Chapter 9: The Archives
Chapter 9: The Archives
Spike’s hands went back over his mouth once more, hiding his words.
They weren’t the unhappy curses that had begun finding their way into his speech as he grew more tired and frail, but instead he had caught himself speaking aloud to Twilight… in the middle of the day, when others might hear him.
When they might take it wrong… believe him traumatized, or even insane.
Which would have been an issue, as he was rather traumatized, and he was pretty sure that he was going insane, and the discovery of either would probably lead to him being separated from Twilight.
He leaned out the door, and seeing no ponies nearby he breathed a sigh of relief.
That was a close one, Twi, he thought, continuing the conversation in his own mind. I can’t let anypony catch me talking to you. That would be bad. Real bad. Anywho, I’m off to join Artificer Call at the archive! Wish me luck, Twi!
He stroked the back of her hoof. After a moment, he checked to make sure that the glass was still where he’d placed it, and that everything from the delicate rainbow, to her crown, to her boots were exactly where he’d kept them over the long days.
I’ll be back, Twilight, I promise. Ya know I promise, his thoughts said, looking back to her once again. He slowly backed away from her, keeping her in his sight until he had reached the door.
He made his way out into the hallway, and promptly bumped into Comfort.
Spike startled, his arms waving frantically, causing the pony to startle as well. The two stood there, yelling in surprise at one another until their shock finally abated and blushes drove across their faces.
“Spike?” she asked, recovering her composure as Spike helped her gather up her gauzes and compresses. “What… why were you walking backwards? Why were you so startled?”
“Well, ummm, I… we, I….” he stammered, trying somehow to hide the fact that he’d been talking to Twilight in his thoughts… and then immediately realized that Comfort couldn’t have heard his thoughts anyhow.
Spike sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in a sort of restrained self-admonishment. “Can we just forget this happened?” he asked, opening one eye to look up to the pony.
Comfort’s soft giggle fell over him, and her smile followed. “Of course,” she answered. “Are you going out again?”
“Yup!” Spike answered, some small joy showing itself in his voice. He gathered up some of the last rolls of gauze that Comfort had dropped and placed them upon Comfort’s cart. In his mind, he could feel that they were among the last she’d have to bring to the room, that whatever he and Artificer Call would find would be the clue, the context of the enchantment that the doctors were missing.
He could still help Twilight, still save her. He was going to keep his promise.
A short while later the dragon went pelting through the hospital once more, diving deftly past oncoming gurneys and medical carts. Familiar faces turned to watch as he slipped past, all brightening as they saw the new energy that was filling him.
Despite the dark circles beneath his eyes, despite the fading across his scales, despite the slight wobble in his walk, Spike was smiling. He was awake, and moving, and going out of the hospital again.
They could be forgiven for thinking that things were getting better.
“Hey!” the receptionist called, her mane tossing as the dragon slipped past her once more. “You have to sign out whenever you…”
The dragon disappeared through the doors.
“Or, whatever,” she said, waving a dismissive hoof.
Once back out in the streets of Canterlot, Spike followed his earlier route down the high street briefly before turning through the market. The smells and sights of the booths met him, rushing over his senses.
Ponies moved around him, making their way along the thoroughfare, and above him the colored canopies lifted in the azure sky.
To his surprise he found his perceptions wobbling about, each one coming alive and wavering in strength as he looked over the stalls. He found himself rubbing his eyes. He opened them to discover that he had been staring over a cart filled with oven mitts, pondering them intently. Suddenly, he felt a disturbing and unsettling need to purchase one.
“Wow,” he said aloud to nopony in particular, spinning away from the temptation, his eyes on the pillowy seductions as he walked away. “I must be more tired than I thought…”
His solitary contemplations were interrupted as he bounced off of the side of another pony, this one standing at a fishmonger’s stand.
“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” he said wiping his face with his hands. “Heh, my bad…”
“Oh, that’s alright,” began the mare. “We all… aghhh!”
Her scream jolted Spike back to his feet, and all around them ponies paused to look upon the two. The mare had recoiled, holding her hoof high, pulling her head away from the… thing that had run into her.
Spike understood instantly.
He had lived his life knowing that he was not a pony, but he had always been so easily accepted by all. He was just a “baby” dragon after all, a handsome little whelp. Now… now that he looked haggard, tired, and feral, now that layer of protection had dropped away. Now, this pony, this stranger on the street, had been afraid of him.
She had been afraid of the little monster.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, hanging his head. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, wrapping his arms around his stomach, and then disappearing into the crowd once more.
“Young… boy? Whelp? Oh, please, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” came the voice of the mare, but the apology drowned amid the clamor of the market. “Young dragon, please, I’m sorry…”
It barely caught around his ears as he made his way towards the Royal Library.
The afternoon drove on as ponies walked by. Spike waited patiently outside the portico of the main hall of the library, the same place where Twilight, Pinkie, and he had come wearing latex ninja costumes late one night as he shoveled ice cream into his mouth.
Surprisingly, it had been Twilight’s idea, not Pinkie’s. Not such great times.
The archives were expansive, consuming blocks of Canterlot’s educational district. He lifted his nose, and the smell of paper and books filled his nostrils. When he’d been a younger whelp, that smell had meant that he was about to spend the day helping Twilight study, a task that ranged at times from interesting to being so boring and so tedious that he laid among the books wishing for the sweet release of death.
Today, though, that smell meant something vastly different. Today it meant he was keeping his promise… he was saving her.
Not far away, the peal of bells and the sweet tones of the carillon told him that it was two o’clock, and no sooner had he begun to lift his head than Artificer Call appeared nearby.
“Aha! There you are, dear boy! Good show, nice and punctual!” the stallion said, nodding with approval.
“Heh, yeah…” replied Spike. “Twilight would always start freaking out if we ever ran late for anything, so… yeah, I kinda picked it up from her.”
“Very good, very good,” Call said, motioning towards the doorway beyond. “Shall we begin?”
Spike literally leapt with enthusiasm, rushing to the door and pulling it open for the stallion.
“Aha! Let us have at it then!” said Call, making a show of proudly prancing deep within, Spike falling alongside.
The tall ceiling of the main hall of the archive reached above them, and soon Spike found the familiar sounds and scents of the academic world falling over him. Back before Twilight had been sent to Ponyville, before she knew how to make friends, they had spent many days here. Those had been melancholy days, he remembered. She had seemed happy, but it was some sort of a hollow happiness. It was incomplete, like an acorn sitting in the warm sun, but never finding soft soil.
But, at least he had been with her. At least they had been able to be together.
She had found her completeness when she had found friends, when they had gone to Ponyville. That was the happiest he’d ever seen her in his life… friendship had made it all complete.
She’d be happy in Ponyville right now, if she wasn’t a princess, he found himself thinking.It’s not fair that she has these new duties and stuff… that was what got her hurt! It isn’t fair that she’s a princess, she shouldn’t hafta deal with…
Spike shook his head, driving the thought from his mind, wondering where it kept coming from. His steps faltered for a second, but soon he rushed back to Call’s side.
“Artificer Call,” came a stolid voice, and Spike felt a pair of eyes creeping across him. “I received your note earlier. I have prepared a few texts, and a workspace.”
Spike looked up to see a grey mare, a card catalog sitting stoically on her flank as her cutie mark. With her hair drawn up, she appeared every inch a stereotypical librarian, complete with a judgmental stare that fell across him with the subtlety of a heresy inquisition.
“Ah! Reference Desk! How wonderful to see you again, my dear!” said Artificer Call, bowing slightly. “Always a treat to see you!”
The mare arched an eyebrow at them, and then turned towards an older part of the archive far at the end of the main hall.
Spike felt Call nudge him as they began to walk, and the dragon looked up to see a subtle softness across the stallion’s features.
“The poor thing,” Call whispered, craning his neck low so that passing academics would not note his words. “She has a most obvious crush on me, you see.”
“Oh,” said Spike, more than a few shades of doubt falling over him.
Racks of books, tables strewn with scrolls, ponies with their eyes slowly moving across text, these scenes met them as they followed the stoic mare, and before long they began to make a series of turns.
The entire atmosphere of the archives changed, and as they crossed the covered bridge over a rolling stream that connected parts of the library they entered an annex that was much older than the main hall. Though still ornate, it was of hewn stone and timbered ceilings.
Reference Desk pulled upon a glass door, one much younger than the rest of the structure, and ushered them inside.
“As requested, I have laid aside these principal works. Please move the ones you no longer require to the cart,” she said, her voice and tone so even and without emotion that even the cold, grey stones of the walls seemed like mountains of frivolity in comparison.
“If you require any more assistance, please inform any staff member,” she said. At once her gaze shifted to Spike, and her eyes drew the life from him. “Bathrooms,” she said, regarding him distantly, her countenance stealing out his breath, “are located on the first floor.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Call said, his eyes slowly batting as he looked to her. “You’ve been a great help, as always.”
Reference Desk turned to the stallion, arched another eyebrow, and then left the room, her hooves making distinct clip-clop noises along the planks of the wooden floor.
“Sorry that you had to see that, dear boy,” Call said with a small chuckle. “I do wish that she would not flirt with me so openly, but that is the situation that presents itself.”
Call turned to find a wobbling Spike recovering from the ordeal of being informed where one could find the lavatories. The dragon shook his head… and then shook his head again when he saw what was laid before them.
Books, scrolls, illustrated guides, ancient anthologies… the room was filled by these tomes, and Spike’s eyes boggled at the sight of them.
Somewhere… somewhere in those stacks was the answer. In there lay the identity of the Pillar of the Sun, and the key to defeating it… the key to freeing Twilight.
“Aha!” intoned Artificer Call. “I know that look! It is a look of one ready for the grand adventure of learning!”
“Heh,” laughed Spike, realizing that Twilight would have said something similar. He struck a heroic pose, rubbed his hands together, and with an athletic leap prepared to dive into the stack of…
“No leaping. No disrespecting the texts. Do not damage the books,” came the voice of Reference Desk, drifting on a cold breeze from somewhere beyond.
As the color fell out of him, Spike quickly regained his proper footing.
“Very well,” spoke Call, rubbing his hooves together. “Let’s ‘get our learning on’, as the foals say these days. Perhaps it would be best if you began by explaining what the, how did you call it, The Pillar of the Sun, looked like…”
Spike moved to a nearby chalkboard and lifted the chalk. With that, their research began.
For the next seven hours, the two swam through every understanding that the learned scholar had developed in his decades as a researcher. Texts came open that had not been peered upon since the last time Call had been doing his research years and years before, and the studious pony poured over them, deep contemplative hums rising from him as he did.
All of that long afternoon, Spike kept recounting every horrible, wicked detail of the pillar that he could, remembering every inch of the monstrous spire that had done this to Twilight. Recalling each aspect of the thing that had hurt her. He stared into his own drawing of the eye he had sketched on the chalkboard, something awful moving through him as he did. He drew his claws across it, smirking a little as he marred the eye, ripped it apart with…
“No scratching on the chalkboards!”
They worked through those long hours, the little dragon performing every duty as a secretary he’d practiced through the years, everything he’d learned to do as Twilight’s Number One Assistant. In the workspace nearby, Artificer Call moved through book after book, examining the spires, columns, obelisks, and pillars that went by as he flipped through the tomes.
Seven hours later, they emerged with nothing.
Spike stood in the portico of the archive, his tired eyes lifting to the towers of the palace and the city beyond. At once a great vast sigh left him, and the last rays of the sun began to fall through the streets.
Another sigh fell through him, and he lifted his arms to the shafts. The golden glow of the space between night and day met him.
It’s twilight, he thought, and then dropped his arms. There was no comfort in the name, only the pony who shared it could give him that. And, today, yet again, he had failed her.
“Spike,” said Call, standing a few paces behind the dragon, “do not give up so easily. We’ve barely scratched the surface of the materials at our disposal. It is merely a matter of time, my dear boy. It is merely a matter of time.”
Time?! Time?! I can’t let Twilight lay there forever and ever and ever, you old dummy! I can’t...
Spike shuddered, shook, and forced the horrible thoughts from his mind. He fought them back once again, scaring himself a little with how quickly and easily they were coming now.
He heard the stallion stepping forward, Call’s hooves striking the paving stones with a slow tempo.
“You are more than welcome to join me at my favored restaurant for dinner, dear boy,” Call said, concern evident in his voice.
“Naw, I’m good,” Spike said, not turning to face him. “I’m good. Thanks though.”
Spike felt a hoof rest on his shoulder. He finally did look up, and there Call stood with the most uncertain smile that Spike had seen on the stallion.
“You will come around to Joe’s tomorrow morning, won’t you, dear boy?” Call said, his voice small.
Spike smiled and nodded. Artificer Call did the same. With that, the stallion turned out into the street, making towards some place beyond where he could find his dinner.
Spike turned towards the hospital, and his tired feet began to carry him home… or towards what counted as home these days.
“Hey! You have to sign in!” called the receptionist not long after.
The dragon trudged on past, barely even noting her.
“Yeah, fine,” she said. “Whatever.”
Spike made several turns, his head hanging once more. He rubbed the back of his arm across his eyes. He made more turns, still rubbing his eyes, pushing through doors and climbing stairs in what he thought was the same way he’d always come to the West Wind Annex.
As a mare’s screams met him, he realized how wrong he’d been.
Spike lurched out of his tiredness, his eyes flashing. His head spun around as a mare’s calls of pain once more drove around him. The colors of this corridor, he didn’t know them. They were pastels, and cartoon characters, baby animals, and fanciful designs sat across the wainscoting.
As silence fell over the hallway, a stallion burst out of the room on Spike’s left. He trotted across the hallway, not even noting the dragon, and Spike felt that he knew the fellow.
Spike searched through his mind, his eyes falling to the floor, trying to search through his bleary mind for some sort of recognition.
“Please,” breathed the stallion, his head resting against the window, and at once Spike recognized the voice. It was the voice of the stallion that had cried out “She’s having the baby!” as Spike had clung to Comfort that morning.
“Please, Princesses, let it be over soon,” the stallion whispered. A mare’s cries once more filled the hallway, lifting from the room on Spike’s left. Immediately the stallion turned, trotting back within.
Spike leaned forward, peeking into the room. The stallion circled a bed, and as two doctors stood nearby Spike saw him lift a mare’s hoof into his. Another cry ripped out of her, and as ponies shifted around Spike saw the mare’s hoof clench tight to that of her husband, though he could not see her face.
A nurse burst past him, demonstrating how out-of-place he was, and taking the hint, Spike began to walk the length of the birthing ward, trying to figure out how to get back to the West Wind Annex.
As he went he counted on his fingers, counting the hours since Comfort had led him past the stallion and his mare, past the two ponies who now hovered in the most uncertain, most intangible moment in the lives of parents, and who had been there for…
“Thirteen hours,” the dragon said to no one, his fingers falling back to his side, his counting complete. “Thirteen hours. Jeez,” he said, looking back down the corridor, hearing the mare’s cries once more.
His eyes fell to the floor again, and once more he began working his way towards the familiar room beyond.
Once he had read Twilight the next chapter of Precepts of Innovational Magic Theory, and had adjusted her crown, boots, water, and pitcher once more (despite it being obvious that nopony had touched them during his absence), Spike set about building his little nest at the alicorn’s bedside.
As he fluffed the cushions, he looked up to her bandaged eyes, the windows to her luminous soul once more placed behind protective shutters. He sighed, and then leaned forward to her, opened his mouth to tell her…
He startled himself. At once he went pelting to the doorway. No, the hallway was empty, and only the night nurse and her distant radio could be seen. He wiped his head in relief, and returned to Twilight’s bedside.
“Heh,” he whispered to her, leaning across his arm, running his hand up and down her foreleg. “I hafta be more careful, huh Twi? I don’t want anybody catching me talking to you, thinkin’ I’m a nutcase or somethin’, huh?”
Princess Twilight Sparkle continued to lay there, unmoving, unhearing, unspeaking.
“Yeah,” he continued, “you’re right.”
He blinked, and then pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Oh, jeez,” he grumbled. “Oh, jeez.”
After recovering for a moment, he went back to running his hand up and down her foreleg, just staring to where her eyes sat hidden behind the gauze, the compresses protecting her sight.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t here to help Comfort to put the bandages on, Twi,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was gone for so long today, but Joe says ‘Hi’, and everypony at the doughnut shop is rooting for you!”
He lifted his hand, making it so that only the tips danced across her coat in a way that he knew would have tickled her… gotten that much more of a response out of her.
She did not respond. She simply laid there, her giggle absent. He sighed and gathered her hoof into his hand, holding it.
“Do ya’ remember Artificer Call? It turns out, he’s actually not that bad…”
While he told her about how Call was helping, he looked up to the clock. In his mind, he noted that, in his new calendar, in his new timekeeping, a new day of this world of the hospital had begun a few hours ago. He had now been at her bedside for two full weeks and six hours, and a spattering of minutes.
As he looked back down to her, he wondered how many more it would be before she awoke.
“I’m gonna do it, Twi. I’m gonna keep my promise. I’m gonna find out what it is, Twi… why it hurt you.”
Silence once more, just the distant sound of the nurse’s radio down the hallway.
“Can… can you wake up, Twi? Can you, please?” he asked, gripping her hoof harder.
“Just, please, try Twilight. Please try to wake up… wake up, Twi.”
Nothing.
“Please?”
Nothing.
Spike wiped the back of his arm across his eyes without dropping her hoof. He stared at her for a few more moments, and then patted her hoof before gently placing her foreleg beneath the sheets.
“Good night, Twi,” he said, casting one last glance over her before slumping back down upon the cushions. “Sleep tight.”
Spike had hoped that, just maybe, he’d be able to pass that night without the troubled dreams that had followed him for those two weeks.
As the screams of a mare lifted through his dreams, Twilight’s screams, it proved a false hope.
“No eating the chalk. No sleeping. No using books as a footstool,” came the cold, austere tones of Reference Desk’s voice, the words shuddering through Spike as the mare’s voice lifted around him from places unseen. Cold dread dripped through him, filling his vision with horrors.
In short, the week was progressing as it had been.
“I’m not eating it!” he answered the unseen librarian, starling to full awareness. “I’m just restin’ on it… with my mouth. Which is weird. Yeah, okay, what am I doin’?”
“You were completing the checklist to see if that particular artifact could be our Pillar of the Sun,” Artificer Call answered, looking up from beyond his stack of books. “And, upon inspection, I realized you had fallen asleep with your head pressed to the chalkboard and the chalk against your face, so I let you sleep, dear boy.”
Spike arched an eyebrow, and then wiped the back of his hand across his face. The chalk showed there, the white dusk stark against the fading purple of his scales.
He sighed, and then looked up to the chalkboard. “Call?” he asked, motioning over the checklist they had spent the day constructing. “Was this one it, was this one the Pillar of the Sun usin’ a different name?”
Artificer Call rubbed the back of his hoof to his forehead, and then peered at Spike from over the top of his glasses. “No, dear boy,” the stallion said with a heavy sigh, “it was not.”
Spike cried aloud, pinched the bridge of his nose, and then beat his head against the chalkboard, little clouds of dust rising around him as he did.
“No screaming. No damaging archive property,” came Reference Desk’s cold, austere voice, ripping more of his resolve, and patience, out of him.
Artificer Call leaned back in his chair, his tightly bound mane sliding back. Once more he found himself looking on the dejected figure of Spike, the dragon seeming to fume as chalk dust arose around him like smoldering fires.
Spike coughed a little, the chalk dust escaping him in a little poof and hanging around him in a small cloud of disappointment and frustration.
This is how things stood in the second week and fourth day after Twilight was attacked by the Pillar of the Sun, after that thing had done that to her. Spike’s mind went back over the last few days, and how they, just like the weeks that had had preceded them, had quickly taken on their own rhythm.
Thus, the days had passed, and Spike’s hope of finding that one piece of information that could wake Twilight seemed to be slipping away.
Artificer Call looked on as Spike continued slowly banging his head against the chalkboard, little swirls of dust arising around him as he did. The historian leaned back in his chair, pondering the child from afar. The stallion lifted his eyes to the chalkboard, watching it bounce with each strike of the dragon’s head.
As his eyes coasted down the long list of artifacts, each one discarded as a candidate to be this Pillar of the Sun that so vexed the whelp, Artificer Call released another contemplative hum, and then a fresh thought fell across his mind.
“My dear boy,” he said, leaning forward, his hooves sitting across one another amid the maps, books, and charts, “I do believe that we need to look at the situation from another perspective.”
Spike paused momentarily, banged his head once more, and then looked back to Call.
“What?” he asked, a single poof of chalk dust escaping his lips as he did.
Call stood up and walked over to where Spike stood, and motioned across the broad sweep of the chalkboard. “My dear boy,” Call intoned, “what have we learned about all of these artifacts, all of the ones that even resembled in the smallest detail any artifact in Equestria that could have been your pillar?”
His pillar. Spike shuddered at the thought. He grumbled, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That there’s nothing known to Equestria that even comes close to looking like it,” he moaned.
“Incorrect, Spike!” laughed Call, the stallion turning away from the blackboard.
“W-what?” Spike asked, surprise going across his face.
“What we have been studying so far are simply those artifacts that have been made here in Equestria, those whose history is rooted in our own,” Artificer Call replied, pushing stacks of papers aside with his hooves, revealing a map of Equestria sitting upon the wall. Spike smiled inwardly, noting how Call had included him, a dragon, in the ‘our own’.
“So, since we’ve found nothing similar to your pillar that was made by the Equestrians, including our dependencies of the Crystal Empire and Saddle Arabia, that can only mean one thing, can’t it, dear boy?”
Spike blinked, and then blinked again.
“That means that,” he began… and then blinked again. His mind opened up, and a river of realization flowed through him.
“That means that it could… it could be from some place other than Equestria? That it could have been brought to Pursopolis?” Spike said, uncertainty hovering in his voice. “Omigosh!” he cried, “Sombra brought it from somewhere else! That’s… that’s why it was so much older than him! He stole it from somepony else! Somepony from beyond Equestria!”
“Perhaps not somepony at all, Spike,” Artificer Call said. At once he lifted his front hooves on the table he’d been clearing, and grasped a brass ring. Pulling on it, the earth pony revealed a new map.
“Perhaps, dear boy, some creature other than a pony was involved,” he said, motioning to all of Equus, of the known world that sat beyond Equestria’s borders. “We have a world of possibility before us... speaking quite literally.”
The chalk dropped out of Spike’s hand, cracking in half, and his tired eyes began to sparkle. He began to emit a low whine, one that erupted in a jubilant, happy cry of joy. Of course! Of course, it was so simple! Why hadn’t they thought of it before? Now, now they simply needed to find out…
“No breaking the supplies! No hollering! No jumping!” crashed Reference Desk’s voice coldly, catching him in mid leap.
Spike slowly settled to the ground, the feeling of the librarian’s eyes upon him from somewhere beyond.
“Yay?” he whispered. Spike fell in behind Artificer Call, the historian draping a haversack he’d let the whelp borrow across him, and the two leaving the room and beginning their new avenue of exploration.
There were many floors to the annex where they had been studying, and the bridge over the stream they had crossed connected it to the rest of the archive at one of the newer, higher floors.
As they descended the stairwell, Spike could feel the building growing harsher. Part of his mind went back to the stairwell he had gone down with Twilight, and he shook his head until it disappeared.
The tower, the annex they had been studying in, it became more like a dungeon than a library, with coarse stones and wrought iron fixtures. Little lights bobbled in yellowed lanterns, and Spike actually felt himself grasping the little haversack Call had given him closer, and lifting his hand and placing it on Call’s foreleg, like he would for Twilight’s comfort when scary things were close by.
He hadn’t taken the time to get to know Call all that well, and he wondered if the stallion had foals of his own. Given his age, grandfoals probably were not out of the question.
The comfort of the touch met him, and Spike was grateful for it…
… but it just didn’t feel like Twilight. It just wasn’t Twilight.
“Oh dear,” came Call’s voice, and Spike let his thoughts drift away as he followed the stallion’s eyes.
Before them sat a large oaken door, and upon it sat a notice. Spike recognized it right away, the familiar red seal draping off the parchment plain as could be. It was an official order… a royal writ.
“Oh dear,” Call repeated.
“Ummm, what… what’s wrong?” Spike asked, jumping a little, trying to see what was written on the note.
“It appears,” Call mouthed, squinting to read the fine details of the writ, “that this section is closed due to an inventory of the items within, and that it can only be opened under the authority of one of the princesses.”
The stallion sighed, and then looked down to Spike sheepishly. “And, unfortunately, my fine fellow, this particular section is devoted to mysteries from beyond our borders… and is exactly what I was hoping we’d be able to explore when we came down here, you see.”
The stallion’s face creased in disappointment.
“So, Spike, unless you know of some way of…”
Artificer Call smirked as the dragon waved his hands through the air, a self-confident expression falling across the whelp.
“Not a problem!” Spike said, digging through the haversack and producing a quill and a scrap of paper. “Watch this!”
Call hovered over the dragon, watching as Spike pressed the paper to the floor, and with quickness and penmanship that made the academic quite happy, Spike wrote a letter:
Dear Princess Celestia,
Hello! It’s me, Spike! I haven’t seen you at the hospital this week because I’ve been out at the archive. I need a little help, if you don’t mind. There’s this one room here that is all locked up and stuff, and it has your writ on it.
The historian who is helping me, Artificer Call, says that what we need is inside the room. Could you please send me back a note or something telling the scary librarian that we can go in?
Thanks a bunch!
Love,
Spike
Call looked on as the dragon stood up, placed one hand on his hip… and then apparently condemned his note to ash in a pool of green flame.
“No open flames!” echoed Reference Desk’s voice, cascading on chilled winds.
After recovering from the mare’s chiding, Spike smirked to Artificer Call. “Watch this!” he said, bouncing his eyebrows. After a few minutes, the stallion began to wonder what in the world was going on. Spike, too, began to wonder what had transpired. It… well, it usually never took the princess this long to respond to one of his messages.
Spike groaned as he sat on the cold stone stairs, his hands coming up to either side of his head. Why had Celestia not sent a message back yet? Spike looked up to find Artificer Call’s eyes going back and forth, and a small forced smile on his face… almost like the stallion believed that he was missing out on a joke.
Spike sunk his head lower into his arms.
I don’t get it, he thought. Why hasn’t the princess written me back yet? This… this is about Twilight, after all.
In his own foggy mind, Spike chased down all of the images he’d taken of the princess inside his head, all of the times he’d seen her and spoken with her since the day he’d arrived at the hospital.
He searched through each remembrance, each time he’d seen the Princess of the Sun. In each time she’d seemed her usual, smiling self. But, but each time, she seemed somehow… lesser, as though she were not entirely there.
And, well, he thought as he rocked forward and back on the hard steps, his arms wrapped around his knees, why didn’t she answer me when I asked her about the Pillar of the Sun? Why wouldn’t she…
Deep inside the dragon, a sudden familiar pinch drew him to his feet and out of his contemplations.
“Extraordinary!” exclaimed Call, watching as Spike breathed the note into their presence.
The little dragon chuckled a self-satisfied smile. He’d been working hard to have his burps become less theatrical, to look more refined, like he was an actual Summoner instead of some whelp having a fit of apoplexy each time Celestia sent him a note.
“Straight from the princess!” he said, unrolling the scroll. As he did Call peeked over his shoulder.
“No passing notes!” came Reference Desk’s voice, sending Spike cowering as he began to peer at the letter.
“Amazing! Simply amazing!” continued Call, oddly unaffected by her voice, the stallion still enthralled by Spike’s abilities.
Spike recovered, laughed, and opened the scroll in fullness. His eyes fell across the message:
Dearest Spike,
In all issues regarding the present matter, please make all inquiries in person or to the indicated designates.
Love,
Princess Celestia
Spike’s jaw hung open as Artificer Call continued his praise.
“How unique! Amazing! Astonishing!” the historian exclaimed. “What a truly remarkable way to receive rejection letters!”
There was not a hint of irony in his voice, and Spike pinched the bridge of his nose once more and sighed a long heavy sigh as the Pinto earth pony stared down over him in wonder.
“It… well, it usually goes better than that,” Spike answered with a groan. “What’s the name of the book we need to get started again?”
In a moment, Spike was climbing the stairs, leaving Artificer Call to his lopsided pursuit of Reference Desk with the promise that he’d return with permission to enter the sealed room.
Spike trundled across the bridge joining the turret tower to the main part of the archive. As he did the rush of the stream beneath the walkway stuck in his mind. His feet slowed, and soon he found himself leaning forward across the ornate stone ledge of the bridge.
His eyes fell down across the waters as they rolled beneath the bridge. Every so often a flower, or some greenery, or some such thing would pass beneath hurrying along on the waters. His eyes followed each until it passed out of view, joining other unseen channels in the distance before the waters cascaded out of view.
Spike watched each float by, his head resting across his folded arms.
Why? he asked a branch as it passed by. Why isn’t the princess helping me?
Why? he pondered, inquiring of some cherry blossoms that coasted along in a thick raft. Why won’t Princess Celestia answer any of my questions?
Why? he asked a bag of Mairsy Dotes some thoughtless pony had discarded in the stream. Doesn’t she love Twilight, too?
Spike slipped down the smooth surface of the ledge, and as he walked across the bridge he hung his head, more and more questions running through his head. He re-entered the main hall of the archive, the section that had once been the core of the complex and the bingo hall in a time even earlier than that.
His head was still down, barely noticing anything, merely pondering the princess and her seeming reluctance to come to his aid. He opened and closed the scroll, looking at the words over and over. They lost all context in his eyes, simply becoming mere marks. All that they told him was that Celestia had distanced herself once more… had refused to help him, had refused to help Twilight…
That’s when he bounced off the biggest ball of string in Canterlot.
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YEEEEESSSS!! i love it when you update. you are a gentleman and a sir. unless your a woman, then you're a madam and a lady... with kick ass horns, eyes that shoot laser beams, and robot claws for hands. now it is time for me to shut up, hunker down with my dinner, and start readin!
Hmm. Celestia is hellbent on keeping this thing buried.
Hopefully Spike will persevere... (Of course he will... Why wouldn't he?)
~Skeeter The Lurker
That receptionist sucks at her job. Meanwhile that librarian's way too good for hers...
"No leaping. No disrespecting the texts. No using books as a footstool. No usage of plungers beyond their intended purpose. No bingo outside the designated area. No reading texts for fanfiction idea."
i134.photobucket.com/albums/q100/TheSteveslols/My%20Little%20Pony/mlp_wat.jpg
What, like, literally? Or is this some idiom I'm not aware of?
Another awesome chapter, extra long too
I find it easy to immerse myself into your writings and imagine the events unfold around me in my head. I don't get that much without trying to make it happen 
Good
Will Spike mature physically in this story? Maybe he could have a Spyro-type body(wings optional), maybe be the size of Big Mac or even Celelstia. Or would he remain upright? Also, what is that staff thing Spike has on his back in the cover art?
3095769 He's a guy :P
Another excellent chapter T. D. What a fine way to finish off my day of being sick. Keep writing~
3095769 Descendant is a woman. With a very large beard.
(That's what you get TD for torturing Best Pony!)
Yes, excellent chapter TD!! I can't wait for the next! Keep writing!
Did you have unfortunate experiences with librarians as a child, TD?
Deserves props for the single most ridiculous cliffhanger in an otherwise serious story I've ever seen shoehorned into a chapter.
Reference Desk is both awesome and scary. Scarsome?
Gotta watch out for that string, it'll sneak up on ya.
was that part over oven mitts another shot out to your previous story "A Cup of Joe" TD? or there is a unicorn in Canterlot that used the "want it need it" spell on his product
i wonder why Spike hasn't gone to Luna for help, since its clearly that Celestia is not going to be of any good in this story
You like your alliteration don't you? Ohh and great chapter as usual.
Spike better go talk to Luna because you said princess and so far we don't know where Luna stands in all of this.
What the buck is Celestia playing at? That is her friend and student lying in that hospital bed... unless this is something she needs to talk to Spike about in person... pony.
I can't imagine what Celestia could be so intent on hiding when Twilight's life is on the line. She'd better have a really good explanation.
CELESTIA! You got some s'panding to do!
The story is fantastic, but the pacing seems unreasonably slow. You've spent enough time establishing Spike's desires, you need to hurry up and have something happen soon.
All ye without faith, Loose all hope, for there is none beyond this point.
Spike is mostlikely going to go off the deep end now.
I'm wondering if the random trip to the maternity ward wasn't so random after all.
Advancing from my previous guess, Cadence reincarnates and was possibly first killed by Sombra using the pillar.
Twilight was almost killed by the pillar but was saved by being made comatose but this actually only saved her body, her soul was already moved on to reincarnate. She probably isn't the child just born but my currently be reincarnated somewhere.
Its rather a stretch but I like to guess.
3095769
I can assure you that I am of the male side of the species. I swear by my beard that it is so.
3095802
I ain't tellin' one way or the other!
3095935
I love you.
And it is meant literally.
3095955
I am very happy that I've created a world that you can easily find yourself lost in!
3096075
Spike has to be back to whatever he's going to be at the start of season four, so he won't be growing physically, but there are other ways to grow.
The object is called a godendag. It is a spiked club used to allow peasants to fight knights. Spike will acquire it in the second book.
3096200
I hope you are feeling better!
3096349
I can't even imagine what you'll do to me by the end of this story!
3096687
I'm doing my best, Wes!
3096874
...
I can still hear the library cards falling to the floor, the hissing demands for quiet as the "Overdue" stamp sounds out with a resounding thud...
3096891
Thanks for the musical interlude, Psy!
3096951
Heh, thanks!
3096955
And this isn't even her "final form"!
3097024
So would I!
3097029
Yeah, it's the exact same oven mitt booth from A Cup of Joe. There's no spell, it is just that I need something odd and silly for characters to focus on when things are out of their control. Oven mitts fit the bill!
3097113
I love alliteration! There is a good reason why Luna isn't involved yet, I promise!
3097263
More mood music!
3098334
I can only say that she has her reasons. I know I keep saying that, but... it's true!
3098806
She has an explanation... "good" will be up to the readers to decide.
3099059
Indeed she does.
3099333
I was worried about that. The thing is, it's not enough for me to simply express his desire to save Twilight, I have to put him in the position of doing something unreasonable, and I have to "break him down" before he does that. I also have to have him discover more about the Pillars before he goes on his journey. I'm sorry that it is slow, but it is very important, too.
3099491
Heh, I've worked with women like her!
3099987
...
You can't even begin to imagine how much farther down he's going to go before he hits bottom, my friend...
3100801
Boy, I'm really making you guys think hard about this one!
3103048 Yeah I can tell and every time I see it I have to stop reading and then read it out loud over and over speeding it up each time, it's fun.
Trust you to have a plan full of secrecy, taunting me, giving me little bits of acknowledgement but never revealing to much... Your worse then my girlfriend.
3103048 i think it will be good to let you know that as for this day forward, whenever in life i encounter an oven mitt or i come across one in a story, tv show, anime, videogame, etc, etc, i will fondly think back to you TD
3103048 I know, I see her as somepony you don not want to play Risk with, ever.
But unless there is a reason for making Spike do all the work himself, then why isn't she...
She's preparing him for the epic journey he must go on!!! That is what she is doing, and when she feels he is ready, then and only then will Celestia tell him what he needs to know!!
....I'm completely wrong again, aren't I?
Nice to see more of Artificer Call. He seems like the type of pony Twilight would have liked. And it's also nice to see Spike warming up to somepony during his time of grief.
Celestia, so mysterious. I guess that's why we all love her.
3103035 (eye-narrows) I'm gonna start tuning up my torture chamber...
Finally got around to reading the updates. I just started college, and between that and my own writing I haven't had much time to read anything unfortunately...
Still loving this story, can't wait for the next update.
I'm wondering if Luna will have any sort of appearance in the coming chapters...
If any of the princesses would have experience with dark artifacts, I'd say she would be the most qualified.
3103490
That's exactly right, R.T. I needed an adult figure for Spike to latch onto in this time, and Call was the one I selected.
Tia is indeed mysterious, and here is the story where I explain a bit of my personal fanon about her.
3107016
Have fun at college this year! I'm glad that you are enjoying the story as it develops.
3103035
This is going to be more than one book?
I'm not sure whether to rejoice at the knowledge that we'll have many readings, or despair that I'll have to do so much reading to find out what happens.
Touche, good sir, touche indeed...
Well despite my general desire not to read stories that seem like their going to be epic length before their complete I couldn't hold off giving this story a read any longer. Needless to say it's been an amazing read so far. Though seriously, what the hell Celestia? At this point it seems less like your lying to Spike and more like your being actively malicious towards him. That probably wasn't your intention, but I seriously get the feeling that if she doesn't start giving Spike some answers he's gonna do something drastic.
3108984
Thanks! I'll try to not let it overwhelm me...
Now that I think more about it...Celestia is guarding quite a few secrets...
Perhaps she's darker than anyone, even her own sister, might believe.
Very intrigued, very well written. Can't wait for more updates.
3111353
Yes, there are going to be three books, each of about fifteen chapters (more or less). This is the first: Pillars of the Sun. Sorry to make you wait!
3112370
She's... seen some stuff. Yeah.
3112471
I'm doing my best to get a chapter out every Friday! Hope to see you back here!
I enjoy the slowly arising negative comments of evil spike
3113891
...
They only get worse as it goes on...
3115166
This is world-spanning story, my friend!
Active Spike is best Spike.
I didn't know what would happen when it seemed as if Rarity was going to offer Spike a chance to share her bed, but i was on the edge of my seat. Good to know that there might be some potential romance in this story.
Artificer Call is interesting, the Librarian is creepy, and Celestia is cryptic. I like these characters and how things seem to be shaping up so far.
Most excellent work and am looking forward to more!
3118041
Oh, there'll be some romance, but it's going to come from some place that no one is expecting.
I'm glad that you are liking the character development! Thanks for reading!
Well, this has been the highlight of my day!
And, I can't wait to see how the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota (or, whatever it was) fits in.
Zenith, even in it's incomplete form, has inspired me to try my hand at a longer story. It probably won't be anywhere near this good. It also probably won't be finished anytime soon. Oh well.
Totally excellent, dude.
3119765
+500 points for the Weird Al reference, Graph!
Ah, I've been meaning to read this story for nearly a month now, and I'm glad I finally took the time to sit down and go through it. I love it so far, especially the glacial pacing. I know that sounds like sarcasm, but its the truth. You've resisted every urge to speed the story along, and it is all the better for it. Many books and short stories mirror film and television, in terms of pacing and what is shown to the reader. Your style of writing is firmly rooted in literature, and has a tremendous depth, breadth, and texture to it. As such, I don't look forward to this story's conclusion so much as I fear it. I want to experience its world as long as I can.
3122687
I am certainly glad to hear that you are okay with the pacing. I have "a lot of ground to cover", and I want to be able to get it all in before things take their turn. I'm glad that you want to spend time in the world I've built!
I have to admit, its getting hard to read this... hard to see Spike continuing to struggle, continuing to loose himself... I mean, even with a purpose, even through he is working towards freeing Twilight. He can't sleep, he can't rest... he's loosing himself... he's loosing his mind... and this is just the start... please Spike, get better. Please, find yourself before you loose yourself. You need it for the journey ahead.
3123725
Then again... maybe it is losing himself that makes the journey possible, and necessary?
3124167
... No. I refuse to accept that. Its too harsh, too cruel.
Palatino earth pony... Can you pretty please explain what "Palatino" means in this context? I hardly believe it has anything to do with a typeface.
Spike is still scaring himself, this is a good thing.This is a very good, sure to be short-lived, thing.
I find it interesting that without Twilight, his scales begin to desaturate with color. Very similar to when Discord took away what made the Mane Six themselves, if i'm not mistaken.