Case Twenty-Two, Chapter Six: Stories to Tell
Hoofsteps stomped onto the deck, coming closer; the clacks of weapon bolts sounded in her ears. “¿Listos?” Caballeron’s voice came from outside.
Seconds. Daring quickly spooned some stew from her bowl back into the serving bowl, then laid her head down on the table and forced herself to relax, closing her eyes despite her better instincts. One hoof drifted down to the stockwhip at her belt, resting next to the handle.
The door crashed open. Metal clattered as gun barrels were swept across the room. Daring wrestled with her thumping heart to keep her breathing steady, her body still.
“Look at that,” a gravelly voice with a tinge of a Las Pegasus accent around the corners said. “All four of ‘em, sound asleep.”
“You did well, captain,” Caballeron’s oozing voice came, accompanied by hoofsteps entering the room.
The scent of Kahlua scratched at Daring’s nostrils as the mercenary archaeologist stepped forward. Metal skittered as he retrieved the Alicorn Amulet.
“And so, we see that there is nothing that the great Daring Do can find that I cannot take away,” he declared, the smug smirk on his face audible as he extracted the amulet from the bag.
Daring kept herself still, listening to the shuffling hoofsteps and quiet breathing of the five thugs. Not yet…
Caballeron let out a thoughtful hum. “Shame about the gem. We’ll have to keep looking for that,” he mused.
“Does it really matter?” another voice snorted. “So it’s missing a stone, we still got the amulet.”
“The gem is absolutely necessary,” Biff’s voice cut in. “Without a focus like that, the energy in the amulet will be impossible to direct and control.”
“No matter,” Caballeron declared; the chain of the amulet rattled faintly as though he were donning it around his own neck. “It may take a little longer than anticipated, but we’ll still find it all the same. Just need to keep searching the village.”
“What about them?” a Trottish-accented voice snarled. “You know what the boss wants with them.”
The leather of his holster thumped as he pushed his sidearm into it, then the long snnnkt of a blade being drawn scraped against Daring’s ears and her heart dropped into her stomach. Her hoof inched towards the leather handle of her stockwhip.
“Hold, Rogue,” Caballeron ordered. “Our client has stated that he would like them dead, but if we have the opportunity, we can try to bring them in alive. And I would call this an opportunity.”
“You do remember what happened the last time we tried that,” Rogue snarled. Heavy hoofsteps creaked against the floor as the heavy stallion trotted over to where Daring knew that Phil was laying. “No, I say we finish it right--”
Fire rushed through Daring’s blood and she rose, drawing her whip back with a snarl. Caballeron and his thugs turned, eyes bulging and jaws dropping in disbelief as Daring snapped her whip down. The crack of the whip mixed with Rogue’s bellow of pain as the knife was knocked from his grasp.
“You bitch!” Rogue snarled, leaping at Daring before she could draw her sidearm.
She caught him and twisted with a grunt of effort and a push of her wings, barreling into Caballeron, Withers, and Biff. All four of her targets scattered like bowling pins with grunts and oaths of frustration, tumbling in her wake.
Another flap of her wings sent Daring flipping through the air, landing at the entrance to the galley where Coral stood, his beak still hanging open.
It was like an open invitation. Daring’s hoof cracked against his beak in midair, sending the traitorous captain flying back into the rail of his ship, clutching his face and howling in agony.
Even before her leg retracted, Daring was flicking her left wrist out. Her boomerang whistled as it cut through the air, ricocheting off of Biff’s forehead to knock into Withers’ foreleg, knocking his pistol wide.
Daring Do slid her left hoof into the strap of the revolver resting in her shoulder holster and snapped it up at her foes, allowing her boomerang to spin past her and clatter against the wall behind her. “None of you move!”
Her targets froze, staring at her in furious bewilderment. The blow to Biff’s forehead had knocked his fedora off and it lay on the floor next to his dropped pistol; Withers’ pistol was still strapped securely to his foreleg, but it was pointed at the ground uselessly. Caballeron was still laying on the floor, glaring at her upside-down; the Alicorn Amulet was secured around his neck. Rogue had started to rise to his hooves, but the appearance of Daring’s gun had forced him to halt. The knife in his foreleg, nearly as long as his arm, glimmered threateningly beneath the galley light, as though the steel had caught aflame.
“Guns on the floor, now!” Daring ordered, her weapon sweeping across Withers and Caballeron.
Rogue snarled, but obediently dropped his knife and his pistol on the floor next to Biff's pistol with a clatter.
“Things just had to be going too well,” Withers grumbled, removing his own weapon and dropping it.
“Kick ‘em under the table,” Daring ordered, gesturing with her weapon.
Caballeron obediently kicked the guns beneath the long table with a scowl.
“All right, you four, into the hold,” Daring continued. “You--”
A hoofstep behind her reminded her of Captain Coral too late. The hippogriff slammed into her like a cannonball, expelling the breath from her lungs as she was driven to the ground, rolling with the blow to get herself on top.
“Get her!” Caballeron roared as he and his thugs all pounced upon her in a flurry of snarls and limbs. Daring tucked her limbs in, grimacing as blows hammered against her bones, wriggling away from every attempt to grab her.
“Get off!” Daring roared, ramming her elbow into Coral’s gut, the ribs cracking beneath the blow. The wind whooshed out of his fractured jaw; his grip on her loosened and she quickly wiggled out of the grasp, knocking him out with a final blow to the temple.
Blocking a strike from Biff and replying with a kick to the chest that left him coughing, Daring lashed out with her left. Withers’ nose exploded in a crimson shower and he reeled back, howling as his glasses fell off. “Shit, shit! I can’t see!” Withers grimaced, fumbling about on the ground.
“Hold still!” Caballeron growled, grabbing Daring’s foreleg and ripping the pistol from her grasp, flinging it away with a triumphant snarl. His animalistic grin was quickly erased when Daring’s right hoof crashed into his face; he withdrew with a howl, clutching his bloody face.
“Out of the way!” Rogue snarled, lunging with his knife.
“Shit!” Daring hissed, rolling out of the way almost too late: a shock of cold pain ran down her body as the blade scratched across the layer of dragon scales in her vest.
She thumped against the table where the others sat, the bowl of stew rattling with her blow. Her heart thumping frantically, Daring scrambled back to her hooves and turned just in time to see Caballeron’s knee racing towards her face.
In the heartbeat before the blow came, Daring had just enough time to grit her teeth, lower her head, and lean into the strike. It still felt like being struck on the forehead with a sledgehammer; her skull cracked against Autumn’s chair, her vision whiting out as pain flooded her cranium; her pith helmet fell from her head to the floor next to her.
Shaking her head, Daring willed her vision to return to her, the world reappearing in a blur of color. The vague green and brown shape that she took for Caballeron was lunging in for a second strike and she replied with a firm kick to the gut that sent him stumbling back with a wheeze. Grabbing the table, she started to haul herself back to her hooves.
Rogue’s hoofsteps crashed in like miniature earthquakes; her vision cleared enough to catch the horrific grin on his face as he drew back the blade.
In desperation, Daring grabbed the only thing she had at hoof and raised it in the path of the incoming knife. The knife thumped loudly as it embedded itself in her pith helmet.
“Back off!” Daring snarled, twisting to bring the blade down onto the table, her elbow crashing into Rogue’s jaw with the same motion. He reeled away with a grunt, spitting blood and letting go of his weapon.
Snkkt.
Daring gasped as the second blade came down towards her face, Rogue’s bloody grin behind it. On reflex alone, Daring reached up to parry the attack.
Blade met flesh and blood flew with a cry of pain.
“Yeow!” Autumn Blaze yelped, the pain of the stab to her arm jolting her awake. She blinked at the brawl taking place before her, confusion and shock mixing with the sleepiness in her eyes.
Rogue’s free hoof bashed Daring on the head and she stumbled away with a wave of renewed dizziness, the ship seemingly tilting beneath her like a carnival ride.
Iron hooves wrapped around her chest with a python-like grip. “Gotcha!” Biff shouted, squeezing so tight that Daring felt her ribs cracking.
“Hold her still!” Rogue growled, closing in. He raised his weapon triumphantly and stabbed at Daring's neck.
The blade was stopped in midair by a hoof.
A coal-black hoof wreathed in red and blue flames.
Rogue froze, eyes widening in disbelief at the fiery monster before him. The hate-filled pure white eyes locked onto his as the blood of her knife wound boiled off her flesh. A metallic hissing filled the air, accompanied by acrid smoke. He turned and a choked noise of disbelief escaped his throat when he saw that the knife blade was melting in the nirik’s hoof.
Autumn Blaze’s scowl turned into a predatory sneer, accompanied by a rumbling growl.
“Ach, shite,” Rogue gulped.
A moment later, the hulking thug was flying back through the air, howling as enchanted flames licked at his coat.
“Fuck me!” Biff cried, letting go of Daring in shock and promptly paying for his mistake when she kicked him in the gut and sent him rolling back into a counter; the pots and pans rattled as he quickly pulled himself back to his hooves.
Daring lunged at him, but he managed to grab a pan from the counter, smacking her hooves aside and whacking her in the nose. Pain flooded Daring’s face, warm blood filling the nostrils of her broken nose as she roared in pain, blindly swinging at Biff and forcing him to retreat.
“Out, out!” Caballeron ordered from the door, already making good on his escape, drops of blood marking his retreat. Biff and Rogue followed him out, yelping in terror, the latter slapping at the last few flames that danced about his scorched body.
“Get back here!” Autumn roared as she and Daring gave chase.
Withers, who had recovered his sunglasses, seized a fire extinguisher next to the door, yanked out the pin, and sprayed it at his pursuers. Both mares halted, coughing and sputtering as cold foam coated them both.
“Gack! Ptoo! Fuck!” Daring gagged as the chemical taste invaded her mouth and burned at her eyes.
Autumn bellowed, her flames burning with greater intensity in response to her rage, evaporating all the foam coating her. Withers yelped and threw the extinguisher at her, not even pausing to watch his desperate gambit completely miss.
The speedboat that they had used to board their target vessel was bobbing in the water next to the yacht, the engine already chugging in readiness. Biff and Rogue had already boarded; Caballeron was waiting for Withers, waving him in like a linepony pointing the runner towards home plate.
He felt a gush of hot wind behind him and sped up, but it was too late. Autumn Blaze slammed Withers against the railing as she charged Caballeron.
“Gimme that!” she snarled, biting down on the Alicorn Amulet and trying to pry it away from him.
“Let go!” Caballeron replied, tugging back. The amulet hissed and began to smoke faintly, the metal warped by the enchanted fire.
The sound of hoofsteps behind her made Autumn turn just in time to see Withers charging at her, swinging a life preserver like a flail.
The heavy blow knocked her against the railing. As one, Withers and Caballeron grabbed the dazed Autumn and shoved her over the railing, sending her into the water with a cry of alarm and a splash.
Spitting and wiping foam from her eyes, Daring stumbled out of the galley just in time to see the rest of the thugs leaping into the speedboat, cutting the ropes securing it to the yacht, and speeding away with a roar.
But before she spread her wings, she heard splashing from overboard. “Help! Help!” Autumn Blaze cried between coughs and sputters, flailing in the water.
Daring looked around and spotted the dropped life preserver. She grabbed it in her mouth and tossed it over the side. “Autumn, here!”
Autumn paddled over and clung to the preserver, panting; even with the aid of the preserver, she was still struggling to hold her head above water, exhaustion and the drug sapping her strength.
Daring glanced at the sight of the enemy boat retreating into the darkness with a scowl, but her wings didn’t so much as twitch. She grabbed the rope and hauled Autumn over to the boat and up over the side. The soaking wet kirin sagged on top of her, panting and shivering.
“You okay?” Daring asked, checking Autumn over for any additional injuries. There was blood running down her foreleg from the knife wound and from the crack on her skull, but other than that, she appeared to be alright.
“F-f-f-fine,” Autumn said through chattering teeth.
Daring Do glanced up and scowled to see that there was no sign of Caballeron’s boat anywhere. “Dammit,” she sighed.
“Y-you’ll g-g-get ‘em,” Autumn tried to reassure her as Daring led her back into the galley where Phillip and Strider were still asleep in their chairs. She grabbed a towel from the pile of dripping gear and wrapped it around herself like a burrito.
A groan informed Daring that Coral was starting to wake up. Daring stalked over to the traitor and seized him by the throat, hauling him up and slamming him against the counter.
“When did they hire you?” she snarled, fire racing through her veins.
Coral gaped up at her, his eyes wide and terrified. “Th-they approached me four days ago,” he gasped out, shivering. “Th-the blind one and the one in the hat. H-Hired me in advance to take ‘em out to the Celestia once they figured out where it was.”
“And was drugging us part of the deal?” Daring growled.
Coral let out a choked noise that was partway between a gasp and a yelp. “Th-they just told me you might be s-snooping around! L-Last night, I called ‘em and told them you hired me; later that night, they came around in a boat of their own and gave me the s-sleeping potion, said they’d pay me d-d-double! It’s n-nothing p-p-personal!” he pleaded, his voice rising higher and higher.
“You made it personal,” Daring snapped and slammed Coral’s head against the stone countertop hard enough to crack it. The hippogriff sagged to the ground, unconscious once more.
Daring stomped back onto the deck just long enough to grab some rope, which she used to bind the traitorous captain.
“W-what n-n-now?” Autumn asked, clinging to her towel.
“Now we have to get back to land and get to Saddleshire,” Daring said, pulling out her first aid kit and tending to her and Autumn’s injuries. “They did let one thing slip: they weren’t surprised that the gem was missing.”
Autumn’s eyes brightened a bit. “Th-they knew th-that it’d b-b-be missing,” she concluded, her shivering starting to abate.
“Exactly,” Daring nodded, finishing wrapping a gauze roll around Autumn’s foreleg. “And it’s probably back in Maredale Green.”
She glanced at the snoring stallions. “See if you can wake them up,” she said, exiting the galley. “I’m gonna start getting us back to Portsbeak.”
Autumn looked at Phil and Strider, humming in thought, then looked around the room. Her eyes settled on a cooking pot on the countertop, then went to the cold water handle on the sink. “Aha!”
“Iron Forge, you are a hard pony to find,” Red Herring grumbled from behind the wheel of his car, glaring at the quaint blue cottage that sat in the midst of a suburban block in the Everfree District. “Look at this place, Sentry. Way too cute to be a mob boss’ place.”
“Probably why he’s been staying there,” Flash said from the passenger seat.
“Just lucky that somepony saw him,” Red said.
A silver Specter turned the corner from up ahead and pulled into the driveway, the highly waxed body reflecting the glow of the streetlamps. The driver’s door opened and a tall, lanky gold unicorn extracted himself from the seat. He glared at the parked Diplomat, then opened the rear door.
A bulky unicorn with a coat the color of steel emerged from the car and turned towards them. Iron Forge’s ruffled black beard and mane were streaked with gray; his cold blue-gray eyes flashed at them through a pair of thick glasses as he adjusted his thick jacket.
Iron Forge and his bodyguard proceeded to the door of the cottage. The gang leader paused at the threshold and beckoned them with his head before heading inside.
“Well, guess that means he wants to talk,” Red commented, exiting the car, shivering slightly in the biting night wind. He and his partner proceeded to the door, which opened before them. The gold unicorn looked them up and down with a scowl, then stepped aside to allow them entry.
The cottage was fully furnished with comfortable, high-end furniture, but there were no decorations on the wall, no photographs to identify the owners. A living room featured a collection of chintzy couches surrounding a coffee table, with a standing radio in the corner; the combined kitchen and dining room had a long mahogany table where Iron Forge was sitting, straight-backed and his hooves folded on the table as though this were simply a business interview.
“So how’d you find me?” Iron Forge asked, levitating over four mugs and a percolating carafe of coffee from the kitchen. He poured the steaming coffee into the cups, keeping eye contact with Red the entire time.
“Bad luck on your part,” Red said, taking a seat across from him. “Somepony saw your car out on the street and reported it.”
Iron Forge let out a quiet hum and took a sip of his coffee. His bodyguard levitated his cup over to him and took a sip, leaning against the wall across from them. He kept his gaze on Flash, who stood at the kitchen threshold, keeping his eyes on both unicorns.
“I assume you want to talk about poor Steel Bar,” Iron Forge sighed.
“How about you talk us through what happened?” Red nodded, accepting the offered coffee cup.
“Steel Bar summoned me that afternoon, saying that he needed to see me urgently. When I got to his home, he was quite distressed.” Iron was ponderously silent for a moment, then continued. “We…were having a disagreement with a client.”
“This disagreement wouldn’t happen to be regarding the Sealight Delight, would it?” Red asked.
“Detective Herring, please,” Iron Forge stated. “I don’t discuss business with outsiders.” He took another sip before continuing. “When we left two hours later, we finally had agreed to…stay the course for the moment and see where that took us. And I promise you, he was still alive when I left.”
“What did you think you should do about your...problem?” Red stated in a tone that made it very clear that he was not fooled by the metaphor for a moment.
“I thought that it would be better if we moved past a previous…misunderstanding and see what opportunities we could gain from this,” Iron explained. “Steel, however, was considering severing connections with our client. It took a great deal for me to convince him that that would cause us more problems down the line.”
“You two disagree a lot?” Red asked.
Iron Forge’s eyebrows narrowed a bit. “If you’re trying to insinuate that I wanted to kill him, let me assure you, Detective, that Steel and I had mutual respect for each other and we both knew our roles.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Red pressed.
Iron Forge sighed. “Yes, we’d been disagreeing more frequently with each other recently,” he admitted. “About several subjects, including how to run our businesses. And I feel I should admit, I was the one who first approached him to suggest we take this client on.”
“Hmm,” Red mused. “This client…is he dangerous? Was Steel scared of him?”
“Very,” Iron Forge replied. “And honestly, I don’t blame him.”
“Are you scared of him?” Red leaned forward.
A heavy silence stretched out between the stallions, then Iron Forge stood up, his face stony.
“Detectives, I know I can’t prove it, but I did not kill Steel Bar,” he declared. “I did not have anypony else kill him for me. I had no desire to kill him and I do not know who killed him. Now, if you have any further questions, I would suggest that you contact my attorney.” He passed over an embossed business card.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Red replied, taking the business card and taking a final sip of the coffee. “Thank you for the drink. And if I were you, I’d have eyes in the back of my head.”
“I learned to have those years ago,” Iron Forge stated as his bodyguard escorted the two detectives to the door. As the two detectives stepped back out into the night, the door closed and locked behind them.
“What do you think?” Flash asked as they made their way back to the car, crunching through the slush covering the ground.
“Well, he did basically admit that he had a reason to kill Steel,” Red replied. “At this point, we just have his word that he didn’t kill him.”
Flash glanced around at the trees surrounding the cottages, bare branches laid with snow groaning and creaking as they swayed in the slow wind. There were no other vehicles or passersby on the streets and several windows were dark, no sign of any occupancy behind the drawn shutters and windows. The only sound was the creaking of the branches and the constant buzzing of the streetlamps that competed with the starlight overhead.
The fluttering of wings above made his heart leap into his throat. His head snapped up to an overhanging branch. A pair of black eyes stared back at him.
It took Flash a moment to process the peaked head and the small red wings and he sighed in relief.
“It’s just a cardinal,” Red scolded, rolling his eyes. “Come on, we need to speak to Steno Pad again.”
Flash sighed and climbed into the car, closing the door with a little more force than necessary and fastening his seatbelt. As Red started the car and headed down the straight, he glanced at the blue cottage fading into the rearview mirror, as still and dark and silent as its neighbors.
If he’d looked a little closer, he might have seen the large black bird perched atop the streetlight across the street.
The Straight On ‘Til Morning lived up to its name: by the time the sun was halfway over the eastern horizon, painting the sky in vivid reds and oranges, the yacht was pulling into the dock at Portsbeak, engine coughing to a slow stop. Strider hopped off the boat onto the dock and caught the ropes that Autumn tossed him, hauling the boat and securing it to the cleat.
In the pilothouse, Daring pulled the throttle all the way back and turned off the ignition, then sagged against the dashboard with a groan, rubbing her exhausted eyes. “Finally,” she groaned.
Behind her, Phillip Finder sipped from his own heavily sugared coffee but kept the prisoner in the corner of his gaze. Coral looked up from the chair that he was bound to but quickly wilted beneath the icy glare that Phil gave him.
“Well, look who it is,” Daring scowled, glaring at the two ponies coming up the dock. Detective Rule Enforcer at least looked like he was well-rested, judging by the perfectly trimmed mustache. By contrast, Constable Sunwall looked like she was running off of four hours of sleep and a half-gallon of coffee, going by her ruffled feathers and red-rimmed eyes.
“Up,” Phillip snarled, cutting the ropes securing Coral to the chair and seizing him by the back of his neck. Coral whimpered as he was lifted to his hooves and carried down the steps and onto the deck.
The detective watched impassionately as his prisoner was passed over to him. “Five against one and you still lost,” he observed, placing cuffs on the hippogriff. Coral just hung his head in defeat as he was passed off to the constable.
“Any word from Saddleshire?” Phillip asked.
“The two ponies who stole the ship’s log were seen in Saddleshire about a week ago, asking around about local legends,” Constable Sunwall replied. “They were apparently spending a lot of time at a local library, researching local history.”
“Thank you, Constable,” Phillip nodded.
Sunwall flushed a bit with pride, ignoring Rule Enforcer’s scowl. “The local bobbies are starting to narrow down their search area for wherever they were hanging their hats,” she reported. “They’re checking every inn and motel for miles around.”
“Maybe they’ll catch them before we get there,” Strider posited.
“And maybe yaks will grow wings,” Daring snorted, then yawned. “C’mon, we gotta get moving to Saddleshire.”
“Well, love to stay and chat, but we got a train to catch, treasure to hunt down, and bad guys to catch!” Autumn chirped, bouncing off with the others in tow.
“If we could isolate what she runs off and sell it, we’d make millions,” Daring grumbled, leaning against Phillip.
Phillip smiled faintly and hoisted his wife up onto his shoulders. “Sleep,” he ordered her.
His reply was a faint mumble of protest that quickly turned into snoring. Phillip just chuckled and carried her on towards the train station.
Saddleshire demonstrated itself to be the quintessential Griffish village, with gabled rooftops spanning either side of the rolling cobblestone streets coated with slush and snow. A few cars drifted up and down the roads, traveling in the shadows of wood and brick that had stood since long before the flag of Equestria was planted over the nation. Smoke from the chimneys rose up into the late afternoon sky, blending with the low-hanging clouds that were streaked across the sky like broad brush strokes.
“We’ve been looking ever since you called us about the rental car,” the chocolate brown jenny explained, blowing some of the argent mane dangling out from beneath her cap out of her face with an abashed puff. Detective Sergeant Milly Star had agreed to meet them at the small, single-platform train station and was now leading them up one of the main streets. Ponies, donkeys, griffons, and hippogriffs all nodded hello as the group passed.
“I can’t understand how they can hide from us!” the detective groused, brushing some snow from the shoulder of her uniform. “You’d think that it'd be kind of hard to hide in a town of only thirty thousand ponies.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Phillip reassured her. “These are experts. Know all the tricks.”
Milly puffed. “Well, we won’t give up, I promise you that.”
“Good onya,” Phillip nodded.
“Have you checked around Maredale Green?” Strider asked.
Milly Star gasped and jumped so high that her cap fell off and tumbled onto the sidewalk; a few ponies passing by them whirled on him with dirty looks.
“Careful where you mention that place!” Milly hissed, retrieving her cap and brushing it off. “It’s taboo.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “Why would they want to go down there? That place is cursed; the only ponies who go down there are kids on dares or thrillseekers.”
“They’re looking for something there,” Daring replied, stretching out her wings with a satisfying popping and cracking of joints. The few hours of sleep she’d grabbed on the train there had been beneficial.
Milly rolled her eyes. “The Alicorn Amulet?” she asked in a quiet tone. “The Green has been searched dozens of times over the years and nopony has found it. You ask me, the amulet is just a myth.”
“They don’t think it is,” Phillip said. “Where’s the town library?”
“Down this road, left at the fountain, and right at the crabapple orchard,” Milly pointed.
“Thanks,” Daring nodded as they set out.
Saddleshire Library turned out to be a sizable two-story brick building that sat within walking distance of the school. A flagpole stood outside the building, the flags of Equestria and the Griffish Isles listlessly waving in the late afternoon breeze.
The group of four entered, all of them briefly wincing at the harsh clack of their horseshoes on the stone floor intruding upon the peaceful atmosphere within. A sleepy-looking gray-maned thestral blinked up at them from behind the desk; the nametag on the desk identified her as Pressed Daffodil.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Daring Do briefly introduced themselves. “You know about the theft of the ship’s log from Portsbeak?”
Daffodil scowled. “Yes. The police were here asking about the two thieves.” She sighed. “If I had known what they were up to, I would never have helped them.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Daring said. “But if we’re going to stop them, we’re going to need to know what you told them.”
The librarian took a breath and nodded, rising from her chair. “Come with me,” she gestured, moving around the desk and heading up a nearby flight of stairs.
The room that they found themselves in featured long tables with many chairs and reading lamps set in between four shelves of battered and aged books and photo albums, faded titles announcing that the tomes detailed every aspect of the history of Saddleshire and the areas beyond. Framed up on the wall were paintings, maps, and black and white photographs.
“Oh, wow!” Autumn chirped, her attention grabbed by a picture of an incongruous arrangement of granite stones that stood in the midst of a bog. The roughly hewn monoliths stood in a formed circle like soldiers awaiting a command, surrounding a large flat-topped stone. Symbols and cuneiform were etched into the stone.
“Founder's Monoliths. That stone circle has been in Founder’s Bog since before this town was settled in the fourth century,” Pressed Daffodil explained, browsing through the bookshelf. “Nopony’s really sure who made it or why, but the first Alicorns’ Witnesses who settled here used it for their worship until an official church was founded.”
“Why would they use it for themselves?” Autumn asked.
“Because they believed that there was power in those stones. Ah, here it is,” the librarian replied, placing a stack of books on her outstretched wings and carrying them over to a table that the others gathered about. “This is the one that they spent most of their time on,” she said, patting a large photo album. “It’s a collection of photographs from Maredale Green from when it was still active.”
Daring scanned the pages of sepia photographs depicting a lively village. Farmers worked through fields of crops, shop owners posed with their wares, and pedestrians trotted up and down dirt roads flattened by carts and carriages. Almost every citizen in the photos was smiling at the camera.
Daring’s stomach twisted when she considered what was awaiting them.
“Horrible thing that happened,” Daffodil sighed, shaking her head. “There are ponies here who are old enough to remember watching their neighboring town die out and being helpless to do anything. We tried to send food after the crops died, but the plague kept us from sending any true help and it wasn’t until around 1875 that others were able to see what happened.” She closed her eyes for a moment, one hoof rubbing at the rosary necklace about ner neck. “All we have left are the stories.”
“Do you know anything about the legend?” Daring asked as the others all dug into the books. “About the amulet?”
Daffodil shuddered. “Don’t speak of that,” she hissed. “There’s a reason that it fell into legend; most of the ponies of Maredale Green didn’t speak of the amulet. Many ponies searched the ruins for any sign; they all came back empty-hooved, and many suffered bad luck or diseases afterward.” She glanced at them over her glasses. “If you’re going there, I’d make sure your affairs are in order.”
“You should worry more about the thieves,” Daring said grimly.
Daffodil sighed. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Let me know if you need any help.” She hastily exited, leaving the four ponies alone in the reading room.
“So, we should probably get a map or something, if we’re heading out there,” Strider said, perusing through the books. He looked through an atlas and folded it open to reveal a larger map of the area. “Ah, here it is,” he said, tracing a path from Saddleshire up north past Founder’s Bog and to Maredale Green. The entire area was marked with red diagonal slashes with the word “DANGER” printed atop it.
“That’s encouraging,” Autumn observed.
“If nothing else, we might be able to catch Caballeron and his crew if they go back to the Green,” Phillip said. He looked over his own book, a red-bound diary, with a pensive frown. “This page is dog-eared.”
He opened up the diary and paused at the first page. “Dewdrop Sundance,” he read the name aloud and then flipped to the dog-eared page, which he read aloud.
“‘Eleventh of the Moon of Frost, 1872. Mother is failing fast; she alternates between unconsciousness and delirium, ranting and raving and laughing at unseen shadows. Father and the other village leaders all met up last night to discuss what to do. Even getting the gem out didn’t do anything to stop this madness. The cobbler volunteered to take…it to the mainland to seek help from the Princesses. He leaves this morning for Portsbeak. His brother will be keeping the gem himself.’”
“That must be how they figured out that the Merry Celestia was the ship that they were looking for,” Daring said.
Phillip flipped through the earlier pages, eyes sweeping back and forth as he scanned the writing. “Uh…here, ‘Twelfth of the Moon of Hunters, 1870. It’s over. She’s dead and they’re taking the body out of town to bury her beneath the stones.’”
He flipped to the next page. “‘The house where she was staying burned to the ground. Ponies nearby swear up and down that they heard her laughing over the crackling of the flames. Her damned necklace was found in the wreckage; the ponies who buried her swear that they buried it with her.’” He flipped through other pages, his frown deepening the more he read. “Crikey…”
“What happened to Dewdrop?” Strider asked.
Phillip flipped to the end of the diary and his face fell. “‘Out of food. Can’t swallow any water. Too weak to get to the door…and there’s no one left to help anyway. Mom. Dad. I love you.’” He closed the book and sighed, shaking his head.
“Damn,” Strider said quietly.
“If we don’t find the gem, it’ll all be for nothing,” Daring said grimly, looking through the photo album. She turned one page and froze, eyes widening.
"That's him."
She turned the album around and pointed at a sepia photograph of two ponies standing in front of a workshop, forelegs around each other’s shoulders. Chris Cobbler was on the left, beaming at the camera through a paintbrush in his mouth. His mane was like a pile of hay atop his head and he wore a tailored vest; they could identify him by his cutie mark of a horseshoe and a hammer. The stallion on the other side was almost completely identical to him, though his cutie mark was a hammer and a diamond and he wore an apron with a hammer and a set of nails in the front pocket.
Daring took the photograph out and turned it over to read the inscription on the back. “‘Brothers Chris Cobbler and Fred Facet working on Fred’s new workshop on Sirius Street.’”
“Fred must have been the one keeping the gem,” Phillip said.
“You heard them,” Strider protested. “Ponies have searched the village several times and never found it.”
“We haven’t tried yet,” Daring Do declared. “Even if it’s not there anymore, there may be a clue as to what happened to it.”
“We found the Merry Celestia,” Autumn beamed. “A stupid rock shouldn’t be that hard!”
“You had to go and say something like that, didn’t you?” Strider sighed, looking back down at the atlas and studying a close-up map of the abandoned village.
The white unicorn completed the incantation and slowly dimmed his golden light. That same light faded from the implements laid out in front of him on the table: the Alicorn Amulet and a silver rod on a string.
Doctor Papyrus frowned as he rubbed out the salt circle surrounding the two and gently lifted up the rod on the string. It started to swing gently towards the amulet, as though attracted by a strange magnetism.
“Are you sure of this, Caballeron?” he asked, passing the rod to his companion. He picked up the amulet, scowling at the warped metal on the left wing. “These aren’t just important to our client, these are historical artifacts of great importance and power.”
“It’s the only way we have,” Caballeron said grimly, donning the necklace with great reverence. “We need that gem and we need the amulet to dowse for it.”
The white unicorn sighed. “Very well. But please be careful. We nearly lost it once.”
“I do not intend to lose it again,” Caballeron declared with a nod. “Gracias, amigo. We’ll be back soon.”
He exited the workshop and returned to his exhibit hall. Biff, Rogue, and Withers were waiting next to one of the open cases, all adorned in dark blue hooded cloaks like the one that Caballeron himself wore, and all of them carrying a selection of guns and gear. Biff was carefully placing two silver candlesticks with strange runes etched into the casing into a saddlebag. Rogue was covered in bandages still sticky with a pale orange salve, breathing heavily through gritted teeth as he checked the knives sheathed to his forelegs.
“¿Listos?” Caballeron asked, receiving nods from all around. They proceeded down the cloudbrick hallway to another door, which opened to reveal a long room with two rows of gem-decorated mirrors on either side, like soldiers in formation.
They proceeded to a tall mirror with a square frame. Biff pressed the blue, white, and green gems embedded over the top of the mirror. Their reflections blurred and then disappeared, replaced by a view of a dark wooden room.
Rogue checked the knife secured to the holster in his foreleg, poked his head through the portal, and turned his head from side to side. “Clear,” he grunted, passing all the way through with the others on his tail.
The floor of the cottage, rented under cash and a pair of pseudonyms, creaked beneath their hooves as they proceeded to the back door and pushed it open with a creak. Outside, the sun was setting over Saddleshire, casting long shadows over the clutch of cottages arranged around the cobblestone culdesac. The only sound was a soft wind that rustled the leaves in the trees.
“Vamonos,” Caballeron ordered, pulling his hood up over his head. The four hurried to the northwest, across the shadow-casted bogs and plains towards the doomed village.
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Okay, I kinda love how for once it's the villains on the receiving end of "darn, things were going too well". Even if it's brief, it's still both satisfying and funny.
This had a very cool fight scene which - I don’t know if this is relevant - I could easily follow and imagine! Awaiting the next chapter with anticipation making me quiver in my non existent boots!
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I'm glad for the comment, it does me good to know that I choreographed the scene that well!