“C’mon, Big Mac! Put yer back into it!”
The draught horse shot Applejack a sharp glare before straining against the rope again, tendons bulging out against his skin. With a series of ear-rending screeches, the rusted nails holding the floorboards to the joists let go. Macintosh stumbled forward as the section of floorboards he had been pulling on tore free.
Without saying a word, he untied the rope from his yoke and sat heavily on the floor, breathing heavily. Applejack glanced at the floorboards and laughed nervously. “All right. That didn’t work as well as Ah hoped. Guess we need t’ get a new crowbar after all.”
Big Macintosh forced himself to his hooves to examine his handiwork. His Herculean effort had resulted in the removal of a grand total of three of the water-damaged floorboards. Three of the several dozen in the barn that needed replacing.
He shook his head. “Gotta hand it t’ them Apples back then,” he remarked. “They built their stuff t’ last.”
Applejack chuckled. “Didn’t seem to think we might have t’ replace it, though. Ah swear, this would be easier if th’ barn was made of concrete.”
Macintosh carefully stepped over the hole and walked out of the barn. “Ah’ll be right back. Hopefully with a wreckin’ bar or two.”
“You do that,” Applejack responded, wiping some sweat from her brow. Seemed the barn was never in a state where it didn’t need repairs. First the load-bearing wall decided to sag, then the roof started leaking, then water managed to get into the foundation...
Applejack frowned at the newly formed gap in the floor, something having suddenly caught her attention. It was tucked into a small hollow in the dirt, nearly hidden under the next couple boards. “What in tarnation…”
XXX
Twilight frowned at the book lying open in front of her, squinting to make out the elegant calligraphy slanting along the page. The Gaelic script, as far as she could translate, described an unusual spell, one she was pretty sure broke several laws of physics. Listed below it were a series of equally unusual compounds, many of which simple chemical theory dictated couldn't possibly exist.
But somepony had taken the time to write it down, and on vellum, no less. "Where did you find this?" she finally said, looking up at the pony across from her.
Applejack grinned widely. "You know how me ‘n Mac are fixin’ up th’ barn? Ah found that under some floorboards.”
The purple unicorn gently lifted a page with her magic, admiring the thinness of the vellum sheet. The book was well-crafted. "Was it in a chest or anything? It's in amazing shape."
Applejack frowned. "Come to think of it, no. Just sittin' in a space under th' barn."
"I just can't detect any enchantments on it," Twilight admitted, closing the tome with the greatest of care. "Are you sure it wasn't preserved in any way? Was there anything that would indicate a preservation charm, or anything?"
Applejack chuckled. "Come on, Twi'. You're talking to Applejack, here. When Ah say Ah'm sure 'bout somethin', Ah'm sure."
Twilight traced a hoof over the gold leaf in the cover. "Do you have any idea what you've found?"
"No," Applejack said, fighting back a toothy grin. "Why?"
"Because I don't either!" Twilight responded, unable to take her eyes off the book. Applejack’s grin faded almost as swiftly as it had appeared.
"If the dialect and script is any indication,” Twilight continued, oblivious to her friend’s disappointment, “I would say this book is almost a thousand years old! Not to mention the fact that the spells described break nearly all known laws of magic.”
"Yeah that's cool," Applejack said, her hopes beginning to fade. "But is it valuable?"
"Valuable?" Twilight said, opening the tome again and studying the script. "I have no idea. There’s quite a market for old books, if you can find a buyer. But they usually look for famous plays, or original manuscripts.”
The unicorn paused for a long second. “If you don’t mind…I’d like a chance to examine it in some detail. Before you sell it, I mean. Books like this don’t come about very often.”
Applejack sighed. So much for Big Mac's new plow. "You know what? If yer that interested, you can have it."
“I’m not asking for much. Just a couple…wait, what?”
“Take it. Sounds like sellin’ it would be more trouble than it’s worth anyhow.”
"Oh, Applejack," Twilight stammered. "I couldn't. You found it, so it's rightfully-"
"Ah know, Ah can do what I want with it. And Ah want you to have it. You can do more good with it than any collector, or some pawn shop. Jus' don't let Spike fry it, wouldja?"
The unicorn clutched the book to her chest. "Thank you, Applejack."
"No worries," the earth pony replied. A sudden thought struck her. "Oh, if you figure out where it's from, would you mind lettin' me know? It might be useless to me, but Ah shore am curious about it."
“Of course,” Twilight replied distractedly, frowning at one of the passages, then consulting a Gaelic dictionary she pulled from a shelf.
“And thanks for th’ crowbar,” the earth pony added, tucking the heavy tool into her saddlebag. “Mac’ll appreciate it.”
The unicorn didn’t respond, instead flipping ahead in the book and muttering to herself.
Applejack backed out of the library, chuckling to herself. Well, if nothing else, it would keep her busy for a little while. The girl needed a project.
XXX
It was near nightfall when a cyan blur streaked into the library through the open window, blowing a carefully stacked sheaf of papers off the desk. It was only because of Twilight’s quick reflexes that Applejack’s tome didn’t join them.
The unicorn shot a glare at Rainbow Dash, who was currently trying to pry her face out from between a pair of bookshelves. A slim paperback volume lay beside her, a beige pegasus depicted on the cover. “I have a door, you know.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Dash replied, yanking her head free.
Twilight’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. She finally settled for an exasperated grunt and set about picking up her research notes, absently noting that the paperback was the Daring Do novel the pegasus had borrowed a week before. “I’m sorry, Dash, but I just don’t have time for this right now.”
“What’s so important?” the pegasus asked, nudging a couple pages filled with an unintelligible scrawl toward her friend. “I mean, you haven’t come out all day.”
Twilight fought to keep from groaning. “I don’t have to go into town every single day, you know. Now, if you’ll just-“
“What’s this?” Dash asked, peering at the book on the table. “Is that the book on aerodynamics you were going to find me?”
“No,” Twilight said, carefully moving the book away from her pegasus friend. “It’s a book Applejack found under her barn, and I’m trying to figure out who wrote it.”
The pegasus glanced at the script slanting across the page and snorted in derision. “Dunno how you can read that. Look’s upside-down to me.”
She reached out with a hoof and inverted the book. A moment later, she frowned. It still looked upside-down.
“If you don’t mind,” Twilight growled, “I’d like to get back to my research. I really want to find out where this book is from. So if you’ll excuse me…”
Rainbow Dash suddenly remembered why she had decided to drop in. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I just remembered.”
Twilight gave her a level stare. “Yes?”
Dash shifted nervously. "I...uh...finished that book."
The lavender unicorn sighed in resignation. "I noticed. So you're here for the next one?"
“Yeah. And I heard the mare who wrote it's also done another series, all about-"
"You can tell me about it later, Rainbow," Twilight said, more abruptly than she meant to, levitating the next instalment in the Daring Do series from its spot on the shelf. "But right now, I really need to-"
"'Kaythanksbye!" Dash blurted, snatching the book and rocketing back out the window.
"Work on this," Twilight finished dumbly. After a moment, she shrugged and went back to the desk. That was probably one of the rare occasions where an abrupt exit was actually convenient.
The unicorn turned bloodshot eyes back to the tome, still obstinately displaying coherent nonsense. Her research had not been going well, to say the least. Nothing even remotely related to the book had come up in her reference guides, and the book itself had a maddening lack of any identifying features. Even a publish date would have made her life a lot easier, but it lacked even that.
The only thing she had to determine the book’s identity was that maddeningly familiar gold leaf design on the cover, which was worn just enough to be unidentifiable. And as for the contents…what didn’t seem to break at least one law of magic appeared to be so difficult that performing it would be counterproductive to its purpose. In short, it didn’t make any sense.
I wonder if Discord wrote it, Twilight thought, smiling wryly. If there was a passage on chocolate rain, it would fit the bill.
She glared at the offending tome, frustrated by her lack of progress. After a moment, she flipped it open again, scouring the text for something she may have missed.
After a few minutes, she began to get the niggling feeling that something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like she’d read the section she was on before, but she knew she had. In fact…
Twilight consulted her notes, paying special attention to page references. She even counted the pages of the book in case the numbering was off. There was no doubt about it. The contents had changed.
The unicorn flung the paper to the ground, groaning. Great. It was one of those books.
Books like this one popped up every now and then. Their making was shrouded in mystery, and likely lost to time, but they never ceased to amaze those studying them. While some tomes were enchanted after being bound, tomes like this one were created with magic. As a result, they were virtually invulnerable to damp, flame and many of the other things that had a habit of destroying books. They were also capable of changing their contents seemingly of their own accord, and were thus able to store far more information than they appeared to.
How often the contents changed and how much information was actually contained in its pages was entirely subject to the author. It might hold fairly constant, or it might change completely with each reading, and never show the same page twice.
It explained the book’s condition, as well as why Twilight was unable to detect any preservation charms. The books were essentially magic given substance, and were completely indistinguishable from normal volumes to the untrained eye.
Unfortunately, it did absolutely nothing to narrow down her search. Those kind of tomes were rarely, if ever referenced, usually because of their amorphous nature.
But making the books required a massive investment of time, effort and energy. Why would anypony spend so much time to make a book that contained impossible spells and techniques?
Twilight sighed. You win this round, book.
She closed the tome with reverent care, certain that she’d simply missed something. The book had secrets, of that she was
sure. And the more stubborn it was about yielding them…well, the more she wanted to know them.
XXX
“Can’t Ah help?”
Applejack chuckled. “Thank ye kindly fer the offer, Applebloom. But…well, you ain’t quite big enough to do this yet.”
The filly pouted. “Yes Ah am! Ms. Cheerilee always said you can do anythin’ you put’cher mind to.”
Applejack gave an exaggerated shrug. “All right. If you say so.”
“Who knows?” Applebloom said, trotting over to the discarded crowbar. “Maybe mah cutie mark’s fer demolition.”
“The way you and yer friends are goin’,” Big Macintosh remarked, “That seems fairly likely.”
“An’ what’s that s’posed to mean?” Applebloom shot back.
Applejack and Big Macintosh both burst out laughing at their baby sister’s comical expression. “Absolutely nothin’,” Applejack said, wiping a tear of mirth from her eye. “Now, take th’ crowbar an’ stick the end…the other end, th’ hooked one…under th’ floorboard. Now just push on it.”
Applebloom followed her sister’s instructions, maneuvering the heavy tool with some difficulty. “Now Ah just pull on it, right?”
“Eeyup,” Macintosh said. “But remember, yer pullin’ up a whole board. It still takes a lot o’ force.”
Applebloom grasped the crowbar in her mouth and hauled back with all her might. The floorboard didn’t budge an inch.
The filly frowned and tried again. And yet again, nothing happened. Her eyebrows met, and she yanked on the iron bar again, using every ounce of strength in her small body.
And was rewarded with a loud screeching sound as the rusted nails pulled free of the floor joists. Applebloom stumbled backwards, thrown off-balance from the floorboard’s sudden release. For a moment, she stared with disbelief at the dislodged floorboard. Then a wide grin spread across her face.
“Ah did it!” she crowed, leaping in the air. A moment later, she was spinning in a circle, trying to get a look at her flank. “Has mah cutie mark appeared yet? What would a demolition cutie mark look like, anyway? Maybe a crowbar?”
She finally got a glimpse of her flank. Blank, as usual. Applebloom sighed. “On th’ other hand, maybe a crowbar wouldn’t look that good.”
Applejack glanced out the window, noting the low angle of the sun. “Well, Ah think it’s about time we called it quits for the day anyhow. Why don’t you hurry in an’ see if Granny Smith needs any help with dinner?”
“All right,” Applebloom replied, trotting toward the farmhouse.
Applejack watched her little sister go, a fond smile on her face. “Can’t blame her fer tryin’ can you?”
“Nnnope,” Macintosh replied, walking up beside her. “By the way, did you find out anything about that book?”
Applejack shook her head. “Twilight couldn’t really tell me much, ‘cept that it wasn’t worth much. Ah figured she could use it more than Ah could.”
“Too bad,” Macintosh said. “A few spare bits woulda been nice.”
“Yeah,” Applejack sighed. An uncomfortable silence ensued.
“C’mon,” she finally said. “Granny Smith’s prob’ly waitin’ fer us.”
“Eeyup,” Macintosh said, following.
XXX
Celestia eyed the black unicorn as he walked in through the door. "So this is the artist I've heard so much about," she said to the guard beside her.
The artist in question entered the audience chamber hesitantly, as if still unsure if he was allowed in. He wore a simple brown cloak over his body, to which was attached a small pack, presumably containing his painting supplies. Unusually, his coat was a uniform black, as dark as a starless sky. Even his mane, unruly despite an obvious effort to tame it, was the same shade of black.
The guard beside her whispered some necessary details in her ear. The artist was a traveler, and went by the name of Midnight. He had been arrested a week before for illegally crossing the border into Equestria, and had been held captive for several days.
His belongings had been confiscated, and roughly examined. To the surprise of the guards, all he carried was a few days' supplies, and a painting kit. The items had also included several paintings, all of which the guards agreed were museum quality. They had immediately assumed the paintings were stolen, and had roughly interrogated the complacent unicorn.
Only when he was seen sketching the view from his cell in the dirt of the floor did the guards finally believe his pleas that the paintings were his own work. Upon hearing that, the guards had apologized profusely and sent him on his way. The stallion had then requested that one of the guards travel with him to Canterlot, in order to avoid any future misunderstanding. Much to the disbelief of the guard accompanying him, a new recruit named About Face, he’d taken the whole thing in stride, even joking about it on the journey.
Once the stallion had reached the throne, Celestia spoke up. "Welcome to Canterlot, Midnight. But before I say anything else, I must apologize for your treatment at the border."
The stallion smiled. "No worries, your majesty. My paintings were unharmed, and that is all that matters. The guards were only doing their job, and I bear them no ill will. Especially About Face. Quite an agreeable fellow, once you get to know him. I believe he agreed to show me to the local tavern and share a few drinks."
"Yes..." Celestia said, momentarily taken aback. "Quite."
Usually, any artist would be livid at such treatment, and demand fair recompense. Still, something hinted that this unicorn was something special. His modesty (not to mention his carefree nature) only added to that feeling.
She cleared her throat, trying to cover up her momentary loss of composure. "I have seen your work, and I must say, I'm quite impressed."
The unicorn bowed respectfully. "I'm flattered, your majesty. But I'm just a simple traveling painter. I merely try to capture the beauty of nature with my brush."
"And you do that with a degree of skill I haven't seen for a long time," Celestia said warmly. "Tell me, Midnight. Where do you come from?"
The unicorn kept his face carefully neutral. "Here and there. My home country is...not one you would have heard of."
Celestia frowned slightly at his answer, but soon quashed her misgivings. Everypony had their right to privacy. This unicorn was no different.
“You must be tired after your journey,” she said. “I would be happy to offer you a room in the castle, where you would be free to stay as long as you wish.”
“Who knows,” Celestia continued, smiling. “I may even commission a work or two. That is, if you are willing.”
The stallion allowed himself a small smile. "Of course I do, your majesty. My brush is at your disposal."
Yes, perhaps he could find a place here. Perhaps he could lose himself in his art, and simply forget. Forget the past that was doing its damndest to catch up to him.