The Feather of Fire

by nerothewizard

Chapter 9

“So, let me get this straight, Burner,” said Daring behind a hoof pressed firmly to her forehead; she could feel an impending headache beginning to form behind her closed eyes. “You've had this thing for more than a week, and still nothing new to tell me?” The hallway around the two ponies echoed her last question, and the pegasus made a mental note to keep the volume down while this conversation remained outside the confines of the nearby laboratory. She lowered her hoof and raised her eyes in the vainest of hopes.

Said hope was swiftly dashed when Burner's sheepish grin came into view, his cream-colored visage adorned with a smile that showed far too many braces and a slight blush on either cheek. She sighed, for about the tenth time in as many minutes, and turned away as he began to stammer out another apology, his hoof stroking the back of his neck just to make his stance even more awkward than before. “I-I'm sorry, Daring, but...the neutron activation analysis showed nothing out of the ordinary, and we couldn't scrape off a sample for the laser-induced breakdown spectroscopy, based on how...resilient the artifact is. We're fortunate it was small enough for us to do an NAA in the first place, but again, no definitive conclusions could be drawn from our test results, though we have one or two more experiments lined...up...” The scientist's monologue trailed off as he finally noticed the incredulous look that the pegasus mare was giving him. It was his turn to sigh. “I don't know what to tell you, Daring. None of us have ever seen anything even close to this before, and with all the tests coming back with data that flies in the face of logic...it makes no sense.” His gaze fell to the floor.

Daring felt a pang of pity for the unicorn with the lab coat that stood before her, dejected. Her own experiences with the figurine had been a dangerous combination of elation and frustration, and she could see the same emotions pouring out of her scientist friend. She patted his shoulder with a hoof and put on her best smile as he lifted his head to meet her gaze. “I know some of the science behind these tests, Burner, but could you break this down into laypony's terms a little?”

The subtlest flicker of happiness danced across the unicorn's irises, the opportunity to discuss his forte lightening his countenance, if only temporarily. “This thing looks delicate, like it should shatter if any sort of force is exerted upon it, but seemingly no amount of pressure can produce so much as a crack. But the NAA showed that there are no unusual elements present in its composition, and the numbers indicated that its makeup is similar to regular, everyday glass. We haven't been able to get a Magic and Enchantment Analysis yet, seeing as how Illusion is out of town on business.”

Daring nodded somberly. Illusion was the most experienced unicorn on staff in regards to magical study as it related to archeology, and she was often called upon in matters that related to magical relics or enchanted finds. Her ability to unravel the more mystical components of an artifact would have proven invaluable, but as usual, thought Daring, no such luck with this particular piece. After a moment's pause, she asked, “Could anypony else do the MEA?”

“Honestly,” responded Burner, “nopony else even wants to. They tell me 'it's because only Illusion would be qualified to handle something of this magnitude,' but I can see it in their faces: they're scared.” The unicorn let out a nervous chuckle. “I'm a little scared myself. What in Celestia's name did you find out there, Daring?”

Visions of her discovery of the tiny pegasus swarmed into Daring's mind. Remembering her discussion with Brier and Annals, she shook her head slowly to dispel the images as she answered, “I wish I knew, Burner.” Her eyes met his again. “Before I go, could I...see it?”

“Of course,” responded the scientist with a slight grin. He turned and walked through the door that led to the laboratory, Daring close behind.

As they descended deeper into the bowels of the area of the campus where the analysts of the History Department made their living, the pegasus let her vision wander to the various machines that hummed around her. Silently, she cursed them all, but just as quickly chided herself. These devices had provided pages upon pages of valuable data for the department, and she had been willing to dismiss them as useless pieces of junk merely because they hadn't shed any light on an artifact that had already given Daring fits? She blinked twice. This was so unlike her. Maybe I shouldn't see it again, she thought frantically, finding that her hooves were unwilling to listen to her brain's instructions as her body continued its forward motion. I should leave now, get home, get something to eat and calm down.

All her thoughts evaporated as both ponies reached their destination, and Daring came face-to-face once again with the tiny, transparent object that she had first laid eyes on in a cave in Zebrabwe that no longer existed. As with any samples brought back by the archaeological teams, the artifact had been placed in an airtight storage container, sealed behind a glass door with a padlock; only faculty and staff carried keys that could grant them access to the selection that lay inside. Despite this measure of security, as soon as she saw the transparent pegasus, a deep feeling of concern welled up in her stomach and began to pulse in her skull, the headache that had threatened earlier finally coming to fruition. At the same time, bile rose in her mouth, the taste of her revulsion assaulting her taste buds and causing her to smack her lips slightly in an unsuccessful effort to purge herself of the bitterness. Even though her head was now throbbing with pain and her mouth stung from the vile flavor that permeated it, she stared in rapt attention at the small pegasus.

This absurd mix of infatuation and seething hatred was something entirely new to the archaeologist. She wanted to take the accursed thing and smash it into microscopic shards, even though that task seemed implausible given her past experience with the object; yet, in the next breath, she felt as though she would gladly dedicate her entire being to keeping it safe by any means at her disposal. Her hooves were frozen to the floor, her body unable to tear her from the spot where she stood transfixed as she had been for so many nights after her acquisition of the artifact, its allure overpowering her desire to turn and leave it where it sat.

Burner's voice broke her free from her reverie. “It's strange,” he said softly. “I've been working in this lab for a long time now, always moving on to the next analysis, the next study. Sometimes I get so caught up in my work, I forget to step back and appreciate how beautiful these artifacts are...how important each discovery is to ponykind.”

Burner's stare was distant, the barest hint of a smile visible at the corners of his mouth. As she studied her friend's features, Daring realized that the same expressions the unicorn portrayed now were likely identical to the ones she had worn during the trip home from Zebrabwe, and she suddenly thought of Professor Annals, her concerned companion for the duration of their travels. A pang of regret struck her heart as she recalled his kind words and actions, his offer to relieve her of the burden of the figurine – both literally and figuratively – coming to the forefront of her mind. She saw the image of an extended hoof and a warm but tired smile, and a rush of guilt surged through her soul. The edges of her eyes began to moisten, threatening tears, before she tore her face away from the enrapturing relic and muttered, “Beautiful,” uttering the single word not because she was in agreement with Burner, but rather to placate him with a response. Not risking so much as a sidelong glance at the figurine, she turned and made her exit from the laboratory swiftly, but not too much so, wishing to avoid questions with her mind in the muddled state it was in.

Rather than fly back to her home, a journey of nearly half an hour, Daring opted instead for a cart cab, content to sacrifice a brief stint of physical exertion and a few bits for a chance to recline in her seat while somepony else trotted down the cobbled streets of Manehattan and returned her to her abode. While she was in good enough shape to make the trip under normal circumstances, her overworked brain had sapped her strength, especially after her recent interaction with the artifact, and she welcomed the chance to sit quietly with her thoughts, hoping to sort through and make sense of them. The road seemed rougher than usual this day, however, and her attempts to relax were hampered by the vibrations of the cart as it rolled roughly down the road, the earth pony who was pulling the cab apparently in a rush. Attempts to convince him to slow down proved pointless, as he was either hard of hearing or choosing to ignore the pushy pegasus seated behind him, and finally, Daring gave up and did her best to find a comfortable position in the jostling cab.

The reason for her charge's unusual speed soon came crashing down on the cart as the sky emptied in a torrent of chilly rain. Daring felt an embarrassed blush creep onto her face when the earth pony hitched to her cab went from dry to soaking in a matter of seconds, his soaked mane drooping around his head and his gait slowing once it was clear that his attempts to escape from the incoming rainstorm had failed spectacularly. Although she pitied the pathetic-looking stallion, whose checkered black and yellow cap and vest were doing absolutely nothing to prevent the deluge from saturating him from head to hoof, Daring found it impossible to contain a smirk when she realized what a good decision it had been not to fly today. Her humble transportation had just enough of a roof on it to prevent the drops of precipitation from encroaching into her seating space, though the floor below her seat rapidly transformed into a puddle of turbulent rainwater. A quick scan of her surroundings caused her expression to droop as she recognized one of the buildings they passed, its lighted sign showing through the sheets of rain. Her home was still more than a mile away. With a sympathetic glance at her driver, she began digging through her saddlebag until she found her bag of bits.

At long last, the cab came to a stop in front of Daring's single-story house. After the initial cloudburst, the downpour had lessened, but the rain still fell steadily as the pegasus stepped out of her seat and into the drizzle for the first time. Into her driver's tip pouch, she slid an amount of coins that she hoped would express her gratitude and understanding to the earth pony, and he managed a toothy grin at his generous passenger before trotting back out into the storm and vanishing around the next corner. After depositing her coins, Daring's hooves splashed over the walkway that had formerly consisted of stone, but now resembled a miniature rocky cliff by a stormy sea. She found refuge from the pelting precipitation under an awning above her door, and after recovering her key from her saddlebag and giving a vigorous shake to dispel the moisture that clung to her coat, she entered her abode at last.

Daring's day at the university had been long and tiring even before her unscheduled stop at the laboratory, and after depositing her saddlebag on her living room table, she slowly ambled into the kitchen. Her hooves went through the process of preparing a kettle of tea from muscle memory, and as her appendages moved of their own accord, her mind was free to review the events of the day. A morning that had consisted of overwhelming amounts of paperwork and scrawling her signature on documents that took far too long to read all the way through was quickly cast out of her head, hopefully forgotten forever. Her lackluster lunch at the on-campus eatery met the same fate; the sooner she forgot about that failed experiment, the sooner she could look at rutabagas normally again. Apparently, nothing from her afternoon had been particularly noteworthy either, as the only event she could recall from that span of time was accurately landing a crumpled sheet of paper in her wastepaper basket four consecutive times, tying a personal best. She resolved to not try out for a hoofball team any time soon.

One memory, however, ardently refused her attempts to delete it from her subconscious, and all too soon, she found herself once again standing stock-still, her brain replaying her brief but emotional encounter with the figurine from just over an hour ago. The headache, which had faded during her cab ride, returned, and though it wasn't quite as crushing as before, she still closed her eyes tight and clenched her teeth. In her mind, an image that had arisen innumerable times since Zebrabwe once again presented itself, a vision of the transparent pegasus so clear and vivid that Daring sincerely believed that if she closed her eyes and attempted to draw a picture of the model, it would be an exact representation. She had certainly spent enough time staring at it.

Annals' face suddenly interposed, causing the image of the figurine to shrink smaller and smaller until it vanished altogether, allowing the professor's visage to occupy the entirety of her internal perception. Her heart swelled as she saw her mentor's features exactly as they had been on board the airship carrying them over the sea, and how they had looked when she flashed back earlier that same day: exhausted and weary, yes, but as always, concerned and caring, full of compassion, and always willing to help out his friends.

The sharp whistle of her teakettle snapped her back to the present. Daring busied herself with pouring a hot cup of the soothing liquid, her throat welcoming the warmth with the first sip, and for the first time that day, Daring found that she was truly relaxed. As she continued to down the piping beverage, the pegasus surveyed her humble living quarters, from the thick wooden door that led to her bedroom, to the short hallway adorned with framed pictures of her friends and family, to the living room furnished with a small but thick-cushioned couch and a matching recliner. Her eyes suddenly fell upon a small pile near her front door, and she gently smacked her forehead with a hoof as she said, “Almost forgot the mail again.” After setting her half-full cup on the counter, Daring walked over to the stack of envelopes and began to hoof through them.

“Bill...bill...offer from the bank...something about the university newsletter...” The pegasus droned on as she set the letters aside one by one. When she reached the last, her eyes widened. Instead of the usual sealed envelope with typed return and recipient addresses, this piece of mail was nothing more than an index card-sized scrap of plain white parchment. Seeing nothing written on the side facing her, Daring turned over the mysterious mail to see what appeared to be hastily-scrawled letters scribed in blank ink. As she read the note, Daring's eyes widened. She lowered it with a hoof that trembled slightly and mused softly, “An address...in the Southern District? Why would Annals want to meet me there? I didn't think he lived in...that part of the city. It might not even be his home address; certainly doesn't sound familiar. Come to think of it, where was Annals today?” She racked her brain to run through the day once more and couldn't recall running into the professor at any point. A myriad of reasons for his absence flooded her mind, but she discarded them all as nothing more than conjecture as she continued to mull over the note. “'Urgent'...what could he be referring to?” Her eyes sparkled for a moment, and she drew in a gasp. “Of course! Something about the artifact!” She glanced at the clock on her mantel. “Better leave now if I want to get there in time.”

After hastily finishing the rest of her tea, Daring swept up her saddlebag from the living room table and practically burst through the front door. The rain had lessened to nothing more than a light shower, but the memory of her previous cab ride was still fresh in her mind, and she decided that traveling by wing would be a better choice. As she flared out her flying appendages and prepared for takeoff, a clap of thunder rattled her eardrums. On second thought, maybe I ought to just hoof it. She began to pound the pavement, her galloping hooves splashing into the newly-formed puddles that dotted the city streets and soaking them even further, if that was possible. Her mind, however, paid no heed to how soggy her coat was becoming or the chill that lingered in the moist air; for Daring Do, determination drove her every step as she ran through the darkening avenues towards the Southern District.

***

Mare-Do-Well was thoroughly saturated by the time she reached the village of Flora Park, a few minutes from downtown Manehattan. The cozy suburb, with its rustic and traditional building designs, including a brick firehouse and a domed town hall, was a stark contrast to the dull, faceless skyscrapers that lined the metropolitan streets. In the dull mist of the sprinkling rain, however, it took on an eerie ambiance, reminding the costumed pony of scenes from old horror films. As she ducked through the narrow alleys, Mare-Do-Well half-expected to see a shadowy, cloaked figure stalking through the streets of the town, or, more accurately, another shadowy, cloaked figure.

A brief stop at Manehattan University had allowed the purple-clad pony brief access to a campus directory, borrowed from the desk of an absent chemistry professor, and she had quickly committed the address of one “Professor Annals” to memory. While she wasn't surprised to see that the history professor didn't live in the heart of the city, his home address in Flora Park had caused her to raise an eyebrow. That town was notorious for its high cost of living, but Mare-Do-Well figured the professor had been working at his job long enough to afford a more refined caliber of home. Even though her business was serious, she hadn't been able to suppress a slight giddiness at the prospect of visiting the rich suburb, but her excitement had been quelled when she arrived to find that the buildings had taken on an air reminiscent of a Romareo movie. Her heart pounded a little harder than usual in her chest as she crept through the darkening night.

Almost nopony was out, as expected, and Mare-Do-Well was able to avoid the few stragglers she spied easily. Finally, after stealing through the streets, she finally arrived at the house. Annals' dwelling was a modest affair, a tri-level home that rested on the peak of a gentle slope. One detail Mare-Do-Well was surprised that she noticed was the proximity of Annals to his neighbors; being so used to her apartment and an exorbitant amount of noise complaints, she was always a little taken aback when she visited a neighborhood where any amount of space existed between domiciles. In the deepening twilight and misty sheets of light rain, with few street lamps or house lights illuminated yet, she could only make out the silhouettes of the addresses that were adjacent to Annals'. The professor's own home betrayed not even the slightest hint of light, a fact that Mare-Do-Well found both comforting and disturbing.

There were only two trees in Annals' yard, not nearly enough to provide cover, so with quick glances to make sure the streets were empty, Mare-Do-Well darted across the lawn and took cover against the higher side of the house, pressing herself against the wall. She took a moment to calm her breathing, but was surprised to still hear noises as she inhaled and exhaled silently. Cocking her head to one side, she listened intently. A stallion's high-pitched voice drifted to her ears. “Horseapples, this wasn't supposed to happen.”

Another, deeper voice followed soon after. “Well, it did, and we can't do anything about it now. May as well look around and see if we can find anything that'll help out.” Mare-Do-Well glanced around, still focusing on the conversation inside, and finally spotted a window several feet to her right; it was open just enough to let the sound drift through. She scooted closer and crouched low to the ground beneath it, perking her ears up once again.

The higher voice spoke again. “Look around? Just look around? That's your solution?” Hoofsteps on tile. “How is that gonna solve anything, huh?”

Silence lingered for a moment, then the other voice broke it. “We might find something, y'never know. 'Sides, it's not like we can do anything else. Don't wanna come back empty-handed, right?”

Mare-Do-Well almost swore she could hear an audible gulp. “True.”

“Well then don't just stand there; get going! We don't have a whole lot o' time.” There were more hoofsteps, initially clacking on the tile, then muffled as though on carpet. Soon, Mare-Do-Well could hear nothing but gusts of wind and the subdued clatter of the rain. She slowly rose up and peered through the window.

As the night had grown darker, the costumed pony's eyes had adjusted accordingly, and her eyesight was sufficient for her to study the scene before her. The window was positioned above a kitchen sink, and Mare-Do-Well quickly scanned the room, noticing nothing out of place at first. The kitchen was connected to a living room of some sort, if the shadowy shapes of two couches were any indication; walls prevented Mare-Do-Well from investigating the house any further. Her eyes drifted down. A dark lump lay on the tiled kitchen floor; as she looked harder, she realized with horror that it was the prone form of a pony. She slowly opened the window, careful not to make a sound, and climbed over the sill. As she delicately stepped onto the counter top, her left hoof made contact with a foreign object; she withdrew her leg swiftly and looked down to see a plate on the kitchen counter, the shape of a sandwich with several bites missing resting atop the platter. She shrugged off the sight and descended slowly from her perch until she stood on the floor next to the motionless form.

Even with her adjusted vision, it was difficult to see all the details of the pony's face. It looked to be an older stallion, a unicorn, with a pair of thick glasses bent awkwardly and skewed across his nose. I think I just found Annals, the pony in purple pondered. She pressed her ear to his barrel. Nothing. With a soft sigh, she raised her head back up and looked at his face again. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his eyes. The lids were wide open, revealing the two glassy white orbs beneath, frozen in a fixated look of sheer terror and shock, accentuated by his slightly agape mouth. As she stared, Mare-Do-Well shivered, the gravity of the grisly scene before her coming to light. One of the two ponies that she had needed to find lay before her on the floor of his own kitchen, lifeless. She had been too late, and now he was dead, likely at the hooves of the two ponies she'd heard earlier. She muttered a silent curse. Too late...not the first time.

A memory, long buried, suddenly dredged itself up, threatening to wash over her just like the rain had earlier; she trembled against the cold again as she fought with all her will to retain control of her errant thoughts. Tears began to form, but she blinked them back, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly as she wrestled her own mind. She dared one more look at the professor's face, but it was no longer a unicorn beneath her; now, it was an earth pony, and every detail of the cold, still visage that stared at her, yet saw nothing, was clear as day. Mare-Do-Well shut her eyes tight, beating back a new onrush of tears and a fresh stream of visions that threatened to carry her back, so far back...No! Her forehoof rose up and struck her soundly across the face, seemingly of its own accord, and her scrambled thoughts quickly dispelled the intruding memories and restored some semblance of order to her brain. She looked down at Annals, and was almost relieved to see that it was indeed the professor. Almost.

A crash from deeper within the house alerted her that she had already lingered too long. Leaving the professor's side, she deftly climbed atop the counter and slipped back through the window, swinging the shutters back to their original position once again before dropping to the ground. Moments later, the hoofsteps returned, clacking on the tile, and Mare-Do-Well heard the high voice again. “Think this'll be good enough?”

“It'll have to be,” responded the deeper voice. “Couldn't find anything else useful. What'd you-”

Mare-Do-Well almost leaped out of her skin as a loud thud resonated through the house and echoed out the window. She heard scrambling hooves clatter across the tile as another voice, that of a middle-aged mare, rang through the house, “Annals, dear, are you home?” Another crash burst through the air; the murderers had run out the back door. The new mare's voice was shouting something, but Mare-Do-Well didn't hear it; she was instantly on her hooves and galloping hard, desperate to get on the trail of the two perpetrators. When she rounded the corner of the house, she spied two dark figures disappearing into the night, and without a second thought, she sprang forward to follow them. As she reached the edge of the yard, a piercing wail penetrated the air of Flora Park, and as Mare-Do-Well ran full speed after the mysterious ponies, her heart broke for the mare who had just discovered the lifeless body of her husband. With new resolve, the costumed pony continued her pursuit, pity and rage fueling her hooves as she rushed through the blackness after her quarry.

Comments

[Zana-sae]

Damm

[bahatumay]

Well.... that certainly introduced some unforeseen complications....

[Borg]

They tell me 'it's because only Illusion would be qualified to handle something of this magnitude,' but I can see it in their faces: they're scared.

What a bunch of babies. It's probably not going to bite you if you probe it for magic. It might even not explode.

Basically up to the present, I see. Excellent.