Daring Do and the Hand of Doom

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 8: The Ancients

Rainbow Dash awoke with a groan. A second groan quickly followed when she realized that she was lying in the dark. It was still night time. She looked at a clock on the wall, its crystal hands vaguely luminescent form internal light. Although the numbers were written in Crystallic, Rainbow Dash hissed when she realized it was still one in the morning. She had only been asleep for two hours.

She rolled to her side, slowly sliding off the crystal bed. The book she had been reading while she fell asleep fell off her chest- -a now quite familiar copy of “Wooing Pegasi” by one Wing Brusher. Rainbow Dash groaned a third time, finding that her entire body was stiff and painful. It was no wonder: the bed she was lying on, though covered in soft blankets, was made of crystal, just like everything else in the Crystal Empire.

The hard bed had most likely been the cause of her early awakening, as well as the strange dreams she had been having. They had not been prophetic at all- -or at least so she hoped- -as they had actually involved an uncharacteristically sweaty Rarity in a number of characteristically Rarity poses, many involving her pressed up hard against Rainbow Dash’s powerful wings.

Rainbow Dash sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, waiting for her stiff wings to become pliable enough for her to press them back down against her back. They usually did that when she woke up, as they did for most Pegasi, but not at night. She supposed it meant that she was supposed to get up, even if only for a snack. She just hoped that the food in the Crystal Empire was not also made out of crystals as the beds and houses were.

When her wings were no longer fully erect, Rainbow Dash stood up and walked through the halls of the crystal house. It was spacious and indeed rather spectacular, if mildly Spartan. It was also quite a distance from the city proper; in fact, it was far closer to the wintry perimeter of the city than the nearest structure, which only then was an ornate gate staffed by a pair of bored-looking guards. Rainbow Dash had initially thought that this was strange- -she had rather hoped that she would be staying in the castle, even if only so that she could play with Flurry Heart- -but Daring Do had been quite pleased with a house distant from any pony habitation. She had, in fact, requested it.

The inside of the minor tower was dark, and Rainbow Dash felt herself increasingly becoming nervous as she walked through it. She could not help but see dark ponies moving in the shadows, only to disappear when she turned her eyes toward them. Whether or not Daring Do or Sunburst believed her that there had in fact been a black pony in the library was still unclear; Sunburst seemed to have dismissed it quickly, but the whole event had caused Daring Do to become increasingly quiet and increasingly willing to retire to her temporary accommodations to go over her notes in private.

In fact, as Rainbow Dash stopped before one particular door, she saw that Daring Do’s endeavor was in fact ongoing. A light was pouring from beneath the door. Rainbow Dash sighed. Despite it being one in the morning, Daring Do was still awake.

Gently, Rainbow Dash knocked on the door. There was no response, so she opened it. Inside she found Daring Do sitting at a desk that was large enough to be considered an outright table. Several crystal lamps had been set up around the room, lighting it primarily from sconces placed amongst decorative bookshelves filled with generic reference texts. The desk itself had a secondary lamp placed on it, as well as several pages of notes, a few textbooks, and Daring Do’s rubbings from her manila folder. She stood staring at them so intently she barely noticed Rainbow Dash enter, and she seemed tired and weary.

“You’re still awake,” said Rainbow Dash.

“If I have time to sleep, then I have time to work,” muttered Daring Do. She leaned back in her chair and stared at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash immediately realized that she had been mistaken: although dark bags had formed under Daring Do’s eyes, her violet irises flashed with resolve. “So,” she said. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly used to sleeping on crystal.” Rainbow Dash rubbed the aching small of her back. “I, you know, normally sleep on clouds. Really, really soft clouds. Which isn’t to say I haven’t slept on rocks before, I mean, who hasn’t? But clouds would be SO much softer right now.” Rainbow Dash winced, realizing that she was babbling. “But you should really be sleeping.”

“I can’t. Not now.”

“Bad dreams?”

Daring Do’s eyes shot upward toward Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash actually took a step back, not realizing how or why she had touched a nerve.

“You could say that,” said Daring Do at last. “But more importantly, I’m finally making progress on this.”

“Really?” Rainbow Dash pulled up a stool and looked at the mess of papers on the table. She could understand absolutely none of it, but tried her best not to let Daring Do know that.

Daring Do nodded and looked down at her notes. “It’s not easy,” she admitted. “The language doesn’t really translate in a traditional sense. We don’t really have a cultural context for how it works. Add to that that this is mostly ideograms, and that looking at a rubbing of a secondary carving omits a great deal of detail…”

“It’s that hard? Even for you?”

Daring Do’s eyes flashed again. “Ancient linguistics isn’t exactly my thing. At least not in an academic sense. But I do have experience.” She pointed at a page of her open notebook. It was covered in strange hieroglyphics. “This is a language I saw in Gaskintina. While I was investigating disappearances that I later linked to an underground cult worshiping deities worshiping what they called ‘The Hum of Engines’.”

“Yeah, I know. ‘Daring Do and the Caverns of No Return’. I read it six times. Last month.”

Daring Do frowned. “Oh. Well, then, I can spare you the details. But down there in their temples, I took note of their language- -”

“- -so that you could read their prophecy and trick them into thinking you were the incarnation of She Who Rises from the Depths!” cried Rainbow Dash, excitedly.

“…well, yes. But their language has remarkable grammatical similarity to Exmoori. I don’t know why; Gaskintina is on the other side of the world from Hyperbooria. Although…” She paused. “Comparing the ideograms? I’d bed my tail that those carvings were referencing the Exmoori. I didn’t realize it at the time, but…here. Look.”

Daring Do pushed several large sheets to Rainbow Dash. She pointed at part of the rubbing, specifically at a squares spiral-like symbol surrounded by what appeared to Rainbow Dash to be a fuzzy sawblade. “Do you see these?”

“Yeah. What are they?”

“These idiograms generally represent the Exmoori.” She flipped over her notes from taken Al’Hrabnaz’s writings. “The older carvings by the Depth Cult had the same images, although without the halo partition that Al’Hrabnaz suggests is a naming cartouche.”

“I know exactly what you are talking about.”

Daring Do did not seem to believe Rainbow Dash, but continued anyway. “See, if those are Exmoori, then this is a kind of…I don’t know what the word for it would be. Description of race.”

Daring do pointed at one particular segment of the rubbing that showed a highly ornate Exmoori symbol surrounded by four others, one of which had a line rising from it and crossing to another sheet. The line linked two similar shapes, both of which resembled a shield of symmetrical spirals constructed from swooping curves. The second one, however, was larger and incorporated an alchemical symbol; it was also surrounded by text and covered in slight modifications.

“What is all this?”

“I think this one represents unicorns,” said Daring Do, pointing at something that resembled a tetrahedral sword. “And this one is Pegasi,” she said, pointing at the spiral-shield.

“Then what is this?” asked Rainbow Dash, gesturing toward the one at the end of the lines. “A specific pony or what?”

“I don’t know. Probably not, though. The fundamental shape is compromised, so I think it’s meant to be something different. But whatever it is, it gets mentioned repeatedly throughout the fresco. The Exmoori apparently took a great interest in it. And apparently wanted to warn ponies about it.”

“But wait…” Rainbow Dash counted again. “So, there’s only four types of pony. Pegasi, earth-ponies, unicorns and thestrals. Plus Exmoori, that makes five. But there’s six there. So…” She pointed at one. “Is that alicorns?”

“No,” said Daring Do, her voice darkening. She flipped several pages. “I think this is.”

Daring Do stared at the page, and realized that Daring Do was probably correct. The image represented was a pair: two shapes, one large and one small, consisting of complex circles bearing one swooping curved appendage and a long vicious blade. They were further decorated with harsh projections like thorns or fangs, as well as shapes that looked distinctly like semi-realistic pony skulls. What sealed it, though, was that the larger of the two was decorated with Celestia’s cutie mark, while the smaller bore Luna’s, although with an added element that Rainbow Dash thought looked like an eye with a vertical slit-pupil.

“There’s only two.”

“Cadence was born about one thousand years ago,” noted Daring Do. “And Twilight Sparkle only became an alicorn four years ago. So it’s just the main two.”

“Mane two more like it.” Rainbow Dash paused. “Wait. Cadence is a thousand years old? Does Shining Armor know?”

“Probably. Some stallions like older mares. A lot of the times it has to do with ‘mommy issues’. Believe me, I would know.”

“Why? You’re not that old.”

“I’m a lot older than I look,” sighed Daring Do, well aware of the fact that her mane was rapidly graying. She flipped through the notes again. “Moving on. The Exmoori apparently hated Celestia and Luna deeply. Which isn’t uncommon for a lot of ancient races. But in this case, they seem to mention an outright war.”

“I’ve never heard about it. But then again I didn’t exactly, you know, get past the third grade. You know how it is.”

“I know. As soon as you can get your wings over your fuzzy little head they put you in flight school and leave it at that. Then formalized military training or the factories.”

“Really? Most ponies don’t get that, I mean- -” Daring Do raised her wings. Rainbow Dash face-hoofed. “Oh. Of course. Because you’re a Pegasus too.”

“You wouldn’t have heard about this war in school anyway. It’s too far in the past. Ponies have forgotten it…or forced it to be forgotten. From what’s written here, that seems to have been the start of it.”

Rainbow Dash looked up. “So you can read this?”

“A little bit. I’m relying on Al’Hrabnaz here.” She flipped through her notes. “From what I gather, there was a war. Probably; the word doesn’t translate literally. Some kind of cataclysm. And the Exmoori were losing. So they built something that they thought would turn the tides.”

“That thing?” asked Rainbow Dash, pointing to the thing linked to the Pegasi.

“No. That’s part of the system but I don’t know what ninety percent of this is. Only that it was called the Solum Finis. It’s a piece of a much larger system.”

“And that’s the artifact we’re looking for.”

“No. I don’t think it’s an artifact so much as an alchemical process. What we’re looking for is this.”

Daring Do moved several pages away and assembled a few more into a single image. Individually, they appeared not to contain anything but strange lines- -but together, they formed a shape. When Rainbow Dash saw it, she shuddered. Even rendered in the Exmoori’s characteristic stylized form, Rainbow Dash was clearly to see just how closely it resembled the diagram that she- -and only she- -had seen in the missing Al’Hrabnaz book.

“The Hand of Doom,” read Daring Do. “That’s the artifact. What Dulcimer wanted us to find.”

Rainbow Dash shivered. “What the heck is a hand?” she asked, turning away from the image.

“It’s like a claw, a grasping appendage. Like what your friend Spike has. Although with an additional finger.” She pointed at the end of the Hand. “It’s not an organ ponies usually have.”

“But what is it?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I can’t translate most of this. Both because it’s in Exmoori and because it’s exceedingly complicated. Again, I have no context here and know knowlage of what culture I’m supposed to be looking at. I don’t even know if this is a complicated warning or an instruction manual…or something else.”

“So we’re looking for…a hand?”

“I don’t know. Exmoori tends to be weirdly symbolic. It could be a metaphor.”

“But you don’t think it is.”

Daring Do paused. “No. I have a gut feeling. A gut feeling I don’t like.”

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