“You go on ahead and make your delivery, I’m just going to take a quick peek and then I’ll make mine.” Applejack turned around and headed back to Sweet Apple Acres. Big Mac watched her until the curve of the hill he was standing on blocked her from view. Normally he would have offered to complete both deliveries himself, as he was easily capable of pulling both carts if they were properly hitched. But not on this route. Not when he knew all too well what he would have to do.
He started walking forward on the road, watching the scenery as it passed. He took notice of any farm he passed and mentally compared it to his home. He felt satisfied that none measured up, although he saw one or two that might have some good ideas worth investigating. Later though, for he wouldn’t make plans now.
All too soon he reached the crossroads that marked where his and Applejack’s journey normally split. One of the roads ran into the forest that his sister traveled and the to the mountain that was his route. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease; this would be the first time he had stood here alone. Still, he couldn’t let it stop him, and without another moment's hesitation he took the high trail.
His journey began well enough; an eagle circling a thermal above was always a good sign. Finding the mountain lilies purple was normally a bad sign, but the sounds of hydras snoring reassured him that the cragodiles weren’t around. He hadn’t fancied facing them with only half a pound of silver in his bag. Still he was wary, for there was no sign of the rock wyrms. His unease at not being able to judge their mood haunted him the entire climb up the mountain.
As he reached the top of the pass he took a moment to rest and admire the view. Looking back he could see all the way clear to Ponyville. Looking forward his vision was blocked by a fierce storm on the lower half of the mountain. His break over he began to pull various instruments out of his cart and began to take readings in a brand new notebook. Checking that the eagle was still hovering above he consulted the map and scribbled a note down. He threw three dice in the air and stared at them when they came up all ones. After a minute he blinked and found three sevens showing. That too was recorded in his notebook.
After completing all the observation listed in his map, and putting away the blindfold and telescope from the last reading, he placed his notebook on a large flat stone, as well as a pie from his cart. He removed a matchbook from his pack and lit the notebook on fire. He checked his map once again, hitched the cart, and started off down the path into the now sunny weather.
His journey down the mountain uneventful he arrived at the ruins of a great wall. A gate flanked by strange statues of lost races led into the decrepit city, but two identical guards ponies stood blocking the way.
“Halt!” The one on the left commanded. “None enter the city of Xanadu without challenge. One of us is a changeling, using the clues provided you must discover who.”
The other chimed in: “Then you must defeat one of us in a challenge of speed, a challenge we have never lost. Then-”
Big Mac tuned out the guard and consulted his map. Finding that the map ended after the mountain he scratched his head for a moment then tried turning the map over. Finding nothing he turned it over again and began to read new instructions. He removed two pies from his cart and walked to the guards who were still talking about collecting a branch of the world tree. He placed the pies on the ground in front of them and walked in as they began to eat.
Big Mac pulled his cart through the broken city, alone except for the sounds of wheels and hooves. No wind stirred through the ancient streets, and nothing living could be seen. Still he continued on until he reached a great plaza in the center of the city. A temple stood there with many statues to either side of a ramp leading in. He recognized the Princesses Celestia and Luna as well as other Discord, but most of the rest were unknown to him. There were also spaces with broken statues, and some were empty altogether.
He took a deep breath and pulled his cart up the ramp. As he passed the statues of the Princesses he took a moment to bow, and noticed that the statue next to Princess Celestia was of a roughly hewn alicorn. Not knowing why an unfinished statue was placed here he decided to move on.
Inside the temple braziers burned to provide illumination. Big Mac didn’t question what fueled them. Previous deliveries had taught him better. He walked to the end of the hall and found a door too small for his cart. He unhitched himself, removed one pie from the cart, and opened the door.
Inside he found a small chamber a hallway with odd markings on the floor. Experience compelled him to find a pattern and follow it. He hopped his way to the other side, only for the floor to give way. He found himself lying in another hallway with no hole in the ceiling above. He stood up, only for a tile to sink under his hoof and odd mechanical sounds came from behind him. He started to run.
He passed through several rooms in this manner, including the snakes room, the swinging blades room, the snakes with swinging blades room, and the blades with swinging snakes room. The last had been unexpected, even for this delivery. A quick drink of anti-venom later found him in a new seemingly empty room with a slot on the far wall. He walked closer to examine it and saw an inscription on the wall. After reading it he took out a single sheet of paper and began to work. Although he wasn’t quite clear about why which train arrived first was important.
After submitting his paper, and then resubmitting his paper with his work shown, the wall swung away to reveal an enormous treasure room within. Big Mac walked past piles of gold and jewels to the center of the room. As he drew closer he heard the sound of unearthly laughter ahead of him.
“You think you can walk in here and take my treasures?” The voice said. “Who are you, to dare such acts. I have slayed heroes and queens, what hope do you have? You will find only your death here!”
Big Mac rounded a corner to find a large manticore smiling at him. Carefully, making no fast movements, Mac removed the pie from his saddlebags. The manticore stared at him, daring him to make his next move. Mac reverentially placed the pie on a pile of treasure next to him, he would be hungry afterwards, and silently charged the beast.
Later found Big Mac placing the manticore’s horn in his saddlebags and licking out the pie tin. He walked past the treasures to the other side of the room and a simple wooden door. Inside he found a long stairway down, longer than he could see and lit by torches. Taking a moment to compose himself he started walking down the stairs. The door shut behind him with a final sounding thud.
Down he descended into the endless staircase. He had no way to track how long or how far he walked, and soon he couldn’t see the door behind him. The air began to grow stale. Half imagined sounds whispered to him. The torches started appearing less frequently, and more dimly. The staircase led ever onwards and downwards. Tired, he brushed against the wall, tired.
The sounds stayed maddeningly below comprehension. He brushed against the wall again, the thought that perhaps they were getting closer running through his mind.
The lights faded and still the air grew warmer. In the dim twilight Mac could barely see ahead. The sounds of mad laughter became clear and finally he broke, a whimper escaping his lips as he bounded forward. All was black now, but he was propelled by the hope of escape. Faster and faster he descended, his heavy breathing not quite drowning out the sound behind him. He missed a step and rolled forward, coming to a stop against a wall. Trapped with no way out he turned but couldn’t even see his pursuer. The laughter came closer and closer until it was right on top of him-
And found himself in bright daylight. He was in a courtyard next to the sea with no sign of the staircase anywhere. Instead Big Mac saw his wagon waiting for him. He checked his map again, and after folding the singular piece of paper into a much larger map found his location. Hitching himself again to his only traveling companion he walked into the water until submerged.
He struggled for a moment before discovering he was able to breathe by some force beyond his reckoning. He continued further underwater, schools of fish surrounding him briefly before dissipating. As he climbed an underwater hill he found a familiar sight before him. The city of the seaponies. A glance at the apparently waterproof map confirmed that it was his next destination.
His arrival in the city did not go unnoticed. As he passed by shops and homes various citizens stopped to look at him and talked furiously amongst themselves. Some followed him and before long he was leading a large crowd towards a palace. He approached the gates and was immediately let in by the guards. He continued deeper in until he stood in the entrance to the throne room itself. Steeling himself he strode forward confidently.
Inside was a throne, a majestic chair carved from a single pearl. Sitting on it was a seapony unlike the others. Big Mac stopped dead when he saw her, the queen of the seaponies. She was larger than the members of her court and radiated majesty from her very being. Mac bowed as he felt was proper.
The queen looked at him for a long time. Big Mac stayed bowed. Finally she stood up and spoke: “You have no need to bow here. Not with the debt we owe you.” Mac stood and looked at her. “I know why you have come. I know where your journey will take you and what you will face.” She swam over to Mac and began circling him. Mac tried to keep thoughts of sharks out of his head.
Examination finished the queen stopped in front of Big Mac. “You have demonstrated your strength and skill when you freed my people, but now your task is not so simple. A death of a thousand cuts awaits you if you continue.”
Big Mac drew in breath to speak, but was interrupted by the queen. “So you ask for the boon I promised you. The boon offered instead of your rightful reward in my court.” Big Mac could only nod, not trusting himself to speak. “I can grant you what you need, but it is a curse as well. Will you still refuse my offer? You could stay here in as my right fin. All you would have to do is end your journey.”
Mac averted his eyes and shook his head. The queen sighed at his response. “I can see there is no persuading you. Take my gift and I hope you will not regret it. But try to return here after your journey is done, even if only for a little while.” With that she turned her back on him and returned to her throne. Mac glanced at his map and reached behind him to pull out a pie. He trotted forward and presented it to the queen.
She smiled ruefully. “So you have seen through my trap. I don’t know how you knew our custom, but without a gift I would have been able to hold you here. Truly you are wise.” She took a bite out of the pie. “Oh wow, this is great. Seriously, you need to bring more of these.”
Mac spared a glance at the still eating queen as he strode out of the throne room. He arrived at the gates to find the crowd still present, but as he neared they parted and opened a way for him. He left the city and headed to the next location on the map.
A time later, for Big Mac could not truly say how much time, found Big Mac pulling his cart onto a beach seemingly none the worse for its underwater trip. As he dried himself off he heard a cry for help from the sea. Without hesitation he ran into sea and started swimming towards an injured female griffin holding onto a piece of driftwood. Grabbing the piece of wood in his mouth he towed her to the beach where she collapsed upon the sand.
The griffin looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Do you have any water? I haven’t had a drink for days.” Mac went back to his cart to get some water and a pie. He wasn’t sure what the map would say about this but he always made sure to bring a few extra. He gave the water to the griffin, making sure she took small sips.
“I was in a shipwreck” she said after finishing the food and water. “I’ve been floating for days before I saw land but the tide was too strong and I was being pulled out to sea again. You saved my life.” Mac blushed awkwardly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but you don’t happen to be heading towards the griffin kingdoms? If you’re going anywhere near there please let me come along.”
Big Mac wondered why she hadn’t offered her name, but decided not to press her. He checked his map, currently a scroll, and saw that he was headed to the aeries. He was also fairly certain there was no ocean near there but didn’t worry about it. He turned to respond to the griffin only to find that she had fainted. He took her and placed her on the cart. Orienting himself he started off again.
The griffin woke up as Mac approached griffin strongholds. Seeing home she let out a cry of joy and flung herself aloft. Her cry was answered by several griffins from the mountain who rushed out to meet her. They circled in the air for a while before landing in front of Mac. The young female he had rescued led the group in bowing before him.
She stood and said “I didn’t mention it earlier just in case, but my father is the king in the mountain. I am Princess Stefanie and I am forever in your debt. Should you ever want anything from the griffin people simply ask and it will be yours. But won’t you please join us for the feast?”
Big Mac shook his head and pointed back to the road. Princess Stefanie’s head drooped for a moment. “I understand, you must be going. I hope to see you again, and I wish you luck on your journey.” She flew into the air, and after a moment so did the rest of the griffons. Mac turned around and started walking.
Big Mac stood in a swamp, fending off the hydra’s with a long pole. Whenever one got too close he would hit it on the snout and dash forward to the next piece of dry land, only to repeat the process. He didn’t know how long he could continue like this, but all thoughts of stopping had left his mind.
The sphinx asked him a question he did not know the answer too. He stood under the sun, thinking, while the sphinx smiled in anticipation. The time limit set was fast approaching. Mac thought harder as his life depended on his next words. The sphinx continued to smile.
The blizzard howled around him as did the windigoes. Mac pulled his cloak tighter as his teeth chattered. He strained to pull the wagon through the rapidly deepening snow. He knew what would happen if he became stranded outside but he couldn’t abandon the wagon.
A time later, and another time, and still another time found Big Mac illuminated by the setting sun, standing by an inn at a crossroad. The journey had been hard and the dangers numerous. He had faced more beasts than he could count, from basilisks to harpies, to others still that he couldn’t name. No chimeras though. He had risked life and limb to get to the next destination on his map. A familiar destination even if the location wasn’t.
He never knew where exactly the inn was. It was always near the end of his delivery regardless of where the map took him. Inside he would find shelter until he was rested. He parked his wagon outside next to other vehicles. He had no fear that it would be stolen. Confidently he strode inside the inn.
He was greeted by a hush as all conversation stopped. The normally friendly fellow travellers stared at him. A night pony polishing mugs quickly reached under the counter to grab a medical kit and rushed towards Big Mac. Confused, Mac looked at himself. He was covered in cuts and scars, and his coat was matted with dried blood, dying it a darker red in large angry blotches. He could see that some of the cuts were very deep, and caught a glimpse of what might have been bone. Despite this he felt fine and protested half-heartedly at the nocturnal ponies ministrations.
Some time later found him washed and bandaged up sitting at the bar. The crowd had returned to normal and the constant buzz of conversation filled the air. Mac didn’t recognize all the races in the inn. He knew from past experience that all were travelling great distances and many had happened upon the inn by chance. A few others, like Mac, regularly stayed at the inn. Overall it was a friendly crowd and Mac enjoyed the atmosphere while waiting for his food.
A hush fell over the inn again, but this time it was a more natural affair. Big Mac knew that it was time for the nights entertainment. Strangely the entertainment always appeared to be one of two ponies that he recognized from Ponyville. He hoped it was the grey one, as the white one could sometimes be too loud. Not that he didn’t enjoy her particular brand of music, but he wasn’t feeling in the mood for it at the moment.
Thankfully it was the grey one that stood upon the stage, her bow poised over her cello. Mac waited in anticipation for her to start. Once she did he let the music wash over him, healing an ache he hadn’t fully felt till then. He had never asked the musicians about the inn while in Ponyville but the white one had mentioned something after drinking with him. Or perhaps she was drinking and he happened to be there, he was never sure. She had mentioned that they weren’t paid for their performance, that their reward was to play here again. She had said that the crowd here was the best she had ever seen. She had then fainted.
Mac watched the grey one play, enraptured. She was concentrated fully on her music, eyes closed. He rarely talked to her in the inn despite watching her perform here many times. He could never bring himself the courage to speak up and had only had conversations with her when she initiated them. But he loved to watch her play. All too soon she reached the end of her song. Big Mac was the first to applaud, and at the sound of his hooves she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
After she left the stage Mac finished his food, paid the innkeeper with a pie, and left the inn feeling fully refreshed. His aches and pains had left, and she had smiled at him. He had the most dangerous part of the journey ahead of him, but it was okay. She had smiled at him.
Soon enough saw Big Mac at the end of his journey. He had passed through not unscathed, he was bleeding from several cuts and had no vision in his right eye, but he was still standing. The time in between the inn and now was a distant memory, replaced with a much more important one.
Before him was a hooded pony who was familiar to Mac. The figure gestured at him. Mac knew that the map held no answers for him now at this final step. This part was always his alone to bear. He reached in his bags for the manticore horn. The figure took it and placed it in his cloak. He opened a portal, but stopped Mac before he could enter it.
“THERE IS A PRICE” said the cloaked figure. “THE MANTICORE HORN OPENED THE PORTAL TO THE RIGHT LOCATION, BUT THE PORTAL ITSELF IS HOSTILE TO YOUR KIND. MORTALS WERE NOT MEANT TO USE IT.” The figure gave Mac a closer look. “THOUGH IT APPEARS THAT YOU HAVE A RARE GIFT UPON YOU.”
He pointed a bony hoof at Mac. “GIFTS LIKE THOSE ARE TOO HEAVY FOR MOST MORTALS AND ARE NOT LIGHTLY GIVEN. IT IS GOOD THAT YOU HAVE COME HERE.” Nodding in understanding Mac made to step through the portal, before stopping himself and giving the figure the second to last pie from his cart. The figure stared for a moment before muttering to himself.
Stepping through the portal Big Mac found himself at what appeared to be the backdoor of a house. His coat was unmarred and his eye was restored. He took out the last pie, as warm and fresh as if it had come out of the oven minutes ago, and knocked.
Moments later the door opened and Pinkie Pie stood framed in the doorway. “Oh goodie it’s here” she said. “I’ve been waiting all day for this. I hope you didn’t have too much trouble following my map.”
Big Mac knew that better minds had questioned Pinkie and failed but he still felt invigorated from the smile. “Why the map?” he asked.
“Because I can’t let the Cakes know I’m ordering from Sweet Apple Acres, they’d feel bad. This way no one sees you.” She paid him and closed the door. Big Mac went back to his cart and started the walk home.
Author's Note
Written over the course of seven hours in order to make the writers training ground deadline. If you find an error, please point it out.
