Hi everyone! This is my first story on fanfiction. I am open to suggestions so please review!
Disclaimer: I Do Not Own ANYTHING or ANYONE in the Spyro Universe, I only own my own OCs.
Chapter 1: Horrors of the Past
29th Floodrain, 1884
The cannon shells impacted the soft muddy earth of the hill signaling that the enemy knew that they were there despite the heavy rainfall and fog. Although the shell landed a safe distance away, the men of Battery 9 of Syllia's 23rd Royal Artillery Corps. still ducked behind their guns due to instinct. The only figure standing was a tall young officer with Major's clusters on his shoulders, he stood six foot seven and was muscularly built, the black leather rain cape making him look more aggressive than he normall was, the sodden uniform was dark blue instead of the normal bright blue of the Syllian Royal Army; and although he was in command of an artillery battery, he wore the sash and emblem of the Royal Dragoons on his uniform's right chest pocket, the golden shield emblazoned with a silver dragon, mouth open, claws out-stretched ready to tear any and all enemies to pieces, a silver hilted long sword was fastened to the left side of his belt, a standard issue officer's revolver was in the holster on his right hip.
The mud squelched as he shifted his boots to pull them out of the mud before they could sink; his arms were crossed as he surveyed what he could see of the battlefield. The man had a reputation for having a glare that could make even the most hardened veteran cower before him, this was in no small part due to the fact that one eye was a sapphire bright blue, while the other was a metallic silver. He half-turned when he heard repeated squelching of the mud signaling that his runner had returned with his battery's orders.
"Major, the order has just arrived to begin bombardment of the enemy fortifications." To this the man he gave a swift nod and turned back to face the hill, the rain had slowed from its pummeling pace and the fog had also lifted so now he could see Callen's Hill perfectly, he could see the ominous structure that was Fort Callen sitting ominously at the top.
"Major, General Dalon wants us to attack our own stronghold?" asked a young private with a slight sound of apprehension.
"The fortress is no longer flying our colors Private Mills. It is instead flying the rat-eaten standard of our enemy. If the hesitation you feel is for the POWs in the fort, don't, because last week due to our approach, the Tellenians executed all of them."
This statement drew a shout of anger from one of the men, Barnes, his older brother had been stationed at the fort when it fell and had been confirmed as a prisoner of war. After a few moments, he heard the report of one of the batteries on the south hill and saw the shell impact the south tower of the fort's wall.
"Sir, we are awaiting your orders." Stated the gunnery chief, and as James turned he saw all the men, even Barnes, at their posts and already loading the Skauss rifles. James inwardly smiled, he had been declared a genius when he was young and when he was in the Royalis Military Academy, and he'd invented the concept of a breech loading cannon to replace the aging muzzle-loading Carlson Cannons.
In honor of the instructor who had supported his idea, Professor Henry Skauss, he had named the weapon the Skauss Rifle. James gunnery crews were well trained, they could fire thirteen rounds a minute using the Skauss Rifle and were familiar with all the specialty rounds; they'd lost their first commander to a sniper attack and following his insistent requests despite his injury, General Williams had placed him in the command of this battery. Raising his hand, James looked at his men,
"All guns, your targets are the emplacements on the south and western walls, the battery on the southeastern tower, and the gate on the east wall which is the only way into the fort. Guns loaded? Ready, commence fire!"
At his words twelve lanyards were pulled and twelve guns fired hurtling three and half inch diameter shells into the fort, before the first volley had even hit the fort, the crews had another volley loaded and were firing it. Suddenly, a horn blared from behind them, James quickly looked down into the valley and cursed, some three-thousand cavalry were heading up the path at full charge, trumpets blaring, men shouting, horses whinnying, pistols and sabers ready to cleave and blast any enemy thy saw.
Looking at the base of the hill, James saw the five trenches that had been dug around the central hill come to life at the sight of the incoming cavalry. What frightened James the most was the new weapons the Tellanians were pulling up. These guns had ten rifles barrels that turned on a central shaft, the weapon had a long box that came up from the back and a crank on the side that turned and fired the barrels. He had seen these guns during the Battle of Launces, when he and his old unit, the 7th Dragoons, had infiltrated the city. The supporting units following the Dragoons had lost two-hundred men in that fight, and over a hundred fifty wounded due to those weapons that had been fittingly named "Meatgrinders".
Without warning or preamble, the meatgrinders in the trenches started firing with the riflemen. As soon as the cavalry entered the range of these guns they began to fall like wheat before a farmer's scythe. The gunners didn't care whether they hit the horse or the rider, most actually shot for the horses and let the riflemen shoot the riders out of the saddle. James watched, his eyes fixed in horror as terrified screams came from man and beast alike. In several instances the gunners kept shooting the corpses long after it was obviously dead, one soldier who was getting up was shot multiple times, his body doing a macabre "dance" as he hit each time until finally he fell upon his horse. Some had enough sense to take shelter behind the corpses of their comrades and horses and were firing their revolvers and carbines at the trenches
Then diverting his eyes, James saw the infantry beginning their advance, this time it was some nine-thousand strong, bayonets fixed and ready to charge. When he turned back to look, the cavalry charge was nearly dead to a man with the exceptions of those few who were still at the base of the hill taking cover, he saw only five cavalrymen had managed to jump over the first trench only to get cut down from behind and from in front as now all the trenches were awake and spewing lead all along the path to the fort, the infantry made a valiant effort, but they two were being cut down.
"Signalman to me!" shouted James quickly. A signalman, a boy not even nineteen yet, ran up and saluted.
"Send signal to east hill battery, 'Support infantry, focus fire on trenches, use beehive rounds and scattershot, urgent!" The boy quickly ran to the side of the hill and began waving his signal flags.
Moments later, a signal; "Major, the signal is 'what about our orders?' sir what should I send?"
"To Hell with the orders! Those are our comrades down there! Does that idiot want to sit on that hill watching this horror show?!" The boy nodded, turned and signaled exactly what James had said.
There was no acknowledgement in flags, instead it came when a volley of scattershot and beehive shells impacted the closest trench silencing nine of the meatgrinders and several dozen riflemen who were in the trench, and detonating an explosives crate that was in it too.
"All guns shift fire! Focus on the closest trench to us and use a combination of beehive rounds for the riflemen and scattershot for the meatgrinders; hurry!"
Within moments, multiple shells began impacting the trenches at various angles, apparently the northeastern batteries had moved their guns too. Three batteries of twelve guns on three hills were firing volley after volley into the low trench, the dirt and sandbag embankment was shredded in moments, the razor wire was in pieces and nearly all the meatgrinders were out of commission, their gunners either dead or fleeing. The infantry commander waved a 'clear to advance' signal to James at which he replied 'confirmed, proceed to first trench'.
Then, James saw the second trench beginning to focus on the soldiers advancing on the trench. James turned to the young signalman again.
"Signal batteries, raise elevation by five to hit second trench, allied infantry to take cover in first trench. Remain there until 'all clear' is given." Again the confirmation was not the flags, but rather the shells hitting the second trench. James subconciously remembered the old motto of the Artillery Corps. 'Action speaks loud, cannonfire speaks louder'.
At this time however, the cannons that were stationed in the fifth trench, began firing back. Although the Tellanians only had the old muzzle loading cannons, they were deadly nonetheless; their first volley fell short but their second volley impacted with the east hill batteries destroying six of their guns and silencing four more.
"Damn it, I didn't expect those cannons were that accurate. Change of plans. Signalman, have Mack at the East Battery stand down to tend to his wounded, gunners, elevate to forty-five degrees and take out those cannons."
"Understood, sir!"
"Chief, can the boys manage a mad minute?" The chief grinned, looked at the boys and back to James.
"Major, this is possibly the last battle of the war, If they believe they can end the war, they could do a mad hour." James was shocked, he honestly hadn't thought about the tide of the war, but then again here they were barely fifty miles from the Syllia/Tellanos border; an overwhelming victory here could push the enemy back to their homeland and could make the Federal Committee seriously consider peace as compared to an invasion of their homeland.
He had no doubt that the Syllian Army could march fifty miles plus another twenty-five to the city of Chamberlain, which was the hometown of Chairman Reems of the Committee. Reems had a very vocal attitude when it came to the committee, and he would not tolerate an invading nation capturing his hometown and raiding it in response to a war that according to the Federation tabloids, he did not want.
"Chief, if they can fire twenty rounds a minute for one hour; they just might end the war." The crews had obviously heard the conversation and made a renewed effort to drop hot lead on the enemy.
One hour and roughly twelve hundred rounds later, the Syllian forces had been bolstered by reinforcements and the fifth trench was under continuous fire from the artillery on the hills and from the meatgrinders that the infantry had managed to turn around and fire uphill the enemy that were coming out of the fortress to try and bolster their own flagging strength.
A few moments later, a loud roar resounded overhead. A wounded private in the first trench looked up and began shouting. James also looked up and grinned, the ultimate Syllian reinforcements were arriving: the Dracocorps.
For over three-hundred years, the Kingdom of Syllia had maintained friendly relations with the dragon settlements around the nation. The dragons of the north, too few to actually threaten a modern army, allowed a sort of union between human and dragon; this was the creation of the Dracocorps; the dragons are taught by one of their elders about humans, and the humans learn about dragons. The Dragoons are the human branch of the Dracocorps; the dragons are the main force. James, being from Launces and thus raised around them, had seen the dragons in combat before and he knew what they were capable of, each possessed their own elemental power from fire, earth, ice, and electricity. The rarer elements were wind, fear, shadow and poison; the rarest of all was light. The only dragon who could use all the elements was the extremely rare purple dragon, but they were born once every ten generations.
Naturally they had heard rumors of another dragon civilization in what was known as the Southlands to the Syllians; where another purple dragon had been born and was fighting a war against an evil dragon known as Malefor; the Dragoons and the Dracocorps had petitioned several times to request to be deployed to the Southlands to investigate the rumors and, if proven true, assist in the defeat of this 'Dark Master'; however, with the invasion of Syllia five months before, those petitions had vanished; the motto of the Dracocorps' humans and dragons alike was, 'the homeland comes first'.
Although the dragons openly stated that when the homeland was secure, they would head south; the dragons above James now, were some of the more vocal ones about the war and their anger at the Federation was apparent to any who looked up at them.
The leader was a dragon known as Shimmer, and he was one of the rare light dragons in the Dracocorps. Raised in Launces alongside James and his little brother Pyre, Shimmer had often been the voice of reason. No surprise since Light Dragons were known for being practical, calm, and polite.
Shimmer flew low over the plains and hills, slowly closing in on the fort. He opened his mouth and a bright blue-white beam of light fired down into the fort. He kept it up for five seconds until his wing of five other dragons had fired their elements also and passed by. James looked back atthe fortress to view the destruction the dragons had wrought.
Shimmer's brother, Pyre, had set most of the fifth trench on fire, an ice dragon had frozen the east wall, two earth dragons had shattered the southeast tower, another fire dragon had set the open tower ablaze, Shimmer himself had blown open the gate, detonated the mortars inside the fort and had blown up a munitions room on the south gate creating another opening in the fort.
James found himself whistling in amazement as the enemy survivors of the dragon raid began to file out of the fortress. One thing you could count on was the ability of the dragons to control their power and intimidate the enemy. After a mere seven second raid, the enemy's will to fight was completely sapped and the survivors stumbled out of the fortress' defenses.
At the sight of several hundred Syllian rifles and bayonets pointing at them, the few surviving Federation soldiers surrendered to a man. Steadying himself on his cane, James walked down the hill to where Shimmer and his wing had landed. Shimmer was average size for a dragon of his young age, at the shoulders he was ten feet, with his neck and head up, he was fifteen feet.
Upon finishing his talk with his brother and the wing, he turned and saw James coming and walked over to him, a broad smile creased his muzzle.
"Hello James, I expected you would still be in Launces resting."
"You know me Shimmer, too tough to take down and too damn thick skulled to stay put. Even if I'm wounded. Speaking of which, Bertram's going to have my head if I've managed to tear these stitches loose."
Shimmer laughed, a sound that boomed and always made people turn heads to look in surprise. When James and Shimmer had joined the Dracocorps, they had been assigned to each other as partners. They shared a close, brotherly bond since they both were born and raised in Launces and as such, Shimmer considered James an unofficial dragon. Shimmer's brother Pyre was of like the same mind and since James was older than both of them looked to James as a big brother.
Shimmer's wing was one of several assigned to Launces, as the city was the official home of the Dracocorps. The people of Launces often watched the wing practice their maneuvers with mixed fascination and surprise. The abilities of dragons often fascinated humans, some more so than others. As the rest of the dragons landed, a messenger from the dragon settlement of Volcanos landed with an incredible reverse flap. He half ran, half stumbled towards Shimmer and panted, clearly out of breath.
"Shimmer, great news! The war in the Southlands is over! The purple dragon defeated Malefor!"
At this the dragon lifted up their heads and roared in jubilation. James smiled, then suddenly, another storm appeared and rain began to fall in thick sheets, and on the wind there was a voice, deep and resonant.
"You cannot defeat me! I am eternal!"
Shadows began swirling around James as everyone near him was mute, completely oblivious of what was happening around them. He tried to shout a warning, but his voice was drowned out by a malicious laugh. The shadows were on top of James before hecould do anything, he gave one last call to alarm before he was enveloped in darkness and silenced. A faint voice echoed through the shadows, a light in the darkness. It seemed familiar, yet he could not place it. Shrugging, he began walking towards the light and the voice.
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"W… up! James, please w… up! Wake up! James!" the voice called, barely penetrating the dark; James moved to turn, then he suddenly he felt a shaking sensation. His eyes flew open and with a shout he jumped out of the bed as if it had become a block of ice.
Getting his bearings, he turned and began to recognize his surroundings, he was in his castle, or more precisely, the master bedroom solar in his castle and before him stood his wife, the dragoness shape shifter Lysa, still in her nightgown and beside her their daughter Thera, both looking quite alarmed, at the door to the solar stood Bertram, his family steward, Captain Jonathan Havvers, commander of the Launces militia, and Captain Deran, the leader of the castle guard. Outside, he could hear Shimmer and Pyre in an uproar, obviously worried about him. He looked at himself, he was breathing heavily, sweating profusely and his heart was beating a hundred miles a minute. After a few seconds, he was able to pull himself together, take a deep breath and calm down.
"I'm alright, I'm okay now. Lysa."
"Are you sure, love? You suddenly started screaming in your sleep, were you having another nightmare?"
"I….I don't know; I haven't had a nightmare that severe since before we married. All I know is that something is wrong, Captain Deran, I have a suspicion that something is amiss. I want the city watch and the guard doubled. Until I find out what this nightmare was warning me about, I want the guard to be ready for anything." Captain Deran nodded swiftly.
"At once my lord."
Slowly, James grabbed his cane and limped over to the huge window that let him look out the castle and let him see his city. Satisfied the city wasn't burning, he turned and went into his study in the library. Inside, he saw three pedistals next to his desk and chalkboard.
He sighed and looked at the three pedestals by his desk, which of the three books will he have to open: the Auralis, Crimsonas, or the Grimoire? In fact, why didn't he just go ahead and ask Pyre to burn the Grimoire now? It wasn't like he was going to use any blueprints in that book anyway. Still, he wondered what this dream was, and what it's outcome would be.
Little did he know that in the Southlands, in the city of Warfang, another had awoken from a similar nightmare, and this time he and his mate, a black dragoness who lay beside him, would need all the help they could get.
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Woo-wee! First chapter down, who knows how many to go?! XD
Seriously though, I'll try to update again soon, however the wi-fi is kind of spotty sometimes.
Okay everyone, this is the first chapter I've rewritten. I've eliminated the holes in the story here and also fixed the timeline.