//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: One Last Game // by Nonameknight //------------------------------// (if you've been reading this story since before October 2, you should REALLY check out the Author's Notes before reading this, otherwise you'll be really confused and probably hate me) Plz don't hate me... Chapter 3 Mountain Dew coasted towards Withervale for an unsteady landing along the main street of the border town. He shut out the expectant stares of the townsponies, their faces upturned curiously, perhaps a little fearfully, to one of their finest frontier colts returning from the Badlands. They hoped he had finally brought them news. They were to be yet again disappointed. Mountain Dew took a few fumbling steps before leaning against one of the hitching posts in the street. For half a second, he wondered why on earth they even had hitching posts if there was nothing that needed hitching. Ugh, them crazy alien fellas have gotten ta me, He thought with a snort. He shook the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach away and turned to the town sheriff, standing amidst the dry dust and ponies gathering. “Did’ja see anythin’, boy?” The older Earth Pony asked, not unkindly. Mountain may have been young, but he was respected. He was one of the best long distance flyers and the keenest eye in Withervale. A hard worker and a steadfast friend. Nopony would doubt his word. Nopony would suspect him of lying. He blinked once, then rasped, “Ah didn’t see hair nor hide of them apes, nor the...changelin’, or the mare they took. Sorry Sheriff, me and the boys did our best.” All around the town centre, other ranging pegasi were landing, all tired and feather-sore from the hot morning’s search. Every one of them had a shifty look in their usually bright eyes, every one bound by the same choice as their leader. Withervale would have nothing to do with Changelings. The sheriff sighed and held his hat to his chest, “Ah feel for that young unicorn they took with ‘em. But we did our best. You boys go and get a good rest now. Ah think...Ah think it’s time Withervale closed borders. We’ll need ya all for the town watch.” Mountain Dew nodded and slunk off down an alley, too dejected to walk through the crowd, many his friends and neighbours, and none he wished to share words with. Only, he was no more alone in the shadows than the street. A height crashed into his side from the darkness, blasting him across the alley and into the opposite wall. Mountain Dew was not a small pony, but that impact left him gasping in pain. The creature responsible stood over him and sneered. Dressed in a dense grey canvas cloak, the distinguishable form of a pony hid beneath the terrifying vented mask of cold, ashen steel and dull iron. Its breath whistled through the grated facepiece and chilled Mountain Dew to the bone. “Wha-What do ya want?!” He nickered, scurrying back. The figure rushed him with a speed belied by its side. The next thing Mountain Dew knew, he heard a raspy voice worming into his ear; “Where is the Changeling?” “What changelin’?” He gibbered, frozen in place with fear, “I don’t know no changelin’s - hurk!!” A wire wrapped his throat, and cold eyes of flint and ice drilled into his own. “Cut the denials and get to the confessions, and you might live. Now!” Mountain Dew saw the crescent moon hammered into the breastplate an inch from his nose. He spilled everything like an barrel of fish. ***** “Ah! Just…start…Owch! I ain’t gonna - OOF!” Lister landed flat on his back, clutching his belly and whining. He rolled over and scuttled past a stunned John, away from his very capable opponent. Lister tapped his compatriot’s leg on the way past; “Tag, you’re it.” You’d think the two humans would be having trouble containing one shocked and scared unicorn, fighting her abductors. Or even fighting against the feral Changeling they had been tasked to retrieve. But no, both of these individuals were trussed up quite securely a short distance away at opposite ends of the low hollow amidst the brown plains, and had even stopped studiously ignoring each other long enough to stare disbelievingly at the humans’ sudden catastrophic defeat at the hands of a stick. John took a deep breath, and dove in; he grabbed one end of the twig and rubbed it violently against the barely scratched piece of log destined to be their campfire in the lowering evening. Despite his gyrations, gesticulations and colourful language, though, he was to be disappointed yet again. Lister groaned from the fringes, “...I think I have a hernia…” John studiously ignored him. He also ignored the rather impatient changeling chittering to itself, before it raised its head sharply and hissed, “Please just let Lyra start the fire! This is too embarrassing to watch!” John stopped swearing at the sticks in front of him and raised an eyebrow. Lister stopped pitying himself and looked curiously at the changeling. He pushed himself up and inspected the chitinous creature. “So you guys really do talk!” The Changeling gave him a hard glare, though it was quite hard to tell with its pupil-less eyes, even if you weren’t as oblivious as Lister. It of course went right over his head. “You have no idea how many questions I have! Like how do you become a pony, exactly?” He asked, looking inappropriately thoughtful, “I mean, your voice is even kinda the same as the pony you were earlier, but of course you look totally different. Its so…weird.” The changeling shuffled uncomfortably and glanced across the clearing at Lyra before coughing and replying in a much deeper, buzzing voice, “Ahem, yes…it’s hard to stop using a voice you’ve used for so long…” “How long?” John flinched as Lyra’s voice cut the air. He’d seen this coming… Lister turned and looked at her, surprised. During the entire day they’d been dog-trotting through the plains, avoiding Pegasus patrols and hiding in streambeds, she hadn’t said a word. Now, Lyra was curled in on herself, coiled like a spring in her bindings, head lowered, her horn held threateningly towards the changeling now shrinking back from her. Useless, since John had found another useful feature of his gift from Chrysalis: place the blue gem against the horn of any magical creature, and their magic is void. Lyra flinched as the gem clacked painfully against her horn from where it was tied, but spat out regardless, “How long, Changeling? How long have you been Bon Bon? And-“ She choked slightly, “-and what…what did you do to her?” The changeling regarded her for a moment before replying carefully, remorsefully; “Since just after the wedding. I…I took her place when you told her everything, about the wedding, when Bon Bon went to the kitchen for a drink of water for you. Then.” The changeling lowered its head to the ground, “You were already weak...Easier to control, maybe…I don’t know, things looked so different then.” John didn’t really know what was going on. The changeling had replaced Bon Bon? Chrysalis’s little pep-talk had only touched on the Changelings ability to, well, change. He hadn’t really considered the repercussions of that ability. Now that they were in front of him, it seemed so obvious. So were most things in hindsight, though. Like this whole plan, in fact. John looked across at Lister, who’s own face was uncharacteristically calm as he said, “So you killed Bon Bon then?” The Changeling failed to reply. John sighed and rubbed a palm to his forehead. They hadn’t signed up to retrieve murders! He nearly forgot that they hadn’t actually signed up at all. Lyra’s face locked into a stony grimace, her body frozen still. “And this ‘holiday’? Get me out of town, some country air to clear my head? Do you – Did Bon Bon even have any family out here?” Again, the changeling did not respond. Lyra quickly stared at the ground under her, blinking heavily, “I thought so…” John stood up and glared at the changeling. He took a step towards it and growled, low, “Think you owe her an apology much?” “Would it matter?” Lister shrugged, standing too and avoiding John’s angry hiss, “This bug took the most important thing it could away from Lyra. Nothing can fix that, certainly not us.” He looked around, as if trying to find something as a distraction. He found one; “But we do need a campfire tonight. I aint sleeping out in the cold again. So, uhh…” He looked at Lyra cautiously, “You aiight?” Lyra didn’t even move. Her face expressionless, her body motionless. “Yes. I am fine.” John had a bad feeling about this. Lister had that look in his eye again, that look that meant he had a plan he really liked. Therefore, a terrible one. Lister loped over to Lyra and touched the gem bound to her horn. She shivered at the contact as the gem’s interruption of her magic was tampered with. Lister carefully undid the piece of string halfway up Lyra's horn and withdrew the gem. Lyra was free. She still had her head down, crouching with her legs tied together, hobbled. Slowly though, with her magic returning to her, she raised her head, stony eyes locking onto those of the human standing above her with a comforting smile and no idea how out of his depth he was. Lyra blinking once. The Changeling chirped quietly in fear. John saw the emerald aura gather through the air. He saw Lyra’s eyes harden as the magic condensed into a single beam of force between her and the man above her. She released the impulse spell and left it to its work as she shot her horn down to magically sever the bindings around her legs and leaping to her hooves. Meanwhile, strange occurrences were occurring. Lister was being shot with a beam of green light, the same green beam Lyra had used before, and the same force that should have sent him reeling back across the dry ground to a sudden painful stop. Instead, he was staring at his arm, wrapped in a green cyclone. Chrysalis’s gift to him was finally being useful. Lyra had fired her spell with enough delay for him to flinch. Naturally, he’d gone to block himself with his arms. One of his arms was of course wrapped in onyx and obsidian up to the elbow, and this strange gauntlet was currently absorbing to blast of energy that should have hurt him. Again. The spiraling green flash imploded after mere seconds, and suddenly Lister was faced with a surprised but still very pissed off unicorn, already trying to charge another spell. Things were not going to plan. John jumped towards the two locked combatants over the meant-to-be campfire, grabbed the gem from the dirt where Lister had dropped it in shock and he raised it, throwing it at Lyra’s horn, barely feet away. The impact alone screwed up the unicorn’s spell and left her reeling, dizzy. No magic though, didn’t mean she was powerless. Acting on instinct, she swung away from John, who started forward to catch the pony before she tried to run away. Only, she wasn’t running. She might not have been an earth pony, but her buck was still quite…stiff. John’s unexercised soda-belly found itself fully occupied by a pair of hooves, and his stomach very much tried to evict his breakfast over the territory conflict. Luckily, the hooves withdrew just as quickly, suddenly leaving him feeling felling rather empty of strength, will and air. Lyra kept turning as she brought all four hooves back under her, facing back much the same direction she had begun in, towards the other side of the camp, where one Changeling was attempting fruitlessly to become one with the rocks. Lyra’s condensed, pure, coiled bundle of hurt, loss and rage burst forth into one violent leap forward that would have won her the Kentucky Derby. Only to have Lister punch her. It wasn’t a particularly hard punch, thrown as poorly as it was, but it was uncannily well-aimed. His fist struck her just below her collar bone and weakened her left front leg beyond being able to carry her. She crashed into the ground and loosed a desperate spell from her shell-shocked horn, utterly failing to aim with the bit her snout was plowing up into her eyes. Her horn sparked, flared a tongue of flame, and fizzled out. The campfire, though, finally caught. “Woo hoo!” Lister cried as he pranced towards the flames, “Everything went better than expected.” There was a moment of confusion for John. A moment no doubt shared by any creature with even half a brain. He crouched there, gripping his stomach, his eyes darting between Lyra lying motionless where she’d fallen and Lister with his back to her. “Dude shouldn’t we tie –“ “Shh,” Lister whispered slowly, looking at Lyra over his shoulder. “She’s spent, mate.” And just like that, Lyra started sobbing into the earth. John’s heart did a few none-buck-related flips at the sight. He wasn’t sure how to react, but he couldn’t do nothing. Gathering a blanket from his bag, he made for the stricken unicorn. In passing he asked Lister, “Dude, what did you do to her…?” Lister, too, was showing signs of remorse, but he was too busy scratching at his arm – the one sheathed in the so-called Shadow Brace – to put too much effort into it. He glanced up and stated, “I grew up on a farm, kinda, so I learned how to deal with an angry horse.” Lyra’s head shot up, tears cutting runnels through the dust on her cheeks, red with fury. “Don’t call me that!” She hissed, “How could you? Is it because I was with another mare? You bigoted idiotic fu-“ “Whoa!” Lister recoiled, before rapidly trying to placate the irate mare. In the commotion, the Changeling suddenly found itself forgotten. “I don’t get it, where we’re from ponies are just small horses, okay?” Lyra’s eyes burned indignantly, “...How dare you…” John shrugged as he neared the pony, holding out the blanket like a matador’s cape, “I grew up in the city; to us, horse and pony were synonymous.” Lyra looked near catatonic before subsiding suddenly, “Ugh.” She looked away, unable to keep the anger rolling through her grief, “No wonder you apes had no problem foalnapping me…” “Kidnap you mean? Oh, right,” Lister backpedaled, “Pony-isms, gotcha.” John lowered himself next to Lyra and draped the blanket over her shoulders. She flinched at the touch. “Hey, uh…” He started, “I know you’re probably gonna hate us forever and stuff, but hey, at least you can be happy to know that you’ll never see another pair like us, right?” “You know, since we’re probably the only humans in this…whatever of reality.” Lister finished. Lyra looked up at that, “Th-the only ones?” “Yeah,” john sighed, “We got brought here to find Changelings. The more changelings we find, the sooner we go home. I think I speak for both of us-“ “As usual.” Lister snided. “-when I say we really are sorry for what happened to you. This…this wasn’t the kind of collateral I was expecting. And really, whatever your, uh, sexual orientation, no difference to us, right? We don’t mind if you like mares. Sorry we offended you.” “…Actually I’m male.” In the wake of the quiet chittering remark, all that could be heard in the clearing was the quiet sound of a Changeling kicking himself. “Oh, I’m sure my parents would be so proud to know I’ve been secretly straight all these months.” Lyra sneered viciously, “I’m sure the species thing wouldn’t bother them at all.” “The sarcasm is strong with this one.” Lister drawled sagely. John decided to nip this in the bud. And satisfy his curiosity as well. “Changeling, you do need to explain what the hell you thought you were doing replacing a pony like that. Start talking. A name would be good.” Both Lyra and said Changeling gave him a look that just screamed oh-my-god-are-you-brain-dead, and John shifted uncomfortably in the silence until the Changeling spoke up; “Uh, okay, I’ll start basic for you. My name doesn’t matter and my number is too long to remember. In other words, just a low-level errand-runner between cells. Cells of the ‘hive’ as ponies say. It’s not all in one place of course, that’s preposterous. Now clearly you don’t actually know what a changeling does: replacing ponies is the current regime’s preferred method of gathering Love Energy, so yeah, we replace ponies. Just how it is. Or…was, I should say…” “Yeah, cuz you got caught.” Lister deadpanned. “No,” The Changeling hissed, but his anger fizzled in the word. “No, I…after Canterlot, things started changing…say changing for the Changeling and I swear…we saw things differently. Like, clearly for the first time…you wouldn’t understand. I’d already…replaced Bon Bon by then, and I’m not smart enough to sneak across Equestria in my natural form. I…” His focus shifted to the unicorn, pleading with every word, “I had to stay with you. I had to, no matter how bitter the energy you gave me every day became, how low I had to go. You think I had that many headaches? Lyra I…I just spent five months at your side. You think I could just stay distant with how much you loved me? Well Bon Bon…and I guess you do. Because that’s what Changeling’s do, after all…” “And to think earlier today I wondered if you guys could talk at all…” Lister mumbled. John didn’t even have to try and ignore him anymore. “So why drag Lyra all the way out here in the first place? Trying to get back to the ‘hive’?” He asked flatly. The Changeling shook his head, but he kept his eyes on the silent Lyra, “No. I don’t want the hive. I don’t want my queen. I want a new life, and I heard there was a chance for me out here.” Lister suddenly froze. He turned looked into the slowly building fire, a hint of thought in his features. “Too bad then; you queen’s the one who sent us.” In the silence that followed, a word hissed free from the Changeling in a choke to faint to hear fully; “Chrysalis.” “Yup,” John nodded, “And I’m beginning to wonder what else she failed to tell us. Not like we have any choice, though. Help her or never see home again. A real serious problem.” Lister, though, had had enough; “I don’t do serious…” He muttered, “Over the last two days I’ve seen the completely, insanely, obscenely absurd. If I was serious about it, my brain would literally be vacationing through my ears right now, and I wouldn’t be able to begrudge it. And now my arm wont stop itching. Thanks Lyra.” “Yeah,” John nodded from his seat, still beside the miserable mint unicorn, “Though actually, if you think about it, the strangest thing in between the fey magicks, polymorph bug aliens and weird eldritch artifacts, has to be the inclusion of Technicolor horses-“ THWAP. Hoof to cheek. John reeled away from the offending limb, enough expletives to curdle steel flying thick and fast. The only intelligible thing he gasped was, “Holy shit, Lyra, what the hell was that for?!” “I told you to stop calling me that.” She replied coolly, much to Lister’s amusement, “Plus, it was just a slap, you big baby.” “Hooves!” John cried, rolling back and glaring teary venom, “You have freaking hooves! To you everything’s a punch!” “I think,” Lister said, standing, “that we all need to get some sleep. We don’t have a lot further to go, so lets just relax now, okay?” Lyra looked at him. Then she stood up. She planted her hooves foursquare and stated, “If you work for the Changeling Queen Chrysalis, I’ll be leaving, one way or another, tonight. You don’t know what she did to me.” John and Lister exchanged a look over the crackling fire. Both shrugged, and John said, “You’re actually free to go, just so long as you don’t kill our Changeling or us. We’ve caused you enough pain. You could share the fire, though, maybe a story or two? We’ll part in the morning. We do all need the sleep.” Surprise, relief and fatigue crossed Lyra’s face. She dropped back to the ground. “Yeah,” She grunted, “In the morning…” ***** That morning on the plains was a violent affair. John was happily curled in his clothing...again...when Lister, a few feet away, rolled over, farted, sneezed and loosed a vibrant green bolt of pure energy sizzling up straight into the sky. With a testosterone-banishing squeak of terror, he flailed out of his leather cloak and screamed at the glassy gauntlet around his arm, “What the the fuck is this thing doing?!” John had to agree. He leapt to his feet and growled, “For god’s sake don’t point that thing at me!” A soft chuckle broke the morning air like dewfall. Both humans, breathing as if they had been, and perhaps still were, being drowned, turned to face the unicorn sitting up on the hill. Lyra looked down on them with a sad gleam to her eye in the morning light. Lister looked up at her from where he lay. he swallowed quietly, then said, “God damn, you really are adorable.” Lyra shot him a look. “At least I know where my tazer spell went." She nodded across the long-dead campfire then, at the motionless Changeling there, “Before you guys get angry he isn’t dead. He just wouldn’t shut up last night.” She looked back at the two humans, who raised their eyebrows in response. “...I can’t say it was a pleasure meeting you two,” She stood up and began moving down the hill, “But...you did help me. So...thank you for not killing me, I guess.” John and Lister shared a look, then jumped up. Together they looked down at the green unicorn. John forced a smile, “Well Lyra, good to see you looking so peachy this morning.” “I dunno,” Lister muttered, “More kinda lemony.” John elbowed his friend in the armour, which was a little counter-productive. He winced as he said, “We ain’t stopping you. Where you gonna go, though?” Lyra shrugged, “I don’t know. Can’t go to Ponyville because of the memories, or Canterlot for the same. Can’t go to my parents anymore...But anywhere in Equestria beats the Badlands. I’m not the one who needs the help, though: You two go within a mile of anypony ever again and they’ll probably chase you down.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, “Just listening to the two of you would drive them crazy.” John growled and Lister chuckled. The latter crouched down to the pony’s level and asked casually, “Well, as the only pony we know who isn’t probably trying to kill us: any advice?” Lyra tapped a hoof to her chin contemplatively, than perked up, “Yeah, there’s one thing.” John leaned forward, “What?” Lyra leaned up and booped him on the nose, “Stop calling everypony you meet a whorse.” John looked at Lister. Lister blinked stupidly. “..I don’t get it.” Lyra sighed and shook her head. “You two must be the luckiest creatures in all the world, just to be alive.” She turned and trotted back up the hill. She paused at the peak and called back, “Bye aliens! I hope the Changelings don’t stab you in the back.” And with that, she was gone. Lister looked up at where the unicorn had disappeared into the morning air, and scratched head, “Mate...Ponies are weird as fuck.” John nodded, but turned and looked at the Changeling lying in the dust, with a large hoof-shaped dent in in his carapace. “Yeah, “ he muttered, “But she might not be far wrong.”