” she cried, “but I am cursed by the eternal prankster known as the Swindler, ignoble servant of that dastardly Sir Laughs-a-Lot! I could not possibly grant your young protégé my Unholy Truffle Amulets.” Yet Marelin would have none of these excuses. She shook her cane at the troubled countess. “That’s two ponies who brought up this Sir Laughs-a-Lot! He was never part of the adventure!” “You’ll have to take that up with him, darling,” the countess replied, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “But if you truly desire to have my treats for Nightmare Moon, you must do for me one favor.” It was then that a mighty crash of lightning filled the air, causing many of the heroes to scatter and cry out in terror. No sooner had the sound abated than a dark cloud darted away, a familiar cackle raining upon its victims. “There, you see!” Elzibet Batherpony pointed to the cloud as it lapped her home. “The vile Swindler, servant of Sir Laughs-a-Lot! She has been tormenting my home and my guests all night, and I am simply at a loss for a way to stop her.” The frankenSpike laid prostrate before the Paper Squire. “Please, oh brave squire, catch that ruffian and teach her not to torment my lady. I would do it myself, but I dare not leave her side when she suffers so.” At precisely that moment, the Countess Batherpony did faint, and the frankenSpike hurried to her side. “She’s not part of the quest, either,” Marelin did grumble, watching the speedy black cloud pass overhead. Only then did the witch Anti approach the countess and her loyal servant, announcing to the shock of all – well, nearly all; Bonnet and Clydesdale insisted it was obvious – that she was the lost sister of Elzibet Batherpony. She had fled her home upon learning of her sibling’s distasteful habit of bathing in unsavory substances, setting vegetables upon her eyes, and performing other ghastly rituals to prolong her youth. And so the witch swore to capture the evil Swindler, but only if the countess agreed to abandon her foul activities, or at least to limit them to the times when Anti did not have to witness them. Though she moaned and fretted over the arrangement, at last the countess agreed to these terms, and so the witch led the band of adventurers to the fortress’s exterior to face the playful creature. All save Ben, who had known the Swindler before her turn to wickedness, and could not bring herself to face her old friend. She did remain behind with the countess and frankenSpike, promising to keep them safe until the deed was complete. But catching the Swindler proved no simple test, for the creature did fly by on a cloud of pure storm, making it difficult to grasp, and its speed was the stuff of legends. Were it not for the colorful – and candy-flavored, the Paper Squire had it on good authority – trail it left behind as it flew, it might have been invisible amongst the night sky. The adventurers ran and leapt and reached as far as they were able, yet caught only gleeful laughter and the occasional face full of rain water. “Jump, jump, as high as you dare,” cackled the creature. “You can’t catch me, I’m the Swindler Mare!” The chase lasted into the night, the heroes soon caught up in the frivolity and laughing gaily at the creature’s antics. Even the Paper Squire nearly forgot her glorious task as the creature darted to and fro, ever avoiding their plans and hooves. But Marelin knew that time was of the essence. “Enough,” she cried, raising her staff and sending a burst of magic upon the playful beast. The cloud on which it rode shattered from the impact and the Swindler careened through the sky, only to crash into the headless horses that stood guard over the fortress. “I’ve got you, foul thing!” declared Anti, who demonstrated her magical strength by capturing the Swindler’s foreleg in her grasp. “Hurry,” shouted an exhausted Tom Dumb, “catch her before she escapes!” Yet the Swindler fought valiantly against the magical hold on her leg, twisting and turning and knocking away her foes despite their best efforts to pin her down. “Hey, the magic’s cheating!” she insisted, tugging with all her might against Anti’s power. Try as she did, the witch was losing her hold on the creature. “Somepony pin her down!” Only then did the witch Ben, watching the epic battle from the fort’s gate, shout above the fray such that the whole town could hear. “Behind her knees! Her weak spots are behind her knees!” And the Swindler did gasp in horror as the adventurers charged. “Traitor! Of all the ponies who might reveal my secret, I never thought it would be you!” Soon the Swindler became engulfed in a wall of hooves that did rub and play and tickle relentlessly at her legs. The creature was rendered to tears and her struggle against the magic grew desperate. Helpless against the mighty assault, she at last fell upon the ground, defeated and pleading for mercy. Anti and Pip the Pirate strode upon her fallen form, pronouncing their victory to all who would hear amidst the cheers of the townsfolk. Weary but jolly, the Paper Squire pointed her ominous weapon at the downed creature’s head. “And now you will surrender the Countess Bather… Bathey… Buh…” “Batherpony,” did whisper the witch Anti. “Countess Batherpony’s sacred treats, the Truffle Amulets!” A malicious grin formed upon the Swindler’s face. “Joke’s on you, kid! I already gave your precious treats to my master, Sir Laughs-a-Lot! If you want them, you’ll have to go across the Great Bridge of Greatness to the home of the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years. He's holding her hostage!” The heroes did gasp in alarm at this news, all save Marelin, who scowled upon the Swindler and shook her staff. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she bewailed. “Rainbow, you weren’t even part of the plan, much less this ‘Sir Laughs-a-Lot.’ Who is he and how did he learn about the Paper Squire’s quest?” “Oh, look at the Moon. Gotta go!” And in a blur of colors, the Swindler broke free of Anti’s magical grasp and disappeared into the night – while treating Anti and Pip to most ignoble faceplants. The Paper Squire calmed her mentor whilst the witch Anti entered the fort to tell her sister the troubling news. The countess rewarded the brave young heroes with delectable confections of only the highest quality, but lamented that the Unholy Truffle Amulets were unique and could not be made again before the coming of Nightmare Moon. With no options remaining, Marelin agreed that she must escort the adventurers to the last of the Heroes of the Kitchen, the Timeless Lady Glen-of-Years. Yet one amongst their number was not so eager to continue, for the witch Ben did mourn for her friend the Swindler, and feared she would never be forgiven for revealing the creature’s only weakness. Though her sisters in witchcraft did try to assuage her grief, she seemed to be inconsolable. Then the wise and caring Paper Squire approached with this astounding insight: “Don’t worry, Ben. I’m sure the Swindler would never have been so tricky and mean normally. I think Sir Laughs-a-Lot put a spell on her!” “A spell?” asked Ben. “What kind of spell?” “A-ha! I knew it,” declared Marelin. “A mind control spell! How devious. Don’t worry, Ben, when we defeat this Sir Laughs-a-Lot, I’m sure your friend will be returned to normal and forgive you for doing what you had to.” With this suggestion, the hope returned to the witch’s eye, and she agreed to continue on this quest for the sake of her dear friend. Together, the adventurers left the creepy fortress of Count Elzibet Batherpony – seriously, she went all out this year. Perhaps she was making up for missing the festivities last year? – and made their way to the home of the next Hero of the Kitchen. Little did they know what dire threats awaited them, but the Paper Squire swore that she would lead her band to glory! And sweets! And honor! But mostly sweets.