Everyone, so sorry about the lateness of this chapter! Life got away from me a bit, and the half-term holiays I was away with no internet. Curse you Dorset! Why no wi-fi? But yeah, I got a good bit done, but this is all that's going up for now. Sorry, but if I gave you any more then I'd have to post the start of the next book at the same time, which would get a bit confusing.

Chapter Ten: Sparx of Fury.

Underworld: 1 the world of criminals or of organised crime 2 (in myths and legends) the home of the dead, imagined as being under the earth.

Heads drooping, tails trailing, the purple dragon and black dragoness moved down the dark passage. Both were tired from the day before, and the late night; Cynder having been on the mission long into the night, Spyro unable to sleep without her. The little sleep they had obtained wasn't entirely rejuvenating, and the green crystals they absorbed practically went to waste on dragons already drained of energy.

Keys in their jaws, no conversation passed between them until they reached the lage gate, the four statues to the sides. Two glowed red, those that they had already put in. With a nod to each other, they moved towards the empty statues.

After placing the keys in their places, Spyro and Cynder nodded to each other, moved closer together to take up a battle stance, and stood taller than before, on the alert. They had already guessed that the entrance would be heavily guarded, and knew that there would probably be a fight. They would have to separate and trust each other; each would act on the other's signal, in a prearranged series of movements. But that would come after getting into the city, and silencing the guards as quickly as they could. It needed to be a precise operation.

The doors swung open, revealing the sunlight over the city, which temporarily blinded the dragons who had emerged from the inky blackness of the passage. Spyro blinked in the light, and before he could recover, a force slammed into him, causing him to cry out, though he managed to quiet himself enough that the whole city wouldn't hear. There was a similar shout from Cynder, though more of anger than shock. Spyro threw off the weight that held him down, shaking his head as he got to his feet and finally seeing the enemy through the light.

The moment Spyro's vision was that clear, the large, Ice-blue form hurtled towards him again.

He replicated the movement, claws outstretched and mouth agape.

They met in the middle, Spyro making out the gleam of white teeth and making sure to keep his head out of the way of the snapping jaws as they wrestled, forearm strength being the deciding factor. Spyro lunged with his horns, attempting to throw the enemy to the side at the same time. The flinch away impeded the ice dragon's movement, and when he hit the floor, Spyro landed on top of him. He sank his fangs into the shoulder of his opponent, staining the now clearly visible scales red with blood.

Spyro jerked away, and even as his opponent growled and went for his wings, he sidestepped, twisted and lashed a long gash along his enemy's side. He turned as a smaller opponent jumped at him, launching himself along the ground to avoid the claws. Without turning, he flicked his tail upwards, and knew that it had sunk into his enemy's belly. He continued onwards, to where Cynder was holding her own against three more.

As he approached them at top speed, one glanced around, and, seeing his arrival, spun, sprinting away for reinforcements. Spyro knew that they had no chance if Cyril was alerted, and quickly charged a bolt of electricity. The paralzed dragon froze in his tracks.

Turning away from him, Spyro saw that Cynder had both her remaining dragons trapped with fear, and was preparing to dispose of them, but before he could see what had happened with the other two, a clawed weight crashed into him.

He leapt, raising his wings as if about to fly, and made an Ice Hurricane. The dragon behind him spun, away from him and a little bit above. Spyro flew into him, grabbed his shoulders in his forepaws and clawed at his chest and belly with his hind claws, disemboweling the astounded dragon.

Below, Cynder's opponents were disposed of, and Spyro's second attacker was lying on the ground, curled up and nursing his belly wound. Knowing that the warrior would not survive, he glided to a landing next to him, and put him out of his misery quickly.

Cynder took care of the paralyzed dragon silently.

They dragged the bodies into the passage and cast them down into the deep abyss there, before Spyro grew a thin layer of rock over the blood that stained the floor with his Earth powers. Even an innocent mole might report something if they found a place like that, and Cyril would certainly figure such a puzzle out.

"Remember the signals?" Cynder inquired. Spyro nodded.

"Spot of green, I let myself be seen."

"Shouts ring through the air, I prepare."

"Cyril turns, oxygen burns."

"Make the snatch, what's the catch?" Cynder grinned at the end of the little recital. "I'm glad we laid out the plan like that. It's memorable."

"It is at that," grinned Spyro. His grin faded. "See you."

"You too. Take care." He nodded, leaned forwards for a kiss. She complied happily, conveying everything she felt as strongly as she could. It was a kiss born from abandonment, from loss; loss felt at merely the suggestion of separation. That was the strength of emotion conveyed on both sides as they melded their mouthes as much as possible. That was the strength of their love.

"Stay safe," he whispered as they parted.

"You too," she said, her gaze staying on him even as she backed off, and rounded the corner that led them into the housing region of the city. "I'll be watching out for you." He nodded, and that was the last thing he saw of her before his own preparations. First, he removed one of the keys from the doorway. Next, he breathed a cloud of Ice, and held it in place around him. A small tongue of fire was quick to melt the Icy particles, spreading steam around Spyro's body. Using his control over the elements that had made it, he rose up, remaining shrouded in it as he flew, heading for the plaza outside the Temple.

Cynder moved from house to house, window to window. Above street level, she figured, was safer than on the street, and below rooftop level safer from flying patrols or watchers. She fitted into the area no-one watched; the first or second floor windows. Even the houses that seemed to be inhabited were all empty; she figured that everyone wanted to see what would happen at the execution, and had left their houses empty. Whatever the cause, she flitted from street to street, out of view, on a beeline towards the Temple.

A small cloud floated by over her head, and she grinned upon seeing it.

As she was, she guessed, only a few streets away from her target, the streets were filling up more. Two guards, consistently staring around in all directions, including up, policed the crowds. Four more were flying in circles around the Temple at varying distances, making it difficult for her, but paying no attention to a cloud that flew right through their ranks.

Cynder would have to use her powers for an extended period of time in order to get past. While traversing the empty streets and buildings, she could remove the shadowy cloak without fear, which saved as much energy as possible. However, a longer use would drain her quickly.

She peered out of the window she was looking through again. There was a disturbance; one of the moles in the crowd was complaining to the guards about something, keeping their attention and the attention of the gathering crowd. Two of the outer fliers landed nearby to help control the large group of moles. Cynder wouldn't get a better chance. She jumped out of the window, rose to rooftop level, and soared next to the street, above the houses. She heard fragments of the shouting mole below's speech as she did so.

"Nothing wrong... release him... Hanver would never..."

The voice blurred into the distance as Cynder passed the area, but they stayed in her mind. The mole she'd spoken to had friends, relatives, people who wanted him back. And they'd been through the loss of him because he's trusted her motives in a small chat she started because she was suspicious.

Was it worth it?

The pain she had caused them for a simple investigation practically already confirmed, was it worth it?

But self-doubt had no place in her mind when she was on a mission, and nor did distraction. Action was the way forward. And so she continued onto the next row of houses, using the Shadow Cloak as soon as she launched herself off the slate-tiled roof. The flight carried her into the circle of buildings that lined the Temple. She dodged into one of the windows, and immediately released the Shadow, expecting the house to be empty and allow her to rest.

It wasn't, and a mole family were staring at her in amazement.

She stared at them too. There were two larger ones, likely the parents, one which was slightly smaller, and another baby mole, in the mother's arms. The baby was cute, with it's fuzzy, squished-up face and big brown eyes, and for a second, Cynder wondered what the hell she was thinking. But she mentally shrugged it off, looking at the family still. And they were looking at her, barely a metre away.

The tension was broken only when the baby mole gurgled. Cynder grinned at the sound, and the mother and father smiled, looking down at it. The adolescent mole tugged on his father's arm, however, gesturing to Cynder; her grin faded as they scrutinised her again.

Finally, the father mole spoke. "I know that you are probably here to save the one who is to be executed, and respect your determination to save a friend. I also appreciate the work you did to save us from Malefor. However, I am, or was, in doubt about your motives, given your past, as well as the speech that Cyril gave. Many were convinced by him, as was I, temporarily, that you and the purple dragon were a threat to society." Cynder opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand. "However, seeing you on a rescue mission, not to mention smiling at a child, shows me that you are not all bad, at least not as bad as Cyril has been saying. I shall not scream for the guard, but nor shall I allow you to remain here for much longer. Please, depart, and rescue the innocent accused."

Cynder's mouth fell open at the mole's graciousness towards a wanted criminal that he didn't fully trust. She nodded, turned, and headed for the window again. As she reached it, she craned her neck around, and stared the mole in the eye. The mole shivered slightly, but met her gaze.

"Thank you," she said, vanishing into the Shadow and leaping out of the window.

From there, she soared over the courtyard, within which stood the gathering crowd of moles, and the dragon guards. Cyril was standing between the two groups, something glowing faintly gold in the grasp of his claws. She knew it was Sparx.

However, she also knew that she wouldn't last in her shadowy form much longer. What was the plan again?

'Spot of green, I let myself be seen,' had been the first line, Spyro's. It was all pretty basic from there. Cynder landed in the space next to Cyril, on his left side; hopefully his weaker side.

Still invisible, she took the time she had to glance over and evaluate Cyril, knowing that someday, she would have to fight him again, alongside Spyro. His entire body, including his eyes, were ice-blue. He had powerful limbs that could probably crush whatever he set his mind to crushing, including her. And a testament to his power over the Ice was the ice which has been permanently formed over his claws, spikes, and tail, to cause additional damage and possibly some sort of instant freezing. It was a tricky and strenuous process, certainly, and one that showed the art of a master of the Ice.

His horns looked like icicles too, but they had always been like that.

Glancing up, she could see that Spyro's cloud was in position.

She shrugged the Shadow off only her mouth, and blasted a shot of poison into the floor below her.

To any observer, it would have looked like naught but a flash of fangs and a splat of green, coming from a strangely darker area of the courtyard; nothing worth shouting about, and something you'd be laughed at if you did. Besides, something worth shouting about was now shooting through the air behind Cyril, and enough moles were shouting about it to render the one shocked mole staring in her direction unheard.

Spyro rocketed over the crowd of guards, inciting gasps from many of the fifty that were there. However, after the gasps, the majority fired an icicle towards the purple dragon, creating a temporary image of an upside-down hailstorm. As the missiles converged on Spyro, Cyril turned, his own massive block shooting from his maw. But the attacks all missed, as the moment Cyril had turned, Spyro blazed upwards into the air in a Comet Dash. Cyril's shot was especially eye-catching; gravity caught it early on, and it smashed into some of the Ice dragons at the rear of their formation. The few missiles that were even close, by virtue of their bad aiming towards the actual target's location, burnt up in the flames.

But the moment Cyril's head was around, Cynder wasn't paying attention to the accidental destruction. She was out of the shadows, lashing out at the back of his paw and snatching up the limp body that fell when he instinctively lost his grip. She got enough of a glance to recognise the face and that was enough before she was in the air, using her Wind ability to its full potential as she let it propel her away from the group of dragons and moles, the former of which were trying to restrain about a hundred of the latter. The disturbance which the moles (led, Cynder noticed, by the mole who had been shouting previously,) had created allowed only a fraction of the guards to risk pursuing the two dragons, as Spyro had matched his course to Cynder's.

The couple were flying in a prearranged direction; towards the valleys. They would be able to take refuge there, hide, and hunt. However, it would be a long flight as tired as the pair were, and the eight dragons following them were likely fresh and raring to go. They quickly passed the city wall, heading outwards.

They were currently above the plains outside Warfang. Spyro edged closer to her in midair even as she forced the wind to propel them along at great speeds. Already they were a way ahead of the majority of the enemy group. She glanced at him, and the wind she was maintaining faltered as she looked at his questioning face. "What?"

Spyro shrugged awkwardly. "I take it... that you've... got him?" Cynder nodded and lifted the paw. Spyro breathed a sigh of relief. "Can I hold him? How is he?"

"I don't know," Cynder answered, slowing down the rush of the air currents. "I just grabbed him out of Cyril's paw and didn't have the time to look."

They slowed to a hover, and Cynder looked down, opening her paw. The dragonfly was there, eyes closed, small chest rising and falling, but something was wrong.

He'd lost his wings.

Cynder almost hadn't noticed, as the glow he emitted made it hard to see them anyway, but the dragonfly had lost some of his light, and her eyes were keen.

Spyro gasped in shock and horror as Cynder just gaped. Surely there was so little that Sparx could do with such a terrible injury. They would have to carry him around wherever he went, whatever they went through. Through every attack and accident. The risks were frightening. So that had been the project Cyril was working on.

Suddenly, as Spyro softly took Sparx into his palm, a speeding form slammed into the purple dragon from behind. He let loose a roar of fury, which made even Cynder wince as she looked back towards where the other dragon had come from. Another was closing in on her, and the other six were spread at varying distances behind the nearest, probably due to difference in speed.

She released a Siren Scream at the top of her voice, but the dragon had halted, grinning. She growled frustratedly. They could probably take out all eight spread out like that, but he was waiting for reinforcements out of the range of most of her attacks, if not all. Cynder roared, frustrated, and rushed towards the dragon closest to her. She grabbed him in a burst of wind and grinned as his look of smug satisfaction was wiped off. Releasing the wind, she extended her foreleg, spun to gain force behind the blow, and the claws tore through the throat of her opponent.

As she came out of the spin, another dragon was shooting towards her. Little else to do, she jabbed her paw straight into him, splayed claws puncturing both eyes.

The dragon plummeted from the sky, screaming all the way, like a wingless dragon.

Or, indeed, dragonfly.

Shaking off the thoughts, Cynder faced her remaining foes. As she did so, Spyro came up behind her, mouth bloody, scratches along his side, but the leg that held Sparx purposefully clear.

In front of them, five dragons grouped, in a line abreast. The couple looked at each other worriedly, and in that moment, the attack came.

All five sent clouds of Ice at them, merging into one attack of massive diameter and power. The two tired dragons countered, Spyro with Fire, Cynder with Shadow Fire. The struggle went back and forth as both sides pumped energy in, but Spyro and Cynder carried on, and held the mass off for long enough to evaporate a cloud of mist around them.

Then, the ice dragons began to fire shards of Ice into the midst of the mist. Cynder winced away when one spurted out right in front of her eyes, heading straight for her, but couldn't evade it entirely, and it grazed her forehead as she ducked. Growling, she retaliated, flapping forwards, spinning vertically and spurting poison from her mouth and her tail. The tail smashed into a dragon, who screamed animalisticly as the venom ate it's way through his blood, reaching his heart and draining his health, to the point where he sunk out of the sky.

Flashes of flame appeared to Cynder's left flank, but she didn't want to rush in and potentially injure Spyro or Sparx, so she banked right. In a few wingbeats she had exited the cloud. She spun, seeing more flashes and hearing cries from within, so she inhaled deeply, and with just about the last of her elemental energy, and released a gale-force blast of Wind.

The mist billowed outwards, revealing four blue dragons, one purple, blinking and looking around, shocked at the loss of cover. Two of Spyro's opponents were facing him, slightly singed, but with blood on their claws. The other two were looking around, confused, but unharmed. However, it was not very long before they whirled and spotted the other two to the sides of the purple dragon.

He himself was in a bad way, it seemed. Scratches to his shoulders, a small wound to his stomach, and a left side which was peppered with tiny, but sharp icicles all leaked blood, in addition to his previous injuries.

Knowing that Spyro had no chance against the four closing in on him, no matter how much he roared at them and lifted his available paw, Cynder rushed in, passing one and causing him to roar, cuffing another around the face, and tackling the last of the three she wanted to distract. Spyro would have to dispose of the remaining one on his own. As she forced her strained limbs to grapple and tear at her enemy, taking him and herself ground-wards, the other two dived after her as Spyro cuffed the last one around the face. It growled and fought back viciously.

The wind whistled around Cynder and her opponent as she forced him lower, away from Spyro. But before Cynder could get any sort of critical blow in on the dragon she'd grabbed, or he on her, claws smashed into her from the side, casting her off the foe. But they didn't get a tight hold, merely scraping her scales, and she lashed around with her head, getting a grip on a foreleg.

However, the piercing bite was wasted as the third of her opponents crashed into her from above. The hit sent her spiralling for a few seconds, and she caught sight of a hill below her before pulling up and casting her eyes towards Cyril's guards.

They were diving towards her in a triangle formation, hoping to catch her at an awkward angle, but she used as much energy as she could summon to beat her wings harder and ascend above their flight path. The one at the head of the formation could not pull up in time to attack her; her tail blade flashed downwards, tearing a line through his back and the base of one of his wings. He fell, as the other two came inwards towards her.

One was met by a head-butt, but she could do nothing against the other as his claws pierced her hide. She grimaced as the pain reached her, but fought through it, snapping back, but unable to do anything, as her head couldn't reach the other dragon(who she could now tell was female)'s position.

The Ice dragon's hind legs grabbed onto one of Cynder's, and her front claws were ready to tear apart the black dragon's wing membranes, when Cynder went into a barrel-roll. The dragon was thrown off, though unharmed, while the other opponent, recovered from the temporary stunning, landed on Cynder's stomach, winding her.

Cynder's tail wrapped around that of her enemy, yanking him off her. She lashed out, tearing his face, but the poison she had tried to put into the strike failed. She was out of elemental energy.

Now, after her moment of shock, both the dragons were in front of her. They lunged, snapped, and did whatever they could to stop her from isolating them and drive her back. With them together, and her tired, there was next to nothing that she could do. She cast a glance up towards Spyro, but he too was struggling, and in her moment of distraction, an icicle plunged into her shoulder.

They had the advantage of elements.

Both of her opponents rose, seeing her weakened, and dived downwards, forcing her towards the ground. There was too little she could do against the height advantage, and was slowly being driven to the floor.

Then, all too close to the ground, they went in for the kill.

Cynder tried to dodge the grab to her foreleg, but it was no use. The other dragon was too fast. As their necks, serpent-like, wove around, trying to strike, the second Ice dragon, who had risen above, went down, going for the base of Cynder's wings. She saw the attack coming, but could do nothing more than writhe in the grip around her leg, trying to bend around enough for her hind legs to come into play and batter the second attacker away. But it was a futile effort, and the female who had a hold of her leg managed to get another leg over Cynder's shoulder, restraining her more.

Then, the other hit. Cynder fought as best she could, attempting to send her backwards-pointing horns into their hides time and again, but they took the blows strongly. And all the while, they pinned her wings to her sides, giving them full control of the flight path.

As they tried to drive her lower, to smash her into the earth, Cynder struggled with renewed vigour. She managed to loosen the grip they had on one wing, but by then she was a matter of metres above the ground. She roared in fury, not an elemental roar, but one that surprised her opponents and installed in her a sense of strength and anger. She would kill any who threatened Spyro, and, by extension of family ties, that meant Sparx too. With another roar and a strike backwards with her head, she unfurled her wings, casting both her opponents off. Cynder spun to look up at them, at their surprised yet still confident expressions, and she self-consciously winced, knowing that as tired as she was, she was outmatched, no matter how viciously and vengefully she fought.

She barely mustered the energy to fold her wings and drop a metre downwards as she avoided a shower of Ice shards, and abruptly unfolding them was even harder. Even a single wingbeat was a challenge now.

Just as they closed in, and she closed her eyes, wishing that she could have had a better chance in a world which didn't throw everything at her, something whistled past her right ear. A second later, something hissed past her left. After the first she heard a strangled choking, after the second a dull thud and a cry of pain.

She opened her eyes.

One of the dragons was falling, the other, flailing, trying to remove the arrow plunged into her shoulder and stay airbourn at the same time.

Soon, she failed at the former and resorted to the latter, turning with a growl and fleeing back to Warfang as Cynder looked around for the source of the arrows.

On the hill she had been driven towards stood Hunter and Meadow, each with bows in their hands. With a sigh of relief Cynder glided down towards them, landing just before them and collapsing. Meadow looked at her with a smile, then a worried expression, which quickly turned to alarm as he glanced upwards. Cynder tried to raise her head, but quickly flinched back when she saw what he'd seen and the bleeding body of an Ice dragon hit the ground a short distance behind the two Cheetahs. It was dead before it hit the ground.

Cynder forced her eyes skywards again, to see a bloodied Spyro slowly spiralling down towards the group. Hunter gazed upwards with concern; Meadow was already taking herbs, supplies and medical equipment from a pouch in preparation of healing the two dragons. After what seemed like mere seconds, but certainly wasn't, Spyro landed beside her and the two collapsed, exhausted, Cynder having time to mutter "Thank you" to Hunter and Meadow before falling unconscious.