Eleven - Raider of Tombs
With a flap of her nimble wings, Daring Do bolted through the air in the blink of an eye. She left her tools behind, save for a magnifying glass and a small feather-duster. Braeburn slowly descended the slope of the pathway, his wide eyes transfixed on the monolithic structure before him. The only sounds that occupied the enormous cavern were the crackling of flames and the excited gasps of the pegasus ahead. The beige stallion could only gape at the sight, wondering how in Equestria one simple earth pony could build all of this. From what he could see, the mare was going to do everything she could to answer every question a pony could ask.
From the bottom of the wide staircase, Daring ran around the lowermost platform of the triadic pyramid, stopping every few feet to take hurried notes with a quill and a barely-dry piece of parchment. Braeburn didn't even try to talk to the mare, for it seemed as if she were in her own little world. In all honesty, he couldn't blame her. While the earth pony knew next to nothing about ancient artifacts, he could at least extrapolate the immense weight that such a find could have. Not only was this a tomb of sorts crafted by none other than Cunning the Colt, it was obviously the archaeological find of the century. Braeburn suddenly felt incredibly small and insignificant in front of the tower, for its mere size alone was nothing short of intimidating.
"Can you believe this?!" Daring exclaimed, squealing like a filly in a toy store. "Cunning the Colt, what did you do?"
"Looks like he made a really big...thingy," Braeburn replied, his sarcasm fading back into awe. He trotted up the staircase to meet the pegasus, who was busying herself by dusting the ornate scrollwork carvings from the edges of the second platform. "What're ya' doin' there?"
"Getting every inch of these carvings visible," she replied, her grin brightening with every word. "There are so many questions to be asked, and I'll bet that I can get all the answers. The most prominent being; why would he construct a replica of a typical Mesoequestrian temple? Pyramids like these were made a thousand years before Cunning's time, and in a completely different part of the world. So what's the significance? Is it a clue?"
"A clue to what?" Braeburn asked, his curious gaze fixed on Daring's work.
"There has to be a reason why Cunning built this," she answered, recreating the intricate scrollwork in her notes for future reference. "It must have taken years to do so, so what is its purpose?"
"Maybe the answer..." Braeburn pointed to the top of the pyramid. "...is at the top o' this ornery thing?"
"Or, you know, the treasure?" Daring suggested with a sarcastic cock of an eyebrow.
Braeburn tilted his head. "Well if ya' thought that then why are ya' still down here?"
"Gotta leave the best for last Brae," she grinned, returning to her notes. "I need to sketch these out for reference. Work first, pay later. But you can go up if you want. Scout the area, but be careful. Keep your eyes peeled for anything."
Braeburn shot her a mock salute before trotted up the granite staircase. Every step was a few inches too steep, causing him to ascend rather slowly and carefully. He had to force his excitement aside, for he almost lost his life by being ignorant of his surroundings before. With each yard of ascension, Braeburn noticed that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, save for the monolith he was climbing hundreds of feet underground made by a pony others thought to be fictitious. The stallion realized just how easily he was starting to take in such anomalies nowadays. Perhaps he was simply becoming used to the strange and the farfetched. At this point, why shouldn't he have?
Thumper rocked back in forth in its scabbard as Braeburn rose to the uppermost platform, his head now level with the foundations of the pillars that lined the top of the tower. To his surprise, every inch of the dark granite seemed to be perfectly intact, despite its age. The natural preservation of the tomb was remarkable. Nopony must have stepped hoof in the caverns since they were built, which made sense.
The stallion's eyes traversed his surroundings once he arrived at the top of the pyramid. The uppermost platform was square, as were the lower slabs. Four tall granite columns stood resolute from each corner, adorned with the same scrollwork that Daring was studying below. Braeburn noticed something familiar about the uniformed artwork. He reached a hoof over his shoulder, catching Thumper by its lever and extracting the weapon from its scabbard. He grinned at his own memory, seeing that the rifle's receiver bore the same exact patterns around the etched apple next to the cartridge gate.
Replacing Thumper to his back, Braeburn turned his gaze to the middle of the platform. A cylindrical dais protruded from the stone, with something inlaid into its surface. He cast a weary glance around, searching for any sort of trap or hazard. Once he was satisfied that the coast was clear, Braeburn slowly approached the dais. Atop the round protrusion was a system of rusted gears under two thin levers, one pointing toward him, and the other pointing to the far left corner of the room. He prodded a curious hoof to the clock-like gear system, finding that every part was completely seized. It was to be expected, but he thought that Cunning would have realized that metal would rust in a moist underground cavern. So far the Colt of the West had proved to be quite the intelligent stallion, so perhaps he was intending for an earlier descendant to discover his tomb. Regardless, this was something that Daring needed to see.
"You alright up there?" came her voice.
"Yeah, Ah think ya' might wanna come up here and take a gander at this," he called back. "S'not any kind o' treasure, but it's...somthin'!"
"That's not very descriptive."
"Will ya' just get on up here?"
"Fine, fine. My assistant needs me I guess."
Braeburn rolled his eyes as he waited for her to climb the enormous staircase, the sound of hoofsteps growing steadily closer. Once Daring reached the uppermost platform, her expression mirrored Braeburn's initial look of awe as her eyes traversed the columns surrounding them.
"This is getting weirder and weirder," she said quietly, more to herself than anypony else. "First the Mesoequestrian influences and now this? Was Cunning some sort of world traveler or historian or something?"
"Maybe, but that's not what Ah wanted to show ya'," said Braeburn, gesturing to the dais. She traced his gaze, approaching the cylindrical protrusion. She then looked around the entirety of the cavern, furrowing her brow all the while.
"There doesn't seem to be another door or another room that leads out of here," she observed. "And the main entrance is blocked, so it's safe to say that Cunning would have made another way to the surface. Maybe this thing opens a path or a door out of here."
"But not before findin' the treasure."
"Right," Daring agreed, dusting off the clock-like system. "I don't think we'll make any headway until we find out what the answer to this little puzzle is."
"Didn't ya' wanna take more notes on this here tower first?"
"I'm quicker at this than you think, my humble assistant," she mused, her eyes still fixed on the dais. "It's almost like I've done this before."
Braeburn could only smirk at her constant sarcasm. He found it almost humorous that Daring became suddenly more cocky when immersed in her element. Just as the rest of her colorful personality, he only found it endearing.
After they were free of dust and cobwebs, Daring attempted to turn the iron hands on the clock, although to no avail. Braeburn felt a pang of worry jolt through his mind. There were no visible means of exit from the tomb, save for the possibility of the alleged puzzle opening one. So if the entire mechanism was as seized as the levers that operated it, how could they return to the surface? Something sparked in his mind as that thought ran through his brain. Whenever a rifle's action stiffened, a little grease and oil was almost always the answer. How was this any different? Moving metal parts were the same no matter what the design was.
Recalling his visit to Gunmetal Grey's shop, Braeburn rummaged through his bags to find the small glass bottle of gun oil that the gunsmith had given him, more for routine maintenance than anything else. "Try this."
Daring looked to him, then to the vial in his hooves. "That might work."
The mare took the glass of translucent oil, uncorking it with her teeth and immediately pouring the entirety of its contents atop the dais. Braeburn frowned as he watched the thick liquid trickle down between the teeth of each gear, as well as the single pin that held both levers in place.
"Or you can use all of it," he sighed mockingly. "Ain't like that stuff's expensive or nothin'."
"Do you wanna get out of here alive or not?" she chided, waiting impatiently for the oil to settle between the thin cluster of gears and spindles. It was certainly a large amount for such a small area by comparison, so if this didn't work, Braeburn was out of ideas. Once her patience was spent, Daring grabbed a hold of the longer lever with both hooves, applying all the pressure she could muster. To their surprise, it creaked loose and turned clockwise at her push.
"Yes!" she exclaimed, giving the stallion a playful shove. "Good on ya' Brae, now we just gotta figure out what...well, time to set it to."
"Assuming it's a clock, o' course."
"You and your negativity," Daring snorted. "What else could it be? Just look at the darned thing! Anyway, think. Is there any time of day that would have any relevance to Cunning, or even this place?"
With that thought, Braeburn put a hoof to his chin in contemplation. The puzzle seemed to be set to a random time, as to not give any sort of idea of the correct answer. So far, Cunning had made every puzzle possible to answer with a previous notion or clue, so this would obviously be no different. However, Braeburn was no scholar. Things like this were simply not his specialty. His talents were more in the realm of farming and apparently, shooting. As he felt confident that he was at a loss for ideas, Braeburn cast a glance to Daring.
The archaeologist seemed to be toying with a plethora of theories as she circled the dais, squinting at the clock from every possible angle. Braeburn attempted to wear a similar contemplative expression, but didn't know what it ended up looking like. He felt increasingly dimwitted as the clueless seconds crawled by, ashamed at his own lack of ideas. Thankfully, the pegasus broke the silence with her voiced thoughts:
"Okay, let's go over what we know. There were three clues that Cunning left for us to find, but none of them said a word regarding a time of day. Perhaps there was something in the tales...no, that wouldn't make sense. The stories were made by ponies years after Cunning's disappearance, not by the stallion himself. But...there were some facts that always seemed consistent enough in the lore...such as the chase between him and the sheriff! I've heard the tale of the Colt of the West a thousand times, but one part always remained consistent; when he and the law broke out into a gunfight in front of the town hall! The shoot-out took place..."
Daring stopped mid-sentence, turning the minute lever ahead, away from Braeburn. She then did the same with the shorter hour lever. "...at high-noon!"
She threw her forehooves into the air in triumph, standing on her hindlegs. But after a few seconds of silence, Daring fell to all fours, her expression cross. "Huh...maybe not."
Braeburn frowned at the clock. If anything was going to work, it was that one idea. Judging by Daring's intricate theory, he was certain that she was correct. There had to be something else they had to do, for there was nothing else that the tales, nor Cunning's clues had implied in terms of time. He bent his still-aching neck down to the clock, inspecting every centimeter of its inner-workings. The cluster of gears beneath the levers shrouded most of the system, almost blocking out something that made Braeburn's eyes widen. He didn't know how neither of them noticed it before, but underneath the levers, the pin that held them bore some sort of hinge, presumably allowing vertical movement.
"Daring, what was the point of this type o' temple?" he asked.
"Well, in ancient times, these towers were used as observatories, because it was the closest ponies could get to the sky to see the stars. Why do you ask?"
Braeburn grinned in response. He dove his muzzle into his bags again, this time retrieving the lasso that he used during the brawl at Final Chance. With hooves twitching in excitement, he wedged the loop of the rope underneath the parallel levers.
"Hold on, what are you doing?" she asked, as if he were about to break their only way out, which was entirely possible.
"Ah think Ah found the reason fer this here tower," he replied through the rope in his teeth. Before Daring could respond, the workhorse yanked the lasso backward, being rewarded with a click before the slack loosened. His idea was correct. High-noon, when the sun reached its peak in the sky. Any book-smart pony like Daring Do would realize the purpose for the Mesoequestrian temple, once they were given all the pieces of the puzzle.
As one, both levers pointed directly toward the ceiling. Once they reached their new position, the gears underneath whirred to life. With a resounding bang, the tower beneath them shuddered, as if it were struck with a wrecking ball. The muffled sound of much larger cogs spinning filled the cavern, echoing across the high ceiling. The floor underhoof shook, and Braeburn felt the platform descend at a crawl.
"Gah!" Daring cried in shock over the sound of grinding stone. "What did you do Brae?!"
"Hopefully somethin' good," he replied, suddenly regretting his decision.
The two turned their heads to find the top of the staircase rising above them, signaling that the tower itself was moving. Braeburn peaked over the edge to see that the platform they stood upon was slowly sinking into the slab below, revealing that it must have been hollow. The structure shook once the two platforms leveled out, before sinking again. In the span of a minute, the triadic pyramid virtually fell in on itself, inverting the entire tower even further underground. The firelight above did nothing to illuminate the stone pit that they now stood in, forcing the mare to relight her lantern. Before either of them could say a word, the interior of the platform in front of them crumbled, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Only a small section of the granite fell, revealing a narrow stone passageway, just large enough for a pony to pass through.
Braeburn's jaw hung slightly, his eyes wide in awe. "Sweet Celestia from above..."
"Braeburn, you continue to surprise me," Daring smiled.
"Ah wasn't sure that'd actually work," he gaped, his eyes falling upon the dais between them. "Ah was just tryin' to be helpful."
"I think you're smarter than you give yourself credit for," Daring replied, stepping in front of him with her usual grin.
"Yer the one that figured most of it out," he said meekly, only to receive a hoof over his mouth.
"Will you just shut up and take the darned compliment?"
With that, Daring retracted her hoof and took the lead ahead, lowering her head to squeeze through the entrance of the new pathway. Braeburn couldn't help but feel heat rise to his face once again, feeling his pride swell with her words. Perhaps she was right; perhaps he was more than just a simple workhorse. Maybe Braeburn wasn't as dimwitted or daft as he saw himself. In life, ponies would occasionally remark positively upon his work, tenacity and now his rifle prowess. While he appreciated their compliments, their words held no weight in comparison to Daring Do's. Braeburn never had the room in his life for a friend before, and he never imagined that she would be the one to fill the gap in his being.
"You coming or what?" her voice called from the tunnel. "I'm starting to notice just how much I've been waiting on you during this expedition!"
"It's been worth it though!" he smirked, bowing his head under the low ceiling and following her lantern's light. "Besides, ya' wouldn't have been able to get this far without me bein' here."
"Don't you get cute with me, Brae-Brae. I wouldn't have gotten this far without Thumper," she corrected with a cocky smile. "But, you have been a big help I guess."
"Darn-tootin'."
"Do you want a gold star or something?"
"It'd be nice," Braeburn chuckled, to which Daring had joined in. After the events of the past few days, this was exactly what Braeburn needed: laughter. Somehow the light-hearted back-and -forth was enough to ease his mind and loosen his stiff muscles, allowing him a rare bout of relaxation. He sighed after a long chuckle, and the pegasus did the same.
He wasn't particularly bothered by the confined dimensions of the narrow tunnel. It was more of the smell that was wafting through his nose; the stench of something old and moist. Braeburn guessed that it was simply the natural aroma of the ancient caverns, considering the walls themselves happened to be dripping with the occasional trickle of water. He could only estimate that they were a few hundred feet underground. The stallion pulled his duster closer to his chest, finally starting to feel the chill.
The tunnel they trekked through seemed endless, far longer than the previous one. They walked in silence, their hoofsteps being the only sound to echo down the stone passage. Daring led the way, unable to walk side-by-side with the earth pony due to the constricting walls. She paced with extreme care, evidently unwilling to be scarred by another trap. Braeburn dreaded seeing her get hurt again, especially because of his own carelessness. Guilt flooded his mind as he noticed the mare in front of him limping on her injured leg, knowing far too well how much pain such a deep cut could entice. He curiously checked the many bandages upon his own face and chest, making sure that they weren't bleeding through again. To his relief, they remained dry, and still held despite being completely submerged in water before.
After several silent minutes, Braeburn's thoughts became free to wander. He moved subconsciously, mulling over the bombshell of Daring's tainted fillyhood. It was easy to compare this endeavor to the tomb of the Sapphire Statue, and not the tale meant for foals. What the stallion recalled was the real version; the harrowing story that brought a cold chill to his spine. The part that bothered the stallion the most was Dusty Trails' untimely demise. Braeburn couldn't fathom just how traumatizing it must have been, being forced to watch a significant other be so brutally killed in the middle of nowhere. Did Daring feel the same way? Did she compare this to that terrible event as well? Perhaps that was why the mare was so bent on letting him heal before they found Cunning's tomb. He couldn't blame her now that he thought about it. Who would want to relive such a thing? Granted, they were strictly friends, but Braeburn knew that the difference was minimal in the long run.
"Hey there, why the long face?" Daring asked out of the blue. Her expression was of sarcasm, but not without a hint of true concern.
"Oh, nothin'. Just gettin'...hungry, Ah guess," he answered with a nervous laugh. He expected her to at least pick up on his dismissal, but perhaps the poor lighting didn't properly illuminate his expression.
"Tell me about it," she groaned, her eyelids lowering in subtle fatigue. "I'm kicking myself for forgetting to pack something to eat. Oh! There's the end of the tunnel!"
Braeburn was distracted from his thoughts by her sudden exclamation, looking down the passage to find another vast expanse of darkness. To the right was another pooled trail of oil upon a railing, this one not leading down a slope, but off into the unknown. Daring immediately ignited it with her lantern, standing back as a tongue of flame lashed out and down the line. Judging by the last tunnel, they expected to find another vast cavern to be illuminated in front of them. Instead, a tall hallway came into view, flames erupting from alcoves carved into the bedrock, ascending to the ceiling. The floor was made of sandstone tiles, chipped and eroded with age. The last thing Braeburn noticed was the door-less threshold at the other end of the long hallway. Their destination was clear, but he knew that getting there wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed. Unsurprisingly enough, it didn't take more than a second for his dread to be confirmed.
As soon as the flames lit the long niche in the wall, chaos erupted in the hall. From five previously unnoticed slits in the stone swung enormous, scimitar-like blades, hung from thick lengths of rope tied to the ceiling. The horizontal guillotines swung in interchanging intervals, keeping a pony from making a straight run through. The blades occupied the far side of the hall, leaving their side seemingly untouched by such hazards. Braeburn immediately shot a sidelong glance to Daring, who he expected to wear a look of pure horror. However, her rose eyes seemed to erupt with their signature flame, an insane grin spread across her face. Her expression was of a mad-mare, as if she had just been released from the local asylum. The look almost made the stallion recoil in fright, especially when she turned her eyes to his.
"I hope you're ready for this Braeburn," she said, the rasp in her voice emphasized.
"Daring, are you alright?" he asked, momentarily concerned for her mental stability.
The mare looked away from him, her eyes transfixed on the swinging blades down the hall. "Braeburn, do you know how long I've been waiting for something like this to come along? To be able to atone for my mistake?"
Braeburn cocked an eyebrow, a cold chill of fear creeping through his veins. "Hold on, just what're ya' talkin' about? Yer startin' to scare me."
"Good," she snickered. "Then turn that fear into energy, 'cause you're gonna need it. Now..."
Daring pointed to the expanse of floor in front of them, beginning a slew of quick-spoken instructions. "We don't have a lot of time, so listen carefully. We have about twenty feet of safe passage, right? Wrong. Notice how the floor is suddenly made of tiles and not of just plain stone. Unless Cunning had a mind for making a pony's death a little more homely, I think it's nothing more than a trap. Exhibit A..." she pointed to a closer portion of wall to the left, forcing him to notice the pinholes in the stone. "...Classic booby-trap: the wall of poisoned projectiles. I can guarantee that ninety-percent of these tiles will trigger its firing mechanism. In fact, look at the floor."
Braeburn traced her hoof once again, his eyes traversing the seemingly uniform tiles. "Exhibit B, I was right! Only a keen eye like mine would see something like this. Look, there's a trail of tiles that are set just a little bit further down into the stone than the majority, heading all the way down the hall."
"Whoa! Slow down there! What's the rush?" Braeburn exclaimed.
"Look at the ceiling Brae," she noted, jerking her head upward. He obliged, his eyes widening at the sight of the black cloud of smoke filling the hall. The smog grew by the second, and would inevitably engulf the entire cavern. What was worse, Daring indicated a slab of stone slowly closing the door ahead. If they didn't move fast, they would suffocate in a matter of minutes...and nopony would ever find them.
"This oil is different, it produces smog," she said hurriedly, immediately withdrawing her corked inkwell from her bags and dropping it to the floor. With a grunt, the mare stomped a hoof through the glass, covering it with black ink. "We need to move fast, the door is closing and we can't make one wrong move. I can't fly through, and I need to mark where you have to step. Only leap to the tiles with my ink-print, and only when I say so."
With every word she spoke, Braeburn's apprehension grew into a crippling fear. He felt his legs quiver, shoulders following suit. The stallion's eyes shifted from Daring to the closing door forty feet away, searching for anything to quell his terror. The pegasus looked him over as quick as she could, evidently seeing his fear. "Turn it into adrenaline Brae, or we will die. Now follow my lead!"
Daring Do kept her wings to her sides, leaping to a shallow tile of sandstone a yard away. As planned, her hoof-print was stamped into the sandstone as she continued down the safe path, slowly but surely approaching the enormous blades ahead. Braeburn took in a long breath, gathering his minimal amount of courage. As if a rabid dog were on his tail, the stallion carefully jumped to the first ink mark, almost falling forward and onto one of the many triggers. He quickly regained his stance, leaping to every stamped tile. Just a skip away, Daring stopped, all four of her hooves confined to one small square of beige stone. She stood frozen, only her head moving slightly. It was evident that the mare was contemplating their next move, but Braeburn spotted the door ahead halfway closed.
"Daring!" he yelled from behind, coughing on a mouthful of black smoke. "Make a move! NOW!"
With an unintelligible cry, Daring Do leaped past the first blade, just barely avoiding the giant silver edge. Less than a yard separated each swinging guillotine, forcing the pegasus to confine her body as slim as possible on the safe tile. For the moment, Braeburn was a sitting duck. The smoke was getting thicker, and was starting to distort his vision. The smell was foul, forcing him to choke on the putrid air. At Daring's call, he snapped his head upward to find her already in between the second and third blade, signalling for him to jump. He wasted no time in complying, unwilling to look at the blade hurtling towards him from the right. In hindsight, he figured that this was a mistake.
Midway through the jump, Braeburn felt a cold, stinging pain erupt from his back. He cried out in agony before landing haphazardly upon the ink-printed tile. Daring shrieked his name in terror as the stallion wavered on his hooves, feeling a hot trickle of blood flow down his sides underneath the torn duster. The pain was crippling, the flowing wound causing his vision to blur.
"Braeburn!" she shrieked before a small coughing fit. "Are you okay?"
"Keep...movin'..." he grunted, the fur on his back soaked with blood, crying out in agony.
The mare looked as if she were on the verge of tears, her eyes wide and fearful for his well-being. Nonetheless, the pegasus turned around and found her moment, bypassing the third blade and landing safely on the other side. Braeburn did everything he could to focus his dreary eyes, gritting his teeth in effort. He couldn't die here, not the same way as Dusty. Braeburn couldn't do that to Daring, the mare who had already been put through far too much for one pony to handle.
"Brae! Jump now!"
At her call, the stallion trusted her judgement and leaped forward, this time with more than enough room. He did the same with the next blade as Daring arrived at the safe end of the hallway. Just one more jump, that was all it took. But the door was closing, and the mare was doing everything she could try to hold the giant slab open, although to no avail. He had no time to wait for her signal, nor to so much as look at the final guillotine's position. Braeburn dove forward, his eyes darting to the swinging razor edge a mere yard away from his face, closing in too fast to avoid.
"BRAEBURN!"
The world slowed to a crawl as Braeburn watched the final moment of his life flash before him. This was it. The end of the infamous lineage was about to be extinguished. Everything he knew, everypony he knew, was about to disappear in a swift slice of steel. It was all for not. All the hard work he had put into living a good life, being as kind and humble as a pony could be...none of it mattered. What had he done to die like this, in the worst way he could possibly imagine? Was this really the end?
...No...
No. Not like this. He wasn't about to just give up and die. He was Braeburn Apple; the hardest worker the Apple family had ever seen, the hero of Dodge Junction, the descendant of a legend! He was going to live, even if he were to be crippled instead. "NO!"
With a cry of defiant outrage, Braeburn ripped Thumper from the scabbard on his back in midair. Before the blade could reach him, he brought the steel of the barrel between the razor edge and his face. Sparks flew as the two collided, throwing the riflepony through the air and into the wall, pinned but for a mere second by the giant guillotine. The wound on his back ground against the jagged stone wall, forcing a cry of agony from his lips. The blade fell from the apex of its swing, allowing the wounded stallion to fall limply to the sandstone floor in a heap. He felt the old Marechester fly from his hooves, almost unnoticed by his barely-conscious mind. He laid on the floor across his stomach, feeling himself being dragged by his right hindhoof, just barely under the descending slab of dark granite. Braeburn closed his eyes, panting heavily. His senses seemed to dull to something along the lines of nonexistence, save for the screaming pain across his spine. He heard nothing; saw nothing. Everything around him was a blur, and the beige earth pony fell into a deep sleep.
The stone slab closed with a trembling thud, sending a slight quake through the cavern floor. The dying light of the lantern cast a faint orange glow, only illuminating their immediate surroundings. Daring Do scrambled through her bags, searching for the roll of gauze with trembling hooves. The mare had to take a fraction of a second to wipe the tears from her face, her emotions getting the best of her. Trepidation coursed through her quivering muscles as Braeburn's eyes closed, dread falling upon her face. "Braeburn! Come on! Stay with me here!"
The pegasus shook him violently, attempting to open his eyes again. The stallion was losing too much blood, and it was starting to form a small pool on his left side. Forcing her mind to think objectively, Daring tore the ripped section of duster from his body, revealing the long cut. She allowed herself a short sigh of relief once she saw that the wound wasn't deep. However, it was enough to draw a steady flow of crimson. She fought through her tears and eventually quelled the bleeding with every layer of bandages she could apply.
Daring took long breaths, unwilling to let herself hyperventilate. He was breathing, and the bleeding was stopped. There was nothing more she could do, except wait. In any other circumstance, Daring would have immediately searched their new surroundings out of nothing but curiosity. But in this moment, she couldn't take her eyes off the unconscious stallion in front if her. Braeburn laid on his right side, his body rising and falling with the slightest of breaths. The once jubilant earth pony now laid beaten and broken, hundreds of feet underground in the middle of the desert. He didn't deserve this much pain. All he wanted to do was save his family's business, and the poor stallion's body was pushed far beyond its limits.
It was her fault, all her fault. She had made a terrible mistake; taking an inexperienced pony into such a dangerous place. Daring truly thought that this wasn't going to be anything like the tomb of the Sapphire Statue. But in hindsight, it was exactly like that terrible place. Everything down to the hall of blades. What was Cunning the Colt thinking, building such a dangerous slew of devices? Didn't he leave all of this behind for his descendant? Perhaps this entire tomb was just his dark sense of humor. But in the end, the blame could not be placed on a pony that had been dead for hundreds of years. It could only be placed on the reckless Daring Do. Once again, she had allowed another pony to assist her in a place where they would only be a liability. Yes, they had insisted relentlessly that they would go, but she still had the final decision, and she messed it up both times.
Hadn't she grown since then? Hadn't she learned a thing since that terrible day? Apparently not, she thought. Daring was sure that Braeburn was different. He was, in fact. The archaeologist thought that this was in no way the same. The attraction wasn't there this time, there was no previous infatuation. Dusty Trails had died because she didn't prepare him enough. She was young and arrogant, with the preconceived notion that nothing so horrid could happen to them, even after her parent's death. Even seven years later, Daring Do hadn't learned a thing from that experience. All that ran through her mind was that giant blade swinging toward Braeburn, a fraction of a second away from ending his life. She had just stood there, helpless and horrified. Not since she was a young filly did the esteemed archaeologist feel so weak and vulnerable. She was confident in her own abilities to laugh in the face of death, but when it came to protecting the ones she cared about...she was reckless. Would she ever learn? Could she even go on with her passion for uncovering the unknown after this? Even if the mare was alone the next time, the memories would always be there.
Daring Do opened her eyes again, allowing a fresh flow of tears to spill over and flow down her cheeks. Her tight throat convulsed several times, forcing a small fit of hiccups from her quivering lips. "There you go again B-Brae, making me cry like a filly..." She shifted closer to him on her haunches, giving the lightest of punches to his shoulder. "...Y-You stubborn mule. Why did you h-have to come with me? Why couldn't you realize how much p-pain you were already in?" But he wasn't being stubborn; he was being brave. "I'm s-so sorry Braeburn." She couldn't look at him anymore. The dark-yellow mare clamped her eyes shut, tucking her face into the crooks of her forelegs. For whatever reason, Daring didn't feel her pride rise at yet another bout of sorrow. Instead, she let herself cry in silence.
She had no idea how Braeburn had such an effect on her, to make her emotions run high at every turn. Perhaps it wasn't him specifically. Perhaps it had simply been that long since she allowed her feelings to overflow like this. It would certainly explain the past three days very clearly. It wasn't Braeburn, it was a shoulder to cry on. A pony to listen to her problems, one that wouldn't judge or leave her. Even if it was just for now, she needed him. She couldn't be alone right now, not at this point in her life.
A sharp breath that was not her own echoed through the room, forcing a noise of shock from her lips. Daring immediately wiped her face clean, messing her soaked fur. She sighed in relief at the sight of Braeburn's eyes flickering open. His once bright emerald iris' were now dull with fatigue, weary and unfocused. "Brae? Are you alright?"
The beige stallion grunted in response, although not without a reassuring grin. "Tired. Where...Where are we?"
Daring's lips cured into a small smile. "Somewhere safe."
"That's new," he said quietly, slowly rising into a sitting position. The mare steadied his shoulders as he rose to his haunches. The stallion pulled his duster closer to his torso, noticing the long tear in the canvas. "Aww, horseapples...Silver Snips is gonna have my hide fer this."
"Are you cold?"
"A little," he admitted.
"Here," she whispered, wrapping her forelegs around him. Braeburn recoiled only slightly before relaxing in her embrace. He slowly raised a single hoof to return the hug, chuckling quietly. "Somethin' wrong?"
"Not anymore Brae," she replied, resting her muzzle into his lustrous blonde mane. "Not anymore."
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The death traps are getting more and more interesting. But I'm not sure exactly how the click... thing.. worked, and how the rope came into it. I guess it was just... I'm not sure. It just didn't seem to click, I guess I could say.
Also, Brae seems way too into being the descendant of an outlaw, as opposed to a very law-abiding (Society-promoting) Apple. It seems at odds with the Brae we know is all I'm saying. I also see the repetition has sunk in and the BraeDo is creeping in. It was inevitable. Memes work in two directions. Even if your intent was not that at the start the insidious cost of popularity is a suceptibility to the "flow" of the popularizing crowd in order to maintain the levels previously reached. Emergent Complexity in a sense.
Love is in the air, I believe.
Me sees something going on here...8wayrun.com/attachments/im-watching-you-meme-gif.20520/
Jesus, and here I though the last chapter had a big cliffhanger
The adventure in this story has been awesome all around, but character development like this is what its making it an already memorable work, I simply cant wait for the next chapter, even if it seems to be the final one
ok this is an awesome chapter and for some reason i am actually getting into this shipping but one thing I must ask after reading this chapter what happened to thumper?
919968 Next chapter.
920108 -.- I kind of guessed that but i can say a couple of things that I think might have happened to it. one daring was able to grab it as well as braeburn and bring it to the other side of the door but now the barrel will be severly scratched up or it got left behind in the other chamber which would be a devestating blow towards braeburn and he really needs to catch a break of some sort.
*Sits on the edge of his seat*
Honestly, not sure if there's shipping going on here or not anymore. Mixed signals, man!
Another great chapter. Now begins the (seemingly) long wait for the next chapter.
Let the shipping commence. GET IT ON!!! Please?
looks like.... *puts on sunglasses*
... Love is in bloom.
Great chapter, keep goin and stay golden^^
919968 If he isn't doing a shipping thing I am going to have to hurt him at this point. Even with all of this "No, we're friends! FRIENDS!" I was tempted to think no shipping would occur, and I would be angry if that were the case, not because I need shipping in a fic, but because they are built for each other at this point!
I could see it a mile away, and I didn't care. I loved every moment of its approach.
"Hey there, why the long face?" Ha! Get it? Because their ponies!
...Anyway, emotions are running high and anticipation is growing. I'm on the edge of my seat and-
*falls off*
Son of a-
Oh my, seems you've dug yourself into a pit of romantic expectations, and the lip is ringed by a ferocious tribe of cannibal Pygmy Shippers... I was hoping that you'd be able to stave them off, but after this chapter, there aren't many more ways to progress their relationship outside of romance. I am curious to see how you will continue this without pairing them together!
Braeburn's one lucky son of a gunslinger to still be walking. I look forward to next chapter.
920659 YES! GET ON WITH IT!
dl.dropbox.com/u/31471793/FiMFiction/emoticons/misc_Bonbon_OMG_LOVE.png OMFG my shipping senses are tingling!
"Not anymore Brae," she replied, resting her muzzle into his lustrous blonde mane. "Not anymore."
Thank you, Celestia!
static.prtst.net/asset-proxy/9b5d02518209060bc8cef743562ccec0fb196424/687474703a2f2f766976656b73757274692e66696c65732e776f726470726573732e636f6d2f323031302f31312f686f6d65725f776f6f686f6f2e6a7067/http://viveksurti.files.wordpress.com/2010/11/homer_woohoo.jpg
My only actual critique is that your opening sentence reads really awkwardly. Either "of her nimble wings" or "in the blink of an eye" needs to be removed. It's just too colorful to open a chapter that way.
921244
lh3.googleusercontent.com/qh9VJWQxTVoMVYCURUcNya6_xfzR5Ynbc6O9_6bgv5ADJrpaBcIJJsQq11XLrGXmuZaKJ8zpshLi92-WdR4oyPSwqVrB3JQ6hqW4UyvoKHmA7By1aIM
Good lord, did Cunning have a friggin Royal Guard Core of Engineers helping him or something? It would've taken dozens of ponies to contrust such elaborate tunnels and traps, even if they were all unicorns.
Makes me wonder if he actually built any of this, or simply found it.
Hm, I kinda like the, "He found it," theory.
OOH. OR.
OKAY SO. Brae and Daring, right? Riflepony and archaeologist.
Maybe Cunning built it. BUT. He had help. From an archaeologist mare who knew about this kind of stuff. He made this as a legacy for his descendants, but the fashion of it was a gift for his beloved - the she could go crazy in designing such a thing, thus being her legacy as well.
OH MY GOD MAYBE SHE'S DARING'S ANCESTOR
Wait, then they're related. Distantly, but. <.<
[Edit:] Well, I guess that'd be one way to keep it from actually being shipping...
Get a move on with the next chapter or I'm going to spit my stomach acid all over your house's exterior and interior and you probably don't have insurance against acid dpitting lunatics.
922069 And here I thought dropping that for volcano insurance was a good idea. My priorities have been FLAWED!
*Tries to come up with worthwhile comment....fails and shrugs*
A new chapter for me to read!
I saw this posted on EQD and thought it looked like a good read. I clicked the link at 10:00, it is now 2:00am and im sitting here is complete shock in the amount of raw emotions that i have experienced in the last couple of hours. It has been awhile since i found a story that could captivate me so, I commend you in your superb writing skills and story weaving. now excuse me while I sit here hitting the refresh button, hoping the next chapter will apear
I expected this to happen, yet I am surprised at Do. After all Brae has been through with her /done, he would sleepy not die.
Please, do go on.
D'Aw! Daring and Braeburn... Stubborn, brave, very much needing somepony like the other in their life. I smell love.
Or is it barbecue?
Pinkie Pie: Actually, granite is a reeaaally tough rock. In fact, it's a popular stone to use in construction precisely because it's so durable, but it's also so hard that it takes a lot of skill to carve it. Anything you do build from it is pretty much gonna last forever, though. A few thousand years in an underground cave isn't really going to do much to a whole granite pyramid, let alone a few hundred, so it's not surprising it's good as new. Of course, Braeburn probably didn't know any of that.
Twilight Sparkle: Pinkie, how do you know so much about... Oh, wait. Rock farm. Forget I asked.
Pinkie Pie: Hihi!
i272.photobucket.com/albums/jj165/yasser2323/Gifs/1269199750889.gif