Chain of Dreams

by Hippocrene Artifex

Chapter 1: Metra Bass

What a lovely day this should’ve been...

With a mental sigh that accompanied that thought, a mare boarded the express train scheduled to leave Canterlot, the city she had called ‘home’ since the early years of her life. It was quite a lovely day with a gentle breeze that swept through her mane and coat and wrapped them around her slender form every once and awhile; the kind of breeze that would lessen the heat of the rising noon sun. It was a day that should have promised joy and fun to every citizen of the city... but not for her.
She had stood upon the platform for as long as she could afford to prolong the inevitable; checking, double checking, and even triple-checking to find any excuse that would keep her in the grand city of Canterlot. But the steam whistle, that signaled the train’s readiness to move, made up her mind and forced her, though still reluctantly, to find her cart and settle for the journey.

She was leaving everything she ever knew behind, but she was venturing on to the unknown in hopes of finding a new home somewhere among the cobblestone streets of Manehatten, or maybe even in the village of Shade Hollows, a place that had found its way into her heart after visiting the charming little village a couple of times. Oh, how she would love to live in such a quiet, isolated place; away from the bureaucrats, but the allure of a bustling cosmopolitan had always had its appeal on her at the same time. It was what she knew and loved after all, and such impressions are never easily dispensed with.
This mare was Metra Bass, a crème-pink earth mare with a two-tone, plum-maroon, jagged mane and tail, a bass clef for a cutie mark, and wide blue eyes. She was quite the elegant mare with meticulously brushed fur and always-neat mane and tail. Although, caring for her figure was not her primary passion. Being a citizen of Canterlot, Metra Bass had the chance to practice with her passion for the bass clarinet through the Junior Canterlot Orchestra, and later on, at her favorite café in the heart of the grand city where she spent the last two years of her life doing what she loved most. But like all things good, it was not meant to last.

It was a sad state that brought her to this point where she was so harshly bidding farewell to her place among the aristocrats and looking back over her shoulder, and past the train station, to the retreating towers of Canterlot as the train moved away from the city. She watched them being swept from view, as the train rounded a corner around the mountain, with the lack of wonder and appreciation she had had her entire life for Canterlot, at least up until just a few weeks ago.

It was almost two years ago that Metra Bass walked into her soon-to-be favorite café in Canterlot, where the owner of which was also about to become one of her best friends. Cappi’s Coffee Shop was not always well-known among the major competition like Star Buck’s and Joe’s Donuts. In fact, Metra Bass had found it when the shop used to be just another java joint for the persnickety snobs of the lower tier aristocrats that had nothing better to do than to blow a couple Bits on a cup of coffee and rant about their economical disabilities. Eventually, Cappi came to the realization that her business was barely making ends meet and almost filed for bankruptcy. That is, of course, until a certain bass-clarinetist came into the humble little shop one day for an afternoon luncheon.

At first, Metra Bass was like any other patron: just another pony looking to kill some time on Trottski Blvd. That, however, changed as soon as she received her mocha latte with a dash of cinnamon. Metra had never tasted a brew as fresh as the one that she held in her hooves at that moment. She praised the wonderful owner on such a fantastic brew, earning her an embarrassed blush from the overwhelmed Cappi and, in turn, earning the shop a new regular.

Almost every day would Metra Bass come in to that little hole-in-the-wall shop that so many ponies rarely gave a second glance and always brought enough Bits for a gracious tip after being served one great cup after another. One day, Metra Bass had made her daily trip to Cappi’s when she noticed a distinct lack of other patrons in the quaint shop and decided to find out the reason. After getting her daily coffee fix, she asked the downcast looking Cappi what the matter was about the shop. Surely it was not the coffee; it still tasted just as heavenly as the first day she had tried it. The shop still looked the same from the outside-in, so it could not have anything to do with the décor.

Cappi smiled at Metra’s stout observations, but the gesture was mild; nowhere near Cappi’s usual cheer that she had grown to love. After a bit of coercing, Cappi finally told Metra that her shop was on the verge of bankruptcy. Metra could not believe it: how could anypony not appreciate the time and effort that went into one of these wonderful brews of coffee. Again, Cappi smiled at Metra’s continued compliments but she said that this was just the way things were: the rich do not care for quality; they only care for quantity.

Metra Bass was livid; this could not be allowed to happen. She would not allow such a magnificent shop like this fall into the city’s foundation of obscurity, never to truly be known as it was.

That was when an idea struck her. Metra let Cappi in on her mental epiphany and was answered with an expression of disbelief and hope. Metra proposed that she play her bass clarinet one night as an extra attraction for the shop. Maybe a bit of entertainment to go along with a cup of java is what would rake in some attention from the populace. Cappi agreed wholeheartedly with the plan; she was more than willing to try it if it meant saving her life’s work.

The very next day, Metra came to Cappi’s right after her orchestra rehearsal to see that a spot in the centre of the shop had been cleared of tables and replaced with a miniature platform. Cappi gave Metra Bass a few minutes to set up while she attended to the shop’s regular duties. Metra brought out her bass clarinet, inspecting it as she always did before playing to make sure nothing would be out of tune. Satisfied with her check, she held the instrument to her lips and began to play a mellow tune. The shop was soon filled of the musical styling of the mare while the rest of the world melted away under her melody. Not even two songs in, Metra Bass heard the tiny jingle of the shop’s entrance and paused to see who it was. It was nopony she knew but what made the colt stand out was that fact that the first thing he did was wave for Metra Bass to continue as he made his way to the front counter to order a drink. The earth pony thanked Cappi for his drink and sat down at the closest table in front of Metra Bass while she continued to play. Metra smiled and picked up the tempo into a more upbeat tune for the pony’s amusement.

Before long, more and more ponies came trotting in; attracted to the shop like bees to honey. During the immeasurable time that she played, an earthquake might have taken place and she would not have noticed. Indeed, so absorbed she was in the harmonic tones she played that she opened her eyes once to find, with a slight shock, that the entire shop’s lights were dimmed except for one spotlight placed above the platform upon which she stood. Dust motes swirled around her as if entranced by the tones of her melody themselves. The shop was filling with new customers and a few that were already seated had such engrossed expressions upon their faces that almost made her laugh but the music she played, a favorite of hers, was not for her own leisure this time; it was meant for them and that was sacred enough for her to keep on playing her melody for as long as they wished.

An hour had passed by and Metra Bass hung onto the last note of her song for a few seconds before letting it go and letting the crowd applaud her in storm of cheers. Cappi could hardly believe it; it was a full house. Every single one of the tables in her shop had been filled; something she had never seen before and it brought happy tears to her eyes that followed and replaced the tender tears that fell with every beautiful melody the pink mare played. During the time she watched Metra Bass play, she became certain that a pony does not need to be a unicorn to create magic; that the tones that captured her were indeed magic far beyond the reach of any unicorn. She watched as Metra Bass bowed elegantly to her audience and joined in the cavalcade, Cappi was simply overjoyed with the afternoon’s success. By closing time, as the last remaining customers made their leave, Cappi came up to Metra with a smile as grand as the success of the night’s business.

“Metra, I can’t tell you how much I owe you for all of this,” Cappi said with renewed vigor.

Metra giggled at Cappi’s cheeriness. “No please, it was the least I could do to help out my favorite hangout.”

Cappi beamed at her for the praising words and went on, “Well, I still appreciate everything you’ve done, so I want you to have this.”

Metra eyed the envelope in Cappi’s mouth before taking it with her hooves and folding it open. Her eyes widened as she nearly dropped the envelope’s contents all over the floor, for inside of it, there was what looked like nearly half the night’s profits. Metra instantly sealed the envelope back up and pushed it back to the cafe shop owner. “No, no, this is your money. I couldn’t possibly take this for myself!”

“Please, I insist.” Cappi pushed on with such a tender smile that almost broke Metra’s resolve. “If it wasn’t for you, this night would never have happened.”

“Yes, but the whole reason I did it was to help you earn the extra Bits you needed for the place!” Metra replied earnestly, “If I take this money, then this whole night will be for nothing!” Metra forced the envelope back into Cappi’s hooves until she finally accepted it with a defeated sigh.

“Ok, you win. Though I still have to repay you somehow.” But when Metra looked on the verge replying, Cappi cut her off, “How about this: if you come and play for my shop regularly, you can have free meals and coffee here anytime you’d like. Do we have a deal?”

With wide eyes and a greedy smile, Metra accepted the terms instantly and shook hooves with the café owner; it was simply a deal she could not refuse. From that day on, Metra came to the café regularly to woo the patrons with her musical talents and receive the best coffee she had ever tasted in all of Equestria. Soon after, Metra decided to bring some of her friends from the Junior Canterlot Orchestra down to the humble shop and they, too, made it their favorite hangout spot and offered their own talents at the stage.

This became a regular thing to Metra Bass for the past couple of years, upon which she thoroughly enjoyed up until a few weeks before. She could not quite put her hoof on it, but it just appeared to her as if all of Canterlot was not the same any more. She thought it might have been her imagination at first, but as the weeks wore on, the feeling just kept on getting stronger. She tried to talk with her friends about it but they all said that she was just being paranoid and that she should not worry herself about it. Her attempts to let it go were feeble; the feeling persisted and Metra Bass began to notice that many of her friends weren’t acting like their usual selves. They became more irritable and didn’t seem to care as much for the orchestra as they used to. After confronting them after one rehearsal, her friends practically ran away from her; saying they did not want to hang out anymore. Her only friends disowned her like she had a plague and no matter what she tried, Metra’s approaches were met with hostility and contempt that broke her heart whenever she thought of it.

Metra Bass wanted nothing more to believe that this was just some stress from having to go through extra rehearsals that week for an upcoming concert they were to perform at, so she decided a trip to her favorite café would cheer her up.

She was sorely mistaken; upon her arrival that day, the café’s ‘closed’ sign hung ominously from the entry way like a cold and abandoned foal on a winter night. The café remained that way for the next two weeks with no word from Cappi whatsoever on the cause. Everything felt like it was just falling apart in Metra’s life.

Even her own parents seemed distance to her on the days she decided to pay them an afternoon visit to catch up. Neither of them would say much to their daughter and, when they finally did, it was to tell her that she was the disappointment in their life. Metra just could not understand: what was wrong with everypony? Was the whole of Canterlot going mad or was there something wrong with her?

It all became too much for her fragile heart, Metra Bass could not take it any longer and, with an accompanying heartache, made her decision: she was going to leave Canterlot.

With more sadness in her heart than ever, she was finally here at the train platform with a single bag for all her luggage and her old, scuffed-up black case which held her prized bass clarinet. Clasped between her teeth, her train ticket glowered in the mid-morning light like her downcast heart. Metra Bass had tried everything she could to convince at least one pony she knew to come with her to get away from the city but they all called her mad and a coward and simply refused to acknowledge her.

Maybe I am a coward, she thought. Maybe she had just shielded herself from reality for too long to see the world as it truly was. In any case, she was at the train station and on her way to Hollow Junction and, then, possibly to Manehatten itself. The faint whirring of steel wheels on train tracks came from the west and Metra Bass soon picked out the outline of the train on the horizon. She sighed again as the steam locomotive screeched to a halt at the platform and pushed up a gust of wind along with it.

The engine hissed as it let off its excess steam and fogged up the platform in a miniature cloud of moisture. Ponies shuffled to and from the train cars to make their way to their destinations. Metra almost felt bad for the ones that had gotten off at this station to see the equestrian capital with the sense of wonderment she once found in it not too long ago. Though Metra Bass’ mind soon became preoccupied with the train’s conductor calling for his final passengers and hurried past the crowd to find a seat in the car nearest to her.

“All aboard! Next stop: Hollow Junction!” the train conductor announced. Not too long afterwards, the train crew prepared their final checks for their stations. It was only about a fifteen-minute wait before the train’s whistle blew for the engineer’s signal that they were ready to go.

A few last minute ponies rushed to beat the closing doors of the train cars that were sealed shut. Metra watched as one pony in particular banged his hoof on the door of a closed car to be let in after just missing the cut off. Luckily, the train conductor was willing enough to let in the chestnut earth stallion in just as the train lurched forward. Metra Bass was thankful that there was still a ray of good will in the world and observed as the embarrassed stallion took the seat just opposite of her in the car.

He’s not too bad looking, Metra thought to herself and watched him fumble around to stow the suitcase he had with him under his seat. Maybe a bit too klutzy, though, she gave a mental giggle.

His cutie mark was a bit odd: an hourglass. It must mean his talent has to do with keeping time which, when she thought about it, was pretty odd since he was late for the train. The idea amused Metra Bass and, with a grin, she turned away before the stallion could catch her staring.

Her gaze fell on the window and the faint reflection of herself in it. She certainly looked pale and tired: tired of the abuse that she had been through in the past few weeks, tired of trying to convince herself that Canterlot was still her home somehow, and tired of the ways that everypony she once knew would betray through words and action. Her eyes narrowed and she looked past the reflection to focus on the scenery outside. Unfortunately, there was still the castle-like city on the side of the mountain in the backdrop that dominated the view. Somewhere deep down inside of her, Metra Bass felt something break; like a delicate, porcelain vase shattering against a cold, stone ground. She wished that this was all just some kind of dream and that she would wake up to find everypony she knew back to normal and life in Canterlot still intact, yet this was real life and Metra Bass was sure of it. Her only solace was that there were still many places in Equestria she could possibly call home one day. And maybe, she would return one day to see the city as it once was when she was growing up.

“Mommy, what are those things over the city?” a young foal called out.

Metra Bass blinked and snapped out of her trance at the foal’s comment. She looked at the little filly pressing her nose against the glass and then followed her gaze out and began to really register what she was looking at through the window.

“They look like flying ants!” the child continued.

Metra had to do a double take to make sure of what she was looking at, and true to the filly’s words, there were things buzzing and weaving throughout the colorful backdrop of the city’s landscape. She was just about to shrug it off as just a bunch of pegasi flying around the city until a faint glow of green exploded and splashed the building walls with ambient light. That was not normal and, soon, more and more of the lights lit up the city like a fireworks display.

Whispers began to catch Metra Bass’s ears about a possible attack when one pony, with his nose pressed firmly against the glass window, squealed in fright “It’s the changelings! They’re back!”

Panic began to spread and the whole train was shrouded in shouts and worried cries. Metra just sat where she was stark still, her eyes wide with disbelief, with the words of the pony fluttering in her mind.

The changelings are back?!

Comments

[CrystalMoon884]

Wow. This story is awesome!!!!! It is off to such a good start!!!!!!