//------------------------------// // Underscored // Story: Lutscintorb // by Mary Sue //------------------------------// After thanking him for the heaping of mushroom-and-potato chowder, which was easily the best thing Sparkler could remember eating, Patch Moss led her back outside and up the trail to Granite’s Tomb. Along the way, he pointed out the wavy markings on the sides of the gorge walls and the unevenness of the ground. “So while Granite’s Tomb predates the founding Quatros, we don’t know exactly how old it is,” he was saying. “But the marks themselves, you’ll notice, look more like the flaky skin of an onion starting to peel. This suggests that the rock was excavated out long ago as opposed to, say, being split apart. The lack of relating stress fractures on the opposite side of the Tomb further supports this. However, as a conflicting piece of evidence, you’ll notice there’s no tool markings. Erosion has smoothed out the walls for sure, but there should still be visible pockets and cuts even after a hundred millenia.” “Maybe it’s natural?” she offered. “Unlikely,” he replied dismissively. “Remember when I mentioned that gold rush? A stallion by the name of Granite was the first to find this place way back then. He helped create the story that an ancient dragon clawed out this gorge. But we figured that in order for a dragon to have the strength to do that to solid granite, the sucker would’ve had to be almost a hundred meters tall.” “Maybe it was your old skeleton?” They reached the end of the gorge where the cave entrance opened up, and Patch Moss paused to laugh. “That guy was a just a liiiittle bit too small, unfortunately.” He reached into one of shirt pockets and pulled out a twine necklace, with little yellow crystal that had one of its ends encased in silver. He smacked the metal end against the rock, and the exposed end lit up like a candle. “This way,” he said, slipping the necklace on. He then crossed into the mouth of the cave and added, “Watch your step.” Sparkler moved into the passage and followed. The entrance had concealed the cave’s interior before, with the pale overcast failing to illuminate more than a meter or two. But with the lightstone around Patch Moss’s neck, the entire cave lit up like a roaring fire. Granted, the cave was only a dozen paces deep. Sparkled glanced up at the walls, noting how smooth they were even compared to those outside. The floor was even perfectly level. If she were to guess, whatever had created the gorge didn’t excavate this tiny cave. A few stalagmites and stalactites stuck to the floor and ceiling, which resembled a clenched maw. “Over here,” he ushered, and stepped further into the cave’s throat. He disappeared behind a particularly thick stalagmite, but the yellow-orange light remained. Sticking her head around the corner, Sparkler found a very narrow passage that moved further into the short mountain. “So is this called Granite’s Tomb because of all the granite, or after the pony who found it?” “Now that’s a question!” Patch Moss’s voice echoed off the walls and from around another corner. When she reached it, the passage wound to the side, and then again and again. But the light led her on, and she kept forward. Their hooves sounded loudly off the stone floors. It seemed like they were walking up. Patch Moss continued, “Truth be told, there’s not a whole lot known about Granite’s Tomb. There’s many stories behind it, and without a doubt there’s countless more to uncover. And that’s a large part of its appeal, I think. Doesn’t matter if most of what I know is just speculation, because the truth always comes out in the end. Besides, the greater the mystery, the greater that payoff will be.” “So is that what made you want to be stationed here for? The mystery?” “A part of it. I also like the outdoors and can’t stand my mother. But another aspect is all the curious characters who stop by and take interest. It’s fulfilling to share these stories to an ear that listens, and sometimes I’ll hear a new one in return. Why, that inquisitor who came by earlier in the week seemed to know more about this place than I do!” “Oh?” Sparkler rounded yet another corner, and finally it seemed to be the last one. “Then what do you know for certain about this place?” “Well, there’s a couple things.” He clicked his tongue, turning around to greet Sparkler with a smile as she exited into a large, circular chamber. “There’s a tomb and it’s made of granite.” The room was easily a ten meters in circumference, a perfect half-sphere with blemishless walls from the floor all the way to the domed ceiling. A small window had been cut out of the rock somewhere up above, letting in a faint amount of daylight that yielded to Patch Moss’s lightstone. Squarely in the middle of the room sat a flat-faced sarcophagus, flush with and perhaps even part of the floor. It rose to her chin level and seamlessly sealed. Carved all over its sides were a nonsensical covering of markings that, to her surprise, she vaguely recognized. “This is Granite’s Tomb,” Patch Moss started again, walking around the sarcophagus. “Like the outside, it’s just as unknown how the inside was carved out. However, shortly after it was discovered, the tomb spend its first several decades as a church. In fact, they didn’t know it was a tomb at first. This sarcophagus spent a lot of time as an altar ponies used to pray to Epona, pray for whatever ailments they had to end, and give thanks for keeping the Nightmares suppressed behind the World’s Belt.” Sparkler walked up to the sarcophagus, finding even more of the markings all across its top. She ran a hoof over them as Patch Moss continued. “In time, however, Granite’s Tomb became assimilated into the National Reserves system when parliament recognized the forest as a protected site. After that, the church proceedings dwindled and it wasn’t long before advancements in archaeology let us know more about it. Like the fact that this altar is hollow.” He rested a hoof on the sarcophagus. “And, after finding a couple similar sites across the continent, and deciphering some of this”—he ran his hoof across the markings—“we were able to learn that there’s a body in here. Supposedly.” She tilted her head at him. “You don’t seem so convinced.” “Well, that inquisitor came by the other day,” he said. “During the evening of the summer solstice, the sun is aligned perfectly for just a couple minutes with that there window.” He pointed at the rectangular hole in ceiling. “She came by and found that the light hits this string of letters perfectly. And it says—” “Amitay?” Sparkler said, looking down at where his hoof was. “...she pronounced it ‘Am-eet-oy’,” Patch Moss said, giving her a look. “It means, ‘to give life’.” “No... Ameetoy means ‘pregnant’,” Sparkler insisted, glaring down at the string of odd letters with a deep frown. “This says ‘Amitay’. It means... life carrier, I think. Life vessel, maybe?” “Huh.” Patch Moss took a step back and scratched his chin. “Where’d you learn Drakrenic?” “Uh...” She tore her eyes away finally and looked him. “I... forget?” He gave her a skeptical look. “Well, no offence, but I’m going to take the Equestrian’s word for it. She looked like she was on a mission. I mean, she made the effort to be here on the solstice when the sun was out. But you look like you’re...” “Like what?” Patch Moss shrugged. “Frankly, you look lost.”