Transient

by Impossible Numbers

Lost Within the Labyrinth

Pinkie pressed her back against the tunnel wall and peeked round the next turning. Unlike the dark stretch of the last one, the next tunnel twinkled with a dozen colours, almost like a room full of balloons.

Oh good, she thought with a sigh. Now that’s the sort of tunnel that’s got Rarity’s name all over it. See? Even those diamonds in the wall look a little like her cutie mark, except they’re not in threes like hers.

Although she’s probably not worried about pretty gems right about now. Or maybe she is. I dunno.

A howling echoed across the distance. Pinkie ducked back at once, gaze flitting across the ceiling. In the dark, she felt her eyes straining.

Nothing.

She opened her mouth to cry out, but some remnant of common sense cut her off at once. There was no way to be sure, but she suspected it wasn’t completely deaf. But she had to find her.

“Rarity,” she said in as loud a whisper as she dared.

Someone whimpered on the cusp of hearing. Once more, Pinkie peered down the tunnel. The gemstones glowed and sparkled; there was nowhere to hide. Yet someone had definitely whimpered.

Another howl drew her back, but then her heart solidified. No. I’m here to find Rarity. That’s it. We are gonna get outta here.

Still, she could hear the echo of Rarity’s scream, even across the expanses of the last… hours? Days?

That settled it. Pinkie stepped out, prepared to bolt, and after a few seconds strode through the lights with head held high. Her rock farmer instincts whispered in her ear as she passed: Topaz blocks. Amber balls. Onyx streaks.

“Here, Rari-Rari-Rarity,” she murmured, ears cocked for the slightest sound. “Step One: Find friend. Step Two: Get outta here. I can do that easy-peasy lemon squeezy.”

The ghosts of her whispers tickled her ears: squeezy… eezy… ee-y…

Wow, I sure could do with some lemonade right about now…

Briefly halting her stride, Pinkie coughed under her hoof. The whimpering seemed to be getting louder. A nose trained by years of mining in caves twitched; she could smell the faint perfumes soothing her nasal chambers.

From her left, the words came short and sharp: “Pinkie!? Pinkie!? Where the deuce have you been!?”

Pinkie snapped her head round. Behind a bulbous mass of bubbly rubies, wedged in a crevice, Rarity’s dark blue eyes stared out at her.

“What the what now? Me? I’ve been looking for you!” Pinkie said at once.

Even through the dim shade of the crevice, Rarity was a mess. Her hair no long curled but frayed at the edges. Dust coated her white legs. Both eyes were bloodshot.

Ignoring the quiver of the irises before her, Pinkie stretched her smile as far as she dared. They were together again. After hours… or was it days… of dark nothingness, this was the dawn. Suddenly, she could see the future again.

Ignoring the tremble in her own legs, ignoring the soaked sweat along her own coat, ignoring the twinge where her own tattered hairs bobbed into her eyes, Pinkie tried to grin until her heartbeat relaxed. Rarity was still staring.

“I had no trouble getting around,” Pinkie said. “This is just like my time back on the rock farm. My sisters and I always used to go snooping around Miner’s Maze. With all those stalagmites and things, we could play Hide and Go Seek for weeks and still find new places to tuck in!”

“Good,” hissed Rarity, who wriggled to get her chest and waist out of the crevice. “Now let’s play Hide from the Nightmare and Go Seek the Way Out.”

“Got it, Foremare Rare!” Pinkie saluted, wincing at the ache in her elbow.

With a pop, Rarity stumbled out of the crevice. At once, her limbs stiffened. Both ears swivelled. She glanced down the tunnel behind her, and then craned her head to see past Pinkie.

“These… games you played,” she whispered. “Well, being a veteran of the subterranean, you would – I imagine – have some hitherto-undisclosed skills in navigating…” Rarity gritted her teeth. “Caves. Yes?”

Pinkie pouted. “I dunno. I never really thought about it. It’s a cool idea, though. Wanna try it out?”

Another howl echoed along the tunnel. Panic sparked across Rarity’s face.

“Or an amazing memory, or some magnetic sensing power?” she said at once. One eyelid twitched.

Don’t panic. Pinkie fought not to turn around or stiffen. She’s just being Rarity. We’ll get out of here. We always get out of a tight spot. Literally! Rarity just got out of one! See? How hard can it be?

Besides, she might not be wrong. Rock farmers like me can do all kinds of things. This is practically home to me. Even though I have no idea where we are, or what we’re doing, or what’s up with this freaky cave thing…

“And we’ll get our mission done too!” she blurted out.

Immediately, Rarity hissed between her teeth. “Oh, please! Stuff the mission, Pinkie. We’ll be lucky if even we – I mean, we’ll have our hooves full just getting ourselves out of here.”

If we’re getting out. Pinkie shook her head until her lips flapped. Nope! Bad thought! Bad thought!

“I mean, I haven’t seen anyone yet,” she said, “but there must be someone in these caves. And we’re troopers. We ain’t leavin’ no ponies behind, am I right?”

Her genial wink wasn’t having any effect; Rarity kept swivelling her ears, looking back and forth, her limbs stiff. Perhaps she was still adjusting to having a pony nearby again, after so many hours or days. Pinkie’s mind drew out a checklist.

Now, if I know Rarity – which I do – she’ll have a “woe is me” moment. Then she’ll panic a bit. Then she’ll steel herself and be all “a lady does not lose her composure”. And then, then she comes up swinging. Give her time…

“Well?” snapped Rarity. Suddenly, she was no longer flicking her gaze back and forth. “Are we moving, or are we standing around all day?”

Or, you know, she skips to the last step. Um…

“Come, come! Pinkie, this is your moment to shine! Let your geological know-how show how we’re escaping this pit. The humidity is ruining my complexion. And I think I’ve got a pimple coming on.”

“Oh, pimples and complexions are small stuff. Once we get out of here, the spa’ll clear that right up.”

Divorced from her own words, Pinkie’s jaw skewed. We’re not in that much trouble, are we?

Instead, her gaze flickered towards the stray hairs of Rarity’s mane, the unwinding twist in her tail, and the puffiness under her eyes. Although the mare looked ready to buck and head-butt anything, she reeked of acid fear.

Pinkie almost said, “If worst comes to worst, we can always kick it”, but something told her the word choice wouldn’t go over very well. Besides, they’d already tried kicking it. Their hooves simply went right through. Kinda like…

The next howl slid over their spines, rustling the locks draped over their napes. Only this time, they also heard the bubbly rattle of the throat. It breathed out, and then it sucked in. And it sounded much closer.

Pinkie stared at the gemstones on either side of them. Blocky chunks here, bristling spikes there: she saw no rhythm to the gems and crystals. Hues and stripes and swirls and cutting edges filled her mind, expanding the world of possibilities.

Yet it was wrong. Pretty, but wrong. Carnelian sat next to copper, and her instincts told her that was wrong. True, the Equestrian soil gave colourful brilliant-cut gemstones, but they were more like buried treasure troves. These were uncut. Natural. Wild gemstones.

Rarity’s gaze avoided the gemstones, and that was wrong too. A connoisseur of jewels should never pass up a whole gallery like this one. Perhaps she sensed the wrongness too. It was like a pegasus confronting Everfree weather.

Finally, Pinkie’s gaze drifted to the rock of the wall itself, and that screamed “wrong!” White granite scuffed with orange and brown and grey streaks. An igneous rock. Mica and quartz and feldspar mixed with trace minerals. It shouldn’t have looked like a giant jeweller’s shop.

I know rocks. Rarity loves gems. There must be a connection.

“Think,” she murmured, tapping the side of her head. “Think, think, think, think, think.”

It had been so simple, hours… or days… ago, standing over the crystal map and seeing their two cutie marks floating over the mountain pass.

Maybe Rarity had moaned a bit too much that it was no-mare’s land. Still, she’d made her mountaineering coat and saddlebag lacey and glittery, with just the right amount of crushed velvet. All long since lost in the cave-in.

She could imagine her sisters here with her. Maud and Limestone would’ve shrugged if she’d pointed out the cave-ins they’d met. Their hooves could hammer through boulders as though they were giant crumbly cookies. But Pinkie had never mastered anything harder than soil.

“You know what I think, Rarity?” she said slowly. “I think this was all part of the map’s plan.”

Rarity barked a harsh laugh. Her pupils were pinpricks that pierced Pinkie’s own. “Is that right? Well, the map can take that plan and –”

“It’s never steered us wrong before, right?” Pinkie didn’t dare notice the shadow of doubt eclipsing her insides. She reached for more mental kindling, but something about Rarity’s stare stayed her imaginary hooves. “No reason to think this isn’t part of the plan. We just gotta figure it out.”

Whether Rarity believed her or not, she relaxed where she stood, muzzle lowered, shoulders sagging.

“I suppose,” she muttered. Then her glare snapped up. “At least we know there is a way in and out.”

“That’s the spirit!”

At once, Rarity’s eyes widened. She spun round, tail whipping the air. Pinkie shut her eyes at the slice of turbulence slapping her mane back.

“What!? Where? Where?”

“No, silly!” Pinkie hopped to her side. “I meant ‘that’s the spirit’ as in ‘that’s the right way to go’.”

“Is it? Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

Pinkie opened her mouth, but then shut it again. Rarity’s perfume scents had burned away. Mixed in with the acid fumes was the spiking odour of sweat.

This is all wrong. Normally, everyone’s telling me not to get all bamboozled in the noodle. Now I’m gonna have to tell her. Come on, Rarity. We ran away from the thing, didn’t we? So if we meet it, we can outrun it. Simple.

You can’t really be frightened of it, can you? I’ve seen you when you’re mad. Boy, do I not want to be a chair or a monster when you’re ticked. There’s something else goin’ on here, and I’m gonna find it and fix it.

“Hey, Rarity,” she said on an impulse. “Look at these gems.”

“Oh, please. We haven’t got time for goggling at gems!”

“No. I mean look at them. Maybe with your emerald expertise or gneiss knowledge, you can tell if they grow near a way out or not.”

Rarity’s glare could have cut diamonds. Pinkie hastily glanced away.

But why? Applejack could tell where an apple’s been planted just by smelling it. Fluttershy can tell a warbler from a warbler just by checking the song against the trees near her. So logically, Rarity can tell if one gem likes wide open spaces and if its favourite colour is blue. That’s who she is.

“Any more ideas, Pinkie?” said Rarity coldly. “Or maybe you’d like to taste the rocks to see whether they get enough air.”

“Hmm… intriguing suggestion. Allow me.”

Yet even as she wiped her tongue amid the edges of the gems encrusting the wall, she fought not to wretch or twist her lips.

Her twin Marble had refined rock-tasting to culinary critic status, but Pinkie’s palate had responded only to cakes and cookies. Even balloons came in a surprising range of tastes and textures, some tangy, some lightningy. Ma and Pa had always tutted at her attempts to guess the subtle flavours of what, when she got down to it, were rocks.

“Oh my… Well, it’s a pity you’re not like your sister,” said Rarity, shaking her head. “I bet it would’ve worked for her.”

Pinkie wiped her tongue down and smacked her lips. “You know, that light’s pretty strange. Where’s it coming from?”

She could smell the panic fizzing through her nostrils now. Rarity was back to snapping her gaze back and forth, as though trying to spot so much as a flicker down the glowing tunnels. Pinkie relaxed. A keen eye like Rarity’s would be the first to spot anything.

“You’re right,” Rarity whispered, ears cocked. After a few seconds, she added, “I don’t know what it is, though. None of these gems are naturally autoluminescent.”

“What a pity Sweetie Belle isn’t here,” said Pinkie. “She’s studied magic with Twilight. Betcha she’d know what light’s what.”

Sweetie Belle. The name had popped out of her head. Not Twilight, though. Had it really only been hours… days… ago?

The timber platform, its planks bouncing under hopping hooves. Steam billowing from the train’s sides. Sweetie Belle, squeaking how much she couldn’t wait for them to get back. Maud, droning something about how she could wait, because she obviously had to. Maud was always so literal-minded…

Sweetie Belle, dancing and skipping behind them from Carousel Boutique to the train station. Maud, strolling along beside her. Both of them, talking about makeovers and rock sonnets and truth-or-dare and rock sonnets and baking cookies and rock sonnets. A real sisters’ sleepover.

That was where I smelled that smell from. Pinkie glanced across at Rarity’s wide-eyed, narrow-pupilled stare, which darted from crack to crevice to ceiling. She was surrounded by beauty, but never did she seem to actually look at it. If anything, she seemed to be avoiding it.

Now that was seriously wrong.

Everyone knew how Rarity had found her cutie mark. One geode full of beautiful gemstones, and she’d gathered them and stuck them onto her costumes as though it were obvious where they should go. Gems were Rarity. Rarity was gems.

Hard as gems too. The first time Pinkie had ever seen her up against a gigantic manticore, this frilly fashionista’s first impulse was to kick it in the face. She’d even done that here, as soon as one of the shadows had moved.

Once more, the howl whistled along their shivering backs, and they prickled with spikes under the bubbly rattle of a throat trying to suck something out of the air. They could no longer tell if it was far away or close by. The acoustics made everything sound flat, as though they were hearing it through mufflers.

They craned their necks and looked both ways. Still, the tunnels were nothing but gems stretching and meandering away.

For a moment, their gazes met in mid-crane. Somewhere in the depths of Pinkie’s mind, a light flicked on. She couldn’t tell why it had done so. Only that it had.

“Pinkie,” said Rarity as though her voice were treading over glass. “Don’t stand there breathing so hard. If you’re worried, just keep your chin up. Smarten up! We’re getting out of here one way or another!”

Pinkie frowned. “What? I’m not breathing hard –”

“Oh, silly me. Of course you’re not.” To Pinkie’s shock, Rarity actually giggled into her dusty hoof. “Listen to the ramblings of a ridiculous Rarity! I must be going cuckoo.”

“Uh… you OK?”

Hm. Maybe she has calmed down after all. She’s taking this a lot better than I thought she would. So why does she still smell so bad? And I swear that eye’s twitching harder and harderer and the harderest it’s ever twitched.

“Just peachy!” Rarity beamed at her so suddenly that Pinkie flinched and sidestepped away. “We’re going to have a sleepover, remember? With our dear sisters!”

“Uh… yeah, yeah, sure.” Ow. That beaming smile’s gotta hurt. Look, she’s creasing the skin so much. How come she’s doin’ that? She never risks that kind of skin-stretching if she can help it.

“And Twilight and the others know where we are,” continued Rarity, and she seemed to be talking to some parallel universe behind Pinkie’s head. “They’ll come rescue us. We’re sure to get out of here in one piece. One piece each, that is.”

And Pinkie could see, behind the temporary dust stains and the reversible tangles and knots of hair, that the skin was all wrong. It seemed slightly greyer than it should’ve been. Rarity’s cheekbones jutted where once flawlessly smooth skin curled over the muscle. Tiny nicks across the brow suggested the beginning of wrinkles.

Lightning ripped through Pinkie’s brain. Where the air had simply hung like a dead blanket, now it cracked and iced over, creeping along her flanks. Her mind screamed Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Rarity’s laughter tickled her ear. “Oh, Pinkie Pie. Why so shocked? It’s exactly as you described it. Now that we’re here, we simply discover our clandestine purpose and fulfil it! The map is not wrong.”

“Beg pardon?” Pinkie could still feel her nose hairs fizzing away under the stench. The mouth said one thing, but the smell said another.

“So it seems to me that, no matter which direction we choose, it is certain – nay, preordained – to be the correct direction! Ipso facto! Quod erat demonstratum! Nil desperandum!”

“Huh?” Vaguely, Pinkie remembered Pa telling her about strange ponies who went into deserts and caves, and came out “speaking in tongues”. Until now, she’d had no idea what that meant.

Oh my gosh, she’s gone loco!

A blast of a rattle struck their ears.

It was much harsher, as though it was outraged or alarmed. In virtually no time, the sound had done what several cups of coffee and a bolt of lightning could never have achieved in seconds.

Both of them shot back into the crevice, squirming against each other as two ponies tried to squeeze through a gap barely capable of holding one. Soon, Rarity was half-folded at the bottom, and Pinkie was a stick over her, forelimbs folded as though in an upright coffin.

Within the tight squeeze, the acidic smell now scoured her nostrils. Rarity’s beaming smile had evaporated the instant she’d heard the rattle.

They both held their breaths.

Below Pinkie’s rear hooves, a squeak escaped Rarity’s lips. Pinkie clamped her teeth together as though the squeak had been her own.

Rarity’s voice was barely a suggestion in the still air, but Pinkie heard it: “Oh, Sweetie Belle… Sweetie Belle…”

But Sweetie Belle’s not in any danger, or even here. You can’t be worried about her. Or about you. We know we’re gonna get out of this OK. So what’s the problem?

Please tell me, Rarity. I’m up Chocolate Creek without a paddle. Or a spoon. I can’t eat my way out of this one.

Then she felt it; the slight ripples in the air, tapping her skin where the waves drifted by. Something rattled its throat, and now it was right next to them. Yet she saw nothing in the tunnel.

A flicker of a shadow passed overhead. She didn’t dare turn her head up to look.

The waves, the tapping, and the ripples died away. Another rattle echoed back from them. It too was dying.

She counted under her breath. “Eight… nine… ten… I think it’s gone.”

Beneath her, the unseen Rarity drew a quaking breath.

“It wouldn’t be so bad,” she whispered, “if it weren’t for these beastly gems.”

WrongWrongWrongWrongWrongWrongWrong! went Pinkie’s brain. If her lungs hadn’t been sandwiched between folded legs and flattened ribs, she would’ve gasped instead of wheezing pathetically.

“YYYYYeeeeaaaahhhh… uh… Rarity?” she managed to say.

The echoes of the rattle followed them back. Far away, but still not far enough.

Both of them grunted and groaned, wriggling and bruising themselves until first Rarity and then Pinkie Pie burst out of the crevice with a yelp. Both of them braced themselves against the floor, panting. For a moment, both of them were united in breathless pain.

“‘Beastly gems’?” spluttered Pinkie. “Oh my gosh! Are you an imposter? A changeling? Someone else I know, but in makeup? You can’t be Rarity, because Rarity loves gems! They’re like, well, me and balloons. Or Rainbow Dash and winning races.”

Rarity seized her, one hoof thumping down on each shoulder. “They’re mocking me. I can hear them. Can’t you? With their nasty little voices. You must hear them!”

Loyally, Pinkie cocked her ears. Only the sounds of Rarity’s heavy breathing filled her ears. Her skin was complaining loudly about chafing, and her tongue was still numb from the rock-licking. Her eyes were busy staring back at two pinprick pupils.

But Pinkie lowered her brow like a knight’s visor. No. Rarity needs me more than ever. Step One is complete. Step Two is a go. Now we add Step Three: make sure Rarity stops hearing gemstones. This is a job for Pinkie, friend to end all friends.

Except maybe the Princess of Friendship.

Hey! There’s a thought! Think… what would Princess Twilight do?

She clapped her own hooves on Rarity’s shoulders. The mare blinked back at her in surprise.

“I’ve got a plan,” she said. “You can count on me, Rarity. We’ll make Princess Celestia so proud of us, we’re bound to get a good report when we get back.”

“Er… huh?”

And she knew she’d nailed it; Rarity looked exactly like most ponies looked after Twilight had explained things to them.

Acting Princess of Friendship Pinkie Pie saluted her and about-turned and marched up the tunnel. Only when she remembered which way the shadow had gone did she about-turn and march the other way.

After a few seconds, Rarity’s hoofsteps shuffled along behind her.

Far away, the rattling began again.

---

Comments

[Light Striker]

And she knew she’d nailed it; Rarity looked exactly like most ponies looked after Twilight had explained things to them.

Loving it so far, especially the characterization of Pinkie. We'll see how it works out in the next two chapters…

[BlueAtom09974]

Lightning ripped through Pinkie’s brain. Where the air had simply hung like a dead blanket, now it cracked and iced over, creeping along her flanks. Her mind screamed Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

That description was beautiful.

Then she felt it; the slight ripples in the air, tapping her skin where the waves drifted by. Something rattled its throat, and now it was right next to them. Yet she saw nothing in the tunnel.

As was this one! It's very easy to picture everything that's happening thanks to these!