Strange Alchemy

The translucent yellow cube drifted in the air, its facets and delicate internal machinery ticking as it followed Dee. Its light illuminated the equitably decorated walls of the Citadel, but Dee paid no attention to the paintings and stained glass, lit from behind by shifting, liquid magic. He could not look away from his creation, watching as it worked perfectly, recording his coordinates and mechanically calculating the response to them through the spells of his own design.

The cube, of course, was the logical conclusion to Dee’s research into teleportation. Short-range spells had become easy for him, allowing him to slip between relatively close locations at will. Longer distances, however, proved more challenging. They consumed too much energy, but more than that, the type of magic used for short spells became exponentially more complicated at long ranges. Rather than design a totally different spell, Dee had simply created his own type of spell to perform the calculations faster: hence the cube. Now, as he walked, he considered if it could be equipped for other purposes as well. Perhaps to take notes, or to relay information to him, or to contain other difficult-to-wield spells. He smiled, knowing that it would be the envy of the wizards who would never be able to replicate it.

Creating the cube, of course, had been a miracle in and of itself considering the way things had been for the past month. Dee had initially immersed himself in deciphering the trihorn tablets and cataloging the information in his extensive library, but he had quickly moved on to attempting to experiment with redesigning and recovering the pieces of the spells he had found.

Everything had gone perfectly, at first. Then something strange had started to happen. Dee’s instruments began to react badly, worse than he had ever seen before. He was not sure why, but delicate magical sensors were suddenly responding as if there were a tremendous amount of magic in the air. The intensity he was reading was incredible: it was as though an entire legion of unicorn soldiers were traipsing through his sitting room. He had eventually dismissed the phenomenon as something of natural origin, such as a tectonic shift in laylines or perhaps ionization from the stormy season- -or even high humidity.

The damage to his instruments had been expensive, but he knew that with his guaranteed patronage, they would be easily replaced. Though annoying, he was given an opportunity to focus on different tasks. With his work interrupted, he had finally found time to continue his work on the Elements of Harmony, and in doing so he had made several tremendous strides in deciphering them- -and opened so many more new mysteries in the process.

Firstly, he had confirmed to his amazement that they did not consist of any known material. They were not chemical in nature, or made of any known type of magic or energy. Instead, it was as though space itself had condensed into hard, stone-like objects. They were virtually indestructible, but at the same time impossibly fragile, not by any physical nature but because they could, theoretically, interchange nature effortlessly.

That led to Dee’s second and much more disheartening hypothesis. The stones that represented the Elements appeared to be dormant. Their magic was inactive and dark, not at all like it must have been when Single Horn and her comrades had used them last. The Elements almost seemed to be waiting, but for what, Dee had no idea. No spell he had tried to cast on them had succeeded in activating them, and no technique known by him or any sorcerer who had written the tomes in his library showed any promise. The enigma had eventually forced him to give up in a huff.

Now, even more annoyingly, he had been summoned to the royal court. Dee knew that it was his duty to attend court when called, but he had seriously contemplated not bothering. It took time from his critical research, and as much as he liked to explain magical principles to Third Horn and the other less educated ponies, he had much to do.

Still, traveling to the Citadel was far easier with teleportation. That, and Dee made a note to try to buy flowers in the city. Fyr’mond had been oddly quiet recently, and the few times Dee had tried to speak to her, to explain to her his new innovations and ideas or show her his cube, she had been gone, probably wandering the shore Mortlake in solitude. The thought of that made Dee oddly sad, and he was on some level starting to miss her company. He had been busy lately, and had perhaps neglected her too much.

Dee stopped in front of the primary door to the royal chambers, and momentarily flicked through a notebook, writing down his notes. Then he stopped, and looked up at the pair of guards that stood beside the great door. Instead of wearing the standard royal gold, they were instead wearing entirely different armor. It was made of a black substance, something like rough stone, that covered their bodies asymmetrically in almost organic forms. The armor on their helmets had been decorated with glistening red, round crystals that made Dee shiver. He did not like the new armor. It was disturbing.

Before he could come up with an adequately biting comment, the doors swung open. Dee composed himself, ensuring that his hood and robes were perfect and that his glowing cube was clearly visible. He waited, and when the bell chimed, he stepped onto the sand.

The room on the other side was curiously empty. As Dee walked down the path, he noticed that there were nobles present at the borders. Only the guards stood watch, their faces concealed by black armor and red crystal. Something felt strange, but Dee did not allow himself to show his concern. He was the Magus; he needed to appear powerful and in absolute control at all times, especially in the presence of the king.

Eventually, he reached the end of the path and bowed deeply.

“Your highness,” he said. “Empower Third Horn. I, the Magus Doctor Dee, your humble servant, have responded to your call. What is it that my lord requires of me?”

“Ah, the Magus Doctor Dee,” said a voice beside Dee from a pony that he had ignored upon his entry. “Once again we meet, my friend.”

Dee turned his eyes toward the unicorn standing beside him, wondering what pony would be impudent enough to stand beside the Magus in the presence of Third Horn. Then, to his horror, he realized that the pony beside him was not a unicorn at all.

“YOU!” he cried, staring at the steel-blue earth pony beside him.

“Ward Kelley, at your service,” said the pony, a taunting smile on his face.

Dee felt his rage suddenly flare forth. “How dare you defile this place with your filthy hooves?!” he screamed. “An hornless fraud in this most sacred of places?! You will surely be executed for this indiscretion!”

“No, he shall not.”

Dee turned and looked upward at the pyramidal throne of Third Horn. The area around it was dim, but high at the top, he could see the throne- -and saw that it was open. The front, intended to permenantly seal Third Horn into the enclosure that kept him alive, had been cut away and the wires and tubes inside taken away, reveling the ancient seat beneath.

From that open chair, a unicorn rose, pulling himself from the surrounding of gold. His gray colored body was narrow and tall, but strong and young. He wore armor that did not correlate to any of the known hierarchal metals: it was not gold, silver, or steel, but instead made from solid mother-of-pearl.

The pony took a step and began to descend the stairs. Amddiffynnwr, who was approximately the same height, followed him down from the right side.

“And who are you?” demanded Dee.

The pony stared down at Dee, and Dee gasped when he understood. Those gray eyes were unmistakable. Though his body was young and strong, they were the same eyes that had stared from their prison of gold and magic for millennia. They were the cold, hard eyes of Third Horn.

“But that’s…that’s impossible!” cried Dee. “You cannot leave the spell! You would die!”

“Not any longer,” said Third Horn, his formerly old and tired voice now young and strong, filled with clinical but almost homicidal vigor that made Dee shake beneath his robe. Third Horn lifted a white-armored hoof and gestured toward Kelley. “This pony has healed me, restoring the strength that I believed the ages had robbed me of. By his magic, I am young again, healed of death itself. I am now truly Eternal.”

“No!” cried Dee. “You can’t be! You were dying! On the verge of death! You can’t be cured! It’s impossible! This- -this is a trick!”

“Do you doubt the word of Third Horn?” hissed Amddiffynnwr, stepping forward aggressively. Third Horn raised a hoof, however, and his son instantly stopped his advance.

“Different ponies may react to the unexpected in different ways,” he said in a cold, measured voice. “But Dee, I did not anticipate that you of all ponies would respond with rage.”

“That is because this filthy farm pony is nothing more than a fraud and a liar! My king, he is an earth pony, and claims to wield magic! Such a thing is not possible!”

“Because it truly is something that may not be done, or because you were not the first to do it?” Dee sputtered, not believing how Third Horn could even accept the sight of a lesser being in his presence. Yet he seemed completely unperturbed, not even disgusted by being near a lesser species. “You of all my ponies know my predilections, Dee,” said Third Horn, glaring into Dee’s eyes. “I care not of a pony’s bloodline, or their origin. I care only of their skill, of what they have achieved through work and sacrifice. Earth ponies and unicorns are the same in the eyes of a true monohorn.”

“I should have known,” said Dee, angrily eying the insectoid abomination that was Amddiffynnwr, hidden beneath a thin veneer of false pony nobility.

“Yes. You should have,” said Third Horn.

“But he is not nearly as powerful as I,” said Dee. “It was I, the Magus, who divided night from day!”

“And he, Ward Kelley, who reversed my age. Who produced unbreakable armor for my royal guard. Who has promised me an unending army of immortal demon warriors. Who has restored my beloved daughter’s magic.”

“Your- -your what?”

Third Horn extended his hoof, and Fyr’mond emerged from the shadows. Dee saw that she was strange, almost a different pony. Her horn was no longer short and blunt, but long and pointed. Her formerly chubby proportions were starting to become gaunt, and her sandy coat was graying beneath the white dress she wore. Although her composure was perfect, she could not meet her husband’s eye.

Fyr’mond bowed, and Third Horn put his hoof gently on his daughter’s shoulder. She put her head against his pearl-clad chest, and he put his head over hers, embracing her for a moment.

“My dear daughter, now becoming the image of my grandmother, the venerable warrior Single Horn. It was her who brought the power of this mage to my attention.”

“He is no mage, my king!” cried Dee, trying desperately to convince Third Horn of what should have been obvious.

Third Horn stared at Dee, and then turned his gaze toward Kelley. “Kelley,” he said. “What say you to these accusations?”

“I say no, I am not,” said Kelley. Dee smiled, and Fyr’mond gasped slightly. “Though I perform magic, I am but a simple pony. I am not a seeker of secrets, but a seeker of peace and hope for Equestria. I only wish to bring all the ponies of this land the happiness that I have brought to my king and to the princess Fyr’mond.”

“A noble goal indeed,” said Third Horn. “It has been a long time indeed since I have stood beside an idealist.”

“My- -my king!” said Dee, feeling his breath catch in his through. “No…no! You can’t mean- -”

“I do not,” he said. “Not yet. But know this, Dee. Your position as Magus is in serious question.”

“You- -you can’t!” screamed Dee. “After everything I’ve done! After everything I have sacrificed for this kingdom, for you!” Or, rather, for the kingdom that he would produce, and for the Queen that would lead it.

“You consume funds endlessly,” said Third Horn. “And yet you produce nothing.”

“I- -I have this!” said Dee, grabbing his teleportation cube from the air. “I can teleport! To anywhere in Equestria, at any time!”

“So you have improved the spell,” said Amddiffynnwr, stepping forward. “But I do not recall seeing it submitted to the College for distribution.”

“I- -surely you can’t expect the Magus to share his spell with the COLLEGE!”

“Then what use is it? What need to we have for one elderly pony who can teleport at will, compared to an entire army that can shift-jump into enemy territory? And- -Magus- -let me give you one further warning: speak with that tone to our exhausted leader again, and I shall kill you where you stand.”

“There is no need for that, my son,” said Third Horn.

“Please,” said Dee, chaining his tone and behavior rapidly, realizing with horror that he had only made his situation far worse. He dropped to the sand below, begging. “My king, please! I only ask you for one more chance! I have been researching for my entire life, and there are many things that I know! Allow me just one more chance to prove myself!”

Third Horn looked down at the groveling pony before him, and Fyr’mond looked away.

“Because you have always served me so well, and because for now you are the husband of my most powerful daughter, I grant you this request.”

“You- -you do?”

“One chance. Perhaps I was not clear before, and your unfortunate fate falls on me. So I give you this. Return to me in seven days, and bring with you something that might rival Ward Kelley’s gifts. If I deem it worthy, you shall keep your position in this court.”

“And if not?” asked Amddiffynnwr.

“If not, I shall expel you.”

Dee shuddered, pressing his forehead against the sand at Third Horn’s hooves. He felt himself starting to cry, and could feel the knot of pain growing in his stomach. No Magus had been expelled in over six centuries. It was a fate arguably worse than death. All of Dee’s funding would be taken, as well as all his artifacts and research to be absorbed into the royal library. Even the College would not take him as a researcher. The disgrace would force him away from Equestria.

“I will not fail you, my king,” he promised- -even though he had no idea what he might possibly do to avoid that horrid fate.

“Perhaps you will not,” said Third Horn. “I truly hope the fates are with you, Dee. I truly, truly do.”

Dee screamed and threw pushed the contents of his desk onto the floor. A bottle of ink shattered, covering his notes with blue-black fluid, but he did not care. None of it mattered anymore, and he screamed as he picked up a vase of pens and shattered it against the wall.

He had been betrayed, and by his own wife no less. After everything he had done for her, after he was about to buy her flowers, she had singlehoofedly destroyed his future. She and that accursed Ward Kelley had somehow conspired to turn the court against him, and the favor that he had spent his life cultivating was now slipping through his hooves like sand.

Out of breath, Dee flopped down on his chair and pressed his head against his now empty and ink-stained desk. He was still seething with rage, but it was rapidly being replaced by fear. Third Horn was a fool. They all were. Dee had spent his life toward the goal of producing a better Equestria, a paradise for unicorn kind. They were just too simple to understand the nature of his work, and of his sacrifice.

They had all been deceived, turned against him by a lowly, genetically inferior earth pony. Dee did not know how he could have been so foolish to underestimate this threat, or how he could ever see something so impossible coming.

A thought suddenly occurred to Dee. He wondered if, perhaps, Third Horn was contemplating the unthinkable: that he might be intending to make an earth pony his Magus.

Dee shook his head and sat up.

“No,” he said. “I…that will not happen. I shall not allow it!”

Earth ponies were nothing more than a failed stage in evolution. This was a known fact, proven through endless research. While they had evolved in the forests of Equestria, eating dirt and mating with their sisters, unicorns had been lovingly tended and raised by trihorns, bred to perfection. They were better by definition. Dee was better than Kelley by definition, and he would not fail.

The question, though, came down to what he could possibly do in just one week. He had hoped that his teleportation spell would be adequate, but he knew that it was not. Even if he had desired in any way to share it, the spell itself was far too complex for a normal pony to master. Even though Dee had done the impossible, a military stallion like Third Horn would not be impressed.

He sighed, and looked down at the mess he had made. After staring at it for several moments, he began to pick it up. He lifted the ink-drenched parchment from the floor, using his magic to remove any wet ink and to place it into a new bottle. The pages were ruined, but at least the ink could be saved.

There had been several trihorn tablets in the pile, but of course they were undamaged. The material that they were made of was far harder than stone. Just to be sure, though, Dee picked them up and filed them into a special, custom-built shelf designed specifically for the purpose.

As he did, he stopped to look at one he was holding in his magic, knowing that if he were to fail, he might never have a chance to decipher the secrets that they held within. The thought of losing that when he was so close nearly made him weep.

His eyes lingered on this particular tablet, though. It had been one of the few that he had not paid much attention to at first. His interest was in trihorn spells, but not every tablet contained them. He had left most of their historical ones behind for later recovery, but he had taken several that he believed might make good wall art. This one in particular was a highly detailed anatomical representation of an Aurasus, a type of sentient, mechanical race of ponies that had coexisted with the trihorns. Dee found them elegant, with their sculpted bodies of metal, but he had determined that Aurasi had no natural magic. As such, he had dismissed them.

Looking at that tablet and at the diagram of the golden pony inscribed into its surface, an idea suddenly occurred to Dee. The epiphany hit him with the force of a hammer, and he suddenly broke into a wide smile. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded, and he wondered why he had not seen it before.

“Yes,” he said. “Yes!”

He quickly passed to his desk and picked up a fresh piece of parchment. With the ink that he had just returned to the bottle, he began to sketch down his ideas. They seemed to pour forth from him, as if his mind were vomiting forth the most perfect idea, the ideal solution to win back the royal court’s favor.

After less than an hour, Dee had performed the initial calculations and designed the preliminary spell architecture. It would need more work, but the spell itself was relatively simple in nature. He knew he could do it.

On several smaller pieces of paper, he had created hastily jotted lists of ingredients and orders. On one larger page, he had even drawn out a preliminary sketch, not of something magical, but of a piece of showmanship that would surely seal his position.

Quickly, Dee sealed the lists into envelopes and wrote their destinations in clear but elegant script on the front. He then summoned one of his servants by magic, and trotted to the door.

“Runner! Runner!” he cried.

A young stallion appeared near the door. “Yes, Master Dee?” he said, nearly out of breath.

“Take these,” said Dee. “Deliver them at once, as swiftly as your legs might carry you! I need these orders dispatched immediately!”

“Yff mrsr drr,” said the courier, taking the letters in his mouth and carefully inserting them into one of his pockets. “I shall have them delivered by the hour!”

Runner sprinted off, his hooves clicking on the stone floor as he ran toward the door. Normally, Dee hated running in his house- -but now he would have chastised the young stallion to not have moved as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence.

Dee turned back to his study, still smiling. He himself would also need to hurry. The spells needed to be finish, and the laboratory prepared. All the doubt that had filled him seemed to have evaporated. He now knew that he surely could not fail.