Those Who Dwell Under The Hills

The warm light of day streamed in through the round windows of the Golden Oaks library, flooding the refurbished reading room that had become Spike’s apartment. Heavy doubled eyelids blocked all light from impinging on the sleeping dragon’s rest, but sensitive dermal plates felt the warmth, absorbed the sun’s heat and began to rouse him from the night’s slumber. Spike groaned and turned, eyelids creaking open to the dim, fogged world he perceived every morning as his nictitating membranes protected him from the full brunt of the sun.

He groaned again, sitting up and willing his eyes to fully open. It was late in the day, at least noon if not past, but Spike still felt as if he could do with some more sleep. Maybe a week or so would do. Sweetie Belle’s concert the previous night had been punishing, as usual; Spike enjoyed the music, and he was always happy to go to Sweetie’s shows, but his diminutive form was invariably bruised and sore the next day. One day, he thought, he’d learn to keep back from the stomping and slam-dancing and stay at the bar. Appearances to the contrary, he wasn’t a hatchling anymore.

He flicked his tongue, trying with little success to dull the taste of acid in his mouth, and jumped down from the bed. His feet contacted the cool, bare wood of the floor and he hissed, biting his tongue against the colorful language that immediately sprang to mind. Twilight had been trying to convince him to get a rug, but he always said it was fine. He liked his room neat.

Not exactly ‘neat’, more like ‘empty’, Spike thought as he looked around. The bed, an old hoof-made wooden from that he had inherited from Twilight, was not only the most prominent piece of furniture in the room, it was the only furniture in the room other than an old floor mirror and the bookshelves built into the walls. The shelves themselves stood bare but for a single, yellowing framed picture of Rarity she had gifted Spike the day she moved away to Manehattan.

Spike sighed and stretched. It was better this way, he told himself, just as he did every morning. The picture gnawed at him enough.

He toddled over to the mirror and a familiar ‘baby’ dragon looked back. He was leaner than he had been as a child, with a slightly elongated jaw and claws that ended in long, tapering talons rather than stubby ones. He looked closely in the mirror, examining himself. No signs of scales hardening or molting. Teeth still stubby. Still the same height. Good. The bags under his eyes and the rising bruises tinting some of of his scales a darker shade of purple weren’t especially attractive, but they’d pass soon enough.

A door slammed in the adjoining room, startling Spike. “Spike! Spike! Spike, are you home?” Twilight Sparkle’s muffled voice called. Blinking, Spike quickly moved for the door. After so many years, Spike could tell when Twilight was worried and upset, and she hadn’t sounded this agitated since... Well, best not to dwell on that. Hopefully, she wouldn’t be declaring him the “new Rainbow Dash” again.

“Yeah, Twilight,” he called out, stifling a yawn as he moved quickly toward his door. “What’s going on?”

Pulling the door open, Spike was confronted with three ponies. Twilight was running up the stairs to her loft while Lyra Heartstrings and Applejack stood in the front room. He hadn’t seen much of Applejack since the big fight between her and Twilight, and the sight of the heavily augmented pony stood as one of the more surprising things he’d ever seen. Balled up claws rubbed his eyes, quickly, but failed to dispel the strange sight.

“Uh. Hey Lyra. Hey Applejack. What’s, uh... What’s going on?”

“Spike,” Twilight said sternly, even as she telekinetically ransacked her dresser, throwing things onto her bed or down the flight of stairs seemingly at random. “Get your things. We’re going to Canterlot for a few days.”

“I don’t have any things to get,” the little dragon said, flatly. “Is there any reason we’re going to Canterlot?”

Three responses came in unison, and Spike managed to glean the word “Changeling” and very little else. He shuddered, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Does this have to do with those pictures?”

“Pictures?” Applejack asked.

“Yes, Cadance sent me some photos of Changelings,” Twilight said absently as she continued to defile the laundry Spike had so painstakingly folded.

“They done took Big Mac, Spike!” Applejack said, sharply, and stamped a thin gouge in the hardwood.

Spike hissed and leaned forward, all thoughts of sleep or fatigue forgotten. “Wait, what? We gotta go get him back!”

“That’s the plan,” Twilight said.

Changelings. The wedding had been a certifiable nightmare. While he wasn’t as close to Shining Armor as Twilight was, he was the closest thing Spike had to a big brother. He had been no help at all to Twilight when she was trying to convince everypony that Cadence wasn’t who she seemed to be, he had lain low during the Changeling invasion. Guilt on guilt.

“We need to find them, first,” said Lyra.

“They’re in Canterlot, aren’t they?” Spike said, defiantly, smacking a balled-up fist into his open claw. “We’ll go get the princesses, go find the Changelings and save Macintosh!”

“It’s not that easy, Spike!” Twilight said, as she began descending the steps, a suitcase hovering above her. “Lyra, you tell him.”

Lyra shook her head as she walked toward Twilight. “She’s right, Spike, it’s not that easy. We can explain on the way. Do you have train fare?”

“I have it,” Twilight said. “Spike insists on having me watch his money.”

Spike wheeled back as he found himself suddenly staring into Lyra’s golden-yellow eyes. “You are a weird dragon,” she said.

“Here you go, Spike.”

A purple claw reached up and gingerly plucked a train ticket from the air. He was a grown - so to speak - adult and fine riding the train to Canterlot by himself, and he never had to ask Twilight for the bits if he wanted to go on his own, but he was always more comfortable having her handle the money. He watched as Twilight pressed through the turnstile in front of him, then followed, his free claw pushing the metal bar out of his path with a satisfying ker-chunk.

The little dragon’s vision was a sea of cutie marks and saddlebags, the familiar sights of the mid-afternoon train crowd. The crowd was thinner than it was in the morning or evening, so Spike could still look around the station. To his mind the new station was a drastic improvement over the little flag stop that had existed when Ponyville was smaller. It was warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and the concrete floor never had loose splinters poking him in the sensitive bottoms of his feet.

The train to Canterlot was already waiting, the massive black-and-chrome beast floating placidly above the tracks. The train was on track four, toward the center of the recessed track surface, and rows of ponies were filing along several long metal gangways that extended out from the side of the platform. As he had done so many times before, Spike slipped easily into the boarding crowd, his small size making it easy to find a space, and he quickly walked down the length of the metal grating and through the doors of the train.

Spike pulled to the side to stay out of the way of the boarding crowd and turned to watch as his three companions made much slower progress up the gangway. He chuckled to himself behind a fist before turning and jumping over the back of one of the bench seats, into a free area with room for four. A moment later he was joined by three ponies, and he grinned brightly at Twilight as she glared down her muzzle at him.

The speakers above Spike’s head crackled to life. “Now departing for - Canterlot.”

The doors hissed shut, the train screamed and seemed to sink slightly, and a moment later Spike felt himself being pushed backward into his seat as the train shot into the tunnel. The old steam engines and harness-team trains had rumbled and shaken even at their smoothest; as for the new trains, once they were up to speed one might have been forgiven for thinking that they were standing still except when there was a bend in the track. After a moment, Spike felt the inertia easing and he relaxed into his seat next to Twilight, enjoying the barely-perceptible motion of the train.

Lyra and Applejack had taken the bench opposite Spike and Twilight, facing them. Applejack was next to the window and had her legs folded under her, the struts from her back legs jutting up behind her like a pair of tailfins. Lyra had somehow managed to end up upside-down, her rear hooves hooked over the back of the bench, the tips of her mane brushing the dust on the floor.

“So,” Spike said in what he hoped was a voice that was loud enough to be heard over the screaming train. “Anyone wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re not sure, yet,” Lyra replied from somewhere below Spike’s feet. “That’s why we need you and Twilight. The Changelings are on the move and it looks like they’re at least keeping the bearers of the Elements of Harmony under surveillance.”

Spike glanced over at Applejack, who was looking away, at the reflected image in the black window. He leaned down closer to Lyra and dropped his voice.  “So what happened to Macintosh?”

“They took him,” came the matter-of-fact response. “He was replaced, according to the Changeling we found at Sweet Apple Acres, months ago.”

“So they’re replacing ponies to keep-” Spike started as his brain caught up with Lyra’s previous statement. “Wait, we need to get to Manehattan! Rarity’s in danger!”

Spike felt a hoof patting his dermal plates. “Easy there, Casanova,” Twilight said. “Manehattan and Cloudsdale are on the list but think about last time. They want Canterlot.”

Spike groaned. “Twi, come on, you know it isn’t like that.” He sat back heavily in his seat. “Okay, guys, let’s start over...”

The explanation from Lyra and Twilight was short and pointed, and by the time it was done, Spike felt his scales standing on end. The minimal amount of subterfuge the Changelings had applied during the wedding had nearly been enough to bring Canterlot to its knees; if there was large-scale infiltration going on, Spike wasn’t sure there was anything that could be done, especially without the Elements of Harmony or Princess Celestia’s support. Still, it wasn’t hopeless. They had Twilight, right? And Princess Luna. They’d find where the Changelings were based out of, save Big Macintosh and find a way to expose the infiltrators. Just like that. Simple.

Maybe, he thought, being told he was the new Rainbow Dash wouldn’t have been so bad after all.

“Canterlot Station. Connections to - Fillydelphia, Baltimare, Vanhoover, Cloudsdale. This train continues to Manehattan.”

The crackling speaker panels cut out as the doors on the right of the train hissed open. Spike stood and stepped into the crowd that was pushing toward the open doors, sure that the rest of the group would be right behind him.

He stepped out into the dazzling sunlight and blinked, his eyes adjusting. He had seen Canterlot Station more times than he could easily count but he was always impressed.

Canterlot Station was the perfect expression of the new Equestria, a blend of classical styles and new. The ceiling of the new station was a huge vault, similar in some ways to the station in Ponyville but much higher and made entirely of glass. Long, arcing metal girders supported the glass ceiling, which in turn were supported by rows of massive white Ionic columns. The long, smooth walls of the station were made of the same white stone construction as the columns, with windows, doors and hallway arches all framed in glimmering gold. The floor of the platform on which Spike stood was made of alternating white stone tiles and glass blocks with large gems set underneath, which caught the sunlight and threw it back in myriad colors.

They always looked delicious.

“Come on, Spike, let’s go,” Twilight’s voice piped up from behind him. Spike turned to follow his three pony companions as they trotted down the long train platform. The group passed through an arch, out of the sun and into a short, artificially lit hallway that opened after a moment onto another platform.

As much as the main platform had been built with the sun in mind, this smaller expansion was designed to honor the moon. Instead of multicolored gems, the floor was made up matte grey tiles interspersed with glass blocks the color of amethyst that were gently illuminated from beneath. Instead of the brilliant white with gold highlights that made up much of the main platform, here the walls were blue, doors and arches framed heavily in ebony, with columns wrought of black marble supporting the ceiling. The ceiling was the same type of glass vault, albeit lower, but Spike knew that at night the lighting in the expansion was much lower than in the main station, to allow the moon and the night sky to be clearly seen.

The tracks were the biggest difference. Rather than the rows of metal train tracks as existed in the main platform, this smaller platform had only one ‘track’, a single, thin ribbon of metal set into the concrete below the platform. From where Spike stood, he could see the ribbon leading out into the daylight and crawling up a long, glittering rainbow that he knew from experience curved up around the mountain and then stretched across the sky to Cloudsdale. A single high-speed passenger train used this track to take ponies to and from the pegasus colony.

Somewhere in the basement of the library, there was an old, bleached out piece of rainbow about a meter long with a strand of copper wire fixed to it, a proof of concept that Twilight and Rainbow Dash had made years ago. Seeing the Cloudsdale light rail in service always filled Spike with a certain amount of pride for Twilight, even more than many of her other inventions.

“Hey, Twilight?” he asked as the group walked down the shorter expansion platform toward the opening arch that would lead them out of the station. “When was the last time you talked to Rainbow?”

“Um... The last time I was in Cloudsdale, I think. Why?”

Accompanying the last weather factory inspection team, then. Almost a year ago. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

The four progressed quietly to the end of the platform, filing past other travelers as they walked to the archway at the end. They passed under the arch, toward a pair of enormous gilt doors embossed on each side with the symbol of the Sisters. The doors were purely ornamental and were fixed permanently open, anchored with two massive bolts into the marble floor. The real gates, such as they were, were the brass turnstiles that stood between the two doors, through which ponies filed in and out. Spike and the rest of the group moved with the crowd, and soon they pressed through the turnstiles and out into the brilliantly sunlit streets of Canterlot.

They stood at the end of a short walk leading down to the cobble road surface of one of Canterlot’s arterial roadways. The center of the roadway was split with a series of long planters made of the white stone that was favored for Canterlot construction, the plants separating the wide roadway into two halves, one travelling east, the other west. Much of the traffic in the road was still pony-powered, either ponies on foot, solitary or in groups, or ponies pulling wagons. The parts of the road on each side closest to the median, however, had been segregated with rows of large topaz inlaid into the road surface, forming dedicated roadway for the increasingly large number of autocarriages that clattered and rumbled their way through Canterlot’s streets.

“So where are we goin’, Twi?” Spike asked.

“I’m not sure. Lyra?” Twilight paused, then blinked as she looked around rapidly for the suddenly-absent fourth member of the group. “Lyra? Lyra, wait up!”

Spike watched as Twilight dashed off in pursuit of the green unicorn, who had somehow managed to canter off to the roadway without anypony noticing. He rushed to catch up, Applejack trotting easily beside him.

“Guys, wait for us!”