21. Waking Up
It was dark in the caverns, with only the flickering light of the torches on the walls to illuminate the rock and stone. It was here that Flame and Alta had returned after the former's quelling defeat at the claws of the purple dragon. Alta was enraged, furious that the red dragon hadn't been able to fulfil the mission he'd been assigned. Now he paced backwards and forwards in the cavern, bristling with anger, as Flame sat watching him with blank eyes.
"You failed," Alta spat, turning icy eyes on him. "You didn't kill the purple dragon. You didn't even manage to scratch him! I sent you there to destroy him, not the other way around! After all the trouble I went to…and you couldn't even kill one measly—little—DRAGON!"
Flame made no response as Alta roared in his face, spraying his scales with spittle. Snorting, Alta turned away and breathed slowly in and out, calming his raging anger. He glanced sidelong at Flame again, who was staring blankly ahead as though made of stone. He didn't seem bothered by his wounds, but Alta certainly was. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as the red dragon's blood soaked into the stone beneath him, ruining one of the patterns that Alta had previously painted on the floor.
"I overestimated you," he grumbled, glaring at Flame, "and I underestimated that purple dragon. Who knew he held such power? No, I didn't know…I didn't know."
Scowling, Alta continued muttering softly to himself until his gaze snapped suddenly towards the injured red dragon. There was a furious glint shining in his icy-blue eyes, his expression becoming increasingly agitated.
"Would you quit bleeding everywhere?" Alta snapped suddenly, his voice rising a few octaves in what sounded like indignant outrage. "You're ruining my paintings!"
Flame turned his empty golden eyes on the grey dragon, but said nothing. Breathing heavily between clenched teeth, Alta jerked his head away from the dragon that was infuriating him and stalked towards one of the several tunnels that led away from this cavern. Flame's eyes watched him emotionlessly until Alta snapped an order at him.
"Come with me," he growled sharply, flicking his deadly tailblade in impatience.
Flame did as he was commanded, standing up shakily and causing more of his blood to spill from his wounds and splash upon the rocks. He made no sound but for the uneven thudding of his paws as he limped after Alta. The sound of his footsteps echoed hauntingly around the cavern as he stepped into the darkness of the tunnel.
Alta led him into an adjacent cavern, a cavern illuminated by the glowing red light of a hoard of crimson gems that sprung from the walls, ceiling and floor. Like odd stalactites and stalagmites, the clusters of gems stretched from the floor and the ceiling in vain attempts to connect with each other. Those growing from the walls spread out horizontally like crimson fingers reaching desperately towards the other side of the cavern. Their dim, ghostly light bathed the rest of the cavern in a bloody hue. It reflected off Alta's pale scales and made him appear a pale red colour, rather than his natural grey.
Had Flame been in his right mind, he would have been awed by the incredible sight. But in the state he was, he merely stood in apathy and observed as he waited for his next order. Alta gazed around at the crystals, his eyes glowing appreciatively as though he'd almost forgotten of their existence and that seeing them had greatly pleased him. Approaching the nearest cluster that reached towards the ceiling, Alta turned and looked expectantly at Flame.
"Break it," he ordered shortly, stepping aside and watching.
Flame obeyed without a word, limping forwards and swinging a hefty paw at the clump of crystals. It was amazing how easily it shattered beneath his claws, reminding the dragons that, behind its falsely strong appearance, it was as fragile as glass. The shattered pieces of crystal spilled over the rock and Flame stood frozen amongst them, waiting for something to happen. Then, as though they were inexplicably attracted to the red dragon, the gems shot towards him and soaked like liquid into his scales.
For several minutes this continued, until his whole body glowed like the gems themselves. His wounds were beginning to heal, his scales knitting themselves together, the ugly acid burn on his shoulder disappearing.
Through the whole process, Flame remained as stiff and silent as a stone, and Alta watched with the mildest interest. At last the glow around Flame died away, leaving the young dragon as fit and healthy as if he'd never even fought Spyro and Cynder. Alta glanced over him, checking for any wounds that remained, but found none. Seemingly satisfied, Alta ordered Flame to follow him once more, and strode swiftly out of the crystal cavern.
The red glow from the cavern faded as they walked away, and Alta's scales returned to their familiar dull grey as he and Flame returned to the larger cavern. Alta wrinkled his snout, disgusted by the puddles of Flame's blood that still glimmered on the cavern floor. But there was nothing he could do to save the paintings that had already been stained by the red liquid.
"Perhaps it was not such a good idea," Alta mused, turning his gaze to Flame, "sending you to destroy Spyro. I should have known a regular dragon like you could never defeat the purple dragon of prophecy."
A bitter look crossed Alta's face, and he repeated the word as though it was poison on his tongue, "Prophecy…"
He hissed disapprovingly and silently began to circle the red dragon, who had sat down and was staring ahead with that same blank look. There was an odd expression glimmering in Alta's eyes, of bitterness and superiority, of something akin to jealously and yet entirely different. His paws made almost no sound as he circled Flame like a beast stalking its prey.
"Oh yes…prophecy," he repeated bitterly, screwing up his snout. "How little those fools…"
He stopped himself and scowled at the wall, before muttering softly, "If only they knew…"
But he said no more on the matter and turned his gaze to Flame again, who hadn't moved an inch. Alta shifted closer to him, moving his snout closer to his head, and hissed.
"I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up, believing you could do it." He sighed and sat back, observing the red dragon. "But you seemed so eager, so… so murderous. And I've seen you fight, Flame, oh I've seen it all through your eyes. And you're so much stronger than the average dragon; I thought…well, I thought you could do it."
Alta tiptoed carefully closer to Flame, until their snouts were almost touching, his icy-blue eyes burning like blue fire into the empty, golden tunnels that were Flame's eyes. The dim firelight from the torches on the walls crept over their scales, flickering unevenly and causing the whites of Alta's eyes to glow orange.
"But you failed," Alta whispered, and even his soft voice echoed throughout the cavern like the whisperings of spirits. "You failed. Who was I to expect such great things from you? An average dragon like you…no, I shouldn't have had such high expectations."
His last word hung in the air for several seconds, echoing so quietly that it could barely be heard. Flame made no move, emitted no sound, and gave no indication that he had even heard Alta's words. But the grey dragon didn't seem to notice. With a flick of his tail, he turned his back on Flame and strode towards the farthest tunnel with determination in his confident stride. He paused at the mouth of the tunnel and looked back expectantly, waiting for Flame to follow.
"No matter," Alta said suddenly, his eyes suddenly glowing like twin flames. "A minor setback. It looks like we'll be moving on to the second stage of the plan sooner than expected. But no matter, no matter."
As Flame approached him, he turned and entered the dark tunnel. He walked slowly for the first few strides, allowing Flame to catch up and walk alongside him. His head held high and confident, Alta spoke openly of his thoughts.
"I'd wanted to get rid of that meddling purple dragon first, stop him from getting in the way, but I see now that there is no chance of such a thing," he glanced upwards at the ceiling. "There's no time for hesitation. I won't be like my foolish parents…"
His eyes flashed angrily, an ugly look of bitterness passing across his face, "…torn apart by apes, and my brother, too… They were fools. They were all fools."
Oblivious to the unresponsive Flame, Alta continued his bitter musings as they walked the length of the tunnel, "The time for planning is over. It's time to proceed, time to…succeed. And you're going to help me, Flame."
He turned a wild grin on the red dragon, halting suddenly although the end of the tunnel was so near that the light from the next cavern could be seen creeping over the rocks. Flame halted too, stopping next to Alta and turning those empty, golden eyes upon him.
"You couldn't kill Spyro for me," Alta said, eyes glowing eagerly, "so I have no choice but to kill him myself. And not just him, but all of Warfang. I won't do it alone, though…no. You see, Flame…"
He had begun to walk again, leading Flame towards the flickering light at the end of the tunnel. The red dragon followed closely and halted suddenly, the briefest expression of wonderment crossing his face at the sight that met him and Alta upon stepping out of the tunnel. They stood upon a narrow ledge far above the floor of the massive cavern they had stepped into. Torches were placed around the walls, turning the stone the colour of molten gold, and illuminating the sea of creatures that screeched and howled below them.
Grublins, hundreds of them, covered the floor of the cavern below them, some waving crude weapons in the air and screeching at the tops of their lungs. Alta surveyed them from the ledge, his eyes shining with triumph, and spread his ivory wings. The grublins howled louder in response, filling the cavern with ghostly echoes of their cries. Flame stared, his blank eyes showing the slightest hint of emotion for the first time, but said nothing when Alta turned to him.
"…this," Alta grinned, his scales glowing gold in the firelight, "is our army."
It was almost dark. For the last hours of daylight, Spyro and Cynder had remained in the infirmary, watching over the comatose pink dragoness. Their plans to spend the day together exploring the wide city of Warfang had been ruined by Flame's sudden attack, and they remained indoors in the fear that he may return and target them again. Cynder was afraid because she never wanted to see Spyro in his Dark state again, and Spyro feared that Flame would once again harm his beloved dragoness. But neither voiced these fears as they sat in anxious silence and watched Sparx flit around the room in a fit of impatience and boredom.
The infirmary was empty of all but the three dragons and the yellow dragonfly, though the mole in charge of the building was currently shut up in a room that Spyro perceived to be his office. It was very quiet in the room, and outside it was becoming darker and darker as the onslaught of night approached. Spyro yawned as tiredness overtook his body, and Cynder did the same as she snuggled closer to the purple dragon and nuzzled beneath his wing. Only Sparx seemed unaffected by the fatigue that was settling in on the room. Indeed, he continued buzzing around over their heads like a moving lantern that refused to be still.
The two dragons were almost asleep, snuggled together on a bed of cushions next to Ember, when an odd sound came from the pink dragoness. It was a muffled snuffling, like a feeble fit of coughing escaping from her lips. Spyro opened his eyes and stared, shaking off his tiredness, but didn't get up. Instead he waited, unsure whether he had imagined the noise.
Ember was completely still, unmoved from her previous position. Spyro was just about to close his eyes again, when she began to cough again, louder this time and with more force. Lilac eyes widening, Spyro withdrew his wing from Cynder's back and stood up. Cynder cracked open an eye, clearly having been woken from a half slumber.
"What…?" Cynder began to ask, but was cut off by another fit of coughing from the pink dragoness. Alarmed, the black dragoness stood up too.
"Hush," Spyro whispered to her, edging closer to Ember, who was now beginning to twitch and moan in her sleep.
Cynder nodded quickly, staring at the comatose dragoness. Another cough escaped her lips, and she groaned feebly as her eyelids quivered. Spyro's eyes widened hopefully, and Sparx had stopped his impatient flitting to watch. Ember's eyes flickered open suddenly, though they seemed oddly out of focus, and she blinked a few times before expelling another dry cough. She frowned, her eyes coming slowly into focus, and made a move as though to push herself up. Spyro's eyes lit up.
"Ember!" he cried, startling the pink dragoness who hadn't even noticed his presence.
"W-what…S-Spyro?" she coughed again, took a shaky breath, and stared in confusion at the purple dragon.
Looking elated, Spyro turned swiftly to the yellow dragonfly hovering over his head, "Sparx! Go tell the guardians!"
"Gotcha!" Sparx saluted smartly, grinned at the two dragonesses, and zipped out the door faster than their eyes could follow.
Ember looked as stunned and confused as any young dragon could be, her eyes roving around the room in utter bewilderment. She must have noticed she wasn't in her room, for she soon turned to Spyro and asked, "Where are we?"
"The infirmary," Cynder answered, beating Spyro to it, although she too was surprised by Ember's sudden recovery.
Ember's blue eyes widened in alarm, "Infirmary? But why? Is someone hurt…?"
And all of a sudden it seemed as though her memories returned in a rush. Alarm and fear crossed her face and she would have leapt to her feet if she'd had the strength, but instead her head just shot up and her voice became very shrill.
"Oh no, Flame, Spyro!" she yelped, recalling quite suddenly the events of the western courtyard. "The fireball! Spyro, you…Flame…I…! Where's Flame, what happened to Flame? And the fireball! And you! And me!"
"Easy now, Ember," Spyro soothed, smiling slightly and sitting down opposite her. "You're a little behind on the times. Just let me explain."
Ember hesitated, clearly both confused and fearful, but she soon nodded and waited to hear what Spyro had to say. Cynder settled down next to him, her paws folded in front of her chest.
"You remember what happened in the courtyard?" Spyro asked gently, and Ember nodded slowly.
"Flame attacked you," she mumbled, looking down as though ashamed of her friend's actions, "like he was trying to kill you. And he…he shot a fireball at you…and…"
She frowned, trying to remember what had happened next, "I…wanted to help you. I didn't know if I could get to you on time… I…I ran…"
Ember faltered, confused, and shook her head, unable to recall anything beyond that point. Spyro knew it was time to fill in the blanks. Knowing the knowledge might disturb and frighten Ember, Spyro told her as gently as he could.
"The fireball didn't hit me, Ember," he murmured, his lilac eyes observing her sadly, "it hit you."
Her blue eyes opened so wide that Spyro could see his image reflected in them. She looked too stunned to speak, and only managed to stutter incoherently.
"I…I…me…?"
Spyro nodded slowly, "You reached me on time. It was you that took the blast. It was you who saved me. You've been in the infirmary ever since."
Ember swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, her eyes burning with hot tears. As overwhelmed as she was, the young dragoness only managed to choke out two words.
"How long?" she gulped, blinking furiously and trembling.
"Almost two days," Spyro responded solemnly. "You've been unconscious. We…we thought that you…that you wouldn't make it…"
The purple dragon trailed off, his eyes betraying his anxieties, and Ember opened her mouth to respond. But whatever she was about to say was lost as the door crashed suddenly open for the second time that day, and the guardians came lumbering in to the infirmary. Only, this time they were looking no less than elated. Thasos, especially, looked happier than Spyro had ever seen him. Hunter was accompanying the guardians as usual, as was Seriphos, and both looked immensely relieved at the recovery of the young pink dragoness.
"Ember, you're awake!" Thasos beamed, his brown eyes shining with emotion.
"Thank the ancestors," Terrador added, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly.
"Indeed, indeed, it's simply wonderful, marvellous, excellent, splendid—!" Volteer rattled off, tripping over his own tongue in his excitement.
"Quite," Cyril sniffed, cutting Volteer off before he could continue his long list of synonyms. "It is indeed pleasing to see you awake, young dragoness."
Seriphos smiled warmly at the stunned dragoness, "We were worried."
Ember stared up at them, unsure whether to feel flattered or concerned that everyone was suddenly taking such an interest in her. Had her injuries really been that bad? She didn't even remember taking the hit for Spyro; it was all a blur. But all the guardians were making such a fuss over her that she couldn't help but wonder just how serious her situation had been. She was about to speak when Thasos beat her to it.
"No doubt you're a little confused about what's going on?" he asked kindly.
But Ember glanced at Spyro and answered, "It's okay, Spyro's told me what happened… Have I really been unconscious for almost two days?"
The guardians nodded simultaneously, and Ember glanced nervously at Spyro. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask, but he waited for her to speak nonetheless.
"…How bad was it?" the pink dragoness asked softly, her claws curling inwards to pierce the cushion she lay upon.
Spyro sighed, unsure whether to tell her or not, and looked helplessly to Terrador as though asking for permission. The earth guardian nodded solemnly, not saying a word. Ember stared anxiously at the purple dragon, willing him to speak and yet afraid of the answer.
"You…you almost died, Ember," Spyro sighed at last, meeting her eyes.
Ember's breath caught in her throat as she stared in disbelief at Spyro, hardly daring to believe that he was telling the truth. But his eyes were so solemn, his expression so sombre, that Ember realised he could not possibly be lying. She looked down and, for the first time, caught a glimpse of the discoloured scar tissue in the centre of her chest. She had almost…died? A cold shiver crossed her scales and she shook her body to rid herself of the feeling.
"Ember…?" Spyro asked uncertainly, worried by her silence.
She looked up at him, noticed his worried expression, and reassured him with a strained smile. But that smile disappeared almost instantly as a new thought entered her mind. She glanced around at all the dragons around her, aware that one was missing – the one who had injured her. Swallowing nervously, Ember glanced up at the guardians.
"Where is Flame?" she asked, her voice quivering.
They hesitated, exchanging anxious glances that only made Ember's anxieties worse. She stared desperately at them, recognising their hesitation to answer her question.
"Where is Flame?" she tried again, raising her voice this time. "Tell me!"
Terrador hesitated momentarily, "Ember, about Flame, he's…"
"What?" Ember cried when Terrador paused. "What is it? What's happened to him?"
At this point, Spyro cut in, "He's not in the city any more."
Ember snapped her gaze to the purple dragon, eyes wide with disbelief, "What do you…what do you mean he's not…? W-Where is he?"
She was struggling to get up now, but Hunter intervened. The cheetah knelt in front of her and placed a soothing paw on her shoulder, pushing her gently back down onto the cushions.
"You shouldn't try to get up," he told the young dragoness. "Just listen to the guardians. They will explain."
Ember stared at him for a few moments, and then nodded hesitantly. She glanced desperately at Terrador for an explanation, and the earth guardian realised he had no choice. Ember needed to know.
"After the fight between he and Spyro in the courtyard, Flame fled the city," Terrador sighed, looking away from Ember as though unable to meet her eyes. "That is to say…we chased him away from the city…"
Ember felt as though her heart had just plummeted several inches, robbing her of breath. She swallowed hard and glanced fearfully at every dragon present, including Hunter who was kneeling alongside her. But no one contradicted Terrador's statement, and Ember suddenly felt very cold.
"You…you…" she stuttered, unable to find the words she wanted to say. "You chased him…?"
As though her mind had just clicked, Ember suddenly sat bolt upright and cried, "Well, then where is he? We have to find him! He could be hurt or…or…!"
"Hold on," Spyro cut her off, and she turned desperately to him, "we're not finished yet. Terrador, let me explain this."
The earth guardian stared hard at Spyro and nodded his consent. Well aware that Ember wouldn't take well to hearing her friend spoken of badly, Spyro chose his words very carefully.
"Flame came back earlier today," Spyro began hesitantly, thinking hard of a way to tell her what happened without it sound too bad, "He…ran into Cynder in the gardens and… Well, he attacked her."
Ember's face paled slightly, "No…"
Spyro continued before she could say anything else, "Cynder was injured quite badly when I got there. And Flame was…standing over her. I knew he'd done it the moment I saw him…"
Ember was staring at him in horror, shaking her head slowly. "N-No…he wouldn't…"
"Needless to say, I attacked him," Spyro continued, trying not to notice the horrified expression in her eyes. "I fought him but…but he wasn't acting like himself. We think he was being…controlled by something…or someone."
"Flame…controlled…?" Ember squeaked, her voice rising a few octaves, her eyes filling with salty tears.
Spyro nodded slowly, "There was something around his neck. It was like a ring, a necklet, and when I tried to attack it…Flame fled."
"H-He's gone?"
Again, Spyro nodded, "He ran away. We don't know where he went."
Ember stared at him for a few moments, horrified, clearly trying to think of a way to deny what she had just heard. Her eyes shifted desperately to Cynder, who was curled up next to Spyro, watching Ember like a cat. From what Ember could see, the black dragoness was completely fine.
"N-No, he wouldn't do that!" Ember cried suddenly, her voice breaking. "Flame wouldn't do that! I know him! I know he wouldn't do something like that!"
Spyro eyes were filled with anguish, "Ember, I know it's not what you wanted to hear…but I saw it with my own eyes…"
"NO!" Ember cried loudly, tears breaking and spilling over her pale pink cheeks. "He wouldn't! You said he hurt Cynder, but—but, she's fine! See?"
She gestured desperately at the black dragoness, but Cynder only stared sympathetically at her and corrected her.
"The moles healed me, using red crystals," she murmured, leaning her head against Spyro's shoulder. "I was lucky."
Ember stared at her, trembling, "N-No…he wouldn't…"
She turned her watery blue eyes on the guardians, soundlessly begging them to contradict Spyro's words. But the guardians only stared sympathetically at her, unable to find any words of comfort for her.
"He wouldn't do that!" Ember cried, struggling upright despite Hunter's restraining paw, "You know him! I know him! You know he wouldn't do that! Flame wouldn't hurt someone on purpose! H-He wouldn't…"
A sob escaped her lips as fat tears rolled down her cheeks and suddenly she threw herself into the cushion beneath her, pressing her paws to her face. Sobs racked her body as her tears soaked into the cushion, and Hunter could only stroke her back comfortingly. The guardians averted their eyes, ashamed that they were unable to even offer a word of comfort to the distraught young dragoness.
"I know," Spyro murmured suddenly, quietly. "I know he'd never do something like that on purpose."
Ember raised her head to stare at him, tears spilling unchecked from her eyes, hardly daring to believe what she'd just heard. Spyro stared sadly at her, but there was a glint of determination in his lilac eyes.
"I don't believe Flame did those things on his own terms," Spyro continued, and everyone had stopped to listen, even Sparx who had been hanging back behind the guardians.
"Flame was—is—being controlled by someone," the purple dragon never looked away from Ember's tear-stained face, "and I don't blame him for what he's done. I want to help him."
Sniffling, Ember raised a paw to wipe away the tears that had settled on her cheeks, "D-Do you mean that?"
Spyro nodded, as did Cynder and Hunter, and the pink dragoness turned her eyes to the guardians. They offered her strained smiles and they, too, nodded.
"We all want to help Flame," Terrador reassured her, "we just need to figure out how."
Relief swept through Ember and her tears stopped flowing as she stopped sobbing. She glanced thankfully at all those around her, pleased that they were all standing by Flame, pleased that her friend wasn't being blamed. But there was an underlying feeling of guilt weighing on her heart—something she needed to confess.
"Ember, is there anything you wish to tell us?" Thasos asked, as though he was reading her mind. "Anything that may help us to help Flame?"
The pink dragoness glanced at the expectant faces surrounding her and knew it was the time to tell the truth. She bowed her head, out of shame perhaps, and guilt, and murmured a quiet 'yes'. Gently, Terrador prompted her to speak.
"What is it, Ember?"
Guiltily, Ember glanced upwards at the guardians and spoke, "That day when I snuck out after Spyro and Seriphos…I wasn't alone. Flame was with me."
The effect was instantaneous. The guardians exchanged triumphant yet grim glances, Spyro looked mildly surprised, and Seriphos crowed triumphantly, "I knew it!"
Ember hesitated, looking anxiously up at them, but they didn't seem at all angry with her. In fact, they seemed eager for her to tell them all that had happened.
"I snuck him out of his room when Sestos wasn't looking, and we ran away together," Ember admitted. "We caught up with Spyro beyond the dam. They were fighting grublins and I wanted to help them. But Flame was afraid of getting caught, and he refused to help."
"Yes, he's a stubborn one, that Flame," Thasos grumbled, but fell quiet when the other guardians shot him impatient looks.
Ember continued, "I left Flame hiding in the trees, and went to help Spyro myself. They took me back to Warfang, but I didn't see Flame following. He must have followed though, because…"
"Because I found him," Sparx finished, puffing his small chest out importantly.
The guardians exchanged glances, and Terrador voiced what they were all thinking.
"Flame didn't return for quite a while after Spyro did," the earth guardian pondered. "What could have taken him so long?"
"Perhaps he stayed behind to explore the grublin camp by himself," Cyril suggested, and Volteer nodded swiftly in agreement.
"I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case," Thasos admitted.
"Could something have happened to him there?" Seriphos wondered.
Terrador exchanged a dark glance with his former student, "Perhaps. Maybe Flame didn't realise something had happened to him and he returned just in time for Sparx to find him."
"Then the grublins might have done something to him?" Spyro asked, standing up eagerly. "Cynder, remember the necklaces? The ones that joined us together? The grublins must have given us those, so what if they gave Flame that necklet?"
Cynder's emerald eyes widened, "You're right! Why didn't we think of that sooner?"
Eagerly, Spyro turned to Terrador, "We need to explore the old grublin camp! There may be clues there—anything that could help us figure out where Flame is and where the grublins have gone!"
"And if it is the grublins who gave him that necklet," Cynder added grimly.
Ember stared in awe at the swift conversation that was being thrown backwards and forwards across the room. She had no idea how they could be coming up with these conclusions so fast, but if it helped Flame then she was all for it. Terrador hesitated as he gazed upon Spyro's eager face.
"I've already sent scouts out to explore the camp," the earth guardian admitted, "and they came back with nothing…"
"They didn't know what they were looking for!" Spyro argued. "Just let us try! We might find something! Right, Cynder?"
The black dragoness nodded quickly, "Exactly, it can't hurt to try. And it just might help."
The guardians looked anxiously at each other, but knew that the young dragons spoke the truth. If there was a chance that it might help Flame, then what was there to lose? At last, although it was against his better judgement, Terrador agreed.
"Very well, Spyro, Cynder," he sighed. "But it is late. Tomorrow you may go. But be careful! I don't want to lose you, too."
Spyro smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry, Terrador, we'll be fine. We want to help Flame, too."
"I'll go too!" Ember cried suddenly, startling everyone. "Flame's my friend! I want to help!"
But the guardians put an end to her hopes of joining Spyro and Cynder on their search.
"I'm afraid not, Ember," Thasos said grimly. "You've only just recovered from a very serious injury. It would be best if you rest for a few days."
Ember stared hopelessly at him, "But…"
"No buts," Thasos shook his head. "And I suggest you stay the rest of the night here, just in case."
Sighing, Ember bowed her head and unwillingly consented. Spyro smiled warmly at her, and nudged Cynder, whispering in her ear. The black dragoness nodded in response.
"We'll stay, too," Spyro told Ember, "to keep you company. It's kind of lonely in here at night."
Ember smiled gently at him, "Thanks, Spyro."
"Well," Terrador glanced out the window at the dark sky of night, "I think it's time we all retired to bed. Spyro and Cynder, you'd best get some rest. And you too, Ember, you need to regain your strength."
"Splendid idea, Terrador," Volteer agreed, stifling a yawn. "I could use a good sleep."
All in agreement, the guardians bade the young dragons good night and left the infirmary. Hunter bowed respectfully to Spyro, Cynder and Ember before following the guardians out. And, as Seriphos departed, the three young dragons and Sparx were left alone in the infirmary. They were silent for a while, and Spyro nestled down on a bed of cushions with Cynder at his side. The black dragoness was asleep in minutes, secure under the purple dragon's golden wing. Ember glanced at them.
"I'm glad you and Cynder are together again," she murmured, blushing slightly. "I was afraid I'd ruined your relationship…"
Spyro grinned at her, "It wasn't your fault. I'm just glad Cynder forgave me."
Behind his back Sparx was pulling a disgusted face and Ember couldn't help but giggle. Soon they all fell into silence, a silence that was only broken briefly by the old mole who had come out of his study and told them all off for not telling him that Ember was awake. When the mole was gone and the warm dome lights in the ceiling had stopped glowing for the night, the three dragons and one dragonfly fell into deep and peaceful slumber.
Alta dismissed the idea of attacking at night, insisting he needed to sleep and that Flame was in no condition for yet another fight. Not that Flame argued. He merely stood with that same blank look and watched as Alta yelled orders to the grublin army. The hideous army of creatures shrieked and screamed at Alta in response, and it was hard to know if they were arguing or agreeing with him. But Alta seemed pleased and the tiny part of Flame's mind that wasn't suppressed wondered if he knew how to speak the grublin language.
"Prepare yourselves!" Alta yelled for one last time to the screeching hoard. "We attack at dawn!"
With that done, Alta turned his back on the grublin army and led Flame back down the tunnel. The red dragon paused, giving the hoard below him one last glance, before following the grey dragon. They soon found themselves back in Alta's main cavern where the screeches and howls of the grublins could be heard echoing in the distance. Alta stood in the centre of the cavern, seemingly thinking about something, and turned his blue eyes on Flame.
"There's something I need to prepare before we rest," he claimed, and then beckoned with his tailblade. "Come with me."
The two young dragons strode through the maze of tunnels and caverns, along a route that Flame might have found familiar if he was back in his own mind. They walked in silence for the first few minutes, until Alta began to speak. He spoke to Flame as though the red dragon had his own mind and thoughts, as though he wasn't controlled.
"You're probably wondering why the grublins obey me," Alta guessed, glancing at Flame. "It's simple, really."
Flame didn't answer, walking silently beside the grey dragon and gazing at him with those empty tunnels of eyes. A smile tugged at Alta's lips; a wry smirk.
"The grublins ally with anyone who can promise them greatness…riches…even revenge," the grey dragon began to explain. "Malefor made them great promises. He promised to rid the world of dragons and give the grublins the run of the land. They would control all, spread their forces across the land, and become the greatest race alive. However…"
An odd glint flashed across Alta's eyes, something akin to amusement, "Malefor never delivered. Of course, we know that his plan was to destroy the world. There would be nothing left for the grublins to rule. But they firmly believe that Malefor would have delivered those things he promised. That is, if he hadn't been stopped. Now who is to blame for stopping the Dark Master? Who is to blame for halting the destruction of the dragon race?"
A wild look had entered Alta's eyes and he turned to Flame as though the red dragon had just provided the answer, "That's right! The purple dragon! Spyro."
"Spyro halted the Dark Master, stopped him, and without Malefor the grublins stood no chance," they stepped out into a smaller cavern, and Alta led the way into another tunnel. "They were pushed back from Warfang, chased into exile by the dragons of that mighty city."
The firelight flickered briefly across Alta's eyes. "They despise the purple dragon, the one who stopped the Dark Master, and they despise the dragons of Warfang."
"The grublins were promised greatness by Malefor, but instead they were chased into hiding, forced to cower here beneath the earth in fear of the race of dragons that the Dark Master had promised to destroy! They were promised everything, and they received nothing!"
Alta's grin appeared almost insane in the firelight. "They want revenge, Flame! And revenge is what I have promised them! And I've assured them that, unlike Malefor, I will deliver! They will have their revenge…"
The grey dragon halted at the mouth of a smaller cavern, one that Flame was most familiar with. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, his expression very bitter. Scowling, Alta stepped quietly into the cavern.
"I will set things right," he murmured, hate burning in his icy-blue eyes.
Not speaking a word, Flame followed Alta into the small cavern. Recognition crossed his face briefly as he gazed at the shelves, podiums and chests lined up around the walls. Articles of jewellery and armour glimmered in the flickering light. This was the cavern of artefacts, a place that Flame had been once before. Alta stood in the centre of the room, gazing around at the many artefacts that glimmered invitingly on the shelves. He seemed to be looking for something particular. Spotting something, Alta smirked and strode over to one of the shelves.
Flame watched expressionlessly as the grey dragon took a pair of anklets and clipped them around his forelegs. They were a silvery colour, engraved with unusual, spiky black markings. Alta glanced at the red dragon, noticing that he was watching.
"You can't expect me to fight the purple dragon alone, Flame." Alta grinned, turning away and spotting something on a podium across the room. "I wouldn't stand a chance. No, I'm going to need a little help. A little help from my ancestors, that is."
He took the delicate helmet from the podium, holding it ever so carefully in his paws, and placed it upon his head. It curved perfectly over his skull, the front tapering to a diamond-shaped point between his eyes, and was the colour of white gold. A silvery line stretched down the centre and seemed almost to glow. Satisfied, Alta turned his back on the empty podium and continued his search.
The next article he took was a transparent ring which appeared to be made from a clear gem. This he slipped onto his tail. The last item he found in a small chest near the back of the cavern. This pair of silver rings, decorated with electric blue markings, he slipped onto his larger pair of horns. They accentuated the colour of his eyes.
"There," Alta grinned, satisfied with his odd choice of armour. "That should do. Even Spyro will have trouble facing me with the power of these artefacts."
He glanced at Flame, who hadn't said a word and was still standing at the mouth of the cavern as though unsure what to do. An idea sprung into Alta's mind and he quickly turned to the shelf behind him, grabbing another set of anklets. He tossed them to Flame, who glanced at them in confusion.
"Put them on," Alta ordered, "they're set with red crystals. They should heal most small injuries within seconds. We can't have you getting beat up again, can we?"
Flame did as he was ordered, slipping all four of the anklets onto his legs. The red stones matched his crimson scales perfectly. Alta had begun to walk towards the tunnel again, no doubt finished with the artefacts in the room. He had what he wanted. Flame followed soundlessly, back through the maze of tunnels and caverns to Alta's decorated cave. The grey dragon curled up on the floor, seemingly unbothered by the several articles of armour he was wearing, and beckoned for Flame to do the same.
"We sleep," Alta said, stretching out as Flame curled up alongside to him. "Regain our strength. Tomorrow we attack Warfang and get our revenge on the purple dragon. Tomorrow…"
His blue eyes hardened like chips of ice as he laid his head upon the rocks, "I will fulfil my prophecy."
Fire flickered in the corners of his vision, orange flames that seemed to be rising higher and higher. There were buildings burning, stone walls crumbling like dust, ash choking the air. There was only whiteness beyond, a great stretch of nothingness in the place of the sky and the city. All he could see were the buildings closest to him, crumbling slowly into nothing, and the growing flames pressing in. Warfang was burning.
He stared, unable to move, unable to feel the heat of the fire, and watched. He wanted to help, but there was something stopping him from stepping forward. Suddenly, out of the flames, another creature appeared. A dragon. He was young and his blue eyes glimmered with false innocence. The fire reflected off his pale grey scales, but he didn't seem bothered by it—he smiled. Flames crept closer to the strange dragon, whoever he was, but he didn't move.
Suddenly the smile fell from his face and was replaced by a look of bitter hatred, a look of cold accusation that pierced through the fire. A single tear rolled from his eye, dripping down his muzzle and falling to the earth. It shattered as though made of ice, smashing into thousands of glimmering particles upon the ground. Without warning the flames exploded, rising upwards, obscuring all vision with burning, blinding heat.
Spyro awoke with a start, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. Several times he had to blink before he realised where he was and that it had only been a dream. He was in the infirmary, Cynder curled peacefully next to him and Ember asleep on the cushions across from him. Taking deep breaths, Spyro calmed his hammering heart and glanced out the window.
Dawn was just breaking, the first rays of sun appearing on the horizon and filling the room with pale light. A snore from the top of his head told Spyro that Sparx had once again fallen asleep on his horn. He glanced at Cynder, who was still sleeping peacefully with her head on her paws.
Frowning, Spyro tried to remember what his dream had been about. The city had been burning and a strange grey dragon had appeared. He'd seemed happy about something at first, until his expression had changed. He'd glared accusingly at Spyro, as though Spyro had done something wrong, and shed a single tear. Spyro frowned. He'd never even met such a dragon, so who was he and what was he doing in his dream? Shaking his head, Spyro told himself that it was only a dream and nothing more.
'What about those dreams you had before the Night of Eternal Darkness? Of the Mountain of Malefor?' asked a nasty little voice in his head, and Spyro chewed his lip anxiously.
But again he shook it off, 'No. I won't think like that. It was only a dream. It didn't mean anything.'
Yawning, Spyro stood up and stretched, spreading his wings and then furling them again. Sparx shifted on his horn and rolled off, but Spyro managed to catch him with a paw before he hit the ground. The little dragonfly grumbled, but didn't wake. Smiling fondly, Spyro laid the glowing insect gently on the cushion and nudged Cynder. She snuffled quietly, shifting her head away from him, and refused to awaken. Grinning, Spyro tried again, nuzzling her cheek. Cynder whined softly in her sleep and raised a paw to slap Spyro's muzzle away, but she awoke when she felt her paw connect with his snout. He grinned down at her and she glared reproachfully at him.
"What did you wake me for?" she grumbled, stretching and yawning.
"It's dawn," Spyro responded, gesturing to the window. "We should get going."
Cynder's emerald eyes widened, "Right! I almost forgot!"
She scrambled to her feet, accidently knocking Sparx in the process. He tumbled off the cushion and onto the cold ground, instantly awakening with a yelp. Looking irritated, the dragonfly hovered up to Cynder's eye-level.
"What's the big idea?" he snapped, looking peeved and folding his arms. "I was sleeping!"
Cynder only grinned at him, but Spyro apologised, "Sorry, Sparx, it was accident."
"Accident, huh?" Sparx glared suspiciously at his adopted brother. "Why are you up so early, anyway?"
"We're heading back to the grublin camp to look for clues, remember?" Cynder explained, smirking at the dragonfly's annoyance.
Sparx blinked, "You weren't planning on going without me, were you?"
Spyro hesitated, "Actually, Sparx…"
"What…what?" the dragonfly exclaimed, incredulous. "You can't seriously expect me not to come?"
"…I was hoping you could stay here and keep Ember company," Spyro finished, and Sparx's jaw dropped.
"You're joking," he stuttered, staring from Spyro to Cynder to Ember and then back to Spyro.
But Spyro only shrugged apologetically. "Could you?"
Sparx heaved a sigh, "Jeez, babysitting a dragoness? Could it get any worse?"
"I'm not asking you to babysit her, Sparx. Just keep her company," Spyro pleaded. "She's probably feeling pretty down at the moment, with Flame gone and everything. Come on, Sparx, please?"
Reluctantly, the dragonfly waved a hand and agreed, "Alright, alright, I'll stay here. You just hurry back, you hear me? Don't go getting into any trouble, because I won't be there to save you!"
Spyro grinned, "No problem, Sparx. Thanks. And tell the guardians where we've gone, if they ask."
He glanced at the sleeping Ember one last time and then turned towards the door, calling for Cynder to follow him. She grinned at Sparx and thanked him, ordering him to take care of Ember, before dashing after the purple dragon. Grumbling, Sparx folded his arms tight and sank down onto the cushion beside Ember's head.
"Could my day get any worse?" he wondered aloud.
Cynder and Spyro wanted to get in as much time searching as possible, so they didn't waste any time telling the guardians they were leaving. Hopefully Sparx would explain if they wondered. The flight to the dam was uneventful, but enjoyable, as both dragons revelled in the chance to be alone together. They soared high above the trees, chasing one another, talking and laughing, disturbing birds when they flew too close to the canopy. But they would not have been so cheerful had they known that, as they flew, a whole army was headed around the long way towards the crumbled North Wall of Warfang.
They had no idea that, as they flew over the dam and headed over the lake, two dragons were leading a hoard of grublins towards the defenceless city. Oblivious to the danger that Warfang was in, Spyro and Cynder soared peacefully over the lake and closed in on the old grublin camp. However, they had barely landed before a strange, distant sound reached them. A deep hollow tone, like that of a huge horn being blown, spread over the land and caused the waters of the lake to ripple. Spyro froze and his head turned towards the sound—towards the city. He knew that sound and it made his very blood run cold as he realised what it meant.
"The city," he whispered, his eyes widening, and Cynder turned towards him, alarmed.
They both knew what it was. That was the sound of the war horn. Warfang was in danger.
A/N: Mostly a planning chapter building up to the climax of next chapter... Tiny bit of insight into Alta's past and motives here, but all will be explained next chapter. I'll say it straight: I don't like this chapter. I don't know why or what's wrong with it, but I just don't like it. The only thing I like is Alta... Writing him is a whole lot of fun. I'm hoping the next chapter will be better. Extra big thank you to my reviewers, you're all awesome! And thanks for reading!