//------------------------------// // 7 - Revisit // Story: The master and the windigo // by stupidswampdragon //------------------------------// "Huh." The earth pony's mumbled remark was accompanied by very little applause. Not like he had been gunning for anything like that; he wasn't too moved himself either. Not even the wheat stem sticking out from his mouth moved. "Found something?" Another earth pony joined him, bringing the total amount of bored ponies staring at the empty mountainside to a new high of two. "There's somethin' rollin' down there." Both earth ponies rested their gazes on the white mountainside. Something was happening indeed; a larger snowball was zipping down, picking up snow and growing in size as it gathered speed. To put the boredom of the spectators into perspective, this was the most interesting sight of their day by far. "Can't believe we're watchin' some snow roll down a hill," the first one commented and resumed chewing on his wheat. "Little too big just for snow. My bet is a small boulder," the second one threw his own guess into the pool, then slumped onto the guard rail of their locomotive. "Pity. I was hoping for something interesting. Like an avalanche." Rolling the wheat stem around with his tongue, the first pony squinted at the odd object. It was a waste of time, gawking at that thing; but their train had already been refilled and they had literally nothing else left to do. "Yea', true 'dat. Them avalanches are real interestin'," he cocked his head to the side, the wheat in his mouth becoming almost perfectly vertical. "I kinda' doubt them tourists would enjoy it the same, tho'." "Nopony asked if we enjoy sitting around here like this either," the second one rubbed at a sooty patch on his face. Too bad his hooves were all sooty as well; his scratching only resulted in his features darkening further. "I don't get why we should buy a day pass to leave the train. It's not like this train wouldn't need to depart in a few hours anyway." "In two hours and fifty-nine minutes you mean," the pony with the wheat glanced to the instrument panel. "But who's countin' anyway..." "Celestia be my witness, this route is more than enough to drive anypony crazy," the second earth pony groaned, then turned to the other machinist with a mischievous grin. "Hey. You think we could inspect the dining car?" The wheat-chewing pony glanced at the ceiling of the locomotive, then broke into a happy snort. "We're kinda' responsible for the whole train, ain't we? We'd be neglectin' our duty if we did'n do so." There were no further arguments from either side. The two of them clapped hooves at the job well done and left the locomotive, only the heaps of cold food and the fine barrels of champagne on their minds. They deserved a little vacation too, after all; or, lacking that, a little break from their usual worries. Such as their locomotive or the white ball barrelling down in the background. Ugh, Lyra stumbled away from her point of impact - the very edge of a paved road at the outskirts of the Dancing Lights' train station. Thank Celestia I hadn't had anything to eat yesterday... That was such a weird thing to be thankful for. It took a set of very special circumstances, such as coming down a hill by rolling all the way. She had only felt her hoof slipping at first. Had she had two working legs in the front, she would've stabilized herself; alas, she was missing that luxury option ever since she fell into that cave-in. The first few turns were the worst, the sky and the white ground alternating in rapid succession; then she was covered in snow and only saw white afterwards. Then came the flat terrain. The landing had squeezed all the air out of her, crackling all her ribs like how a pro plays the xylophone. Thanks to the extra padding she wore - the blanket under her jacket - Lyra had only felt her wound flare up with pain again. The rest of her had endured the impact without much fuss and she had actually felt more sick than pained, her head dizzy after the minute or so of continuous roll. All in all, she was sure about one thing. She had managed to get close to the Dancing Lights in the fastest way possible! Even she had not planned on coming down the hill that expeditiously. "I don't think this was necessary," came a criticizing voice from above her. "There were no air patrols nearby." "Snowy..." Lyra groaned, physically forcing her lungs to expand so she would have some air to talk with. "Just... shut up. Pretty please." Her approach towards the château was pretty good for an ad-hoc plan. There was absolutely no-one on their side of the ridge, making the snow and her own limping her worst enemies... and her clothing, once the blanket she wore under her torn jacket started to act like a sponge. Then came bad luck, in the shape of a pegasus flying overhead. Lyra had no idea how she didn't think of something like that happening, but she still had to come up with something in a split second. The solution was really simple. She threw herself into the snow, disappearing completely into the frozen sea of white; Snowy acted as her lookout, the windigo telling her when the air was clear. There was no telling if those pegasi were actually the viscount's goons or not, but it was best to play it safe. "I don't remember this building," Snowy turned to a different subject and glanced around, scanning her environment quite carefully. "Actually, I can't recall any of these things. Master wasn't kidding when she said this place changed a lot." Lyra didn't care one bit about that remark. Of course the landscape would have changed over a few centuries, duh! She had even told the windigo how this Equestria was not the one it had known. Ignoring those silly questions, she moved to more important matters instead. She needed to cool down. After having nearly frozen to death, she tried to dress as warm as possible, augmenting her torn jacket with a blanket underneath; but as it turned out, limping through the snow in the middle of the day was more than enough to keep her warm on its own. She was drenched, her whole coat dripping water; partly her own sweat and partly the molten snow the blanket had absorbed. She tore her jacket open - the zipper had broken when she had put the thing on that morning - and yanked the blanket off from her as well. The cold air brushed against her wet fur right away, and she responded to the sensation with a raspy but satisfied inhale. "What's that big black thing there?" Snowy motioned with her head. Dragging her wet mane over the thin layer of slushy snow, Lyra turned in the indicated direction. "A train," she squinted at the black locomotive. "Looks pretty big," Snowy cocked her head to the side, her crimson eyes measuring up the object. "Master should avoid that thing. It looks dangerous." "Silly windigo," Lyra giggled at her servant's expense. "That's... pretty safe. I came here in that, in fact..." Snowy's eyes widened a bit, and her jaw dropped. "Master can travel with that? Amazing! What a strange new world..." "Not only me... anypony can..." Lyra wiped the sweat off her head before it dripped into her eyes. Then an idea struck her, courtesy of her own words echoing in her head. Taking a better look, she saw no movement around the vehicle. It was a lucky break of untold proportions; she would have assumed that the train would be guarded by at least a few goons - not to mention the mechanics who took care of the repairs and refuelling. Somehow none of them were present, however. That meant that she was free to move... as long as she did so before unwanted eyes showed up. They must need SOME supplies for the passengers. There has to be something in there! "Snowy," Lyra muttered as she rolled onto her belly and rose to a shaky stand. "Go there and... and take a look. I, uh... I need to get into the building there. The... the one behind the... the train. The one with... huge windows." "Understood," Snowy broke off right away, disappearing into the terminal building on short order. While waiting for her scouting party to return, Lyra freed her hooves from her tattered clothing. She also took care to inspect her bandages in the process. Frowning at the sight, she was pretty sure she would need to replace them soon; the white colour already acquired a strong hue of red, looking ready to be bled through. No wonder that wound still hurt. Lyra acknowledged her situation with a sombre shake of her head. There was nothing she could do in the middle of open ground though. She grabbed onto her torn rags and dragged herself towards the locomotive, praying to the Sun Princess that her luck would hold out. "This isn't something Master should do," Snowy cringed with audible displeasure. Lyra wasn't receptive to such objections; she was too busy enjoying the bottle of mineral water for that. It was the third one she had downed in one go, and she only stopped because she was afraid she might burst if she drank any more. Just to make her feelings clear though, she flung the empty bottle at her ghostly servant. The clear-glass bottle sailed through the unamused windigo and hit the wall, bouncing onto the floor with a clang. Lyra had no idea who forgot to lock the supply room, but that pony became her newest friend in absentia. True to its name, the seven-by-seven metre room was where the train's supplies were kept. Signs, mechanical gizmos, pipes, chains, sheets of metal; but even the uniforms for the crew or the food they would refill the dining car with. To a starving pony who only had rags left, that lowly supply closet was the closest thing to a dream having come true. It didn't matter if the water or if the pre-packaged meals were both just as lukewarm as the station's air. Lyra tore into them like a vicious animal, eating and drinking whatever got in her way. It was borderline strange; she had no idea when she enjoyed things like ordinary grass salad so much. She didn't even care that it had no dressing. "This is stealing," Snowy mumbled under her nose, fully expecting her comment to go ignored just as the previous dozen did. "Ya. Stealin' fom' a muhdahah," Lyra mumbled as she stuffed her face full with some peanuts. She had opened that package way too greedily; it tore in half and salty peanuts bounced around her hooves. She shrugged at the sight and shoved the rest into her mouth without missing a beat. Good enough. "That makes it excusable?" Snowy cocked her head to the side and appeared quite confused. "Last I knew, stealing from a noble carried pretty hefty punishments... and this is the viscount's property. I would hate to see Master get hanged." "Yeah, because he's totally not out for my blood already anyway," Lyra gulped the last of the peanuts down and hobbled to a larger locker. She tore the door open and made a smirk; two dozens of black overalls greeted her. "Snowy, I'm going to get changed. Go out and be on the lookout, m'kay?" "Affirmative, Master," the windigo made a token bow and backed out from the room. "Told you to stop calling me that," Lyra grumbled under her nose and yanked an overall from the shelf. It was made from thick cotton, designed for machinists who shovelled coal and dealt with hot furnaces in general. As good as anything else, as far as Lyra cared. As long as it allowed her to move around freely, she could accept any disguise. She swiped a white hard hat from the top shelf and jammed it onto her head, pulling the brim until it knocked against her horn. It wasn't as good as a proper mask, but it went with her chosen costume; her face should have also remained hidden as long as she kept her head down. She finished the preparations by taking a duffel bag and throwing her old and battered attire inside, followed by two unopened bottles of water and some bags of peanuts. She zipped the bag closed and threw it over her back with her magic. The wound in her right shoulder felt worse by the minute as she hobbled to the door; she attributed that to her other pains subsiding, bringing her most serious injury into undivided spotlight. I can't wait to be home again, Lyra clenched her teeth as she leaned against the door. It was open just barely, the light from the outside filtering through a thin slit. Just grab Bon and high-tail it out of here. Yeah, we're gonna' be home by tomorrow. "Snowy?" she whispered and glued her ear to the door's cold metal. "All clear," came the answer. "This... what did Master call it? Train station? It's completely deserted. Almost eerie." How does a ghost monster living in the frozen hills find an empty building eerie? Lyra wrinkled her eyebrows, but then let go of that thought. She pushed the door open with a grunt and left the supply room. Once outside she closed the door with outmost care - she could do without making loud noises - and then shuffled down the corridor, heading towards the larger wooden door at the very end. That door took her back to the waiting area. If she made it out of that place, then she could make her way into the inner château no problem. All in all, things were going a lot more smooth than she feared they would. Lyra Heartstrings, master class infiltrator, she made a smirk. She was so good, she always kept surprising even herself. The corridor was really deserted, but unlike her windigo, Lyra was not worried whatsoever. The whole corridor was supposed to be off-grounds to civilians, so of course there wouldn't be many milling around in there. Even she wouldn't have gone in there if she didn't have a substantial reason to do so... it wasn't exactly a welcoming spot, even beyond the 'KEEP OUT' signs. There was a serious lack of windows, so the air was mouldy and thick with a sour smoke; it was also pretty gloomy with the dim lighting, the sole source of lights being the flickering torches on the wall. It was really different from the airy and sparkling waiting hall where the tourists arrived and gathered. She was quite familiar with the contrast between the immaculate front and run-down back. She had already seen such countless times. It's like the backstage in any theatre. "I must offer my humblest apology," Snowy turned a crimson eye to Lyra. "I underestimated Master. I did not expect Master to be versed in the teachings of Sabbah." "Whah? What... are you even talking about?" Lyra groaned and dragged her right hoof on the polished concrete floor. She didn't have much patience for the ramblings of the stupid ghost. "Oh, I know Master's not supposed to talk about him. I am no part of the order though, so I can!" Snowy chattered absent-mindedly. "I am talking of the Hashshashin, of course. The offspring of the previous Master kept a close eye on them. I think he may have crossed them a few times... he was pretty paranoid about them." "Hashashin? You mean... assassin? Wait, ME?!" Lyra froze in place and gave the ghost a piercing stare. "Oh heck no! I'm a perfectly fine and normal pony! Why would you even think that?" She really was. The most dangerous thing she had ever done was dropping her lunch box onto somepony during a rehearsal. "Well, Master seems to be pretty adept at sneaking into places and raiding supplies," Snowy stopped and turned back towards her dumbstruck master. "It's evident that Master is a lot more experienced in this field than I expected. I am confident I'll be able to pick up the pace rather quickly, though. I would hate to remain a liability." Lyra wasn't sure how to answer to that one. Her face went through multiple expressions under the cover of her white hard hat, finally settling to one that was a little shocked and mostly surprised. She would have been outraged had the accusation not had some merit. She did break into a train station, after all; and she had gone through a supply closet as if she was raiding other ponies' belongings day and night. She has also evaded her pursuers for more than a day, and was poised to get into the château without anypony knowing she was around. All nice and sneaky-like. That hardly made her an assassin though. Her successes were born out of luck; she kept reminding herself of that fact. Only luck kept her from being discovered in the shack yesterday; and her lucky split-second decision saved her from the patrolling pegasi that morning. It would have only taken a singular pony to spot her limping around the train station, too. And she never, DEFINITELY never would have thought about breaking into somepony else's room with the intent to steal. "I'm not some shady character," she brushed the suggestion aside and hobbled along the corridor. She couldn't place any weight on her right hoof, so she had to do small bunny-hops. A thoroughly embarrassing way of moving, but also one very effective at not stressing her injury further. "I'm just a musician. That's all." "Strange. Where did Master pick up these skills, then?" Snowy dashed to the door, traversing the entire length of the corridor in one fluid motion. Lyra eyed the ghost with barely contained envy: covering the same distance would take her almost a minute. "I've just got some quick wits," she shrugged, not willing to attribute her success to luck. Not to that show-off ghost who insisted on calling her 'Master' despite her repeated protests. "New Master is quite unlike the old one," Snowy eyed Lyra, patiently waiting for the pony to struggle herself to the door. "Old Master wouldn't have crossed two sticks if he wasn't sure of the outcome. That's why he was always alone, I think. He always grumbled on ponies being unpredictable... like how every servant claimed to know him despite him never having seen them. Though truth be told, even I found that a little odd..." "He was simply crazy," Lyra hissed and pushed her wounded side against the wall really gently. She needed a quick breather. She wasn't running out of stamina just yet, but the lack of sleep and constant struggles were wearing her out. She had never been pushed so far before, and she was unprepared to meet such demands. "The usual method?" Snowy turned to the door and eyed it intently. She didn't go through it though; she couldn't. Despite looking like a ghost, she was unable to actually move through physical objects. Only once Lyra had cracked the doors open a little bit could the windigo pass through and take a look. Still breathing heavily, Lyra paid her ghostly servant a nod. She lunged forward and placed her forehead against the door. Her muscles flexed and the door creaked, cracking open just barely; already enough for Snowy. The ghostly form of the windigo moved to the opening - no thicker than a hair's breadth - and flowed through like a sentient piece of blue mist. All right... so she can be really handy at times, Lyra mused while forcibly trying to calm her breathing. If she wanted to pass for an actual machinist, she couldn't be seen panting as if she had just ran a marathon. She'd also need to walk like everypony else did. As she remembered, the train station wasn't that terribly far from the château's entrance; a little over a kilometre. She should be able to force herself into walking regularly for that long. She had been quite mindful of the wound so far... it should permit her that much. Besides, being careful about her health would matter very little if she got caught. Bon, the things I do for you... she cringed at the pain she expected to endure. Then her lips curled into a wry smile and she made a quick correction to that self-pitying thought. For us, I mean. "All clear," came Snowy's voice from the other side of the door, and Lyra pushed the obstacle out of her way. Show time! It was in the middle of the afternoon, according to the huge clock in the train station's waiting hall. That rather surprised Lyra; her journey from the warming shack to the Dancing Lights had taken her more than a half day. She wasn't measuring time when she was skiing out there, but she was sure it didn't take her more than half an hour... if that much. Clenching her teeth at the disappointing development, she headed toward the large oak doors, the exit of the building. She wanted to hurry. The bandage she had put onto her wound held, but did ever so little once she put any kind of stress onto the damaged tissues. Every step she took was a cold knife stabbing her in her shoulder, and she wasn't sure how far she could move before she would just give up and keel over. Determination was a powerful force, but one that was also prone to leaving her without much forewarning. She could have hobbled along, move in a way that didn't hurt; but the more rational part of her mind objected to any such ideas. The train station's waiting hall was a huge and beautifully designed area, the white rocks carved into all sorts of arches and curved shapes. It looked real fancy and offered a thousand hiding spots for random passer-bys or guards. Each and every one of those being potential threats to her cover, should they see her out of character. So far the area proved empty, but she wouldn't just put her fate square into the hooves of luck. Fortuna may have spared her life so far, but that was no guarantee - not even for the close future. She left another arch behind. She also passed a white-marble reproduction of some classic statue and a few red-gold banners, but those barely registered with her. The pain from her wound and the anxiety left ever so little room for more complex thoughts. Soon enough only the exits were left in her gaze, and she was only counting the steps until she reached them. Everything else was grey and blurry, unfocused and out of mind. Soon she would be out in the street, passing the service buildings and moving towards the Dancing Lights itself. "Hey, you!" Snowy perked her ghostly ears up and turned to a pony in light-orange jacket, the source of the noise. Lyra completely ignored the yell, however. "I said something, hey! You there, machinist! Stop!" The noise passed through Lyra's ears without hitting any part of her conscious. She lowered her right hoof onto the marble floor and cringed in anticipation; then pain flooded her as she placed her weight onto the leg, the raw wound in her shoulder objecting to the stress. Just a little more, she reassured herself. Just a little more and I'm out of here. It's cold outside, it should hurt less out there. It's easier after that. Just a little more. That little more got pushed a little further away when a pair of crimson eyes popped up in front of her, obscuring the aged oak doors from her. "Snowy...!" Lyra gasped and hissed, coming to a wobbling stop. She could have passed through her appointed servant without breaking a sweat - had she not forgotten that the windigo was just a ghost. "Master, wouldn't it be wise to heed that call?" Snowy motioned with her head towards the pony in the orange jacket. Lyra picked up on the hint and finally spotted the colt herself, just as he caught up to her. It wasn't a fair race, four good legs chasing three. "I said STOP!" the colt in orange jacket grumbled and stepped in front of Lyra, moving through Snowy's figure as one walks through a cloud of light mist. "Are you deaf or something?!" Lyra shuddered; not at the voice but at the icy numbness griping her entire right side. She also lowered her head and stared at the floor. The other pony may have understood that as some display of guilt or shame; but that was just some bonus, as Lyra's aim was to hide her face under the hard hat. "I... am sorry..." she mumbled, trying her best at suppressing her shallow gasps and coming up with excuses on the fly. "Deaf... yea', kinda. You know, trains are... ugh, you know, loud? Very loud." "Oh, errr- I didn't know! I certainly didn't mean to offend you," the colt took a hasty stap backwards and glanced away. "I only wanted to tell you to get your firepony, ASAP." "Fire... pony..." Lyra's became glassy as she failed to realize how that wasn't a name. "Careful! That may be Master's co-worker!" Snowy rushed to her master's aid, having sensed the danger. "Old Master employed a lot of those. They were the ones who shoveled coal into the furnaces." "Oh! Firepony... yes siree, I can do..." Lyra carried on. She may have been sickly, but she was still well enough to keep her act straight. "Why though? I'm not... not gonna' be on the train. Wasn't planning to... see, I'm on leave..." "Oh, I do know you're not the scheduled crew. We've found those bastards in the dining car, next to four open bottles of wine," the colt rolled his eyes and clapped his hoof against the nearby wall. Angrily. "Can't allow drunken maschinists to drive a train away from here! So you're taking their place. That's what you backup crews are for, aren't you?" Lyra had no idea when and how she got nominated into being a backup crew, but she didn't work herself up over such turn of events. She was still more concerned for Bon and her own well-being, for example. "Can do. Can do..." she grit her teeth and held a strange sensation back with a gulp. She wasn't sure but she felt like throwing up; an action that wouldn't mesh well with her current disguise. "I just... need to go back... and grab my stuff. Y'know, the lodge... my room... I need to..." "Of course you do," the colt paid her a nod and rubbed his eyes. "Go grab your whatever and get back here on the double. We would prefer the train checked and prepared by a sober crew, and you've got less than two hours for that. Departing late isn't an option." "Right," Lyra groaned and resumed her walk, moving past the colt and his orange jacket. Despite the physical pain, she was in elevated spirits; she got a very good excuse she could throw at anypony asking what she was doing, moving around the Dancing Lights in a machinists' grab. Thanks. You still owe me a lot after that miserable yesterday though, she reminded Fortuna, just in case. The Dancing Lights had always been a defensive position first and foremost; even its change from a fortress to a ski resort couldn't alter that trait. Thick walls protected the inner castle and the nearby structures - barracks, armouries, a smaller hospital, storehouses and other buildings necessary for supporting a small population, such as a large bakery. Self-sufficiency was highly beneficial when that remote spot of Equestria had to stand tall and threaten any enemy. Indeed, the Dancing Lights never came under siege; and nopony would have been crazy enough to attempt such a feat either. The purpose of the fortification was just to be a thorn, a disruptive presence that couldn't be attacked head on and needed to be planned around. One could say all the defensive fortifications were solely to that purpose, but it was hardly more evident with any other than the Dancing Lights. The similarities didn't end there either; those sturdy walls had become a hindrance as time passed. Most cities of Equestria had outgrown their armoured shells and spilled their populace onto the nearby lands, shedding the unnecessary walls and fortifications the same way bugs leave their discarded shells behind. The Dancing Lights didn't have that option; an unfortunate reality that hurt the small settlement as much as the harsh environment did. Construction outside the protective walls was forbidden for a very long time, making the inside of the castle more and more cramped until the whole fortress looked like one huge building. A building straight out of an architect's nightmare. All the different structures had been enlarged and improved without any overarching plan, resulting in a mess of multi-story towers divided by thin, zig-zaggy and often nonsensical alleys. Trotting down such an alleyway as she fought the increasingly dizzying waves of nausea, that strange tale jumped into Lyra's head. She must have heard it from Bon; she surely wouldn't have taken the effort to actually grab a history book of such a pointless landmark. Squinting with an eye as she forced her right leg to proper walk, she forced herself to recall every detail possible. She had to occupy herself with something. The pain was overwhelming the moment her mind became unoccupied, and she was really not into falling unconscious on the cobblestoned street. "This place sure has changed a lot," Snowy ran her gaze down the tall houses on the sides of the narrow alley. "Master, I don't think I can actually guide you in here. Nothing is familiar to me." "S'ok," Lyra hissed. A particular step went worse than the rest and she stumbled. Only a bright-green tiled house front stopped her fall, her black overall rubbing against the smooth ceramic tiles. The duffel bag landed at her hooves with a faint thud; her unicorn magic had failed the moment she lost her focus. It was still one of the better ways to stop. Two ponies popped out of nowhere and walked toward her, both carrying some colourful skis on their backs. They grinned at Lyra and paid her the customary nods; she only mumbled something unintelligible in turn and tipped her hard hat with her right leg. She needed the left to keep herself upright. The two tourists didn't pay her much attention; they went back to chatting between themselves, walking past what they assumed to be a train mechanic without batting an eye. "I am very proud to be serving under Master," Snowy eyed the pair of ponies as they disappeared around a corner. "The ease with which Master penetrates this castle would make Sabbah proud! Master picked a very ingenious disguise... nopony has even suspected us so far." "S' jus' a lil' walk more," Lyra dismissed some worries, replying to lines she imagined hearing. She didn't speak as much as gurgled, breathing in and talking at the same time. It was so difficult to move, to breathe; more so to appear decent and to blend in, even with luck finally on her side. It still wasn't difficult enough though. She wasn't thinking about giving up. It took way more to beat her into submission. I'm going to burn all my music sheets if I let that two-faced blue-blood prick mess with us any longer! Saliva dripped onto the slushy tiles beneath her hooves, the thick ropes of the duffel bag between her teeth. A blast of hot air left her nostrils and she staggered onwards. Her amber eyes were set on the third opening to her right. She would walk down that street and take a turn to the left... where she would enter the inner castle. The actual château. Dragging the olive bag in the slush as her legs took their unsteady steps, Lyra found herself longing for her greatest performance to begin. Sweet Celestia, all this walking around makes me feel dizzy... "Sir!" Her head pointed towards the red carpet on the floor, Lyra finally left the second set of glass doors behind. She wasn't sure if she had felt so humiliated in her life before. The odd feeling of cold numbness, her growing dizziness and air-headedness had formed an unholy alliance, their sole aim to make her look like a complete fool. She had bumbled into the outer door three times. That was followed up by her managing to get herself locked into the small space between the two doors, struggling for half a minute before she remembered to open the second one. That mishap went beyond Lyra's critical threshold of embarrassment. It was such a burn on her ego that it penetrated the numbness gripping her mind. She wanted nothing else but to get away - drag herself to the stairs. There couldn't have been anypony watching her there. Not like the hall wasn't empty either, all the guests being out in the mountains. "SIR!" "Sir...? How quaint, I thought Master was a Miss. At the same time, that receptionist would like to have a word with us no doubt," Snowy motioned at the pony yelling and waving from behind the counter. "Master is being awfully absent-minded as of late. A little attention if I may?" Lyra was aware of being yelled at. She had been trying to ignore it with moderate success. It was tucked away in the back of her head, beckoning her beneath the many layers of shame. That bothersome windigo just had to join into nagging her, too... Venting her frustration with a sigh, she stopped and turned to the receptionist. She let go of the duffel bag and licked her dry lips; her magic had become quite unreliable as fatigue set in, so she had to fall back to using her teeth. The bag fell onto the red carpet with a faint cling, the bottles of mineral water managing to find each other. It was such a subtle sound - but in the quiet tranquil of the empty château-lodge, even such little things seemed out of place. It easily drew Lyra's attention there, setting off a chain reaction. The stream of mismatching details never seemed to stop. The dirty olive bag lying on the nice red carpet, her own slushy-muddy hooves, the black overall she had stained by rubbing against the numerous houses and lampposts... Ugh. I'm making a mess. She made a grin and berated herself once more. She couldn't help but feel even more foolish for having such notions. They just wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how focused she tried to remain. It just wasn't like her, acting so careless. "Sir?" the receptionist tried for a third time. She sounded uncertain but optimistic, the weird pony in black overalls finally having had turned toward her. "What," Lyra broke her gaze from the duffel bag with a grunt. She kept her head low so the white hard hat could cover most of her features. She wouldn't have thought it to be such an effective tactic, but the mare behind the counter couldn't even tell her gender - so she might as well stick with what has worked. "Sir, only registered guests are allowed into and beyond this hall," the receptionist stated with an indifferent tone. "Am vis... visiting a friend," Lyra mumbled with a gulp. Courtesy of her sleepless night and having dragged a bag across town, her speech barely resembled her usual tone or style. "We only accept visitors if they are accompanied by registered guests," the receptionist shook her head, her curly blue mane rocking around her neck. "I am afraid I can't just allow you in like this." "I... uh... am payin' a surp... surprise visit," Lyra dished out, only flinching once or twice. Her jaws flexed involuntarily; her wound had grown beyond bothersome, affecting almost every part of her being. She was only some eighty stairs or so from Bon, though. I won't be stopped so close. She sneaked a glance at Snowy. The windigo was standing right next to her, listening to the conversation intently. For a brief moment, Lyra entertained herself with the idea of sicking that ghostly servant on the receptionist, make her feel just cold enough to stop being so difficult. That would have been the fastest way to deal with the obstacle for sure... Then the brief moment passed and Lyra regained some semblance of herself, discarding such ridiculous plans with haste. Nopony in their right minds would drop windigos onto the living. She felt unclean for even having toyed with the mere concept. "Am... just visitin'... Bon. Room... four-oh-six," Lyra went with the alternate and more sensible approach of talking her way in. "Brought some pre... presents..." A loud clang rose as she gave the duffel bag a generous kick, the water bottles almost breaking. She hoped that noise would distract the receptionist from the fact that the name 'Lyra Heartstrings' was also registered to that room... and how that very pony was standing here, just covered in black garments and throat hoarse from the ordeals she had been through. A poor diversion covering for a paper-thin disguise, all in all. "Ah, that checks out. Well, in that case I... I suppose I can have not seen you," the receptionist scratched her head, her eyes glued to the duffel bag. "Please moderate yourselves though. While customer satisfaction IS our goal, you aren't supposed to bring hard liquors into the rooms." "Sure," Lyra made a nod and grabbed onto the duffel bag, dragging it towards the stairs. "Master, I think you just made Bon look like she enjoyed the company of random strangers in her room," Snowy chattered as she caught up to Lyra. "Won't this be an issue?" "No," Lyra hissed her brief answer. Bon had never fussed about whatever she said, and she was plenty sure her friend wouldn't change that habit just now either. In all actuality, she couldn't have been happier if what she said got both of them immediately thrown out of the hotel. Placing a hoof on the lowest stair, she really doubted she would get that lucky. Then she willed herself into the first step up the stairs. It was a struggling effort on her part, complete with a wave of shivers that ran down her spine. Ugh! Lyra yanked the duffel bag ahead of her, her clenched teeth almost tearing the ropes. First steps are always the hardest, right? Am I glad there are only sevenity-nine to go... She had given up on walking normally around the twentieth stair. Using her damaged leg was a difficult endeavour even on flat ground, a hardship she had only endured because of the disguise she tried to maintain. Moving up the stairs was a whole different situation, however. There was nopony to see her in the thin corridor spiralling upwards and straining her shoulder was making her feel all kinds of funny. It was only natural to use a more comfortable way of movement instead; so she lifted both her front legs into the air and pushed her side to the wall, balancing on her hind hooves as she made her way up. She must have been a ridiculous sight - and she would have even cared were she not feeling so vindicated. Haaa... so where are you idiots now, saying I'd never need to walk on two?! If only she could move like that in the streets as well. The lack of pressure on her wounded leg did her wonders; the icy pain subsided to a dull throbbing. She was fairly sure she would become an attraction had she tried anything like that in the public, however... "Quite the trick Master pulled!" Snowy applauded the idea and followed suit. She succeeded on the very first try, much to Lyra's chagrin; she had put real effort into learning to balance on only two hooves. Stupid weightless ghost. She didn't waste her breath on berating the windigo. Her goal was the door at the top of the stairs. Making Snowy apologize for besting her at her own game didn't get her any closer to that. She was free to grumble about it inside her head, though. She stumbled onwards until the stairs turned. She couldn't defeat her pitiful momentum quick enough and her hard hat banged on the rocky wall. Resting against the wall like a piece of log, she took a breather, panting loudly for a few seconds. Another turn to the left, another ten stairs... followed by another door, this one to the third floor. Then another turn, another ten stairs... She had never realized how far her room was from the ground floor. These old castles should really come with lifts, Lyra shut her eyes and gulped. She kept feeling odd and could barely swallow; but she wasn't comfortable with drooling around, even in the confines of the stairway. "Master looks like she could use a small break..." Lyra popped her eyes open and promptly fell over; she was wholly unprepared for a windigo to be right in her face. She landed two stairs down with a heavy thud. That was shortly followed by a lighter bang as the duffel bag obediently copied her movement, almost smacking her in the head. "...on the other hoof, maybe not breaking our momentum is also a good thing," Snowy cringed at the sight. As the olive bag came to rest on the stair just below her head, Lyra found herself readily agreeing with that proposal. She lost the duffel bag. Lyra had no idea where that thing went. She was dragging it just a moment ago... then she had to lick her dried and swollen lips. Then it was gone. Oh well. At least she wasn't drooling over the place any more, now that she had no rope to hold onto. She switched to leaving hoofmarks and a trail instead. Something was dripping from her right leg, leaving faint marks on the floor carpet. That was annoying... but still less disconcerting than the increasing dizziness she had been battling since her last stop. Numerous those stains might have been, the cleaning crew would have nopony to complain to. She would be checking out soon, after all. Very soon and very expeditiously. She lost her balance and wobbled, her left hoof touching the ground with a thud soon after. She didn't waste time; she pushed herself back upright again, shuffling forward on her rears. She was looking for a door on the right in the second hallway, marked by the number 406. "This doesn't look encouraging," Snowy resumed her incessant gloominess. Just like the previous two dozen ones, that comment was also completely ignored by Lyra. She paid more attention to turning left in the hallway. Her efforts were of little use; she lost her balance in the process and fell over anyway. She reached for a close-looking door handle... Despite her fears, she did manage to reach it. Her hoof pushed the handle down all the way; but her weight was more than the handle was supposed to handle. The small piece of metal began to dent and then came off clean with a sharp pang, leaving Lyra with no stops until her nose bounced back from the carpet. That actually wasn't such a bad development. It was nice to lie on the warm carpet. The material was a little rough and she couldn't call it soft; but it was better than anything she had felt in the last... last... ...how long has it been? Her mind wasn't being really cooperative. She couldn't recall anything of her last few days. There was some snow, two pieces of red-painted wood, a green robed figure that lectured her on dreams... all kinds of weirdness. She wasn't used to that. She had been performing quality music for refined audiences. A quaint and soft world hers used to be; she couldn't deal with the strange new reality beyond swimming with the tide. Resting on the carpet, that tide was pushing her towards falling asleep. She was tired... and not just 'simply' tired either. She was exhausted like how she hardly ever had been before. She was no stranger to skipping sleep - some rehearsals would go into the night and even into the next day - but she had never pushed herself this hard before. Every fibre of her body and mind resisted that treatment, demanding her to remain horizontal and give in to the drowsiness. Yeah, that's right... Even Bon let her sleep when she was so tired. Bon...! Lyra gathered the tattered remains of her strength and willed herself to move. She had forgotten amidst her efforts that she had come to rescue her friend. There was no way she could fall asleep in the corridor. She limped forward; even heard that stupid windigo mumble something, but she didn't care. Leaving a thicker streak of red stain on the carpet, she reached the door of their room. Lyra shifted her weight to her left - intact - leg and rose the right to push the handle; but her muscles were in disagreement over her own limits. She tipped forward until her head came into contact with the door - in a rather loud manner. Bang. It wasn't a complete disaster though. She didn't drop back onto the floor; she had just enough will left to keep herself wedged semi-upright, her head pushing against the wood. It was a posture heavy on her neck; thank goodness she was only expecting to stay that way for a few moments at most. "Open up already..." she muttered with her teeth clenched. "Master, sorry for asking the same question over and over," Snowy wandered back into her vision. "But how do you know this Bon figure is here?" Lyra popped an eye open and gave the windigo an angry glare. Such a supposition, Bon not being in their room! Utterly heretical. Of course she would be in there! As far as Bon knew, her best friend had been in an accident on the skiing lane and had gone missing for a full night and day. Where else would Bon be if not there, sick and worried and waiting for her return? What else could she be possibly doing, other than- -other than searching for me, Lyra felt the realization hammer an ice-cold nail into her heart. That was a pretty good possibility, actually. I should have asked the receptionist if Bon's out or not, she closed her eyes and twisted her swollen lips, her mouth revealing a toothy grin. The thought of having had come so far for entirely nothing was a little too much to bear with a sane mind. She might as well have tried to give it go, though. She felt herself drifting further and further away from being completely sane. "Coming! Hold on for a moment!" That voice had definitely come from the room; there was no doubt about that. The only issue Lyra had was deciding whether the voice was real, or just something coming from her mind. She hadn't been hallucinating so far, but she was reaching the point where she almost expected herself to start doing so. It would have only made sense. Then the door flung inwards and disappeared from in front of her. Left without her support, Lyra stumbled into the room, blundering straight into a blue stallion. "You're... you're...!" she muttered. She never finished that particular sentence as a hollow cackle overpowered her words, her mind finally snapping loose of concepts such as 'rationality'. The only reason she didn't wind up back on the floor was that Flash Freeze caught her somehow, the noble demonstrating uncannily quick reflexes.