Dan Vs. King Sombra

by Prawo Jazdy

Stuck In the Middle (of Nowhere) With You

Two figures regarded each other on the icy plain. One was a human with pale skin, short black hair, and a white labcoat intended for someone two feet taller than him. The other appeared to Dan to be a small orange horse with a blue mane, a foal a good foot shorter than Dan and even less suited to the cold.

Whose idea was that dye-job? Dan wondered. It looks tacky, even on a person. He opened his mouth. Wait, no. He’s not going to understand me, and the tone would drive him away. Don’t want to have to chase him. “Uh…” He looked at the foal, then at the domed city still far away, then back at the foal in between it and him.

Well, if you’re going to steal a car, you need something in the tank. He fumbled his cold hands through his pants pockets before hearing his target crinkle in the borrowed labcoat. He pulled a plastic-foil bag from the labcoat’s pocket, tore off a corner, and broke off a chunk of peanut butter cookie which he thrust at the foal.

The foal cringed and shrank away, but did not take its eyes off Dan. They both stood awkwardly for another moment.

Dan knitted his brow and let his elbow droop. I don’t get it. Isn’t this how it’s done in the movies? He shrugged and started nibbling on the cookie himself. “Mm.” This isn’t even a bad cookie. Maybe that only works with sponge cakes and deers. He considered taking off the coat and tossing it over the little horse’s face.

Then he saw the foal had stepped closer to look at the package. Not that it’d do much good, since Dan’s hand was covering the picture, not to mention the writing that the foal was probably too young to read.

I suppose I can try again. Dan dug another cookie chunk out from the corner of the bag and shoved it at the foal, who again recoiled. This was starting to irritate Dan, who groaned and rubbed his forehead with the wrist of his bag hand.

The foal inched closer again. Dan held still this time, leaving his hand extended. With quivering lips, the foal gingerly pinched the chunk out of Dan’s hand and started chewing.

Finally! Gratuitous dancing is bad enough when it’s actual dancing. The human took out another bit of cookie, but this time he lowered his open hand nearer his hip. Almost counterintuitively, the foal moved even closer to Dan and took its second chunk of peanut butter cookie.

Dan took this moment to start petting the foal’s muzzle and scratching behind its ears. His mane’s roots aren’t showing, he noted, so this dyeing must be recent. Then he saw something he had completely missed from standing to the foal’s front. This horse has wings? He was shocked for a fraction of a second just long enough not to have a scientific name. Actually, never mind. It’s shocking enough that I found something like a horse in this universe and it’s acting like a horse.

He started sidling along the horse creature’s orange body, soon seeing it had been branded. But not with a branding iron. This is dyed like the rest of him. The brand was a pale yellow lightning bolt shape partly blocking the view of a blue shield or badge shape. The tricky part was going to be deciding whether to put his legs in front of the foal’s wings or behind.

Wait, there’s another problem. I’m about to mount this horse from the right side. But it’s domesticated, so does that mean I should be going around to the left…?

Forget it. Parallel universe means if it even matters, it’s fifty-fifty. With that decided, Dan heaved his left leg over the foal’s shoulders and slid on. It protested vocally and flapped its wings, but Dan hushed it and fetched another cookie chunk. When all had calmed, Dan sat gracelessly atop the small creature, but his weight seemed to pose no problem.

And now I just have to—“Whahey!” The foal anticipated Dan’s thought, whipping around toward the city and jumping into the air with powerful flaps of his wings. Dan couldn’t see the foal’s face, but could guess it bore an expression of determination: this little winged horse knew exactly what it was doing.

Good. That makes one of us. Dan held tight against the foal’s body, his ear buried in its whipping blue mane.

---

This latest thought of the human’s was particularly accurate; the pony, an adult royal guard by the name of Flash Sentry, had a fair better grasp of the situation than did Dan. Perhaps the single most forgivable misconception Dan had was that Flash was the only creature aware of the human’s presence, or even the first.

The first creature to notice the human’s transdimensional arrival in the mid-early morning was the bizarrely-composed Discord, who felt the spatial disturbance a thousand miles away. He weighed his options in this opportunity to sow chaos, then recognizing the lack of a corresponding magical disturbance, chose “making it somepony else’s problem.”

Celestia, the senior Princess ruling over the Magical Land of Equestria, upon hearing of a creature appearing near the Crystal Empire to the north through a dimensional rift, promptly informed the palace guard, and through them, her co-ruler and younger sister Princess Luna. This was necessary, as Discord had disappeared from Canterlot just before she could request he inform Princess Cadance; dreamwalking was the next viable communication method. On being informed of the creature, Cadance and her husband Shining Armor informed and sent out several Crystal Guards to bring the creature in peacefully.

Celestia also contacted Princess Twilight Sparkle, who along with Celestia, Luna, and Cadance, comprised the entire alicorn subspecies of the pony race. Twilight herself had no demesne, but she had a lovely home in Ponyville, a small town just south of Canterlot, along with her young dragon assistant Spike. (Strangely enough, Ponyville was also home to the second creature to learn of the human.) And it was through Spike’s magical fire breath that Twilight received Celestia’s letter asking her to be available to Cadance in case she needed help with this incident.

They traveled by rail, packing light and boarding the train without incident. On the train, though, there was one incident of note when Spike got up to stretch his legs. As he made the approach to pass from one passenger car to another, he squeezed by a passing dessert cart. It occurred to him a moment later that this might have been a tactical mistake, since if he wasn’t with Twilight by the time the cart passed their seats, she might not buy anything from it. Momentarily distracted, the little dragon managed to stumble almost past the open door.

“Whoa!” A pony mare caught Spike before he could faceplant on either carpet inside the car or the metal platform between the cars. “Sorry, Spike! Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, fine. Thanks for—um… wait.” The pony who had just opened the door had recognized Spike. This was no great feat; vanishingly few dragons regularly interacted with the pony population, and even if there was more than one, Spike’s bipedal stance, purple scales, and round green spines would set him apart.

The light greenish-blue unicorn with yellow eyes was somewhat distinct, although not particularly special relative to all the other unicorns on the train alone. However, Spike was surprised to find he recognized her too.

“…Lyra?”

“Oh, hi! Long time no see!” She finished coming in and closed the door. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re visiting the Crystal Empire.”

“Me too! Is Twilight on the train with you?”

Spike groaned, realizing saying “we’re” might have been another mistake. “Um. Yeah.”

“Maybe I could catch up with you guys!”

“NO! I mean—“ He grasped for an excuse. “—we’re on a mission!” Not a complete lie… yet, at least. “And it’s very important, so she needs all her concentration for it, and no distractions!”

“Oh, come on. The train ride’s another couple hours, and I really doubt an old friend can break her concentration for that long.” Lyra started to traverse the car. Spike hesitated a moment before following, his mind racing to come up with a new excuse. Either that, or a polite way of hedging the truth.

It wasn’t until he’d slipped past Lyra between cars and was holding the next door closed that he spat something out. “B-but you might.”

Lyra was stunned. “Do we have to talk outside? Over the rails? Even if it wasn’t dangerous, it’s kind of hard to hear you!”

“What?”

Lyra took a moment to answer. The first thing she did was float a confused Spike up and use his grip on the handle to open the door. As with all the other doors on the passenger cars, it opened inward. She passed in with the dragon and closed the door. “So now that I can hear you, what were you saying?”

“Um….” Spike took one moment to gather his thoughts and another to readjust to his upright position on the floor. “You… might be really distracting. Twilight hasn’t lived in Canterlot for more than a year, and she hasn’t… talked about you. She might react badly to realizing she’s forgotten about a friend for that long.”

Lyra bit her lip, then skimmed the car’s occupants before opening her mouth to respond. “I… that’s not something I’d thought of.”

“Okay! So you’ll turn around and—“

“Uhh, no, Spike.” She pressed forward. “I’m not putting off seeing an old friend just because you only imagined the single worst way it could turn out. But thanks for the heads-up.”

“I’m an old friend though, right? You could talk to me!”

Lyra slowed down for a moment. “That’s… an excellent idea.” Before Spike could celebrate, she added, “Come on! I was chasing the dessert cart when I ran into you.”

Sputtering and unable to protest that, Spike chased along with her all the way to the car where he and Twilight were seated. Lyra bought herself a parfait, and for Spike she got a large cookie with dark and white chocolate chips.

Her original quest complete, Lyra returned her attention to the pony she once knew as a friend (and had just interpreted as a signal to stop letting the dessert cart escape to the next car). Even if she’d been blind to passengers’ tribes, and consequently the combination of wings and horn unique to one of the car’s purple occupants, she’d recognize that bookworm anywhere.

Even, or perhaps especially, if said bookworm had her face obscured by On the Economy of Machinery and Manufacturing by Barreled Cabbage. “Hey, Twilight!”

Twilight looked startled as she moved her book to the side. “Uh, hello!”

“Twilight,” Spike prompted, “you remember Lyra, don’t you?”

She took a moment to bookmark her spot before answering. “I… um….”

“You know, Lyra Heartstrings? From Canterlot?”

Twilight scrutinized the unicorn for some seconds. “Sorry, that name isn’t ringing any bells.”

“It really shouldn’t,” Lyra mused. “Bells are percussion instruments.”

The princess snorted in laughter. Any hint of tension was instantaneously lost, and Spike eased his breathing.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“No, go ahead! I mean, if you don’t mind sharing with Spike.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Uh, window or…?”

“Go ahead,” said Spike.

“Actually, do you want something from the dessert cart first?” Lyra asked Twilight.

“I’m fine.”

The seats were double-sided benches with light-yellow cushions and shared green glassy backs reminiscent of Prench curves. Twilight herself was lying down on her seat. Lyra walked in between the opposing seats and turned to face Twilight again. Then she rested her hindquarters on the seat and pivoted so her spine was more or less erect and resting against the separator.

“Um…?” This wasn’t strictly the first time Twilight had seen this seated pose with hind legs dangling forward over the edge, but it did strike her as something to which she’d dedicate two or three paragraphs of description. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah!” Lyra caught her floating parfait in the crook of one foreleg and picking up the spoon with her other hoof. Spike had already scrabbled up to take the spot next to her, taking much the same pose; the only difference was that as a dragon and a biped, it looked more natural for him.

Having exhausted this avenue of her curiosity, Twilight changed the subject back. “So, uh, you know me from Canterlot? Sorry again for not remembering you.”

“That’s all right. Hey, Spike forgot I moved away before you did.”

“Really?” Spike asked between bites. “Huh. So where’d you move?”

Lyra’s expression faltered. “It, uh—whoa!” She fumbled the cup and spoon and caught them at awkward angles in her magic. “…Ponyville.”

A piece of Spike’s cookie traveled down the wrong pipe and his eyes bulged. He avoided outright choking by reflexively coughing up his green gout of fire.

“Yeep!” the startled princess piped inelegantly. Her book caught on fire and she smothered it in her magic. It wasn’t actually much damage; the upper edge of most of the pages would have to be trimmed, and the bookmark took a lot of damage, but the cover was intact.

Standing to put the book away, she turned her worry toward Spike. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” he wheezed. Then he noticed most of the rest of his cookie was burnt. “Aw, man!”

“So…” Twilight ventured. “Ponyville, huh?”

“Yeah.” Lyra had resituated her parfait in both hooves.

“Sorry again for not remembering you. Did you ever say hello?” The Cabbage was now in the overhead compartment.

“A couple times. I think you were busy kicking out a dragon the first time… after the Summer Sun Celebration, obvioushly. Not that it was your fault for being bushy, I mean I wash bizhy too!”

“Calm down and swallow!” Twilight interrupted.

Lyra hadn’t realized she’d been shoveling fruit and yogurt reflexively. She set the spoon in the cup and consciously relaxed her magic grip. And a breath.

“Okay, I got maybe half the words, but most of the idea,” said Twilight. “You’re saying I made mistakes you’re not mad about. And also that you made some mistakes, which I’m not mad about.” She grinned sheepishly. “Can we maybe just call it a wash?”

“…Yes, I’d like that.” Lyra set her snack beside her in the middle of the bench. “Hah, I didn’t expect to get nervous.”

Spike took this moment to reaffirm his presence. “Hey, are you gonna finish that? I’m done with my cookie.”

“In a minute.” Lyra nudged the cup closer to herself and changed the subject. “So, Spike told me you two were on a mission?”

“A what?” Twilight turned to Spike, and time slowed for him as he tensed up. “Why did you say we were on a mission?” she asked.

The dragon groaned in embarrassment. “Because apparently, the writers still don’t know what to do with Humdrum.”

“Oh.” Twilight turned back to Lyra. “Humdrum’s one of the Power Ponies from comic books, Spike was dressed like him once… It’s a long story.”

“I guess that makes sense.” Lyra shifted in her seat. “Is there a problem? Was it a secret mission?”

Twilight weighed her possibilities and carefully chose her next words. “Our mission is so secret,” she finally began, “that we don’t know what it is. And it might even be cleared up before we get there, so that’d turn it into a social call. Does that sound right?”

Lyra could only chuckle at that. “The song may change, but it’s the same old dance. I almost understood that. How about if anypony asks, I’m an old friend catching up, and you’re not on any particular mission today?”

“…Yes, I can live with that.” Twilight offered her hoof, which Lyra accepted in an awkward hoofshake. “Ahem. So let’s catch up on you.”

“What do you mean?” said Lyra.

“Well, for starters, what brings you up north? I mean, if we both live in Ponyville, that makes it a slightly less interesting coincidence that we’re taking the same train at the same time, but it’s something to talk about.”

“Aha. Well, it’s a funny story, actually…” Her face broke out in a goofy grin, and she leaned in to whisper the juiciest, most amazing secret.

Twilight eventually leaned in too. “Ooookay?” she whispered.

“My human sense is humming.”

“What.”

Author's Note:

Ha. So here I go.

I'm not going to finish a novel this month by any stretch (this chapter took three weeks, so the whole thing might take a year), but writing daily seems to be good exercise. And a story I've been outlining for months is a good thing to finish writing.

I'm going to use these Author's Notes to explain obscure references, especially for things that don't impact the plot. For instance, On the Economy of Machinery and Manufacturing isn't quite the name of a real book, but I adjusted it slightly from something Charles Babbage wrote.

Comments

[mastermenthe]

Tracking.
Well written, good characterization, enjoyable discourse, needs more Dan being a passive asshole.