“You said my daughter would be safe!” Noteworthy yelled. “You told me, when she got mixed up in all of… in all of this, you’d make sure she wouldn’t get hurt!”
“We did,” Pinkie said, from where she was working to undo the ropes holding Noteworthy down. “Which is why we’re going to do everything we can to save her.”
Lyra had run to Winter Bell’s house, only to discover Bon Bon lying unconscious just inside the door, along with a tied-up Noteworthy in the kitchen. She’d made sure Bon Bon was okay, then had gone to get Pinkie. Pinkie had gotten everypony else.
There had been no sign of Winter Bell.
“You’d better!” Noteworthy said. “If anything happens to her, I swear to Celestia—”
“She’ll be fine,” Ditzy said, laying a hoof on his shoulder. “We’ll make sure of it.”
Bon Bon was lying on their couch, Lyra sitting beside her, rubbing her hoof down Bon Bon’s back.
“She was waiting for us,” Bon Bon said. “Or for Winter Bell, I guess, she didn’t seem to care about me… The door was unlocked, I followed Bell in because we weren’t sure where her dad was. She got two disabling shots off before I even noticed she was there.”
Then what happened? Vinyl asked.
Bon Bon lowered her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t conscious long enough to see.”
Her teeth clenched. “I should have seen her, I should have known something was wrong when the door was unlocked, I should have—”
Lyra rested her hoof on Bon Bon’s shoulder. With her other hoof, she lifted up an object: Bon Bon’s grappling hook. “Later,” she said.
Bon Bon looked over at her, almost a surprised look on her face—but then nodded, and took it. “Right.”
The door swung open. Octavia walked in.
“I’ve got her scent,” she said.
Everypony stood up.
“Then no more wasting time!” Pinkie said. “Let’s get this rescue party started.”
─────
The setting sun cast Lyra’s shadow long over the wooden floor of the train platform as she peered down the tracks. She could just make out the train on the horizon, a pink dot marked by a trail of smoke overhead.
The group had tracked Hollyleaf through the streets, but being natives of the town, it had quickly become apparent to all of them where she’d been going. And so, they found themselves at the train station…
…fifteen minutes too late.
“Stationmaster says a unicorn with a brown coat and a blonde mane bought a ticket,” Bon Bon said, walking up beside Lyra. “It matches the pony I saw with bloodleaf around her horn.”
“The train to Canterlot, I’m guessing,” Lyra said. “The one that just left.”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
“I can probably catch up to it, if I go now,” Ditzy said. She flapped her wings and took to the air, hovering just above the ground. It seemed to Lyra to be a nervous habit of hers, by the way she rubbed her hooves together as she did so. “I’m a pretty fast flyer.”
“But you’re not a fighter,” Bon Bon said. “And your sight isn’t going to be doing you any favours. Not while it’s still recovering.”
“Well, we have to do something!” Ditzy said. “She has Winter Bell! Unconscious! She could be planning to do anything to her!”
“I agree,” Bon Bon said, “but that also means we can’t afford to be reckless.”
“We also can’t afford to waste time!” Pinkie cut in. “Every second we spend here is another second’s lead Hollyleaf has!”
Vinyl tapped her hoof to her chin, frowned, then grinned. Hey, ‘Tavi, she said, turning to face the mare, think you can run faster than a speeding locomotive?
“Quite possibly,” Octavia said.
What if you were carrying a bunch of ponies on your back?
At that, Octavia also began to grin.
“I’d be willing to try. Pinkie? Can you give us some privacy?”
“Ooh, you got it!” Pinkie said. Three of her bottom mouths began to chant in a language incomprehensible to Lyra. “One party-sized perception filter coming right up!” said a fourth.
A sensation akin to pins and needles rand down the length of Lyra’s body. She shivered. No one else, she noted, seemed to do the same.
“That should do it!” Pinkie said.
“Excellent,” Octavia said. As she spoke, her muzzle began to lengthen, her teeth sharpening and growing longer. Her coat grew thicker, her hooves split and became paws, her ears pointed and her body thickened, until it was no longer Octavia before them, but the wolf that shared her name.
She looked down on them, her teeth flashing in the waning light as she growled.
“All aboard.”
─────
Lyra’s mane whipped around in the wind as Octavia bounded through the open plain, dirt and grass kicking up behind her with each sprinting footfall. Lyra had never regretted her shorter choice in manestyle, and this was no exception.
Ditzy flew beside them. Lyra may have doubted the pegasus’s flying prowess in the past; those doubts disappeared more with every flap.
Woo-hoo! Vinyl hollered, sitting just in front of Lyra. ‘Tavi, we need to do this more often! This is awesome!
Lyra looked ahead. The train was visibly growing closer by the second.
It was then that she noticed the saddlebag Vinyl had tied to her barrel. It was a small one, one-sided, more of a purse than anything.
“Hey, Vinyl!” Lyra said, having to shout to be heard over the wind and the thunder of Octavia’s paws. “What’s in the bag?”
Vinyl glanced back, and she was grinning, her fangs clearly visible.
A few little pick-me-ups in case things go badly! she said. Her sunglasses slipped down her muzzle and, just for a second before Vinyl pushed them back up, Lyra caught a glimpse of her eyes.
Her grin was the same manic, mischievous one that Lyra had come to associate with the mare.
The look in her eyes was anything but.
“Good to know!” Lyra shouted back. “Hollyleaf doesn’t know about you, Ditzy, or Octavia yet! You’re our aces in the hole!”
“She probably has tricks up her sleeve too, though!” Pinkie said. She was sitting the farthest forward, at Octavia’s shoulders, and she bounced into the air a little with each bound. “All good magicians do, and from what you’ve told me, Hollyleaf pulls off a mean vanishing act!”
“Pinkie’s right,” Bon Bon said. “Just because we have aces doesn’t mean we can afford to be reckless! Hollyleaf is still mostly an unknown agent! We have no idea what she’s planning, or what the full extent of her resources are! Keep your guards up!”
Everypony nodded.
Lyra could see the back of the train quite clearly, now; they were perhaps a hundred meters away, and closing more by the second.
”Do we have any idea why she’s kidnapped Bell?” Ditzy asked.
“To take her out of commission?” Bon Bon suggested. “From what Lyra’s told me, Winter Bell was around for both of her previous appearances in Ponyville. It could be that she just wants her out of her way!”
Lyra thought for a moment.
“Then why didn’t she just kill her?” she said. “Hollyleaf’s killed before to get what she wants—at the museum, and nearly with me! If she just wanted her gone, then why would she kidnap her?”
No response from anypony. But, in Lyra’s head, something sparked. She’d mentioned the museum—and one of the stolen artifacts had been Bagatelle the Bard’s Flask of Song Storage.
“Everything has its own music, its own soul, and with Momma’s help, I can hear them, and then all I have to do is copy the note in my own song…”
Lyra’s eyes widened.
Powerful magic based on music, taught by a living song. A flask for storing songs.
That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?
Octavia interrupted her line of thought. “Everypony, hold on!”
She began to run faster, sprinting forward, one footfall after another hitting the ground in a percussive beat. Lyra dug her hooves into Octavia’s sides, holding on as tight as she could by sheer necessity. Twenty meters to the train. Ten meters. Five.
Curling her hindlegs and snarling, Octavia leapt into the air, claws outstretched, and for a moment, Lyra was weightless. Then, those claws found purchase, on the back of the caboose’s roof. She scrabbled up, onto the metal ceiling of the car, her claws leaving long scratches in the paint.
She lay down, then, her mouth falling open and her tongue rolling out.
“Everypony… off,” she said, between pants.
Vinyl was the first to slide off. You did great, ‘Tavi, she said, giving her a pat on the shoulder.
“I know,” Octavia said.
Ditzy set down on the roof beside them as the rest disembarked, her hooves making clanging sounds against the metal. Lyra hopped down as well, and looked down the length of the train.
There were six cars ahead of them: four passenger cars, an open-air car, and the engine. Hollyleaf could have been in any one of them.
She turned around to look at the others, just as Pinkie sprung off Octavia’s back.
“Okay,” she said. “What’s the plan?”
“I say we split up,” Bon Bon said. “Lyra, Pinkie and I will go in through the back of the train and make our way forwards—”
“And Ditzy and Vinyl will go to the front, slip in through the open-air car, and work their way back towards us,” Pinkie finished. “We’ll be like two slices of bread, coming together to make a Hollyleaf-sandwich!”
“That’s… one way of putting it, yes,” Bon Bon said.
Well, I’m game, Vinyl said. Tavi? You alright staying here?
“I’m afraid I may have to,” she said, still panting. “I’ll guard the top of the train, in case she tries to make her escape by rooftop.”
We’ll get in some good licks for you if she doesn’t, Vinyl said.
“Make sure Winter Bell is safe first.”
“Right,” Lyra said. “Let’s go.”
Pinkie and Vinyl headed off to the front of the train, while Lyra and Bon Bon squeezed past Octavia and dropped down, Bon Bon first, onto the protruding platform at the back of the caboose.
They pushed open the sliding door at the back of the car and walked in. Bon Bon lead the way, Lyra in the middle, and Pinkie at the back. Thankfully, there wasn’t anybody in the caboose itself, and so they moved into the first passenger car.
Here there were ponies, sitting on the benches on either side of the central aisle. It being the last train to Canterlot, there weren’t that many; perhaps only a dozen or so. Most paid no attention to the newcomers—they wouldn’t, Lyra realized, considering the enchantment Pinkie had placed over them. One looked up at them, cast a disinterested look over the three, and then went back to the book she had in her hooves.
Lyra scanned the group. None of them were Hollyleaf.
She looked at the other two, who had reached similar conclusions. They nodded, and continued to the next car. It was much like the first.
Lyra cast her eyes over the right column of seats. She got about halfway up when Bon Bon nudged her shoulder. Wordlessly, she turned to look at her, and then in the direction Bon Bon was pointing.
There, three seats from the front of the car, facing away from them, sat beside a stallion with blonde hair and a black jacket, was a mare.
Green coat.
White mane.
“That’s her,” Lyra said. “How do you want to play this?”
“I’ll go ahead,” Bon Bon said. “Go for her horn. Pinkie, you’ll back me up however you can?”
“With pleasure,” Pinkie said.
“Lyra, you stay back and—”
“I know, I know,” Lyra said. “I’ll keep out of your way. Be careful.”
“Right. Thank you.”
Lyra took a step sideways, into an open seat, allowing Pinkie to slip past her. Bon Bon advanced towards Hollyleaf’s seat, pinkie following a few steps behind.
Lyra kept her eyes focused on Hollyleaf. There she was, only a few meters away, the mare who had been consuming so many of her thoughts these past few months.
And yet, there was no sign of Winter bell.
Lyra frowned. Something wasn’t right. Where was the filly?
Bon Bon was five seats behind the mare, now, Pinkie seven.
Hollyleaf continued to stare straight ahead. Wait, no, that was wrong; her head was tilted over slightly. What was she looking at?
Four seats behind.
Lyra traced the angle of her sight. Was she looking at the door to the next compartment?
Three seats.
No, Lyra realized, she wasn’t looking at the door. She was looking at the door’s window.
Two seats.
The door’s window that was reflecting the rest of the cabin.
One.
Lyra and Hollyleaf’s eyes met.
“Bon Bon!” Lyra shrieked. “Move!”
Bon Bon did not hesitate, did not look back. Instead, she acted, lunging to the side, Pinkie following suit—just as a suitcase shot down the aisle, missing her by mere inches, propelled by a telekinetic glow. It burst open where it met the back wall, exploding into clothes and other detritus.
Shouts from the passengers. They’d definitely noticed that.
Hollyleaf leapt from her seat, spinning around to face them, her horn bared and glowing crimson like the leaves that encircled it.
“Saw you come in, Lyra!” she announced. “And your friends, too! You think I can’t recognize a simple notice-me-not spell? I practically perfected them!”
“Simple!?” Pinkie cried out, untangling herself from where she’d landed. “I spent weeks learning that thing! It’s not even a pony spell!”
Lyra stepped out into the aisle. So much for stealth.
“Where is she, Hollyleaf?” she demanded. “What have you done with Winter Bell?”
“The little reality bender?” Hollyleaf said. “I’ve got her right here!” She patted the bag dragged across her shoulder, hardly bigger than a coin purse.
A coin purse…
“Purse Snatcher’s Pouch of Pilfering!” Lyra said, eyes growing wide.
Hollyleaf grinned. “Clever girl. I’ll assume you got my little note, then.”
“We did,” Bon Bon said, stepping forward. Her eyes narrowed. “If you’ve hurt her—”
“Oh, she’s in perfect health,” Hollyleaf said. “Just asleep. You’re Bon Bon, right? I believe we’ve met.”
“You’d be right,” Bon Bon said. “Half an hour ago. And I’m about to pay you back for it.”
“I’d advise against that,” she said.
“And why’s that?”
Hollyleaf’s horn sparked.
“Because the first pony to try it doesn’t get to try again.”
“What is going on?” someone shouted; Lyra’s eyes snapped over to him. It was the stallion Hollyleaf had been sitting next to. “I-I don’t understand!”
“Quiet,” Hollyleaf snapped. Then, she turned her attention back to Lyra, never raising her horn an inch.
“Now then,” she said, taking a step back. “All of you are going to sit tight and not move. Understand? Good! Now—”
Just then, the door behind Hollyleaf snapped open, revealing Vinyl and Ditzy. Hollyleaf glanced back, just for a split-second—but it was enough for Bon Bon. Her grappling hook was drawn, unraveled, swung. It hurtled towards Hollyleaf’s head.
Hollyleaf’s eyes flicked back towards them, widened. Her horn’s glow intensified, and the hook was batted to the side—but that was all the distraction Bon Bon needed. She leapt forward and planted her forelegs, her momentum carrying her as she spun around. Her hindlegs shot out. Hollyleaf didn’t stand a chance.
For a unicorn, Hollyleaf flew surprisingly far.
I’ve got her! Vinyl said, lunging through the doorway towards Hollyleaf’s falling body.
“No you don’t!” Ditzy yelled. Sure enough, Hollyleaf’s horn flashed just before Vinyl got to her, and she disappeared.
“But I do!”
Ditzy spun around, dove forwards— just as Hollyleaf burst back into existence in front of her. The two rolled across the floor of the carriage, amidst more shouts from the passengers.
Bon Bon and Pinkie ran forwards, after them. Lyra did as well, after a moment’s hesitation, but someone grabbed her leg as she walked by. She turned to look: it was the stallion from before. Sweat dripped down his face, and his eyes were bulging.
“Please,” he said, “what’s going on? I don’t—”
Lyra hesitated—just what was she supposed to say? Everything she did here jeopardized their entire mission—but only for a moment. Ponies were in danger.
“Everything is going to be alright, sir,” she said. “Get to the back of the train. You’ll be safer there.”
She turned to the rest of the passengers., “The rest of you, too! Get to the back of the train! Move!”
As they began to scramble out of their seats, she turned around and ran to the next car, pushing her way past several passengers following her advice.
Hollyleaf was nowhere to be seen, nor were Pinkie, Vinyl, or Bon Bon. But, sat on the floor in the middle of the aisle surrounded by a few concerned bystanders, was Ditzy.
Lyra rushed up and crouched down beside her. The pegasus didn’t look well, hunched over and cradling a hoof.
“Ditzy? Are you alright?”
Ditzy turned her head around. She was grinning, though it was pained.
“Fine,” she said. “Hollyleaf got away—if I’d had more than thirty seconds, I could have—”
“It’s alright, Ditzy,” Lyra said, resting her hoof on Ditzy’s shoulder. “You did what you could.”
Ditzy’s grin grew a bit wider. “I did a bit better than that, actually,” she said. She smiled, pulling back her lips.
A string of crimson leaves dangled down from between her teeth.
“You got the bloodleaf,” Lyra breathed.
Ditzy spat it onto the floor of the car. “I did! Now, get going! Everypony else went after her!”
“Right,” Lyra said. She stood up. “Are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine!” Ditzy said. “Go!”
Lyra ran for the next car. It was as lacking as the previous one. Up ahead was the open-air carriage, and beyond that, she knew, the engine.
The car rumbled, shook for just a moment. Lyra glanced out of one of the windows as she moved.
The train was passing over a canyon, sheer rock walls a mile apart lining the fissure on either side. The train’s movement was rougher, now; Lyra assumed they must have just moved onto a bridge.
She reached the far wall of the car and flung open the door. There was no door on the other side of the gap.
True to its name, the open-air carriage was open to the air, having large sections cut out of each wall. And the air took advantage of this, whirling and blowing through the space as the wheels of the train thundered beneath them and the landscape whizzed by.
That same wind blew through Vinyl’s mane, whipping its long, spikey strands about as she applied pressure to the back of Hollyleaf’s skull.
Vinyl had her pinned to the side railing of the car, chest against the wall, and was forcing the mare’s head out of the opening with one hoof. Hollyleaf’s mane streamed out alongside the train. The mare squirmed, pushed and spat, but she was no match for Vinyl, who held her still.
Bon Bon stood only a few feet away, and Pinkie beside her. Pinkie looked over at Lyra.
“Lyra! Did you see Ditzy? Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” Lyra said. She stepped forwards, towards Hollyleaf.
“Is she…?”
I’ve got her, Vinyl said. She’s not going anywhere.
“What about Winter Bell?”
“Getting there,” Bon Bon said. She reached out, past Vinyl, grabbed the strap of Hollyleaf’s bag and yanked it off.
“You have very useful friends, Lyra,” Hollyleaf said, looking back over her shoulder at Lyra as best she could. This earned her a shove against the wall from Vinyl, making her cough. Her legs were shaking, Lyra noticed.
“Yes,” Lyra said. “I do.”
“I suppose you think you’ve won.”
“I’m pretty sure I have. It’s over, Hollyleaf. Or whoever you really are.”
Hollyleaf cracked a smile. “At least I have that. ‘Small victories,’ that’s the expression, right? You still don’t know my name.”
Lyra frowned.
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Hollyleaf said. “Things you don’t know. Things you know you don’t know. That’s just the kind of pony you are, I can see it in your face. I used to know somepony like that, you know. You remind me so much of him.”
Vinyl shoved her into the wall again, and she winced.
Save it.
“Save yourself,” Hollyleaf said. “Telepathic speech. No vocal chords? A pity, I bet you’d have had a wonderful singing voice—”
“Guys?” Bon Bon said, urgency in her voice. Everyone turned to look at her—including Vinyl. “We have a problem!”
What? Vinyl asked. In response, Bon Bon turned the bag towards them, holding it open for them to see inside.
Aside from a small glass bottle, open, containing a few small scraps of what looked like leaves…
It was empty.