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Daring Do and the Curse of Ahuizotl
"Curse you, Daring Do!" Ahuizotl roared, his breath hot on her ankles, as she skidded around a corner and sprang over a swipe from his meaty forearm.
The ancient temple shuddered and rocked around them as she galloped full-tilt through the Hall of Doom. Daring stomped on red tile after red tile, hearing incoherent screeching from behind her as the dart traps unleashed a barrage of steel into the thick skin of her father's killer. She allowed herself a triumphant smirk—right as she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the base of a column buckling, sending the stone pillar on a teetering descent toward the exit.
Daring sprinted for the half-jammed doorway and dove into a roll, tucking her body protectively around the golden Fang of Tlaloc as she tumbled through the crawlspace. Almost immediately, she felt the warmth of the sun on her fur, fresh mountain air in her lungs—and an iron grip around her pastern.
As she faceplanted, bucking and thrashing in a fruitless effort to dislodge the hold, she felt herself skid backward. "Ha!" Ahuizotl cried, fingers digging into her leg as he hauled her back toward the collapsing ruin. She jammed a hoof into the doorway, straining for leverage, and stared back into the night-black pupils of his jaundiced eyes—
—right as the pillar came down.
The world was thunder and dust, weightless and hazy, for an endless moment. The roar of tumbling stone assaulted her ears. She couldn't breathe. There was a sick crunch, and the pressure around her pastern slackened. She kicked free, gasping and choking, and staggered to her hooves, cradling the Fang like a foal. Then she sagged against a wall as the rumbling died away.
In the ensuing silence, she heard a weak, sickly moan behind her. Daring turned to see a blue hand sticking out of a pile of rubble in the collapsed doorway.
Her face hardened. It was him—though not much of him, only a head and hand left unburied. He was breathing in shallow, gurgling gasps, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were…white? No, just milky with chalk-dust tears.
"Ahuizotl," she said quietly.
His pale chin—the blue seemingly drained out of it—lifted at the voice. "D-daring?" he whispered, voice thin.
"It's over."
"Relics…"
Unbelievable. Even in his last moments, he could only think of the artifacts he was collecting to cast the world into darkness. She snorted. "Goodbye, murderer."
"D-dar…" he gasped. The rubble shifted as his quivering hand stretched forward another few inches—then spasmed and flopped to the side. "Curse—" Ahuizotl's head, too, spasmed, and blood spattered the stones as a violent cough wracked him. "Yooouuu…" he exhaled, muzzle contorted in intense…fear?…as his last breath left him.
Daring Do stared at his still body for several moments. Finally, she readjusted her hat with a hoof, then turned and limped away.
"Fewmets," Professor Can Do, Sr., cursed, shouldering his bolt-thrower as he stared down at the corpse of three-days-missing Howard Carthorse. When Ahuizotl had invaded their camp a second time after stealing the Eye of Tlaloc, Do had fought him off and fired at the fleeing form. The next morning, they had searched the nearby jungle—only to find that Do had missed, and ill fortune had sent his bolt through the neck of their returning teammate.
As if to mock them, Ahuizotl had left the Eye in Carthorse's rigid embrace.
Professor Do picked up the gold idol, carefully stowing it in his saddlebags—he'd not make the mistake again of letting it out of his reach for Ahuizotl to steal. Then he hoofed Carthorse's eyelids closed.
"Professor," Saltah said, above the murmurs of the donkeys in the background.
"Yes?"
"We should go home. The guides, they say that this is Tlaloc's curse, to destroy us one by one for desecrating his temple."
"Never. There's no such thing as curses." Do turned to Daring, his eyes burning into her soul. "There is only Ahuizotl."
Daring awoke with a gasp. The dream had been so real. So vivid…
But it didn't matter. She'd watched Ahuizotl die. He couldn't hurt her any more.
She lay for a minute, listening to the twitter of distant jungle-birds, her heart calming. Then, yawning, she double-checked the Fang of Tlaloc. Still snuggled against her chest, warm to the touch. So beautiful.
She smiled, closed her eyes, curled her hands around it, and fell back asleep.
The ancient temple shuddered and rocked around them as she galloped full-tilt through the Hall of Doom. Daring stomped on red tile after red tile, hearing incoherent screeching from behind her as the dart traps unleashed a barrage of steel into the thick skin of her father's killer. She allowed herself a triumphant smirk—right as she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the base of a column buckling, sending the stone pillar on a teetering descent toward the exit.
Daring sprinted for the half-jammed doorway and dove into a roll, tucking her body protectively around the golden Fang of Tlaloc as she tumbled through the crawlspace. Almost immediately, she felt the warmth of the sun on her fur, fresh mountain air in her lungs—and an iron grip around her pastern.
As she faceplanted, bucking and thrashing in a fruitless effort to dislodge the hold, she felt herself skid backward. "Ha!" Ahuizotl cried, fingers digging into her leg as he hauled her back toward the collapsing ruin. She jammed a hoof into the doorway, straining for leverage, and stared back into the night-black pupils of his jaundiced eyes—
—right as the pillar came down.
The world was thunder and dust, weightless and hazy, for an endless moment. The roar of tumbling stone assaulted her ears. She couldn't breathe. There was a sick crunch, and the pressure around her pastern slackened. She kicked free, gasping and choking, and staggered to her hooves, cradling the Fang like a foal. Then she sagged against a wall as the rumbling died away.
In the ensuing silence, she heard a weak, sickly moan behind her. Daring turned to see a blue hand sticking out of a pile of rubble in the collapsed doorway.
Her face hardened. It was him—though not much of him, only a head and hand left unburied. He was breathing in shallow, gurgling gasps, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were…white? No, just milky with chalk-dust tears.
"Ahuizotl," she said quietly.
His pale chin—the blue seemingly drained out of it—lifted at the voice. "D-daring?" he whispered, voice thin.
"It's over."
"Relics…"
Unbelievable. Even in his last moments, he could only think of the artifacts he was collecting to cast the world into darkness. She snorted. "Goodbye, murderer."
"D-dar…" he gasped. The rubble shifted as his quivering hand stretched forward another few inches—then spasmed and flopped to the side. "Curse—" Ahuizotl's head, too, spasmed, and blood spattered the stones as a violent cough wracked him. "Yooouuu…" he exhaled, muzzle contorted in intense…fear?…as his last breath left him.
Daring Do stared at his still body for several moments. Finally, she readjusted her hat with a hoof, then turned and limped away.
"Fewmets," Professor Can Do, Sr., cursed, shouldering his bolt-thrower as he stared down at the corpse of three-days-missing Howard Carthorse. When Ahuizotl had invaded their camp a second time after stealing the Eye of Tlaloc, Do had fought him off and fired at the fleeing form. The next morning, they had searched the nearby jungle—only to find that Do had missed, and ill fortune had sent his bolt through the neck of their returning teammate.
As if to mock them, Ahuizotl had left the Eye in Carthorse's rigid embrace.
Professor Do picked up the gold idol, carefully stowing it in his saddlebags—he'd not make the mistake again of letting it out of his reach for Ahuizotl to steal. Then he hoofed Carthorse's eyelids closed.
"Professor," Saltah said, above the murmurs of the donkeys in the background.
"Yes?"
"We should go home. The guides, they say that this is Tlaloc's curse, to destroy us one by one for desecrating his temple."
"Never. There's no such thing as curses." Do turned to Daring, his eyes burning into her soul. "There is only Ahuizotl."
Daring awoke with a gasp. The dream had been so real. So vivid…
But it didn't matter. She'd watched Ahuizotl die. He couldn't hurt her any more.
She lay for a minute, listening to the twitter of distant jungle-birds, her heart calming. Then, yawning, she double-checked the Fang of Tlaloc. Still snuggled against her chest, warm to the touch. So beautiful.
She smiled, closed her eyes, curled her hands around it, and fell back asleep.