I — Aboard the Aeolipyle
I write this as a ward against future generations. Princess Celestia has heeded my advice and placed access restrictions on all uncensored copies of the expedition's report. She has bound them to the secure rooms of a select few libraries, such as the restricted stacks of Canterlot University. However, as my experiences during my youth prove, what lies in those dark halls is never entirely forgotten. Should another expedition to the Uncharted North be planned, take heed of my words: Do not go.
What follows is my personal account of the expedition. I hope its more emotive tones will find perches were the dryer words of technical reports fail. The facts as I relay them may seem outlandish or incredible, but I neither lie nor exaggerate here in. Photographs, taken both with my own hooves and by the many ponies of the expedition, provide independent corroboration for much of what I say, as do the writings and journals I was able to recover. To this last I append an additional warning. Many of the hoof-sketches within those pages are disquieting in subtle but profound ways. Do not dwell upon them too long or too closely.
Should an expedition be planned while I still live, I beg you to contact me immediately so that I may speak against it. In the end, though, I am no immortal alicorn and must rely on the good sense of ponies to come. Weigh my evidence. Consider my reputation. I have stood against Nightmare Moon, Discord and the Changeling Queen. I am Twilight Sparkle. What lies beyond the Mountains of Discord speaks ill to the very soul of ponykind and should never be roused.
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The nature of our enterprise is vital to a proper understanding, so I will relay it here. The Canterlot University Expedition was tasked with penetrating the deepest reaches of the Uncharted North and investigating what lay there. Our primary aim was the taking of deep level rock and soil samples, to improve our understanding of that most distant of regions. Some hoped that with knowledge gleaned from such study we could finally solve the mystery of the unnatural winter which persists year round north of the Stormwalds. This last was the chief goal of Professor Rock Watcher, an earth pony of unparalleled intellect and one of the chief forces driving the expedition.
Part of the geology department, he devised a lightweight mechanical drill for the boring of rock. While such devices have existed for some time, his demonstrated an extraordinary degree of reliability and portability, making it perfect for operation in the Uncharted North. Furthermore, he linked it with a simple thaumatrope engine, such that any unicorn could power it. He also worked to design the flying karts we would use, five of them, fashioned to withstand the extreme cold and possible windigo attacks. They were set with fire rubies and used an ingenious air-lock style door to allow teams of pegasi to enter and leave without the need to land. Perhaps even more important, complex enchantments extended an invisible weather shield over the otherwise exposed draft pegasi, protecting them from rain and snow. I had no doubt they'd prove able to transport the expedition from our base at the Storm Horn to deep in the interior.
The initial plan was simple, and I now say overly optimistic. The Uncharted North is called such for good reason, but it is not entirely un-delved. Using information brought back by the Farwalker, Glory Hooves and Longsight expeditions, we planned to pass through the Stormwalds at Chill Withers Pass and press on some seventy miles. That would take us to the Storm Horn, a tall but solitary mountain, and we'd make our main camp in its lea. From there, we would use the flying karts to penetrate deeper and take rock samples from as great a range of geological areas as possible. Once done, the expedition teams would fall back to the Storm Horn and then return to Equestria proper, hopefully all within a single season.
I should perhaps mention my place on the expedition. I am no geographer or geologist, and though I have some experience as an adventurer, such things are seldom highly weighted in academic circles.
My own education began with my acceptance into Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns as the Princess' personal student. There I excelled — save for a regrettable period in magical kindergarten — and graduated with high honours. Next I attended Canterlot University as an undergraduate and obtained my Bachelor's degree in Applied Magic in only two years, finishing top of my class.
With such results, I immediately began post-graduate work in various elements of magical research, though I was unable to settle. Seeing this, the Princess intervened and sent me to Ponyville, charging me with investigating the magic of friendship. This I did and four years later I submitted my thesis. The award of my D.Thau was swift and met with much interest. It also served at a legitimising fig leaf, and I was soon inundated with offers of professorships and other academic accolades.
You must understand, by this time I had already made quite a name for myself — mastering the Elements of Harmony and saving Equestria numerous times with the help of my friends. Combined with my personal relationship with the Princesses, I must have seemed quite the prize. I was disinclined to leave Ponyville, however; my heart said to stay with my friends and continue my research, but not all the offers required such. On the advice of my mentor I accepted a number of honorary degrees and sinecural posts.
Within another three years, I was a Doctor of Letters five times over and held chairs on many faculty councils and affiliated bodies. This last is of most relevance to the Canterlot University Expedition, for in the spring of year seven of the renewed co-regnum, Princess Celestia contacted me with her worries. Dark portents troubled Princess Luna's dreams, which are well-known to contain elements of prophecy. She saw the expedition traveling north, into the maw of a great darkness. Fearing to do nothing but not wishing to bar such a noble academic enterprise, Princess Celestia requested that I attach myself to the expedition and do my best to keep it safe.
I of course agreed at once. Using my chair on the Cruel and Unusual Geography Funding Board, I secured a place on the expedition for myself and my loyal assistant Spike, who insisted on coming with not a moment's hesitation. As with many such initiatives undertaken by the old universities, leadership was split among a council of three: myself, the earth pony Professor Rock Watcher and Bingo, a pegasus cartographer of known skill. We met at the Chambers Inn to set our plans in motion and agreed the leave date of the expedition: the 3rd of June.
The expedition left Canterlot with much fanfare. We'd hired the airship Aeolipyle for the duration of our trip, a majestic craft shaped like a great whale but painted in the deep, vibrant colours of pony life. I waved to my friends as the crew cast the ropes loose from the sky docks. They waved back, Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Rarity. Applejack raised her filly high to see, and Rarity blew Spike a kiss. As the Aeolipyle pulled away, Rainbow Dash whooshed passed and sent me a cocky salute before looping back. It was the last I'd see of my friends for some time, though I'd think of them often.
Not including the expedition leaders and Spike, we numbered twenty-five ponies. Five of those were academics of various scientific disciplines, fifteen were graduate students and the remainder were specialists hired from outside, ranging from a doctor to a cook. In addition, the Aeolipyle came complete with a crew of thirty pegasi and three unicorns, experienced sky ponies all able to sail the ship and manage its cloud bag.
We headed north at an easy 50 knots, the Aeolipyle's cruising speed. Not fast by the standards of a pegasus on the wing, perhaps, but more than fit for our purposes. We covered the some 600 miles to the Crystal Mountains in just over half a day, the rolling countryside of Equestria below us. The sun had just begun to fade as we passed over the mountains and into the Crystal Empire, the northernmost of Equestria's provinces. The sun provided quite a sight, red-gold light running along the mountains like a stream. I'd need to compliment Princess Celestia on her good work when I returned.
As we moved onwards, I looked down at the ground. The Crystal Empire stretched as far as I could see — a fertile strip of land some 200 miles north to south and 500 east to west, sandwiched between two gigantic mountain ranges. As little as five years ago, snow covered the land, the unending winter of the Uncharted North breaking through the Stormwalds to freeze everything north of the Crystal Mountains. It was nothing like that now. Thanks to the magic of the Crystal Heart and Princess Cadance, such malignant forces were kept permanently at bay.
Small farms peppered the ground, covered with fruit trees and crops. The crystal ponies who tended them were a hard-working sort, which was to be expected. The current scientific consensus lists them as an earth pony sub-breed, identical save for the crystal silicates which grow from their coats.
From my elevated perch, I could just make out the lights of the Crystal Citadel, the empire's capital. My brother would be there. It had been three months since I'd last seen him. I truly wanted too, but our schedule did not call for a stop. I turned back towards Equestria proper and saw the strangest sight. A dot waved and jinked about the sky, getting closer with each passing second. It was heading right for us.
With a crash, Derpy Hooves landed on the shielded deck before me, her eyes wobbling even more than normal. "Mail for you, Doctor Twilight," she said and held it up with a shaking hoof.
"Thank you, Derpy," I said and took the letter. It was from my brother, wishing me a safe trip. The letter must have travelled all the way from the Crystal Empire, to the main Canterlot sorting office, onto Ponyville and then almost all the way back in the hooves of my local mailmare. It spoke of an impressive dedication.
Spike helped Derpy upright, and she said, "Doctor Twilight, ma'am, I'd like to join the expedition. I've always wanted to see the north."
That hadn't been what I'd expected. I gave Derpy a good look. She had more body fat and a thicker coat than most of the pegasi I knew, well suited for the chilly conditions we'd face. And she'd already demonstrated her commitment, traveling over six hundred miles to deliver my letter.
"Very well," I said. "Spike, find our expedition mailmare a bunk."
"Aye aye, mon Capitán," said Spike and sent me a sarcastic salute. He led the smiling Derpy away.
Captain Longarrow slowed the airship as full night hit us and lit the running lamps. It gave me a chance to get some sleep, and come the dawn of the 4th of May, the foothills of the Stormwalds were upon us. Everypony on board felt invigorated by the sight. Beyond those sharp black peaks lay the Uncharted North and our goal. But we had one important stop to make first.
Three cities lie upon the Stormwalds' southern faces, pegasi towns known as rookeries for their colour and shape. They are forbidding black towers, heated by volcanic hot springs such that they survived even the thousand-year cold which followed the disappearance of the Crystal Empire. From those towers, a hearty breed of dark feathered pegasi venture north to capture the most potent of snow-clouds for export south. They are the best cold weather fliers in Equestria, and we'd need to hire one and a half score if our expedition was to succeed.
The Aeolipyle dropped anchor at the largest of the three cities — Svalbarding — and Professor Rock Watcher, Bingo and I descended to negotiate employment. There we met our local factor, a truculent old pegasus with only one working wing, the other lost to frostbite years ago. He either wasn't impressed by my reputation or didn't know and haggled hard. It took us some three hours and more funds that I liked, but we got what we required: 30 able-bodied pegasi fit to pull flying karts and work in the icy grip of eternal winter. Even this far north, there were plenty of young stallions and mares whose blood ran hot with the need for adventure.
In order to enjoy our last sight of civilisation for quite some time, we spent the remainder of the day and the whole of the night at Svalbarding. I cannot say I truly relished the strange berry wines sold in the drinking houses of the upper city, but some of the younger ponies did. Come the 5th and with our party thus expanded, we resumed our journey.
Chill Withers Pass, when we reached it, was a great break in the mountains, and the airship sailed through, towering dark peaks on both sides. As the dagger-like shards passed by, Spike spoke:
"Who dares open the door of his mouth, ringed about with fearsome teeth?
"Who dares cross the spikes of his back, rows of black spears?
"Who dares break the armour of his scales, a wall of shields under which fire burns?"
"We do," I muttered, Spike's words bringing Celestia's warning to the fore. "We do."
We left Chill Withers Pass and reached the Uncharted North proper. At once, the winds increased. The airship shook and snow battered against the windows. Beyond those glassy planes was a cryptic world of frozen death. The wood of the deck creaked under my hooves, strange sounds that spoke in a mesmeric fashion directly to my nerves. The trilling notes of a gale added to the unnatural symphony, and half heard music played in its depths, as if winter itself sang the hymns of the dead but undying.
A moment later the blood chilling howls of windigos joined the orchestra, and my mind went unbidden to the mad zebra Abdul Alhaizum's October Codex. Spawn of Ithaqua, it named the windigos, children of the Wind-Walker who travels the cold roads between stars. I was suddenly rather sorry that I had ever sought out that dread tome in the restricted stacks of Canterlot University during my early post-graduate days. As the hours wore on, other regrets joined the first, such as my long conversations with that most erudite and mordant professor of folklore Heart-make.
With the wind against us, the Aeolipyle reduced speed to a crawl. Teams of pegasi flew alongside, bearing heavy ropes and clutching obese cloud outriggers to keep us level. As Captain Longarrow informed me, the wind could ruin us in moments without such precautions. The night was hard and long, and the windigos did not quiet. What I'd read in the October Codex kept playing through my mind: blood rites of appeasement, rituals of sacrifice and cannibalism. Did ponies really propitiate dark forces in this way? As all ponies of Equestria knew, the fire of friendship could drive windigos back, but what of their father and what of when such methods failed?
Sunrise on May 6th did something to ease my mind, but the night had put the expedition on edge. Tight Screw, a young earth pony post-graduate in the Engineering Department, almost came to blows with one of the newly hired pegasi, a middle-aged mare with aviator goggles for her cutie mark. Professor Rock Watcher broke it up with a no-nonsense bark of command, but we wouldn't survive long without harmony and unity.
As the day wore on, restlessness caused me to risk the deck. Even through my cold weather clothing, the cold bit deep, sinking through my coat like icy knives. I lit my horn and cast a simple heating spell. The magic stole away the worst of the chill but some remained. Thus protected, I looked around. Dense clouds hid the sun, creating a diffuse wall of white illumination. Falling snow hid everything else, and I could only just make out our pegasus escorts, holding their taut ropes. There wasn't much to see, and I wondered how much further our destination could possibly be?
My answer came at just after 3pm, when one of our black winged pegasus scouts returned. He reported spotting the Storm Horn and had placed the beacon. The Aeolipyle's navigation unicorn locked on, and we changed direction to intercept. At midday, I returned to the deck accompanied by Derpy and Spike and saw it too, the snow having weakened for a time. The Storm Horn shot almost two miles straight up, a solitary black cone of jagged rock. It was a volcanic mountain, and smoke rose from the ragged maw that marked its tip. Hopefully its primal fire would help to keep back windigos. The analytical part of my mind pointed out it would take greater magic than the expedition had available to truly bar them entry, to say nothing of the other horrors which might stalk this aberrant frozen tundra.
Green moss and lichen grew in a thick band around the Storm Horn's middle, and a number of fast, darting birds swooped and contorted over it. No doubt they hunted some smaller creature I couldn't see. Fluttershy would be horrified to see so many animals living wild with nopony to care for them, but I felt something else. I felt a stirring wonder at the ability of nature to survive even this harsh, untamed wilderness.
To my surprise Derpy pointed and named the birds — gyrfalcons, ivory gulls, kittiwakes and more. It seemed she knew far more about the Uncharted North than many a pony. That was for the best. As the expedition's mailmare, she would soon be charged with flying letters from the base camp at the Storm Horn to the small telegraph station at Svalbarding. It wasn't a long trip, but the conditions could make it a dangerous one. Over any lesser distance, Spike's dragon magic would have let me send letters directly to Princess Celestia, but even he could not send a missive 900 miles.
Over the course of three tense hours, Captain Longarrow and his crew lowered the Aeolipyle to the ground and secured the great craft with many long chains and ropes. Once the deck stopped shifting under my hooves, I gave orders, and the unpacking commenced. From the Aeolipyle's crammed cargo hold, teams of earth ponies retrieved the five customised flying karts. Professor Rock Watcher spent an anxious hour carefully examining every inch of wood and each of the glittering fire rubies for damage, but at last pronounced them intact. While he did that, the rest of the expedition unloaded the bulk of the supplies.
I will not bore you with the mundane details of setting up camp. Thanks to Derpy, every newspaper in Equestria carried minute-by-minute reports of this stage of our mission. There's a quite famous photo of Professor Rock Watcher, Bingo and I, standing on the black, volcanic rocks of the Storm Horn, the Equestrian flag flying behind us. I do not advise you search it out over any special vanity, you understand, but it may help you comprehend that fundamental optimism that yet pervaded our venture, though as I have said, the cracks were showing. There's a second less published picture I also recommend. It shows the Aeolipyle chained to the ground, like a captured marauding dragon, defeated and broken. Within its faded colours lurks a hint of the truth yet to come.
It took our company almost two days to fully set in, but we worked hard, and the volcanic energies of the Storm Horn proved a great help. I contrived to magically connect a number of surplus fire rubies to that awe-inspiring source of heat and surrounded the camp with a protective fence. This proved fortuitous thinking on my part, for at nights great wails woke the camp, as creatures unknown and unnamed were driven back. A number of rapidly constructed buildings provided habitation, their walls made from layered plastic. They weren't as homely as the dwellings of my adopted Ponyville but kept off the cold.
With the camp established our mission proper began on the 9th, one full week after we left Canterlot. Professor Watcher, Doctor Rodinia and Professor Cambrian each took a flying kart and departed in three different directions to take samples. A collection of graduate students and six of the powerful Svalbarding pegasi accompanied each team. Bingo left the following day to perform cartographic study, taking with him a further dozen pegasi, comprising a mixture of both students and hirelings. This left me to manage the main camp, a task I took to with alacrity. I established shift rosters and watch patrols, as much to keep everypony occupied as to perform a truly useful function. Some of the work was important, however, and I made sure to have a rescue team always on standby. We had two spare flying karts for just such a purpose, and I wanted to act immediately if trouble brewed.
My able assistant Spike made communication between our disparate groups possible. Each team carried with them ten jars of his emerald dragon fire. Burn a letter and it would be instantly transported to Spike at the main camp. Although single use, I felt confident in this security precaution. Each group sent a letter at the end of each day, covering their accomplishments to date. I would then copy out these reports, synthesise a summation for popular consumption and send both packages south with Derpy.
During this time, I came to know some of the other expedition members. Steelheart was the expedition's medical doctor, an iron coated unicorn mare who proved as strict with her health regime as I was with my timetables. No one was exempt from regular check-ups, and woe betide the foalish stallion who refused his lime juice. More surprisingly, I attracted an admirer in the form of a young mare from among the Svalbarding pegasi. Mountain Flower dreamed of traveling south to study at a Cloudsdale university and saw me as something of an ideal. I promised her a letter of reference if she continued to perform well. Spike, as always, was my truest companion, taking letters, filing papers, and being my eyes, ears and hooves in the camp. His dragon constitution proved as unbothered by cold as it was by heat, and I think part of him enjoyed the return to the old days — just him and me against the world.