A Great and Powerful Heart

by Deep Pond


Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Trixie was still not sure how she had gotten into this situation.

It had started as just another show in another tiny town, this one named Promise. She didn't like to dwell on it, but she preferred small towns these days . . . they were more receptive to her talents, more interested in flash and spectacle, and easier to impress. Less likely to be caught up with the latest gossip from Ponyville.

The show had been dismal, even by her reduced standards. Normally, her wagon – smaller and scruffier than her old one, but still brightly-painted – attracted attention as she rolled into town, assuring her of at least a moderate crowd. Her fireworks and patter drew more ponies, and after getting them hooked with a few simple tricks, she issued her usual challenge: anything anypony could do, she could best. Inevitably, a few locals with delusions of grandeur would take her offer, but Trixie had been handling such glory-hounds for years, and rare was the one she couldn't humiliate. Play up the crowd, a few more tricks, and collect her bits. A time-tested pattern.

Except that Promise didn't follow the pattern.

Oh, she attracted attention, but it wasn't excitement or even curiosity . . . it was more like disdain and condescension. Earth ponies were usually the easiest marks for Trixie's show; having no natural magic of their own, they were more appreciative of her flash and glamour. Although Promise was full of earth ponies – she didn't notice any pegasi or unicorns, in fact – they seemed remarkably indifferent to the prospect of a magic show.

The gathered crowd was sparse, but Trixie gave them her best efforts regardless. Conjuring, fireworks, illusions, levitation, all the usual elements of her performance. This produced halfhearted applause at best, and some conspicuous looks of disdain. Even her challenge – to best anypony present at whatever stunt they cared to try – did not get one single taker.

She had just about decided to end the show early, when the local law appeared. A gangly, self-important young pony with a flute cutie mark lead the way, followed by a heavyset brown stallion to whom the crowd deferred. The introduced themselves as Deputy Flute and the sheriff, and promptly arrested her – exactly what for, Trixie was not certain. Something about her magic show, though the screaming match she and Flute had gotten into made it hard to be certain.

The sheriff took matters in hoof, bundling her off to jail without so much as giving her a chance to take off her hat. Trixie considered fighting, but a glance at the crowd dispelled that notion – the satisfaction on their faces convinced her that they would take great delight in holding her for the sheriff, even if she managed to slip his grasp. With bad grace she acceded to the inevitable, and soon found herself in a small, clean cell.

She fell asleep on the thin pallet, brooding over the unfairness of the world.


The door opened, and the sheriff himself ambled in, a heavy brown earth pony with a jet-black mane and tail, and a cutie mark of three brass shields. Brass, she'd heard him called, but she didn't know if that was a first or last name. She glared at him through the bars.

“What is the meaning of this? Why has Trixie been thrown into this wretched place?”

The sheriff walked over to Trixie's cell and regarded her in silence for a moment. “Trixie, that's your name, right?” he said, his voice deep with a country accent.

“That is correct,” Trixie replied. “And Trixie is still waiting for an explanation, Sheriff Brass.”

“Well, Miss Trixie,” Brass said, “seems your paperwork isn't quite in order. Y'see, traveling shows have to have certain papers and permits to operate in Equestria.”

“Trixie has the permits,” she snapped. “Trixie showed them to your . . . deputy last night. Signed in Canterlot itself.”

“Funny thing about those permits,” Brass said casually. “They're legit, sure enough, and signed in Canterlot like you said. And they're good for anywhere within a hundred miles of Canterlot. Unfortunately, Promise happens to be close on a hundred-fifty miles away from the capital.”

Trixie stared in disbelief. “You're joking,” she said after several seconds passed. “You must be.”

“ 'Fraid not,” said Brass. “So that's putting on a show without a license . . . trespassing . . .”

Trespassing?” Trixie demanded. “It's the town common! The entire purpose of it is to be open to the public!”

The sheriff nodded. “Provided they have the proper permits, of course. And then there's the matter of the children.”

“What?!”

“ 'Contributing to the delinquency of minor foals,' is the official terminology,” Sheriff Brass elaborated. “Means you were seen talking to some local foals, convincing them to do things for you.”

“They asked about Trixie's show,” Trixie said in a stiff voice. “Trixie asked them about your town. Trixie asked them to get her a snack.”

The sheriff nodded understandingly. “And I'm sure you didn't mean any harm by it, but the law's the law. And then there's –”

“Let us cut to the chase,” interrupted Trixie. “Trixie presumes there are fines associated with all of these . . . offenses. What would they come to, Sheriff?” Mentally, the unicorn ran down the list of her finances. They were at a low ebb, but she could probably scrape together fifty bits or so and not be entirely destitute . . .

Sheriff Brass named a figure. Trixie stared in shock.

“You're joking.”

“ 'Fraid not.”

“Trixie doesn't have that kind of money!”

“Then,” Brass sighed, “it looks like you're going to be staying with us for quite a while, young mare.”

The brown earth pony turned and ambled towards the door, apparently finished with the conversation, as Trixie's mind spun. This can't be happening . . . Trixie can't be thrown in jail in some puny earth pony town just like that, locked up for Celestia only knows how many months, all on some fat sheriff's say-so. It's absurd. Ridiculous.

At the doorway, the sheriff paused and eyed Trixie over his shoulder. “Of course,” he said thoughtfully, “as sheriff, I do have a certain amount of influence. On sentences, for instance.”

Trixie was silent.

“For example,” he went on, “if a young mare who'd gotten in trouble with the law – out of ignorance, not meanness – were to agree to take on a little job on behalf of the town, I could probably get her sentence reduced, or even commuted. And if she did well at the job, I might even be able to justify paying her.”

Trixie's eyes narrowed. “What sort of job are you talking about?”

“Nothing too complicated. Seems we've got a runaway . . . a colt. Now, we're all homebodies here in Promise, and busy to boot. But you're a traveler, living on the road, and you're not local. You'd pick up on things the rest of us might miss.”

“You want Trixie to find a runaway colt?” Trixie repeated, not sure she was hearing correctly. “And if Trixie is successful, you'll drop these ridiculous charges?”

“Something like that, yes,” Brass said, turning back towards the unicorn. “Find out what happened to him, where he went and why, and we'll call it even as far as the fines. Bring him back, and there'll be a few bits in it for you.”

“It seems that Trixie does not have much of a choice.”

The sheriff responded with a broad, insincere grin.


“His name's Jasper,” Sheriff Brass was saying as the two of them walked. “Little fella, about so big.” He held a hoof off the ground. “He's a brownish-red color with a purple mane and big yellow eyes. Last seen on the western side of town, couple days ago.”

“Mmm,” Trixie said noncommittally. “Does this Jasper have any family or friends whom Trixie might speak with? Somepony who would know him, and could suggest where he might have gone to?”

“Afraid not,” Brass answered. “The colt's an orphan; his mama died not long ago.” The earth pony opened his mouth as if to continue, then closed it again.

Trixie waited for him to elaborate, but he remained silent. They walked on quietly for a time.

“I should warn you, Miss Trixie,” Brass said after a moment, “that if you go too far west, you'll run into Dusky Dale, and that's a dangerous place. The plants and animals run wild there, and there's supposed to be monsters living in it. We stay out of there.”

“Dusky Dale,” Trixie repeated. “And if Trixie finds that Jasper has gone into this Dusky Dale, what is she to do?”

Sheriff Brass sighed heavily. “If he's gone into the Dale, he's not coming out again,” he said soberly. Trixie stopped and stared at him.

“Just like that?” she demanded. “You're not even going to make an effort to look?”

“No I'm not, and you shouldn't either. I'm not risking any lives on that – on a lost cause. You're a traveler, miss, you should have some idea how dangerous the wild lands can be. If he's in there, the colt won't be the first pony lost in Dusky Dale.”

“Fine,” Trixie snapped. “Trixie will look for your missing colt. Now, where is Trixie's wagon?”

“Ah, not so fast, miss,” said Brass, raising a hoof. “I think we're just going to hold onto that, for . . . security. Besides, you won't be able to look for a foal while hauling a wagon around.”

Trixie ground her teeth, but did not argue. She still had her hat and cape – nopony had tried to take those, and she wasn't about to give them the opportunity – which had a few little surprises here and there.

Besides, much as she hated to admit it, he had a point.

Sheriff Brass lead Trixie to the gate on the north side of town and gestured to the west. “That's where the colt was last seen.” He waited.

Trixie stared at the sheriff in frank astonishment. Brass looked blandly back. Really? the unicorn thought, this pony is a sheriff? Ugh. Fine, let's get this over with. With a swirl of her star-spangled cape she turned away from the other pony, marching down the muddy trail without another word.

As the wooden walls of Promise disappeared around a bend in the road, Trixie gave serious thought to continuing west and not turning back. She would forfeit her wagon, true, but she'd recovered from worse setbacks. After all, she was the Great and Powerful Trixie! It would be pleasant to never have to see this benighted earth pony burg again, or its fat and incompetent sheriff.

But she had her pride to consider. She had agreed to this job, however unwillingly, and the Great and Powerful Trixie did not go back on her word. Much as she was loath to admit it, if Brass did offer her payment for this farce of a job . . . she would probably take it. She was not destitute, but the life of a traveling magician was never one of wealth and ease, especially one with her reputation.

Then, too, there was the matter of the colt himself. Trixie knew she was not the nicest of ponies, but the idea of leaving a foal in danger grated on her sensibilities. Besides, with her powers, it would be foal's play to find one lost colt. She would bring the little urchin back to town, reclaim her belongings, and enjoy the look on Brass's face.

Yes. That was exactly how it would all work out. The Great and Powerful Trixie had decided it.


Three hours later, the Great and Powerful Trixie had just about had it.

After a slow start, she had managed to use magic to help her – a minor spell she'd learned as a filly, used for finding lost objects, had been subtly altered to find hoofprints. After some practice, Trixie was able to use it to find only hoofprints of a certain size, and was pleased to locate some immediately – small ones, foal-sized, in the road. The recent rains had left the road muddy and the ground soft, making Trixie's job easier.

She was considerably less pleased to discover that they ranged back and forth across the road, now up among the rocks on the north side, now through the trees to the south, now doubling back down the road. This forced her to follow a slow, weaving course lest she miss some clue or some point where the prints left the obvious track.

There also seemed to be too many hoofprints. Trixie was no tracker, but she could count, and there were at least two sets of prints traveling mostly parallel with each other – except when they crossed, doubled back, or joined into a confused muddle. Two foals? Brass hadn't mentioned that.

Then again, Trixie imagined she could fill a few books with things Brass hadn't mentioned.

The finding spell wasn't particularly taxing, but maintaining it for hours proved to be more of a strain that Trixie had anticipated. She was developing a headache, but was reluctant to either take a break or risk losing the trail.

Another hour of searching and her headache had become a full-blown reality, but she had reached the end of the trail.

So, Trixie guesses this must be Dusky Dale.

The valley spread out before her, extending from northeast to southwest and forcing the road to turn south as it followed the valley edge. More than a mile wide by Trixie's guess, Dusky Dale was heavily wooded, with tall, dense forest blocking all view of the ground. Under those trees, she guessed, it would indeed be dim and dusky.

The trees below rippled in a gust of wind, and Trixie shivered. Like the Everfree Forest away near Ponyville, Dusky Dale was clearly a wildland, a place where the normal laws of nature did not hold sway, where the weather formed without the aid of pegasus ponies, and where the animals were feral and untamed.

This was not good.

The trail of the foals had lead down the road for the last mile, in a more-or-less straight line – Trixie was now convinced that there were two foals – and right to the edge of Dusky Dale. There it stopped, and no more hoofprints were detectable to Trixie's magic.

Instead, there was a huge mass of raw earth extending down into the valley, where a landslide had ripped away great slabs of mud. Trixie guessed the ground must have been weakened by the recent rains.

The trail of the two foals lead directly into the center of the landslide and vanished.

Trixie stared down into Dusky Dale, irrationally frustrated. She had done exactly what Sheriff Brass had asked of her: she had found the track of young Jasper (and whoever the mystery foal was) and followed it. As Brass had hinted, it lead into the Dale. Case closed. Jasper was lost, Trixie was free, and that was the end of it.

Wasn't it?

Trixie closed her eyes in frustration. Yes. That's it. Trixie is getting out of this place before Brass thinks of more “jobs” that he doesn't feel like doing.

But if this was a success, why did it feel like failure?

With dragging steps, she turned and headed back towards Promise.