Equestria and Earth have met in the town of Brightly BC. Will the fires of friendship be enough to keep the small, isolated town safe? Or will demands from both worlds tear it apart?
It's been six weeks since Equestria came to the world and a desperate battle against a creature of myth and legend was fought. Six weeks of our world coming to terms with new knowledge, new insights, and new ways of thinking about our place in the universe.
It has also been six weeks of Twilight Sparkle being in charge of Equestria. Of sitting on the throne, of hearing things secondhoof while others get to explore a strange new world full of insights and information. A world teeming with books. So many books.
Turbulent times will engulf both worlds as they are enveloped by the storm of change that seeks to swamp them all in anarchy and chaos. And in a storm, all ships seek out the brightly lit beacon of a lighthouse. Of the Pharos.
”Tonight’s top story, as it has been for the past month and a half, are the incredible events that took place in the northern British Columbia town of Brightly. The shock waves of astonishment at the discovery that Man is not alone in the universe continue to reverberate across the world.
Pressure continues to mount on Canada in general, and Prime Minister Trudeau in particular, to allow access to the alien princesses who have been living among us since their arrival. Despite the increasingly hostile rhetoric and talk of sanctions from even many of Canada’s closest allies, the prime minister continues to refuse to allow even informal access.
In a statement today, Prime Minister Trudeau stated: ‘Until the question of jurisdiction over the portal to Equestria is settled to the satisfaction of everyone involved, it would not be proper for anyone to begin negotiations with our new friends.’
Princess Celestia, speaking from her residence in Brightly, said the following: ‘Equestria only seeks equal and fair relations with all the varied people of Earth. Although Canada was the first to welcome us, we cannot allow our friendship with the people of Brightly to influence how we deal with the many nations of your world. Until the question of who controls the land around our gateway is settled, my sister and I feel the wisest course of action is to remain apart and allow you to settle this disagreement for yourselves.’
After the break: ‘What does an increasingly hostile United States mean for Canada?’”
Summer had come to the north coast of British Columbia. Days of intense sunshine, and nights of the clearest black when the stars shone like a thousand diamonds set in a sea of velvet. Nature exploding into life, as plants and animals of all sorts grew right alongside the length of mercury in the thermometer.
The long days made for impressive growth in the flora and fauna of this region of the world. This was the happy time, when food was plentiful, the days warm, and the nights cool enough to give relief. Enough relief that some chose to be active at night rather than the day.
Some chose to be active at night, some preferred it, some had to as part of their jobs, and a few were active at night because their job could only really be done in the cover of darkness. Employment such as being part of a military, where sneaking into someone else’s territory was almost always a requirement.
So when the heavily stealthed Black Hawk helicopter came sweeping into a hover over a small clearing by a pond in the woods, it wasn’t there to see the sights. Nor were the men swiftly rappelling down on fast lines there to try their hand at fishing the nearly untouched waters of the pond or the stream that supplied it.
No, the men who composed the skilled and efficient team were there as part of their job. They had a mission to complete and it was their duty in the service of their country to carry out the task set before them.
“Everyone down?” asked the leader of the group, taking a quick headcount by the glow of a red flashlight Camouflaged insignia marked him as a captain in the US army, with a name tag that read “Rios.”
Receiving a quick series of nods from the group around them, Captain Rios aimed his light upwards, and flashed it in the sequence that meant his team was down safely and ready to proceed. The hovering craft rocked briefly from side to side to acknowledge the signal, then banked away, keeping low to stay under the radar shadow of the nearby foothill.
The silence of the summer night quickly closed in, broken only by the burbling sound of the stream and the hum of insects.
“Specialist Salem,” Rios said, addressing the only member of the group not carrying a rifle. “Did all your vet gear make it down in one piece?”
“Bloody well hope so,” the strongly built man replied. “You pukes tossed it around like it was government issue. Never mind that if it's broken this whole trip was wasted.”
“Sorry we couldn’t wrap it in five miles of bubble wrap for you,” the team leader riposted, rolling his eyes and smirking at the latest salvo in what had been a long running verbal battle between the Ranger team and the Army K9 specialist attached to them for the mission.
“Yeah, well my stuff is built tough so it should survive even you guys,” Salem replied, a half-grin on his face. “Seriously though, my tranqs are okay and I’ll check over everything once we stop.”
“Good,” the team leader commented, before looking around at the soldiers gathered around him. “Okay, according to intel there is an old logging road roughly two klicks upslope almost due north of us. The plan is for us to get to that logging road and follow it until we reach the wetlands near the town.”
Rios looked around at his men. All of them knew the plan inside and out, having rehearsed and memorized every bit of it over the past two weeks. All of them were also professionals and knew that repetition made for perfection. None of them looked bored.
“Once there, we establish a perimeter and remain concealed until tomorrow night,” Rios continued. “We infiltrate the town, and secure the home of the primary target, subduing or otherwise incapacitating anyone there. At which point Specialist Salem takes over. Specialist.”
“Right,” Salem replied with a nod, taking his cue. “Primary target is Jean Pedersen, aka ‘Foxfire’. She is pregnant, and lethal force is definitely not authorized. We go in, put her and anyone else home down with anesthetic darts or injections. At which point I take a full set of samples from her. Blood, skin, hair, the lot.”
“What about the other… fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” interrupted the team’s radio operator. “What about the other ponies in town?”
“All the others seem to shift on an irregular basis between pony and human forms,” Salem said, understanding the other man’s feelings. “Pedersen doesn’t. So she’s the only one we can guarantee will be a pony when we get there.”
“From all reports Foxfire will put up a nasty fight if we give her even half a chance,” Rios added. “She’s strong, smart, and more than willing to use her abilities against anyone she sees as a threat. Take her down fast.”
The group nodded in assent even as their hands checked and rechecked their gear with practiced motions. “Okay, any questions before we move out?”
"And what, pray tell, is the plan shoulds't the Canadians learn of our presence?" a voice asked.
"We exfiltrate as fast as possible, and it gets put down to a navigation accident during training," Rios responded, before adding. "And Smithers, stop with the imitations, it wasn't funny during the flight and it's not funny now."
"But," began Sergeant Smithers, "that wasn't me."
"Then wh—"
"IT WAS ME, DIO!" blasted a tsunami of light and sound, from a revealed dark blue winged unicorn not ten feet away from the soldiers.
The team of US Army Rangers were tough, professional soldiers. They had been trained to the keenest of edges and were among the very best in the world at what they did. So, when the equivalent of a living flash-bang went off beside them they did not scream in surprise or pain as their night-vision equipment was overloaded.
Instead, they acted, and as one they flung themselves away from the sensory bomb that had gone off near them. Each of them came up with weapons in hand and at the ready, furiously blinking away the spots in their vision and trying to ignore the ringing of their ears. Each of them also demonstrated the discipline of their profession and their elite rank by holding their fire.
All of them, except one.
“I didst not realize I was a target of yours,” Princess Luna said, in a conversational tone. A fletched anesthetic dart held in her telekinetic grip.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Rios replied, eyes scanning around for anyone else. His rifle was aimed at a point near, but not at the Equestrian. “You aren’t, but we can’t let you interfere with our job.”
“And how do you propose to prevent me from doing so, should I wish to ‘interfere’ as you put it?” Luna asked, keeping her voice calm but serious.
“Salem here will give you an injection that will make you sleep for a bit,” Rios stated, gesturing with his free hand to the vet who had holstered his discharged dart gun. “I’ll detail one of my men to watch over you while you sleep and keep you safe while we do what we came here for.”
“A generous and honourable offer,” Luna replied, relaxing a spell she had been keeping running for awhile now. “What say you, Foxfire? Can these men be trusted to keep their word?”
From behind the dropped cloak of magic that Luna had held behind her, stepped a very angry unicorn. Her gleaming white fur contrasted with the smokey purple magic aura wreathing her body and horn. Every rifle snapped over to cover Foxfire as the soldiers made the rational choice over which of the ponies was the threat.
“You can never trust men with guns,” Foxfire declared, lambent purple fire in her eyes. “And I see nothing here but men with guns. Men who are trying to decide if they can take us down. Men who want me and mine in cages. Dead men.”
“Peace, Foxfire,” Luna replied, draping a wing over the unicorn to literally take her under her wing. “Both of you.”
“Orders?” asked the radio operator, weapon at the ready. “There’s just two of them.”
“I suggest you count again,” a male voice from above called. “I’m sorry soldier, but the day is not yours. Not unless you intend to open fire on civilians, a visiting head of state, and a priest.”
“Adamschek,” breathed Rios, recognizing the voice from his briefings. “Stand down, everyone. They know we’re here.”
There was a general relaxing of tensions as the sound of several rifle safeties being engaged echoed around the clearing, and the soldiers moved their weapons away from their aiming point of Foxfire’s chest.
“So now what?” Rios asked, looking around and seeing even more of the bat winged “Night Ponies” landing nearby.
“Now you leave, and never come back,” Foxfire declared, as fiercely as she could while pinned against Luna’s side.
“We’ll signal for our ride and be out of your hair, er manes,” Rios replied, nodding to the unicorn, who was only now dismissing her pent-up power.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option,” called yet another new voice. One belonging to a pegasus gliding in, his body festooned with a full equipment harness. “You men are all under arrest.”
“For what?” Rios demanded. “We’re just a bunch of hunters out looking for deer.”
“At night?” the pegasus asked, by way of reply. “With automatic weapons, grenades, US military style uniforms and a military helicopter dropping you off.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rios replied. “All this is surplus. We didn’t want to bother anyone so we tried to get dropped off without disturbing anyone.”
“All that occurs by the light of the star or the Moon lies within my sight,” Luna replied, and for a moment her eyes flared with the grey-white light of her namesake. “You would do well to speak the truth to your fellow warrior.”
“All I see are a bunch of walking flea dip patrons,” Salem said, launching a salvo into the conversation. “What warrior are you talking about?”
“That would be me,” the pegasus replied, tossing his head to show off his ice blue mane. “You might know me as ‘Polaris,’ but I’m also Martin McCrae, Canadian Rangers. By the authority placed in me by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, as well as the Province of British Columbia, and the Municipality of Brightly, I hereby place you under arrest.”
“On what charge?” Salem demanded, even as the rest of his team began to put the butts of their weapons on the ground.
“Well, we can start with multiple prohibited weapons offenses,” Polaris stated, smirking. “Unless you can produce the proper F.A.C.’s or transport documents. Then we will get into the infractions for illegal hunting, because this most definitely is not hunting season and even if it was, hunting isn’t allowed at night.”
“Oh,” was all Salem could say, crestfallen. “You sure we can’t just be on our way?”
“Tell me who sent you,” Foxfire suddenly demanded, as she squirmed out from under Luna’s wing with a voice that was just this side of a graveyard. “Tell me who your masters are, and I will let you live. Tell me who sent you to plunder my body for its treasure, and I will give you your lives and your freedom.”
“We… we are… “ Rios began, his eyes locked onto the swirling purple depths in the unicorn's eyes. Eyes that held him. Eyes that bored into him. Merciless eyes that would not be denied.
“That is not the way,” Luna growled, sweeping her wing over Foxfire’s face and blocking the contact between pony and soldier. “Back to your place, Dark One. This is not the time for your power.”
“I will protect what is mine,” hissed the voice that came out of Foxfire. “My host trusts you, and so I will abide. But mark me, Princess. Should she come to harm through your counsel, I will hold you responsible.”
“So be it,” Luna replied gravely, while the others gathered around watched the byplay. At turns fascinated and frightened by the display.
As for Foxfire, she was like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing heavily against Luna. For her part, Luna simply floated the unicorn up onto her back, where she lay sprawled.
“Sorry about that,” Foxfire gasped out. ”Didn’t mean to go all ‘Blair Witch’ on you there.”
“Think nothing of it. I have matters well in wing,” Luna assured the unicorn, before turning her attention back to the men under arrest. “Gentlemen, you have seen what vengeance my friend seeks for what you may or may not have intended. I urge you to go quietly with Polaris, and he assures me you will be well treated under the law of this land.”
More bat ponies began landing in and around the clearing, among which was a quartet of pegasi. Two adults, and a young filly and colt. Thunder, Windweaver, Skylark, and Darter set down a short distance away. By Rios’ count, there were now nearly fifteen ponies around them, not including the alien princess.
“Guys,” Rios sighed, making sure his weapon was on “safe” and withdrawing the magazine as well. “Looks like we’re under arrest. Make sure to request a lawyer and don’t say anything until you get one.”
“A wise choice, Warrior,” Luna declared, approaching Rios until her nose was almost touching him. “You show wisdom, which is a fine quality in one who leads others into battle.”
“Not wise enough, Ma’am,” Rios replied, keeping calm and composed, even with an alien nose to nose with him.
“Wise enough to shelter those you command,” Luna replied, with a nod of respect. “Wise enough to know when the day is lost, and t’is time to preserve your forces for another day. Wise enough to carry a message for me.”
“Message?” Rios asked, sensing his men tense up. More than one warlord had sent “messages” in the form of American bodies.
Luna’s eyes blazed white and her voice deepened, “Tell this to those who sent you: Nothing that occurs beneath the moon or stars is hidden from mine eyes, for I am the Princess of the Night and its powers are mine to command. Dost thou understand?”
“Y-yes Ma’am,” Rios replied, his stoic face cracked slightly by the force of will that was Luna wrapped in her mantle of power. “I understand.”
“Good,” Luna said, setting aside her might and returning to normal. “When you come this way again, come you as a friend and not a thief in the night. You will be welcome at my table.”
“...And that’s when we headed back to town with them,” Ernie said, concluding his recounting of the night’s events to Princess Celestia and Mayor Montcalm. “They’re cooling their heels right now in the new jail.”
“And these men,” Princess Celestia asked, taking a sip of Earl Grey, “you are sure they were soldiers?”
“Most definitely, Princess,” Ernie replied, resisting an urge to bow. “They were more subtle about it than those North Korean idiots from two weeks ago. If one of the good Father’s congregation hadn’t seen their helicopter while out flying, we probably would never have stopped them.”
“Do we know where they were from?” Luna asked, from the other side of the room where she was munching on a very large chef’s salad.
“Polaris said they are almost definitely American military,” Ernie answered, grabbing a bagel for himself from the breakfast tray Brightly’s inn had provided. “Other than rank insignia they didn’t have anything on them to show who they were, or where they were from.”
“They were excellent warriors, from what I saw,” Luna replied, around a mouthful of watercress. “Why do they not proclaim their allegiance proudly?”
“Because their mission was likely what we call, ‘Black Ops’, Princess,” Montcalm answered, tapping a few grains of salt on top of a glass of buttermilk. “They were operating in black, without the full knowledge of their government. That way, the American president can honestly shrug his shoulders and say he didn’t know about them, if he’s asked about it.”
“Then they are miscreants? Criminals?” Luna asked, slightly confused.
“No, I’m pretty sure they were obeying orders,” Montcalm replied, taking a sip of the thick milk. “But there are several organizations and departments of the US government that have the power to authorize and carry out something like this.”
“NSA, CIA, OSI, just to name a few of the known ones,” Ernie added.
“I wish things hadn’t become so complicated,” Celestia said, with a heartfelt sigh. “After your Prime Minister announced us to the world, I thought everything would be fine. We could open up an embassy, start trade relations, and get to know an entirely new world.”
“Too bad no one told the Hieltsuk that,” Montcalm sighed. “Although, I can understand their point. You go for decades trying to get your land claims settled. Land your people have lived on for almost as long as people have been on this continent. Land you’ve never sold, ceded, willed or given away by treaty. The governments stall you year after year in the courts, and then the single biggest event in human history happens right on top of you? I’d do the same thing they did.”
“In truth, I still do not understand this matter,” Luna stated, taking a moment to slide a large portion of cheesecake to her sister. “What matters who owns the land, it merely holds the portal to our world.”
“Princess, you have to understand,” Montcalm responded, leaning forward and setting aside his drink for the moment. “The Hieltsuk have lived in this part of the world for 14,000 years. They survived an ice age here. Never mind the huge amount of money that stands to be made.”
“Money? As in bits?” Luna asked, looking toward Celestia who was nodding in agreement.
“Assuming all good things happen and we begin trading with Earth… I still find that name annoying,” Celestia said, aside. “Why you would name your world ‘Dirt’ is beyond me. I thought ‘Canada’ was a much more dignified name.”
“It’s a translation of a much older word,” Ernie chimed in, a wide grin on his face, which grew even wider as he glanced at the Princess of the Night. “But you were explaining about money?”
“Oh, yes,” Celestia replied, shaking her head. “Once trade begins, whoever controls the portal can levy a fee on anything passing through it.”
“OH!” Luna exclaimed, head coming back up from her salad bowl. “I understand. T’is like a mountain pass with a toll gate. A tithe on the commerce between two nations can be vast indeed, but the amount that could be gained from even a trifling fee on the trade between two worlds would be magnitudes beyond.”
“Bingo, Your Highness,” Ernie replied, his smile growing broader.
“Please, Thunder,” Luna replied, waving a hoof. “How often must we say that to thee and thine, we are but Luna and Celestia. Thee and thy brave children have more than earned the right to speak to us using our names.”
Ernie gave a bark of laughter before replying, “I’d love to, but if I don’t use your title I’m going to keep remembering one of the meanings of your name in particular.”
“And what would that be?” Luna asked, her face darkening.
“Well, you know how ‘Earth’ is actually a translation of a much older name for our world from another language?” Ernie asked, Luna’s incipient ire not denting his mirth in the slightest.
“Please do not tell me that my name means something similar,” Luna replied, not quite growling, but most definitely not happy. Celestia continued to sip her tea and watched to see where the conversation was going herself.
“Well, the old word for the Earth is ‘Terra’,” Ernie supplied, drawing things out by asking, “Remind me again what some of your titles are?”
“We are known as the Princess of the Night, the Guardian of Dreams, and the Lunar Alicorn,” Luna replied, annoyance dissipating a bit.
“And your ‘Mark of Power’ is a crescent moon, right?” Ernie asked, gesturing towards Luna’s flank.
“‘Cutie Mark’,” Celestia corrected, almost absently.
“Aye,” Luna replied, eyebrows arching as she tried to figure out what Ernie was driving at.
“In Latin, which is what that transformation spell of your sister’s is sort of translated into, is where we get the word ‘Terra’ from,” Ernie said, pausing a moment for dramatic effect. “It also has a word for our moon. And that word, is ‘Luna’.”
Luna’s sudden delighted smile lit the room like a beacon.
Summer. The endless lazy days of summer. When the world is full of possibilities and there is nothing to do but run, swim, and be with friends. To be out in the world for a hundred different reasons and sometimes none at all, except the sheer joy of life and living. For three of Ponyville’s closest friends, summer had come at last, and with it a release from the tedium of the classroom.
“What do you gals want to do?” Scootaloo asked, trotting along beside her friends. “If you ask me, I think we should see if I can jump Ghastly Gorge on my scooter!”
“Rarity wants me to sort the ribbons in her ‘Inspiration Room’ again,” Sweetie Belle replied, making a face. “It’s not my fault Opal got in there and messed everything up.”
“What did ya think was gonna happen, after you put that bag of cat treats in there?” Applebloom said, shaking her head. “‘Sides, you think you got work? Applejack’s got a list of chores for me on the farm that’s longer than a timber wolf's tail. An’ that’s just for today!”
“Sorry, didn’t realize you two were going to be so busy,” Scootaloo replied, chastened until a thought came to her. “Hey, I could help Sweetie with her chores and then we could both go over to Sweet Apple Acres and help you out!”
“That’d be great!” Applebloom declared. “Applejack’s been really on a tear ‘bout getting all the chores done, an’ I could really use the help.”
“Hey, what’s with Miss Cheerilee?” Scootaloo asked, in a sudden aside and looking intently through the open window of Ponyville’s schoolhouse.
“Huh?” Sweetie replied, before turning her attention to the school herself and spotting their teacher inside. “She looks sad. I wonder what’s wrong?”
“We should go find out,” Applebloom stated, and setting actions to words, turned her hooves onto the short path that led from the road up to the main door of the building.
The other two Crusaders didn’t need to be asked to help, because where one Cutie Mark Crusader went, the others would inevitably follow. It was as immutable a thing as gravity, or rain being made out of water.
“Hey, Miss Cheerilee,” Applebloom said, a few moments later as she entered the classroom. The older mare was sitting at her desk, leaning her head on one foreleg with a wistful look on her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh! Hello, Applebloom,” the teacher replied, lifting her head up as half her mouth twisted up into a lopsided smile. “Nothing really, just feeling a little down, is all. Why aren’t you out enjoying the day?”
“Well, we were walking by and we saw you looking kinda sad,” Sweetie Belle explained, taking up a flanking position with her friend. “And we wanted to see if we could help you out.”
“The Cutie Mark Crusaders are always ready to help a friend,” declared Scootaloo, taking up position on Applebloom’s other flank. “And you are more than our teacher. You’re our friend too.”
“That— that is very kind of you to say,” Cheerilee replied, eyes glistening slightly. “I’m not really sad. I’m just sort of missing all of you.”
“Aww,” the three said in unison, moving up to give their teacher a hug.
“This time of year is always bittersweet for a teacher,” Cheerilee explained, gladly accepting the triple embrace. “We spend so much time with our students, getting to know them almost as much as their parents do. We get to watch your minds and bodies grow strong, see you make new discoveries and new friendships. We watch you start to become the next generation of Equestria.”
“But why’s that make you sad?” Applebloom asked, letting go of her teacher and looking over to the teacher's desk. “Me and the Crusaders are goin’ to be here for awhile yet.”
“For a while, yes,” Cheerilee confirmed, reaching out and straightening the earth pony’s bow. “But soon enough you will leave here forever, and take your place in the world. And though I know that the three of you will be wonderful adults, I can’t help but wish you and your classmates would stay just a while longer.”
“You’ll always be our teacher,” Sweetie Belle said, taking a look around the room that she and her friends had once thought of as a prison, but now seeing it in a different light. “And our friend, too.”
“Thank you,” Cheerilee replied, wiping a bit of moisture from one eye. “And I will always be proud to have been your teacher, but now—”
Whatever Cheerilee had been going to say, was cut off as the door to the schoolhouse burst open to admit a lavender coloured blur that darted about the room. The blur moved in rapid succession from desk to desk, slowing as it began to visit some of the bookshelves around the room. It was only when various textbooks began to levitate off the shelves, did the form slow down enough to reveal the wings and horn of a very frazzled looking Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“Books, books, books, books,” chanted the mare, examining one school book after another in quick succession. “Got to find the right book. Where is the book? I need the book.”
The other four ponies in the schoolroom looked at each other in bewilderment, before Cheerilee piped up saying, “Excuse me, Princess. Can we help?”
“YES!” Twilight shouted, zooming over and clutching the teacher to her chest. “Textbooks! Where are your textbooks?”
“Stored away for the summer,” the earth pony mare managed to squeak out. “Why?”
“Nooooo,” howled the distraught Princess, collapsing to the floor. “No. No. No, not again!”
“Beggin’ yer pardon,” Applebloom ventured, “but what’s wrong?”
“I need to find something to compare this to!” Twilight exclaimed, holding up what looked like a normal, if somewhat drab looking, hard bound book.
“That’s a book,” Scootaloo said, looking at the Princess of Friendship with a confused look on her face. “Don’t you have a bunch of books in your castle?”
“This isn’t a regular book,” Twilight sighed, manic energy oozing away from her. “It’s a textbook from Canada.”
“A what from where?” Applebloom demanded, before shaking her head to correct herself. “Ah mean, Ah know what a textbook is. But who’s Canada?”
“Canada isn’t a ‘who’ Applebloom,” Cheerilee explained, being somewhat more in tune with larger events than the Crusaders were. “Canada is a ‘where.’ Another world, to be precise.”
“Wait, what?” Scootaloo asked, confused. “A whole other world? Like another Equestria?”
“We haven’t really made it common knowledge yet,” Twilight responded, still holding onto the book. “But several weeks ago we made contact, actually re-contact with another world through a mirror portal.”
“‘Canada’ is a funny name for a world,” Sweetie Belle supplied. “It does sorta rhyme though. ‘Caw.’ ‘Nah.’ ‘Dah’,” she continued, exaggerating the syllables.
“It’s only the name of one nation of that world,” Twilight corrected, with a small laugh. “The one where the other side of the portal comes out. The actual name of that world is ‘Earth’.”
“‘Earth’?” Applebloom asked, eyes lighting up. “As in ‘earth pony’? Is that why Granny Smith was at your castle last month? Wow, a whole world of earth ponies!”
“Well, sort of,” Twilight replied, not noticing Cheerilee taking notes as she unobtrusively moved to one side in order to let Twilight become the focus of the Crusader's attention. “There is a sort of pony there, but they’re related to us about as much as fish are related to seaponies.”
“What do you mean by that?” Sweetie asked, the curiosity of the Crusaders blazing bright.
“I mean they have equines there, but they are just animals,” the alicorn explained, taking a seat and putting her precious book beside her. “They can’t talk, or read, or think, or do anything like us.”
“But I remember Granny Smith said something about a pony called, ‘Lee Ung’,” Applebloom interjected. “An’ she was gonna help him an’ his kinfolk.”
“Do you remember me telling you about my friend, Sunset Shimmer?” Twilight prompted, waiting for the Crusader to nod before continuing. “Well, this ‘Earth’ is sort of like Sunset’s world. The people there aren’t ponies.”
“Oh,” Applebloom replied, looking a little crestfallen.
“Princess,” Cheerilee interjected, “you haven’t really said yet why you are here. Or what had you in such a state. Or why that textbook is so important.”
“Oh,” Twilight responded, echoing the filly from moments ago. “Well, this is a textbook from that other world.”
“Go on,” Cheerilee prompted, beginning to see where the princess was going.
“If I could find one of your textbooks to compare it to, I can tell what kind of education system they have,” Twilight explained, regaining some of her previous enthusiasm. “And this isn’t just any textbook.”
“Is it a textbook about flying?” Scootaloo asked, eyes lighting up.
“Sorry Scootaloo, but no,” Twilight replied, opening up the foreign book so that the others could see inside. The other four ponies made murmurs of appreciation at the glossy pages, up until Applebloom realized what sort of textbook the tome was.
“It’s a math textbook,” Applebloom groaned. “Ah hate arithmetic.”
“You help Zecora all the time,” Sweetie Belle protested. “Doesn’t that use a lot of math for when you measure stuff?”
“That’s workin’ math,” Applebloom shot back. “This, this is just numbers...Lots an’ lots of numbers.”
“What’s so important about it being a math textbook, Twilight?” Scootaloo asked, defusing the argument before it had a chance to get going.
“Math is a ‘universal’ language,” Twilight gushed, clutching the volume to her breast once more. “All thinking creatures use math. It might be different or a little strange, but for any creature that knows numbers; one plus one always equals two.”
“Perhaps you should explain to the class why that’s an important concept,” Cheerilee prompted, falling easily back into her role as teacher and mentor to young minds.
“That’s a good idea,” agreed Twilight, nodding. “You see, unlike the portal to Sunset Shimmer’s world, the spell that created the portal to Earth wasn’t made to make one.”
“What was it made fer, then?” Applebloom asked with a tilt of her head. “Seems like bad craftsponyship to make somethin’ that’s different from what you started tryin’ to make.”
“The pony who made the portal wasn’t trying to make one in the first place,” Twilight explained. “But through a combination of spells, mistakes, and pure chance, a portal was made. And a very special one, at that.”
“Was it because it was made in olden pony times?” came the question from Sweetie Belle.
“I wouldn’t call Granny Smith’s younger years ‘olden pony times’ if I was you,” Twilight said, as Cheerilee covered up a grin. “No, what makes it special is how so many forms of magic came together to create it, and to give it a translation overlay.”
“A what?” the four other ponies in the room chorused.
“A translation overlay,” Twilight repeated. “It’s a spell that translates everything that goes through the portal so that everypony can understand everything on the other side. The only problem is that the spell is old, and it tries to make everything sound and read like the best version of things.”
“Looking and sounding the best you can be is a good thing,” Sweetie Belle declared, briefly offended on behalf of her sister. “Isn’t it?”
“Not when it changes things that have to be exactly as they were intended to be,” Twilight replied. “And that’s why this book is so important. Math is universal, so the translation overlay doesn’t change it.”
“So yer sayin’,” Applebloom replied, scrunching her face up a bit as she framed her thoughts. “That it’s like a set of plans fer a barn. Stuff goin’ through gets made to look like how it is at the end. But this is like seeing all the measurin’ lines an’ stuff that get covered up by the picture of how the barn looks when yer done.”
“T’weren’t nothin,” the filly shyly replied, scuffing a hoof. “Just some thinking is all.”
“Well, you got it exactly right,” Twilight added, beaming at the trio. “This book lets me see exactly how the ponies of Earth use math. Which helps me understand how they think. But I really need to do a side by side comparison to one of our textbooks of a similar grade to get a really good feel for it.”
“So that’s why you came here,” Cheerilee said, understanding Twilight’s purpose. “You wanted to borrow one of the schoolfillies textbooks and see what it looked like compared to the one you have.”
“And now I can’t because you don’t have any here,” Twilight groaned out. “Sorry, I should have realized that with school out for the summer you would have packed up all of your supplies.”
“That’s okay, Princess,” Cheerilee assured her local royal. “But why don’t you just go to the school book depository?”
“The what?” Twilight asked, tilting her own head in confusion.
“The depository, where we deposit and store all of Equestria’s school books for the summer,” Cheerilee explained. “We ship them there at the end of every school year. The books are cleaned, repaired, and updated if needed. They send them back here by train the week before school starts.”
“Where is this depository?” Twilight demanded, leaping up and grabbing the teacher by the shoulders. “And why don’t I know about it?”
“Didn’t you learn about it when you went to school?” Scootaloo asked, putting a hoof on Twilight’s foreleg. “I mean, I thought you went to a big school in Canterlot.”
“Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns is not a big school,” Twilight replied archly, before letting out a deep sigh and setting Cheerilee down. “We had the entire Royal Canterlot Library to use, so we didn’t use or need standard textbooks.”
“But ya had to know that other ponies had textbooks, right?” Applebloom asked, a bit of a sad look on her face. “Ah mean, it’s not like you just figured everypony used the same library.”
“To be honest, Applebloom, “ Twilight said, facehoofing, “I never really thought about it before. And I should have. Or at least have known to ask first.”
“It’s okay, Princess,” Sweetie Belle assured Twilight. “You know now, and you can get all the textbooks you need.”
“I just need the one,” Twilight answered, looking even sadder now, to the puzzlement of the Crusaders.
“Is somethin’ wrong?” Applebloom gently asked, looking up into Twilight’s eyes. “You look more down than Rainbow Dash after cider season.”
“I only have the one book,” Twilight replied, morose. “Princess Celestia sent it to me as a gift, but she won’t let me come get more until she and Luna finish settling who’s in charge on that side. And she can’t do that until she finishes her negotiations there, and until she finishes that I’m stuck here and can’t get to any more Earth books!”
“We could get you more books,” Scootaloo offered. “I mean, it’s just a portal, right?”
“Thank you, Scootaloo,” Twilight said, with a sad little smile. “But the portal is too small to fit ponies. Celestia and Luna had to turn themselves into breezies just to fit through. This book barely made it.”
“Why don’t you just make the portal bigger?” Sweetie Belle immediately countered.
“It’s impossible,” Twilight replied, slumping down against the teacher’s desk. “It’s completely utterly impossible.” At which point, Discord must have rolled over in his nap and gave Applebloom’s mind a nudge.
“Why?” came the question from beneath earnest eyes.
“Because no pony has ever been able to move, let alone create a portal to another world,” Twilight answered. “Except by accident.”
“Starswirl did,” Applebloom pointed out. “An’ you know everything about Starswirl.”
“Yes, but—” Twilight began.
“An’ didn’ you become an alicorn when you finished a spell he couldn’t?” Applebloom asked, as she pushed the issue further. “An’ aren’t you like, the Element of Magic.”
“It’s not that sim—” Twilight replied, only to be interrupted again.
“And don’t the Tree of Harmony listen to you an’ the others?” pressed Applebloom, challenging one of her personal heroes to rise to the occasion. “And didn’t you say that you were one of Princess Celestia’s best students, ever?”
“You might have —” Twilight started to say.
“An’ don’t you have all your fr—” Applebloom pounced, only to be interrupted herself this time.
“Okay! Okay, I get it,” Twilight replied, grinning as she stuffed a hoof against the Apple’s mouth. “You’re right, if anypony can make the portal bigger it’s me. But it still doesn’t solve the problem of me being stuck here until Luna and Celestia get back.”
“Cutie Mark Crusader Book Retrievers,” all three Crusaders chimed in chorus, while snapping out a salute that would have done a parade ground proud. Both adults in the room couldn’t help but giggle at the earnest trio of expressions facing them.
“Okay Crusaders,” Twilight replied, enfolding her three new novel champions. “Go talk to your guardians. As soon as I can make that portal bigger, I’m sending you to Earth!”
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to this, Princess?” the red and white winged pegasus asked Princess Celestia, who was perched in a semi-regal fashion on a futon. “We can always cancel.”
“Medevac,” Celestia began, taking a sip of one of Foxfire’s tea blends, “you’ve had me all but shackled to a bed for six weeks now. I think I can handle a simple interview from a reporter.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Medevac replied, hesitantly. “Just remember we can stop the interview at any time if you start feeling weak.”
“Tell you what,” Celestia said, curious as to why the usually bold paramedic pegasus was acting in such a timid manner. “Why don’t you tell me if I’m up to it.”
Needing no further invitation Medevac swept one of her wings along the length of Celestia’s body. As the gentle pegasus feathers glided from forelock to dock, they relayed a wealth of information to their owner about the body of the alicorn. Celestia looked at Medevac in concern as the pegasus worriedly bit her lip while digesting what her feathers had told her.
“What’s wrong?” Celestia asked, setting down the teacup.
“Nothing,” Medevac instantly responded. “You’re in nearly perfect health.”
“Then why the long face?” Celestia probed. Medevac may not have been one of “her” little ponies, but Celestia had been nurturing and guiding ponies for far too long not to want to find out what was troubling the pegasus.
“Did anyone ever tell you how bad off you were, after we got you out of the Godwindigo?” Medevac asked back, and Celestia was surprised to see that her self-appointed physician was nearly in tears.
“I know I wasn’t in very good shape,” Celestia replied carefully. “I seem to recall sleeping for the next several days.”
“You nearly died,” Medevac blurted out. “Another twenty or thirty minutes and Godwindigo would have killed you to power itself.”
“I… see,” Celestia responded, surprised at how near a thing it actually had been. “Is that why you’ve been so worried about me?”
“No doctor wants to lose a patient,” Medevac stated firmly. “Death is our enemy, and we fight it with everything we have on behalf of every patient we ever meet.”
“Everything dies, and everything has its time,” Celestia replied, “Even the flower and the tree. Even you, and even me.”
“I’ll give you the same reply I gave the God of Death when I saw him looming over you,” Medevac riposted, voice rough with emotion. “Not today. Not this day.”
Celestia reached out with her wings and gently enfolded the pegasus into a warm embrace. The wetness the alicorn felt against her chest moved her to say, “Someday, but not today. Just for you.”
“Sorry,” Medevac sniffled, trying to bring her emotions under control. “It’s just that I owe you so much. I’m not a real doctor, just a paramedic with a couple of fancy tricks.”
“Never say that,” Celestia admonished, with a gentle smile. “You, my dear, are my personal physician on Earth. Fancy tricks or not.”
“I… I am?” Medevac asked, gaping. “I mean, I jumped into the role because there—”
“Hush,” Celestia softly commanded, laying a wingtip over Medevac’s mouth for a moment. “Do I need to make it a royal command?”
“Yes! I mean, No!” babbled the pony, mind and mouth racing. “I mean, if you say so, Ma’am.”
“I do say so,” Celestia replied, serenely smiling down on the pegasus. “Now, ‘Personal Physician’. Am I in sufficient health for this interview? Give me your honest assessment.”
“Okay,” Medevac said, taking a deep breath. “Physically, you are more than healthy enough to be in an interview. It’s your mental state I’m worried about.”
“Oh?” Celestia asked, taking a sip of her now lukewarm tea to cover a moment of introspection.
“Of all the American networks you could have chosen to speak to first,” Medevac began, taking a moment to fluff her wings, “what made you choose ‘Fox News’?”
“I liked the name,” Celestia replied, after a moment’s thought. “A good friend of mine back in Equestria is an animal caretaker, and Fox had the only animal name. In fact, it had the only name that I could relate to in any way out of the main American news groups.”
“What?” Medevac asked curiously, tilting her head to one side, neatly trimmed mane barely stirring with the motion.
“I don’t know what the ‘Columbia’ is in CBS. The ‘American’ in ABC is obviously there for the country that company is based in,” Celestia explained, taking a moment to reheat her tea with a finely tuned burst of magic. “As is the ‘National’ in NBC. I still don’t really understand why CNN has ‘Cable’ in their name when it’s a broadcasting service or why a company that develops those wonderful computers of yours has a news service is something I will never understand.”
“Wait,” Medevac replied, confusion wrinkling her muzzle. “Who is that last one?”
“MSNBC,” Celestia responded, sipping at her now piping hot tea. “The first two letters stand for ‘Microsoft’ which I know has something to do with computers, but that’s all.”
“I see your point,” Medevac allowed. “I still wish you had chosen someone else. The BBC maybe, or even our own CBC here in Canada.”
“Medevac,” Celestia said, drawing a comforting wing over the pegasus, “the whole point of this interview is to make Luna and I less of an unknown quantity to your world as a way to prevent incidents like the other night. So, it had to be an American news service, and not a Canadian one. Is there some sort of problem with Fox?”
“They aren’t known for having the most… unbiased reporting,” Medevac answered, trying not to snuggle herself into the warm softness of the feathers around her. “They tend to show things from the conservative point of view.”
“My dear,” Celestia replied, pulling her physician in a little closer to her. “All reporters, and all ponies for that matter, have their own biases. All of them show it to one degree or another.”
“But—” Medevac tried to argue, the warmth around her fuzzing away her original objections.
“Shh,” Celestia gently interrupted, completely enfolding Medevac against her. “It will be alright. I’ve had more hostile interviews than you have feathers. Trust me, Medevac.”
Warmth and softness penetrated the pegasus’ body from all sides, wrapping her in a cocoon of peace and contentment. Held in place as she was, all Medevac could think of to do was to bury her face in Celestia’s soft fur and inhale her slight vanilla scent. The pegasus simply stood like that for several moments, completely calm and at peace. Until a thought jerked her out of that contented state.
“Hey!” the paramedic forcefully declared, “You’re doing that deliberately!”
“I’ve been ruling Equestria longer than your nation has existed, and in that time I’ve become a master of ‘soft’ diplomacy,” Celestia replied, still smiling serenely as she slowly released Medevac. “I can handle a simple press interview.”
“Sure, as long as the reporter lets you hug him,” Medevac shot back, her tone acerbic.
“That’s the spirit,” Celestia replied brightly, but then sobered. “But, thank you. I truly wasn’t aware of how close things had been, and I’m very, very grateful for your care these past few weeks. Designating you ‘Royal Physician’ is the least that I can do for you.”
“Pfft,” blew the pegasus, rolling her eyes. “All I did was what I would do for anyone. I don’t need any titles or awards for doing that... This is award enough for me.” Medevac briefly turned to present her marked flank with its Rod of Asclepius.
“Even though the position generally comes with a patent of nobility?” Celestia asked, taking great pleasure in watching Medevac’s jaw drop.
“I... who? What?” Medevac babbled before settling on, “Me? A noble?”
“How do you like the sound of, ‘Medevac, Baroness Brightly’?” Celestia asked, trying not to laugh at the size Medevac’s eyes were growing to. “I’ll have to ask Luna about what your proper rank should be, just to be sure.”
Three hours later, a little used squash court inside Brightly’s community recreation center had finished being converted into an interview set. The large cube shaped room was perfect for an interview, and even allowed the hanging of equipment from the viewing balcony as well as being almost a custom-made position for the news crew to work.
What it was not however, was acoustically suitable. Surfaces meant to cause the forceful rebound of a ball, also caused sounds to bounce and echo in a manner that was completely unsuitable for broadcast television. A call had gone up for any sort of sound deadening material available. A call, which had been answered with the typical small town ingenuity of the Brightly Quilting Club.
“Well, I’ve certainly done interviews in less hospitable locations,” commented Phil Bartiromo, looking around the room whose walls and floors were now covered in sound deadening quilts. “I guess it will have to do.”
“I’m glad you approve,” replied Princess Celestia, coming up behind the reporter. “The people of this place never cease to amaze me with their willingness to pitch in with unconventional, but effective, solutions to problems.”
“Princess Celestia,” said the reporter, turning and moving awkwardly as he tried to decide whether to offer his hand or to bow to the visiting diarch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“And a pleasure to meet you as well,” Celestia replied, smiling graciously and deliberately not appearing to notice the lean man’s awkward body motions. “Shall we go in and make ourselves ready?”
“By all means, Your Highness,” the reporter replied, gesturing toward the raised platform with a large “Fox News” background behind it.
“Why thank you,” Celestia answered, ducking her head to keep her horn from catching on the top of the doorframe.
Together, pony princess and intrepid interviewer sat themselves down and were immediately swarmed by a group of gaffers, grips and production assistants. As Bartiromo was being given a few quick touch-ups of makeup for the camera, Celestia found herself being subject to some light brushing of her mane and tail by an assistant while another clipped a mike to her peytral.
“I love your mane,” the brushing assistant said softly. “How do you make it flow like this?”
“Magic, my dear,” Celestia replied, taking a quick look at the olive-skinned woman and her long, thick braid of midnight black hair. “And your mane is quite lovely as well.”
“Thank you,” the woman responded, cheeks warming as she tucked a final lock of Celestia’s pastel hair behind the ear of the princess.
“We go live in five minutes, people!” shouted a man in the viewing balcony, who was wearing a headset. “Five minutes!”
“I’m not sure how I should address you,” Bartiromo said, as the cloud of assistants around the two of them evaporated like mist exposed to a summer sun. “I mean, you are the first alien princess Earth has ever known. Should I call you, ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Radiance’ or something else? Which would you prefer?”
“Just ‘Princess Celestia’ will do,” Celestia said in answer, looking around her. “I’m somewhat new to all of this myself. Can you tell me how this sort of thing is done?”
“Certainly, Princess Celestia,” the reporter answered, making immediate use of Celestia’s stated preference to fix it in his mind. “We’ll get a countdown before the interview will start, at which point we will begin our feed to the network. I’ll start off with a short recap of recent events and then introduce you. After that I’ll ask some questions and get your comments on things.”
“So far, it sounds very much like a press interview back home,” Celestia commented. “Only without all the extra technology that you people use.”
“Are there any topics or any questions I should avoid?” Bartiromo asked, making a quick note of the time. “We are here by your request, after all. And we are thankful for the opportunity.”
“I want to relieve some of the pressure the Canadian government is receiving for keeping us isolated from the rest of your world, while the sovereignty question is decided. Having an interview done with an American network seemed like a good way to dispel some of the unknowns about my sister and I,” Celestia explained, before adding. “As for topics, feel free to ask anything you like.”
Celestia schooled her face to remain in “patient and loving monarch” mode, even as she watched the calculations going on behind the eyes of the reporter. The alicorn may not have understood the technologies he used, but it seemed that some things were indeed universal. Such as not giving a member of the press a target to focus on by telling them what you wanted not to talk about.
“I did want to touch on the political situation,” the reporter replied, “but only briefly. I know it’s a highly complex situation and we could easily spend an entire half hour talking about it.”
“I’m given to understand your network is quite heavily involved in political reporting,” Celestia commented. “And while I am sure that such a discussion would be very enlightening for all of us, I do agree that we should avoid going too deeply into any particular subject during this interview.”
“Would you be willing to do a follow-up interview in the future?” Bartiromo asked, eyes aglow with the possibility of scoring a second interview with the princess. “Something more in-depth?”
“Let’s see how this one goes first,” Celestia replied smoothly. “You can talk to our press agents in a day or two.”
“Brightly Media?” the man asked, getting a nod from Celestia in confirmation. “Thank you, Princess. We’ll be sure to do that.”
“What’s that?” Celestia asked, noticing the man tucking something in by his ear.
“This? It’s a wireless earphone,” explained Bartiromo. “My producer back in Seattle can use it to remind me if I’ve forgotten anything, or to let me know if we are having problems, or any number of things. And all without being loud enough to disturb our chat.”
“Those sound like very useful devices,” Celestia mused. “You wouldn’t be willing to let my sister and I have one or two, would you?”
“Why certainly,” Bartiromo said, noticing assistants beginning to clear the set in preparation for the broadcast. “Say, in exchange for a firm promise for that follow-up interview?”
“Ha!” Celestia laughed, smiling. “This must be this ‘capitalism’ thing I’ve read that you Americans practice so thoroughly. Always on the lookout for an opportunity to capitalize on.”
“It’s one of the things that’s made America great,” the reporter replied, putting on his best patriotic smile. “Well, do we have a deal, Princess?”
“Not quite,” Celestia chuckled, giving the reporter an arch look. “I’m not about to sell Equestria for a handful of beads and trade goods.”
“What can I offer to sweeten the deal?” Bartiromo asked, realizing time was ticking down for him to cement a second interview. This interview was sure to make him a rising star at the network, a second one would make him a household name and ensure his journalistic legacy for generations.
“You can do a favor for my sister and I,” Celestia replied.
“A favor? Of course,” Bartiromo agreed without a moment’s hesitation.
“There’s a group of lost American hunters that blundered into the woods near town the other night,” Celestia revealed, and the reporter realized that the pony in front of him had been moving toward this all along. “The Canadian government has agreed to release them into your custody. If you would do this for us, I can almost guarantee you that second interview.”
Bartiromo was a skilled and experienced interviewer. His face showed only the emotions he wanted it to show, and only when he wanted him to show them. Celestia had fifty times his experience and so when Bartiromo’s left eye crinkled a few millimeters, she knew he realized exactly what was going to happen to him when he got home after doing a “favor” for an alien princess.
“Nothing would please me more,” the reporter replied. “So, we can pencil you in for another interview with Fox, in about two weeks?”
“So long as you are the one doing the interviewing,” Celestia said, smiling. “I have a feeling that you and I will develop quite the personal relationship during the next several minutes.”
With that, the reporter knew Celestia had sealed his fate. There was no way Homeland Security, the NSA, FBI, or any of the host of other three letter organizations were going to let him even think about leaving the States until they were sure his loyalties weren’t to an alien. Particularly an alien who may or may not have super magic nuclear powers, and whom he had a “personal relationship” with and had done favors for in exchange for an interview.
“Um, yes,” Bartiromo replied, shuffling papers and deliberately wasting time until with some relief he heard the producer give everyone a thirty second warning.
The last few staffers cleared the impromptu interview set, while spectators and crew alike held their breaths as the last few seconds were counted down. A red light lit on one of the two cameras, and Bartiromo turned to face it before speaking.
“Hello America. Six weeks ago history was made when the question, ‘Are we alone?’ was answered with a most definitive ‘No.’ Tonight I’m here to speak with our strange visitor from an alien world. Princess Celestia of Equestria, it is a distinct pleasure to meet you,” Bartiromo summarized, turning to face Celestia and the second camera lit up to focus on the white alicorn.
“It’s a distinct pleasure to be here,” Celestia replied, smiling and nodding as her ethereal mane flowed with pastel colour.
“For the past six weeks, the Canadian government has kept you, and your sister, Princess Luna, almost totally isolated while the question of sovereignty over the portal to your world was being debated,” Bartiromo said, before pointedly asking, “What have you been doing during that time, and what are your thoughts on Prime Minister Trudeau’s unilateral decision to essentially keep you a prisoner on Canadian soil?”
“My sister and I have actually been enjoying the respite from our duties back home,” Celestia replied, her sensitive ears picking up a dissonant buzzing coming from Bartiromo’s earpiece. “We certainly haven’t been kept as prisoners here. Although, my personal physician did once threaten me with a bridle if I didn’t eat all my soup like a good filly should.”
The buzzing in Bartiromo’s earpiece grew louder and the reporter's face flashed with annoyance for a moment.
“My apologies, Princess Celestia,” the man said, his face taking on a rueful look. “We seem to be having some technical difficulties with your microphone. Would you mind swapping with me while we bring in a backup?”
“Not at all,” Celestia replied, and a moment later Bartiromo had deftly removed Celestia’s mike and replaced it with his own.
“Let’s try another question, “ the reporter continued, sitting back into his chair. “From all accounts your arrival triggered a mass transformation of everyone in the town around us into versions of your citizens. Some have begun to wonder if that’s your plan to conquer our world. By turning us all into—”
“Cute, cuddly ponies, with amazing abilities that reflect your greatest hopes and dreams?” Celestia asked rhetorically, cutting the reporter off in mid-flow. “Equestria is a land of Harmony, and Harmony forbids using magic on another without—”
“Sorry, Princess Celestia,” Bartiromo interrupted, holding up a hand as his earpiece buzzed even louder than before. “We’re still having problems from your mic, it seems.”
“Really?” Celestia asked, tilting her head and allowing one ear to flop sideways. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“The production office in Seattle says they are hearing nothing but gibberish when you speak,” Bartiromo stated, before hesitantly continuing. “Please don’t take this as a slight, but you are a magical pony princess from another dimension. Could your magic be interfering with our technology?”
“Other than deliberate interference, our magic and your technical devices have worked side by side up until now,” Celestia answered, chewing her lip in thought. “There is a first time for everything though, so it may be possible.”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, my apologies,” Bartiromo began, addressing the camera, and through it a live audience in the millions. “We seem to be encountering some technical difficulties so we may have to—”
“Wait, I have an idea,” Celestia interrupted suddenly with a raised voice, lifting her head to scan the watching crowd. “Drat, I don’t see the Harbs anywhere. Does anyone else here speak anything other than English?”
“I-I do,” came a voice from the crowd of staffers and assistants.
“Who’s that?” Bartiromo said, and in response the black haired, olive skinned woman who had brushed out Celestia’s mane and tail stepped forward.
“Velasquez, sir,” the woman replied, nervously.
“Come here, dear,” Celestia gently commanded. “Don’t be nervous. What languages do you speak?”
“Spanish, and a little Navajo my grandmother taught me,” the woman replied, braid swaying as she approached.
“Perfect,” Celestia declared, smiling to reassure the woman. “I’d like you to come here, and say some into my microphone, okay?”
“All right,” Velasquez said, coming over and bending awkwardly to place her mouth beside the device attached to Celestia’s peytral.
“Just sit here beside me,” Celestia replied, scooting herself over on the futon she was on. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.”
“Okay,” the woman replied, gingerly sitting down and leaning close. “Um, what should I say?”
“Why don’t you just say a greeting to the Princess?” Bartiromo offered, having seen in the past how ordinarily verbose individuals could find themselves unable to think when a camera was turned on them.
“Okay,” Velasquez said, turning to Celestia and leaning close to say, “Hello, my name is Jessica Velasquez. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Celestia.”
“Good grief, woman!” Bartiromo exploded, in clear frustration. “It was supposed to be in Spanish, or Navajo.”
“But… I did say it in Spanish,” replied the woman, instinctively shrinking back against Celestia. “I did.”
“I’m sure you did,” Celestia replied, putting a protective wing around Velasquez and shooting a short but piercing glare at the reporter. “But I heard English. Did everyone else hear the same?”
From all around the room there was a chorus of agreement and nods. The only discordant note came from the earbud worn by Phil Bartiromo, who put his hand against his ear to listen.
“Can we get Seattle up on a speaker?” he called out to the producer, who was watching from his nest in the observation gallery. A few swift motions later and the producer gave Bartiromo a thumbs up, who asked, “Seattle, can you say that again so that everyone can hear you?”
“Yeah, this is Rob in the Q13 Fox control room in Seattle,” came a clear man’s voice. “We definitely heard Spanish on our end.”
“Princess, you don’t seem surprised by this,” Bartiromo said, noticing Celestia’s calm demeanor. “Care to enlighten us?”
“In a moment, I want to be sure first,” Celestia commented, turning her head to face Velasquez, who still sat within the circle of Celestia’s left wing. “Go ahead, say something else.”
“Hello, my name is Jessica Velasquez,” Jessica said, in a more confident voice this time. “It’s a pleasure to meet you... Queen Celestia.”
“Queen?” asked Celestia, smiling at the woman. “I’m just a princess. And I heard English again, even though I’m quite sure you spoke in another language.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Velasquez replied, quickly adding. “I don’t know the Navajo word for ‘princess’ so I used the one for ‘queen’. I’m sure there’s one for ‘princess’, but Gran never taught me it.”
“I had to do some checking around the studio,” came the voice of the Seattle producer, “but I can confirm that was Navajo being spoken. Or at least that’s what we heard.”
“But we all heard English here,” Bartiromo added. “I’m thinking that you have an explanation for this phenomenon, Princess Celestia.”
“Indeed I do,” the princess replied, then paused to stop Jessica from getting up and leaving with a gentle touch of her wingtip on the woman's shoulder. “Please wait a moment, Miss Velasquez. There may be something very important you can do for me.”
Torn between her need to get out of the all-seeing eye of the camera, and her desire to avoid offending what amounted to a foreign dignitary, Velasquez looked to her boss, spreading her hands in mute appeal.
“As long as we get her back in one piece, Miss Velasquez is at your command,” Bartiromo said, with a smile as he made a “sit down” motion toward the production assistant.
“Excellent. First, though, the explanation as to what’s happening,” Celestia began, allowing her wing to rest in place on the futon around the again sitting Velasquez. “The portal between our worlds was created through a fluke accident that involved a layering of different spells. Among which was a translation spell.”
“Translation spell?” Bartiromo repeated, questioningly. “You mean magic?”
“That’s right,” Celestia said, looking like a teacher who has had a student say something clever.
“I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with the whole concept of magic,” Bartiromo supplied, frowning slightly. “But are you saying it's the portal reaching out and doing this through magic?”
“When the portal was opened up to your world in general, the buildup of over a century of leakage into the mine tunnels under Brightly burst free, saturating the entire area in Equestrian magic,” Celestia explained, keeping her face serene. “That saturation includes not just raw magical power, but the underlying matrix of the spells that were part of the portal itself. Among them, the translation spell.”
“Folks, we’re still hearing nothing but gibberish on our end,” said Rob in Seattle. “Can someone please tell us what’s going on?”
“Here’s where you come in, Jessica,” Celestia stated, turning so that she was almost muzzle to nose with the woman.
Magenta eyes locked with chocolate brown, and Celestia felt deep satisfaction when she saw a spark flare in those caramel depths. She’d had a feeling about this woman from the moment Celestia had felt Jessica’s hands on her mane. Were they in Equestria, Jessica would right now be getting an invitation to one of Celestia’s schools. But alas, they were not, so Celestia decided to improvise.
“I need a Voice,” Celestia began, capitalizing the noun. “Someone to speak my words in situations just like this one. I will speak in Equestrian, and you will repeat my words in English, exactly as you hear them from me. Can you do this for me?”
“Y-yes, Princess Celestia,” Velasquez answered, straightening up a bit. “As long as it’s okay with my bosses.”
“You’re to consider yourself on paid leave from the network for as long as the princess needs you,” Bartiromo interjected, leaping at the chance to get a staffer embedded into the news story of the millenium. “I’ll handle any paperwork and family arrangements you need taken care of, personally.”
“Thank you,” Jessica said, turning her head to fall back into the warm magenta pools in front of her. “I guess I’m all yours.”
“We need to do this properly,” Celestia replied, clearing her throat and allowing magic to fill her voice. “Jessica Velasquez, We call upon you to be Our Voice. To speak with Our words and in Our name. To put yourself aside for a time, and become an extension of the Diarchy of Equestria, that Our words may be passed to those who have need to hear them. Will you do this thing for Us?”
“I will,” Velasquez replied in a firm voice, feeling an unknown warmth fill her.
“Then by the power invested in me as Princess Celestia, Sol Invictus, I declare you to be my Royal Voice,” Celestia stated, and smiling she summoned a small ball of magic laced with something she had learned from Discord, long ago. “Stretch out your hand, and receive your badge of office.”
Automatically Velasquez reached into the ball and found her fingers closing around something hard. She pulled out her hand and opened it to reveal a four inch long brooch of shining silver. A howling coyote with turquoise eyes looked back at her, and for a second she could have sworn the figure winked at her.
“Now my Voice, repeat my words for those in Seattle and abroad,” Celestia began, drawing Jessica’s attention back to her new boss. “To recap for everyone not in Brightly, the portal to Equestria was created through an accident that involved…”
Princess Luna sipped at her mochaccino, pausing to lick a bit of cream off her upper lip. She lay comfortably on a futon of her own in her room, and as she continued to watch the broadcast she could not stop a chuckle that escaped her lips, along with, “Oh, dear sister. It seems you’ve found yet another pony to draw into your herd.”
“Beg pardon, Ma’am?” asked Captain Rios, dressed in borrowed civilian clothes and sipping at his own black but heavily sweetened coffee.
“A lesson for you about my sister, Captain Rios,” Luna replied, turning toward the captured soldier. “She is always on the watch for ponies around whom destiny turns.”
“What’s that supp… Wait, I never said I was a captain,” Rios protested, a stormcloud frown forming on his features.
“Your quarters over the past two nights were ‘bugged’, I believe the term is,” Luna supplied. “And your horse doctor is rather free with his tongue.”
“I guess I should be happy you didn’t read my mind or something,” Rios grumbled. “So what now? Did you ask me here just to tell me that?”
“No, I had you brought here to tell you that you and your team will be going home with the news crew,” Luna answered. “And to make you an offer.”
“Your Highness, I will never betray my country. No matter what,” Rios replied, drawing himself up angrily.
“And I would never ask you to,” Luna replied calmly. “But there are things that threaten all who would walk in Harmony. Things that I think you would be willing to fight at my side against.”
“What are you talking about?” Rios asked, now thoroughly confused. “And what does this have to do with your sister?”
“Think, good Captain,” Luna said, taking care to appear calm and nonthreatening. “I’m sure you were told of the events in Brightly after the portal was opened to your world. What happened to the windigo when it separated from Dora Godwinson?”
“It ran away,” Rios replied, after a moment’s thought. “Everyone assumed it faded into nothing once it got outside the Brightly Bubble.”
“It had fed long and deeply upon my sister,” Luna stated, her voice growing cold. “Even now she feels it’s talons caressing her soul. It lives, Captain. Oh yes, the beast lives, and it hungers, and my sister knows that it hungers for her.”
“You want me to help you fight it,” Rios replied. “What about the Power Ponies?”
“Those ponies are both mighty and intrepid,” Luna answered, warmth returning to her voice, “but they are children, first and foremost. My sister and I will not risk them if at all possible, which is why she seeks to bind Medevac and now this Velasquez woman to her side.”
“Excuse me?” Rios asked, his tone showing that he wasn’t sure he liked that idea.
“Be at peace, Captain,” Luna said, her voice soothing. “Were this Equestria, those ponies would even now find themselves being granted titles, offers of mentor-ship, invitations to special schooling or access to vast repositories of knowledge.”
“Sounds like bribery to me,” Rios commented, picking his coffee back up and taking a deep pull of sweet caffeine.
“Celestia decided long ago that the best way to have loyal, powerful allies was to find ponies with potential, and then to nurture that spark of possibility inside them into a roaring flame,” Luna commented, as she aped Rios by taking a sip off her own drink. “She has always had a sense of which ponies would change the world, instead of being changed by it. Velasquez is obviously one such pony, or Celestia would simply have asked the reporter to repeat her words..”
“And what do you intend to offer me?” Rios replied, with a derisive snort.
“You are a soldier, and a man of integrity,” Luna stated, to which the captain lifted his coffee in acknowledgement. “You would view anything I offer as a quid pro quo, and so I will offer you one where the terms are clear. Here, take this.”
Luna tossed a small object to the soldier, who automatically caught it. Rios opened his hand to find a leather thong knotted around the hollow shaft of a deep blue feather. To any other eye it would look like a simple leather necklace with a feather for a pendant. Rios however knew better however, and the look he gave Princess Luna spoke volumes.
“Yes, Captain Rios, it is one of mine,” Luna said, answering the unspoken question. “And, it is enchanted by my own horn.”
“Why?” Rios asked simply, setting his coffee aside.
“Let me answer that with a question,” Luna replied. “Did you dream last night?”
“What?” Rios, asked puzzled, before taking a minute to think and reply, “No, as a matter of fact I didn’t. Or when I slept before that.”
“In Equestria, one of my responsibilities is to guard the dreams of my ponies,” Luna informed the captain. “I ward off nightmares and help them deal with what they see in the realms of sleep.”
“You WERE in my mind!” Rios growled hotly, and Luna could see that it took the soldier an effort of will not to leap at her to avenge the perceived wrong.
“I was not,” Luna declared, looking the angry man directly in the eye. “I will not enter the mind of someone who has neither given me permission nor is a subject of mine. What I could do though, was to give you and yours a restful, dreamless sleep.”
“Oh, sorry,” Rios replied, relaxing slightly before firing back with, “What made you think we weren't going to dream about riding around on winged unicorns?”
“The fact that you are experienced soldiers who have seen combat. Plus, you didn’t bring any tack with you,” Luna smoothly tossed back with a mild smirk. “Something for an Arabian yearling is about my size, by the way.”
Rios couldn’t help but snort at that, “Okay, fair enough and thank you. You haven’t said what you expect back from me though.”
“I want you to tell your government that my sister and I have no wish to be an enemy of America,” Luna said, getting up from her futon. “Neither do we wish to be an ally, as yet.”
“Then what do you want?” Rios asked, realizing for the first time the true size of the alicorn. “And why do I get the feeling this feather of yours is meant for me?”
“What we want is to be friends,” Luna answered, stepping close enough to Rios that he could touch her, if he wished. “The feather is meant as a peace offering to both you and your government. Examining it should reveal information about what I am, and what magic is.”
“Dios,” Rios breathed, realizing that Luna had just up and given him one of the key pieces of information he had been sent to gather. “And what are you giving me?”
“Sleep with the feather next to your skin,” Luna said, keeping her voice soft. “Doing so will allow it to be a bridge between us, allowing me to enter your dreams and speak with you.”
“Why? And what if I don’t want to?” Rios asked, eyes flicking between the feather and the mare it had come from.
“If you do not wish to hear from me again, simply never sleep with it next to you,” Luna assured the man. “Without some sort of thaumic link, my magic cannot reach beyond this town.”
“You still haven’t said why,” Rios replied, arching an inquiring eyebrow toward the princess.
“I intend to go after the windigo before it comes back to finish the job it started,” Luna said, and Rios saw the anger in those lunar eyes. “Foxfire and her mate, Iron Heart, are with me as my Midnight Sorceress and my Nighttide Stallion. Captain Rios, I am asking you to become my Soldier of the Night.”
Tonight on Fox News. A storm of controversy erupts as the alien princess, Celestia, steps out of her Canadian shadows and onto the world stage. In an exclusive interview granted only to Fox News, our own Phil Bartiromo spoke with the extra-dimensional monarch on a wide ranging set of topics. Phil, what was your take on Princess Celestia of Equestria?
Thanks, Steve. The princess is very much a ‘people person’, and carries with her a surprising amount of personal magic, emotional magnetism and charisma. She is fully aware of the effect her appearance has on people and certainly isn’t afraid of using it.
When you say “personal magic” you mean that literally. Don’t you, Phil?
Indeed, Steve. We discovered, quite by accident, that everyone in the small hamlet of Brightly is under the effects of Equestrian magic, whether they choose to be or not. Magic that was part of the supposed “accident” that created the portal between our worlds over a hundred years ago. When we discovered this, Celestia smoothly diverted us by charming one of our staffers into becoming part of her personal entourage and demonstrating her ability to create objects from thin air.
What happened to our staff member, Phil? Are they going to be okay?
We can only assume so, Steve. Fox News Team member Jessica Velasquez was directly influenced by the princess into becoming a translator for her, and as part of that has come into direct contact with Equestrian magic. Using her magic, Celestia demonstrated her ability to manifest a person’s hopes and dreams by bringing into existence a piece of Miss Velasquez’s cultural history as a gift.
Do we now have a pony on staff, Phil?
Not yet, Steve, but if prior examples are any indication, it’s only a matter of time before our Fox News Team member embraces the magic around her, and accepts being transformed into another member of the species that seems to be establishing a foothold on Earth. One hoof at a time.
It’s interesting to note that others share your misgivings, Phil. Pastor Eli Fannin, of Onward Baptist Church in South Florida, said the following to a gathering of three thousand people at his weekly service:
DO NOT BE TAKEN IN, MY BROTHERS! This thing, this fiend from the pit, is truly a minion of Satan! Is it not said that the Devil will assume a pleasing form in order to lure us away from God’s mercy?
The Lord says that we were made in his image. As human beings! As Men! But this creature, she seeks to unmake us all! By changing our form, she seeks to change our relationship with God, claiming that she can grant us happiness by forsaking God and accepting her by changing us into her unholy form.
My brothers in Christ, not since the Tempter walked alongside our Lord has such blasphemy set foot on this good Earth. Her name “Celestia” is a claim upon the heavens, but her nature shows her to be a demon of the pit. For truly she is of the whore of Babylon! And I HAVE PROOF!
Was it not at Babylon that God confused the tongue of Man, to stop us from blaspheming the heavens? And what is the manifested power of this alien temptress? To unmake that holy work of God, Himself. To return us to a state of blasphemous existence, where all languages are understood, even that of the Devil. We must fight this creature of darkness with all we have, my friends...
“Now that is what I expected from a Fox News interview,” Ernie Harding commented, turning off the television and looking around to those gathered in his rec room.
“I have to admit, I’m a little surprised at their change in tone from the original meeting with them,” Celestia replied, taking a sip of what had become an ever present cup of tea. “Any idea what caused the change in tone, Jessica?”
“Um,” dodged Velasquez, looking very uncomfortable as she sat cross-legged in front of Princess Celestia.
“Is something wrong, Miss Velasquez?” asked Ernie’s wife Lynn, who was putting the finishing touches on yet another pony harness. Of the roughly 1500 residents of Brightly, roughly eighty had become ponies on a regular basis and Lynn’s harnesses had become de rigueur wear for them.
“Well, don’t take this the wrong way,” Jessica began, looking down at the notepad with questions for later in her lap, “but exactly how safe am I here? If you’re planning on doing something to me, it’s not like I can stop you, but I’d rather know it was coming.”
Everyone in the room looked shocked at the question. The shock wore off in moments, giving way to looks of outrage and disappointment in the long-haired woman. Only Luna, whose mug of coffee was as enduring as her sister’s teacup, showed sympathy.
“You are loyal to your nation, I take it?” Luna asked, gliding forward and then laying down so that she could look the seated woman in the eye.
“I am proud to be an American,” Velasquez replied, back straightening. “I may not always agree with the people in charge of my country, but that’s the right of every American.”
“You would lay down your life, to keep your country and its peoples safe?” Luna asked, taking Jessica’s measure, much as her sister had.
“I would,” the woman replied, the steel of two hundred years entering her voice as she quoted, “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots...” She looked over her shoulder at Celestia before adding, “and tyrants.”
“I am not some sort of Solar Tyrant,” Celestia commented, a small scowl coming over her face as she set her tea down. “I’ve laboured long and hard to keep myself from becoming seen as some sort of goddess figure by my ponies. What have I done that makes you feel you might be in danger from me?”
“That show reminded me that I’m very much alone here,” Jessica stated to everyone in the room. “I’m an American, in an isolated Canadian town. I’m a human, within arms length of two… beings, who have the power to take that away from me, if they chose to do so. I’m a rational woman, who’s finding out that all of my grandmother’s stories might be true.”
“What can we do to ease your mind?” Luna asked. “We need you with us.”
“I don’t know,” Velasquez lamented, blue-black highlights glinting off her hair under the fluorescent light of the rec room. “You and your sister have so much power. Either of you could squish me, or make me into a pony, or make me want to be something I’m not, and there wouldn’t be a single thing I could do to stop you.”
“They aren’t the only ones with that kind of power,” Ernie replied, with haunted eyes. “Everyone has that power. Right now, if I chose to, I could beat you, or force myself on you, or just about anything else I wanted.”
Ernie paused, looking down and slowly clenching his right hand into a fist, while utter silence stalked the room for long moments, as four sets of female eyes widened at the revelation of the predator in their midst.
“You wouldn’t be able to stop me, and even with the princesses here, the odds are still pretty good that I would succeed,” Ernie continued, and as he looked up the four women saw that his eyes now blazed with determination and purpose. “But I choose not to do those things. I choose to be better than that. I choose to respect the choices that others make for their lives, even if I don’t agree with them. And with God’s help, I will keep on making that choice. This day, and for all the days I have yet to come.”
Lynn’s only response to her husband was to clasp his hand, and smile at him with eyes bright and shining with love for the man she had chosen.
“That… that… um, wow,” Velasquez replied, taken aback by Ernie’s declaration. “Okay, um. That’s pretty good, but what about the princesses here? Princess Celestia, you made me your Voice. Are you planning on making me into anything else?”
“Only if you wish it, or if it is needed in the defense of life,” Celestia replied.
“You are safe in your body and your mind,” Luna pledged. “We will not work magic upon you, unless you ask for such, and perhaps not even then depending on the request and circumstances.”
“Can’t ask for anything more than that I guess,” Velasquez replied, touching the brooch Celestia had created for her. “Anyway, about the pivot. I could go into a lot of explanations but the truth of the matter is that bad and scary news sells, while good happy news doesn’t.”
“Is this true?” Celestia asked, looking over at Ernie and Lynn. “That doesn’t make sense. Good news should be celebrated.”
“Put it down to a quirk of being both a predator and a prey species,” Lynn replied, looking away from her husband, a soft smile still gracing her face. “Good news means we can ignore it and go about our business. Bad news means we have to sit up and pay attention.”
“That does make sense of a sort,” Celestia commented, before turning back to her Voice. “Thank you, Jessica. And I hope we’ve put your mind at ease.”
“I have to admit I’m kind of curious what I’d look like,” Jessica replied, with a smirk. “Anyway, I’ve been doing a lot of interviews with people about the Battle of Brightly, and with the mayor’s permission I did some digging in the town’s archives and found something interesting.”
“Oh?” Ernie, ever the amateur historian, asked.
“Mr. Leung kept a lot of his records and writings,” Jessica began, flipping to a page of her notebook. “Tucked in among his first store invoices there was a very interesting list. Princess Celestia, do you happen to remember how many gems you gave him?”
“How many gems?” Celestia asked, blinking in confusion for a moment at the non-sequitur. “Let me think for a moment… I believe it was around fifty or so. In Equestria, gemstones are relatively common, and their regular structure is perfect for enchantments.”
“Well, here on Earth, they are fairly uncommon. Not to mention extremely valuable,” Jessica continued, shuffling through the papers she had. “Leung was smart enough not to saturate the market, and after the first couple he must have developed some pretty impressive contacts in the diamond cartels.”
“So that’s where he got all his money from,” Lynn commented. “You know, ‘Leung’s Loot’ has been a topic of speculation in Brightly for decades. How much did he get for them all?”
“If I’ve worked it out right, the equivalent of nearly half a billion dollars in today’s money,” Jessica calmly stated, knowing the number would be explosive.
“WHAT?” Ernie burst out. “How? He only had fifty gems.”
“My sister would have given Lee-Ung only her best and most flawless gems,” Luna chimed in from the kitchen, where she was refilling her coffee mug. “Am I wrong, Tia?”
“Considering that they were going through a portal to another world, it only made sense to send gems I could be sure would retain their enchantments,” Celestia answered, musing on that time long ago. “Even if toward the end they held only simple things like light spells, or revealing the presence of other magic near them, it felt good knowing that I was giving a friend the best I had.”
“So, fifty gems. Of which exactly three are accounted for,” Jessica said, and Celestia again saw a spark glimmer for a moment in the American woman’s eye. “If everything I’ve been told since yesterday is accurate.”
“It is,” Ernie assured Velasquez, taking a glance out the window toward where the sun was heading for the horizon. “Too many people know what happened to try to hide it. It’s why we were going to go public at the awards ceremony in the first place.”
“Why is this so important, Jessica?” Celestia asked, leaning forward a bit.
“Don’t any of you get it?” Velasquez asked, spreading her hands in frustration and looking around the room. “Any of you?”
“This is why my sister often seeks the counsel of others,” Luna replied, re-entering the room. “You are different from the rest of us. You see things from another perspective. Tell us, Voice of my sister, what has escaped our gaze and not yours?”
“Forty-seven precious stones,” Jessica replied, and then, frustrated by the continued blank looks. “Forty-seven magical precious stones. Forty-seven gems that carry with them some random flavour of magic from your world. Forty-seven gems each capable of holding a billion watts of power.”
“McRae!” Jessica shot back, interrupting. “I mean, Polaris. Or whatever his name is. He shot that windy-go thing with a ruby that had been sucking up power from one of the dam turbines for decades. It had to be packing a billion, if not billions of watts of power. And that was ONE ruby!”
“Oh crap,” Ernie said, into the sudden hush that followed the realization of what Jessica was driving at.
“It could be more than forty-seven,” Celestia added, and all eyes swiveled to the pony princess. “If a skilled lapidary cut one of the stones along its natural fault lines, the enchantment of the mother stone would be mirrored in the daughter pieces.”
“I’ve got to get this out,” Jessica replied, jumping to her feet. “The network is going to shit a brick when they hear this.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Lynn asked, subtly moving to intercept the woman. “It could trigger a panic.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ernie asked, getting up from his chair, as he echoed his wife’s words and actions
“Are you going to stop me?” Jessica asked, a determined look on her face. “This is part of that liberty thing we talked about earlier, Princess. Am I at liberty to make my own choices, or is this where you break out the chains?”
“Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” Celestia quoted, making sure to catch both Lynn and Ernie’s attention. “Let her pass. If she is to be our friend, we have to trust in her judgement and choices.”
“Thank you, Princess,” Velasquez replied, ducking her head in thanks. “I’ll be back as soon as I call this in.”
The short slim woman slipped around the older couple who looked at the pony princesses in concern.
“We have no right to try to stop her from reporting what she has learned,” Luna stated, taking a seat. “Although my sister has pulled her into our orbit, she is first and foremost loyal to her nation and she must be allowed to do what she feels is right on behalf of her people. Otherwise she will never trust us.”
“But—” Ernie began.
“There’s a song of yours that I heard the other day,” Celestia interrupted. “In it there’s a line that goes, ‘Silence, like a cancer grows.’ If we keep silent about this, or worse, force Jessica to keep silent about it, it will become like a cancer gnawing at us. It will undermine everything we try to do or say from this point on.”
“We’re going to get swarmed under,” Lynn said, looking at Celestia. “Brightly’s bending as it is. People will be everywhere, in everything.”
“Only at first,” Luna replied, her voice calm. “Think it through, Windweaver. If there are forty-seven or more Equestrian gems scattered out amongst your world, I think it far more likely people will be looking for them everywhere but here.”
“Oh,” Lynn responded, scrunching her face in thought for a moment. “That… actually makes sense.”
“I am hopeful that I am correct,” Luna said, yawning. “But if you will excuse me, I hopefully have a date.”
“Wait, what?” Celestia demanded in shocked surprise. “Who is this stallion you’re going on a date with?”
“You are not our mother, big sister,” Luna reminded Celestia, while poorly hiding a smirk. “Besides, who said I was meeting a stallion?”
Celestia sputtered, sending a spray of tea in all directions while Luna calmly walked out of the room and toward the house that had been put aside for them, snickering under her breath the whole time.
It was in reality a few more hours before Luna was able to bed down and step into Earth’s dream realm to make her intended rendezvous. As one would expect, Earth’s dream realm was both similar and different to Equestria’s. In this new land, the moon shone over a twilight landscape that was speckled with glowing spheres, each marking a dreamer and their dream.
As Luna stood in the place between the waking world and the Dreamtime, another figure came up to stand beside her. The figure was a rough, flowing black mirror of the princess herself, but despite this Luna greeted the being warmly.
“Hello, my Tantabus,” Luna said, smiling at the being of dreams and shadows. “It is good to see thee, this night. Are you prepared to keep watch here while I venture beyond?”
The tantabus nodded, but Luna got the impression of inquiry as well from the mute being.
“I am hoping to contact Captain Rios this night,” Luna answered the unspoken question. “I was not able to touch him last night, and I hope that was only due to his choice and not a failure of the token I gave him.”
Again the impression of understanding, along with another request for understanding.
“Why? When the Canadians are more than willing to be our allies and our friends?” Luna responded, contemplating the heavens around them. “Because the Canadians are alike, yet different from the Americans. Those here in Brightly burn with a warm, enduring flame that persists, no matter how hard the storms around them howl. The Americans however, hold a different fire in their hearts. It is a flame that burns both bright and clean, and I asked Celestia’s Voice the questions I did of her so that I could get a taste of that fire.”
A flow of acceptance and understanding filled Luna as the Tantabus leaned close and gave its creator a heartfelt nuzzle. As the two shared a hug, Luna’s keen senses felt a new dreamer enter her sphere of influence.
“Ah, I think that is him now,” Luna said, rising up into the ethereal winds. “Keep watch over my friends, brave Tantabus. I shall see thee anon.”
Time and space in the realm of dreams is much as it is in dreams themselves. An elastic concept that has no basis in reality, and so it was both an eternity and no time at all that Luna found herself approaching a tan sphere. The Princess of the Night paused for a moment to touch the globe, and could immediately sense the mind of Captain Rios. More, she could tell that the dream he was experiencing was an old one and that it had the scent of a nightmare on it. Luna did not hesitate for another moment before plunging herself into the world that was the nightmare of Captain Rios.
“Keep firing!” was the first thing Luna heard as she emerged into the realm of Rios’ dream. Heat, and a brilliant sun assailed her senses in that moment of transition, blinding her. Blinking frantically to clear her vision, the Equestrian princess found herself standing beside a group of actual Earth equines. Small horses, if her time visiting Ernie’s farm was any indication.
The group of horses were tied to a set of stakes hammered in the ground behind a small earthen redoubt, from beyond which had come the initial shout Luna had heard, and which followed a long series of cracking noises combined with the occasional whine of what sounded like some angry bees.
Luna had spent some time at the Brightly Rod & Gun club, where the local hunters had proudly demonstrated the ability of their weapons, which paled in comparison to Polaris’ weapon. Polaris had then shown Luna the differences between the civilian rifles the local hunters had, and his own C19 Colt that he had been issued by the Canadian Army.
Those weren’t bees going by at all, those were bullets. Luna poked her head up from behind the mound of dirt that was shielding her and the other horses to see what was going on.
There was a pitched battle going on just a dozen or so yards away from where Luna stood. There, a ragged line of men in outfits of green and grey were firing their weapons singly or in bursts at an unknown enemy through an uneven wall of wood and earth. It was the return fire of this unknown foe that was making the bee-like sounds that the Equestrian was hearing.
“Keep firing!” again came the call, and this time Luna was able to orient herself on the speaker, a younger version of Captain Rios who was moving back and forth along the crude fortifications.
As the alicorn continued to watch in fascination, she observed the captain walking along in a strange, crouching sort of duck walk. Giving encouragement to a soldier here, giving what Luna assumed was ammunition to another, and finally checking in with a trio of American warriors who were setting up a strange, tube-like contraption.
“How much longer?” Rios demanded. “We can’t keep them pinned down much longer.”
“Almost ready, sir,” replied one of the men, who was just finishing attaching a pair of legs to the object. “Good to go, sir.”
“Let freedom ring,” Rios commanded, with a wolfish smile.
“Yes SIR!” enthused the soldier, before turning to one of his companions with a cry of, “Load!”
The commanded soldier dropped a finned something into the tube and responded with, “Loaded!”
“Range, two hundred meters,” the first man chanted out. “Mortar, firing!”
There was an explosive, coughing sound from the tube, which seemed to jump and Luna had the impression of something leaving the weapon with great speed. A moment later, from the far side of the firing line, there was the sound of an explosion and a plume of smoke began to rise.
“Short, and left,” called out the third man of the team, peering through a pair of binoculars.
Again the tube was loaded with its strange projectile, but this time the leader of the team called out, “Up fifty! Right fifty!” before he discharged the weapon. Once more there was the strange coughing sound and the fleeting blur of something leaving the tube weapon at high speed, that was shortly followed by the sound of an explosion.
“On bearing!” came a triumphant cry, from the spotter. “Up fifty more and fire for effect!”
“RPG!” screamed Rios in warning, a second later as a snake-like hissing sound grew in sudden intensity from the far side of the barricade.
A heartbeat later three thunderous explosions erupted amongst Rios’ soldiers. Two of the detonations blew apart large sections of the fortified line, sending earth, wood and men flying with equal abandon. A third serpent of smoke skimmed just over the top bit of the rampart and impacted among the three men with their tube weapon, the resulting explosion blotted them from existence with a blooming flower of orange and white.
The screams of the wounded and dying filled the air and the number of bullets flying at or over the partly sundered fortifications seemed to double and then triple in intensity. Through it all Luna saw Rios, himself bleeding from a wound, rally his men and reorganize those still hale and hearty back into a fighting unit.
“Captain,” yelled a man who was directing the firing of a small group. “We’ve got about a company worth of the bastards coming this way.”
“Who’d we lose?” Rios demanded, ducking as another volley of bullets went by, and now Luna could easily tell the sound of the enemy weapons from those of Rios’ men as the foe drew nearer.
“First and Second squad,” the man shouted back, before being forced to duck for cover from more gunfire.
“They’re going to try to turn our flank,” Rios said, in realization. “Concentrate fire to the left. Fire left side!”
The remaining troops on Luna’s side of the barricade blasted away with the weapons with renewed vigor, and for a time it seemed as if their unseen enemy was being pushed back, but Rios did not seem to believe that the day was won. The alicorn watched the younger Rios dig into a backpack with frantic haste, his hand coming out moments later with what appeared to be an oversized phone.
“Wild Card, Wild Card, this is Roughneck Two Zero, are you receiving? Over,” Rios called into the device, which obviously indeed was something like a phone.
“Roughneck Two Zero, this is Wild Card Flight. Do you have any trade for us?” came the reply through the device.
“I am at grid four two Sierra zero one Whiskey Foxtrot seven five eight. I have hostiles advancing across the roadline west of my position. I need immediate CAS,” Rios ordered.
“Roger that, Roughneck,” was the laconic reply. “Two minutes out, keep your heads down.”
“Pour it on!” screamed Rios, to his troops, and the storm of fire from the American soldiers became a virtual tsunami of lead sweeping out toward their enemies, forcing them to take cover in and around the nearby dirt road.
“Roughneck, this is Wild Card,” came from the radio an eternity later. “Sixty seconds out, confirm you are all east of the roadway.”
“Roger that, Wild Card,” Rios replied, pulling a canister from his belt and tossing it off to one side, where it began to sputter and hiss as it emitted a lemon coloured fog. “All friendlies are east of the roadway, popping yellow smoke. Repeat, yellow smoke.”
“Confirm yellow smoke,” was the reply moments later. “We have you in sight, starting our run.”
Seconds later Luna saw a pair of aircraft fly overhead at a moderately high altitude and almost at the same moment the alicorn heard one of Rios’ men begin to yell, “Check fire! Check fire!”
“Oh shit,” Rios breathed, looking around with frantic haste before his eyes locked onto something, his face taking on a look of abject horror. Luna followed the warrior’s gaze until she saw what he had spotted. An ancient and rusty truck, its driver and passengers oblivious to the firefight that had been raging due to a trick of the nearby terrain, had lumbered its way into view.
The occupants of the truck, to their credit, had realized their peril and brought their vehicle to a quick halt by the simple expedient of crashing it into the ditch. The sudden appearance of the vehicle had taken both sides of the conflict by surprise and the smashing sound of the truck’s impact echoed into a sudden absence of gunfire.
“Six… seven… eight… “ Rios counted out, the look of horror having not left his face. “Nine.. te—”
The mother of all explosions seemed to go off just on the other side of the earthen barricade that Rios and his men had held so stubbornly. Luna's ears flattened themselves to her head from the noise and she could feel the heat of the blast on her face. It was because of this cacophony that Luna failed to notice Rios running directly towards her, and so she was taken by complete surprise when the soldier leaped solidly onto her back and pulled Luna’s head around with a halter she hadn’t even noticed she’d acquired as part of Rios’ dream.
“Hyaa!” Rios yelled out, digging his heels into Luna’s flanks and startling her into motion.
For a moment, Luna considered manifesting herself as more than just a part of Rios’ dreamscape. To be ridden, to be controlled, as if she was a mere animal was an insult almost beyond bearing, but then the alicorn realized that at that particular moment Rios did not realize he was astride the Princess of the Night. To him, she was indeed a simple beast of burden, and one that he had need of.
So, instead of manifesting herself and ending Rios’ dream, Luna decided to play the part she was given and continue to see what it was that gave this soldier nightmares. Obviously combat held no terrors for the American soldier, nor did death or the threat of death. From her time guarding the dreams of ponies, Luna could tell that all that had transpired up until this point was merely the buildup to the crux of Rios’ nightmare.
Spurred on by Rios, Luna galloped around the sundered end of the barricade and toward the still smoking mass of men and terrain that had been the now obliterated roadway.
“No, no, no,” chanted a desperate sounding Rios, as he reined Luna to stop by the twisted mass of metal that was all that remained of the old truck.
Leaping off Luna’s back in a single, lithe motion, Rios ran up to the wreckage, and alongside another man, himself bleeding from a fierce head wound, dug into the wreckage.
Now we shall see what gives this stalwart soldier nightmares, Luna thought, preparing to intervene. I hate to let this continue to its conclusion, but it is imperative I understand one who would be my soldier, and by extension, his people.
“GODDAMMIT!” Rios swore, as the other man pulled a broken young body from the equally broken truck. A father’s tears mixed with blood, falling to anoint the soil below with the life of yet another innocent casualty of war.
“Not again,” Rios cursed again, looking up at the sky and Luna could feel the helpless frustration coming off the soldier in waves. “I’ve had enough of seeing the wrong people die. No more. No fucking more.”
Luna drew her power to her. She had learned all she needed to know, and Rios had experienced enough pain for one night. Nay, he had experienced enough pain for a lifetime, and it was her duty as a warden of dreams to be a balm to the agony of spirit she saw before her.
“Not again,” Rios repeated, and before Luna could unleash her gathered might, the entire dreamscape around her seemed to take a sudden step to the right.
“Allahu Ackbar!” cried the other man in sudden joy, as the body in his arm took a gasping breath, and then another, and another. The young boy’s face went from death’s grey pallor to reclaim the warm tones of life, and a small hand reached up to touch the grateful face of his father.
Luna stood there, frozen in shock, her horn still alight with power but now having no goal or target to be used on. “What manner of sorcery is this?” the lunar alicorn muttered, as she tried to understand what had just happened in front of her.
“Oh, hello Princess,” Rios said, looking directly at Luna for the first time. “Sorry. Didn’t notice you before.”
“Captain Rios,” Luna replied, nodding to the soldier as he walked the few steps over to her. “My apologies for not interrupting your nightmare earlier. Please forgive me.”
“Nothing to apologize for. I get these all the time,” the captain said dismissively, before motioning to the tack that Luna still had on. “Beside, I’m the one that rode you pretty hard there. If anyone should be apologizing it’s me.”
Luna’s magic finally had a target to lash out at, and the saddle and halter that the alicorn had worn as part of Rios’ dream vanished as if it had never been. Luna’s blush would take somewhat longer to dissipate however.
“You were dreaming and not aware of who I was. Therefore lese majeste does not apply,” Luna declared, vowing not to tell Celestia any of the details of this dream. “Besides, I am still trying to understand what happened at the end there, and how you went from fully dreaming to being not only aware of your dreaming state, but able to alter your dream as well. At least I am assuming you were the one who did the altering?”
“Yeah, that was me,” Rios confirmed, looking somewhat ill at ease for the first time since Luna had met him.
“How did you do it?” Luna asked, curious. “I sensed no magic from you. The dream just suddenly changed, to what I assume was a happier ending.”
“War changes a man,” Rios replied, walking away from the scene, which blurred and slowly changed into a sandy seashore. “After things like what you saw happening more than a few times, I’d had enough. I joined up with a special operations group that specializes in discreet, compartmentalized missions.”
“Such as the one where Foxfire was the target,” Luna realized, thinking aloud. “That is why you took pains not to involve civilians, and why you yielded so quickly when discovered. You could have fought your way out, but it would have involved suffering to those you have vowed not to bring harm to.”
“Pretty much,” Rios answered, before continuing. “Anyway, I still get nightmares all the time. The headshrinkers tried just about everything on me to stop them. Therapy, sleep studies, drugs. Nothing really seemed to work, until one guy I saw said that if I was going to have nightmares, he could at least teach me how to control them. From the inside.”
“Humans are able to do this?” Luna asked, pausing as she walked alongside the soldier.
“Yeah, it's a thing called ‘lucid dreaming’,” Rios explained. “Not everyone can do it, but it’s basically teaching someone how to recognize they are dreaming and then change the dream.”
“I understand,” Luna replied, pleased. “I must say, this makes you even more qualified to hunt down the windigo alongside me. I have asked you to be my ‘Soldier of the Night.’ Have you an answer for me?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way Ma’am,” Rios replied, his face taking on a somewhat pained look. “But my answer is ‘No.’ Not only no, but hell no.”
“But why?” Luna demanded, confused and a touch hurt at Rios’ rejection. “You would be perfect. You are a doughty warrior, you are brave, you have integrity, you have skills even I had not thought possible, and our mission suits your stated preference of battle. What possible reason could you have for rejecting me?
“You aren’t in my chain of command,” Rios stated, grimacing slightly. “You’re right, Ma’am. The windigo is bad news all around, and if it was up to me, I’d jump at the chance to go hunting with you, but when it comes down to it I’m an American soldier, and you aren’t American.”
“I thought Canada and America often worked together,” Luna responded, trying to find a way around Rios’ objection. “Everything I have read says that you are allies of long standing.”
“We are,” Rios confirmed, “but you aren’t Canadian either, or even a Canadian ally. If your Equestria was either, that would be different, because us and the Canadians have a standing mutual defense arrangement. But right now, there’s absolutely nothing that lets me legally fight with you. Much as I would like to.”
“So what you are saying is that my sister needs to get off her well rounded flank and conclude a treaty with the Canadians and the Hieltsuk post haste,” Luna stated, before looking away to one side. “It also means that I have made a severe lapse in judgement by simply assuming you would join me because I asked you to. Much as I would like to see you as somewhat oddly shaped ponies, I must remember that the humans of Earth are not ponies. You have your own ways, and your own allegiances.”
“Don’t feel too bad, Ma’am,” Rios said, trying to ease Luna’s self-recrimination. “You’ve just been trying to relate to things in the only way you know how. Much as Earth has been with the discovery that magic is real.”
“Thank you for that,” Luna replied, nodding before heaving a sigh. “In that case, I have taken up much of your night as it is, and so I will leave you in peace. Fare thee we—”
“Just a second, Ma’am,” Rios interrupted. “My superiors wanted me to ask you something, which is why they allowed me to try to make contact with you like this at all.”
“As you have said, we have no framework around which we can render assistance to each other,” Luna said, ears drooping a bit. “However, I would remiss if I did not allow you to ask their question.”
“Right, like I said, we can’t do anything formal without the REMFs having everything in the right inbox,” Rios said, making a face. “But my bosses would like to know if you would be willing to teach us about magic.”
“My sister is the teacher, not I,” Luna explained. “However, I would be willing to explain the basics of magic and magecraft to you, as much as I am able. I assume your superiors are willing to offer something in return?”
“Yeah,” Rios answered, drawing himself up a bit. “In exchange for helping America to understand magic, America is willing to keep a military unit on standby for you to call in if you need support when you finally do track down the windigo. And that’s conditional on the Canadian government knowing and approving of it.”
“How does this differ from what I asked of you?” Luna asked, cautiously curious.
“Ma’am, what you asked for would have put American military personnel under the command of a foreign power. Namely, yourself,” Rios explained, gesturing toward Luna as he did so. “If we do it this way, American personnel would be acting on the orders of the US military chain of command to quote, ‘keep the peace’, unquote.”
“Politics,” Luna declared, looking like she had bitten into a lemon. “I loathe the hair-splitting of nobles and bureaucrats, but if that is the cost of obtaining the assistance of your nation, then so be it. When would you be willing to begin?”
“Now is good,” Rios said, as a school desk materialized into being on the beach.
“Very well then,” Luna agreed, smiling as she used her own power to create a blackboard behind her. “Magic is a fundamental force of the cosmos. However, unlike the other primordial forces, which affect matter, magic instead affects those other forces. In that sense it is the meta-force of existence, permeating all things everywhere. There are four known types of magic. Light, Dark, Harmonic and Discordant…”
“What did you do to me?” demanded Jessica Velasquez, as she barged into Celestia’s room at the Brightly Inn without so much as a knock. “What in Tecumseh’s name did you do to my mind?”
Both Luna and Celestia looked up in surprise from their breakfasts at the intruding human, before Celestia waved their protective RCMP officer to stand down. The constable paused for a moment, looking from the furious human to the surprised, but calm Equestrians, and resumed his watchful stance. The officer’s face was stoic, but his eyes were frisking Jessica’s body for weapons as thoroughly as any pat down, and it was clear to all that if the American attempted anything physical she would be on the floor in seconds.
“Whatever do you mean, my Voice?” Celestia responded, finishing her recovery from surprise with a bite from a pancake. “Luna and I promised that you would be secure in both mind and body, and not to change either, unless you requested it.”
“And perhaps not even then,” Luna added, having finished her abridged story about her time with Rios only a few minutes before. “Has something occurred?”
“I’ll say,” seethed the young woman, long braid flicking back and forth as she shook her head in obvious frustrated anger about something. “You put some sort of compulsion in me, didn’t you? That’s the only way I can explain what happened.”
“Jessica, why don’t you sit down, have some tea and explain what’s going on?” Celestia asked, pulling out a chair with her golden magic.
“You… really don’t know what happened, do you?” Jessica asked, shifting from furious to furious embarrassment as her face took in the blank looks she was getting from both Equestrians. “Oh god, I feel like such an idiot now.”
“Perhaps you would feel less so, if you told my sister and I what has happened?” Luna offered, before adding, “Trust me when I say that it cannot be anything more embarrassing than what I’ve done.”
“Oh Coyote, why do you love me so?” Jessica asked rhetorically, dropping into the offered chair with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.
Things went quiet for a few moments after that as the two ponies gave the woman time to compose herself with a cup of Earl Grey and donut. The moment dragged on as Jessica chewed the donut and sipped the hot drink, until Luna found herself unable to withstand the silence any longer.
“Jessica, according to what folklore I have read from Foxfire’s library, one cannot refuse if asked something three times. So I ask for a third time, what has happened?” Luna asked, her ears pointed forward to catch even the smallest whisper.
“I couldn’t file the story,” Jessica said, in a quiet voice. “I had it all typed up and ready to send, along with all my notes. It would have guaranteed me a career at Fox for years to come, and I just couldn’t do it.”
“Why not?” Celestia asked, setting aside the remains of her breakfast. “We did say that we would not interfere with your earlier decision to broadcast the story of the missing forty-seven gems.”
“Because you don’t understand humans,” explained Velasquez. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, for ponies you’re pretty good people.”
“For a human, you are a pretty good pony,” Celestia interjected.
“I deserved that,” Jessica responded, touching the coyote pin on her blouse. “And don’t think I haven’t thought about it either. Which is sort of why I thought you had messed with my head, that and realizing that I couldn’t file the story. Not if I wanted to be able to look at myself in the mirror again. Either as a person or a pony.”
“No tail or hooves for you today, my Voice,” Celestia replied, with a small smile. “But go on, you were saying I didn’t understand something about humans?”
“Yeah,” Jessica began, pausing as she tried to assemble her thoughts into words. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t get a fundamental truth about humanity.”
“Which is?” Luna asked, again prompting the somewhat reticent American.
“We’re greedy,” Jessica stated. “I think it comes from being part predator. We see something good, we want it. We want it, we try to take it, and God help anyone or anything that stands in our way.”
“But the people of Brightly have almost been universally generous to us,” Luna argued. “They are true inheritors of Lee Ung’s determination to help the community around him through giving.”
“Princess,” Velasquez replied, turning to look directly at Luna, “a single person or community is fine. But one person or even one town is just too small a sample of what we’re like. Brightly is, and don’t let anyone hear this, a backwater hamlet in the middle of nowhere that’s so isolated it doesn’t even have proper internet access yet.”
“So what you are saying is… “ Celestia trailed off, letting the newest member of her entourage fill in the gap.
“To quote: ‘A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals’,” Jessica said. “If I gave the story to my bosses, about how there are forty-seven or more stones of nearly unlimited power scattered around the world, there would be a massive panic, followed by a global feeding frenzy. Every nation and corporation that could would descend on this town and rip it to shreds looking for those stones.”
“I think it’s been made quite clear that the stones aren’t here,” Celestia tentatively replied. “Even your own research showed that they were sold off, and that none are still here.”
“Panicky, dangerous animals,” Jessica repeated, her tone becoming almost pleading as she tried to make the diarchs understand what she was driving at. “Reason and logic will get thrown out the window. People won’t care what the facts are in the frenzy to find those jewels, and they will swarm this town under like a pack of wolves.”
“Surely thou jests!” Luna exclaimed.
“Princess,” Jessica said, “let me give you an example. There’s an island on the east coast of this continent called Oak Island where pirate treasure was buried according to legend.”
“And is there treasure there?” Celestia asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
“No treasure trove has ever been found, but people still dig in search of it,” Jessica stated, leaning forward and putting a hand on Celestia’s hoof. “Families have fallen apart under the stress of the search, and still they dig. Fortunes have been spent, bankrupting people, and still they dig. Men have died, and still. They. Dig.”
Both of the senior princesses of Equestria looked at Velasquez in wide-eyed shock, realizing perhaps for the first time that humanity really was an alien species to them, but the woman wasn’t finished yet.
“We aren’t the strongest species on this planet. We aren’t the fastest, or the heaviest, or equipped with the best natural weapons. In almost any environment on Earth we are at a disadvantage compared to the animals there,” Velasquez continued, bowing her head. “But we have an advantage that every other species lacks.”
“Your minds?” Luna ventured, her own ears back almost against her head.
“No, if it was this wouldn’t be a problem,” Jessica answered, lifting her head, and as she did so something dark and primordial seemed to envelop the slim woman, making her presence fill the room until it seemed full to bursting. “We are persistence hunters, unrelenting in our pursuit. Run all you want from us, but when you pause for breath and look behind, there will be a human doggedly following your trail. Kill that human, and you will only find that another has picked up the scent and taken their place. Once we learn of something we want, we will not stop until it is ours. No matter the cost in time, or lives.”
“Incredible,” Celestia breathed. “I’d wondered what it was about humans that makes you so special. Now I know.”
“It’s our strength, and our curse,” Jessica stated, the atavistic shadow around her fading like old memories. “You know how there is an archeology team digging up the site of Leung’s old warehouse? Imagine that across the entire town.”
“And not just the town, but the ponies, I mean people here, as well,” Luna said, in realization. “Any connection to Lee Ung, no matter how small would be investigated, every lead to a stone, pursued. Sister, it would be Foxfire’s worst fears come to life. I have made a fearful error in judgement.”
“We both did, Luna,” Celestia admitted. “We made a decision that would have been right in Equestria, but we forgot that Earth is an alien world. Jessica, I do not find fault in your people for this, though I admit such ruthless determination is somewhat frightening.”
“It’s what we are,” Jessica said, shrugging her shoulders. “And you needed to know.”
“Our trust in you was well placed,” Celestia replied, placing a hoof on Jessica’s shoulder. “Well done, and thank you.”
“Ma’ii báʼóltaʼí jó,” Velasquez answered, and this time the flare in the brown depths of her eyes was not subtle at all. “The Coyote teaches well.”
“What now?” Luna asked, catching her sister’s eye over Jessica’s head. “Do we try to bury what you have learned, like Windweaver wanted to?”
“Can’t,” Jessica flatly stated. “Everything I looked up is already in the provincial archives. If I found it someone else will as well. Which is why I did something that I hope was a good idea.”
“What did you do?” Celestia asked, tilting her head in curiosity, before coming to a realization. “You told someone, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Jessica replied, taking a deep breath and looking very much like the unsure young woman the diarchs had first met. “As a mob, humans are dangerous and panicky, which is why we have governments.”
“You told the American government, didn’t you?” Luna asked, though it was more of a statement than a question.
“I contacted the US State Department and sent them an email with everything I know,” Jessica said, before adding, “And I also contacted the Canadian government as well with the exact same information.”
“Well,” Celestia commented, taking a sip of her cooling tea. “This is certainly going to prove to be interesting.”
“I’m bored,” Darter proclaimed, as he idly batted a pebble back and forth between his forehooves.
“NO!” Shield Maiden shouted, bouncing a pine cone off her fellow pony’s head. “Why did you go say a dumb thing like that?”
“Hey! What’s the big idea,” replied the charcoal grey pegasus, rubbing his head where the offending missile had struck. “All I said was, ‘I’m bored’.”
“No!” replied the other four members of the Power Ponies, who were spending a sunny Saturday in their equine forms. Shield Maiden, the group’s leader, had managed to convince all parents involved that they needed a day to train and practice their pony abilities, but what the unicorn had planned turned out to be a far cry from what was actually happening...
Instead of practicing maneuvers or coming up with new ways to use their powers, either singly or together, the five ponies had instead wandered their way through a series of small swamps and wetlands that bordered one side of their small town. What had started as a day of seriousness instead changed into a day of simple play and the re-affirming of the bonds of friendship. So it was more than a small surprise to Darter when his friends reacted to a simple statement of his with such vehemence.
“But all I said was—” the pegasus began, before Skylark, his own sister, stuck her hoof in his mouth.
“Shut. Up,” Skylark ordered, with a soft yet firm voice.
“Every time you say that something weird happens,” Iron Hoof stated, his steps clopping loudly in his leathern hoof boots.
“Does not!” Darter shot back, indignant as he backwinged a half-pace back to get his sister’s hoof off his mouth.
“Does too,” Shield Maiden declared. “Every time. It’s like it’s your own special magic or something.”
“Yeah, I’m awesome,” Darter preened. “Like that Rainboom Slash the princess talked about.”
“Rainbow Dash,” Shield Maiden corrected instantly.
“Whoever,” Darter allowed, with a shrug of his shoulders. “But yeah, maybe I’ve got extra powers like that Dizzy guy that used to be their enemy.”
“Discord,” Shield Maiden again corrected, just as fast as the first time.
“Yeah, him,” Darter enthused, undeterred by the corrections. “Anyhow, maybe that’s why we aren’t Elementals.”
“What?” Iron Hoof asked, confused. “You mean like in Battletech? Does Equestria have giant battle robots?”
“What?” Seeker and Skylark demanded in unison, before looking at each other and giggling for a moment.
“Wait, what?” questioned Shield Maiden, just as confused as the other two girls. “What are you talking about?”
“Princess Night Horse,” Darter explained, oblivious to the hoof Shield Maiden planted in her face as he mis-named Princess Luna. “She told me that she was hoping that we were the Elementals of Harmony, or something like that.”
“Her name is ‘Princess Luna’.” Shield Maiden corrected, with a groan this time. “Don’t you listen to anything all the way?”
“Hey, the Night Horse was from her, so to me she’s ‘Princess Night Horse’, okay?” Darter fired back, as he defended his choice of name for Luna. “And what did you mean about battle robots, Iron Hoof? That sounds cool.”
“Dad used to play this game called ‘Battletech’,” Iron Hoof replied, taking a step away from his soon-to-be sister. “It’s got a whole bunch of these neat little battle robot models that you move over a map and shoot stuff with. Some of the little ones are called ‘Elementals’. They’re like mini-bots with a guy inside.”
“Cool!” Darter enthused. “We should play it sometime.”
“Can’t,” Iron Hoof said, dejectedly kicking a leather wrapped hoof around a fallen tree limb. “Dad says you can’t buy the game anymore and he doesn’t want me breaking it. So it just sits up in our game closet.”
“That’s dumb,” Seeker chimed in. “Games are thopposed to be played.”
“Yeah,” Skylark added, before going back to watching some dragonflies zip back and forth over the slow moving water of the swamp.
“There’s no way Equestria has giant battle robots,” Shield Maiden declared, in a voice of authority. “And I can prove it.”
“Oh yeah?” Darter asked, tilting his head toward his leader. “How?”
“Easy,” Shield Maiden declared, lifting her muzzle slightly so that her amethyst pendant caught the sunlight with an amaranthine gleam. “Robots have two legs, ponies have four.”
“Oh,” Darter replied, crestfallen. “That kinda makes sense.”
“I know, that’s why I’m in charge,” Shield Maiden stated, with more than a trace of smugness in her voice and posture.
“But what if Equestria has robots with four legs?” Iron Hoof suggested. “I mean, like the big thing in Star Wars. The whatchamacallit. That Luke tripped with the cable.”
“AT-AT,” Seeker supplied, before heading over to give Skylark a hoof making a little lean-to out of sticks.
“Yeah, what if the robots on Princess Night Horse’s world have four legs because all of them have four legs?” Darter demanded, sensing he had found a weakness in Shield Maiden’s argument.
“Um… “ the group’s leader trailed off, decidedly unsure as she found herself without a response. “Maybe?”
“Ha! I knew it!” Darter declared, strutting around in triumph. “Equestria has big bad battle bots and Princess Night Horse thought we had them too.”
“Maybe if we figure out how to become those elemental things we get to ride around in giant battle robots too!” Iron Hoof exclaimed, jumping up and down. “That would be so cool!”
“Guys, I don’t think it works—” Shield Maiden began.
“Giant Winged Pony Defender Robot!” Darter shouted, extending his body in a line up to the heavens as he tried to summon said oversized mecha to his side.
“Maybe it’s a different kind of spell?” Iron Hoof offered, before shouting, “Iron Hoof Power Pony Mega Mech!”
“Guys,” Shield Maiden objected, “that’s not how magic works.”
“How do you know?” Darter demanded, in immediate protest.
“Hello, unicorn witch here,” Shield Maiden shot back immediately. “Daughter of the most powerful sorceress in town.”
“She’s got you there,” snickered Iron Hoof.
“And how do we know what a giant Equestrian Battlemech would look like anyway?” Iron Hoof added. “It’s not like there’s anybody we could ask.”
“We could ask the princesses,” came Skylark’s quiet suggestion, as she teased a few sticklebacks to the surface with some swatted black flies.
“Nuh uh,” replied Darter, “They’re too busy.”
“Well,” said Seeker, as she was bringing Skylark a few more flies to offer the fish, “maybe we could ask the diggers?”
“The who?” asked a perplexed Shield Maiden, trying to figure out what her earth pony sister was talking about.
“The diggers,” repeated Seeker. “The ones over at the place where we found the book.”
“Oh, you mean the guys from UBC,” Darter added. “Yeah, they would know. One of them showed me his laptop. There was all kinds of giant robot stuff on there. Something she called ‘Robotech’. It looked cool.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Shield Maiden concluded, happy that something was being decided on. But then she noticed that her sister looked decidedly unhappy about the group’s decision. “What’s wrong, Romy?”
“That doctor is there too,” said the purple maned pony.
“What doc—” Darter began, before his mind caught up with his racing tongue. “Oh… her.”
“Her” was none other than Dr. Pearl Carlson, whom the Power Ponies had saved when her plane had gone down in Carmanah Lake. As UBC’s head of cryptozoology, her once mocked academic speciality had leaped to the forefront of scientific endeavor with the revelation of ponies and Equestria in general.
Ever since she had recovered from her injuries at Haida Gwaii Hospital she had been unrelenting in her scientific pursuit of Medevac, Foxfire, Iron Heart and the five Power Ponies, constantly requesting physical examinations, as well as blood and hair samples. Medevac had provided an initial set of samples, in the hope that the cryptozoologist might have a better handle on what constituted a healthy pony. However, it had quickly become clear that the good doctor’s degree was definitely not related toward the health sciences and that she saw Brightly’s equine population as her ticket to a Nobel more than anything else.
“Well, let’s go see the diggers anyway,” decided Shield Maiden, as all eyes swiveled towards her. “If the doctor is there I’ll just tell her she needs to ask Mom first.”
“Ha!” laughed Darter, giggling. “Your mom would give that doc a hotfoot before she’d let her anywhere near us.”
“No kidding,” Iron Hoof agreed. “And yeah, those guys from UBC could probably give us a good idea at least.”
“Let’s get going,” Skylark added, tossing the last flies into the water for the various creatures there to feast on, and lifting off into a low hover.
Thus agreed, the five made a ninety-degree turn due right and charged out of the swamp back towards town. Their headlong course soon took them down familiar streets and past their homes where they chanced to see Foxfire in her kitchen window as she worked on some project. The white unicorn was wreathed in her smokey purple magic, but took the time to look and wave at the youngsters as they pelted along, a smile touching her muzzle.
Even though there were two genuine pony princesses in town, seeing a pony running through the streets was still something of a novelty. Particularly as Luna rarely ventured out during the day, preferring to go out at night to be with the town’s contingent of bat ponies, and Celestia was almost always indoors tied up in negotiations or phone calls from various world leaders or industrialists.
The most humorous call the elder diarch had fielded was from a Middle-Eastern oil magnate who offered Celestia Luna’s weight in gold as a dowry for the younger princess’ hoof in marriage. Celestia had horrified Luna by appearing to actually consider the proposal for a full thirty seconds before turning down the would-be groom.
So, as the five ran along the streets toward the older end of town, they gathered more than a few looks and comments. The vast majority of which were either positive or speculative toward the little herd, but Seeker noticed at least a few angry looks and at least one or two outright jealous ones. Although Seeker herself didn’t say anything, she noticed that she and her friends seem to fall into a protective formation with her sister, Shield Maiden, at its core.
The group held to their alignment all the way through town, past the oldest buildings that marked the end of the modern Brightly, and into the light wood and scrub that had overgrown the remains of what had fallen in the disastrous fire of so long ago.
“Hey kids!” called out a lean twenty-something man a few minutes later as the kids approached the dig site.
The site of the old store and warehouse was now a half meter deep excavated square that was neatly blocked off by a line of regular stakes and strings that also laid out a grid over the excavation. As the five approached, they could just see the carbonized tops of walls poking out of the topmost layer of earth, along with the re-excavated shaft of their own dig down into depths of the earth.
“Hi, Mr. Kozwalski!” Seeker replied, being a frequent visitor to the dig site. She was popular among the archeology graduate students, particularly with her ability to find things through solid earth.
“Miss Pedersen,” growled an older male voice. “I thought I told your mother that you and your friends were NOT to interfere with our work here with your… equine shenanigans.”
While Seeker was popular with the grad students, she most definitely was not popular with their professor. Dr. Alvin Spencer was one of the University of British Columbia’s associate professors of Archeology. He was a balding man in his late fifties who had spent his career working on ancient sites around the world and a firm believer in regulated, documented, and above all else, methodical archeology.
As such, he loathed Seeker’s ability to zero in on a specific thing while bypassing the matrix of material all around it. Spencer considered what Seeker represented to archeology as an irresponsible shortcut at best, and dark heresy at worst. He had tried to outright ban the ponies from the area, but had been denied when Mayor Montcalm pointed out that it was public land.
He had then tried to intimidate Seeker’s mother, not initially knowing that Jean Pedersen was also Foxfire, unicorn and witch. The confrontation between the two became the source of giggling talk for weeks afterwards, when a thoroughly chastised and smoldering professor had been seen running back towards his hotel room.
Privately, Foxfire admitted that it was one of the few times she had almost let the umbral inside of her have free rein. Publicly, the unicorn simply stated that her daughters were free to go where they would, much as any child in town, but to keep the peace she would ask them not to interfere with work being done at the dig site.
“We aren’t interfering with anything,” Shield Maiden replied, coming to her sister’s defence, and as one the ponies shifted to orient on the professor and a silent confrontation of wills sprang into being. Five pre-teen ponies, matched against a single human. Both sides fully empowered with outrage and defending what they saw as a line in the sand that would not, could not, be crossed. For long seconds the tableau held, but a tableau of men and ponies is not a painting and after giving the scene its moments, the universe interfered as it is wont to do.
“Magnificent,” said a female voice, over the sound of a camera shutter going off in a series of rapid successions of movement. “Wonderful. Hold that pose.”
“What?” both ponies and professor asked, turning toward the camera, as it continued its machinegun-like action.
“It’s moments like these when you really see the inner workings of a species,” said Dr. Carlson, practiced hands removing and then slapping in another cartridge of 35mm film. A quick whirring sound of the autoloader and the cryptozoologist began to capture another set of images.
“Dr. Carlson,” began the archeologist, indignantly, “return to your work at once.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Spencer, but this is my work, don’t you remember?” queried the woman, whose forehead still bore a healing scar from the plane crash. “Besides, we both have tenure, so you can’t order me around like one of your grad students.”
“Dr. Carlson,” Spencer repeated, in a voice like grinding rocks.
“Oh shush,” Pearl replied, before setting her camera aside and approaching the ponies slowly, head down, with her hands out and to her sides. “Hi kids.”
“Hi, Dr. Carlson,” chirped Darter, always the most gregarious of the group. “You feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” responded the older woman, her voice low and calm as she drew near to the little herd, stopping a full three paces away with her body aligned so that she wasn’t facing directly toward the ponies. “Are you okay?”
“We aren’t afraid of you,” Skylark answered, realizing what the cryptozoologist was up to. “We aren’t going to attack or run away.”
“Good,” Carlson stated, visibly relaxing and looking directly at Skylark and the others for the first time. “Is it okay if I ask a question?”
“We aren’t going to let you examine us again. If that’s what you want,” Shield Maiden, replied flatly.
“No, no,” the professor quickly assured, returning immediately to her head down and inoffensive posture. “Nothing like that.”
“You’re scaring her,” Seeker said to her sister, both intuition and pony power providing the small earth pony with insight. “She’s scared for us.”
“Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” exclaimed Shield Maiden, hasty guilt making her dash forward to hug the middle-aged woman around her thigh. “I just thought you wanted to poke us some more. I didn’t mean to be mean.”
“It’s o—ACK!” was all Carlson managed to cry out, as she was hugged to the ground by a pony pack all determined to assure her that they weren’t scared of her, and that they were sorry for scaring her.
Snickers began to rise from the excavation site, as the grad students paused in their work to take in Dr. Carlson and the danger she was in from being hugged to death by soft fur and feathers. Snickers that grew to laughter that went on and on, despite Dr. Spencer’s furious demands that his students get back to work, and would they please be careful before they stepped on something important?
“So, can I ask a couple of questions now?” Dr. Carlson asked, when she was finally allowed to sit up. Order being restored at the dig site and each of the five ponies staying close enough to the cryptozoologist to touch.
“Hey, we came here to ask a couple of questions too,” Iron Hoof answered. “Kinda fair you get to ask some too.”
“A question for a question,” Shield Maiden intoned, with a brief flash of her orange magic empowering the ritual she remembered from her mother. “Thus is balance kept. So mote it be.”
“A question for a question,” Carlson repeated, holding up her hand, palm outward. “Thus is balance kept. So mote it be.”
“You can go first,” Shield Maiden stated, touching her hoof to the doctor’s palm before setting down with her legs tucked underneath her. The other four ponies following suit.
“‘Kay, first question,” began the doctor, a very happy smile on her face. “When you five got here, you were in an alignment that was good for both defense and attack. Magic unicorn in the center, strong ground ponies on either side of her, and the fliers on either flank. A perfect ‘V’ formation that I’m sure Polaris would recognize in an instant. My question is: Was this instinct, or something practiced?”
“Instinct,” replied Seeker, instantly.
“Practiced,” replied Shield Maiden, in the same moment. Both sisters stopped to look at each other for a moment before giggling into their forehooves.
“It’s actually both,” Iron Hoof added. “We’ve kinda been practicing stuff, but today just sorta happened.”
“Celestia said the more we are ponies, the more pony reactions will be aut… automatic for us,” Skylark chimed in with, before half hiding herself behind a silver tipped wing, her shyness the flip side to her brother’s outspoken nature.
“So, a bit of both,” Carlson replied, smiling to the little pegasus in reassurance. “That makes sense. Okay, your turn. Ask away.”
“What would an Equestrian Battlemech look like?” Iron Hoof asked, eagerly.
“A what?” Carlson asked, completely blindsided by the question.
“Giant piloted fighting robot,” Darter supplied. “About thirty meters tall, with a bunch of missiles and guns and stuff.”
“Um, I don’t know what those are,” Carlson admitted, thinking for a moment. “But, we can find out. That is if you’ll let me go and get my backpack over there.”
“Nuh uh,” Darter declared, taking to wing. “You sit and be safe. I’ll get it for you.”
Mother bird instinct in the flier phenotype Carlson thought to herself, watching grey and silver wings propel a lithe body through a pair of impossible aerial flips. I seem to have been accepted into the herd. Equine adoption instinct perhaps?
“So, what’s in here?” Darter asked a moment later, as he dropped Carlson’s backpack into her lap.
“The sum total of humanity’s knowledge,” Carlson declared, reaching in and pulling out a laptop heavily sheathed in a protective casing. “You kids ever hear of Wikipedia?”
“Our father hates it,” Darter replied, settling back down in the space he had left less than a minute earlier. “Keeps saying that you can’t edit facts. Isn’t it an online only thing?
“It is online,” the professor admitted, sitting herself cross-legged and booting up the device. “However, most people don’t realize that you can also download the whole thing onto a computer if you have a hard drive big enough. And I do.”
“Cool,” Iron Hoof opined, and all five ponies clustered in close to get a look at the screen.
Thirty minutes and a multitude of articles later the Battletech rabbit-hole had been explored only partially, but it was enough to answer the question posed.
“So, I’d say that an Equestrian battlemech, if they even have such things,” Carlson stated, in a voice that belonged in a lecture hall, “would tend to resemble something like the ‘Barghest’ mech. Or the ‘Scorpion’, but either way I’d say that it’s almost impossible that Equestria has things like that.”
“Oh,” Iron Hoof said, crestfallen. “But Princess Luna asked if we were Elementals, or something like that.”
“I’d say you need to talk to her about that,” Carlson replied, cupping the disappointed pony’s chin with her hand and lifting it up so she could give Iron Hoof a reassuring smile. “I’m sure she would be willing to chat with the five of you. Remember, the only bad question is an unasked one.”
“Thank you, for being nice about it,” Shield Maiden said, giving the woman another hug, which was quickly emulated again by the rest of the pony pile.
“Oxygen!” gasped Carlson, only half in jest as she was nearly buried again in fur and feathers. “Don’t I get another question?”
“Those are the rules,” Seeker replied, letting go of the professor, but still leaning her head into the woman’s torso. “Go ahead.”
“Shield Maiden, would you be willing to turn me into a pony?” Carlson asked, eyes hopeful. “Like the rest of you?”
“Um, why?” the unicorn asked, in response. “Mom said I’m not supposed to use that spell anymore. Unless it’s to protect lives.”
“Well, I know you kids don’t want me examining you anymore, or asking for samples, or anything like that,” Carlson began, noticing that all the ponies but Skylark had backed off a little bit. Not much, but that it even happened at all sent an unexpected pang into the older woman’s heart. “So, I thought if you made me into a pony for a day then I could just examine myself, and get all the samples I wanted without bothering any of you anymore.”
“OH!” Shield Maiden replied, face lightening, and Carlson’s heart gave a happy double-thump as the ponies came back into physical contact with her. “That makes a lot of sense, I think.”
“And, unless you make me into a pony a second time, it won’t be permanent,” Carlson added, to the surprise of the packed pony pile.
“How did you know that?” Darter asked, eyes wide. “Dad only figured it out a little while ago.”
“I’m a trained observer, and a scientist,” Carlson explained, with a small smile. “Once I realized that those in Brightly who had only changed once didn’t keep changing on a regular basis, it wasn’t that hard to find the pattern.”
“Mr. Harding keeps calling it the ‘First Time is Free’ spell,” Shield Maiden said, with a little giggle. “Everyone gets to be a pony once, to see if they like it. But if they change again, they wind up like us.”
“Reverse were-ponies,” Iron Hoof supplied, before adding as he saw Dr. Carlson’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. “Well, we come out at daytime and not night, and it comes and goes, like a werewolf.”
“It’s as good a name as anything else, Iron Hoof,” Dr. Carlson said, giving into temptation to rub her hand through Iron Hoof’s yellow mane. “So Shield Maiden, what do you say? Can I be a pony for a day?”
“I have to ask Mom,” the little unicorn responded. “Okay?”
“More than okay,” affirmed the older woman, closing up and putting away her laptop. “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your mother, so ask her and let me know. Now, I believe I owe you kids an answer to another question.”
“Well, we were gonna ask the guys about elementals, but we kinda got that answered for us,” Iron Hoof mused. “I dunno. You guys wanna ask something?”
“Why are you different?” Skylark asked in a voice as soft as her feathers. “Last time you saw us it was like you wanted to take us apart in pieces and now you’re… nice.”
“Have you ever wanted something?” Carlson asked, by way of explanation. “Wanted something so bad that you would do almost anything to get it? And if you didn’t get it, you just kept on trying?”
“I wanted to fly,” Skylark answered, her smile sending Carlson’s blood sugar levels skyrocketing. “I’ve always wanted to fly.”
“And now you can,” Carlson replied, “For me, I’ve always dreamed of finding new species, creatures only hinted at. Their true shapes and forms lost in mist and legend.”
She paused to catch the eyes of each of the five, “I’ve been around the world. Searched for Bigfoot, and the Loch Ness Monster. Checked out Ogopogo and looked for the Yeti. I never found anything more than shaky pictures and ‘evidence’ made by drunken pranksters. Then one day, an old student of mine sends in some hair and feathers from an ‘unknown equine’ and the next thing I know my life is being saved by my dream come to life.”
“We didn’t do anything special,” Darter stated, blushing heavily.
“You just did the good that comes naturally to you kids,” Carlson countered. “Anyway, so after so many years of looking for something like you kids, and then finding it, and then losing it, and then finding it again, I went a little crazy.”
“A little crazy?” Seeker giggled. “Mom said she was gonna cook you, and all you did was ask if you could film it when she did.”
“It took a good, long talk with my old student, who you know as Mr. Wilcox, to make me realize what an obsessed idiot I was being,” Carlson continued, sobering. “It took him awhile to get it through to me that I was treating all of you like animals, and not people… And I apologize for that. Can you forgive an old, obsessed scientist who nearly drove away her dream by finding it?”
For many things in this world there are speeches and soliloquies aplenty, but for some situations, hugs are still the best and the five ponies responded to Dr. Carlson’s heartfelt apology in that most eloquent of ways.
“Heh,” Pearl said, sniffling as the hug broke up over a full minute later. “Thank you, children.”
“Anytime,” Shield Maiden replied, on behalf of the five. The unicorn was about to say more, but then a rumble of thunder was heard.
“That’s weird,” Darter said, tilting his head and looking around. “It’s a sunny day.”
“We should get going,” Seeker suggested, her eyes unfocusing in a way her sister recognized. “There’s a storm coming.”
“Welp, I guess it’s time to do this,” said a big pony with a coat so dark it seemed to drink in the light.
Iron Heart, formerly known as Arnold Kye, looked around his engine and machine working shop with a hint of sadness. It had been weeks since he had done any real work in this place, not knowing if his new pony body could work metal or handle tools like his old body had, but trial and error had proved to him that anything was possible. With a little adaptation and adjustment, of course.
As the pony walked through the shop, he flicked switches that brought work lights flickering to life, illuminating all seventy-five square meters of workspace, which included a small but functional forge and foundry. The big pony drew a large, custom made leather apron over his body as he made a final check of the stacks of copper and tin he had gathered over the past two weeks.
“Okay,” Iron Heart said to himself, tapping the power button on a final device with a label that read “Hephaestus” on it. “Let’s see what happens when I try to take this pony power thing up to eleven.”
There was a “bamf” of exploding air as the foundry burst to life, and a moment later the voice of Mako sounded loudly from some speakers with the opening words of one of Arnold’s favorite movie soundtracks.
“Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis, and the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an age undreamed of…”
The flames burned with ferocious intensity. Air roared as it was forced to drive the contained conflagration even hotter, and through it all there could be heard a regular rhythm of sound. Like a heartbeat, a ring of metal on metal beat time as it had for thousands of years, for in truth it was the pulse of humanity’s advancements.
From the Bronze Age, to the Iron Age the sound had rung out. From the legions of Imperial Rome to the Industrial Revolution the rate of man’s rise to power over his world could be measured in that steady beat of hammer on metal. For whether that hammer was driven by iron thews, or the churn of a water wheel, or the power of industry, that sound still meant that the very bones of the earth were being reshaped into what a man desired.
Riding alongside that steady drumbeat of purpose, another sound had crossed untold ages as well. It stood in silent partnership to the ring of metal on metal, and waited patiently for the least misstep, for the moment it would once again be allowed to slip free in its ancient cry:
“DAMMIT!”
Unaware of the ancient drama unfolding in the town a few miles behind them, the group of five friends cantered happily up an old logging road. During the heyday of pacific coast logging the Great Bear Rainforest had been a prized location for timber harvesters, where titanic firs and spruces had been felled to feed the growing hunger of a young province and nation.
These days, the former pathways of logging trucks were now the domain of sportsmen, hikers, and eco-tourists come to explore the wild land that humanity had barely made a dent in. Among their goals were fishing of the lakes and streams, hunting of deer and elk, and watching for that rarest of ursine delights, the Kermode aka “Spirit” Bear, with its unique white pelt.
“Wait,” Seeker suddenly ordered, bringing her friends to a halt on the gravelled road. The other four looked back in puzzlement, until they saw and recognized the change in their fellow Power Pony’s eyes. Their red bodied companion had taken to shifting her vision at random intervals into spectrums undreamed of in the animal kingdom.
It was trust in this “sight beyond sight” as Seeker’s mother called it, that commanded her friends’ instant obedience to her call to halt.
“What is it?” Seeker’s sister, Shield Maiden, asked.
“About thirty meters up ahead,” Seeker said, her voice low and quiet. “There are ten people hiding in the bushes. Five on either side of the road.”
“Have they seen us yet?” Darter, the swift and bold pegasus, asked. His eyes were sparkling at the chance to test his skills yet again.
“Maybe,” Seeker equivocated, her split irises of blue and green whirling. “It’s kinda hard to tell. They’re just kinda glowy blobs in the bushes.”
“Are they carrying any guns?” Iron Hoof queried, with a touch of worry. “They might be soldiers like last week. You know, the ones that were coming after Foxfire and Luna?”
“I… think tho,” Seeker replied slowly, drawing out her usual lisp of the “so” sound. “Like I said, it’s hard to tell. And they’re really good at hiding.”
“Ambush?” asked Skylark, Darter’s sister and fellow pegasus. A pony of few words. “We should run.”
“We should attack,” Darter argued back. “They don’t know we know they are there. We can take ‘em easy.”
“We don’t know if they are bad people or not yet,” Shield Maiden responded, unsure. “Seeker, can you see anything else?”
“NO,” Seeker almost growled back, and every pony’s ears went flat against the sides of their heads as they witnessed the furious concentration on the earth pony’s face as she tried to resolve more details.
“We should back—” Shield Maiden began, before one of the strangers hiding up the road took matters into their own hands.
“Hey, it’s okay,” called out one of the hiding men, and as he stood up the ponies could see he was wearing a mottled green uniform, and carrying a military rifle. “We’re friendlies.”
“What kinda friendly sneaks up on people?” demanded Darter, who despite his brashness was wisely hiding behind the orange barrier of Shield Maiden’s power that she had flashed into existence.
“The kind of friendly that was getting in some practice and learning the area,” the soldier replied. “Everybody stand up, we’re making the civilians nervous.”
“We’re not civilians, we’re the Power Ponies,” Iron Hoof declared proudly, standing alongside Darter with a puffed out chest. He didn’t understand why some of the soldiers were holding a hand over their mouths as they got up out of their insufficient hidey holes.
“Corporal Justin Barlow,” the man in the lead said, slinging his rifle and putting out his hand. “Princess Patricia Light Infantry.”
“The who?” Shield Maiden asked, curiously. Until she saw the flag patch on the man’s shoulder. “Oh! You’re Canadian.”
“Yes Ma’am,” the corporal responded, smiling. “We’ve been asked to hang around and keep things safe. Not that you ponies aren’t doing a good job.”
“Um, hi there,” Skylark said, stepping past Shield Maiden’s dissipating barrier and extending one of her silver tipped wings to one of the soldiers, a woman with a close cropped blond mane.
“Hey,” the woman replied in response, getting down to one knee so that she could look the young pony in the eye. “Sorry if we scared you. We were just out learning the area. Corporal saw you coming and we decided to see if we could hide from you while you went by. Guess not.”
“Thorry,” Seeker chimed in, coming up beside her fellow pony and extending a hoof. “I kinda cheated. My eyes let me see things.”
“Don’t be sorry, kid,” Barlow replied, over his shoulder. “What you did wasn’t cheating, it was using what you had. There’s no such thing as cheating for us, only training and learning. What you did was a lesson for us on what to do when an ambush gets busted.”
“Oh!” Seeker answered, brightening. “Thanks!”
“No worries,” the corporal added, “And a word of advice. If you catch on to something like this again, keep acting normal while you work out what to do. When you all stopped and started talking to each other it told us that you had twigged to what we were doing.”
“Oh,” Shield Maiden said, her cheeks colouring. “I… um… I guess we still have a lot of things to learn.”
“Saying that makes you a good leader,” Barlow stated, before turning to his group. “You kids should think about joining the Cadets.”
“Polaris wants us to start a Junior Canadian Ranger troop,” Shield Maiden replied, Barlow’s praise heartening her. “Mom doesn’t think much of it though.”
“Well, I’m sure I could convince your mother,” Barlow replied confidently, until the other soldier piped up.
“Um, sir, aren’t you forgetting our briefing?” the blond soldier asked, her name tag reading “Williams,” and her fingers stroking one of Skylark’s extended feathers in absent wonder. “Shield Maiden’s mother is Foxfire.”
“Oh,” Barlow said, his face paling slightly. “The Angry’corn.”
“Huh?” all five ponies said at once, curious.
“Talk around our camp is that this town has unicorns, alicorns, annnnnd,” Barlow paused for effect. “One angry’corn. Foxfire.”
“I don’t know if I like that,” Iron Hoof replied, with a scowl, one of his forehooves scraping a track in the gravel and dirt beneath him.
“Whoa kid, sorry,” Barlow swiftly backpedaled, realizing his error. “It’s meant as a term of respect. That nobody, but nobody messes with Foxfire and gets away with it.”
“Oh, I guess that’s okay then,” was Iron Hoof’s response. “Sorry.”
“Not a problem,” answered the corporal, glad to have diffused things. “We were going to be heading back to camp. Did you kids want to come with us?”
“Where you camping?” Darter asked, pushing off the ground into a low hover. “Bet I can get there before you.”
“Bet you can,” Barlow agreed. “Your Mayor Montcalm is letting us stay in the bunkhouses for the summer firefighting crews. At least until they’re needed that is.”
“We need to get going,” Seeker stated, and getting odd looks from her fellow Power Ponies as she did so.
“Um, yah,” Shield Maiden added, more to back up her sister than anything else. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Okay, take care,” Barlow replied, and gathering his troops, set off with them singing, “The Princess Pat, lived in a tree. She sailed across the seven seas…”
The smith was undeterred by his previous failure. Gathering up the twisted remains of his previous attempt, he once again brought forth air and fire to reduce solid metal to liquid flame. Again, came the careful mixing of metals in proportions just so. Again, the addition of flux, and once more the ever-so-delicate pour into the mold of special sand.
Once more the smith waiting patiently for the blazing mix to cool, and when the solidified contents of the alloy were revealed in their golden form there was once more the appreciation of the beauty of golden metals. Even if it was somewhat diminished from the first time by new familiarity.
With the newly formed blade gleaming, the smith again fired up his forge to attempt to overcome the shortcoming from his first attempt. Balefully, a gimlet eye watched the temperature gauge climb until it reached a preset mark. The smith tuned the ferocious flame with all the skill at his command to hold the burning warmth of the metal at the precise measure he had set.
As time passed, the smith judged the moment to be right, and he drew the smoldering length from the fiery blaze that was meant to harden the formed alloy into something worthy of the one for whom it was intended. Swiftly, he plunged the blade into a waiting bath where it was quenched with a sibilant hiss. Dripping and steaming, the metal was then lifted up and carried to an iron anvil for the final shaping and proofing.
One final thing remained before he could begin however. A simple test to see if the mix of metals had been hardened by their second passage through the forge. Gingerly, the smith leaned the bladed shape against the anvil and slowly added weight and pressure. Once more, the classic golden alloy bent into a graceful curve.
“DAMMIT!”
Unknowing and unheeding of the Curse of Murphy that was being carried out back home, the Furred Five continued their journey along the old logging road as it wound its path along the shore of Carmanah Lake. The day had been fairly long for the ponies and even with their stamina some of them were beginning to feel they had gone far enough.
“Guys, c’mon,” Darter whined. “How far are we goin’? I’m getting hungry.”
“Just a bit more,” Seeker replied, as she trotted along, her sister at her side.
“I’m actually kinda with Darter on this,” Shield Maiden protested. “Why are we heading out this far from town?”
“I wanna see the border,” Seeker succinctly explained. “We’re almost there.”
“The border?” Iron Hoof asked, confused. “What border?”
“The magic border,” added Seeker, rolling her eyes at the, to her, obvious question.
“Oh, I get it,” Skylark filled in, nodding as she got what her friend meant. “She means the edge of the magic from town. That border.”
Nodding in understanding, the rest of the ponies pressed further up the road, until around a hundred meters further along the road a small stream passed under a slightly less small bridge of earth and wood. Just past the bridge, was a small cairn of rocks that had been gathered from stream and lakeshore, and spray painted a metallic gold.
“Well, there it is,” Darter proclaimed. “Can we go home now?”
“‘Sec,” Seeker responded, her eyes a whirl of blue and green as she shifted her range of vision. Long moments went by as the small red pony looked left and right, frowning in concentration as she did. Finally, she spoke. “It’s bigger.”
“What’s bigger? The magic border?” asked Shield Maiden, pulling magic to her horn just to see if she could. An obliging orange glow sprang to life.
“Right side,” Seeker murmured, and each of her family and friends obligingly pivoted to look upstream just in time to see a group of four dirty and wet individuals come into view as they made their way down the watercourse.
“There’s the lake!” the man in the lead called out to his companions, two men and a woman. All carried what had been clearly heavily laden backpacks, but now rode lightly on their backs. The only thing of any significance that any of them carried, were some musical instruments.
“Are you sure that’s Carmanah Lake?” asked the single woman, a dirty redhead. “Damn GPS hasn’t been worth a damn all day.”
“Gotta be it, they could mess with the GPS but not—,” replied one of the other men, before the quartet suddenly saw the five ponies on the road in front of them, “Oh.”
“Who the heck are you guys?” Darter asked, lifting off to a hover high and to the right, his sister mirroring his move, only to the left.
“I’m Jim,” said the lean man in the lead of the group, before gesturing to the others. “This is Rob, Barb, and Hannah. You’re Brightly Ponies, right? This is Brightly?”
“This is Carmanah Lake,” Shield Maiden corrected, recalling her magic back to her. “Brightly is a few kilometers down the road.”
“Wait,” the woman said, staggering and splashing forward, her voice taking on a note of awe. “You. You’re the Maiden. That means the rest of you are the Power Ponies.”
“My God,” added the man in the rear, moving forward as well. “We didn’t just find Brightly. We found her. Guys, this has gotta be magic making this happen.”
“Stop right there,” Shield Maiden commanded, flashing an orange barrier into existence while her pegasus friends drifted back in close. “My name is ‘Shield Maiden’, and what the heck are you talking about?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Jim responded, spreading his hands. “Look, can we get out of the water?”
“Okay,” Shield Maiden answered, and at a look her friends pulled back a bit. The unicorn withdrew her barricade so that the four adults in the stream could clamber out of it, but not so far back as to allow the adults onto the road. “Darter, I think you should head down the road and get those soldiers we saw earlier.”
“No, wait!” the red-headed woman cried, the desperation in her voice stopping Darter more than anything else. “Please, you’re our only hope.”
“Huh, what?” Darter asked, stopping so fast he almost left skid marks in the air itself, before dropping the few feet to the ground.
“What do you mean, we’re your only hope?” Iron Hoof questioned, puzzled.
“Let them explain,” Seeker ordered in a calm voice, and the other ponies saw that the eyes of their visionary hadn’t stopped in the whirling.
“I’m transgender, like Medevac,” said the rear most of the group, a thin man with green hair. “I was nearly killed by a gang in North Dakota a month ago, and it was the third attack the cops ignored in three months. I’d appreciate it if you called me, ‘Hannah’.”
“I’m Barb, and I’ve got terminal cancer,” the red-haired woman stated. “I have two to three years to live.”
“I’m Rob, and I’ve got Lou Gherig’s disease,” added the one man who hadn’t spoken as of yet, before nudging the slim man who was the group’s leader.
“I’m Jim, and we’ve all been friends online since we were kids,” explained the man. “We had no hope, until we heard about Brightly, and about you. The Shield Maiden. Who has the power to change people into ponies, and change lives for the better.”
“The magic doesn’t work that way,” Shield Maiden protested. “And I don’t know if I can help with any of that.”
“We know it’s not much of a chance,” Jim replied, his voice pleading. “But it’s my friends’ only hope of survival. Please, change us into ponies, and then you can call the cops, or the army or whatever, and we’ll go quietly. We promise.”
“I can’t,” Shield Maiden replied, bowing her head sadly. “I made a promise not to. Not without permission. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, but I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” Barb soothed. “We know we shouldn’t put this kind of pressure on you, but we’re desperate.”
“How did you get here?” was Skylark’s soft question. “There’s nothing but forest the way you came from.”
“Not until you get to the coast,” Jim answered, with a small laugh. “If you follow our trail back, the boat we bought in Bella Bella is probably still tied up to the shore.”
“But that’s gotta be twenty kilometers of solid bush,” Darter marvelled. “With bears and wolves and stuff.”
“Felt like fifty,” quipped Hannah. “We lost the last of our food two days ago to a bear. We’ve been living off of berries and creek water ever since.”
“All we’ve got left are our instruments,” Barb added, pulling a banjo out of a soft case.
“We’re a band,” further explained Jim. “It’s why we kept in touch as we got older and why we are all together now.”
“How are you guys a band if all of you are way apart?,” Darter asked, some dirt smudging his coat.
“The internet let us stay connected,” Jim answered. “When my friends all started having all their problems, I started looking for some way, any way that I could help them. When I read about Medevac and how magic was real I figured that being turned into ponies might not help, but it couldn’t make things worse. So, we pooled our money together, flew to Vancouver and then to Bella Bella, where we straight up bought a boat. We knew that if we just landed where everyone else does we’d get arrested as soon as we touched. So we went around to the east side of the peninsula we were on, landed there, and hiked overland.”
“Wow,” Skylark breathed. “You did all that for your friends.”
“My best friends in the world,” Jim corrected, pausing as his three companions touched their friend, and each of the ponies could tell from the human’s expressions that no matter how things turned out for the musicians, they considered the trip worth the effort it had taken.
“I promised not to cast the spell anymore,” Shield Maiden reminded everyone. “I made a promise to the princesses and to my Mom that I wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Tell you what,” Jim said, looking up at the faces of his friends. “Give us one chance to convince you. Let us do just one thing to convince you to change us into ponies.”
“I guess you can try,” Shield Maiden replied. “But it’s not gonna change anything.”
“Yeah guys, Shield Maiden’s mom is like super strict about rules and stuff,” Darter added on. “You guys aren’t gonna try anything dumb like pulling out a gun are you?”
“We’re musicians,” Barb answered, adjusting the strings on her banjo. “We thought we would play you a song.”
“Well, I guess that would be okay,” Shield Maiden cautiously allowed, letting her barricade dissipate.
“Thank you,” Jim said, pulling out a guitar. Hannah followed suit by pulling out a strange thing that looked like a cross between an organ and an accordion.
“What do you play?” Skylark asked Rob.
“I can’t play an instrument,” replied the man, quirking his mouth as he picked up a heavy, fallen branch and thumped it rhythmically a few times against the ground. “So, I’m the bass line.”
“Everybody ready?,” Jim asked his group, sitting or standing on one side of the road, the attentive Power Ponies on the other. “Right then, ‘Stormriders’. Tune of ‘Oak and Ash and Thorn’. Three, two, one…”
Of all that live so fair, the worlds to adorn, Greater are none beneath the sun than Hoof, and Wing, and Horn.
Sing Hoof, and Wing, and Horn, good sirs All this midsummer's morn. We know we ask for no little thing Just Hoof, or Wing, or Horn
Men that are old, the laws they mold, our will they’ve laid low A pony's life we want to choose, our former lives we let go. What they have willed, our soul they have killed, our spirit is clean outworn. We say indeed the only thing we need is a Hoof, or Wing, or Horn.
Sing Hoof, and Wing, and Horn, good sirs All this midsummer's morn. We know we ask for no little thing Just Hoof, or Wing, or Horn
“Look,” whispered Seeker, and the ponies’ eyes grew wide as all five of them began to see flickers of rainbow power start to curl around the limbs and bodies of the musicians.
Cold, she hates us all and waits, til all the frost is laid To drop a storm on top of him, that of her is not afraid. But whether ye be gay or sad, or mellow with drink made from corn We'll take no wrong, running along with Hoof, or Wing, or Horn.
Sing Hoof, and Wing, and Horn, good sirs All this midsummer's morn. We know we ask for no little thing Just Hoof, or Wing, or Horn.
“Should we stop ‘em?” Darter asked in a hushed voice. All four players were now fully enveloped in the power of transplanted Equestrian magic.
“No,” commanded Seeker, her eyes as bright as the flaring amethyst at her throat. “If they can do this, then let it be done.”
Oh, we do not say it is our right, to become one of your kin, But we've been out in the woods all night, calling the magic in. We don't want to be first but least, to be Pone, or Peg or 'Corn. Sure as the dawn comes from the east, give us Hoof, or Wing, or Horn.
Sing Hoof, and Wing, and Horn, good sirs All this midsummer's morn. We know we ask for no little thing Just Hoof, or Wing, or Horn.
Sing Hoof, and Wing, and Horn, good sirs All this midsummer's morn. We know we ask for no little thing Just Hoof, or Wing, or Horn.
Sing Hoof, and Wing, and Horn, good sirs All this midsummer's morn. We know we ask for no little thing Just Hoof, or Wing, or Horn…
On the third repetition of the chorus, everything everywhere seemed to pause as a bell-like tone sounded, and with a flare of rainbow light four human beings disappeared, replaced by the collapsing bodies of four ponies who didn’t know how to control their bodies just yet.
Silence fell except for a single complaint of, “This is why we tell you not to whine about being bored.”
The smith was deterred and dejected. Three times Arnold Kye, now calling himself Iron Heart, had attempted to forge a weapon of bronze for his bride-to-be. Three times now something in the casting and tempering had failed and the blade had failed a simple strength test, curling into a useless crescent under only a fraction of his strength.
Iron Heart was determined to give Foxfire a weapon that was not only as beautiful as she was, but that matched her in power and resilience as well. There are certain symbolisms in giving the love of one’s life an edged weapon, not the least of which was that should he harm her, she was free to plunge that length of metal into his chest for the crime of betraying her heart.
Arnold Kye was a skilled machinist and metalworker. Metal moved and flowed under his hands almost like a living thing, until it took the shape and measurements he wanted, even down to a thousandth of an inch, but for all those skills that Iron Heart possessed a mastery of he was still very much a newcomer to smelting and forging. Fortunately, Iron Heart was also not a boastful or prideful individual, and so it was only with a small twinge of regret that a coal black hoof reached out and pulled the handset off a phone mounted to the wall.
“Reckless Abandon Leathers, Fred speaking,” was the answer a few rings later.
“Hey Fred,” Iron Heart returned. “It’s Arnold. Arnold Kye. Remember me?”
“Arnie! You old pirate, it’s been ages. I haven’t seen or heard from you since… “ Fred’s voice quickly lost its vibrance. “Since the funeral.”
“Yeah,” was all that remembered grief allowed Iron Heart to say for a moment, before the image of a white unicorn smoothed over the old pain into something bearable. “Um, I need some help with a project I’m working on. You do any smelting?”
“Ha!” barked a laugh out of Fred, “You don’t know what my day job is do you?”
“Well, I know you make um… “ Iron Heart’s voice trailed off as he tried to phrase things delicately. “Uh… intimate leather apparel, but I remember you also saying something about metal finishing?”
“Corsets, cuffs, crops, collars. You commission it, I make it,” Fred confirmed, with a chuckle. “But that’s just a sideline. My day job is metalworking and foundry work. What’s the problem?”
“I’m trying to make my fiancée a sword, out of bronze,” Iron Heart began, relief flowing into him as he realized that he had indeed called the right person. “But every time I heat treat the blade something goes wrong and it doesn’t take. Bends like I hadn’t done anything at all.”
“Fiancée?” Fred queried, as realization set in on just how important his old friend’s project was. “And you’re making her a sword. Okay, and it’s still malleable after heat treatment? What are your percentages of copper and aluminum?”
“Aluminum?” Iron Heart demanded, confused. “Why would I put aluminum in bronze? I’m using tin and copper.”
“OH!” Fred replied, in an explosive exhale. “Well, there’s your problem. You’re going old school, with classic bronze.”
“She’s a classic kind of lady,” Iron Heart responded, a smile on his muzzle. “Pagan too, so steel didn’t seem like the right sort of metal to use.”
“Yah, classical bronze would be the way to go,” Fred said, adding, “and I hear how important this to you just from the sound of your voice.”
“Eh, I’m just a little horse now, is all,” Iron Heart quipped back, knowing his friend had no way to know the joke he had just tossed out. “But you said you knew what the problem was?”
“Yah,” Fred agreed, “you’re using classic bronze as opposed to aluminum bronze. Aluminum bronze you heat treat, but classical bronze ignores heat. When you go old school, you have to work harden the stuff.”
“Uh, work harden?” Iron Heart asked, his unseen head tilting to one side in confusion. “How the hell do you work harden something?”
“You beat the shit out of it,” Fred espoused, warming to the subject. “You hit it, you work it. You’ve got to feel the metal underneath your hammer and get to know it. Work it right up to the breaking point, and hold it at that edge without going over. Back off, then do it a little harder. Do it right and you’ll wind up with a blade that’s sharper than steel, and harder than iron. It just won’t keep that edge as long, is all.”
“Sounds perfect,” Iron said, nodding his head. “I just hit it, eh?”
“Work the edge, and get to know the feel of the metal,” Fred corrected. “The blade will let you know how far you can take it. Listen to it, like when you can tell how a cut is going from the sound of a boring bar, or the feel of the adjustment dial on a lathe. Do that, and your Lady will have a piece she’ll never forget. When’s the wedding?”
“We haven’t set a date yet, and getting up to Brightly isn’t always easy in the best of times,” Iron Heart responded, suddenly anxious to make another attempt to forge the blades he desired to create. “I’ll send you an invite when we do. Gotta go. Thanks man!”
“Anytime,” Fred said, as the call ended and he turned back to the commission he was working on. As he worked he thought on his old friend up north in Canada and his mind began to link various bits of the conversation. “Hang on. Brightly… I’m a little hoarse? I’M A LITTLE HORSE? Son of a BITCH!”
Fred’s family came into Fred’s small workshop in the moments following his odd shout to find the leather and metal worker doubled over in paroxysms of laughter, all thoughts of grommets, laces and leather panels forgotten under the power of the delayed pun.
The princess was pleased with herself. It had taken her a long time, but she had finally found a solution to a vexing problem that had been keeping her from enjoying her impromptu vacation.
“So, with the revisions to paragraph six, subsection b, I think we may have an agreement,” Princess Celestia said, to the others gathered around the table. “Unless anyone has any other revisions or corrections they would like to propose?”
“Well, we really would prefer a larger percentage of the income from the commercial development of magic,” mused the Hieltsuk representative. “We are giving up our rightful claim to this land, after all.”
“One tenth of one percent may not seem like much, Mr. Housty,” admitted the princess, “But when you consider the fact of that income will be guaranteed in perpetuity, it will add up to quite a tidy sum over the years.”
“That it will, Princess,” agreed the man, with a face lined by years of wind, weather and life. “My people are used to taking the long view of things after all. Just like yourself. I still find it hard to believe that you are apparently over a thousand years old.”
“Well, we still haven’t determined if Equestrian years are the same as the years here on Ca—Earth,” Celestia replied, correcting herself with a small blush.
“Speaking of which,” interjected the Canadian representative, a dark skinned woman wearing casual business attire. “While I agree in principle with the sovereignty agreements we have here, I have to warn you that it isn’t going to be easy getting this ratified through Parliament.”
“I have faith that your Prime Minister will be able to convince enough people that this is in the best interests of all,” Celestia replied, before adding, “I confess that the idea of a representational democracy is an interesting concept. One that we’ve never tried in Equestria.”
“The term is actually ‘Constitutional Monarchy’,” the woman corrected politely. “Our government is one where our sovereign is obliged to operate within a legal framework. As opposed to an absolute monarch, such as yourself, who is unrestrained by laws, legislature or customs.”
“I am deeply bound by custom, and by the wishes of my little ponies,” Celestia answered, the slightest touch of ice frosting her words as she responded in kind to the equally soft note of disapproval from the woman. “We may not have a legislature per se, but any pony can approach me and receive a fair and impartial consideration of their issues. As opposed to the layers of bureaucracy your people need to go through.”
“Ladies, if we might return to the matter at hand?” the Hieltsuk representative asked, attempting to put a stopper on the verbal clash before it even got going. Jacqueline Cavagnal was a firm anti-monarchist and she had been determined not to allow the princess to add to her authority in any way in Canada.
“To review,” Housty added, once he had the attention of the other two in the room, “we’ve decided that the Brightly Autonomous Zone will be a combined protectorate of Canada, Equestria, and the Hieltsuk First Nation. The BAZ to be defined as a sphere with an eight kilometer radius as measured from Miners Memorial Park in Brightly.”
“Canada will be responsible for the BAZ’s external security, the Hieltsuk will deal with infrastructure and maintenance, while Equestria will be responsible for security of the portal itself and maintenance of their new embassy,” Cavagnal commented, with a snort and a small smile of apology to Celestia as she continued with, “BAZ is a silly name though.”
“Everypony loves to shorten things down,” Celestia said, with her own nod of apology. “We couldn’t stop them if we tried.”
“Anything else?” Housty asked, leafing quickly through a very large stack of papers.
“The Zone itself will be governed by a triumvirate council composed of a Canadian, a member of the Hieltsuk First Nation, and an Equestrian,” Celestia added, planting a hoof in her face as she had a sudden revelation. “OH.... I can’t believe it. We forgot to put in who is going to head that council initially.”
“Oh God, you’re right,” Cavagnal groaned, sliding a hand down her own face. “I can’t believe we forgot something as basic as someone to be the Chair. Merde.”
“Don’t feel bad, you two. I just realized it myself,” Housty said, by way of comfort until a sudden idea came to him. “I move we appoint Jean Pedersen, also known as Foxfire, as the first head of the BAZ council. Future heads of the council to be determined by majority vote of the citizens of Brightly, British Columbia.”
“That would be a spectacularly bad idea,” Celestia blurted out, the outburst surprising Cavagnal with its candor from the usually guarded and savvy Equestrian.
“I would think she would be perfect,” the woman replied, thinking that she might have found a way to put one over on the Equestrian monarch. “She’s a native-born Canadian citizen, lives day to day as an Equestrian, and she’s lived in Brightly long enough to have a fair idea of the needs of the area.”
“Foxfire is pregnant, and is planning on getting married sometime soon,” Celestia said smoothly, even as her mind raced to give a plausible excuse for her denial of Foxfire that didn’t mention umbrals or their thirst for power. “Plus, she has no desire at all to get involved in politics. Local or otherwise.”
“It would only be for the first three year term, unless she was re-elected to the post,” Cavagnal riposted, her practiced ear hearing the lie of omission in the Equestrian’s voice. “And women are more than capable of being effective politicians and mothers at the same time.”
“Besides,” Housty chimed in, “isn’t Equestria a matriarchal society for the most part? I thought you would be thrilled to have a wom— er, mare, appointed to the post.”
“Uh…” Celestia began, voice trailing off as she tried to think of a way to protect Foxfire from what could be an ultimate temptation.
The unicorn was annoyed and angry at the man in front of her. She had been listening to him for almost fifteen minutes now as he rambled on. Listened because he didn’t seem to hear her whenever she spoke to him.
“Now Jean, I know your girl promised not to transform anyone,” Montcalm was saying, for the fourth time, “And I get that she might not be willing to admit to a mistake with all the pressure she’s under but—”
Why do you suffer this fool, my host? the Umbral inside of Foxfire’s mind hissed. Please, for both our sanities, end his life and his endless prattling with it.
When he is not being a typical male, chauvinist idiot, he is a friend and has served our town well for many years, was Foxfire’s response, as she tuned out the mayor in order to listen to the creature that was bonded to her mind. He is also an ally. So no, I am not going to kill him and don’t you even think of trying to take over to do it yourself.
I gave you my word that I would do no such thing, unless our lives were at stake, the Umbral grumbled back. However, listening to this mendicant is close to active torture. If we cannot kill him, can we maim him a bit? I’m sure he does not need all of his… What did you call them again? Toes?
“Jean?” Montcalm asked, realizing his audience had become unresponsive and had a thousand yard stare. “Jean, are you paying attention?”
Foxfire jerked her attention back outside of herself to address the mayor while firmly squelching her desire to throttle the man. A sentiment the umbral was more than willing to encourage, and likely had been subtly egging on for awhile now.
“As I said earlier when you dragged me in here,” Foxfire ground out, doing her best to keep her voice level and even. “Shield Maiden didn’t cast the spell. Those newfoals managed to summon up the magic all on their own.”
“But—” Montcalm began, only to be interrupted as the unicorn’s temper blazed along with her eyes.
“MY daughter,” Foxfire began hotly, before pausing to take a breath to calm herself down. “My daughter doesn’t lie. Especially about magic. She knows that hiding something like this would only make it worse in the end. Besides, aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Eh?” Montcalm asked, as he began to realize that he might have pushed things a little too far.
“Father Addison and I both performed acts of magic while in human form, which makes it more than possible for those Americans to have done so as well,” Foxfire reminded the man, realizing the bolt had gone home as she saw his eyes widen in remembrance of those strange days two months gone. “And while we are at it, I’ll thank you to address me as ‘Foxfire’ when I am a pony.”
He should be addressing you as ‘Your Majesty’ while on his knees before you as he grovels for his worthless life, stated the Umbral, in no uncertain terms from the back of Foxfire’s mind. You are to be a queen. Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond. You shall be glorious and mighty, with all the leaders of this squabbling world bowing before you lest they face your terrible wrath.
The Umbral supplied Foxfire a vision of her sitting on a throne, on her head a silver crown shaped like a pair of crescent moons joined at the tips, with silver wire spiraling around her horn all aglow with smokey violet power, while a crowd of men in suits kneeled before her.
But today is not that day, Foxfire quipped back, dismissing the provided fantasy with a mental wave. Now hush and let me concentrate.
“Sorry Foxfire,” Montcalm replied, running a hand through thinning air. “I forgot, plain and simple. With all these changes going on, I’m just not sure I can keep up anymore. Horgan wants me as his point man for some issues, and I’m thinking of stepping down before my term ends in November and letting someone else take over.”
Foxfire took a new look at Darrell Montcalm and realized how tired the man appeared. Brightly’s mayor was nearing the end of an active middle-age, but now he just looked old, and tired, and worn-out. The unicorn saw a face that was seamed with worry lines that hadn’t been present even a few months ago as its owner struggled to deal with changes that would have been challenging to men half his age.
In that moment, Foxfire saw a man who was trying his best, and was deeply worried that it just wasn’t good enough anymore, and that people he cared for were going to pay the price for his infirmity. The fury of the unicorn vanished like meadow mist being struck by the summer sun of that revelation, and leaning forward Foxfire simply asked, “How can I help?”
Emotions played across the face of Brightly’s mayor in rapid succession. Hope, chagrin, gratitude and even touch of anger made their appearances before all of them were hidden by the habits of years in local politics and a rallying slurp from a cup of coffee.
“Help me understand magic, Foxfire,” Montcalm implored. “I’ve been trying to do the same things I always have, because they’re what I know. But this whole magic thing I don’t get. You were always the mystical one in town. Our very own ‘Witch of the Woods’, and that’s what I need right now. I need the unicorn witch of Brightly to tutor an old man in the ways of magic and sorcery. At least enough so I can understand what’s going on.”
“That’s… that’s a pretty tall order,” Foxfire admitted, inwardly pleased and proud that her life had made such an impression on what had always seemed like a plain and orthodox man. “Magic is a lot more than just saying some words, and swinging around a pointy stick. It takes visualization, focus, and a driving need to even have a chance of success. Pony or not.”
“I don’t need to actually do anything,” Montcalm shot back, frustration in his voice. “I just need to understand what’s going on. I mean it’s not like I’m going to go ‘bang’ and expect things to blow up.”
The older man punctuated his remarks by mock shooting his coffee cup with his forefinger, which promptly jumped as a piece of ceramic the size of a nickel popped out of one side. Cooling coffee poured out the hole and all over Darrell Montcalm’s desk, to the utter shock and amazement of both pony and person.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Montcalm breathed. “How the hell did that just happen?”
The Crusaders were bored. They had been patient, they had kept their hooves out of things, they had even been quiet, but enough was enough.
“Excuse me, but is this going to take much longer?” Sweetie Belle asked, mindful of her manners so that Rarity wouldn’t be annoyed with her later on.
“Yeah. C’mon already,” Scootaloo chimed in, bouncing up and down and completely oblivious to the facehoof Sweetie was giving herself as the orange filly destroyed the polite facade she’d been constructing. “We’ve been waiting forever!”
“Sorry girls,” commiserated Twilight, her white lab coat swishing along her flanks as she moved from one piece of arcane equipment to another, “but I need to get these calculations just right. Starlight, can you check the Anti-spinward Drift Compensator to see if the correct values are set?”
“On it,” replied the unicorn, her own lab ensemble had the addition of a pair of oversized goggles, which she used to check an odd device with several tubes sticking out of it. “I’m getting values of three point one four one five eight by ‘P’.”
“That can’t be right,” Twilight responded, a frown creasing her muzzle. “The only way that could happen is if Earth’s thaumic constant was shifting, and that’s impossible.”
“What’s a ‘thaumic constant’ an’ why is moving it impossible?” Applebloom asked from the sidelines.
“Why didja ask her that?” hissed Scootaloo. “Now she’s gonna go on forever about boring stuff.”
“At least talking about boring stuff is better than just watchin’ boring stuff,” Applebloom reasoned. “Besides, we might be able to help.”
“Cutie Mark Crusader, Magic Helpers!” shouted the trio in unison, all conflict forgotten in their bond of friendship.
“Every world has its own ‘Thaumic Constant’, which is its base level of magic,” the lavender alicorn was explaining, not even noticing the byplay going on at the side of what had become a second portal laboratory in Twilight’s castle. “Local levels of magic can go up and down, like in Sunset Shimmer’s world when they discovered their magic geodes there, but the base level never changes.”
“And Earth’s is?” Sweetie Belle prompted.
“Sure seems to be,” Starlight Glimmer answered as her mentor started to tear into the piece of equipment, parts flying everywhere. “Whiiiiich is completely impossible, of course. Must be a mistake in our measurements somewhere.”
“I measured it three times!” Twilight exclaimed, only her hindquarters and tail visible now as the rest of her was deeply in the housing of the troublesome device. “Three! I always triple-check everything.”
“I know, Twilight,” responded Starlight, marefully concealing a sigh of exasperation with a roll of her eyes. “But what’s going to be more impossible? That Earth’s base level of magic is rising, or that you got a scientific measurement wrong?”
Twilight rocketed out of the housing of the compensator to grab hold of the unicorn with a speed that would have done Pinkie Pie proud, and the speed of her words would have made the party planner positively pleased, “What do you mean I might have gotten a measurement wrong? I never get a measurement wrong, except of course for that one time where I was measuring body parts for a comparative equine biology class and no one told me that parts on stallions can get bigger or smaller depending on external temperature and/or direct tactile stimulus and I’ll have you know I’ve never gotten a measurement wrong before or since and I never will because I triple check everything, including the accuracy of my measuring instruments. So there!”
“So… “ Starlight hesitantly replied, being careful to make no sudden moves to startle the manic alicorn. “Earth’s base level of magic is changing?”
“But that’s impossible too,” sighed Twilight, relaxing her deathgrip on Starlight, who hung limply in relief at the calmer tone.
“Sherclop Holmes says that when you get rid of the impossible, whatever's left has to be right,” Applebloom offered. “Even if it’s as unlikely as pears growin’ on apple trees.”
“You’re right, Girls,” Twilight replied, setting her student down. “As improbable as it is, I must have gotten the reading wrong. Sorry about that, Starlight.”
“No worries,” Starlight chuckled, picking herself up. “I get mare handled all the time for making suggestions to manic mages. I’ll just go get the equipment out for another reading.”
“This is gonna take forever, isn’t it?” Scootaloo groused, with a dejected sigh.
“Sorry, but if I don’t get this right all sorts of bad things could happen,” Twilight said, by way of agreement. “I’d hate to accidentally open a gate to the wrong dimension, or collapse the portal, or summon an eldritch horror from beyond time and space.”
“We’ll come back later,” said Sweetie Belle, getting up to her hooves. “Where do you girls want to go?”
“Let’s go see Zecora,” suggested Applebloom. “Maybe she might have a potion or somethin’ that can help.”
“Beats sitting around here,” Scootaloo responded. “Let’s go.”
Together, the three fillies left the room to the two adult mages who were going to be buried deep in both arcane, technical, and above all, boring matters for quite some time. Not one of them realized that Twilight’s readings had indeed been accurate, and that in a secluded grove near Brightly, a tree with rainbow coloured apples had recovered from its brush with premature winter, and was now a blazing green with the full vibrancy and power of summer’s magic.
The smith was determined. Three times the crafting of the swords for his beloved and their joined families had failed. Three times lengths of alloyed metal had curled into useless masses of artistic arcs, lovely to look at but utterly devoid of purpose. What he wanted, what he needed was something both functional and beautiful, just like the woman who had come into his life.
Three times he had failed, but this time he knew where he had gone wrong, and as the opening beats of Basil Poledouris’ “Anvil of Crom” thundered once more through the shop, the flames of the forge lit anew, the scream of pumped air matching the notes of the trumpets in the song.
Flame reached out to caress the crucible containing an exact combination of tin and copper, the ancient metals that had first driven man’s civilization, and as they melted in the loving embrace of the fire they blended into the alloy known as bronze. The bronze of Babylon and Sumer, the metal that had driven the power of Athens and Sparta into names that will never be forgotten for as long as humanity continues to walk this earth. The metal of ancient majesty and power lived again as molten fire in that small shop, moving like a living thing as Iron Heart poured it forth into the five molds that had been fashioned for it.
With the care of a lover, Iron Heart allowed the five lengths of metal to cool. Three were smaller blades, cast in the forms shaped like Roman gladii, only smaller. One, was cast into the shape of a classic falchion, its classic heavy forward blade meant for himself. The final blade, which was meant for Foxfire, was shaped in the style of a scimitar. Its curve meant to symbolize the arc of his love’s lunar patron and ideal for use in the swift flowing motions that his mare preferred.
Iron Heart shook the scimitar free of the grip of the molding sand, taking a moment to admire the deep sunset colour of the metal before setting to work. “Work the blade” he had been told, and work it he did, pounding his hammer up and down the length of metal, thinning the edge as he moved the blade back and forth along the anvil to the beats of his music.
But even so, something was missing. Iron Heart knew he was on the right track, and that the blade he was working would be a sword of both beauty and strength, but it was lacking that indefinable extra touch. There was something off, and for the life of him, Iron Hoof could not figure out what. That is, until his music player ticked over into the files shared to him by his bride to be.
Blacksmith make a sword for me, such as none did ever see
For ancient symbols of majesty, have power in troubled times
Iron Heart’s eyes grew wide as song’s lyrics sparked the fire of inspiration within him. HE had to be the one to make the swords, not his hammer, or his forge, or his anvil. Fred had told him that HE had to work the blade, and to feel the metal beneath him, and so Iron Heart quickly gathered up the blade and reheated the sword in order to remove the temper his hammer had put into it and start over, singing as he did so.
I’ll pump the fire to make my start, melted metal in the fire’s heart.
Now I name these blades with an older Art: The Foxfire Swords.
Using only a pair of tongs, Iron Heart drew the blazing blade from the heart of the tempering furnace and began to beat on it with a bare hoof. Smoke rose from the bone of the seared hoof, and Iron Heart paid it no mind, as he realized with joy that he had been right. Smiting the metal with his bare hoof allowed him to not only feel the contours of the fiery metal, but to sense what was inside of it.
I chant my words to the blazing mix, of ancient human and pony tricks.
To draw a Spirit, and Purpose fix, in what these blades will feel:
Faster and harder Iron Heart’s hoof came down, and each time he did his sense of what was going on inside the metal grew in scope and detail. Power grew inside of him, a bright wild magic that shone with the light of a hundred forges even as it enveloped his body in the chromatic light of Harmony made manifest.
The iron laws from Nature’s hand, the ruthless will of this ageless land.
The freedom only love can command, and I cast these thoughts in steel.
Iron Heart refused to give into the glory of magic as his own cutie mark flared into being, for he had a job to do, and gifts of love to make. His iron will pushed the power of Harmony through his body, bidding it to aid him in his cause, and seeing his need and desire, Harmony saw fit to grant it to him, armoring his hoof against the blazing metal.
Again and again Iron Heart brought his hoof down, pounding the metal, shaping it to his intent, warping and weaving power and strength into the metal. Iron was his will, iron was his hoof, iron was his heart, as he blended bronze and determination into something beyond anything seen on Earth or Equestria.
At first, the alloy resisted him, but as he forged onward the material moved and stretched according to his design, until he could almost see the crystals in the metal aligning to form an edge beyond razor keen. The lattice structure within the material deformed under the pounding, developing gaps and extrusions that slotted into each other like pieces of a puzzle,strengthening the whole.
Somewhere in the dark of that night, between the witching hour and the first gleam of dawn, Iron Heart paused and looked down into the depths of the golden blade before him, and found it good.
And now see that my work is done, and the new sword gleams like the setting sun.
All down the blade do the old runes run, a warning plain to see.
The metal glows like a burning brand. A meter long and more it stands.
The runes read: "I serve but the good, of Life and Harmony.”
Task at last completed, the smith finally released the power that he used to complete his task for the many hours it had taken. Iron Heart’s will had expended every erg of energy that the inception of his cutie mark had granted him, using it to create something that had never existed before as a gift of love and devotion. As the stallion collapsed to the floor of his shop, utterly spent, a sight graced his closing eyes with a vision that brought a weak smile to his muzzle.
Around Iron Heart in a loose circle, were not one, but five blades. Each shaped exactly as he had wanted them to be, each one glowing with the inner fires of their creation. Three gladii, a falchion and a scimitar. The Foxfire Swords.
“Say that again?” demanded the big man seated behind the desk. “You didn’t just say what I think you said.”
“I’m sorry sir,” apologized the military man, bracing himself to attention as he stood in front of the individual who was arguably the most powerful man in the world. “But the report we have from the intelligence officer in place confirms that Brightly’s mayor is capable of magic.”
“It’s all Obama’s fault,” declared the President. “If he hadn’t left our military so empty of equipment we wouldn’t be in this fix.”
“Uh, yes sir,” replied the soldier. His rank was colonel, but in reality he was little more than a messenger right now. “Was there anything else, Sir?”
“No. Wait. Yes,” the President ordered, vacillating. “If this is true we don’t need a pony for magic, right? All we need is someone from that little terror town.”
“The town is Canadian, Sir,” the officer pointed out.
“Right, which means the next best thing to communist,” responded the President, becoming more animated as he spoke. “Point is, we don’t have to try to get either of those two Equestrians. Kidnapping them was a stupid plan anyway. The generals never should have tried it.”
“But sir, those were your orders,” protested the colonel, whose name tag read ‘Austin’. “You told us to get you a pony.”
“I figured you would offer them a deal to show us about magic. That’s what business people do, you know? We make deals with people,” the President said, shaking his head in a disappointed fashion. “I never told anyone to kidnap one of those horses. Is ‘kidnap’ the right word? Or is ‘rustling’ better? Anyway, the point is, we don’t need a pony anymore. All we need is someone from Brightly.”
“So, you want me to get someone from the State Department?” Colonel Austin asked, a little confused.
“I can’t trust any of those people to do anything,” growled the President. “And even though you people screwed things up last time, at least you did something when I told you to. So, I want the military to come up with a plan to bring someone from that broke little town here to America, so they can teach us how to do magic.”
“Yes sir!” snapped out Austin, glad to have the chance to get out from under the gimlet eye of his commander-in-chief. “I’ll order Captain Rios to assemble his team.”
“No,” countermanded the President. “Anyone but that loser. He couldn’t even grab an unarmed horse from a town guarded by civilians. Get someone else.”
“Understood, Sir,” the soldier replied, turning to leave as a messenger from the afore-mentioned State Department arrived.
“Sir,” said the newcomer, a small man wearing a tweed suit. “The Canadians have sent us a copy of the Brightly Autonomous Zone treaty, and they would like to know when we’re going to ratify it.”
“I never sign anything without reading it,” the President responded, indignant. “You can just tell them that they need to wait until we have a look at this thing of theirs before they make it official.”
The officer closed the door behind him, glad to be out of the Oval Office. His bosses at the Pentagon weren’t going to be happy with this new mission they were being assigned, but at least he wouldn’t be involved in it. Especially when the one man who had, and still was having, direct experience with the Equestrians wasn’t allowed to be in on the new mission.
Maybe if they couldn’t have Rios on the team for this snafu, they could have him at least brief what was sure to be a failed mission. As Austin cleared the security checkpoint he was cheered by the thought that at least there was no particular lack of blundering incompetents that could be assigned to be in charge. The real problem was finding someone both capable enough to do the job, while being loathed enough that no one would care when they failed.
“So that’s pretty much it,” Rios was saying a few hours later to his visitor. “While the CAF presence is actually pretty low, Brightly doesn’t need much, and between the terrain, personal all-weather capability and hyper-mobility I’d personally recommend against any sort of ‘snatch and grab’ operation.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” replied the handsome man in his immaculate Rangers uniform. “I’ve read the AAR you gave after you were released from custody, and I’ve never read a more obvious piece of justification for a failure in all my life. If I had my way you would have been court-martialed for negligence and dereliction of duty.”
“Yes sir!” Rios shot back, his sarcasm selector moving to full auto. “You are correct, Sir! A plan should have been in to cover alien teleportation, airborne stealth surveillance and a complete breakdown of the laws of physics as we know them, Sir! Would the Major care to enlighten a poor stupid grunt as to how he would have handled the situation, Sir?”
“Don’t get smart with me, soldier,” snarled back the officer, whose precisely positioned name tag read “Donavich” but whose Ranger dress uniform seemed to lack the usual salad bars of qualification and award badges. “You screwed up, and now it’s time for Team Mercury to fix things.”
“Who?” Rios asked, confused.
“Me,” replied the officer, with a sneer. “You and your team were allowed to play fast and loose with the rules one too many times, and it finally caught up to you. Time for real soldiers to handle things.”
“I suppose your unit motto is ‘Gotta catch’em all’?” Rios asked, mouth running on autopilot.
“We just might at that,” the officer replied with a barely concealed sneer, as he opened the door of the small conference room at the USAMRIID base that Rios had called home ever since his return. “We certainly can’t do any worse than you did.”
“What an asshole,” Rios muttered, just managing to restrain his comment until after the officer had left.
“Asshole,” audibly murmured a nurse who entered the room a beat afterwards.
“I see you met my visitor,” Rios commented, with a rueful chuckle. “Who the hell was that idiot anyway.”
“That was Major Ebon Donavich,” supplied the army nurse, whose name flash read “Smythe”. “He’s ambitious, pig-headed and connected from here to Fort Bragg. Likes the callsign ‘Mercury’ because he thinks he deserves a place on Mount Olympus or something.”
“I take it you don’t agree,” Rios guessed, as the nurse gestured him out of the room and back toward his sleeping quarters.
“We’ve got another name for him,” Smythe replied, walking alongside Rios. “Sonofabitch.”
“Ha!” Rios burst out, his bark of laughter drawing looks from the dwindling number of staff on hand as day shifted to evening.
“If he wasn’t so connected he’d have been brought up on Article 120 charges long ago,” Smythe growled, as the pair turned a corner toward the Sleep Studies lab. “But apparently he’s got enough contacts in the Old Boy network to make the allegations go away.”
“You?” asked Rios, as the pair entered a small room outfitted with a bed and enough monitoring equipment to make your average science fiction fan squeal in glee.
“No, but I’ve lost a few members of my staff over the years because him,” the nurse stated, face set in a frown. “You know the drill. Shirt off, lay down and I’ll wire you up.”
“Sorry if I brought back bad memories,” apologized Rios, as he began to undo his uniform. “Do we really have to keep doing this? I’ve met with Princess Luna twice in my dreams and you guys never picked up anything odd.”
“Officially, no,” Smythe agreed, but Rios saw a twinkle of mischief flare to life in the nurse’s brown eyes. “Unofficially, me and the tech weenies noticed a marked tumescence on both occasions that you reported speaking with Princess Luna.”
“Tu—what?” queried Rios, confusion writ large on his face before it was obscured by the removal of his undershirt.
“Hard, soldier,” Smythe explained, as the mischief spread from her eyes to her mouth. “You got hard. That must be one sexy alien princess.”
“But… but… she’s a horse! I mean pony!” exclaimed Rios, blushing. “I mean… even if I wanted to do anything, which I don’t, we’re physically incompatible.”
“Talk to a Scottish sheepherder about physical incompatibility someday,” the nurse laughed, pushing Rios back onto his bed and beginning the process of slapping numerous electrodes to his body. Rios continued to sputter for a few moments before Smythe decided to have a bit of mercy on her charge.
“Hey, If there’s anything we do know about attraction it’s that looks are only one part of it,” Smythe said, as she began sticking electrodes around Rios’ forehead. “A lot of it has to do with personality and attitudes. Besides, she’s a princess, and from what I understand, pretty attractive by Equestrian standards. Besides, power is sexy.”
“Well as ponies go, Luna’s not bad looking, especially with that whole ‘Mistress of the Night’ vibe she’s got going,” Rios commented, trying to relax as much as he could with over a dozen electrodes stuck to his body at various locations. “But it’s not like I want to take advantage of her or anything.”
“The Russians used ‘honey traps’ all the time. Just keep asking yourself, ‘What would Captain Kirk do’?” chortled Smythe, passing Rios a cup filled with a pair of low strength sleeping tablets. “Buck up soldier, this is for science. The more we can study the Equestrians when they do their thing, the closer we get to understanding how they do it. It’s not like we want you to pump her for information or anything.”
“Just for the record, I don’t go in for that kind of bullshit,” Rios grumbled, downing the pills and trying to relax a bit. “I have no intention of seducing a foreign head of state, just to get information out of her.”
“Don’t worry, if anyone ordered you to do that I’ve got a feeling you would tell them to go pan fry a grenade,” Smythe reassured the captain. “You just keep on chatting with Luna and we’ll keep on monitoring you. We’ll keep any ‘reactions’ to just you and me.”
“Thanks, appreciate it,” Rios replied, a sudden thought sending a spike through his growing drowsiness.. “Hey, how much should I worry about that Donavich asshole?”
“You let me worry about Mercury,” ordered Smythe, as she dimmed the lights and got ready to leave the room. “All he knows how to do is fail upwards. You worry about not starting another interdimensional incident.”
“Good evening, Captain Rios,” Luna said, a seeming instant after the man had fallen asleep. “I hope this day has found you well?”
“Pretty much as well as can be expected considering I’m stuck in… uh, never mind,” Rios began, not willing to reveal that they were being monitored as much as was possible for human scientists.
“I sense you are being troubled by something, my soldier,” Luna commented, lying down beside Rios on what appeared to be a sandy beach. “Please, you can speak freely to me, with faith that I shall keep your confidences.”
“First off, Ma’am,” Rios shot back, realizing he was clad in only a pair of cargo shorts. “I’m not ‘your’ soldier. I’m an officer in the United States Army, not Equestria. If my chain of command seconds me to your orders, that’s fine, but until then I’m just Captain Rios to you.”
“My apologies, Captain Rios,” Luna said, bowing her head. “I misspoke. I had meant it as a term of endearment and not a pronouncement of any claim upon you.”
“Well, just watch it,” Rios continued, his face heating slightly. “I like you, I mean I like talking to you, but I can’t go around with people saying that I’m your anything.”
“Whyever not, Captain?” Luna asked, eyes wide, innocent and looking directly into Rios’ own. “Am I not your friend?”
“Well yeah, as much as we can be,” Rios allowed, hand scuffing at some sand. “I mean, you know I’m reporting everything we talk about, right?”
“I would be surprised if you weren’t,” Luna answered, leaning close and putting a hoof on Rios’ thigh. “You are loyal, brave and intelligent. Which is why I enjoy these conversations of ours. You are also honest, which is another quality I appreciate. So tell me, what is troubling you?”
“You know I can’t tell you everything, right?” Rios asked, putting his hand on Luna’s hoof.
“Naturally. Your nation entrusts you with secrets that I, as an outsider, should not know,” Luna answered, sneaking a look at where her hoof was trapped between Rios’ hand and thigh. “Even as I withhold some things about Equestria from you. We are not that close, as yet.”
“Princess,” Rios asked, his face only inches from Luna’s muzzle. “Are you physically attracted to me?”
“What?” Luna responded, confusion writ large on her face. “You mean… as if you were a stallion?”
“Yeah,” Rios said, plunging forward. “I mean if we found ourselves together, and we there wasn’t any reason for us not to.”
“If we were, for instance, on a beach with you sitting in but the smallest of clothing, while continued as I am,” Luna pressed, “Would I desire to have congress with you? Is that what you are asking?”
“Well, assuming everything worked uh, physically that—” Rios started to respond with, only to be cut off by the sparkling laughter of the lunar alicorn. “Hey! No laughing! I’m being serious here.”
“I’m sorry… sorry,” Luna replied, visibly suppressing her laughter into a single final snort. “It was just so unexpected, and you seemed so grimly serious about it. As if I were some sort of bastion whose walls you needed to penetrate. Is this what has you so troubled?”
“The tech weenies noticed that I sort of, ‘reacted’ to being around you,” Rios explained, “and it got me wondering if you had ‘reacted’ the same way.”
“Ah, I see,” Luna began, her eyes kind but serious. “My dear captain, there is nothing shameful in noticing the beauty of another, there is only shame in using that to be unkind to that other being.”
“That’s taking the long way around to answer my question, Ma’am,” Rios stated, with a “get on with it” look.
“Very well, direct then,” Luna said, nodding in acknowledgement. “Physically, I do not find your body attractive. You lack both hooves and tail, and your dimensions are quite frankly, other than what I am used to. However, I do greatly approve of your face and the person behind it, and unless I am greatly mistaken you have similar opinions regarding me.”
“I’d say you pretty much nailed it,” Rios replied, taking his hand off Luna’s hoof to rub his chin in thought. “I like you and all, but I was getting worried I was getting a little ‘horse happy’’ so to speak.”
“Think nothing of it, Captain,” Luna responded, before a glint of mischief lit in her eyes. “To be sure though, it has been a long time since I have taken a Royal Consort, and I am quite sure that if the spell was cast upon thee that thou would make for an attractive stallion.”
“Consort eh?” Rios countered, a smile crossing his face. “So you’re saying there’s a chance then?”
“Ha!” laughed Luna, and this time both mare and man laughed together as the tension evaporated. Afterwards Luna added on, “the point will be moot shortly as my sister’s student, Princess Twilight, intends to move the portal to Equestria above ground, as well as expanding it in size. If all goes well I will be returning home in a few days.”
“Will we still be able to meet like this after you go home?” Rios queried, as he leaned back.
“I do not know,” was Luna’s response. “The token of mine that you carry connects us, but I have never tried to dreamwalk across dimensions. We will simply have to see. So, last time we spoke you explained to me your ‘Constitution’ and how it came to be. Perhaps this night I can explain to you how Equestria sits among its neighbors such as the Crystal Empire, the city state of Griffonstone and the Dragon Lands.”
“I’d like that,” Rios answered, and listened as Luna began her explanation of Equestrian foreign policy, secretly glad all the while that he had been able to conceal his concern over whatever scheme “Mercury” was coming up with regards to Brightly and the Equestrians.
“Anyhow, so that’s why we need your help, Zecora,” Applebloom said, standing with her friends beside the zebra shaman’s bubbling cauldron.
“So, let me see if I have this right,” Zecora mused, tilting her head toward her young student. “You want a potion to enhance an alicorn’s might. But I wonder how I am supposed to avoid an outcome tragic, wrought by supercharging the Element of Magic?”
“She had the magic of all of Equestria once,” Scootaloo fired back. “There’s no way she could get messed up from her own magic.”
“Those were desperate chances, taken in the direst of circumstances,” explained Zecora. “Perhaps if you explained what Twilight was going to do, we could come up with a brew that would suit you.”
“Princess Twilight is going to make the portal to Earth a lot bigger,” began Sweetie Belle, stepping forward to join her friends, “and she wants to move the far end of it up out of the mine, where it is now.”
“That truly is a mighty deed, and so now I understand your need,” the monochromatic mare mused. “But to give Twilight a surge of power, could make her lose control and have things go sour.”
“Isn’t there any way we could help?” Applebloom asked, eyes wide and sincere. “The Princess said once she got the portal wider we could go over and visit, maybe even go to school there.”
“As usual, your motives are beyond reproach, but I think we need to try a different approach,” Zecora replied, and to the Crusaders relief, began to gather various herbs and sundries. “I believe if we can put together a potion based in laurel, we can help Princess Twilight by applying a brew to the portal.”
“Yay!” cheered all three. “Cutie Mark Crusader Portal Helpers!”
“This will take time, and we don’t want to give your guardians a fright,” cautioned the shaman, gathering up a mortar and pestle. “Let them know you are fine, and that you are going to be with me all night.”
“Thanks Zecora!” Scootaloo cried, impulsively giving the big mare a hug. “We really appreciate it.”
“I care for you too,” Zecora said, returning the hug. “But hurry, we have much to do.”
As the shadows loomed high and the moon wobbled into the sky, a hut in the Everfree buzzed with activity as Zecora and her young apprentice worked to create an alchemy that would help bend a bridge between time and space. Zecora was a mistress of her craft, and Applebloom was a talented prodigy, but neither of them noticed when Sweetie Belle accidentally passed them a couple of vials of saltpeter instead of salt and pepper...
“Sir! Sir!” shouted a suited man as he burst into the White House library. “We found—”
“Stop,” commanded the president, interrupting the man and holding up one hand to stop the aide while another gripped a smartphone. “I need to finish this tweet. ‘Canada’s selfish PM is keeping all the ponies for himself. SAD! He needs to share our visitors with the world’.”
“Sir, you told us to tell you—” the man began, again trying to deliver his message.
“That’s it. You never interrupt your president,” the older, thickly built man said, his tone harsh and admonishing. “Get out. You’re fired.”
“But sir!” wailed the man.
“Security!” bellowed the president, who appeared almost instantly on either side of the messenger. “Get this man out of here. I never want to see his face again.”
“Sir! We found them!” shouted the man, desperate to at least deliver his message. “We found the gems.”
“Hold up a second,” ordered the president, just as the Secret Service had the messenger halfway out the door. “What gems?”
“The Equestrian gems,” replied the man, trying to shake free of the men who had ahold of him but finding it useless. “Some of the businesses in the New York Diamond District got together and compared records. They figured out where three of the gems that Princess Celestia sent to Earth have gotten to.”
“Let him go,” the president commanded the Secret Service men, who released their charge, but stood by just in case. “Where are they?”
“Two of them, a sapphire and a ruby, are owned by a private collector in Nevada,” answered the messenger, taking a deep breath of relief.
“And the third?” demanded the president, eyes narrowing intently.
“Here sir,” said the man, reaching into a pocket and freezing as a pair of SIG-Sauer P229 pistols appeared in his face.
“Slowly, sir,” cautioned one of the agents, catching a nod of permission from “Mogul,” his primary.
With extremely exaggerated care, the messenger pulled a velvet jewellery box from his coat pocket and held it out. The other agent intercepted the reaching hand of the president by simply plucking the box out of the messenger’s hand before the president could grab it, and examined the container quickly for coated toxins, needles or any other potential threats.
“Sorry sir,” apologized the agent, passing on the box only when he was reasonably sure “Mogul” wouldn’t come to any harm from it.
“About time,” grumbled the president, taking the box and opening it. The sour look on the American leader’s face changed to one of curiosity as an orange-red crystal looked back up at him from the box. “I thought you said this was a gemstone. I know gems, and this isn’t a gem. What are you trying to pull?”
“Sir, it’s a sunstone, a type of feldspar,” the man responded, hiding his disappointment that the president didn’t recognize the mineral. “Can you make think of a better stone for a Princess of the Sun to use?”
“And you say this is magical?” the president asked, plucking the stone from the box and holding it up to the light. “How do we know?”
“Other than the paper trail? Shine a laser pointer at it, Sir,” replied the messenger. “It’s incredible.”
One of the briefing tools was quickly handed to the president, who after setting the sunstone down a desk, wasted no time in sending a beam of coherent light into the mineral, which promptly responded by glowing with a heatless flickering light that illuminated the entire room. Despite the room being fully lit by overhead lights, the orange and red glow from the stone easily outshone the man made illumination by bathing the room in the colours of a campfire.
“This is just what we needed. Well done,” the president said, congratulating the messenger with a clap on the shoulder. “Get this to the boys at DARPA. Once we figure out how these work, magic will make America great again.”
Foxfire woke up to an extreme close up of her bedroom floor and an aching nose. Pushing herself up with her forehooves, she looked back at her bed, barely lit by the first glow of the coming day and saw a taut piece of clothesline stretching from one bedpost to her left rear hoof.
You were controlling my body in my sleep, weren’t you? was the growled thought the unicorn sent within herself, even as she used her magic to untie the loose knot keeping the rope coiled around her pastern. You gave me your word you wouldn’t try anything like this.
I said I would not, unless lives were at stake, came the Umbral’s reply, from it’s home deep in the fabric of the pony’s mind. I have kept my word.
The chill that swept through Foxfire quenched her fiery rage is if it had never been, as she realized the Umbral’s meaning. Who?
You must attend to your consort with haste, my host, provided the Umbral. He has done something… excessively impossible, I fear.
To the end of her days, as either Foxfire or Jean Pedersen, the unicorn would never be able to remember how she got from her bedroom to the workshop garage of Arnold Kye. And though others would later report a series of charred, pony shaped holes through each and every door that had stood between Foxfire and her Iron Heart, Foxfire only knew that one moment she was in her bedroom, and in the next heartbeat she was standing over the fallen body of the other half of her soul.
“ARN!” ripped the shout from Foxfire’s muzzle as she dived forward to check his body. Relief filled the unicorn as even her admittedly poor medical skills were able to detect a pulse.
What’s happened to him? the white unicorn asked the Umbral. What’s going on here?
I can learn that, and perhaps be of aid, my host, replied the dark spirit of sorcery. But you must allow me control of your body and magic for a short period.
NO! Foxfire fired back, with instant and furious denial. I will never let anything or anyone use me against my will again. NEVER!
This will not be done against your will, the Umbral reasoned, its words soft as silk, But rather by it. You shall be as my Queen, giving needed tools to I, your lowly servant.
Wait, what? asked Foxfire, fear beginning to grip and confuse her as she realized that Iron Heart’s breathing was gently slowing down.
Your Majesty, the Umbral began deferentially, Please allow your humble aid access to the tools needed to discover the condition of your consort, and possibly to render aid to him, before it is too late. I swear, I shall return control of your body and magic to you within one minute.
One minute? Foxfire asked, worry over Iron Heart rapidly eroding her determination. You swear it?
I do, my Queen affirmed the creature. One minute and no more, unless you directly ask me to remain.
Alright. Do it, commanded the unicorn, bracing herself.
A moment later Foxfire felt a strange pressure against her eyes and almost a “pop” of disconnection, as the Umbral pushed her consciousness back from being the dominant force in their mind. Had someone else been in the workshop at the time, they would have seen the white unicorn change her entire posture, adopting a regal pose and poise, even as wisps of a dark purple haze began to leak from the corner of her eyes and her horn.
The Umbral called magic to itself, inhaling as it did so with a smile of deep satisfaction on its face. For a moment the creature just held itself there, simply savouring the touch of reality again before letting loose an echoing pulse of magic into the workshop. A delicate eyebrow raised at the six returning echoes that bounced back from Iron Heart and the five freshly minted blades that lay around him like a fan.
Well? demanded Foxfire in the shared vault of their mind. What’s wrong with him?
“He is dying, my Queen,” replied the Umbral aloud, revelling in the sound of its voice, rich and full. “He has expended all his strength, all of his magic, and more beyond even that. He simply has nothing left with which to sustain his life.”
Is there anything we can do? Foxfire asked, trying not to sound desperate.
“Yes, but I warn you, there will be a price,” stated the Umbral, still speaking aloud for the sheer joy of it. The bright cheery tones at complete odds with their grim surroundings.
Name it, Foxfire commanded, suspecting what the Umbral was going to say.
“You lack the knowledge and control necessary to bolster his life with your magic, without blowing Iron Heart apart. However, it is just such a magical infusion of strength that is needed to preserve his life until other aid can arrive,” the Umbral stated plainly. “Had you allowed me to teach you how to forge your crown, you would have the power and focus necessary to the task, even without training. But you did not, and so this is now the only option.”
What. Do you want? grated out Foxfire, instinctively knowing the Umbral was right and hating the creature for it.
“Permission to remain in control of your body and your magic until medical help arrives and takes over,” replied the creature.
The being that had been Jean Pedersen froze as a thousand suppressed memories bore through her, as fresh and raw as when she had first experienced those moments of time. Of the man she had once loved and married, only to learn that he was a shell of a man that hid a monster inside. Of how that monster had used and abused her, controlling her through mental and physical pain, every moment of every day.
She remembered how that beast had used modern technology to make her little more than a slave in her own home, threatening the lives of herself and her infant daughters if she disobeyed him in the slightest. And she remembered of how the Old Ways had been her salvation. Of how the magic and ways of a wood witch had given her both a way out and the will to use it.
Very well, Foxfire answered, her voice and will now steeled by those memories of trials past. You have my permission to remain in control, but only until medical personnel take over. And if you try to keep me bottled up in my own mind for one second more than necessary you can be sure that I will make you regret it.
“I understand, my Queen,” acknowledged the Umbral, who began moving various bits of bric-a-brac away from the fallen earth pony with speed and precision. That is until it went to move one of the five bronze swords to one side and froze in place, magic aura a hoof width away from the golden blade.
Why are you stopping? asked Foxfire, watching from behind smokey purple eyes. Hurry up and help him!
“In Nomine Nocte,” Foxfire heard whispered from lips she no longer controlled, as a body she no longer controlled used a piece of dowling to push the offending blade away. “I am sorry, my Queen. I was just clearing a workspace.”
To Foxfire’s intense relief she saw a dark purple haze begin to flow out of her body and into Iron Hoof. Immediately his breathing began to steady and deepen as magic flowed into him, bolstering and strengthening the fallen pony.
“We are in time,” declared the Umbral, continuing to stream power in a steady, measured flow. “Your consort will live and though he is not a unicorn or a mage, I now declare him to be worthy of your greatness and a proper sire for your foals.”
What brought this on? Foxfire asked, relief allowing curiosity to blossom. Up until now you’ve barely tolerated him, or any other pony that isn’t a unicorn for that matter. What’s changed?
“I have listened to your conversations with your pegasus servants across the street,” replied the Umbral, still speaking aloud as it referred to the Hardings. “I have heard Thunder refer to some of your ancient weapons of power and legend. Durandel, Gungnir, Gram, Kusanagi, and Excalibur, for example.”
And? prompted Foxfire, getting an odd feeling of disbelieving wonder from the Umbral.
“And this night, your Iron Heart has forged such blades,” stated the Umbral, regarding each golden blade in turn. “Not once, but five times. Though even the attempt should have been impossible, though the effort should have cost him his life, he has created weapons truly worthy of you and and your progeny. A word of warning, however.”
Oh? Foxfire asked.
“Do not allow anyone to touch the blades, even with magic, until all of those meant to wield these weapons are present,” cautioned the Umbral. “Even then, be sure that you are present as well. I will teach you the necessary spell matrix needed to prevent disaster.”
What? Why? demanded Foxfire’s consciousness, frustration growing at what the Umbral was telling her.
“When Iron Heart made these blades, he was… he did not… I am not sure how to explain this to you so you can understand it,” began the Umbral.
Try, Foxfire growled back. and call Medevac while you’re at it.
“Yes, my Queen,” obediently responded the Umbral, plucking an old style handset from its mounting rack on the shop wall. “The best way that I can describe the situation is that Iron Heart managed to rip five shards of pure magic from the aether, and physically bind them into the bodies of the weapons he forged. They are unfixed, raw, in pain, and bleeding from being dragged from their proper place in the scheme of things to a realm foreign to them.”
Are they alive then? Foxfire asked, anger abating now that she was getting her asked for explanation.
“It is one of those things that is hard to explain. They are, yet they are not. The shards do not think, they have neither hopes nor dreams, but they do feel. And at this moment what they feel is the pain of separation from their home, and they will attempt to bury that pain in whatever living thing touches them. A moment,” the Umbral explained as it dialed a number into the phone, and spoke as the line connected. “Lady Medevac, your skills are required at the workshop of Iron Heart. Your Queen commands you attend her there immediately.”
You didn’t have to be so… demanding, Foxfire commented, as her puppetted body hung the phone back up. A little politeness wouldn’t have hurt.
“She is a member of your court, as is Lady Windweaver,” the Umbral said, as if to a particularly slow student. “You already command their allegiance. It is within your rights to command their obedience as well, particularly in matters of import.”
There is a difference between “command” and “demand”, remonstrated Foxfire, using the exact same tone the Umbral had used on her. Go on with your explanation, please.
“As you say, my Queen,” answered the Umbral, its tone meeker as it accepted the mild rebuke. “Iron Heart forged each blade with a specific individual in mind, and because the shards are now a part of those weapons, they are attuning themselves to that purpose. Should any but the intended wielder pick them up, the shards will react… violently.”
Dear Artemis, breathed Foxfire, or would have had she needed to breath. Will they always be like that?
“Only time will tell, or divulge what virtues and virulences the shards carry with them, into this world,” answered the Umbral, pausing for a moment to listen. “Good. Lady Medevac approaches swiftly, obeying the command of her Queen.”
A few heartbeats later a red and white winged pegasus appeared in the doorway, her heaving sides wrapped in a harness festooned with pouches, all of which bore the red cross of her calling. Pausing in place to survey the scene, and tilting her head in curiosity at the dark purple mist flowing from Foxfire to Iron Heart, Medevac spoke two words by way of greeting; “What happened?”
“No word of greeting for your Queen?” chastised the Umbral Foxfire. “Not even a display of fealty upon your arrival at your sovereign’s summons?”
“Foxfire? Jean?” asked Medevac, confused. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you okay? What about Iron Heart? What happened?”
Foxfire opened her mouth to respond, but paused for a moment, tilting her head as if listening to something before actually speaking, “I am your Queen’s servant, the Umbral. Our Queen is allowing me to control her body and her power so that we may sustain the life of her consort, Iron Hoof, with our magic. Your skills are needed in order to take my place so that your Queen may return to control her body.”
“Oookay,” replied Medevac, warily as her trained eye looked for any dangers in the room. “What happened?”
“We found him collapsed like this,” the Umbral began, laying out what had been believed to have happened and what had been done before finishing with, “when this is done, I would be pleased to show you the proper bow of a pegasus to her Queen. It is a thing of grace and beauty.”
“I’m Canadian, we already have a queen,” was Medevac’s almost absent response as she brushed her feathers along the length of Iron Heart’s body. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. His blood sugar is zero, and his system isn’t even trying to metabolize any of his fat reserves... Which are completely gone as well.”
“Can you help him?” asked Umbral Foxfire, intensely. “Our Queen is most insistent that you do all in your power to save her consort.”
“It’s just a matter of giving his body a kickstart along with some fuel to burn,” Medevac said, slapping the quick release of her harness and laying out her gear. “Once we get him conscious again, all we need to do is get enough calories into his system to sustain him until good old food can take over.”
Medevac had practiced long and diligently to retrain her medical skills for what she considered to be her true body, and it showed as her wings and feathers moved automatically, opening pouches and drawing out the equipment needed to run a field IV. BC Emergency Health Services had insisted that Medevac redo her qualification test as a “Primary Care Paramedic,” and had been so impressed at her skill and experience that they had bumped her up to “Community Paramedic,” making her officially in charge of the physical health of Brightly.
“Give me the phone,” demanded Medevac, now in full doctor mode as she effortlessly slid a needle into a waiting vein in Iron Heart’s leg.
“I beg your pardon,” replied Umbral Foxfire, in an offended tone. “Is that any way to speak to your Queen?”
“Give me the damn phone!” snapped Medevac, to the Umbral, who passed it over in fuming silence.
Never get in the way of a physician with a patient, Foxfire told the Umbral, laughter in her mental voice. They don’t give a damn about hurt feelings, just hurt bodies.
She needs some time under rein and a bridle to teach her respect for her betters, snarled the Umbral. In Unicornia, they would flog—
YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING! thundered Foxfire, her voice a whip crack of fury.
My Queen! protested the Umbral. Such disrespect cannot go unpunished.
The person of a physician is sacrosanct, Foxfire shot back. It is one of humanity’s oldest and most highly regarded traditions, that those who heal will be protected and respected by ALL. You will under NO CIRCUMSTANCES break that convention, and besides, she’s my friend.”
As you command, my Queen, replied the Umbral, grumpily.
“See you in a bit, Kevin,” Medevac finished saying into the phone, oblivious to the byplay going on between the Umbral and Foxfire. “Okay, Kevin should be here with the bus in about five minutes or so. The plan is to treat him like a diabetic in hypoglycemic shock along with a couple of stimulants to kickstart his metabolism.”
“And this will restore him?” queried the Umbral, tilting Foxfire’s head in curiosity.
“It should, I’m running an IV of dextrose into him now,” said Medevac, one red and white wing hanging a clear bag on a small base stand she had set up. “We’ll give that a minute to get into his system and see if that perks him up. If not, I’ll follow it up with the stimulant.”
“What should I do?” asked Umbral Foxfire, as it intently studied Medevac and her equipment, even as it continued to keep the steady stream of magic flowing into Iron Heart.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing for now,” replied Medevac, one wing draped softly along the length of Iron Heart’s body. “C’mon big guy, don’t make a liar out of me.”
For many long seconds silence filled the slowly brightening workshop as the dawn continued its slow but constant approach. The seconds dragged into a minute, and then two. Medevac was just beginning to reach for a syringe from her drug box, when Iron Heart drew in a long shuddering breath, followed by a second equally deep but far clearer inhalation as the eyes of the downed metalworker flickered to life.
“Uhhh, wha’ hap’?” Iron Heart asked, trying to get a hoof underneath him, only to be gently but firmly flattened to the ground by Medevac.
“Oh no you don’t,” Medevac commanded. “You just lie there nice and easy and let your favorite paramedic pegasus pony do her job. Foxfire, his stats are starting to come up nicely and I think we’re past the crisis. You can stop whatever it is you were doing to keep him going.”
“As you wish, Lady Medevac,” Umbral Foxfire replied, and the flow of dark purple mist from the white unicorn slowed and then stopped. “Make sure no one touches any of the blades forged by the Royal Consort. They are not safe.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Medevac replied absently, her concentration focused on her patient.
Okay, Iron Hoof is out of danger and Medevac has taken over, Foxfire stated, trying to push forward from behind the Umbral’s eyes and finding no traction at all. Time to put me back in the driver’s seat.
Yes. I did give you my word I would put you back in control now, didn’t I? asked the Umbral, rhetorically.
Right, so any time now would be good, Foxfire said, cold chains of fear wrapping around her heart, as her words went unanswered in a mindscape that suddenly felt much emptier than it had a moment ago…
The rising sun touched the spire at the top of Twilight’s castle, sending a prismatic spray of rainbow light as a false dawn to the green sward of land that lay between the edifice of Harmony and the town of Ponyville. It also allowed the light of Celestia’s sun to make its way through the castle and full upon the face of certain purple alicorn princess who lay face down at her work table amidst the debris of a thousand laboriously made, and then discarded calculations.
The bright light slowly but surely penetrated the pony’s tightly shut eyelids, dragging the sleeping mind of Twilight Sparkle back to a begrudged wakefulness.
“Good morning, Twilight,” Starlight Glimmer pleasantly chirped as she entered the room, a white paper bag held in her magical grip.
“GRffmda,” was the eloquent response from the alicorn.
“I’ve got fresh take-out from Donut Joe!” Starlight enthused, waving the bag held in her aura.
“Sssspiiiiiiike,” Twilight groaned, in a voice near a moan. “Spiiiiiiike!”
“Coming Twilight!” cried the drake, stopping as he perceived the state of his friend. “Wow, what is that, three all-nighters in a row?”
“You need sleep, Twilight,” Starlight firmly said, putting aside the bag of sugary treats. “Bed. Now.”
“Nuh-uh, gotta move portal,” responded the alicorn, summoning up what wakefulness she had. “Just need coffee. Spike, activate the ‘Caffeine-inator’.”
“What the hay is a ‘Caffeine-inator’?” Starlight asked the small dragon, who was moving to a side alcove.
“It’s some kinda weird gizmo Twilight bought off a pony named ‘Goofenschmirtz’, or something like that,” Spike replied, sliding up the panel to reveal a massive device whose body was nearly covered in pipes, condensers, gauges and flashing lights. “Twilight says it makes coffee twenty percent stronger.”
“Blech, give me a mug of hot cocoa anytime,” said Starlight, making a face.
“Hey Twilight, which blend do you want me to use?” Spike called back over his shoulder. “We got Yak-yakistan Light Roast, Detrot Decaf, Canterlot Cream Dream, and Seaddle’s Best.”
“Open up the bean vault, Spike,” Twilight ordered, groaning. “Open up the jar of Zebrican Walking Dead.”
“Geez Twilight, I dunno,” waffled the drake. “Isn’t that the stuff that kept Luna up for a week?”
“Coffee. Now,” growled Twilight.
“Okay, okay,” was Spike’s placating answer. “Don’t have to be so grouchy about it.”
“Sorry Spike,” apologized Twilight, collapsing in a chair near a blackboard that was filled with esoteric equations. “I was up all night trying to work out these energy transformations for today, and it still isn’t right.”
“Maybe I can help?” Starlight offered, watching with some amusement as Twilight’s number one assistant undid an increasingly esoteric set of locks to open up the “bean vault” where the Princess of Friendship kept her most prized coffee blends.
“Well, take a look at this,” Twilight responded, brain kicking into soggy gear as she explained what was on the blackboard. “Every time I try to resolve the equation for spin and charge, the dimensional manifold pinches off before anything can pass through it.”
“And you get a white hole energetic discharge from both sides,” Starlight concluded, causing Twilight’s face to brighten as her student once again demonstrated how she was Twilight’s match in many ways. “Have you tried eliminating spin and charge completely?”
“That’s what most portals do, which is why they are usually set in an enchanted frame of some sort,” Twilight explained, as the “Caffeine-inator” chugged away in the background. “The frame literally holds open the throat of the passageway.”
“Wait, I’ve got it!” cried out Starlight. “Your equations are all based on the same assumption. That both ends of the portal are in the same universe, but they’re not! Earth is in a completely different universe!”
“What’s that mean?” Twilight asked, mind too foggy to make the connection.
“It means—” Starlight began, only to stop as Spike handed a frothing crystal mug of some sort of non-euclidean black liquid to Twilight.
“Give me a second,” Twilight said, as she touched the brew in her hoof with her magic and recited, “It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion. It is by the beans of Java the thoughts acquire speed, the hooves acquire shaking, the shaking becomes a warning. It is by caffeine alone I set my mind in motion.”
There was a burst of light and an instant later mug and brew were both gone, fuel for the alicorn who stood before the pair of mere mortals. Twilight’s mane and tail were gone as well, replaced by sheets of living purple flames. Eyes that burned as bright as any star turned back to the blackboard and a mind powered to 120% of its maximum capacity easily saw the conclusion that Starlight had been about to state.
“Yes! Yes, I see it!” Turbo Boosted Twilight crowed. “It’s so obvious! By eliminating the non-orthogonal quantum states and differentiating between proper and improper mixtures through the addition of the energy state of a different universe to the problem, we completely eliminate the destructive positive feedback of virtual particles, and introduce non-linearity to the entire system! You’re brilliant, Starlight!”
“Uh… Thanks?” replied Starlight, following the gist of what her teacher was saying but not the full context.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Twilight cried, bouncing up and down as her physical form returned to normal. “Where ‘ds’ is proper time and ‘c’ equals one, all we have to do is replace ‘r’ with ‘u’ in ‘u’ squared equals ‘r’ minus two ‘m’. Once we do that, a hyperplane bridge is formed and we can do whatever we want with the openings of the portal!”
“Don’t forget, the energy levels of the manifolds on either side have to cancel each other out. So, your readings of Earth’s magical constant will be critical,” Starlight cautioned. “Otherwise the whole thing could still blow up in our faces.”
“Having the Crusaders go through when we bring Celestia and Luna back should help balance thing’s nicely too,” Twilight enthused, dragging up another chalkboard to add equations to. “We should weigh them before we send them through though, just to make sure the masses are equal.”
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m going back to bed,” Spike groused, realizing he was now completely forgotten by both mages. “Next time, I’m making her decaf.”
“I am the bone of my sword,” Iron Heart intoned solemnly, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “Bone, bone, boney bone sword.”
“No more Crunchyroll nights at the firehall for you, Mister,” Medevac commented, quieting the giggling pony smith through the simple method of squeezing some sugar laden gel into his mouth from an emergency packet.
“How bad is he?” asked Kevin Banta as he prepared the ambulance’s stretcher to carry the enervated Iron Heart to Brightly’s small clinic.
“Believe it or not, this is an improvement,” Medevac replied, frowning at the results of another diagnostic sweep of her wings. “His blood sugar levels are maybe a one or one-point-five, and that’s after running in a full bag of dextrose.”
“Shit, he’s not a closet diabetic or anything is he?” Banta asked, trying to recall what he knew of his fellow fireman’s medical history.
“Not as of six months ago when I did all our physicals, he isn’t. Could be a case of overwork trying to make those,” Medevac swept a wing to point out the five blades that glowed like molten fire as the sun’s first rays touched them. “Foxfire, you have any idea what Iron Heart was doing in particular? Anything he might have done or touched, or even magiced up, to have triggered a reaction like this?”
Silence greeted the question and the paramedic pegasus glanced upwards to see the white unicorn standing completely still, her smokey eyes staring out into space.
“Right,” Medevac stated matter of factly, as she and Kevin quickly shared a look.
More than once the paramedic had seen relatives of a victim “check out” during an emergency, becoming completely unresponsive, and even though it was completely out of character for either Jean Pedersen or Foxfire to shut down in a crisis, there was a first time for everything and Medevac’s training was to deal with the individual in greater danger first.
“Kevin,” Medevac ordered, in her ‘official’ voice. “Get Iron Heart loaded up and to the clinic. Keep giving him sugar both orally and by IV until he’s up to at least double his current levels. I’ll clean up the scene and follow on. Got it?”
“Transport and administer oral and intravenous sugar until levels reach three point oh, or higher. Got it,” Kevin replied, repeating the order to make sure there was no miscommunication.
“Also, check his blood sugar every ten minutes in case I’m delayed. We’re barely making headway against whatever’s thrown his metabolism into overdrive,” Medevac cautioned. “We’ve got to keep pouring in the fuel to feed his fire, but we can’t overshoot either, or we’ll throw him into hyperglycemic shock.”
“Not my first rodeo,” Kevin quipped, getting ready to lift the supine pony. “On three. One, two…”
With the smoothness of drilled practice Banta lifted Iron Heart the short hop onto the stretcher while Medevac simultaneously lifted her patient’s IV and other necessaries along with him. Swift motions secured the still delirious metal worker to his conveyance and inside of sixty seconds Iron Heart was being slid into the waiting ambulance. Less than a second minute’s passing found the stretcher itself secured in place and Kevin settling into the driver’s seat.
“Right, heading out,” Kevin stated, before jerking his chin back toward the door of the workshop garage. “You gonna check on Foxfire too?”
“Yeah, it’s not like her to freeze up like this,” Medevac answered, concern in her voice.
“It’s been a long time since she’s let anyone get as close to her as Arn has,” Kevin noted, starting the engine. “Seeing it all come apart might have made her come apart a bit too. Don’t be surprised if you don’t recognize her right now.”
“Yeah,” Medevac said, chewing her lip for a second before shaking herself and getting her train of thought in order again. “Get going. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“See you soon,” was Kevin’s answer, not quite sending gravel flying as he left his friend’s home.
“Okay then,” Medevac said, to no one in particular as she headed back into the garage, where Foxfire stood exactly where she had for the past several minutes in wide eyed silence.
“Hey, Foxfire,” Medevac said, waving a hoof in front of the unicorn’s face. “Foxfire… Jean… Hey, it’s gonna be fine. We got to Iron Heart in time, he’s gonna be okay. You in there?”
“Hit me,” Foxfire whispered.
“What?” Medevac asked, thoroughly confused.
“Hit me,” Foxfire said, anger in her voice but her body still motionless.
“Are you nuts?” Medevac gasped, wondering if some sort of joke was being played on her. “Why the hell should I hit you?”
“Because I am stuck,” growled the unicorn. “I need the pain of a physical blow to return your Queen to her proper place. “
“Back up the truck, buddy,” Medevac protested. “I am not—”
“You will obey,” Umbral Foxfire commanded, magic flaring as the entirety of Medevac’s world became the smoke filled eyes of Foxfire.
“I… I... “ Medevac stuttered, as she tried to tear herself away from the dread gaze of the Umbral. The strength of her will may as well have been smoke trapped in a bottle for all the good it did her.
“You. Will. O. Bey. Me,” again commanded the Umbral, and any resistance Medevac had was crushed like a beer can under a tidal wave of power.
“I will obey you,” replied Medevac, her voice monotonous, ears listless and drooping, mind completely frozen in place.
“Who am I?” Umbral Foxfire asked, her magic infused voice quick but firm.
“You are my Queen,” Medevac stated, the answers supplied to her and engraved into the deep places of her mind. “Foxfire, Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond.”
“Who are you?” asked the Umbral, the responses of Medevac’s mind to the question showing the dark creature where it needed to scribe the pathways of power into its new minion.
“Medevac, your loyal servant,” Medevac answered, the replies given to her now a part of her psyche.
“In a moment I will command you to strike me. After you do so, you will forget this conversation and your subservience to my will, until such time as your Queen refers to herself as ‘Nytefyre’,” commanded Umbral Foxfire, her confident tones belying the tension as it strove to ensure both Medevac’s mental domination, and keep its host in the dark as to what was going on. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, my Queen,” Medevac replied, her body completely slack, held up only by the psychic grip on her mind requiring her to stay upright.
“Also, you will show proper deference to your Queen from now on,” added the creature, hastily. “Now, strike me in the head with enough force to either stun or render me unconscious. Do this NOW!”
Medevac’s wing swept up in a powerful arc and delivered a mighty buffet directly to the point of Foxfire’s right jaw. The blow launched the unicorn off of her hooves, sending her crashing into a nearby workbench where grime and soot soiled her shining white coat. Silence reigned for several moments in the shop until both mares blinked and seemed to come to their senses.
“What the hell?” Foxfire demanded, rolling to her belly and rubbing her jaw. “What’s going on?”
“What did I...” Medevac began to ask herself, looking from her still upraised wing to the fallen body of Foxfire. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“What just happened?” Foxfire asked. “Everything went dark for a bit there, and now I’m on the floor and—Ow.”
My apologies to you and Lady Medevac both, supplied the Umbral, returned to its home in the back of Foxfire’s mind. As embarrassing as this is to admit… I made a mistake.
“Hang on a second,” Foxfire asked Medevac, who froze in mid-step on her way toward the fallen unicorn. “I’m getting an explanation.”
We Umbral are not used to giving up what we have made ours, unless we are forced to do so, explained the sorcerous being. So, when I attempted to keep my given word and surrender control of your body back to you, I found myself unable to do so. This caused your consciousness to be stuck between.
“And what does this have to do with me having a sore jaw?” Foxfire asked angrily.
I reasoned that a blow would both shake my grip and allow me to “surrender” my place back to you, continued the Umbral. I was correct, of course. Once Medevac struck us I was able to yield to your will, and allow you to resume your place in charge of our body.
Getting up to her hooves, Foxfire relayed the information to Medevac, who immediately finished dashing over to examine her friend.
“No concussion, but you’re probably going to have a nice bruise there in a bit,” Medevac said, after a much softer sweep of her wings. “Why the hell can’t I remember hitting you? I remember the whatsit telling me to, and me arguing. The next thing I know, you’re on the floor.”
Please convey my apologies to Lady Medevac, requested the Umbral. Her loyalty to you was such that she refused to strike you, so in order to keep my sworn word, I’m afraid I used magic to compel her to obey. It will not happen again.
“YOU DID WHAT?!” shouted Foxfire, causing Medevac to shrink away as if expecting to be hit herself.
I am required to keep my word to you, the Umbral stated calmly. Our agreements allow me to take action to keep true to those contracts, and so I did. I regret the necessity of my action but it was required. You should probably relay this to Lady Medevac, before she tries to flee our presence.
Wait, what? Foxfire asked, before looking outside of herself to see a cringing Medevac, huddled against a wall.
“Rise Medevac, for you have done no wrong,” commanded the white unicorn, the order and phrasing feeling right somehow. “The Umbral made you hit my body so that I could come back. It’s okay. We’re good.”
“You sure?” Medevac asked, to which Foxfire nodded. “I dunno, I feel like I should be doing that bow thing, or something.”
“Well, if you really want to,” Foxfire laughed, before relaying how. “Head and forequarters down, both forelegs out in front. Hindquarters up, with both wings arched forward and parallel to the ground. Oh, and the tips of your outermost primaries should just touch the ground in front of you.”
Medevac followed the instructions, red and white feathers forming a graceful arc to either side of her, and even Foxfire had to admit that the pose suited the pegasus to a T. Then, the Umbral whispered something to Foxfire that turned her white furred cheeks a rosy red.
“What?” Medevac asked, watching her friend’s entire face blush. “What am I doing wrong?”
“Just… just… Oh Goddess, put your tail down,” Foxfire begged, before muttering, “Thanks a ton Umbral, I’m never going to be able to unsee that now.”
Medevac’s tail had already slammed down to the ground to cover her hindquarters when she asked, “Do I want to know?”
“Apparently,” Foxfire began, slowly beginning to recover herself, “a raised tail in that pose means that you’re offering your body to me. As—”
“Oh God!” Medevac laughed, and it was her turn to fight off a furious blush as she broke position trying to cover her flaming face with her wings. “I mean you’re— You’re my qu— You’re engaged!”
Both ponies laughed and hugged as mutual embarrassment broke the tension and drama of minutes before. Neither of them were able to note the pleased satisfaction of the Umbral watching the scene from inside the mind of the unicorn that had been Jean Pedersen. A problem had been turned into an opportunity, and a seed had been planted and nurtured that would in time, bear precious fruit for the magical being when it decided to truly step forth into this world.
Flying westward, the Gulfstream G700 winged its way across the continental United States at 30,000 feet. The gleaming white jet was the new flagship of its manufacturer and had rolled out of its birth hanger only a few weeks earlier. Hurtling high overhead, the aircraft was the epitome of modern technology with all of the latest refinements. Inside the plane’s cabin however, things were transpiring that were nearly as old as humanity itself.
“Okay people,” Ebon Donavich began, sitting in the excessively comfortable chair. “I’d like to start off this briefing by thanking Officer Piet… Pet… Pyetro—”
“Call me ‘Prism’,” supplied the pale skinned woman, seated near the large flat screen mounted on the rear bulkhead of the passenger cabin. Her immaculate white blouse covered her torso, but still showed off an impressive bust. “It’s easier for you non-Slavs to say.”
“As I was saying,” the major continued, fixing the woman with a condescending look. “I’d like to thank Officer Pjetrovic from the CIA for supplying the transport for this mission.”
“The Agency has a vested interest in helping out with the President’s request that a pony, or at least someone who uses magic, comes to the United States,” said a woman with exotic asian features under a length of long ebony hair. “Besides, when you called in your markers, me and Prism were more than happy to get out from under your thumb.”
“Speak for yourselves,” chuckled another woman, this one with freckles and a short bob of red hair. Her loose Army service uniform did little to hide a physique that was more than a match for the other two women. “I’m always ready to help out Mercury for one of his jobs. Beats the hell out of being shoulder deep in a cow any day.”
“And I’m always glad to have you… with me, on these efforts, Captain Watson,” Donavich stated, the pause not being lost on the two CIA officers, who were too well trained to share the look they both felt. “And maybe we should start this briefing with introductions.”
“Officers Nao Takamura and Kyo Pjetrovic, CIA,” Ebon began, indicating the blond and asian woman respectively. “I got to know them when I was seconded to the Agency for some very well rounded, off the books assistance.”
The flat looks the CIA agents returned were belied by the sparkle of anger in both sets of their eyes. It was obvious to the captain that there was some serious personal history between both women and her current boss.
“Officers, this is Captain Cassandra Watson aka ‘Sunday’, US Army Veterinary Corps,” motioning toward the woman he had boarded the plane with. “She’ll be our medic and if necessary, vet, for this mission. Nao, why don’t you brief us on the mission and target?”
“Yes sir,” replied the asian woman, standing up and using a remote to activate the screen, which lit up to show an aerial view of Brightly. “This is the town of Brightly, British Columbia. Currently home to both the only known extra-dimensional portal and beings from another world. The portal is giving off an energy currently described as ‘magic’ which is capable of inexplicable activities by the local residents.”
“Are we still really calling it magic?” Prism asked, rolling her eyes. “Bohze moi, you would think we would have a better term by now.”
“Every other explanation sounds like someone put twenty pages of a ‘Star Trek’ script into a shotgun and fired it at a wall,” Nao shrugged, the motion making blue highlights roll up and down her black hair. “Regardless of the terminology, seeing as the Canadians have refused multiple requests by us the President has tasked Team Mercury to bring a resident of that town, preferably one who can use this phenomena, back to the US for study.”
“While the President has said he would be happy to have anyone from Brightly, I aim to overachieve,” Major Donavich declared proudly, striking a seated pose that made him look like something out of a recruiting poster. “I want to do more than just bring back someone who can light candles or break a coffee cup. I intend to bring back a pony.”
“Isn’t that what the last team tried, Sir?” asked Watson, tilting her head in curiosity. “Didn’t they fail spectacularly?”
“Rios couldn’t have brought us back a pony if one gift-wrapped itself for him and shipped itself to the White House via Fedex,” Donavich snorted derisively. “He didn’t even have a specific target. We do.”
“Care to enlighten those beneath you, Major?” asked the asian agent. “Seeing as you’ve rendered useless the briefing you asked me to deliver.”
“My apologies, Officer,” answered Donavich, standing up and taking the remote for the screen. “Consider the time spent a training exercise for you could get to know the lay of the land.”
“As I said, I intend to get America a pony,” smoothly continued the major, ignoring the barely repressed snarl of the intelligence officer. “The available target pool is small. Starting with the aliens themselves. Princesses Celestia and Luna of Equestria.”
“We aren’t going after them are we?” gasped the Army captain, as the image shifted to show both Equestrian monarchs. “They are lovely though. I’d love to get a saddle up on either of them.”
“No, going after either of them would be a horrible idea for multiple reasons, not the least of which is that both of them have the ability to move celestial objects via magic,” Donavich answered, shaking his head. “That's unverified, but considering everything else that is within their proven abilities, we aren’t going to take a chance on that.”
“Okay, that makes sense,” Watson commented. “So, maybe one of those cute little bat ponies?”
“The ‘bat ponies’ as they are referred to, aren’t suitable for our purposes either,” Donavich responded. “Their particular magic seems to be ‘locked’ into a single method, and while potent, those abilities seem instinctual rather than planned. Worse, Princess Luna views the forty-two of them as her personal vassals. I have no intention of causing an inter-dimensional incident.”
“Oh, I see where he’s going with this,” muttered Kyo, just loud enough for her fellow intelligencer to hear. “He always did try to go big…”
“Which leaves us with known Brightly residents who have embraced being ponies,” continued Donavich, showing no sign that he had noticed the aside. “First off, is Jess—”
“With all due respect, Major,” Nao said, interrupting smoothly. “Aren’t you forgetting the four Americans who travelled to Brightly on foot and managed their own transformation? I think they would be primary targets of our mission, especially as they are already American citizens. We would have lawful authority to bring them home.”
“Even though your preferred codename is ‘Empress’, I’ll thank you to remember that I’m in command, Officer Takamura,” was the cold response from Donavich. “Besides, as I recall you do some of your best work under me, so you had best get used to being in that position again.”
Both of the other women in the cabin tried to hide their responses to that comment, but they needn’t have bothered as the dark haired CIA officer was too busy eviscerating the army major with the glare she was sending his way, to notice the other women at that moment.
“As I was saying,” Donavich continued, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Jessica Harkins—”
“Ebon, much as I hate to admit it, Nao’s point stands,” Prism interjected, much less smoothly than her fellow agent had. “What about the American ponies in Brightly?”
“Prism, I know you like topping your fellow agent, with facts, but as I told her I’m the one in charge on this mission,” said the major, planting both his hands on his hips as he turned to look the CIA agent in the eye. “Believe it or not, the ‘Stormriders’ as the media calls them, have requested political refugee status and due to numerous treaties with the Canadians, we have to let their court process go through its motions.”
“That’s insane!” argued Watson, before pausing to think. “Wait, why can’t we just wait for the Canadian courts to simply deny the claim and scoop them up when they’re deported back to the US?”
“Because we’re under time constraints,” Mercury answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Trudeau, like his father before him, is a bleeding heart liberal. As such, there is no guarantee that Canada’s courts will make the proper judgement, or make the right one in any sort of timely manner. Now, can I please get on with it?”
“Oh, by all means Sir,” Cassandra agreed, before adding with a sly smile, “I always love helping you get on with things, like that time you gave me a hand improving the K-9 Corps breeding stock.”
“Um, yes,” Donavich replied, a hint of pink tinging his cheeks. “As I was saying, the Stormriders are off the table. As is Jessica Harkins, aka Medevac. With her position as the primary medical caregiver in town, her absence would be missed immediately and she likely would be very resistant to any persuasion.”
“At least in the short term,” interjected Nao. “Give me enough time, and I can get anyone to do just about anything.”
“Psyops is why you’re here, Nao. But with the President’s term coming to a close soon, we don’t have time for most of your better work,” Mercury commented, before flicking the remote to show a strongly built man. “Arnold Kye, aka ‘Iron Heart’ when in his earth pony form. No extraordinary abilities shown as yet beyond what is considered to be exceptional strength and endurance.”
“Damn, he’s a cutie,” commented Watson as the image changed to a still of Iron Heart, glossy black flanks caught in mid-flex as he cantered along. “Reminds me of a friesian. Good conformation too.”
“Your personnel file did say you do enjoy working with animals,” Kyo chimed in, brushing aside a lock of cornsilk hair. “I didn’t realize that it was to such a degree.”
“Ladies, please hold your comments until I’m done,” Ebon ordered, rolling his eyes at the in-fighting between his team members. “Iron Heart is off the target list as well, due to his connection with the most problematic of the Brightly ponies.”
The image shifted to show a unicorn who was a near total contrast to the pony who had appeared before her. Where the previous pony had been a dark and massive beast, the unicorn now pictured was a brilliant white, with a slim and graceful body, and while that lean and delicate appearance should have made the mare pictured appear small and fragile, the wreath of dark purple power around the eyes and horn of the unicorn gave her a foreboding presence.
“This is Jean Pedersen, aka Foxfire. She is probably the single most dangerous pony in Brightly,” noted Donavich. “She’s likely the most powerful magic-user in the town, barring the princesses themselves. What’s more, she is also possessed of a hair trigger temper and has absolutely no problems unleashing either on anyone she sees as a threat.”
“She’s also a convicted murderer,” added Nao, from the briefing notes for her own pre-empted briefing. “Victim of repeated spousal abuse over an extended period. She killed her husband by poisoning him with foxglove tea, which prevented him from triggering a lethal shock device he had locked to her to keep her under control.”
“Good for her,” Prism commented, with a nod.
“Canadian Crown Counsel thought so as well, and so although she was found guilty on all charges, her sentence was suspended,” Nao recounted. “Her profile indicates pronounced distrust of men, and particularly men in power. Unless they have proven themselves otherwise to her.”
“Which is why she and her fiance, Iron Heart, are both off the target list,” explained Ebon, before adding, “it’s also why we are giving her daughters Rowan, aka ‘Shield Maiden’, and Romana, aka ‘Seeker’, a wide berth as well. Make no mistake people. Foxfire may look small and delicate, but that pony was a killer before she got a hold of magic. We aren’t going to give her an excuse to be a killer with it.”
“Seems to me she’s still flesh and blood,” Pjetrovic said, lips set in a thin smile. “A ketamine dart to the flank to render her unconscious, followed by some VR goggles to keep her disoriented and earphones to keep her from concentrating enough to use her abilities. Two hours later we could be back across the border and delivering a nicely bundled up package to the President.”
“And if something happens and she isn’t instantly taken down we have an enraged engine of destruction on our hands who would have the reason, ability, and willingness to horribly kill all of us,” Nao countered.
“REGARDLESS!,” shouted Donavich, giving up on having an orderly briefing delivered to compliant and quiet subordinates. “We make no move on Foxfire or her family unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“And if it is?” Watson asked, a small note of anxiety in her voice.
“Then we take her down hard and fast,” the leader of Team Mercury stated, projecting confidence in order to bolster the team’s veterinarian. “We’ll bundle her up in a suspension isolation bag and go with Kyo’s idea to keep her abilities suppressed.”
“Yes sir,” Watson replied, feeling somewhat steadier. “I can probably prepare a drug cocktail to keep her sedated for a long period of time as well.”
“Good,” Ebon said, nodding and shifting the image on the screen to a smiling family of four. “This brings us to our primary targets, among which is our best chance of success in this mission. Meet the Harding family. Ernest and Lynn Harding, who are the parents of Zach and Kylara.”
The image quartered to show a different pegasus in each of the four views, the older two shown standing on the ground, with the younger pair each pictured in flight. The family resemblance through fur and plumage was clear and obvious to all.
“These four are our target, but there is one pony in particular who we feel we have the best chance of bringing home with us,” declared Ebon, enlarging the image of the adult stallion first. “Ernest Harding, aka ‘Thunder’ was considered as a primary target, but was ruled out due to his local position and his known ability to generate and direct lightning.”
The screen then shifted to the young male, his face set in a whoop of joy. “Zach Harding, aka ‘Darter’ is considered our third best target. He’s young, impulsive, and tends to charge off on his own. However, this ability to control the weather could be an issue, which puts him in the number three spot.”
“Going after the ladies per usual, Major?” Nao asked, getting a sharp look in return.
“Lynn Harding, aka ‘Windweaver’ is our number two choice, and in the event we can’t get our primary target, she will become the pony we try to take back with us,” Donavich continued, not even acknowledging Nao’s comment. “She’s a homemaker, and her combat abilities are limited to the manipulation of winds. Her profile indicates that she would likely ride out any situation passively rather than resort to violence.”
“Particularly if we tell her that remaining with us ensures the safety of her family,” provided Nao, receiving a sharp look followed by a nod of understanding from Ebon at the interruption. “Provided we don’t try to harm her, she likely will go peacefully with us if she feels it will protect those she cares about.”
“Which brings us to our primary target,” Major Donavich revealed, the image on screen showing a closeup of a black bodied pegasus with a crimson mane and tail. “Kylara Harding, aka ‘Skylark’. A pre-teen pegasus pony. Shy and introverted for the most part, her primary pony ability is to lift massive weights into the air. Making her nearly the perfect choice of candidate.”
“Her profile indicates complete passivity if taken forcefully,” Nao stated, as she pulled a large manila envelope embossed with the emblem of the United States Air Force, and passed it to Donavich. “But that’s not your plan, is it, Major?”
“No, it’s not,” replied Mercury Prime as he looked at the envelope’s contents with a smile. “But with this, we should be able to get Skylark to come along of her own free will. Smile people, we’re about to take a pony to America.”
Good Morning, British Columbia. Steve Cherniki here with your Global News Morning, and as have been for many days over the past few months, all eyes are focused on the small central coast hamlet of Brightly, where today the alien princesses Celestia and Luna will apparently take steps to make travel between Earth and Equestria a more common occurrence. For more on the story we go to Global reporter Renata Grant, who is there in Brightly. Good morning, Renata.
Good morning, Steve. As most people of the world are aware by now, Brightly has been playing host to not one, but two benevolent rulers of an alien civilization. Princesses Celestia and Luna have been instrumental in helping Brightly and Earth, in general, deal with the outpouring of the strange energy that has been referred to as nothing less than “magic.”
This new energy, which everyone here is still coming to grips with, will be on full display later today as an attempt is made to raise the portal between our dimensions up from it’s current resting place roughly 120 meters below the surface, to ground level. The attempt will be made in conjunction with yet a third Equestrian Princess, from their side of the portal at around noon, local time. Over to you, Steve.
“Are you ready yet, my Voice?” Celestia asked the dark haired woman in the room beside her.
“Pretty much, Princess,” answered Jessica Velasquez, checking over her things. The dark haired woman was wearing a fetching combination of shorts and tank top that exposed her long lean limbs and bare midriff. Well worn runners and a cap emblazoned with ‘Fox News’ completed the ensemble.
“I see you’ve decided to pack lightly, Jessica,” observed Celestia. “You know you don’t have to come to Equestria when Luna and I go back. Especially when it’s very probable that you will become a pony the moment we reach Equestria. I remember how… vigorous you were about being secure in both mind and body.”
“After a couple of weeks here I’ve gotten used to the concept, and as long as I’m in control of the changes, it’s something I've decided I can accept,” Velasquez stated, pausing a moment to press her fingers against the ever present coyote emblem she wore. “Besides, it helps when you can do this… Dah!”
Four belts with several small pockets attached lifted into the air to hover at chest height, and as the elder alicorn continued to watch, the hovering objects began to weave and dance around the duo, each belt sheathed in a grey aura that was streaked with strands of black and white.
“Very impressive,” Celestia noted approvingly, as Jessica released both her concentration and her hand’s contact with her pin, whose eyes seemed to flicker a bit. “You might wind up being a unicorn. Levitation is one of the first spells a young pony learns, and it seems we have an idea of what your colouring will be like as well.”
“What?” Velasquez asked, turning as Celestia pointed a hoof behind her and feeling an odd pull at the base of her spine as her hips twisted. A quick reverse of the motion created a repetition of the tug on her coccyx, and a bushy tail of grey shot through with streaks of white and black, flicked into view.
“Oh hell no,” the woman groaned, grabbing onto the new appendage and giving it a tug to make sure that it was indeed hers. “I’m a goddamn furry.”
“No no,” Celestia gently corrected, failing to hide her smile. “You are furry, not a furry.”
“You have seen our internet, right?” Velasquez asked, rhetorically. “All I need is a pair of fuzzy ears on the top of my head and every otaku in a thousand miles will be after me.”
“Well, personally I think a tail looks very nice on you,” Celestia commented, reaching out to drape a comforting wing over the woman. “Besides, you can think of it as practice for Equestria— Oh, it’s gone.”
“Huh, you’re right,” said Velasquez. “Wonder why it went away?”
“A mystery for another day,” Celestia decided, before changing the subject. “Do you plan on getting changed for the portal raising? From what I understand of human norms you are dressed very casually.”
“From what I hear, the biggest problem for people after they change is getting tangled up in their own clothes,” Velasquez explained, beginning to drape the belts around her body like bandoliers. “So I’m taking everything I need in these belts so I can just put them on afterwards, and I’m wearing these clothes because they should be easy to slip out of.”
“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything, although saddlebags are a thing you know,” Celestia commented. “I’ve got to go meet up with Luna and start getting ready. See you at the mine entrance?”
“Yes ma’am,” Velasquez nodded, forehead wrinkled in thought. “I plan on being there about an hour ahead of time.”
“I’ll see you there,” Celestia replied, gently stepping out of her hotel room.
“Saddlebags…” mused Velasquez.
Meanwhile…
“Careful with that!” yelled Twilight Sparkle, as she stepped out in front of the Castle of Friendship.
“I am!” Starlight Glimmer hollered back, as she moved to place the hoof mirror to Earth in the center of a complex array of runes, gems, and other arcane systems that she and Twilight had put together over the past two weeks.
“Boy, they sure are being grumpy with each other, aren’t they?” Scootaloo observed, as her fellow Crusaders came trotting up.
“They’re crankier than Cranky Doodle without his hairpiece,” opined Applebloom. “I ain’t seen Twilight like this before.”
“I have,” Sweetie Belle added. “A couple of times, when she’s really focused on something her manners go right out the window.”
“Set the thaumic dynamometer to nine six three oh five,” Twilight instructed, as she fiddled with a set of instruments.
“Don’t you mean nine three six oh five?” asked Starlight, eyebrow raised.
“That’s what I said!” Twilight yelled back, “We need to get this right, and I can’t afford you making any mistakes.”
“Wait, you can’t afford me making any mistakes?” Starlight asked, incredulous, as she whirled to face her teacher. “You just told me to set the dynamometer to nine six THREE! You’re the one making the mistakes with the numbers.”
“I NEVER make mistakes when it comes to data,” Twilight fired back, equally incredulous, as everypony present backed off while the two mages growled at each other like angry dogs arguing over a bone. “This isn’t something you can just ‘go with your gut’ on.”
“Quick, let’s use Zecora’s potion now, while they’re distracted,” suggested Scootaloo.
“Did Zecora say how we were supposed to use it?” Sweetie asked, carefully watching the two adults argue their way towards a nearby blackboard. “I’m pretty sure we weren’t supposed to drink it.”
“Nah,” confirmed Applebloom, eyeing the potion and attaching a sprayer to the top of the bottle. “She said we was to ‘apply’ the potion to the portal. So I reckon if we spray it on, that’ll do the job.”
“What are we gonna do about them?” Scootaloo asked, watching as student and teacher continued their argument, only now with calculations and diagrams that made the young filly’s mind hurt when she looked at them.
“Granny says it's never a good idea to get between two mares when they’re a-feudin’ and a-fightin’,” Applebloom stated. “Best we get this done and let them get whatever it is outta their system a bit. Ah get the feelin’ this has been brewin’ for awhile now.”
The arguing mares drew a crowd of curious onlookers who had the happy side-effect of providing cover for the Crusaders as they proceeded to spray the contents of the potion all over the hoof mirror and the various devices, gems, sigils, and glyphs arrayed around it.
“Oh! I see the problem,” declared Dr. Hooves, from the sidelines. “You need to align the thaumic wavefront in conjunction with the z-axis neutrino field and then, reverse the polarity!”
The only thing that saved him from being deep-fried by the twinned glares of the bickering ponies were the quick reflexes of a hundred adventures lost in the annals of time. After that, everypony simply stood back and watched the furious, if esoteric argument continue.
“Annnnd done!” Applebloom declared, minutes later as the last drops of the potion eked out of the spritzer.
“Should we tell them that’s it's gonna be okay now that we’ve helped?” Scootaloo eagerly asked. “That way we’ll have helped them with the portal and their fight.”
“Are you crazy?” asked Sweetie Belle, appalled at the suggestion. “Those two are fightin’ about science and numbers and stuff that Rarity would have to look up to explain to me. We need to stay out of it.”
“Ah got an idea,” Applebloom replied, before raising her voice and shouting, “Oh boy! Look at the time! It’s sure getting close to when Celestia was expecting the portal to be ready! Sure hope nopony is late gettin’ that done for her!”
Silence filled the air for several seconds followed by a shriek of, “Oh no! I’ll be TARDY!”
“Do you want to be tardy, wrong or both?” Starlight asked, cocking an eyebrow at her teacher. “Look Twilight, I want to get this right as much as you do, which means we double-check each other. Nopony’s perfect.”
“You’re right,” Twilight sighed, slumping slightly. “I’m sorry Starlight. It’s just that there’s so much riding on this. If things go wrong we could wind up trapping both Princesses on the Earth, forever. Or we could destroy Earth, or Equestria, or unleash some eldritch abom—”
“Twilight,” Starlight interrupted, with a hoof in the alicorn’s mouth. “Let’s just concentrate on the here and now. Okay?”
“Okay,” Twilight replied, once Starlight’s hoof was removed. “What was that last setting anyway?”
“Nine three six oh five,” responded Starlight, lips curved in a slight smile. “Just like you said it should be in the first place.”
“Right. Okay next…”
“How is Iron Heart?” Luna asked the white unicorn at her side.
“Recovering, thank the Goddess,” Foxfire replied, bowing her head a moment as her mind passed her images of what could have been had she not heeded the words of her Umbral companion. “Apparently it was touch and go for a bit, but Medevac and Kevin have him stabilized and according to them, he should be okay to come home tonight. Speaking of which…”
Foxfire’s words trailed off as a cream bodied pegasus glided in to execute a perfect walking landing, that ended with the pony sweeping her wings forward and bowing her head to perform a graceful act of obeisance to the unicorn.
“Greetings, my Queen,” Medevac said, eyes low even as her tail gave a single measured upward flick that brought a smile to Foxfire’s muzzle.
“Rise, Lady Medevac,” Foxfire commanded, laughter dancing in her eyes. “What news of our beloved consort?”
“He’s awake and talking,” Medevac answered, rising in response to her queen’s command and giving a quick nod to Luna. “His blood sugar is stable but we’re going to keep him for a few more hours, just to be sure. Of course, he wants to go home now..”
“Men,” Foxfire commented ruefully, shaking her head. “When will they stop thinking that their reach should exceed their grasp?”
“What happened?” Luna asked, her forehead wrinkled in thought, as fragments of memory tugged at her. “And why are you bowing to Foxfire, Medevac?”
“Well, she is my Queen, after all,” Medevac stated, in a matter-of-fact way that had Luna’s eyebrows climbing. “Hey, it seems like the thing to do after I clocked her upside the head. As for Iron Heart. Well it seems Foxfire’s favorite stallion tried his hoof at forging a magic sword last night.”
“He did WHAT?!” exclaimed Luna, aghast.
“According to the Umbral,” Foxfire supplied, tapping the side of her head with a hoof. “My husband-to-be accidentally made five versions of Excalibur.”
“FIVE!” Luna shouted, reeling. “I know thy legends of that blade. Even forging one should have been impossible. Creating five… even the attempt should have been leagues beyond his abilities. Just creating the matrix should have drained his very essence, nevermind the forging itself, or the laying of purpose.”
“If it wasn’t for the Umbral waking me and showing me what to do, Iron Heart would have died,” Foxfire replied soberly. “It may be a dark spirit, but it saved Iron Heart’s life, and for that, I owe it.”
“Foxfire, do not swear debt to such powers,” warned Luna. “The price they ask to be paid for such things is too high. Believe me when I say, I know of what I speak.”
“It’s proven to me that it will keep it’s given word,” countered Foxfire. “Even to the point of extreme. Besides all it asked for was to be able to experience the world first hand once in awhile.”
“You don’t mean…” Luna trailed off, aghast.
“I’ve decided to let it take the reins of our shared body for brief periods, yes,” Foxfire stated, defiant before the lunar monarch.
“T’is folly! T’is madness of the first rank,” Luna exclaimed, looming over the unicorn, her wings half spread in display.
Be understanding of the Princess, the Umbral counseled to a seething Foxfire. She has only known lies, heartbreak and a millennium of exile due to the actions of my kind, and she is a pony you as yet can ill afford to antagonise.
“Though others plead and threaten, I will stand my ground,” Foxfire whispered back, before placing herself nose to nose with the bigger mare. “I understand your concerns, and I respect them and your experience. However: my mind, my choice. The creature within me has kept every promise given and only acted within the bounds I have set for it. I know what happened to you was vastly different but until I find the Umbral doing something to warrant distrust I will continue to act as I am now.”
“They deceive, they lie. Even now it is no doubt plotting to usurp thee. Mind and body both,” Luna’s horn began to glow a deep cobalt blue. “I command thee to prohibit this thing—”
“Princess, you forget something,” laughed Foxfire, interrupting the princess. “I’m not one of your subjects. I’m a Canadian citizen, on Canadian soil. You have no power over me, and have no right to command me to do anything.”
Luna reeled back, as if the unicorn had slapped her across the face. “I… I… “ stammered the alicorn, before a blink and a breath brought her mind back into focus. “You are correct, Foxfire. Please accept my apologies. In my great concern for thee I forgot myself, and while I indeed cannot command thee, canst thou at least take my concerns at face value and proceed with great caution and care?”
“Of course,” Foxfire agreed, her voice amiable in her victory over the Equestrian. “I promise to be careful, and Medevac has agreed to keep an eye on me and make sure I don’t start acting like some crazed maniac bent on global domination.”
“She sees me every week for a prenatal visit anyway,” Medevac added, having stayed out of the verbal altercation. “So doing a mental check on her as well is no biggie.”
“That is good,” Luna replied, still embarrassed at her faux pas as she folded her wings firmly against her back and flanks. “Foxfire, you are likely the most potent unicorn on Earth, and if the puissance of thy stallion is any indication, your coming foal bids fair to be a mage who may rival the greatest legends of Earth and Equestria both.”
Luna turned and took a few steps away as if to leave, but suddenly turned and rushed to embrace a surprised Foxfire in a shroud of wings and fur.
“But should thee embrace the darkness within,” Luna whispered, so only the two of them could hear. “Should thou allow it to consume you as it did me, the power of a Nightmare Foxfire and her Midnight Foals would envelop thy world in a darkness and misery from which it would not soon escape, if ever. Please be careful.”
“I have friends and family to lean on,” Foxfire whispered back. “You taught me that. But I swear, I will take my own life before I allow it to be used against those I love.”
“Do not make me hold you to that,” Luna replied, before releasing the unicorn and adding, “please.”
“So mote it be,” Foxfire affirmed, bowing slightly to the Equestrian, who gave a sad smile before leaping up and away into the air.
“What the heck was that all about?” queried Medevac, moving up and laying a wing over her Queen for an impromptu health check. “And when did I agree to become your mental health professional as well?”
“It was all I could think of on the spur of the moment to get Luna to calm down,” responded Foxfire, as the two of them lost sight of the alicorn as she passed over some rooftops. “You’ll do it, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Medevac responded hesitantly, withdrawing her wing after it told her of the perfectly healthy gravid unicorn beneath it. “I’m not exactly qual—”
“You will obey me,” Foxfire commanded instantly, an odd echo in her mind before she added. “Right?”
“Of course, my Queen,” Medevac responded, instantly dropping into the bow she had been taught as if she had been doing it all her life. And this time, there was no playful flick of her tail.
“Good, because I think we’ve got just enough time to grab the kids and check on Iron Heart before the portal raising is set to happen,” Foxfire stated, feeling a thrill of pleasure at the instant obedience from her pegasus. “Let’s go.”
“No closer than fifty meters please,” Celestia was saying to a lean, grey headed man, as Luna touched down nearby.
“Are you certain we cannot set up our instruments any closer, Princess Celestia?” the man asked, as Luna took in the scene around the former park and the mine entrance it had contained.
“I’m afraid so, Doctor,” Celestia replied, shaking her head. “Even for someone as experienced in magic as I am, this is new territory. I would feel terrible if something went wrong and you or your companions were hurt.”
“My dear, Princess,” replied the man, “I may only be one of the Nine, but I say with confidence that any one of us, or indeed any of the staff of CERN, would gladly give their lives in the pursuit of knowledge. Especially such knowledge of the phenomenon you are allowing us to witness today.”
“You remind me very much of Twilight Sparkle,” laughed Celestia, smiling widely. “Very well, forty meters. But no closer.”
“Thank you, Princess Celestia,” answered the scientist, and the two shared a quick Gallic kiss before the middle-aged man moved with surprising speed to rejoin his fellows.
“It’s almost time to raise the portal, Luna,” Celestia said, turning to face her sister who seemed to be very distracted, as she kept looking back into town. “Luna? Did you hear me? Is everything okay?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes,” replied the overnight alicorn, wearing a double set of heavily weighed down saddlebags, and snapping her attention to the here and now in an obvious manner. “I am sorry, Sister. My thoughts were occupied elsewhere.”
“I could tell. We’ve got a few minutes before Twilight starts raising the portal,” Celestia commented, taking a moment to secure her own saddlebags. “What’s on your mind?”
“I had a curious conversation with Medevac and Foxfire, just before I left to gather our things from the hotel,” Luna began, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “It is just… I have seen that gesture before, but I cannot remember where. And I find it troublesome for some reason.”
“What gesture? I’d heard that Iron Heart had done something to himself. Was it to do with that?” Celestia asked, curious.
“Well, not so much a gesture as it was a curtsy, or a bow,” Luna answered, her gaze drifting into the distance again before a thought brought her attention back to her elder sister. “Perhaps you would know, Sister. You were always more focused on your court and the various forms of protocol.”
“Can you show me?” queried Celestia, one eye on the shaft the Canadian Army had bored down to the portal in the past month. “And what does this have to do to Medevac and Foxfire?”
“Medevac landed in front of us, and did an obeisance in this manner toward Foxfire,” Luna replied, sweeping into the same arcing wings and lowered nose pose that Medevac had affected earlier. “Then she addressed Foxfire has her Qu—”
Luna’s words here cut off as golden energy encircled her throat and tugged upwards.
“Rise, Luna,” ordered Celestia in a quiet commanding voice that brooked no disobedience.
“Sister, what is the meaning of this?” Luna demanded as she rose back to a standing position, still held at one end of the magical leash that Celestia had conjured.
“Is this what Foxfire and Medevac did?” Celestia asked, her voice stern and uncompromising, even as her face kept it’s smiling expression. “Tell me.”
“The bowing and words yes,” Luna answered, starting to pull power to herself in order to break her sister’s mystical grip. “But not this grasping me by the throat. Release me, Sister.”
“Thank Harmony,” Celestia prayed, and an unseen tension seemed to ooze out of her as she released Luna from her grasp. “I’m sorry, Luna. I had to be sure.”
“Sure of what?” Luna pressured. “What did you have to be so sure of, that it caused you to bind your own sister with your sorcery?”
“Slavery,” hissed Celestia, flinty eyes over a fixed smile. “That was the bow of a pegasus slave to her unicorn masters in Old Unicornia. Before the Unification. Before Harmony.”
“But how would either of them… oh no,” gasped Luna, whipping her head back towards town as she guessed the truth of the matter. “The Umbral.”
“Has Foxfire been giving it greater freedom to act?” Celestia asked, wincing as she noticed the time.
“She has,” Luna confirmed, a subsonic growl rising in her voice. “It has infiltrated her reasoning. I war—”
Luna’s words were cut off once more as a flare of rainbow light blasted up and out of the shaft, curving and arcing until the sky resembled a multi-hued dome of light.
“No time,” Celestia concluded. “That’s Twilight’s signal that she’s about to start moving the portal.”
“But Foxfire,” stammered Luna, already half-turned toward Medevac’s small clinic. “If we do not put an end to this now, she will surely become a nightmare as great as I was.”
“No time,” repeated Celestia, standing tall in all her majesty. “Twilight needs us both here to move the portal on this side and to help keep it stable while she does. We do what needs to be done here, and then we… we…”
“We do what needs to be done with Foxfire,” Luna finished, nodding sadly and turning to face the growing lightshow from the portal shaft. “Aye Sister. We are princesses, and to us falls the necessity of duty. Let us be about it.”
This is Lisa Johanssen with CBC Radio News. I’m here in the small community of Brightly, British Columbia where we are about to witness an extraordinary event. Two aliens from the extra-dimensional world of Equestria are about to assist in the raising of a portal, a gateway between our world and theirs, in an attempt to create a permanent and easily accessible bridge between Earth and their home world.
Canada and the world has already had to re-evaluate our place in the cosmos with the revelation that not only are we not alone in the universe, but that alien life is friendly and brings with it unprecedented abilities and powers that has been shared to everyone just through their mere presence and that of the portal to their dimension.
From where I’m standing, I have a clear view of both the alien princesses, Celestia and Luna, as well as an extensive team from CERN along with leaders in the field of cosmology from around the world. I can also see the shaft that leads down to where the portal has lain for over one hundred years, since the time it first opened in a cosmic accident to save the life of one of Brightly’s most influential citizens.
I can tell that the princesses have started their effort from the glow around their horns. Those involved in studying the new field of magic and magic use have theorized that the glow is actually a form of Cherenkov radiation, similar to that given off by nuclear reactors. Both Luna and Celestia are said to be among the most powerful users of magic among their people, but even so I can see the strain that this effort is costing both of them.
I can see a glow beginning to come from the shaft now. That shaft was bored through no less than three separate veins of coal by the 19th Construction Engineer Squadron, out of CFB Comox. The glow is increasing now, and I can see a frenzy of activity from the assembled watchers as various measuring instruments are starting to pick up emissions from the portal.
And there it is! It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Maybe half a meter across at most, brilliant white but with glowing rays in all colours of the rain—wait, something is happening. The portal is shifting in shape, moving from an oval to something more ragged, like a wind… Something is happening. I don’t think.. It’s becoming unsta—
“Luna! The portal is… shifting!” gasped Celestia, exerting all of her magical might to try to wrestle the suddenly unruly ball of trans-dimensional energy into submission. “What’s going on?”
“I do not know!” Luna cried back, her face becoming as rapidly sweat streaked as Celestia’s. “It is as if something is trying to push the threshold to one side. I do not understand it.”
“TWILIGHT!” roared Celestia, using the full power of the Canterlot voice. “The portal is trying to move on its own. What’s going on?”
“I had to remove one of the dimensional anchors so the wormhole could move on the z-axis,” came the faint, staticy reply from the once Element of Magic. “It should still be stable on every other axis of move—hang on. We’re getting some kind of feedback here. Starlight! What's happening?”
On the Equestrian side of the portal confusion reigned as the hoof mirror the portal was enchanted to started to take on a radiant energy all its own. As Starlight held a measuring device up to the mirror, set in the framework Twilight had created for it, the unicorn froze for a moment as she was able to clearly see the world on the other side for the first time.
“But that’s impossible,” Starlight murmured, as she saw the strange bipedal shapes of the humans on the far side. “The only way I should be able to see any images is if… Oh no.”
“What’s wrong, Starlight?” Scootaloo asked, eager to help.
“The only way I should be able to see anything from the other side is if it was being sent here. And the only way that could happen is if…” Starlight’s voice trailed off in her explanation as she looked at the impossible readings on the device.
“What’s wrong?” Applebloom asked, as her and Sweetie Belle moved up to flank their fellow Crusader.
“That’s not Equestrian magic coming through the portal,” Starlight said, in an automatic response to the question as her mind worked on making sense out of what she was seeing. “That’s magic from the human world. That’s why Twilight’s numbers were off. She didn’t get the readings wrong at all, she was picking up Canadian magic.”
“But I thought all their magic was stuff from Equestria?” Sweetie Belle asked. “That all the Brightly ponies are just borrowing magic from here.”
“Maybe once, but what I’m picking up almost as strong as the magic levels here, and that’s on top of the Equestrian magic that’s there,” replied Starlight, before raising her voice. “Twilight! Canada has its own magic. That’s what’s pushing against the portal. We have got to shut down, adjust things and try again later.”
“Earth,” Twilight corrected automatically, before adding with a strained voice, “We can’t stop now. With the portal unfixed in space-time it’ll fall apart if we stop now.”
“And if we don’t stabilize things it’ll fall apart anyway,“ replied Starlight, and the mind of the best unicorn in Equestria at improvisation showed her a possible path to success. “You and the princesses try to hold things together. I’m going to try something.”
“Hurry up,” ordered the Princess of Friendship. “I don’t know how much longer we can keep it all together.”
“Right,” Starlight muttered, talking to herself as she often did when going with her gut. “Haflinger’s Hole Mender, with Brumby’s Balance Beam, and serve it all up with Starswirl’s portal spell.”
The combined spell that Starlight Glimmer unleashed on the hoof mirror and its support frame was a work of art put together in one of the moments of brilliant improvisation that was the unicorn’s hallmark, and in a perfect universe it would have been more than enough to do the job. However, the universe is not a perfect place.
The mirror and the various mechanisms attached to it had been helpfully coated by the CMC with Zecora’s potion. A potion to which had been added an incorrect ingredient by Sweetie Belle, aka The Chef of Food Annihilation. That ingredient changed the nature of the potion radically, from one which would alter causality favorably, to one that reacted badly in high energy environments.
High energy environments like those found around objects that are struck by three spells woven into one.
For a moment after Starlight’s combined spell struck the hoof mirror everything seemed like it was going to be okay. The excess energy began to bleed off in a series of harmless sparks reminiscent of St. Elmo’s fire and for just a second Starlight allowed herself a breath of relief. Which of course, is when the remnants of the potion decided to explode with the force of a small bomb, utterly destroying the hoof mirror and sending everything around it flying and flattening nearly everypony present.
Freed of all physical constraint the portal began to pulse and shift, while lashing out tendrils of energy that either deposited bits and pieces of soil from Earth or sucked Equestrian things in through the dimensional breach toward an unknown fate. Panic broke out in Ponyville in typical fashion as everypony fled for their lives. All except for Twilight Sparkle, who was doing her best to contain and constrain the breach, and Starlight Glimmer and the CMC, who lay stunned or unconscious near the maw of unstable energy.
On Earth that untempered schism in the fabric of space and time unleashed what could only be described as madness on everyone in range. Unearthly voices sung shapes that bled cinnamon. Light shone in shades of numbers while dancing an irrational weave of joy, and cold fire wept steel tears in bloody counterpoint.
Every electronic device pointed at the Einsteinian fever dream flatly refused to record anything, as if trying to protect the known world of cause and effect with silicon shields. Every individual present tried to look away, or twitch, or blink, as they all tried something, anything, to tear their consciousness away from the claws of madness that were inexorably ripping apart their psyches, which were proving to be no stronger than wet tissue in the face of a hurricane storm.
“What is happening?” Luna demanded, sweating profusely as she strained to hold the rip in the universe. “This is like trying to hold a hydra by the tail.”
“I don’t know, but we’ve got to stabilize the portal as fast as we can,” stated Celestia, her own coat almost completely sweat matted by now. “Either that or seal it off before it becomes big enough to destroy the town.”
“Why would… “ Luna began to ask, before her own knowledge of magic showed her the answer. “There are two sources of magic! And they are clashing for dominance at the portal.”
“Like two streams of water hitting each other full on,” Celestia replied, as the gyrating maelstrom of madness expanded to a full three meters across. “The force of the impact is spreading sideways and ripping the portal even wider.”
“I understand,” Luna replied, redoubling her efforts and being rewarded as the portal shrank back somewhat.
“What in Hecate’s name is going on?” asked Foxfire, as she and the Five rounded a corner just in time for the gap in reality to spit out a bolt of lightning at random and turning a head sized portion of a bench into a small pile of glittering sand.
“Power Ponies, get everyone out of here!” Shield Maiden called out to her friends, who leapt forward in instant response.
As her teammates sped into action, dragging mind-numbed spectators to safety, the Pony of Protection summoned up all her strength and launched it outward in the form of a bastion of defence between the rampaging energies the Sisters were fighting against and the vulnerable townsfolk.
Now, whispered the Umbral into Foxfire’s mind. Now is the time to bind the alicorns to your service. Now, while their attention is focused on the portal.
“What?” Foxfire asked aloud, confused as she tried to switch her mental focus from what was going on around her to the voice within her.
They will never accept you as you are. They will never accept Us as they are, answered the Umbral with seductive reasoning. Use your power on their minds so that they can neither refuse us nor stop your rise to your rightful throne.
“I… “ began Foxfire, her head starting to feel like she’d had an extra glass of dandelion wine. “I can’t. It’s not right, isn’t it?”
It is right when it is self-preservation, responded the ethereal being, exerting more of its power. Change their minds, change your fate at their hooves. Or we are both doomed.
“Change… “ murmured the unicorn, her ability to think fading into more primal responses. “Yes… protect. How?”
Follow my guidance and I will help you, said the Umbral in a pleased voice, as it layed out the pattern of power the Umbral had used on Medevac earlier. Use this, and the alicorns will serve our purpose forever.
“Ye—” began Foxfire, but a bump against her flank disrupted the spell she had been about to cast.
“Hey Mom,” asked Seeker, looking up with earnest, colour shifted eyes as she stopped to check on her mother. “Why is your horn all dark?”
“Dark?” Foxfire responded, answering a question with a question and the turning of her mind to answer both clearing her head of the fog that had filled it to overflowing. “Wait… what was I do—”
LOOK OUT! screamed the Umbral, and Foxfire looked up to see one of the bolts of lightning from the portal coming directly at her, straight through Shield Maiden’s protective barrier. Lacking time to do anything other than react, the unicorn automatically used a new spell that the Umbral mentally held out for her.
Dark purple magic lashed out at coruscating annihilation, squashing it flat and then to Foxfire’s horror, continuing on to crash directly into both Luna and Celestia and sending them flying into the portal. The last thing the unicorn saw of the Diarchs were Luna’s accusing eyes locked directly onto her own.
WHAT DID YOU MAKE ME DO?!? Foxfire roared into the vault of her mind, as she realized what had just happened and how.
What had to be done, came the satisfied voice of the Umbral. Now you can fulfill your destiny as Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond. For the greater glory of the Night.
Not on your life! Foxfire declared hotly, her inner argument blinding her to the fact that the portal to Equestria was now in full collapse, with random energy spikes both leaving things and taking objects with it. I’ll be lucky if they don’t lock me away for a thousand years. Accident or not.
You are the only one that saw yourself in any danger, because that is what I wished you to see. To all others, you simply used your magic to hurl both alicorns into the portal, revealed the creature. You have no choice now but to rise or fall as a Power in this world, and thanks to me, your greatest threats have been eliminated, and you have a loyal minion at your side.”
“Loyal min— Oh Goddess, no,” Foxfire moaned, her now fully functional mind making the connection with Medevac’s recent subservient behaviour, and the Umbral's statement. “You son of a bitch, what did you do to her?”
She has not been harmed, nor her mind damaged, was the Umbral’s comment as the portal shut with a final flash of energy that blinded everyone. She will be loyal unto death and beyond, as befits a pegasus in the service of a powerful unicorn. Unquestioning and obedient for whatever task you would have of her.
“I will find a way to undo this,” Foxfire swore, pain in her heart as she saw her daughter’s frightened eyes looking up at her. “I will protect her and my children from you.”
Your daughters are your heirs and will be princesses in their own right, the Umbral assured Foxfire. Under Our tutelage they will have nothing to fear— wait, what are you doing?
“Figuring out a way to stop you,” growled the unicorn, having no idea why the Umbral was in distress all of a sudden, but she could indeed sense a sudden weakness in the mental malevolence inside of her. “Seeker, go get Windweaver, Thunder and Father Addison. I think I need their help.”
“Okay Mom!” responded the small red pony, her purple mane whipping around as she scurried off.
HOW are you taking away my power? demanded the Umbral, and Foxfire could hear the fading strength in the Umbral’s mental voice now. Magic cannot be stopped. Magic… is eternal.
“Nothing is eternal,’ Foxfire shot back, not sure of what was happening except that some happy accident was murdering the evil inside of her. “Not you, not me, not the flower or the tree. Everything has its time and everything dies. Suck on entropy, motherfucker.”
How… are you… magic, cannot be stopped, came the laboured response. I… will find… a way back. You… will see.
“I’ll be waiting,” Foxfire stated, feeling a strange lassitude start to come over her body as well as the Umbral’s voice faded to nothingness, and realizing that whatever had taken the Umbral was working on her as well.
People started to poke their heads out from cover and look around as peace and calm began to take hold again. The witch pony of Brightly looked around in satisfaction at the work of her children, feeling her knees begin to buckle even as Shield Maiden, her Rowey, trotted up to her.
“You okay, Mom? You don’t look so good,” Jean’s bright, brave daughter asked.
“Dear,” Jean gasped out, feeling the last of her strength begin to leech away. “Look out for your sister and brother. Take care of Iron Heart. Arnold is your father now. Trust him.”
“MOM!” was that last thing Jean Pedersen heard, as the dregs of her strength collapsed into the echoing chasm of her mind where the Umbral had been, and carrying her off into darkness along with it.
Predictably, it was the non-flier of the group who first noticed the change in the aircraft.
“Why are the engines slowing down?” nervously asked Captain Watson, clutching at her seat rests. “And we’re turning too!”
“Oh you’re just— hang on, you’re right,” replied the leader of Team Mercury, before reaching over to tap the intercom to the pilot’s compartment.
“Pilot, what’s going on? Why are we changing course?” Major Donavich demanded. “We are supposed to be on a direct route to Bella Coola.”
“Sorry sir,” apologized the man up front. “But I’ve just received orders to divert to CFB Comox.”
“Comox? Why the hell would we be going there?” Nao asked, glancing over to her fellow CIA officer.
“The base is a holdover from the Cold War,” was Prism’s accented response. “It still retains many facilities from that time. Interceptor aircraft on ready alert, an airfield long enough for a B-52, and a direct link to NORAD. I would say that someone wants to talk to us over a secured link.”
“That damn new do-nothing president,” cursed Donavich, lips curling into a snarl. “He’s calling off our mission. Dammit, I knew this was coming.”
“I don’t think so,” commented Nao, slipping into her mindset of the Empress of Psyops. “His profile shows that he is more than capable of direct action if he feels it necessary, while at the same time having a distinct dislike of showy displays of power. If he were aborting our mission he would not hesitate to tell us directly and we would likely already be turning back toward America.”
“You’re sure?” Mercury asked, calming somewhat at the reassurance.
“Nothing is ever completely sure when dealing with people’s emotions, but I am fairly confident in my assessment,“ Empress said, slipping tones of encouragement and reassurance into her voice. “No, we aren’t being recalled. More than likely something has changed and the president, or senior command, feels we need updated information.”
“What in the hell could have changed that much?” Mercury asked of the two intelligence officers under his command.
“Whatever it is, we should find out soon,” Empress smoothly replied, gesturing out one of the plane’s windows where a coastal airport could be seen as the craft banked towards it.
“Mom! Mom?” called out Seeker and Shield Maiden in unison, as both young ponies tried to prod some semblance of life out of the fallen body of Foxfire.
“Jean!” Mayor Montcalm echoed, huffing and puffing as he jogged up.
“What’s wrong with Mom?” cried Shield Maiden, now very much the little girl that she still was inside. “She told me to take care of everybody and then she…”
“Sh-she’s not—” stuttered Seeker, tears running down her face.
“NO!” Montcalm insisted, getting down to asses the pregnant mare as best she could, as around him the people of Brightly moved to help others. “See? She’s breathing, she’s not dead.”
“But why won’t she get up?” begged the younger pony. “She’s just lying there.”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” assured the greying older man, as he lifted his head and shouted, “HARKINS! I mean, MEDEVAC! We need you!”
“Coming!” called the red and white coloured pegasus, running through the press of bodies. “I’m coming.”
“Foxfire’s down, no idea why,” Montcalm explained quickly, as the pegasus finished galloping up. “No wounds I can see anywhere.”
“You can fix her? Right?” Rowy asked, her eyes just as tear filled as her sister’s. “You can use your magic, an’ find out why she won’t get up.”
“No, I can’t,” Medevac calmly replied, placing a hoof against Foxfire’s throat and then chest. “Pulse and breathing are steady. But that’s all I can tell here. Can you help me get her back to the clinic? I want to use my ultrasound machine to check on the baby.”
“Wait,” Montcalm said, as confused as the two younger ponies were by Medevac’s failure to use her special abilities. “Can’t your wings tell you all that?”
“No, they can’t. Not anymore,” Medevac responded in that same calm voice that Montcalm realized was being used to hide the medical pony’s true emotions. “I can’t fly either right now. Best I can manage is a shallow glide.”
“Right,” Montcalm stated, scooping up the unconscious mare in his arms, deciding to deal with one problem at a time. “My car is right over there. Let’s get going.”
The man and four ponies made their way to an older SUV, being stopped a couple of times as people asked the mayor what they should be doing or who to help. It became clear that of all those present only the princesses and Velasquez were missing, plus property damage had been limited by Shield Maiden’s spell. In fact, the only lasting issue was growing confusion as to what exactly had happened.
Darrell Montcalm was just settling the recumbent body of Foxfire in the backseat of his SUV when someone tapped his shoulder.
“Excuse me,” began a heavily accented European voice. “Would you ‘appen to know whose ponies these are?”
Montcalm and the ponies turned to see the group from CERN standing behind them, three members of the physicist field team were each holding an unconscious young pony in their arms. One was an orange pegasus with a reddish-pink mane, the second was a small white unicorn with a two toned grayish rose and pink mane, while the third was a tough little earth pony with a red mane, into which had been affixed a huge bow.
“No, and I thought I knew every pony in Brightly,” Medevac said, noting the senseless state of all three of the unknown trio. “Please put them in the back of the mayor’s car.”
“Of course,” commented the man who had spoken, who seemed to be of an age with the mayor.
“Why can’t I open the door?” Shield Maiden demanded, her orange magic popping and fizzling against the latch of the vehicle’s rear hatch. “I can barely do anything.”
“I can’t see tho good either,” added Romy, no longer crying but her facial fur was still matted from tears. “Like only a little bit.”
“Do not worry, mon petite poney,” assured the scientist, popping open the rear compartment of the SUV before going around to open the other doors. “All will be well.”
“Y-you think tho?” stuttered the small earth pony, leaning against her mother for all she was worth.
“I do, ma petite,” comforted the man, having grandchildren of his own, and giving Seeker a final pat on the head before closing the truck’s door behind her.
“Hey boss,” announced Ben Thompson as he jogged up. The lean young fireman was barely breathing hard, much to the mayor’s disgust at the hardiness of the young. “Just appears to be some light damage to a few buildings, mostly from thrown debris, plus a couple of hits from whatever it was that came out of that portal thing. Other than that just some panicked folks, especially the out-of-towners. No offense, Sir.”
“None taken,” the lead CERN scientist replied with a nod. “We are guests in your exciting town. With your permission, Monsieur Mayor, I will see to my people.”
“Thanks for the help,” Montcalm replied, trying to keep the snap out of his tone as he shifted to address the youngest member of his fire team. “Look Ben, I need to get moving. Foxfire’s down hard, and Medevac and I are about to run her to the clinic to see if we can find out what’s wrong.”
“Can’t she just…” Thompson’s hands waved as he tried to mime Medevac’s usual method of diagnosing a problem.
“No, she can’t,” shot back Montcalm, feeling the press of time. “None of them can.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m hearing from some other folks,” Ben supplied quickly, adding in, “oh, and most electronics are out. Anything with a transistor either isn’t working or is wonky as hell.”
“What are you talking about? My truck is running,” Montcalm pointed out, quickly checking the needles of all the gauges on his dashboard.
In mute answer the young man simply pulled out one of the fire department’s radios and turning it on, flipped from one preset frequency to another.
Ntud as dtx zxbxs txqqz uyx dtizx dtasfz?
<click>
Gû kîbum kelkum-ishi, burzum-ishi. Akha gûm-ishi ashi gurum.
<click>
Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam!
<click>
Nivahriin muz fent siiv nid aaz het.
“See what I mean?” Ben asked with nervous laughter, sobering as he looked in the back seat and spotted the unfolding drama with his friend Seeker and her mother. “Anyway, I’d better let you get going. I’ll keep up on things here.”
“Tell every pony in Brightly to come to the clinic,” Medevac called quickly, in sudden decision. “I want to see if all of us are in the same fix. Boss, we need to get going.”
“Update me later, Ben. And good work,” Montcalm said, pulling away and making a mental note to apologize to the young man later. Ben had done a good job taking control of things on his own and deserved better than to have his boss snap at him.
Even with the influx of people that had nearly double the population of the remote hamlet, it still only took ten minutes for Montcalm and his pony cargo to reach the small clinic that was Medevac’s primary workplace these days. Already there was a small lineup outside containing most of the town’s population of semi-permanent ponies, along with a few older figures that the mayor recognized as members of Father Addison’s church.
“I’ve got an emergency case folks,” Medevac stated, hopping out of the truck to address the dozen or two people outside. “We’d appreciate some help getting these ponies inside.”
“It’s okay, I’m on it,” called Kevin Banta, Medevac’s all human partner, as he opened the small building’s double doors with a pair of stretchers behind him. “Plus, I dug out the major casualty supplies when I heard the boom. I tried to call you on the radio to find out what was going on, but the thing has gone… weird.”
“Ben showed us. Give us a hand getting Foxfire and the others inside,” Medevac ordered, slipping fully into ‘doctor’ mode. “Darrell, once our patient is situated can you take the girls outside please?”
“We wanna stay with Mom!” Shield Maiden immediately cried out, Seeker’s voice only a second behind hers.
“I know. You girls are strong and brave, but you aren’t trained for this,” Medevac replied in a fast but kind voice, as she followed Montcalm and Banta as they carried Foxfire into the unit. “Maybe you can stay with these other ponies and keep an eye on them for me?”
“We can learn, and I can still see thome stuff,” Seeker answered, lip trembling.
“I know you can, and any other day I’d be happy to teach you,” Medevac responded, crossing the threshold and stepping into the plastic bootie station she'd set up so her hooves wouldn’t impinge on a sterile field. “But today isn’t the day for a young pony to try out new things. Today is a day where everyone needs to do the things they already know how to do.”
“And down,” Montcalm was saying, as he and Kevin lowered Foxfire onto the trauma bed.
“Right, I’ve got this,” Banta replied, swift motions sliding a blood pressure cuff onto one leg and getting out a stethoscope as the cuff inflated. “Boss, can you go put the other three in the intermediate care room?”
“Right. C’mon girls,” Montcalm said, turning toward the young fillies who were both on the edge of tears again. “Let’s—”
“Girls?” asked a voice from one of the clinic’s two intermediate care rooms. “Is that you? What’s going on?”
“Oh shit,” Medevac breathed. “I forgot he was still here.”
“I’m on it,” Montcalm assured, before getting down on one knee to look Foxfire’s daughters in the face. “C’mon, we need to let Iron Heart know what’s happened. But we need to keep him calm too, so he doesn’t try to hurt himself trying to be with your mom. Can you help me with that, and help me with keeping an eye on these other ponies until Medevac can get to them?”
“O-okay,” stammered Seeker, her mane bobbing as she nodded.
“Thanks, and I really mean that because this is a more than one person job,” replied the mayor as he began pushing the stretcher holding the other three unconscious ponies out of the critical care room, two ponies trailing reluctantly in his wake.
It was only a few steps around the corner to the intermediate care area that held five beds in neat order. One of them was occupied by the body of Iron Heart, who was standing on the bed and being held in place only by the tether of an IV line that was still pumping a dextrose solution into him.
“What the hell is going on?” the furious metalworking pony raged, muscles and ribs standing out starkly against his fur.
“What the hell is going on?” Iron Heart repeated, in the same furious tone of voice, even if he did sit back down on the bed. “I hear what sounds like an explosion, all kinds of mayhem, and then I hear my wife being brought in.”
“She just… fell down,” Shield Maiden sobbed, tears flowing again, pausing her words for a moment as Montcalm lifted both of Iron Heart’s adopted daughters up onto the bed to join him. “She told us to take care of you, and each other, and then she just… she just…”
Both Seeker and Shield Maiden collapsed into sobs as Montcalm put the three unknown young ponies onto their own beds. Iron Heart immediately turned his priority from outrage to comforting the small ponies clutching to him for comfort.
“Darrell, please,” Iron Heart asked, in a much gentler voice than moments ago. “What’s going on? I—we, need to know.”
“I’ll tell you what I do know,” Montcalm stated, as he checked the three “Pony Doe’s” vitals as he’d been trained to do as the local fire chief, noting with satisfaction that all three seemed stable.. “Something went wrong when the princesses went to move the portal. I don’t know what, but the portal collapsed, explosively. As near as I can tell they were sucked into it when it collapsed. Them and that American reporter who was with them.”
“Oh shit,” Iron Heart breathed.
“No swearing,” Shield Maiden chided. The automatic response drawing a fleeting grin from the black furred father.
“At first it looked like our little Shield Maiden had protected everybody,” continued the mayor, noting idly that despite being of each of the three pony types, the unknown fillies shared a similar mark of power. “But then all the strength just seemed to go out of Foxfire, and she went down. And we found these three nearby as well. Plus the radios are weird as hell, and anything with a transistor is flipping a coin as whether or not it plans on working today.”
“EMP?” Iron Heart asked, carefully using his forelegs to hug both girls. “Like a nuke?”
“Again, I don’t know,” the older man replied, turning away from the sleeping ponies to the awake trio. “Maybe a magic nuke. Or something like it. It could explain why Jean collapsed, and why all the pony abilities seem to be down to practically nothing.”
“What?” Iron Heart asked, eyes wide as he quickly looked over both girls who by now were each buried under a blanket beside him. “You mean we’ve lost our powers?”
“Near as I can tell,” Montcalm stated. “I’ll have to check around to be sure, but the girls here, Foxfire, Medevac and every other pony I’ve talked to can do barely a fraction of the things they did before.”
“And what about Foxfire. What about Jean?” Arnold Kye asked from behind Iron Heart’s eyes, and two other sets of pony eyes asked the same fearful question alongside of his.
“For now, she’s stable. Her pulse and breathing are strong and steady, and there’s no sign of wounds or anything else,” Montcalm assured the worried family in front of him. For the moment he wasn’t talking to one of his fire crew and two of the five ponies who had saved the town a few months ago. He was talking to three people who were afraid they had spoken to their loved one for the last time.
“The good news is she doesn’t look like she’s in any danger of leaving us any time soon,” Montcalm continued, emphasizing the good. “My guess is that the portal going up like it did knocked her for a loop, along with all the pony abilities.”
“But all of our abilities were powered by Equestrian magic,” Iron Heart responded, looking at his night dark fur. “So were our transformations.”
“Yeah,” Montcalm replied in realization. “That might be a problem. By the way, where’s Billy? I mean, Iron Hoof?”
“He was by for a couple of hours earlier,” Iron Heart informed the mayor, his face grimacing at the memory of his son yelling at him that he was not allowed to die for a long time yet. “He’s over at Pegasus Place.”
“Where?” Montcalm queried, curious at never having heard the name before.
“The Harding’s place,” explained the smith.
“They’re all pegasuses,” added Seeker, calmer now. “Tho, we call their house ‘Pegasus Place’.”
“Makes sense,” the mayor allowed, letting himself smile a bit. “When you girls are ready, I’ll drive you over to their place. I’m pretty sure Lynn and Ernie won’t mind another pony sleepover.”
Under the blankets there was a reflexive move on both sides of Iron Heart to move even closer in against the bed-bound adult pony.
“Not until you are ready to go,” assured Montcalm. “Speaking of which, I’m going to go check and see if there is any news about Foxfire. Can you kids keep an eye on these sleeping ponies for me, and maybe find out their names when they wake up?
“I don’t recognize them,” Shield Maiden replied, poking her head out from under the blanket to look at the trio of strange ponies on their beds. “And I know every pony whose gotten their mark of power in town.”
“Yeah, so if you could keep an eye on them too, I’d appreciate it,” added the older man, pleased that he had been able to give the worried youngsters something else to focus their attention on. “If they do wake up, ask them who they are and who their parents are.”
And meanwhile, forgotten in all the chaos and confusion, five bronze swords lay on the floor of Iron Heart's workshop. The glow coming from their inner fires continued unabated.
“Where in Tartarus is Applebloom?” Applejack demanded, nose to nose with her one of her best friends. “Yer one of my friends, but Applebloom is kin, so I’m gonna ask this nicely one last time. WHERE IS APPLEBLOOM!”
“Earth,” Luna said simply, gently nudging the outraged earth pony away from an emotionally devastated Twilight Sparkle. “Applebloom is on Earth.”
“What? Why?” begged Applejack, outrage turning to fear and worry.
“And Sweetie Belle?” Rarity asked, heart in her mouth as her own search had come up empty.
“Scoots too,” added Rainbow Dash. “All three of them?”
“I fear so,” Luna answered, drawing the attention of the three adult ponies, her sides still bearing scorch marks from her passage through the wormhole.
“Why?” Applejack repeated. “They weren’t that close. Why did the portal scoop them up and not anypony else?”
“It’s called the ‘Law of Equivalent Exchange’,” Twilight said quietly, head, wings and tail low and drabbing. “What is given, must also be taken away.”
“Then why not you an’ Starlight?” Applejack shot back, before regretting her tone as she saw the pain on the faces of both mages. “Ah’m sorry Twi, but why not you an’ Starlight? Yer like a sister to me, but Applebloom IS mah sister, an’ just a kid.”
“Because we weren’t the last ponies to touch the portal,” added an equally guilt ridden Starlight Glimmer, carrying a piece of wreckage from the portal mechanism in her magic. “Somepony put a potion onto this. A potion with a lot of herbs in it.”
“Zecora,” Rarity growled, in a most unlady-like way. “I’ve been meaning to do something special with that mare for awhile now.”
“Peace Rarity,” Luna counseled, noting her sister directing rescue efforts even while she carried an unconscious grey earth pony with white streaks on her back. “Zecora has never caused harm to anyone in Ponyville, either through deed or failure to act, and is it not thy sister who is something of an apprentice to the shaman?”
“Yer not sayin’ Applebloom did this?” Applejack growled, getting right into the face of the Lunar Princess. “Cause if’n you are, you an’ me are gonna have words. Mare to mare.”
“Tree sap,” Twilight interjected, drawing attention to herself again.
“Oh crap,” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, planting a face firmly in her hoof. “You’re right.”
“Burnt juice… “ Rarity murmured, her eyes going wide.
“What are y’all talking about?” Applejack asked, confused as she tried to process anger, fear, outrage and now nonsensical words from her friends.
“The Crusaders are sort of a force of chaos when all three of them get together, is what she means,” Fluttershy piped up, having come to town to help any hurt animals. “Discord likes them.”
“Oh… oh that thinking is twistier than a river crossed with a snake,” Applejack realized, plopping herself onto her haunches. “And ah hate to say it, but y’all make sense. The Crusaders would have wanted to help, an’ it’s just like them to mess it up in a big way.”
“Indeed,” Luna said, nodding. “Twilight, dost thou have any idea on how we can retrieve the farflung foals, or return Miss Velasquez to her home?”
“The portal is gone,” Twilight answered, and every pony present could hear the despair in the voice of the Princess of Friendship. “The mirror’s shattered, practically vaporized, and the mechanism Starlight and I built around it is in a million pieces.”
“So.... “ Rainbow began, trying to be encouraging, “That just means it’s kind of hard to put it all back together, right? You’re like the Princess of Eggheads, and when it comes to magic Starlight’s practically an alicorn too. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days, right?”
“It doesn’t matter how strong either of us are, or how good we are with magic,” Twilight responded, and the agony in her voice wiped away the last of Applejack’s anger. “There are an infinite number of alternate dimensions. We could search every day for a thousand years and still not be any closer to finding Earth. I’m sorry Applejack, but without some way of pinpointing the way back to Earth, we are never going to see the Crusaders again.”
The tree was afraid. It had almost found a balance point within the song of the place of its origins, had almost merged itself into a harmony with the light coming from that place, when it had all gone away in a furious detonation of thunderous power.
Where once there had been an outpouring of light and life, there was now only an echoing silence in the æther, and so the tree did what all wild things do in the face of loud, noisy, and unexpected things that are followed by a deathly silence. It hid itself and all signs of its existence as best it could.
“Sir, we need to talk,” said the voice to the right of the Prime Minister.
Justin Trudeau paused for a moment in his answering of the reporter’s question, something about whether Parliament Hill needed extra protection in the wake of the unrest in the US capitol, and took a split second to see who had made the demand of the highest elected official in Canada.
Arrayed politely to one side, the Canadian leader saw several anxious looking members of his cabinet, including his ministers of international trade, science, emergency preparedness, and most disturbingly his Minister of Defence, Harjit Sajjan. Even more disturbingly, the Sikh was in the back of the pack, the lead position being held by Marc Garneau, the former astronaut and now Trudeau’s Minister of Foreign Affairs.
“Oh, go right ahead,” interjected the reporter, smelling a story. More than once a major piece of news had been discovered by a reporter who knew when to keep their mouths shut.
“Thank you, Jean,” Trudeau replied, setting his face in a warm smile even as his mind raced to sketch out possibilities of why this particular group of his ministers needed to see him so urgently that they couldn’t have sent an aide, or even a text to let him know he was needed. “But I have a feeling my ministers would be more comfortable sitting down and talking with me rather than standing in a corridor.”
“I could wait for you in your office, if you like, Mister Prime Minister,” continued the reporter, feeling the opportunity slipping away from him. He could read the worry and tension in the eyes of the government officials nearby and knew something was afoot. “Or outside if that works better for you. I can be very patient.”
Trudeau’s dark eyes sparkled for a moment with amusement, knowing how badly the reporter’s sense for news must be lighting up their every nerve and appreciating the professional restraint they were showing at the same time. The Parliamentary Press Corps had not always had a cordial relationship with the party in power, but a little quid pro quo could go a long way.
“Jean, you can wait outside my office for me to finish answering your question, if you like,” Trudeau offered, trying not to react as the reporter’s eyes widened ever so slightly in excitement. Both of them knew the reporter’s follow up questions would have nothing to do with parliamentary security. “I’ll make sure my secretary knows you are allowed to wait there for me.”
“Thank you very much for taking the time, Sir,” the reporter responded, knowing the game being played and willing to make the moves they were expected to make in light of what the potential payoff was.
“Thank you,” allowed Trudeau, before turning to the group of the senior members of government. “Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s have a chat.”
Several minutes later the group had made their way into the Centre Block where Trudeau’s offices were. Coffee and a few other refreshments of choice had been laid out in advance of the meeting, but as Trudeau sat into his chair he noticed that none of his companions had taken any for themselves.
“So, what’s happened in Brightly?” he asked, kicking things off. One of the newer ministers gasped in surprise, but the rest of the group merely smiled and nodded.
“How did you know?” asked Mary Ng, the Minister of International Trade.
“All of you here deal with our international portfolios,” explained Trudeau. “All except for François here, who is ‘Science and Innovation.’ Plus today was the day the princesses were moving the portal above ground to facilitate travel and trade. I assume something went wrong?”
“Yes sir,” confirmed François. “We are not sure exactly what happened as of yet, but apparently the portal became wildly unstable just after being lifted to the surface. It then pulled in the princesses, along with a reporter, and then promptly collapsed.”
“Casualties? Damage?” demanded the Prime Minister, leaning forward.
“Surprisingly light,” supplied Sajjan. “Polaris reports only minor injuries and property damage. Nothing the local residents can’t repair on their own.”
“And I assume you aren’t here because we’re being invaded by Equestria in retaliation for their princesses going missing?” Trudeau joked, throwing some levity into the serious discussion.
“The only thing of interest is that the American, French and Chinese covert groups we’ve been monitoring in British Columbia have all regrouped for the moment,” the turbaned man answered. “We assume their governments have ordered them to stand by, while they discuss the situation and decide on a course of action.”
“Right, so no invasion determined to convert us all into ponies? Good,” Trudeau joked, drawing a small chuckle from the group. “Do we know why it happened?”
“No,” answered François. “When the portal collapsed it disrupted anything with a transistor in it, incapacitating most of the recording devices present, including digital photography.”
“I noticed you said ‘most’ in that sentence,” the PM prodded, pleased that the briefing was becoming more free-flowing and less stilted.
“There was a group there from the University of British Columbia’s TRIUMF facility,” began the lean Quebecois. “Due to a lack of local funding they decided to bring with them several pieces of analog measuring equipment, including a cloud chamber, nuclear emulsion and several 35mm cameras. All of which apparently measured and preserved data which the more sophisticated instruments from the CERN team lost when their electronics failed.”
“So we have access to the best data available on the portal collapse then,” Trudeau said, steepling his fingers as he paused for a moment in thought. “Instruct… Ask the President of UBC to please share the portal data with CERN once the TRIUMF team has it put together into a coherent form, and had a chance to analyze it. Marc, what’s the foreign response so far?”
“Much the same as ours at the moment,” the former astronaut replied. “Everyone is trying to figure out what happened first. Of course, this means that all of our work setting up relations with Equestria and the whole ‘Brightly Autonomous Zone’ is pretty much moot at this point.”
“The Zone was only going to be a temporary solution, at best,” Trudeau informed the cabinet minister. “As for our relations with Equestria, I want you to act as if we will re-establish contact with them at some point.”
“Sir, it could be years, if ever, that anyone, or um… anypony, creates another Einstein-Rosen bridge,” protested the Minister of Science.
“Now that humanity knows that there are other dimensions and other worlds are out there, do you really think that the Americans, the Russians, the Chinese and every other major power isn’t going to bend every effort they can into finding a way to create another gateway?” Trudeau asked, leaning back in his chair and heaving a sigh before continuing. “We’re going to see a push into the sciences and engineering the likes of which this world hasn’t seen since the years leading up to Apollo.”
“Which leaves us in the same place we were back then,” supplied Garneau, “a backwater with no access unless someone lets us in.”
“We were fortunate that the original portal opened where it did,” agreed the Prime Minister. “If we could convince the world that a replacement gateway should be built in Brightly—”
“We would have to give up a lot of concessions to make that happen,” advised Garneau. “Especially considering how it appeared we were hogging the original portal for ourselves.”
“That’s fine, as long as a renewed gateway is on Canadian soil,” Trudeau replied, glancing at the clock and realizing that a certain reporter was in for a long wait. “We just need to find a way to convince the world of that…”
Everything hurt. Her head hurt, her body hurt, her mind hurt, and most of all her heart hurt. The pony opened her aching eyelids a crack and then shut them just as fast as the tiny sliver of light allowed in pierced her eyeballs with needles of pain. Earth ponies were tough and strong and could take a beating that would turn most other ponies into paste, but everything and everypony had limits. Even Apples.
“Anypony get the name of the apple cart that ran us over?” Applebloom managed to groan out, trying not to move her pained form too much.
There was the sound of something hitting the floor and then the feeling of a weight on the bed beside her before a too loud voice asked, “Are you okay?”
“Too loud,” complained Applebloom, putting her forehooves over her ears and still not daring to open her eyes. “Quiet it down, will ya?”
“Sorry,” said the voice, still too loud but at least bearable now. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get Medevac?”
“Who?” Applebloom inquired, confused. She’d never heard of a pony with that name before.
“Medevac. She runs the clinic here,” continued a filly’s voice. “Who are you? I’m Shield Maiden.”
“Applebloom,” supplied the earth pony, automatically. “It hurts ta open mah eyes, but can ya tell me if’n mah friends are here too?”
“There’s a unicorn and a pegasus here too, but they haven’t woken up yet, so I don’t know if they’re your friends or not,” responded Shield Maiden, putting a hoof on the leg of the other pony. “You said your name is ‘Applebloom’? I don’t know any Appleblooms in town. Where are you from?”
“Ponyville,” replied Applebloom, putting her aching head back down. “Y’all mind if Ah just lay down some more?”
“It’s okay, I wanna go check on my mom. My sister will keep an eye on you for a bit,” Shield Maiden said, taking a moment to let Applebloom settle back down before going back to the other bed to poke at her sister. “Romy, wake up.”
“Mrrr?” fuzzily asked the other earth pony in the room.
“The pony with the big bow woke up for a bit,” Shield Maiden stated. “I’m gonna go let Medevac know, and check on Mom too.”
“Where’s Dad?” Seeker asked, referring to her adoptive father.
“Dunno, but I’ll ask,” replied the small unicorn, satisfied that her sister was up and able to keep an eye on things. “You just keep an eye on the other ponies. The earth pony said her name was, ‘Applebloom’.”
“Mmhmm,” the aforementioned pony muttered from the other bed.
“I think they might be from Equestria too,” whispered Shield Maiden, trying more to not disturb the new pony than to keep any secrets. “She said she was from ‘Ponyville’. I never heard of any place called Ponyville. You?”
Seeker’s eyes shifted as they usually did when she was using her abilities, but after a moment she sighed and said, “Might be. Can’t see more than a little bit from her though.”
“Hey, at least you saw something,” Shield Maiden replied, comforting her sister a bit. “Means we still have some of our powers.”
“Yeah, a bit,” Seeker agreed, watching her sister head out the door before resuming her watching over the three new ponies. “A bit.”
“I am getting tired of all this sitting around and waiting crap,” growled Donavitch, as he paced back and forth in the VIP guest quarters of Canadian Forces Base Comox. “If the President wanted to give us orders he should have hurried up and done it already. We’ve wasted hours sitting around and doing nothing.”
Nao sighed and picked at the remains of her dinner, some sort of take-out from a local chinese food place, and after taking a moment to make sure her annoyance was not going to colour her voice, spoke.
“They also serve those who stand and wait,” she said, offering the quote with a slight smile. “You saw the news, Major. The odds are good that the portal’s collapse has significantly altered not only our mission parameters but our mission objectives.”
“You mean President Do-Nothing got cold feet when he realized that we actually might be able to bring back a pony for testing without having to worry about magic getting in the way,” scoffed the major, his tie askew as his day had drawn into evening. “All we had to do was convince one of them to come with us and America would have a pony of its own to examine. And breed.”
“Major!” cried Captain Watson, aghast. “You’re talking about a young girl!”
“I’m talking about an animal,” Donavitch fired back. “Skylark isn’t of age to breed an American herd of ponies just yet, but once we get her in the States and she realizes she won’t be returning to Canada, I’m sure we can convince her to accept the honor of being the mother of all American ponies for all time.”
“I thought we were just going to run some tests on her and that’s it,” replied the veterinarian, shock writ large on her face. “Even if we had to steal her away for a bit, we were going to send her back once we had a full set of samples from her. I thought actually keeping one of the ponies wasn’t what the president wanted.”
“Realpolitik,” supplied Prism, lounging on a couch. “Once we have one of the ponies in hand, things could be dragged out for years. For example Skylark could be charged with espionage if she 'happens' to stumble into a restricted area at the Air Force Academy. That alone could take years to resolve, and in the meantime...” The slim intelligence officer let their words trail off, the unspoken meaning clear.
“But that would be a violation of every human rights treaty the US has ever signed,” Sunday argued back. “PETA alone would be on us like fleas on a dog.”
“Human rights,” interjected Donavich, emphasizing the word. “The Canadian government might have decided to grant the ponies rights equivalent to humans, but neither the UN nor our country has formally ratified the choices of what is, however friendly, a foreign power.”
“But you… we… “ stuttered the vet, still coming to grips with having her rose coloured glasses removed.
“To be fair, using Skylark as breeding stock is an extreme scenario,” Nao commented, as she scooped up a fresh bottle of water. “More than likely we would simply have one of your ‘tests’ involve the removal of some of her eggs. Fertilization and implantation of an egg in a suitable host has been done in horse breeding circles for some time now, yes?”
“Well yes, but—” a series of trilling beeps coming from an unassuming box on the table ended the conversation with finality as it drew every eye to it.
“Insert keycard,” ordered the box, to which Donavich complied, using something that resembled a credit card.
“Card verified,” stated the box, before continuing with, “provide access code for secure link.”
A few taps on a keypad later and the device uttered the words all in the room had been waiting hours to hear, “code verified, link secure.”
“Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” came the steady voice of the president. “My apologies for keeping you waiting.”
“Not a problem, Sir,” Donavich replied smoothly. “After all, it’s a lot later over on the East Coast.”
“Indeed it is,” allowed the President. “I assume you have all been watching the news?”
“Yes sir,” Donavich confirmed, his voice still smooth but his eyes sending a warning glare to the three women with him. “We’re all aware of the portal’s collapse.”
“Good. Which means that you will understand why I’m changing your mission somewhat,” the President replied. “I’m aware of what my predecessor in this office ordered you to do, and also what he implied that he wanted you to do.”
“Sir?” Donavich asked, disingenuously.
“I know he wanted you to bring back one of the transformed members of the Brightly community. By any means, fair or foul,” the President said, bluntly. “He wanted you to either convince a pony to come to America, or for you to kidnap one if necessary.”
“Sir! We would ne—” Donavich began to protest.
“Bullshit,” the man on the other end interrupted evenly. “Don’t try to bullshit an old bullshitter, son. We’ve got way more experience at it than you do.”
The two CIA officers in the room shared an amused look that kept their laughter confined to their eyes. Sunday, Captain Watson, was not so experienced in holding back her emotions, and the single titter of laughter that escaped her brought a scowl from Donavich so fierce it could have melted steel beams.
“Yes sir,” was all Donavich allowed himself to say, his voice tight.
“I am not, however, cancelling your mission,” continued the President, pausing for a moment in the manner of a practiced speaker. “Though I am changing your goals and mission parameters. Much as I find what you are doing distasteful, I cannot allow our nation to fall behind in what is going to be a field of strategic import.”
“Sir, Team Mercury is ready for any mission you have for us,” Donavich stated, his voice confident, but his face stormy.
“You are to continue to Brightly as originally planned,” began the team’s Commander-in-Chief. “Once there you will coordinate with an NSA HumInt asset known as ‘Rider’ for local intel.”
“Our objective, sir?” Donavich requested, and Nao could see Ebon’s jaw flex in an attempt to keep his emotions under control.
“Your objectives are as follows,” continued the President. "One, find and secure samples of any items that may possess or be empowered by magic. Princess Luna has given us a fair primer in what magic is and can and cannot do. But it is almost all theory, and we need more physical examples of magical items badly. Two, if at all possible, bring a pony back with you as well. One practiced in using magic would be ideal, but we'll take what we can get. However, under no circumstance are you to use any form of illegal coercion to force a pony to come with you. Is that understood?”
“No illegal coercion. Yes sir,” responded Donavich, stressing the word he found significant.
"If you are caught violating Canadian law, I will have no choice but to disavow you, your team and your mission," the President warned, voice stern. "You understand what I'm saying? Team Mercury will be completely cut off and viewed as a rogue element by the world at large."
"Understood, Sir," Mercury Prime responded. "This is a high risk, high return mission."
“I see you take my meaning,” said the President, voice even. “Good luck.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Donavich, with real enthusiasm in his voice. “We won’t let you down. Mercury Prime, out.”
There were a few more trilling beeps from the device as it closed off the connection before the major turned toward his Psyops expert.
“Well, Empress. It seems you were right about our new President,” the team leader declared. “Not as do-nothing as I thought. No indeed.”
“You girls awake?” Sweetie Belle asked, her musical voice penetrating the fog around Applebloom’s mind.
“Yeah,” groaned Applebloom, her extra nap having made her feel better, at least enough to open her eyes. “Scootaloo?”
“I’m here,” confirmed the pegasus filly. “Where is here though?”
“I dunno,” Applebloom supplied, taking her first good look around the room, her eyes widening as she took in various bits of modern technology.
“Brightly,” came a voice from the fourth bed in the room and the Crusaders turned to see a small red pony with a purple mane sitting and looking at them with bi-coloured eyes. “You’re in Brightly.”
“Brightly!” Sweetie Belle enthused, looking at her fellows with an expression of pure joy. “We made it! We’re in Brightly!”
“Hey, what’s all the racket in here?” asked a tall, slate-grey pegasus with silver wings, as he walked into the room. “There are some sick people next door.”
“Oh, sorry sir,” Applebloom apologized. “Me an’ my friends are just excited to be here. Are you one a' the Brightly ponies?”
“Yes, I go by ‘Thunder’ when I’m a pony,” explained the pegasus, opening the door a little wider to allow another pegasus, a mare, to join him. “This is Windweaver, my wife.”
“Hi there,” chirped Scootaloo, quickly lowering her voice as she realized how loud she had been. “I’m Scootaloo. That’s Applebloom, and over there is Sweetie Belle. We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders, from Equestria.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Thunder replied, before taking a moment to look into his wife’s eyes and seeing his own thoughts mirrored in them.
“What’s wrong, Mister Thunder?” Applebloom asked, the unhappiness around Seeker and the two adult ponies penetrating her thoughts. “Ah know we didn’t really have permission ta come here yet, but Princess Twilight was gonna send us soon.”
“It’s not that,” Thunder sighed and paused, trying to find a way to shape the bad news in his head before speaking it.
“What my husband is trying to say,” Windweaver interjected, stepping forward and letting one of her own silver wings slide along her husband’s back in reassurance, “is that we were going to be having Shield Maiden and Seeker stay with us tonight, and that we would love to have the three of you come over as well.”
“We would be pleased to accept your kind offer,” Sweetie responded, trying to mimic her older sister’s mannerisms as much as possible.
“Can I stay and keep an eye on Mom?” Seeker asked quietly, her voice dampening the Crusaders enthusiasm.
“There’s been no change all day, and Iron Heart is with her,” Thunder said, reaching up to hug the sad pony. “You won’t do her any good by wearing yourself out and someone is with her all the time. Besides, these three are going to need someone to show them around.”
“Okay, I guess tho,” lisped the pony, hopping down from the bed.
“That’s our brave girl,” Windweaver added, taking a moment to ruffle Seeker’s mane. “Let’s get you all to the truck and home.”
“Is your Mom gonna be okay?” Applebloom asked, hopping down herself and sidling up beside Seeker.
“I hope tho,” lisped Seeker, tail drooping, before something caught her attention and she tipped her head to look at the Thunder. “Are you driving us?”
“Thunder worked up some controls so he can drive our pickup while he’s a pony,” Windweaver explained. “They aren’t the best, but we haven’t crashed into anything yet.”
“Pickup?” Scootaloo asked, curious. “What’s a pickup?”
Note: there is significant swearing in this chapter.
Night came, and with it the moon shone, unoccluded for the first time in months by one or more of Father Addison’s bat-winged flock who had revelled in the joys of night flight. Far below the argent crescent in the skies, five shards of magic continued to wait for the hands or hooves they had been crafted to receive.
They had been forged with power and love, their true Purpose changed in the moment of their creation by a capricious god who loved to play dice with the universe, and had smiled at the efforts of a smith who, like himself, hadn’t cared about words like, “impossible.” Still glowing with power and warmth the five blades bided their time. But they would not wait forever…
The night wore on while peoples and ponies dreamed. For the vast majority of those sleeping their way through the darkness, their dreams were either fond or trivial and of no great particular note. Some people, sleeping particularly deeply or subject to certain medications, did not dream at all. Others however did dream nightmares, of horrors both gross and sublime, and filled with terrors both subtle and extreme.
For some of those held in the grip of Melas Oneiros, their fearful night was crafted purely from their own imagination as their dreaming mind sought out possible worst-case scenarios to come, however fanciful, and tried to find ways to overcome them. For others though, their black dreams were the replaying of nightmares they had experienced while waking, and of all the things they could have done differently.
“Abort airstrike!” Rios yelled into the radio from behind the firing line. “Civilians in the area. Abort! Abort! Abort!”
“Too late!” yelled the corporal beside him, grabbing Rios’ shoulder and pointing to the incoming fighter-bombers, their wings glinting in the Afghan sun as they released payloads of fiery death on the insurgents attacking his unit.
“Not again,” cried Captain Rios, watching in remembered horror as he again relived the moment a family, whose only crime had been to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, died from orders he had given. “Not a-fucking-gain.”
“I’m sorry,” whispered a gentle female voice, one that Rios thought he knew. “I am sorry I cannot be there for you, my soldier.”
“Who? What?” Rios asked, confused. It took him more than a few moments for his dreaming mind to finish making the necessary shifts to both remember he was dreaming and to summon enough mental ability to remember whose voice that was. “Luna? Is that you?”
“Yes, Captain Rios. It is I,” confirmed the Princess of the Night, as the rest of Rios’ dream froze in place around him. “I am so very glad I was able to reach you.”
“I’d heard something went wrong,” Rios said, turning up the volume on the radio with no success. “You and your sister okay? I can barely hear you.”
“Only the connection to you through my token is allowing my thoughts to reach you at all,” Luna informed, adding, “the strain upon my magic is… considerable. This is not an effort I will soon be able to repeat.”
“Then sign off and try again when you’re stronger, because I noticed you didn’t mention your status,” Rios fired back, protective instincts flaring.
“Not yet, there is a request I have of you, and information you need to have,” Luna stated bluntly, and Rios felt his spine reflexively stiffening as he heard the tones of command in the voice of the Equestrian princess. “But I shall indeed make this brief as my strength is waning as we speak.”
“Fine, get on with it, you stubborn oat-burner,” muttered Rios.
“My sister and I are well,” began Luna, her voice showing no sign she had heard Rios’ jibe. “As is Miss Velasquez, who is adapting to finding herself as an earth pony in our world. Please let her family know that she is safe. We are still piecing together what caused the portal to explode, and it will be weeks before we can make a new one. However, while we can make a portal, we have no idea how to use it to find your world out of an infinity of others in the cosmos.”
“What about your feather?” Rios asked, curious. “You said it enabled us to connect here, why not use it as some sort of beacon?”
“Because the dream realm is separate and discrete from the waking world, and must remain so, lest the waking world become a realm of mortals suffering under the endless horrors of Nightmare,” Luna’s voice crackled back. “May I continue, my soldier?”
“Yeah, sorry,” replied the soldier, a bit of a growl in his voice at the disliked possessive.
“For some reason I do not fully understand, when the three of us were thrown back to Equestria, three of our ponies were pulled in from our side of the portal and flung to Earth. We hope,” continued the princess, some strain in her words. “We are asking that you, Captain Rios of the United States Army, travel to Brightly in order to determine if the ponies Apple Bloom, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle are alive and well. We are asking you to pass this request to your superiors and to the Canadian government as a personal favor to the Equestrian Diarchy. Do you understand what we are asking of you?”
“Never did give up on trying to lay a claim to me, did you?” Rios shot back, angrily.
“You have courage, integrity, and a care for the lives of others. We treasure warriors like yourself, but please, my strength is fading swiftly and I must finish this while I can,” Luna explained, and Rios could hear the princess panting for breath before she continued. “The following is for your ears only. Beware the pony known as Foxfire. It is she who flung my sister and I through the portal by way of magical ambush. She has either fallen to corruption from a dark spirit of magic inside of her, or has willingly joined forces with it. I need you to—”
“Need me to what?” demanded Rios, shouting at the radio as Luna’s voice cut off suddenly and the device went silent and still. “What do you need me to do? Oh fuck me gently with a chainsaw. That’s just God. Damned. PERFECT!”
Rios spent the rest of his dream finding ever more creative ways of threatening and then destroying the radio that refused to utter so much as another peep from a certain Princess of the Night.
The Earth meanwhile, kept rolling along in its unceasing orbit around the fiery life-giving parent to the solar system that is Sol, our sun. For roughly four billion years our planet had travelled its endless arc, rotating in the cosmic dance of orbital mechanics until roughly four billion years from now when all things will return to whence they came in a ball of celestial fire.
That fate was long eons away however, as a husband and wife sat at their kitchen table sharing a very early cup of morning tea, the coming dawn changing the sky from star-speckled black velvet to a progressively bluer shade of night.
“Missed you in bed,” commented the wife, sipping the hot energizing blends of tea and herbs their neighbor had created just for them.
“Couldn’t sleep,” responded the husband, his large eyes speaking volumes to his wife. “You know me. Once I get into something I can’t let it go.”
“You aren’t going to be very useful at the farm today without any sleep,” noted Windweaver, sliding over a plate of toast and jam with a silver wing.
“I was going to let Wayab and Maysan handle things today,” Thunder replied with a nod of thanks. “I need to get some things together if those…” His voice trailed off as he tried to remember the term.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders,” supplied his wife with a smile.
“Cutie Mark Crusaders,” continued Thunder, “are going to be staying with us long term.”
“Anyone have any idea how long ‘long term’ is going to be?” Windweaver asked, crunching down on her own slice of toast.
“Unless the Equestrians manage something from their side of things… “ Thunder paused to think, chewing on thoughts and breakfast at the same time. “It could be a real long time, possibly forever.”
“Oh,” replied Windweaver, before adding, “they seem like good girls. A little energetic, but it’s not like we haven’t dealt with that before.”
“Zack could use some sisters that bounce around more than he does,” Thunder commented, catching his wife’s eye.
“Are you sure, Ernie?” queried Windweaver, knowing the answer before she asked the question. She knew the heart of her husband, what sort of man he was, and what he had gone through to become the man she had married.
“I’m sure,” stated the husband of Lynn Harding. “We’ve got the room, and those girls are going to need a home. Not some government managed ‘facility’, or a life in and out of hotel rooms, getting poked and prodded, or used for influence by Trudeau or some other back East big shot. A home.”
“We aren’t even the same species,” Lynn responded, before snorting at her husband’s amused and pointed stare at his wife’s silver wings. “Okay, okay. At the moment we are the same species, but that’s going to change as soon as the sun comes up.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Ernie cryptically commented, trying not to laugh as Windweaver’s eyebrows climbed to comical heights.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Windweaver asked, taking a moment to unfold and refold a wing. “All of us turn back into people at sunrise, unless we haven’t gotten any sun the previous day. You worked that out, so what do you mean by, ‘maybe’, Mr. Smug Look?”
“I mean that there may not be enough magic left to turn us back. We might be like this forever,” Thunder told his wife.
“What?!” demanded Windweaver, keeping her voice down only through a herculean effort of will.
“I called Father Addison last night, right around when Apple Bloom, I think that’s her name, was complaining about the lack of farms in Monopoly,” explained Thunder, sharing a smile with his wife at the memory of the red maned pony’s cry of exasperation. “He told me that not a single person changed into a bat pony tonight. Not one.”
“And you think… “ Windweaver began, leading her husband into speaking his thoughts.
“I think we’re still ponies because Earth has some magic. Not much, but some,” stated the stallion, interweaving his primaries with those of his wife in an intimate gesture they’d created for themselves. “The fact that the windigo existed at all to join forces with Godwinson is proof of that.”
“And you think Earth’s native magic isn’t enough to trigger a transformation back on its own,” Windweaver said, getting a nod from her husband as she followed his reasoning. “That we all might be stuck in our current forms, no matter what those might be.”
“Pretty much, yeah,” Thunder agreed, taking another sip of tea as the kitchen continued to lighten with the coming dawn. “Not only that, but Equestrians are pretty much magical creatures. They do a lot that just isn’t possible without magic. Right now, all that’s keeping us alive and sentient is what little magic is naturally here.”
“Which explains why our pony abilities are barely usable,” Windweaver noted, moving over to the stove to relight a burner and heat more tea.
“Pretty much,” sighed Thunder, rubbing his eyes.
“Good morning!” chirped a cheery voice, startling both adults in the room.
“Good morning, Apple Bloom,” Thunder said, greeting the yellow pony with a large bow fixed in her mane. “What gets you up so early.”
“Ah’m a farm pony,” declared the filly, smiling. “We’re up with the sun. Would y’all like some help getting breakfast ready?”
“Up with the…” Windweaver began, shooting a glance out the window, where the leading sliver of the sun had just crested over the nearby foothills to cast reddish-gold light into the kitchen. Husband and wife both looked at the sun striking their bodies, then at each other, their silver coloured wings taking on a rosy glow in the dawn’s early light. Two pairs of equine eyes met, and Windweaver simply gave her husband a nod of acknowledgement, who responded with a small smile and a tilt of his head.
“Um, y’all okay, or is this some kinda Earth thing?” Apple Bloom asked, confused by what she could tell were meaningful looks but utterly oblivious as to their content. “Ah ain’t done somethin’ wrong, have I?”
“Not a bit, my little pony,” Windweaver said, giving the filly a hug with a wing. “How do pancakes sound?”
“Ah love pancakes!” Apple Bloom declared. “Except when Sweetie Belle makes ‘em.”
As had been remarked before by many a wise person in the past, dawn is a time of renewal. The moment when the world declares that a new day has begun and that everything is new again. It is a time of endings and beginnings, the time when life rouses from the restful slumber of the night to face the challenges of a new day.
Foxfire opened her eyes for the first time in eighteen hours to see her beloved Iron Heart fast asleep on a recliner chair that someone had moved up near to her bed. Looking around, it was the work of moments for her to realize where she was, with a large clock on the wall giving the time.
“How did I wind up here?” Foxfire murmured to herself, then wincing as the thought unleashed a tidal wave of memories.
Memories of her lashing out with magic as the Umbral cried its warning. Of the horror she felt as she realized her blast had struck the princesses, a horror compounded by the inability to tell if the satisfaction afterwards had been hers, or that of the creature inside her. Hazy memories, as if seen through smoke, of the Umbral using her voice and body, using it to command, control and mentally dominate one of her best friends.
Remembrances of how whenever she had begun to worry if she was going too far in the exercise of her power, that the Umbral had been there to reassure her. To remind her that it was bound to obey her, and that its only concern was for her safety. That it was right for her to feel a sense of possession, of ownership, of those around her, and how she had come to believe it.
Most of all, the mare that had been Jean Pedersen remembered how she had vowed to take her own life before she would allow the Umbral to corrupt her, and how the creature of dark sorcery had managed to fail in doing so only through the intervention of Fate itself.
“It beat me,” Foxfire whispered to herself. “Goddess help me, but it was playing with me from the very beginning. Using me. But how?”
“Mmrr?” Iron Heart muzzily asked, stirring. A dark eye cracked open, and the sight it beheld jumped started the stallion into full alertness within a few seconds. “Jean!”
For long moments Foxfire tried to speak, but was unable due to being crushed by the loving embrace of the man she had chosen to be hers, and hers alone. It wasn’t until she managed to gasp out, “Air!” that Iron Heart’s rich black limbs released their death grip on the white mare.
“We thought we’d lost you,” Iron Heart said, eyes bright. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“You did,” Foxfire responded, looking away from her husband-to-be. “Quite a while ago.”
“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Iron Heart declared, Foxfire’s words not really penetrating as he embraced her again. “Wait, what?”
“The Umbral,” Foxfire started to explain. “It tri—”
“Foxfire!” Medevac called from the doorway, the light of the dawning sun streaming in behind her. “My Queen!”
Foxfire visibly cringed as the medical pony swept forward into the graceful bow of pegasi subservience, saying, “Oh goddess. Get up. Never ever do that again.”
“What?” Medevac asked, face showing shocked surprise as she broke position. “What did I do wrong?”
“Medevac, Iron Heart,” Foxfire began, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for what was about to come. “Come up here, both of you. I need to tell you a few things.”
For the next half hour Foxfire told the two ponies on the bed with her absolutely everything she could remember. Of how the Umbral had slowly seduced her with praise and support. Of how it had wormed its way into her confidence, all the while slowly and subtly influencing her moods and her perceptions.
And most of all, of how it had begun to make Medevac into a subservient minion, whose greatest wish was to obey her beloved queen.
“Assuming I believe any of this, because I certainly don’t feel like I’m mind controlled,” Medevac responded, when Foxfire had finished her self-expose, “How do you know all of it? If all of this is stuff the umbral kept from you, there’s no way you should know any of it.”
“I think it’s another side effect of all the magic going away,” Foxfire answered, after a moment’s thought. “I can see everything it did, planned and said, but it’s like I’m watching it through a camera lens. Detached, like it’s not really me saying or doing any of it, but I DO remember it, because it was using my mind and body.”
“Oh bullshit,” Medevac shot back, with a roll of her eyes. “This is just something you dreamed while you were in that coma.”
“Who am I?” Foxfire demanded, using the tones and timbres of command she remembered the umbral using.
“Foxfire, Queen of Brightly and the—” Medevac’s reflexive recitation and flowing motion into her bow was stopped by Foxfire’s hoof touching her snout.
“Now ask yourself,” Foxfire said with a soft, sad voice. “Did you plan to say and do that, or was it the automatic reflex of a pony conditioned to serve their mistress?”
For the space of a few heartbeats the two mares remained frozen in place. Foxfire’s forehoof gently on Medevac’s nose, while the pegasi’s wings trembled halfway to completing their sweeping forward arc, while Iron Heart looked on in dawning horror.
“I’m sorry, Medevac,” Foxfire whispered, tears beginning to appear at the corners of her eyes. “I’m so very, very sorry.”
“Son of a bitch,” Medevac finally replied, slowly sitting back up as it sunk into her how automatic her instant obedience had been. “Son of a BITCH! You fucked with my mind!”
“I’m sorry,” Foxfire said in apology. “I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I had it under control.”
“YOU thought!” Medevac roared back. “YOU were warned what could happen. Multiple times! By a pony with over a thousand years of experience dealing with dark forces. How many times did Princess Luna tell you to be careful, or that things were going sideways? And how many times did you ignore her?”
“But a Fae shouldn’t have been able to get around the rules I laid out for it!” Foxfire responded, trying to explain, to justify why she hadn’t listened to Luna’s cautions. “It lied, and fairies aren’t supposed to be able to do that.”
“What the hell made you think it was a fairy in the first place?” growled Medevac, and Foxfire’s tearfilled eyes went as wide as saucers as the logical lance struck home. “I’ll tell you what made you think that. Arrogance. You’re a witch, so of course you know better than anyone else. You’re from Earth, so of course you know better than some stupid alien from another world.”
“I—I,” babbled Foxfire.
“That’s what I thought!” Medevac declared, tail lashing back and forth like a whip. “Arrogance. And now I may as well be your goddamn slave. Might as well slap a collar and leash on me and parade me down Main street like some kind of pet.”
“Don’t think too many slaves chew out their masters like this,” quipped Iron Heart, words slipping out before his common sense could throttle them.
Medevac’s head slowly rotated 45 degrees with the slow and steady sureness of a galaxy, her eyes glowing with the fury of a thousand suns.
“You, shut the hell up and get the fuck out of here,” the medical pony commanded, every ounce of her promising utter destruction to Iron Heart should he disobey her. “You’re discharged. Come back tomorrow for a check-up.”
“But...,” began the stallion, realising how badly his tongue had betrayed him.
“Get. Out,” again ordered Medevac, an outstretched wing indicating the direction Iron Heart should go. “You can come visit your fiance later. Visiting hours are 4pm to 6pm.”
“I…” Iron Heart responded, unsure of what to do. On the one hoof he desperately wanted to stay at the side of his lady, but on the other he realized just how badly he had stepped in it and that the two mares needed time to talk.
“It’ll be okay, Arn,” Foxfire said, addressing the stallion by his human nickname. “I’ll be here for awhile, at least.”
Both mares on the bed watched the stallion slowly turn and walk out of the room, tail and head hanging low. They both listened in silence as the slow clopping of hooves faded away.
“I’ll make this up to you, I promise,” Foxfire began, desperation in her voice. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way.”
“My Qu— dammit!” snarled Medevac, causing the white unicorn to cringe anew. “You just shut and sit down for a minute while I think.”
“Okay,” responded Foxfire, earning a glare as she did so.
“Right,” Medevac began, after several moments of thought. “First off, I remember you repeatedly swearing that you would kill yourself before you let the umbral take over or do bad things.”
“I did,” Foxfire confirmed, sitting up straight. “And if that’s what it takes to make—”
“Shut up, My— Dammit!” Medevac snarled, causing Foxfire to again flinch, but nothing more this time. “You might have betrayed your oaths to do no harm, but I take mine a little more seriously. Until I release you from my care, you are my patient, and as such I forbid you of even thinking about harming yourself. Is that understood?”
“Y-yes,” Foxfire stuttered, with some relief. “I understand.”
“You want to make it up to me? Fine,” Medevac stated, moving nose to nose with the unicorn. “You make it up to me by living. By being the best mother possible for your girls, for Iron Hoof, and for that foal inside of you. Am I understood, My… ma’am?”
“Understood,” Foxfire answered, knowing there was more to come.
“Good, because on top of that, you are going to do your level best to get this conditioning, mind control, whatever you want to call it, out of me,” Medevac continued, gathering a nod of agreement from the other pony.
“Anything and everything I can think of,” Foxfire added.
“And that’s the other thing,” said the pegasus, a bit of the growl creeping back into her voice. “That ‘I’ of yours. There is no more ‘I’ in this anymore, got it? You so much as even think that thing is coming back, you let us know. You tell me, you tell Iron Heart, you tell Father Addison. You do not keep it to yourself or think that you alone know best about what to do with magic or magic things. Got it?”
“Got it,” Foxfire responded, nodding as she did so, grateful that Medevac was at least talking to her, never mind having what sounded like a reasonable way to move forward. “What now?”
“Now, you sit on that bed and obey your doctor while I check your vitals and those of the little one inside of you,” Medevac answered, one wing licking out to grab a stethoscope. “There’s been some changes since you went down, and I need to see how both of you are adapting to them.”
“...and that’s my report, Sir,” Rios finished saying over the secure phone to the White House.
“So let me get this straight, because I really want to make sure I understand what you’re saying,” responded the President. “A princess has contacted a noble warrior in his dreams, begging him to undertake a quest to rescue three children from an evil spirit that is possessing the transformed body of a sorceress and has turned her to the dark side of the Force.”
“SIR!” Rios exploded in shocked outrage, instantly regretting that he had been completely open about his conversation the night before.
“Easy son,” laughed the President, while Captain Rios tried not to growl. “I’m kidding. Your conversations with Princess Luna have been a source of valuable intel in the past and your report only adds to an already impressive amount of work.”
“Sir, I violated a trust telling you about Foxfire. I did it because you’re in my chain of command, and I felt you had the need to know, but I don’t—” Rios shot back, anger overriding common sense.
“You don’t like being laughed at for something you already don’t feel so good about,” the President commiserated, his tone soothing.
“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Rios replied in apology.
“I can see why Her Highness has taken a shine to you, Captain,” the President added, continuing in the tone of a father giving advice to a wayward son. “And I understand how telling me something she asked you to keep under your hat grates a bit, but you made the right call. I am your President and I need good, honest information if I’m ever going to have a chance to make good calls myself.”
“Start making preparations to travel to Brightly. I’ll clear it with your superiors, who will get you all the details,” commanded the President, realizing that the good natured approach was a dead-end for now. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we make sure that this new crop of Equestrians are safe and cared for, or that a lot of this depends on the Canadians being willing to cooperate with us.”
“You think they’ll refuse?” Rios asked, considering his options and what he would need for a trip back to Canada.
“Oh, I don’t think the Canadians liked their brief brush with being an international pariah,” explained the President. “They need international trade to keep their resource based economy afloat. Justin is like his father, a realist. He’ll deal.”
“Yes sir,” responded Captain Rios, who decided to take a chance and ask a question. “Sir, a few days ago I had an encounter with a Major Donavich, who suggested he was going to Brightly. May I ask…”
“The major is involved in a joint intelligence task force with some of our friends in Langley,” the President said. “Should you encounter him again you will show him the respect due his rank and avoid interfering with his orders. Understood?”
“Understood, sir,” was almost all Rios could legally reply with. “I’ll remain here until I receive new orders.”
“Good day, Captain,” the President finished, closing the connection.
It was an early afternoon on the east coast of the United States and sunshine poured through the windows of the Oval Office, threatening to overwhelm the air conditioners trying to provide twenty-first century environmental control to a building dating from the early 1800s. The president of the most powerful nation on the planet simply sat for a moment, appreciating the ironies of his situation before his companion in the room spoke up.
“Got to admit, I’m glad you’re sitting in that chair right now, and not me,” commented the man on the couch, his face a study in smooth, coffee coloured planes. “How do you want to handle this Joe?”
“You and Justin had a pretty good working relationship,” noted the President. “How do you think he’ll react to this?”
“He probably knows, or is going to know about the swap of one set of Equestrians for another. So I wouldn’t try to keep any of that from him,” suggested the President’s old boss. “But as for the rest… As long as you treat the Canadians as an equal partner their PM won’t hesitate to publicly support you.”
“And privately?” queried the leader of the free world.
“Privately, Justin Trudeau is as smart a political operator as they come,” replied the black man. “At least half of his success in politics is from people underestimating him. Treat him as someone whose abilities you have to respect, and you’ll do well and get along well with him. Act like he’s a lightweight and he’ll roll right over you.”
“Well, guess I’ve got a call to make,” stated Biden, raising a questioning eyebrow to his old boss. “You want to stick around?”
“Nope. Michelle hates it when I come back here, so I’d better get going,” Obama said, getting up to shake his friend’s hand. “Just wanted to swing by to invite you and Jill to dinner on the Fourth.”
“We’ll see you then. Give Michelle and the kids my best,” Biden responded warmly, escorting his guest to the door, and calling to his receptionist. “Dolores, please call Ottawa and get me Justin Trudeau, thank you.”
“Mr. Prime Minister,” the President was saying a few minutes later. “Thank you for taking my call.”
“Always good to hear from one of our oldest friends,” replied the Prime Minister. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
For the next few minutes the president explained to the Canadian leader what Rios had told him about his dreaming conversation with Princess Luna, including the warning regarding Foxfire and Luna’s request that the warning be kept confidential.
“We had heard rumors about there being unaccounted for ponies in Brightly, but with all of yesterday’s chaos we hadn’t had a chance to confirm anything,” stated Trudeau, before adding, “However, we have heard about this ‘dark spirit’ before. It’s called an ‘umbral’ and apparently they live in a sort of symbiotic relationship with powerful unicorns.”
“So it’s real,” commented Biden, snorting a moment. “I’d had my doubts, to be honest.”
“I don’t blame you at all, sir,” Trudeau replied, a touch deferentially. “This whole situation sometimes makes me wonder if we’re all in a cheap fantasy novel.”
“Any idea why the Princess wanted her warning kept on the quiet?” asked the older man.
“From what we’ve gathered umbrals tend to be a corrupting force, usually turning their hosts into paranoid powerhouses. The reports I’ve seen said Foxfire had been able to resist that influence,” Trudeau supplied, adding, “up ‘til now.”
“So it would make sense that the Princess would want three of her citizens safeguarded, but at the same time not letting on that we knew that we were on to this… ‘umbral’ thing,” concluded Biden. “Justin, I’d like to send my Captain Rios to Brightly to do just that. The Princess asked for him personally, and he’s a straight shooter.”
“Yes, after his incursion onto Canadian territory I had CSIS pull the dossier they have on him and show it to me. He’s been involved in quite a few things, hasn’t he?” Trudeau asked, rhetorically.
“You know I can’t comment about any of that,” stated the elder politician, playing the game.
“True, but I also can’t allow an armed member of a foreign military to wander about freely on Canadian soil,” Trudeau responded, and Biden could almost see the small smile on the face of the Canadian PM. “At least not without an equally armed escort.”
“What do you propose?” Biden asked, keeping his voice open.
“I’d like to team your Captain Rios with our Commander McCrae,” offered Trudeau. “A sort of joint ‘Army of Two’ as it were.”
“Commander McCrae?” Biden asked curiously, and a nearby staffer punched a query into a touchpad.
“Commander McCrae is a member of the Canadian Rangers,” the PM supplied, even as Biden’s staffer showed his boss an entry on the Canadian soldier. “He’s familiar with the area and pony abilities, and is used to operating independently.”
“Not to mention he’s a pony,” added the president, speed reading the entry his staffer had quickly researched. “Codename ‘Polaris’, and he’s the one who got the initial shot in on the Godwindigo creature. Would he have any problems working with Captain Rios?”
“I don’t see any real issue there, but I was wondering one thing though,” Trudeau said, voice calm and even. “I know we had some issues with the previous administration and… unannounced members of your armed forces on Canadian soil. I’d like to ask if you intend to continue that policy.”
For a moment the president gripped the handset of his phone tightly, before forcing himself to relax.
“Any American service personnel in Canada will either be there openly or on personal business that is of no concern to me,” Biden assured the other man. “This call is the first step of that policy.”
“Glad to hear it, sir,” responded the Prime Minister, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I have a vote coming up in the House, and we should probably let our people get to arranging things for Captain Rios and Commander McCrae to meet. Always a pleasure to hear from you.”
“Always good to talk to a friend,” the President replied in kind. “Good luck with your vote, have a good day.”
“You as well,” concluded Trudeau, closing the connection.
For a few moments silence reigned in the Oval Office as the president’s staffers mentally digested and analyzed what they had just heard. A moment later, one of them spoke up.
“I noticed you didn’t tell the Prime Minister about Team Mercury,” commented a well-dressed woman, freezing a moment as the eyes of the most powerful man in the world focused on her, and her alone.
“Team Mercury isn’t a covert operation. They’re in Canada openly,” replied the President, the corner of his mouth quirking upward for a second.
“Yes sir, understood sir,” replied the staffer, in understanding.
Meanwhile in Ottawa, another staffer was talking to the other head of state involved in the just ended conversation.
“Sir, the vote on Bill C-12 isn’t for three more hours,” noted the staff member, a younger man with a harried look to him.
“That means we don’t have much time,” Trudeau stated, sitting up at his desk, energy crackling in his frame. “We need to confirm what the President said is true, that there are three entirely different Equestrians in Brightly right now. We’ve gotten entirely too little information on what happened there yesterday and what’s going on there. That changes immediately. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” answered the staffer, obediently. “I’ll make some calls and get a detailed report for you right away.”
“Good,” stated the Prime Minister, before turning to the second staff member in the room. “Contact Premier Horgan and ask him to send someone to Brightly to look into the health and well-being of any new Equestrians he might have heard of, and start putting together travel arrangements for three ponies to come from Brightly to Ottawa, along with escorts and appropriate lodgings.”
“Understood sir,” responded the other staff member, a First Nations woman in a conservative blouse and slacks. “But if I may ask, why move any new ponies from Brightly to here. Wouldn’t we want them to help set up the Equestrian Embassy or something along those lines?”
“You can always ask me questions, Leona, even if I can’t give you the answers,” Trudeau assured the woman. “In this case though, we need to find out who this Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo are. We need to know if they are members of the Equestrian government or if they are civilians, which would be preferred.”
“Wouldn’t we want members of their government to be here?” asked the staffer, the byplay drawing the interest of the others in the room. “I mean, so we can work with them on improving relations with their kingdom.”
“We’ve already done that with their princesses,” Trudeau answered, a self-assured smile coming to his face. “But if you remember, that initial photo of me with Princess Luna and Princess Celestia gave us a ten point lift in the polls. And that was with members of a government who had their own agendas along with powers and abilities we are just beginning to understand. Think of what it will do for our popularity if we can have three ordinary, civilian ponies standing in the visitor gallery in the House of Commons, while wearing Liberal Party of Canada pins and shirts and being openly taken care of by a Liberal government.”
“A majority government in the next election,” concluded the woman, following the logic chain.
“A majority government,” repeated Trudeau, nodding. “One where we don’t have to worry about the Conservatives finally putting themselves back together. Where we don’t have to worry about appeasing either the Bloc, or the NDP. One where we can enact our policies without having to worry about every vote.”
“I’ll get right on it,” replied the woman, gathering her notes together. “Thank you for letting me know your reasoning, sir.”
“Not a problem,” the Prime Minister said, before adding, “on your way out, could you tell my secretary I need to speak with the Minister of Defence. Thank you.”
Play is a thing that crosses lines of culture, nation, and even species. Most mammals play, as do many birds. Play occurs at all stages in life and is one of the most important and common ways to develop the mind and body in young individuals. Everyone and everything that plays does so in their own unique way and it is the learning how to enjoy another’s way to play that brings thinking beings together into a community, and family.
“Can we go outside and play?” Darter asked, flexing his all but useless wings. “I’m bor-”
A silver tipped wing flashed into place in the pony’s mouth, effectively silencing him.
“What the hay did you do that for?” Apple Bloom demanded.
“Everytime my brother says that word something weird happens,” Skylark quietly explained.
“You remind me a lot of Fluttershy,” Sweetie Belle commented. “Like a whole lot.”
“Who?” Skylark asked, taking a moment to remove her wing from her brother’s mouth. Awkwardly, she tried to find a spot with some space in the crowded room, but with the full complement of Power Ponies, plus the Cutie Mark Crusaders, there were a total of eight little ponies in the rec room, making for some cramped quarters.
“Fluttershy,” echoed Scootaloo. “She’s real quiet when she’s around other ponies, but really good around animals. Then she’s really intense.”
“Yeah, like the time we all had that sleepover at her place,” Apple Bloom began, before a sudden thought struck her causing her happy demeanor to sag into sadness. “Ah wonder if Ah’m ever gonna see her cottage again. Or Big Mac. Or Granny. Or… or…”
The red maned earth pony collapsed into sobs as it sunk in just how far away from home she really was. It took only a moment for Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle to wrap their friend in a comforting hug, fighting off their own tears in an effort to be brave for their friend. Another heartbeat later found the trio wrapped in another layer of hugs as the Power Ponies added their own layer of reassurance.
“You’ve got friends here,” Shield Maiden told the trio. “And I bet a lot of smart people are already working on ways to open the portal back up.”
“Twilight always says that friendship is magic,” sniffed Sweetie Belle. “I guess that’s the only kind of magic we’ve got a lot of around here.”
“Tons and tons of it,” Darter piped up with. “We’ve got plenty to spare.”
For several minutes the eight remained just as they were, a pile of fur and feathers engaged in mutual reassurement and pledges of friendship and loyalty as the three and the five became a herd of eight.
“Hey, is everybody okay?” Thunder asked, walking into the room to see what the commotion was about. The stallion was a little bleary eyed, having spent a sleepless night determining if he and his family were going to stay as ponies when the sun came up, which they had.
“The Crusaders are missing home,” Darter blurted out, as fast as ever on the verbal draw.
“Home is where the heart is,” Thunder opined, drawing more than a few looks of confusion, prompting him to continue with, “what it means is that as long as you keep your home and your loved ones in your heart, they will never, ever be far away.”
“Ah know you’ve gone and opened up yer home to us, Mister Thunder, and offered us a place here. And we sure are grateful,” began Apple Bloom, still recovering her emotions, in spite of being at the bottom of the warm pony pile. “An’ Ah get what ya mean about home and heart, but Ah just kinda wish mah heart was where mah home is. Ya know?”
“I know what you mean,” Thunder answered, hopping up on the chesterfield in the room and yawning widely.
“I have a bit of an idea for you all,” offered Windweaver, her silver wings a bold contrast against her metallic black body. “Shield Maiden, why don’t you and the others show Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo around town? Take them to see the sights and maybe Brightly will become a little more familiar and a little more like a place to stay for awhile.”
“Um, I’ll have to ask my dad if it’s okay,” Iron Hoof mentioned, from somewhere in the pile. “He’s at home resting.”
“I’ll give him a call,” Windweaver stated, drawing a blanket over her husband with a wing. Who looked at her for a moment with a look of betrayal before realizing his wife knew best. “Besides, I want to drop in on him anyway and ask how he and Foxfire are doing.”
“Mom’s okay,” Seeker offered. “Medevac is just keeping her at the clinic for obs… obsar… observation.”
Windweaver took a moment to give an approving smile to Shield Maiden for letting her sister work out the difficult word on her own. Windweaver’s smile grew and her voice dropped to a near whisper as she said, “I’ll go see him anyway. Having all of you out exploring and me out of the house will give my husband a chance to sleep.”
All eyes shifted to Thunder, who had snuggled into the blanket with closed eyes and deep breathing showing that all it had taken was a small push from Windweaver to drop him into a deep, restful sleep.
“... And that’s Tarbells’ Hardware,” Darter was saying an hour later. “They sell parts for bikes of all kinds there too.”
“Wow, you sure do a lot here without magic,” Sweetie Belle commented. “What was it like when there was magic all over the place?”
“Different,” was Skylark’s single word answer. Her actions were more eloquent though, as she nudged her brother, giving a significant glance to a nearby shop.
“Hey, does anybody want to get something cool?” Darter asked the group, used to interpreting the non-verbal communications of his sister.
“Ah cain’t get over how y’all don’t use ‘anypony’ when you talk,” mentioned Apple Bloom, taking a moment to add, “Ah could go fer somethin’ cold, but we ain’t got any bits.”
“Bits?” Shield Maiden asked, curious. “Do you mean money?”
A quick discussion ensued about different sorts of money, types of exchange and so forth, resulting in an outburst of, “Wait, you use pieces of paper as money?”
“Not always,” answered Iron Hoof, eyeing with curiosity a uniformed man and woman who had just stepped out onto Brightly’s main street. “Sometimes we use plastic cards.”
“Okay, now I know you’re pulling my wing,” Scootaloo declared, shaking her head. “No way nopony uses that for money.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Darter assured all present, before another boring discussion could break out. He might not be allowed to say the word “boring”, but he could definitely think it, and the talk about paper versus coins made his head spin, and that was before Shield Maiden started in about something called the gold standard. “My dad has a farm account with Marocci’s Grocery over there and we can get some freezies and put them on the account.”
“As long as we pay Dad back later,” Skylark added.
“Let’s go!” cried Seeker, the eight needing no further urging and the herd surged toward their target as a single body of pony drive. Their enthusiasm drawing bemused smiles from most of those in visual range, including the uniformed American service personnel and the two women who now accompanied them.
“Was that them?” gushed Captain Watson, US Veterinary corp. “They’re adorable!”
“I can see the attraction,” commented Major Donavich, a light smile on his lips beneath calculating eyes that had noticed something unexpected. “There's Skylark, but who is that with her? Prism, do you recognize any of them?”
“Nyet,” came the accented reply. “I recognize the Power Ponies from their file, but the other three do not match any known Brightly residents.”
“Interesting,” commented Donavich, before adding, “There is something unusual about them as well. They seem more... pony, than any of the others. Thoughts?”
"They move better than the rest," Sunday stated, as she watched the group of youngsters enter a nearby store. "It's subtle, but they definitely have a smoother gait than the others."
"We need more information before we approach Skylark and the rest of her group. Especially those three newcomers," Donavich concluded, turning toward Empress. "Has the Agency sent you any updates since this morning?"
"There is an asset in Brightly we can contact directly," supplied Pjetrovic, cutting off Nao before she could speak.
"I wasn't going to mention them, but Prism is right," Nao admitted, clearly not happy with her fellow agent's revelation. "We have a humint asset in town. A local resident. Codename: Rider."
"Excellent. Let's go see this 'Rider', and see if they can help us get a saddle on some ponies," Donavich declared with a pleased smile on his face.
The early summer sun shone down on the four Americans as they walked through the streets of Brightly. Donavich and Sunday drew the occasional second look as they moved along in their army uniforms, but otherwise the quartet travelled along unremarked.
“Hey,” said a man in passing, causing Donavich to freeze for a moment.
“Hey what?” Mercury responded, a bit of a bite in his voice.
“Nothin’, just ‘Hey, how’s it going?’” replied the man, twisting to look back at the uniformed officer. “Sorry to bug ya, man.”
“It’s okay, Sir. He’s an asshole,” Nao supplied with a laugh. “We’ve tried to housebreak him, but you can only polish the turd so much.”
“No worries!” laughed the man, who turned and continued his journey.
“I do NOT appreciate being made fun of,” Donavich hissed, his face set in an expression of outraged disapproval.
“You have never lived in a gorodishko have you?” Prism asked, walking behind Sunday. “A small town.”
“No, what does that have to do with it?” demanded Mercury, temper living up to his name.
“It is…” the lean Slavic woman gave a shrug before asking, “Empress, can you explain it to this churka?”
Nao had to bite her lip for a moment as she instantly translated the Russian insult in her head. It took her a moment to make sure her voice would not reveal her understanding of the word before she explained, “Small towns go one of two ways with strangers. Either completely shutting them out and ignoring them, or being openly welcoming to them.”
“So… gullible and naive, is what you’re saying,” Mercury replied, taking an indicated turn to the right.
“No,” corrected Nao. “They will be open and welcoming, on the surface only. On the inside, you’re still a stranger and have yet to prove yourself. Considering all the changes this town has been through in the past few months, greeting randomly appearing strangers is probably the norm here.”
“I see,” Donavich answered, his face shifting from angry to thoughtful, and the four walked along in silence until a group of soldiers marched around the corner, heading directly toward the American officers.
This time it was Nao and Prism who stiffened in surprise, while Donavich and Sunday smoothly stepped forward, saluting the oncoming platoon of men dressed in mottled green pants and jackets. The approaching Canadians, eyes drawn toward the military pair they found themselves moving towards, smoothed out their march almost instantly and as one pivoted their heads to the right, snapping out crisp salutes as they marched past.
“Did you happen to catch their unit insignia?” murmured Donavich, after the Canadians had turned the corner to enter Brightly’s main street.
“You were in front of me,” Nao responded. “But those were well drilled soldiers.”
“They were Third Battalion, Princess Patricia Light Infantry,” Donavich stated, his voice even. “Some of Canada’s best and most experienced line infantry.”
“And JTF2 is rumored to have a detachment in the area as well,” Prism remarked, referring to Canada’s elite and rarely mentioned special forces unit.
“Wow, the Canadians aren’t messing around, are they?” Sunday commented.
“Which is why we need more information before we proceed,” was Donavich’s reply. “How far is it to this asset of yours, Prism?”
“Just around the corner is their place of work. It would be best for me to handle the introductions,” Kyo answered.
After a few more minutes of walking, the group found themselves approaching Brightly’s small medical clinic, which consisted of three portable units configured together in a ‘U’ shape. Donavich, still in the lead, was just reaching for the door handle when it opened toward him and was greeted with a sight that made him very, very glad he wasn’t armed.
Standing in the doorway was a snow white unicorn who the American major instantly recognized as Foxfire. The unicorn was braced for battle, forehooves widely planted with a wreath of smokey purple energies wrapped around her horn.
“Whoa,” Donavich said, backing up a step and raising his hands to try to show he was no threat.
The purple forces the unicorn commanded intensified until a chastising voice from behind the the mare yelled, “Foxfire! STOP!”
Within a split second the unicorn went from poised warrior to a cringing and shy looking equine. A moment later a cream coloured pegasus with red and white wings came into view from behind the unicorn.
“You’ll have to forgive my patient,” Medevac stated, placing a wing over her subdued charge. “She’s been overwrought lately. I was about to take her to see a specialist in… melancholic humours. Is there an emergency?”
“Nyet, no emergency,” Prism responded, stepping forward. “I’ve just pulled something and I would like to have it looked at. We can come back.”
“Kevin!” Medevac called, over her shoulder. “You’ve got some patients!”
“Right, send ‘em in,” was the reply.
“If you’ll excuse us,” the medical pony stated, drawing Foxfire with her, who seemed to be leaning against the pegasus for support. “My partner can take care of you.”
“Well well,” commented Empress, studying the body language of the two ponies as they walked away, drawing several conclusions from the encounter.
“You coming?” Sunday asked a moment later, and the CIA officer tore her gaze away from the retreating ponies in order to join the others.
“Now, what can I do for you?” asked Kevin Banta, a leanly built man with sandy hair. He wore a jacket that read “BC Ambulance Service” on it, as befit his status as Rescue Two of Brightly’s fire department.
“I think I have a case of BI-lateral epicondylitis,” Prism declared, placing particular emphasis on the first syllable. Banta’s eyes grew wide, his gaze flicking between each of the four people with him in the small intake area of the clinic.
“Have you tried using a splint on the affected area,” Kevin replied, a moment later.
“No, I think surgery is indicated,” Prism responded, to which the ambulance driver’s face became angry.
“What the hell are you people doing here?” Banta demanded, quickly locking the entry door and turning off the “open” sign. “My only contact is supposed to be through email.”
“Sorry Rider, but we need up to date information about the state of affairs in Brightly,” Nao replied soothingly. “We wouldn’t have come here if this wasn’t important. I’m Officer Nao Takamura. With me is Officer Pjetrovic, and our two uniformed friends are Major Donavich and Captain Sunday, US Army.”
“Thank you for being of service to the United States,” Donavich offered, extending his hand.
“Fuck you,” was Banta’s response, looking at Donavich’s hand as if it was something that dogs had been rolling around in. “I wouldn’t be in this fix if your country didn’t have such a crappy healthcare system.”
“Mr. Banta has a grandmother in Louisiana with small lymphocytic lymphoma. Her prognosis isn’t good and her health insurance and personal savings are already expended,” explained Nao, her face and voice full of sympathy for the ambulance attendant. “In exchange for regular reports about what’s going on in Brightly, the CIA has robustly supplemented his gran’s medical care, ensuring that she is enrolled in the latest clinical trials for any new treatments. How is she doing, sir?”
“Better, for now,” Banta admitted, huffing a breath out. “The new therapies are shrinking the nodules but…”
“SLL is almost invariably fatal, but aggressive treatment can throw the disease into remission, sometimes for years,” Nao continued to explain, placing a gentle hand on Banta’s upper arm. “Mr. Banta agreed to supply us with information, but we also agreed not to ask for anything classified from him. For the past few weeks he has kept the Agency well informed of events in Brightly.”
“The past couple of days have been a little crazy, which is why I haven’t sent in a report,” Banta added, deflating into a slouch. “Sorry.”
“We understand,” Nao replied, coating her words in tones of comfort and support. “But we have an important mission here in Brightly and we desperately need your help to avoid making any foolish mistakes. Can you help us?”
“There’s a new interferon treatment coming out of John Hopkins in a few weeks,” Banta said, looking Nao in the eye. “I can help you.”
“And we can help her, for you,” Nao responded, nodding. “First off, what exactly happened yesterday with the portal?”
“God, was it only yesterday?’ Banta asked rhetorically, marshalling his thoughts before launching into a detailed description of the attempt to move the gateway to Equestria, its collapse, and Foxfire’s role in it.
“How do you know about what Princess Luna did and said, and if this umbral did what you claim it did, how do you know about it?” questioned Donavich sharply, wary for some sort of deception.
“Jean told Jessica all about it. Everything that thing did to her, made her feel and did through her, she told my boss about,” Banta explained, face twisted in an unreadable expression.
“But how—” Donavich started to repeat.
“Look around you. This ‘clinic’ is basically three shipping containers converted into a medical facility. It’s meant to be a temporary setup until something more permanent can be made,” Banta growled, before adding, “It’s been here for fifteen years and it’s still the best we’re going to get here.”
“Now who’s talking about ‘crappy medical system’,” said Sunday, drawing a sharp look from the ambulance driver. “Pot meet kettle.”
“Yeah,” Banta continued after a long moment, conceding the point. “Thing is, the walls are thin, and I’d come in early to inventory supplies after yesterday. I heard everything and they were both so deep in their conversation they never noticed me until a lot later.”
“Bohze moi. True mental conditioning and mind control,” Pjetrovic marvelled. “Is she still capable of doing that to others?”
“Magic is all but extinct now,” Banta stated, bluntly. “So no.”
“Wait, no magic?” Sunday asked, surprised. “But we've seen ponies, and Foxfire had magic.”
“And what about those three young ones that we saw with the Power Ponies, who are they?” Donavich demanded. “You should have reported all this right away!”
“Mr. Banta isn’t a member of the military, and he has his own priorities that are very important to him,” Takamura soothed, drawing a grateful look from Kevin for the support. “Besides Major, he’s reporting now and giving us extremely valuable information. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I am,” Banta replied, and the Empress of Psy-Ops could see that her asset was realizing exactly the price he was paying for his grandmother’s medical care. Looking Nao directly in the eyes, Banta gave a thorough and detailed explanation of the aftermath of the portal’s collapse, along with its effects on Brightly and the pony population.
And while the two CIA operatives found themselves worrying about the long term usefulness of their asset Ebon Donavich couldn’t have been more pleased with what he was hearing.
“No magic, which means that Foxfire is just a small horse with a smoking horn. No threat at all,” the major stated, smiling. “And three actual Equestrians up for grabs as well. This couldn’t be a better situation if I planned it.”
“You can’t be thinking of taking them back to the States with us,” Nao countered, concerned. “That would be kidnapping.”
“Would it though?” Donavich asked, with a chuckle. “They have no guardians and there are no representatives of their government present to object. It could be explained that we were taking them into care for their own good.”
“Under Canadian law abandoned children without guardians are considered wards of the state by default,” Kyo stated, her Slavic accent tightly controlled now.
“But we aren’t in Canada at the moment. We are in the Brightly Autonomous Zone, a joint protectorate of Equestria, Canada and the Hieltsuk First Nation,” Donavich offered, not seeming to notice the horrified look on the others' faces. “There are no precedents, no extradition treaties, and no authorities that could order us to return these… Cutie Mark Crusaders.”
“I will not be a party to kidnapping!” Banta declared hotly, turning to Nao. “I don’t care if you cut off my gran’s medical support, you aren’t kidnapping those kids!”
“Don’t worry, he won’t,” Nao promised, shooting daggers at Donavich. “This is why I hate working with you, Ebon. You always come up with these insane schemes and forget that real people have to pay the cost for your glory.”
“Fine,” the army major conceded, as he realized that even Sunday was looking at him as if he was some sort of monster.
“Besides,” Nao continued, doing her best to reduce tensions, “it would be far better for us to simply ask the Equestrians if they would like to see the US and provide transportation should they be willing. After all, we were going to make that exact same offer to Skylark.”
“You were?” Banta asked, surprised.
“I have a personal written offer from the Commandant of the Air Force Academy for Skylark to come visit their facilities,” Donavich replied, mind working. “The offer includes a flight with the Thunderbirds.”
“Wow, she’d love that,” Banta said. “Why the heck didn’t you lead with that?”
“Unfortunately, the major tends to look at things from a certain direction, but in my work it pays to look at all the possibilities,” Nao answered, patting Kevin’s hand. “Thank you for your report, ‘Rider’, it was extremely helpful.”
“No problem,” Banta said, and Nao thought he was about to add something before the ambulance driver added, “I’ll let you know if anything else comes up.”
A few minutes later the quartet had left the clinic and were headed back the way they came, the two army officers in the lead. As they walked back to the small house the agency had managed to rent on the outside of town, Donavich leaned over to Sunday and quietly asked, “By the way, do you have any fast injector kits?”
“Several, and I've already loaded five with a fast acting ketamine derivative, in case we had to deal with Foxfire. One for each of us and a spare,” Sunday murmured back, realizing Ebon was trying to be covert. “Why?”
“It pays to be prepared, Cassandra,” Ebon whispered. “It pays to be prepared.”
Humanity’s history is replete with “happy accidents”, as a certain painter would say. Many times through the centuries great strides have been made when someone tried something on impulse, or was attentive enough to notice when happenstance changed the expected into the serendipitous.
Often the phrase, “that’s so crazy it just might work” has been the prophetic herald of a new era in some field of scientific or industrial endeavour. Things like the microwave, or teflon, or safety glass all came into being because someone, somewhere, did the unexpected.
Less celebrated however, are the times when someone tries something crazy and it turns out to have been a very bad idea indeed…
“C’mon, what could possibly go wrong?” insisted Nic “Nuc” Williams, a paunchy man in his late thirties.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe another Three Mile Island incident?” shot back a willowy blond who was only a few years younger.
“Look Bryanna, DARPA handed this to Texas A&M and by god I… we, are going to come through for them,” Williams argued back.
“DARPA asked us to research the Equestrian gem they were able to track down, not irradiate the thing!” replied Bryanna Swift, who was nominally his assistant, but found herself being ignored constantly by the older, heavier man.
“You read the same reports I did about what happened up in Canada,” Williams responded, moving forward to invade the personal space of the woman who was a constant thorn in his side. “A ruby absorbed twenty years worth of electrical power and discharged it in a single burst. Gigajoules worth of power, contained and then released on command. The implications and applications are HUGE!”
“None of that changes the fact that you want to take an orange diamond that is one of the only forty or so that are still extant in the world, immerse it in a pool of radioactive water just above the core of the university reactor and then bring that core online, JUST TO SEE WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN??” Bryanna shouted the last, drawing the attention of several grad students checking over the controls of Texas A&M’s research reactor.
Most of them had seen or heard of the arguments between Swift and Williams before and turned back to their notes or consoles with little more than a shrug at the repeat of a drama they had seen played out many times in the past.
“Look lady,” Nic stated, looming over Bryanna in an attempt to intimidate her with his size. “I’m the one in charge of this installation, and as such it’s my call. We go forward with the test. Got it?”
“This is a university and not that nuclear sub you swam around in for a few years. Experiments have to be authorized. They have to have clearly defined protocols, methodologies and processes,” Swift continued to insist, utterly unfazed by the sweating man who had nearly a hundred pounds on her.
“My hands-on experience with nuclear reactors in service to our country is why the university made me the boss of this place,” retorted Williams, with an air of finality. “And we’ll use the standard sample trays and the standard procedures that are already in use for these things, which is why they are standard procedure. As for duration, we’ll start with a ten minute exposure, and double it as needed until we see results.”
“You can’t make this up on the fly!” Bryanna declared, switching tactics. “You go through with this and I’ll have no choice but to file a formal protest with the University President herself.”
“You do what you gotta do,” was all Nic said to her, before turning away to address the room. “Okay folks, startup procedures. We go hot in ten minutes.”
Bryanna looked around her as the room began to bustle with activity. A few of the grad students and staffers gave her embarrassed glances, but no one would meet her eyes. In spite of the fact she was both Nic’s deputy and the reactor safety officer, it was obvious that they were going ahead with Nic the Nuc’s insanity.
“God help you all, because sure as hell I’m not going to,” Swift muttered, and she strode out of the room to find someone who could shut this depravity down.
“Reactor output steady at one megawatt,” one of the grad students was saying, twelve minutes later.
“Looks like Professor Naysayer couldn’t get anybody to shut us down, hey boys?” Williams asked rhetorically, drawing a few mild chuckles from the room. “Keep the core steady while I go out and make some more history for Texas.”
That comment drew a better response and cheers followed Nic out onto the balcony that overlooked the massive pool of water that held the reactor core itself. Texas A&M’s reactor was a type known as a TRIGA reactor, a nearly foolproof design created by Freeman Dyson and Edward Teller, the man known as the “Father of the Hydrogen Bomb.”
As Nic loaded the large orange diamond into the tray used to irradiate material samples, he once again took a moment to marvel at how such power could be held in check with a simple pool of water, as opposed to the massive array of pumps, pipes and containment shields that he had trained on as reactor specialist aboard the USS Texas.
“Time to show Bryanna what a real man can do with a nuclear core and the balls to use it,” he muttered, lowering the tray into the water until it rested just above the core.
“One percent drop in power output, adjusting control rods to compensate,” came a call from the control room.
As Williams watched, the blue glow of Cherenkov radiation surrounding the sample seemed to pulse for a moment before steadying and settling down into normal operation. Long minutes passed with absolutely no change at all until at last one of the controllers reminded him that ten minutes had nearly passed.
“Pulse the reactor,” ordered Williams. “Push us up to thirty megawatts.”
One function of TRIGA reactors is that they can be pulsed, or temporarily pushed up in power for a brief period of time. An inherent safety factor of the TRIGA designs forces the pulse to be short lived by automatically shutting the reactor down as the core heats up due to the specially blended material of the fuel rods.
“Pulsing in three… two… one… “ called the grad student, whose name Williams couldn't remember.
There was a grinding sound, immediately followed by a blue burst of light as the increased reaction triggered a surge of radiation and heat. To Williams’ amazement though, the flash of light was followed a moment later by an answer spark from the gem down in the water below. Then there followed another burst from the reactor and a second response from the Equestrian gemstone.
“I only called for one pulse,” Williams called back. “What are you idiots doing?”
“We only did the one, why?” answered the grad student, and looking back through the open door to the control room Nic could see the budding physicists begin to scurry around when a third call and response from reactor to diamond pulled his attention back to the pool.
“Oh shit,” murmured Nic, which quickly turned into a yell of, “Shut it down! Scram the reactor! Take it offline now!”
“Yes sir!” yelled one of the students, hands hammering down on switches meant to slam graphite rods into place, absorbing the flow of free neutrons and shutting down the process of nuclear fission.
A fourth flare of blue light, followed swiftly by a fifth had Williams running into the control room yelling, “I told you idiots to scram the damn thing!”
“We did! Look at the switches!” screamed back a panicked student, waving to the controls in question. The flashes of light from the reactor pool were visible now through the doorway of the control room, the gap between them clearly growing shorter and shorter.
“Neutron flux at ten to the thirteenth, and climbing!” screeched another student.
“It’s pulsing on its own!” yelled a third student, all eyes focusing on him. “Reactor output peaking at twenty megawatts… thirty… forty… Still climbing!”
“What do we do, Professor?” demanded yet another controller, eyes wild.
“Uh… “ Nic the Nuc prevaricated, trying to decide on a course of action. “Flood the reactor pool with water.”
“The pool is already full!” shouted back the man who had attempted to shut down the reaction with the control rods. “We add more water and we could flood the whole campus with radioactive material.”
“Uh… “ Nic muttered again, mind freezing up as the light of Cherenkov radiation started to become the next best thing to a strobe light.
“EVACUATE!” screamed out a student, nerve breaking as he ran for the door.
Seeing one of their fellows running for the door broke the resolve of the rest and as one, the dozen or so students hurtled out of the control room. One of them lifted a cover and slapped a hand down on a large red button as they fled, triggering the emergency alarms to sound across the campus.
Sirens began to wail, along with automated messages of, “Please proceed in an orderly manner to designated shelter locations. This is not a drill. Please proceed in an orderly manner…”
“Nothing should have gone wrong,” Williams muttered, staggering back out of the control room, the strobing radiance from the core and diamond was blinding now, even with his eyes shut. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I would have showed them all…”
The light continued to grow and grow, enveloping Nic Williams and the entire reactor building until it became as bright as a star fallen to earth. A star that heaved and breathed and shuddered, until, with one final pulse of light it leapt skyward to return back to the heavens above where it belonged.
All that was left behind was a crater, and the afterimage of a blue spear of light imprinted on the minds of the hundred million people who saw it blasting for the sky.
Onwards through the cosmos hurtled the blue bolt of energy. Barriers of time, space and dimension fell to the unprecedented blend of science and magic, blazing through them like a heated needle through a stick of butter. A thousand times a thousand worlds, empires, and entities of unfathomable power bore witness to the blazing spear of power as it crossed the heavens, and not all of them were what one would call friendly.
But at least one of them was…
“Twilight!” Applejack yelled, as she pelted along the road toward the crystal edifice on the border of Ponyville. The orange mare was more noted for her endurance, as opposed to her speed, but on the ground she was as fleet of foot as her friend Rainbow Dash, the fastest pony in all Equestria.
“TWI!” gasped the earth pony, sliding to a halt in the border between day and night that gave the Princess of Friendship her name. “TWI!”
“She knows, Applejack,” declared Spike as he opened the door to the castle, quickly stepping to one side and gesturing toward a flight of stairs. “Go up, take the first left, then a right and up the next set of stairs. That will take you up the viewing platform.”
“Thanks Spike,” Applejack said, and having caught her second wind tore through the halls of the Castle of Friendship like an orange blur, arriving on a broad balcony with heaving sides.
“Current location, fourteen hours, twelve minutes right ascension,” Twilight was saying, eyes glued to a large telescope as Starlight Glimmer stood to one side taking notes on a large whiteboard. “Sixty-two degrees declination, magnitude negative two point four.”
“Hate to bother ya in the middle of all yer science stuff, Twilight, but I gotta know. Is it them?” Applejack panted out, second wind exhausted.
“It might be,” Twilight allowed, multitasking as she studied the shaft of blue light that was slowly transiting the evening sky while holding a conversation and bringing a second instrument to bear with her magic. “Double-check me Starlight. I’m reading a thaumic frequency of eighty two point six five. What do you get?”
“Eighty two point six five one eight seven,” replied Twilight’s student, looking at the readings on her own instrument. “A perfect match for Equestria’s magical signature. And before you ask, yes, I made sure that the atmosphere wasn’t overlaying its signature over that of… whatever that is.”
“Rarity, can you take a look at this?” Twilight requested, and Applejack realized with a start that she hadn’t even noticed the alabaster mare standing off to one side. The fashionista was looking unusually shabby, her usually elegantly styled mane drawn back in a fraying, but no nonsense ponytail that echoed Applejack's standard look.
“Of course,” Rarity replied, a slight trace of hoarseness in her voice.
“Sorry Applejack, we need to get in as many measurements as we can on this before it disappears,” Twilight said, stepping aside to give Rarity room while scooping up yet another analytical device in her magic. “How much longer Starlight?”
“Two minutes or so, at its current rate of movement. There’s another sort of energy mixed up with the… comet too. Something I don’t recognize,” Starlight answered.
“How do you focus the image, and can you make it larger?” Rarity was asking, and a moment later Twilight’s magic adjusted a few knobs. “Thank you, darling. Well, it definitely doesn’t look like any sort of comet I’ve ever seen. If anything, it looks like a very long gemstone. It even has facets.”
“How many facets?” Starlight inquired, as she began to add Rarity’s observations to the whiteboard.
“Sixty-two,” Rarity responded almost instantly, followed by an exclamation of, “Oh!”
“Oh what?” Applejack asked, feeling very much out of place amongst the three unicorns.
“Sixty-two facets are reserved for gems cut for the Princess,” Rarity explained, and although Luna was a personal friend of the generous pony, Celestia would always be ‘the Princess’ to Rarity, “the Ashoka cut was designed specifically for her and she took such a shine to it that nopony has ever dared offer a gem with that cut to anypony else.”
“Does that mean Princess Celestia made that thing up there?” Applejack demanded, almost dancing on her sturdy hooves.
“Not necessarily, but it does mean that whatever that phenomena is, it’s based off of an Equestrian gem that was cut for the Princess,” Twilight offered, before turning to Starlight and asking, “How many of the stones enchanted for Lee Ung were—”
“All of them,” interrupted the unicorn, having anticipated the rest of the question. “I’ve got the complete inventory here, and they were all gifted gems and they all used the Ashoka cut.”
“Then that there’s a signal!” Applejack shouted joyously. “Them Canadians figured out how to send up a flare. We can bring Apple Bloom and the others home!”
Twilight looked over to her student, hope in her eyes. A hope that was dashed a moment later by an almost imperceptible shake of the head.
“What? What?” demanded Applejack, having picked up Twilight’s reaction.
“It’s not enough,” said Twilight, deflating as the phenomena above started to fade as it finished its transit of the heavens.
“You said that we needed a signal. Some kinda beacon, just like that. So Ah don’t wanna hear any excuses. Ah just want Apple Bloom home,” Applejack stated firmly, and Twilight could hear the hurt and frustration in her friend’s voice.
“Applejack, there’s an infinite number of dimensions out there,” Twilight began, thinking of an allegory her friend could not only understand, but accept. “That signal tells us to look at all the odd numbered dimensions, so how many are left?”
“Half, of course! Ah ain’t stupid, Twilight,” growled Applejack, right up until her mind worked out what her friends were driving at. “But half of infinity’s still infinity, ain’t it?”
“At least we know which half to look at,” Rarity offered, leaving the instrument to wrap her friend in a powerful hug. “I want Sweetie Belle home more than anything. There is no price I would not pay to have her here right now—”
“Oh really?” commented Discord, popping in from a sideways corner of reality.
“You already said you can’t find them, Discord, and now isn’t the time to pretend you can,” huffed Twilight; drawing magic to her horn in case the draconequus needed to be chased off.
“Oh fine,” Discord huffed in annoyance. “I was just trying to inject some levity into the situation.” The mixed being disappeared again with one snap of a taloned hand.
“I really wish he could find them,” Rarity sighed, the energy she’d had moments before oozing out of her as it sunk home that for another night the Boutique would be empty of the chatter of her sister and the Cutie Mark Crusaders.
“You ain’t spending tonight alone again, Rarity. It ain’t good for ya,” declared Applejack, deciding to do something about how her glamorous friend seemed to be collapsing in on herself.
“It’s quite alright Applejack. I’ll be fine,” Rarity said, trying to move away from her earth pony friend only to discover she was held in a grip of steel.
“No, you won’t be fine, and Ah won’t be either. Not until the Crusaders get home,” Applejack countered, holding the white unicorn to her side. “Yer family, and family sticks together when things get tough. So you and me are gonna march over to your place, grab a bunch of your frou-frou stuff, and then head on back to Sweet Apple Acres, ya hear?”
“I’m not allowed to say, ‘No’, am I?” Rarity asked, a small smile on her tired face.
“Not a chance, an’ Rainbow Dash neither, once Ah manage to get ahold of her,” Applejack stated.
“Twilight, can I… '' Spike's voice trailed off, and Twilight didn’t need more than a tiny bit of her prodigious intellect to finish the question in the drake’s voice.
“We can manage without you for a few days, Spike,” Twilight responded, drawing a pleased smile from her number one assistant. “Go and help Granny Smith take care of them for me, okay?”
“You betcha Twilight!” Spike answered, and the two science minded ponies were left to ponder their next course of action as the last bits of blue radiance faded from the night sky.
“Hello Mr. Prime Minister,” the President said into the phone, chatter in his office having come to a halt so he could take the call in peace.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Trudeau asked, without preamble.
“Everything appears to be contained to just the one area of the university, and casualties were incredibly light,” Biden responded, as another staffer tapped a section of a piece of paper in front of the President. “There is one thing my people would like to know though.”
“What is it?” the prime minister answered.
“Have any of your people done any sort of high-energy experiments with any of the Equestrian gems you have?” Biden asked, his tone urgent. “We need to know if anything like this has happened anywhere else, and what sort of precautions we should take to avoid a repeat of what happened.”
“We only know of the two that were still in Brightly,” was the PM’s response. “One is cracked and damaged, so we’ve left it with the people there. The other one has a rather useful property to it, and so we aren’t willing to accidentally use it up through rash experimentation.”
“I wish Texas A&M had been a little less willing to risk the gem they had,” sighed Biden, speed reading a note shoved in front of him. “What’s the other stone you have capable of?”
“It detects the level of ambient magic in the area. The University of British Columbia is trying to use it as a sort of detector to try to find any more of the forty-two stones,” Trudeau answered candidly. “What do the other stones that you have do?”
“Both of them are survival oriented. So, we’re guessing they were among the original gems Celestia enchanted,” explained the President. “One will turn a rock into an apple, once a day. The other will make a pint of water drinkable, no matter how fouled it is.”
“They still have power in them?” Trudeau asked, surprise in his voice.
“One of the kids at Texas A&M found out that you can recharge one by discharging a few car batteries into it. That’s why the stones were there, to see if anything more about them could be discovered,” Biden answered, and inwardly cursing a moment later for giving away something for free in the exchange.
“Incredible. We’ll have to give that a try if we find any other gems to see what they do. Oh, one other thing,” Trudeau added, surprising the older man.
“What’s that?” the President asked, letting a little of the surprise he felt into his voice.
“There are still Equestrians in Brightly,” Trudeau stated, and Biden felt like he was in mid-air for a moment. “Three young ponies were swapped in some manner with the princesses and Miss Velasquez when they were pulled through. The Premier of British Columbia has told me that someone has been sent to Brightly to check on them.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. Considering how one of our citizens is involved in that situation, I’d appreciate it if we were part of anything happening with them,” Biden said, improvising on the fly.
“We’ll be sure to keep you fully informed,” Trudeau responded, before adding, “America is, and always has been one of Canada’s best friends, and I hope that being candid with you we can restore some of the goodwill that was lost when Equestria first came to Earth.”
“I appreciate that Justin, and thank you,” Biden replied. “Your nation has always been one of our closest allies and you people have always had our back. I’m looking forward to working closely with you again.”
“Thank you, I’ll speak to you again tomorrow, if you’re available, and hopefully I’ll be able to share some news about these three new Equestrians,” Trudeau concluded.
“Until then,” Biden replied, cutting the connection.
“Oh shit,” sounded a soft male voice in the silence following the call.
“Jake, what’s wrong?” the President asked, fixing his National Security Advisor with a look. “You’ve gone white as a sheet.”
“We need to track down and secure every single one of those alien rocks, and we need to do it yesterday,” insisted the man, sweating as he tapped messages into his phone in rapid-fire succession. “I mean it, Sir. Every single other national security issue needs to take a backseat to getting those stones into American control.”
“I get that magic is a wildcard, and that we need to be on the forefront of any research into them, but aren’t you going a little over the top here?” counseled the President.
“No Sir. If anything, I’m understating the situation. We need to beg, borrow, steal, blackmail and if necessary go to war to make sure each one of those stones are controlled by either us or an ally,” the man pressed his phone to a sweating cheek and urgently said, “Pete, it’s Jake. We need to retask Mercury immediately. Crisis meeting in ten minutes, and make sure everyone is there.”
“Jake, what the hell is going on?” the President demanded.
“Sir, after what happened in Texas one of the boffins at DARPA asked a question, and when no one could answer it, the question got kicked up the chain of command because the potential answers have thrown every single strategic planner in the country into a panic, myself included just now,” responded the National Security Advisor.
“What question?” asked the 46th President of the United States.
“Sir, what happens if someone straps one of those Equestrian jewels to a nuke and sets it off?” posed the advisor.
“Oh shit.”
“Can you believe it was just sitting there in the old geology samples?” Konstantin asked his friend, as they quickly strode down the halls of one of UBC’s many buildings.
“I told you we should have started in the uncatalogued section first, instead of the known samples,” replied Art, who was the very epitome of a hungry university student, his tall lean build eating up the meters with a stuttering stride.
“Ya, ya,” rebutted the heavy-set Manitoban man. Konstantin was third generation Canadian, but his name reflected his parent’s desire to maintain their Russian cultural traditions. “What really should have tipped us off is what the sample is made of.”
“The label said ‘beryl’,” Art commented, breaking stride to weave around another student whose nose was down in his phone. “How is that a clue?”
“It’s the type of beryl that’s important. Don’t forget, I’m a double major. Physics and geology,” Konstantin boasted, pumping his legs a bit to keep up.
“You can generalize all you want, specialization is where it’s at. Which is why I’m on the Dean’s List for particle physics,” shot back Art, holding open the door so the pair could exit the building. “Spill. Why is the type important?”
“It’s not just a piece of beryl. It’s a faceted piece of golden beryl,” Konstantin explained, puffing as he broke into a sprint toward a cab that was just offloading a fare. “Heliodor .”
“Helio—what?” Art asked, easily sliding into the other side.
“Heliodor, or ‘Sun’s Gift’ in greek. And you remember what Princess Celestia said she was the princess of?” Konstantin panted out, leaning back into the seat.
“Holy crap, you’re right,” agreed Art, before catching the eye of the cab’s driver and saying, “Take us to TRIUMF.”
TRIUMF or the “TRI-University Meson Facility” had stood on the south edge of the UBC campus for over forty-five years and was still the world’s most powerful cyclotron in existence. The device was capable of summoning up charged hydrogen ions of up to 520 million electron volts, and then hurtling them outward at seventy-five percent of the speed of light down several beam pathways, making the facility able to conduct multiple experiments at once.
The device was massive, sturdy, well maintained and a hyper-powered scalpel carving its way into the mysteries of the subatomic realms.
“Do you have it?” demanded Dr. Smith, the facility’s director, as the two young men trotted toward him.
“Right here, Doctor,” Art answered, passing over the metal sample box that was labelled ‘Golden Beryl, donated 1975, donor unknown.’
“Excellent, grab your dosimeters and take your stations. We go hot in twenty minutes,” Smith ordered, taking the box and spending a moment to open the container and marvel at the faceted stone inside.
“Are you sure this is wise?” ask Dr. Aloud, the chief operating officer. “Especially after what happened earlier today.”
“It has to be done, particularly in light of the tragedy in Texas,” Dr. Smith responded, his voice even. “Now that it’s known that Celestia’s gifts react strongly to high energy particles, the world needs to know which particles are the cause, in what combination they react and whether or not that reaction can be controlled.”
“I hope you don’t intend to go with full power immediately,” cautioned Dr. Aloud.
“Certainly not,” scoffed the director. “We have an entire regimen of experiments to conduct and we will start with the least energetic of them, and only then progress forward in a gradual and methodical way.”
“In that case I’ll take the stone to the targeting array on Beamline Four,” stated Dr. Aloud, holding out her hand for the case.
“Thank you. Be sure to bring as many sensors online for the tests as you can as well. We need as many different eyes as possible on this,” added the director, passing over the sample.
Twenty minutes of frantic activity later, Dr. Smith was standing behind several engineers as they watched the massive cyclotron build up power. Watching them in turn from a visitor’s gallery were several members of the university’s science faculties, a pair of local politicians, and a member of the local news media. A reporter for the news-talk radio station CKNW who had caught wind of the goings-on and been allowed in on the condition that nothing they observed could be broadcast live.
“Power at one million electron volts. Prepare to energize the beam for one second,” stated Dr. Smith in a commanding voice. “Energize in three… two… one… Energize.”
There was a distant thrum of power and subsonic vibration that seemed to be felt more than heard. A few seconds later one of the technicians reported, “Energization successful and within standard deviations. Beginning spin down procedures.”
“No readings on any sensors,” reported another of the personnel. “Nothing on ATLAS, NMER, ARIEL, or any other sensor. It’s like we didn’t do anything at all.”
“No results at all? We should have at least picked up scatter from the beam’s impact, as we did when we tested the diamond detectors for CERN,” noted Dr. Smith. “Very well. We’ll continue with the experiment protocols. Prepare for a second energization. Two million volts, same duration.”
Over the next three hours, the main cyclotron was spun up to power over fifty times as the chunk of rock was subjected to an ever increasing bombardment of charged hydrogen ions. The initial excitement had worn off, and both politicians had left pleading prior commitments, but the reporter stayed on, citing the fact that he was being paid by the hour to stand around in an air conditioned room drinking coffee.
“Four hundred million volts, thirty seconds duration, Beamline Two,” stated Dr. Smith, his tie somewhat loose now. “Three… two… one… Energize.”
“Energization successful and within standard deviations. Beginning spin down procedures.” announced the tech, for the umpteenth time a minute later. A second announcement shattered the room's decorum a moment later.
“Positive result on ATLAS!” called out a graduate student working on her doctorate, and pressed into service to monitor the array of instruments now aimed at the gold stone. “We have data from NREL, ARIEL, DRAGON, TITAN… Sir, everything is lit up. Positive results from all detectors.”
“Confirm that the results are valid and not interference, then back everything up to the offsite location,” Dr. Smith ordered, before turning to the now very interested reporter. “We maintain an offsite data center which we back up any experimental results to. Just in case of a catastrophic failure.”
“Just like in Texas,” noted the reporter. “You seem to have gotten a result. Now what?”
“We’ll pause here for a bit and make sure the readings are valid before pressing on,” Smith said.
“Provided the results are valid, what do you press on towards? From what I understand, you’re nearing the limits of what you can put out,” asked the reporter, discreetly holding a micro voice recorder between the two of them.
“We only had plans for two more energizations. The first is a maximum power energization from Beamline One at the full five hundred and twenty million electron volts that we are capable of,” Smith stated, with more than a little pride for the facility in his voice. “The second is what one of our graduate students fancifully referred to as our ‘Omega Beam’.”
“Omega Beam?” the reporter queried, mouth quirking in a smile. “You folks are firing what amounts to a particle cannon from science fiction and you have something called an ‘Omega Beam’? I’ve got to ask, what is it?”
“If the first energization indicates that there is anything of value from increasing the power beyond maximums, I’ll describe it to you. Otherwise, you’ll just have to wait,” Smith replied, a smug smile crossing his usually disciplined face for a moment.
“Anything you say, ‘Doctor Darkseid’,” chuckled the reporter, clicking off the recorder. It would be a good bit of humour to liven up what could be an otherwise fairly dry report.
A full hour later and nearly five hours after the series of experiments began, the nearly fifty year old cyclotron began spinning up to its maximum power setting. Hydrogen atoms were pulled from their reservoir, ionically charged and then sent into a spiraling course as they accelerated to three quarters of the speed of light. Then at just the right moment those ions struck a piece of graphite laced foil, stripping away the electrons and leaving only the oppositely charged protons behind.
The shift from being attracted to repelled by the cyclotron’s massive magnet sent the beam of energized protons down a tube that had been evacuated of all air. This was the beamline that guided the elemental particles toward their target at relativistic speeds. A few miniscule fragments of time later, the subatomic fury struck the stone and this time, something changed.
Beam met stone, but the gem was more than just a simple rock. It was a crystalline lattice of prismatic facets that had been further enhanced by the addition of a framework of the reality warping powers of magic wielded by a centuries old being in the cause of her most dearly held values. Friendship and Harmony.
Every single measuring device in the entire building registered that something monumental occurred at the moment of beam impact. A fact punctuated with exclamation point of multiple alarms and an array of flashing lights.
“Shut everything down!” Dr. Smith yelled, unnecessarily as the various scientists and technicians scrambled to do just that. It took nearly a minute later, but eventually the alarms were silenced, leaving only a series of flashing lights.
“Energization successful and within normal parameters until twenty eight point four seconds duration, at which point magnet sector four went out of standard operating guidelines,” stated the tech from the operations group. “We have damage to the main cyclotron. No idea how bad as yet.”
“DOCTOR, YOU HAVE TO GET DOWN HERE!” screamed a voice through the intercom. A voice Dr. Smith immediately recognized as the man who oversaw the physical creation and observation of all of TRIUMF’s complicated targeting arrays.
“Jim? What is it?” Smith demanded, pressing the old intercom button. “We’re a little busy up here.”
“You have to get down here and see this,” insisted the old electronics expert. “It’s incredible.”
Dr. Smith and the reporter exchanged a look, the latter getting a near imperceptible nod of permission and a moment later the two were dashing through the massive facility, every unoccupied technician and scientist hot on their heels. In what seemed to be seconds later, the group dashed into the containment area that was the end point for Beamline One and the location of its targeting array holding the piece of golden beryl.
The stone shone with the colours of a setting sun. Rays of energized power flowed outward from the sixty-four facets of the stone creating a rectangular outline of yellow-red light on one wall of the chamber. An outline that was slightly larger than a door frame, but that had not been the true reason for the urgent call for witnesses, as incredible as that sight was.
The true wonder was that within the borders of that outline there could be seen, not the wall that the light was projected on, but the image of a moonlit beach with gentle surf to one side and a forested cliff on the other. Stepping closer, Dr. Smith could even make out what appeared to be a set of wooden stairs emerging from the woods.
“Is that?” panted the reporter. “Is that a portal? Did you make a portal?”
“Possibly,” allowed Smith, taking a moment to study the phenomena. “If it is, it is an unstable one. The edges are collapsing in on themselves.”
Everyone could see that the director was right. The golden gateway was slowly shrinking in size even as they watched. The entire group was torn between the joy of scientific accomplishment and the burning design to press onward into a new frontier.
“What no—” one of the graduate students was about to ask, when a smartphone went sailing through the air, passing through the doorway of golden light and landing in a clearly visible location on the sandy beach.
“Track my phone,” said the reporter, as the edges of the light began to accelerate inward. “I fired up my tracking app before I threw it. If that’s anywhere in the world with cell service, we can find where that beach is.”
“Good thinking,” Smith warmly declared, as the portal’s closure continued to accelerate.
“Wreck Beach,” said the targeting tech, a few moments later, as the radiance from the jewel gave a last shudder before disappearing entirely, and taking the portal with it. “His phone is on Wreck Beach, about three kilometers from here.”
“Huh, I wonder where it would have gone if you guys had used that ‘Omega Beam’ thing of yours,” the reporter commented.
“Maybe next time,” Smith allowed. “Maybe next time.”
“There are two things that are infinite. The universe, and human stupidity. And I’m not sure about the universe.”
Albert Einstein
Summer mornings are full of many things, but mostly they are filled with bright sunshine and the joy of unlimited potential. And it was with that potential in mind that a hoof knocked on a door frame a little after breakfast in the small town of Brightly BC.
“Morning kids,” Windweaver said in greeting, looking at the small herd in front of her. “You’re all here a little early. We just finished breakfast about fifteen minutes ago. Anything wrong?”
“Seeker found something where the portal was,” Shield Maiden replied, pointing a hoof over toward where her sister who was doing her usual avoidance of speaking. “She thinks it might belong to the Crusaders.”
“That’s great! I’m sure they would be very happy for anything from home. Well done, Seeker,” Windweaver praised, drawing a blush from the pony that made her red fur an even darker shade of scarlet.
“Thanks,” mumbled the pony in embarrassment, drawing a hug from her soon-to-be adoptive brother from where he stood between both girls.
“Magic may not be a big thing anymore, but she can still find things that are up close to her,” Iron Hoof supplied, beaming up at the older pony.
“Well, we’re just finishing cleaning up, so you can head back into the rec room and wait for them to join you,” the motherly pegasus told the young herd. “They shouldn’t be too long.”
“Thanks Mrs. Harding,” enthused Shield Maiden, before adding, “I mean, thanks Windweaver. Sorry, I forgot for a minute there.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. I know we all decided to use pony names when we are in pony bodies, but we’ve all known each other for years by our original names, so I don’t mind answering to either,” Windweaver née Lynn Harding assured all three of the young ponies. “So go on in, but no bothering anyone until after they finish the dishes, okay?”
A trio of “Okay’s!” chirped out from the small group as they trotted through the door and toward the rear of the now comfortably full large home. The group was briefly hailed by a group of three young pegasi, an earth pony and a unicorn, who were all busy scrubbing plates and cleaning up from what looked like a complete breakfast of pancakes with butter and syrup.
“Hey guys,” Darter called, his silver wing tips nearly indistinguishable from the soap suds in the sink. “What’s up?”
“Found thome stuff,” Seeker stated, the return of her lisp ending her sentence.
“Your mom told us to wait for you guys in the rec room. How long you figure?” Iron Hoof asked, taking up the job of continuing the conversation as Seeker faltered.
“Five more minutes,” Scootaloo replied, drying a plate and passing it over to Skylark. “Unless it takes us longer to clean out the pot that Apple Bloom tried to make a better soap with.”
“Zecora’s recipe shouda worked just fine,” complained the yellow earth pony, hooves scrubbing with industrial energy at the inside of a soup pot. “Ah made her super bubble soap like a dozen times!”
A pop from one side of the kitchen drew every eye to where Sweetie Belle calmly pulled two slices of toast from a toaster. As her two best friends watched in amazement, their culinary challenged compatriot calmly cut the slices into four halves, adding some jam before placing the toast onto a plate and passing them over to Shield Maiden, keeping one chunk for herself.
“Things work a little differently on Earth,” the unicorn reminded the rest, munching casually away on her toast. “I’m done with my part. Anypony need any help?”
There was a moment of stunned silence from Sweetie’s fellow Crusaders and the local ponies shot a glance to each other, looking for an explanation to the shocked surprise radiating off of Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. As the moment stretched out, it was predictably Shield Maiden who took action.
“Anyway… we’ll see you all in the back. Thanks for the toast!” declared the little unicorn, nudging her sister and brother forward while carrying the plate with the power of almost all the magic she could muster.
It turned out to be more than a few minutes before the three became eight and the full herd of Power Ponies and Cutie Mark Crusaders merged into the large rec room, now filled somewhat with the addition of three pony sized beds and the beginnings of new sets of personal belongings for the Equestrian trio.
“So, what’s up? You guys got something we can do?” Darter asked, leading the conversation as he often did. “We were thinking of heading out to the lake today, before it got super hot.”
“Seeker found some stuff from near where the portal was, and she thinks it might belong to either Scootaloo, Apple Bloom or Sweetie Belle,” Shield Maiden began, before giving her sister a nudge. “Show them.”
“Okay,” responded the pony, her blue and green split coloured eyes whirling for a moment under her purple mane, as she drew three long and narrow gems out from one of the pouches of the small harness that all the local ponies habitually wore. “These any of yours?”
“OH!” gasped Sweetie Belle, grabbing the gems with her own scraps of magic. “You found them!”
“What are they?” Seeker asked, curiosity overcoming the fear of her speech impediment. “I can’t see much anymore, but those are strong.”
“They’re from Rarity’s Imagination Room,” Sweetie Belle explained. “I was gonna make her a card using those after.. after… “
The young unicorn was overcome with emotion as she remembered just how far from home she was, and found herself unable to continue. A heartbeat later seven other ponies covered Sweetie Belle in a single, massive hug of comfort and reassurance.
“You’ll get home,” Shield Maiden declared. Her voice stating a certainty that was as unchallengeable as the turning of the worlds. “It might take a while but all three of you are going home. We promise.”
“Thanks everypony,” Sweetie Belle replied, trying to wipe her eyes and failing as she could barely move. “Um, could you kind of unhug me? Just for a bit?”
All of the ponies laughed and unpiled themselves from the small white unicorn, and for a time the large room was filled with happy chatter and the sound of games. At one point, Darter went out and came back with a small pouch on a string, so that Sweetie Belle could be sure to not lose the three salvaged gems.
Sun poured in through the sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard, and from there into the slightly overgrown alley behind the houses that made up the block.
“How do I look?” Donavich asked his companions as they pulled up in front of the Harding residence.
“Pretty good, boss,” Captain Watson replied, both of them utterly resplendent in their Class A uniforms. Ebon’s chest was especially dotted with ribbons marking a host of accomplishments and awards.
“You always did dress to impress,” Takamura added, dressed in a fitted pantsuit of neutral colours. She wanted to blend in during this interaction as much as possible, adding to the conversation only if needed.
“I do not see why I had to be here,” Pjetrovic opined from the back seat of their rental car. “I could easily be speaking with our source more, or gathering more information on the town and its other pony inhabitants.”
“You’re here to show off American diversity and demonstrate that we are accepting of all cultures and peoples,” Donavich replied. “In this car we have individuals of American, Russian and Asian descent. Not to mention being of diverse gender identities, isn’t that right… Empress?”
“And I’ll thank you to continue keeping that under your hat,” Takamura tried not to growl back. “The CIA may have come a long way, but it's still an old boy’s club in many respects.”
“As you wish,” Donavich answered, tipping his head towards the Harding’s front door. “Does everyone know their assignments?”
“I’m here to observe the ponies and see if I can actually conduct any sort of physical exam,” Sunday supplied. “We know so little about how the pony body works. Almost any information will be literally trailblazing.”
“My role is psychological analysis and assistance in persuading the Hardings to come to the United States for a visit,” stated the psyops expert.
“My job is to be window dressing,” Prism added, with a heavy sigh of bored frustration. “I am there to look good, and take names.”
“You’re armed, right?” Donavich asked. “Other than with the knock out injectors?”
“Foolish Canadian gun laws,” groused the Slav. “But yes, I have my Glock 42 with me.”
“Then we’re prepared for everything. Let’s go,” ordered Major Ebon Donavich, Task Force Mercury (Commanding).
The four stepped out from the sedan and walked toward the front door of the large, two story house. Behind Donavich’s back, Nao shot her fellow intelligence officer a questioning look that wordlessly asked how ready they were to use their weapon. Their erstwhile leader never noticed the sigh of relief Nao gave as she received a shake of the head in response.
“Hello?” a male voice answered, almost immediately after Donavich knocked on the home’s front door. Looking down, the four Americans saw a strongly built pegasus pony, one silver wing holding open the door.
“Good morning sir,” Donavich opened with. “My name is Major Ebon Donavich, United States Army. Would you be Mr. Harding?”
“That would be me,” Thunder replied, his voice cool and calm. “What can I do for you folks?”
“May we come in for a few minutes?” asked Donavich, his voice warm and pleasant. “We have an offer for your family, and your daughter in particular.”
“What do you want with my little girl?” Thunder shot back, immediately bristling at a perceived threat to his child.
“The heavens, sir,” Nao supplied, sliding up alongside Ebon and discreetly nudging Captain Watson back as she recognized the need for her interpersonal skills. “We want to give her the skies, and all the stars in heaven above.”
“Oookay,” Thunder drawled out, relaxing a bit as his curiosity rose.
“All we want to do is come in, speak with you and your family for a few minutes and lay out an offer that I’ve been tasked to present to you,” Ebon added, avoiding an urge to get down on one knee so that he could be closer to eye level with the pony. “Afterwards, if you want us to go away, we will. There are no strings attached. If you say ‘No’, we go. But if you say ‘Yes’ I guarantee you’ll be impressed.”
“Honey,” called a voice from inside the house. “Who is it?”
“It’s the American military. Seems they want to offer us something,” Thunder replied, over his shoulder. “Should I tell them to go away?”
“Ernest Thunder Harding, you will do no such thing,” Windweaver commanded. “Invite them in.”
“Well, you heard the wife. Come on in,” Thunder said, holding the door open a little wider.
Several moments later the four Americans were sitting in the Harding living room, with Thunder perched on a large ottoman with Windweaver sitting on the cushion of a recliner near him.
“Some introductions first,” Ebon began. “I’m Major Ebon Donavich, US Army. With me is Captain Cassandra Watson, Army Veterinary Corps, as well as Officers Nao Takamura and Kyo Pjetrovic of the CIA.”
“CIA?” Windweaver asked, a single eyebrow rising.
“We’re here as civilian oversight,” Takamura stated, smoothing her pants and noting an odd purplish discoloration in the centre of the hardwood floor. “Considering past… errors in judgment, it was thought that keeping things as controlled as possible would be best.”
“I like how you call an armed kidnap squad an ‘error in judgment’,” Thunder replied sarcastically.
“They’ve come a long way. The christian thing to do is to hear them out,” Windweaver stated, pausing before adding with unexpected firmness, “before we show them the door, that is.”
“It was a dumb thing to do,” Pjetrovic bluntly threw into the conversation. “Men thinking with egos and not heads. A big part of this is to say, ‘We fucked up, and we are sorry’.”
“That… is rather more candid than I was expecting,” Windweaver responded, fluffing her wings a bit before addressing the vet, who hadn’t made a sound from the moment Thunder had opened his front door. “And what about you? Hello?”
Watson blinked and shook her head for a moment before blurting, “My God, your fur is gorgeous! Is it natural or did you do something magical to give it that gloss? And your wings! I’ve never seen actual, silver, feathers before. White, sure. But not actual silver coloured ones.”
Everyone else in the room laughed for a moment at Watson’s enthusiastic rush of words and praise for Windweaver’s fur and plumage, who responded only with a purplish blush from the metallic black of her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” apologized Watson, blushing herself. “Like Eb… Major Donavich said, I’m a vet and I specialize in equines and camelids, which is why I got tapped for this job. To see an equine like yourself makes me want to run my ha… I just… I mean... It makes me very happy to have met you.”
“Well praise for my wife’s beauty aside,” Thunder said, giving his wife a loving look, “I believe you said something about an offer that brought you here.”
“Indeed,” Donavich said, fixing Watson in place with a split second glare of reproval as he took a leather folder out from beneath his coat. “I have here a personal invitation from the Commandant of the United States Air Force Academy for your daughter, Skylark, to come tour the facilities in Colorado Springs for a week. Culminating in a flight with the Thunderbirds.”
“I—” Thunder began to say, before he was interrupted by the dopplering approach of his youngest child.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!,” the young pony squealed in excitement as she flew into the room, dusting Pjetrovic with her feathers just before her magic gave out and she plowed headlong into her father. “Can I? Can I? CanI? CanIcanicanicanicanicanicanicani.”
“Give your father a chance to breathe,” Windweaver said, pulling her usually taciturn daughter off her landing spot, as the other women in the room tried to hide their amusement at Skylark’s reaction.
“Thanks dear,” Thunder commented, rubbing his belly for a moment; before turning to address Donavich while looking at the CIA officers. “As you may have noticed Major, my daughter has a love of flight and flying, but you knew that didn’t you?”
“After the Windigo Event, we drew up detailed dossiers of all the major players in Brightly, especially the Power Ponies and anyone close to them,” Nao admitted, unabashed at Thunder’s suspicious scrutiny. “And although I can’t be completely sure, I would imagine every other intelligence agency around the world has done something similar.”
“So you knew how our daughter would react to this. Which means you want something in return, or should I assume this is another kidnap attempt, only with better bait this time?” Thunder asked, sarcasm heavy in his voice.
Nao didn’t miss the change in the stance of all three ponies in the room, nor did she fail to notice several young eyes trying, and failing, to peek around the corner unobserved. The Brightly ponies had been burned by the outside world enough times to be wary of strangers bearing gifts. She was about to do her best to reassure Thunder and his family, when to her surprise, Donavich spoke up.
“We would like several things in return,” Ebon began, leaning forward and speaking with the open, warm voice that Nao remembered charming her on more than one occasion. “In exchange for you and your family coming to Colorado as guests of the US military, we would want your goodwill. We would want to have your trust, again. We would like you to accept our apology, and tell the rest of Brightly that we are sorry, and that we would like to make it up to them as well.”
“That’s all?” Thunder demanded. “No tests, no trying to separate us and take a pony apart to see what makes us tick? No ‘terrible accident’ of us all dying in a plane crash, with no bodies ever recovered, nothing like that?”
“That only happens in bad movies,” Prism snorted.
“Precisely,” agreed Donavich. “However, if one of you wants to spend time in a wind tunnel so pegasi aerodynamics can be examined, or if one of you is willing to allow a 3D scan of their body so we can do computer modelling, no one is going to refuse. But those sorts of things would be wholly optional on your part. If any of you say ‘No’ to something, then ‘no’ it is, and we’ll accept that and move on.”
“I’m willing to consider the offer, with one immediate condition,” Thunder stated.
“And that is?” Donavich asked, a pleased smile on his face.
“Polaris comes with us,” Thunder tersely replied.
“Martin McCrae, Canadian Rangers,” supplied Pjetrovic, seeing Ebon’s confusion at the name. “Pegasus pony, marksman. Special ability, can use almost anything as a bullet for his service weapon. Codename: Polaris. Like the missile.”
“Oh,” Donavich muttered, thinking rapidly, until a knock on the door interrupted his train of thought.
Everyone in the living room looked at each other with equal amounts of questioning confusion, and when it became clear that no one was expecting anyone new to be knocking Thunder got up and opened the door.
<Five minutes earlier>
“Okay, are you sure we’ve got the right address?” asked the man behind the wheel of the older rental car.
“Go a couple of blocks and take a left at the intersection with a blue house and it should be three doors down on the left,” replied his companion. “Trust me, I had to come to this crappy little town a few years ago. I know the area.”
“‘Crappy little town’ is right,” snorted the first man, sneaking a quick look in the mirror to check on his grooming. First impressions were important. “I’m surprised this place even has a name, never mind is an actual town. They don’t even have a Starbucks here, if you can believe that.”
“At least Bella Coola has that,” responded his passenger, who was both more sensibly dressed and more casually groomed than the driver, who had insisted on taking the wheel despite having just come up from Vancouver. “This place is so out of touch that the one time I tried to buy something in town, they actually used an old swipe machine and carbon paper on my credit card.”
“No wonder the premier sent me up here to rescue these pony kids,” whistled the driver, enjoying the car’s air conditioning. “These people are so backward they’re probably beating their kids with belts. Spare the rod, spoil the child and all that nonsense.”
“I read the briefing packet you brought up with you. Seems the father was involved with the Ministry as a youth. Tragic case that slipped through the cracks, but I didn’t see anything in there about anything current, not even anonymous allegations,” commented the passenger, quickly flipping through pages on a clipboard. “Father is now a local farmer and firefighter, mother is a homemaker and well respected.”
“It’s always the ones who are ‘respected’ that have the biggest skeletons in their closet,” noted the driver, making the turn. “This file was marked ‘Urgent’ and ‘Top Priority’, and on top of that, they sent me all the way up here from Vancouver. That spells abuse or some other trouble that the Minister can’t directly comment on. My money is on the cycle of abuse repeating itself through the father.”
“There’s the house,” said the passenger, pointing out a home with a pair of cars parked in front of it. “How do you want to play this?”
“We start polite, but firm,” the driver informed his passenger. “Be ready for avoidance and for the parents to refuse to let us check the children or the living conditions. No matter what, we aren’t leaving without making sure those kids are sleeping in a better environment tonight.”
“Hello?” Thunder asked, to the two men standing on his doorstep. Both men were dressed in what could be called ‘business casual’, with one of them sweating underneath an immaculate leather overcoat that was hanging loosely open.
“Good morning,” opened the taller of the two, a well built man with a high, tight haircut and the top of a dragon tattoo poking up the side of his neck. “My name is Steven Tamatzui. This is Ryan Stevens and we’re with the Ministry of Children and Family Development.”
“Okay, what can I do for you?” Thunder asked, confused as to why a pair of social workers of all things, would be at his door.
“There have been some disturbing allegations and we are here to make sure that the children are okay. May we see them?” Steve asked, in a tone that made it more of a demand than a request.
“What sort of allegations and by whom?” Thunder demanded, not budging an inch.
“Excuse me, I think I need to help deal with this,” Windweaver said, to the now wide-eyed and surprised Americans. Donavich sent a questioning glance over to the two intelligence officers, both of whom replied with fractional shakes of their head.
“Due to privacy laws I’m not permitted to reveal the details of the allegations, but I can assure you that they are serious enough to warrant a health and safety check,” Steve continued, while Stevens made a few notes as to what was going on.
“You people did sweet fuck all when I needed help,” Thunder growled back, memories of his painful youth igniting his outrage and fanning it into instant flame. “The Ministry wasn’t there then, or at any time when me and mine have needed help over the years, so what gives you the right to stand at MY DOOR and demand to be let in.”
“My husband is a good person and we are good parents,” Windweaver added, her own growing sense of upset revealed by her lashing tail. “You have no cause to demand anything.”
“Uh, did you want to go to the rec room and show my brother that Air Force stuff?” Skylark asked, timidly tapping a hoof against Donavich’s leg to get his attention.
“Of course we can,” Nao assured the young pegasus, who was visibly attempting to shy away from the growing conflict at the front door. “Let’s go show the other ponies the offer. Could you lead the way, Skylark?”
Together, the four Americans and one pony made their way out of the living room and toward the back of the house, pausing only to catch a brief look of gratitude from Windweaver as tempers continued to flare and flame, with old wounds mixing with new suspicions and conjectures.
“What the hay is going on out there?” Scootaloo asked, as the five entered the rec room. The ponies had obviously been in the middle of some sort of board game, when the Americans and then the social workers had disrupted things.
“There are some people at the door who are… concerned for your well-being,” Ebon commented. “Perhaps somewhat excessively. Thunder is attempting to dissuade them.”
“Diss…wade?” Apple Bloom repeated, trying to parse the meaning of the word.
“It means make them go away,” Kyo explained, sitting cross legged on the floor.
“Are you… are you Equestrians?” Watson asked, eyes the size of dinner plates focusing on Sweetie Belle. “I’ve never met an Equestrian before, or been this close to this many ponies. I really like your mane. Can I touch it?”
“Sure!” chirped Sweetie Belle. “As long as you're careful, that is. Rarity says that manes take a lot of work to maintain.”
“Who is Rarity?” Nao asked, eager to gain new intelligence.
“She’s my sister, back in Ponyville. She’s one of the Elements of Harmony and everything,” Sweetie Belle stated proudly. “Those are her gems on the board.”
Four pairs of human eyes shifted to where three brilliant blue gems sat, each one as long and as thick as a man’s thumb, their physical value perhaps in the billions of dollars but their value as objects of research and study making them absolutely priceless. Major Donavich froze as his mind replayed to him his orders to obtain items of magic or any of the missing Equestrian gems at any cost, and here in front of him were three absolutely pristine and unknown diamonds that were undoubtedly capable of things beyond his imagination.
“If you don’t let us in, we will have the RCMP here to require you to let us in,” carried the angry voice of the social worker from the front door. The words and tone drew the eye of all of the ponies, but the eyes of the humans were all on Donavich, as each of the women with him recognized the look on the man’s face, and dreaded it.
“It’s ‘Downtime’,” Donavich ordered, in a tight, controlled voice.
“Are you—” Watson began, her fingers still woven in the hairs of Sweetie’s mane.
“‘Downtime’, now,” insisted the major, his hand going into his pocket.
“Sorry,” Cassandra apologized, as she pressed a small device against Sweetie Belle’s shoulder.
“Hey!” exclaimed the pony, “What wasthat…”
As the Cutie Mark Crusader collapsed into a boneless slump to the floor, the other three Americans moved swiftly and decisively to inject the other seven ponies in the room with the powerful ketamine derivative meant to incapacitate Foxfire. Within a matter of seconds each of the magical equines lay on the floor, having been taken fully by surprise.
“Why?” Prism asked, as Donavich scooped up the three blue diamonds.
“Equestrian gems. All other considerations are secondary to securing more of them,” replied the major bluntly as he stood up.
“No, you ca— can’t have those,” Apple Bloom slurred out. The little pony couldn’t move, could barely speak, but her earth pony vitality and Apple Family determination had kept her conscious where the others had succumbed to the powerful sedative.
“We can’t have her telling the others where we went. Grab her, and let’s go,” ordered Donavich. “They’ll give us the Medal of Honor for this.”
“If they don’t shoot us for starting a war first,” Takamura replied darkly, as the four quietly made their way out the sliding glass door that led to the back of the property, Apple Bloom slung over Watson’s shoulders in a fireman’s carry.
“This is a bad idea,” Kyo repeated, as the quartet left the Harding’s backyard and began to move down the dirt and gravel alley that ran along the long axis of the block of houses on either side. “Very bad.”
“This is kidnapping Ebon. Everything else aside, we just assaulted and kidnapped a foreign national,” Nao protested, moving alongside the striding major and shooting a look at the group’s veterinarian. “And you, I can’t believe you’re okay with this.”
“Ebon is my commanding officer, and I’m more than willing to follow his lead. If he says this is the right thing to do, then I’m doing it,” Watson replied, shifting the slight burden that was Apple Bloom over her shoulders.
“Help,” the nearly unconscious pony tried to call out, the sedative in her system having robbed her of all her strength. Neither she nor her captors were aware that help was already on its way.
“I’ve got movement behind the Harding house,” said the man in camouflage greens, the powerful spotting scope he was looking through showing him what was going on as if he was right there, instead of almost a kilometer away. “Holy shit! It’s the four Americans who went in a bit ago, and it looks like they're taking a pony with them.”
“Any chance this is some sort of emergency, or at least something benign?” asked the officer commanding the over watch team that was one of four that had been tasked to surveil the ponies of Brightly.
“If it was an emergency they would have called Medevac for help and stayed put, and I can’t think of any reason why they would be carrying a pony down a back alley,” replied the spotter, shifting slightly as he tracked his target. “Hang on, they’ve stopped outside Arnold Kye’s backyard.”
“He’s home, isn’t he?” queried the officer, lifting a set of binoculars to his own eyes.
“Yeah, and Foxfire is with him,” replied the spotter.
“Okay, I see them. Looks like they’re going into Iron Heart’s yard,” commented the officer, grimacing as he brought the microphone of a powerful radio up to his lips. “Squads One and Two, emergency deployment to points Wing and Steel. Possible abduction of an Equestrian national in progress. Contain and secure both locations, preserve the life of any hostages at all, repeat all costs.”
“Roger,” crackled the reply from the radio. “Scrambling teams now, ETA: five minutes.”
“Now what are we doing?” Nao demanded, as Ebon opened up the wooden gate that led from the back alley onto a cement walkway that led past a garage and to a medium sized home that the CIA officer immediately recognized. “Wait, this is Iron Heart’s house. You can’t be thinking of abducting him as well.”
“Will you shut the fuck up with your constant whining?” cursed Donavich, wheeling on the woman, who shrank back a bit in spite of herself. “This is exactly why we aren’t together anymore. You always had to be in charge and you never could stop second guessing me at every opportunity.”
“Fine, then kindly explain why we aren’t grabbing a car and making a mad dash to the ferry dock for extraction?” Nao demanded, voice furious.
“As soon as we get out of this alley everyone is going to be able to see us, and there is no way any of us are going to be able to explain why we have an obviously rustled pony with us,” shot back Ebon. “We need to leave her someplace where she can’t raise the alarm, but will still be relatively unharmed. Yes, this is Iron Heart’s home. We can lock her in his garage at the least, maybe find something to tie her up with to buy us even more time before she can sound the alarm, which I will remind you was the entire point of grabbing her in the first place. Speaking of which, how is she?”
“Conscious sedation level,” Sunday responded, her practiced hands checking the pony’s vitals. “I can’t believe she isn't completely out, Ebon. That was a full dose of ketamine meant for an adult pony.”
“Prism, get this door open,” Donavich ordered, waving a hand at the entrance to Arnold Kye’s shop, and breaking the yellow ‘No Entry’ tape as he did so. ”Sunday, can you give her something that will put her all the way under?”
“Even if I had my kit with me, which I don’t, it would be too dangerous,” the vet answered. “I have no idea why she’s still partially conscious and to try to overcome that without knowing why would be risking an overdose and possibly death.”
A few moments more were all the time that Kyo Pjetrovic needed to bypass the simple lock Arnold Kye had on his shop door, and the four rushed inside, eager to be out of view from anyone who might be looking out a window. In their haste however, they failed to notice the tiny electric eye mechanism the mechanic and blacksmith had placed in the doorway to let him know if customers had shown up unexpectedly.
“Who the hell?” Iron Heart asked, head popping up from the couch on which he had been laying beside the new love in his life.
“What’s wrong?” Foxfire asked. The white unicorn had been spending the early morning with her stallion, drawing support and comfort from him while she continued to struggle with the knowledge of what she had started to become. If Medevac had been the first to feel the brainwashing fires of Nytefyre, as Foxfire was beginning to refer to the egomaniacal part of her, Iron Heart was surely going to have been the second.
To Foxfire’s utter and complete astonishment, her confession to the stallion she loved had not resulted in him ending their relationship and demanding she leave forever. Instead, Iron Heart had been understanding and compassionate, tempered with a more than reasonable level of disappointment and insistence that Foxfire follow Medevac’s demands for regular counselling meetings with Father Addison and openness about what was going on inside of her mind.
“Someone just went into the shop,” Iron Heart stated, heading into the kitchen that overlooked his backyard so he could look out the window. “I don’t see anyone, and the door’s closed, but something’s different.”
“Wasn’t there tape across the door this morning?” Foxfire asked, her practiced eye picking out the missing detail as she joined her husband.
“Oh crap!” Iron Heart exclaimed. “The swords! With everything else that’s gone on, I completely forgot about them.”
“By the Goddess, we’d better get down there,” Foxfire declared. “The Umbral put them into the same category as Excalibur and Gungnir. Who knows what they might do to someone who just picked them up out of curiosity?”
“There, that should hold her,” Donavich stated with satisfaction, as he finished bolting a length of heavy chain around Apple Bloom’s neck and securing it to the large workbench by the door as a makeshift collar and leash. “Now, let’s get… What are all of you staring at?”
“Bohze moi,” murmured Prism, as Donavich saw that his companions had discovered something incredible in their search for something to restrain the tranquilized earth pony with.
There, still lying amongst the dark debris of their forging, lay five golden swords, their blades even now rippling with waves of sunrise colours, telling the world that here lay five items of power. Donavich would never have any memory of the steps that it took him to travel from one end of the shop to the other, but he would never forget how he felt as he stood over the bronze broadsword, or how his hand ached to be filled with the grip of the weapon that shone like the sun.
His hand began to reach out, fingers already curling slightly in anticipation of feeling the warm grip in his hands, until a voice sharper than steel cut through both his will and his intent.
“STOP!” called Foxfire, standing in the door with Iron Heart at her side. “Don’t touch that!”
“Do not move, Baba Yaga,” Prism ordered, Glock drawn in an instant, its .38 calibre barrel trained on the white unicorn’s chest. “You cannot use your magic before I can shoot you.”
“Good thing she isn’t alone then, eh?” Iron Heart asked, stepping in front of his fiancée and putting himself within range of where Apple Bloom lay on the concrete. “You might be able to kill me, but I promise you that my wife will avenge me. Horribly.”
“Horribly is right,” Empress responded. “Without your compassion, Foxfire will become a dangerous, vicious monster. Yes, you will be avenged, but at what cost to everyone and everything around you?”
“The only monsters I see here are you four,” Foxfire shot back, but the Empress could see in the unicorn’s body language that her sally had struck home.
“Whatever you think we’ve done here, it’s not as bad as what you did to your friend earlier, Foxfire,” Empress volleyed back. “How much more out of control will you be, how much of a monster will you become, when you have a true target for your fury? Stand down, let us go on our way, and no one needs to get hurt. We’ll even let you keep the little one here, as a gesture of good will.”
“I… I… Arn? What do I do?” Foxfire begged, no longer sure in which direction her moral compass lay.
“What was that line from that British series you showed me?” Iron Heart asked, face set with iron determination and his voice clear and bright as he raised a forehoof high. “Demons run, when a good mare goes to war.”
With a crunch, Iron Heart brought his hoof down on the chain binding Apple Bloom, summoned power neatly sundering a set of links and freeing the recumbent pony on the floor. The look on his face promised bloody hooved murder toward those who had dared harm a child.
“You only have that one gun, and I swear you are only going to get the one shot out of it,” Iron Heart stated into the silence that followed the sound of the shattering steel. “After that, we’re going to be on you, and not one of you is going to leave here alive. No matter the cost.”
The Empress of Psyops stared hard at Iron Heart, looking for some weakness, some chink in the armour of his determination and fury at those who had invaded his home, kidnapped a foal and threatened both he and his wife with deadly harm. Her mind raced through the psychological profile the CIA had on this pony and she realized with a sinking heart that another quote was very true.
"Beware the fury of a patient man."
“What do we do?” Sunday whispered, standing beside the leader of Team Mercury and realizing that if it came to a fight, she was both without a weapon and utterly unprepared for combat.
“We change the odds,” Ebon whispered back, and breathing a prayer he grasped the hilt of the enchanted broadsword, hoping that the magical blade would allow him to put down the threat to the fame and glory that he deserved.
If it is true that God answers all prayers, it is equally true that sometimes the answer is ‘No.’ So, as Ebon Donavich grasped the hilt of the blade and lifted it up toward the ceiling with a cry of triumph he felt his heart sink a moment later as a voice rang out from the weapon with a single declaration of, “I am not for you.”
Two things happened almost at the same moment just then. With a crash of sound three soldiers burst into the shop’s entrance way, C8 assault rifles at the ready and aimed with deadly intent at the Americans. All of the Americans that is, save for Ebon Donavich, who disappeared into his clothes with a burst of rainbow light as the sorcery of the blade judged the man who would use it for ill intent and changed his form from that of a human being…
… to that of a pony.
A gray head with a mane in shades of ash and lead poked out from beneath the uniform of a major, confusion writ large on the pony’s face.
“You’re all under arrest,” barked one of the soldiers in a commanding voice. “Drop the weapon, Ma’am.”
Prism wasted no time in obeying and putting her hands on top of her head, quickly followed by Empress as well.
“You have no right to detain us,” Donavich called out, struggling to control his new body. “You have no authority over us.”
“I’ve got all the authority I need right here,” the soldier responded, gesturing a moment with his weapon. “We can discuss legalities once all of you are in a nice, safe, jail cell.”
A second twinkle of light marked the disappearance of the other uniformed American into her clothing, as Sunday attempted to pick up the blade that had just so thoroughly rejected her commanding officer.
“What the hell?” Donavich asked, into the new pile of shifting clothing beside him.
“They won’t separate us now,” Sunday declared, a curly bright yellow tail popping out from beneath a uniform blouse. “We’re in this together.”
“Mr. Kye, are you and Ms. Pedersen alright?” asked a soldier, keeping his eyes and weapon fastened on the quartet of Americans. “Do any of you need any medical attention?”
“We’re fine,” Foxfire answered, wisely staying where she was even as her instincts screamed at her to care for the downed foal near her. “But Apple Bloom needs help. I don’t know what they did to her, but we need Medevac here right away.”
More soldiers appeared, with a team of five wrenching open the large vehicle door of the garage through combined brute force. Ebon and Watson managed to control their new bodies enough to get closeups of multiple rifle barrels surrounding them.
“Command, this is Team Two,” said the leader of the group of soldiers into a radio. “All secure at Point Steel. We have a pony down from unknown causes and need a medic here immediately.”
“She’ll be fine,” Watson stated, managing to lean her head against Ebon’s flank. “She’s been given a dose of pentobarbital and ketamine. It should wear off inside of an hour.”
“This is Team One at Point Wing,” crackled the radio, and every ear in the garage oriented toward the device’s speaker. “All secure here. But we have seven unconscious ponies here amid signs of a struggle, plus two adult males in custody and a pair of frantic parents. Requesting backup and medical assistance.”
“All teams, this is Captain Malinski,” came a voice laden with authority. “Hold position and secure your locations. Medical teams are two to three minutes out from your positions. All other units are mobilizing now and we are locking down the town per the BAZ charter.”
Unable to resist the commands of her nurturing side any further, Foxfire darted forward the few feet needed to reach Apple Bloom’s side, utterly oblivious of the series of weapons that almost, but not quite shifted to target her.
“You still with us?” Foxfire asked, laying down beside the filly and nuzzling her gently.
“Why cain’t Ah move?” asked Apple Bloom, her voice barely audible. “I wanna move, but Ah cain’t. Mah legs won’t listen.”
“They gave you and the other ponies something to put you all to sleep for a bit, but it didn’t work on you for some reason,” Foxfire replied, comforting the filly as best she could. “It will go away in time. Trust me, I know potions.”
“Shield Maiden said you were kinda like Zecora,” replied the pony, relaxing and letting the drug cocktail take her now that everyone was safe. “Ah’m jest gonna have a nap, now. Okay?”
“Sure thing,” answered the unicorn, lifting her head to the sound of handcuffs ratcheting against the wrists of the two CIA officers. “When you wake up all the bad people will be gone.”
“Whoa there, big guy!” exclaimed one of the soldiers behind Foxfire, and the mare swiveled her head around in time to see her stallion leaning heavily against the soldier, glossy black highlights shimmering off his legs as they shook with the effort of supporting the pony metalworker.
“S-sorry,” stuttered the stallion, sinking down to the floor in a motion that was more of a controlled fall than anything else. “C-can’t stop shaking.”
“It’s adrenaline bleed off. Combat reaction,” opined the soldier, as a medic arrived and immediately began to assess Iron Heart.
“Check his blood sugar,” Nao called, as she was being lifted to her feet with a soldier on either side of her, over a dozen uniformed CAF personnel now being present. “He’s still recovering from making those swords.”
“No one touch the swords!” Foxfire yelled into the garage, remembering what had drawn her and Iron Heart there in the first place. The unicorn’s clarion call of warning drew every eye toward the glowing weapons that they had all been trying to ignore, with varying degrees of success. “That’s what turned two of them into ponies.”
“You hear that, Ebon? We’re ponies now. A stallion and a mare,” Sunday stated, as she was lifted into an animal carrier big enough to hold her. A carrier that had a solid looking lock on it. “I bet when we get back home we’ll both be asked to do our part to establish an American pony bloodline.”
“I’d like to request political asylum,” Donavich said to a soldier, as he was pushed headfirst into his own carrier. “Please.”
“Not my department,” responded the war-fighter, who closed the lock on the carrier with an authoritative sound. “Once you are at a holding facility you will be provided the opportunity to contact the counsel of your choice.”
“Blood sugar is in the crapper,” noted the medic attending Iron Heart, pulling out a glucose packet from his kit and catching Nao’s eye. “Good call.”
“I just don’t want a murder charge against me on top of everything else,” Nao replied, as she was spun around to be led to a van that had pulled up outside.
“Foxfire, a word of advice,” Pjetrovic called, over her shoulder as she too was led away. “Do not run away from the wolf, only to run into the bear.”
“What?” Foxfire asked in response, tearing her eyes away from where her stallion was hastily gulping down the plastic package of liquefied sugar in time to see the lean Slavic woman ducking her head to enter the vehicle, a thin enigmatic smile on her face.
“This is Team One at Point Wing. Medevac is here and so far it looks like the kids are all out cold, but in stable condition. We’ve released Thunder and Windweaver to help, and we are taking the two men we have here in for questioning,” spoke the radio.
“Who are you people?” demanded Foxfire. “How did you know what was happening, and for that matter, what in the name of Tartarus has happened to my kids?”
“In order, Ma’am,” began the soldier, safing his weapon and lowering it. “A detachment of Joint Task Force Two. We’ve had all of you under discreet surveillance since the first kidnapping attempt, and as far as I can tell from the radio chatter your kids were hit with the same thing that they gave Miss Apple Bloom here.”
“Though I’m not happy we’ve been under a microscope, I have to admit I’m rather glad you were here,” stated Iron Heart, his voice steadier as he sipped on a second glucose pack.
“So what happens now?” Foxfire asked, breathing a sigh of relief and feeling her own heart steady at seeing Iron Heart recovering from the sudden weakness that had gripped him and the knowledge that her children were being cared for.
“In large part, that’s up to you Ma’am,” said a man, stepping into the garage through the open vehicle door.
The newcomer was an older soldier with black hair in tight curls that were only just frosted with the grey of middle age and a name tag on his chest that was otherwise devoid of rank or unit identification read simply, “Malinski.”
“Me? Why?” Foxfire asked, confused until a memory of the deference the other soldiers had shown her began to dawn a dreadful suspicion. “Oh Goddess, they did it, didn’t they?”
“Did what?” Iron Heart asked, pulling himself back up onto his hooves.
“Seems your fiancée is part of the Brightly Autonomous Zone’s civilian authority,” Malinski commented, before moving forward to sit cross-legged by both ponies with the grace of a man half his age.
Foxfire took a moment to look into the captain’s steady hazel eyes, before a twinkle of light drew her gaze to a small silver pentacle the man was wearing. The soldier saw where Foxfire’s eyes had gone and gave her a small tip of his head in respect.
“The ‘Powers that Be’ thought it would be a good idea if someone that you could relate to in some way was in command of the detachment,” Malinski supplied. “Blessed Be, Foxfire.”
“Blessed Be,” Foxfire responded, returning the greeting automatically. “But I turned down the position. I refused power, and for good reason.”
“You did, so they made you an alternate without telling you. A backup in case no one else was available,” Malinski replied, a genuine smile splitting his face wide. “Guess what? You’re in charge.”
“Oh Goddess save me,” groaned Foxfire, putting a hoof to her head just beneath her horn. “So much for the ‘Queen of Brightly, and the Lands Beyond.’ I don’t have a clue what to do.”
“The Green Man helps us all to grow into new roles,” pontificated the captain, smile still very, very wide on his face. “But if it helps, my standing orders to protect the town and the ponies and people within it should cover most things. The only thing I really need you to do is to sign off on delivering the people we’ve arrested to the RCMP for proper, legal processing.”
“Done,” Foxfire stated, with a decisive nod to a concrete choice that she was willing and able to make. “Wait, there is something else I need you to do for me.”
“What do you need?” Malinski asked, simply.
“First, I need you to help me get Apple Bloom and my husband up to the Harding’s house so we can keep an eye on all the kids,” Foxfire ordered, and her eyes fell on the glowing weapons in the building. “Second, I need you to make sure no one comes in here and touches Iron Heart’s gifts until we can deal with them.”
“Those sound like reasonable and sensible orders. Anything else, Ma’am?” asked the captain, having already decided to have active guards on things that could change a person into a pony with a simple touch.
“Yes, once everyone has recovered from the drugs those… people gave them, I need you all to be ready to be turned into ponies,” Foxfire replied, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from more than one of those present.
“Ma’am, the entire detachment, JTF2 and PPCLI both, are all volunteers. But I would like to know why and how you plan on doing that,” Malinski evenly responded, smile gone like mist in the morning sun.
“Those swords need to be dealt with, and the last couple of times we played with things on that scale, everyone in town got to know what it was like to live in hooves,” Foxfire explained, as Iron Heart nodded in confirmation to the couple of soldiers who caught his eye with questioning looks.
“Understood, Ma’am,” replied the captain, smile returning. “Okay people, you heard the lady. Let’s get moving on that security cordon while I order up some hoof polish from Supply. Just in case.”
“How do I get out of this one herd outfit?” asked an unknown soldier from among the squad...
“What in the hell was that idiot thinking?” demanded the President, pounding the wood of the old desk with a rare fury.
“The Canadian authorities allowed Donavich and his team access to legal counsel, as per their laws,” replied an aide, trying not to sweat under the attention he was receiving by speaking. “According to his statement, he saw an opportunity to obtain three pristine Equestrian gems.”
“Three?” asked a representative of DARPA, which had become America’s de facto research center for Equestria, Equestrian magic, and its remaining gems scattered around the world.
“Three gems, from an Equestrian called… “ the aide paused as they shuffled through some papers, ''called ‘Rarity.’ Who apparently is quite highly placed in Equestrian society.”
“Do we know that name?” the President queried, his tone allowing no prevarication from any member of his assembled staff.
“Apparently she is the older sister of one of the three young Equestrians who were pulled onto our side of the portal when it collapsed,” replied the aide who seemed to be carrying all the information the President wanted, much to the aide’s regret. “And Princess Luna once mentioned her as a personal friend during the Princess’ conversations with Captain Rios.”
“Are you seriously telling me that a member of the US military assaulted the direct relative of someone who is directly connected to a foreign head of state?” Biden demanded with a snarl.
The anger of the most powerful man in the world stalked the Oval Office for several long seconds, and no one dared speak for fear that the tiger in the room would slash out with claws of authority to shred careers and positions years in the making.
“My God,” the President sighed, slumping in his chair after a few more moments. “What else could go wrong with this situation?”
A moment later, as if by some cosmic mischance, one of the secretarial staff poked her head inside to say, “Mr. President? Prime Minister Trudeau for you, on line one.”
“Thank you,” Biden replied, waiting until the secretary had closed the door again before adding, “I’m going to want to speak to Captain Rios in an hour, in the meantime everyone get out. This call is one I’d like to take in private.”
Half a minute later, after a general murmuring and shuffling of feet, the Oval Office was once again clear except for the man who was the current holder of the office of President. Taking a moment to steel himself for what was to come, he picked up the phone and greeted his caller with a genial, “Hello Justin, what can I do for you?”
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” replied the cool voice over the phone, and Biden felt his heart sink a bit as he heard the formality in the voice of the Canadian leader. “I felt that I owed you the courtesy of letting you know that Canada intends to file a formal protest at the United Nations over the actions of American military personnel in Brightly today. We also intend to deny any requests to extradite any of the four members of the so-called Team Mercury.”
“Mr. Prime Minister,” Biden replied, taking up an equally formal tone. “As President, I would like to offer you and the Canadian people a formal apology for today’s events. It was not and is not the intention of the American government to violate the sovereignty of its friends and neighbors.”
“And yet here we are, Mr. President,” Trudeau replied, his usual easy going demeanor swallowed by a hard edge. “You assured me that the last incident was going to be the last. You assured me that you were different from your predecessor. You assured me that this sort of thing wouldn’t happen again!”
“Team Mercury far exceeded their mission parameters, which was simply to gather intelligence and try to entice some Canadian ponies to visit America with the honest offer of a goodwill gift,” Biden said, trying to placate the Canadian. “They were never supposed to do more than that, and for what it’s worth you really do have my honest apology for what they did. As Commander in Chief of the American military their actions are ultimately my responsibility and as such I unreservedly apologize.”
“Joe,” Trudeau began, softening his tone for the first time in the conversation, “Personally, I accept your apology, and from everything that’s happened between you and me, I believe you when you say you didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But how can I go to my people and say, ‘The Americans are really sorry and they promise it won’t happen a third time’? I have to demonstrate something concrete, and unfortunately putting Team Mercury up on trial is going to be it.”
“What if I was to offer something else?” the President asked, sensing an opening. “Something that would mollify the Canadian public and let you show a hard line?”
“Softwood lumber,” replied the Prime Minister, after a few seconds of thought.
“What?” the President asked, momentarily confused.
“Formally accept the 2020 findings of the WTO report on softwood lumber and have your negotiators meet ours to hammer out an agreement based on those numbers in the next six months,” Trudeau said, expanding on his previous sentence. “Promise me that, right here, right now, and your Team Mercury will be in US custody by the end of the week, and Canada will accept your personal pledge that this sort of… unpleasantry, permanently ends with this incident.”
The President sat there for a few moments, stunned at the enormity of the demand. Softwood lumber, and its associated tariffs had been a long standing sore point between the two otherwise friendly neighbors for decades now. Both sides had accused the other of misrepresentation, inflating numbers and other issues. It hadn’t helped that the World Trade Organization had repeatedly come down on Canada’s side in the dispute either. Billions of dollars were at stake.
But giving in on this point would put two ponies into American hands. Not only two ponies, but two ponies who were already members of the military and thus could be ordered to stand for tests or similar that a civilian could refuse. The benefits would be incalculable and make America the second country in the world to have ponies native to its soil. There really was only one thing to say, and both men on the phone knew it.
“I accept your proposal, Mr. Prime Minister,” Biden stated. “No more missions, sanctioned or otherwise, without your knowledge and our people get together and hammer out a trade agreement inside of the next six months, based on the figures in the WTO report.”
“Thank you, Joe,” Trudeau replied, dropping the formal words and tone from his voice. “Between you and me, I don’t like having to get into the face of someone I happen to personally like and respect.”
“You’re going to like the reduction in tariffs on lumber I’ll bet, and the agreement is sure to kick you up a few points with the voters,” Briden cheerfully chided back, knowing the Canadian had used the cards that Fate and Team Mercury had given him in order to get something that his country had wanted for years.
“I barely won the last election,” admitted Trudeau. “So being able to take a perceived hard line here is definitely going to help my political future. I’m just wondering what you’re going to have to offer to Equestria.”
“Equestria? Why would Eques… “ Biden’s voice trailed off as his mind recalled that Team Mercury had drugged and ostensibly kidnapped an Equestrian. “Oh shit.”
“I believe the expression is ‘ponyfeathers.’ But I’ll leave that to you, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna,“ Trudeau replied, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Good luck.”
It had taken the better part of forty-eight hours, a town meeting and an argument between the civilian and military leaders in Brightly before things had finally resolved enough for Iron Heart, Foxfire, and their family to feel confident in their ability to confront the untapped potential of the five slivers of bronze awaiting their touch.
Demonstrating the singular solidarity that small towns around the world are known for, every single one of the residents of Brightly had voted to remain when those blades were taken up, despite the definite possibility of all of them being transformed once more into ponies.
“Wow, this place is just like Ponyville!” Apple Bloom had exclaimed, having fully recovered from her encounter with earthly drugs. Her perceptive outburst had led into a long and wide-ranging discussion of the similarities between the two towns where “things just happened” and how Ponyville had simply learned to expect the unexpected and just move with the changes when and as they happened.
The argument had come into being when Captain Malinski had insisted on having someone inside Iron Heart’s shop when the “attunement,” as he called it, was being made.
“I am NOT having someone in my shop that doesn’t know their way around tools, especially when magic is definitely going to be showing up,” was Iron Heart’s response, which had been firmly backed up by Foxfire, his wife in all but name, now.
“What is going to happen in there will be private, personal and magical,” Foxfire had added. “Something meant for our family, and we don’t feel comfortable sharing it.”
“With respect,” Malinski had countered, “when something magical happens in this town with your family, it tends to affect the whole town. Intended or not. There needs to be a record of what happens in that shop today, and that means an unbiased witness.”
Both sides had argued between the need and right to privacy on one side, and the need to know and understand the growing phenomenon of magic on Earth. In the end, a compromise had been struck. A single small camera would be mounted in one high corner of the shop and there would be a platoon of soldiers around Iron Heart’s house.
A platoon with strict orders not to enter, unless the occupants called for help. Their purpose was to maintain privacy and ensure no one disturbed what was about to happen.
“Are we ready for this?” Iron Heart asked, looking around at his family gathered together near the small entrance to the shop. Four pairs of equine eyes looked back at him, filling his heart with joy as he took in the steady confidence and trust they had in him, filling a hole that had been in his heart since a rainy day in a Vancouver cemetery nearly a decade ago.
“Let’s do this… Dad,” Shield Maiden said, and her use of the title nearly brought tears to Iron Heart’s eyes.
Foxfire was less reserved than the big black stallion beside her however, wetness clearly visible in the eyes above her smile.
“You’ve given my daughters the one thing I never could,” Foxfire stated, tilting her head to look the stallion in the eyes. “You’ve given them a father they can trust and rely on, and you’ve given me someone that I can put my faith in. No matter what. I am proud to call you my husband. Now and forever.”
“You’ve given my son a mother again. A mentor, a counselor, a guardian and guide,” Iron Heart replied, and now the tears did come. “You’ve healed me and made me whole again. I am proud to call you my wife, now and forever.”
“We’re a family now,” Seeker supplied, drawing close.
“Yeah,” Iron Hoof added. “Now and forever.”
There are times in the universe, when things come together perfectly. When time and space, cold equations and the magic of friendship all blend into a seamless whole. When all is good and right with the world and moments of joy stretch out into eternity. This was one of those times. At least until a voice spoke up some unknown time later:
“Hello there.”
“General Kenobi,” Foxfire riposted automatically, turning her head to see where the voice had come from.
“Where?” Iron Heart asked, looking around, and not seeing anyone.
“Um, Dad… “ Iron Hoof said, pointing a hoof at the concrete floor.
Looking back up at the assembled group was the cartoony face of some sort of mishmash of a creature. its face was long, with mismatched eyes below bushy white eyebrows and a single fang poking out from under its upper lip. On top of the head were a deer antler on one side, teamed up with a goat horn on the other.
“Uh, anyone have any idea what the hell that is?” Iron Hoof asked.
“I can see thome magic there. Like a pool, but it's all weird,” Seeker said, as the group moved apart a bit.
“Permit me to introduce myself,” the face in the floor requested, causing Foxfire to frown as she recognized the voice.
“There is no way that you’re ‘Q’,” Foxfire bluntly interrupted. “No bloody way.”
“Says the woman who has seen the rise of real magic, become a talking horse, and helped stop a juggernaut of ice and hatred,” the face shot back. “But no, I’m not them or any other letter of the alphabet. I just like the voice. Now, may I continue, or should I snap my fingers?”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Foxfire apologized, backing away.
“You’re just lucky I don’t have fingers at the moment,” grumbled the creature, “Now where was I? Oh right, introductions. My name is Discord. Well, not really my name, I’m not actually the truly phenomenal and all together too much fun Lord of Chaos.”
“Uh, who are you then?” Shield Maiden asked, curious.
“I’m a message in a bottle,” replied the face, “Well, message in the floor, really. But the point is I was put here by Discord to give you a few clues as to what’s in store for you.”
“Excuse me?” Iron Heart remarked.
“Excuse yourself,” the face replied. “If it wasn’t for Discord feeding you a bit of Equestrian magic and a bit of his own good old fashioned chaos you never would have been able to make these gifts.”
“Making these things nearly killed him,” Foxfire shot back. “He’s still not fully healed.”
“And he won’t be until his gifts are matched with their intended ponies,” Discord informed them. “Which is one reason why what you call free will is anything but. I know you’ll pick up the swords. Put a shiny red button in front of you and you’ll press it, every time.”
“Your pool is getting small,” Seeker commented, looking closely at the face.
“You can see that?” asked the Discord face, to which Seeker gravely nodded. “I’d better speed this up then. The short version is that Discord saw a chance to get Moonbutt to owe him a favor and to keep a promise he made to Fluttershy. These blades will help you at five specific points in the future.”
“But what about—” Iron Hoof began, only to be cut off.
“No time,” the Discord face interrupted. “Each one will ask you a question. There are no wrong answers, but the gifts will be guided by your answers. Afterwards they will be safe to touch but no one will ever be able to take them from you. Ever.”
“You’re fading,” Seeker noted, the colourful face beginning to recede to oil-stained grey.
“Yup, time to go,” replied the face, colours rapidly leeching away. “Oh, one last thing. Watch out for....”
Before the face could continue its sentence the last of the color faded away, leaving nothing but a well-used concrete floor.
“Talk about your cliches,” Foxfire muttered.
“Kidding!” called the voice, popping back into steady reality. “But seriously, watch out for—”
And again before the face could finish its words it disappeared with a pop that seemed to underscore the finality of its passing. Every pony in the room held their breath, waiting for the entity to reappear, but after a few minutes it became clear that the thing calling itself Discord was gone for good.
“Well, that was… frustrating,” commented Iron Heart.
“Rude, I’d say Dad,” added Iron Hoof.
“Infuriating,” Foxfire tossed in, looking as if she was ready to chew through a wrench.
“Well, I was gonna say ‘annoying’, but that seems kinda dumb,” Shield Maiden continued. “What about you, Seeker? ROMY!”
Romana Pedersen, aka Seeker, had quietly moved around the others while the others had been talking and now stood with her hoof bare millimeters away from one of the three golden gladii that were meant for her and her siblings. As her sister’s cry echoed off the concrete floor and into the wooden rafters a voice was heard, from the depths of the blade.
“Filly, what will you give to help your family, your friends and your town?” came the query into a moment that seemed to last forever.
“Anything,” answered the young pony. “Everything.”
“Then take me up, pony,” commanded the gladius, adding, “use me well.”
Hoof touched enchanted bronze and the living magic in the sword swelled out, covering Seeker and filling her eyes with solar fire.
“I am the Seed of Giving,” Seeker stated, in mature tones that did not belong in so young a throat. “Where I am planted, there shall be no want. But beware, for I am selfless.”
A breath after the words were said, the glow of magic faded from both blade and pony, somehow leaving them both less, and more than they had been.
“Goddess! Romana! Are you alright?” begged Foxfire, sweeping her youngest into her hooves, heedless of the weapon that seemed to have attached itself to the earth pony’s foreleg.
“I’m okay, Mama,” Seeker replied, reassuring her mother. “It was nice. Not mean at all. Like being in a hot bath.”
“My turn,” Iron Hoof declared, planting a hoof on the second gladius before anyone could think to stop him. Again, the fires that had lived in the sword from the moment of its creation flowed out, filling the young pony with its power.
“Colt, would you rather be rich, or happy?” came the question from sword, even as Iron Hoof’s hooves burst into amber flame.
“Happy,” Iron Hoof replied instantly. “I’d rather be happy.”
“Then I am yours to wield, pony,” stated the weapon.
“I am the Seed of Joy,” Iron Hoof declared, in the same preternatural voice his sister had used earlier. “Where I am planted, no sorrow will be found. But beware, for I have no reason.”
“Billy!” yelled the boy’s father, his actions matching his wife’s as he too gathered up his child in his hooves while the magical energies faded away.
“It’s okay, Dad. I’m good,” Billy Kye, aka Iron Hoof responded. “Real good.”
“Well, I guess that makes it my turn,” Shield Maiden stated, walking toward the last gladius.
“Rowan, are you sure you want to do this?” Foxfire asked, heart in her throat.
“I’m the leader of the Power Ponies, Mom,” Shield Maiden said with a smile, “Gotta be willing to do what they do right along with them.” With that, the young unicorn held out her hoof to the Romanesque weapon.
“Filly, why do you fight?” asked the blade, lambent fire pulsing in time with the words. “Why not let your mother, or your father, or someone else take the lead?”
“Because I love them,” was the simple reply. “I love them with all my heart.”
“Then I am yours to command, pony,” replied the blade. “Use me well.”
Hoof touched blade and power flowed, setting the horn of Shield Maiden alight in a blaze of energies that lit the room like a beacon, and in the same voice her siblings had used declared, “I am the Seed of Love, and where I am planted no darkness can grow. But beware, for I am blind.”
“Dear Goddess, thank you for blessing me with such children,” fervently prayed Foxfire, using all the magic at her command to float Shield Maiden over to her as the energies from the young unicorn’s weapon faded away.
“Wow, that’s… wow,” Shield Maiden said, as she looked up into the caring and concerned eyes of her mother. “Mom, it’s like… like being magic. You gotta try it.”
“She will,” Iron Heart stated, laying his son on Foxfire’s side and accidentally on purpose pinning her in place with his son’s weight. “After me.”
“No fair!” Foxfire protested, half in earnest. “It’s supposed to be ‘Ladies First’.”
“Dear,” Iron Heart began, taking a moment to nuzzle her snowy fur with his night black muzzle, “most of the time I’m really willing to let you do the magic thing first. But you already have two kids on you. Easy just to add a third and let me go first.”
“You die and I’ll kill you,” declared Foxfire, which earned a reply of, “As you wish.”
Iron Heart put out his hoof to the bronze longsword of his own making, and as he expected something met him in those last few millimeters before hoof touched metal.
“Stallion, what is more important? Justice, or the Law?” asked the weapon, itself an ageless symbol of both.
“Justice,” Iron Heart answered, his wife’s trials and tribulations coming to mind.
“Then take me up, pony,” commanded the weapon. “Use me well.”
Iron Heart did as he was bid, the blazing magic from the weapon flowing into his body and settling into his muscular chest, making his fur glow as if lit from within by black flames. Fire flicked out of the corners of his mouth as he declared to the universe, “I am the Seed of Justice. Where I am planted evil cannot prosper. But beware, for I have no mercy.”
For a fourth time magical power faded away, leaving a pony somewhat spent and wobbly on their hooves with a now ordinary appearing blade running down the length of a foreleg. It was all that Iron Heart could do to stagger back to the pony pile.
“What a rush,” was all Iron Heart managed to gasp out as he flopped alongside the pony pile. “It was like… like being a boulder coming down a mountainside. Unstoppable.”
“Mom?” Seeker asked, after several moments. “It’s your turn.”
“I... I don’t know if I should now,” Foxfire responded, looking her stallion in the eyes. “What if the Um— that thing, comes back? Shield Maiden said that it was like being magic. Things got bad the last time I had that kind of power, and I got luckier than I had any right to be. Arn, what do I do?”
“You already know what to do,” was Iron Heart’s calm reply. “Let your family help and guide you, and don’t try to do it all yourself. You do that and you’ll do fine.”
“But what if—” Foxfire began, before being stopped by a gentle hoof on her mouth.
“Go and get your gift,” Iron Heart added, feeling something stir inside of him that added a rare eloquence to his words. “The Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond is gone. Take up your blade and become who you’re supposed to be, who you were destined to be. Foxfire, Witch of the Western Woods.”
“Cool name, Dad!” Iron Hoof heartily agreed, his sisters adding their own agreements.
“All right then,” Foxfire said, gently moving her three children off of her and up against her husband. “Not a queen, not an empress, or a mayor, or a politician. Just a simple woodwitch and humble servant of the moon.”
Foxfire slowly made her way over to where the falchion lay on the floor, the heavy forward section near its tip large enough to show entire flames of the power that was held within the metal. As a shaking hoof neared the hilt, the voice of fire spoke once more.
“Mare, will you serve, or will you rule?” asked the blade.
“I will serve,” Foxfire replied, without a moment's thought. “I will serve with all the fire in my heart and strength in my soul.”
“Then take me up, pony,” stated the weapon. “Use me well.”
When Shield Maiden had claimed up her gladius, the power filling her had lit the room up like a beacon. However, Shield Maiden was still young and had barely begun to taste the power which was her birthright. Her mother, though, was both a unicorn in the fullness of her power and a witch of considerable skills.
So when the blazing magics poured out of the falchion and into the vessel that was Foxfire, power met both power and the potential for power, and the resulting light that erupted outward from Foxfire’s horn was that of a small star come to Earth. The mare’s mane and tail both erupted into sheets of quivering, living magic while light made flesh turned toward her awestruck family and spoke:
“I am the Seed of Fire and where I am planted nothing is impossible. But beware, for what warms can also burn.”
Reality is a matter of perception. Where you are and what you see make up what you know to be real and while world shaking revelations may be occurring in one place, the mild and mundane will be happening in another. We might be experiencing something earth shaking and life changing in one place at a given time, but for someone else, it’s just another day in the sun.
However, events do not occur in a vacuum. One occurrence will affect another, even if that effect is subtle and beyond our comprehension. But sometimes those relationships are much more clear cut...
“I’m bored!” sighed Sweetie Belle. “Mr. Thunder, can me, Applebloom and Scootaloo go out and play?”
“You three sure you’re okay?” Thunder responded, clearly distracted with one ear swiveled off in the direction where one of his best friends was about to play with forces little understood.
“We’re fine, and tired of being stuck inside,” Sweetie Belle replied, doing her best to reassure the stallion who had opened his home to the trio. “We won’t go bother Foxfire and the others, promise.”
“It’s not really that,” Windweaver said, working on yet another of the harnesses that had become ubiquitous among the ponies in town.
“We’ll be careful, Ma’am,” offered Applebloom from the living floor where she had been rolling a ball back and forth between her forehooves, just as mind-numbed as her friends.. “We just wanna go out and explore, maybe. If that’s okay?”
“Let me make a call first, girls,” Windweaver responded, putting down a heavy gauge needle and picking up the receiver on an old-style push button phone and rapidly dialing a number.
“Hello sir… Yes, we’re all fine, but I have a question for you. No, nothing big, it’s just that the Crusaders want to go out, and Thunder and I are a little worried. Especially after… Oh you will? Thank you, I’ll let them know right away,” Windweaver said into the device as the Crusaders look at each other with puzzlement.
“What was all that?” Scootaloo asked, curious. “Are we gonna get to go out, or what?”
“Well that was Mr. Malinski, who is keeping an eye on Iron Heart and his family, along with Darter and Skylark,” the seamstress began, taking up her needle and threads again. “He’s arranging for an escort for you.”
“A foalsitter?” demanded an instantly outraged Applebloom. “We’re not little babies anymore!”
“No offense, Mrs. Windweaver, but we really don’t need someone to watch us,” Sweetie Belle added, much more diplomatically.
“Girls, while I recognize you’re all big fillies, you need to remember that you three are the only Equestrians on Earth, which means it’s important that you stay safe,” Thunder said, backing up his wife. “And besides that, I need to make sure it looks like I’m taking good care of you.”
“But y’all said that those so… social people were all fulla hooie,” Applebloom countered.
“They said they were wrong and that the case was closed, but I’ve had a few bad experiences with their type,” Thunder responded, one side of his jaw clenched involuntarily. “I—”
Whatever else Thunder was going to say was interrupted by a firm knock at the door, which gathered a muttered, “Speak of the devil and you will see his horns” comment from the lone stallion in the room.
“I’ll get it,” called Scootaloo, dashing over to the door and opening it before anyone could voice an objection, let alone stop the eager pegasus.
“Hey there, you must be Scootaloo,” stated a woman, standing at the doorway wearing a pair of grey jogging pants, a camouflage pattern halter top, with an accompanying fanny pack and a well secured pistol holster.
“And you are?” Thunder asked, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously.
“Warrant Officer Ram, I’ve been assigned to be the protective detail for Scootaloo, Applebloom and Sweetie Belle,” the woman replied crisply. “Captain Malinski should have let you know I was coming over?”
“Just now,” confirmed Windweaver, allowing her husband to relax. “Why don’t you come in and we’ll get to know each other.”
As Scootaloo moved aside to let the woman in, her eyes were drawn to the woman’s weapon. “Is that a gun?”
“Yes, this is my service weapon. Sir, Ma’am, is it okay with you if I give the ponies a brief lesson in gun safety?” Officer Ram asked, respectfully.
“Certainly, as long as you’re careful,” Windweaver replied, earning a split second glare from the soldier before she smoothed over her face again.
“Of course. Now kids, gather around and I’ll show you the workings of the Sig Sauer P320 pistol,” stated Ram, moving across the floor in a few strides to sit cross-legged at a small coffee table.
In spite of the ponies’ earlier desire to want nothing to do with the newcomer, the Crusaders’ curiosity had them joining Officer Ram around the table. Once she was sure she had the ponies’ undivided attention the lean soldier undid the safety flap of her holster and pulled out the pistol.
“This is my service weapon. Specifically, it is a Sig Sauer P320 Compact model pistol modified for use with the .45 ACP round.” Ram held out the brown weapon and with a few quick, precise motions ejected the magazine and worked the action. “The weapon holds nine rounds and is currently as safe as it can be. Any questions?”
“Can I hold it?” Scootaloo asked, reaching out a hoof.
“No,” Ram instantly replied, moving the weapon slightly away from the diminutive pegasus.
“She just wanted ta hold it,” Applebloom protested on behalf of her friend.
“First lessons of gun safety,” recited Ram, a not unkind look on her face. “Always assume a gun is loaded. Always assume a gun will fire when you touch it in any way. Always assume that anything or anyone in the path of the barrel will be killed when the gun fires.”
“Then why the hay did you bring that in here and show it to us, if it’s that dangerous?” Sweetie Belle demanded, thumping a hoof on the table.
“Because I’m going to be spending a lot of time around you three, and while I don’t have the time to give you the same training I’ve had to use this weapon properly, what I can do is teach you to respect this weapon and others like it,” Ram explained, hands moving in a blur of motions that broke down the pistol further into its component parts. “There, now it’s as safe as I can possibly make it.”
“Don’t look like much,” was Scootaloo’s comment. “You sure you need something like this?”
“Hopefully, no. But if anyone tries what Mercury did again, and they don’t take ‘stop’ for an answer then they will stop for this,” Ram replied, reassembling the weapon in slow, careful stages. “God made man, but Sam Colt made them equal. My weapon makes me the equal of any man or pony.”
“But what if you ain’t around to use it, what then?” Applebloom asked.
“Then you leave it alone, and run away to someone or someplace safe. You never use a weapon you aren’t trained in. Understood?” Ram asked, looking at each of the Crusaders, making sure they understood. “Now, I heard something about going out for a run around to explore the town. Bet I can outrun all three of you.”
“No way! We’ve got four legs and you’ve only got two,” declared the orange pegasus filly, immediately responding to the challenge.
“Last one to the village office buys ice cream,” challenged Ram, checking her watch. “I’ll even give you a thirty second head start.”
Air in the room displaced so quickly that literal dust outlines of three young ponies were left in the air as they all but teleported out of the house and began pelting their way up the street. For her part Officer Ram calmly holstered her pistol and checked her watch.
“Uh, they are pretty fast, you know,” Thunder commented, in response to the soldier’s nonchalance.
“Sir, I’m Warrant Officer Eveline Mercy Ram,” replied the woman, giving the pegasus a wicked smile as she bounced up on her toes a bit and moved toward the door. “But when I’m running triathlons they call me, ‘No Mercy’.”
With that the soldier jogged out the door in the Crusaders wake, and for the next half hour the four raced against each other in the summer sun. Brightly certainly wasn’t big enough for a foot race to last that long, and if the Crusaders had run directly to the village office things would have been said and done inside of ten minutes.
Instead, Applebloom had spotted Officer Ram closing the distance before they were halfway to their goal, looking as if she wasn’t even trying hard at all.
“C’mon girls, let’s make this race awesome!” Scootaloo decreed, making a turn and leading her friends down a side street, accelerating as they did so.
For her part, Ram simply grinned and picked up the pace so that she could keep to within a few dozen meters of her prey. Never quite close enough to be a danger to the ponies’ expected victory, but also never far away enough that the Crusaders lost sight of her.
At times the ponies would sprint for a minute or so, and the gap would increase, but the fillies simply found themselves unable to maintain that pace and would slow back down enough for Ram to narrow the distance enough to resume her constant trailing position. After several recurrences of this; Sweetie Belle, Applebloom and Scootaloo realized that Ram could catch up and pass them anytime she wanted to, but simply chose not to.
The final leg of the race was run up Brightly’s main street, from the elementary school at one end to the village office at the other, with a returned Darrell Montcalm and his staff watching as three panting ponies practically collapsed at their feet. Tired but victorious, they had just managed to keep the distance by putting all of their energies into a full gallop.
“Could I please get some water and something to towel off the ponies with?” Ram asked, barely out of breath as jogged up. “That was a nice run, kids. We’ll have to do it again some time.”
“How?” Scootaloo demanded, panting out the question and gratefully accepting a bottle of water.
“I’m a long-distance runner,” explained No Mercy, pausing to take a long pull from her own canteen. “I’ve run ten times this distance twice as fast. And I had an evolutionary advantage.”
“Wha?” Sweetie Belle asked, sipping on her own water.
“I don’t have fur, and that lets me get rid of the heat buildup from running faster, which lets me go further than just about anything with a pelt, as long as I pace myself,” Ram replied, grabbing a towel and using it to pull the lather off of Applebloom’s hide. “You three did pretty well, all things considered.”
“But we should’ve never slowed down. We once went all the way to the Crystal Empire with only a coupla stops on the way,” Scootaloo complained, trying to get her breathing back under control.
“Crystal Empire?” Ram asked, making a mental note.
“Yeah, it’s about a week north by train from Ponyville,” Applebloom supplied. “We went there as the flag waving team.”
“Rainbow Dash said we were awesome,” Scootaloo commented, slurping back the last of her water and bouncing back up on her hooves.
“So, you did sorta come in last,” Sweetie Belle said, looking up at Ram with a hopeful expression.
“Ice cream is on me,” Ram conceded with a laugh. “You girls want to go check out the Leung dig site afterwards?”
“Cutie Mark Crusader Ice Cream Racers!” exploded from the trio in delight.
An hour and a pair of Fudgesicles each later, the quartet was looking into where students from the Humanities Department of UBC were busily and methodically excavating the remains of a small warehouse that had perished long ago.
“Ah still don’t get why we got so tired,” Applebloom complained, looking carefully down into the shallow pit. “We’ve run way further than that.”
“Probably has to do with Brightly having lost the Equestrian magic it had,” Ram replied, after a few moments thought. “From what my briefing told me about you girls, you mainly run on sugar and magic.”
“Magic is the best!” Sweetie Belle declared, bouncing a little. “But I can barely do anything here.”
“So, if you three had had your magic, I wouldn’t have stood a chance, eh?” Ram asked as she started to move away from the dig having picked up on several worried looks she’d seen the budding archeologists exchange at the proximity of neophytes.
“Yeah, then we would have had the evo… evlo… the advantage,” Scootaloo managed to grind out.
“Hey, you girls smell that?” Applebloom asked, turning slowly as she sniffed the light breeze wafting through the trees.
“Smell what?” Ram asked, carefully not putting her hand on her weapon as her eyes sought out any potential threats.
“Yeah, I smell it too,” Sweetie Belle replied. “It smells like… “
“Home,” said all three ponies in unison, dashing off into the undergrowth as they pursued the echo of friends and family.
Ram, taken by surprise, ran after her charges finding out that in the woods the ponies had the advantage over her with their small size and maneuverability allowing them to swiftly outpace her no matter how fast she tried to run. Luckily for the warrant officer, the Crusaders were also anything but silent as they ran, enabling the woman to track the ponies by sound alone.
After several minutes, and not a few long scratches to legs and arms, Eveline Ram burst into a clearing in the forest, almost running full on into the motionless rumps of the Crusaders.
“Hey, you can’t go running off like… “ her words trailed off as her brain tried to make sense of what she was seeing.
The clearing was wide and brightly lit by the early afternoon sun pouring down from above, and everything seemed to be just somehow better in the small glade. The grass was greener, the small animals scurrying around seemed cuter and happier, the birdsong was sweeter and more melodic, and then Ram saw the tree that stood in the center.
Tall, the tree stood, with bright green leaves and dozens of apples hanging along every branch of the great fruit tree that looked as if it had been there for a hundred years and would be for a hundred more.
“Are those apples—” Ram began to ask, squinting at the fruits, “are they rainbow coloured?”
“It’s a zap apple tree!” exclaimed Scootaloo.
“What’s a zap apple tree?” Ram asked, looking from filly to filly.
“It’s a special kind of apple tree that only grows on mah family’s farm, Sweet Apple Acres,” Applebloom proudly informed their bodyguard. “They’ve got all the strange magic from the Everfree forest in them and they’re the best tasting apples in all of Equestria!”
All three ponies ran through the clearing and over to the trunk of the tree where the red bowed earth pony proceeded to buck the tree with all her tiny might. A half dozen apples fell down, and the three Equestrians fell on the fruits with the gleeful abandon of starving wolves. Officer Ram was somewhat more reluctant to join them, one hand stretched out as she moved forward as if to ward off the possibility of magic affecting her, and relaxing only when her hand passed into the tree’s area of effect with nothing happening to her other than a slight tingling sensation.
“Om, Thesh are grate,” Applebloom garbled out, offering Ram one of the multi coloured fruits.
“Zap apples, eh?,” Ram replied, bouncing the fruit in her hand for a few moments before taking a careful sniff. “What do they taste like?”
“Home,” the Crusaders replied in unison, their faces falling as the taste of zap apples reminded them how very far away they were from the ponies they loved.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Ram said, gathering the three suddenly sniffling homesick fillies into her arms, and sitting down so that her back rested against the tree. “We’ll get you home. It may take awhile, but if we can put people into space we can get you home.”
“Promise?” asked Sweetie Belle, huge eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“I wasn’t going to say anything before, but the PM is going to make a speech tomorrow asking the world to help out,” Ram confided conspiratorially. “One country put a man on the moon. Imagine what every nation on Earth can do, focused on the single goal of getting you home.”
“Wow, you really went to your moon?” Scootaloo asked, as an apple fell from the tree to land squarely in the only open space on Ram’s lap.
“When we get back to town I’ll show you the pictures, In the meantime, I may as well see what’s so great about these apples,” Ram answered, and picking up the gravitationally challenged offering, bit into it with a loud crunching sound. “Hey, that’s pretty good. Kinda tastes like—”
There was a flashing swirl of rainbow light, and in an instant the human of the group was gone, replaced by a yellow eyed pegasus with dark and light green wings attached to a body of light chocolate brown with fawn highlights. The newly minted pegasus had a single moment of calm to look over her body in surprised shock before a brain used to operating four limbs got very confused with finding itself in a body with six.
“This is not going to look good on my yearly eval,” Ram declared as she collapsed to the ground in jerky movements. “Not good at all.”
Ebon Donavich sat on the bench in front of a wooden desk, trying to figure out how he had fallen so far, who was to blame, and how he was going to climb out of this mess. He sat there, working through the choices he had made, while the chains connecting his hobbles idly clinked. The sound driving his anger higher as it reminded him of the soft and useless body he was now in.
Ponies were prey animals, and he was not prey. He was a man, dammit. A man who had been cruelly betrayed by women he had put his trust into, and foreign magic created by an alien being who was nothing more than a talking riding animal.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Donavich,” a tall man with the epaulets of a colonel said, entering the building and moving past the shackled pony to sit at the desk. Donavich noticed the lack of a salute and acknowledgement of his rank with fresh fury.
“Major Donavich,” Donavich growled out. “I haven’t been stripped of my rank… Sir.”
“The only reason you haven’t been put in front of a court-martial, stripped of your rank and dishonorably discharged is because right now you aren’t human,” the colonel shot back. “Legally at the moment, you are property. Purchased at great cost from the Canadian government, and the United States intends to recoup that investment. Sign this.”
Donavich read the sheet of paper that was pushed towards him with an even mix of anger and horror.
“Who the hell do you think you are that I’d even consider signing something like this?” Ebon snarled, slamming a hoof against the table hard enough to leave a dent. “This says that in exchange for dropping all charges, I agree to surrender my human rights and be what amounts to breeding stock for the military. I’m pretty certain this document is not only immoral but illegal as well.”
“I’m Colonel Trask, and may I remind you that at the moment and for the foreseeable future, you aren’t human and therefore don’t have ‘human rights’,” the colonel shot back, a cold and unforgiving smile on his face. “Until Congress ratifies the Equine Rights Act, you are legally an animal and can be treated as such. All of this is just a courtesy to your former species and service to this country.”
“What?” Donavich demanded, ears pinned back against his head.
“This. Is. A. Courtesy. I didn't have to show you this offer. I didn’t have to speak with you, or treat you like a person in any way, shape or form,” Trask replied, grin widening. “The Army, in its infinite wisdom, has delivered you into my hands for safekeeping. And so you will be kept as ordered, in the manner of my choosing.”
“You can’t do this,” Donavich snapped back. “I still have friends in both the Army and the government, once they hear about this, they’ll—”
“Do nothing, because they will hear nothing,” Trask interrupted, and the smile he wore was predatory now. “You are at an experimental farm station in Alaska that is nearly a thousand miles from anything else. There are exactly two communication links to the outside world, both of which are codelocked with passwords only I know, and as far as anyone other than the staff here knows, you’re in a US military prison being held pending charges and trial, so no one is going to come looking for you for a long time. If ever.”
“So, I’m in my own penal colony,” Donavich said, realizing how deeply he was at Trask’s mercy.
“I’m not a monster,” Trask stated. “As long as you behave, you will be able to move about the area as you please. You will be well-fed, groomed regularly, provided the best possible healthcare, and have a duty that, let’s be honest, most soldiers would kill to have.”
“And who am I supposed to carry out this… duty with?” Donavich replied, expecting the answer but wanting it confirmed.
“Captain Watson has already signed her copy of the document, though I understand she prefers to be called ‘Sunday’ now,” Trask informed the still reeling pony. “You’ll find her out in the north pasture, and from what I understand she’s quite eager to start work.”
“May I have some time to think about this?” Donavich asked, desperate for time to come up with a plan, any plan. “It’s not like you have to worry about me running away.”
“As I said, I’m not a monster,” restated Trask, magnanimous in his victory over Donavich. “You have until tomorrow morning to make your decision.”
The next hours were a blur for Ebon as he was led away, unshackled, tagged with a locator chip in his neck and introduced to his new home. A pony sized horse stall complete with a hay rack, water bucket, heater and a small blanket.
As night fell, Donavich’s heart fell with it. There seemed to be no way out, and Trask was literally holding the whip hand and was obviously unafraid to use it. Try as he might the man who had schemed and manipulated his way through the army could not think of a scheme to get out of this.
“Oh God,” Ebon prayed, in quiet desperation. “Help me get out of this.”
In response, a cold breeze blew through the small barn. It whirled and swirled in the building before bounding over the gate to Donavich’s stall. It’s chill touch slid under his blanket until it coiled cooly around one furry ear.
“Hello Ash Heart, I’m pleased to finally meet you.”
“Wahooooo!” called a voice joyfully, and people walking the main street of Brightly looked up to see the form of Darter diving downwards, his silver-tipped pinions flashing as the afternoon sun caught them.
Pulling out of his dive at just over head height, the young pegasus slalomed between the electrical poles that studded the thoroughfare, throwing in the occasional roll as he did so, and the beacon of happiness that shone from young pegasus brought smiles to the lips of everyone who had the privilege to the see the sight.
Darter pulled up and away as he cleared the last few wooden barriers, pulling back up where his sister and Ram slowly cruised along at roughly a hundred meters in the air.
“Why didn’t you guys join me?” Darter asked, instinctively pulling an Immelman turn so that he could pace alongside the other two.
“You know I’m not as fast as you,” Skylark answered, her normally shy smile replaced by one at least as wide as that of her brother. “Besides, someone had to make sure Recon was doing okay.”
“Cool pony name!” enthused Darter, side-slipping a bit so that he was nearly touching the green on green wingtips of the new pegasus.
“Hey, not so close,” Recon advised, missing a few wingbeats before recovering. “This isn’t as easy as you two make it look.”
“Give her some room,” Skylark added. “Are you okay, Recon?”
“I… I am,” responded the pony who had been Warrant Officer Ram until a couple of hours ago. “This… this is incredible. I’m flying, actually flying. Wait, how am I flying?”
Recon staggered again as her mind locked up, refusing to accept the reality that her eyes and body were relaying to her. The pony started to fall out of the sky, only to be grabbed by Skylark a moment before gravity turned the descent into a crash.
“Don’t think about how to do what you’re doing, just concentrate on what you want your body to do, and it will do it,” Skylark said with a soothing voice, calming their bodyguard in much the same way her father would calm a spooked farm animal. “Me and Darter are here to catch you.”
“Roger,” Recon replied, responding to the positive reinforcement and letting her new body’s instincts handle the job of staying airborne. “The question stands though. How are any of us flying without magic?”
“It’s gotta be the apples,” Darter supplied, doing a complete aileron roll around the other two ponies to wind up where he started. “They had enough magic to make you into a pony, and we had an apple each too.”
“You want us to make sure you land okay?” Skylark asked, mothering the new flyer a bit.
“Well, I am supposed to be watching you kids, so it kinda works out if you land with me,” Recon replied, beginning a long slow glide down.
A few minutes later two winged ponies touched down with all the heaviness of a feather, while the third landed in a heap more akin to a sack of potatoes than a winged creature of the air.
“You’ll get better the more you fly,” Darter said, “almost no one does a good landing the first time.”
“Thanks,” replied Recon, picking herself up off the ground. “I’ll try to be quick, but if this takes awhile I’ll get the captain to give you a ride home.”
“Won’t need it,” Darter tossed back, fluffing his wings out with a smile.
Chuckling to herself, Ram, or Recon rather, walked over to the door of the small cabin that Captain Malinski had rented out as his headquarters for the duration of their unit’s stay in Brightly. Recon let the clopping of her hooves echo in her ears for a moment, marvelling at how natural the sound was, which led to her mind again wondering how she was walking on four legs, which led to her stumbling as her conscious mind ran at cross purposes to what her unconscious mind was busy doing.
The stumble turned into several quick, staggering steps as the pegasus tried to regain her balance, causing her to lurch directly into an orderly who was bringing her captain a very late lunch.
“Dammit!” cried the orderly as fur and feathers directly impacted into their knees, sending the contents of a cup and a paper bag up into the air briefly to splatter down directly on Recon’s back.
“Gah, what the hell?!” Recon exclaimed as the slightly cooler than hot drink seeped into her back fur and the remains of a large sandwich slid off her shoulders to plop onto the ground.
“Everything okay out there?” called Malinski from inside, hearing the commotion.
“Just a small collision, Sir,” called back the orderly.
“Are you sure? Because it sounded like—” Malinksi paused as he opened the door and took in the scene before his door. “My pumpkin spice latte!”
“Sorry sir. Entirely my fault. I’m still getting used to this,” Recon said by way of apology.
“Ram? Is that you?” the captain asked, arching an eyebrow in suspicious surprise but recognizing the voice of his subordinate.
“Yes sir,” Recon answered sheepishly. Flavoured coffee dripping off of her was not how she had seen this moment in her head.
“You encountered something magical and interacted with it, didn’t you?” Malinski asked, with an air of disappointment.
“It was just an apple,” Recon replied, trying to justify her actions. “Just an apple… off of a big, glowing… tree.”
“She’s not in trouble, is she?” Darter asked, swooping up to hover in front of the big captain’s face. “We didn’t mean to get her in trouble.”
“We gave her the apple,” added Skylark shyly, the pegasus presence beginning to draw eyes. “Oh, you left the rest of it, Recon. Here you go.”
A half eaten apple arched out in a parabola towards Recon, only to be intercepted by the captain in an automatic grab. Malinski looked at the fruit for several long moments, the crisp white fruit still fresh and inviting while the rainbow hued skin warned of the magical nature of the apple in his hand.
The urge to take a bite was strong. Surprisingly so, and the captain began to raise the apple to his lips before the sound of flapping wings reminded him what the probable consequences of his actions would be.
“Orderly, could you please run Darter and Skylark home,” the captain gently commanded, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards as he noted drips of his drink falling from the pegasus in front of him. “Officer Pumpkin Spice and I have some things to discuss.”
“Yes sir,” snapped the orderly, its seriousness somewhat ruined by the snort of amusement that preceded it.. “Come on you two. I’ll show you what the inside of a Sea King looks like.”
The two youngsters headed off in the direction indicated, the distraction allowing both the captain and his officer to enter the small two room cabin.
“Towel?” asked Malinski, handing over the length of fabric after a grateful nod. The captain watched the warrant officer clean herself off as best she could as while he took his seat.
“How was the acclimation? Any ill-effects?” he asked, once the pony finished removing the remains of his snack from her body.
“No sir,” Recon replied, pulling herself to a four-legged stance of attention. “Everything seems to be as previously reported. It takes about an hour to get used to the change before normal function returns. Higher abilities take longer to master.”
“As my pumpkin spice found out,” the captain noted, accepting the soiled towel back and tossing it into a hamper. “You know, we do have standing orders for personnel not to interact with anything magical for a reason. Which is why we are letting Foxfire and her family be while they work out what those swords meant.”
“Swords, sir?” Recon asked, confused.
“Something for later,” noted Malinski, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice. “Anyway. At ease, and permission to speak freely. Why did you take a bite of the forbidden fruit of the tree?”
“Instinct. Habit. Maybe some automatic reaction,” Recon replied, thinking for a moment and Malinski noted with amusement that the new pony was using one of her wings to rub her chin in thought. “It just felt like the right thing to do. Sorry sir, it’s all I can think of.”
“Fair enough for now. We’ll do a full debrief later, but for now get yourself over to Medevac and have her give you a full checkup,” commanded the captain.
“Yes sir, “ Recon responded, snapping out a salute with her wing.
“Get going, Pumpkin Spice,” humoured the captain. “I want to see you back before dinner for that debrief.”
“I choose ‘Recon’ as a name, Sir,” politely corrected the mare, fluffing out her camouflage coloured wings. “Seemed to be appropriate, and I really don’t like that drink.”
“Before dinner, Officer,” cautioned the captain, getting up to see the pegasus out. “And you really should try it sometime. It’s quite good.”
After his new pegasus officer had left the captain was left to ponder the remains of the apple that had transformed his officer. It sat there, innocently looking back at him while he looked at it as if it was about to grow mismatched horns and a fang. Finally, the urge to do something became overwhelming.
Pulling out a knife, the captain carved into the remains of the apple, and avoiding the temptation to lick the juice off his fingers, extracted five ordinary looking seeds. Nodding in satisfaction as he set the seeds down on a piece of paper towel, he picked up the handset of the old punch button phone on his desk and placed a call.
“Sergeant? It’s Captain Malinski. Get over to Medevac’s clinic and talk to Pumpkin Spice, I mean Ram, I mean Recon. Herne damn these shifting names,” cursed the captain fervently. “Either way, get over to the clinic and talk to Warrant Officer Ram. She’s now a chocolate brown pegasus with orange highlights in her mane and tail.”
Surprised squawking came from the receiver of the phone, to which the captain answered, “I know, which is why you are going to ask her where her tree that did that to her is. Once you have the directions you will post a guard on it, but not before bringing me several apples from the tree. Do NOT eat any of the apples, and do NOT let anyone else eat any apples or near the tree. Understood?”
More surprised squawks came from the phone to which the captain added, “you don’t have to understand it, just do it, and I’m fairly sure as long as you don’t eat any apples you’ll be fine.”
Hanging the phone up, the captain then punched in another number, absentmindedly gathering up the remains of the fruit onto the plate that had been intended to hold his lunch. “Yeah, this is Malinsky over in Brightly. I’m going to need the fastest courier we have possible to make a delivery direct to the PM. How fast can you get a jet over to Bella Bella?”
More squawking came from the phone.
“Excellent, I’ll have a chopper there to meet the jet,” Malinski said, sucking the juice off a finger. “Let me know if there are any problems.”
Captain Malinski was just about to set the receiver back down onto its cradle when he suddenly realized where his finger was. His comment of “Oh shit” was matched with a sudden itching sensation at the base of his spine, and a moment later his pants became very uncomfortable as the mass of a green and gold tail spilled up and over his waistband.
“Moron Malinski strikes again,” sighed the captain, taking off his regulation trousers and extremely glad he still had fingers and hands to do it with. Curiously, Malinksi wiggled his hips, looking over his shoulder as the new knee length mass of hair shimmied back and forth with his movements.
With an air of self-flagellation, the Canadian army officer picked up his phone one last time, “Corporal Baird, is there anyone in town that can alter pants?”
Evening approached, and with it an early supper as twelve ponies gathered. Five children of Brightly, three born of Equestrian soil, and the four adults who cared for them with body and soul. Food was piled high on tables and drink flowed as chatter went back and forth about the day’s events.
“And then it made me talk…”
“The apples were so good…”
“It was like being fire…”
“Recon is real neat…”
“I carved a sliver off an engine block…”
“And we flew...”
“Hey everybody,” Thunder called, silencing the multiple conversations. “Heh, I wonder if maybe we should start saying ‘everypony’.”
“That’s what we say in Equestria!” interjected Applebloom.
“Then I’ll take it under consideration,” Thunder replied, smiling toward his young charge. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank all of you for coming. It’s been a busy day for all of us, and it’s not over yet.”
“Oh?” responded Iron Heart, golden bronze on one side, snow white fur on the other with her own length of empowered metal.
“I got a heads up from Captain Malinski about an hour ago. Apparently the prime minister is going to be addressing the UN, and he said that it was going to directly affect all of us here,” Thunder concluded, taking a sip of fruit punch.
“He’s what?” demanded a concerned Foxfire, tail giving a few quick lashes of agitation before she calmed herself. “He didn’t run anything past the BAZ council. Darrell would have let me know.”
“I don’t think Trudeau really takes the BAZ seriously,” observed Windweaver, eyeing a bulge in one of her daughter’s saddlebags suspiciously for a moment. “He essentially created it, but I don’t think he really views it as any real check on his influence here… Okay, Skylark. What’s in your bag?”
“Um, just some apples,” replied the pegasus sheepishly. “I grabbed a few before the tree got mad.”
“Uh oh,” said all four adults in one voice.
“How does a tree get mad?” Iron Hoof asked, curious. His gladius in a scabbard made for it at his side.
“Well, um… after we looked inside that big helicopter I sort of… snuck back,” Skylark explained, embarrassment purpling her black furred cheeks.
“We’ll talk later about sneaking around, young lady,” warned Windweaver, adding, “but go ahead, tell all of us what you saw.”
“Well, I was just putting some apples in my bags when I saw some soldiers come to the tree. Some of them started guarding it, I guess, but another one started picking apples,” Skylark recounted, ears and eyes downcast in dread at an approaching scolding. “He tried to climb up to grab a couple more, when the branch under him broke.”
“Uh oh,” chorused the CMC, as one.
“Zapp apple trees don’t take kindly to bein’ ponyhandled,” Apple Bloom added.
“There was a sort of growl, and light, and then the tree had a shield around it,” Skylark continued.
“Like one of mine?” asked Shield Maiden, interrupting her friend. “Oops, sorry. Go ahead.”
For their part, Windweaver, Thunder, Iron Heart, and Foxfire let the tale unfold from the reticent pegasus while they shared concerned looks with each other.
“Like one of yours,” Skylark agreed, with a nod, and the motion made her ears perk up a bit. “But it wasn’t orange like yours, it was all colours. Like the apples.”
Skylark opened up her bag and upended it. Six spectral hued apples tumbled across the floor, one coming to rest directly against Foxfire’s hoof.
“That’s… “ the unicorn began, searching for the words. “That’s magic.”
“In an apple,” Thunder noted, catching Iron Heart’s eye. “This changes everything.”
“Better turn on the TV,” Iron Heart responded. “We’re going to want to hear what he has to say…”
The cavernous room of the General Assembly was uncharacteristically silent as a fit man in a dark blue suit took to the podium.
“Ladies and Gentleman,” began Justin Trudeau, standing before the 193 members of the United Nations. “Mesdames et Messieurs. I am Justin Trudeau, and I have the honour to be the Prime Minister of Canada.”
A sea of faces looked back at him. Every member desk was filled, each of them having received a discreet word that this was a speech vital to their interests and not to be missed.
“Over a century ago,” continued Trudeau, “a Canadian lay in the darkness of a mine shaft following a terrible collapse that trapped and badly injured him. In his pain and suffering he cried out for help, and through the hand of Providence that call for aid was heard and answered.
“Those who responded did not ask who it was that was crying out in the darkness. They did not ask for passports, or background checks, or even where the call was coming from. Their only response was, “Yes, I will help you.”
“And in the fashion of Canadians, when the man was restored to health and vitality, when the freely offered gifts of friendship had made that once dying and desperate man into a pillar of his community, he paid those gifts forward. He gave freely, as had been given to him. When others cried out in pain or need his response was, ‘Yes, I will help you.”
“Now, three children of the distant land that helped that Canadian have been washed up upon our cosmic shore. They are adrift and lost among the vastness of the dimensions between worlds. Cut off from their home and loved ones, they suffer the pain of loss, of never knowing if they will ever see home again.
“In the face of the anguish and pain they feel, with the example of their Princesses, with the example of John Leung, and that of the people of Brightly, British Columbia to guide me, there is only one response I can have.
“Oui, je vais t’aider. Yes, I will help you.
“Applebloom, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle. I will help, and all of Canada will help you with me. We will find your home and restore you to your parents and loved ones. We will bring to bear all the resources and technical knowledge of this great, wide land that you find yourselves in. Not only that, I call now for the aid of every nation of the vast Commonwealth, of which Canada is a proud part, for their assistance in this endeavor.
“I also ask for the help of all of our many allies around the world, of all the nations to which Canada has ever been a friend to down through the years. We ask for your help that we may return the gift of Friendship that was given to us, so many years ago.
“We ask for this help in the name of all humanity, to help forge the common bonds that should exist between all thinking peoples of the cosmos. I invite you all to join me in saying, ‘Yes, I will help you.’
“To formalize this arrangement, I have brought with me a set of accords for your consideration.
“The Brightly Accords will form a bond of cooperation and friendship between all signatory countries. Accorded nations agree to fully and completely share all discoveries and knowledge regarding magic, magical effects, and ways to breach the dimensional barriers between ourselves, and the home world of the ponies, Equestria.
“In addition, every nation that signs the Brightly Accords also pledges that within the next six months they will pass laws guaranteeing that the rights of any member of Equus Sapiens within their borders will be equal to that of their own citizens, for when we make contact with Equestria again, and the question of that is when, not if, it must be as equal partners reaching out together into a future brilliant with unlimited possibilities for commerce, for learning, and for exploration.
‘I know, I know that I am asking much of you, and much of your great nations. I am asking for an effort as great as that which put a man on the moon. No, greater. For when John F. Kennedy gave his famous speech challenging his nation to go to the moon, his nation already knew much of what needed to be done. All that was needed was to learn how to do those things.
“Today, we do not even know that. We have only taken the first few steps on this great journey beyond the stars, which makes the need for cooperation even greater. Through chance and Providence, Canada has found itself as the leading authority and source of magic and magical discoveries, and many of you have accused Canada of hoarding these gifts, with we admit, some justification.
“But, that ends today.
“In the spirit of cooperation and in light of the sacrifices I am asking all of you to make, I have brought with me digital copies of every piece of information that Canada has on Equestria, her peoples, and the magic that seems to be an everyday part of their lives. Any nation that pledges today to sign the Accords, whether they eventually ratify them or not, will be given a copy of this data.
“Every nation that fully ratifies the Accords will receive full and immediate access to any new information as it is discovered, as well as access to physical samples such as this,” Trudeau paused, reaching down to pull out a rainbow coloured apple.
“This is the fruit of a tree found growing near Brightly, and every gram of it is brimming with magic, from seeds to skin. I have one of these for each permanent member of the UN Security Council, as proof that Canada is willing to share what we have with the rest of the world.
“The ponies of Equestria need your help. Canada needs your help. We are willing to share what we have so that all may benefit. Will you help us and share in the brightly lit future that is sure to come, or will you hide from the light and keep to yourselves? Thank you.”
And the vast chamber of the General Assembly of the United Nations erupted.
Foxfire slammed the backdoor of Iron Heart’s house shut with a back kick that rattled the door frame and shook the windows. Curious as to the cause of the disturbance, Foxfire’s husband lifted his head from the cup of coffee he had been drinking in the living room. His wife was known for fully embracing her emotions, and was definitely not a mare, or previously a woman, who had a reputation for a lack of passion.
The unicorn’s burning gaze fell full upon those of her beloved, and to his credit, Iron Heart did not shrink or flinch from what should have burned him down on the spot, but the shared look did keep him from moving his eyes down further, until his wife-to-be turned away to open the fridge and the movement caused the end of the rope around her neck to sway back and forth.
“What the hell?” Iron Hoof demanded with a start, getting off the couch, before the twin laser turrets of Foxfire’s eyes speared him once again.
“Don’t,” Foxfire commanded, holding up a hoof and stopping her husband cold. The slim unicorn took a deep breath, nodded in satisfaction at the stallion’s obedience, and then without taking her eyes away from him drank down a full liter of milk. She drank in slow, even gulps, her ivory neck fur rubbing against the dark braided cord of the lariat whose snapped off end had been what had drawn Iron Heart’s eye.
Iron Heart took those moments to visually examine his wife. Her fur on one side was matted and dirty, as if she had lain or more likely been pushed into the ground, but beyond that Foxfire appeared to be physically fine. That and the remains of the rope on the unicorn told the massive earth pony all he needed to know, and he felt a matching fury begin to rise in his breast.
“You were attacked,” Iron Heart stated, as the last of the milk slid down Foxfire’s throat.
“I was attacked,” Foxfire confirmed, crushing the milk container in the normally weak grip of her magic, the only other sign of her distress was a tail that would simply not stop lashing back and forth. “Some yahoo thought he could get away with some unicorn rustling.”
“Where is he?” was all that Iron Heart asked, with a voice that reminded Foxfire of how a mountain sounded right at the beginning of an avalanche, gaining her mate a grim smile of approval.
“Arrested, and in jail by now,” Foxfire said, putting down what was left of her drink and idly noting that she was starting to shake a bit. “It all happened so fast.”
“Come to the couch, and let me get that… thing, off of you,” Iron Heart said, worry slowly replacing anger.
“What thing?” Foxfire asked, confused before following Iron Heart’s pointing hoof. “Oh… I didn’t even realize it was there.”
“Dear, c’mon. Let’s get you to the couch,” Iron Heart repeated, and he couldn’t help but flinch as Foxfire’s bronze falchion appeared, slicing the braided noose in half so it could fall free, along with a few drops of blood brought into being by the unicorn’s haste to free herself.
Foxfire’s shaking was becoming full body spasms by now, and her blade clattered to the kitchen floor. Iron Heart sprang into action, half-nudging and half-carrying his wife to the nearby couch where he wrapped her in a throw blanket and lay beside her, letting the warmth of his body and his presence reassure her as he endlessly reminded her that she was safe, protected, and loved.
Even so, it was long, long minutes of quiet nuzzles and soft words before the last of the tremors subsided, and as the trickle of blood slowed and stopped Foxfire found herself able to speak and think coherently again.
“It was just so fast,” she said, almost absently. “One minute I was walking back with some bread from the store, the next I was flying backwards.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it,” Iron Heart said, laying his head against her shoulder.
“I remember lying on my side wondering why a man I had never seen before was doing something to my legs,” Foxfire continued, as if Iron Heart had never spoken. “And then the sword was there, and I could move again.”
The unicorn’s head turned and two pairs of eyes met eyes again.
“My sword was there, and there was fire in my heart, and the ropes fell away. I was on my hooves again, and he was begging for mercy,” Foxfire said, and Iron Heart could see an echo of flames in her eyes. “You were there with me, through the sword, and then the soldiers came, and I left them to come home. And you know the rest.”
“I’m here,” Iron Heart confirmed. “Are you?”
“Yeah,” Foxfire replied, ears flat. “Sorry, just needed to get it all out.”
“It’s okay,” Iron Heart was saying, as the front doorbell rang.
“Iron Heart! Are you home? Is Foxfire with you?” came the tense voice of Captain Malinski through the door.
“We’re both here,” Iron Heart called back.
“Can I come in?” Malinski asked.
“Just you,” Foxfire yelled back. “I’m not up to seeing anyone else.”
“Okay, just me then,” Malinski stated loudly, following a muffled byplay on the other side of the entrance.
A moment later the door opened, and the tall form of Captain Malinski entered. Neither Foxfire nor Iron Heart had seen him in days and the pair exchanged a puzzled look as the man’s forward movement betrayed the swishing motion of green and gold hair behind his thighs.
“Are you okay?” Malinski asked, stopping a few feet away from the couple. “My people told me what happened and said you ran off before they could check on you.”
“Just shaken up a bit. It just… happened so fast. I’m supposed to be this big scary unicorn and I got taken down by a cowboy with a rope,” Foxfire answered, punctuating her statement with a mirthless chuckle.
“Foxfire… For all that you and your family have done, all of you are still civilians. You aren’t supposed to have combat reactions, you aren’t supposed to need them.” Malinski said, voice apologetic.
“Who are they?” Iron Heart asked, his own backswept ears punctuating the hard bunches of muscles under his night black fur.
“American. Supposedly accredited as a pedologist here to study the soil around Brightly and especially that around the Tree,” both ponies could hear the capital letter in the captain’s words. “He’s in RCMP custody now, charged with assault and attempted kidnapping. Or at least he will be, once Medevac finishes treating him for his burns.”
“Burns?” Foxfire asked, the word poking a half memory into being. “But I didn’t… did I?”
“According to witnesses your sword lit up like a miniature sun when you fended him off, and the heat from it resulted in first degree burns over most of the part of his body that was facing you,” the captain sighed. “And this was the third and worst incident today.”
“I thought your people were supposed to keep us safe?” Iron Heart growled.
“We’re… we’re being overwhelmed,” Malinski admitted, spreading his hands. “Ever since Trudeau’s speech people of every scientific discipline have been pouring in, with more on their way and my people are warfighters. We’re special forces, not guards, and much as it pains me to say it, we aren’t trained for this.”
“I’m going to ask Darrell to call for a session of the BAZ council,” Foxfire decided, turning to action as a way to dispel the hold of the attack on her mind. “We’ve got to close the border, or at least set some kind of limit on the number of people coming into town.”
“You’ll have my support,” Malinski answered, fervently. “Especially if we can include some sort of screening criteria. We’ve got to do something before we really do lose someone.”
“Somepony,” Iron Heart corrected, adding, “Thunder told me that’s how Equestrian ponies refer to themselves.”
“Captain, can I ask you a question?” Foxfire asked, seizing on another diversion.
“Of course,” answered Malinski.
“Why do you have a tail?” Foxfire asked, with a small smirk. “And a rather nice tail at that.”
“Noticed it did you?” sighed the captain. “After Pumpkin Spice—”
“Who?” both ponies asked in unison.
“Warrant Officer Ram, officially aka ‘Recon’, but her callsign is ‘Pumpkin Spice’ due to her colouring and an accident with a drink. Callsigns usually come from embarrassing moments and Ram’s is no exception,” explained the captain with a small chuckle. “Anyway, she gave me the remains of the apple that transformed her, and while doing some things with it I was an idiot and licked some of its juice off my fingers.”
“This is the start of what happened,” Malinksi finished, standing and turning to show his green tail with its gold accents.
“Start?” Foxfire pushed, catching the important word.
“I thought a tail was all that was going to happen, as every previous transformation has been over and done in instants, but it seems I was wrong,” sitting down on a recliner across from the pony pair, he swept out his tail beside him in an automatic gesture to make sure he didn’t sit on it.
As the couple watched, the soldier who was the commander of their protectors carefully unlaced a regulation boot and slid out a foot that was covered in a combination of duct tape and multiple socks. The whole of it looking somewhat boneless. Reaching down and pulling with a flourish, the covering of socks tore free to reveal not a foot, but a hoof. From where the ankle bone should have been there extended a perfectly formed fetlock, pastern and hoof.
“I woke up to a pair of these this morning,” Captain Malinski said in a controlled voice. “I really could use some advice on what comes next.”
It had been three days.
Three days of everypony… everyone clustering around the three castaways. Three days of sympathy and gifts and too many bodies. Thunder and Windweaver did their best to shield the Cutie Mark Crusaders, but on the third day Apple Bloom just found herself having to move, to find somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t a cluster of people.
“Look Recon, Ah know yer just doing yer job, but Ah just wanna be alone right now,” stated the earth pony to the pegasus who had immediately swung in behind her as she left the house.
“There’s been some incidents and my job is to keep you safe, not happy,” Recon replied, standing firm. A stance that began to wither under the baleful gaze of a pair of sad eyes and a trembling lip. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Please Recon? Ah just need some space is all. There’s too many folks in there and it’s like Ah cain’t breathe,” begged the small yellow pony.
“I get that Apple Bloom, and I can give you some space… just not as much as I would like to,” admitted the brown coated pegasus, ears drooping slightly.
“What’s wrong?” asked Apple Bloom, concerned.
“Can’t fly,” answered the pegasus with a calm voice that gave the lie to the sadness in her yellow eyes. ”The magic from the apple wore off around dawn the next day. I’m still a pony, and I can glide and even fly in short hops. But soaring like I did that first day? Gone.”
“Guess that explains why Skylark an’ Darter are so mopey too. It’ll come back, it just might take awhile,” the little pony assured her, closing in for a quick hug. “And if you cain’t fly, you may as well come along.”
“Thank you,” Recon replied, clearing her throat. “Any idea where we’re going?”
The small Crusader took a moment to think, rubbing her chin in thought as she did so.
“The tree, Ah think,” Apple Bloom answered. “It’s the closest thing around to Equestria, and Ah wanna feel something from home. Besides, Seeker said she was gonna be there.”
“Sounds good, let me just call this in so they know where we are,” stated the pegasus, tapping the key of the microphone attached to her radio. “This is… this is Pumpkin Spice. Show me enroute from Rohan to Isengard with Scarlet. We expect to meet Gypsy there.”
“Roger that. Be advised there is a disturbance on the main street. Suggest you head straight up the road from your current position,” crackled a quick reply.
“Understood. Pumpkin Spice out,” replied Recon, releasing the key with a growl.
“Whose Scarlet, and Eye-sin-what?” Apple Bloom asked, as the pair started walking up the street.
The sun was high, and the day was warm without even a breath of wind while several seconds passed with only the clopping of hooves and the distant roar of a lawnmower to interrupt the quiet. Apple Bloom was about to ask her question again when Recon spoke up.
“Those are call-signs and code names,” Recon finally replied, taking a moment to shake herself from mane to tail. Even her wings fluffed out for a moment, and afterwards the pegasus seemed more in control of herself. “Just in case someone breaks the encryption on our comms, everyone and every place in town has been given a code name or a call sign. Something we can easily recognize and say on a radio, but a stranger would have no idea what we were talking about.”
“So Ah’m… ‘Scarlet’?” came the question. Apple Bloom having parsed at least that much of Recon’s transmission.
“Because of that red bow you always have in your mane,” Recon informed the little pony at her side. “Seeker is ‘Gypsy’ because she sees things like a gypsy fortune teller with a crystal ball and I’m ‘Pumpkin Spice’ because of how I look.”
“And the other name?” continued the earth pony, unwilling to try her tongue on the odd name again.
“Captain Malinski is a big fan of ‘Lord of the Rings’, so he changed all the important place names around here to have names from that,” Recon answered, pausing for a moment to look both ways before she crossed a small intersection. There was some sort of disturbance visible a few blocks toward Brightly’s main street, so Recon made sure to hustle her charge away at right angles to whatever was going on.
“Your place has the code name ‘Rohan’, the Tree is ‘Isengard’, Foxfire’s house is Lothlorien and Iron Heart’s is ‘Moria’,” Recon continued, finishing with, “Oh, and the town itself is ‘Mordor’.”
“More doors? What kinda name is that?” Apple Bloom asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
“Something English, I think,” Recon responded, continuing up the street and breathing a small sigh of relief at seeing the beginning of the open scrubland that marked the end of the built up section of town and the start of “old” Brightly.
Apple Bloom, in search of quiet, did her best to avoid the now dozen or so archaeological digs in the old part of Brightly. Every university and scholarly institute that could have sent, or was sending, teams to try to find more magical treasures that had been lost in the great fire that had signalled the death knell of the town’s industrial economy.
More than once the earth pony might have lost her way to her destination, only for Recon to point out the right direction with the aid of a military GPS unit. It took the duo some time, but eventually they found the secluded sylvan glade that held the magical apple tree, only to be immediately accosted by an armed soldier and his partner.
“What are you doing here?” Apple Bloom asked, curious.
“Making sure no one tried anything stupid. Again,” replied the armed man, the small smirk on his face aimed toward his fellow soldier.
“Last I knew, I outranked you, Hicks,” Ram said evenly to the lead man of the guard detail.
“Yes Ma’am,” responded Hicks, bracing to attention. “I meant more stupid. Like the idiots who showed up yesterday trying to breach the tree’s dome with a crude demolition device.”
“They did what?!” shouted Ram, incredulous.
“Didn’t even scratch the ground,” replied the soldier. “If anything, I’d say the shield is stronger than it was, and we arrested the idiots. They’re on a flight back to Europe. Passports revoked and everything.”
“Tree’s scared,” came the quiet voice of Seeker, sitting off to one side just at the edge of the treeline. “Real scared.”
“What’s wrong?” Apple Bloom asked.
Together Apple Bloom and Recon trotted over toward the small red pony and as they approached both of them could see that Seeker’s eyes were fixed on the tree behind them and continually shifting in the manner that Recon knew marked when the pony was using her powers to see far beyond the normal visual spectrum.
“Thomething scared the tree. More than once,” Seeker said, and as the approaching pair reached Seeker they could see that not only were her eyes in motion, but the gladius at her side was filled with rippling waves of light.
“What are you seeing, Seeker?” Recon asked softly, settling down on the same side of Seeker that the gladius was on, while Apple Bloom took the opposite side.
“Threes,” answered the pony distantly, eyes fixed forward.
“Command, be advised we may have a Code Gandalf underway at Isengard with Gypsy and Scarlet,” Recon transmitted, in a tight, controlled voice.
“Oh shit,” replied the guard and his partner, hearing the radio call. The pair began to back away from the tree, their eyes scanning for threats in every direction.
“What threes, Seeker?” prodded Apple Bloom. “You kin tell us, unless it’s a secret. Cause ya gotta keep secrets.”
“Three diamonds, three balloons, three butterflies, and three apples,” Seeker said absently, squinting a bit. “And there’s a lightning bolt with them, and a big star behind them all.”
“Those are cutie marks!” Apple Bloom nearly shouted, wide eyes going even wider, until Recon thought that they would cover the young pony’s eyes entire face. “That’s Applejack’s cutie mark, an’ Rarity’s, an’ the others, an’ I bet that’s Twilight’s cutie mark behind ‘em all.”
“And now they’re gone back into a tree behind the tree. A tree made out of glass,” Seeker continued. “The apple tree wants to be like the glass tree. I can see it. But it needs thomething.”
“What does it need, Seeker?” Recon asked, locking her mic key open so that everyone could hear what was going on. “What does the tree need?”
“More magic,” Seeker said, words tumbling out. “It’s scared ‘cause cold hurt it, and people keep trying to hurt it, and it’s using all it’s got just to stay safe, but it misses the birds and squirrels and ponies and wind and rain and…”
“Hey, it’s okay. We’re gonna help. The Cutie Mark Crusaders always help out,” Apple Bloom stated, pride in her voice. “How do we get more magic for the tree?”
“Me,” Seeker stated, getting up to her hooves, and without a word, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, the sword rose up beside her. “The tree needs me and my magic.”
“All points, Code Gandalf confirmed at my position. Get 'Tempest' here now,” Recon said into her mic; While doing her best to avoid the preternatural blade, the pegasus moved to stand in front of the small earth pony. “Hold up, Seeker. Let’s wait until your mother gets here.”
“No, the tree needs me now,” declared Seeker, walking straight toward Recon.
Recon was nearly twice Seeker’s height and despite the lightness of pegasus bones in relation to those of an earth pony, also outmassed the filly by a large margin as well. So it was with a shock straight to her core that Recon found herself being simply pushed back by Seeker’s deliberate pace forward. Bracing her hooves did nothing. Flaring then pumping her wings did even less.
The power of an earth pony was in full evidence, made even more frightening by the fact that Seeker still had her eyes focused on the tree, not even looking at Recon in spite of their head to chest contact.
“Don’t make me hurt you Seeker,” pleaded Recon, using a wing to pull out a stun gun. “I don’t want to do this.”
The earth pony made no reply except to continue to push Recon backwards, who in desperation, swung the stun gun forward…
And the sword moved.
Pieces of metal and plastic fell sparking to the ground, along with the tips of a few green feathers as the distance from the tree’s shield to the pair closed to within a few meters.
“Fine, we do this the hard way,” Recon stated in a firm voice.
The combat veteran jumped back as far as she could, to the point where the strands of her tail were touching the rainbow shield that Seeker was inexorably walking towards in that maddeningly deliberate pace. Now with just enough space to gain momentum, Recon leaped back toward Seeker in a spinning front kick that had a speed even Rainbow Dash would have been proud of.
Recon flew through the air, only to find herself batted sideways by the flat of the gladius, and the combined energies of her kick and the sword’s impact caused her to land almost back at the treeline where it had all started. Apple Bloom helped pull a shaken Recon back to her hooves as Seeker’s sword sliced open a gap in the mystic barrier around the tree.
“Tell Mom and Rowey I love them,” Seeker asked, passing through the barrier which promptly closed up behind her.
After the defeat of the Godwindigo and the acceptance of the citizens of Brightly as sometimes ponies, work progressed on both sides of the small portal in an effort to enlarge it so full and easy contact could be a thing between Earth and Equestria. Both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna enjoyed their unintended vacation from their duties, getting to know the people of Brightly and starting diplomatic relations with Canada and the world in general.
Celestia in particular made the effort to make friends and confidants, taking both Medevac and a production assistant from Fox News under her metaphorical wings and granting both titles and positions under her.
While this was going on, Luna continued to cultivate her relationship with Captain Rios, and although he declined her offer to be her personal huntsman in the quest to find where the Windigo had gone to ground, he did accept her offer of basic tutelage in magic in exchange for the US putting a military unit on standby to take out the Windigo when it was finally run to ground.
As long as Canadian authorities approved of the incursion.
Jessica Velasquez, Fox News production assistant, broke the news that somewhere out in the world were forty-seven Equestrian gemstones. Stones that been gifted to John Leung during his ordeal in the mine and shortly thereafter. While each of the stones possessed an enchantment to aid in a survival situation, they were also capable of absorbing energy around them, and then releasing that build up of power in a titanic burst.
A massive global scavenger hunt broke out for the missing gems, of which at least two of which were found and experimented on by high energy physics. The first, when exposed to the output of a nuclear reactor, sent both the entire reactor and some of its personnel… elsewhere. The second was exposed to the output beam of a particle accelerator and for a short time created a gateway between Earth and a different elsewhere.
Meanwhile, the scientific community did their best to converge on Brightly, in an effort to understand magic and the ponies it had created, and though access to the town and the area nearby was of necessity controlled by the Canadian military, the cordon was also occasionally breached by desperate individuals who discovered, to their amazement, that they too could tap the growing magic around the town.
Indeed, magic began to become commonplace in Brightly to the point where even non-ponies discovered that they could create small magical effects.
But the greatest harnessing of the growing power in the area was Iron Heart’s forging of the Foxfire Swords. Five bronze blades meant to represent the forging of himself, Foxfire, Iron Hoof, Shield Maiden and Seeker into a full and complete family meant as a simple mundane gift became infused with the full power of the realized magic of Iron Heart’s cutie mark as it manifested during his creation of the swords.
The effort nearly killed Iron Heart, and during the battle to save the life of the pony smith Foxfire’s Umbral companion took advantage of the situation to step up its gambit of mentally corrupting the unicorn by getting the witch to agree to allow her body and magic to be directly controlled by the magical spirit.
During this time the Umbral manipulated events to plant a powerful compulsion in the mind of Medevac, the town’s primary medical caregiver. The mental compulsion would render her utterly obedient to NyteFyre, Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond, that being the persona that the Umbral was slowly corrupting Foxfire into.
Canada’s apparent monopoly on magic and ponies did not sit well with either the international community or many of Canada’s traditional allies, such as the United States. More than one country sent detachments of special forces to “obtain” samples of magic or ponies. All of which failed.
When their own covert forces failed, elements of the US military dispatched a small group known as Team Mercury to Brightly in an attempt to bribe, cajole, trick, or outright kidnap a pony to the United States. The team set their sights on Skylark, and planned to use an invitation to visit the US Air Force Academy to lure her and her family to the US.
The Umbral’s covert subversion was revealed when Celestia was told of a subservient bow that Medevac had begun making to Foxfire. A specific kind of obeisance that was of a slave to their master. Celestia and Luna were preparing to act on this information when Twilight Sparkle signalled that she was about to enlarge and stabilize the portal between the worlds.
Shelving their discovery for later, the sisters moved to perform their part in the manipulation of the gateway, only to find that an unknown source of magic was interfering with their attempts. This unknown source, in reality a tree planted decades ago by John Leung and brought to life by the initial burst of magic from the portal, had also thrown off Twilight’s calculations with regards to how much power was needed and how that power needed to be used.
It was also this tree that had been slowly increasing the magic in and around Brightly as it matured, flowered and began to produce fruit of its own. A secret and unknown fountain of magic.
A last minute improvisation by Starlight nearly saved the day, until an intended helpful addition by the Cutie Mark Crusaders blew up in everyone’s face, destroying the mirror the portal was framed in and unleashing its energies in a whirlwind of chaos that would have made Discord proud.
In this moment of distraction and opportunity, the Umbral made its move to finish its corruption of Foxfire, and would have succeeded, if not for the timely interruption of Seeker. Though Foxfire escaped being fully ensnared by the dark entity, the Umbral did manage to use Foxfire’s power to blast Celestia and Luna back through the rapidly closing portal, dragging the Fox News staffer with them, and as the energies of the portal exploded in a thunderous crash the twisting of the ether also grabbed up the Crusaders and hurled them bodily to Earth.
Frightened by the powerful explosion, Leung’s tree stopped sending out its magic and instead shielded itself from a suddenly frightening world that was now silent of the magic of its homeworld. With the sudden cessation of magic in and around Brightly, every pony lost the vast majority of their abilities, but no creature was more affected than the Umbral within Foxfire’s mind.
Suddenly deprived of the magic that was its lifeblood, the dark spirit faded into nothingness, vowing that it would return.
In the aftermath of the collapse of the portal, the world had to deal having set up mechanisms to deal with Equestria, but no Equestria. The only signs that anything odd had ever happened was a town with a good number of now depowered ponies, forty-odd gemstones with unusual properties somewhere in the world and three Equestrian ponies.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders survived their explosive trip through the dying portal and after recovering at the local clinic, found themselves being adopted by the Harding family. Windweaver and Thunder opened the home and their hearts to the dimension tossed trio, letting them know that for as long as they needed it, they would have a place alongside their own children.
While well intentioned, this action caused its own complications, resulting in a short, but sharp confrontation with child welfare authorities at the Harding household.
Present at the time, Team Mercury used this confrontation to impulsively kidnap Apple Bloom and attempt to make off with her, along with three gemstones that Sweetie Belle had carried with her through the portal from Equestria. In the end, Mercury was thwarted both by the rapid response of Canadian security forces and by more permanently with Team Mercury encountering the Foxfire Swords, which turned two of them into ponies.
With Team Mercury, human and pony both, in custody, the ponies of Brightly turned their attention to the swords themselves. This time, care and caution were exercised and Seeker, Iron Hoof, Shield Maiden, Iron Heart and Foxfire each took up their sword and gained a small insight into their futures.
While the quintet recovered from their magical interaction, another was taking place with the CMC, and their appointed bodyguard, Warrant Officer Ram of Joint Task Force 2. Together they rediscovered Leung’s tree, and upon eating from its fruit, both regained much of their abilities, and in the case of Officer Ram, found themselves transformed into a pony.
Once the local authorities caught wind of this they decided to harvest as many apples as possible from the tree, during which a soldier accidentally broke one of the tree’s branches, and the tree responded by strengthening the shield around itself, cutting itself off from all outside contact.
Until a pony named Seeker heard the tree’s call for help and answered…
Children have been described poetically in many ways. “The joy of life and warm sight to the sore eyes,” says Islam. The Bible refers to them as being, “Like the arrows of a mighty man.” While Judaism considers them to be perhaps the purest form of being created in God’s image.
One of the true marks of a parent, be it by the act of birth or through taking up that role for one who is not of their blood, is that they hope to see their child grow and surpass their own accomplishments, that the child will go farther in life from having stood on the shoulders of one who loves them.
But if this is perhaps the greatest hope of all parents, there is a matching fear. A fear that fills the heart of a mother or father with dread, and has caused many a door to open in the middle of the night for a surreptitious check on a sleeping form. The fear that their child will stumble and fall before they truly begin to run. That they will outlive their child.
Fear of and for one’s child has given mothers the strength to lift entire cars, and the courage to stand unflinching and unbowed before those who would do harm to the small lives that they nurture and cherish. It has given fathers the endurance to carry on through conditions and wounds which should have killed them, to return from places and situations that no mortal should ever return from.
And so it was with the parents of Seeker, aka Romana Pedersen.
Two sets of ears heard the radio call of “Code Gandalf”, heard the exchange between Pumpkin Spice and their daughter, and heard Seeker’s declaration of love before she passed through the barrier around Earth’s only magical tree.
Two sets of hooves bore a pair of bodies directly through a suddenly very porous wall, carrying them up along the road with the sound of thunder, and upon hearing that sound, the pony of that name, his wife, and their family came pouring out in pursuit because the best of friends are also family. Only extended.
The rocketing herd moved at the speed of fear, gathering sons, daughters, friends, neighbours, guardians, teachers and companions in its frantic haste along the roads and into the woods outside of the town. Soldiers and scholars felt the earth rumble beneath their feet, causing them to look up and scramble out of the way as the assembled mass blazed past, only to be sucked along in its wake by the powers of concern and curiosity.
It took the mass of humanity and ponies only a few minutes to cross the distance from Arnold Kye’s home to where the tree stood, and even though it was a trip that should have taken half an hour, to those who made that run it felt as if it had taken days.
“ROMANA!” cried Foxfire, as she skidded to a stop centimetres short of the coruscating wall of energy.
“I tried to stop her,” Ram apologized, beating at the shield with her now empty service weapon as brass casings from its expended ammunition littered the ground around them.
“What’s going on?” Iron Hoof yelled as he arrived, his young eyes wide as he took in the scene of his father and adoptive mother in front of a strange barrier of gently humming light.
“It’s Seeker,” Iron Heart stated, pointing a hoof to where the young pony stood on the other side of the barrier, eyes closed in some sort of communion with the tree. “She said the tree needed her and her magic.”
“Thorry Mom,” Seeker murmured, and the onlookers saw the young pony’s hoof begin to sink into the tree itself. “But the tree needs me. Then the tree can help everybody like it did before.”
“I need you,” Foxfire declared. “WE need you.”
The statement echoed through the clearing as Thunder, Windweaver, and their small herd arrived, along with Seeker's sister, Shield Maiden. The young leader of the Power Ponies quickly moved up beside her mother and the two shared a worried look before the younger unicorn’s eyes fell on Apple Bloom.
“Any idea what she’s doing?” Shield Maiden asked the Equestrian, instead of her mother or adoptive father who were both attempting to batter their way through the tree’s shield. Blow after thunderous blow from Iron Heart struck the barrier, while Foxfire had begun to blaze away with her magic, restored as it was through the enchanted falchion Iron Heart had forged for her.
“Ah uh… “ hesitated the red maned pony. “Ah think she’s tryin’ to give herself to the tree.”
“Say what now?” was Shield Maiden’s confused reply. Apple Bloom was looking more and more embarrassed and somehow ashamed, refusing to meet the young unicorn’s eyes.
“It’s okay, you can tell her,” Scootaloo said, giving her friend a comforting nuzzle.
“It’s a thing some earth ponies do when they want to… pass on,” supplied the pony. “They can kinda give themselves and all their magic back to the ground. I heard Applejack talking about it once when Granny Smith was sick.”
“But Seeker doesn’t want to die, she just wants to…. Oh,” Shield Maiden replied, stopping as a recent memory came back to her.
The leader of the Power Ponies found herself reliving the moment when each member of her family had taken up the bronze blades that had been made for them. Each sword had asked them a question and their responses had shaped what had come next. For Shield Maiden, her sword had called itself the Seed of Love, but her sister’s blade had referred to itself as the Seed of Giving.
“Where I am planted there will be no want, but beware for I am selfless,” murmured the unicorn. “Selfless. Selfless… That’s it!”
“Mom! It’s a gift!” Shield Maiden shouted, dashing the remaining few feet to her mother’s side where Sweetie Belle had been trying, and failing, to get Foxfire to stop trying to force her way through the barrier with her magic.
“The tree doesn’t have magic, Mrs. Foxfire,” the little Equestrian unicorn was saying. “The tree IS magic. I don’t think even Princess Twilight could make a hole in that.”
“I have to try!” Foxfire replied, breaking off the conversation as her older daughter ran up. “What do you mean, a gift?”
“Romy’s giving herself as a gift to the tree. Her sword is the Seed of Giving, remember?” Shield Maiden insisted, even as her sister’s mane and tail started to fade into translucence. “She’s gonna give all of herself to the tree cause the sword said it was selfless.”
The edges of the clearing were becoming more and more crowded as more people and ponies managed to arrive after having threaded their way through the scrub forest, but were unwilling to crowd in on the drama unfolding around the tree itself.
“Sweetie Belle is right, people,” said Captain Malinski, his hooved feet and equine tail were on full display at the moment but the Canadian officer didn’t care one bit with his mission to protect this place and these people in jeopardy. “We can’t use mundane force against a natural force of magic. It just doesn’t work.”
Iron Heart and his son both ceased battering away at the shield with their hooves as they heard that and in unison turned in frustration toward the captain.
“Then what do we do?” Iron Heart asked, looking back at Seeker whose face held a beatific smile as if everything was good and right with the world.
“I dunno, but like Rainbow Dash says, ‘We’ve got to give it all we’ve got’,” stated Scootaloo. “We’ve gotta give till it hurts, whatever it is.”
A hush fell over the clearing as the words of the pegasus echoed, and for long moments the only sound in the clearing was that of breathing, and shifting hooves and feet. What the young Equestrian had said triggered something in both mother and elder daughter and the two looked at each other even as their brows furrowed in concentration.
“Seed of Giving… ” Foxfire said, her tone thoughtful as Shield Maiden’s words echoed in her mind. She could tell her older daughter was on to something, but the fear for her younger daughter was clouding her mind..
“Apple Bloom, did Seeker say why the tree needed her?” Foxfire demanded, turning so quickly her white mane and tail were like a sudden fall of snow.
“N-not really,” the earth pony answered, more than a little nervous at being the sudden center of the elder unicorn’s intent regard. “Just that the tree was scared of getting hurt again, and wanted to be like the Tree of Harmony, an’ that it needed her so that it could help everypony.”
“It needs Seeker to give it the power it needs,” Foxfire said, thinking out loud. “But it can’t take it. It needs—”
“A gift,” Shield Maiden reminded her mother.
“Right. A gift freely given, a selfless gift. A gift of love and of caring,” Foxfire finished, nodding in acknowledgement to her daughter. “That’s got to be the key somehow. Everything keeps coming back to giving.”
“No one has greater love than this, that they give their life for another,” Thunder quoted, as he stood in the circle of his own family.
“But is it my daughter who is being selfless to the point of sacrifice, or is it her sword?” questioned the white unicorn, her mind diverted.
“Does it matter?” asked Iron Hoof, pointing toward his step-sister. “Seeker’s fading even more now. We’ve gotta do something!”
“It’s your call, Foxfire,” Malinski said, watching with approval as the men and women of JTF2 and the PPCLI continued to take up protective positions without interfering with the civilians, or the pre-eminent civilian authority on magic that was present. “My people are ready to do whatever you think is best.”
“I don’t know if there is anything you can do, because I’m pretty sure you were right and force isn’t the answer,” Foxfire concluded. “We can’t magic our way through.”’
“Can’t bash our way through either,” chipped in Iron Heart.
“I… I don’t know,” Foxfire finally admitted, ears and shoulders both slumping in defeat. “Does anyone have any ideas?”
Moments passed, and the mood of the crowd became visibly sadder and grimmer as the moments stretched out longer and longer, until nearly a full minute had passed.
“You know, the solution is obvious, once you think about it for a moment,” said a voice of gentle power that cut through the hush like a sudden dawn carving through an early morning fog.
It was a voice that had been trained to speak and had years of experience in doing so. A voice that had carried light into some of the darkest reaches of human souls, had been raised in joy for those who had triumphed against the demons they carried within themselves, or had comforted those who had lost against those self same demons.
“Father Addison,” Foxfire said, her ears pricking up with renewed hope, as she saw the Anglican priest make his way through the crowd “Please, if you have any suggestions on how we can get through and save my daughter. Please, now’s the time.”
“Foxfire… Jean,” the bat-pony priest replied, smiling as both he and his wife trotted forward through the assemblage. “You were so close. You almost had the answer without me.”
“Father Addison, we don’t have a lot of time here,” Thunder stated, flaring a wing toward where Seeker’s fading body had begun to lose its vibrant colour. “I know you like to lay things out bit by bit in your sermons, but this isn’t the time.”
“Answer me this then, where are we?” Addison asked, pressing forward, and his question sent the mind of those present whirling.
“Earth?” shouted Scootaloo, trying to be helpful.
“Brightly, British Columbia, Canada,” Malinski stated. “Fifty-two degrees, twenty minutes north latitude, one hundred twenty-seven degrees thirty minutes west longitude.”
“That’s both the modern location and the most generic one,” Addison replied, with a smile. “Think older, but more specific.”
“Heiltsuk territory?” Windweaver asked, after a moment of thought.
“Bingo. We’re on the unceded territory of my forefathers from the Heiltsuk First Nation,” congratulated the priest pony, his crucifix a flash of silver against his midnight blue chest fur. “And do you remember what my people were known for and were persecuted for under the Indian Act?”
“POTLATCH!” Foxfire yelled out, slamming her own hoof into her forehead. “Of course! Father Addison you’re brilliant and by the Goddess, you were right, we almost had it.”
“I have certain advantages of birth,” replied the Anglican priest, nodding graciously. “But one of you would have gotten it without me.”
“Well, I don’t get it,” Iron Heart commented. “What’s so big about the potlatch?”
“Missionaries had the government use the Indian Act to stomp on the potlatch for several reasons, but one of them was that the ceremony was essentially weaponized giving in challenges for social standing and political influence among coastal First Nations,” Addison explained. “To the point that some families were beggaring themselves to compete, which the Christian missionaries found abhorrent; considering it to be wasteful and a sin.”
“So if guns, hooves or magic won’t get us through to help Seeker, weaponized giving might do the trick,” Malinski said, slamming one forehoof into another in a gesture of satisfaction. The captain froze for a moment as he looked down at his changed forelimbs. “Looks like that apple you gave me is still working, Pumpkin Spice.”
“Recon,” groused Ram, but her tail drooped as she realized that the other name had well and truly stuck to her.
“Cute ears though, Captain,” laughed Windweaver for a moment, before turning to look over at her friend and neighbour.
The seamstress and the sorceress had shared their time and lives with each other until they were as close as sisters, and so Windweaver was able to read Foxfire's intent in her eyes. She knew what Foxfire was about to do and gave her friend and neighbour a small nod of encouragement.
Turning, the gravid unicorn approached the shield until she was close enough to rear up and support herself in a standing position against it, forehooves braced against the humming rainbow coloured energies that rippled and moved underneath her. Beyond the barrier stood her youngest daughter in a similar position against the tree, her legs becoming fully translucent.
“Tree,” Foxfire began, in a voice filled with care and worry. “That’s my daughter in there with you. I know you need her magic, and the magic of her sword, but please take me and my magic instead. My powers have only brought me troubles and problems, but my daughter uses hers to help others.”
Everyone fell silent again, listening to the impassioned words of a mother trying to perform the ultimate duty of a parent. To protect their child in times of danger, and if need be, to take that danger on themselves, even at the cost of their own life.
“Please tree,” Foxfire implored the font of magical power. “Take me, instead of my daughter. I’m her mother, and I’m stronger than her besides.”
Heartbeats passed in silent supplication, and then the hum from the tree changed in pitch, first dropping and then rising above the base tone of the barrier before returning to normal.
“I know,” Foxfire nodded, seeming to understand. “I know I’m not my daughter, and you might still need her. So if you still need her gift, please accept my gift as well. I’m her mother, let me come with her.”
The song of the tree rose by a harmonic third and Foxfire felt her hooves sink slightly into the barrier and then stop. Reflexively the unicorn tried to move her forehooves, only to find them stuck in place even as a warm sensation began to envelop them.
“I think it’s accepted me,” gasped Foxfire, feeling herself winded all of a sudden. “It’s taking me as a gift as well.”
Iron Heart moved up beside his wife and nuzzled her for a moment, feeling how she sagged against him and knowing his love had made her choice and was content with it.
“I’ve lost one wife,” the dark stallion stated. “I’m not losing two.”
“What?” Foxfire had time to ask, before the night black mane of her husband meshed with hers as he reared up beside his love, smooth white strands mingling with curly black.
“Tree,” Iron Heart declared, as he matched his wife’s posture against the shield. “I’m Seeker’s father. Adoptive maybe, but still her father. I’m also Foxfire’s husband, so I’m asking you to accept my gift alongside theirs. Take me. Take my power and my strength. Use it to protect yourself and others. It’s the duty of the strong to protect the weak.”
“I’m Seeker’s father,” Iron Heart repeated. “Take me with her.”
Like those of his wife before him, Iron Heart’s hooves sunk partially into the barrier before sticking in place. The stallion leaned against his wife as he too felt the tree begin to drain away his magic and power, and in response to the influx of power the song of magic sounded a new note to blend into the growing harmony.
“I think it's working!” shouted Shield Maiden, and matching her mother on her unoccupied side, the filly declared, “I’m Shield Maiden. I’m Seeker’s sister. Take me with her.”
“I’m Seeker’s brother,” stated Iron Hoof, as he flanked his father and followed his example. “Have my power too. Take me.”
As the last member of Seeker’s family declared their intent to give of themselves, the song of the tree rose into a full chord, seeming to signal its acceptance of the gift offered.
“Seeker’s stopped fading,” Windweaver said, her practiced eye noting the change. “I think whatever they are doing is working.”
“There’s only one way to make sure,” Thunder answered, before turning to his assembled herd. “I’m going to help Foxfire and Iron Heart. None of you have to come with me, okay?”
“Whither thou goest, there I will go,” Windweaver quietly stated, a soft smile gracing her muzzle.
“Yeah! We wanna help too!” Scootaloo and Darter declared in unison, each matching the other in their exuberance as they both dashed over to the barrier and slammed their forehooves against it.
“We’re Seeker’s friends, take us too,” the pair stated together, still speaking in almost a single voice.
“I’m Seeker’s neighbour, babysitter and friend,” Windweaver stated as she placed herself in the same position as the others. “Take me.”
“I’m her neighbor and friend too,” Thunder added, matching his wife and laying a wing over the back of his impetuous son as Skylark, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom also offered themselves up. “Take me, take us and our gift.”
A second choral chord joined the first, with wordless ethereal voices singing a song of magic that began to fill the glade with power and majesty.
“I’m Seeker’s shield,” Pumpkin Spice affirmed, as she added herself to the group. “Take me.”
“I’m Seeker’s guardian and protector,” Captain Malinski said, stating his position. “My job is to protect and defend. Take me and my gift.”
Ponies and people began streaming toward the magic barrier to place hands or hooves against the shield of magic that the tree had erected to protect itself, and as each person stated their relationship to Seeker and their intent to offer themselves alongside her, the music of the tree grew in power and complexity.
Dozens offered themselves as gifts, then a hundred, then two hundred. Until there was no more room to touch the barrier itself and those arriving had to place their hands and hooves on the backs of others. Scientists and soldiers, retirees and restaurant owners, people and ponies from all walks of life had been touched by the simple friendship and friendliness of the small pony that was Seeker.
Only the three Equestrians in their midst realized that the people of Brightly had managed to tap into the strongest magic known to Equestria through the selfless gift of themselves. The Magic of Friendship rose from the tree in a gigantic rainbow shaft of light as the song of the tree’s magic wound around it in heavenly chorus.
Rising toward the heavens the poly-chromatic pillar split into each of its discreet colours, with each beam blazing across the skies toward a different destination. As the skies lit with chromatic hues the magical dome around the tree began to rapidly expand, pushing everyone back several meters before passing through the bodies of all those gathered around it.
As the magic of friendship effortlessly moved their physical forms, it transformed each and every one of them into ponies as well as changing the land around them. The colours were deeper, sounds more melodic, the earth softer and more welcoming. Wider and wider expanded the power of the tree, travelling rapidly through the nearby town, enveloping the Carmanah Dam and its crews.
This was the magical power that had thrown off Twilight Sparkle’s calculations, causing the imbalance that had created the conditions for the portal’s collapse. This was the magic that had combined with Equestria’s power to saturate the land with so much magic that even the most mundane of humans had begun to be able to cast spells, and now it was the power that returned magic to Brightly, changing each and everyone person within a eight kilometer radius into ponies.
Without the barrier holding all of them up, the Power Ponies, their friends and family had all fallen to the ground. Foxfire felt a small, solid weight against her chest and her heart leapt as she looked down to see the grey streaked purple mane of her daughter, Seeker.
“Romy!” Foxfire cried, clutching her daughter, who was small and precious and perfectly in one piece, tightly to her body.
“Hi Mom,” said the little pony as she lay against her mother. “Thorry.”
“You! You ever scare me like that again. I’ll… I’ll… “ Foxfire broke off, unable to finish the sentence.
“Wow. Look at that!” a voice exclaimed, and all eyes were drawn to the tree.
Just as the tree had changed and transformed all of them, so had the gift of life and magic changed the tree itself. No longer a thing of wood, bark, leaves and fruit, the apple tree that John Leung had planted so long ago was now transformed into a structure of crystalline beauty with leaves of literal emerald green chiming against each other in the light breeze.
Apples of pure ruby hung from tourmaline branches that grew out of a tiger’s eye trunk and the whole of it gleamed with mystical power even as the musical leaves continued to sing a song of magic that everypony present could feel in the air around them, and around the whole of it there circled the sword.
Seeker’s sword, the Seed of Giving, had been the gift that the tree had chosen to keep for itself. Twirling and swirling around the former confines of the tree's protective shield, the blade of bronze now marked out the point beyond everyone knew the tree would allow none past. A feeling that was confirmed as Thunder got to his hooves and the blade shifted to orient on him in obvious warning.
“And in the east of Eden,” quoted the pegasus, “He stationed an ever turning fiery sword, to guard the way to the tree of life…”
The pony turned back toward the Anglican priest who was busy helping several new ponies as they struggled with their new bodies. “My God, Father Addison. What have we done?”
There are seven colours in a rainbow, and as the multicoloured pillar of light rose up from the Brightly tree, that great shaft of illumination split into those seven distinct hues with each one peeling off and arching across the sky toward different destinations…
Governor Jay Inslee was the longest serving state governor in the entire United States, and on top of that, Washington State apples were known far and wide as a major food export. So when his President handed him a strange apple from an unknown world and told him to do what he could with it, the experienced leader knew just who to bring it to.
“We sectioned the apple and were able to obtain six seeds from it,” Professor Kostick was saying, as she directed the governor through a large brightly lit greenhouse that was unusually chilly for the time of year. “We’ve got them planted and we’re working on germinating them now.”
“That’s good. Why is it so cold in here?” the governor asked, rubbing his upper arms.
“Apple seeds need two to three months of cold, damp weather to germinate,” replied the professor, waving a hand over the expanse of small plastic tubs before them in the climate controlled area. “But germinating the seeds from that apple isn't going to be the main difficulty with trying to grow a tree from them.”
“This is a fruit tree research lab. If anyone in the state of Washington can grow a tree from those seeds, it’s you and your people,” Governor Inslee said, attempting to reassure Dr. Kostick.
“Again, that’s not the problem, Sir,” restated the academic with dirty fingernails. “The issue is that seeds from an apple rarely grow into a tree that is as robust and productive as the parent tree was. Most commercial fruit trees come into being through grafting, which provides a consistent product.”
“So you’re saying that we aren’t going to get a magical tree from a magical apple,” Inslee responded, shoulders slumping slightly before the veteran politician reasserted the professional mask over his emotions.
“Sorry, but the odds are against it,” replied the professor, reaching out to touch a tub whose markings identified it as holding one of the six seeds from the very special apple. “I suppose we could always get luck— HOLY SHI—”
A spear of crimson light dove down from above, slicing through the glass and steel roof of the building as if it wasn’t even there, and enveloping the tub and it’s five fellows in a ruddy light whose brilliance briefly blinded both governor and horticulturist. A few moments later the older man blinked fiercely to clear his vision, only to realize that he was lying on the floor with something covering him.
Lifting a wavering limb to his face, Governor Inslee discovered that his arm was now the foreleg of a pony, it’s rich green fur contrasting with a deep blue fetlock and hoof.
“Professor, are you alright?” asked the newly minted pony governor.
“I’m fine, but I seem to have been transformed into a diminutive equine. From what I’ve read about this change, we should gradually build muscle memory through short, controlled movements, instead of thrashing around blindly,” answered the professor, before absently noting, “Interesting, I seem to have a horn. I’ll have to run some tests to see what I can do with it.”
“GOVERNOR!” yelled a uniformed police officer, as he burst into the greenhouse with weapon drawn. “GOVERNOR INSLEE! WHERE ARE YOU?”
“Over here, trooper,” Inslee called back, watching his new forelimbs move back and forth with idle curiosity. “I’m fine. But I’m afraid the professor and I are going to need a little help.”
“Sir?” asked the state trooper, curiosity in his voice but caution in his eyes as he approached the spot where the red column of light had come through the roof.
“I’m around the side of the planter,” Inslee replied, guiding the officer towards him, who came into view as he cleared the structure that had been holding the various apple seeds.
“Sir?” the trooper asked again, weapon pointing up but still ready for use if needed, “Is that you?”
“It’s me, and Professor Kostick. We seem to have run into some pony trouble, I’d appreciate it if you picked me up off the ground,” said Inslee, just as several more state troopers burst into the room.
“Clear! All Clear!” called the lead trooper to the others, who all immediately lowered their weapons and looked around to gain their own impressions of the situation.
Meanwhile, the lead officer, whose name tag read “Vemyr” holstered his own weapon and approached the pony with the mane of grey streaked faded gold. Bending over, Officer Vemyr hefted the surprisingly substantial weight of the transformed politician up into a belly carry.
“Are you okay, Sir?” the officer asked, using his head to motion over another member of the protective detail to pick up Professor Kostick.
“Other than being somewhat smaller and four-legged, I’m feeling pretty good,” answered Inslee. “Professor?”
“I am quite well as well,” Kostic commented, looking around with curiosity. “Did any of you happen to notice where that beam of energy came from?”
“It seemed to come in from the north. Was moving straight through the sky and then arrowed straight down,” replied Officer Vemyr, now beginning to move toward an exit.
“STOP!” yelled Professor Kostic. “Look at the seed tub!”
All eyes turned to one of the seed tubs as the pony professor waved a wobbly hoof at it. One of the tubs had been split open by the growth of a small and slender sapling.
“That wasn’t there before, was it?” asked the governor.
“No. Spanner! Spanner, get out here now!” bellowed Kostick, with a volume that belied her now small stature.
“What’s wrong? You said that the seeds were here to grow,” Inslee asked, knowing he was missing something but more than certain the scientist would give him the right answers.
“Germinate, not grow,” corrected Kostick, her emerald green body contrasting deeply with her pearly hooves and horn. “We should be weeks away from germination, let alone sprouting and what looks to be at least a few months of hardy growth.”
“But how?” Inslee asked, only to be interrupted by a harried young man wearing a pair of heavily soiled overalls.
“Professor! I came as soon as I could,” urgently stated the man before coming to a screeching halt as the barrels of several State Police weapons drew a bead on him.
“Put your guns down,” chided the professor. “That’s my graduate student, Jim Spanner. Spanner, get over here.”
“Uh, should I?” asked Spanner, his hands reflexively raised. “And who are you?”
“I’m the per… the pony who isn’t going to sign off on your thesis if you don’t get right over here this instant, and get this sapling into some growth medium right now,” growled the professor. “I’d do it myself, but as you see I seem to have had something of a little horse problem.”
“Wow! You’re a pony!” exclaimed Spanner, dashing over to run a hand through his professor’s fuchsia mane. “Soooo cute.”
More than a couple of the troopers snickered at the comment, even as they put away their reflexively drawn weapons.
“Spanner… the tree?” Kostick asked, even as she rolled her head to the palm of her grad student, unable to resist the power of a good ear scritch.
“Oh!” exclaimed Spanner, snatching his hand back as he realized what he had been doing. “Yes ma’am, I’ll get right on it. There’s room in Greenhouse H for it.”
“Do a good job and we won’t have to talk about if giving your professor an ear rub is inappropriate contact when the professor is of a different species. Understood?” Kostick asked, the serious tone in her voice was belied by a literal twinkle in her eye.
“Yes, Professor Kostick. I’ll just go get a tub right now and do the transplant,” Spanner said, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste to get distance from the situation.
“Good student, but a little scatter-brained,” Kostick quietly noted, after the student had fled the building. “Now, to answer your interrupted question Governor, the answer is ‘Magic’. I believe our friends up north in Brightly have paid us something of a visit.”
“Are we going to be stuck like this?” Inslee asked, feeling the trooper holding him lean against the wall behind them for support. “Sorry son, we’ll be done here soon.”
“No worries, Sir,” Officer Vemyr replied. “Just needed a bit of lumbar support.”
“From what I’ve read the magical effect should wear off by dawn tomorrow,” stated the professor, before rubbing her chin in thought. “Excuse me officers, but would one of you be willing to participate in a short experiment?”
Not wanting to be transformed into ponies or similar themselves, most of the troopers began to back off and mutter various denials, prompting Officer Vemyr to finally protest with, “God, what a bunch of Meal Team Six wimps. One of you weekend warriors hold the governor for me and I’ll do it.”
Stung by the remark, one of the troopers defiantly marched up and roughly scooped the political pony out of Vemyr’s arms, accepting the weight with a petulant look on his face. Nodding in satisfaction that his remark had at least stirred someone to action, the trooper turned to Professor Kostick and asked, “What do you want me to do?”
“Approach the sapling, and tell me if you feel or see anything unusual or different,” instructed the professor.
With slow, deliberate care, the state trooper stepped toward the tree, pausing after each step and finally stopping when they were standing next to the tub with the sapling in it.
“Everything looks and feels the same. And hey look, no hooves!” Officer Vemyr commented excitedly, waving his arms around while his fellows looked on with broad and in some cases, relieved grins. Looks that were quickly wiped away when Vemyr’s hand got close to the small sapling and the officer suddenly added, “Uh oh.”
“What? What?!” demanded Kostick, as the trooper snatched back his hand to his chest as if it had been burned.
Gingerly, the man looked down at his hand, giving a large audible sigh of relief as five fingers looked back up at him, and only then replied, “Everything went super colourful for a second there. Like someone had turned the colour saturation on a TV up to eleven.”
“Interesting. The same visual phenomena has been reported around high concentrations of Equestrian magic,” noted the professor, brows furrowed in thought. “Governor, would it be alright if I asked Officer Vemry to do another test?”
“That’s up to him,” Governor Inslee responded, before turning to look at the member of his protective detail. “Officer Vemyr, carrying out this test is strictly voluntary as we are all aware of the risks here.”
The state trooper looked back and forth from the transformed body of his principle, to his fellow troopers, to the sapling, and back again. After nearly a full minute of debate, the officer screwed up his courage, nodded and said, “Okay, what do you want me to do?”
“First, I would like you to carefully touch the tree,” Kostick instructed the trooper.
Gingerly, the man reached out and laid his fingers against the slight width of the sapling. As he did so, Inslee thought he saw a flare of light from the officer’s eyes, but put it down to a trick of the light.
“Okay, everything has all those deep colours again. It’s actually really pretty, and I’m not a pony either. Uh, no offence,” Vemyr apologized, before asking, “Now what?”
“Next I would like you to think of a magical effect,” Professor Kostick said to the trooper. “Try to manifest it. Make it real.”
“A what?” Officer Vemyr asked, confused.
“Never mind, that’s too abstract of a concept. Hmm,” commented the academic, taking a few moments to think of what to say next, before their eyes fell on the governor near her and inspiration struck. “I want you to think of your job of protecting the governor, of how important it is that they are kept safe and well.”
“Oookay,” drawled out the officer, half closing his eyes as he pictured standing behind or near his principle at various events.
“Now, think of how important that is, of how you will safeguard him from all threats, shielding him from danger,” commanded the professor.
“What are you doing?” whispered the governor, himself trying to understand what the horticulturalist was up to.
“Seeing if he can manifest a protective shield of some sort,” Kostick whispered back, before urgently adding, “Look!”
Before them, the state trooper’s hair had begun to give off firefly-like lights, coming into existence on or near his close cut hair before floating off and disappearing an inch or two away from the man’s head.
“Hey Professor!” called Spanner, stepping through one of the greenhouse doors as he bashed it open with a large tub of dirt that he was wheeling in on a dolly.
“STOP!” bellowed Vemyr, his voice preternaturally deep as he turned to face the apparent threat, one hand upraised in the classic gesture to halt, with the other still touching the small sapling. A yellow disk of light burst forth from the officer’s upraised palm and shot across the room, growing from a plain palm sized disk to a circle of light two feet across with a six pointed star within its circumference, striking Spanner full in the chest, knocking him flying off his feet and back through the doorway out of the greenhouse.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed one of the other troopers, while another went to check on the unfortunate student.
“Did I do that?” Officer Vemyr asked, looking at his own hand in disbelief.
“Congratulations on casting a spell,” answered Professor Kostick.
“He’s okay! Just stunned,” announced the protective officer who had gone to check Spanner.
Officer Vemyr’s fellow troopers gathered around him, congratulating on his feat giving Inslee the opportunity to ask, “How did he do that? Is it from that light that hit us?”
“I believe Officer Vemyr was able to utilize magic coming from the sapling, which was in turn germinated and accelerated with months of growth by that shaft of red energy, likely from Brightly,” Kostick answered, and Inslee could tell that the woman’s… the mare’s mind was working at top speed. “We will have to do more tests as time passes, but I think it is reasonable to assume that our little sapling here will grow to become a powerful source of magical energy. There is one thing that I do wonder about however.”
“Oh, what’s that?” the governor asked.
“Red is the lowest energy colour of the rainbow, and Equestrian magic is almost universally described as being polychromatic, which begs the question of where the other six hues went,” commented the professor, as Inslee’s eyes went wide in realization.
“Professor. The Canadian PM gave one of those apples to each permanent member of the United Nations Security Council, which was how we got ours,” Inslee informed the professor, who nodded in understanding. “One for us, plus one each for the U.K., France, Russia and China. Add in one for Ireland, who was president of the Council when Trudeau handed over the apples, and one for the Canadians themselves, and that’s seven.”
“This sounds like the making of some lively scientific endeavours,” said a smiling Professor Kostick.
One by one, six other beams of light touched down in six other countries, and the scene in Washington state was repeated around the globe as arcing bands of colour found their homes.
“What the hell is that?” the pony who had once been Ebon Donavich asked, peering at the arctic sky as a band of brilliant light crossed it.
“Magic,” replied his ethereal companion, a being made out of wind and wisps of hatred and contempt for others. “Powerful magic. Its taste is… strange. Like the magic from the place that defeated us both.”
“We each lost a battle there, but not the war,” Ebon stated, unconsciously thrusting out his chest of grey fur flecked with black. “Never the war.”
“Indeed,” conceded the windigo. “Regardless, it is the same magic as that place, and just as nourishing as I remember.”
Both beings, one material, one spiritual, took a few moments to look up and watch the blue beam pass overhead, far above the terns that wheeled above the summer coast of the arctic shore they stood on. The wind ruffled Ash Heart’s ebon mane, its streaks of ash grey flickering and dancing out from the long black strands, and the pony once American soldier took an extra moment to take a deep inhale of free air.
“No regrets on turning your back on your people, I hope?” asked the windigo with a barely hidden disdain.
“They stopped being ‘my’ people the moment they betrayed me, the moment they locked me up, put me in chains and sentenced me to be some sort of breeding stud for their amusement,” Ash Heart growled, and the being beside him gave a pleased smile.
“I enjoyed helping you turn every single one of the ‘people’ back at that farm into blocks of ice,” snarled the pony, and the building rage blinded him to the sudden keen interest shown by his companion toward the sudden wisp of dark purple smoke leaking from the corner of Ash Heart’s eyes. “I loved hearing Trask beg as you turned him into a popsicle from the neck down. Do you think he survived?”
“The ice we put him in was feet thick, so I doubt it,” replied the windigo, turning its mist-like head to look back up the beach. “May I ask you another question?”
“You may,” graciously allowed the dark unicorn, as his mood calmed and the wisps of smoke faded away.
“Why is she still with us?” the windigo asked, and this time the contempt of the being wasn’t hidden at all.
Bouncing along the beach toward the duo, the orange and yellow form of Sunday could be seen approaching, a happy smile on her face that was framed by a nylon halter that read, ‘Property of US Army.’
“Hi Ebon,” the former Army veterinarian said, by way of greeting. “I just woke up and I’d really like to uh… you know.”
“That’s why I brought her with us,” Ash Heart replied to the windigo, with a smile as cold as the bergs floating offshore. “I won’t be a stud for amusement of someone else, but I will be one for my own.”
“She is a drain on our resources, and she slows us down. We need to get rid of her,” stated the windigo, and Sunday’s face blanched before turning red in anger.
“You can’t say that to me. I’m important. Without me, Ebon wouldn’t have met you,” Sunday angrily shot back.
“I am taking you to a place of power, Ash Heart. A place where only those who are strong of will, and with hearts of cold iron can survive, let alone prosper,” the windigo stated, completely ignoring Sunday’s outburst. “This dalliance of yours is neither of those, and you know it. If you have not the stomach to get rid of her, then I will do it for you.”
“You can’t let him talk that way to me!” Sunday retorted, bouncing up and down slightly with anger.
“He’s right, you should go,” Ash Heart calmly said, the words sinking a cold dagger into Sunday’s heart.
“But… but… “ was all Sunday could say, her bouncing coming to an abrupt halt at her lover’s words.
“It’s been fun, and we were a big boost for each other, but I think it’s time we both moved on,” Ash Heart continued.
“But, I’ve done so much for you. I helped you get in to see the general, helped you at Brightly. I made myself into a pony so I could stay with you,” begged Sunday, her mood changing back to anger as none of her entreaties seemed to penetrate the heart of her lover. “I lifted my tail for you!”
“And we both had fun, but it’s time for you to go,” Ash Heart, formerly Ebon Donavich repeated, his smile fading away as he added, “Goodbye Sunday.”
A dumbfounded Sunday stared as Ash Heart and the windigo turned away from her and started walking back up the beach. Her shock at being dumped, rejected and abandoned held her in place for nearly half a minute before she charged back up the beach in pursuit.
“NO!” roared Sunday, grabbing onto Ash Heart’s shoulder and spinning him to face her so she could deliver a smashing head butt to the stallion nose. “I won’t be left behind like a used place mat!”
“Time to die,” commented the windigo, only to be stopped by Ash Heart’s upraised hoof.
“I’ll deal with this,” the flesh and blood stallion replied, and the windigo nodded in acquiescence.
“I have had enough of you,” Ash Heart growled, dark purple smoke flowing in a stream from both eyes above a nose that was leaking a trickle of blood. “I’ve had enough of your cheeriness, your naivete and above all else the way you keep on clinging to me.”
“You can’t—” began Sunday, before Ash Heart leaned in close and something in him smashed flat her will to resist, even as his words pinned her ears back.
“You will leave here now. You will follow the beach west back to Paulatuk, which we passed fifty miles back. You will stay there until I send for you,” the stallion commanded, in a low gruff voice that brooked no disobedience.
“Y-yes M-m-m-Master,” stuttered Sunday, her own eyes filling with the purple smoke.
“No, not ‘Master. Nothing so personal’,” corrected Ash Heart. “You will refer to me as, ‘My King.’ Is that understood?”
“Yes, My King,” Sunday responded, prostrating herself at the stallion’s hooves. “I will obey.”
“Now go,” commanded the stallion, and in doing so released a pressure he had felt building inside of him since the encounter had began. In response Sunday leapt to her hooves and turned away, rapidly cantering back the way the trio had originally come.
“Well done, my Lord,” noted the windigo, more than satisfied both with the result of the confrontation and at Ash Heart’s response to the magic the windigo had been discreetly feeding to his partner. “There are a great many hazards for a lone prey animal between here and her destination. Do you think she will make it?”
“I don’t care if she makes it or not, so long as she obeys me,” replied the stallion dismissively. “Now, you said you were taking me to a place of power?”
“Indeed,” said the windigo as the pair continued east. “Have you ever heard of ‘The Hand of Franklin’?”
The world turns, and the ephemeral beings that live on its skin call it a day. They add seven of those turnings and call that a week. Add more, and it becomes a month, then a year and so on and so on, until all of time is measured out in discrete chunks that allow us puny mortals to divide one thing from the next.
But not all things can be measured by the simple turning of the Earth, or the measured passage of the stars in the sky. Some things are measured by events, by the time before and the time after, and yesterday, magic had come back to the world.
Seeker’s Tree, as the magic producing tree near Brightly was already starting to be called, continue to pour out a veritable flood of magic into the area, returning to the ponies of the town their full abilities, as well as giving every one of its residents their second taste of a life in fur and hooves. A taste which would become a regular thing for them as the second change had rendered all of them into “were-ponies”, as Darter put it.
Not all of Brightly’s denizens were happy with the change to their lives, but by and large most accepted it as just another bit of small town strangeness. The various soldiers, scientists and visitors to the town had revelled in their new powers, and once they had gotten used to moving their new bodies in ways that avoided automatic faceplants, they explored their newfound abilities with a will.
What followed was nothing less than a full celebration of life and living, involving an impromptu airshow, displays of magical prowess, and a summer feast, the likes of which had not been seen before in the community. The night concluded with music, dancing and a magically fuelled fireworks show that ended with everyone heading back to their beds tired, full, and happy.
The next dawn found the entire town restored to their human selves as they woke in their beds. The only individuals that retained their equine forms were Foxfire, the small community of bat ponies led by Father Addison, and the Cutie Mark Crusaders, of whom Apple Bloom had gotten up early to check on her friend Seeker.
“Hey Seeker! You up?” Apple Bloom called, knocking on the red wooden door of the Pedersen home. By the kitchen clock that the pony could just see, the time was around seven thirty, but by Apple Bloom’s internal clock, the sun had been up for hours now. Time was a’wasting.
“Seeker? Shield Maiden? Either of you up?” Apple Bloom called, starting to knock on the door again, but stopping as a thought came to her mind. “Shoot, maybe they’re over at Iron Heart’s place.”
The young filly was just turning to leave when the door creaked open and the white horn of Foxfire poked through the gap, followed in short order by a pair of bleary eyes.
“Hmm?” Foxfire asked, barely awake.
“Sorry to bother y’all Ma’am,” Apple Bloom said, politely. “But Ah was wonderin’ if Seeker could come out. If’n her chores are done, that is.”
Foxfire’s brain chugged up to speed with remarkable alacrity, even reminding the witch unicorn that Apple Bloom was a farm pony, and farmers generally woke up with the sun, especially during summer hours.
“Oh sorry, Apple Bloom,” yawned Foxfire, before looking down fondly at the young pony. “The girls are still asleep. Yesterday was a long day and they were pretty tired out before they went to bed.”
“Sorry Ma’am, Ah kinda forgot yer not farming folk like the Hardings. Can Ah ask you a question, Ma’am?” asked Apple Bloom, looking up at the unicorn so earnestly that Foxfire opened up the kitchen door.
“Of course, Apple Bloom. Why don’t you come in and ask me your question while I start getting breakfast going?” Foxfire suggested, now fully awake and feeling the need to get her own day started.
“Thanks Mrs. Foxfire!” said Apple Bloom, stepping inside the kitchen. The young pony watched as the unicorn effortlessly multitasked with her magic, levitating all the makings for pancakes out of her cupboards and setting to it with a will.
“Just ‘Foxfire’ is fine,” the unicorn assured the red-maned pony as she settled herself on a stool. “So, what was your question?”
“Ah was just wondering if you an’ everypony else in town was okay with being ponies?” Apple Bloom asked, and Foxfire was quick enough to catch a look of worry in the young filly’s eyes.
“Well, I can’t speak for everyone else, but I know that my family has loved the changes. My Goddess teaches me that life is a series of cycles, but within those cycles there will always be change,” the unicorn explained, mixing and stirring as she did so.
A cup of morning tea floated over to land in front of the earth pony, complete with a small pitcher of cream and a small pot of honey. Apple Bloom took a moment to add plenty of honey to the tea before returning her full attention back to Foxfire.
“Everything changes, and I've experienced more changes to my life than most. You know what’s kept me going?” Foxfire asked, testing the griddle with a dollop of batter.
“No Ma’am,” replied Apple Bloom politely. She made a small face at the taste of the tea, before adding another bit of honey.
“What’s kept me going is learning how to move with all these changes. I didn’t ask to be a mother, or a survivor, or a pony, or a unicorn, but they are all things that are a part of me and by accepting those changes in my life and learning how to move with them I’ve become a better person. Or at least I think I have,” Foxfire concluded, starting up a series of pancakes with a set of sizzles from the griddle.
“Can Ah ask another question?” Apple Bloom asked, sniffing appreciatively at the smell coming from the stove.
“Of course,” the unicorn readily agreed, getting out some butter and birch tree syrup for the pancakes.
“What’s a witch?” Apple Bloom asked.
“Oh, that’s a question that needs a bit more of an answer,” Foxfire replied, flipping the first set of pancakes onto a platter. “Why don’t you head up and tell the girls it’s breakfast time and then I’ll answer your question. Am I right in assuming you would like some too?”
“Yes Ma’am!” Apple Bloom eagerly replied, bouncing off the stool and heading for the stairs leading to the upper floor of the Pedersen house. “Ah’ll be right back.”
The small but solidly built pony zipped up the stairs, and Foxfire smiled as she listened to the muffled squeals of delight from both of her daughters as they were woken up by a bouncy pony. Five minutes later the trio of young females came pouring back down, by which time Foxfire had enough finished flapjacks to keep ahead of her hungry girls and their guest.
“So, y’all ain’t ponies today?” Apple Bloom asked, around a syrup laden mouthful.
“We got more than enough sun yesterday to change, I guess,” Rowan responded, taking a moment to touch her small pendant. “Mom?”
“With magic back I’m guessing that the old rules of sun or moon exposure are back in force,” Foxfire answered, touching her belly for a brief moment. “And it looks like your new sibling is still keeping me as I am, for now.”
“Mr. Thunder said somethin’ about that,” Apple Bloom commented. “Y’all really change back to humans if’n you get enough sun?”
“Or be ponies if we don’t,” Romy answered, before taking a big gulp of her own mug of breakfast tea.
“So Apple Bloom, did you want an answer to your question earlier?” Foxfire asked, and both of her daughters paused their meals in curiosity.
“Yes Ma’am. We don’t have witches in Equestria. Lots of magic, but no witches,” replied Apple Bloom and Romy and Rowey both shared a smiling look.
“The definition of ‘witch’ has changed a lot over the years,” Foxfire began, serving up another set of pancakes for the girls and creating a small stack for herself. “In the past, it meant an evil practitioner of magic, usually a woman, who used her abilities to harm others or to have power over those around her.”
“But in the modern context, it refers to someone who tries to be one with nature. Recognizing, channeling and harnessing the magic of the wild world to heal and protect those around her, while learning how to become a better person,” the unicorn continued, as an unconsciously channelled arcane ring appeared around her, complete with glyphs and symbols. “We are seers, shapers, singers and makers, and our paths have taught us many things.”
“Like what?” the pony asked, eyes wide in appreciative awe.
“The true secrets, the important things,” Foxfire said solemnly, leaning close until she was almost nose to nose with the young filly. “Fourteen words to make someone fall in love with you forever. Seven words to make them go without pain. How to say good-bye to a friend. How to be poor. How to be rich. How to rediscover dreams when the world has done its best to steal them away.”
“Wow,” breathed the pony. “Ah gotta tell Sweetie Belle.”
“You do that, after you finish up,” Foxfire said, giving the filly a quick nuzzle and the aura of power around her faded into nothingness as the unicorn became just a pony again.
The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, broken by the chatter of the three girls as they planned out their day. They were heading out to link up with the rest of their friends when Rowan paused at the door.
“Yes dear?” Foxfire asked, noting the sly smile her daughter had.
“Babylon 5, Mom?” asked the young girl, giggling a bit. “Really?”
“Doesn’t make it any less true,” chuckled Foxfire, before making shooing motions. “Go have some fun, but I want you girls back for lunch so we can go berry picking in the afternoon. Okay?”
“You bet,” she chirped, zipping back over to give her mother a quick hug. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too.” replied the unicorn, giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek. “See you later.”
An hour later there was a storm of footsteps on Foxfire’s backdoor followed in short order by a series of rapid fire knocks on her door. The white unicorn opened her door onto the worried faces of three ponies and five children, the Crusaders and the Furred Five, in their human forms.
“The tholdiers are marching,” Romy added, looking equally worried.
“What?” Foxfire asked again, feeling the children’s mood overtake her. “Do any of you have any idea why?”
“I was with Ram, and she got a call on her radio thing,” Scootaloo stated. “She got sad and told me to go home or maybe go wait on the main street.”
“Right kids, you’re with me,” Foxfire said, determination taking hold of her thoughts. “Let’s go to Main Street and see if we can get some answers.”
Foxfire, the Hardings, and the Kye’s all lived on the same street, being about two blocks away from Brightly’s main thoroughfare, so the trip only took a few minutes; but by that time a sizable percentage of the town’s population was already milling around on the sidewalks.
“Arn, what’s going on?” Foxfire asked, as her beloved came running up, face and hands still marred with the grease of an engine he had been working on.
“No idea. Just got a heads up to get over here,” replied the big man, shaking his head. “Hey, listen.”
Brightly was built on a slope, with the town’s administrative centre at the top and the school and its large park field at the bottom. On the far side of the peak were the remains of the old part of town and the cabins which the military had requisitioned for their use during their stay, and it was from that direction that the sound of hundreds of feet, moving in lockstep cadence sounded.
The first soldiers crested the hill, and the gathered townsfolk saw Captain Malinski at the front of the formation, dress uniform gleaming. Behind him marched a lone bagpiper, his instrument silent for the moment, and behind the piper marched four soldiers in line abreast. The outer two warriors were carrying the standards of the PPCLI and JTF2, while the inner ones carried the Maple Leaf and the Union Jack.
Silently, except for the sound of their boots, the soldiers advanced, and their wordless movement stopped all conversation.
“Eyes Right!” commanded Malinski, in a thunderous bellow, as he drew abreast of the town hall, and in response the flag dipped, sinking to half mast.
“Oh Goddess,” whispered Foxfire, her dread compounding as she saw that each member of the military had their faces set in a stony, emotionless mask. The mask that people use when they are hiding a deep wound.
“Honours, Hup!!” came the order from the grim-faced captain, and in response a drone began to rise as the musician charged his instrument with air.
A moment later, the air was filled with the keening wail of Scotland’s national instrument, and the banshee notes began to form themselves into a tune, a tune that Foxfire and her husband both recognized. Foxfire knowing it from Star Trek, while Arnold knew it from his time spent with his friend, Ernie.
‘Amazing Grace’ filled the air in and around the town, and as the soldiers continued to march forward and approach their position, black bands could be seen over the unit patch of each soldier.
“That music. It makes me want to sing and cry at the same time,” Sweetie Belle said, ears and tail drooping. “Did… did somepony die?”
“I think so, Sweetie,” answered Foxfire, drawing a gasp from those around her as she gestured toward the soldiers that were now passing by in silent ranks. “Those are mourning bands they’re wearing, and flags only go to half mast when somebody dies.”
“And for the soldiers to do this, it means somebody important, really important has died,” Arnold added, wiping his hands on a rag. “C’mon, they’re headed for the park. Let’s beat the rush and get ahead of them.”
The herd made their way quickly down to the school, looping around the main street instead of trying to force their way through. As they reached the grounds that served both as a local park and the school’s playground they were joined by the Hardings and their ranch hands, Wayan and Maysan Harb.
“Amazing Grace?” Ernie asked, as he got close, to which his friend Arnold nodded.
“And the town flag is at half-mast,” Arnold added.
“Oh shiii-aving cream,” Ernie responded, moderating his words just in time. “I think I know what’s happened. I heard a thing on an AM radio band about it.”
Ernie was about to add more when the column of soldiers entered the park, and the bagpipe’s repetition of ‘Amazing Grace’ flattened any attempt at conversation beyond half-understood shouts as its volume reached magical levels of sound.
In ranked columns the soldiers entered the field, with the colour group marching in place as they reached their designated location, while their brothers and sisters in arms continued to pour onto the green grass. It was some minutes later that the last of the soldiers entered the field, found their place and marched in time until a definitely enhanced call of, “HALT!” was sounded from their captain, silencing the bagpipes and stilling the multitude of feet.
“Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, prepare to render honours!” ordered Captain Malinski, and twenty-four soldiers immediately took out their rifles and aimed them outward at an angle.
“Joint Task Force Two, prepare to render honours,” Malinski ordered again, and another twenty-four soldiers raised their weapons.
“FIRE!” and the rifles crashed out a thunderous salute.
Again and again, the calls of “Present” and “FIRE!” were given, the soldier’s weapons crashing out the salute they had come to give, and Foxfire was shocked to see tears coming from Ernie Harding’s eyes as the last of ninety-six shots were fired into the air.
“London Bridge has fallen down,” whispered the man, into the sudden silence, followed by a heartfelt, “My GOD!”
“Ernie, what?” and all of those around the little herd followed the line of Ernest Harding’s outstretched and shaking finger.
Standing beside Captain Malinski was a small, frail old woman, a small yellow dog at her side. She wore a tailored dress in a somewhat blocky cut beneath a plum coloured boater hat, and while her body might have been withered and frail, her eyes were alive with intelligence and determination.
“Captain,” said the woman, with a voice of gentle authority.
“Ma’am!” responded Malinski, wheeling in place and giving a salute so crisp you could have cut meat with it.
“That was well done, Captain,” commented the woman, nodding graciously.
“Thank you, Ma’am!” Malinski replied, his voice professional, but his eyes were wide as he looked in full at the specter before him.
“Carry on,” gently commanded the old woman, who turned and began to slowly walk away, the small yellow corgi pacing her mistress.
Not a single person dared to say a word. No one breathed, and when a tall and handsome man in the full mess dress of the British Army appeared out of nothingness to take the old woman’s arm, no one was even sure that their hearts were still beating. Together, the two continued to walk toward the tree line, years sliding away from the old woman as they moved, until a young and slim brunette walked beside the man she had loved. The man who had been waiting for her for over a year.
“Did we do our duty, Phillip?” the woman asked, as the pair began to fade away.
“Indeed we did,” the man answered, and the wind whispered his last words of, “Time for us to go home.”
“The Queen is dead, Long Live the King!” shouted Malinski, recovering himself some unknowable amount of time later, his shout shaking soldiers and civilians alike back to the here and now.
“Long Live the King!” the assemblage shouted in response. “Long Live the King.”
“Dismissed,” Malinski called out, and the assembled soldiers broke ranks and began to talk among one another and to the townsfolk who were all full of questions.
“Captain, is she really gone?” Arnold asked as he approached, leading the small group of people and ponies that best knew the leader of the military detachment.
“A little over an hour ago,” the captain replied, checking his watch. “She passed peacefully, and with her family at her side.”
“Damn,” opined the metalworker and mechanic. “She was responsible for a lot of bad shit, but she was also a hell of a lady.”
“And a good Queen. One of the best England ever had,” responded Malinski, with a heavy sigh. “And that pretty much concludes my last major official duty here.”
“Did I– what I did with the tree get you in trouble?” Romy asked, looking up fearfully at the captain despite the immediate assurances by those around her that she hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Get me in trouble? Not a bit,” the captain assured the young girl looking up at him. “According to all reports, what you did with the tree ‘woke up’ at least five other trees around the world. Magic is spreading, which is having the effect of taking the bulls-eye off of Brightly. I was sent orders this morning to start preparing to move… and then this all happened. Do you think that was really her?”
“Brightly IS a magical place,” commented Foxfire, with a flick of her tail. “The out of the ordinary is common here. So are all of you leaving?”
“One company of the Pats will stay, along with Warrant Officer Ram, who will be heading up the Crusaders’ protective detail,” replied Malinski, with a chuckle. “For her sins, she’s getting a promotion from Warrant Officer, to Second Lieutenant. She is not happy.”
“Why not?” asked Ernie, confused. “Doesn’t she want to move up?”
“Oh she does, but someone in HQ caught wind of her call-sign,” answered the captain, snickering.
“I still don’t get it,” asked the farmer, still confused.
“They decided she should have an all-female team. To be less intimidating and more relatable to the Equestrians,” Malinski was openly laughing now. “They’re calling the team, ‘The Spice Girls.’ You know, because Ram is Pumpkin Spice?”
The laughter was contagious and soon everyone in the group was barely able to stand. Everyone except the Crusaders whose response was summed up by Scootaloo’s complaint of, “What’s so funny?”
Good evening, British Columbia. Ted Chernecki here with the Global Evening News. Tonight’s top story centres around the now global phenomena of magic. Once a staple of fantasy novels and high adventure, our world is now having to come to grips with the fact that magic is not only real, but it is now a growing world-wide phenomenon.
We go now to Jordan Janower, in Brightly, British Columbia. Jordan?
Thank you Ted. This past year has seen our world change in ways that any of us would have thought impossible even a few months ago. The discovery that we are not alone in the universe. The discovery of entirely new levels of reality that humanity could only fantasize about before, and all of it coming from this small, isolated village on BC’s north coast.
That is until last week.
Last week, one of the ponies of Brightly, a young pony known only as Seeker, sacrificed the Equestrian version of Excalibur and in doing so, extended the touch of magic around the world in a display that was witnessed by most of the inhabitants of our entire planet. Each of the five nations of the United Nations Security Council, plus the current chair nation of Ireland, have now confirmed that there is now a small, but growing source of magic in each of their nations.
The governments of England, France and the United States have each confirmed that the source of magic in their countries is an Equestrian apple tree that has sprouted in each of their countries, and while Russian and Chinese authorities have responded with “no comment” it’s reasonable to assume that they also have them as well. In each case, these trees are growing from the seeds of apples harvested from a fully grown tree here in Brightly that apparently is the source of all magic and magical abilities in a nine to ten kilometre radius
We tried to find the tree, which is apparently somewhere in the woods near the town, but were turned away by the heavily armed soldiers who have formed a security contingent for the community for some time now. Nor were we able to find the mysterious “Seeker” for an interview. We asked around in town but were met with a wall of silence by most and open hostility by others.
We did ask about the reason for the anger toward our crew, and while no one was willing to go on camera about it, anonymous sources in town told us that there has been at least one kidnapping attempt against some of the younger ponies in town. An attempt that apparently came with a hairsbreadth of success and ever since then the citizens of Brightly have decided that the best policy is to keep their ponies as unknown as possible.
In the meantime though, it seems that the actions of the enigmatic Seeker has restored the power of magic in and around Brightly, and it only remains to be seen if the Brightly magical phenomena is about to be repeated around the world. An outcome that now seems extremely likely. Back to you, Ted.
Foxfire happily puttered away in her kitchen. It was a bright and shiny summer morning in Brightly and everything seemed right with the world. Her children were happy and playing in the living room with a brand new Xbox, the Hardings were reveling in the growth of their family with the addition of the CMC to their brood, her pregnancy seemed to be progressing well, and her love life was progressing very well. All of which combined to create a unicorn who practically danced about humming a tune as her magic enabled her to do three tasks at once in her kitchen.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you doing that,” commented Lieutenant Ram, occupying as spot in the kitchen where she could watch Foxfire’s back door, kitchen, living room and front door simultaneously. It had taken some time for the pegasus to find the perfect spot to watch over Foxfire’s family, but the military pony took her duties seriously and perseverance had paid dividends.
“Doing what?” Foxfire asked, pausing in her twisting of garlic bulbs together in a long chain.
“Three things at once while not even at one of them,” Pumpkin Spice pointed out, her cornsilk coloured pony eyes flicking around in yet another sweep of the area before settling back on Foxfire. “Wish I could do three pieces of paperwork at once. Being an officer sucks.”
“Just another reason why I hated being in charge of anything,” Foxfire replied, turning her attention back to the fresh garlic. “But this is just me multitasking with magic. What about you though, have you tried using your own magic yet?”
“Watch this,” Pumpkin Spice said with a smile, as she smoothly slid off the stool she was on and laid her P90 weapon on the table.
Foxfire watched with a smile as the pegasus took a deep breath and rearing up on her hind legs, folded her wings around her body. A moment later, when the pony came back down and returned all four hooves to the ground, Foxfire suddenly realized she couldn’t focus her gaze on her bodyguard anymore. Every time she tried to pin her eyes to the spot that she knew Pumpkin Spice was, they just sort of slid away to another part of the kitchen.
The pegasus released the breath she had been holding and just as quickly everything returned to normal. “Well, what do you think?” she asked, looking over to her host.
“It’s like you’ve got a perception filter running! Even though I knew you were there, it was almost impossible to actually look at you,” happily remarked Foxfire, not so discreetly checking the mare’s flanks. “No mark though?”
“Not yet,” admitted the pegasus, taking a moment to again scan the area for threats, before returning her attention to the happily bouncy unicorn. “Likely because I haven’t really done anything special with my talent yet.”
Foxfire was about to reply when Pumpkin Spice’s radio crackled, “Three females, young looking, just opened the front gate to Foxfire’s yard. No apparent weapons or threat.”
“I’ll be on your right, between you and the living room,” Pumpkin Spice immediately told Foxfire, suddenly all business. In the living room, the game of carts and shells was paused as the unicorn’s three children picked up on the change in mood. A few seconds later, heavy footsteps sounded on the front steps followed a moment later by a firm trio of knocks on the door.
Foxfire took a breath, looked over approvingly at Pumpkin Spice and her readied but not raised P90, and pulled open the door with her magic.
There on the unicorn’s doorstep were three young women, each of who was dressed in what Iron Heart liked to call, “Gothy McGoth” clothing. Black leather, knee high platform boots covered tattered black hose and fishnets, which disappeared under black shorts. Each of the three slightly undernourished looking women wore their own version of a tattered black top.
One of them, a brunette with hair so black and lifeless it looked like it had been dipped into a can of flat black paint, wore a necklace with a large silver ankh attached to it. The second woman, a blond with dark roots showing, wore a pentacle and carried what looked like a heavily stuffed backpack. The third also carried a backpack, and wore a black collar with dangling rings that chimed as her head rocked back from the appearance of the unicorn in front of them.
“Yes?” Foxfire asked, coolly. The unicorn may have sounded calm and collected, but by now Pumpkin Spice had been a pony long enough to pick up on what a lashing tail meant and she adjusted her wing hold on her weapon ever so slightly.
“F-Foxfire?” the brunette asked, the surprise on her face evident. “A-are you Foxfire? The witch?”
“I am,” Foxfire replied, bracing for a fight.
“PLEASE TEACH US MAGIC!” burst out all three at once, falling to their knees and bowing their heads to the unicorn.
“Wait, what?” the unicorn asked, completely taken aback by the sudden change in the situation. Beside her, Pumpkin Spice did her best to restrain a snicker even as her opposite wing made a “stay there” gesture to Iron Hoof, Seeker and Shield Maiden who had already begun to move toward the door with eyes afire with curiosity.
“Please Foxfire, O favoured servant of the Goddess, teach us your ways,” answered the black haired woman, raising her hands above her head, palms up in supplication. “Teach us magic and the ways of true witchcraft.”
“We’ll do anything,” added the woman with the aging dye job. “Anything you want.”
“I… uh,” Foxfire babbled, still trying to get her mind up to speed.
“Sorry,” murmured Pumpkin Spice. “When we had the full detachment here we turned away dozens of people like this. With the reduced cordon these must have snuck through”
“I’ll handle it,” sighed Foxfire, but before she could turn back to the three goths, her daughter interrupted her.
“Mom, what if they really do wanna learn?” Shield Maiden asked, from the far side of Pumpkin Spice's wing. “Do we really just want to send them away? What if we send them away and they learn bad things?”
That made Foxfire hesitate. What if she sent these three away and one of them was as gifted as she was? What if they attracted an Umbral like she had? Even with her friends and family watching out for her, the creature of dark magic had caught up Foxfire and Medevac in its grasp with ease. What would it do to three novices with no support?
“Stop that stupid bowing and look at me,” Foxfire commanded, and the three women lifted their heads. “There is a darkness and danger in magic, and the stronger you are in it the easier it will be to fall into the grip of things that will eat you alive for the strength they can steal from you. I’m not exaggerating this. It nearly happened to me. Do you still want to learn magic, knowing the danger?”
“We uh,” began brunette wearing the collar, “we pretty much sold everything we had to get up here. We decided that there wasn’t any point in not fully committing to you and learning magic. Please Mistress Foxfire, let us learn from you.”
“Two things right off the bat then,” Foxfire stated, deciding on her course. “First, I’m not ‘Mistress’ anything. The name is ‘Foxfire’ or ‘Mrs. Pedersen’ to use my human name.”
“Second,” continued Foxfire, pausing a moment as her three children easily evaded Pumpkin Spice’s warding wing and closed up around their mother. “I am a wood witch, and that means that the forest is my temple. If you are going to study under me, that means learning the ways of the woods.”
“Yes Ma’am,” said the three, in near lockstep with each other, their eyes all flicking over the three youngsters before returning to Foxfire.
“Iron Hoof and Shield Maiden here are going to take you out to Carmanah Lake,” said the white unicorn, noting the small wince the three women made. “You are going to spend three days there gathering herbs for me and spending time with nature. If you come back into town before the third sunrise I’ll assume you don’t want to learn from me and proceed accordingly.”
“Um, we don’t have any camping gear,” replied the pentacle wearer.
“Which is why I’m going to lend you my family’s stuff. Take good care of it,” Foxfire responded. “Iron Hoof, Shield Maiden, could you please take these ladies around to the garage and show them where our camping gear is.”
“C’mon,” said Iron Hoof, trotting past his mother and past the three women, before making a smart right turn to curl around the building. The prospective students stared blankly for a moment, before getting to their feet.to follow the pony, Shield Maiden flanking them.
“Just do your best and remember, magic is wonderful, but it’s also dangerous,” Foxfire said, and the woman scurried to catch up to the others.
“Did you want me to do anything, Mom?” Seeker asked, leaning against her mother’s side.
“Try to keep an eye on them, okay?” Foxfire asked, giving her daughter a warm nuzzle. “Let me know if you see anything odd.”
“Okay!” chirped the youngest of the Furred Five, who happily dashed after the rest now that she had a role to play as well.
“So… minions?” Pumpkin Spice asked, once the group was firmly buried in the Pedersen garage to dig out camping supplies.
“Please Goddess, no,” groaned the unicorn. “The last thing I need or want is worshippers, minions or followers.”
“Then why do this with them?” the pegasus asked.
“Because magic is dangerous, and maybe I can help them avoid some of my mistakes,” Foxfire answered. “At least this way I’ll have three days to figure out what to do next.”
Neither pony was aware that the witch’s words were being listened to by an unseen party that neither even suspected was present.
“This is gonna be great!” exclaimed Shield Maiden, opening the door to the Pedersen’s small garage. “We haven’t gone camping at all this summer.”
“No kidding,” agreed Iron Hoof, as he entered a step behind his sister and looked for where the camping equipment was stored. “Your mom hasn’t taken me out in the woods for months now.”
“Our Mom,” the small unicorn reminded the earth pony. “My Mom is your Mom, and your Dad is my Dad. Remember?”
“Yeah. Still getting used to it, you know?” responded Iron Hoof sheepishly, before his eyes lit up in recognition of a familiar bag hanging up in the roof trusses of the small building. “There’s the tent!”
“Um, anything we can do to help?” asked the ankh-wearing leader of the trio of goth girls who had begged Foxfire to teach them about magic and were about to embark on an unexpected camping trip.
“Yeah, look around for the camp stove and any sleeping bags,” suggested Shield Maiden, as she pulled down the bag Iron Hoof had spotted. “By the way, I’m Shield Maiden. What’s your name?”
“You?” asked the woman with the fading dye in her hair. “YOU’RE the ‘Maiden of Brightly’? You were the Pony of Light against the godwindigo?”
“Pffft, no,” snorted the yellow unicorn, some of her black mane falling into her eyes as she shook her head. “I just lead the Power Ponies. The big pony thing was the whole town working together.”
“But you’re a legend,” protested the goth. “I mean, we must have watched the news clip a dozen times. You’re magic.”
The young pony’s ears flattened against her head for a moment in surprise at the effusive praise. Praise that threw an unwelcome spotlight onto Shield Maiden. Magic wasn’t what she was, magic was something she did. Something that she was still learning to use, just like her mother was, and it was her mother’s example that shaped the young pony’s response.
“My Mom is magic. I’m just a kid,” said the young unicorn, after a few moments. “Anyway, what’s your name?”
“Uh, I’m Leigh. Leigh Chill. But my friends call me ‘Chilly’, “ answered the fading blonde, hesitating at first, but growing in confidence.
“I’m Summer. Summer Longford,” added the ankh wearer with the flat black hair, offering her hand, before trying to pull it back as she belatedly realized she was offering her hand to someone with hooves.
The woman’s embarrassment became confusion as Shield Maiden held the woman’s hand in place with her magic so she could place her hoof in Summer’s hand. After a moment’s hesitation Summer’s confused look turned into a wide grin as the unicorn and human firmly shook appendages.
“I’m Charlotta,” replied the last of the three, a bit shyly. “People call me ‘Char’.”
Together the three humans and two ponies managed to find and extract a tent, three sleeping bags, ground pads for each, as well as a classic boxy Coleman camp stove along with various other small bits of gear.
“Okay, that should about do it,” Shield Maiden stated, looking up at the pile of gear. “Now all we need to do now is get you out to the woods so you can start working on mom’s list of herbs.”
“Mom said she thinks they should go out by the lake,” Seeker supplied, hoofing over a small list to her brother before retreating to an out of the way spot.
“That’s a great idea, you can be near water and there’s a campsite by the dam you can have a spot at,” the young earth pony. “Lessee. Silverweed, riceroot, salal, soapberries, hawthorn, and some others. Nothing too hard.”
“We don’t have a clue what any of those are,” admitted Leigh.
“And how far away is the lake?” added Summer, looking apprehensively at the camping gear.
“About four kilometres,” Shield Maiden replied, looking up with a surprise at the answering groan from the three women. “It’s about an hour walk.”
“We already walked all the way from the barge,” complained Summer, adding, “we haven’t even had a chance to buy any food since we got here.”
“We can give you some food. And I bet Windweaver would help out too!” the unicorn said, her enthusiasm lending an energy to everyone in the garage.
“And me and the other Power Ponies can help you get out to the lake. We just gotta let Foxfire know where we’re going, and besides, I’m her apprentice, so I can show you what some of the things on her list look like.”
“But you’re an earth pony, not a unicorn,” Char added, having also gravitated to a quiet part of the garage that was quite accidentally next to Seeker. The two glanced at each other briefly before drawing back into themselves a bit.
“Iron Hoof was Mom’s apprentice even before we became ponies,” supplied Shield Maiden. “He knows way more stuff than I do about plants and stuff.”
Iron Hoof blushed both at the praise and the comments of, “Alright!” from the women.
“Iron Hoof, why don’t you and the rest head over to the Hardings and see what they have. I’ll let Mom know where we’re going and see if we have some more stuff in the house,” the leader of the Power Ponies ordered.
“You got it,” replied Iron Hoof, expertly flipping the bag holding the tent onto his back. “Let’s go!”
A few minutes later a warrior pegasus and a witch unicorn watched with more than a little amusement as a trio of confused young women were enveloped by eight bouncy ponies, as the CMC along with Darter and Skylark, joined their friends at the front door of the Harding home. Windweaver and Thunder appeared as well, handing out what was most definitely camping gear and food for much more than three people.
“Don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on them,” Pumpkin Spice assured Foxfire, pointing out two of her detail standing a discreet distance away and pretending to be fiddling with phones. A deception that made them stand out as Brightly still lacked cellular phone service.
“I hate that there even has to be a detail,” complained the white unicorn, raising a hoof to forestall the automatic reply that was instantly forming on the pegasi’s lips. “I know, I know it’s necessary. Especially after what happened with ‘Team Mercury’, we’ve got to make sure everyone is safe.”
The last reply that either pony expected to hear was the “click click” of a weapon’s action behind them. Whirling in place both ponies saw two armed individuals behind them. The first was a white pegasus with ice blue tints throughout his mane and tail, and similar colouration to the tips of his wings. Polaris took a moment to blow a bit of offending dust from the chamber of his Colt C19 rifle, as a wing slid a silver-white cylinder into a waiting loop on a bandolier filled with similar shapes.
Foxfire breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the pony who had given them all their chance against the Godwindigo, but her face soured as she saw his companion. He was a grim faced, dark complected man in a US Army uniform with a scarred face and a large blue feather hanging from the chain that held his dog tags.
“People are supposed to knock when they want to come in,” Foxfire growled at the intruders in her home.
“I’m not people. I’m a soldier,” Captain Rios tossed back.
“What are you doing here?” Foxfire demanded, feeling the urge to call on the energies at her command but stomping on it ruthlessly.
“My question exactly,” added Pumpkin Spice, her own weapon at the ready, but not aimed at anyone in particular. “Along with how you got past my security details.”
“Whoa, easy everybody. The captain and I are here to brief you and Lieutenant Ram about some stuff that’s happened up north,” Polaris stated, stepping between Rios and the women.
“You’re here for that,” Rios corrected, reaching up to touch the feather at his breast. “I’m here for another reason.”
Foxfire’s eyes widened as she saw and recognized the piece of plumage the American was wearing.
“Is that—” the unicorn began.
“A feather. Off the pony you back-stabbed? Off the pony that trusted you?” Rios demanded, not moving at all and keeping his hands still and at his sides. Even so, Foxfire reacted as if each word was a slap across the face.
“It… it wasn’t me. Okay, it was, but it wasn’t,” Foxfire babbled, trying to explain what had happened.
“I know,” Rios said in a too calm voice. “Luna explained it all to me.”
“You’ve talked to her? How?” Foxfire demanded in turn, desperation, guilt and worry colouring her words. “Is she okay? Did they get back okay? TELL ME!”
Rios stood absolutely still for a few moments, intently studying the unicorn in front of him. Taking in every line of face and body. Measuring the set of her mane and lift of her tail, all against the list of parameters that Princess Luna had drilled into him a hundred times. The tableau of bodies stayed in position for a few moments more, before Rios let out a breath and sagged slightly in relief.
“You’re not the Umbral,” he said, without preamble. “Thank God.”
“No, but I was. When I hurt the closest thing I’ve ever seen to my Goddess in an earthly form, I was,” replied Foxfire. “But not anymore, thank the Goddess.”
“What happened?” Rios asked, noting that the fawn coloured pony hadn’t relaxed one bit and was still ready to act at a moment’s notice.
“I got lucky. Luckier than I had any right to be,” Foxfire answered, shaking her head ruefully. “I had been arrogant, and blind and that thing had me in its power. So, when I blasted the princesses through the portal I was basically just along for the ride. I was nothing more than a mount with the Umbral in the saddle and holding the reins.”
“What happened?” Rios asked again, feeling the question deserved repetition.
The two pegasi in the room relaxed, seeing their charges were now talking instead of being on the near edge of fighting with each other. Polaris quirked an eyebrow at Recon, who shrugged her shoulders in response. Foxfire had never mentioned what had happened during the portal collapse to anyone except those who had directly witnessed the events, and this was new information to Recon as well.
“We aren’t completely sure, but we think that when the portal collapsed, taking magic with it, the Umbral basically starved to death, like a fish out of water,” Foxfire stated. Her voice was calm but her ears lay flat against the sides of her head and her tail drooped lifelessly.
“Just like that?” Rios questioned, with some suspicion in his voice. “It just died, because the magic went away.”
“The Umbral was a creature of magic, living in it like a fish in water or us in air,” explained the unicorn. “”When it died, it was so much in control of my body and mind that it almost took me with it.”
“That’s why you were in that coma afterwards?” Recon asked, committing as much as she could of the conversation to memory.
Her superiors had wondered what had happened and the town’s primary medical practitioner, Medevac, had been very reluctant to talk about the events as well. Even a midnight covert rifling of the clinic’s files had failed to reveal any clues beyond the bare medical records.
“Yeah,” Foxfire answered simply, before adding, “there’s more, but I’d need someone’s permission to tell their side of things first. Your turn now. Is Princess Luna okay, and how did she speak to you?”
“Through this,” Rios stated, holding up the feather to catch the eyes of all present. “It’s sort of a link she can use to access my dreams and talk to me there, but only on the night of a full moon and sometimes a day or two on either side of that.”
“Do you want some tea?’ Foxfire asked suddenly, surprising the others. “Or something to eat?”
Rios narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he took the now nervous twitches he was seeing in Foxfire’s ears. Luna’s lessons were paying off as the body language of the unicorn told him Foxfire was now a very agitated pony inside, especially compared to the intense interest he was seeing from her bodyguard.
“No, you might try to poison me,” Rios said, drawing a gasp of surprise from Polaris, but only a sad nod from Foxfire. “After all, I came here to kill you if I had to.”
Less than a blink later Rios was looking down the barrel of Recon’s P90 as Recon had brought her weapon into position, flicked its selector to “Fire” and moved between Rios and his potential target in less time than it had taken him to realize Recon had even moved.
“Don’t make any sudden moves,” Recon quietly commanded. “That goes for you too, Polaris.”
“I said ‘IF’ I had to,” Rios restated, and making sure nothing but his lips moved. “Luna told me that if the Umbral was in control of you when I got here, that the only way to save this world would be killing you to get it before you took over the town and then started expanding. Considering how long it took me to actually get here, I was pretty worried that me and Polaris might be walking into a town of zombie slaves under the control of the ‘Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond,’ if I remember the term right. Anyway, while I think you’re telling the truth when it comes to the Umbral, I don’t take chances when it comes to magic, so I’m gonna pass on anything you offer just in case that thing is laying low and playing a deep game.”
The three ponies in the room blinked as they absorbed the very long speech from the usually taciturn American soldier. The silence in the room stretched out until Recon flicked her weapon back to “Safe” and lowered it.
“That’s… actually pretty reasonable,” admitted Foxfire, before regaining her poise to ask, “Would you be willing to have a seat, or are you worried I’ve poisoned the couch cushions as well?”
“Punji sticks,” Rios riposted with a lopsided smirk. “That’s what I’d use.”
“What? Don’t like wooden enemas?” Foxfire volleyed, rolling with Rios’ apparent desire for levity, and both pegasi relaxed further as tensions bled off.
“I prefer being the fucker, not the fuckee,” and the soldier’s crude reply cause all three ponies to snort in humour, and Rios took the opportunity to sit down on one of Foxfire’s two couches. “Huh, no punji sticks. Pity.”
Foxfire sat down opposite the soldier, and crossing her hooves asked, “Now that that’s all over with, can you please tell me how Luna and Celestia are? And if there’s any way that you can tell them how sorry I am?”
For nearly an hour the gaggle of eight happy young ponies and three confused, but willing women made their way along the access road to Carmanah Lake. As they traveled, Iron Hoof took time to point out various tree and plant species that were common to the area, along with their various uses in preparations that Foxfire could make.
“How do you know all this?” Summer asked, her flat black hair drinking in the late afternoon sunlight that managed to poke through the stands of ancient pine and fir trees.
“I’m Foxfire’s apprentice,” Iron Hoof replied, with a sudden attack of shyness as all three adult women focused on the young colt.
“And you’re awesome at it!” Darter added, swooping in to give his friend a quick head rub before shooting back up to move between the various trees in the swift motions he was named for.
A barrage of questions piled in from the three women after that. How long had he been an apprentice? What was it like? Were there any special rituals? Iron Hoof answered them all, until the happy herd came alongside the bole of what had been a very large tree with one end of it shattered and seared by some great force, and Iron Hoof’s words fell away into silence.
“Wha—” Chilly began to ask, stopping mid-syllable as Shield Maiden held up a hoof for silence.
As the others watched, Iron Hoof silently walked up to the fallen giant. Reverently, he touched a hoof to one of the massive charred splinters coming out of the broken end of the tree. Iron Hoof stood there for several moments, long enough for his four friends to come up and join him, each lending comfort through their presence.
“Am Ah missing something?” Apple Bloom asked, sensitive to the emotion but confused as to the reason for it.
“This… “ Iron Hoof began, turning to face the CMC and the three women. “This is where I almost died.”
“That’s terrible!” Scootaloo exclaimed, zipping up to join the group hug; and Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom wasted no time in joining their fellow Crusader.
“Empty Night,” Char swore, “How?”
“Iron Hoof smashed this tree apart with one kick of his hooves,” Darter answered, and the woman’s eyes widened as they matched the size of Iron Hoof against the size of the tree behind him. “But the tree smashed his legs too.”
“Princess Luna’s Night Horse came down from the sky and healed him,” Seeker added. “It was a good faerie.”
“And when it healed him, he got to be the first one of us to get their Mark of Power,” Shield Maiden concluded, leaning in close to ask, “you okay now?”
“Yeah, I just… you know,” Iron Hoof replied, drawing himself upward, bolstered as he was by the firm friendship of friends and expanded family. “Why don’t we tell them about our first adventure?”
The other ponies agreed enthusiastically and the rest of the walk to the dam at the head of the Carmanah River was taken up by an energetic retelling of how the Power Ponies used their abilities fully for the first time. Each of the five told their parts of how they came together with the Brightly Fire Department in order to save the dam, and their small town downstream.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders were just as enthralled as Foxfire’s possible new apprentices. While they had heard much of the story before, it was the first time they had heard the story in its entirety and by the end, they were all cheering for their friends and adoptive siblings.
“I can’t believe your spell worked the first time,” said Sweetie Belle, as the bulk of the Carmanah Dam loomed close. “I had to practice a whole lot before I could get anything right.”
“I didn’t get it right that time either,” Shield Maiden responded. “I used too much power and I wound up including Mom and Mrs. Harding into the spell.”
“Uh, girls?” Char asked, plopping her tired body onto a stump by the side of the road. “We have a problem.”
The rest of the group turned their attention from the storytellers to the direction in which the young woman was pointing. A groan of disappointment went up from everyone as they took in the sign that stood at the turnoff to the small campground that was attached to the area around the dam.
‘Closed due to Construction’ was plastered across the BC Parks sign.
As if to further punch a hole into the good mood of the group, a large klaxon sounded from the dam and moments later dozens of dirty and tired looking men began to walk out of the dam’s expanded administration and control building. At the rear of the group was a lean, green haired woman in jeans and a T-shirt, who after making some small talk to several of the men, waved tiredly at the ponies.
“Who’s that?” Summer asked wearily, sitting down next to her friend.
“That’s Shaushka, the dam manager,” Seeker answered, brightening. “She was the one working the controls at BC Hydro when we fixed the dam. They made her the manager at the dam cause she did such a good job.”
“Maybe we can ask her for a ride back to town?” Chilly suggested, supporting herself on a thick piece of rusted cable that was suspended between two large chunks of wood to form a boundary between the road and the grassed picnic area near the dam.
“I thought you were on a quest?” Iron Hoof responded, poking the woman’s knee with a hoof. “Find the herbs, learn magic.”
“But the campground is closed, and we’re beat,” Summer said, head and hands hanging. “We do want to learn magic from Foxfire, but we’ve been on our feet all day. And now we’ve got to walk all the way back to town.”
“Walk? Why?” Shaushka asked, coming in at the tail end of the conversation. “If you need a lift me and Dan could probably give you a lift back into town.” It was a very poorly guarded secret that Shaushka and Brightly’s media manager, Dan Wilcox, had been dating for months now.
“Oh thank God, yes,” Summer replied, looking up at Shaushka like someone bringing food to the starving.
“You’re supposed to be camping tonight and finding herbs tomorrow as part of your test,” Shield Maiden stated, rather hotly for someone addressing a person twice their age.
“Test?” Shaushka asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
As the dam manager listened patiently, the group explained to her how the three women had come to Brightly to beg Foxfire to teach them magic, and how in return they had been set the task of finding several herbs from the area. By the end of the tale, Shaushka was nodding her head in understanding and at least a little sympathy for the three adult women.
“Well, I’m not about to interfere in anything to do with magic, and it sounds like if I do take you back to town it’s pretty much an automatic fail. Sound right?” Shaushka asked, her slight British accent creeping into her words.
A forest of nodding heads replied to the lean expat.
“I’d hate for you to come all this way only to fall flat on your faces ‘cause the campground is closed, especially as that’s my fault,” explained the woman, waving in greeting to some men who were coming in to start the evening shift at the dam. “I had the campground closed because of all the work we’re doing to get the Number Two turbine reinstalled before fall and the rains hit.”
“So, seeing as this is partly my fault,” continued Shaushka, who suddenly began to smile. “I’m gonna fix it by giving you all a run out to Black Bay. How does that sound?”
All of the ponies cheered enthusiastically, which absolutely confused the newcomers who had no idea where or what “Black Bay” was. The confusion was put to rest by the explanation that Black Bay was a small cove on the shore of the lake about a mile along the old logging road. The shore of which was a rare black sand beach whose overlying cover of rock had been scraped away during the last ice age to reveal the distinctive surface.
“Hop in the back of my pickup and I’ll run you up, unless you really do want to call it quits,” Shaushka added, and there was a pregnant pause as those present felt things balanced between one of two possibilities.
“I’m in,” Char stated, standing up. “We’ll never get a chance like this again.”
Summer and Chilly both agreed and a few minutes later a battered old F-150 pickup truck trundled out of the dam parking lot piled high with ponies, people and all their gear. None of them noticed the shadows watching them from the trees as the ponies' protectors did their best to let their charges have as normal a life as possible.
Those shadows did their best to pace the old truck, and only managed to do so by knowing where the pony pile was headed for. By the time Shaushka pulled off to the side of the logging road, several camouflaged watchers were already in place and diligently checking the area for threats; natural or man-made.
A beaten path through the trees traveled the bare hundred meters that separated the road from the cove, and the three women gasped in appreciation of the natural beauty around them as they emerged from the treeline at the top of the beach. The whole cove was twenty meters across at most, forming a “U” shape with steep rocky sides; and the black sand that gave the cove its name along the base onto which the group had emerged.
Both cliffs rose only a few meters vertically, but both had broad, flat tops that were perfect for camping on, and even from below the group could see a picnic table outlined against the sky.
“Still want to call it quits?” Iron Hoof asked, rhetorically. He might have been young, but even he could see the pure enchantment on the womens’ faces.
“No way!” Summer declared, smiling. The chance to sit down had revitalized the trio, even more so as they had also taken the opportunity to eat some of the snacks Windweaver had plied them with before leaving town.
The next hour was filled with both the fun and mundane tasks of setting up camp. Neither Summer, Chilly, or Char had any experience camping and Foxfire’s tent hadn’t come with instructions. The combination caused several instances of laughter as poles were put together incorrectly, in the wrong sleeves, or in the case of Iron Hoof, pounding in a tent stake so far as to almost be unretrievable. Which caused Scootaloo to laugh so hard she nearly rolled off the cliff and into the water below.
Fortunately for all concerned, Apple Bloom caught her fellow Crusader in time and Shield Maiden and Sweetie Belle were able to work together to retrieve the tent stake. Once the tent was up, with sleeping bags and bedding in place for the night to come, the group spent the last hours of the afternoon cooling off with a swim in the ice cold water of Carmanah Lake.
“This water is freezing! In August!” Chilly appropriately stated, goosebumps covering her skin as she waded back out of the water. “How?”
“Carmanah Lake is super deep, and it’s fed by a glacier,” Shield Maiden replied, as the rest of the group continued to splash around.
“So we’re literally swimming in ice water? No freakin’ wonder,” snorted the woman. “I don’t know about you, but I need to warm up. We have anything to start a fire with?”
“We’ve got some old fire cubes, but we’re gonna have to scrounge for firewood,” Iron Hoof called back, splashing water at Sweetie Belle, who promptly responded by using her magic to shoot water at Iron Hoof from behind, while dashing water at him with her hooves from the front. “No fair!”
“Campfire Two to Command,” whispered a camouflaged soldier into his radio as he watched over the scene and wished he could take a cool dip in the water as well. “Campers need firewood, do we let them gather or what?”
“Command here,” came the swift reply from Recon, back in Brightly. “Foxfire says she would prefer they gather their own and requests you have fire extinguishers on standby due to the campfire ban.”
The soldier was from an elite unit and therefore too disciplined to curse out loud, but the slight pause before he replied was as eloquent as a shout to both Recon and the rest of his hastily formed ‘Team Campfire.’
“Roger that. Forgot about the fire ban,” Campfire Two replied, mentally reviewing what he and the rest of the squad had for fire fighting and coming up low.
“So did the kids,” Recon said, in a reassuring tone. “As you and your team rotate out for breaks you can come back to the dam. We’ll have a supply of portable extinguishers there for you. Anything else to report?”
“Camp is up, group is swimming… Oh, Campfire Four chased off a kermode bear earlier. Curious was all,” Campfire Two replied, finishing with, “nothing else to report. Campfire Two out.”
The byplay between guardians went completely unnoticed by those being guarded. The protective detail, drawn from members of Canada’s elite special forces team, had taken pains to maximize their camouflage and maintain as much distance as possible from the campers. The goal was to protect the campers, from even the idea that they were being protected at all.
The afternoon began to turn to evening and the Furred Five, now an augmented Insane Eight, spent a couple of happy hours searching the immediate area for fallen branches, trees and other forms of deadwood, which were stacked into a large pile a full two meters away from the blackened stone firepit that generations of campers had used over the years.
All five of the local ponies took the opportunity to teach both the new ponies and the new neophytes some of the local flora that was good to eat, or had uses for other things in the wild. Such as which leaves could be used as a toilet paper substitute and which definitely were not, where to dig for certain roots, and several other uses.
A crackling fire rose soon after, sending a plume of smoke into the darkening sky and providing a handy heat source for the cooking/burning of hotdogs and the baking of several foil wrapped potatoes. Windweaver had made sure that all the ponies were fully provided as well with condiments along with a full bag of marshmallows and a box of graham crackers.
“No chocolate?” Char asked, as she speared one of the soft white cylinders onto a sharpened stick.
“Bad for horses and ponies,” Skylark responded from where she sat on the ground snuggled up against Char’s thigh. The two taciturn individuals had slowly gravitated toward each other over the course of the day.
“But I love chocolate back home! We have chocolate sundaes all the time back at Sugarcube Corner,” Sweetie Belle tossed back, the other two Crusaders backing her up with enthusiastic nods.
“First time I had a chocolate bar as a pony I got super sick for a few hours,” Darter said, supporting his sister, who had shrunk down a bit as her words were challenged. Skylark might be the stronger of the two siblings in the air, but unless flight was being talked about she consistently was shy and retiring.
“Dad said he couldn’t be sure it was chocolate that did it, but he said we shouldn’t take chances,” Darter concluded, extending his own marshmallow to roast.
“Can I get another hotdog?” Scootaloo asked, prompting a sputter from Summer. “What?”
“Hotdogs are meat. Well, mostly meat,” Summer explained, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re a pony, and ponies are vegetarians. Won’t eating a hotdog be like eating chocolate?”
“Horses can eat meat just fine,” Darter stated with all the confidence of a boy who was sure he was right. “But it’s kinda like junk food for us.”
“So make sure you have a bun with that,” Shield Maiden decreed, floating over one from a package.
Both Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom looked a little queasy at the remains of their own hotdogs. “Did Ah just eat… a cow?” Apple Bloom asked in shock. “We got cow tenants on our farm!”
“Remember the cows at our farm when we took you there?” Skylark asked, speaking back up. “Remember what it was like trying to talk to them?”
“Yeah, it was like talking to a brick wall. Nobody was home,” Apple Bloom said, making the connection a moment later. “Oh, Ah get it.”
“It’s still meat, and it’s still animal,” Seeker added. “Tho if it makes you feel bad, don’t eat it, but it’s not like ‘Questria. I like the taste.”
“Yeah!” exclaimed Scootaloo, sucking the weiner into her mouth like a bird sucking down a worm. “I like how they taste. Kinda salty and stuff.”
By the time the last of the hotdogs and marshmallows had been eaten, along with various treats that Windweaver had snuck in amongst the various bits of things the ponies and people had carried, the sun had set and night was fast approaching. Conversation had slowed to a stop as all in the group succumbed to the ancient lure of staring into the flames of a fire.
“Think we’ll ever get home?” Sweetie asked quietly, as the sound of insects merged with the lapping of waves against the shore.
“You will,” Shield Maiden replied. “There’s a whole world out there trying to get you home.”
“And when you do, we can come visit, and you can show us Ponyville,” Seeker added.
“And you can introduce Mom to Rarity,” Darter said, giving a jaw-cracking yawn. “Can you imagine those two talking about sewing?”
“We’ll have to pry them apart with a crowbar,” giggled Skylark, trying and failing to suppress her own yawn.
“Okay guys. I think we need to call it a night,” Iron Hoof said, getting up and stretching. “I’ll go down to the beach and grab some water to put out the fire with.”
“I’ll do it,” Skylark offered, adding as Iron Hoof raised an eyebrow in mute question, “Pegasuses have better night eyes.”
As the others cleaned up their share of debris from the evening’s dinner and time around the fire, Skylark gracefully swooped down over the surface of the small bay, the handle of a bucket held in her hooves. With the ease of a creature born to the sky, the dragon marked pony scooped up some water, climbed up and performed a flawless Immelman to return back to the small campsite.
Iron Hoof nodded his thanks to his friend as she concluded her performance with a pinpoint accurate water bombing of the fire, before dropping off the now empty bucket by the tent. The earth pony finished putting out the fire by stirring the pit of coals with a stick until the whole of it was soggy and fully extinguished, which gathered him an unseen nod of approval from the hidden guardians watching via infrared cameras.
Full night spread its dark blanket over the world, and the campers climbed under a collection of sleeping bags and blankets to keep off the evening chill. Though there was some argument over whose hoof was here and whose mane was in someone else’s mouth. It had been a long and exciting day for both the women and the ponies who were with them, and soon the only noise that could be heard from the tent was that of a chorus of soft snores.
Three hours later there was a changing of hidden guards in the dead of night.
“Anything new?” the relieving man asked the other, who was very ready to stretch and head back to town to his own bed.
“Not much. They’re all asleep. Nothing bigger than a rabbit on the IR and they did a good job putting out their campfire, so no worries about that spreading,” reported the first guard, flexing his stiff shoulder and neck.
“Alright, just give me—” began the relief.
“Movement,” the first guard whispered intently, focusing on the image that was appearing in his night vision scope. “One of them’s coming out of the tent. Looks like Iron Hoof by the size and shape.”
The earth pony had risen to the commanding urges of half a thermos of lemonade, and had made his way out of the tent as best he could, though a few grumbles told of missed steps. Iron Hoof fumbled for a moment, before flicking on a red lensed flashlight, the colour of which would ensure he kept his night vision. With some urgency, he made his way to some bushes to answer the call of nature. He had just turned the flashlight off when he chanced to look upwards, and the sight made him think of the three women in the tent with him.
Three women who, by their own words, had spent most of their lives in or around cities.
“Psst, hey wake up,” Iron Hoof whispered a few moments later, nudging Summer’s shoulder.
“Huh? Whazzup?” the woman groggily asked, poking her nose up from under her covers.
“You’re gonna wanna see this,” Iron Hoof said, shaking her again. “All of you are gonna wanna see this.”
“Iron Hoof? What are you doing?” Shield Maiden asked, raising her head from its pillow of Chilly’s side.
“Wake everybody up, they’ve got to see this,” Iron Hoof stated, and setting actions to words set about nudging everyone awake.
“Huh? What’s going on?” Scootaolo asked as she was woken up, echoing the question of the rest.
“Summer, Chilly and Char spent their whole lives in a city,” Iron Hoof reminded them all. “They’ve never seen what the night sky really looks like.”
“Who cares about a few stars?” Char asked, looking a little disgruntled at being woken out of a sound sleep.
“C’mon outside and tell me that,” Iron Hoof said, with a broad smile. “Oh, and keep your flashlights off. Just use the red ones if you need to.”
“Uh, okay,” Char replied, wrapping a blanket around her to take up the challenge and step out of the tent. “I don’t get what the big deal— Oh… oh God.”
In a large city, light pollution from tens of thousands of light sources obliterates the gentle light of the heavens except for a few of the brightest stars and the moon. Get away from that, go into one of the wild places of the world and look up, and you will see the sky in its true splendor.
Rather than the moon and a few stars, thousands upon thousands of mighty suns shone down their radiance upon the eleven humans and ponies who looked up in awe at the revealed majesty of the heavens. Crossing the great bowl of the night, the easily discernible silver path of the Milky Way arced overhead, its gleaming length having shone since before the earth cooled, as it would continue to do so long after the world itself was dust among those self same stars. Dancing across the eternal tableau shot ephemeral streaks of light as bits of the Perseids ended their lives with bursts of fire and light.
The silent reverent joy in the faces of every person and pony as they gazed upwards was all Iron Hoof could have hoped for.
“Thanks,” Char whispered, folding Iron Hoof into a huge hug, blanket and all.
“This… this is the true magic,” Shield Maiden said, her voice small against the immensity above them. “It’s more than spells or books or anything.”
“It’s joy,” Seeker added, leaning against her older sister and adding to her words, “and love, and it wants that for us.”
“God?” Summer asked, eyes locked on the heavens above.
“Maybe. I dunno,” Seeker answered.
“It’s why we’re Power Ponies, or Crusaders, or witch students,” Darter said, fluffing his fur a bit for extra warmth. “We all want to be happy, and we want everyone we love to be happy too.”
“For Happiness,” Iron Hoof declared, summoning the Seed of Joy.
“For Love,” Shield Maiden responded, calling her Seed of Love to her side.
“For Everyone around us,” the pair stated, and succumbing to their continued impulse, touched their blades to each other.
As they did, a golden chime rang out that echoed back and forth from earth to sky and back again, repeating until all the world was alive with the sound of joy and love made manifest in that timeless moment. The sound danced equally through fur and flesh, over branches and twigs, until the stars themselves seemed to bend to the music of magic manifested in the moment.
“This job may be weird a lot of times,” whispered the watching, hidden guardian to his relief, “but it’s never dull. That’s for sure.”
In a second floor bedroom, a mother slept in a strangely quiet house. Usually, the home was alive with the comings and goings of an active family moving about at all hours of the day or night. But this night was different. This night the children were away, the spouse was dealing with matters of his own, and so for the first time in months Foxfire was all alone in her house.
Alone, but not unadorned. As the unicorn mare scooted into her bed, there was a flash of blue at her breast. A single, very large dark blue feather hung on a silver chain around her neck. A loan from an able warrior who had fought darkness within and without as she had. A man who was in many ways a kindred spirit and had lent her his talisman so that she might stand in his place in the land of dreams.
With slow, even breaths, the unicorn drifted off to sleep, and as she did, the magic contained in the feather allowed her dreaming mind to take flight.
“Oh Goddess, this was a bad idea,” Foxfire said to herself as she walked along a moonlit path by a pond. All around her, darkened trees were alight with the faerie fire of her namesake and she paced nervously back and forth while she awaited her rendezvous with the Princess of Dreams.
“Should I apologize? Not say anything? Maybe let her bring it up?” Foxfire questioned out loud. “Maybe I should grovel? I hear groveling is good.”
“Of all the things I expected from thee in this moment,” said a cooly amused voice from behind her, “dithering was not one of them.”
“Princess!” half-shouted Foxfire in surprise. “You… I… I mean. I can explain. I mean…”
“Go on,” Luna prodded, with one eyebrow arched and only the slightest hint of amusement on her muzzle. “Say thy piece fully.”
For long moments the unicorn tried to say something, anything. Fragments of speech collided with other fragments, creating a trainwreck of thought in her head, and during it all Luna stood there patiently waiting for Foxfire to get her thoughts in order. The moments continued with the unicorn saying a word or two of something she wanted to say, before another idea or a second-guessing smashed it into flinders only to replace it with another.
“I’M SORRY!” Foxfire burst out at last, throwing herself around Luna’s lower chest in a desperate hug. “You were right, and I was wrong, and I was an idiot, and proud, and didn’t listen, and…”
“I am so very glad, that you remain you, Foxfire,” Luna said quietly, gently returning the hug.
“Even after I back-stabbed you and wrecked everything?” Foxfire asked, sniffling as tears leaked from her eyes.
“The Princess of Friendship is one of my best friends, and many are the lessons I have learned from her,” Luna replied, her eyes sparkling before they became serious again. “Thou wert under the influence of a malign creature, and though I was once without mercy, I do forgive thee thy trespass against Us.”
“Just don’t say that around Father Addison, he’ll think you’re trying to take his job,” chuckled the unicorn, hiccoughing slightly as she transitioned from melancholy to mirth. “I really am sorry though.”
“I know thou art,” Luna replied, sitting down and patting the ground beside her to indicate Foxfire should do the same. “However, our time here is limited, so we must tend to the tasks we have set this night.”
“How can I help? Or can I?” asked the white unicorn, idly noting how warm and dry the air around them was.
“Verily, for my set agenda involves thee directly. Will you permit me to look into your mind?” Luna asked, her face growing serious. “That you are here at all tells me that my soldier believes you to be the ruler of your body once more. But I would prefer to be sure.”
“Yes,” Foxfire instantly agreed. “I’m right there with you on wanting to make sure that thing is gone.”
“This will take but a moment,” said the Equestrian dreamwalker, and as the princess lit her horn and used it to delve into the mind of the mare beside her, Foxfire had the sensation of someone in a library, scanning the shelves for a desired book. A short but endless amount of time seemed to pass before the lunar princess finished her examination.
“We find no trace of the creature,” Luna began, holding up a cautionary hoof as she saw Foxfire’s eyes light up. “However, its shadow still lies deeply upon you and there is something else. Something I have not seen before.”
“What, what is it?” begged Foxfire, fear and worry plain on her face.
“I do not know how to say this, so I shall say it plainly. There is a hole in your mind,” Luna stated.
As if summoned from the ether, a man appeared on the far side of the pond. A strong, tall man dressed in a silver spacesuit, a helmet tucked under one arm, and his face bronzed from the harsh glare of suns not his own. His dark eyes were clear and bright, but haunted by an inner vision of things both seen and yet to come.
The spectre looked sadly at the two ponies for a moment, before nodding as he faded back into nothingness.
“This realm responds to the thoughts of those in it,” Luna explained. “I take it you know that man?”
“Commander Sinclair, from the last of the Babylon stations,” the unicorn explained, adding, “It’s from a television series I loved. One that you didn’t get to see when you were with us.”
“One that you will share with me when we meet again,” Luna firmly stated. “Some of the greatest minds in ponydom are searching for your world among the vastness of all that is.”
“So are a lot of humans,” Foxfire replied, before switching the topic back to herself. “What do you mean, I have a hole in my mind?”
“There is a gap, where I assume the Umbral was within you,” replied the lunar alicorn. “It is not a shield, it is not a presence. It is… nothingness. Like reaching out for a cup that should be on a shelf and finding nothing there other than its impression in the dust.”
“So, is it gone or not? Did it die when the magic went away or not?” queried Foxfire, her voice fearful. “Princess. It had me. I was just a meat sack that it rode, and I don’t know what’s worse. That you warned me and I ignored you, that I can remember every moment of it, or that it made me love every moment of it.”
“It is very likely gone forever, and in time your mind and spirit will cleanse themselves of the shadow of that foul creature, but it is also possible that it still lies within you, waiting for the opportune moment to seize its reins of power over you again,” Luna answered, sensing that the unicorn wanted blunt honesty.
“I’m never letting that happen again, I’m never letting it take control,” vowed the unicorn.
“You may not have that choice, young woodwitch,” Luna countered sadly. “For thou art a wife and mother both. You have hostages to fortune which could be used against thee. For would not any mother worthy of the name sacrifice themselves to see their children?”
“I… would,” Foxfire admitted, slumping in place. “Goddess help me. I’m sorry Princess, but you’re right. If it came down between being that thing’s mount again, or losing my kids I’d—”
“No need to finish that thought, young witch,” Luna interrupted, closing Foxfire’s mouth with a hoof and pulling the unicorn into a full hug with wings and forelegs both. “Thy thoughts and words do you credit, and tho it grieves me to present these truths to you, you need to know the extent of the potential danger in which you stand.”
“So what do I do? It’s not like I can stop being a pony, or having magic,” Foxfire asked, not even considering the possibility of leaving Brightly.
“You must share deeply with those you trust. Teach them the signs to watch for should the Umbral seize thy body again. Show them how to defeat you should it be necessary, and what they must watch for in others in order to determine if somepony has become your thrall,” Luna explained. “It was your domination over Medevac which caused me to realize you had become the Umbral’s plaything.”
“Captain Rios said he was ready to kill me,” Foxfire said, resisting the urge to bury herself in the warmth of Luna’s chest.
“He will do what must be done if needs must,” Luna replied, looking down at the white furred body against her. “But I know my soldier. He would prefer a different option if you can offer him one.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” Foxfire answered, and Luna could tell the unicorn would indeed consider her words. The burned hoof teaches best, and Foxfire had been seared clear to the bone.
“Now then, we have but a few minutes left,” Luna said, moving to put Foxfire on her side but still keeping a comforting, dark-feathered wing around the smaller pony. “Tell me of thy family, and of thy husband, the love of whom glows within thee like a star of the morning.”
“The name’s Morningstar, thank you very much,” said a darkly handsome man who suddenly appeared on the far side of the pond. For a brief moment his eyes glowed like a pair of fiery coals and as this latest vision evaporated the last thing to slip from view were those intense, hungry eyes.
“Who?” Luna asked, tilting her head in curiosity.
“I’ll explain when we have more time,” Foxfire replied, making a mental note to try to control her thoughts a bit better if she was ever in the dream realm again.
Despite the comings and goings of various shards of musing and memory, the next few minutes were spent in pleasant conversation as Foxfire told Luna of the recent events in Brightly and the world beyond. Luna was particularly interested in how the fruit of the Brightly tree seemed be able to become magic generating trees of their own.
“Most interesting,” Luna began, stopping and frowning as a new pony arrived. A lavender alicorn with a two-tone purple and raspberry mane and tail appeared.
“Princess, it’s time to go,” stated the newcomer.
“Who are you? Foxfire asked, sensing a sudden tension in the large mare beside her.
“Foxfire, Witch of Brightly, may I present Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship and Bearer of the Element of Magic,” Luna said formally, by way of answer.
“Element of Ma—” Foxfire began, eyes growing wide in wonder at the winged pony standing in the place where the many phantoms of her memory had appeared.
“Luna, I know you want to stay, but you’re about a minute away from Celestia dropping a blocker on your horn again,” Twilight said, her words blocking Foxfire’s statement of incredulity.
“Oh fiddlesticks. Big sister is a big worrywart. You know I’m getting better at this. I can keep going for at least another five minutes,,” Luna responded, making a very unprincess like face of protest.
“You know that, and I know that, but Celestia doesn’t want you burning yourself out again,” said Twilight, in a reasonable tone.
“Tell my sister—” Luna began huffily, before blinking out of existence.
“I warned her,” Twilight commented with a chuckle.
“Is she going to be okay?” Foxfire asked, once she had recovered her balance. “And how come we’re still in the dream?”
“I may not be as good as Luna when it comes to dream magic, but I can hold us here for a little bit,” Twilight said, levitating over three cream coloured envelopes with wax seals on them.
“What are these?” Foxfire asked, taking the envelopes into her own magical grip.
“Letters from home, for the Crusaders,” Twilight explained, a happy smile on her face. “You’ve got lots of magic in you, so as long as you concentrate on them and make them real in your mind, they’ll become real for you.”
“How?” Foxfire asked in wonder, eyes drinking in every detail of the envelopes. Every imperfection, every wrinkle of wax, and every swoop and swirl of the seal imprinted there.
“Starswirl’s Secondary Mnemonic Midnight Transference,” Twilight explained, and though the explanation meant absolutely nothing to Foxfire, her eyes grew wide as she recognized the vastness of the talent within the alicorn across from her.
“Teach me,” Foxfire all but begged, in an unconscious echo of the three women who had begged her the same thing less than a day ago. “I’ve been relying on scraps of folklore and instinct since I became a unicorn, but you’re trained aren’t you? Luna even said you carried the Element of Magic. Please, by all that’s holy, teach me!”
“When the pupil is ready, the master will appear,” commented an old man, dressed in black trousers and a half open, flowing white shirt. A silver rapier was at his side and in his hand he held a crystal goblet of red wine which he used to salute the two mares, before taking a sip.
“Oh shut up, De La Vega,” Foxfire snapped, annoyed at the fragment of memory, and her lack of control.
“When the portal is back up, come see me in Ponyville,” Twilight said, stifling a giggle. “I’d love to have another student, but that’s all the time we have. I can’t hold this dream together any longer. Focus on the envelopes, Foxfire. Focus on them.”
With that, the lavender alicorn began to fade into nothingness, and a moment later the dreamscape around the unicorn began to fade as well. Heeding the advice she had been given, Foxfire concentrated on the three envelopes again, feeling every millimeter of their being through her magic field, and making them as real to her as they had been to Luna and Twilight.
Had there been an observer in Foxfire’s bedroom, they might have noticed a sigh from the sleeping unicorn as she settled into a deep and restful sleep, with three cream coloured envelopes beside her.
It would be another week before the sun set on the arctic seashore where the two beings happened to be standing. Even so, there was a faint chill in the air that warned that winter would be coming, and when it did it would come with all the fury it was known for in this harsh land.
“Are we finally there?” asked the pony to the translucent creature of selfish despair that hovered beside him. “We’ve been up and down this coast for over a week now.”
“Calm yourself, Ash Heart,” the windigo advised its companion. “We are here. At long last we are here.”
“Which is?” demanded the former American military officer turned pony. “You’ve been rambling about some sort of Canadian legend. Something that would give me the power to show the world what it means to throw Ebon Donavich out into the cold.”
“A little less than two hundred years ago, a man named Franklin attempted to sail through these waters,” explained the windigo. “He failed, and his crew died in the cold and dark, trying to reach an impossible goal. They fell to hunger, to despair and most deliciously of all, cannibalism.”
“And that helps us, how?” Ash Heart demanded in a terse voice.
“Just offshore is the wreck of HMS Terror, and in that sunken tomb lies the remains of John Franklin, the expedition’s leader. His hand still reaches out with a desperate hunger that can never be satisfied,” the windigo summed up.
Ash Heart had made a habit of appearing as if he knew everything, and that any explanation anyone had for him about something was nothing more than the most boring of trivia. In reality however, the pony had a keen eye for detail and a shrewd mind capable of putting disparate clues together. When it suited his plans.
“A hunger like the one inside of you. So all this travel has just been to give you a power boost,” Ash Heart noted, with a dramatic sigh.
“No, Ash Heart,” corrected the windigo, its icy breath fogging the world around it. “The Hand will do nothing for me, but for you? It will give you power like mine, and allow me to stop feeding you my strength in order to keep you alive.”
“More power? I like the idea of that. Let’s go,” urged Ash Heart, a slight smile gracing his muzzle.
Down into the cold dark water plunged the pair, descending through the stygian darkness and into a cold as deep as the grave to find the object of their quest. Hours went by as the duo shifted ancient timbers, sorted through countless bits of debris, and dug through nearly two hundred years of silt.
At long last, the remains of a simple, iron bound casket were revealed and in them were the bony remains of a long dead man. Even over a century dead there was something mournful and desperate about the body, with one arm stretched out, its skeletal hand seemingly reaching out for something that it could never grasp.
Reaching out, Ash Heart grabbed the hand, easily tearing it free from the rest of the remains, and as he did so, he felt a rush of cold power surge through his body, along with a hunger that he instinctively knew would never be sated. The man turned pony took a moment to probe the new hole in his soul, and vowed to plug it with the pleas for mercy from those who had wronged him, and those who he would bend to his will.
Together, the pair rose back up toward the surface, the temperature of their hearts colder than the ice that floated further out to sea, but when they stepped back out onto the shore, they were no longer alone.
“Don’t move, Canadian Coast—” whatever else the man leading the party of five men was about to say died on his lips as he saw just what it was they were holding their weapons on.
“All of this is mine,” hissed the windigo. “All that ends of cold and hunger belongs to me.”
“Th-this is a Parks Canada historical site and archaeological dig,” stuttered the man, trying to recover his mental footing, even as the temperature around them began to plummet. “Leave immediately.”
“I think I would like a snack for the trip!” declared the windigo, rearing up and causing every weapon in range to aim towards it.
“Wait!” cried Ash Heart, holding up a hoof. “Let me try something.”
“S-s-sir, you need t-to leave,” stuttered the man again, only with cold this time.
“Obey. You will obey me. I am your king,” Ash Heart stated, drawing himself up before the archeological protective detail.
“Y-you…” began the man, trying to resist the icy fingers slipping into his mind, slipping into the minds of his team.
“Kneel,” Ash Heart ordered, smiling as he felt his new power sink into the weak minds of the sailors before him. It was almost no effort at all seize their wills and freeze them cold.
“Yes, my Lord,” said the sailor, sinking to his knees. His act mirrored by the other four members of the shore party.
“Why are you here?” Ash Heart asked, mildly. His smile was broad and cruel as he reveled in his newfound abilities.
“Keeping polar bears away from the dig, Sir,” answered the man, his voice wooden. “Lookout saw you go into the water and so we waited for you to come out.”
“And where is this lookout?” Ash Heart demanded, looking around for spying eyes.
“On the ridge, Sir,” answered the sailor, in the same frozen voice.
“Windigo?” asked Ash Heart.
The creature of ice and wind needed no further urging, blasting its way over the rocky shore toward the stone ridge half a kilometer away, where a lone man with a spotting scope and a radio watched in horror as something out of legend charged toward him.
“Calling the Terry Fox! Calling CCGS Terry Fox!” yelled the man frantically into his radio. “We need back—”
When a member of the Canadian Rangers came by two days later for a scheduled supply pickup, all that could be found of the shore party was a radio frozen into a block of ice. No sign of the five man shore party could be found
< ALERT FOR NORTH SLAVE REGION, INCLUDING WEKWEETI - WHATI - BEHCHOKO >
Issued August 2 at 3:20AM MDT
An out of season cold front is descending from the high arctic bringing unseasonable cold temperatures and high winds. While the temperature will be moderate compared to winter lows there will be significant wind chill, at times extreme.
Watch for cold related symptoms: Such as shortness of breath, chest pain, muscle pain and weakness, numbness and colour change in fingers and toes.
Cover up, frostbite can occur within minutes.
Check with Environment Canada - Yellowknife for further details.
Joe Nitsiza chuckled to himself as he listened to the broadcast over the radio while he worked. Life in the Canadian north was always a challenge but there were always certain rules to how the seasons worked. Sure there could be some cold spells in summer, even almost down to freezing, but never below it and certainly not cold enough to issue a frostbite warning.
The seasoned hunter started up his ATV and trundled along the trail toward the next section of his trapline. Hunting was a great way to build up food stocks for the winter and with the ruinous prices for shipping things “North of 60” every little bit helped to keep the budget running during the lean winter months.
Getting off the trusty, but old and rusty machine, Joe walked behind a stand of black spruce to check the trap he had placed there. Empty, again. This time with the bait removed. Something was tempting fate, but the trapper was more than happy to replace the bait on the trap. Eventually, whatever was feeding would slip up, and if not, then the animal deserved their meal for dancing with death.
A faint wind ruffled the man’s hair as he busied himself reapplying the bait and making sure the trap was in good order. The sounds of life were all around him in the lake studded taiga of the northern woods, as animals of all sorts got on with the business of living during the short summer season.
Straightening from his work, Joe was about to return to his ATV when he felt the wind at his back pick up with a sudden gust. He frowned a bit at the thought that maybe those guys in the weather office weren’t completely crazy. A thought that was interrupted by full blown shock, as the wind picked up again with a burst of cold like a knife that drove straight through the light shirt he was wearing.
The trapper turned, facing into the wind, and in doing so saw for the first time the grey line of the out of season storm that was bearing down on him. Joe turned back and began to stride quickly toward his vehicle. He was ill-equipped to be out in freezing temperatures and high winds, but the small cabin that he used during the season wasn’t too far away and it was stocked with gear of all kinds.
Reaching the ATV, Joe threw on the hooded vest he had brought with him just in case and set off with a roar, goosing the off-road vehicle into the fastest ground speed he dared use on the rough trail. As he charged along, he could still feel the wind hitting his back, sinking its icy talons into him through the protective layer of the down vest, telling him that the wind was moving faster than he was.
Joe wasn’t really worried though, not until the first flakes of snow blew past him.
Snow. In August.
The trapper increased his speed to a reckless rate now, hoping against hope to outrun the storm, to make it to his cabin which had both warm clothing and a wood stove. He was both knowledgeable and experienced here in his home woods, knowing every twist and turn of the trail, which enabled him to stave off what should have been inevitable for several minutes. But you can’t outrun the wind.
As the weather front blew over him it brought with it both a chilling intensity and a wave of blowing snow that immediately ruined Joe’s vision of the trail. The hunter did his best to slow down and keep moving, but all he managed to do was prevent his crash from being more than a bruising experience.
Joe began to shiver, both from the shock of the crash and the rapidly dropping temperature all around him. Visibility was down to a handful of meters in any direction and things were looking progressively worse as a quick check of the ATV showed that it was in no condition to keep going without some repairs. Repairs that the growing layer of snow on the ground told Joe he didn’t have time to make if he wanted to try to make it to his cabin on foot.
However, there was one bright spot of hope as Joe recognized the stump of a tree along the side of what he could see of the trail. It was the stump of a tree he himself had cut down last week in order to lay in some firewood for the cabin, which meant that he was barely half a kilometer away from safety. Joe made the decision to abandon his vehicle and use the trail as a guide to get him to the cabin. All he carried with him was the bolt action rifle he never ventured into the woods without, as you never leave a weapon out in the weather if you can help it.
Closing his arms in tight around himself in an attempt to retain as much heat as possible, Joe plunged into the now howling blizzard. Despite his actions he could feel the cold sinking into him with every step, sapping away at his strength and the will to push on through the storm. The trapper was however, a man of the north country, used to pitting his will and wits against the harsh elements of this unforgiving land and coming out on top every time.
Even so, Joe Nitsiza was on the last dregs of his endurance when the dark form of the cabin finally loomed out of the storm. Gasping in relief, he staggered up the few steps of the one room shack and pulled open the door, and even though the temperature in the cabin was very cold, getting out of the wind and snow was almost like stepping into a warm bath.
Closing the door, Joe quickly busied himself with first pulling out a thick parka from a storage box under the cabin’s single bed and throwing it over his shivering body. It would take time for the garment to have a positive effect, but in the meantime it meant that Joe wouldn’t sink further into hypothermia.
That done, the trapper snatched up some of the kindling he had already prepared in a small hod by his wood stove and began to lay a fire. Kneeling down in front of the metal box, he was almost about to strike a thick match to the thin shavings of wood when Joe heard a voice from behind him.
“And just what do you think you are doing?” said the voice, rich and deep in the tones of someone used to giving commands and having them obeyed. Such was the power of the voice that it momentarily froze Joe in place.
“I asked you what do you think you are doing?” repeated the voice. Turning, match still held in one hand, Joe saw one of the strangest things he had ever seen. There, in the middle of the small cabin, with no indication at all how it had gotten there was a small, dark grey pony, with black speckles in his mane and tail.
“What… what the hell are you?” Joe asked, brain trying to process the bizarre image in front of him. He had heard some of the stories from down south about a town full of ponies in BC, but had dismissed them as singularly unimportant.
“I… am your king,” the pony replied. “My name is Ash Heart and you will bow to me.”
“What the f—” began Joe, trying to shake off the sudden lethargic cold invading his brain.
“I. Am. Your. King,” repeated the pony, as his horn lit with a darkness so deep it made everything around it glow in comparison.
Joe felt frozen in place, unable to move or think as the cabin door opened to reveal a man in military gear, utterly coated in ice and snow.
“My King,” began the man somehow, through a face covered in a sheet of ice. “Lord Wind says we must keep moving.”
“One moment,” Ash Heart replied, before turning his attention back to Joe. “This man is a local and knows the area.”
Joe couldn’t think anymore. Some part of what awareness remained could see his thoughts, his feelings, his demands to wonder what was going on, but all of it was walled off behind the sheet of ice that had grown in his mind. What remained and moved was just as blank as the ice on a lake in winter, and just as impenetrable.
“Slave,” asked his king in that same rich voice. “What is the closest settlement?”
“Whati,” the creature that had been Joe Natsiza replied.
“How many people live there?” Ash Heart asked, using a trifle of his power to bring his newest soldier to their feet.
“About 500,” the ice soldier answered in a frozen voice.
“Excellent,” stated Ash Heart, “Inform the wind— Lord Wind, that we will be using this ‘Whati’ as a test for our clash against the ponies. Have him shift our storm to the north.”
Neither soldier said anything, only nodding as they relayed their message on the icy winds that now blew in and around the trappers cabin. A moment later and the cabin was empty and exposed to the elements, with no sign that anything living had been there.
< ALERT FOR CENTRAL BC COAST INCLUDING BELLA BELLA - BELLA COOLA - HARTLEY BAY >
Issued August 5 at 6:20AM PDT
A special weather statement has been issued regarding the out of season Arctic Outflow storm that has swept down from the high arctic over the past few days. This weather system has brought with it high winds and low temperatures resulting in Winter Storm advisories along its path. While the system has to date defied predictive models it should impact the above areas in the next 12 to 24 hours before blowing out to sea.
Residents of these areas are advised to make preparations consistent with normal winter storms.
Expect temperatures 20 to 30 degrees below seasonal lows with winds in excess of 80 kmh.
For further information contact Environment Canada - Haida Gwaii
There was a cool nip in the morning air as Foxfire sipped at her morning tea, a soft weight against her chest reminding her of last night’s failure to reach Princess Luna in the dream realm, again. Rios had been more than willing to lend the unicorn the talisman so that she could try to speak to the dreamwalker again, but it seemed that the princess was unwilling or unable to speak to Foxfire again.
Foxfire shook her head, banishing the sudden thought that Luna was deliberately avoiding her in the land of dreams. It was far more likely that the two ponies would only be able to communicate during the times of the full moon, or that Luna was simply too exhausted to try to reach Foxfire again. The American had been very clear when he had described the amount of effort it took the alicorn to breach the dimensional barriers, and Foxfire had seen for herself just how hard Luna pushed herself to make those fleeting contacts.
Sighing, the white mare lifted the pendant off of her head and laid it on her kitchen counter. Sleep had not come easily that night either, and even her dreams had been troubled by nightmares of her being ensnared by the Umbral again. Of her becoming its mount again, or worse, joining with it of her own free will and once more reveling in the feel of power and domination over others.
Foxfire had taken Luna’s advice to heart, even though doing so had caused her to relive things she would have much rather forgotten, but she agreed with the Equestrian. Protecting against the rise of Nytefyre was a prudent course of action, because even if the witch didn’t want to truly believe it, she was currently the most powerful magic user on earth and if she fell to darkness again the consequences could be catastrophic.
To that end, she and Medevac had sat down and worked out a drug cocktail that would both render Foxfire unconscious and keep her that way until she could be contained, if it became necessary. The two mares had also brought Windweaver and Mayor Montcalm into the “End of Nyte” club, as the medical mare had named the little group.
Windweaver because of her ability to control winds and breezes was a serious match for Foxfire’s magic, and Mayor Montcalm for his ability to call in forces that could make the decision of how best to contain a megalomaniacal mage… or to put her down.
A firm knock on Foxfire’s back door shattered the unicorn’s grim musings and a glance at the clock told the pony that her students were on time. Giving her cup a quick rinse, the unicorn trotted across her kitchen and tugged open her door. As expected, three young women stood there, much changed since the previous week when they had arrived.
Gone were the dark leather clothing and clunky boots, having been replaced by more moderate gear that moved and breathed better on individuals who were spending a lot of time walking around, as well as weighing much less. Despite the changes though, some things still remained the same.
Summer still wore her ankh pendant and remained the definite leader of the trio, while Char continued to wear her collar with its dangling rings which Foxfire noticed acted like worry stones for both young women. Anytime either of them were nervous or deep in thought, the dangling bits of metal would be rubbed between thumb and forefinger till whatever was concerning either woman went away.
Chilly on the other hand, had completely reworked her wardrobe and had been wearing nothing but jeans and button up shirts of light flannel ever since the three had returned from their camping trip with the kids. Which had been very successful, with all of the requested herbs being found and returned in a little over 24 hours. Ever since then Foxfire had been trying to figure out some way to gauge their aptitude for magic and witchcraft, as well as how to train them.
She couldn’t simply use what she had done with either Shield Maiden or Iron Hoof either. Both young ponies were still very much children and while Iron Hoof was Foxfire’s actual apprentice, Foxfire had been teaching the young boy for years in the ways of the wilderness, while Shield Maiden’s was a natural talent that the unicorn had simply nurtured into being.
Neither approach would work with Foxfire’s trio of students, all of whom were women grown and had been living lives far away from nature, until they heard the call of magic and had decided that it was something they had to have in their lives. Foxfire knew from bitter experience though, that just wanting something wasn’t enough on its own, and that while some skills could be trained, there almost always had to be an underlying aptitude for someone to truly excel in something new.
Which is where her plans for today fit in.
“Miss—Mrs. Foxfire,” Summer began, remembering that Foxfire had forbade her students to call her “Mistress” just in time. “We’re here for our first lesson.”
“Today isn’t about a lesson so much as it is an introduction,” Foxfire said, levitating over a pair of saddlebags with its accompanying tack. “Today we are going to go out to one of my favorite places in the woods and I’m going to let you touch Equestrian magic.”
The eyes of all three women went wide at that.
“Is there anything any of you need before we go?” Foxfire asked, after letting the moment of silence stretch out.
All three women shook their heads in the negative with Summer adding, “I’ve got water bottles with me and Char and Chilly have lunches with them.”
“Good thinking. Shall we?” the unicorn asked the three women, who replied with murmurs of agreement.
Pleased with her students’ preparations, Foxfire trotted out of her house and down her back porch stairs, where three day packs rested on the ground. The unicorn took a moment to make sure that the back door of her house was closed behind the group before leaving her yard and heading up the gravel back alley toward the end of her block, her students falling in behind her.
As the small group reached the point where gravel met asphalt, Foxfire was not surprised to see the warm colours of Pumpkin Spice lounging against the wall of one of her neighbor’s garage. With a toss of her horned head, Foxfire waved over the guardian pegasus.
“Nice day for a walk,” Lieutenant Ram, Brightly Protective Detail, Joint Task Force 2 (detached) commented, as she casually approached.
“We’re heading into the woods to do some witch work. You would probably find it boring,” Foxfire replied, in a tone that made it clear she was bantering. “Why don’t you find a cloud to nap on.”
“Well, seeing as I’m stuck with fur and feathers as long as my principles are rocking the four wheel drive look, I figured I may as well stick with you and your minions,” Ram tossed back, before continuing in a more serious tone with, “Considering the weather forecast I’m actually a little surprised you are heading out.”
“Forecast? Last night it said it was going to be clear and sunny for the next week. Something change?” Foxfire asked, her bantering tone dropping to a more serious one.
“I’ll say,” said the guardian, with a very equine snort. “But apparently there’s been this big cold front sweeping down from the north. They say a whole town near Yellowknife got frozen out entirely.”
“But… It's August!” protested Chilly. “I mean… can it get that cold in August, in the arctic? It’s warm there in the summer, right?”
“I’ve been up there, and usually it’s pretty warm up this time of year,” Ram answered. “Going below freezing almost never happens. Going to forty or fifty below like it did a couple of days ago? Never heard of. Caught a lot of people unawares and out in the open. Lot of people missing.”
“Wait, that cold? And people are missing? And it’s headed this way?” Foxfire demanded.
The unicorn wasn’t sure what exactly it was about the combination of events that were setting off alarms in her head, but something was definitely wrong. Back and forth the unicorn began to pace, thinking about why Pumpkin Spice’s news had set her on edge so much. What was it about an out of season cold front and it headed for Brightly that…
“Oh Goddess,” breathed Foxfire, turning quickly to Ram and demanding, “Where are the kids?”
Mercy Ram was an experienced soldier and as such knew the value of intelligence and planning, but she had also seen the power of otherwise unquantifiable feelings and hunches. Sometimes facts added up in strange ways for some people that produced results far beyond what could be reasonably expected. Or to put it another way, some people could add two plus two and actually get five.
“All points, location check on your principles,” Ram said into her ever present radio.
“Shield Maiden and Iron Hoof are with Iron Heart at his garage,” came the first reply.
“Crusaders and Skylark are at the school field,” was the second reply on the heels of the first.
“Darter and Thunder are at the Harding farm,“ replied the third group. There was a long pause that made everyone’s pulse beat faster before the last team called in.
“Windweaver is sewing at home. Permission to not be used as a mannequin while protecting the principle?” plaintively asked a male voice.
“I only poked you with a needle once,” Windweaver’s voice could be heard saying from the other end. “I thought all you soldier types could handle a little pain?”
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with protecting the principle, permission denied,” commanded Pumpkin Spice, fighting down a smirk . A smirk that died entirely as she saw that the check-in had done nothing to remove the worried look on Foxfire’s face. “All points, this is Command. Go to Readiness Level Two and remain on alert. Foxfire has a twitchy tail about our incoming weather.”
“Everyone’s okay, Foxfire,” Ram assured the unicorn. “But as you’ve heard, I put everybody on alert just in case something crazy is on its way. IS something crazy on its way?”
Foxfire rapidly paced back and forth as her students looked on with worried faces. This pony was a far cry from the self-assured mother and teacher of the mystic arts they had been expecting today. After several minutes of watching Foxfire wear a groove into the gravel Pumpkin Spice had had enough.
“Foxfire! What’s happening?” Ram demanded, grabbing her principle by the shoulders and looking directly into her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think we’ve got to get to Mayor Montcalm and sound a general alert to the whole town,” Foxfire stated firmly, and out of nowhere the Seed of Fire blazed into sudden existence, the golden bronze falchion instantly grasped in the unicorn’s magic before it could touch the ground.
Ram kept the fear and adrenaline out of her voice and her eyes, but she was far less experienced at controlling her ears, which flattened themselves against her head in readiness for a fight. She knew that Foxfire kept her sword tucked away because it was such a dangerous weapon, but that it would appear on its own to defend its mistress if she felt threatened, which she obviously did.
“Right, let’s go,” Ram responded, nodding in agreement. “But first tell me why.”
“Because, unless I’m very mistaken,” the unicorn paused, her face twisting wryly. “Something wicked, this way comes.”
“Explain," demanded Recon, not at all appreciating Foxfire’s cryptic reasoning.
“On the way. We’ve got to get to Mayor Montcalm right now,” the white unicorn replied, turning and setting off at a ground eating canter that forced her three students into a jog to keep up.
“Why?” Recon demanded again, breaking into a sprint to draw even with the mare who was quick on her hooves in spite of her gravid state.
“Because I think the windigo is on its way back to take another shot at us,” Foxfire explained, turning a hard left to head up Brightly’s long main road; the eyes of passersby were drawn to the obvious urgency of the group.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, that thing’s got no reason to come back here,” countered Recon, though an uneasy feeling began to crawl up her spine.
“We hurt it. We hurt its pride, and its power, and its ego,” the mare recalled, eyeing the distance between where they were and where she wanted to be. “It wouldn’t come back unless it figured we were easy meat, and it wouldn’t do that—”
“Unless it had gotten some kind of power boost,” Recon concluded, seeing where her charge was going with her line of reasoning. “And it would probably look like a big, out of season storm with super cold temperatures. Temperatures that could freeze a town solid.”
Darrell Montcalm was just finishing off his morning paperwork, along with his second cup of coffee. He sighed with pleasure at the sweet taste of the drink, and while he knew that some considered it an abomination, he preferred his cup of joe heavily sugared and with lots of either cream or creamer. Medevac, his doctor, had been regularly after him to reduce both the amount of caffeine and sugar in his diet, but he was too old to change his habits at this point.
Besides, what harm could an extra cup of coffee do?
“Mayor!” shouted Foxfire, as she burst into his small office at the head of a mixed human and pony delegation.
“Gah!” replied the older man, completely taken by surprise. His right arm automatically flailed about in response, sending the remaining half cup of hot liquid flying directly into the just completed two hours of work.
“Dammit,” growled Montcalm, grabbing some paper towels in an attempt to absorb the tidal pool of coffee and save at least some of the morning’s paperwork. “This had better be good.”
“I’m pretty sure the windigo is on its way back here,” Foxfire said in a rush.
“Give me the details,” Montcalm said, forcing himself to sit calmly as Recon and Foxfire spoke of the strange weather that was rapidly approaching their town and Foxfire’s conclusions regarding it.
Darrell Montcalm may have been descended from one of the most famous soldiers in Canadian history, and though he himself was not a military man, the past year had taught him how to roll with the ebb and flow of the strange events that now seemed to happen on a regular basis to his tiny community. Both Foxfire and Recon looked completely serious, and by this time he knew that neither the town witch nor her bodyguard were given to panic.
“How long do we have?” Montcalm asked, and Foxfire breathed a sigh of relief as she realized that the mayor believed her.
“Two hours, maybe less until the stormfront hits us,” Recon said, stepping forward and sketching a salute. “Sir, you and Foxfire are the civilian authorities here. What do you want me and my team to do?”
“Tell your people to get ready to go four-legged,” Montcalm stated, standing up and making his way through the group and walking toward the reception area of the village’s office.
“Margaret, warm up the phone tree. Get everyone to the rec center immediately,” he said to the receptionist, before turning back to the five individuals behind him. “Rest of you, with me.”
Brightly’s firehall and village office were interconnected via a pair of doors and a short hallway that took barely a dozen steps to cross, and the mayor made those steps in less time than it took to think about it. Moving with purposeful strides the older man flipped up a protective cover and brought down his thumb on the large red button beneath.
Above their heads an old air-raid siren spun up to full volume in the space of a few seconds with a torrent of sound that could be heard for miles around. Everyone, except the mayor, put their various appendages over their ears in a vain attempt to keep out the din.
“What the hell is that?” Recon demanded, wincing.
“Fire alarm,” shouted Montcalm. “Cell phones and pagers don’t work in town, so this is how we get the fire crew together. Plus this will reach anyone who isn’t near a phone.”
“But people always have phones with them!” the soldier yelled back.
“NO CELL SERVICE!” yelled the mayor, with a grin as he added, “Which is why I have to do THIS!”
Montcalm then began to push the siren button again in a measured cadence, and each time he did, it made the siren’s restart its banshee wail, resulting in a staccato of sound that felt utterly and totally wrong. The mayor kept up the cringe worthy avalanche of sound until Thunder burst in through the fire hall door a few minutes later.
“Who sounded the alarm?” the pegasus demanded, before seeing his boss and the group around him. “Oh, hey!”
“Hey yourself,” Montcalm replied. “You’re here first, so you get to direct everyone to the Rec Center. Got it?”
“Right,” replied the pony, ruffling his wings, the silver tips of which sparkled with static charges.
“Rest of you, with me,” Montcalm commanded, turning and striding toward the door at the fire hall’s far end.
“Foxfire, you don’t need to be in on this,” Recon said, heatedly. “You’ve got me and my squad. There’s CFB Comox barely an hour away by helicopter. If you think it’s that bad we can call in reinforcements from all over.”
“Recon… Ram, I trust the lives of my children to you, but you aren’t from here,” Foxfire replied with a sympathetic tilt of her head. “You still don’t get how isolated we are here or how little the provincial or federal governments have done for us over the years.”
“But—” began Recon, only to have her objection overridden by the white unicorn.
“Yes, since magic came to Brightly we’ve been getting a lot of things. The old ferry dock refurbished, road repairs, all the work being done at the dam,” Foxfire carried on with, as they all entered the huge open space of the rec center’s gym. “But all of that is recent, and none of it makes up for the neglect of decades. All the requests for help that went unanswered, all the jury-rigs and make do’s we’ve had to create over the years.”
“When it comes down to it, Brightly tends to depend on Brightly,” Foxfire concluded, as the first of many vehicles screeched to a halt outside. “But don’t let that stop you from calling in the cavalry just because we’re a bunch of small town ponies.”
“Like you could stop me,” Recon riposted, reaching a wing for the powerful satellite phone on her harness.
“Like I’d try. Anyway, I’ve got to wrangle my students. If you see Iron Hoof or Shield Maiden before I do, send them my way,” the unicorn answered, before moving over to join Montcalm who was already busy greeting arrivals.
“Okay folks!” Montcalm began, a bare five minutes later. “Foxfire thinks that the windigo is on its way back here, and combined with what I’m hearing from the military I believe her, which means we need to be ponies again.”
“Why isn’t the military here now?” asked a voice from the crowd, gathering several murmurs of agreement.
“Me and my team are here, so is the RCMP detachment, plus we’ve got Polaris and Luna’s friend from American special forces,” Recon spoke up, as she trotted up to join Montcalm and the others up front. “I’ve called Captain Malinski asking for reinforcements and he said that every Canadian forces base is sending everything they can, but that none of them will get here before the storm does.”
“Which means we show the world that Brightly stands together,” declared Foxfire, her voice echoing off the rafters far above. “We stood together in the face of darkness before and by all the powers of light and dark we can do it again.”
“You tell ‘em Mom!” shouted a young voice, and the crowd parted to make way for the Power Ponies, Shield Maiden at their head with the Crusaders forming the core of their advancing wedge.
Recon could feel the doubts of the crowd melting away like snow in August, and she suppressed the urge to try to take military command of the situation. Other than Rios, she was the most experienced military person in the area, and it would have made sense for her to take operational command, but as Foxfire had pointed out, she wasn’t from Brightly. These people had fought for their town before, and Foxfire’s words combined with the arrival of the Insane Eight was raising that army again.
“The moral is to the physical as three to one,” the pegasus murmured, seeing in a moment the way to add her strength to that of the town. Bracing to attention Lieutenant Mercy “Recon” Ram snapped out a parade ground salute and bellowed out, “YOUR ORDERS?”
The crowd whistled and stomped out their approval at Recon’s declaration, but to the pony’s surprise Foxfire instead deferred to Mayor Montcalm. Who simply leaned forward a bit and declared, “Everyone get ready to get your hooves on. Foxfire and Shield Maiden will cast the spell in a minute.”
“I’d like to help with that, if I could,” added another voice, and the eyes of the room shifted to take in the dark furred batpony form of Father Addison and his wife, Natasha. “Sorry about being late, we were asleep.”
“Glad to have you, Father,” Foxfire said, getting a hug from the Anglican minister. “You sure this isn’t a violation of some sort of church law?”
“Oh probably, but wondrous is man and mysterious the ways of God. And I would have no ruling shield my eyes from the glory of His works,” replied the priest with a toothy smile.
“That sounds familiar somehow,” mused the witch.
“When we have time I’ll be more than happy to introduce you to the philosophy of Father Francis Mulcahy,” answered the priest, adding, “Your abilities and mine have meshed before, why not now?”
“Okay, let's do this right then. A circle of thirteen, using all the powers we can muster,” Foxfire said, looking around her at friends and family. “Power Ponies, Crusaders, join hooves. Father Addison, across from me. Windweaver, take the right side of the circle. Recon, you take the left. Captain Rios, are you here?”
“Yeah,” came the gruff voice. “And no, I don’t do this kind of shit.”
“We need you. Hearth and home, sword and shield, Earth and Equestria,” Foxfire replied, trying and failing to keep the begging out of her voice. “We need balance to make this work, and you’re a human who has been touched by Equestrian magic repeatedly. Please?”
“Fine,” growled the soldier, safing his rifle before laying it aside to join the others. “What do you need me to do?”
“Join hands with the others and get ready to repeat after me,” Foxfire said, looking over her shoulder to address her students. “Come here and put your hands on my shoulders. None of you are trained but this will let you feel what a big working is like.”
“Okay folks, get ready, and let's give them a big cheer!” Montcalm called out, loosening his pants and shirt in preparation.
“Brightly!” yelled the crowd.
“In Nomine Sol,” Foxfire began, opening herself to the magic.
“In Nomine Luna,” replied Rios, and Foxfire’s eyes shot up in surprise to see a cocky grin looking back at her as lunar power began to burst from around him.
In Nomine Equus,” Shield Maiden continued, her own horn lighting in power.
“BRIGHTLY,” called the crowd, as glowing outlines began to cover them as well.
“Orbis Terrarum Equorum,” chanted Father Addison with his trained voice.
“BRIGHTLY!” chanted the crowd, feeding their own power into the circle.
“Mannulus Terrae,” chanted Iron Hoof and Apple Bloom, as one.
“Mannulus Caelo,” chanted Windweaver, Skylark, Darter and Scootaloo.
“Mannulus Magi,” came from Foxfire, Shield Maiden and Sweetie Belle.
“BRIGHTLY!” roared the crowd.
“FACTI SUNT NOBIS!” called back the circle, and the transformative magic burst forth with the power of an unstoppable tsunami.
The storm rolled on west, flowing through the atmosphere like a shark through the water, and just as intent on its chosen prey.
“How much longer?” Ash Heart demanded of his companion as the pair rushed across the Kitimat ranges.
“Soon,” advised the windigo, its voice an icy hiss.
Ash Heart looked, and all around him was the wind in a whipped froth of cloud and icy water vapor, coursing along at sub-freezing temperatures and made frozen solid enough to hold both him and his army aloft as he traveled toward his just reward. The unicorn let out a low chuckle as he spotted the first of the deep inlets that marked the edge of the British Columbia coast.
“Other than revenge, you never said why you wanted to come back here,” Ash Heart casually began.
The windigo looked back over at the unicorn with barely restrained hunger and more than a tinge of envy. Ash Heart had taken to the power of the Hand of Franklin with an ease that brought a chill even to the frozen heart of the windigo. More than that, the artifact seemed to have unlocked some deep power within the unicorn, enabling him to “freeze” the minds of the people they had run across, even as the windigo stole the warmth from their bodies.
Combined, the unicorn and ice spirit had created for themselves an army of utterly obedient ice warriors who cared for nothing other than obeying the voice of their masters. In the beginning of their relationship, Ash Heart had definitely been the junior partner, but with his minions and new powers he was nearly the equal of the windigo, and truth be told it worried the old spirit.
“I want, what you have,” admitted the creature at last. “Followers. Underlings, perhaps even other windigos. I have long been alone.”
Ash Heart thought for a moment, considering ways he could use that information to place the windigo under his command. He was, after all, superior to a mere beast of a spirit.
“And you plan on using the people of Brightly for that,” surmised the unicorn, nodding.
“Yesss, their warmth, their community, their magic!” crowed the icy spirit, prancing for a moment in mid-air. “It will feed me enough to create more of my kind. This world is full of selfish creatures who see their fellows as things to be used and discarded. With my full power I can touch them and give them the gift of cold and eternal hunger.”
“As long as I get their bodies, you can have the rest… except for Foxfire and the Crusaders,” Ash Heart replied, drawing another look from the windigo. “They are mine.”
“The mare, I understand,” the ice spirit said. This is why it had gone after Ash Heart. The hunger, the rage, the need to have others offer it everything, while giving nothing in return, all of it made the unicorn a kindred spirit to the windigo. “But why the three younglings?”
“They are from Equestria, the source of pony magic,” the unicorn answered, seeing the coastline beginning to resolve. “They have three diamonds from there. New gems, full of Equestrian power. With those ponies under my control, and the gems in my possession I can find the way to Equestria. Humanity has rejected me, so I’m going to leave Earth entirely.”
“Equestria has Princesses,” pointed out the windigo, before adding, “Get ready. We are almost there.”
“Human or pony, females are weak and easily controlled or manipulated,” replied Ash Heart, surging his magic outward to move his soldiers into something resembling a formation. “Foxfire will kneel to me, and with her magic to open a portal and the stones to guide my path I will set foot on Equestria, and it will be mine to rule as a king like no other.”
“We’re here,” called out the windigo, as the storm reached the north shore of Lake Carmanah. “Now Ash Heart, we both shall have what we want.”
The storm surged around the mountain with a force that would not be denied, and the icy heralds of its winds were a declaration of intent. This storm and the forces behind it had traveled thousands of miles to be here, driven by ancient magics and modern greed, by an aching hunger and the desire for power. It had come all this way to feast on this town and it would not be denied.
But this was not the Brightly that the windigo had known before. This was not the town who had come together via a serendipitous miracle at the last second, nor was it the place of slowly fading memories that it had been before. This was a town that had seen change coming and had taken those changes into its heart, transforming itself as old friends and new had changed from one form to another.
Brightly and its people had accepted those changes not as strangenesses to be feared, but as differences to be embraced and celebrated; to be cultivated, to be nurtured. New and old had become alloyed together like the bronze of the Foxfire swords. Their edge had been hardened by work, sharpened by experience and they strode forth bright and shining, ready to meet this latest threat.
“Darter, Skylark,” rang out the voice of the Shield Maiden, ever ready to protect her home. “Take some pegasi with you and do your best to keep those winds back.”
“On it!” Darter responded, flashing directed glances around and getting answering nods, blushing slightly when his gaze landed on his parents.
Windweaver and Thunder were both powerful weather talents, and it was clear to see where their son had gotten his abilities from, even if Darter had transformed long before his parents had.
“We’re with you, son,” Thunder said calmly, packing as much reassurance into his voice as he could. “You and your sister take the lead, we’ll back you up.”
Darter leaped into the air, with his reticent sister at his side and in their wake followed a phalanx of winged ponies. The weather around Brightly had been a near perfect mix of sun and rain over the past few months, and Darter’s fledgling weather service had been the reason why. However, the ragged formation had barely cleared the rooftops before all of the fliers found themselves buffeted by the approaching winds.
Several of the fliers felt themselves being pushed back down to the ground, ice beginning to coat their feathers as a frigid worm of fear began to worm its way into their hearts. Three of the pegasi were within a body length of the ground before a new warmth began to fill their bodies, energizing them and their wingbeats.
Climbing again, their eyes were drawn to the shining silver wingtips of Skylark, glowing as she shared the magic of her mark with her companions. The pegasus was not the fastest or the most agile of flyers, but for sheer power of flight nothing could or would ever top the Skylark of the Skies. Higher the pegasi rose, and while they could not drive back the storm, they could hold back the worst of its effects, giving time to the others.
“Right Ma’am,” Recon stated, stepping in front of Foxfire and her students, each of who had been delighted to find that they had been changed to unicorns by the transformative spell. “Time to get you and the Crusaders out of here.”
“What?” replied a shocked Foxfire. “I’m needed here. I’m the most powerful unicorn in town, plus I have this.”
Foxfire’s falchion blazed into existence, its eternal fire promising searing retribution to any that dared harm its mistress.
“You’re pregnant, and as much as you try to work around it, it’s affecting you,” Recon shot back, going nose to nose with the mystical mare. “Besides, your students can barely walk, and I need someone to make sure the Crusaders are out of the line of fire and managed. You might not be related to them, but you are a mother, and they’ll listen to you. Who can protect them better? You, or me?”
“Fine,” Foxfire answered in a voice that promised a long discussion later.
“But we can help!” the Crusaders cried as one, their faces set in a comical blend of earnest desire to be of assistance and full on begging.
“And you will,” Foxfire assured them. “First, you help me get my students to safety and then you help me protect the old and very young ponies. Can I count on you?”
“Yes Ma’am!” the Crusaders declared, and as a unit they began helping Summer, Char and Chilly turn their stumbles into something resembling actual walking.
“Head to the school,” Foxfire ordered the sextet, doing her best to be heard as winds in both directions began to roar in earnest. “Medevac is setting up her aid station there. I’m right behind you.”
Foxfire set actions to words and trotted along at the rear of the group, using her magic to help her student’s whenever a misstep threatened to turn into a tumble. The unicorn stopped a moment to look backwards one last time, where a phalanx of earth ponies began to form a battle line with Iron Hoof and Iron Heart at its core.
“Be safe,” she whispered, before resolutely facing forward and trotting quickly to catch up with her group.
Behind Foxfire, the clash of controlled weather was turning into a stalemate, with the windigo’s polar vortex unable to breach the wall of summoned chinook winds. The windigo had the advantage of sheer power and scale, but Brightly’s weather wings had nature on their side, and a powerful ally it was. Over a space of barely ten meters the icy wall clouds from the north surged back and forth against the warm winds of the west, neither side willing to give ground as each probed the other’s defences, seeking a way to push their enemy back.
The two weather systems screamed at each other over that small distance until the windigo’s face appeared on the front of the wall of cloud that marked its side of the strange battlefield to vomit forth a katabatic wail of doom at its enemies. At the pitiful creatures who dared stand in its path with their warmth and their magic, and it was right to be angry at them.
Without even taking a moment to think, Shield Maiden and the other unicorns with her took the blast on a set of instantly summoned shields, and directed it harmlessly away. Twice more the thing from the north tried freezing its foes in place, the second time forcing the unicorns to shift their protection away from themselves to the pegasi up above, as the creature tried to bring them down.
All three attempts met with failure, but that failure was not total. For though the windigo had been unable to take a quick and easy victory, it still succeeded in radically reducing the temperature in the area, strengthening itself and its abilities on the local scale. While not enough for it to freeze the ponies defending Brightly, it was enough for something else.
“What the hell is that?” Recon yelled out, for as the wind began to die down several loud crunching sounds could be heard from the far side of the curtain wall of cloud.
“I… I don’t know,” Shield Maiden answered, faltering somewhat. “Uh… everybody get ready for whatever!”
In that moment, Recon had a realization. For all of her bravery, skill and experience, Shield Maiden was still a twelve year old girl just barely starting the journey into womanhood complete with all the worries, fears and concerns of any young person her age. Shield Maiden was a unicorn pony of great skill and promise, dedicated to protecting her friends and family, but she wasn’t a soldier.
“Everybody! Eyes forward and brace for contact!” Recon yelled out, and as muzzles oriented forward and spines straightened, the soldier pony saw Shield Maiden shoot her a grateful look.
Nor was the experienced soldier’s call a moment to soon, as out from the wall of black storm clouds strode forth something out of a horror movie. Moving blocks of ice and snow, like something from a Minecraft nightmare, walking and undeterred by the strong winds of both sides moved forward with steady purpose and obvious intent.
“Squad, burst fire!” Recon called out, and bringing her modified P90 to her shoulder fired a three round burst into the closest of the dozen figures approaching.
The chatter of the weapons in semi-automatic mode sounded a brassy counterpoint to the basso thunder of the winds, and though Recon could see that her first burst had gone home, it had done little to her target beyond chipping off some ice; though Recon thought she could see something underneath.
The creatures were able to make another step or two before each member of Recon’s team flipped their weapons to fully automatic mode, unleashing a hail of 5.7mm devastation at the approaching enemies. The pegasus felt a surge of grim satisfaction as her first target went down in a spreading corona of shattered ice and blood, and she was sighting down her second target when her command instincts kicked in.
“HOLD FIRE!” Recon screamed out, but not before another half-dozen of the creatures went down.
There, lying on the icy pavement at the top of Brightly’s main street, was the body of a man. His body clothed in jeans and a bullet-riddled t-shirt, with the shattered remains of the ice that had been both his armor and his prison scattered around him. The other downed enemies were the same, men and women, civilians, who had been alive until the bullets of Recon’s protective detail had both freed and killed them simultaneously.
The members of Brightly’s protective detail were all experienced war fighters, with records of involvement in more than a dozen covert and overt operations around the globe. One does not join any country’s special forces simply by collecting bottle caps and the detached members of Joint Task Force Two were no exception to that rule. But even the best can be taken by surprise or shocked into inaction.
Taking advantage of the moment of shock and horror as Brightly’s defenders realized they were fighting flesh and blood opponents, the remaining members of the first wave closed the last few meters of the distance to the line of earth ponies and lashed out. Instantly, three of Brightly’s earth ponies found themselves grabbed in vices of ice and as a deadly cold spread out from the points of contact, each of them began to be frozen into prisons of frigid crystal.
“LET GO OF HIM!” Iron Hoof shouted, spinning to deliver a perfect double back kick to the attacker. Iron Hoof’s blow sent the warrior flying backwards, even as it shattered the ice around the human within, who landed in a groaning heap.
The other two victims were not as fortunate, and within the space of the few seconds it took for help to arrive, their bodies were totally sheathed in ice, disappearing into the frosty, opaque depths, their minds frozen over and chained to the will of the windigo.
“Fall back!” Recon yelled, as dozens more of the creatures emerged from the storm. “Hand to hand only!”
“But we’ve got hooves!” some joker called out.
“You know what I mean,” snapped back Recon, noting with some satisfaction that the defenders were indeed moving backwards in a steady retreat, coming to each other’s aid any time one or more of the ice warriors got close.
“How do we stop them?” Shield Maiden asked, using her magic to set up a large barrier.
“Physical impacts seem to do the job. The problem is that we’ve got to get close enough to them to… aw shit,” Recon commented, seeing two icy pony shapes join the line of attackers.
“Bad word!” Shield Maiden automatically corrected, adding a stern look for good measure.
“How long can you hold that wall up?” Recon asked, watching as more and more of the ice creatures began to pummel the mystical barrier..
“Not long!” yelled back the young unicorn, grimacing in concentration as her shield took more and more damage.
Recon’s mind raced, trying to think of options, noting with worry that the enemy was starting to fan out. If Brightly’s defenders didn’t do something soon, they were going to be outflanked and swarmed under.
“Detail! Prepare to open fire, full automatic,” Recon commanded.
“You can’t!” Iron Hoof protested, coming to stand nose to nose with the soldier pegasus. “Those are people!”
“Not when they’re trying to kill or convert you into a popsicle, they aren’t,” snapped back the pegasus. “It’s us or them.”
And just in that moment, everything suddenly went quiet as both wind and ice warriors became still, stopping their assaults. All eyes turned to the curtain wall of cloud as from it a ghostly horse of wind and ice stepped forth.
“The last time I was here, you defeated me,” stated the windigo, its form effortlessly shifting to that of a translucent, fanged bear. “This time I have allies. This time I have magic and power and strength with me. You cannot prevail.”
For all the obvious hatred on the windigo’s face, the words were delivered with cold dispassion, as if the creature was saying water was wet, or the sky blue.
“You will all be mine. You will all serve me,” continued the elemental. “If you fight me, this time you will lose and become nothing but food for my eternal hunger. Surrender.”
“Why?” Iron Heart asked, his unshorn fetlocks waving as he stepped forward. “You make a pretty good argument for us not to give up. Ever.”
“I will beat all of you, but it will cost me in time and strength I would rather use elsewhere,” admitted the creature. “So I will make you an offer, this one time. Join me, of your own free will as Ash Heart did. Serve me, as he does, and you will keep your hearts and minds. Act as my captains and lieutenants, and you will be raised up as this world becomes my kingdom of ice and snow.”
The cold words settled over the crowd, sinking into hearts and minds as all present considered their options. Darter and the pegasi contingent took the opportunity to land among their friends, and all exchanged worried glances. Each of them knew that surrender was unthinkable, but on the other hoof each of them knew how tenuous their defence was, of how close Shield Maiden’s barrier had come to being shattered or simply outflanked.
“How do we know you’ll keep your word?” Recon asked, trying to draw out the moment, ears flicking backwards as she heard the sound of reinforcements arriving, but without looking backwards there was no way she could tell who or how many.
“Oh, I’ve given you no word,” responded the windigo, shifting its body yet again into that of a spectral alicorn. “But the law of nature rules that the strong survive. Be strong, as my ponies of the storm.”
“Bullshit,” called out a young voice, and every eye went wide as they realized it was Shield Maiden herself who had said the expletive.
“What?” asked the windigo, tilting its head in confusion.
“I said, ‘bullshit’,” repeated the young unicorn, and Recon had to hold back a burst of inappropriate laughter that bubbled up from somewhere inside her. “You’re a liar. A big fat liar, and even if you weren’t it wouldn’t be worth it..”
“I will make sure you live to regret this,” hissed the windigo. “I will chain you in ice, and make you watch as I eat the essence of your f—”
<KRAKOW>
Everyone was forced to blink as the searing light of a scarlet lance of power shot down from above, gouging a head-sized crater from the pavement a bare few centimeters away from the windigo and forcing it to jump back.
“Hey asshole,” Polaris called out, from his old perch on top of Brightly’s hotel and smoothly sliding another round of depleted uranium into his weather hardened rifle. “Remember me?”
“The young lady said, ‘No’. So how about you just chill out,” Rios added, chambering a round into a riot gun while glaring pure death at the windigo from unblinking, jet grey pony eyes.
“Did you seriously just tell an ice spirit to chill out?” Polaris asked, as snickers, giggles, and guffaws rose up from the embattled ponies.
“Yup,” Rios replied laconically, pulling the trigger.
Ten centimeters of hardened rubber leapt out from the riot’s gun muzzle, crossing the distance in a flash and striking hard and true against the chest of one of the ice warriors, shattering its covering to show a dazed looking woman underneath. In response, the windigo glared daggers up at the American soldier, who replied with a universal gesture.
One second Recon was failing to hold back a snicker, the next all hell broke loose as the curtain wall of clouds exploded outwards to engulf the town with a blast of ice and cold. The pegasus managed to hold fast against the now unchecked gale force winds sweeping unchecked across the town, but visibility dropped to near zero.
Recon could just hear Shield Maiden call out for the pegasi to try to drive back the winds, and orienting on that faint voice, the guardian tried to make her way toward one of her charges only for a fresh ice warrior to loom out from the gloom and attack. Recon ducked under one wild swing, and was just wheeling to deliver a ferocious buck when a second creature joined the fight, trying to take her on her blind side.
The next minute felt like an hour as the pegasus exploded into a whirlwind on hand to hoof violence, dodging, striking, and weaving in and out of her opponents like a dervish with its tail on fire. Her opponents were clumsy, but they had the resilience of permafrost and strength like a calving glacier, and despite all of Recon’s skill and courage one of them manage to grasp her left wing by its primary feathers.
Instantly her wing was coated in a layer of ice, freezing it into immobility; and Recon could feel the numbness beginning to crawl into her brain as well. Cold numbed reactions allowed the other ice warrior grab onto her other wing, riming it over as well; and darkness began to fill the soldier’s vision.
“NO!” shouted Recon, as her will to survive and her fighting spirit manifested as one. Lunging forward and twisting as she did, the pegasus broke free of the hold, leaving her confused opponents staring at the huge handfuls of Recon’s primary, secondary and tertiary feathers they held instead of the pony.
The tearing pain kick started Recon’s mind back into full functionality laced with the pure savagery of “If someone tries to kill you, you kill them right back,” making time seem to crawl for the embattled member of Canada’s premier military unit. Scooping up her P90, the pegasus reared up and spun like a ballerina, blood arcing away from her mangled wings as she did so, to bring the butt of the PDW down on the head of first one and then the other ice creature.
Both beings staggered under the blows, and fueled by pure adrenaline, Recon kept up the assault, hammering away until both her enemies were down, their controlling armor of ice as thoroughly broken as the pony’s weapon was now. Panting, wings sheathed in carmine meltwater, the pegasus stood over her fallen foes, the human hosts who had been under the ice bruised and battered, but alive.
“Amateurs,” gasped the pony, turning to try to find her charges again. Despite her wounds, despite her lack of a weapon, Recon headed in the direction she had last heard Shield Maiden’s voice.
It took another minute or so of blind wandering, of stumbling past dazed people lying in pools of shattered, melting ice, or dashing away from ponies being changed into fighters for the windigo, for Recon to at last find her target.
And she was too late.
As the pony stepped out from yet another blinding wall of fog, she walked into a patch of cold, clear air. So clear and cold, in fact, that her hooves froze to the ground almost in the same instant that she realized that she had found Shield Maiden, Iron Hoof, and the windigo.
Iron Hoof stood frozen to the ground like she was, and Recon felt a surge of satisfaction to see the shattered leavings of at least a dozen ice warriors around him. Despite his valiant efforts however, the windigo held a struggling Shield Maiden in its grasp, holding her up like some sort of trophy.
“THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO SHINE A LIGHT INTO THE ETERNAL DARK AND COLD!”
Foxfire moved away from her friends and family at a trot, and as she did the Crusaders and her students fell in with her. The three women had barely been ponies for an hour and their movements showed it, moving jerkily instead of with the smooth flow of people who had been in pony bodies for weeks or months. Luckily, each of the Crusaders had taken it on themselves to shepherd the trio and had automatically split themselves up so that Summer, Chilly, and Char each had a personal trainer.
Foxfire took a few minutes to really look at her students. As they had hoped, the transformative spell had changed each of them into a unicorn. Summer looked like her namesake, with a body like summer wheat, her mane and tail a rosy dogwood with green eyes like the deep forest. Chilly too, had carried her name into her pony body with an ice white mane and tail flowing from a cool blue body with dark eyes.
Char was the outlier of the three, with a mane and tail of mixed red, yellow, and orange hues. A nut brown body and light grey eyes made Foxfire think of a flaming piece of wood, and of the three, it was Char who seemed to be adapting the fastest to her new body as her hooves were more and more finding their four beat rhythm.
“Don’t worry Ma’am,” said the pegasus on her left, another member of the seven pony Brightly Protective Detail with dark brown body carrying a spectrum hued mane and tail. “Recon can handle anything that gets thrown at her.”
“Sorry,” Foxfire replied, realizing she had been wool-gathering as the group moved along. “Recon is usually with me. I don’t think I’ve met you before.”
“I go by ‘Rainbow’, Ma’am,” replied the pony, who for some reason received what looked like a scowl from Scootaloo. “I’m usually working the night shift, so you wouldn’t see me, normally. But today’s a special occasion.”
“What’s with the…” Foxfire trailed off, gesturing with her head toward Scootaloo, who was straining just then to keep a stumble by Summer from turning into a tumble.
“I look like someone close to them back home,” explained the pegasus, as were all members of the Detail. “And the name is another reminder.”
“You aren’t Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo declared, making sure that Summer was fully steady before going nose to chest with the bigger pony. “You aren’t anything like her!”
“Never said I was,” Rainbow said, with neither apology nor rudeness. “I’m me, but I would like to meet them someday.”
“Sorry,” replied Scootaloo, instantly contrite. “It’s just hearing that name, and seeing that mane…”
“I get it,” Rainbow said, wrinkling her nose in thought. “Look, I’m not really welded to the pony name I picked out at first. So, how about you call me, ‘Prism’ from now on. Would that be any better?”
“I… I think—” Scootaloo began to say, before there was a thunderous sound from back the way the group had come.
Every pony looked back up the hill toward where the main group of Brightly’s defenders had chosen to make their stand. They could see the wall of cloud and the dots of the ponies standing in front of it, and between both the ghostly form of the windigo could clearly be seen.
“Looks like you were right, Ma’am,” Prism stated, calmly checking over her weapons. “Not sure what a windigo is supposed to look like, but that’s close enough for me.”
The words had barely left Prism’s mouth before a shot rang out and the wall cloud collapsed, burying the ponies there beneath it and surging outwards like a grey tsunami.
“Everybody! Get close,” Prism shouted, as the wave of cloud bore down on them. “Closer! I want you all in contact with each other so we don’t get separated.”
“Goddess, protect us,” Foxfire prayed, her magic holding the Seed of Fire before her like a burning brand.
A breath later and the ocean of wind driven cloud swept over the small group, trying to drive them under, but whether it was the blade’s unholy sharpness or the warmth of its fire Foxfire’s mystic sword appeared to be up to the task; parting the clouds a mere hoof’s width before it reached the group, but doing nothing to keep them from being battered by a ferocious wind.
“We should get outta this wind!” Applebloom yelled, holding onto Char for physical support. “Maybe get behind a building.”
“No, we follow the road to the school,” Prism ordered, all business. “We’re not too far from there, plus there is shelter and help there.”
“I can keep the clouds back, but I can’t do much about the wind, or the cold,” Foxfire stated. “Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, how good are you with weather control?’
“Not very,” Sweetie Belle replied, shaking her head moresly. “We can do a little, but we’re just fillies.”
“Okay, you keep helping Summer and Chilly along. Char, how are you doing?” Foxfire asked, noting that her breath was starting to fog.
“I’m okay,” Char replied, terse as ever but with an oddly musical intonation to her voice.
“Right,” Prism began, taking charge of the situation. “Char, you and Applebloom take point and guide us to the school. Sweetie Belle and Summer, watch our right flank. Scootaloo and Chilly, the left. Foxfire, you’re tail-end Charlie. Keep those clouds off of us and guard the rear. Let’s go.”
Moving carefully, with the barely visible road as their guide, the group of ponies made their way toward the school where safety and friends waited. However, they had been on the move for maybe five minutes when a series of loud crunches sounded through the clouds streaming around them.
“Everyone stop, and be sure to stay together,” Prism ordered, taking a moment to remove the ammo clip from her gun. She’d heard Recon talk about how there were civilians being used as cannon fodder and while she might not be willing to shoot any hostiles, it didn’t mean she couldn’t use her gun as a nearly three kilo club.
“AAAAHH!” yelled Sweetie Belle, as a pair of blocky ice creatures loomed out of the scudding clouds toward the eight ponies.
A beam of dark purple magic lanced out from Foxfire, striking one of the creatures full in the chest and sending it flying back through the clouds with pure force. Prism took care of the second creature with a literal flying side kick that collapsed the ice man into ice cubes strewn around a now unconscious woman.
“And that’s why we can’t use bullets,” Prism gasped, limping slightly as she got back up. “Good call, Lieutenant.”
The group had scarcely begun to move again when more of the creatures attacked from all around them. Foxfire dealt with the ones facing her in short order with quick blasts of magic from her horn, while Prism dealt with another using a series of close-in acrobatics combined with solid strikes from the butt of her weapon. The pegasus then swiftly flipped over to the other flank to deal with a creature there, leaving a single menacing figure coming straight at Applebloom and Char.
Foxfire was just turning to bring her horn to bear on the thing when a wave of bright yellow magic screamed out from Char’s horn with a sound like an opera singer holding a high note. The energy wave bodily struck the attacker, flinging it back into the clouds and leaving a trail of shattered ice in its wake.
There was a moment of shocked silence, and as the unicorn freshly come into her power looked back at her friends, Foxfire could swear she could hear a triumphant swell of music in the background.
“Call me ‘Synergy’,” the unicorn with the flame coloured hair stated, and immediately got swarmed by a group hug as every pony congratulated her on finding her magic.
“Concentrate people!” Prism commanded, after nearly a minute had gone by. “We’re still in the soup here.”
“Indeed you are,” replied a deep voice, as out of the fog and cloud came a pony with an ash grey body, their mane and tail a grey streaked black. “You were rather stupid to let down your guard. I would have expected better from all of you.”
“Who are you?” Foxfire asked, taking a stand between the newcomer and the rest of the group with her falchion upraised in clear warning. Behind her, the pony pile quickly dissolved back into a defensive formation that watched for more enemies to try to take them by surprise.
“Why Foxfire,” chided the stallion, a mocking smile on his muzzle. “I’m disappointed that you don’t remember me, considering it was your magic that turned me into this.”
“Donavich?” Foxfire asked, a little confused, but managing to place a remembered voice with a briefly seen body. “Major Donavich? The American?”
“I was all those things,” the stallion replied, and Foxfire saw a flicker of something flash through his eyes. “But not any longer. Now, I am Ash Heart, and while your companions will learn to call me ‘Majesty’, you will call me something else.”
“And what might that be?” Foxfire asked, knowing the answer already.
“Master,” confidently stated Ash Heart and from out of the clouds stepped nearly twenty of the snowy soldiers, with more just visible behind them. “Kneel to me now, and save yourself some pain.”
“Play for time if you can,” whispered Prism, in Foxfire’s ear. “My radio is broadcasting everything.”
“Why come after us? After me?” Foxfire asked, lowering her blade a bit as she tried to draw out the unicorn.
“You are powerful, beautiful… and fertile,” Ash Heart’s leer toward Foxfire’s gravid belly made her skin crawl but she held her tongue as megalomaniac continued. “According to your dossier you once called yourself the ‘Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond’, and had begun to take steps to make that title a reality before foolishly limiting yourself. As your master and husband I will free you of those limitations to rule at my side.”
“And what about my friends? My family?” the unicorn asked, frowning as she began to feel a strange pressure in her head, very similar to the beginnings of a headache.
“If my Queen wishes to keep a few pets of her own, I don’t mind. So long as they behave,” Ash Heart replied, if anything his grin was growing wider, becoming a full smile. “Except for Sweetie Belle. She is mine.”
“Why her?” Foxfire asked, trying to force her brain to think. It was like her mental gears were freezing up like an engine without oil.
“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that even you could be so stupid,” Ash Heart snorted derisively, stepping closer, and Foxfire couldn’t seem to muster the energy to move her sword to block his path. “Sweetie Belle’s Equestrian diamonds are linked to her homeworld. Using them and her connection to them I will find the way to Equestria. I will succeed where others have failed, and once I am in there I will be master of two worlds. Earth and Equestria.”
“Wait, what?” Foxfire asked again, it was getting harder and harder for her to follow the thread of the conversation, and how had Ash Heart gotten nose to nose with her?
“All this time living with Equestrians, being near to so much of their power, and never once thinking of looking for a link between their artifacts and the source of their power. Their home,” Ash Heart leaned in close to Foxfire’s ear. “As my queen, you will learn so much…”
The white unicorn shook her head violently for a moment. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. When had she let her sword fall to the ground? Why was every pony around her just standing there with unfocused eyes and slack jaws?
“What… what are you doing to us?” Foxfire managed to demand of her K— of Ash Heart, who had begun to walk around to her backside.
“What I’ve been doing since the moment you first laid eyes on me,” Ash Heart replied, with a satisfied purr in his voice. “Overwhelming your strength with my own, making all of you mine. Isn’t that right, Prism?”
“Sir, Yes Sir!” snapped out the pegasus, going for half-focused immobility to rigid attention in a split second.
“You bastard!” Foxfire roared, wheeling in place as realization triggered a rage that bolstered her failing mental strength. A quick thought was all it took for her sword to leave the ground and form a barrier of fire and bronze between her and the pony who had been insidiously invading their minds.
“You don’t want to do that, do you?” Ash Heart said with a smile, as the three Crusaders zipped into place between the Seed of Fire and Ash Heart to form a living barrier.
“Hiding behind foals!” Foxfire hissed, trying to keep her anger up but feeling Ash Heart’s power nipping away at her will to resist.
“Helping you to see reason,” replied Ash Heart, his horn glowing in earnest now. “That’s it… Take a moment to think. Why would you want to harm three innocent children?”
“I… I wouldn’t,” Foxfire gasped, the need to think causing confusion to grip her and stealing away even more of her anger. “You’re the only… the only…”
“And this is why I want you as my Queen,” Ash Heart said, his voice sounding like someone anticipating a fine meal. “All the others gave in just by being around me. But you, you need my personal attention. You’re worth taking as my own.”
Ash Heart's eyes bored into Foxfire’s and she could feel herself falling into those ashen depths. Her will to resist fading along with the last of her rage. There was a distant clatter as the Seed of Fire fell to the pavement.
“On your knees, Foxfire,” Ash Heart commanded, and Foxfire felt her body obeying even as one last part of her mind tried to keep up the struggle.
Again, the mind controlling pony stepped behind Foxfire and a moment later she could feel his weight settling over her back and withers. Something touched her head at the base of her skull, and Foxfire realized that Ash Heart was standing over her with his horn to the back of her head.
“Even now you could stop me. If only you weren’t a weak, simpering female,” Ash Heart murmured in Foxfire’s ear. “All it would take is for you to rear back and impale yourself on my horn and you would die a free woman, but that would take more willpower than you have left, wouldn’t it.”
A cold sensation began to spread from the back of Foxfire’s head, moving into her mind and freezing away all thought, all passion, all volition. The unicorn tried one last time to hold back the cold tide, but Ash Heart already had far too much of a headstart on her and Foxfire felt her ability to think being frozen into immobility.
Ash Heart smiled as his power began to overflow the mind of the white unicorn. Once she was fully in his power, she and those with her would be more than enough to tilt the battle for Brightly in his favor. After that, Ash Heart would deal with the windigo, taking its power for his own and then with all of Brightly’s magic at his command, and the Equestrian diamonds to give him an aiming point, he would tear open the way to Equestria and conquer it with an army of humans and ponies.
She was almost completely his now, docile and unresisting, and all that remained to conquer was a curious gap in Foxfire’s mind. Ash Heart frowned as the gap seemed to swallow his power like water flowing into a hole, leaving no trace that it had ever been there. The unicorn pushed more power into Foxfire’s mind, determined to overwhelm this apparent last bastion in the mare’s mind, the last hiding place of free will to be found within her..
More and more dark energy flowed out from Ash Heart, pouring into that strange gap, until at long last the unicorn thought he saw something with his arcane sight. A glimmer in the darkness as something seemed to stretch and move. Fearing that the unicorn had found some last reserve of strength or desperate stratagem, Ash Heart struck with every ounce of his mystical might combined with the cold strength of the Hand of Franklin in his heart, determined to end this unplanned struggle.
For long moments afterwards all was cold and silent, and there was not a whisper of a thought from Foxfire. Not a single action that wasn’t autonomic. Satisfied, Ash Heart began to withdraw, certain that the mare was now fully under his thrall and would now obey his every command, but just as he was about to sever the mental link between King and queen, between Master and slave, he heard a word. A single word that chilled even his cold heart…
The windigo paused as it heard that. It could afford to pause. Its prey, the thorn in its side that was Shield Maiden, was writhing helplessly in its grasp with her allies beaten, defeated or neutralized by either the windigo’s minions or the icy cold it surrounded itself with. Besides, waiting would make the meal to come all the sweeter, enriched by the flavours of loneliness and despair that were the spirit’s meat and drink.
“Who dares deny me?” called out the creature of eternal heartlessness, looking around at the few ponies that were still on their hooves.
“I do,” said Father Addison, dropping gently to the ground and not even deigning to notice that his hooves were almost instantly frozen to the rime covered ground.
“You have no power here, pony,” the windigo mocked, adding, “all you can do is be my next meal.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” the bat pony replied, head high and the cross on his chest glowing golden. “But Shield Maiden is my friend, and friends are never alone. So, if she falls, I will be with her.”
“And when you fall to my hunger? When you are cut off and alone? Who will be there for you?” questioned the spirit, who furrowed a brow for a moment in confusion. Was it warmer, all of a sudden?
“My husband is never alone,” replied Addison’s wife Natasha, coming in to land by her side. Her hooves stuck briefly to the ice covered asphalt of the road before the bat pony pulled them loose again. “Even if you take his heart, his very soul; you will still see me looking back at you because we are never alone.”
“Love. Such a lie,” the windigo responded, having to push more of its power now into keeping the temperature cold enough to freeze the mare to the ground. “You think you can stop me with the power of love or some other… feeling? I am the Windigo! I am Cold. I am Loneliness, Greed, and Death. You cannot stop me, because there is nothing else like me.”
“There are always things like you,” Montcalm said, stepping out from the weakening storm, his grey tail streaming away from his brick red body. “And there will always be people like us to stop you. Friends, lovers, neighbors, brothers, sisters, wives, husbands… a community.”
“And people like me are just the point of their spear,” added Rios, stepping forward as the winds lessened further and the walls of cloud grew even thinner. “By myself I’m just an army of one or two, but behind me there’s a whole town ready and willing to take my place. Armies of them, standing together against the cold and dark. Standing against you.”
The windigo felt shock go through its immaterial body as the impossible seemed to be happening. These people were beating it, somehow. The temperature was climbing now, and nothing the windigo did seemed to bring it back down. In desperation, it called to its icy minions, the ones that it and Ash Heart had taken on the way to this accursed place, but they were strangely unresponsive. Unwilling to heed the commands of their icy lord and master.
“How are you doing this?!” demanded the windigo, seeing ice begin to melt away from its soldiers in spite of its best efforts.
“No man is an island, entire of itself,” quoted Polaris, alighting from his perch to join this final confrontation. “Each is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.”
The windigo realized with shock that it was losing. In fact, it was on the verge of being defeated utterly. Warmth and light were beaming out from the ponies that stood before it as if they were all miniature suns, heating up the area to well above freezing. It understood that it now had only one card left to play. Something that it had wanted to take its time with and savor, but that would now have to be done in desperate haste.
“Well, if you are all lining up to be my buffet, I may as well get started,” declared the windigo, dropping Shield Maiden in past its maw and directly into its gullet, where it began to feed on the young pony’s life force and magical energy.
The effects were immediate and massive as stolen power surged into the windigo. The temperature plummeted like a stooping eagle and all around the cold creature water refroze back into ice, cementing every pony to the ground in bonds as strong as iron. As one, the armor of the windigo’s ice soldiers reformed, reasserting its control over its forces, who began to move toward the assembled ponies with clear intent.
The wind began to wail again, merging with Shield Maiden’s cry of fear and despair as she felt herself starting to become weaker and her every attempt at creating a shield was simply swallowed up to drain her even further.
“ROWAN!” Iron Hoof cried out, straining desperately as he tried to reach his adopted sister, but although the ice holding his hooves cracked and chipped, it held firm.
The demonic creature crowed with glee as it pulled more and more strength from its meal. Soon all of the magic from one of the most powerful creatures in Brightly would be a part of it, and then at last this pitiful town would fall to its will. Looking back at the horrified faces around it, the windigo focused on Father Addison’s, “Since you offered priest, you will be next.”
“LET HER GO!” screamed Iron Hoof, steam rising from his body as he threw everything he had in trying to break free.
“Hey kid,” Rios called over, drawing a bead on the young pony with his shotgun. “End this.”
Rios dropped his muzzle a fraction of an inch before pulling the trigger, causing a long length of hardened rubber to launch out from the weapon’s barrel. The baton round crossed the short distance in less time than it took to blink, striking the ice around Iron Hoof’s legs with shattering force and a heartbeat later the pony blurred into action.
Moving faster and with greater purpose than he had ever before, young Iron Hoof swept the Seed of Joy up into his forehooves before pivoting and propelling himself into the air with his rear legs. The strongest of the Furred Five arced earthwards toward the windigo, bringing his shining sword down with all the power and fury of a vengeful god.
Traditionally, the gladius was a stabbing weapon, which was how Iron Hoof instinctively used it. The pony drove the preternaturally sharp needle point of the sword down into the windigo’s back, its following leaf shape blade barely slowing down as Iron Hoof plunged the blade in all the way to the hilt.
In response, the icy spirit seemed to barely notice the massive impact of both pony and blade, staggering only a little before straightening back up.
“Fool,” sneered the windigo, looking down over its shoulder where Iron Hoof clung tenaciously to the weapon’s hilt. “No blade forged of man or machine can hurt me. Steel won’t kill me and neither will lead.”
“Then it’s a good thing my father is a PONY!” yelled Iron Hoof, and touching his soul to whatever it was that lived in his blade, asked, “Please?”
“You have used me well,” said the blade in satisfaction, as it began to glow.
“What? What is this?” demanded the windigo, feeling a strange, forgotten warmth in its heart.
“Joy and happiness,” Iron Hoof replied, sparing a glance to where his sister lay inside the creature.
“You! No!” cried the windigo, writhing as long lost emotions and feelings began to unmake the greed and selfishness at its cold core. “This… I… You cannot do this!”
“What greater weapon against despair, than joy?” Father Addison asked, rhetorically.
Inside the windigo, the Seed of Joy was glowing as brightly as the day it had been forged, radiating heat and light with a golden metallic fire that seemed to bring a smile to everyone present. Even to the windigo.
“I… I remember,” the creature said, with a hushed voice. “I remember my friends…”
Once more the winds and clouds began to fall away as the windigo started to shrink in on itself and the natural order of the seasons began to return. Both Shield Maiden and the Seed of Joy fell free from the windigo’s body as it further reduced in size from a monstrous shape to something more man-sized.
“Rowan!” cried Iron Hoof, gathering his sister up into his forelegs. “I thought we’d lost you.”
“Still here,” the young unicorn replied with a weak smile. “What did you do to him?”
“Him?” Iron Hoof asked, and glancing back, saw with shock that the windigo was now in the form of a man. A very, very old man clothed in the tattered rags of a pair of pants and barely intact work boots.
“George, Jimmy, Charlie,” whispered the ancient human, in a voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry. Klondike gold fever got to me. I never shoulda done what I did. I’m sorry.”
“Do you truly repent of your sins, my Son?” Father Addison gently asked, kneeling at the man’s side as age began to overtake his body even more.
“Aye. I did all o’ you, and all my mates wrong. I went bad a long time ago,” gasped the man, breath coming hard now. “I know I’m headed for the Bad Place, padre. And it’s okay. It’s what I’m due for what I started back then.”
“In that you have repented freely… ” Father Addison began, and the golden lights of both sword and crucifix seemed to become part of the Anglican priest as he continued with, “I commend you, my dear brother, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator. May you return to him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels, and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of his flock. May he forgive all your sins, and set you among those he has chosen. Amen.”
“Th-thanks… “ gasped the man, giving a sudden flinch as his face reflected a dark purple light from something going on down near the school. “But I think yer gonna be needed someplace else pretty soon.”
With sudden, desperate strength the wizened creature reached out, snatching one of Iron Hoof’s hooves in his skeletal hand.
“Never feel bad for what you dun today, boy,” wheezed the old miner. “You set right a wrong, and put light back in a black heart. Never forg—”
Whatever had been holding the over hundred year old body together finally gave way and the miner who had betrayed friends, family and fellowship in the Klondike gold rush breathed his last. The Seed of Joy had reminded him of the joy and happiness that comes with family and community, and in doing so, made a final end to the spirit of the windigo that had haunted northern British Columbia and the Yukon for so very long.
“Requiescat in pace,” intoned Father Addison in Latin, before straightening and adding, “I wonder what he meant that I was going to be needed—”
A roaring sound cut off the priest and every eye turned to a pillar of incandescent dark magenta flame rising up into the sky from down the road.
“That’s Mom,” Shield Maiden stated, in an awed voice.
“Let us hope it is still thy Mother,” replied Rios, his voice shifting in timbre and vocabulary as a mark in the shape of a yin-yang symbol, held in the arms of a crescent moon, appeared on his flank.
“What are you all looking at?’ Rios demanded, in his normal voice a moment later, as everypony stared at him. “Let’s get moving people!”
“No.”
Ash Heart recoiled in shock. Nothing could survive with its will intact after that. Nothing!
“Get off me, you smug idiot,” the white unicorn said, with a tone containing equal amounts of disdain and dismissal. “You look like you’re trying to mate with me, badly.”
“You will obey ME!” Ash Heart roared, slamming more of his sorcerous strength at the mind of the mare beneath him. “You are mine, Foxfire. Body, mind and soul.”
“We’re sorry, but Foxfire isn’t in right now,” replied the mare, with a small contemptuous laugh. “Last chance. Get. Off. Of. Me.”
“If you will not be mine, then you won’t be anyone’s,” Ash Heart growled with anger, charging his horn to put a bolt of power through the back of the unicorn’s head. “DI—AIEeeeeeee!”
Ash Heart was forced to leap off his captive as her mane and tail erupted into sheets of dark violet flame, his panicked flight stopped by the unmoving body of Prism, who continued to be in thrall to the unicorn. As for the mare, she rose with grace and elegance to her hooves, unaffected by the streams of living fire coming from her head and hindquarters.
“How?” demanded Ash Heart, with wide incredulous eyes. “You were beaten! Mine!”
“I really must thank you,” replied the white mare, smiling as she examined one of her forehooves. “I would have never made it back to the waking world if you hadn’t pumped all of that power into me. And for the record, Foxfire was never yours. She is, was, and always shall be mine.”
Ebon Donavich had been many things in both his lives, but forgetful had never been one of them. He’d made a career out of finding weaknesses in others and exploiting them, which is why he remembered the part of the file on Jean Pedersen that referred to her attempt to take over the town months ago.
“Foxfire, Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond, I presume,” Ash Heart said, tamping down his anger to bring out all the charm he could bring to bear. Foxfire may have found some… very intriguing reservoir of strength to stop him from overpowering her, but she was just a female and he could easily outwit her.
“You don’t listen very well, do you?” noted the mare, taking a moment to examine her flaming tail. “So let me explain it slowly to you, in small sentences. Foxfire isn’t here anymore. You put her under. You woke me, and I’m in charge now.”
Ash Heart took a step back, mind racing as he tried to decide what to do next. “So if you aren’t Foxfire, who are you?”
“Nytefyre,” stated the unicorn; and violet magic seemed to flow out from her horn, pulling in dust and debris from all around, obscuring her for a few seconds as well as briefly touching every pony present. When Nytefyre emerged, she was wearing a silver tiara, set with moonstones on her head, with a matching torc around her neck. “I am the ultimate expression of unicorn magic. I am power and majesty, without the constraints of the so-called morals and ethics of the puling masses.”
“Then join me!” Ash Heart said passionately. “Together we would easily take over this town and more. Think of it! You and I, King and Queen of the entire world.”
“Tempting,” commented Nytefyre, as silver boots with elegant filigree came into being around her hooves and fetlocks. “Except for one small problem.”
“The windigo, I agree,” replied Ash Heart, looking back up Brightly’s long main street. “But togeth—”
“Not the windigo,” interrupted the royal unicorn, picking up the Seed of Fire and humming in satisfaction as its flame also took on the same near black shade of her mane and tail. “You, are the small problem.”
“Well yes, I did attack you. And I did try to make you my mind-slave. So I do see how that could be a problem between us,” admitted Ash Heart, bowing his head as he acknowledged the point. “But that was before you allowed me to see your majesty. To see the glory of a true unicorn at the height of her power. You deserve to rule over everything you see. All I ask is that you allow me to help you realize that destiny.”
“Flattering words, and a rather swift change from wanting to rule at my side, to asking to serve me, though I do appreciate a being who can adapt to new realities,” Nytefyre responded, walking with slow measured steps toward Ash Heart.
“Yes! I can work for you, be your lieutenant, help you conquer anyone who dares stand against you. I pledge myself to your service, Queen Nytefyre,” Ash Heart declared, bowing low.
“That reminds me,” Nytefyre said, looking around as she noticed the storm around Brightly fading away before focusing on Prism. “Prism, do be a dear and fly to the clinic. Search for a drawer labeled ‘Nytefyre’ and destroy the contents. Look around for any files with that name on them as well, and destroy them too. Crusaders?”
The heads of all three fillies snapped to attention.
“Go to Thunder’s home, open the bottommost drawer on the right in his study and destroy what you find there. Come back to me when you are done, my little ponies. Understood?” asked the Mistress of Magic.
All four commanded ponies left their queen’s side with as much speed as they could manage to fulfill their appointed tasks.
“What are you doing?” Ash Heart asked, confused.
“Securing my rule. Foxfire’s friends expected my return and made plans to stop me, but they foolishly allowed my host to contribute to them. And what Foxfire knew, I know,” explained the mare, before turning to her three students. “Ladies, I ask that you go to my home. In my kitchen, on the top shelf, will be several jars of herbs. Destroy any whose labels have three black dots arranged in a triangle on them. Be on your way now.”
Summer, Chilly and Synergy each bowed deeply to their mistress before moving away at their best speed and leaving the two unicorns alone. Ash Heart and Nytefyre locked gazes for several moments, and in those depths, the stallion could see no trace of pity, mercy or compassion. Nytefyre was every bit as uncaring and ruthless as Ash Heart had been throughout his life.
“And how shall I serve you, My Queen?” Ash Heart asked, dropping his gaze.
“You… shall serve as an example of what will happen to those who oppose or attempt to manipulate me,” the unicorn replied, her eyes taking on a hard edge.
“I would do no such thing! I have pledged my loyalty to you. All I ask is to be allowed to serve,” Ash Heart claimed, feeling the first twinges of desperation. Whatever this alternate, more powerful version of Foxfire was, she wasn’t falling for Ash Heart’s usual charm.
“You have been trying to worm your way back into my mind with your magic since I first manifested,” Nytefyre noted, advancing slowly; like a lioness stalking a deer. “You barely understand the powers you have been gifted with, the powers that I was born into. You are a fool, and you use your powers like one.”
“What… what are you?” asked Ash Heart, almost begging the question as he gave ground before the fiery unicorn.
“I am a being of pure magic. A creature born of the place where time, space, and imagination intersect to create the wonder that is the universe,” answered Nytefyre, keeping her prey in range and herding it along the street. “I am an Umbral. Born to power, bred to uphold the supremacy of the immaterial over the material, and I have bound myself to this most delightful of mares as my avatar in the physical realm.”
“Get back!” yelled Ash Heart, unleashing a bolt of power from his horn with every erg of strength he could bring to bear, only to impact with as much effect as a squirt gun against a rock face.
“I had thought at first to give you a clean death. Something quick and simple,” the mare commented idly, her silver regalia glinting as the sun began to emerge again. “But my host has a particular hatred of you, and a particular love of movies. Tell me, have you seen the ‘Princess Bride’?”
“Let me go, or I will have all of my soldiers kill themselves,” Ash Heart threatened, realizing his only chance for survival lay in flight, and if he didn’t keep this avatar of magic in front of him busy, she’d take him out the instant he turned to run.
“Go ahead. None of them mean anything to me,” shrugged Nytefyre, gauging how far they were from both the town hall and the school and judging it to be good.
“Fine. But this is on your head,” Ash Heart stated, concentrating on his power. Perhaps a few bodies would be enough of a distraction. Moments passed and the unicorn frowned as nothing seemed to happen. Nothing at all. No bodies falling, no screams… and no magic.
“What have you done?” demanded Ash Heart, lashing back verbally.
“Taken away your ability to use magic,” Nytefyre calmly replied. “And that’s just the beginning.”
“HOW?” pressed the dark unicorn, eyes wide in fear as he began to realize that it was already too late.
“As I said, you barely understand the powers you were gifted with,” responded the mage, rolling her eyes derisively. “Any attack creates a hole in your defenses, and you’ve left yourself wide open.”
Ash Heart felt a strange tugging from his chest, and before he could react a mummified hand appeared in front of him.
“Give that back!” screamed Ash Heart, barely noticing as his rear legs went out from under him. “The Hand of Franklin is mine!”
“This belongs far away,” Nytefyre answered, drawing the relic close to her and telling it, “Go home. Rest, and be at peace.”
Wreathed in the dark violet magic that was Nytefyre’s signature hue, the ancient relic of failure and despair rocketed northwards, seeking its resting place among the bones of HMS Terror. The magical mare watched the departing relic fly through the sky for a few seconds before returning her attention to the stallion in front of her, who was now trying to drag himself away using only his forehooves. A simple levitation spun Ash Heart back around so that he was facing Nytefyre once more.
“What have you done to me?” begged the stallion, fully desperate now.
“I’ve taken away your magic, and your ability to walk,” Nytefyre answered, gently lifting Ash Heart’s chin so she could look directly into his dark eyes. “Next I will take your sight, and the use of your right foreleg.”
“Please,” Ash Heart begged, “Just kill me and be done with it.”
“As I said, I’m making an example of you, and dead examples become forgotten too quickly for my taste,” the mare replied with a dark chuckle that raised the hairs on the back of Ash Heart’s neck. “Every shriek of every child staring at the wreck of your body is going to echo in your ears. Every foal that cries as you drag yourself towards them, every mare who screams out, ‘Oh gods, what is that hideous thing,’ will be yours to cherish. You tried to do to my mount what you have done to a hundred mares in the past, so I am going to make sure you live in anguished freakish misery for the rest of your long life.”
Ash Heart felt a cold wetness beneath him, realizing to his shame that he had voided himself.
“Oh yes, I forgot to mention that bit,” said Nytefyre, laughing openly as bit by bit she wiped out Ash Heart’s control over his own body.
“Aecklpth!” Ash Heart cried out, as the Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond finally withdrew her power from him, having removed his magic, his sight, his ability to move three of his four limbs, and his ability to speak or control his bodily functions.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are well cared for,” Nytefyre gently whispered into the blubbering unicorn’s ear. “You are going to have a long and healthy life, but if you will excuse me, I feel someone waking back up.”
Moving away from the living example of her power, Nytefyre looked up the street where she could see several ponies racing towards her, having won their battle against the windigo. In her judgment, she should have just enough time before they reached her to make sure that her mental house was fully in order. After all, a queen should make a good first impression on her subjects.
“Hello Foxfire,” Nytefyre said, turning her mental gaze inward. “It is time to settle things between us, my host.”
Awareness slowly returned to Foxfire. The throbbing in her head seemed to beat in time with the throbbing of her heart; and she realized that she was looking down at the gibbering mess that was Ash Heart.
What in the names of the Goddess is going on? Foxfire asked out loud, stopping in surprise as she realized that she couldn’t hear her own words. She also had no memory of beating Ash Heart and doing… whatever it was she'd done to him.
Another surprise greeted her as she felt her head move all on its own to look up the street and see her family a few blocks away, running in almost slow motion towards her. Her body then pirouetted to look down Brightly’s main street toward the school, where the distinctive plumage of Medevac was coming towards her.
“Hello Foxfire,” the Umbral said, greeting the unicorn with her own voice.
Oh, Goddess. HOW? begged Foxfire, realizing that somehow the Umbral had returned and was now in control of their shared body. Foxfire was a prisoner in her own mind.
“To be sure, when last we parted I thought it was my end,” the Umbral stated calmly. “The end of magic in Brightly should have been the end of my spirit as it lost its coherency and dissolved back into the aether.”
Damn right it should have been, Foxfire growled, trying and failing again to move any part of her body.
“Neither of us reckoned with just how powerful you are… with just how much you limit yourself,” the Umbral replied happily. “Your innate magic sustained me just enough to prevent the final dissolution, but not enough for me to think, act, or to be aware. In your terms, I fell into a permanent coma.”
Why couldn’t you have just stayed there? Foxfire asked. I was happy! I had my family, friends, even students.
“Blame Ash Heart,” the Umbral replied with a shrug. “In his attempt to make sure that you were fully under his thrall he poured enormous amounts of magic directly into me, thinking he was overwhelming some final mental defence of yours. And, in a way I suppose he was right.”
So now what? Foxfire demanded, throwing every ounce of her will at moving any part of her body. Her left forehoof trembled briefly, but otherwise the Umbral seemed to be in complete control.
“As you feared, your body is now simply a mount for my spirit to ride in. A vessel that will become feared on two worlds as mistress of both Earth and Equestria!” crowed the spirit.
Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you? Foxfire asked snarkily. You’ve only seen a taste of what Earth’s military can do, and there’s no portal back to Equestria.
“No portal, yet,” replied the Umbral smoothly. “Ash Heart was an arrogant, misogynistic manipulator who was far too enamored of his own abilities to ever achieve any kind of lasting victory, but he was right about the link between Sweetie Belle’s diamonds and Equestria. While finding all the gems that Celestia sent to Leung would be enough to guide a portal there, they are so old and weak it would take finding all of them to succeed. From your memories I know that at least two or three of the gems are beyond retrieval.”
“But Sweetie Belle’s diamonds have only been away from Equestria for a few months,” continued the creature. “The link between them and their homeworld is fresh and strong. Sufficient energy of the correct type directed through them would easily open up a portal to Equestria.”
I’ll fight you! Foxfire declared, again throwing her willpower into gaining back control of her body. Night and day, I’ll fight you. You’ll never know a second’s peace because the moment you relax, the moment you let your guard down even for an instant, I’ll take my body back and wreck everything you’ve done with it.
As if to underscore Foxfire’s words, the unicorn managed to make her left foreleg take a small half-step.
“You are strong, and powerful, and vital. Which is why I would expect you to fight my control just as any strong-willed creature would, and why your body is worthy of holding my spirit. However, there is something I need to make clear to you, my host,” cautioned the Umbral, as it reasserted its control over the errant hoof.
Go ahead, threaten me, Foxfire shot back, marshaling her will for another assault. There’s nothing you can say that will make me stop trying to take my body back!
“And if you succeed, if you win, if you manage to slip the reins so to speak… you will never hear my voice in your mind again,” stated the Umbral.
GOOD! mentally shouted Foxfire, preparing her strike.
“Aye, you will never hear my mind in your voice again, but I promise you that one day you will hear it… coming from your foal,” the Umbral added, the words freezing Foxfire in place.
You BASTARD! roared Foxfire. You wouldn’t dare!
“On the contrary, it would be very easy. A foal in the womb is a blank slate for a creature like myself, with no developed personality to oppose me. Slipping into its mind would be as easy as putting on a new sweater,” the Umbral replied calmly. “Plus, your child will be heir to both your mystical strength and to Iron Heart’s physical prowess and skill with artifacts. A child of destiny and a fitting host for myself.”
No… whispered Foxfire, realizing how right Luna had been to worry. Please. Don’t. I’ll… I’ll behave. Just, don’t take my child.
“That is our bargain then. Your willing service as my mount, in exchange for your child being born unaffected by my power and in control of its own mind,” said the Umbral, and Foxfire felt the jaws of the creature’s trap close around her, sealing her fate.
Agreed, Foxfire replied, seeing no way out.
“Agreed what?” asked the Umbral. The players were all almost in place now. This was endgame.
Agreed… Master, was Foxfire’s dejected reply, accepting her defeat. The Umbral had won and both of them knew it. The unicorn’s only hope was that one of the preparations her and her friends had made would be enough to take her down before she did too much harm.
With both Ash Heart and the windigo defeated, their remaining winter soldiers abruptly stopped moving, and as their icy mobile prisons shattered they revealed several hundred very confused residents of the Northwest Territories who had no idea where they were or how they had gotten to British Columbia.
Polaris’ radio began to come alive with calls as both citizens and soldiers began to ask questions, check in with each other, and generally ask for some direction as to what to do next.
“All stations, this is Recon,” called the pegasus, swooping in to make a smooth transition from flight to cantering along with the rest heading down Brightly’s main street. “Hold what you’ve got. Take any wounded to the clinic, refugees to the Rec Center. When I know more I’ll pass it along. Recon out.”
“Thou art a fine leader, even though you seek to reject the mantle of command,” Rios noted, his speech slipping into an archaic mode as his body seemed to shimmer with a dark blue outline and phantom wings that faded in and out of visibility.
“Rios, what the hell man?” Polaris asked, as he moved up alongside his comrade in arms.
“Luna,” Rios growled, in his normal voice. “Damn mare must have been sneaking bits of herself into me during our sessions. She’s popping in and out of my mind like a damn yoyo. Stop sticking your nose into my brain!”
T’is needful, my soldier, whispered a voice in Rios’ head. But I agree that this is a violation of your trust. When next we meet in the flesh you may claim from me such forfeit as you deem necessary for redress of this wrong.
An image flashed in the soldier’s mind of him astride a saddled, dark blue alicorn, the reins to her bridle held confidently in his hands as he put the mare through her paces. “If you’re riding me, I’m riding you!”
Very well, sighed Luna. You may have me as such for a day.
“A month,” countered Rios, aloud.
A week, responded the alicorn.
“Two weeks,” Rios shot back, while everyone stopped and stared as they tried to figure out what was being said from only one side of the conversation.
Done, agreed Luna. Carry on as you would normally. I will speak and use my magic through you as needed, but you are in control of our physical actions.
“Right, none of you could hear that,” Rios said, taking in the confused looks of those around him. “Apparently Luna’s riding along in my head so I just cut a deal with her for payment.”
“But she wouldn’t be doing that unless… “ Shield Maiden began, still weak from what the windigo had done to her, but being carried along on Iron Hoof’s back. “Oh no.”
“Yeah,” replied Iron Heart grimly, and as three lengths of burning bronze took station alongside their wielders, the rest of the ponies present realized that the true battle lay ahead of them.
Medevac however, was the first to arrive at the sight of Ash Heart’s defeat, being significantly closer to the scene than the rest. The pony sworn to the preservation of life was wholly focused on the downed stallion as she glided in and immediately began checking Ash Heart’s condition via the gliding touch of her diagnostic feathers.
“Foxfire, what did you do to him?” the medical pony asked, over her shoulder. “It’s like most of his nerves have… forgotten how to send signals down to the rest of his body.”
“Though one of your duties will be to ensure he lives, do not concern yourself overly about him,” Nytefyre replied, shaping a bit of conjured silver in her magic. “Rather, concern yourself over your failure to greet your Queen properly.”
“Jean, this is no time for jokes. I need to know what…” began Medevac, her voice trailing off as she turned and her eyes took in the crown and torc below the ethereal, incandescent purple of Nytefyre’s mane and tail. The mare’s wings flared out as she realized what had become of her friend. “Oh shit.”
“You will not attempt to run,” Nytefyre quietly commanded, with a sure and confident voice. “I can seize your mind before you are more than a hoofwidth above the ground.”
“Then why haven’t you?” the medical pony asked, trying to remember if she had packed a certain syringe among her supplies today.
“Because my host begged me to allow her friends and family their free will,” answered Nytefyre, adding a last personal touch to the piece of jewellery she was crafting. “I agreed to it, and so long as you reasonably obey my orders and do not fight against me I will honour that request. Now, will you bow willingly and be a member of my court, or must I take your mind from you and have you serve as a mindless drone?”
“My Queen,” Medevac responded, dropping into the graceful, wings forward bow Nytefyre had taught her in the past back when the Umbral had tried the path of slow subversion of the town to its will. “How may I serve—”
In mid-sentence Medevac transformed her bow into a sudden lunge forward, her left wing flashing toward Nytefyre’s neck with a quick injection syringe loaded with a cocktail of powerful sedatives and psychotropics guaranteed to put any pony down and keep them either unconscious or confused for hours. Fast as Medevac was though, Nytefyre’s mind was even faster, locking the pegasus in place with a minor use of her magic.
“I knew you had that, just as I know all of your plans to stop me,” Nytefyre said with a small smile, and Foxfire’s heart sank as she heard the words.
The unicorn tilted Medevac’s chin up so that she could place a small silver choker around the pony’s throat. A small dark purple flame emblem flared into being along the silver circle, burning away Medevac’s ability to resist any command she was given. “Now, let’s try this again. Medevac, drop the syringe and crush it underhoof.”
The now enthralled pony dropped the metal and plastic of the syringe to the pavement before smashing it to bits with a couple of quick stomps. Order complete, the obedient drone came to attention before the Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond.
“Now, let’s start over,” Nytefyre said, taking a quick moment to ensure that the enchantment on the choker was doing its job properly. “Greet your Queen properly.”
Again red and white wings swept forward, their tips touching the ground alongside the forehead of the obedient pegasus, and this time the bow was reverentially held until the pony’s queen commanded her again.
“Rise, and stand behind me to my left, as a good retainer should,” Nytefyre ordered, her face confident and regal, as the large group of ponies from the far end of town closed within a hundred meters. “We shall greet my children and my consort together.”
Nytefyre spent the next minute crafting more conjured chokers with her magic, setting them into a neat stack on Medevac’s back. The Queen of Brightly looked up just as the assembled group of ponies that had successfully defeated the windigo drew close to her. The white mare raised a single eyebrow in recognition of the blades and guns leveled in her direction.
“I assume this means you are aware of whom you face, and that any attempt at subterfuge would be a wasted effort?” the unicorn asked, taking in the faces of the group one by one.
“If you have truly fallen to darkness Foxfire, then it is the duty of those who walk in the light to oppose you,” Father Addison stated, the glow from the cross at his breast gleaming golden.
“She has not fallen to darkness, but rather been overtaken by a different kind of light,” was Nytefyre’s response.
“Jean?” Iron Heart asked, stepping forward, the Seed of Justice at his side. “Are you in there? Please, don’t make us do this.”
“Do what, my consort? Attack me? Strike down the pony you love, the mother of your foal? Would you really do that?” Nytefyre asked with a laugh. “Kill a pony who has killed no one? Where is the justice in that?”
“We won’t kill you, but we’ll do what we need to to keep our children safe,” Iron Heart stated, some of the power of his weapon adding steel to his words.
“I will make all of you this offer once, in Foxfire’s name: Do not fight against me, give me reasonable obedience. In return you shall retain your free will and be honored members of my court,” the sorcerous mare said to the group, readying her magic for the likely outcome. “What say you?”
“Get bent,” was Rios’ response, as he pulled the trigger of his riot gun.
The last thing that Rios expected to happen was for the barrel of his weapon to catastrophically fail, sending him flying backwards and making every pony except Nytefyre and Medevac to reflexively duck and cover. Taking advantage of the diversion, the Queen of Brightly used her magic to launch a volley of chokers at the ponies confronting her.
Dark flames briefly flared at the throats of Father Addison, his wife Natasha, Polaris, and Darrell Montcalm as enspelled necklaces attached themselves to their targets, burning away the free will of those four. Silver also flew towards Iron Hoof, Iron Heart, and Shield Maiden, only to be intercepted by gleaming lengths of sun-bright bronze.
“To me, my ponies,” commanded Nytefyre, and as the others watched in horror some of their best friends joined their enemy.
“How the hell did she do that?” Rios asked with a groan, getting back to his hooves and assessing the damage.
“I crimped the barrel of your weapon halfway down its length,” Nytefyre replied, using her magic to nudge her new retainers into formation. “Which is what I will do to anyone foolish enough to threaten me with a gun.”
“You can’t do that to all the guns,” Rios shot back, feeling Luna riding along the back of his mind, lending extra strength to his limbs. “And even if you can, you can’t stop tanks, and jets, and missiles.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. But with the tree’s magic empowering me and Foxfire’s body freed of her absurd self-restrictions I’m nearly as strong as an alicorn,” replied Nytefyre, standing tall and confident before them all. Regal and in control of the situation. “I could probably move the moon if I put my mind to it.”
She might indeed be able to do it, Luna whispered to Rios. Before my sister and I ascended, groups of unicorns would move both sun and moon.
“Mom?” Shield Maiden asked, stepping hesitantly forward to stand between the two groups. “Are you still my mom?”
“Your mother is still a part of this body, child. Her consciousness is separate and aware of what is going on around us,” Nytefyre answered, smiling down at the young pony. “Promise to be good and I’ll let you talk to her from time to time.”
“Don’t listen to her!” Iron Hoof hissed. “That’s just the Umbra thing talking. It lies all the time.”
“It costs me little to grant those that Foxfire cares for some clemency,” stated the unicorn, tilting her horn in acknowledgement of her own point. “Obeying me is obeying her and I will never command you to act against your natures, so long as you do not attempt to betray me or attempt overthrow my rule we should get along well.”
“Let me talk to her,” Shield Maiden begged, stepping a little closer. “If you’re my Mom too, or part my Mom or… I. I just want to talk to her.”
“Rowan?” came from Nytefyre’s mouth, and though it was the same voice, the inflections in it warmed Shield Maiden’s heart. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger. But it was a choice between giving it my body or the baby’s. Do what you think is right.”
“Oh Honey… “ Iron Heart sighed, realizing the terrible choice his wife had made.
“Arn… it wants to be Light Yagami,” Foxfire blurted out with fearful speed. “You need to be—”
“And that will be enough of that,” Nytefyre interjected crossly, re-assuming full control over her body before turning her attention back to Shield Maiden. “What will it be, young unicorn? Stand at my side and you can both be with your mother and learn sorcery from a being who is quite literally made of magic or you can oppose me, as the men of this group seem bound to do.”
“Light… Light Yagami,” muttered Iron Heart, trying to place the reference. He knew from the name it had to be something from an anime, but he had watched dozens with his new wife, and not all of them had been engaging. “I know that name.”
“O-okay,” Shield Maiden hesitatingly said, moving up next to Nytefyre, who gave her newest apprentice a comforting nuzzle.
“Oh shit,” Iron Heart blurted out, his eyes going wide as he finally made the connection. “Death Note. She wants to be a god.”
“Goddess,” corrected Nytefyre, placing a small tiara on Shield Maiden’s head, who flinched briefly at the contact of cold metal on her brow but was seemingly unaffected otherwise. “And this young pony will act as my conscience, so that I can be a benevolent deity.”
“Rowey? You can’t… you couldn’t!” Iron Hoof demanded of his adopted sister.
“It’s my Mom,” Shield Maiden stated, tears in her eyes as she lifted her blade into an approximation of a guard position. “If there’s even a chance I can get her out of there, I’ve got to take it.”
“Looks like it’s just the three of us, kid,” Rios replied, drawing a combat knife from his gear. “Time for guts and cold steel.”
“Shield us, daughter,” Nytefyre commanded, and in response the young unicorn brought into being a defensive barrier. As the Queen of Brightly looked over at her foes, she smiled and sighing slightly said, “You are outnumbered, and none of you possess the magic to either dispel my daughter’s shield or protect yourselves against my magic. Will you lay down your weapons or will—”
A beam of brilliant cyan launched out from Rios’s forehead, punching through Shield Maiden’s barrier as if it were no stronger than a soap bubble and breaking it apart with a sound like shattering glass.
“I know that magic!” hissed Nytefyre, confidence and poise supplanted in an instant by raging fury.
“Avaunt, fiend,” Rios bellowed, but it was Luna’s voice that echoed out and not that of the American soldier.
“Charge!” yelled Iron Heart, dashing forward as the fight began in earnest.
“Gotta get there, gotta get there,” Seeker panted, as her hooves finally touched pavement. The youngest of the Furred Five had heard the radio chatter and knew that her family was in desperate need of her help. Urgency lent endurance to young legs as she broke into a full gallop, the shining bronze of the returned gift to a magic tree flying along at her side.
Back and forth the fight raged on the eerily quiet street as steel battled sorcery. Rios, Iron Heart, and his son Iron Hoof were all physically much more powerful than their opponents, but Nytefyre and her daughter were likely the two most powerful magic users on the planet. Time and time again plunging blades were stopped cold by walls of force, or deflected by the mystic blades that rode at the mares’ sides.
On the defensive, all three stallions were forced to step quickly as Nytefyre launched bolts of power at them, or used her mystic abilities to animate various objects to act as weapons. Once, a power cable torn down from a nearby electrical pole had wrapped itself around Rios’ hooves, attempting to hogtie him in its coils. Only the quick intervention of Princess Luna, riding along with Rios in spirit, had managed to save the American.
That, and the fact that it was Shield Maiden who attacked while Rios was briefly vulnerable. The soldier could see the hesitation and fear on the young mare’s face, how she would rather be doing anything else than what she was doing, and it was that reluctance to attack that saved the day.
This is not right, whispered Luna, inside of Rios’ mind, as Shield Maiden retreated back to Nytefyre’s side.
“No shit lady, “ Rios shot back, aloud.
You do not understand, my soldier, replied Luna, and Rios could hear the frown in her voice. Nytefyre is almost as strong as I am, she should have already defeated us. The only reason we are not all bowing down to her right now is that I am with you and the Seeds are with the others, protecting their minds.
“If you’re stronger than her, then why aren’t you stopping her?” Rios asked, stepping back a moment to catch his breath. Nothing beat combat as an aerobic activity. Nothing.
There is only so much I can do without being there in the flesh, my soldier, explained Luna, as the two of them watched Shield Maiden stop an attack by Iron Hoof on Nytefyre by simply putting one of her shields against his upraised hoof, denying it any downward momentum. And that was before I was able to take her measure. We should already be lying prostrate under her power, or swamped by her ensorcelled minions. Why is she holding back?
“You know, every time you say, ‘My soldier’, I’m adding a day to your time in the dressage ring and trail riding,” Rios testily fired back, waiting a moment to add, “hey, I’ve got an idea. Can you crank up my hearing?”
Of course, my soldier, Luna stated, with a playful edge to her voice that belied the seriousness of their situation. And for the record, I prefer English tack. Black, with silver accents.
Rios started to wonder why Luna would have a preference in tack in the first place, and his mind deciding that he most definitely did not want to know allowed him to ignore the sudden popping sensation that came from his eardrums as the Princess of the Night enhanced his hearing as requested.
“The next time Iron Hoof attacks, use your magic to hit his knee from the side,” Rios heard Nytefyre advising the small unicorn at her side.
“But that’ll hurt him!” Shield Maiden protested, and Rios could see the anguish on the young pony’s face. Clearly Shield Maiden didn’t want to be fighting anyone, least of all members of her adopted family, but she loved her mother and the power of that love had forced her into the position she was in now.
“Yes, it will,” acknowledged Nytefyre, her silver torc and coronet gleaming in the summer sun. “But it will also take him out of the fight in a way that will not kill him.”
“But… but,” stuttered the young pony.
“Would you rather he fight on until I am forced to kill him?” The Queen of Brightly and the Lands Beyond asked, even as she parried Iron Heart’s Seed of Justice with her own blade while simultaneously knocking Iron Hoof back.
“No… “ Shield Maiden admitted, lip trembling.
“Then do as I ask, my child,” Nytefyre commanded, her voice almost sounding like Foxfire’s for a moment. “Give your brother the mercy that I cannot.”
Why does that sound incredibly sinister to me? Luna asked Rios in the vault of his mind.
“Because it’s damn evil,” Rios replied, growling in a very unpony-like fashion. “She’s trying to make Shield Maiden hurt other people. She’s trying to—”
Corrupt her innocence, Luna interjected. Have her commit a small sin, for a supposedly good reason. And then the Umbral will have Shield Maiden do something slightly worse, and then worse again, until the Shield Maiden becomes War Maiden, a pony just as dark and destructive as I once was.
“And all it’s gonna take is that first step, and then anytime the kid tries to step back into the light, Nytefyre will remind her what she did and the guilt will weld the kid back to her mother and then straight down the garden path to hell,” Rios confirmed.
Evil always seeks to corrupt what it cannot destroy, Luna growled, in an unconscious echo of Rios moments before. What is thy plan, my soldier?
“Intervention,” Rios stated, adding, “that’s three, by the way.”
Fire swept up to block descending Justice, and the two blades locked in place for a moment over Nytefyre’s head. Iron Hoof sprang forward, planting his forehooves to begin a spinning buck with his powerful rear hooves. As his body pivoted, he failed to see one of Shield Maiden’s constructs sweeping in toward his knees from the side to buckle or even snap the joints that were currently supporting all of Iron Hoof’s weight.
The club of orange light swept in, only to be stopped cold as it impacted against Rios’ leg. A leg that was also buttressed by Luna’s cobalt blue magic. Youthful eyes widened in surprise as they found themselves looking into much older and wearier ones.
“Trust me kid, you don’t want to do that,” said Rios. “Hit me if that’s what you need to do, but take it from me, you’ll never forgive yourself if you—”
“BE STILL!” Nytefyre yelled, blasting aside Rios with a lance of indigo flame. “Now Shield Maiden, protect your mother!”
“I… I… “ stuttered Shield Maiden, torn between conflicting loyalties and paralyzed by the indecision that came with it.
“Protect your mother,” Nytefyre ordered, straining slightly as Iron Heart pressed his sword closer to the dark queen.
“I’m sorry, I’m sor—” Shield Maiden began.
“Stop!” yelled an approaching voice. Rios, Shield Maiden and Iron Hoof all turned to see Seeker running toward them at a full clip, the Seed of Giving riding along at her side.
Nytefyre’s eyes flicked up the road, seeing the rapidly approaching earth pony with the fifth of the five Seeds. Calculation flashed, and using a short burst of her magic Nytefyre pushed Iron Heart’s sword upwards, gasping, “Quick! Help m—”
Either Seeker hadn’t heard Nytefyre or thought that the only way to get everypony to stop fighting was to make them stop, and so she did what she believed would get everyone’s attention, throwing her sword into the gap between her mother and her adoptive father in order to get them to move apart.
End over end flew the length of burnished bronze, powered by earth pony strength and a child’s desperation. The gladius flew straight and true, until it collided edge on with the longsword that was the Seed of Justice. The blade’s path deflected downwards briefly, where it struck the falchion form of the Seed of Justice. The two collisions changed the flight of Seeker’s sword from a straight predictable line into an unpredictable quivering spiral path.
Up and over the gladius pivoted, jerking and shuddering as it twisted along all three axes of motion. It slid past the Seed of Fire, and eluded a quick attempt by Nytefyre to grasp it in her magic, sliding its preternaturally sharp edge toward the unicorn in its curving flight. Nytefyre tried to flinch away from the blade as it came at her, but it was far too late, and the Seed of Giving drew blood from a long, shallow cut along the Queen of Brightly’s left leg and shoulder.
For a moment everypony stood frozen while blood oozed from the wound, and the hilt of Seeker’s sword waved back and forth, a full ten centimeters of the blade buried in the asphalt at Nytefyre’s hooves.
“You cut me,” stated Nytefyre, her eyes turning into pools of flame. “YOU CUT ME!”
“I’m thorry!” Seeker lisped, shock and sorrow on her face as she skidded to a stop near where the fight had been happening. “I’m tho—”
“HOW DARE YOU HARM YOUR QUEEN!” roared Nytefyre, her indigo magic blasting out in a wave, smashing everypony in sight down to the ground and pinning them there.
“You’re going to pay for that,” hissed the unicorn, moving to stand over the filly, the Seed of Fire hovering above like an executioner’s blade.
“Stop!” Iron Heart and Iron Hoof gasped out together, father and son both trying to use their enchanted swords to break free, to stop Nytefyre, to do anything; but the umbral ridden unicorn had thought of that already, pinning the four other swords to the ground alongside of their bearers.
“I’ll deal with the rest of you later,” commented Nytefyre, and turning back toward Seeker asked, “Any last words?”
“Please Mom,” begged the filly, tears coming from her eyes. “PLease!”
“Good enough,” said the unicorn, as the blade swept down.
There is something that you never do.
If you are smart, if you value your continued existence, if you have any hope of seeing tomorrow there is one thing that you never, ever, do.
Attempt to harm a mother’s child in front of her.
As the Seed of Fire descended toward Seeker’s neck, the sight of her child in mortal danger roused Foxfire from her defeated passivity. Roused her and filled her with the same terrible rage and fury that had once driven her to murder a man she had once called husband.
Everyone present became wide-eyed with astonishment as the body of Nytefyre suddenly staggered to one side, the Seed of Fire burying itself into the ground next to Seeker’s head. Back and forth Nytefyre’s body jerked as if rocked by impacts that no one could see, reflecting the inner battle going on inside the unicorn’s mind.
“You can’t win, Foxfire,” came from Nytefyre’s mouth. “I control this body.”
MY CHILD! screamed Foxfire, raging as she flung mental blow after blow at the Umbral.
“I have your magic. I have your body’s physical resources,” replied the Umbral, its outward voice taking on a strained tone as Foxfire’s unrelenting assault forced the dark entity to devote more and more of its strength to containing the host personality of its body.
“MY CHILD!” screamed Foxfire again, breaking through in part to the outside world. “NO ONE TOUCHES MY CHILDREN!”
“That… may have been… a mistake,” admitted the Umbral, and being forced to draw fully on the physical and magical resources of its host body it began to slow Foxfire’s advance.
“DIE!” roared Foxfire, assaulting the Umbral’s mental bastions for all she was worth.
The Umbral’s psychic ramparts chipped and cracked under the blows powered by near insane levels of rage, but they held firm under Foxfire’s ultimate assault, giving the Umbral time to begin weaving a counter-assault in order to bind Foxfire back into her corner of their shared mindscape.
“Let’s talk about this,” said the Umbral, reasserting its control over their body’s voice, and strengthening its defenses further.
Jean Pedersen, the Foxfire, could feel herself being pushed back, she could feel her enemy preparing to bind and cage her again. Twice in her past, she had been placed in a hopeless trap from which there had seemed no escape, and twice she had fought her way clear. There would be no third time.
Foxfire called out, and Fire answered her call, the Seed of Fire hearing the summons of its true mistress and obeying. Pure, unadulterated power poured out of the mystic blade and into Foxfire, setting her mind alight and roaring her mental strength back up to levels that made the Umbral suddenly realize that it might have severely underestimated the unicorn it had possessed.
Foxfire’s vision was wreathed in flames. Her mind became a blazing inferno. Her legs were flames, Her body was flames. Her hooves were flames that began to rip and tear at the Umbral’s mental fortress like a blowtorch attacking a sheet of paper, and to the shock of those watching, her physical body became wreathed in flames as well.
Fire needs fuel, after all.
“Stop!” the Umbral cried desperately, utterly shocked at the power Foxfire was now bringing to bear. “Burning away your very life force in a vain attempt to destroy me won’t do anything except kill us both. You are searing away your soul!”
“SO WHAT!” raged the mother, nearly through her enemy’s defenses, even as her physical body changed to become a pony of living fire. “What are you going to do if I stop? Enslave me again? Kill me? MY Town? KILL MY CHILDREN?”
“Stop! Please! You don’t have to do this!” pleaded the Umbral, as Foxfire towered over it in the mindscape. Terrible and powerful. A fiery phoenix burning herself to ashes.
“BURN YOU MOTHERFUCKER, BURN!” roared the voice of flame from within and without as the phoenix pony fell on the Umbral with every bit of the staggering power at its disposal.
The dark spirit made one last attempt to defend itself, drawing all of the power and strength it could, but the burning spirit of Foxfire blew through those last desperate barriers as if they didn’t exist at all. Terrified of what it had unleashed and afraid for its very existence, the creature tried to find somewhere to hide within Foxfire as it had before, only to find that wherever it ran, that place was on fire as well.
“I surrender!” cried the Umbral, in a last attempt to save itself. “I’ll be your slave, your servant! Just don’t—”
Whatever else the Umbral was going to say was lost to the mists as Foxfire cornered it at last and utterly incinerated it, burning it out of existence like the cancer it was.
“J-Jean?” Iron Heart asked, standing up. Though he hadn’t been able to witness the final battle, he felt Nytefyre’s pinning magic fade away, as he carefully approached the creature of living flame that was his wife.
“I’m here,” said the pony, two incandescent eyes looking out from a face of fire. “Everyone safe?”
Iron Heart nodded, struck dumb as a terrible foreboding seized his heart.
“Mom?” Seeker asked, getting up from where she had been pinned to the ground.
“I love you, honey,” Foxfire replied, looking around. “I love all of you, but I think I’m going to have to go away now.”
“NO!” screamed Shield Maiden, only for Iron Heart to hold her back. “You can’t go!”
“Arn, you take care of our kids, okay?” Foxfire asked, feeling her flames begin to die out. “I love you, with all my heart.”
“Jean… I… “ Arnold Kye’s iron heart moved into his throat as he realized he was about to lose another woman he loved. Tears poured from his eyes, as all he could manage to do was nod his answer.
“I am,” Foxfire stated, looking around at the group of family and friends around her, some just shaking off the mental shackles Nytefyre had bound their minds with, “and always shall be, your friend.”
The pony of fire collapsed to the ground, its fuel nearly exhausted. Ash began to replace flame as the last of Foxfire’s life burned away.
“Good—” was the last word the blazing mare spoke as she collapsed into ashes, the flame of the Seed of Fire guttering low and flickering in its own dying moments.
“QUICKLY!” Luna commanded, taking swift control of Rios’ body, and causing him to step forward and place his hoof on fallen Foxfire’s sword. “There is yet hope. Touch your blades to Rios here, and think of Foxfire. Think of your wife and mother.”
With desperate hope, the four remaining wielders of Brightly’s magic swords did as they were asked.
“Seed of Joy, help me make them smile again,” Luna begged, as Rios wisely held his peace. The partnership between himself and Luna had been one filled with give and take all along, and it was his turn to give control just now. “Seed of Justice, help me right this terrible wrong. Seed of Love, help me restore the one who lives in their hearts. Seed of Giving, give me the power to do what is needed.”
The four swords glowed, answering the call to action, and urged on by their wielders lent their strength to the Princess of the Night, the Princess of Dreams. Rios’ body shone like the sun for a moment, its brilliance causing everyone present to look away for an instance. When everyone looked back they could see the translucent form of Luna standing beside Rios.
“Thank you,” the dreamwalker said, before turning to the Seed of Fire.
“You once said that with your power, nothing is impossible. Prove it. Take me to her,” Luna commanded, and every eye went wide as the princess’ spirit dove into the bronze depths of the dying blade.
Silence reigned for several heartbeats before Medevac finally asked, “Now what?”
“Now we pray,” Father Addison replied. “Pray, and hope for a miracle.”
“—bye”, Foxfire finished saying, and then stopped, realizing there was no one around to say anything to.
Everything had changed around her. No longer was she lying on the asphalt of Brightly’s main street, surrounded by her friends and neighbors, but rather, she was lying alongside a pathway made of glowing motes in a dark place that was lit by what looked like stars, nebulae and comets that lent an otherworldly aspect to the environment.
“Am… am I dead?” Foxfire asked out loud, slowly and carefully getting to her feet. Feet. She had feet. And legs, and arms, and hands, and the long mane of hair that fell to her waist when she was fully human.
Taking great care, Jean Pedersen took a step along the path, and as she did the glowing motes underfoot flared with a bronze light, giving off a small chiming sound before fading back to a steady blue-white glow. The woman looked around in amazement, taking in her surroundings.
“Jean, either we’re dead, or we’re not in Kansas anymore,” she said, again to herself. The path she stood on started where she had been lying, and seemed to stretch off infinitely into the distance. Nothing could be seen to either side, just an endless expanse of space, and after a moment of pondering what to do, the woman started walking along the starlit path.
With every step, the path would give a slight chime, and the stars directly under her would briefly flick to the bronze colour that reminded her of her sword. Foxfire briefly wondered what had become of the mystic blade her husband had forged, and realized in that moment that her body had effortlessly flipped back to being that of her unicorn self. The pony who was probably the most powerful witch on the planet.
“Okay, that’s weird,” the pony noted, before continuing to trot along the path, her steps ringing out in a steady chorus. Foxfire didn’t know where she was going, or even why she was bothering to move forward, but it felt like the right thing to do.
A seemingly infinite amount of time passed, and gradually images began to appear on either side of the path. Images of the life of Jean Pedersen, and as the pony thought of the name, her body shifted again to the human form of the mother of three. With a shrug, Jean accepted the change, continuing to walk the path and recognizing the various moments of her life.
Her first marriage, the birth of her daughters, the discovery of how monstrous the father of them was. All of it was there in snapshots formed out of light and stardust, and the pony/human felt her eyes grow wet as she recalled those dark times. Then followed more images, some she would have liked to forget.
Of her standing over her husband’s corpse, a corpse that she had made. Of her standing before a judge, freely admitting her guilt, stating that she would have done the same thing a thousand times over, if it would have kept her children safe.
Then came happier scenes. Scenes of her finding a home in the tiny, isolated community of Brightly. Images of her walking in the woods, communing with her goddess and the forest around her. Of how those green expanses healed her heart, to the point where ten years later, she finally opened herself up to love again.
The first images of Arnold Kye began to appear, both in his human form and in his Friesian-like pony form of Iron Heart. He of the glossy black fur with a glistening, wavy mane. A man and stallion of infinite patience and strength, whose own heart had been healed by the wild northern land they both lived in.
It was at that moment that Jean finally noticed something up ahead on the path. Appearing out of the infinite distance the path appeared to fork to the left and right, and at that fork there were three human shapes, with an ornate door formed of steel and silver behind them.
As Foxfire drew closer, the shapes resolved into the forms of three women. The first was a vigorously beautiful young woman, just barely out of her teens. She wore a knee length white tunic with a bow resting on her back, and a quiver of arrows bounced against one strong thigh.
The second woman had a full, rich beauty that threatened to take Jean’s breath away. Her hair was long and dark, reaching down to the backs of her knees, and on her brow there was a golden crown of stars, topped by a crescent moon. Like the younger woman, she too wore a white tunic that went down to her knees, but unlike the hunter, her tunic was pulled tight over the lush curves of a fully mature woman.
The third of the three sat on a chair in front of the other two, her dark hair cut to shoulder length and framing an ageless face that held eyes that seemed to be looking everywhere at once. Unlike the other two women, she wore a dark robe that was simple yet elegant, and at her feet lay a pair of hounds that looked as if they could chase Foxfire down no matter how far or fast she ran.
In that moment, Jean Pedersen realized who the women were, or at least who they looked like. They were the three faces of her goddess. Artemis, Selene, and Hecate. The Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone, and as what remained of the woman drew close she bowed deeply in respect.
“Rise, Jean Pedersen,” Artemis commanded, with a smile. “Or would you prefer ‘Foxfire’?”
“Either… both?” Foxfire replied, unsure of herself. “I’m not sure.”
“Good answer,” stated Selene, putting a finger to her chin and frowning slightly in thought. “Though in that form you would be well suited to pulling my chariot.”
Foxfire looked down to see that her body had once again shifted back to her equine form.
“If that is your wish, Goddess,” Foxfire said, “It would be my honour.”
“And yet you come to us early,” Hecate commented, holding up a skein of golden thread and examining it closely. “Your thread was meant to continue for much longer.”
“I’m sorry,” Jean apologized, inclining her head to the guardian of the crossroads. “Something came up, and I did what I had to do.”
“Indeed,” Hecate responded, tilting her head in acknowledgement. “But it should be pointed out that you are only mostly dead at this point. A state that is far different from being all dead.”
Jean couldn’t help but snort a laugh at that. Her goddess, a fan of The Princess Bride?
“It’s a good movie, and in this moment we are a reflection of you,” Selene stated, her hands idly measuring what Foxfire recognized as a harness strap. “Or at least a reflection of what you believe you should find at this point in your existence.”
“Sisters, she comes,” Artemis said suddenly, taking out her bow but leaving her arrows in their quiver for the moment. “She comes with power and intent.”
“As is the right of both her and her sister,” Hecate responded, in a calm tone and putting aside the golden thread of Jean’s life for the moment.
There was a sound like rushing wind as Princess Luna appeared at the crossroads, horn alight and wings splayed outward. The Equestrian princess spent a breath taking in her surroundings and as her eyes fell on Jean, Luna’s face lit up with relief.
“Jean! Thank Harmony I have found thee at last,” Luna said, rushing up to embrace the woman with wings and forelegs both. “I thought thy spirit lost among the byways of this place.”
“It’s good to see you too,” Jean replied, and as she felt the soft fur of the lunar princess against her body, realized for the first time that she was completely nude. “Oh… Oh crap.”
“What is the matter?” Luna asked, before looking down to see Jean’s naked form, just before it changed again to the unicorn body of Foxfire. “Ah, so that is what thee looks like beneath thy clothes. Do not be embarrassed, for it is a comely shape.”
“Naked you came into the world, and naked have you left it,” Artemis quoted, with a mischievous smile.
“My apologies for not noticing you three earlier,” apologized Luna, breaking the hug and dipping her head respectfully to the three. “I was not aware that others besides my sister and I were capable of walking this realm. May I ask who thou art?”
“Princess Luna,” Foxfire began, “May I introduce the goddesses Artemis, Selene and Hecate. Collectively they are the three faces of the Moon. The three aspects of the goddess that I’ve tried to follow most of my life.”
“Truly?” Luna asked, with more than a little surprise and skepticism.
“Perhaps, O scion of Epona who carries our aspect,” Selene responded, her busy hands fitting a buckle to a much larger, alicorn sized harness strap. “Or perhaps we are simply manifestations of Foxfire’s subconscious. The attempt of a fading mind to understand what is happening to it. Either way, we believe that you came here with a purpose in mind.”
“Aye, that I did,” Luna said, shifting her attention back to Foxfire. “Foxfire please, come with me. I can help you, but you must come with me.”
Jean Pedersen stood there confused for several moments, as her body shifted back and forth in reflection of her inner turmoil, even at one point becoming a hybrid of both forms with the body of a woman and the hooves and tail of a pony. On the one hand, Princess Luna had only ever tried to help and advise her, but on the other hoof this was her Goddess. How could she not stay with them?
“Go with the Princess,” Hecate finally stated, breaking the deadlock. “She has your best interests at heart, and should you choose not to walk with her, we will still be here.”
“We will always be here,” added Selene, setting aside her bow.
“I, um… okay,” Foxfire replied, feeling Luna drape a comforting wing over her back. “If you say so.”
“Not if we say so,” Artemis chided, gently. “If you say so. You are empowered with choice. Even if the only choices are bad ones, still you will have the power of choice. Remember that.”
“Okay,” Foxfire answered with a nod, her voice in a much firmer and confident tone. “Let’s go.”
With a nod to the trio of women, the two mares took the left fork, with Foxfire walking along under Luna’s wing. The path kept on straight and after a short while the powers that Jean served faded into the starry mists.
“Where are we going?” Foxfire asked, idly noting that form had remained stable ever since the princess laid her wing over the mare’s back. “And where are we anyway?”
“This realm has many names,” Luna replied, and as she spoke more scenes from Foxfire’s life began to appear. “Some call it ‘The Space Between Spaces’, others ‘The Realm Eternal’. My sister and I prefer to call it ‘The Starlit Path’.”
“Heaven?” Foxfire asked, her eyes growing wide. “But Hecate said I wasn’t fully dead yet. I can’t be in heaven.”
“I… do not know what that was that we were speaking with, but they were right in that you are not wholly dead as yet,” the dark alicorn replied. “In truth, your body was destroyed, consumed by the magic you summoned to destroy the Umbral, and yet that self-same magic has kept your spirit alive.”
“And when that magic runs out… I’ll be fully dead,” Foxfire stated, gulping. “Do me a favor, tell my family I love them.”
“They already know,” Luna replied, turning to embrace the white pony with both wings. “And you will be able to tell them that yourself.”
“What? How?” Foxfire demanded.
“This, my dear Foxfire, is the place where alicorns ascend,” Luna explained, a smile as enigmatic as the Mona Lisa on her face. “Celestia brought her dear student Twilight here when she became worthy of ascension, and now… I’ve managed to bring you here.”
“Wait. ME?” gasped Foxfire.
“Foxfire… Jean, your efforts have been both righteous and true. You have shown courage, humility, honesty and a generous heart,” Luna answered, smiling widely now. “The swords, including yours, have lent me their power. Enough to ascend a truly worthy pony. You.”
“But I haven’t done anything worth becoming an alicorn for,” argued Foxfire. “All I did was try to save my own skin, and I even failed at that.”
“Thou destroyed an Umbral. A creature of the purest, darkest magic. A stain upon the aether that no pony has been able to bring an end to. Not even me,” countered Luna. “When a pony accomplishes a feat on the scale that you have, they become worthy of becoming an alicorn. Foxfire, Alicorn of Earth. It has a pleasant sound, does it not?”
“It does… '' Foxfire prevaricated, thinking deeply, before shaking her head. “But I can’t be trusted with power. Let alone that kind of power. If I became an alicorn I’d have to be kept on a leash of some sort all the time, because the Umbral got to me by appealing to my dark side, and who's to say I wouldn’t become Nytefyre again just by giving in to my own dark desires.”
“Foxfire, thou are not the only pony who has fallen to darkness only to be brought back into the light,” Luna said, her voice full of understanding and comfort. “Many of our ponies have learned valuable lessons in friendship from their experiences. You are no different.”
“I’m not one of your ponies,” Foxfire shot back, but there was no heat in the words. “I have a choice, and even if the choice sucks, I choose ‘No’.”
“But why?” a confused Luna asked.
“Because before this,” Foxfire began, pointing to her body and horn with a hoof. “I was just Jean Pederesen, the town witch and herbalist, living life on my own terms. And then I wound up with a wonderful blended family and that was all I could have ever asked for.”
Jean returned to her human form as she turned and walked out of Luna’s feathery embrace.
“I’m sorry Princess Luna,” Jean finished, with a sad smile on her face. “But my final answer is ‘No’. If I accepted this… power, I’d be second-guessing myself for the rest of my life, plus I'd have to watch my back every minute of every day, for people trying to either take advantage of me or trying to take me out before I became a monster again. I’m sorry, but the answer has to be ‘No’.”
“But if you refuse this, you will die!” Luna pleaded. “Thou should have already passed into what lies beyond, only magic has kept thy spirit intact this long. Please… stay with me.”
“Luna,” Jean replied, stepping close again to cup Luna’s cheek with a single, slim hand. Realizing now that Luna had stayed as close as she had to things in Brightly because in Jean she had seen a kindred spirit. Someone who had been through the same trials she had. Someone she could call “sister” in all but flesh.
“I’m sorry. This sucks. Much as I want to live, it’s safer for the world if I don’t,” Jean finished. “And if I become the ‘Alicorn of Earth’ I wouldn’t be living my life anymore, I’d be living someone else's.”
“And what of thy unborn child?” Luna reasoned. “If thou will not live for thyself, live for them.”
“He that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief,” Jean quoted, with a sad smile. “What kind of life could the child of an alicorn have on Earth? Always a pawn in the game of politics. Sought after, fought over… No, it’s better this way.”
“But… but,” stuttered Luna, and the lunar princess, being on the verge of tears, brought pinpricks to Jean’s own eyes as her throat tightened.
“I… I will relay thy message to thy loved ones,” Luna finally said, steadying herself to her duty. “Thou may count on me to deliver thy words.”
“Thank you,” Jean replied, taking a moment to revel in the feel of Luna’s fur in her fingers. “I wish we had another option but—”
“The door swings three ways,” interjected Hecate from behind the pair.
A very startled Jean and Luna jumped almost a full foot into the air in surprise before coming down to land and facing the three goddesses that they had left behind at the crossroads. Artemis, Selene, and Hecate stood in a chariot whose body was shaped like a crescent moon with a paired white stallion and mare in the traces.
“How did you sneak up on us?” was the first thing out of Foxfire’s mouth.
“The moon is silent as it crosses the heavens, but that is not what is important at the moment,” Selene answered. “What is important is that if Princess Luna is willing to lend us her strength, we can offer you a third choice.”
“The door swings three ways,” Hecate said again, with a wise smile.
“The right way, the wrong way, and the human way,” Artemis added, laughing.
“Who are you, to have the power to such a path?” Luna asked, extending her arcane senses and being nearly blinded by what she saw. “What are you?”
“We are the myths and legends that humanity believes in,” responded the three women, as one. And as the two ponies watched in awe, the three women began to blend into a single body of light. “And for the people of Our world; where there is belief, there is faith, and where there is faith there is power.”
“We are Yahweh,” intoned a deep voice that seemed to ring out from all around. “And We are Allah. Just as We are also Ameratsu and Ra, Yeshua and Thor, Aphrodite and Ishtar, Coyote, Bochica, and a thousand thousands of others.”
“So too are We the myths and legends of the modern age,” continued the voice, shifting to a more feminine timbre as images of men and women in fantastical garb appeared and disappeared. “Kirk and Spock, Ivanova and Sheridan, The Doctor, Ripley, Kimball Kennison, and all the others that have been and are yet to be.”
“I… I do not understand,” Luna admitted, looking around wildly in realization that she was in the presence of a power far beyond her own. “I know many of these names from Foxfire, but I do not understand.”
“This is the true power of humanity,” answered the Voice. “Not the weapons, nor the magic or the words, but the power of imagination. The ability to imagine wonderful things, and to imagine terrible things, and the stubbornness to make both into reality. This is the source of Our power. It is what We were and may yet be again, thanks to you and your sister’s joining Equestria’s magic to that of our world.”
“What have we done?” Luna whispered, half in horror, half in reverence.
“Created change and choices where there was none before, and We thank you for that,” answered the Voice. “There is a third choice for you, Jean ‘Foxfire’ Pedersen, other than ascension or oblivion. The only question is, do you want it?”
“What will happen to me?” Jean asked, noting idly that her body was now in the half pony-half human form she had been in briefly.
“Even with Princess Luna’s aid in this, a sacrifice must be made,” explained the Voice. “You will lose part of what you are, but in return you will have control of your life and your destiny again.”
“You have so much power,” Luna said, still looking around a little wildly. “Why do you need me?”
“This realm belongs to you and your sister,” stated the Voice, as if the fact was obvious. “We are only able to be here because Jean Pedersen is of Earth, and We may only act here with your aid and permission.”
“So you are not gods then,” reasoned Luna. “Not all-powerful.”
“We are not, though forms of Us have been called that,” said the Voice, adding with what sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, “Nor are we Chaos, to ignore rules and propriety both. Thus we ask, not demand, not force, but ask, if you will aid us should Foxfire place her future in Our keeping.”
“Foxfire is my friend,” Luna declared. “And whether she be Jean Pedersen, or Foxfire, or both, my aid is hers for the asking.”
“And this is why together, Earth and Equestria may in time become the crown jewels of all the Universe itself,” declared the Voice. “Your quiet strength and magic of friendship, paired with humanity’s stubborn will and inventiveness. A true match made in the heavens.”
A wave of light washed out from the Voice, briefly enveloping the Equestrian princess. When it receded, Luna was as she had been, only now covered in a complex spell matrix that took the form of an elegant black harness, resplendent with silver accents, hand-tooled scrollwork, dangling lunar medallions, and fitting as well as one of Rarity’s finest creations.
“Jean Pedersen, also called Foxfire, it is time to choose,” said the Voice, resolving back into the forms of Artemis, Selene and Hecate. “The oblivion of a simple death, ascension to the power and glory of an alicorn, or a change to something both less and more than you are now. Both we and your friend will abide by your choice, but it must be made now.”
“Give me door number three, Monty,” quipped Foxfire, stepping up to lay her head against Luna’s shoulder. “Thanks Luna, for everything.”
“You are most welcome,” replied Luna, chuckling as she added. “Twilight is going to be so upset that she missed this.”
“By your choice, Foxfire,” intoned the three who were One, the One who was many. “Let us begin.”
And as the mists began to rise, a laughing voice declared.
“We’re all very happy to have you here, Mr. Prime Minister,” stated the man, as he and his companion walked through a narrow concrete hallway. The passageway itself was spartan and grey, decorated only by a series of labels that no doubt held great meaning, but were utterly incomprehensible to the uninitiated. Which the Prime Minister of Canada most definitely was.
“After all the work that you and your team here at TRIUMF have put in, and how important this event is going to be, there wasn’t anyway that I couldn’t be here,” replied Justin Trudeau, ducking his head below a line of leaded glass labeled ‘Beam Path Six.’
“And it’s been a truly international effort. We’ve got several people here from CERN, some from that reactor that went hyperdimensional down in the US, high energy physicists from both China and Russia,” the facility director paused for a moment to chuckle, before adding, “we’ve even brought in a lapidary and gemologist from the De Beers diamond cartel.”
“Oh?” Trudeau asked, with a single raised eyebrow.
“In roughly an hour we’re going to be focusing several hundred million electron volts through three diamonds,” explained the director. “We needed to be sure that they could physically handle that level of energy passing through them.”
“And can they?” came the simple question.
“Under normal circumstances they shouldn’t interact at all with our Omega Beam. Crystallized carbon simply doesn’t have the density to provide a meaningful target for a stream of energy one proton wide. Or at least, it’s an extremely low probability event,” stated the director, frowning as he added, “the danger in today’s portal attempt is that we are going to be forcing an interaction between relativistic atomic particles and both the magical and subatomic energy fields that lie within the heart of Equestrian gemstones. And while we have a neophyte comprehension of interactions at that level with regards to the subatomic and quantum realms, we have barely begun to even start to comprehend magical energy fields.”
Politicians, especially those at Trudeau’s level, were skilled at absorbing massive information dumps and processing them into some form of action, but this was like getting clubbed in the side of the head by a mackerel. You knew that a fish had hit you, but what kind was more than you could figure out.
“I take it you aren’t happy I asked you to try this?” Trudeau asked, as the pair walked out of the austere corridor and into a control room whose walls were ninety percent covered in control systems and screens to monitor them with. “Oh, and… ‘Omega Beam’?”
The heads of two technicians in the room briefly turned away from their tasks to glance at the standing pair with knowing smirks before refocusing on their jobs.
“Our normal maximum output is approximately 520 million electron volts,” the director began, preferring to answer the last question first. “We generally direct the beam down one of four primary beam lines, each one of which has numerous branches that we can use for various research projects or medical uses; but we are capable of combining these beam paths back into a single coherent stream that one of our grad students nicknamed, ‘The Omega Beam.’ I’m afraid that the nomenclature became rather popular and as such became the term for that event.”
“Two billion electron volts?” Trudeau asked, allowing his surprise to show. “Isn’t TRIUMF already the second largest cyclotron in the world? Two billion, unless I’m mistaken, would put us head and shoulders above the rest of the world.”
“Not even close, Mister Prime Minister,” replied the director, with a dry chuckle. “CERN’s output is over a trillion electron volts, however they are a linear accelerator, and we are a cyclotron; and for what you’re having us rush into, cyclotrons seem to be the best.”
The director paused as Trudeau made a “go on” motion, and the man heaved a sigh as he realized he wasn’t going to be able to avoid complaining about something to the man primarily responsible for the lion’s share of the funding the facility received.
“Yes sir, we are rushing into this. Blundering our way into a subatomic china shop filled with possible pitfalls and catastrophes. We barely comprehend what we are about to try to do today, never mind understanding the physics behind it, or even being able to describe things mathematically,” the director stated, letting his frustrations out in a rush. “We are still at the ‘let’s poke this with a stick, and see what happens’ stage of experimentation with magic. The best analogy I can think of is giving Thomas Savery the parts, plans, and materials for a motorcycle engine, and then expecting him to build a functional device from them.”
The director paused for a moment, calming himself by taking a deep breath.
“He would recognize some of the parts, and engineering principles remain unchanged from the days the Egyptians started making the pyramids,” the director continued, in a calmer tone. “But much of it would be beyond him, and without understanding the principles of an internal combustion engine, the odds of him making something that simply would not work would be high.”
“Are we in any danger?” Trudeau asked, concern showing on his face.
“I don’t know,” the director replied, with some heat in his voice. “500 million electron volts sounds like a lot, but a mosquito hitting a car windshield has more force. Then again, the reactor at Texas A&M shouldn’t have done what it did either. We simply can’t predict what will happen. Not when the beams are brought into coherency, not when they strike the Equestrian gems. Nothing. And as a scientist it maddens me not being able to make some sort of educated prediction.”
“I appreciate your concerns,” Trudeau said, placing a hand on the director’s shoulder and giving his most empathetic smile. “But over in the VIP lounge there are three young people who have been away from their families for far too long. I promised them that Canada would get them home. Can you do that? Can TRIUMF open the way home for them?”
The words put a stiffness into the man’s spine that Trudeau hadn’t seen before, a determination wholly at odds with his calculated scientific demeanor up until that point.
“I’m a grandfather, Sir,” replied the director, and glancing around Trudeau noticed the various technicians in the room had stopped what they were doing to pay close attention to the conversation. “Just because we don’t entirely understand what we are doing doesn't mean we aren’t willing to try. We may not like shooting in the dark, but that’s why we became scientists. To bring a light to the darkness, and by doing so, make the world a better place.”
“Thank you,” was all that Trudeau could think of replying with.
“Pre-energization in fifty-one minutes, Sir,” was the director’s response, gesturing up to a large countdown clock high up on one wall. “Synchronization and full energization will take place thirty seconds later. If all goes well, the portal to Equestria will open up moments later, and remain open for several minutes.”
“I’ll let our VIPs know,” Trudeau said with a smile, turning towards the exit to the control room.
While TRIUMF was itself a relatively large facility, most of its space was relegated to either the beamlines, the shielding around them, or the massive cyclotron at the core of the brobdingnagian engine of science. Precious little space was left over for the humans who laboured to understand the mysteries that lay in the smallest spaces of the universe, and so it took the Prime Minister barely thirty seconds to walk from the control room to a door marked ‘Observation Gallery.’
“Major Malinkski,” Trudeau said, warmly greeting the newly promoted member of Canada’s elite special forces, who was standing directly in Trudeau’s path. “Aren’t you a little high in rank to be guarding a door?”
“Just keeping a watchful eye over some friends,” the major replied. There was a twinkle in the soldier’s eye that was utterly at odds with the serious look on his face. “Lieutenant Ram is on actual guard duty inside.”
“Permission to enter?” Trudeau asked, noting with some amusement that the major hadn’t budged an inch from his self-assigned position of living barrier between the VIPs and the rest of the world.
“Oh, right sir,” replied Malinski, without a trace of irony in his voice as he stepped to one side. Trudeau was able to catch sight of a slight upward curl at the edges of the major’s mouth though. A ghost of a smile as the major told him, “Go right in.”
The Prime Minister gave a brief snort of amusement as he opened the door and let himself into the room where the true focus of today’s events were waiting in anticipation. Amusement that only grew as he was immediately confronted by a pegasus pony with autumn colours and an FN-P90 at parade rest.
“Lieutenant Ram, sir!” snapped out the pegasus, assuming a posture of attention before narrowing her eyes and adding, “Naples.”
Trudeau took the seeming non-sequitur in stride, noting that several pairs of eyes were watching him intently as he replied with, “Butterscotch.”
Everyone in the room visibly relaxed as he gave the proper countersign to the challenge, something that was becoming a standard around the world after most of the events of the Second Battle of Brightly had become known.
The seasoned politician took a moment to take in the mood of the room. Not a single human was present other than himself, and he noted that the ponies were arranged in what he had been briefed was an instinctive defensive posture, with an extremely pregnant earth pony mare at the center of a double ring of defenders.
On the outermost ring were Thunder and his wife Windweaver, along with Skylark and Darter. The secondary ring was held by Iron Heart, his son Iron Hoof, along with Shield Maiden and Seeker to either flank. At the core of the formation, and formation it was, were the Cutie Mark Crusaders, Medevac and the gravid mare that was her charge.
The snow white earth pony that was Foxfire.
“How is everypony doing?” Trudeau asked, ever the stickler for the right pronouns and terminology.
“Pretty excited,” Iron Heart replied, nodding back to the Crusaders. “Some folks are real anxious to go home.”
“I have no doubt,” Trudeau responded, noting how the outer ring of pegasi dispersed slightly in unconscious acceptance of his presence. “I came in to let you know what the timeline of events is going to be.”
Trudeau paused, expecting the white mare at the group’s core to object, ask questions or make some sort of remark, but the pause remained empty as Foxfire simply sat there, ready to accept whatever he was about to say. The pony had changed, not just from unicorn to earth pony, but from a fiery, outspoken individual to a mare who listened much more than she spoke. More than one advisor to Trudeau had put the change in demeanor down to her near death experience, while others claimed that whatever had changed Foxfire had also broken her spirit. Whichever was the cause of Foxfire’s passivity, it was Thunder who broke the lengthening seconds of silence.
“So what’s the plan?” the stallion asked.
“First of all, I hear congratulations are in order, Mr. Mayor,” Trudeau said warmly.
“We were all surprised when Mayor Montcalm said he was stepping down in favor of a run at provincial politics,” Thunder responded, with a slight grimace as one ear laid back on his head. “Turns out he’d made a deal with former Premier Horgan to support his party in exchange for making sure Brightly got what it needed back when the portal first opened. I still can’t believe I won.”
“You’ll make a fine mayor,” Trudeau assured the pony, glancing up at a digital clock on the wall. “So, in about forty-five minutes from now TRIUMF is going to activate and try to open up the portal to Equestria. From what I understand from Captain Rios, the Equestrians will be coordinating as best they can with us to ‘catch’ the portal and permanently anchor it in place.”
“The moment we know the portal is stable, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom will be sent back home,” Trudeau continued, smiling at the trio. “At the same time, Princesses Luna and Twilight Sparkle will come to Earth, along with the Fox News reporter who was stranded in Equestria much like the Crusaders were here.”
“Do you all have your going away presents with you?” Windweaver asked, turning to the three young fillies who had been under her foster care for the past months.
“Yes Ma’am!” chirped all three at once, Scootaloo reflexively checking one of a pair of panniers she wore.
“Which also brings me to the gifts I have for you. I debated for quite awhile about what I could give to each of you to help you remember your time in Canada. I admit to having asked for some help with my eventual choices,” Trudeau said, before reaching into his pocket to pull out three small objects.
“For Applebloom, a package of over a hundred vacuum packaged apple seeds from a wide variety of cultivars. Equestria gave us their apple tree, so it seemed only right to return the favor,” continued the Prime Minister, passing over a thick packet of silver foil.
“For Scootaloo, a model of the Avro Arrow. An aircraft that still lives in the dreams of many Canadians,” Trudeau related, handing over a small metal model that had been securely mounted in a lucite carrying container.
“And finally for Sweetie Belle, a solar powered MP3 player holding several hundred songs from Canadian artists ranging from Shania Twain to Leonard Cohen and more,” Trudeau finished, as he passed over a slim white plastic stick.
“Wow! These are awesome!” declared Scootaloo, clutching her model close.
The rest of the younger ponies oohed and aahed over the gifts while Trudeau made his way over to the weary looking earth pony at the centre of the group, only to be barred at the last moment by Medevac.
“She’s very tired,” Medevac stated firmly, and with more than a little frustration lacing her words. “The latter stages of the pregnancy have taken a lot out of her. She shouldn’t even be here right now, but she insisted on seeing this through.”
“It’s okay, Medevac,” Foxfire said, in a soft voice that was utterly at odds with what Trudeau knew about the former unicorn. “I’m sure the PM didn’t come all this way just to steal my baby.”
Foxfire paused, and as she looked up into his eyes Trudeau spotted the sleeping embers of the pony’s fiery spirit. “You didn’t come here to steal my baby, right?” she asked, with a weary smirk.
“Hardly,” Trudeau replied with a small smile, before asking, “Are you okay for this though? We could pipe a live feed in here, or to whatever care facility you prefer.”
“Children’s Hospital would be preferred,” Medevac interjected, running one of her wings gently along Foxfire’s side. “And I’d prefer it too. This baby is coming any day now.”
“Oh shush, both of you,” Foxfire responded, making a gentle shoo’ing motion with one delicate forehoof. “I just need to see the Crusaders off and apologize to Princess Luna when she arrives. After that, you can wrap me up in all the bubble wrap you want. Okay?”
“Fine,” huffed the medical pony, constantly running her diagnostic feathers over the pony under her care. “But I even think something is going twitchy and I’m calling the ambulance to get you over to Children’s. Got it?”
“Yes Ma’am,” Foxfire meekly replied. Only the fact that it was said with a smile kept the Prime Minister from becoming truly worried. Considering all the strangeness that seemed to be part and parcel when it came to ponies and magic he had enough things to worry about.
“I’ll see you all on the main floor in about twenty minutes,” Trudeau stated, turning toward the door. “Major Malinski knows the way, and will see you there.”
At the center of TRIUMF there is a large central area completely enclosed by massive concrete blocks meant to act as shielding from any exotic particles the facility’s various experiments might create. Most of the time this area is taken up with extra pathways for proton beams, containments for the various materials the beams are smashed into, and a kaleidoscope of esoteric devices capable of measuring the often subatomic results of the collisions.
TRIUMF was an engine of capital ‘S’ Science, whose experiments weren’t just on the leading edge of humanity’s knowledge, but on bleeding edge where deep thoughts on the nature of reality itself were put to the test. As such, those present were no strangers to tension or stress, but rarely was there a strain in the air like there was today, as if the whole world was watching the universe itself turn around this relatively small room.
“All systems nominal,” came from a loudspeaker, drawing everyone present’s attention. “Pre-energization sequence in sixty seconds.”
“I’m surprised you’re here,” Thunder said to the Prime Minister, standing with the rest of the group in a shielded area of the test chamber. “Magic and science don’t exactly have the best track record of working well together.”
“My last head on encounter with magic involved getting blown out of the sky by a thirty meter tall avatar of ice and snow,” Trudeau replied, his face unreadable as memory took him back to the first time Brightly had battled beings of ice and hate. “This time the area is surrounded by a full battalion of the Princess Patricia infantry, not to mention Major Malinksi and his troops. I think I’m balancing my political safety as much as I can with my physical safety.”
“Pre-energization in thirty seconds. Safety interlocks off, vacuum chamber evacuated. Shifting to computer control,” said the announcer, from overhead.
“A leader must sometimes dare parlous things,” Thunder sagely commented. “Glad to have you with us, Sir.”
“Newton was right,” Trudeau said, to no one in particular. “If I have seen further than others, it is because I have stood on the shoulders of giants.”
“Pre-energization in five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One,” counted the announcer, adding, “Pre-energization start, all systems nominal. Power levels rising. Hydrogen ion injection positive. All beam pathways clear. Capacitors approaching maximum charge levels. Cyclotron engaging. System energization in ten seconds.”
“Goddess, watch over us all,” Foxfire prayed aloud, her voice echoing off the walls.
“System energization… NOW!” declared the announcer.
Several things happened in quick succession as the world's second largest cyclotron accelerated four streams of positive hydrogen ions up to 75% of the speed of light. The four radiant beams could neither be slowed down nor be created simultaneously, but all had to arrive at their targets in the exact same nanosecond of time. The solution to this problem was simple, elegant, and extreme, all at once.
Each beam of protons had its path to its respective Equestrian gem target artificially lengthened by a precise amount via truly massive amounts of cabling, so that even though the first beam of protons was created a full twenty seconds before the last, it would arrive on target exactly when it was needed to. A further difficulty had been in ensuring that the four streams of elemental particles retained their full relativistic energies on impact.
A hundred thousand things could go wrong in such a process. The tiniest imperfection at any point could have had consequences ranging from mundane to dire, and although Murphy and all his minions did their level best to introduce chaos into the highly complex system, there were no flaws for them to exploit.
Four coruscating beams of protons each struck their target at the exactly correct moment. Each beam then traveled through that prism of mystic material, bending into the needed direction and taking on the necessary characteristics it needed to make everything work. The four beams, now changed into something that humanity was only beginning to grasp at, converged, and in that convergence merged into a single beam of energy that bored into the curvature of space-time itself.
Bored into, and then through, emerging from Earth’s gravity to blast across the cosmos like the shining beam of a lighthouse. An outpost of light and life shining against the eternal darkness of the cosmos with a shout of, “Here we are!” On and on the hand of humanity reached out across the vast, unimaginable gulfs of space and dimension, until it was firmly clasped by the answering hoof of Equestria.
Clasped, drawn in, and welcomed.
“LOOK!” yelled Applebloom, pointing to the far wall where a growing circle of rainbow light appeared and began to expand until it reached a full six meters, or almost twenty feet across. Within that circle of light lay not the concrete blocks that formed the shielding of the test chamber, but a view into another room, another world.
A world populated by small magical equines that were moving quickly around the edges of the circle of light on their side of the newborn portal.
“Starlight! Get the thaumic stabilizers in place on that side! I’ll get the ones here,” a small lavender alicorn called out to a unicorn. The pair, along with several other ponies, could be moving with deliberate haste as they set up a golden ring of something around the edges of the portal. Behind the team of ponies there could be seen the anxiously watching forms of Luna, Celestia and a grey earth pony with a speckled tail.
“Stable!” the unicorn who had been called Starlight called out.
“Confirm stable portal!” Twilight Sparkle called back, as she practically bounced up and down with pure joy. “Applebloom, Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle! Come on home!”
“Time to go,” Windweaver said to the Crusaders, as the entire Harding family, new and old, shared a last hug. “I’ll miss you.”
“Come visit?” Scootaloo asked, from somewhere in the mass of fur and feathers.
“Soon as we can,” Thunder replied, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Now get going, you’ve got folks waiting for you.”
“Yeah, you need to show me your farm, Applebloom,” Darter added. “And Mom and Rarity really need to get together too.”
“Bye,” Skylark simply said, though she said nothing else, it was her wings that by far had the strongest grip on the ponies she had called “sister” these past few months.
“The door is open now,” Foxfire advised, in her gentle yet carrying voice. “And the Power Ponies will help make sure it stays that way. We’ll all meet again.”
With one last squeeze of the group hug, the Cutie Mark Crusaders bounded toward and through the portal, where their departing hug was repeated as an arriving hug by a white unicorn with a violet mane and tail, a prismatically maned blue pegasus, and a solidly built orange earth pony, who was wearing a stetson of all things.
The Crusaders were quickly moved out of the field of view by their relatives as Princesses Luna and Twilight Sparkle took their place, the two of them flanking a grey coloured earth pony wearing some sort of gold medallion. Another breath later and the three stepped through as one, piercing the barrier between worlds as easily as one would pass through a bead curtain.
As with other times Earth and Equestria had shared items via a portal a wave of magic burst forth from the gateway, enhancing the colouration of every visible surface but otherwise leaving everyone present untouched, except for a strange increase of the tension in the air. As if something was being stretched to its breaking point.
“Uh… Why haven’t I changed back?” asked the grey earth pony, holding one end of her white speckled grey mane. “You said I’d change back when you got me home.”
“A moment Jessica,” cautioned Luna. “Something is—”
A deep feminine groan followed by the sound of water splattering on a hard surface swiveled everyone’s attention to the herd of ponies waiting to greet the Equestrians. At the center of the group Foxfire was holding her belly, her equine face a mask of pain.
“Dammit!” Medevac grumbled, her wings nearly a blur as they gently flowed over her patient. “I was afraid of this.”
“Is that?” Iron Heart asked, eyes very, very wide.
“Her water just broke,” Medevac confirmed, before shouting. “I need blankets and my kit. STAT!”
Medical practitioners the world around cultivate what is called their “doctor voice.” When they use that voice, as Medevac just had, people move and move right now.
“We’ll get her to the ambulance, and then to the hospital,” Trudeau stated, already waving in his security and medical detail to assist.
“No Time,” hissed Medevac. “I don’t know what that burst of magic did, but this baby is coming right now. I’d much rather Foxfire give birth on a nice, stable floor than in the back of a moving ambulance.”
“The UBC Emergency Department is only ten minutes away,” Thunder protested.
“And this baby will be here in five,” Medevac stated, pointing out to the in-rushing ambulance attendants where she wanted them to lay their blankets.
Politicians love to talk, but the best ones know when it’s time to shut up. Wisely, the Prime Minister closed his mouth and turned his attention to helping Thunder and Windweaver shepherd the scared and fascinated children off to one side of the large room so that the birthing mother and her attendants could accomplish their goal.
“Foxfire, Jean, stay with me honey,” the medical pony said, putting her face directly into her friend’s, even as she laid the earth pony back onto the thick warm blankets.
“I… I’m here. Just hurts,” Foxfire replied, moaning through another contraction. “Why is the baby… coming so fast?”
“You don’t worry about that just now,” Medevac said, running another wing over her friend. “You just concentrate on bringing in another wonderful child into the world.”
“Arn?” Foxfire asked, and a moment later the black pony was at her side, tenderly taking one delicate hoof in his own.
“I’m here,” was all he needed to say.
“You… you do the naming,” Foxfire gasped, her belly visibly rippling from the strength of the contraction. “Like we talked about.”
“Hooves!” called out one of the attendants, smoothly falling into a support role to Medevac’s lead. “I’ve got two hooves.”
“Wouldst thou desire any assistance?” Luna asked, carefully approaching while Twilight began to take notes with frantic speed. “I have delivered or assisted with the delivery of a great many foals in my time.”
“Just keep an eye out in case we’re about to do something wrong,” Medevac replied, her attention fully on Foxfire now. “I’ve been studying up on equine births ever since Jean told me she was pregnant, so we should be fine, but it’s good to have a pro in the room.”
“Sorry LunAAAAAA…” Foxfire cried out, as another contraction hit. “Just in case… I want you to—”
“We have already been through this,” Luna answered, her voice full of warmth and reassurance. “There is nothing to forgive.”
“Right, we’ve got a nose,” Medevac stated, nodding in satisfaction as one of the attendants carefully brushed aside a bit of membrane on one nostril. “You’re doing great Jean. Baby is almost here.”
“Gently pull on the foal’s forelegs,” Luna advised. “Do not yank or use any real strength.”
“You heard the princess,” Medevac added. “The idea is to keep the kid from sliding back in, that’s all.”
“There’s the head!” someone called out.
“LOOK!” Jessica yelled, pointing up to the room’s high ceiling where storm clouds were gathering. Indoor storm clouds.
“Darter?” Thunder asked, looking at his son, who had a talent for weather manipulation.
“Uh uh,” replied the pony, shaking his head. “Those clouds don’t wanna get bucked.”
“Shoulders!” Medevac stated, as a smokey black head and shoulders emerged. The foal’s head was blazoned with a white star, with a stubby horn coming out of it.
“A unicorn,” Luna said, quickly weaving a set of basic wards around the area to ensure her friend’s foal would not be prey, no matter what the child’s strength would be. “Thou hast given birth to a uni—”
Luna’s congratulation stopped, and her heart leaped into her throat as with a final push, Foxfire delivered her child, revealing a small set of white tipped, smokey black wings along the foal’s back.
“Wha—what’s wrong?” Foxfire asked, hearing Luna’s hesitation and feeling a sudden pricking sensation along her fur.
“Nothing,” Medevac smoothly replied, ignoring how her fur was standing on end. “You’ve delivered a fine little stallion into the world.”
“Colour looks good. Breathing and heart rate is good,” confirmed the ambulance attendant.
“Arn… Can Iron Heart do a thing?” Foxfire asked, even as Medevac gently moved the newborn alicorn to where it could begin to nurse.
“Cut the cord?” Medevac asked, to which Foxfire nodded, shifting her hips a bit to give her son access.
Medevac quickly assessed the child, and after receiving confirming nods from the two ambulance attendants that all seemed well, waved Iron Heart into position.
“Luna? What’s wrong?” Medevac asked, finally noticing that Luna looked like she had been hit by a truck, as Iron Heart drew a pair of bronze scissors he had purpose-made for this moment.
“This… this is only the second live alicorn birth… ever,” Luna managed to choke out.
“Welcome to the world, Son,” Iron Heart stated, the tears of joy in his eyes almost preventing him from directing the shears between two strips of tape against the now quiescent placenta. “Our son, Robinton Apollo Pedersen Kye.”
The shears came down, and as the physical connection between mother and child was broken the storm clouds in the ceiling let go with a single crack of thunder, breaking the waiting tension as the energies that had been building released with a sudden rush. Those energies poured forth in a literal magical deluge that transformed Trudeau, his security detail and the ambulance attendants into ponies.
It also poured out over the body of a small white earth pony, whose form began to glow, and the others watched in stunned surprise as the form of Foxfire grew, lengthening and expanding into a more human shape. Iron Heart protectively pulled his newborn son to his chest, watching in amazement as the very human face of Jean Pedersen returned into being, along with the rest of her body.
Most of her body, that is.
Jean’s body was for the most part as it had been, that of a well-built, fairly athletic woman in her early 30s, but her long period as a pony had apparently made permanent changes. Either that or a trio of Powers had been prophetic in their words of, “something new, to be seen.”
Jean’s hair was no longer the dark brown it had been, but was now the same snow white of her pony form’s mane. The mane flowed down her back in a silken wave, where it joined an equally snow white tail emerging from the base of her spine. A tail that was somewhat wet and soiled now from the spilled products of conception, but still flowing down to Jean’s knees.
Which is where her human body ended, for from that point on Jean’s body was composed of the cannons, fetlocks and hooves of a pony. All of which were covered in the soft white fur of her pony form.
Propping herself up on her forearms, Jean Pedersen took a moment to look at her body, eyes widening in shock. She looked at her husband and friends, who looked back in equal shock.
“WHAT THE HELL?” Jean demanded of the universe, and three meddling goddesses in particular.
