Daring Do and the Marked Thief of Marapore Read online

  Along the side of one of the villages was a sparkling turquoise river, which meant it must be Lusitano. Daring flapped her wings harder, circling around to make her way to the next village. A colored patchwork of crop fields implied that the land belonged to the farmers of Ponypeii. Daring flew on toward the final point of the triangle. As she came in closer, she could make out a tiny grid of clay cottages with green-and-beige thatched roofs. Definitely Marapore, Daring thought, recalling an illustration on the wall at the Get On Inn.

  A surge of excitement rushed through Daring’s body. It wouldn’t be long until she would find this shadowy, cloaked pony and have him lead her to the priceless Flankara Relics. This quest was extremely dangerous, but she was up for the challenge. Daring dived down into the hot jungle, just outside the town. She spread her golden wings, landing gracefully next to a group of wide-trunked palm trees. Their long green fronds swayed gently in the light breeze, which offered the only relief from the tropical atmosphere. It was a stunning scene, if stifling heat and impending fiery doom was your sort of thing.

  The scent from the native hibiscus flowers was so strong she could almost see it. Daring breathed in the sweet, intoxicating air and then remembered what she’d read about the vegetation in this part of the world. Thousands of breeds of exotic flowers were common here, especially somnambular blooms. She gathered one of the massive fuchsia flowers in her hoof and checked the stem to make sure it wasn’t orange. If so, she’d be asleep in moments, even though she would look like she was awake. It would be pointless to sleepwalk through her whole adventure, not to mention dangerous. Luckily, the stem was just a harmless, pleasing shade of purple. Daring Do took another hearty whiff and let the freshness fill her lungs.

  A bead of sweat dripped down her face, and a lock of black mane clung to the nape of her neck. Daring removed her pith helmet and stashed it in a patch of ferns and bushes with lavender leaves as big as her body. It was far too humid for headwear at the moment, plus it drew too much attention. For now, blending in was of utmost importance.

  There were several identifiable landmarks, including a glistening aqua pond and three palms of exactly the same height in a row. She checked the roots to make sure that they weren’t wanderers, and whipped out a piece of chalk from her shirt pocket. A scribbled X on the middle tree would suffice.

  The sound of a white-feathered ghost macaw echoed through the trees.

  “Caaaaaacaaaaaaaw!” The great bird spread its frosted wings and whooshed past Daring Do. Was that a warning or a welcome? No matter; it didn’t deter her. She was here to do a job, and nothing would stand in her way. Not even the deadliest tropical bird known to ponykind.

  “What do we have here?” Daring mumbled to herself, inspecting a set of large hoofprints in the dried mud. There were two straight lines on either side—the impressions from many carts traveling through. It was part of the trade route she’d seen from above.

  The pony dug into her brown satchel and pulled out a light silver hooded robe. It was the closest thing to a Marapore cloak she’d been able to find in her closet back home. With any luck, the disguise would allow her to do some investigating without getting noticed as a foreigner. Urban camouflage was an art—Daring found it even more of a challenge than hiding away in a bunch of plants. This time, she was also a Pegasus in mainly Earth pony territory. She would have to keep her wings in tight for the time being.

  A low hiss came from the bushes. Daring Do froze in her tracks. Jungles were vast, treacherous places with plenty of nooks and crannies for deadly creatures to hide in. Daring Do had more than once found herself being trailed by a predator or two. The culprit was revealed when a gigantic green snake slithered underhoof. The sun shone through the treetops in shafts, glinting onto the creature’s shiny scales. However, the snake seemed entirely uninterested in the pony adventurer. He disappeared into the foliage with another hiss as punctuation.

  “Phew!” Daring continued on, hooves padding quietly against the dried mud and fallen palm frond–covered ground. She was starting to think she’d miscalculated her proximity to the town when muffled sounds of many ponies gathered in one place rumbled through the trees. Perfect, she thought. A crowd is the best place to go unnoticed.

  “Filly-ho!” she said to herself as she forged ahead, picking up the pace into a full gallop. Dust and fern leaves rustled under her hooves as she ran, speeding ahead toward what appeared to be a sunny clearing. She only realized her mistake when it was almost too late. She was headed straight over a cliff!

  The village was directly below, about forty feet down. Her hooves came to a screeching halt beneath her, trying to gain purchase on the leafy ground. “Whoaaa!” she called out as she extended her wings as a reflex. She flapped them gently and backed herself away from the edge. Her cloak had fallen back from her face and away from her wings. Daring was completely exposed. Everypony stopped the rhythmic chanting she had overheard and looked up at her. Their eyes, which were still wet with tears, now grew wide with awe.

  “The Golden Prophesied Pegasus!” a tall blue pony in a magenta cloak cried out. “We’re saved!”

  So much for an inconspicuous entrance.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Golden Prophesied Pegasus

  The villagers encircled her, buzzing with excited chatter. “I think you have the wrong pony,” Daring Do pleaded as an old granny took her by the hoof. The mare mumbled something incoherent as she led the perplexed Daring into the town. “I’m not the Pegasus you seek. I am a mere…” Daring racked her brain. For some reason, A. B. Ravenhoof popped into her mind. “I’m just… a teacher!” This statement seemed to excite them more. They stomped their hooves on the dirt in applause.

  “Welcome to Marapore. I am the one they call Kaaxtik,” said the tall blue pony as he stepped forward. “We’ve been expecting you”—he bowed to her in respect—“oh wise one.”

  Kaaxtik pushed back his hood to reveal an intricately braided white mane. At the end of each braid, a tiny sculpted crystal was woven in. His silken cloak looked as smooth as butter and was the color of a beautiful sunset. The fabric shimmered in a way that Daring Do had never beheld in all her travels. Even the green leaf-patterned trim looked as if it were a living, breathing plant, reaching its vines out and growing with time. Maybe the cloak did have magical properties. Kaaxtik was clearly an important pony to be wearing such finery.

  “Bad things have happened here.” He shook his head in despair and looked down at the ground. Kaaxtik put his arm around Daring and whispered in her ear, “Unspeakable things.”

  Daring perked up. She leaned toward Kaaxtik and whispered, “Does this have anything to do with the Flankara Relics?”

  “It has everything to do with them.” Kaaxtik nodded sagely. The crystals in his braids shimmered in the sunlight.

  “Can you lead me to one of them?” Daring Do asked, her voice breathy with anticipation. She was on the brink of something. “The sword, the staff… or the arrow?” If only she could just see one of the legendary items, she might have some idea about how to retrieve the others. Then the villages might be safe from Vehoovius’s eruption.

  “I wish I could show all of them to you…” Kaaxtik said, his voice dripping with dramatic sorrow. “But the protector of the relics—our schoolteacher, Golden Rule—has been ponynapped! Along with the Staff of Ponypeii and the Sword of Lusitano, I’m afraid. The Arrow of Marapore still rests here.”

  “Where?” Daring demanded, looking around in a panic.

  Kaaxtik ignored her and replied, “It is an immeasurable blessing that you should find yourself on our doorstep. One that cannot mean nothing.” He bowed to her again, his forelegs touching the ground. The villagers followed suit, bowing down.

  “What are you getting at?” Daring Do replied. These locals sure did know how to beat around the bush.

  “You must stay here and take over his role as protector of the relics… and as the schoolteacher of Marapore.” Kaaxtik shrugged with a smile. “Then ma
ybe you will get the answers you seek.”

  “Me? Teach?” Daring Do didn’t want to disappoint the ponies of Marapore, and she was going to need these ponies to cooperate with her. How else would she get close to the Flankara Relics? She hadn’t technically been lying when she said she’d been a teacher at one time. It was just a short stint with A. B. Ravenhoof at the university, but it still counted. She’d often thought of going back, but the call of adventure was far too great for her to settle down in some dusty classroom trying to explain important things to young ponies who didn’t seem to care much.

  “Kaaxtik, you drive a hard bargain.” She cocked her head to the side and rolled her eyes. “But I’ll do it.” Kaaxtik nodded his head with a grin.

  Daring Do knew he must have seen many like her before—along with helping ponies, treasure hunters were often in it for the thrill of the chase. It was mostly about the quest, the glory of finding something extraordinary. They would do almost anything to achieve their goals, even if the prize wasn’t something they planned to keep. He could tell she was hungry to find the Flankara Relics.

  What she didn’t know was that he thought that whether she was the true prophesied Pegasus was irrelevant. She was all he had and, as the village leader, Kaaxtik had to look out for morale.

  “Ponies of Marapore,” Kaaxtik bellowed, facing the eager crowd. With all their cloaks, their bodies appeared as a sea of shimmering fabrics. He raised his hooves high in the air. “We have prayed to the great guardians, and they have answered us. Let us be grateful that we have nothing left to fear. For it is prophesied that a foreign pony of vast knowledge will arrive in our hour of need.” Kaaxtik held up Daring’s hoof in triumph. “It has happened! This golden-winged angel shall protect us!” The ponies cheered and hugged one another. A small lemon-colored filly wearing a patchy olive cloak trotted up and laid a single hibiscus flower at Daring’s hooves. She looked up at the adventurer, doe-eyed. “For you, Maid… um… what’s your name?”

  “Um…” Daring Do raised an eyebrow. Maybe she could still salvage some anonymity. “The name’s Ravenhoof. Mare-ion Ravenhoof.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The Wisdom of Colts and Scholars

  The surface of the blackboard emitted a high-pitched screech as Daring Do dragged a piece of yellow chalk across it. She took no notice of the wincing she’d caused among her pupils and continued scribbling furiously. The tiny schoolroom behind her was packed with young fillies and colts trying to follow the adventurer’s lesson, but failing miserably. It was probably because three minutes into her lecture on the mechanics of active volcanoes, she forgot she was supposed to be teaching and careened off into a faraway, dangerous place—the corners of her mind. Because once Daring Do started theorizing the whereabouts of a certain prize and how to obtain it, she was not responsible for where her thoughts took her. Usually this didn’t take place in front of an audience, though.

  Screeeeeeech. The students winced again as Daring’s hoof scratched the chalk on the board. She mumbled quietly like a mathematician on the brink of a brilliant new theorem. The picture she’d drawn of the Sword of Lusitano had been circled twelve times, and arrows pointed across the board to different notes and drawings. She put her hoof to her chin. “But if the relics are connected, then why would they still work once apart? If what this book says is true, the power is only accessible through the joining of all three in this formation and the witnessing of this act by a ‘Golden Pedagogue.’”

  She pointed to a diagram she’d drawn of the relics in a six-pointed star shape. “But maybe they have a different power from reversing an injury? We already know that they protect the three villages from Mount Vehoovius… who’s to neigh that there aren’t even more purposes—”

  “Miss Ravenhoof?” a diminutive voice squeaked from the back of the room. Daring Do paced back and forth. She leaned down to a table filled with various reference books on Tricorner history. The school had provided a wealth of information on the Flankara Relics, but some of the books were hoofwritten and extremely old. In all likelihood, they were the only existing copies. But certain pages were missing, which made it very difficult to piece together the mystery. She turned the page on a bound set of scrolls titled Protective Powers of the Empire. Her eyes scanned the old tome, trying to make the connections. A set of words on the page suddenly jumped out at her: Stalwart Stallion of Neighples. It was as if she’d been hanging off the side of a tall cliff and finally found a hoofhold to pull herself up with. Where had she just read that?

  “Miss Ravenhoof!” the colt said again, louder. His desk scooted around as he fidgeted, hoof raised in a desperate attempt to attract attention. The thought flew away faster than a heron that’d spotted a thrashing salmon. Daring slumped down, annoyed. So close. “What is it? Can’t you see I’m a bit busy?”

  “It’s just that… I think I can help.” The colt lowered his hoof, a knowing grin on his tiny face. His coat was light brown, and upon his head was a messy chocolate-colored mane. He hadn’t grown into his tail yet—it sprouted out like a little plant. Freckles were sprayed across the bridge of his muzzle. Like the other students, he wore his blue school vest, but he also had added his own flair—a red baseball cap with a star on the front. Who knew where he’d obtained such a piece of clothing. It was definitely not from anywhere near here.

  “Kid, no offense,” Daring Do replied, “but I think I’ve got this.” The pony turned back to the chalkboard and started scribbling some words that made no sense, even to her.

  “You don’t even want to hear what I have to say, Miss Ravenhoof?” the colt asked, twirling his quill. The hopeful expression on his face and the fact that Daring Do had already lost all her leads on any sort of coherent theory made her reconsider. She plopped down at the teacher’s desk, defeated.

  “Fine,” she offered. She leaned back, propped her hind legs on her desk, and took a bite of a fresh-cut pineapple one of the students had brought as an offering for the “Prophesied Pegasus.” The deliciously sweet tanginess of the fruit delighted her taste buds. Juice started to run down her chin, but she didn’t even care. “Let’s hear it, then.”

  The rest of the class had stopped trying to pay attention by now, anyway. The sad excuse for a ceiling fan, made of flimsy palm tree fronds, was losing the war against the humidity. Half the students were asleep, and the other half were busy passing notes to one another. A paper Pegasus flew through the stuffy air, out the open window, and straight into a patch of turquoise xihuitl grass. A tan filly with braided pigtails up front was drawing a picture of a bunny. At the top, she’d written: MY PET, FLUFFY BUN.

  “You had it right. It’s the Stalwart Stallion of Neighples,” the colt said matter-of-factly. He pointed to a corner of the blackboard where Daring Do had drawn a picture of the town statue, the keeper of the Arrow of Marapore. “Well, his real name is Mojo, but he’s the thief. See, he used to be a good guy. He’s the one who brought the Flankara Relics to Tricorner, but he’s really mad now, so he wants them back. Except nopony in town believes me that it’s him. They all just like him so much.”

  Daring scoffed. Why would the guy who’d gifted the town the relics take them back? She cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I follow you, pipsqueak.…”

  “My name’s Tater Tot! I’ll show you,” the colt replied. He got up from his desk and trotted to the front. He began to riffle through the books, clearly familiar with the old texts. “GR used to let me look at these after class,” he explained, flipping a yellowed page.

  “GR?” Daring pictured the hoofwriting on the inside cover of the encyclopedia volume back home. FROM THE LIBRARY OF GR, it said. “Who is this GR exactly?”

  “Our real teacher, Golden Rule.” Tater Tot shrugged. The little pony kept flipping through the pages. “He’s like some sort of supersmart relic scholar. Before he was taken, he taught me all this stuff.” Tater Tot gestured to the blackboard and the stack of books.

  Golden Rule. Golden Pedagogue. Pedagogue was just a fa
ncy word for teacher. It made sense now—Golden Rule was to be the witness to the Vehoovius Hex!

  Daring Do tried to recall the face of the golden-maned pony who’d paid her a visit. It had to have been Golden Rule! After all, he had a golden mane and tail and his cutie mark was a ruler. This extensive library at the school did seem like a place the last volume of the encyclopedia could have been hiding. And she would never have known to come down here until she’d made the connection from the missing book! The clever stallion had left it as a clue.

  After all, his gift had included the information on the Flankara Relics. He had been trying to lure her to Marapore to help save his kinsponies. But that didn’t explain why he’d trashed room number three at the Get On Inn, leaving her nothing but some ointment and a used piece of paper. Or why Mojo would have let Golden Rule, his only ticket to completing the Vehoovius Hex, out of his sight.

  “Aha! Here it is!” Tater Tot cried out in delight, smoothing down the page of what appeared to be the oldest book in the stack. Pieces of certain pages had been torn out, and an entire chapter in the beginning was missing. “‘Half past stars marks the hour, masked by darkness of the night. Foal once noble now turned sour, will try to bring the fire and light.’” He looked up at her, proud of himself, as if the words made perfect sense and weren’t penned in some cryptic code.

  “Makes sense.” Daring scratched her chin again as she reread the rhyme. One thing was for sure: The words fire and light were not ideal ones when you lived at the base of an active volcano. Mojo was definitely going to try to use the power of Vehoovius to complete the hex. Which meant that so far, all her theories had been spot-on. It was encouraging to hear them confirmed by the colt. Daring narrowed her eyes at Tater Tot. “What else do you know?”