//------------------------------//
// Chapter 06 
// Story: The Royal Apples: Into the Land of Neverwere 
// by Radical Gopher 
//------------------------------//

	Big Mac did not want to draw attention by hiring a cab or even walking openly down the streets of Manehatten, so they returned to the old subway tunnels and made their way to Grand Central Station.  He explained on the way why they’d had to leave Applejack behind.  Neither Rarity nor Rainbow were easy to convince.  
“Well, I’ve known A.J. for a very long time and she doesn’t strike me as being a pony who’d side with HIM,” the unicorn insisted.  “If anything, she’s pretty neutral on the subject, out of respect for her clients.”
“Which clients are those?” Babs asked.
“Prince Blueblood for one, and Fleur de Lis.  They’re both staunch supporters of HIM.  But they don’t hold much sway over her.  As a matter of fact, her only concern of late is making enough money so she can retire while she still has her youth.”
“Ay’d have to agree on that,” said Babs.  “Applejack’s become a lot more mercenary since I was a filly.”  She paused for a moment.   “Youse do know there’s a standing reward of half a million bits to any pony who turns an alicorn in to the authorities.”  
Rarity stopped where she stood and pursed her lips.  “I hadn’t known that,” she muttered quietly.  Her head dropped slightly.  She wondered sadly if she had unknowingly encouraged that trait in her friend.  It would give her a very strong motive for betrayal, especially since she had no real kinship with Big Mac.  
The unicorn took a calming breath and blinked away the tears that had started to form.  “Well, if we’re ever going to get to Grand Central Station, we’re going to have to step it up a bit,” she said as she trotted boldly forward.  The others followed.      
Reaching the station they found themselves surrounded by herds of ponies coming and going in their daily routines.  It made them all feel a little safer about being out in the open.  Finding a kiosk, they purchased tickets on the next train west.  Once on the train, every pony slept except for Big Mac.  He couldn’t stop thinking and wondering how putting this world straight would help him get home again.  He was also somewhat worried about being able to find the Castle of the Two Pony Sisters.  While he had a rough idea of which way to go, he had never been there himself, nor had any of the others since they abandoned their quest once Twilight had died.  Eventually, exhaustion overcame him and he drifted off to sleep.
“You know, all things considered, you’re not doing too badly,” came a voice drifting out of his dream. “I mean look at you, leading your heroic little band of misfits off on a trek to save the world.  It’s positively Tolkienesque.”
“Tolkien... what?”
“Oh, that’s just a little fourth wall allusion.  Pay it no mind,” replied the draconequus.  “Too bad about Applejack, but you’re a lot better off without her, at least this time round.”
“Y’all got something ta tell me, Professor Pony?”
“Not yet... but soon.  And if you’re worried about how to get home, just keep doing what you’re doing and it will all turn out right.”
“Ya promise?” said Big Mac skeptically
“Of course not.  This is your show.  You created the circumstances so you have to solve it.  I will admit, it’s quite fun to watch.  Now if you will excuse me, I have to go refill my popcorn.”  With that the voice vanished and Big Mac woke up.  

**********

There was no passenger train to Ponyville or any point south, so they rode as far as Canterlot Junction, one stop before the capital, and disembarked there.  Fortunately, there was an outbound milk train on its way to what had once been Appleloosa.  In spite of the devastation ponies still worked some of the farm lands in and around what had been Ponyville.  It didn’t take much more than a gem or two from Rarity to convince the engineer to at least slow down as they passed the remains of the old Ponyville station    When he did, everypony jumped off.  
Big Mac looked around at the wreckage.  The station itself was gone, though the loading docks were still there so local farmers could ply their trade.  The town... well there was no town to speak of save for a few rotted and abandoned buildings.  The library tree Twilight had been so fond of was literally torn out by the roots and lay decaying on its side.  
“Y’all told me what happened ta Twilight Sparkle... but what about her friend, Spike?”
“Spike?” asked Rainbow.  “Who the heck is Spike?”
“Don’t you remember?” asked Fluttershy softly.  “He was that adorable baby dragon that came to town with Twilight.”
“That’s the one,” Big Mac replied.  
“Well... sadly when he heard that Twilight had been killed he ran off into the Everfree.  No pony’s seen or heard of him since,” the yellow pegasus squeaked.  “It just curdles me up inside knowing that baby dragon was lost somewhere in the forest without any protection, and there was nothing we could do to help him.”
“Youse know we might not be much better off than that Spike fellow.  I mean having a map is all fine and good,” said Babs, “But how are youse gonna get past all the dangers a map doesn’t show?“
“What about Zecora?” asked Rainbow Dash.  “She helped us once before... maybe she’d help us again?”
“Perhaps,” said Rarity.  “Does she still live in that tree in the clearing?”
”As far as anypony knows she does, though I suppose she would know for sure because she was her and she has to know what she thinks and where she lives,” Pinkie Pie replied.  
“Ah suppose she would.”  Even as he replied to the party pony’s puzzling proclamation, an idea began to form in the alicorn’s head.  While he had never been to the castle in the forest, he had made a number of apple deliveries to Zecora’s home in his own world.  If she still lived in the clearing, and if this world was similar enough to his own, he might be able to convince her to guide them to Celestia and Luna’s ancient home.  The only question would be whether or not the zebra would help.  He remembered how she had been treated by the citizens of Ponyville before Twilight had come to town.  It was possible that without the lavender unicorn, she would have continued to be ostracized and might hold a grudge.  The Zecora he knew wouldn’t, but that wasn’t a guarantee against anything.  
“Asking Zecora fer help is a good idea.”
“So... which way do we go?” asked Babs.  
Big Mac nodded, pointing with his horn.  “That way.”  The others fell in line behind him as he trotted down the road.  Crossing between two short hills the party made fairly good progress.  While the town itself no longer existed, there were still a few isolated cottages and at least three farms remaining.  The stallion carefully avoided them.  He didn’t want anypony to see them and by extension, be able to inform on them.  Heading for Zecora’s home though meant going through the remains of Sweet Apple Acres.  Even before they reached the gate leading into the farm itself, he knew there was nothing to be found there.  There was no scent of apple trees or blossoms, something that couldn’t possibly be missed if there had been a working farm.
Passing through the gate the road became a bit rougher and was partially concealed by a thick growth of weeds and grass.  To either side was the remains of an orchard, now gone completely wild.  Many of the trees had been subsumed by the Everfree as it slowly expanded across what had once been lush farmland.  It wasn’t very thick, not yet at least, but given enough time all traces of Sweet Apple Acres would one day vanish.  
They saw the old farmhouse, or at least its foundation and circled round to find the path that led toward Zecora’s.  As they did, they came across a small family grave plot.  The old tree shading the tombstones still stood strong and tall, though its fruit remained uncollected except for what the local fauna ate.  The stallion paused for a moment and looked.  Though overgrown with weeds he recognized three of the headstones.  Carved on them were the cutie marks of his grand-sire and his parents.  A fourth, slightly newer stone rested beside his grand-sire’s.  On it was carved Granny Smith’s mark.  Between the two sets of stones was a much smaller headstone.   It bore no mark, but instead was engraved with the words “Baby Apple.”  A grave for a foal too young to even have a name of its own.  Looking at it sent a slight shiver down Big Mac’s spine.  He quickly turned away and resumed his search for the path to Zecora’s.  
Several minutes later the stallion came to an abrupt stop and looked around.  The path he sought wasn’t there.  Trixie looked up at him as he paused to consider the wall of trees that now stood before him.  
“Which way do we go now?”
Big Mac thought for a moment or two, then remembered another small spell he had learned in magic kindergarten.  It was one used to track where young foals might have gone when they strayed from the school and into the palace, which happened frequently since neither Celestia nor Luna believed in locks except where privacy or safety demanded.  Instead of picturing a particular foal, however, the stallion focused on the image of Zecora.  He closed his eyes and concentrated as a pulse of what felt like chilled water flowed up his back and through his horn.  When he opened his eyes a small ball of green energy floated gently in front of him.  It drifted lazily away from him and stopped at the tree line, waiting for him.  
“Nice trick,” commented Trixie.  “Do you have an encore to go with it?”
He nodded to the other ponies.  “We follow the light.  With any luck, it’ll take us ta where we need ta go.”  Moving forward, the alicorn used a combination of his large size and a few simple cutting spells to clear a path for them, all the while making sure the wisp of light didn’t get too far ahead of them.  When they came across a tangle of vegetation too think for him to handle alone, both Rarity and Trixie helped to push the plants back.  They paused shortly before noon to rest and eat something.  Normally, the use of this much magic would tire the stallion out quickly, but the physical part of blazing a new trail seemed to energize him enough so his use of magic didn’t feel as draining.  Big Mac wondered if it was because of his alicorn or earth pony nature.  Regardless of which, he was able to push himself longer than the two unicorn mares helping him.  
He examined the rest of the party.  Everypony seemed to be managing the trek well enough, though Trixie was perhaps having the hardest time.  Her leg brace would catch from time to time in the foliage and she would have to shake it clear.  It had also developed a slight squeak which if it got worse might attract predators.  He doubted she could run very well with it.  This world’s Trixie was a good deal different from his own.  She still had a stage persona where she’d refer to herself in the third person, but unlike the Trixie he knew, she put it aside as soon as the performance was over.  That made her a lot easier to get along with.  He wondered if her injury might have contributed to the difference.
They rested for about fifteen minutes after eating, then began working to continue their path through the forest.  Another hour’s effort and it seemed to everypony that the trees ahead were thinning out a bit.  Without warning, the group abruptly broke through the brush and found themselves on the edge of a large clearing.  In the center of the clearing was an enormous tree, obviously hollowed out and being used as some pony’s residence.  An assortment of tribal masks and bottles hung from the tree limbs.  Each threw off a different color depending on the color of the glass and the angle of the sun.  
Big Mac held out his foreleg, keeping the others from walking into the clearing.  It was a good thing he did.  Just like the Zecora of his world, this Zecora had surrounded her house with a thick garden filled with a combination of poison joke, cat o’nine tails, skunk weed and grab grass.  Any unsuspecting pony who blundered into this particular garden would spend at least a month recuperating.  It was encouraging, however, to note that none of the annoying plants or weeds were lethal.  The stallion felt that meant there was a good chance the shaman would be willing to listen to an honest, heart-felt request.  
Telling every pony else to wait where they were, the alicorn extended his wings and leapt across the threatening plants.  Gliding more than flying, Big Mac landed in front of Zecora’s door and reached a hoof out to knock on the door.  
Before he had a chance there was a loud roar and a purple and green scaled creature dropped from the tree and blocked his path.  It stood about three and a half heads taller than the stallion and bore a mouth full of sharp pointed teeth and a full set of claws on each of its hands.
“WHO DARES INTRUDE ON THE ABODE OF QUISQUE DRACONIS?  GUARDIAN OF THE PATHWAY TO WISDOM.”
“Ah’ve come ta see Zecora,” Big Mac replied, keeping his voice calm and firm.
“AWAY!” it bellowed, “AWAY!  LEAVE MY MISTRESS IN PEACE OR I WILL REND YOUR HEART FROM YOUR BODY!”  Off to one side Rarity nearly fainted even as the others shied away from the clearing.
Instead of cowering in fear, as the monster wanted, the alicorn calmly examined the creature.  He could sense that most of the threat was bluster combined with a dash of theatricality.   Big Mac smiled.  
“How are y’all doing... Spike.”
“LEAVE THIS PLACE, NOW BEFORE...”  The creature’s eyes suddenly went wide.  “What did you just call me?”  
“Spike...” the stallion replied.  “It is your name, ain’t it?”
“That WAS my name,” the creature said.  “But how do you know it?  Have we met before?”
“Eeeyup.  A long time ago and far from here. Ya wouldn’t remember.  Ah’m a friend o’ yer sister... Twilight.”
The dragon became very quiet for several moments as he studied the visitor.  “I don’t believe you.  You are an alicorn, and a stallion.  She had no friends like you.  I would remember.”
“Ah don’t lie.  It was long ago and far away.”
Again Spike paused and thought for a moment.  “What do you want...HERE AND NOW?”
“Ta see Zecora... Like Ah said before.”
Spike, or Quisque as he now called himself, drew close to Big Mac and locked eyes with him.  The dragon’s features were slightly different than Big Mac remembered.  Soft round curves had become hard muscle and his round muzzle was longer and somewhat more angular, but it was still Spike, despite appearances.  Green, tip-tilted reptile eyes seemed to bore deeply into the stallion’s own before finally pulling back.  
“Wait here.  I’ll see if she wants to meet you.”  The dragon disappeared inside and the door closed with a firmness that seemed to say “Not Welcome.”  When it reopened about ten minutes later the dragon was dressed in a dashiki tailored with a number of Zebraca symbols, including one that mimicked Zecora’s own tribal mark.  
“The mistress will see you now,” he intoned.
“What about ma friends?” Big Mac asked, gesturing towards the others.
Spike looked over at them, huffed slightly, and gestured with his hands.  The plants within the garden immediately parted creating a safe pathway to the door.  The six mares cautiously trotted through the garden and entered the shaman’s house.  As she passed, Trixie looked at the dragon.  
“That was a very neat bit of magic there,” she complimented.  Spike simply shrugged.  
“It’s all in knowing how to talk with them.”
When the last mare entered the stallion followed, descending a short set of steps into the main room of the tree house.  It was much like Zecora’s home on his world, if perhaps a touch bigger.  Potions and books lined the shelves and a large cauldron sat in the center of the room.  One difference was the life-size marble statue of the shaman that sat in one corner.  Big Mac paused to look at it.  It was an extremely accurate likeness, even down to the gold hoop ear, neck and leg rings.
The dragon looked at the guests.  “Would anypony here like some tea or other refreshments?”
“Thank-you,” replied Rarity.  “A nice cup of chamomile would be splendid and a small hayseed biscuit if you have any.”
“I’ll see what I can find,” Spike replied as he strode across to the kitchen.  Big Mac couldn’t help notice he stole more than a few glances at the white-furred unicorn.   Looking around he saw the walls were festooned with various masks and cultural decorations, including one very plain looking guitar.  
They all took seats around the room and waited.  Spike brought the tea, turned down the lights in the room with a wave of his hand and then silently stood against a far wall.   The stallion watched the entrance, waiting for the shaman to arrive.  When she didn’t he looked over at the dragon.
“Where’s Zecora?” he asked in a low voice.
Instead of replying, the dragon simply put a finger to his lips.  A moment later, Big Mac heard a voice that seemed to echo softly about the room.  
“It seems my dream has now come true.  A red prince seeks for some lost clue,
To find a power hidden deep within the forest’s ancient keep."
The stallion looked around, but could not tell where the voice was coming from exactly.  He noticed the other ponies were also looking, so they must have heard the same thing he had.  “Zecora?”
“You need not fear, for I am here.”  There was a soft sound, like the grinding of polished stone.  It drew Big Mac’s eyes to the statue.  As he watched it slowly, ponderously, stood and looked at him through a pair of brightly shining golden eyes.