Booby Traps
Hannah Hawes, Shop Assistant
Booby Traps
Admiral Biscuit
Despite what Hollywood thought, there weren't really cursed ruins on Earth. There were a lot of ways that ancient ruins could kill you if you weren't careful—and a few ways they could get you even if you were—but back on Earth there weren't spells etched on the doors that would doom anybody who passed or anything like that.
This was not the case in Equestria. While death magic and necromancy was rare, it was not entirely unknown. Other simpler wards were practically foal stuff; a fireball spell that was set to trigger when a door was opened wasn't that difficult to cast for a unicorn. Making it last for thousands of years and making it big enough to kill someone was a bit more complex, but not overly so.
That was one of the advantages of having Daring take the lead as you squeeze past the half-open main doors. She knew what to look out for; she was much better at recognizing bespelled objects than you were.
But where she instinctively thought of a magical trap, you thought of more mundane workings, tripwires and pitfalls and gravity traps and things like that. Probably why they thought you'd make the perfect team.
It was kind of disappointing that the doors didn't try to kill you, but then there had already been an archaeological expedition partway into the temple. If there had been a spell, they'd have set it off.
Whoever had built this had had defense in mind. While there aren't any ponies defending it any more, you quickly take in the way that the corridor branches off immediately to the left and right, slowing down any potential invaders. There are murder holes in the ceiling above, and narrow arrow slits lining the inside walls along the hallway.
“How long have ponies had steel cables?” you ask.
“Maybe a hundred years. Why?”
“I was just thinking that any tripwires would have rotted away long ago.”
“Lajos' Knife,” Daring says. “It's a spell that makes things last.”
“Dammit.” You squint down in the narrow corridor, looking for tripwires.
“Main hallways's probably clean,” Daring says. “The archaeologists would have found tripwires if there were any.”
“I hope you're right.” The two of you together push the doors back shut and wedge them with a few scraps of wood. They won't hold for long, but they'll slow Dr. Caballeron down, and most importantly, he and his team will make noise getting through.
Inside, it's—well, it's as dark as a tomb. You get a crystal torch out of your backpack: while there are spells that trigger off other spellwork, sometimes in ancient ruins that's less of a danger than an oil lamp finding a methane pocket. “Right rule?”
“Right rule.” You and Daring follow the right-hand corridor back.
Odds are good that this temple's outer corridors are arranged in a sort of spiral. Corners are the best spot for traps, because people and ponies naturally slow down at them.
Long hallways are also good spots; arrows fired down them tend to hit something.
The outermost ring is completely devoid of traps; either the temple-builders were sloppy, or the first crew through found and disabled them all, one way or another.
You've made it all the way into an antechamber before you hear banging off in the distance. No doubt it's Dr. Caballeron and his goons in hot pursuit.
“I think that this is as far as the archaeology team got,” Daring says. “Eugh.”
You agree. The air in the room smells somewhat fresh—not as musty as it would if the room hadn't been opened in a few centuries. There are hoofprints in the dust, hardly any cobwebs, and a few podiums and reading desks that are without any evidence of tomes on them. A modern-looking oil lamp is sitting on one table.
More to the point, there's also the body of a recently-deceased pony with his hoof touching the giant iron doors that lead out of the antechamber. His face is pulled back into a rictus of terror, and there's no clear evidence of what he died of.
“Good thing I've got a stick,” you say. “Probably best to stand off to the side, and not look directly down the hallway, just in case.”
“Are you thinking basilisk?”
“I'm not ruling it out just yet.” You point a thumb over at the poor unfortunate. “He doesn't look petrified, though. Not gonna poke the body to find out for sure.”
The two of you crouch on either side of the door, where the wall will most likely protect you. That puts you in uncomfortable proximity to the corpse, but it could be worse. At least he still has his skin.
You reach out with your poking stick and give the door a push. There's a flash of magic, which does nothing to the stick, and the door creaks open.
You're not ready to rush in just yet. You let the door swing all the way open and then reach into your bag for a mirror. Daring stands ready, in case something comes through the opening.
The problem with mirrors in ancient temples is that no matter how you position the light, there's always dark spots, so you can't get a perfect view of the corridor. However, what you can see is completely monster free.
“After you,” you say dryly, stuffing the mirror back in your pack.
•••
One rule about proceeding through an ancient temple that's probably cursed while being pursued by a rival gang of archaeologists is that you always close doors behind you. That way they can't be sure you went that way, and depending on the trap, there's the possibility that they might also trigger it, slowing them further.
Such seems to be the case here. You've made it past three trip wires, a rolling boulder trap, and one pit before you hear an anguished scream that's cut off abruptly from about where you'd figure that the cursed doors were.
“How many henchmen do you think Dr. Caballeron has?”
“Henchmen?”
“Henchponies.”
“Lots.”
“If he were smart,” you say, wedging your knife very carefully into a trigger stone, “he'd stay up there in his blimp. He'd have his ponies guarding every corner of this cursed temple, ready for us to come out with the Orrery, and then he'd shoot us full of lots of holes and take it.”
“I won't suggest that to him if you don't.” Daring sets her hoof gingerly on the stone you've got wedged, then gives you a small nod—it's safe to proceed.
She waits until you've reached the end of the corridor before pulling the knife back out and flying over the trap.
•••
Just when you were starting to feel cocky, it finally happens. A good temple designer knows to vary trap mechanisms, and this one caught you completely by surprise. There was a tripwire—a little too obvious, in hindsight—but further on there was also a pressure plate.
That was on a delay, just long enough for you to realize that you'd tripped it, and to jump back and duck . . . before the floor fell out from under you.
Daring's got cat-like reflexes, and fortunately isn't particularly hindered when the floor's lacking. She gets the collar of your shirt and while that's hardly comfortable, it's infinitely more pleasant than winding up in the slavering jaws eagerly waiting below.
“Oof, you’re a lot heavier than you look,” Daring observes after setting you safely on the ground.
“That’s something you’re not ever supposed to tell a lady,” you say primly. “It’s all muscle, anyway. Wish those crocodiles had known that I’m tough and stringy.”
“Alligators,” Daring says. “Those are alligators.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Alligators have broader snouts, more like a U-shape, while crocodiles have a V-shaped snout.”
“Does that make any difference in how fast they can eat me?”
“Not really.” Daring looks over the edge and sniffs the air. “Crocodiles prefer salt water and alligators prefer fresh, though. That's a useful thing to know; if alligators are living in it, you can probably drink it.”
“I'll keep that in mind in case my canteen runs out.” Once you close the doorway at the end of the hall, the alligator pit closes back up, ready to trap the next unwary victim. Somebody was thinking ahead when they built this temple.
Hopefully one or more of Dr. Callebron's ponies falls victim to the trap.
•••
You're getting close to the center of the temple now. That's obvious by the fact that the traps are getting progressively nastier. You wind up going sprawling when you're hit by a swingarm that's at just about the right height to fatally injure a pony, and Daring just escapes a crushing wall trap, leaving a few tail hairs trapped between the iron plates.
The two of you have started to move more slowly and cautiously, and make every attempt to activate the trap remotely before stepping into the room. You're not as worried about Dr. Caballeron and his henchponies at this point; they're unlikely to be able to proceed any more quickly than you.
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Booby trap
That's the first thing I think of when I read that.
Wasn't it the British Museum who sent the team?
8895321
The Bitish Museum.
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Ah!
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I actually considered giving the chapter a different title, since I wanted to be classy and not make too many boob jokes.
Speaking of which, here's a picture of boobies!
static01.nyt.com/images/2017/03/07/science/07sci-boobies-social/07sci-boobies-social-facebookJumbo.jpg
Ohh. Very sneaky
Gotta admire the kind of architecture that manages to create a spot down there that has remained attractive for alligators to hang around for thousands of years. They must've studied them beasties for decades to figure that out
"Y'know. After you survive the fall and fend off about a dozen alligators."
Remarks and Corrections:
> You've made it all the way into an antichamber before you hear banging off in the distance.
That's "antechamber".
Given the chapter title and the multiple references to our main characters bra in the first few chapters I thought it might play a part in disarming one of the traps.
8896630
The best trapsmiths know to vary the mechanisms and timing of traps to catch the most people.
There's actually the warning in one of the army's boobytrapping manuals about traps that set off a small device to attract curious onlookers, at which point the larger device goes off.
I think it was Whip and Wing that had several sections devoted to the trap maintenance ponies who worked inside the temple. Probably feeding alligators would be one of their duties.
Well, yeah. But that's a minor detail.
What if it's made out of antimatter?
Correction made, thank you!
8896939
What, tie the bra to a lever or something and then go commando through the rest of the temple? (Well, I guess it would be half commando.)
Actually, thinking of that you can sometimes calm down IRL panicking horses by putting a bra over their eyes. "Take deep breaths, Daring. Wear this."
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I never actually got around to reading that
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