//------------------------------// // 668 - Clean to the Bone // Story: Lateral Movement // by Alzrius //------------------------------// The sweeping wave of cold drove the air from Spinner’s lungs. Or maybe it was her scream of pain that left her breathless, the frigid blast so agonizing that it might as well have been fire. She tried to stumble backward, desperately throwing a foreleg up to cover her face, only to stumble when her legs refused to listen to her. Somehow managing to crack her eyes open despite the gelid gale, she looked down…and it took her a moment to realize that, except for the foreleg she’d put in front of her face, the rest of her limbs were all quickly becoming encased in ice, anchoring her to the ground. The sight was enough to send a surge of panic through her, worse than when she’d caught sight of the yetis’ eyes a few moments ago. Trying not to panic as she realized that being pinned in place now – when the remainder of the yeti horde was likely only a few seconds away from plunging through the smokescreen she and Mystaria had made – was a death sentence, she quickly turned her head, looking for Mystaria and Woodheart. If if they were both trapped like she was, freeing herself and them before they were overrun would be almost impossible. “You guys!” she yelled, trying to tug her legs free. “Are you alri-” The words died in her throat, her eyes going wide as she saw what had happened to Woodheart. Rather than curling up or backing away from the sudden burst of cold, the druid had reared up on her back legs, maximizing her exposure to the frigid attack. Although she’d pivoted in place, turning her back to the onslaught, she’d still suffered greatly for her actions, with ice having spread from her rearmost hooves all the way up to the back of her neck. The sight was enough to make Spinner’s mouth go dry. Why did she do that?! But the question had barely passed through the bard’s mind when she saw the answer. “Meep meep!” cried Littleknight mournfully, still nestled protectively in Woodheart’s forelegs, having been shielded from the worst of the cold by the mare’s body. “MEEP!” “G-go,” moaned the druid, looking like she was barely able to stay conscious as she tried to let Littleknight down, her lips already blue as the almiraj fought to stay with her. “Run…away…” “Woodheart!” Mystaria’s voice drew Spinner’s attention next, and thankfully the other mare seemed to be mostly alright, free of the clinging ice despite the frost coating most of her body. Biting her lip, Mystaria looked between her two friends, temporarily caught in a moment of indecision before one hoof went up to clutch at her holy symbol. “Just hang on! I’m going to heal both of you right now!” “Gonna spoil my preserves?” came a familiar cackle, drawing Mystaria and Spinner’s gazes toward it. “Shouldn’t unfreeze meat ‘til you’re ready to cook it.” Then the voice’s owner stepped forward. The sunrods that Valor had tied around their hooves barely made enough light to reach the thing’s position, despite it being less than a stone’s throw away, and the falling snow obscured its features even more. But there was still enough illumination for Spinner to get a look at who had just blasted them with such intense cold, their invisibility broken after having launched an attack. During her many travels throughout Everglow, Spinner had seen her fair share of humanoid races. Humans, elves, goblins, dwarves, kobolds, gnomes, orcs, halflings; there were as many different bipeds as there were tribes of ponies. And while they didn’t have quite as broad an array of shapes and colors as their equine counterparts, the humanoids made up for it with their individual characteristics. And this particular humanoid had quite the distinguishing characteristic indeed. She was hideous! Dressed only in a shapeless grey hooded robe with a threadbare shift underneath, her skin was wrinkled and covered with pockmarks, which stood out against the warts and boils that dotted her saggy flesh. The blemishes looked all the more awful for the frostbite that covered every visible part of her body, shading it with a sickly-looking blue tint. Her fingernails were black with filth, and looked as though they hadn’t been cut in months, making her bare hands appear reminiscent of claws. Worst of all was her face. A tangled mass of wispy white hair was swept back from her head, revealing a leering countenance with a hooked nose, stained and misshapen teeth, cleft chin, and rheumy eyes. Eyes that slid over each mare in turn as a thin tongue swept over cracked lips, causing Spinner to shiver in revulsion. “Oh no,” breathed Mystaria, staring at the old woman in horror. “A winter hag.” The comment caused the crone’s hideous smile to turn into a sneer. “Not nice to be calling me names,” she spat, pointing the staff she held – a thin pillar of black ice as tall as she was – at Mystaria. “Thinking I’ll eat you first once we’re back.” “Wait! Wait a second!” Rearing up on her back legs as she held a hoof out a gesture of supplication, Mystaria gave the old woman an earnest look. “We can come to an arrangement! If food is all you want, there are easier ways to get it!” Her friend’s pleading made Spinner’s eyes widen in disbelief. What was Mystaria doing?! It was one thing to try and broker peace with some pony with a bad attitude; it was another thing entirely to do so with some sort of monster! Is she crazy?! Hags aren’t just old and ugly humanoids! They’re warped by their own magic from birth! You can’t reason with them! The hag in question seemed to agree, cackling again. “Thinking the current arrangement’s good enough. Brothers and I are hungry, and you’re here. Works out nice.” The reference to “brothers” made Spinner frown. That…wasn’t right. Hags were uniformly female by nature; they didn’t have brothers. And that’s the least important thing right now! We’ve got to do something before Woodsy’s tiger and my smokescreen run…huh? Pausing as she noticed something out of the corner of her eye, Spinner felt her anxiety suddenly slow. Was that smoke cloud so close before? “I’m telling you, it doesn’t have to be like this!” continued Mystaria, drawing Spinner’s attention back to herself. “There’s already been at least one death on your side. Surely you don’t want to risk your, er, brothers’ lives just to eat, right?” The words were passionate and heartfelt, but this time Spinner noticed that Mystaria’s other hoof – the one not held out in a pleading gesture – was making small beckoning motions. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see the edge of the smoke cloud, still emanating the noxious fumes from the sphere of flames Mystaria had conjured, grow slightly closer. It was enough to make the bard fight down a smile. Mysty, if we get out of this alive, I swear I won’t make fun of your peacenik habits ever again. Or until the next time it’s funny. Now if I can just figure out a way to break the ice on my legs without drawing attention to myself! Thankfully, the hag didn’t seem to notice, instead holding her icy staff of her as though it were a quarterstaff as she advanced toward her and Woodheart threateningly, leaving no tracks behind her as she moved. “Don’t like to play with my food,” she sneered. “Rather finish preparing my meal.” Apparently realizing that the time for subtlety was over, Mystaria abandoned all pretense of diplomacy. “Then eat THIS!” she yelled, waving her other hoof in a sweeping motion. The smoke cloud rushed forward immediately, enveloping them all as the ball of fire bounded toward the hag. Holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut, Spinner didn’t hesitate, grabbing the neck of her lute in her teeth and swung it down heavily. Sorry I have to do this again, Mom, but this is the reason you gave me my inheritance early, right? With a resounding crack, the body of her lute struck the ice covering her body, and it was with immense satisfaction – and some wincing at the bruising she’d just dealt to herself – that Spinner felt the frozen shackles shatter. That wasn’t surprising of course, considering that her mother’s lute was battle-hardened, its wooden finish actually a thin veneer applied over its steel construction, making it an effective bludgeon when necessary. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern, reminding herself to look the instrument over later; she hated the thought of damaging her mother’s most prized possession, even though she knew that sometimes using it like this was necessary. And this is definitely one of those times, she reassured herself as she hurried toward where Mystaria and Woodheart were. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to get out of here before Granny Evil or whatever her name is follows- Her thought was cut off as the smoke cleared abruptly. Momentarily stupefied, Spinner glanced back at where the hag was…and saw her fanning herself with one hand, as though the choking vapors had bothered her no more than an errant whiff of flatulence. More concerning was the trail of melted snow that abruptly terminating right next to her, as though the flaming sphere had suddenly winked out of existence…which is exactly what had happened, Spinner realized grimly. “Spell resistance,” cursed Mystaria softly. “Please tell me you have another way to melt a hole in that ice wall,” muttered Spinner, moving to stand alongside Mystaria. “I do, but I’m not sure how effective it’ll be,” muttered Mystaria, glancing back down the street. “Or how much time we have to use it.” Sparing a brief glance in the same direction, Spinner saw what she meant. Woodheart’s tiger was now on the defensive, the great cat being pushed back by a trio of yetis, with more moving to join the fight now that the smoke cloud wasn’t obscuring their vision any longer. Worse, there was still no sign of Valor and Shadow, though Spinner thought she could see a few more yetis lying in the snow further back- “No time for looking away!” snapped the hag, rushing forward suddenly. Her speed was surprising for someone so old, but it wasn’t more than Spinner could handle, bringing her lute up to block as the crone swung her staff of black ice around. Even so, she wasn’t prepared for how much power was behind the blow, her knees almost buckling as she caught the end of the hag’s staff with her instrument. “Hurry up with that exit, Mysty!” For a moment, Mystaria looked torn, but then nodded, running toward the middle of the wall as she chanted, gesturing quickly before pointing a hoof at the barrier. Immediately, a cone of flames shot outward from her hoof, sending a cloud of steam up as they impacted the frozen obstruction. “No you don’t!” screeched the hag, withdrawing her staff and moving toward Mystaria. But she hadn’t taken more than a single step before a loud meep cut her off. Jumping down from Woodheart’s half-frozen form, Littleknight shrieked in anger as he charged toward the hag, head lowered as he pointed his horn at her. Before the old woman had a chance to react, he slipped past her guard and leaped up, intent on skewering the one who’d hurt his mistress. The bony protrusion – its pearlescent appearance marking it as the most magical part of the magical creature, Spinner knew – struck home, impacting the crone’s midsection…and bounced off, sending the almiraj tumbling as it fell back toward the snow. It was enough to leave Spinner slack-jawed. Despite his cuddly appearance, every member of their group knew that being gored by Littleknight was no joke. She’d seen his horn pierce through the rocky skin of a gargoyle without slowing down, a creature whom even Valor had struggled to injure. That the winter hag was strong and quick had been surprising, but for her to be so tough as to shrug off Littleknight’s attempt to gore her… This is a whole new level of bad. She was proven right as the hag snickered, amused by the almiraj’s attack. “Skipping the appetizer course,” she chuckled, bringing her staff around in a quick motion. The end of it struck the side of Littleknight’s head, sending him airborne to crash down several feet away, laying very still as the snow around him began to turn red. The hag was moving before Littleknight had hit the ground, with Spinner circling around to try and cut her off, but before either had a chance to move, a voice interrupted them. “How could you…?” “Hm?” The hag glanced up, looking at the half-frozen pony who had spoken. “How could you?!” “Woodheart!” blurted Spinner, hearing several sharp cracks fill the air. The druid didn’t seem to hear her, tearing herself free from the ice that had kept her immobile. Her legs were bright red with frostbite, her back was missing patches of fur, her tail was frayed and tattered, and her eyes were blazing with rage. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO LITTLEKNIGHT?!” Woodheart’s scream was immediately followed by her chanting a spell, throwing herself at the crone – whose grotesque face was twisted in a look of surprise – even as rattled off her incantation, one that Spinner knew would conjure deadly poison inside the bloodstream of the next person the druid touched. Yes! Go Woodsy! Matching the druid’s pace, Spinner rushed around to strike at the hag’s unprotected back, forcing the crone to spare her a quick glance as she easily sidestepped the wide swing of Spinner’s lute. But that half-second distraction cost her, as Woodheart rushed forward, jerking her head to the side to avoid being struck between the eyes by the butt of the hag’s staff, and punched her hoof against the old woman’s face. Please work! chanted Spinner silently. Please get through her spell resistance! Woodheart would know if the attack worked or not, but unless she gave them a sign, there’d be no external sign of its effects until the hag either began convulsing or shrugged it off. But apparently it wasn’t going to be the latter, as Woodheart gave the hag a look of hateful satisfaction. “That’s what you get for hurting my familiar,” she spat. “Now, that poison will kill you from the insi-, NNGH!” Her hateful recrimination was cut off as the crone brought her staff back around, this time smacking the other end of it against the druid’s jaw, nearly breaking it. “Poison’s no trouble,” noted the hag calmly, her grating voice filled with bemusement. “But if you’re bothered, you and bunny there can be cooked together.” “Woodheart!” Spinner felt only marginally reassured when the druid groaned in response to her yell, rolling over with great difficulty. Stepping back, Spinner glanced over her shoulder, hoping against hope that Mystaria had melted a hole through the wall. But it wasn’t to be. Although there was a wide depression in the middle of the frozen barrier now, it hadn’t gone deep enough to form a full breach. Mystaria herself was hurriedly pulling a scroll out of her saddlebag, and Spinner found herself hoping that it would get the job done as she turned back toward the hag. Just gotta buy us a little more time, she tried to reassure herself, despite having no idea how they’d be able to get away if they needed to carry Woodheart and Littleknight on their backs, particularly given that they had yet to inflict so much as a scratch on the winter hag. So let’s try a different strategy, she decided as she brought her lute around, strumming it as she sang a short but bawdy little ditty about the many important uses of lubrication. I may not be able to slow her down, but if this works it’ll at least make it harder for her to go on the attack. A moment later her spell was complete, and the hag’s staff of black ice was immediately covered in a layer of extremely slippery grease. …which froze an instant later, the beldame cackling at the futility of Spinner’s efforts. It was enough to make the bard’s stomach clench into knots as she took a step back, lute at the ready. Okay, magic doesn’t work. Physical damage doesn’t work. Poison doesn’t work. So what does that leave? She was still wondering that when the hag took a step forward, ready to go through her to get to Mystaria…only to be flattened as a bear fell out of the sky and landed on top of her. For a moment, Spinner couldn’t react, just staring at the incongruous sight. I suppose that would do it. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot,” came a familiar voice in her ear. “Grab Woodheart and let’s go!” “Shadow!” blurted Spinner, belatedly going over to the downed druid even as the bear – Valor – swiped her claws at the witch underneath her. “How did-, what-, you two…” “I never thought I’d see the day when you ran out of words,” snickered the masked mare, rushing over to scoop up Littleknight. But the humor in her voice fell away an instant later. “We need to get moving. Those shaggy things we left behind will catch up any second now, and I don’t think Woodheart’s tiger will last much longer.” Spinner didn’t even bother looking back, more interested in getting out of there while they still could. Even so, she couldn’t help the questions spilling from her tongue, her storyteller’s instinct needing to know what had led to the dramatic save. “But how did the two of you-” “I used a scroll with a ‘jump’ spell on Valor,” explained Shadow. “That’s how she bypassed the rest of those monsters: she just jumped from roof to roof.” Despite herself, Spinner glanced around. Sure enough, several roofs on nearby houses had large impressions left on the snow covering their roofs. “I’m amazed she didn’t fall through-, wait a second, since when did you start carrying spell scrolls?” “I don’t,” answered Shadow Star easily. “I just borrowed some of Mystaria’s. Like that scroll of that lets you throw your voice. That’s how I was able to hide under one of those corpses while they were all watching the bouncing bear and make it sound like I was running in the opposite direction when they looked to see where I’d gone, confusing those stupid things long enough for me to get away.” Although they were still in incredible danger, Spinner couldn’t help but snicker as she hefted Woodheart onto her back. “You know Mysty’s going to lecture you for taking her stuff later, right?” “If she can get us out of here alive, then she can anoint me as a nun of Luminace alongside her,” shot back Shadow without missing a beat. As if she heard them, that was when Mystaria finished reading the scroll she’d withdrawn, launching a spray of acid at the depression she’d made in the wall of ice. A loud hiss rang out, and a moment later the depression grew deeper, the ice dissolving until finally the other side was visible. The sight was enough to make Spinner cheer. “YES!” “Valor!” called back Shadow. “Let’s go!” The black bear roared in reply, but didn’t get a chance to move before it was sent stumbling, knocked away by the hag, who stood up with a snarl. “OFF!” “C’mon!” yelled Mystaria, waiting in front of the opening she’d created, unwilling to leave without the rest of her friends. “Hurry!” For a moment Spinner was worried that the hag would chase them down before they got away – even after they made it past the wall of ice, it wasn’t like there was anything preventing her from chasing them, and while Woodheart’s tiger was still putting up a fight, it would go back to whatever spirit world she’d summoned it from in less than a minute – but another glance back showed that the ugly creature wasn’t moving. Instead, she was staring at a long laceration in her arm, courtesy of Valor’s claws…a shallow one, and which (rather oddly) wasn’t bleeding, but which seemed to command the whole of the hag’s attention. “Cut!” she shrieked, sounding incensed. “Wounded! Injured!” Clenching her fists around her staff so tightly that she looked like she was about to snap it, her voice rose in anger. “Ruining all the work I did! UNFORGIVEABLE!!!” The last word accompanied another blast of supernatural cold, and this time it was enough to knock Spinner completely off her hooves. But this time she didn’t manage to scream. She couldn’t. The air was too cold for her lungs to work properly. Her legs were too numb to catch her as she touched down a second later, falling into the snow. It was with shaky hooves that she somehow managed to sit up, scarcely believing that she was still alive as she reached up to wipe away the snow that was obscuring her vision. Only to realize that there was no snow on her face…and yet she still couldn’t see anything. “Sh-Shadow?” Spinner called, hearing the hysterical note in her voice as she felt the sunrod still curled around her foreleg, despite her vision still being completely black. “Shadow, where are you?! I can’t see anything!” “I can’t either,” came Shadow’s voice from somewhere to her right. “Mystaria?” “My eyes!” came her friend’s pained moan from behind her. “My eyes!” Okay, I’m now officially panicking! decided Spinner as she tried to get to her hooves. We can’t escape like this! We can’t- “Planning on going back to cook you proper,” came the hag’s voice, sounding horribly close. “But appetite’s all worked up now. Thinking I’ll eat a leg or two before going-, hm? Another one? Who’re you?” Spinner’s breath caught in her throat at the sudden change in the hag’s tone. Who was she talking to? A moment later her question was answered. “I’m the pony who’s going to kill you,” answered the voice of Lex.