The Merry Ponies of Equestria (or, "No Two-Legged Creature")

by Sylocat

I,ii: "The Vasty Deep"

Somewhere else

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He awoke.

Where was he? He clutched his staff and pulled himself to his feet. All around him was pitch darkness. He took out a lotus flower and chanted in his mind, 'It sees in front, it sees behind, it sees afar away, it sees the sky, the firmament, and earth: all this, O Goddess, it beholds,' to see through the dark, but the void seemed infinite.

This was an unnatural place. Even if he hadn't known that just from the sight of it, he would still have felt it in his bones.

What had happened last? He remembered a battle. Another battle, another war, where he had sent Bolingbroke packing once again. Of course he had; between his army and his magic, he could overcome any...

Magic. That was what had happened. He remembered now.

He had summoned a spirit to aid in the battle. Of course he had; it was practically his signature move. He'd been using magic since he was a child; it was the true source of his strength and his wisdom. The earth had shaken like a coward when he was born. In his age he had commanded the gods themselves, such legends as Chemosh and Anath and even Mawat all answering to his beck and call. He was the greatest magician in history.

He probably hadn't even needed magical aid for this particular battle, but he had decided to go on the offensive rather than merely wait to be attacked again. So he had summoned another beast to aid him, planning to storm the gates of Henry Bolingbroke's own palace once the invasion force was driven back.

But this beast was different.

This one had fought back. Not just fought back, but overrun his own sanctuary at his castle and pulled him Jove-only-knew where. The last thing he had heard was his own men's trumpets sounding retreat. The tide of battle had been turned against him by this monstrosity.

Everything had gone dark.

Everything still was dark. Why couldn't he see? Even Hades would have had some landscape to discern.

"So... you are awake." The inhuman growl came at him from all directions, seeming to emanate out of the very darkness itself.

He raised his staff defiantly. The fact that this thing had overcome him at all meant it was phenomenally powerful, but he had faced down worse. "Yes. I assume you are the beast that brought me here? You took me by surprise. Care to try again?"

The being changed the subject. "How did you acquire my horn?"

Horn? What horn?

Oh. The special ingredient in the summoning ritual. When he'd acquired it, all those years ago, he'd been told it was a fragment of a unicorn's horn.

Wait, this thing was a unicorn? Unicorns were easy to deal with. He must have been off his guard to lose against this thing. And now that he knew what he was up against, there were a thousand incantations that would work. He smiled, and kept the thing talking as he mentally recited, 'The spell that they have cast upon thy beast that hath uncloven hooves, the ass with teeth in both his jaws, this I strike back again on them.' to prepare against further interference. "I bought it many years ago. A witch was selling haunted tokens to survive. I purchased many a dark thing on that day."

"You have summoned many creatures with those items."

"Indeed. I live a rather charmed life. Now please, do not think I am rude to cut this fascinating conversation short, but I must return to Earth. Goodbye..." and with that he chanted, 'May the hawk bring the man who must be summoned, from far away, in alien land, an exile. May both the Asvins make thy pathway easy.' to open a doorway back to the world he had come.

The portal opened. He saw the sanctum, practically in ruins but still working enough to bring him back. But then the portal blinked shut, and a pair of glowing eyes stared at him through the dark.

He hadn't really been expecting the portal to work. But just as he'd hoped, the act of closing it had drawn his captor out into revealing itself to him. Instantly he roared, 'We seize and hold thee, conquering one!' to fend off the beast. Sure enough the eyes retreated, and the veil of smoke was even pierced. But before he could re-cast the linking spell, a laugh came from the shadows, and the voice spoke unhindered. "If you wish to return home, I can send you there now."

He was puzzled. Hadn't the creature just seen that he didn't need its help doing that? "I can send myself."

"But you might not like what awaits you."

"What do you mean?"

"Your castle overrun. Your men scattered. Your wife and children taken hostage." Then, as if seeing his expression, it said, "Oh, don't blame me. You were winning and you summoned me anyway."

"I still can win. I have my other spells. The English could garrison an army in my castle and it will be driven out the moment I return from here."

"I believe you. But your family has been taken to a dungeon, deep in the heartland of your enemies. What do you suppose will happen to them if you attack now?"

He had no reply.

"Perhaps you could enter into a truce. You might have been destined to lose in the long run anyway." The unseen monster chortled. "But can you regain the confidence of your subjects? The great magician, defeated by his own conjuring trick?"

Of course. He had always been victorious. The people saw him as a man who could command the devil himself. What would they say now that he had been overcome by his own power?

In times of war, reputation was as important as skill. They had needed to believe he was invincible, that he commanded the very air and sea. He did command the air and sea! But even the slightest sign of weakness would be exploited. Give them an inch and they would take ten miles.

Even if his family could be saved by some other means than backing down, his name would never carry such weight again. And without him, the war was as good as lost. His nation, his people, would be left wide open to the tyrannical invaders.

His family and his subjects were lost. And it was all this monster's fault. In a single instant this one beast, from some random corner of creation, had undone him, and his country, and his very world. "And what do you suggest, demonic one?"

"I can stop all that from happening."

"How? I assume you will offer to spirit my wife and daughters away from their imprisonment. But can you then make them forget my humiliation?"

"I can do both."

Now he was startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"That is one of my remaining powers. One spell from me, and history will remember you victorious. It will be as if you never lost. Even your family, when brought home, will not remember ever being taken from you."

"You can do all that?"

"I can do much more, but I sense a willingness to do the rest yourself."

If the creature had simply boasted about its ability to do what it claimed, he would have assumed it was a trap. But this casual mention of other abilities, as though it were an afterthought, made it sound almost sensible. "And in return?"

"You will release my true form from its imprisonment."

This was getting interesting. "True form?"

"For eons I have been locked away, with only my shadows, a fraction of my power, free to roam in the world I should have ruled. Here in the space between worlds I can do little but speak and create illusions, and in physical realms I can manifest only as a mindless beast, which I can barely puppeteer from here." The voice became agitated. "I, the greatest scholar and soldier in history, reduced to a monster barely able to speak or even think!" It calmed down once again and continued, "My own unhappiness has been reflected in my former subjects."

"You had subjects."

"And you will help restore me to my throne."

Remarkable. He himself was going through all his own trouble because of a king who had deposed his predecessor. And many other bits of this tale struck a chord with him as well. "I merely must release you, that is all?"

"Not quite all. Release me from my prison and I will return your family to you. But in return for my effect on history, you will act as my lieutenant in the upcoming battle. You will summon more of your creatures to help build my army. You will aid my revenge against the tyrants who deposed me. And then, once the war is won and I am back on the throne I lost, I will give you the rest of what I promised."

This was hardly a guarantee, but even if he agreed, he could back out at any time. In the meantime, if he could get a closer bearing on this thing, it might help him get some leverage later. Besides, he sensed a kindred spirit. "I have the honor of addressing whom?"

A chunk of the fog swirled together and out walked something strange. It was shorter than he was, with a fiery mane jutting from silver armor, with the green eyes and the fire surrounding it. And a red horn, sure enough, jutted from its forehead, though the horn looked complete and unfragmented. Ridiculous as it looked, the creature would nevertheless have intimidated a lesser man. "I am King Sombra, ruler of the Crystal Empire." It extended its foreleg as if to shake hands. "And your name is Glendower, is it not?"

"It is. Owen Glendower, the rightful Prince of Wales." He extended his hand to take the creature's hoof.

They shook on it.

Author's Note:

265. Do not set fire to the actors to emphasise their emotions. It never helps.
– The Things I Will Never Do When Directing a Shakespeare Production

Owen Glendower:

Yes, I am using Shakespeare's version of Owen Glendower rather than the actual historical figure. No offense meant to the descendants of the actual Owain Glyn Dŵr.

I am making one shift closer to reality, though. In the plays, Glendower is allegedly killed offstage, halfway through the second play. In reality, Glyndŵr vanished shortly after being driven from one of his last strongholds in 1409, and was last sighted in 1412. No one knew what happened to him.[1] So yes, that has provided ample material for writers throughout the eons to speculate on why he was never found.

Of course, even if I wanted to go by his historical personage, I'd have very little to go on. The guy's military career and political achievements are well-documented, but his personality? What was he like as a character? A whole lot of fiction, but not a lot of factual info available... at least not to me.[2]

The real Owain Glyndŵr, of course, was not a sorcerer, or even an occultist, according to contemporary records. He was in fact a devout Roman Catholic. So, why did he get a posthumous reputation for wizardry? Well, the answer to that is a fascinating illustration of how legends are built up around people over history. The details are too lengthy to go into here, even for someone as long winded and pretentious as me. If you're interested, there is one book I can recommend: "National Redeemer: Owain Glyndŵr in Welsh Tradition," by Elissa R. Henken. You can read the first 17 pages free at Google Books.

458. I will not interpolate lines in the histories to clarify some of the complex dynastic relationships if I have not checked to make sure that they are accurate. For instance, I will not insert lines into the first scene of Henry V that say that Henry's claim to the French crown comes from Edward III's "marriage to Philippa of France," since his claim actually comes from his mother and not from his wife, who was not, in point of fact, French, and there will invariably be at least one person in the audience who notices the mistake and laughs at my apparent inability to check my facts.
– The Things I Will Never Do When Directing a Shakespeare Production

The Cosmology:
Glendower's spell loadout is taken from the Atharaveda, one of the four Vedas (the holy books of the historical Vedic faith, one of the world's oldest religions, from which Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism evolved).
Why use the Vedic texts when the namedropped pantheon is Mesopotamian and Grecoroman? Well, that will become apparent later in the fic.

476. I will never, ever, allow costumes featuring the shades "hot pink" or "radioactive green" to make it past planning stages. Not even for the faeries.
477. Especially not for the faeries.

– The Things I Will Never Do When Directing a Shakespeare Production

Comments

[GhostLight]

"Here in the space between worlds I can do little but speak and create illusions, and in physical realms I can manifest only as a mindless beast, which I can barely puppeteer from here." The voice now raised a bit, becoming agitated as it growled, "I, the greatest scholar and soldier in history, reduced to a monster barely able to speak or even think!"

Oh. my. Celestia. That Makes SO MUCH SENSE!!!