As the three traveling companions ventured through the airport, Trixie found herself the center of attention, a position she usually relished, but which now made her uncomfortable. There were few ponies to be seen, but plenty of humans goggling at the little blue unicorn with a large trunk floating alongside her. For her own part, Trixie found the airport similar to the one they’d departed. Did humans have to build everything from the same plan, she wondered?
She glanced up at a sign and then exclaimed, “Manchester! Really? You humans poke so much fun at the names of pony cities, and then you bring me to a place called Manchester?”
Ivan laughed out loud, while Abdel merely blinked as if he didn’t get the joke. He said, “It is the second largest airport in England, and nearer to our destination than Heathrow. There should be a car waiting for us. This way!” He led them unerringly to a limousine, and soon they were on their way out of the airport.
Once again Trixie found herself in a distressingly leather-upholstered vehicle, staring out a window into a drizzly concrete cityscape. “Everything looks so gray,” she observed, quite softly, but Ivan overheard.
He told her, “Contrary to some pernicious rumors, the sun does shine on Merrie Olde England from time to time. All it takes is a wee bit of patience. There’s an old saying: if you don’t like the weather here, just wait a minute.”
Trixie slumped back in her seat, ears drooping. She thought that in her years of travel she’d put homesickness far behind, but she’d never been this far from home. Riding in this strange machine, with only humans around her, traveling through a dismal and alien landscape, she felt every mile of distance between herself and Hoofington. Come to think of that, she wasn’t even sure if the distance could be measured in miles. They were in different worlds, after all.
She glanced at Ivan McGregor, and Abdel Youssef, and at the anonymous driver of the limousine. What did she really know about any of these people? The more she thought about it, the more implausible it seemed that anyone would spend an enormous sum and transport her halfway around the world merely for a magic performance. If she never returned from this trip, would anypony even try to look for her? She huddled lower in her seat, the Great and Powerful Trixie feeling quite small.
After a while the car slowed, and the humans shifted in their seats, craning their necks to peer ahead. “What is it?” Ivan asked.
“It appears to be a traffic accident,” Abdel said, though his tone was laced with uncertainty.
They kept their eyes focused ahead as their car slowed almost to a stop, then Ivan said, “This is no accident.” He poked at the intercom with his thumb and called to their driver, “Gun it! Get us out of here!” The driver started to say something in reply, but then he reflexively ducked. A cinder block had been lobbed from behind the debris in the road and smashed into the limo’s windshield, crazing it with a spiderweb of fractured glass. Figures emerged all around from their hiding places and rushed to the car, shouting and battering it with bricks and rude clubs. One young man swung a cricket bat with gusto.
Wide eyed with fear, Trixie cried out over the din, “What’s happening? What do they want?” The hammering on the sides and roof of the car was like heavy hailstones, the muffled shouts angry and incoherent.
Abdel admonished, “Remain calm! The car is armored, they can’t get in.” Then he switched on the intercom and said to the driver, “Drive through them if you have to!”
The driver’s voice, laced with fear, came back. “It won’t move! The computer won’t let the car accelerate when there’s someone in front of it.”
The beating sounds stopped, but immediately the car began to rock violently side-to-side. Ivan said, “They’re trying to flip us over.”
“No!” yelled Trixie. She reared up and put her front hooves on the car door, and her horn flared with a bright magenta glow — lighting up the startled face of a man outside. An instant later the whole car flared with light of the same color, and all the attackers were knocked back from it.
The expression on Trixie’s face had gone from fear to angry determination. Her horn glowed fiercely as a dark cloud gathered above the limousine. A white flash flickered through the cloud, accompanied by a sharp crack of thunder. The humans around the car scattered, disappearing even more quickly than they had appeared.
The glow of magic faded, and Trixie sat back, puffing from her exertions. For a moment her companions only stared at her. Then Ivan had the presence of mind to thumb the intercom once more and say, “I think we better get indoors. The chavs are easily startled, but they’ll be back soon — and in greater numbers.” The driver nodded and quickly threw the car into gear and moved it around the wreckage, and then accelerated down the highway.
Once a safe distance away, the driver brought their car to rest at a corner store. He phoned the police to report the incident, and then got on with assessing the damage to the vehicle. His passengers, all shaken by the event, paced about restlessly. Trixie felt weak in the knees, yet filled with nervous energy — and she wanted answers. “Who were those humans, and why did they attack us?” she demanded.
Abdel muttered, “Terrorists. HLF, perhaps, trying to capture a powerful unicorn.” He fumbled with his phone, hands trembling.
“Oh stuff it!” shot back Ivan. “Those were no terrorists. They only wanted to get whatever they imagined we’ve got. Or vent their frustrations on us, because we had something and they’ve got nothing. They didn’t even know Trixie was with us until she started casting spells.”
“They were monsters!” Trixie asserted, her voice growing shrill. “This is what my friends tried to warn me about. They told me not to cross the barrier. I should have stayed on the other side, where there aren’t any humans.”
Ivan sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. Then he looked to Trixie and said, “No, they’re not monsters. They’re just young men with no hope, and they don’t see any future, so they lash out. Can you imagine what it’s like to have no hope and no future?”
Trixie was lying with her belly on the floor, sniffling as she looked at her front hooves. Sensing that she was on the verge of tears, Ivan knelt by her and reached over to stroke her mane. She flinched at first, but he spoke soothingly to her. “It’ll be all right. We’re going someplace safe. And by the way… You were amazing.”
Trixie sniffed again and looked up at him. “I was?”
“Great and powerful indeed! If it was up to me, I’d recruit you on the spot.”
Abdel got off the phone and told them, “Another car is being dispatched to pick us up. We should not have to wait long.”
They took advantage of the brief delay to have a few snacks, although Trixie found the bench seats in the store hard and uncomfortable, and the pre-packaged, processed foods unappetizing. At least going through the motions of eating helped them all calm down. The new car arrived shortly, and their journey continued in peace. The drizzle had died away, and the clouds were breaking up and letting late afternoon sunshine through. Trixie blinked in befuddlement and asked, “Why is the sun so low? It’s mid-day!”
The humans glanced at each other with momentary confusion, then Abdel realized what she meant. “Of course, you did not realize we traveled across five time zones during our flight. It is mid-day back in New York, but it is five hours later here. We call the phenomenon ‘jet lag’, and it can be quite disorienting.”
“Do you mean to say that I somehow lost five hours from my life during that flight? What kind of evil magic is that?”
Abdel appeared flustered, not knowing how to respond, but Ivan chuckled and answered, “It’s not magic, and you will get those five hours back when you make the return trip. Although, that can be just as disorienting. It mucks around your sense of time and your sleep cycle, no way around it. It can take a few days to get back into sync with the world around you.”
Trixie frowned but accepted that explanation, and turned her attention to the car windows once again. They’d left the city and major highways behind, now traveling through a green countryside that looked far more inviting. She was surprised when she began to spot buildings with thatched rooftops and stone chimneys, much like those common in the smaller towns of Equestria.
Their car turned down a narrow country lane bounded with hedgerows, so picturesque that — aside from the black asphalt paving — Trixie could almost imagine they’d taken a wrong turn and somehow ended up back in Equestria. She glanced at the farm fields, half expecting to see earth ponies working them. The car slowed further to let a brown hare hop out of the path. After a time they came to an iron gate, which swung open (as if by magic, Trixie thought), and an attendant waved them through.
Farmland was replaced by manicured gardens, and they were brought to a stately country house. They climbed out of the car, and a couple of servants quickly showed up to help with the luggage.
An elegantly dressed couple also came out of the house and approached. The gentleman who greeted them was a stocky, middle-aged man wearing a dark suit, a trim mustache and a monocle over his left eye. He grinned and stepped forward, and said, “Good evening, my friends! Welcome!”
“We’re glad to have arrived intact, Lord Peter” Ivan said.
“Indeed. You’ve been through the wars today, I daresay. We’ll soon set that right. All the amenities of my humble mansion are at your disposal.” He felt a tugging at his elbow, and the lady by his side cleared her throat softly. Lord Peter nodded and continued, “Ah yes. Gentlemen, you might recognize my companion, the lovely Miss Florence Duflot. Florence, may I introduce Mister Abdel Youssef? He has organized our recruiting efforts to marvelous effect. And this robust gentleman is our geomancer, Ivan McGregor. He’ll be in charge of the work at Castlerigg.” Then he turned his attention to Trixie. “Ahh… And this little unicorn surely is the mare of the hour.”
Trixie knew that was her cue. She reared up on her hind legs, bringing herself somewhat closer to human stature and announced, “I am the Great and Powerful Trixie, the most magical unicorn in all of Equestria!”
Florence squealed and tightened her grip on Lord Peter’s arm, and said, “Ooh, she’s adorable!”
Trixie dropped to all fours and shot a piercing glare at the woman for an instant, as adorable hadn’t been the impression she was striving for. Their host distracted her by clapping his hands. “Bravo!” he exclaimed. “Madame Trixie, I am Lord Peter Feathering-Walthamstone, and it was at my behest that you were hired. I must say I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough introduction to England. These are trying times for so many… However, I shall endeavor to make the remainder of your stay pleasant.”
“Trixie appreciates your hospitality, Lord Peter.”
“Come now, let us retire indoors! You are all my guests, and your comfort is my paramount concern.”
Trixie found the interior of Feathering-Walthamstone Manor was, much like the surrounding countryside, a mixture of the familiar and unfamiliar. It was appointed in luxurious styles of decor and furniture resembling the upper class mansions of Equestria, of which Trixie had some limited experience. However, everything seemed stretched vertically to about double its normal height, giving Trixie the uncomfortable feeling of being a midget, or of having regressed to the form of a small filly.
The advanced electronic devices that were so prevalent in human society seemed at first to be absent, but Trixie soon spotted many of them cleverly concealed in the furnishings. In her guest room she found a large television screen built into the wall, though she had no idea how to operate it.
Trixie unpacked some of her belongings, including her all-important hat and cape. Then she curled up on the bed and tried to rest, although with limited success. Some while later one of the house staff knocked and roused her, and conveyed an invitation to supper with her host.
The evening meal — even though it felt like early afternoon to Trixie — was a congenial affair, with Abdel, Ivan and Florence partaking as well. The kitchen staff had taken care to prepare food suitable for a pony, and Trixie could find no fault with it. Trixie’s deft magical manipulation of her eating utensils drew favorable comments. Lord Peter insisted upon hearing a detailed account of the mob’s attack and how Trixie had repulsed it — a request that Trixie was only too happy to fulfill. She stood upright in her chair, thumping the tabletop and gesturing with her front hooves as story grew with its telling.
“…and then a final crash of magically summoned thunder and lightning sent the terrorists fleeing for their miserable lives, vanquished by the Great and Powerful Trixie!”
Her audience applauded. If Abdel or Ivan were bothered by her embellishments, they gave no indication. Florence, in particular, seemed entranced by Trixie’s account. After the tale was done, and Trixie settled back into her seat at the table, Florence said, “I’ve done action scenes, of course, but it’s hardly the same. In the movies we have green screens and stunt doubles. When we were filming the Ringworld movie, almost everything was done in front of a green screen, and I had to imagine the aliens that I was supposed to be reacting to. I’ve never been through a real-life adventure like that.”
Trixie beamed. She was in her element. “Trixie has faced many dangers and witnessed many wonders in her travels across the face of Equestria. It is no life for the faint-hearted, but Trixie was born for adventure!”
Lord Peter said, “You’ve surely made a splash with your arrival. That brings to mind the question of your upcoming performance. I had in mind a gathering of perhaps two dozen friends and associates. I wonder how soon you could make ready?”
She thought for a moment and then ventured, “I left all of my larger properties behind with my van. To put on a show worthy of the journey will require replacing several of them. I need to find local sources for those items. I shall also need some time to rehearse. A couple of weeks, perhaps?”
Lord Peter nodded agreement. “That seems fair enough. Let’s plan on that, shall we?”
Florence said, “Please do keep me apprised, dear! I wouldn’t miss it.”
“I should make it back for that as well,” Ivan added.
After supper Trixie still felt unsettled by the day’s events and also by her body’s confused internal clock. Tired, but unlikely to sleep for a while, she decided to take a stroll around the estate’s garden grounds. Although she had no fine eye for gardens, she could tell it was arranged with care and well-maintained. She found a cozy, wooded area with a small pond, where she lay on the grass and allowed herself to meditate for a little while and try to forget about how far from home she was.
Meditation is a technique learned by all unicorns with any aspiration to magical talent. The goal is to reduce all thought — both conscious and unconscious — to a minimum, thus resting the mind and replenishing magical reserves. A truly skilled unicorn could meditate even when surrounded by noise and activity. On this day, however, Trixie’s thoughts wandered.
She wondered about her employer and The Golden Dawn. None of her traveling companions had talked about it much, and she’d been reluctant to ask. She still didn’t know what it stood for. She had worried at first that it was somehow associated with the pony-hating Human Liberation Front. Clearly The Golden Dawn was a human organization, but everything else she’d seen argued against any HLF connection. All the humans she’d met had been friendly, and Abdel had even suggested the HLF as a suspect in the mob’s attack. That attack could perhaps have been staged — but if so, it was an elaborate production for the sake of one little unicorn.
A connection with HLF’s opposite, Ponyfication for Equestria’s Rebirth, also seemed unlikely. The PER was dominated by newfoals, but Trixie hadn’t yet seen a single one in the company of The Golden Dawn. Ivan’s cryptic comments about not planning to be converted likewise flew in the face of an organization with the avowed mission of forcibly converting all humans.
The best clue Trixie had seen was the symbol on the side of the jet, the peculiar, stylized eye interposed upon a golden sun. It was highly suggestive, yet hard to interpret. The sun looked so much like Princess Celestia’s cutie mark — was it mere coincidence, or did they intend to somehow overthrow or replace her? Or, for that matter, did they worship her? Trixie was familiar with “hero worship”, but humans seemed to imbue the word with a very different meaning. Lord Peter Feathering-Walthamstone did not give the impression of one leading a Princess Celestia fan club.
Trixie glanced toward the sun, now sinking low, its warm orange light filtering through the trees. It was nice. Then Trixie looked up and blinked with confusion. The moon was up! A pale half-moon was already high in the sky, even as the sun approached the horizon. Trixie was on her feet in a moment, gawping upward at the impossible sight. How could the sun and moon both be in the sky at the same time?
Oh yeah… This was another world. The sun and moon followed their own rules here, controlled by no princess. As she watched, clouds scudded across the sky — propelled only by the wind, with no pegasus ponies to guide them — and they passed across the face of the moon, obscuring it. Trixie shivered. Only in a few wild-and-dangerous places in Equestria, such as the feared Everfree Forest, did the clouds and sky dance to their own chaotic tune.
Trixie no longer found comfort in the garden. She returned to the mansion, resolving to ask someone for help with the TV. Maybe she could see that movie Florence had mentioned.
The next morning, at breakfast, Trixie learned that Abdel and Ivan would be leaving forthwith. Abdel would return to America for some further recruiting, and Ivan was proceeding to Castlerigg. Florence, however, offered to help Trixie with the preparations for her act.
After breakfast, Trixie and Florence went to Lord Peter’s library. Trixie eyed the many shelves filled with heavy tomes. She said, “I didn’t know humans still used books like these. I thought you used your interwebs for everything.”
“Tradition is valued here,” Florence replied, “and I’m sure Lord Peter has many rare volumes that have never been scanned into a computer. However, most business is conducted by telephone or over the internet these days. So, we’ll be going online to find what you need. Didn’t you mention needing fireworks? Those are heavily regulated for safety. I’m sure we’ll need a professional to set that up for us.”
“I am a professional! I’ve been setting up my own fireworks for years.”
“Oh? Be that as it may, you’re not accredited in England. No, we must find a pyrotechnic specialist. I’ll bet some of my friends in the movie business could point us in the right direction.” She pulled a compact computer from her handbag.
Soon Florence was navigating freely through Google, Facebook, Twitter, web pages and email, as Trixie looked on in profound befuddlement. During her magical training she’d had to deal with plenty of egghead unicorns and their seemingly impenetrable jargon, and she’d mastered as much of it as she absolutely had to. None of it compared with the way humans lapsed into gibberish as soon as they began talking about computers. The most frustrating aspect was that nothing about the devices was secret. Every human seemed willing — sometimes eager — to demonstrate and explain how they worked, but for the pony it felt much like pounding her head against a brick wall.
Despite Trixie’s uncertainty, Florence was optimistic, and they agreed to meet again in the afternoon to review any replies that had come back. With time on her hooves, Trixie browsed through Lord Peter’s books for a while, finding the collection highly eclectic. Books of history filled the largest section, followed by reference and technical works, then books of myth and folklore. Trixie found practical and utilitarian books next to ones of eccentric subject matter. Fiction, however, occupied only a small section.
Then Trixie stumbled across a weighty tome titled The Book of the Dead. Morbid curiosity compelled her to levitate it over to a table and open to a random page. At the top half of each page was pictographic writing of an exotic type Trixie had never seen before, and below was an English translation. Trixie read:
Every god feareth thee, for thou art exceedingly great and terrible; thou [avengest] every god on the man who curseth him, and thou shootest arrows at him. Thou livest according to thy will. Thou art Uatchet, the Lady of Flame, evil befalleth those who set themselves up against thee.
Trixie bit her lip and read the passage again. She felt the most eerie impression that she hadn’t turned to this page by accident. It almost seemed as though the book was trying to send her a message, or a warning. Unsettled, she put it back on the shelf and departed the library.