Daring Do and the Iron Pyramid

by Unwhole Hole

Chapter 11: The Forgotten Guardians

The strength of the wind was increasing, and the dust had grown thick—dust, and strange fog. Daring could see almost nothing, but Honor did not need to see. He led her onward, and at a quick pace—although not terribly fast for a Pegasus. Daring was not sure if it was an innate slowness to thestral wings, but she doubted it. Although Honor was one of the largest and strongest of the thestrals, he was on the verge of starvation and had lived a lifetime without proper food. His pride simply gave him an impetus to keep pretending that he was strong.

When they landed, the storm had grown increasingly strong, and Daring doubted she could have continued through it. Lightning had begun to flash between clouds of dust, and the sun had started to rise. Through the sand, it looked disturbingly scarlet.

As she descended out of the dust, though, Daring found herself able to see. Although the light was dim, she was shocked by what lay before her.

She had interpreted the crater surrounding the Pyramid as a mountain range. Perhaps it was, or had once been—but as she drew close enough to its top to get a closer view, she realized that it was in fact a system of structures. They were not made out of iron, like the Pyramid, but instead made from bricks carved from black stone drawn from the mountains underneath.

This might have been reasonable, had it not been for the SCALE. They stretched out as far as she could see, structures and towers clinging to the sides of vast columns that Daring Do now realized were almost assuredly artificial. There were turrets and towers larger than the biggest buildings in Canterlot, built at precarious angles onto curving land and into incredible cliffs. At their bases stood the remains of complex irrigation canals at the sides of prodigious sculpted terraced fields.

Except that everything was in an advanced state of decay. Most of the towers had collapsed, and those that had not were on the verge of doing so. No water flowed through the canals, and they had filled up with sand instead. Where there had once been fields, there was now only desert, spilling from areas where the terrace walls had collapsed and never been repaired. There were no crops, and not even sticks. Nothing had been planted in these fields in a long, long time.

Daring and Honor landed, gently putting Dignity on the ground. She had recovered, partially, but was too weak to fly. She had been speaking in her own language, and from Honor’s occasional responses it seemed that she was at least partially coherent.

Two thestrals appeared from the mouth of an immense tower that had long-since collapsed onto its side. One was old, and the other perhaps Daring’s age—although her eyes were milky and nearly silver, a result of severe deficiency.

“Gentleness, Dexterity,” said Honor, now severely out of breath. “She’s hurt. Please...help her.”

The thestrals nodded, with the one possessing working eyes staring at Daring Do for a long moment. She did not appear angry, only terribly afraid as her eyes moved to Daring’s wings.

They took Dignity, carrying her back to the darkness. Behind Daring, Curiosity landed, and badly. She nearly collapsed on contact with the ground, and Honor had to catch her.

“Honor...the sun...”

“I know.” He removed part of his own cloak and draped it around her. “We need to get inside.”

They started moving as quickly as they could toward the half-collapsed entrance to the tower. Neither moved to stop Daring, so she chose to follow.

As she drew nearer, she saw a pony sitting beside the entrance—and not a thestral.

“Cretin? How are you here?!”

“To be honest, I had a partial advantage in speed, at least for the first part. I was ejected with great vigor and possibly an abundance of vim.”

“But that should have broken every bone in your body--”

Cretin held up a hoof. “Alas! I am a Pegasus! Therefore, as a Pegasus, I am a type of chicken. And chickens, as you know, are inherently boneless. I consequently have no bones to break!”

Daring, confused by this, suddenly heard the sound of metal sliding against metal. Honor had drawn his sword, and pointed it at Daring Do.

“I thank you for your assistance. But this is no place for you, outlander.”

Cretin sighed, standing up and slapping the blade of the sword so hard that it nearly fell out of Honor’s grasp. Daring gasped, not sure how he had managed to slap the edge of the sword without even the slightest injury.

“Cretin, don’t you--”

“I’m derped. Also, I’ve had my brain removed. Through my nose. It may or may not have been replaced with tesla coils. Also my insides are by this point largely punch. I’m probably flammable. And even I saw what I saw, probably.”

“What are you saying, old stallion?”

“Time is a funny thing. It does not taste like you would expect. Bitter. Like thyme. And we have neither the thyme nor the time for whatever it is you think you're doing.”

Honor stared at him, his eyes narrowing from the pain of the rising sun. “Fine,” he said. “You will both be brought before Wisdom.”

Daring Do frowned. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Who I like or who I do not like has no bearing on these events. The unspeakable is upon us, and the response is defined within him.”

Daring entered the building and immediately found herself utterly blind. She had forgotten that thestrals lived in near-complete darkness.

Then something snapped, and the room was filled with a disturbing green light. Daring turned her head to see that Cretin had produced a glow stick and snapped it. Not only that, but he had bitten the top off. His lips were glowing bright green.

“Did you...drink part of that?”

Cretin stared down at it. “No?”

Daring sighed. “Do you drink everything?”

“Yes. It keeps the command codes from reactivating. Also...” He held the glow-stick to her. “It tastes like GREEEEEEEN.”

He took another sip.

“Just...don’t drink all of it. I need it to see.”

They moved deeper into the ancient hallways, past piles of collapsed bricks and blocked-off pathways that had once stood beneath extensive archways. There were signs that this was more than a simple brick building, that there had been advanced architecture within—and that all that remains was the barest remnants.

From the shadows, Daring saw thestrals emerge. They came from offshoot hallways, tiny rooms that she supposed were their homes. Many of them were old, and those that were not were sick. Many were blind, and some severely emaciated. Some were shaking, and a few could not even stand at all. All of them were dark, with pale eyes, and watched with fright and distrust as Daring Do walked past them.

“What...what happened here?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Honor. “This is the life we have always lived.”

“But these ponies, these aren’t infections, this is deficiency--”

“Your voice. It grates our ears. Stop talking.”

“You’re just repeating what he already knows,” said Cretin, taking another sip from his glow stick.

Daring ignored him, refusing to accept that Honor could ever force himself to believe his own lies. Instead, she looked to the walls and felt the shadows shifting. The mood of the room had changed. The ponies were still afraid, but of something else. Disturbed, even.

A sound of hoofsteps on the once-polished stone preceded an elderly stallion, flanked by two younger ponies, one with atrophied wings and one desperately thin.

Wisdom stared at Daring Do, his eyes wide. “What have you done?”

“The question is what YOU have done,” snapped Honor, stepping toward Wisdom, who did not retreat a single step even while his companions did. “This sits upon your head, Wisdom, because you sacrificed the old ways for gifts from these outlanders. Six thousand years of an unbroken line, and in a single day, all of it lost--”

“What did you see?”

“Something came out of the Pyramid, heading north--”

“WHAT DID YOU SEE?!”

Honor jumped back, either surprised by the sudden shrill tone of Wisdom’s voice or the desperate fear on his face, his eyes darting wildly as he reached to grab Honor’s foreleg.

“It looked like a pony,” said Daring Do, stepping forward and causing Wisdom’s companions to recoil. “But taller. Wider, heavier I guess. Gray coat, black tail, and a metal mask down to the shoulders. It looked like...” Daring paused. “Like an animal face.”

Wisdom took a step back, and then, shaking, fell to the floor.

“Grandfather!” cried Curiosity, running to his side.

He reached out to her, but rather than letting her help him up he just held her. A sniffling sound escaped him, and although she could not see it in the dim light, Daring realized that he was crying.

“I had thought...I had thought after all this time, it would have lost potency. Grown irrelevant. Quiet. I should have known, I should have known...they cannot fade...they only sleep..."

“What was it?” demanded Honor.

“You don’t know?”

Honor turned his head sharply to Daring Do, glaring at her. “Only the Avatar of Wisdom needs to know. I only uphold tradition, as he ought to as well. Such is our purpose.”

“Curiosity,” whispered Wisdom, softly. “Help me stand.”

Curiosity, herself tiny and weak, helped him rise. Daring Do moved to help as well, but Honor pushed her back.

When Wisdom had stood, he took a deep breath and looked up at them. In the eerie green light, his eyes looked ghostly and empty—and yet full of terrible resolve.

“Then the time has come. We have become the Vanguard.”

Murmurs moved through the crowd. Murmurs and quiet weeping.

Even Honor seemed both disturbed and surprised by this. “That—that has never—”

“You need to come with me.” He turned his ghostly eyes to Daring and Cretin. “All of you. For we are but the Vanguard of this war. In time, all of Equestria will be called to stand against the Dark Pharaohs if we do not succeed here and now.” He turned around and began walking quickly. “Hurry. Time grows short.”

They proceeded into the depths beneath the towers, into the catacombs beneath where the great blocks to build the world above had been quarried. These empty and square tunnels showed no signs of abandonment, because there was nothing of worth left there to fade over time. They in fact rather looked like they made up the majority of habitation of the thestrals—or once had, more recently than their ancient city had collapsed around them.

“We are wasting time,” said Honor, looking over his shoulder at the darkness behind him. “It engaged an accursed spell to teleport. We have no idea where it could be!”

“Teleportation spells don’t have a very long range,” said Daring Do. “Especially without a line of sight. It didn’t go far. And I think we all know it was going north.” She looked to Honor. He looked back at her, and though his stoicism she perceived a great deal of fear. “My sister is taking up a position at your oasis. She is going to try to stop it.”

"Can she?"

"I don't know. I think she can slow it down, though."

“Tell me, child,” asked Wisdom, still not turning around but keeping a brisk pace. “Which mask did this one wear?”

Daring inhaled sharply. He knew of the masks—even though their wearers had been sealed away for millennia.

“It wore the mask of a sha.”

Wisdom slowed, and nearly seemed on the verge of collapse. He turned his head slowly to Daring. “Then the creature you witnessed is named Seht, the King of the Red Desert, Lord of the Tempest. I am afraid there is very little hope for your sister, then.”

“You don’t know her.”

“The very best she could do is indeed to slow him down, if she is willing to sacrifice her very life.”

Daring stiffened. “Like I said. You don’t know her.”

“I know her kind well enough. Many have sought its power, but none could attain it. It existed long before those like her, the unicorns. It is our greatest fear that it will exist after them as well.”

“And what,” snapped Honor, “exactly is it?”

Wisdom stopped before a great door. One not exactly made out of stone. His two attendants, the others that served close to his capacity, pushed it open. Wisdom stepped through the threshold, but Honor paused.

“What’s wrong?” asked Daring.

“This place,” he said, slowly. “I have never been here.”

“The city is vast. Most of us, even I, have not set hoof in the majority of it. Not now, and not ever.”

Curiosity, who had managed to follow them, stared wide-eyed and nearly dove through the gap. Daring understood the feeling. Although she was afraid for her sister and aware of the danger—at least partially—the sense of age and ancientness called to her. The thought of answers to such ancient mysteries beyond the door. And, as such, she followed Curiosity.

They suddenly found themselves in a wide cave, one that might very well not have been the product of mining. Although it was large, columns had been cut into it, as well as highly angular archways. The effect was that of a grand, subterranean hall.

Wisdom grabbed Cretin, his body now slathered with glowing fluid, and pulled him close to one of the walls. The dim green light revealed an enormous and exquisite fresco carved in a type of stone that most certainly was not native to the mountain.

Daring stared at it. It was not in an art style she had never seen, not even in any book or in her father’s collection. She understood that it contained ponies, however.

It was an image of the pyramid. At its very top stood a ring of figures, each with a detailed mask in the forms of various animals. The one with the sha mask stood at their center. Below them at at distance, past a vast portion of blank space, stood figures of ponies with bat wings dressed in strange armor, raising spears toward the beings at the top of the pyramid. Behind them was a representation of a city, perhaps, or an intricately abstract representation of one. It too featured ponies, carved in many different positions and doing many different tasks. They appeared to be earth ponies, although they were striped like zebras from the shoulders up.

“These,” said Wisdom, pointing at the masked figures. “These were what the Pyramid was intended to contain.”

“What are they?”

“The Dark Pharaohs. In the distant past, in our most ancient stories, in the time before the Sun and Moon, they ruled this land. Their power was unfathomable, and their reach limitless. They were unforgiving, brutal masters who enslaved this land and the ponies within it.” He pointed at the bat-winged figures. “But our ancestors rose up against them. Through great battles and unfathomable losses, they contained them within the Black Pyramid. Sealed, eternally.”

“Until you let them out,” hissed Honor. Whether he was addressing Daring Do or Wisdom was unclear.

“I had thought their power might have grown weak,” sighed Wisdom. “Or that, were they found, the unicorns could find a way to contain them. So that we might leave this wretched place.”

“Leave?” Honor stepped forward, shoving Cretin closer to the image. “LEAVE? For six thousand years, we have guarded the Pyramid to prevent their return! You would sacrifice that history, that heritage?”

“A heritage that is destroying us,” said Wisdom, softly. He turned to Daring Do. “They are immortal creatures. Gods. Dark versions of the false-god you worship, Ra.”

Daring Do leaned in close to the carved image. Squinting, she put her hoof against the clear area of it, finding that the stone was not as smooth as the rest of the negative space.

“Why is this part scratched?”

“It has been cleaned,” snapped Honor, swatting her hoof away. “Obviously. This is a critical part of our culture, our very being. Stop touching it.”

“The one that now walks the land is Seht.” Wisdom pointed at the image in the sha helmet. “He was their king, their master, the Possessor of the Eye.”

“What eye?”

“We do not know. That information is lost to us. But know this, young Pegasus, that he is the worst of them all. The strongest among them.” He looked to Honor. “This is why he heads north. To the Equestrian city where the ponies are strong. Then he will devour their life force to restore his strength.”

Curiosity gasped. “That’s what he did to Dignity!”

“Only partly. It will be much worse once he reaches a populated area.”

Daring Do frowned “But that doesn’t make any sense. He’s already regenerated. I saw him, he was just a skeleton when we found him and he came out of the Pyramid a whole pony—and he didn’t eat anyone’s life force to do it.”

“What you see is not his true form. It is a representation, a fraction of his true power, surely. Once he obtains the life energy he needs, he will fully manifest--and he will return to resurrect his brethren.”

“And then what?” squeaked Curiosity.

Wisdom stared at the carvings. “They will return, and the Dark Empire along with them.”

“Then we must act now.” Honor faced Wisdom. “Right now, there is still only one, and he is weak. If we can stop him from reaching the city, then we still have a chance.”

“Can you even do that?” asked Daring.

Wisdom sighed. “It took all the strength of our ancient legions to defeat them last time, but...” He paused. “What you say may be true. According to the Tales, they draw their magic from the Pyramid, or something within the Pyramid. As he moves further from it, his power wanes.”

“We need to get word to Equestria,” said Daring Do. “There isn’t a garrison at that town, but further north there’s a port--”

“There isn’t time,” snapped Honor.

“So, what? You want to fight it with ten half-starved thestrals with whips?”

“We will stand firm,” said Honor, “as our ancestors once did.”

“To accomplish what, exactly? If Wun can’t stop it, do you think you can?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re insane!”

“There is a way,” said Wisdom. He turned and started walking to the far end of the room. Daring followed.

At the far end stood an altar of some kind, carved from black stone and decorated with all manner of strange things, most of which were chipped and decayed, having been left far too long and forgotten. Behind it, though, was something that Daring Do immediately recognized.

She stopped. She could not read the writing inscribed into its surface, but had come to know the language—and most certainly recognized the material. She found herself facing a massive iron door, circular in shape, with a complex set of spells interwoven with mechanisms surrounding it, spreading outward the walls of what appeared to be a vast rectangular iron box.

“What is that?” asked Daring, for some reason so very disturbed by its presence.

“I’d ask the same,” said Honor, for once agreeing with her.

“This is our failsafe. For the time of the Vanguard, when we will be the first to fall against the Empire that Equestria must defeat. The mechanism by which we fulfill our purpose.” He began to unwind the bandages from his front hoof, and even in the dim light Daring Do could see the marks of two extensive scars running from his hoof to elbow.

“What—what is that?”

“Every Wisdom must open the lock once. It is my greatest shame that I must be the first to do so twice.” He sighed, and looked to Honor, tears in his eyes. “I am so sorry. You were right. I should have listened. I have doomed us all.”

“If we are doomed, let it be serving our purpose.”

Wisdom shook his head but said nothing. He took flight toward the center of the great door, where there was a hole. He took a breath and put his hoof deep into it, engaging the mechanism inside.

He cried out as the machine engaged around him, its mechanical parts reacting to his presence with a mechanical clunk. He did his best to remain composed, even as the channels surrounding the central aperture began to fill with a luminescent red fluid. As it moved through them, the mechanisms began to activate in earnest, the runes aligning themselves around mechanical aspects as disk after disk began to revolve, their delicate innards pulling apart and activating further components.

The gate began to change, retracting somehow to within itself, the inner rings drawing outward and collapsing apart as the door seemed almost to dissolve. It released Wisdom, and he fell to the ground, holding his leg.

“Grandfather?” asked Curiosity, rushing to his side.

“It is done. Perhaps I will be the last to open this gate. I hope I am, but at once hope I am not.”

He limped forward, into the darkness beyond. Daring Do did as well, her nostrils immediately assaulted by the scent of metal and something that made her eyes burn. Of air that had not escaped that place since Wisdom had been a colt barely Curiosity’s age.

As Wisdom entered, deep red light suddenly appeared. Daring Do, her eyes not adjusted, jumped back, but the thestrals did not seem to notice. Their pupils simply narrowed to thin vertical slits.

Daring do looked up, shielding her eyes with her hoof, to find that a number of crystal lamps embedded in the iron ceiling had been activated. They revealed an enormous room, its floor lined with metal tile and its walls with shelves. Shelves that contained seemingly hundreds of suits of strange black armor, held aloft on racks after rack after rack. Beside them sat weapons—weapons unlike any Daring had ever seen. They were things which did not have names in any pony language. Things that looked almost like griffon blunderbusses, but made of black and silver metal and housing peculiar luminescent crystals.

Honor stared wide-eyed. “What...why?”

“These are the remnants of the weapons that our ancestors used to drive them back. Things that they cannot destroy, and armor that will shield our bodies from the sun and make us immune to their magic.”

Daring Do looked at the armor. It was black—and made of the same metal that the Pyramid was forged of—but clearly sized for a thestral, the wings included.

“But that doesn’t make any sense...”

“It does not need to. Curiosity!”

“Yes, Honor?”

“Find Persistence. Help him saddle the spiders. There is no time to waste!”

“I will get my plane!” said Cretin, suddenly having realized that he was actually present.

“For all the good crashing it into the desert will do--”

It was too late, though. Cretin had managed to escape the room, along with Curiosity, leaving behind only a trail of glowing goo and a foul odor. Only Honor, Wisdom and Daring Do remained. Honor immediately approached one of the suits of armor and removed it from its place, preparing to don it.

“How soldiers do you have?” asked Daring Do.

“Far less than there are suits of armor. But enough.”

“We can only hope,” sighed Wisdom. He faced Daring. “As we can hope that your sister can slow it. Or, at the very least, survive the encounter.”

Daring wished she could smile. “You don’t know her,” she said. “I don’t think you understand how far she’s willing to go.”

“A noble thing, I think.”

“No,” said Daring. “Not to save anypony. To claim what she believes she owns.”