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“Cynder, what are you doing out here? It’s dangerous,” Spyro asked firmly but softly to show he was more worried than upset as he walked up beside her. He knew she had to have heard him call her name from the other side of the statue but decided not to bring it up when she turned her face to him and he saw the fearful expression she wore. Cynder sighed glumly as she rose to her feet and turned her head away from him.
“You shouldn’t have followed me, Spyro. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” she remarked flatly as she dipped her head and wandered sadly to the outer path between the rows of flowers as Spyro walked after her.
“We’ll both be in trouble if we don’t go back inside,” he pleaded earnestly, “What are you doing up here?”
“I couldn’t sleep, I needed air,” she replied readily, as if she had been rehearsing the answer for when someone inevitably came for her. Spyro raised his eyebrows at this, the dragoness still avoiding his gaze.
“What’s the matter?” he asked kindly, his voice ringing with a heartfelt tenderness that was impossible to brush off, no matter how much she might have wanted to not say another word. It wasn’t the first time the purple dragon had this effect on her. Cynder’s wings drooped down to her sides as she shook her head despairingly. Spyro looked over her shoulder worriedly as she looked down at her front feet. Her tail swung dully as he saw her throat ripple with a hard swallow. He took a step closer to her, the sound of his feet seeming to trigger an almost startled reaction from her.
“I’m scared, Spyro,” she confessed in a fearful whisper, “About what happened at the mountain…”
Spyro's eyes shrank as his heart suddenly felt cold at the mere mention of the place.
“You’re not alone there, Cynder. We are all scared about happened,” he said as he lifted his paw to his chest, “I’ll admit I was probably the most scared of all…”
“No, it’s not that,” Cynder replied bitterly, lifting her head as she realized the tone she had just taken. She turned to her right and around to face him, eyeing him apologetically. Her mouth was open a touch and her pupils seemed pulled back as if about to spring forth from her sockets.
“Spyro, I’m scared about me,” she told him with hard, cold honesty. Spyro’s head lurched back in bewilderment.
“Scared about yourself? What are you talking about?” he asked in disbelief.
“When we were in the catacombs and we got hit by the gas, did you hear the apes say anything before you passed out?”
Spyro’s heart skipped a beat as he thought back to the exact moment he knew she was referring to. He knew the words as well that she was referring to. But he then considered that he might have misheard what he thought was said or that she had heard something he did not. Out of curiosity, he dodged the question and asked, “Why? What did you hear them say?”
The black dragoness sniffled as she looked around as if searching for prying eyes. Staring back him, Spyro felt her emerald eyes burrowing into him with the intensity of termites chewing through furniture.
“Right before I blacked out, I heard them say something about me. Something about keeping me alive but killing the rest of you. You, Flame, Ember and Meadow, they could have killed all of you right there. It was a last minute decision to take us all to Gaul, but they had orders to keep me alive either way. You didn’t hear them say that?”
Spyro felt his chest tighten as her recollection aligned with his own. Clearing his throat hesitantly, he confessed, “Yeah, I heard them.”
Cynder’s eyes boggled in her head as she looked at him in confusion to which he hastily said,
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to hear what you heard first, in case maybe I had heard it wrong or you heard something different. But now I see we both heard the same thing,” he remarked gravely.
“Yeah,” Cynder nodded thoughtfully, “Flame and Ember never mentioned anything about it. I guess they must’ve passed out before that. You and I were the only ones who heard it.”
“Okay,” Spyro nodded, “But what about it?”
“What do you mean, ‘What about it?’,” Cynder exclaimed harshly, causing the purple dragon to recoil as she went on, “Gaul had all of us in his grasp. He could have dealt with us however he wanted! But he wanted to keep me alive and kill the rest of you. You are the Purple dragon; his greatest threat. It makes sense that he would want you gone, but why did he want me alive? Me? Just a Wind dragon…”
“Not ‘just’,” Spyro cut in sharply, stepping up nearer to her, “You were just as brave as any of us, Cynder. You don’t need to think down on yourself.”
“Spyro…” she replied vexingly, “It’s not about that. What you guessed was right; the Apes kidnapped Meadow because they wanted to interrogate him to find out about us. But then we went looking for him and stumbled right into their hands! They never would have guessed they’d be so lucky.”
“I guess not,” Spyro admitted with a hint of shame. “But my point is this; even if we stayed put and didn’t go looking for Meadow, the Apes were already looking for us and they still had the same orders; to kill you and capture me. What did they want me for after you were dead? What possible use could I be to them?”
“I don’t know,” Spyro said grimly with a sad shrug of his shoulders as Cynder shook her head sorrowfully. The purple dragon couldn’t shake the insidious nature of the mystery, especially when, as Cynder had pointed out, it made no sense to either of them why the Ape King would seemingly have an interest in the black dragoness or even how he knew about her at all. The Night of the Raid, the night they had been born, and the simultaneous attack on Warfang had been the last time the Apes had fought the dragons in open combat before retreating back to their mountain fortress. Granted, twelve years was a long time to learn the names of the four who lived, especially since it was well publicised within the realms. It was also possible that they had been given information by someone on the inside, spies or traitors in the ranks. As that uncomfortable thought ran through his mind, it bought back thoughts of the Hermit they had met in the hidden cave in Avalar.
“Do you think that Hermit had anything to do with this?” he asked her curiously. Cynder scowled at the mention of him,
“I wouldn’t be surprised. But Prowlus didn’t have much to say when I mentioned him when we got back to the village. He was too angry for anything much.”
“You asked him?”
“Oh, yeah,” Cynder nodded reluctantly, “All he wanted to know was why we didn’t say anything about him before. Hunter ended up telling us more about him but he didn’t go too far into it. All he said was that he was a member of the tribe who had been banished years ago for breaking their laws. When I asked what he had done and Flame asked what his name was, Hunter said that it was a very personal thing for Prowlus and that he couldn’t say more. After that he barely spoke to us when we left for the temple. None of the Cheetah’s seemed to want to know about him.”
Spyro’s brow lowered ponderingly as he tapped his tail spike thoughtfully on the ground. “That’s strange,” he mused, completely forgetting about his original mission to bring Cynder back inside before they were found out. Now he seemed content to stay with her and ponder the troubles on her mind for however long it took to come up with an answer or for someone to come and find them and reel them back into the temple. Cynder sat down, curling her tail around herself as Spyro remained standing deep in thought with the statue behind him.
“I don’t know how Gaul’s mind works and I don’t want to know,” Spyri declared fervently, “But whatever we heard them say, Cynder, Gaul was going to run you through first when we were in the throne room. He was going to run all of you through and leave me last,” he said mournfully, “Maybe that’s what his plan was?” he suggested with an unsure shake of his head.
Cynder looked up to him, a wet shimmer in her eyes that made his heart ache. The black dragoness drew a deep breath through her nostrils as she pushed her shoulders in tightly as if bitten by a chilling wind, even though there was not even a breeze lingering around the garden.
“Gaul is up to something, Spyro. He wouldn’t try and kill off the purple dragon unless it was part of something bigger. And whatever his plans are, somehow, I’m a part of it,” she cried forlornly in a shaky voice.
“But I just said he was about to murder you! He couldn’t have wanted you for anything except for that!” Spyro remarked pointedly.
“He said he had other plans beyond just killing you, Spyro. Somehow, I think I was supposed to have a part in that…”
Spyro felt helpless and angry with himself to see her reduced to this but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was somehow right about it, even if he couldn’t imagine how she would be a part of Gaul’s plans. He thought about mentioning the tunnels he had told Ignitus about, which concurred with her belief that the apes had something big in the works, but Spyro decided to omit it and not further add to her anxiety.
“Wait a minute,” Spyro said as the subject of omission came upon him, “Did you ask the Guardians about this?”
“I didn’t tell them,” she confessed distraughtly.
“What? Why not?” Cynder sighed heavily with despair, “When they asked us about what happened, I didn’t know if I was the only one who heard the apes talk about me. I know I should have asked, but I just couldn’t. I was afraid of what they might think.”
“But they might know something; why Gaul wanted you as his prisoner,” Spyro protested plainly but with restraint, not wanting to unsettle her more. His effort was soon proven to be futile as the black dragoness clamped her eyes shut, a streak of silver caught the moonlight as a plump, wet tear streaked down the left side of her face. Spyro gasped as he felt a pain in his heart for her like a thorn was being dragged down his heart, mimicking the way the tear dribbled down her face.
“I’m already the black sheep, Spyro,” she choked painfully, “If I told them about what happened, they would think that there must be something wrong with me. Something bad and dark that makes me somehow important to Gaul. Something that helps him…”
“Don’t talk like that, Cynder!” Spyro cried on the verge of desperation, “I don’t know why he would think you are important to his plans, but you would never help him in any way! Why on earth would he or anyone else think you would?”
“Because of fear?” she replied miserably, “Fear of torture? Fear of death? Fear for family and friends? No one knows how they will act if faced with these things. Did you know you would summon flames like you did when Gaul had me at his mercy?”
“I don’t know how I did it, but I just did it,” he answered frankly, “And I know you would never betray us, Cynder, no matter what!” Spyro told her fiercely. He hoped his added emotion would lift her spirits, but Cynder was stubborn in her melancholy.
“Unless there is something about me, something I don’t know about myself but that Gaul does. Something he knows about me and why I’m somehow part of his schemes…”
“Cynder!” Spyro exclaimed, “Cut that out! We know how wicked and cunning Gaul is. This is just the kind of mind games he would want to put in our heads to scare us! Like what Volteer told us about; phycological warfare, remember?”
“I don’t know!” Cynder burst out painfully as tears began running down her eyes in torrents, “I don’t know, Spyro! I only know that I’m scared. I’m scared…” she sobbed, her head diving down into her chest. At once, the purple dragon lunged forward, standing on his hind legs as his forepaws took a hold of the distraught dragoness. His wings fanned out protectively over her as she clutched him desperately . Spyro felt a strange rush of exhilaration as she took hold of him, Cynder lifting her head just under his chin as she held her forelegs around him. He cautiously held her just under her shoulders as she sobbed into his chest. He helplessly tried patting her on the back as he tried to think of something comforting to say.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he spoke softly to her, “We all get scared, okay? Gaul put the fear of Malefor in all of us.”
Cynder continued to sob as Spyro inwardly denounced his failing efforts to relieve her sadness. He lifted his chin as he turned his head to the left, his eyes drifting up towards the silent, golden monument that cast a great shadow off to its right. Though he could only see the back of the statue, the silhouette of the noble Pyra and his loyal Mole-at-arms was still as stirring as ever. The Celestial Moons cast its duo of red and green light over the golden skin, giving it an almost eerie aura. He thought back to how Ignitus has spoken of him just a short while ago and of how he saw elements of the young squire in all of the four survivors.
Spyro leaned his head back as he looked back down at Cynder, lightly nudging the top of her head with his nose.
“Hey,” he whispered, giving her a short tug with his forelegs. She sniffled and lifted her head up to his, her dampened eye lashes trickled like grass after a rainstorm. “I’ll bet Pyra got scared too,” he told her warmly, “I’ll bet he was scared of so many things. But he didn’t let that stop him, no matter how scared he got.”
Cynder sniffled again and replied softly but flatly, “Pyra died, Spyro. Just like everyone else in there with him. Brave or not.”
“I know,” he nodded sadly, “But he never turned his back on his friends. He never let anyone, not even Ignitus, stop him from doing what he thought was right. I see that in you, Cynder. If I hadn’t tried to go after Meadow, I know you would have instead. You would never have let something like that go.”
“You’re wrong,” she declared coldly, Spyro’s eyes and mind boggling in disbelief. The black dragoness wore a hard expression that confused the young dragon as she added, “If I had gone, I would be dragging you along with me whether you liked it or not.”
Spyro’s confusion mellowed into relief as he chuckled at how convincingly she had ‘got’ him. Cynder’s mouth ushered in a weak smile though her eyes were still laden with sorrow, the weight of which soon caused the light of her smile to fade once again. Spyro reacted by pulling her closer to him, jeering,
“Yeah, I know you would. You’ve got to show me up every chance you get, right?”
The black dragoness blinked slowly as she stared over him, seeming to only notice just then how close she was with the purple dragon. She turned her head and looked at his wings draped around her like a cloak, even if they only covered a small portion of her. She looked back into his soulful, amethyst eyes that overflowed with more care and concern than she thought a hundred dragons could show. She felt her heart beginning to melt as though it were held in his very paws. She reflected on the fact that Spyro was the only dragon who had never done anything to hurt or displease her, not even by the most trivial of standards. She had had her personality clashes with Ember and chastised Flame for being forgetful or gluttonous. Cynder had even been at odds with the Guardians at times, though she admitted it had usually been her who had been at fault like speaking out of turn or getting into stoushs with Glacious or the likes of her. She couldn’t even remember the last time she and Spyro had argued with each other, at least seriously.
“I’ll never hold a candle to you, Spyro,” she replied earnestly, “Its stupid of me to try and make myself feel better by bragging about beating you in stupid games that don’t matter. It’s pathetic.”
“No, it’s not,” Spyro shook his head lightly, “I think it’s fun. You always find a way to surprise me. Its good training,” he smiled cheerfully. Cynder’s cheeks reddened as she unchained a light smirk, looking down and saying,
You think it helped at all when we escaped the mountain?”
Spyro shrugged, “I’m not sure, but I am sure that none of us would have made it out of we didn’t pull together like we did.”
Cynder snorted, “You would have found some way out, even if you had gone alone to that place.”
Spyro’s cheeks bulged as he as he shifted them thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure…”
The black dragoness lifted her eyebrow as she asked, “But you would have gone alone, wouldn’t you?”
“If there was no other way. If you guys had stayed when I offered then yeah, I would have gone alone.”
Cynder shook her head admirably, “You didn’t even think about giving me that answer. I’ll never be like you, Spyro. I could never be who you are.”
“Well, it’s not like I had much choice how I was born…” he began.
“That’s not what I meant,” she interrupted warmly, suddenly pulling him into her as she hung her head over his shoulder, making Spyro freeze as if he had fallen into an icy river. Cynder hugged him tighter as he slowly eased up, though his eyes remained wide as he held her gently in return.
“It’s not your choice to have purple scales, but it is your choice to have a golden heart. You show that every day, Spyro, especially to me,” she said emotionally, sniffling quietly as he felt her smile against his shoulder. The purple dragon’s cheeks became ruby red as his said golden heart began pounding with an intensity unmatched even by their daring escape from the mountain fortress.
“That’s… that’s very sweet of you, Cynder,” Spyro said nervously with a thousand butterfly’s in his stomach. He heard her sigh contently as she kept holding him as he suddenly became dumbfounded as what to do next. He gulped hard as his eyes diverted up to the statue again as if to ask to for advice.
“You are just too good, Spyro. I can’t be who you are,” Cynder sighed regretfully, her wings vibrating with her exhaling breath. Spyro’s mouth puckered thoughtfully as her words touched his ears, his eyebrows creasing as the words he needed suddenly came to mind. He took a quick, quiet breath as he leaned in closer to her and moved his lips close to the side of her head.
“I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be you,” he whispered dearly. He felt her posture stiffen in their embrace as his words sank into her mind. She uncurled her head from over his shoulder and began to pull back from him, forcing him to uncurl his wings from her as she backed out from him by a step or two. Spyro stared in surprise, concerned that there had been something wrong with what he had said. Cynder looked upon him with an expression he struggled to read, it seemed as though she was in a state of shock. She blinked slowly; her emerald eyes as soft as snowballs.
“What did you say?” she asked delicately.
Spyro filled his chest with air before he answered calmly, “I want you to be you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
His heart stopped for a moment as the last of the sentence escaped his mouth, Spyro wondering how she would react. He hoped to the heavens that she didn’t take it to mean that she would never be as good as him. A few moments passed where they just stared at each other, Spyro becoming more unnerved with each one that passed. He gasped silently as he saw Cynder’s face light up into broad smile, the dragoness taking the few steps nearer to him. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her happiness, but he became curious as she strode up to him, eyes sparkling. He remained planted though he leaned back as she nosed up to him, his eyeballs shrining to the size of beads.
“Cynd…” he began, cut off abruptly as she shut her eyes and pressed her snout into the top of his, feeling her pursed lips between his nostrils as his heart became unhinged in his chest. Spyro’s mouth went dry as he realised that she had, in fact, against all expectations, kissed him!
It was a peck on his snout, but a kiss was a kiss. Cynder opened her eyes and drew her head back as Spyro was left in a state of wide-eyed confusion and alarm. She smiled ever so sweetly at him as he remained in a near catatonic state. She stood watching him for a few warm moments as he mentally tried to make his limbs work again.
‘I sure am glad Flame amd Ember didn’t see that,’ he thought gladly.
“Where did you read that line?” she asked him mellowly.
“I didn’t,” he blurted out instantly, “It just came to me, that’s all,” he answered innocently.
The black dragoness half dimmed her eyes as she chuckled lightly to herself, “Just like when you turned into fire and melted your chains , huh?” she asked whimsically.
Spyro grinned as his cheeks blushed and he nervously shrugged his shoulders. Cynder whipped her tail behind her gleefully, the scythe like blade cutting the heads off a portion of the flowers behind her. Both young dragons failed to notice this as they both joined each other in playful laughter.
“And I never want you to be anyone but you too, Spyro,” she concurred heartfeltly, walking up to him and bumping her head into his chin like a cat showing affection to its owner. Spyro smirked and nudged her back away coltishly, the black dragoness giving him a not serious stink eye as she continued giggling. Spyro reacted by springing into a low, frisky stance as if ready to pounce, to which Cynder mimicked in turn. The purple dragon wagged his tail as he swerved his hips playfully, until he was suddenly reminded of his bodies state of disrepair as a sharp pain made him hop up as if stung.
“Spyro!” Cynder exclaimed, leaping up like a dog that had caught sight of its prey.
“I’ve got to stop doing that,” Spyro remarked dryly as he grimaced, Cynder stepping up to him with concern.
“Are you alright?” she asked tepidly. The purple dragon forced a smile and nodded, saying,
“Yeah, I just need to remember to take it easy,” as he slowly rocked his shoulders and flexed his forelegs to untighten the pain in his muscles. Cynder leaned in closer and examined the scratches and bruises he still wore from the previous night. She looked down at herself and reflected on how she had been lucky to escape relatively unscathed. Lifting her head, she remarked, “Maybe you should go and rest.”
Spyro eyed her squarely, “How about the both of us? Come on, that nurse has probably told on us by now.”
The black dragoness smirked and gave a soft nod, “I guess so. I think I’ve had enough of out here, now,” she said resignedly. Spyro smiled fondly and beckoned towards the stairs. Cynder nodded formally and took a step towards them, Spyro stepping up alongside her as she made to pass him. She paused, waiting to see how well he travelled in his condition as he slowly turned to walk beside her. Smiling broadly, Spyro asked, “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” she answered softly, “Thanks, Spyro. You really are a hero, you know?”
The purple dragon turned his head forwards and blushed, “A lot of people seem to think that, Cynder.”
“And there not wrong,” she said proudly. Spyro rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking one last glance at the statue beside them as they began walking together around the cobblestone path.
“I just hope I can keep it up,” he said with a touch of the grim.
“If not, just promise to do one thing for me,” Cynder added slyly.
“What is it?” Spyro asked curiously.
“Always be you, Spyro. For me?”
The purple dragon let out a faint chuckle and casually replied, “Sure. For you I’ll always be me.”
He moved only as fast as he needed to not aggravate his injuries, Cynder staying by him patiently as they rounded the statue and made their way to the stairs. Gingerly, the hopped down, staying in line with each other as Cynder watched him anxiously in case he injured himself. He put on brave face, not wanting her to know how much it was hurting him. Together they wandered towards the door to the temple, Spyro feeling Cynder’s tail brushing close to his, seemingly trying to curl around it like a snake. He turned his head to look at her, but she looked straight ahead as if she hadn’t noticed, though she wore the trace of a knowing smile. Perhaps he was just too tired, but Spyro said nothing about it as they passed through into the tunnel, even as her tail finally did curl around his.
Sometime later, the door from the temple dojo opened up into the grotto and Ignitus, Terrador, Volteer and Cyril lumbered through. The Fire Guardian headed for the door to the sparring area to check on how the three other young dragons were while the others in single file headed to the dormitories. He had already kept them up later than he had expected as they had discussed the matter of Spyro and what he had confided in him that night. The news of what he had to tell had further unsettled the other Guardians as they shared in Ignitus’s concern about what the Ape Army may be moving towards. As he moved down the corridor, he turned his thoughts back to the time he’d had with the young purple dragon out on the balcony, focusing not on the worrying claims he had made but on the lighter moments they had shared. Ignitus smiled as the image of Spyro’s return to form stuck in his head, the happiness and confidence he had seen spring forth within him. It lifted his own spirits to think of it and it for the moment lessened some of the concerns he had shared with his colleagues.
As the door to the sparring area parted, Ignitus poked his head through and looked over to the three beds of Flame, Ember and Cynder. His eyes nearly jumped out from their sockets when he saw Cynder’ bed was empty.
“Cynder?” he called out mildly as he cast a look across the floor of the room for any sign of her. He quickly deduced that she was not in the room. He looked over and saw the outer door was still closed, reasoning therefore she must be elsewhere in the temple. Turning quickly but calmly, Ignitus strode back down the corridor and into the grotto, turning straight to the dormitory to inform the other Guardians of what he had discovered. As he moved down the corridor, he heard faint murmurs coming around the corner, recognising the soft voices as those of his colleagues. Noticing the two empty quarters on each side of him, Ignitus curiously strode on until he rounded the corner and saw what was happening. Crowded outside the usual quarters of the four survivors were the three Guardians, all wearing expressions of endearment at what he presumed would be Spyro asleep on his bed. The four mole nurses were all huddled together sleeping like rocks, oblivious to the gathering. As he opened his mouth to say that Cynder was missing, Volteer remarked,
“Who would’ve thought we’d find them like that, eh?”
“Them?” Ignitus repeated in bewilderment. Terrador, Volteer and Cyril all looked toward him with beaming smiles as they all beckoned to the inside of the room. The Fire Guardian walked up beside them and turned his head to look inside, his eyes lighting up at what he saw. Spyro and Cynder both lay beside each other on the large cushion, he on the left and she on the right. The black dragoness had her head curled around on top of his front paws while he rested his chin on top of her head. The two had their wings at full breadth across each other like blankets, their tails crossed over like intertwined snakes. The two were sleeping soundly without the faintest hint of the drama they had endured. Ignitus chuckled lightly as he smiled proudly, looking up to the eyes of his companions as they all shared the same look as him.
“Their bond is strong, Ignitus,” Terrador observed brightly, “I have a feeling that these two will go far together.”
“Let’s not forget about our other pair, shall we?” Cyril remarked with a critical tone, “With what the four of them have shown I think they will all go far, don’t you?”
“Indubitably!” Volteer declared swiftly.
“I have no doubt,” Ignitus nodded firmly, stepping closer and leaning over the two sleeping youngsters. Spyro let out a sleepy, contented sigh as the Fire Guardian watched them both, Cynder’s tail tapping the cushion twice in an involuntary sleep reflex. The peaceful sight had a mellow effect on Ignitus, feeling his own worries start to fade away if only for those few, calming moments. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, soothing breath as he enjoyed those moments to the fullest.
“I have no doubt.”
The next day….
The day began as any other for the moles and dragons on sentry duty in the city of Warfang. As the first rays of the sun began to creep over the horizon, those already on watch prepared to change over to the first members of the day watch who would soon be replacing them. All along the massive walls the surrounded the great city were large square turrets in the forefront of which were the city’s main defensive weapons; large ornate cannons made from gold. The cannons, like so many things in the city, were styled to resemble dragons. The muzzle of the weapons we re made in the shape of a dragon head with the neck and overall shape of the weapon being rectangular though the bore was still round for using cannonballs. The cannons were attached to a rotating platform in the turret which allowed the cannons to have a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degree field of fire. This was a deliberate design so that if the weapons fell into enemy hands, they could not be turned around and fired into the city. Each individual cannon could be operated by a single mole at arms who was seated at the rear of the weapon in a compartment that contained the controls to turn and fire the weapon.
Ingeniously the cannons did not have a rear breach like a traditional cannon but were loaded via a magazine built beneath them with cannon balls loaded from an elevating platform operated by a team of loaders who operated a winch to load each cannonball as it was needed. A short distance behind each cannon was a narrow steel grate where a line of cannon balls could be seen below ready to be loaded as needed. Behind them was a lever operated mechanism with a decorative gold dragon tail pointing up towards the sky. Either a dragon or mole could operate the lever as required, each pull would release a single ball which would then roll down a chute to the loaders who would then elevate it into the breach. These cannons had been integral to the defence of Warfang for centuries and were one of the main reasons the city walls had never been breached.
Standing on each turret were always two moles equipped with their almost comically oversized looking glasses scanning the horizon and countryside for any sign of danger. They stood on either side of the front of the turrets, usually between the stone merlons that decorated the crest of the entire wall of the city. Beside each lookout were two essential items, a large metal bell and a green fireworks rocket as large as the moles themselves. If a lookout were to spot a threat, the first order of business was to ring the bell, the sound of which would alert the other nearby lookouts who would then ring their own bells to in turn. In a matter of seconds every bell on the city’s walls would be ringing and alert the citizens and soldiers that danger was nearby. The lookout who had rung the first bell would then ignite his firework and send it into the sky, the resulting explosion would then alert all the defenders which direction the danger had been spotted from. It was an efficient system that had served Warfang well, but aside from occasional drills, the bells had remained silent and the fireworks unlit for twelve years now, though nobody in the city was eager to see that changed. Especially not a young mole at arms named Anton as he sighed with boredom as he stood leaning against the left most stone merlon of the large square turret in the center of Warfang’s southwest wall overlooking the sea.
He was only half an hour into a two-hour watch, but the burning sun so early in the morning was so bright that he found it difficult to look through his large looking glass towards the horizon. It was only because he had lost a bet with some of his chums in the tavern that he was on sentry duty anyway; he was usually assigned to barracks where he and his fellow mole at arms would train and spar against each other, something that was active and an enjoyable for him. Not staring out into the sky for something he knew was never going to come. After the two hours he would then have to climb down inside the turret and take over for one of the loaders for half an hour before returning to the lookout post for another two hours; rinse and repeat for the whole day except for lunchtime when he would have an hour’s break.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and lifted up the looking glass with a frustrated groan. He looked away from the sun as it finally lifted up over the horizon, looking down at the sea and the shimmering orange waves making their way towards shore. He followed the waves as they swept over the golden beach known as Dragon Shore that was spread between two large rock formations on either side. To the right of the beach, he saw the top of the sharp cliffs that rounded the shore just inside the mouth of the river as it ran out to sea. To the left of the beach was a large rock formation roughly shaped like a scalene triangle reaching out a short way into the sea, its leading edge slicing the waves as they came in. Between the southeast walls of the city and the beach was a large expanse of grassy hills that formed five large humps that rose and fell along the shoreline. Anton gazed at the beach enviously, pulling the looking glass away as he scanned across the horizon with his tiny, bead like eyes.
“Another day in paradise, eh?” jeered Louie, the other lookout to his right. Anton gave him a humourless smile as he held his hand up to block the blinding sunrays. Louie lowered his looking glass as he sat down to refill and relight his pipe. Anton shook his head at his colleagues filthy habit, looking back towards the sea as his eyes blinked furiously in protest of the light. In one of those blinks, a faint speck seemed to spear in the sky far out down the coast. Anton lifted the spyglass and looked where he had seen it. He soon identified the feathered body of a hawk that was flying close to the coastline in search of food. He pulled his eyes back for a moment to roll them at the fact he had thought it was something serious for a moment. He put his eye back into the glass and swept it across the sealine slowly, scanning across the left and then back to the right as his colleague went about readying his pipe.
As Anton nearly completed his full sweep, a fly buzzed near his face and the mole pulled his eyes back for a moment as he swatted it away from him. As he returned to gazing thorough the spyglass, another black speck appeared almost immediately. He held his gaze on it as he expected for it to come into the shape of another hawk or a seagull as the speck grew larger by the moment.
“See anything?” asked Louie as he finished filling his pipe and prepared to light it.
“Just another…” began Anton before he suddenly lost his voice as the speck he had observed took on a form not that of a bird. Through the spyglass he could make out the sharp, bat like ears, dark purple membrane of the wings and a tiny figure riding on its back. He rubbed his eyes to be sure, but when the looked back, it was surely a Dreadwing far out in the distance, seemingly following the coastline towards the city.
“Louie! Dreadwing to the southwest!” he cried.
“What?!” Louie exclaimed as his pipe fell from his mouth. He scurried back to his feet, grasping his own spyglass as he fervently looked towards where Anton was pointing. Both the mole lookouts saw the distinct shape grow larger in their spyglasses, the creatures glowing eyes unnerving them even from such a far distance.
“Dragon’s teeth! It surely is!” Louie declared excitedly, lowering his spyglass and turning to Anton, “Ring that bell, you fool!”
Gasping, Anton rushed to the bell near him, tripping over just before he reached it. Pulling himself up, he grasped the rope attached to the clapper and pulled with all his might. The heavy bell rocked and the clapper let out its song as its sound began to echo across the wall. Almost immediately the sound was amplified as the other lookouts began to ring their bells in tow, banging and clanging in a wave the swept over the entire wall of the city in only a matter of seconds. The sleepy citizens of Warfang were awakened by the terrifying alarm that danger was near.
As Louie watched the intruder through his spyglass, he suddenly remembered the signal rocket and hurriedly turned towards it, grabbing the torch hanging nearby and waving it close to the fuse at the base of the rocket. At once the flames caught the fuse which started to burn and sizzle away, Louie and Anton covered their ears before both turning away and ducking just before it went off. The rocket launched high into the air, soaring for several seconds before a tremendous boom rocked the air. A brilliant, red coloured star like pattern appeared high above the wall, alerting to all that could see the direction the threat was coming from. As Anton and Louie both stood back up, dozens of other mole at arms were rushing to positions along the wall. Looking back at the city, the two moles saw groups of dragon warriors scrambling into the air as others came diving down to take their places defending the cannons. With their hearts racing, Anton and Louie looked at each other worriedly as a mole Captain came rushing over to them.
“What did you see?” he barked fiercely as he held one hand tensely on the hilt of the sword in his belt.
“Dreadwing, sir, to the southwest! Flying along the coast!” Anton replied quickly, handing his spyglass to the Captain and pointing out past the merlons. The mole officer stepped between them as he looked through the spyglass towards where Anton had pointed. Behind them, another mole solider was climbing into the cannon while another stood ready at the levers behind it reload as needed. Louie stepped up cautiously beside the Captain, looking through his own spyglass and asking, “Do you see him, sir?”
“I do,” replied the Captain with scorn in his voice as his eyes settled on the enemy, “Wait a moment…” his voice trailed off curiously as he stared at the distant Dreadwing.
“Sir?” asked Anton, fearful he may have misidentified something and raised the alarm by mistake. The Captain remained silent for a few moments as he himself doubted what it was he was seeing. Through the spyglass, he saw the Dreadwing crossing the shoreline and banking slowly towards the western wall of the city, flying towards the main gate. Though it was still miles off, he saw the ape rider on its back waving a large white flag above his head. He could also see white streamers tied to the claws of the Dreadwing stretching back past the creature’s wings to further emphasize their supposed pledge of non-aggression.
“He’s flying the flag of truce!” the Captain exclaimed in surprise, lowering the spyglass firmly, “Everyone keep your guard up! You can never be sure with these fiends. Standby your weapons, but nobody is act until we know his intentions.”
“You think the apes want to surrender to us, sir?” asked Louie hopefully.
“I doubt it, but in any case, we’ll need to send out an escort to meet him. Send a Falcon to Castle Hill at once. Request a party to meet our guest and escort him to the main gate. Step to it!”
End of Chapter 13
Next Chapter: Casus Belli
“You shouldn’t have followed me, Spyro. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” she remarked flatly as she dipped her head and wandered sadly to the outer path between the rows of flowers as Spyro walked after her.
“We’ll both be in trouble if we don’t go back inside,” he pleaded earnestly, “What are you doing up here?”
“I couldn’t sleep, I needed air,” she replied readily, as if she had been rehearsing the answer for when someone inevitably came for her. Spyro raised his eyebrows at this, the dragoness still avoiding his gaze.
“What’s the matter?” he asked kindly, his voice ringing with a heartfelt tenderness that was impossible to brush off, no matter how much she might have wanted to not say another word. It wasn’t the first time the purple dragon had this effect on her. Cynder’s wings drooped down to her sides as she shook her head despairingly. Spyro looked over her shoulder worriedly as she looked down at her front feet. Her tail swung dully as he saw her throat ripple with a hard swallow. He took a step closer to her, the sound of his feet seeming to trigger an almost startled reaction from her.
“I’m scared, Spyro,” she confessed in a fearful whisper, “About what happened at the mountain…”
Spyro's eyes shrank as his heart suddenly felt cold at the mere mention of the place.
“You’re not alone there, Cynder. We are all scared about happened,” he said as he lifted his paw to his chest, “I’ll admit I was probably the most scared of all…”
“No, it’s not that,” Cynder replied bitterly, lifting her head as she realized the tone she had just taken. She turned to her right and around to face him, eyeing him apologetically. Her mouth was open a touch and her pupils seemed pulled back as if about to spring forth from her sockets.
“Spyro, I’m scared about me,” she told him with hard, cold honesty. Spyro’s head lurched back in bewilderment.
“Scared about yourself? What are you talking about?” he asked in disbelief.
“When we were in the catacombs and we got hit by the gas, did you hear the apes say anything before you passed out?”
Spyro’s heart skipped a beat as he thought back to the exact moment he knew she was referring to. He knew the words as well that she was referring to. But he then considered that he might have misheard what he thought was said or that she had heard something he did not. Out of curiosity, he dodged the question and asked, “Why? What did you hear them say?”
The black dragoness sniffled as she looked around as if searching for prying eyes. Staring back him, Spyro felt her emerald eyes burrowing into him with the intensity of termites chewing through furniture.
“Right before I blacked out, I heard them say something about me. Something about keeping me alive but killing the rest of you. You, Flame, Ember and Meadow, they could have killed all of you right there. It was a last minute decision to take us all to Gaul, but they had orders to keep me alive either way. You didn’t hear them say that?”
Spyro felt his chest tighten as her recollection aligned with his own. Clearing his throat hesitantly, he confessed, “Yeah, I heard them.”
Cynder’s eyes boggled in her head as she looked at him in confusion to which he hastily said,
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to hear what you heard first, in case maybe I had heard it wrong or you heard something different. But now I see we both heard the same thing,” he remarked gravely.
“Yeah,” Cynder nodded thoughtfully, “Flame and Ember never mentioned anything about it. I guess they must’ve passed out before that. You and I were the only ones who heard it.”
“Okay,” Spyro nodded, “But what about it?”
“What do you mean, ‘What about it?’,” Cynder exclaimed harshly, causing the purple dragon to recoil as she went on, “Gaul had all of us in his grasp. He could have dealt with us however he wanted! But he wanted to keep me alive and kill the rest of you. You are the Purple dragon; his greatest threat. It makes sense that he would want you gone, but why did he want me alive? Me? Just a Wind dragon…”
“Not ‘just’,” Spyro cut in sharply, stepping up nearer to her, “You were just as brave as any of us, Cynder. You don’t need to think down on yourself.”
“Spyro…” she replied vexingly, “It’s not about that. What you guessed was right; the Apes kidnapped Meadow because they wanted to interrogate him to find out about us. But then we went looking for him and stumbled right into their hands! They never would have guessed they’d be so lucky.”
“I guess not,” Spyro admitted with a hint of shame. “But my point is this; even if we stayed put and didn’t go looking for Meadow, the Apes were already looking for us and they still had the same orders; to kill you and capture me. What did they want me for after you were dead? What possible use could I be to them?”
“I don’t know,” Spyro said grimly with a sad shrug of his shoulders as Cynder shook her head sorrowfully. The purple dragon couldn’t shake the insidious nature of the mystery, especially when, as Cynder had pointed out, it made no sense to either of them why the Ape King would seemingly have an interest in the black dragoness or even how he knew about her at all. The Night of the Raid, the night they had been born, and the simultaneous attack on Warfang had been the last time the Apes had fought the dragons in open combat before retreating back to their mountain fortress. Granted, twelve years was a long time to learn the names of the four who lived, especially since it was well publicised within the realms. It was also possible that they had been given information by someone on the inside, spies or traitors in the ranks. As that uncomfortable thought ran through his mind, it bought back thoughts of the Hermit they had met in the hidden cave in Avalar.
“Do you think that Hermit had anything to do with this?” he asked her curiously. Cynder scowled at the mention of him,
“I wouldn’t be surprised. But Prowlus didn’t have much to say when I mentioned him when we got back to the village. He was too angry for anything much.”
“You asked him?”
“Oh, yeah,” Cynder nodded reluctantly, “All he wanted to know was why we didn’t say anything about him before. Hunter ended up telling us more about him but he didn’t go too far into it. All he said was that he was a member of the tribe who had been banished years ago for breaking their laws. When I asked what he had done and Flame asked what his name was, Hunter said that it was a very personal thing for Prowlus and that he couldn’t say more. After that he barely spoke to us when we left for the temple. None of the Cheetah’s seemed to want to know about him.”
Spyro’s brow lowered ponderingly as he tapped his tail spike thoughtfully on the ground. “That’s strange,” he mused, completely forgetting about his original mission to bring Cynder back inside before they were found out. Now he seemed content to stay with her and ponder the troubles on her mind for however long it took to come up with an answer or for someone to come and find them and reel them back into the temple. Cynder sat down, curling her tail around herself as Spyro remained standing deep in thought with the statue behind him.
“I don’t know how Gaul’s mind works and I don’t want to know,” Spyri declared fervently, “But whatever we heard them say, Cynder, Gaul was going to run you through first when we were in the throne room. He was going to run all of you through and leave me last,” he said mournfully, “Maybe that’s what his plan was?” he suggested with an unsure shake of his head.
Cynder looked up to him, a wet shimmer in her eyes that made his heart ache. The black dragoness drew a deep breath through her nostrils as she pushed her shoulders in tightly as if bitten by a chilling wind, even though there was not even a breeze lingering around the garden.
“Gaul is up to something, Spyro. He wouldn’t try and kill off the purple dragon unless it was part of something bigger. And whatever his plans are, somehow, I’m a part of it,” she cried forlornly in a shaky voice.
“But I just said he was about to murder you! He couldn’t have wanted you for anything except for that!” Spyro remarked pointedly.
“He said he had other plans beyond just killing you, Spyro. Somehow, I think I was supposed to have a part in that…”
Spyro felt helpless and angry with himself to see her reduced to this but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that she was somehow right about it, even if he couldn’t imagine how she would be a part of Gaul’s plans. He thought about mentioning the tunnels he had told Ignitus about, which concurred with her belief that the apes had something big in the works, but Spyro decided to omit it and not further add to her anxiety.
“Wait a minute,” Spyro said as the subject of omission came upon him, “Did you ask the Guardians about this?”
“I didn’t tell them,” she confessed distraughtly.
“What? Why not?” Cynder sighed heavily with despair, “When they asked us about what happened, I didn’t know if I was the only one who heard the apes talk about me. I know I should have asked, but I just couldn’t. I was afraid of what they might think.”
“But they might know something; why Gaul wanted you as his prisoner,” Spyro protested plainly but with restraint, not wanting to unsettle her more. His effort was soon proven to be futile as the black dragoness clamped her eyes shut, a streak of silver caught the moonlight as a plump, wet tear streaked down the left side of her face. Spyro gasped as he felt a pain in his heart for her like a thorn was being dragged down his heart, mimicking the way the tear dribbled down her face.
“I’m already the black sheep, Spyro,” she choked painfully, “If I told them about what happened, they would think that there must be something wrong with me. Something bad and dark that makes me somehow important to Gaul. Something that helps him…”
“Don’t talk like that, Cynder!” Spyro cried on the verge of desperation, “I don’t know why he would think you are important to his plans, but you would never help him in any way! Why on earth would he or anyone else think you would?”
“Because of fear?” she replied miserably, “Fear of torture? Fear of death? Fear for family and friends? No one knows how they will act if faced with these things. Did you know you would summon flames like you did when Gaul had me at his mercy?”
“I don’t know how I did it, but I just did it,” he answered frankly, “And I know you would never betray us, Cynder, no matter what!” Spyro told her fiercely. He hoped his added emotion would lift her spirits, but Cynder was stubborn in her melancholy.
“Unless there is something about me, something I don’t know about myself but that Gaul does. Something he knows about me and why I’m somehow part of his schemes…”
“Cynder!” Spyro exclaimed, “Cut that out! We know how wicked and cunning Gaul is. This is just the kind of mind games he would want to put in our heads to scare us! Like what Volteer told us about; phycological warfare, remember?”
“I don’t know!” Cynder burst out painfully as tears began running down her eyes in torrents, “I don’t know, Spyro! I only know that I’m scared. I’m scared…” she sobbed, her head diving down into her chest. At once, the purple dragon lunged forward, standing on his hind legs as his forepaws took a hold of the distraught dragoness. His wings fanned out protectively over her as she clutched him desperately . Spyro felt a strange rush of exhilaration as she took hold of him, Cynder lifting her head just under his chin as she held her forelegs around him. He cautiously held her just under her shoulders as she sobbed into his chest. He helplessly tried patting her on the back as he tried to think of something comforting to say.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he spoke softly to her, “We all get scared, okay? Gaul put the fear of Malefor in all of us.”
Cynder continued to sob as Spyro inwardly denounced his failing efforts to relieve her sadness. He lifted his chin as he turned his head to the left, his eyes drifting up towards the silent, golden monument that cast a great shadow off to its right. Though he could only see the back of the statue, the silhouette of the noble Pyra and his loyal Mole-at-arms was still as stirring as ever. The Celestial Moons cast its duo of red and green light over the golden skin, giving it an almost eerie aura. He thought back to how Ignitus has spoken of him just a short while ago and of how he saw elements of the young squire in all of the four survivors.
Spyro leaned his head back as he looked back down at Cynder, lightly nudging the top of her head with his nose.
“Hey,” he whispered, giving her a short tug with his forelegs. She sniffled and lifted her head up to his, her dampened eye lashes trickled like grass after a rainstorm. “I’ll bet Pyra got scared too,” he told her warmly, “I’ll bet he was scared of so many things. But he didn’t let that stop him, no matter how scared he got.”
Cynder sniffled again and replied softly but flatly, “Pyra died, Spyro. Just like everyone else in there with him. Brave or not.”
“I know,” he nodded sadly, “But he never turned his back on his friends. He never let anyone, not even Ignitus, stop him from doing what he thought was right. I see that in you, Cynder. If I hadn’t tried to go after Meadow, I know you would have instead. You would never have let something like that go.”
“You’re wrong,” she declared coldly, Spyro’s eyes and mind boggling in disbelief. The black dragoness wore a hard expression that confused the young dragon as she added, “If I had gone, I would be dragging you along with me whether you liked it or not.”
Spyro’s confusion mellowed into relief as he chuckled at how convincingly she had ‘got’ him. Cynder’s mouth ushered in a weak smile though her eyes were still laden with sorrow, the weight of which soon caused the light of her smile to fade once again. Spyro reacted by pulling her closer to him, jeering,
“Yeah, I know you would. You’ve got to show me up every chance you get, right?”
The black dragoness blinked slowly as she stared over him, seeming to only notice just then how close she was with the purple dragon. She turned her head and looked at his wings draped around her like a cloak, even if they only covered a small portion of her. She looked back into his soulful, amethyst eyes that overflowed with more care and concern than she thought a hundred dragons could show. She felt her heart beginning to melt as though it were held in his very paws. She reflected on the fact that Spyro was the only dragon who had never done anything to hurt or displease her, not even by the most trivial of standards. She had had her personality clashes with Ember and chastised Flame for being forgetful or gluttonous. Cynder had even been at odds with the Guardians at times, though she admitted it had usually been her who had been at fault like speaking out of turn or getting into stoushs with Glacious or the likes of her. She couldn’t even remember the last time she and Spyro had argued with each other, at least seriously.
“I’ll never hold a candle to you, Spyro,” she replied earnestly, “Its stupid of me to try and make myself feel better by bragging about beating you in stupid games that don’t matter. It’s pathetic.”
“No, it’s not,” Spyro shook his head lightly, “I think it’s fun. You always find a way to surprise me. Its good training,” he smiled cheerfully. Cynder’s cheeks reddened as she unchained a light smirk, looking down and saying,
You think it helped at all when we escaped the mountain?”
Spyro shrugged, “I’m not sure, but I am sure that none of us would have made it out of we didn’t pull together like we did.”
Cynder snorted, “You would have found some way out, even if you had gone alone to that place.”
Spyro’s cheeks bulged as he as he shifted them thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure…”
The black dragoness lifted her eyebrow as she asked, “But you would have gone alone, wouldn’t you?”
“If there was no other way. If you guys had stayed when I offered then yeah, I would have gone alone.”
Cynder shook her head admirably, “You didn’t even think about giving me that answer. I’ll never be like you, Spyro. I could never be who you are.”
“Well, it’s not like I had much choice how I was born…” he began.
“That’s not what I meant,” she interrupted warmly, suddenly pulling him into her as she hung her head over his shoulder, making Spyro freeze as if he had fallen into an icy river. Cynder hugged him tighter as he slowly eased up, though his eyes remained wide as he held her gently in return.
“It’s not your choice to have purple scales, but it is your choice to have a golden heart. You show that every day, Spyro, especially to me,” she said emotionally, sniffling quietly as he felt her smile against his shoulder. The purple dragon’s cheeks became ruby red as his said golden heart began pounding with an intensity unmatched even by their daring escape from the mountain fortress.
“That’s… that’s very sweet of you, Cynder,” Spyro said nervously with a thousand butterfly’s in his stomach. He heard her sigh contently as she kept holding him as he suddenly became dumbfounded as what to do next. He gulped hard as his eyes diverted up to the statue again as if to ask to for advice.
“You are just too good, Spyro. I can’t be who you are,” Cynder sighed regretfully, her wings vibrating with her exhaling breath. Spyro’s mouth puckered thoughtfully as her words touched his ears, his eyebrows creasing as the words he needed suddenly came to mind. He took a quick, quiet breath as he leaned in closer to her and moved his lips close to the side of her head.
“I don’t want you to be me, I want you to be you,” he whispered dearly. He felt her posture stiffen in their embrace as his words sank into her mind. She uncurled her head from over his shoulder and began to pull back from him, forcing him to uncurl his wings from her as she backed out from him by a step or two. Spyro stared in surprise, concerned that there had been something wrong with what he had said. Cynder looked upon him with an expression he struggled to read, it seemed as though she was in a state of shock. She blinked slowly; her emerald eyes as soft as snowballs.
“What did you say?” she asked delicately.
Spyro filled his chest with air before he answered calmly, “I want you to be you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
His heart stopped for a moment as the last of the sentence escaped his mouth, Spyro wondering how she would react. He hoped to the heavens that she didn’t take it to mean that she would never be as good as him. A few moments passed where they just stared at each other, Spyro becoming more unnerved with each one that passed. He gasped silently as he saw Cynder’s face light up into broad smile, the dragoness taking the few steps nearer to him. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her happiness, but he became curious as she strode up to him, eyes sparkling. He remained planted though he leaned back as she nosed up to him, his eyeballs shrining to the size of beads.
“Cynd…” he began, cut off abruptly as she shut her eyes and pressed her snout into the top of his, feeling her pursed lips between his nostrils as his heart became unhinged in his chest. Spyro’s mouth went dry as he realised that she had, in fact, against all expectations, kissed him!
It was a peck on his snout, but a kiss was a kiss. Cynder opened her eyes and drew her head back as Spyro was left in a state of wide-eyed confusion and alarm. She smiled ever so sweetly at him as he remained in a near catatonic state. She stood watching him for a few warm moments as he mentally tried to make his limbs work again.
‘I sure am glad Flame amd Ember didn’t see that,’ he thought gladly.
“Where did you read that line?” she asked him mellowly.
“I didn’t,” he blurted out instantly, “It just came to me, that’s all,” he answered innocently.
The black dragoness half dimmed her eyes as she chuckled lightly to herself, “Just like when you turned into fire and melted your chains , huh?” she asked whimsically.
Spyro grinned as his cheeks blushed and he nervously shrugged his shoulders. Cynder whipped her tail behind her gleefully, the scythe like blade cutting the heads off a portion of the flowers behind her. Both young dragons failed to notice this as they both joined each other in playful laughter.
“And I never want you to be anyone but you too, Spyro,” she concurred heartfeltly, walking up to him and bumping her head into his chin like a cat showing affection to its owner. Spyro smirked and nudged her back away coltishly, the black dragoness giving him a not serious stink eye as she continued giggling. Spyro reacted by springing into a low, frisky stance as if ready to pounce, to which Cynder mimicked in turn. The purple dragon wagged his tail as he swerved his hips playfully, until he was suddenly reminded of his bodies state of disrepair as a sharp pain made him hop up as if stung.
“Spyro!” Cynder exclaimed, leaping up like a dog that had caught sight of its prey.
“I’ve got to stop doing that,” Spyro remarked dryly as he grimaced, Cynder stepping up to him with concern.
“Are you alright?” she asked tepidly. The purple dragon forced a smile and nodded, saying,
“Yeah, I just need to remember to take it easy,” as he slowly rocked his shoulders and flexed his forelegs to untighten the pain in his muscles. Cynder leaned in closer and examined the scratches and bruises he still wore from the previous night. She looked down at herself and reflected on how she had been lucky to escape relatively unscathed. Lifting her head, she remarked, “Maybe you should go and rest.”
Spyro eyed her squarely, “How about the both of us? Come on, that nurse has probably told on us by now.”
The black dragoness smirked and gave a soft nod, “I guess so. I think I’ve had enough of out here, now,” she said resignedly. Spyro smiled fondly and beckoned towards the stairs. Cynder nodded formally and took a step towards them, Spyro stepping up alongside her as she made to pass him. She paused, waiting to see how well he travelled in his condition as he slowly turned to walk beside her. Smiling broadly, Spyro asked, “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” she answered softly, “Thanks, Spyro. You really are a hero, you know?”
The purple dragon turned his head forwards and blushed, “A lot of people seem to think that, Cynder.”
“And there not wrong,” she said proudly. Spyro rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking one last glance at the statue beside them as they began walking together around the cobblestone path.
“I just hope I can keep it up,” he said with a touch of the grim.
“If not, just promise to do one thing for me,” Cynder added slyly.
“What is it?” Spyro asked curiously.
“Always be you, Spyro. For me?”
The purple dragon let out a faint chuckle and casually replied, “Sure. For you I’ll always be me.”
He moved only as fast as he needed to not aggravate his injuries, Cynder staying by him patiently as they rounded the statue and made their way to the stairs. Gingerly, the hopped down, staying in line with each other as Cynder watched him anxiously in case he injured himself. He put on brave face, not wanting her to know how much it was hurting him. Together they wandered towards the door to the temple, Spyro feeling Cynder’s tail brushing close to his, seemingly trying to curl around it like a snake. He turned his head to look at her, but she looked straight ahead as if she hadn’t noticed, though she wore the trace of a knowing smile. Perhaps he was just too tired, but Spyro said nothing about it as they passed through into the tunnel, even as her tail finally did curl around his.
Sometime later, the door from the temple dojo opened up into the grotto and Ignitus, Terrador, Volteer and Cyril lumbered through. The Fire Guardian headed for the door to the sparring area to check on how the three other young dragons were while the others in single file headed to the dormitories. He had already kept them up later than he had expected as they had discussed the matter of Spyro and what he had confided in him that night. The news of what he had to tell had further unsettled the other Guardians as they shared in Ignitus’s concern about what the Ape Army may be moving towards. As he moved down the corridor, he turned his thoughts back to the time he’d had with the young purple dragon out on the balcony, focusing not on the worrying claims he had made but on the lighter moments they had shared. Ignitus smiled as the image of Spyro’s return to form stuck in his head, the happiness and confidence he had seen spring forth within him. It lifted his own spirits to think of it and it for the moment lessened some of the concerns he had shared with his colleagues.
As the door to the sparring area parted, Ignitus poked his head through and looked over to the three beds of Flame, Ember and Cynder. His eyes nearly jumped out from their sockets when he saw Cynder’ bed was empty.
“Cynder?” he called out mildly as he cast a look across the floor of the room for any sign of her. He quickly deduced that she was not in the room. He looked over and saw the outer door was still closed, reasoning therefore she must be elsewhere in the temple. Turning quickly but calmly, Ignitus strode back down the corridor and into the grotto, turning straight to the dormitory to inform the other Guardians of what he had discovered. As he moved down the corridor, he heard faint murmurs coming around the corner, recognising the soft voices as those of his colleagues. Noticing the two empty quarters on each side of him, Ignitus curiously strode on until he rounded the corner and saw what was happening. Crowded outside the usual quarters of the four survivors were the three Guardians, all wearing expressions of endearment at what he presumed would be Spyro asleep on his bed. The four mole nurses were all huddled together sleeping like rocks, oblivious to the gathering. As he opened his mouth to say that Cynder was missing, Volteer remarked,
“Who would’ve thought we’d find them like that, eh?”
“Them?” Ignitus repeated in bewilderment. Terrador, Volteer and Cyril all looked toward him with beaming smiles as they all beckoned to the inside of the room. The Fire Guardian walked up beside them and turned his head to look inside, his eyes lighting up at what he saw. Spyro and Cynder both lay beside each other on the large cushion, he on the left and she on the right. The black dragoness had her head curled around on top of his front paws while he rested his chin on top of her head. The two had their wings at full breadth across each other like blankets, their tails crossed over like intertwined snakes. The two were sleeping soundly without the faintest hint of the drama they had endured. Ignitus chuckled lightly as he smiled proudly, looking up to the eyes of his companions as they all shared the same look as him.
“Their bond is strong, Ignitus,” Terrador observed brightly, “I have a feeling that these two will go far together.”
“Let’s not forget about our other pair, shall we?” Cyril remarked with a critical tone, “With what the four of them have shown I think they will all go far, don’t you?”
“Indubitably!” Volteer declared swiftly.
“I have no doubt,” Ignitus nodded firmly, stepping closer and leaning over the two sleeping youngsters. Spyro let out a sleepy, contented sigh as the Fire Guardian watched them both, Cynder’s tail tapping the cushion twice in an involuntary sleep reflex. The peaceful sight had a mellow effect on Ignitus, feeling his own worries start to fade away if only for those few, calming moments. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep, soothing breath as he enjoyed those moments to the fullest.
“I have no doubt.”
The next day….
The day began as any other for the moles and dragons on sentry duty in the city of Warfang. As the first rays of the sun began to creep over the horizon, those already on watch prepared to change over to the first members of the day watch who would soon be replacing them. All along the massive walls the surrounded the great city were large square turrets in the forefront of which were the city’s main defensive weapons; large ornate cannons made from gold. The cannons, like so many things in the city, were styled to resemble dragons. The muzzle of the weapons we re made in the shape of a dragon head with the neck and overall shape of the weapon being rectangular though the bore was still round for using cannonballs. The cannons were attached to a rotating platform in the turret which allowed the cannons to have a full one-hundred-and-eighty-degree field of fire. This was a deliberate design so that if the weapons fell into enemy hands, they could not be turned around and fired into the city. Each individual cannon could be operated by a single mole at arms who was seated at the rear of the weapon in a compartment that contained the controls to turn and fire the weapon.
Ingeniously the cannons did not have a rear breach like a traditional cannon but were loaded via a magazine built beneath them with cannon balls loaded from an elevating platform operated by a team of loaders who operated a winch to load each cannonball as it was needed. A short distance behind each cannon was a narrow steel grate where a line of cannon balls could be seen below ready to be loaded as needed. Behind them was a lever operated mechanism with a decorative gold dragon tail pointing up towards the sky. Either a dragon or mole could operate the lever as required, each pull would release a single ball which would then roll down a chute to the loaders who would then elevate it into the breach. These cannons had been integral to the defence of Warfang for centuries and were one of the main reasons the city walls had never been breached.
Standing on each turret were always two moles equipped with their almost comically oversized looking glasses scanning the horizon and countryside for any sign of danger. They stood on either side of the front of the turrets, usually between the stone merlons that decorated the crest of the entire wall of the city. Beside each lookout were two essential items, a large metal bell and a green fireworks rocket as large as the moles themselves. If a lookout were to spot a threat, the first order of business was to ring the bell, the sound of which would alert the other nearby lookouts who would then ring their own bells to in turn. In a matter of seconds every bell on the city’s walls would be ringing and alert the citizens and soldiers that danger was nearby. The lookout who had rung the first bell would then ignite his firework and send it into the sky, the resulting explosion would then alert all the defenders which direction the danger had been spotted from. It was an efficient system that had served Warfang well, but aside from occasional drills, the bells had remained silent and the fireworks unlit for twelve years now, though nobody in the city was eager to see that changed. Especially not a young mole at arms named Anton as he sighed with boredom as he stood leaning against the left most stone merlon of the large square turret in the center of Warfang’s southwest wall overlooking the sea.
He was only half an hour into a two-hour watch, but the burning sun so early in the morning was so bright that he found it difficult to look through his large looking glass towards the horizon. It was only because he had lost a bet with some of his chums in the tavern that he was on sentry duty anyway; he was usually assigned to barracks where he and his fellow mole at arms would train and spar against each other, something that was active and an enjoyable for him. Not staring out into the sky for something he knew was never going to come. After the two hours he would then have to climb down inside the turret and take over for one of the loaders for half an hour before returning to the lookout post for another two hours; rinse and repeat for the whole day except for lunchtime when he would have an hour’s break.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and lifted up the looking glass with a frustrated groan. He looked away from the sun as it finally lifted up over the horizon, looking down at the sea and the shimmering orange waves making their way towards shore. He followed the waves as they swept over the golden beach known as Dragon Shore that was spread between two large rock formations on either side. To the right of the beach, he saw the top of the sharp cliffs that rounded the shore just inside the mouth of the river as it ran out to sea. To the left of the beach was a large rock formation roughly shaped like a scalene triangle reaching out a short way into the sea, its leading edge slicing the waves as they came in. Between the southeast walls of the city and the beach was a large expanse of grassy hills that formed five large humps that rose and fell along the shoreline. Anton gazed at the beach enviously, pulling the looking glass away as he scanned across the horizon with his tiny, bead like eyes.
“Another day in paradise, eh?” jeered Louie, the other lookout to his right. Anton gave him a humourless smile as he held his hand up to block the blinding sunrays. Louie lowered his looking glass as he sat down to refill and relight his pipe. Anton shook his head at his colleagues filthy habit, looking back towards the sea as his eyes blinked furiously in protest of the light. In one of those blinks, a faint speck seemed to spear in the sky far out down the coast. Anton lifted the spyglass and looked where he had seen it. He soon identified the feathered body of a hawk that was flying close to the coastline in search of food. He pulled his eyes back for a moment to roll them at the fact he had thought it was something serious for a moment. He put his eye back into the glass and swept it across the sealine slowly, scanning across the left and then back to the right as his colleague went about readying his pipe.
As Anton nearly completed his full sweep, a fly buzzed near his face and the mole pulled his eyes back for a moment as he swatted it away from him. As he returned to gazing thorough the spyglass, another black speck appeared almost immediately. He held his gaze on it as he expected for it to come into the shape of another hawk or a seagull as the speck grew larger by the moment.
“See anything?” asked Louie as he finished filling his pipe and prepared to light it.
“Just another…” began Anton before he suddenly lost his voice as the speck he had observed took on a form not that of a bird. Through the spyglass he could make out the sharp, bat like ears, dark purple membrane of the wings and a tiny figure riding on its back. He rubbed his eyes to be sure, but when the looked back, it was surely a Dreadwing far out in the distance, seemingly following the coastline towards the city.
“Louie! Dreadwing to the southwest!” he cried.
“What?!” Louie exclaimed as his pipe fell from his mouth. He scurried back to his feet, grasping his own spyglass as he fervently looked towards where Anton was pointing. Both the mole lookouts saw the distinct shape grow larger in their spyglasses, the creatures glowing eyes unnerving them even from such a far distance.
“Dragon’s teeth! It surely is!” Louie declared excitedly, lowering his spyglass and turning to Anton, “Ring that bell, you fool!”
Gasping, Anton rushed to the bell near him, tripping over just before he reached it. Pulling himself up, he grasped the rope attached to the clapper and pulled with all his might. The heavy bell rocked and the clapper let out its song as its sound began to echo across the wall. Almost immediately the sound was amplified as the other lookouts began to ring their bells in tow, banging and clanging in a wave the swept over the entire wall of the city in only a matter of seconds. The sleepy citizens of Warfang were awakened by the terrifying alarm that danger was near.
As Louie watched the intruder through his spyglass, he suddenly remembered the signal rocket and hurriedly turned towards it, grabbing the torch hanging nearby and waving it close to the fuse at the base of the rocket. At once the flames caught the fuse which started to burn and sizzle away, Louie and Anton covered their ears before both turning away and ducking just before it went off. The rocket launched high into the air, soaring for several seconds before a tremendous boom rocked the air. A brilliant, red coloured star like pattern appeared high above the wall, alerting to all that could see the direction the threat was coming from. As Anton and Louie both stood back up, dozens of other mole at arms were rushing to positions along the wall. Looking back at the city, the two moles saw groups of dragon warriors scrambling into the air as others came diving down to take their places defending the cannons. With their hearts racing, Anton and Louie looked at each other worriedly as a mole Captain came rushing over to them.
“What did you see?” he barked fiercely as he held one hand tensely on the hilt of the sword in his belt.
“Dreadwing, sir, to the southwest! Flying along the coast!” Anton replied quickly, handing his spyglass to the Captain and pointing out past the merlons. The mole officer stepped between them as he looked through the spyglass towards where Anton had pointed. Behind them, another mole solider was climbing into the cannon while another stood ready at the levers behind it reload as needed. Louie stepped up cautiously beside the Captain, looking through his own spyglass and asking, “Do you see him, sir?”
“I do,” replied the Captain with scorn in his voice as his eyes settled on the enemy, “Wait a moment…” his voice trailed off curiously as he stared at the distant Dreadwing.
“Sir?” asked Anton, fearful he may have misidentified something and raised the alarm by mistake. The Captain remained silent for a few moments as he himself doubted what it was he was seeing. Through the spyglass, he saw the Dreadwing crossing the shoreline and banking slowly towards the western wall of the city, flying towards the main gate. Though it was still miles off, he saw the ape rider on its back waving a large white flag above his head. He could also see white streamers tied to the claws of the Dreadwing stretching back past the creature’s wings to further emphasize their supposed pledge of non-aggression.
“He’s flying the flag of truce!” the Captain exclaimed in surprise, lowering the spyglass firmly, “Everyone keep your guard up! You can never be sure with these fiends. Standby your weapons, but nobody is act until we know his intentions.”
“You think the apes want to surrender to us, sir?” asked Louie hopefully.
“I doubt it, but in any case, we’ll need to send out an escort to meet him. Send a Falcon to Castle Hill at once. Request a party to meet our guest and escort him to the main gate. Step to it!”
End of Chapter 13
Next Chapter: Casus Belli
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