Chapter 3:

The Return of the Duals

The group of dragons walked through the city streets, completely content with their positions. They were talking and laughing, but when darkness crept over the horizon they made their way back to the dorms. When they got there Zarss said his goodbyes and flew to the Ambassador center for the second and last time. His thoughts, though, were elsewhere. They lingered on Cynder, for even as the distance between them grew, the feeling of her mind did not diminish. He could feel it, the basic colours of her most present emotions apparent. The why, though, was hidden from him, for he had no true attachments to her. When he got to his room he flew in through the window, not even bothering to check in. He started pacing, trying to gather his memories and thoughts, wanting to figure this out. Something lay just at the edge of his mind, and the more he reached for it the further it got.

"Aarggh! Why do things have to be so damn complicated!?" Zarss thought about this, how he was talking to himself. He did this quite often, and Master Mesilec hated it. This thought put a smile on his face, which quickly faded once he returned to the matters at hand. He placed his paw and transferred as much energy into it as he dared. It was a nightly ritual for him, and he did it automatically. This usually calmed his mind and fatigued him, but not tonight. His mind was racing, and he knew that he had to move, see her, talk to her, or just be near her. This drove him crazy, for he did not know why. And then something hit him. The vision. Why didn't I see it before! His realization hit him like a ton of bricks. For with this came the explanation why. Not to just one, but two questions. He knew why this was happening, and the only thing he could was blame the person responsible.

"Damn you Malefor."

The next morning came, and Spyro and Cynder were waiting for their new friend, and time was running out. Class was going to begin, and they didn't like the idea of being late. If he didn't get here soon they were going to be.

"Where is he?" Spyro muttered impatiently.

"Why don't we just go to him? We know where he's staying," Cynder suggested, wanting to know what was taking him so long.

"Do you actually know where the Ambassador Center is?" Spyro asked.

"Of course." They got there in ten minutes after asking for directions, much to Cynder's embarrassment. When they found Zarss's suite, they knocked and waited.

"What? Can't I get some-" Zarss cut off his sentence.

"Aaahhh, excellent, guests. Come in, come in," he motioned with his paw, and the surprised dragons complied. His suite was incredibly fancy. The hallway they walked through ended in a large open room, obviously meant for a large dragon. And by large, they meant large, huge, gargantuan, enormous. It looked as if the masters and guardians could all fit in here and still have enough room to fit all the moles of Warfang, and then some. When they walked over to what looked like the living room, they saw three large bottles of Vocatus, and some fine brands at that. They were all empty.

"I thought you didn't drink," Spyro said with wide eyes.

"I just started. Seven hours and fourteen minutes ago, to be exact," Zarss answered the unasked question, as he walked away from the cooler with another bottle in his paw.

"Would you like some? It is the best brand I'm told, some of the best in Warfang," Zarss offered, but they both refused.

"Zarss, what's wrong? What happened? You can tell us," Cynder crooned, almost convincing a half drunk Zarss to divulge his secret. Almost.

"I… no. I can't tell you. If I tell you, one of you will be shocked to the core and have no idea how to take the information, and the other will probable become a shell of a dragon, and I don't want that for you. There's not enough alcohol in Warfang and Avalar combined for what you would feel. Although there might be enough tranquilizers…," Zarss went off on that thought alone, still gulping down his drink. He didn't make any real indications, so the two dragons were left thinking. Coming back to her senses, Cynder broke the silence.

"Well, you can't go to class drunk, so put down the bottle and let me get you something to clear your head…," she said as she started to look through his cabinets for something to do just that. He answered as Spyro was getting him up.

"Class? There aren't any classes today," Zarss said, and then Spyro thought he knew he was delusional. There was always class. They would have to go to it until they were twenty, or they showed proficiency in all areas.

"Wait," Zarss said, pointing up to a speaker horn.

"Attention all students, class has been suspended for the next two days, thank you," a voice obviously belonging to Cyril announced over it.

"How… what…hhhuuu?" Spyro looked dumbfounded, looking from Zarss to the speaker and back again.

"I guessed, I guess," Zarss sat back down, unsure of himself.

"Well, do you know why?" Cynder asked.

"Of course I do. I may be drunk, well buzzed as they say, but I still…," Zarss said, putting an emphasis on the zz in buzzed and not even finishing.

"Well… why?"

"My kin will arrive today. The foolish fools want to impress them with a nice meeting and a show of titles. Foolish fools," Zarss couldn't seem to focus on any one person, and the grin on his face seemed to be unnatural. Spyro made a mental note to not let his older friend get drunk again.

"Ooo, that means that today you get to meet Elder Zantharos and Master Mesilec today! They're not going to like this…," Zarss started to mumble on.

"Come on Spyro, help me find some rope or something," Cynder started to rummage around his apartment for anything like that. When Spyro found some he gave it to her, wondering what she was planning. She tied one end around Zarss's neck and held the other in her paw. She made a leash. Zarss looked from it to Cynder and back again, though obviously thinking of something. He got up and walked toward the bedroom, dragging her with him. Realizing it was futile to try and stop him, she let go. Not ten seconds later he came back out, with a large pouch over his right shoulder and another bottle in his hand. Believing he was ready to go, Cynder grabbed the end of the leash and walked him out of the building. Spyro was on the floor laughing.

Halfway to the herbs center they ran into three people they had rather not.

"Well hello again Spyro. I see you have your man all wrapped up," Maryli smirked. Cider just looked at Cynder and Zarss, and the leash she was holding.

"Now, if you don't mind, we'll just be leaving with Spyro," She stepped forward, causing Cynder to step aside, she didn't want to (or couldn't) get in a fight, and with Zarss as a burden, it wasn't a possibility.

"Why is you be so mean? We is all friends here, maybe there, but I don't like it there. But here, we is friends here, so why don't you just have a drink. It's on me," Zarss gestured with the half empty bottle. Maryli looked at it once and knocked it out of his paw, causing it to shatter on the cobblestone block. Zarss just reached into his pouch and grabbed another one. This one though he flipped, so the cork was facing the ground. He slammed it down on Maryli's forehead, causing everyone to jump back except for Cynder, who guessed that would happen. The sickening crunch, though, caused her to wince, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the bottle breaking or Maryli's skull.

"Fine, then we is not friends, but I did offer," Zarss mumble as Cider and Ember fussed over Maryli's unconscious body. He pulled out yet another bottle and opened it as Cynder led him away from the scene. They were going to hear about that later. When they got to the herbs center they went to find someone who could help, Flame. Flame was a serious drinker and every morning he got something for the night, so he didn't wake up hung over. Thankfully he was here.

"Hello Flame, don't make a comment about the leash or I will kill you. Anyway, I need something to clear the alcohol out of his system. Do you know what would help us?" Cynder glared at him as he snickered, and he abruptly stopped. He grabbed a small bag of mint and another of coffee beans.

"Okay, what you want to do is grind the beans into a fine powder, and put the leaves into boiling water; let it sit for three minutes, and then put in the powder. It should stay a thin liquid. If it gets thick then you need more water," Flame sighed, sad that he was passing along his secret. Cynder took the small bags and hurriedly walked out the door. When they got back to Zarss's suite they started on the medicine while Zarss just roamed around the apartment. Spyro got the water boiling, and Cynder ground up the coffee. When it was done Spyro asked the all important question.

"How are we going to get him to drink this?" He wrinkled his nose at the strong smelling drink.

"He's drunk, he'll drink anything as long as we tell him its booze," Cynder put an emphasis on the word, it forming a terrible feeling in her mouth. A scowl and matching frown formed on her face as she walked to him with the drink in her paw. In the end they didn't have to say anything. She took the Vocatus bottle from him and replaced it with the cup she was holding. He shrugged and gulped it down. At first, it looked like he thought it wasn't half bad, but his expression quickly changed as he ran to the nearest trash can and hurled. Cynder used her wind breath to keep the stench away, but Spyro and her still had to move toward the other end of the room. Not long after, though, he was calling for them.

"Spyro, get over here and get rid this crap," Zarss yelled as he slumped to the floor.

"Why me? It's your barf," Spyro called back, staying thirty feet away.

"I don't know, use your fire breath," Zarss whined as he crawled away from the can and the foul stench. Spyro complied and unleashed a torrent of flames that quickly incinerated the trash can and its contents. He happily noted that the wooden beam next to it didn't catch on fire. Everything went silent except for Zarss's moans, and then Cynder broke in.

"How are you feeling? Do you want me to get you some water?" she crooned, her voice steady and even, her emerald eyes making him feel soft and vulnerable. He nodded and turned away from her, still resting on the cushion that he had gotten onto. She left, and came back with a water skin filled. He sipped it slowly, unsure of his own stomach. It was almost thirty minutes before they said anything.

"Sorry that you had to deal with that. I wasn't expecting you to come looking for me," Zarss kept looking down, to avoid their gazes.

"Can I ask why were you drinking?" Spyro was curious. While he truly didn't know the dragon that lay before him, what he did know was that Zarss didn't drink.

"Yes, you may. But don't expect an answer." Spyro waited, and when Zarss didn't say anything else Spyro did.

"Well, why were you drinking?" He rephrased himself before Zarss could come out with a smart-aleck remark about how he didn't actually ask the question.

"If I didn't tell you while I was drunk then I won't tell you now. It's for me to know and you to never find out." Zarss raised himself to a proper position, holding his head up high and straightening himself out.

"Well, to change the subject to a livelier topic, you told us that later today your tribe would be arriving. Tell us about them… or at least the people you know best," Cynder asked, curious about these new people.

"Ooo, that's something I'll talk about. Well first of all, if Elder Zantharos agrees, then we'll be doubling our class size-well… yeah just about, no, wait… increasing it by one half, yeah because there are eleven girls and three guys, actually if you don't count me than there would be two…. Anywho, the people of any real importance are Elder Zantharos and Master Mesilec. Master Mesilec is Elder Zantharos's son and is the third oldest dragon alive at around two thousand years old, but he hates being called that. Whenever someone makes a crack about how old he is he always says something like 'If you think that I'm old then Zantharos is ancient,' or 'If you want to bug someone about age go to Zantharos'," Zarss's imitation of Master Mesilec made Cynder giggle, he huffed and waited for her to stop. When she did Spyro had another question.

"Well, who is Elder Zantharos?"

"OH MY ANCESTORS, you don't know who Elder Zantharos is? He's like the most powerful, awesome, oldest, wisest dragon alive! He is the only dual to ever obtain more power than a regular dragon, and on top of that, he was the only one dragon that Malefor feared in life!" Zarss was so adamant about this that he had gotten up and was waving his wings around, obviously aggravated.

"Wait… what? How can that be?" Spyro asked in total disbelief, believing his friend to be exaggerating.

"Well, when he was a thousand years old he mastered combination, which was right around when he had his son, Master Mesilec. His two basic elements were electricity and earth, which when combined made nature. He could after much training manipulate the weather and other aspects of the world around him. It came to the point where just his mood could affect certain things. They say when Qorkary, his mate, died it was a down pour. It didn't stop raining for two weeks," Zarss explained, as if he was supercharged. Something in Spyro's mind told him that Zarss was something of a fan boy.

"Hey! I am not a fan boy! Elder Zantharos is… it's just that…," Zarss seemed lost for words. Cynder, though, caught on.

"You didn't grow up with your parents, biological parents I mean, did you?" Cynder asked, her voice soft and level. At first, Zarss thought he was going to get angry, they didn't deserve to be mentioned in any relation to him. But staring into those eyes made something change. The anger didn't come. Instead, there was a deep longing that replaced it. He sighed and answered.

"That is correct. They gave me up to fight in the war, and are despicable because of it. Those they served are worse than those they fought. They gave me to Master Mesilec as an egg, but he is more of a teacher than a father. I guess that's because he gave up his own egg when I was two. Zantharos was the father I didn't get, and I'm happy to say that." Zarss opened up to them, and Cynder cherished the information, but something was bothering Spyro.

"Why do you sound so bitter when you talk about them, your parents I mean? So they left you so they could fight against the Dark Master. A lot of parents did," Spyro pointed out.

"You wouldn't understand. What they did was terrible. They don't even deserve to be called dragons. I feel ashamed to call them my parents," Zarss's anger was starting to come, but it didn't overcome his mind like it usually did on the topic.

"What did they do, huh? What are you not telling us? Tell us now!" Spyro was so frustrated with how Zarss was acting that he was smoking, literally.

"You'll have to kill me," Zarss glared at Spyro, infuriated with his demands on a usually forbidden topic.

"You're no different than any of us! Cynder didn't know her parents, and I didn't know mine! Why do you think you're so damn special?" Spyro was on his feet, so was Zarss and Cynder was ready to jump in between them, but something held her back. The last comment changed Zarss's expression; he had a solemn confidence about him, and she could almost see something stirring in him.

"Your parents gave you up to fight against Malefor; mine gave me up to fight for him." Spyro stumbled back, as if he had been hit. Cynder gasped, not knowing that he was going to reveal his secret, and not believing it.

"What? That's impossible! No dragon ever joined him willingly!" Spyro sputtered in disbelief. Zarss laid back down on his cushion.

"That's a lie. While Corrupted Cynder is the most infamous and famous of his servants, there were thirteen others, together called the Forsaken. My mother, Xeryna, was their leader with my father, Rage, as her second. They were more powerful than a regular dragon by several times, imbued with the power of the Dark Master. It was only after the creation of Corrupted Cynder did they start to fall. When they did, my parents fled to their sanctuary and first victory, the fort-city of Kyrith Kargorro. Where they are now, I do not know," Zarss finished his tale just as a horn was blown.

"They're here," he smiled, a mischievous twinkle coming to his eyes before he jumped out the window, shattering it and prompting Spyro and Cynder to follow.

"Zarss! Wait!" He heard Cynder and Spyro calling, but didn't heed them. He was always a fast flyer, and was quickly able to out distance them and spot the city wall. He dived, and just as he was about to be flatten he spread his wings and landed, as graceful as an eagle. He was some distance from the gate, and by extension, the Duals. He could see the massive forms of Elder Zantharos and Master Mesilec. They had told him that due to their age they were also two of the largest dragons alive, but they were, when compared to the masters and Guardians, truly massive. Elder Zantharos was at least three times the size of Terrador, and Master Mesilec was at least twice the earth guardian's size. He could see Spyro and Cynder heading toward the gate, and not only that he saw the seven figures that he could tell were the masters and guardians. He was going to recount when he remembered Ignitus wasn't here. He made a mental note to ask where he was.

"I have to see this." Master Mesilec was entering first, followed closely by his ancient father. He flew close; landing in the bushes next to them.

"Well, hello… Elder Zantharos? Is that really you?" Terrador was stunned. He obviously didn't expect the old dragon, and his old friend obviously knew that.

"Yes, my old friend, it is I, and if I may say, this is real," Zantharos smiled, his face growing warm. They moved to embrace each other, and the other guardians moved to crowd the ancient dragon, but were interrupted by a strange noise that sounded like someone clearing their throat. Terrador stepped aside, and when Zantharos looked past him he noticed the three dragons that he had ignored.

One, the largest, was a black and royal blue dragon, almost the size of Mesilec, and the telltale sign of a shadow dragon. His wings had a matching colour combination, though it was more of a cerulean blue. His eyes a cold icy blue, and the look he was giving brought a thought to Zantharos, but he quickly dismissed it.

The dragon to the far right was a green and silver combination, green back with a silver chest and head. Her wings inverted the colors, though. The wing membrane was a light green and the skeleton was silver. Her light green eyes were slightly faded, though Zantharos doubted she had trouble seeing. Her look, unlike her two companions, was a respectful curiosity.

The one in the middle was obviously the leader of the group, for his look was that of confidence and commanding. How the guardians could live around such a dragon was beyond Zantharos. He looked like a regular fear dragon, being black and red. His blood red eyes were showing deep contempt for the elderly dragon, the reason he would learn soon enough.

"What is your name?" Zantharos asked the dragon, his voice radiating a condescending tone.

"My name is Master Farlyn of the-"

"Shut, shut up. I asked what was your name; I don't care about the fifty word title. That means nothing to me. You could be the first-master-of-the-third-council-on-the-elder-squad-of-the-defense-of-retarded-ducks. I don't care, want to know why? Because I asked for your name. So when I ask for your name what will you say?"

"Ma-Master…Farlyn." It seemed to Zarss that Master Farlyn was not the one to be ridiculed and embarrassed in public, or ever.

"So what is your name?"

"Master Farlyn," the way he said this caused Zarss to burst out laughing, unable to withhold the outburst any longer. The masters turned to him, but Zantharos wasn't done yet.

"Now let me introduce myself. I am Elder Zantharos of the Second Council of the Dragon Elders, Grand High Elder of the Third, leader of the Dual Tribe, Head of the House of Helangrind, seventh user of the complex element Nature, the third teacher of the Dark Master and his one single fear," at that point the masters were staring at him, absolutely dumbfounded. Master Farlyn stared to say something but was quickly cut off.

"You never asked for my name, I was simply introducing myself."

"Excellent, the fools have gone to Warfang. The Master's vault is open," a black dragoness smiled, her plan coming to fruition. Her red companion, though, was anxious to get a move on.

"We should leave for the vault now! They will suspect something if we move too slowly, won't they?"

"No, my love, they will suspect nothing, their minds are clouded with the false sense of security that has befallen them. I will go to the vault alone. You must contact the Algardrian. Tell them it is time, and then return to me in the vault. They will be caught off guard if we do this correctly." Her victory was close, oh so close, and with it, her Master's apprentice.

Hello again, my good peoples. This chapter is so far the most revealing, and by far the most fun to write. Two thanks are in order this time, first goes to Neoshera who, while not on this site, is the original creator of Zantharos. The second goes to my excellent editor The Wandering King, who's Omazing story can be found here s/7094020/4/The_Legend_of_Wither_The_Rise_of_Nobody. Thank you and please review.

- Writer's Convexity