The Hexagon was appropriately named, as every single part of the structure was made of rough, hexagonally-shaped stonework. Even the bits that'd fallen down retained their shape. Pools of glowing, viscous liquid were dotted around, and judging by the blackened dead grass in a ring around them, stepping in would be ill-advised. But Lyra drew back from them mostly because of the smell, which burned her windpipe and put a metallic taste in her mouth.
She'd known what Erinn was going to ask, so did a bit of work in the village shop and used the money she earned to get supplies for the journey. Asking around had revealed that the old ruins were south of the mountain pass, and after leaving the village she had to turn right at the fork in the road, instead of left, the way she and Ivor had gone. It hadn't been too difficult to find, if she was quite honest, though wandering around on her lonesome was a bit miserable to put it bluntly. Still, this was something she could do to help the people of Angel Falls, without requiring her wings or halo. She could continue to help people, to be the village Guardian. This gave a sense of duty and purpose, stopping her from hiding in her room again. Plus it didn't bear thinking about what might happen to Patty if no one came to help her, assuming she was in there.
Upon arriving, Lyra had quickly figured out why the mountain pass had been constructed, as the Hexagon looked ready to topple like a house of cards. Almost no light penetrated the gloom that she was forced to venture into, and water dripped continuously, adding to the inch or so that she had to wade through on the lower platforms. Ascending a set of steps, she found a statue and a sort of plinth, upon which was a tablet that read 'Area ahead sealed due to large-beast-related fatalities'. Lyra wrinkled her nose; that sounded simply delightful. Unfortunately, there didn't appear to be any way past it, and it continued to block the way forward. Stepping back so she could think about it, Lyra felt a chilly breeze crawl across the back of her neck. She rubbed and looked over her shoulder. Barely able to stifle a gasp, she watched as a blue-tinged, transparent individual motioned to the statue, staring at her and mouthing something that she couldn't make out. Moments later, he vanished as if he'd never been. Lyra had only been able to take in the fact that he'd had a satchel hanging from his shoulder. Blinking and shaking her head, she tried to figure out what just happened, and what the ghost had been trying to tell her. Something about the statue…? Frowning, she ran her hands over its damp surface, unsure what exactly she hoped to find but not having any better ideas.
Clunk!
One of her fingers touched something that seemed to protrude from the statue's neck, and applying gentle pressure made the strange noise. Moments later, the tablet and plinth rumbled sideways, opening the way for her.
"Huh," she mused, peering into the darkness. "Clever."
Actually, it wasn't that clever if she really thought about it, which she tried not to but couldn't stop herself. If she'd been desperate enough and searched the whole area thoroughly, she would have found it. Perhaps it was to deter the more casual explorer. It must have been a very recent edition, perhaps put in place just after the mountain pass had been carved out. That would make sense – stopping people from using a dangerous route because there was a better, safer one not far off. But it bothered her; the way only opened from the outside. What if there were lost travellers on the inside? They'd be trapped. Was it meant to keep people out? Or was it meant to keep something in?
Lyra shook her head. These thoughts were getting her nowhere and she needed to concentrate on finding Patty.
The shape of the rooms stayed the same no matter how far in she ventured, though they were far from deserted, as she soon found out. The tenants included mecha-mynahs, bags o' laughs, firespirits and drackies. The last of these were bat-like demon creatures she met in huge swarms that filled the room if she disturbed them. She had to take down many, using her shield to bash them away and her sword if they came in to attack, and eventually she managed to scare off the majority. The mecha-mynahs, however, were more persistent. They were mechanical birds that bore some resemblance to robins and chased her relentlessly until she hacked them apart. Well, considering they were made of metal, it was more just hitting them until they stopped moving. Lyra worried that her sword would be blunted by all the whacking she currently used it for.
She checked all the rooms, all the corridors, but found no signs of life, aside from the monsters, and they mostly scattered after witnessing her in combat – she clearly wasn't some walk-over travelling villager. On and on she searched, for what must have been hours, but still nothing. Then, as the sun began to creep towards the horizon and the ruins became ever darker, Lyra thought she heard something. By then she'd lit a torch that she had bought from the village shop, and held it out in front of her, moving this way and that, scanning the immediate surroundings for a threat. It also attracted some unexpected attention.
"Hello?" came an echoing voice from somewhere in the dark. "Is anyone there?"
The voice was female. Could it be…?
"Hello!" Lyra shouted in response. "Where are you?"
"In here!"
Following the voice alone wasn't easy due to the echoes, but she soon found herself in a larger room with painted ceramic tiles for floor and bindweed crawling up the walls, cracks appearing under the slow but sure grip of time and nature. And there, right in the centre, a figure lay half buried beneath some rubble, yanking with all their might but remaining trapped. It was a woman in her mid-twenties with blue-black hair and slim eyes, sporting a low-cut red dress with bell sleeves that hung almost off her shoulders. Hearing Lyra's approach, and seeing the orange glow of her torch, she looked up.
"Hey, sweetie, you couldn't be a hero and shift some of this rubble, could you?"
Lyra nodded, set down the torch and knelt by her. Her accent suggested a background in Stornway, so there was little doubt that this was Patty. And how could she dare leave someone who was trapped?
"Are you hurt?" she asked, hoping to assess any damage. Patty looked back at the rubble, her face drawn and pale.
"My leg…"
So she was injured? That would complicate things – just getting out was going to be a problem, never mind the trip back to the village. Still, Patty couldn't help it if she was hurt, and she wasn't going anywhere without help. Picking up the torch again, Lyra peered at the rubble, trying to figure out where the woman's legs were underneath it all, so that if she started pushing then she wouldn't put any more weight on the injury. Two slabs of what looked like wall formed a triangular prism, so she assumed they were on top of a limb.
"Hold still," she said as she grabbed hold of one of the slabs and hauled outwards. Despite it only being one brick in thickness, she marvelled that Patty hadn't been entirely crushed if these things had fallen on her. It seemed a bit far-fetched to be pure luck, but then again, this probably wasn't the best time to question such things. Grunting with effort, Lyra finally shoved the slab off of Patty's legs, it hitting the floor with a painfully loud crash.
"Come on," the woman urged, eyes darting about the room. "I don't want to be here when that thing comes back."
"What thing?"
Oh, what it was to tempt Fate.
Before she'd even completed the final syllable, the ground shook and dust spilled from the cracked ceiling above, making her cough and splutter as she tried to make out the approaching threat. Now, it wasn't down to stealthy attack that something knocked the wind out of and sent her through a wall and into the fading daylight, but it was more down to suddenness and surprise. All she'd noticed prior to getting hit in the stomach was a thunderous crashing, the very stone beneath her feet vibrating, and a sense of impending doom. Then she was totally focused on the pain of being punched through a brick wall, bouncing twice over whatever the ground was made of, then skidding to a halt with her back slamming into a corner of a hexagonally-shaped pillar. Lyra gave a strangled yelp and drew into herself, biting back tears of agony. Then she gritted her teeth and got onto all fours, trying to assess the damage. It was hard to concentrate while her body seemed to think that feeling pain would help her, but it was clear that there weren't any broken bones, otherwise she probably wouldn't have been able to support her own weight. Her right shoulder and left knee felt like they were on fire, so there were likely fractures in there, but other than that she was mostly unharmed, if a bit dazed. Using the pillar as a crutch, she hauled herself into a standing position and drew her blade, turning back to the hole that she had just come from.
The hole soon became the least of her concerns, though, as the thing that had attacked her was not satisfied with that singular wallop and had come back for more. Whatever it was, it seemed to be a mix of bull and rhinoceros with its sheer mass, and ram-like horns on either side of its head. The bones in its spine stuck up through flesh and the hide looked nigh impenetrable – a mountain of muscle. It fixed its beady purple eyes on Lyra, who was just standing there like a lemon, and it growled, pawing the flagstones.
The courtyard they were in kept the hexagon theme, the pillars at each corner seeming to support the crumbling remains of an aqueduct, which was now covered in moss and bindweed that filled the channel, as if trying to imitate the water that no longer flowed there. The whole area was surrounded by a wall, and atop that a wrought iron fence that would have been very difficult to scale. Shadows lengthened in the setting sun, throwing black lines across the courtyard and giving the situation a very surreal look.
With a guttural roar, the creature charged straight at the gawking Celestrian, who could only try to get out of the way by moving at the very last moment. She winced at an ear-splitting crack, then glanced over her shoulder. The beast was shaking its head, as if in annoyance, detaching its horns from the stone wall to make another charge. There was nowhere to run, and scaling the aqueduct wouldn't help, as it could easily be knocked down. It seemed that her only choice was the most ridiculous one: all-out attack. But how the hell would she go about this without getting crushed? There wasn't an awful lot of time to think about it, as her foe had righted itself and was already coming in for another charge. Cursing under her breath, Lyra ran straight at it, trying to get as firm a grip on her sword as possible and holding it with two hands, sacrificing her shield. When they were close enough that she was sure she'd be tossed backwards like a sack, she swung sideways at the creature's ribs, feeling the blade skittering over the ladder-rungs of bone, then kept on running until there was some good distance between her and her enemy. She thought that she'd aimed too high the moment she struck, and it was made clearer when she turned to check the damage. All she'd done was make a long line of red slits, which seemed to anger the creature rather than slowing it down. It immediately turned and came in for another charge. This time, however, there was no plan, and it was only Lyra's training that saved her – she swung her body in the direction of the blow, softening it enough that it only cracked a few of her ribs, which were awfully flimsy in comparison to those of her enemy. Despite having salvaged her life, she slammed into a wall, her head jerking in a whiplash motion, and she almost lost consciousness.
Groaning, she got to her feet and staggered, near blinded by the pain. A dark blur rushing towards her provoked the fight reaction, and she held out her sword as if to threaten it into retreat. Due to the incredible momentum it had built up, it couldn't stop itself, and the blade sank deep into its eye socket. Lyra covered her ears as it bellowed in agony, a small river of crimson painting the flagstones. Well, she'd lost her sword – it was still lodged in the creature's skull – so she had to find some other way of defending herself. Searching the immediate vicinity, she noticed that one of the pillars had come off of its plinth and was propped up by some rubble, near to where the creature stumbled back and forth, shaking its head and continuing to bellow. Not seeing a better option, Lyra dashed to the pillar, braced her good shoulder against it and started to push. It felt much heavier than it likely was, and she had to really strain to shift it even an inch, but her Celestrian strength prevailed. With a yell of effort, she shoved the pillar off its supports, and it came crashing down on the beast, which sort of whimpered as it was pinned to the ground.
Breathing out, Lyra approached. Her attacker was kicking desperately at the ground in front of it, trying to stand up, but its back legs were shattered and it now lay trapped beneath broken pillar segments. Bending forward, Lyra grabbed the hilt of her sword and yanked it out, spraying more blood. She almost felt sorry for the creature as it gave a mournful growl, then just sat there panting, like it was waiting for the end to come. Hoping this was a mercy, she positioned the blade just over its neck, and stabbed deep through hide and flesh. The creature shuddered, then was still.
It took a while for the adrenaline to wear off, and when it did Lyra knew she'd pushed herself too hard. Everything hurt and she was trembling with exhaustion, plus many areas of her back were tender, and probably black with bruises. But she'd won a difficult battle in which she could have easily been killed, and she promised herself a day off when she got back to the village. Sighing, Lyra wiped her blade on a patch of dead grass before sheathing it, then stepped through the hole in the wall and returned to Patty, who was sitting up and in the process of getting part of her skirt out from beneath the rubble. In the end, she was forced to rip the garment in order to stand up, though she wobbled a lot and leaned on a fallen pillar for support.
"Here," Lyra pulled her into an upright position. "Let me help."
"Thanks, sweetie."
Annoyingly, the monsters took the opportunity to chase them now they'd been softened up a bit, and Lyra was often forced to wield a weapon in her left hand as she supported Patty with her right, meaning she was a lot less effective and could only scare away potential threats rather than actually taking care of them. The firespirits presented the biggest problem, as they had no physical mass and couldn't be hit per se. In the end, the last dredges of sunlight were their salvation, though they were even more battered by then and could only groan at the thought of having to walk all the way to Angel Falls with teeny sanguinis flapping around, the infernal nuisances they were. It took them close to two hours to finally reach the village, by which time it was late at night and they were both dead on their feet. Hugo was hanging around just by the gate for some reason, and he unquestioningly helped Lyra to half-drag Patty to the inn. Once inside, and once the exhausted woman had been laid down, he ran off to get the village physician. Lyra, meanwhile, sank into a chair, then winced and jerked forward again, having forgotten that her back was injured, until being reminded by the stabbing pain that took almost a full minute to die down. She took off her armour and had a look at the bits of her that hurt more than the rest, and found that most, if not all, were faded purple and blue, and it made her wince to use any joints in this state.
By the time the physician actually got there, she'd dropped off on one of the beds, and woke to find that they'd both been treated. Patty's leg was dressed and she was sipping some sort of herbal tea, which appeared to taste foul, judging by her expression. Lyra, on the other hand, had bandages on all limbs, both hands, her left foot and, more awkwardly, her shoulder. How had this happened? She couldn't have been so dead to the world that…never mind. It didn't matter. The physician, a kindly old man that lived near the inn, handed her a cup, though upon tasting its hot contents, Lyra was relieved to find that it wasn't whatever Patty was being forced to drink.
"Swap?" she offered, trying to be nice.
"Nah," the woman replied. "Trust me, you don't want to know."
The physician soon went home now that his patients were recovering and could look after themselves for a while. Lyra was able to get some shut-eye now that the pain in her back had relented somewhat, though when she next awoke, she was met with something that made her gut clench.
"Lyra!"
Erinn was suddenly at her bedside, looking cross and hurt.
"Why did you leave the village again? I was so worried! You could have been killed!"
"I'm sorry," she said feebly. "I had to."
The girl looked even more hurt, and rightly so. Lyra wasn't quite sure why she'd 'had to', but wanting to do the right thing probably wasn't a good enough reason for running headlong into danger, or at least not to a mortal. However, whatever verbal flogging she was about to receive, it was avoided entirely as Patty seemed to be examining the room, checking her bed for lice and noting the overall tidiness.
"Yep," she mused approvingly. "This is Edwinn's place alright. Nobody else could do it like him. The original host with the most."
"Who's this?" Erinn wondered aloud. Then she gave a small gasp. "Oh! You must be Patty!"
Patty smiled at her.
"That's right, honey. I can't believe you remember my name, though. You were so tiny when we last met. So…where's old Edwinn hiding then, hm?"
"Ah…" The girl turned her eyes downwards. "I thought you might've been coming to see him. I'm afraid that he's…no longer with us. It was two years ago now."
Lyra bowed her head – she'd been learning the ropes with Aquila when it had happened. The newly-orphaned Erinn had to mostly look after herself, since her grandfather wasn't up to much, and it had taken her a long time to start smiling again. Watching her anguish had been heart-breaking, and it was one of the things that made Lyra take her Guardian duties so seriously; while she perhaps couldn't stop people getting ill, she could at least prevent other tragedies. Even so, she always felt like there was something she could have done, to stop Erinn from losing both her parents. But it was not to be, and Aquila had often stopped her when she tried to help, advising if and when she should intervene. It seemed to her that a Guardian's duty was primarily to watch over their flock, though literally rather than figuratively, which had always frustrated her a little. Was it a bad thing to want to help? Well, she supposed her options in that respect were streamlined now that her wings and halo had been stripped away, but that didn't mean she was totally useless. But, at this point in time, as Patty sat there processing what she'd just heard, she had no idea what to do.
"I…I can't believe it…what does that mean for my old inn, then…?"
She seemed to think of something, and swung her legs down, so her feet touched the carpet.
"So, if Edwinn's gone, then I guess you're running this place all on your own, right?"
"Yes," Erinn seemed pleased that they had changed the subject, however slightly. "I try to honour my father's memory by keeping it running smoothly."
Patty nodded, swinging her legs back and forth.
"I wouldn't expect anything else from the daughter of the Inncredible Inntertainer, honey!"
"Um…" Erinn frowned. "About this 'Inntertainer' thing…?"
"Hey," Patty said suddenly. "I don't suppose you wanna give running an inn in Stornway a shot, do ya?"
An awed silence descended, in which both Erinn and Lyra just sat there with their mouths open. Then the former stammered,
"I beg your pardon?!"
