//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Lyra: Lost and Found // by Legofan //------------------------------// Breep! Breep! Breep! Lyra stirred from the noise, but did not wake. Breep! Breep! Breep! She shifted under her sheets, groaning at the intrusion of her sleep. Breep! Breep! Breep! “Lyra! Wake up and turn your alarm off!” Lyra’s mother yelled at her from the floor below, her shouts slightly muffled. That in tandem with the alarm was enough to finally wake the groggy unicorn. She dropped a tired hoof on the button to silence the infernal contraption beside her, slowly sitting up and taking in the morning rays. Like she did every morning, Lyra didn’t quite get out of bed immediately; instead, after rubbing some sleep and crust out of her eyes, she was content to simply sit on her bed for a while, long enough, at least, for her to wake completely. As she sat, her gaze drifted to the only window in her room, which showed off a nice expansive view of desert nothingness. It was the same view that had greeted her every morning for the past couple of months. She had decided only a couple of days into residing in this desert place that it was not to her liking. But her family had managed to find consistent employment in the area, enough to keep them rooted to the growing settlement. The Heartstrings had always been a musical family, Lyra and her parents being no exception. They had always operated in family units, travelling to whatever communities needed a musical group to liven things up. As a result, they rarely ever found themselves staying in one spot for much longer than a few months before going elsewhere, finding a hotel or friend’s house to stay at between gigs. This desert place was their most recent adventure. It was a pony settlement many miles south of Canterlot. There was no official name for it yet, for it hadn’t been officially recognized as a place of residency, but those who were establishing themselves in the growing country town usually referred to it as Appleloosa, referencing the sizable apple orchard that provided most of the settlement’s food. Until a railway made a route out to Appleloosa, though, it was bound to remain just a small collection of random shacks in the desert. “Come on down and get some breakfast, Lyra,” she heard her mother, Mandy Heartstrings, call to her again. This week was a very important week to the family, but they needed to get an early move on today. There wasn’t much time to waste lazing about, and Lyra rolled out of her comfy bed and onto her hooves, making her way downstairs. The scent of pancakes and fresh batter permeated the air of the Heartstrings' small home, and by the time she had reached the ground floor, she was drooling slightly, her stomach rumbling quietly. Lyra’s father looked up from his spot in the open dining room, where he was busy restringing one of his acoustic guitars. He was a pale blue unicorn with a short and unkempt dark blue mane. He didn’t have a very muscular build, not being an athletic pony, after all, proven by his cutie mark, which was an image of an acoustic guitar. “Good morning, Honey. How’d you sleep?” he asked warmly as Lyra came to the table. “Well, I suppose,” she said back. Her father nodded and returned to the task of restringing his guitar. “That’s good to hear. You weren’t kept up out of excitement for today, then?” “No. Why would I be? The Festival isn’t for another few days.” Smirking, her father retorted, “That’s true, but you get excited for Hearth’s Warming Eve several days before the actual holiday. There’s no reason why this can’t be the same.” “Stop giving your daughter a hard time, Les Paul,” Lyra’s mother scolded from within the kitchen adjacent to the dining room. “And get your guitar off the table; breakfast is almost ready.” “Yes, Dear.” Fortunately, he had just finished up stringing his instrument. He gave it a test strum, treating them all to a ugly, crunchy, and completely out of tune chord. Lyra was smirking now, resting her cheek on her hoof which was in turn rested on the table. “Wow, dad, I expected better from you,” she teased. He chuckled at that, setting his guitar to the side, and she briefly joined him in his laughter. After a few seconds, Lyra’s mother entered from the kitchen, bringing along three plates of pancakes perched precariously on her back. The delicious smell shut both of them up. The green earth pony smiled at them. “Are you two hungry?” “You bet we are,” Les Paul agreed, wasting no time in using his magic to distribute the plates to the three spots around the table. Promptly, he got up from his seat and entered the kitchen to get drinks for the three of them while his wife took her seat. Upon returning, they all happily dug into their morning meal. Their breakfast had been underway for some time, and by this point, all three Heartstrings had nearly finished. Aside from the clinking of silverware and other sounds pertaining to eating, though, they had been silent. This silence was finally broken by Les Paul as he asked, “So girls, is there anypony in particular that you’re excited about seeing at the Festival?” Lyra’s mother answered quickly with, “I’m certainly eager to see Mr. Neightoven; I hear he’s one of the greatest composers and pianists in all of Equestrian history, but I can’t say that any other names in the listing stuck out to me- except for ours, of course.” “I’m agreeable on that,” Les Paul chuckled. Turning to Lyra, he repeated the question. “I didn’t really see anypony that interested me,” she answered. “Aw, not even us?” Lyra gave him a deadpan stare. “I’m joking, Lyra,” he said. “But really, nopony on the list caught your eye? Not even that young, rising cellist?” “Her name’s Octavia, Dad, and no; she does classical stuff, and you know I’m not into that,” Lyra answered, punctuating her statement with an eye roll. “Fair enough,” he returned, glancing to a clock across the room. “Looks like we’ve got an hour until we’ve really got to head out to rendezvous with our ride to Canterlot.” He swallowed his last bite of food. “Make sure you’ve got everything you’ll need for the trip. We’re not coming back until the Music Festival’s over.” Following suit, the two mares finished eating their breakfast soon after Les Paul did. He cleared the table and made off to the kitchen to clean the dishes, allowing Mandy and Lyra to return to their respective rooms and finish packing. Lyra had never been a very organized pony, but fortunately for her, she was also a light packer, lessening the need for organization. From underneath her bed, she procured a few packs of extra lyre strings and tossed those into her lyre case. Her hygienic supplies were thrown into a drawstring bag along with a small sack of bits and a deck of playing cards, and with that, she was just about ready to leave. There was some time to spare, so she went ahead and played her spare lyre, which she was opting to not bring along. She spent a couple of minutes playing through her major and minor scales, as she did at the beginning of every practice session, before moving on to more melodic tunes. She ran through only a small portion of her repertoire before the hour had passed and they needed to head out. Placing her spare instrument on its stand, she slung the drawstring bag around her back, carried her lyre case in her magic, and proceeded downstairs to where her parents were waiting for her. “You ready, Dear?” Mandy asked her. Much like Lyra, Mandy was also packing light, bringing along only a bag for her own hygienic supplies and her mandolin, the playing of which was her talent, as indicated by her cutie mark. Both items were secured around her back. Lyra nodded in affirmation. Les Paul spoke, saying, “The Princess has sent a carriage to pick us up from just north of the orchard and bring us to the nearest train station; from there, we’ll be taking an all-expense-paid ride to Canterlot. We should arrive the day prior to the Festival, giving us some time to wander about for a bit.” And with that, the family left the house, locking the door behind them and heading towards the orchards. “Dad, how much longer until they’re here? We’ve been out here for, like, an hour, now.” Despite the exaggeration, they had indeed been waiting for a while. The walk to the northern part of the orchard was nothing spectacular; there were a couple of curious ponies asking where they were headed to, but all had been given their answers and been on their way. But they were now at the rendezvous point, with no sign of the carriage. “No we haven’t, Lyra,” he answered, wiping some sweat from his brow with a hoof. It was no doubt hot, seeing as they were in a desert and it was approaching midday. Both Lyra and Mandy had gone under the shade of a nearby apple tree to try to escape from the heat of the day as they waited for the carriage, which was now going on a half-hour late. Les Paul, though, stayed in the open so that he was more easily visible by anypony coming their way. “Maybe there’s been an accident with the carriage?” Mandy offered as a reason for the delay. “Celestia knows how many things can go wrong with those,” she continued, brushing a bang of long, white mane from her face. “The axle could snap, a wheel could fall off, the roof could collapse-” “Not helping, Dear,” Les Paul interrupted, squinting as he looked for any sign of their transportation. Sighing and crossing her forelegs across her chest, Lyra leaned fully against the tree and flipped to her side. “I hope they get here soon,” she whispered. Mandy gently rubbed her back reassuringly, and Lyra began to doze off, her head lowering to meet her shoulder. But then something caught her eye. A peculiar track —no, several of them— wound through the dirt of the orchard. Her nap forgotten, Lyra raised her head and leaned in to inspect the tracks. Despite their faintness, she could see that they were almost rectangular in shape, and they came in pairs of two. Knowledge of whatever creature made these tracks, however, eluded her. “Mommy, do you know what animal made these tracks?” she asked, hoping her mom’s earth pony magic might help produce an answer. Mandy leaned over Lyra’s shoulder to inspect the tracks herself, but she could tell simply by her expression that she didn’t know. “Sorry, I don’t know,” she apologized. “Weird...I’ve never seen anything like these. Pauly!” she called, and he rushed over to them. “Do you know what could have made these?” Like Mandy, Les Paul inspected the track, but came to the same conclusion after some time. “Nope; I have no idea. But, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” “I’m going to follow them,” Lyra decided. “It sure beats sitting here and waiting.” Her parents both gave her stern looks. “Firstly, if you run off, we’re only going to be even more delayed in getting to Canterlot,” Les Paul said. “Secondly, we don’t know what made these tracks, and it’s possible that it’s not something you’d want to find. You’re not following those tracks.” “But dad,” Lyra huffed, “I’m bored! What else is there to do?” “Just be patient,” he answered. “Don’t you have cards on you, like you usually do?” Lyra nodded. “Then why not play with those?” “Because you two don’t know any card games!” she answered defiantly. Les Paul recoiled. “That’s not true. I know War.” “War’s not even fun; there’s no skill involved!” He shrugged. “Well, then, I don’t know what to tell you, Lyra. Just...just…” His eyes widened and his mouth gaped as he looked to somewhere behind the tree Lyra and Mandy were under. “What is it, Pauly?” Mandy asked curiously as she and Lyra peeked around the tree. “Dear sweet Celestia…” Approaching the ponies were two...things; there weren’t even words in pony vocabulary to describe what they were looking at. They were both tall, easily double the height of the average stallion. Their bodies were covered in silver metal, except for where dirt had caked onto them. There were five limbs sticking out of their box-like bodies: two arms and two legs, all of which were slim and lank, and a cylindrical head dotted with many swiveling red lights. Additionally, each one carried a device that resembled a crossbow without limbs. Lyra also noticed that they had rectangular feet. These things, whatever they were, were responsible for the odd tracks. As the things got closer to them, Lyra and Mandy bolted away from the tree, taking cover behind Les Paul, and together they all backed away from the creatures. But their strides were long and quick, and soon they were mere feet away from the quaking family. The things looked down to them, the lights swivelling around the circumference of their heads in seemingly random patterns. Maybe those were its eyes and it was similar to a chameleon? Any thought on that was interrupted when the things spoke. None of the ponies could understand what the things were saying, though, as their words came out as garbled static and beeps. But their conversation didn’t last long until one of the things eventually raised one of its lanky limbs, curling the digits at the end until only one of them remained pointing in the direction of the open desert. “Go,” it commanded, startling the three ponies. Its voice was monotone and robotic, but managed a sort of malicious overtone as it spoke that one word. Les Paul looked in the direction it was pointing, seeing nothing but sand and dunes. He gulped. “There? You want us to go there?” The thing didn’t bother to verbally respond. Instead, it brought its leg into Les Paul’s ribs, the blow knocking the wind out of him, but fortunately leaving his ribs intact. Its partner raised its device and pointed it at them. “Keep your hooves off my family!” Mandy screamed at the things while Lyra tried to keep her wheezing dad on his hooves. She rushed in towards the one that had kicked Les Paul, spinning and bucking it in the shin. There was a sharp cracking sound, and Mandy crumpled to the ground, clutching her rear legs and groaning in pain. That metal was extremely solid! The creature itself looked completely unfazed, though, as it and its companion had another brief discussion in their strange language. When they had concluded, the thing that had been raising its crossbow-thing at them stalked over to Mandy’s crumpled form while the other, the one she had bucked, moved towards Lyra and Les Paul. As the metal monster came nearer, they stepped back to maintain their already uncomfortably close distance. Its partner had its device pointed directly at Mandy’s head. “Go. Resistance and noncompliance will not be tolerated,” the closer one reiterated. And then its partner fired.