Big MacIntosh had been hard at work all day, as he was every day, and judging from the one, stubborn rock half-buried in the middle of his new field, this particular day wasn’t likely to end soon. From a glance, the offending stone was roughly the length of a colt and rose about as high from the ground, but even his considerable strength had failed to budge it, the scattered pieces of what was left of his rope a testament to the contest of will between pony and nature.
Not to be outdone by a boulder, no matter how firmly wedged in the ground it may be, Big Mac went to his wagon, conveniently parked just off to the side of his new field under the shade of his family’s signature apple trees. He rooted around in the little red wagon, a left-over from his foalhood, for a few seconds before emerging triumphant with a rusty old shovel clamped firmly between his teeth. The stalwart stallion had considered replacing the child’s toy a few times over the years, but he’d never been able to quite see a reason for it. Childish though it may be, the wagon was one of the few things he owned that had been hoofcrafted by his father, and it had served him well enough. It stored his tools, his seeds, and most importantly, his lunch.
With an uncharacteristically vicious grin, Big Mac set to work digging out the foundations of his formidable foe, heaving great heaps of soil over either shoulder into two neat little piles. In seconds he’d cleared a sizable trench halfway around the rock that was deep enough even he couldn’t quite see over the edge. But the boulder simply kept expanding, growing larger and larger the further down he went, its surface chipped and worn but as impenetrable as the force-field Twilight occasionally conjured around her library when she was too busy studying to be disturbed.
“Need a hoof?” called an unfamiliar voice.
Big MacIntosh looked up; lying on the edge of his pit, which had become significantly deeper in the last few minutes, was a unicorn. The newcomer had a storm grey coat and a long, disheveled black mane, his acid green eyes twinkling with polite interest and his lips curved into a friendly smile. The proud farmer glanced at the considerable girth he’d already uncovered, did some quick calculations as to the amount he’d probably yet to see, and reluctantly looked back up at the helpful pony.
“Eeyup,” he said.
The stranger’s smile grew slightly wider and he disappeared from view, returning moments later with Big Mac’s spare shovel clenched in his jaws. Without hesitation, the unicorn leaped down into the pit, landing lightly about a yard away, still smiling.
“No magic, though,” Big Mac explained, setting back to work, “this here’s Apple family land, and we’ve got a tradition to uphold.”
A dry chuckle was his only response as the sounds of iron biting into soil filled the air. The two worked for what seemed like hours, digging ever deeper, until the sun was all but hidden from view and they were shrouded in the shade of towering walls. The trench around their mighty adversary grew wider, and wider, circling out until it nearly filled the new field entirely. The new circumference forcing them to stop their efforts every while just so they could move the dirt heaps, for they were no longer piles, further back, lest they topple. The stranger’s efforts were paltry compared to the massive stallion’s, but he was a hard worker, Big MacIntosh would give him that, and he’d adhered to the No-Magic Rule as well, unlike a certain somepony he remembered from Winter Wrap Up a few years back. The giant pony decided he liked this newcomer, anypony who was willing to stop and lend a hoof in honest labor was alright by his books.
“Holy asscrackers!” The unicorn exclaimed, staring at the behemoth they had unearthed, hours later when the sun was near to setting and almost the entirety of the new field had been excavated. Big Mac did not understand the oath but he agreed with the sentiment. His “stubborn rock” was nothing of the kind. The thing was almost bigger than the Apple family house! The monstrosity was now resting comfortably on its base atop the soil, innocent as could be. While they had not, despite their best efforts, managed to excavate it completely, it was now free enough from the vacuum of the ground to be movable. At least in theory.
“If this is what you farmers call a 'day’s work’, I’m sure as shit glad I wasn’t born one. No offense meant, but damn! Look at that thing!” The excitable unicorn was gaping open-mouthed at the fruit of their labor, and if it weren't for his perpetual stoicness, Big MacIntosh felt he would be likely to join him.
The unicorn whistled appreciatively once more and turned to face his much larger acquaintance, “So how you gonna move it?”
Big MacIntosh blinked, he hadn’t thought of that. He’d been so preoccupied with digging the thing out he’d never stopped to think about how he was going to get rid of it once he did.
“Guess I’ll get my pick axe tomorrow, bust it up into smaller pieces, and cart those away,” the big pony rubbed his chin thoughtfully with a dirty hoof. He hated to admit it to himself, but even for him such a task would take at least a week, time that could be better spent planting seeds or fixing up the barn. The barn always needed fixing.
His new friend stared at him, no doubt struck speechless by the sheer amount of physical labor such a task would entail. The earth pony smiled slightly to himself; good worker he may be, the magic-oriented unicorn was no farmer. After about a minute, said unicorn shook himself forcibly and looked back at the boulder, his expression thoughtful.
“You know,” he pondered, “if you’re not going to do anything with it, anyway. You could give it to me.”
It was Big Mac’s turn to look astonished, “W-What would you do with it?”
The unicorn shrugged and continued to look at the boulder, “I have some mates who are always looking for interesting stuff, and that mother there is a doozy.”
The farmer looked back at the boulder and considered the offer. While he hated the idea of giving up anything he’d worked so hard to get, he could not for the life of him think of what he would do with a rock the size of his house. He also knew that Applejack would doubtless consider it a grade-A offense to not give it up to somepony who’d been kind enough to take time out of his day to help a stranger with a difficult task just so he could have his trophy.
“Well,” he said at last, “Ah guess Ah can stand ta part with it, but Ah don’t rightly see how you’re gonna get it out on your own.” Big Mac spat on his hoof and held it out. To his surprise, the unicorn spat on his own hoof and bumped it against the giant's without hesitation. This surprised the big pony, normally unicorns were alot more squeamish about spit then pegasi or earth pony's were. He chalked it up to yet another oddly pleasing trait of his new friend.
“Oh contraire, my monolithic friend,” the significantly smaller pony responded. “Seeing as how our friend Tom here is no longer part of Apple family land, the No-Magic Rule no longer applies.”
With a cocky swagger and a twinkle in his eyes, the unicorn stepped forward to the edge of the pit, his horn glowing with power. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then a loud bang shook the air, followed by a horrible squelching noise, and in a flash of light that near dazzled the farmer, the boulder disappeared. Big MacIntosh stared at the empty space for a few seconds, then looked at his friend in silent wonder. He’d never seen anypony except Twilight Sparkle herself wield such incredible power with such little effort. Whoever this newcomer was, he was a force to be reckoned with.
“Y’all coulda done that at any time?” He asked when his voice returned to him.
“Eeyup.”
“Even while it was stuck in the ground?”
“Eeyup.”
“Huh,” Big Mac scratched an ear dazedly. “Well, Ah appreciate your respect for Apple traditions, and I sure appreciate yer helpin’ me, but ya think maybe the next time you offer to help ya can point out ya can fix a whole day’s work in a second before we spend all day in a hole?”
“Eeyup,” the two shared a grin before the sound of a ladle hitting a frying pan rang through the air, startling them both.
“Well," the farmer said slowly, glancing out towards the lights of his home and the warm supper which awaited him there, "the least Ah can do for yer help is offer ya a nice hot meal. I'll have you know ma Granny Smith makes the best apple pie in a hundred miles, and that's no lie. Whaddaya say?”
A hungry growl emanating from the pony’s stomach was all the answer he needed. “Dinner sounds good right about now,” the unicorn admitted.
Big Mac turned and trotted off towards the house, the small pony’s hoofbeats sounding off slightly behind him as he followed. “So what’s yer name, anyway? I don’t rightly remember askin’.”
“Grimoire Sorcerus, of Clan Sorcerus.” the pony replied, easily keeping pace with the massive stallion.
“Big MacIntosh.” The two bro-hoofed without losing pace.
The walk to the house did not take long, it never did for a pony of Big Mac’s size, and the speedy hopstep of his friend meant his pace did not have to slow as it usually when he was accompanied by smaller ponies. The front door of the old, red painted wooden house was open, washing the front porch in soft, golden light. Inside the comfortably furnished parlor, Granny Smith, an aging green pony with a white mane pulled back in an untidy bun, was resting on her favorite rocking chair, watching fondly as two younger mares finished putting out the plates for the family’s evening meal. Big MacIntosh’s sisters Apple Bloom, a yellow filly with red hair capped by a pink bow, and Applejack, an orange mare with blonde mane and tail styled in ponytails, which frankly Big Mac found redundant.
“Well hey there,” the Apple matriarch greeted the newcomer, turning to face the two sweaty, tired stallions as they carefully wiped their muddy hooves on the doormat before entering. “Ah don’t reckon Ah’ve seen you a’fore. What brings ya out ta old Sweet Apple Acres?”
“Granny,” Big MacIntosh introduced the chipper unicorn, “this here’s Grimoire Sorcerus. He helped me out with a bit of trouble in the fields an’ Ah figured the least Ah could do was invite him to dinner ta show ma appreciation.”
“Is that what that big flashy light was?” Applejack called, setting out an extra plate.
“Well, yes and no,” Grimoire answered for him, taking the opportunity to join the conversation. “I helped Big MacIntosh here dig out a boulder and when we finished he was kind enough to give it to me so I could teleport it home to some friends of mine.”
“Y’all didn’t use no magic to dig it out?” Granny Smith’s stare could have melted stone.
“Nnnope,” her grandcolt answered, jumping back in.
The Apple matriarch’s weathered face split into a wide smile as she jumped down and paced slowly over to the kitchen, “Weell, thank ya kindly fer yer help there, Mr. Sorcerus. Come on and have a seat at the table, we’ll show ya how the Apple famly shows its appreciation. Good food and good cider!”
Another hungry rumble initiated a round of chuckling as Grimoire followed Big Mac to the table and took a seat at the place set out for him. No sooner had his flanks touched cushion than the sparkling china in front of him was filled with all manner of apple treats. There was apple pie, apple fritters, apple tarts, apple dumplings, apple crisps, apple crumbles, and of course, Apple Brown Betty. The desert, not the family’s esteemed aunt.
To his credit, the unicorn managed to resist the urge to dive head first into the delicious ensemble until Applejack had finished filling the other plates from a casserole dish she set in the middle of the ancient oak table. Also present was a bowl of fresh tossed garden salad, fresh fruit (mostly apples), and a generous basket of hay fries.
“So where’d y’all come from?” Apple Bloom asked, smacking her hoof to the table to send up a particularly juicy-looking apple and snapping it out of the air.
Grimoire pondered the question, buying time by biting into an apple fritter, horn glowing with power. A globe appeared from nowhere, floating several hooves above the table.
“We’re here,” a dot reading Ponyville began to shine, “and I come from over here.” Another dot, this one reading Sorcerus’ Hall, began to glow some ways north. As he was unfamiliar with what scale the globe might’ve used an exact estimate was impossible, but Big Mac deduced the flighty unicorn had traveled a distance of at least several hundred miles.
Applejack whistled, “Y’all walked all that way?”
Grimoire shrugged, “Not exactly. Some of the Clan were heading to Manehatten so I managed to hitch a ride with them. I’ve only been on the road for a few days.”
“What’s a clan?” Apple Bloom piped up, her adorable face smeared with the carnage of foodocide.
“It’s like an extended family,” Applejack answered, wiping away the crumbs of her little sister’s victory with a clean rag. “The Apple family used to be known as Clan Appeleus ‘fore we switched it.”
“Why’d we switch?”
“Ah don’t rightly know, though somepony’s still refer to us like that.”
A hoof banging on the table startled them all and every eye turned as one to the source. Grimoire’s eyes were shining and his forehoof was laid out on the table, his meal forgotten.
“I knew I’d heard that name before!” He exclaimed. A sealed scroll warped itself into existence above the table next to the globe. “Grandpa Sarl wanted me to give this to the Apple Clan Leader when I arrived.”
“‘Apple Clan Leader’? There’s only one pony Ah know who talks like that,” Granny Smith snatched the letter from the air and quickly unfurled it with some deft hoof work. The room fell oddly silent as she read the letter, only to be startled half out of its wits as the old mare slammed a hoof into the table and yelled. “Gimminy beans in a cornswallop sack, so yer that Sorcerus!”
Grimoire nodded, if he was surprised at all by the aging mare’s mannerisms he was doing a decent job of not showing it.
Applejack looked from one to the other, “Is anypony else -”
“-confused?” Apple Bloom finished.
“Old Sarl grew up here in Ponyville,” the unicorn supplied, watching with amusement as Granny Smith continued to bounce in her seat, re-reading the letter for the fourth time. Her smile growing with each revision. “When he moved to the Clan Hall he lost touch with a few of his friends. I’m guessing your granny here was one of them.”
“Yer darn tootin’,” said granny snapped, tucking the letter away inside her bun for safe-keeping. “Back when Ah was a little filly, Sarl was one o’ the firs’ friends Ah made here in Ponyville. Once the town got full swing o’ course. He lived on that hill over yonder out by the lake. Ah think he still owns it.”
Grimoire nodded, “Indeed he does, that’s actually where I’m going to be staying while I’m here in Ponyville.”
Applejack stared at him in horror, “Y’all can’t be serious. Grimoire, Ah know the hill she’s talkin’ about and while it’s a right pretty spot there ain’t nothin there but wind and grass! Ain’t no place for a pony ta live, least till ya get yerself a house built up there.”
Big MacIntosh eyed the only other male in the room warily as he shrugged. The big earth pony had just watched this unassuming colt teleport away what basically amounted to an entire house, he sincerely doubted a lack of shelter was going to be a problem for him. And if it was, it wasn’t going to be for long.
“Don’t worry about me, Applejack, I have a plan.” He gave her a roguish smile, which the practical farmer did not return. Grimoire sighed in resignation, “Though, to tell you the truth, I wasn’t expecting to be holed up here for so long. I suppose it’s far too late for me to go through with my plan, so I guess I need a place to spend the night.”
Applejack’s face broke into a large smile, “Well that’s no trouble at all! Y’all can sleep here t’night, we got a nice room we ain’t usin’, and in the mornin’ Ah can take ya down ta town and get ya all set up!”
Big MacIntosh winked at his friend, who returned it with a wry grin. If Grimoire could handle the rest of the town as well as he’d handled Applejack, he’d get along just fine.
Ryle crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Apple Bloom sleep. The Apples, and himself of course, had retired to their separate rooms hours ago. Big MacIntosh had work in the morning, and Applejack had insisted on rising with the dawn so they’d have plenty of time to find him a place to stay until his house could be built.
The wizard smiled to himself. The friendly farmpony’s concern was touching, but wholly unnecessary. His “house” would take less than an hour to build, far less than the weeks his new friends were expecting, so it wasn't like he'd be lacking for shelter. His smile deepened as Apple Bloom sighed and shifted in her sleep. This habit of watching the young sleep and dream had started long ago, back when his own family had still been able to be called such. But that had been before the sickness, before the Crusade, before this, this knowledge of the arcane and what it could do in the hands of one with the will to wield it. He had once thought magic would bring him everything he'd ever wanted. He'd been wrong.
He was not worried about being caught; physically he was still asleep in the large, comfortable bed the Apples had supplied him with. Astral projection, the ability to send one’s soul out into the world, was an old hobby of his and one of his greatest powers. While his body rested, his mind was free to explore the deeper channels of thought, meaning he never had to stop studying the magics which enraptured him. The perks of being able to fly and pass through solid objects were nice as well. They made him one devil of a hide-and-seeker. The obvious downside being that in the Astral Plane he had no way of interacting with the world, meaning for all its powers he was helpless so long as his soul remained separate from his body.
The leylines he’d been able to sense in the physical world appeared to him here as beams of colored light passing all through and around in every direction imaginable. There were millions of them, some thin as a single hair, others broader than highways. It was the four largest ones, known as the Axis Keys, that had led him to this town, for it had been built on one of only two places where all four converged as one. The other being the Great Beneath, where the Forgotten lay sleeping. Ryle chuckled silently. He doubted he'd be very welcome in the Place From Which All Bad Things Come. Even if he did belong to a species hellbent on destroying itself and everything around it.
The effects that such unbridled energy lying just beneath the physical world would have were unknown, even to him. But that was why he was here, to study the Axis Keys and learn their secrets. The secrets his homeworld had forsaken in their quest to bring about eternal domination. The powers of Harmony, and the Elements which bore them.
His smile did not quite reach his eyes. If he had had the powers then that he did now, he might have saved her. He would do better this time.
With a gentle word he stroked a vaporous hand through the sleeping filly's head, his fingers passing through as if made of mist, glowing with soft magic. Never again would he allow children to burn in front of him, even if all he could offer them was a pleasant dream.
