Hey there, it's shade again, back with another chapter of The Black Elixir. I just wanted you guys to know that I am really enjoying this story, and I feel like it's been one of my best so far.
I will be adding a little footnote that will concern the usage of the ancient language among the Elitars and Patains later on. Perhaps I will add it to my Spyro Myths and Lore collection.
Spyro's head pounded viciously as he attempted to catch his night's sleep. Due to the events that had happened previously, and Spyro's concern for the already fragile state Cynder was in, the dragon had asked the dragoness if he could stay with her for the night. While she would normally reject such an offer, this time she consented. The dragoness was too tired to fight for her need of lonesomeness, and deep down inside –even if she would never accept it to herself- she needed the dragon's company.
She felt terrible for the experience that the dragon had gone through. Spyro's terrifying screams had awakened the dragoness, and watching the dragon writhing in pain made her realize what had happened. Cynder, worried for the safety of her partner, thought immediately about telling the guardians about the dragon's doings; but fear of being blamed secretly by them kept her from moving quickly. Even if they had never heard it from them, Cynder felt that the Guardians still feared her, and knew that they had doubts about keeping her in the temple.
Cynder's heart pushed itself up to her throat as Spyro's eyes opened, and his iris shrunk to where it seemed the light of life had left him. Cynder rushed to the dragon's side, and placed a paw on his flank.
"Please, Ancestors, do not do this to me," she pleaded in prayer as Spyro trembled violently. She prayed and prayed, begging for all the ancestors, fates, and gods to stop their doings. She could not lose Spyro, not like this. He had done so much for her, and to have him pass away due to the memories of her past was the ultimate form of torture Cynder could imagine coming from her cruel destiny. The evils would never leave, would they?
At last she sat back as Spyro became motionless. The energy consumed by the adrenaline in her body was much more than she really had. She almost collapsed as her sickness took its toll. Sitting on her haunches, she prayed and prayed until Spyro woke. The ancestors had finally answered her pleads.
And so Cynder agreed to have Spyro stay with her; since it was the least she could do. The dragoness quickly fell asleep, more in peace than she had been in the past few days. His warmth soothed her, oddly enough for the dragoness. She was ever so used to the cold.
Spyro, on the other hand, was unable to close a single eye. What he saw in that window into Cynder's memories not only frightened him out of his wits, but also made him feel great sorrow for the dragoness that pressed her flank against his. Her past was ghastly, and to imagine going through it in reality was agonizing. He thought of all of his hardships on his journey. He thought of all the blows he had taken, and even of the terrible stabs and cuts that Cynder had given him in her corrupted state; but none of it was as cruel and wicked and painful as what he went through but a few moments back. The dragon closed his eyes, and, struggling, finally reached sleep. The confines of his mind were not too caring though.
Again he fell into an abyss, and he began to feel slight pain. This time he wasn't in as much misery as before, but he awakened as Cynder yet again. His vision was blurry –as if veiled by the barrier that separates dreams from reality- but he found himself dragging his body across the floor. There was the laughter of apes all about him. The clamor of the fiends was mixed with the sound of metal breastplates and rusted shields clashing. Spyro looked about and noticed that he was surrounded by the villains. Looking before him, he saw Gaul.
"Get up, Whelp!" He shouted as he kicked Spyro across the face, nearly breaking his jaw. "If this mole kills you, you'll finally prove to the world that you're worth nothing." He chuckled. "But that won't make Master happy, will it? So move it!"
Gaul grabbed the dragon by the throat, crushing it with what seemed more than the needed strength to kill him. He turned Spyro around though, and placed him before a terror stricken mole. He was trapped in the middle of the ring made by the furious-looking apes that gazed at both the dragon and him. The mole wore a leather combat vest, and was clad with a simple short sword and a wooden shield. He gazed at the dragon with horror, as blood dripped from the tip of his weapon. Spyro looked down at his chest, and had noticed that he bled. The cut wasn't deep, but it surely irked him. The apes exploded into even more wild laughter as the dragon touched his chest, examining the wound.
"The poor whelp's never seen blood!" One shouted from the crowd that surrounded Spyro.
"The poor peasant mole has probably seen more terrors from his fat wife, at least!" Another yelled.
This oddly bothered the dragon, and he looked at the mole once again. The poor creature trembled on its feet. Tears could be seen coming from his blood-shot eyes. Spyro looked at his lips, and noticed them speak the word 'Please' in silence.
Sudden rage filled the dragon's heart, as if some terrible shadow took control of him. It hurt at first to resist the evil as it shrouded over him, but quickly enough he lost his strength. Without a will, Spyro moved onto the mole with great speed. His claws did quick work with his blade. Quickly he was unarmed, and was on his back. As Spyro triumphantly placed the weight of her small paw on the moles chest, he ceased. Looking at him as he begged for mercy brought some sort of pity to his heart, and his will returned momentarily.
"Kill the beast, you fool!" Spyro could hear from behind him as the apes wailed in excitement. His pity was only momentary, and quickly enough he dug his teeth into his throat. Biting a foe's neck was eternally foreign to Spyro, and doing it now disgusted him. He felt the blood of his enemy rush into his throat as it pulsed out of him. The metallic-flavored liquid tasted awful, and Spyro had the urge to vomit. But he did not, and had no choice but to swallow the thick, warm blood.
It was only a moment until the mole was dead. His limbs twitched as the last strengths left him. Spyro saw the light leave the moles eyes right before he was unattached again, and briskly awoken.
He opened his eyes, and was soothed by the fact that he was back to his own body. The dragon trembled from horns to tail as he looked around, alert. He sought the potion which he had drank yesterday, and wondered if he had drank it again. It made no sense to him that he should continue to gaze into Cynder's memories, but he assumed that getting side-effects from the draught was not entirely impossible.
Spyro looked to Cynder as she slept in complete peace. Not a single thing bothered her, and that brought slight joy to the overwhelmed Spyro. He frowned, as he suddenly came to the realization that Cynder had already experienced what he went through in his dream.
"Oh, Cyn…" he whispered sorrowfully, as he put a wing on her back. He furrowed his brows, as he began to wonder how many more of these memories were to come to him. He suddenly worried about it, and convinced himself that he had to tell Ignitus about last night's events.
He was quickly out of Cynder's room and in the great halls of the temple. Spyro was quite careful about leaving the dragoness' side. He brought the nearest linen covers to the dragoness and placed them atop her gently. The dragon did not want to awaken Cynder, for he knew that sleep like this came to her seldom. As he carefully trotted out, he looked back to his young companion, and smiled as he noticed her adjusting to his absence.
"Good," Spyro whispered to himself. "Sleep under the kind care of the Ancestors."
Spyro marched towards the mirror hall through the ancient labyrinth that was the temple. The dragon had become so accustomed to the endless halls and passages of the haven that he hardly took the time to see the craft of it –a great flaw of the young dragon indeed!
The temple was all one great masterpiece, built by the ancestors to honor the gods. Every hall had carefully crafted carvings of the ancient days of great heroes and kings. If Spyro would have paid attention –and if the torn and eroded walls weren't so mistreated by time, he would have seen in carvings tales like The Coming of the First Dragon, and tales of how the first languages were made. It is even true that, with a sharp eye, you could see many purple dragons and their great deeds. Ignitus and the other guardians worked hard to restore the works of this ancient world, but found themselves quickly abandoning the task. The walls would only collapse before their eyes with every effort they made to remove the roots and trunks which were the least kind to these relics of the past. Spyro would see them laboring hard now and again, saving something that was completely un-salvageable.
As Spyro turned a corner, he came to the only mural his eyes were ever drawn to. The image was partially unclear, but a few carvings were saved from destruction. Many dragons flew in from both sides of the moral towards the center. The dragons on the right were significantly different to those on the left. On the right, the dragons looked great and noble, wearing capes and armor of gold like those worn by all the heroes Spyro knew of; on the left, the dragons wore simpler attires but looked greater in size. In the middle there was a small stream of calm water. On the right side sat a purple dragon, lifting his hand and reaching out towards the other carving on the left of the stream. The carving on the left was that of a black dragoness, fierce but fair like the feminine champions of the past. It was lamentably broken down the middle, where the two dragons held hands.
Spyro had asked about the mural when it first drew his attention. Ignitus was pleased to hear that the young purple dragon was curious about the carvings, for it was one of his personal favorites.
"Ah," Ignitus spoke back then, pleasantly surprised. "I am more than glad that you ask, young dragon. You see, these carvings tell us the tale of Ferlak the peacemaker. Back in ancient days beyond our reckoning, the two greatest dragon tribes were at war. The Elitars, fair dragons of the eastern isles fought fiercely with the powerful Patians of the west. The gods were angry at the dragons, their greatest creations, for slaying one another like beasts, and brought down great disease and sorrow to the lands. During the year of the dragon, came Ferlak, their generation's purple dragon. Ferlak was born under the rule of the Elitar king, Ge-Ilit. The king himself chose to raise the purple dragon, and taught him to hate the Patians like he did. To Ferlak, this hate never seemed right to him, but he didn't stand against it until he went out to war.
"In his first war campaign as the prince of the Elitar, Ferlak met the princess of the Patians. You know well that no dragoness in any age has ever shown weakness, and the princess was no different. She was brave, indeed; her courage met no end. Through many a battle she led her people, and through the fire and smoke she defeated many of the Elitar.
"But you see, the brave princess was suddenly struck by the god's illness, and she fell to its merciless wrath. In a small village they had conquered near the warfront she collapsed and nearly surrendered to death. The princess's men feared for her wellbeing, and knew that the only one that could cure the god's affliction was the purple dragon. Her men, knowing no other solution, removed the princess's armor and banner of war, and forced the village leader's wife to stay her in her house.
"The Patian soldiers abandoned the village, in hopes that this would bring the prince and his men to reclaim it; and so they did. There was no struggle, as the village people were faithful to the Elitar. Upon arriving, the village leader's wife told the noble prince of the fallen dragoness, keeping her promise of not telling him of her true origin. Prince Ferlak was led to the room where the ill dragoness was kept, and upon seeing her he fell in love with her beauty.
"For a long time the prince stayed in this small village, sundering himself from his men to heal the princess's affliction. The king's men marched on to battle, while the love-bewitched prince stayed. It took many passings of the sun to awaken the princess from her dark sleep –a curse that came with the god's affliction. Upon her awakening, the princess was bewildered to know that the purple dragon, adopted son of her people's greatest enemy, brought her to health with much compassion and care. The young prince was unaware of the princess's true identity, so the dragoness thought this would benefit her.
"The princess started to prepare a ploy against Ferlak. She would wait for him to heal her, and once she could have the strength to return to her Patian kingdom in the far west, she would assassinate the purple dragon in the night, and then abandon the village with his fallen foe's head as a trophy. But things didn't go quite that way.
"With the passing of days, Ferlak would begin to speak to her more often. They had many conversations about the war and of its consequences. As the princess deemed it better to stay silent most of the time –as to assure that she would not reveal her own identity, the Elitar prince was the one who did most of the talking. He told her of his fears in concern to the war, and unveiled to her his dislike for the entire dispute. He was so clever and wise that day by day the princess would be convinced by Ferlak. Maybe indeed the war was only the result of the avarice of a few. Maybe the hate that both sides had was held by pillars of misunderstandings and lies. The princess had never met someone as knowledgeable in concern to the history of their people as a whole. He told her of days when the race of dragons was one, and how they guarded the world with noble hearts. Ferlak reminded the princess that during such days the gods were proud of their creations, and brought them peace and prosperity.
"Amidst the prince's care and words, the Patian princess also fell in love. Her heart was captured by the dragon's kindness, so that even after the dragoness healed, she dared not proceed with her plan to slay him. They secluded themselves from the troubles of the world, and for two whole years the dragons were assumed dead by their peoples.
"It was during the last few days of their seclusion that the princess revealed the secret about her true title as the princess to Ferlak. The Elitar prince was at first surprised to know that the great and merciless slayer of his people was now his mate, and that this secret had gone unsaid as their love grew. But his heart held no pain for her words, for he knew that, oddly enough, it was all meant to be. It was then that the prince thought about the Great War again, and yearned to end it once and for all.
"He had a plan, you see. Ferlak now knew that, amongst both of their peoples' laws, a bonding of lovers in between two fighting families would require the rivaling parties to end their war. The Elitar prince told the dragoness that he would depart and travel to his kingdom to the east, and asked the princess to do the same. The dragon instructed the Patian princess to return to her kingdom and to talk to the king, her father. She would have to convince him to come with her to the gentle stream of Lagia where their kingdoms were separated from one another. Upon reaching the stream and having their forces face each other, the two would come before the stream, and there they would bind themselves in mate-ship.
"The princess was afraid that throughout their journeys one or the other would fail in their mission, or die trying. The purple dragon used his powers to summon two great stars that would shine upon the northern skies. If one star or the other disappeared during their mission, it was a sign that they had fallen. With the love stars in the sky, the dragons returned to their kingdoms.
"The people of Elitar and Patian were equally surprised with the return of their noble leaders. Throughout the two dragons' absence, death had claimed the kings the both realms; each losing their life in battle. Great stewards had taken their places, and with the coming of the Ferlak and the princess they removed themselves and crowned the two.
"The last days of the season of earth had passed, and with the season of fire arriving both dragons looked for their beloved stars in the night. They both glistened brightly, and assured both Ferlak and the princess that the time to move had come.
"So they gathered their forces and moved toward the stream of Lagia. Both the Elitars and the Patians were wholly surprised by the fact that, even with as great an army as they had, not a single warrior had the right to carry his weapons. They sailed and marched to the center isle in much confusion. Doubt about their leaders filled the hearts of both the Elitar and Patian men. As they marched and realized that there was no opposition to confront them, their thoughts became merry. The soldiers of both realms danced and sang in joy as they traveled from the far shores of the center isle to where the two dragons had promised they would meet.
"And so they both arrived, and throughout the traverse the Elitar and Patian warriors were taught both humbleness and care by their new leaders. Both of the peoples wished for no war by the time the forces met before the steam, and only cheered when both Ferlak and the princess bonded in mate-ship. That alliance ended the most terrible war to happen amongst dragons until the coming of the Dark Master. That alliance was never broken, and so it still stands; as the creation of the great guardianship was their idea. They knew that peace could only be held if a council composed of dragons from all of the realms led the race as a whole. The task of holding the late-hatching eggs until the year of the dragon was also given to the guardians. This to them was particularly important, considering that a purple dragon was born every ten generations." And so Ignitus smiled, as he gazed at the awe-stricken savior. Spyro's eyes were held wide open, and for a moment he soaked the whole story in; remembering each detail with delicate care. He imagined it all happen before him, like any dazzled whelp might after hearing a grand tale.
But at last, Spyro's visage changed. He suddenly seemed troubled, and shot his gaze down in wonder. His eye ridged furrowed, as his lips tightened in slight perplexity.
"Is there anything wrong?" Ignitus asked after a moment of wonder.
"Ignitus, why didn't you ever mention the Patian princess's name?" Spyro finally asked with a great deal of curiosity. "Does she not have one?"
Ignitus sighed as his head swooned down in disappointment. The great guardian realized why he asked him this question, and was ashamed to answer it.
"You see, Spyro," Ignitus started. "Unfortunately, the names of black dragons and dragoness are forbidden in our books and history; it has been forbidden by the code of our people. The princess's name was lost in time, long ago."
With such said, Spyro's noble nature roused from within, and before Ignitus could further explain, he spoke out.
"But that's not fair, Ignitus!" He spoke in a lightly risen voice. "All dragons deserve to have their names remembered if their deeds were great, don´t they?" Once again, Ignitus sighed.
"Well, unfortunately, Spyro, like the crack on this mural, not all things can be mended. Our ancestors held these codes true, and hid her name from all our records." Spyro sat, silenced by this bitter taste of reality. Ignitus looked at the purple dragon and felt great discomfort. He worried that this truth had spoiled the tale for him, for Ignitus knew that above all things his heart belonged to Cynder. He would care for no one in a greater way than he cared for his companion.
"You know," Ignitus started. "There was one name that the Elitar would give to this black dragoness." Spyro's eye beamed.
"Really?" the dragon asked with the fire of hope rekindled in his heart.
"Well, yes," the fire guardian continued. "The Elitar held a name for her during the war, for you see, this princess was the fiercest of all the Patian champions. Her claws and fangs slew many a great warriors; and so they gave her the name 'Cynder.'" With this, the purple dragon was captured but torn. It troubled the dragon that the black dragoness' name could actually belong to that of a fiend.
"Oh," Spyro retorted.
"Indeed, young dragon, for Cynder in the ancient language of the Elitar meant 'Destroyer of Skies.' It was a terrible name to give to her, since in this age titles were worth more than gold." Spyro looked down again.
"But Spyro, two you must know that will bring warmth to your heart. While Cynder could mean 'Destroyer of Skies' in their ancient language, it could also stand for 'Destroyer of Terrors.' This name was used to speak of the princess even after the end of the war, for it told others of her strength to overcome the evils of the world." Spyro was less brought down, and his heart quickly healed as he showed interest once again.
"Is that true, Ignitus?" he asked, as if hoping for reassurance that could bring further joy to his heart.
"It is, Spyro," the elder dragon replied. "And there is but one more thing you should know. As I told you before, Ferlak was called "The Peacemaker" after the end of the dreadful War of Ages. That name in their language was 'Spyro.'" Ignitus chuckled lightly, as Spyro's jaw dropped in secret. "It was actually a surprise to me when I first heard your name," the dragon continued. "It was almost as if it was meant to be."
"Meant to be," Spyro said to himself as he gazed at the mural, sidetracked from his original intent. His eyes grazed the image slowly, as he noticed every detail of the carefully crafted Mural. "Meant to be…"
And so he turned his head, rose from his rump, and moved on across the hall. As thoughts of two great dragon's saving the world came to him –one dragon purple and the other black, he could hear words being spoken in the distance.
"We must be careful," they said. "Cynder could be naught but a liability!"
Please Comment.
Thankies!