Chapter 11: Escape from the Mountain of Malefor! Part 1.

(Thumbnail does not belong to me. Sourced from Spyro Wiki)

The moment he felt his conciseness return, Spyro could think of only one sentence;

‘I’ve doomed us all.’

His great escapade had come unstuck. His chance to prove his worth had failed. His attempt at being a hero had sealed the fate of not just himself, but of the friends who had decided to accompany him. The fact that he knew he was, for the moment, still alive came as little comfort to him. Spyro’s vision was still black as he felt his senses returning. The first sensation he felt was the burning pain and heaviness in his head and lungs that still lingered from the exposure to the gas. There was a cutting tightness in and around his feet and a weightlessness to his body, almost like he was flying or in some way not touching the ground. He heard the sound of dirt and stone being crunched underfoot and the sound of voices that he could not yet decipher. He knew they were ape voices, but he was still too groggy to understand them. His heart pounded with alarm but his body did not react, a feeling he could only liken to that of a fly caught in a spiders web, unable to escape the gummed string that it has caught itself in.

He felt himself breath weakly, the total blackness of his sight beginning to crack, a hazy blur of grey and violet muddied his eyes. He finally gained enough awareness to realize that he was upside down, his vision clearing enough to see the back of an ape soldier as it carried the end of a long wooden pole over its shoulder. The sight only further alarmed him, finally urging his body to react as he tried to move his legs, but the tight numbness he already felt only intensified. Lifting his head weakly, he held it up just long enough to see his legs tied to the wooden pole the ape was carrying, along with the second ape at the back.

“Hey, purple boy’s awake,” said the ape at the back, Spyro twisting his head left and right deliriously at his surroundings, only making out the grey, dimly lit walls of a cave.

“Then put him back to sleep,” said the ape at the front as the cave began to curve around to the left. Spyro mustered the strength to lift his head again, looking down between his legs at the face of the ape as it scowled wickedly at him. The curve in the cave gave him a brief glimpse over the shoulder of the ape, the purple dragon seeing another pair of apes carrying another pole with the unconscious body of Cynder dangling beneath it. The sight of her filled him with both relief and forlorn, for he knew at least where she was and probably Flame and Ember, but where they were was of course was one of great peril. Another ape suddenly appeared to his right, Spyro looked towards him just as a wooden club struck him across the side of his head, the young dragon exhaling a yelp of pain.

“Go back to sleep, your legendariness,” the ape with the club laughed mockingly, Spyro letting his head hang limp once more as he sealed his eyes, trying not to wince at the pain the hit had caused him. He held his breath, trying to paint a picture of unconsciousness, hoping the apes would not notice that he was still awake. He braced for the expected follow up hit, thinking they would batter him until they were sure he was in fact out, but a few moments went by, then half a minute or so he thought and no second strike came. He kept his eyes lidded only enough to not look like he was trying, breathing only shallow breaths and letting his body relax as much as the discomfort of being bound would allow him. He wanted more than anything to call out to his friends to see if they would answer back, but such a notion was foolish and dangerous. It did not, however, stop him from mentally talking to himself.

‘What have I done?’

He tried instead to focus on not what he had done or what he could have done, but what he would do now. As the apes soldiered on, he tried to unveil his eyes discreetly, just enough to get some picture of where they were without being noticed. He tried to will his hearing into being sharper as his mind and senses slowly cleared up, trying to rely on sound if he could not look without his charade being exposed. He kept hearing the heavy crunching of footsteps on the surface of the cave floor, the blurry glimpses he gained yielded nothing but the ape’s tail end as the grey walls of the cave gave nothing for him to recognize or remember. He had no idea how long it had been since he had collapsed and no way to be sure where they were except underground. Spyro tried thinking back to what he had heard before he had passed out; the last words he had heard the apes say when he lay helpless on the bridge.

‘Something about the King… about Gaul,’ he thought ominously, the image of the ape ready to cut his throat coming back like a lantern flickering in the wind. In that second, he thought he was going to die; die before he’d had a chance to live. That vision that he thought would be his last made him feel sick, but somehow he controlled his reflexes and kept up the act of being asleep. The memory of that vision brought with it a recollection of what had been said, playing over in his mind like a band replaying the same song over and over;

‘The King will be more pleased if we bring him alive. Bring the others too.’

‘But our orders were to only keep the black one alive.’

‘Doesn’t change the outcome. Gaul will be glad to slay the purple whelpling himself. There might be promotions in order.’

‘Guess we didn’t need that scrawny cat after all.’

‘He’ll make good chow for the Deathhounds. Now hurry up and bound them and let’s go home…’

Spyro broke each sentence down individually, whether it was for the sake of being meticulous or because his aching head could only handle so much, he wasn’t sure, but so he did. Gaul’s troops had orders to find him? To kill him? For how long and why now? The black one? Cynder? Yes, he remembered thinking that just before he passed out. They were going to kill them all, but not her. Why? What did they want with her? The last minute decision by the glory hungry Ape Commander had spared them, if only temporarily. Spyro couldn’t remember them saying anything about Flame and Ember, only that they would be bought to the Ape King as well. He presumed they were otherwise not significant to the apes, not enough to be mentioned specifically unlike himself and Cynder.

Scrawny cat? That was Meadow! The apes had captured him, though that was never really in doubt. They had said they didn’t need him now? Why? Spyro was in little doubt now that he had been correct; that the apes had wanted to interrogate him about his own whereabouts. Did the apes have foreknowledge that they were coming to Avalar? Had the kidnapping of Meadow been carried out to lure them into a trap?

‘But how could they know?’ Spyro thought, ‘That we would go off on our own like that? We could have just stayed with the Cheetahs. They couldn’t know we alone would come after them. They would never expect that…’

The weight of all the blood rushing to his dangling head caused it to ache along with the smack from the club it had received, but he forced his brain to keep thinking. He pondered how it strained credulity that anyone, much less the apes, could have orchestrated such a scheme to play out as it had. If they did know about the presence of Spyro and his companions in the valley, they could not predict they would so recklessly go off on their own on an ill conceived rescue mission. The embarrassing, terrible truth was that Spyro had led his friends unknowingly into the viper’s nest, unintentionally giving the apes more than they could have imagined; the purple dragon effectively offering himself on a silver platter with his companions as side dishes.Then there was home. The home the Ape commander said they would return to with his prizes for the King. The mountain fortress of death and despair; the Mountain of Malefor, not as plucky rescuers to save a friend but as prisoners. Prisoners did not live long in Gaul’s lair.

‘What have I done?’ he asked himself again dismally before giving the answer, ‘I’ve doomed us all.’

He let that thought stew in his mind as the apes carried him along, his only comfort being the obvious displeasure they were in for having to carry his weight. Spyro’s eyes remained closed as he wallowed in pity for the mess he had led his friends and himself into. He knew it wasn’t helpful, but it lingered and sucked away his hope like a leech even as he tried to pull himself together and think of a way out of the disaster he had created. He reminded himself that the others would be counting on him. Spyro had to do something to make it right. Escape was the first goal, but it was out of the question right now. Though he had fooled the apes into thinking he was unconscious, trying to use his elements while bound would be fruitless, especially as the number of apes walking past seemed to increase the further they went along. He would only throwing his life away to try; he had to wait until an opportunity presented itself.

As he kept up the act of being dead to the world, the noise in the cave changed. The marching of their guards and the passing of others was added to by the sound of a heavy rumbling like the ground shaking with an earthquake and the metallic clapping of tools against rock or steel. It grew louder and more refined as they marched on, the ground suddenly becoming steeper as they went. Spyro opened his eyes as much as he dared as he tried to get some hint of the sounds, his view still mostly blocked by the back of the guard, but catching a glimpse of a great orange glow in the tunnel ahead as the noises vibrated down towards them. He heard shouts and insults and the cracking of whips, the strained and pained groans of apes as they were driven to some behemoth task. The rumbling had a more metallic sound now, Spyro felt a quiver of excitement but also trepidation as they stepped into the glow, the cave wall to his left vanishing into a great open cavern of which the sounds were now coming from full bore where he couldn’t look. He nearly twitched his head to see, his eyes unable to turn far enough as they walked on past whatever was happening here, the creaking of steel and sharp crack of axes or picks he recognized as something he had heard elsewhere.

'Sounds like mining,’ he thought, ‘Like at the Muntions forge…’ Suddenly he lurched forward violently as the ape in front caught his foot on something and tumbled over, pulling Spyro and the second ape with it as he slammed his back hard onto the ground. The impact kicked the air out of his lungs as he could not help but gasped painfully as he fell to his right side, his eyes bulging as he looked upon the scene happening below.

‘It is a mine!’ he thought with alarm. From the elevated walkway the purple dragon gazed upon a huge cavern filled with activity; he saw glowing pits of fire that cast the near blinding glow against the wall behind him. He saw dozens of apes with pickaxes and shovels breaking down huge boulders into small wheel barrows with the higher-ranking taskmasters cracking whips against their backs to hurry them along. He saw two pairs of heavy steel rails running across the ground through huge tunnels that had been mined for them with trains of large steel mining carts being pushed and pulled on each one. Those going forward were empty, those heading back loaded with stone. He could only imagine how far those trains had to go to reach wherever the furthest ape miners were. He had seen such operations when Ignitus had taken him with the other young fire dragons to Boyzitbig island, the entire island essentially being one giant mining camp. It looked almost like the apes had copied it verbatim.

“You worthless sack of fleas! Get back on your feet!” roared an Ape lieutenant who came storming from behind him, the same one who had smacked him with the club, “Get the prisoner off the ground!”

‘What are they mining for?’ he asked himself as the two carriers hurriedly picked up the pole and lifted him from the dirt, his state of awareness not going unnoticed by the lieutenant. Spyro looked helplessly into his hard face as he raised the club,

“Thought I put you to sleep before. Guess you didn’t get the hint,” he chuckled coldly before he whacked Spyro across the head again, the purple dragon crying out with more distress than previously before the second hit finally blacked out his mind and eyes. He didn’t feel the sharp jab to his side as the ape prodded him to be sure he was not faking it before the group continued in marching along the path. This time, only numbness accompanied him when Spyro felt himself coming awake again. It was a few moments before the pain in his head came at him not unlike the club that was responsible for it. This time he was in no hurry to open his eyes, not eager to find out how much more doomed he was. He could still feel that he was being carried along tied to the pole, the grunting and frustrated exclamations of the apes now something he was getting used to. The thought occurred to him he could have been on the move for hours or even days. There were so many unknowns about the apes mountain fortress that for all he knew it was like an iceberg; only showing a fraction of itself on the surface. Images of the mountains hellish, gaping jaws filled his heart with fear as if the physical mountain itself was going to devour him at the end of all this. Who could say for sure that wasn’t possible?

“You guys don’t know how much of a mistake you’ve made,” a voice suddenly threatened from behind, the sound of which was enough for him to throw caution to the wind as he threw open his eyes as a gruff voice shouted back to it,

“Shut your trap, girlie!”

“Cynder?” Spyro exclaimed as his eyes darted around like flies, clinging to the walls of the new space they were in. They were being carried through a circular corridor of large stone bricks, lit with flaming torches and supported intermittently by thick stone arches shaped almost like hearts. They were no longer in a cave so it seemed, or at least one that had been heavily modified by the apes. In spite of the torches the air was cold but in a way that didn’t feel natural. The ape lieutenant walking alongside him looked down impatiently before prodding his ribs with the tip of his club.

“So purple boys finally awake! Thought I mighta’ put his lights out for good!” he laughed cruelly as he dangled the club menacingly close to Spyro’s head.

“Spyro! You okay?” he heard the voice of Flame call from somewhere behind.

“I said can it!” he heard another ape snap harshly.

“He’s going to teach you all a lesson!” Ember’s voice cried out defiantly.

“One more word and that pretty head of yours is going to roll on the floor!” threatened yet another ape voice. The retorts promptly stopped as Spyro peered ahead where he could past the back of his guard as the corridor ended and opened up into an enormous room. The low ceiling of the hall vanished as the space opened up and appeared to be similar in size and shape to the temple’s training dojo, a faint green glow laying across the grey stone floor. Looking straight up to the ceiling, Spyro saw a stone mosaic disk with glowing green runes and symbols, again not unlike the one in the temple dojo save for the ominous green glow.

The chamber appeared to be a mostly natural shape that had only been mined enough to give the room a more complete circular shape. Spyro tilted his head to the left and saw a pair of apes standing guard beside a tall wooden doorway with a small doorway like the one they had just come out straight across. The smell of burning candles wafted under his nose, causing him to his head to the right and saw dozens of candles lit around the base of some great stone monument that his eyes latched onto and began drifting upwards. Spyro felt his heart freeze in his chest as began to take in the detail of the colossal monument as they were carried on by.

He saw the disk-shaped pedestal the statue was sat upon. He saw the enormous wings folded around the front and back of the statue like a pair of stone cloaks. The left wing was folded down and around the lower half of the body while the right wing was folded around the back and the right side of the statue. His eyes traced over the protruding chest plate worn across the front of the monument, the shoulders of the armor bearing the inverted Aether crest, the symbol of Dark Aether, filled with the sickly green light of the ceiling. The thorny, demonic face with the fork like horns that he had seen in the nightmarish images conjured by Roaraya and in the books of him he had read, stared down vengefully at the purple dragon with solid green eyes. It was Malefor and this was the place he had made his home when he had plotted vengeance against the world. They were in the Mountain of Malefor.

‘No wonder I feel so cold…’ Spyro thought painfully as they passed by the statue, looking down to see Cynder, Flame and Ember all tied to their poles and looking with the same horrific disbelief that he had. Behind the statue could be seen the arching staircase that lined the back wall of the chamber, working its way further on up. Looking ahead he saw the ape taking the first step of it as, with exhausted but synchronized feet, the two apes began to carry him slowly up the rising staircase, the club wielding lieutenant taking a step back in line with the ape at the rear, granting the young dragon an unobstructed view of the statue of his nemesis as the slowly made their way around it.

“You really think you could’ve been a match for him?” the Ape lieutenant asked scornfully,

“Some of us even thought you’d be a problem for us. Haha!” he laughed egotistically, the other apes joining in on the merriment as Spyro remained as silent and as crestfallen as he had ever felt in his life. A part of his mind urged him to say something, offer a retort or insult to them or to Malefor while he still had the chance to. But he, the purple dragon of legend, didn’t think he deserved even that as he reminded himself how he had led his friends to their fate. The four who lived were soon to be the four who died.

All life had drained from Spyro’s face as they reached the top of the stairs onto a large stone platform that the eyes of the Malefor statue were level with, staring straight ahead at the grand doorway like that seen downstairs. It too had a pair of guards who stood together in front of the heavy doors open as the ape convoy approached. The party came to a halt as the guards looked to Spyro and the three other captive dragons, turning to each other in surprise as they reached towards the door and knocked the heavy steel handles against the wooden door.

“Enter!” replied a harsh, low toned voice from behind it. The two guards looked back to the colleagues casually before they pressed their hands and pushed open the giant doors.

“Fresh meat for the king,” one of the guards mused wickedly as the pole bearers marched past them, their pace accompanied by a renewed eagerness that told Spyro that they knew the end of their task was near. He looked around timidly as they passed through the doors, entering into another wide circle shaped chamber. Torches burning with unnatural green flames lined the walls as they themselves radiated with green light through the numerous cracks on their surface. There was a walkway that circled the room with what looked like an arena like area taking up much of the center from what he could see from his unfavorable position. Spyro’s eyes were then caught by the ceiling above, a honeycomb like glass roof that glowed in a shade of purple not dissimilar to his own. The glass was made of numerous interconnected hexagon shaped panels, a dominant panel taking up the center of the ceiling. In the center of it there was a hexagon shaped hole, putting it directly above the center of the room. Looking down he saw a small well like hole in the floor directly below the opening, wondering what their purpose was.

His eyes moved to the six carved stone pillars that held up the begrudgingly impressive glasswork, each one bearing a frightening gargoyle head that stared towards the middle of the chamber. Spyro’s carriers stepped down a few steps into the central arena, the young dragon looking forlornly towards the door as Cynder, Flame and Ember were each carried down the steps with him, the fear in their eyes as clear as it was in his own.

The four pairs of ape carriers stood evenly spaced apart with their prisoners still weighing down their shoulders as the club wielding lieutenants of each pair remained beside them, standing firmly. Spyro looked across to his companions as they all looked across to each other helplessly, but a menacing shake of the club from the four higher ranking thugs diverted their eyes back to the ceiling.

“Eyes up and keep quiet!” the apes barked, Spyro gulping hard as he obeyed the command, hoping for the sake of his friends they were doing the same. He did not even dare to look towards the top of his head, knowing already whose presence they were in though they had not yet seen him. The apes then all took a knee and bowed their heads, the pole bearers lowering their charges almost to the floor as they did before getting back up.

“Untie them, then shackle them,” ordered the voice they had heard earlier. Spyro knew that his doom was impending as he was dropped roughly to the ground and hastily untied from the pole as the ape lieutenant stood over him with the club pointed towards him, ensuring his eyes did not wander as another ape came carrying shackles. He did not try to fight them as a metal collar was clasped tightly around his neck, Spyro simply closing his eyes as they handled him without thought or compassion, his heart felt like it was being slowly squeezed by clawed hands that slowly dug their nails into it. He let out only a mild gasp as he was yanked to his feet by the chain attached to his collar, and had almost no reaction when he was hit again in the side as the apes yelled for all of them to keep their heads down and their mouths shut. The only thing Spyro wondered as he stood with his head low and eyes closed, was if he feared the source of the voice that was bearing down at them most or the faces of his friends and them knowing he had failed them?

“Look at me!” rasped the coarse voice one again, Spyro reluctantly opening his eyes as he prepared to find out. He turned his head and eyes to the right as he slowly lifted his chin, looking across to Cynder who was doing the same towards him, as did Flame and Ember after first looking to each other. He faintly gave them a glum shake of his head in apology that his decision that had bought them here. He reluctantly shifted his eyes forwards as he lifted his head with the others and stared up at the hulking menace glaring down at them with his left eye glowing like a green gem.

Standing before a menacing throne, its base made of stone, it’s structure built from dragon bones bound together with what could either be leather or wing membrane, with four lengths of dangling chain attached to the arm rests, was the Ape King, Gaul. His name alone had bought nightmares to the four young dragons; the four who had survived the massacre he had led twelve years ago and now stood before them. He was even larger than Spyro had ever imagined; even larger than the broad-shouldered Commanders who outsized the lower ranking apes. His knees were at the purple dragon’s head height, his legs and feet clasped in dark violet sabatons. His mammoth shoulders were covered by the same violet armor plates as his subjects, albeit larger with thick wrist plates with extended claw like blades growing over his hands. His hideous face was slashed by red claw marks, likely explaining the missing eye. His body was covered in disgusting green warts and thick clumps of bushy grey fur.

Adorning his head was the distinctive horned helmet, the two sides forming a shape like a long bow before the tips curved outwards. Gaul’s left arm clutched a sharpened staff which he aimed down towards the four who lived, its three-pronged head holding a green crystal inside it that made a hissing sound like a snake as it sparked and shimmered, as if eager to unleash its power on them.

“So, the four who lived,” Gaul remarked deridingly, his one natural eye slowly scanning across them as his false green eye produced a swirling light that rotated clockwise, “The ones who escaped me. And you,” he said boastfully as he aimed his staff at Spyro, “The famous purple dragon, the prophesied savior of the realms. How peculiar that you would walk right into my domain like little lambs for slaughter.”

“We came looking our friend, Meadow. We know you took him from Avalar!” Spyro retorted softly but harshly, as much as he dared in the face of the murderous baboon who had killed off their nest mates ultimately in pursuit of him. Gaul’s mouth formed a cruel smile as he raisd his staff and lifted his bottom lip thoughtfully.

“Oh, yes, the feline, I’d almost forgotten him,” he said as he slammed the bottom of his staff twice into the ground, a heavy echo rocking through the chamber. A moment later there was the sound of a door opening somewhere behind the throne and the chilling sound of rustling chains. Spyro and others gasped as an ape came around the left side of the throne, dragging a shackled figure into view.

“Meadow!” cried Cynder.

“Oh, no!” Flame exclaimed horrifically. A pair of blackened eyes stared out from his bruised face as Meadow limped into view, his clothes ravaged and bloodstained with his paws clasped together in irons as he favored his left leg as his right was lifted painfully just off the ground.

“How embarrassing it is that I thought we would need to torture him to find you and yet here you are having graciously brought yourself to us. Now I suppose I can release him to my troops for their amusement,” Gaul remarked flatly, the apes around the room beginning laugh and cheer with vicious glee.

“Leave him alone!” Ember demanded, Spyro tugging on his chain as the ape handler pulled him back violently.

“You’ve got me here now! Don’t hurt him anymore!”

“I’m sorry, my friends…” Meadow croaked weakly before the Ape king swung around to him angrily.

“Silence!” Gaul roared, japing his finger at him, “Or you’ll lose that tongue!”

“Do you feel powerful hurting those who can’t fight back?” sneered Cynder vehemently, “Or are you just a coward?” she demanded, Spyro half impressed and half afraid for her antagonizing words. Gaul swung back hard, pointing the tip of his staff towards her, the green crystal hissing again as it started to glow. Spyro looked and saw her eyes shrink as a ball of green energy formed from the staff, Flame and Ember edging away as they saw what was coming.

“No!” Spyro yelled, lurching forward to the surprise of his handler, the ape’s grip on the chain giving enough for Spyro throw himself in front of her as the ball of green energy fired from the staff, hitting his side as the green ball spread over his body like ink spilled over a white sheet.

“Spyro!” he heard Cynder and the others cry as he fell to the ground, his nerves and limbs feeling like jelly all of a sudden. The ape handler fastened his grip and yanked on the chain angrily as Spyro for a moment lost the feeling in his limbs. The pain was fairly light to his surprise, but his insides felt hollow all of a sudden and an intense hunger overcame him. Cynder, Flame and Ember were hastily pulled back by their handlers as Gaul stepped down the few steps into the central arena, Spyro weakly lifting his head as the Ape King glared down at him. Spyro’s eyes focused on the protruding fangs of his bottom jaw as the ape growled at him. The purple dragon remained unmoved by his evil scowl, perhaps already resigned to what fate had in store for him.

“You dare defy me, whelpling?” Gaul snarled furiously.

“I’ve played right into your hands, haven’t I?” asked Spyro gloomily yet defiantly. Gaul’s scowl unsettlingly turned around into a cunning smile as he saw the feebleness infecting Spyro’s eyes.

“What did you do to him?” Cynder cried hotly, straining on her chain as did Flame and Ember as their handlers wrapped the shackles around their hands and pulled back the defiant dragons. Gaul lifted himself and turned his head to the black dragoness to his right,

“Let me show you,” he replied with a smirk, pointing the tip of his staff towards her.

“No…” Spyro groaned weakly, trying to lift himself as Gaul’s staff shot its green energy bolt towards Cynder, the dragoness letting out a cry of fright as the green aura shocked her body. He then turned to Flame and Ember, Spyro’s heart damning himself for being too weak to stop him as he watched the Ape King fire the green spheres of magic into his friends. The purple dragon opened his mouth, trying to summon anything he could towards Gaul, the consequences be damned, but his stomach felt like it was twisting itself into a knot. Nothing, not even so much as a puff of smoke or faint spark would come forth. Flame and Ember both collapsed as the green magic sapped their strength.

“Something the matter?” Gaul laughed smugly, “Can’t find your breath?” he grinned as Spyro rose unsteadily to his feet and seemed to bite the air in front of him as he failed to summon any one of his elements. “You dragons rely too much on your magic breaths. Without them you are just lizards with wings. Shackle them to the walls!” he ordered as Spyro’s legs gave way and he flopped on his belly. Without waiting, the Ape handlers dragged their weakened prisoners across the floor to four of the six pillars inside the central arena.

‘What was that magic? It sapped all of our Mana…’ Spyro thought with alarm as he was dragged to the back-left corner of the arena, the ape locking his shackles onto an iron ring on the stone pillar. He saw Cynder be shackled to the pillar ahead of him while Flame and Ember were shackled to the pillars across the other side of the arena.

“Bring him here,” Gaul ordered the ape holding Meadow’s shackles as he pointed to his throne. He nodded and dragged the injured Cheetah over to left side of the throne, smacking him in the back to force him to his knees as he was then bound in front of the left armrest of the throne.

“Why are you doing this?” Spyro pleaded, “I’m the one you want! Let the others go!”

“Still trying so hard to be a hero, aren’t we?” Gaul replied mockingly, brushing the edge of his staff against Meadow’s injured leg, seeming to enjoy the sight of his wincing face as he flinched painfully.

“You came all this way to save the life of a wretched Cheetah, foolishly thinking you would be a match for us. Your Guardians did not teach you well… or did they simply not have the courage to come here themselves?” Gaul went on with fiendish delight. The edges of Spyro’s mouth lifted into a growl, though he lacked the strength now to utter one. His eyes kept going back to his companions shackled as he was, and the numerous observing apes all grinning deviously at what seemed like great entertainment to them; their sworn enemy falling so easily into their clutches and failing to be any kind of significant threat. Spyro couldn’t think of a lower place than to be a disappointment to both his friends and his enemies.

“You see, my subjects?” called Gaul aloud, “The arrogance of the dragons has led them to think that this whelp, this child, was their savior! So much that they would send him and his companions here instead of themselves! Are these the actions of a proud and noble race?”

“No!” the apes shouted back.

“Are these the actions of a race that deserves to claim guardianship of all the realms? To send their youngest and least experienced to face the might of us?”

“No!” “Would we send our greenest troops to face down their greatest warriors? Would we show such arrogance and lack of understanding of our enemy?”

“No!” again roared the apes.

“No one sent us!” protested Cynder coldly, “It was our decision to come here. We followed Spyro here because he knew it was the right thing to do!”

“Yeah!” Ember concurred, “We came to help our friend!”

“We weren’t going to let you apes get away with taking Meadow!” Flame proclaimed bravely, even as one of the ape lieutenants nearest him snarled at his impertinence.

“Silence!” yelled the Ape King, slamming the base of his staff on the floor before opening up his arms as he again addressed his troops, “You see how these dragons act? Thinking they know all even when their arrogance leads them right into our hands!”

The other apes laughed heartily, their merriment almost a worse torture than anything else they might have in store for the four who lived. Spyro’s anxiousness grew by the second as he tried to fathom some way out of their crisis, wishing and hoping that the glass ceiling would shatter any moment and Ignitus and the other Guardians would come to the rescue. But he knew how hopeless such a thought was. If there was a way out, it would have to be one they found themselves. As he tried to find it, Gaul continued boasting before the gathering,

“But we have always known this about them; the dragons and their hollow virtues and pretensions. Lording over us like it is their divine right, grinding us into the dirt and denying us our rightful place! Only one of them ever saw the truth of this; our Master Lord Malefor when he turned his back on that treacherous race and imbued us with his knowledge and power. His so-called masters tried to restrain him, to use him as their pawn for their own gain, but he refused them and came to us. We have loyally served him since that day and even after his mortal form was vanquished, we have remained loyal still for when the day he returns! Today brings us one step closer to that day! Twelve years ago, these whelplings escaped death by our hand. But thanks to their own foolishness, we shall make that right and pave the way for our master’s return!” he bellowed and raised his right fist, the apes cheering and chanting his name triumphantly,

“Gaul! Gaul! Gaul!”

‘Time’s running out. I’ve got to do something now!’ Spyro thought desperately. He saw the same desperation in the eyes of his friends, all hoping he had some way to rescue them. Meadow lifted his head solemnly as stared across to him, his gaze being one regret; regret for what he wasn’t sure. Was it regret that he had been captured, or that him being captured had inadvertently bought the four of them into the Ape Kings possession? Gaul lifted his staff up and slipped it behind his back into a sheath, the colossal ape flexing his fingers eagerly as his subjects continued to chant his name. He walked down the few steps down into the central arena, waving his hands towards himself to further arouse the bloodlust of his troops.

Cynder, Flame and Ember all huddled back against the pillars they were chained to, but Spyro remained standing on the edge of his chain’s length, eyeing Gaul as he turned his head towards him and began striding to him. He saw the spiked wrist guards and imagined them being plunged into his neck or the Ape King simply tearing into him with his bare hands. Worse than that was what the thought of his friends being forced watch it happening to him as they waited their turn. He wondered if he deserved credit for still thinking about them as death was walking towards him.

“Hope this was worth twelve years of waiting,” Spyro told Gaul cynically as the Ape King came to halt just in front of him, bearing down on the purple dragon, mouth open hungrily.

“You’ll wish you had perished with your nestmates in the temple,” Gaul told him menacingly, but for whatever reason, Spyro stared him down and did not cowl even as adrenaline pumped through his veins like lava sprouting from Boyzitbig. It seemed that if there was dignity in death, he was going to try for it. He watched Gaul’s eyes expectantly, waiting for the involuntary blink before he set upon him like a wild animal. But the body language he read was that of a creature in thought, not in motion. The extra seconds added to the tension as he waited for the stab, swipe or bite that would begin his demise. Gaul suddenly reached and grasped the bottom of Spyro’s chin in his right paw, his claws poking into his cheeks. Spyro knew then that his short life had just ended.