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A frigid blast of wind blew through the narrow passageways of the catacombs. The temperature had began to drop as they pushed on deeper into the centre of the island, a clear sign that they were nearing the frozen home of The Chronicler.
We'll be able to see the waters of the celestial caves any minute now, Rhaxma said to the two dragons following her. The ceiling had begun to creep lower as they progressed and now Rhaxma was forced to bend her knees and crawl on her belly to fit through the shrinking gap. It was still comfortable for Saphira, however, and Spyro had nothing to worry about, being the smallest of the three dragons.
Did the riders ever know about this place? Saphira asked, finding it difficult to believe that they could live on an island with a frozen core that housed an ancient dragon and not discover it. Spyro had also been wondering the same thing, if the Chronicler did live here then it wouldn't be difficult to find him, after all, they only had to go through a cave system to get to him.
No, they didn't know about him, Rhaxma replied, growling as her back scrapped against a stalactite, breaking the limestone pillar and scratching her scales slightly. The Chronicler managed to deter anyone from exploring the caves by influencing the dragons and telling them to not let the humans or the elves near it, for fear that some ancient creature would rise forth and wipe out the dragons.
Saphira snorted at that and Rhaxma growled an amused tone. That's exactly what I thought, she said, no creature exists that could wipe out the dragons in one fell swoop, unless you count Galbatorix but he made it possible by deceit and betrayal. But the Chronicler's abilities are impressive, he isn't telling us to stay away from the caves anymore, if he was you can be certain that we wouldn't be here.
Spyro didn't dispute that, he remembered the way the Chronicler could just make the purple dragon collapse at the ancient's will, to enter his dreams and converse with him over great distances. If the Chronicler could do that Spyro didn't doubt that he could create some myth to ingrain into every dragons' mind.
Another draft blew against the dragons. The two females made no reaction to it, the fire in their bellies providing them with constant warmth but Spyro had no such fire, his body contained a number of different elements, only growing to life when he expressed them meaning that he would only feel warm if he breathed fire, which he couldn't do continuously. He shivered, but only slightly, it would take a drastic drop in temperature for it to even begin to cause him problems.
He had not had to emit any of his light for several minutes now; the blue light had vastly increased, seeping in from its source ahead of them. And as they turned the last corner they emerged into an immense cavern, the bright and glowing aqua ocean separating them from the ancient looking temple before them.
Spyro remembered that in his time it had looked in a state of disrepair, broken statues and fallen pillars had littered the temples halls and chambers. But the temple had deteriorated to the point of near ruin. The way the temple had somehow been claimed by the island and encased in its stony depths had caused many of the spires and domes to have been assimilated into the rock that had surrounded it. In other places time had worn away the stone and brick and crumbled walls that left large gaping holes, providing the temple with very little signs of any ability to retain heat for something to live comfortably inside.
"This place is a dump," Spark commented, breaking the silence. Rhaxma and Saphira looked at him, a sound two quiet to be distinguished came from Rhaxma but that was all.
"Well after who knows how many years you can't really expect it to be in the condition we found it in can you?" Spyro asked the dragonfly, not really expecting an answer.
But the insect always had something to say. "It was a dump then too," He muttered. To anyone else that small conversation would have been confusing but Saphira understood that Spyro wasn't from her time and Rhaxma had been told exactly where Spyro had come from, a few titbits of the war and an even briefer synopsis of Saphira's life. The greater dragon had particular questions when it concerned Glaedr, owing to Saphira's once infatuation to him but promptly stopped when the sapphire dragon explained the golden dragon's disability and his unstable personality; an ill dragon, be it physically or mentally, was not a suitable mate.
The temple is indeed in a terrible condition but the inner chambers are more welcoming. Rhaxma then said as she spread her wings to fly across the body of odd water. Saphira and Spyro followed and each one of them landed on the soft, white sand, the only surviving remnant other than the ice to allude to the island's former name before Vroengard. Some of these holes are actually my doing, Rhaxma admitted as they approached a gaping hole in the temple's outer boundaries. I had become too big to fit comfortably through the ones that already existed so I had to force my way through.
As they reached the gap what Rhaxma had said proved to be true. She hadn't been to the temple in a number of years and as such she had once again grown too large for the opening. She growled with frustration and stepped back, pointing her head at the smaller dragons and then back at the hole. They both nodded and Saphira, followed shortly by Spyro, entered into the temples grounds.
A loud crash sounded behind them and they turned to see a now dusty Rhaxma and a large pile of rubble behind her; she had forced her way clear through and almost destroyed the structure. Does the Chronicler mind you destroying his home? Saphira asked, taking advantage of this rare moment to chastise her sister. Rhaxma rolled her shoulders and stretched her wings in response, the dust clinging to her scales falling off but she would need to clean herself to get them to sparkle again.
This part of the temple isn't his home. As I said before the temple gets more welcoming as we move in, this area is just the fading outlines of a long forgotten temple, slowly being claimed by time. He doesn't mind. With that, Rhaxma continued to lead the way, her answer having frustrated Saphira and making Spyro sigh; there really was no sisterly bond between the two.
They eventually entered a large courtyard that Spyro remembered, as did Sparx. "Great, now we get to listen to the freaky voices with their freaky riddles just to get inside." He complained. Rhaxma looked at him with her head tilted on its left and then the sound of incoherent whispering sounded. But that was all. No distinguishable voices were heard and soon the voices died down, this time confusing Spyro.
"But I thought that we were supposed to answer a riddle to get in?" He said, not really to anyone. It was then that he decided to take a look at his surroundings. They were indeed in the courtyard that had required him to answer a riddle concerning his elements but the orbs that were required to answer it were gone, having succumbed to the effects of time long ago. There were nothing left but featureless lumps where the dragon statues once stood, the crystals nothing but dust in their hollows.
Spyro then watched as Rhaxma moved to the gigantic doorway. Compared to Rhaxma the stone door wasn't really that impressive and as Rhaxma reached it she proved that it wasn't that effective at keeping things out either. She slipped her claws into the cracks and hollows in the stone and with a series of grunts and snorts, slowly pried the stone that had filled the doorway from its fixings and it fell to the ground, smashing into pieces and throwing dust and sand into the air.
"Now that's the way to do it," Sparx shouted as he watched the display of strength. "It would have been a lot easier on us if you could have done that, Spyro." The purple dragon shook his head as he removed his wings that he had used to protect his face; the riddle hadn't been that difficult and Sparx hadn't helped at all.
The Chronicler might be a little upset with that, Rhaxma muttered, more to herself than anyone else. But I can't get in otherwise; it'll be a tight enough squeeze as it is without having to have forced myself through a very narrow doorway. Saphira agreed, even she would find the passageway difficult to navigate. If Rhaxma could make it through then Saphira would definitely be impressed at how limber her sister was.
Spyro was the first to move on this time, leaving the two females behind as he ran through the opening in the archway, eager to get to the Chronicler and rescue Cynder. Saphira followed next, keeping her wings tight against her body and lowering her head and knees towards the floor. She then began to shuffle her way through the curved passage, her sides just able to fit in without touching the walls.
The circular room that Spyro then entered was almost the same as it had been when he entered it the first time; the doors to the different areas that had tested his elemental abilities were still closed, however.
As Saphira emerged into the room, the sound of Rhaxma growling and struggling to force her way through behind her, the bodiless voices tried to sound out again, but only mutters could be made out by the dragons that were present. "Ok, as much as I'm glad that I don't have to listen to them, that mumbling is even creepier," Sparx complained.
"Well just ignore it, Sparx, the temple's old, the voices are probably connected to it somehow and as it ages they get less power." Spyro replied, wondering himself why the voices were having trouble speaking.
A little help, if you would be so kind, Rhaxma suddenly called out, making Spyro and Saphira turn around to see the great white dragoness' head staring at them. She wrenched from left to right and then growled with frustration. I'm stuck.
There was silence for a moment, and then laughter filled the chamber, much to Rhaxma's annoyance. She roared loudly and both Spyro and Saphira stopped. Calm down, we'll get you out, but I'm not exactly sure how. Saphira said, trying to think up a solution. Spyro was running through his elements to come up with a plan that would solve the problem but he was drawing blanks.
It was then that Saphira had an idea and after sharing it with Spyro they agreed it was the best choice without carving out the rock. They approached Rhaxma's head, which simply looked on to see what was going to be done. Then, without warning, Saphira expelled a blast of ice around the stuck dragon, closely followed by a torrent of flames from Spyro. The two elements mixed and a stream of tepid water washed over the white scales of the dragon.
Rhaxma was unsure what they were doing until she moved her neck and felt it slip against the rock. She then realised that they were lubricating her, making it so she could slip out. It was Rhaxma's huge torso that wouldn't be able to fit through the small gap, however, so Spyro called on his earth element and began to smash his tail against the rock, sending vibrations in a specific direction. The forces shattered the rocks surrounding Rhaxma and they began to crumble to dust. Spyro used his abilities to keep the rock above the dust stable and soon Rhaxma was able to move again.
She emerged into the chamber looking dirty and worn. Her scales had been scratched again by the tight tunnel and it would take a few weeks for new scales to replace them. Saphira looked through the tunnel they had come from and noted the large collection of sand Spyro had created; she didn't like the idea that they were destroying an ancient dragon's home piece by piece.
Rhaxma lay on her side and began to clean herself, her tongue running over her scales over and over again, trying to retrieve some of the beauty she once held. I'll never attract a mate at this rate, she complained, by the time I'm finished helping you too all my scales will be dull and unkempt.
Well it's not like you have to worry about that, Saphira replied, there's no males for you anyway.
Rhaxma snorted, Then I'll have to wait for one of the ones you know to grow older. I've been alone too long to be put off by the servitude to the king they have been forced to partake in. If you won't mate with them once they are released by their bindings then I will; two mates sounds fine with me. Saphira growled and was about to reply but Spyro interrupted her.
"Can we move on now?" He asked, stepping towards the light, "We're almost there." Saphira snorted and nodded, making a mental note to confront her sister about mates at a later date. Then she inched further into the room behind Spyro. The room was cramped with all three dragons present in it and Saphira could not see any other passages leading away from it.
Spyro pointed to a small door opposite to the passageway they had used to enter the chamber. But that's smaller than the other doors, how are we supposed to fit through there? The sapphire dragon asked, not wanting to break down the Chronicler's wall to enter his inner chamber. A voice suddenly called out, however, and it echoed through the chamber.
You may break the wall, Saphira; it is the only way for you and your sister to enter. The voice then vanished, leaving Saphira to growl at nothing.
"It's ok, Saphira, that was the Chronicler," Spyro told her.
And it appears he's in a relatively good mood, Rhaxma continued, then approached the wall and smashed her tail into it eagerly. A loud crack was heard and then another bang and the wall crumbled, revealing the larger chamber behind it.
Effective, Saphira admitted, but she still wasn't happy with her heavy-handed sister's ways. Spyro wasn't concerned, however, and ran forth, entering the chamber and standing before the enormous hourglass that sat at its centre.
Saphira followed behind him, eager to meet the ancient dragon as she studied her surroundings. Rhaxma had been correct; The Chronicler's inner chamber was much more welcoming, hardly touched by time. The walls appeared as strong as when they were first built and the countless books on the shelves around the room were dust free and in better condition than any of the elves various scrolls and papers.
Rhaxma had studied the room on the other times she had been there and didn't feel the need to look around, she knew that nothing had changed so moved to a corner and curled up in it. Spyro, however, was startled by how many more books there were. The shelves were stacked on top of each other and lined the room; thousands upon thousands of books sorted and stored, all of them about a dragon of the past. One book case stood out from the rest, however.
It stood by the hourglass, next to a book stand with the largest book Spyro had ever seen. He ignored that for a moment, finding the case besides it far more interesting; his book was upon it, as was Cynder's. Eight other books were stacked next to them; one a deep green; another a ruby red; a third was a rich sapphire whilst a fourth was a bright gold. A fifth was pearly white and a sixth a grey almost as dark as Cynder's. The seventh and eighth books were a dark mahogany and an intense orange.
"The last living dragons adorn that shelf," A voice suddenly called out, making Spyro turn to see the Chronicler emerge from behind the hourglass. "All the rest have long been gone, the book beside it recording their deaths as they happened." Spyro glanced at the large book, noticing that it was open, the names clearly visible on the page. One name stood out from the rest.
"Saphira?" He asked as he read the name. "But she isn't dead." Saphira then approached the book and looked at the list of names. There were a number of names listed upon the page, and the name Saphira was eighteenth from the bottom.
"Saphira the first, the Saphira you know was named after her. She was the partner to the human, Brom, as you already know, Saphira." The Chronicler explained. Saphira nodded and studied the names further, the thirteen names at the bottom must have been the names of the foreworn's dragons, and before that were the dragons killed by them and Galbatorix during the Fall. Of course, she couldn't understand the scribbles of any of these names; she had only ever learnt to recognise the hand scrawled drawing that described her.
"I have not viewed a new name in that book for almost three decades," The Chronicler continued, "And I hope that another does not fill it for some time."
Saphira was not listening, she knew that a dragon had not died since Morzan's and countless had been killed before that. What she was interested in was the books on the shelf. She knew who eight of the books belonged to; it was the brown and orange books that drew her attention.
Who do these belong to? She asked, pointing at the books with one of her long ivory claws. Rhaxma had never been told who those books belonged to but now that she knew other dragons like her existed she knew that two of the books on that shelf were not linked to the dragons she knew of.
"They belong to two other dragons," The Chronicler explained. "They do not live in Alagaësia and I wouldn't put any hope into meeting them, I have studied all of your books extensively and neither of you cross paths with them." Saphira was disheartened at that, if they didn't choose her as a mate then they could have at the very least helped in the war effort. But as always she was accustomed to the fact that she would be alone so the Chronicler's words didn't faze her.
Spyro wasn't concerned with any of this; all he wanted was to find a way to rescue Cynder. "Please, Chronicler, we have to read Cynder's book, it's the only way we can think of a way to save her."
"You always were in such a hurry when it came to saving the ones you cared about, young dragon." Another voice entered the room, unfamiliar to Saphira and Rhaxma but almost heart stopping to Spyro. A large orange dragon ventured forth from behind one of the endless book cases that stretched out into a set of hallways. His ancient visage hid the power that lay beneath the fire guardian's scales and coursed through his veins; Spyro remembered well the fury that could be set loose from the approaching dragon, the power wiping out enemies in seconds.
"Ignitus!" Spyro yelled as he ran to the aged dragon. Ignitus lowered his head to Spyro's level as he approached and allowed the purple dragon to rub against the end of his snout, allowing the brief contact out of a need to show his happiness that Spyro was alive. "You're alive; I thought I'd never see you again."
"Well being alive is subjective," A second voice entered the room, this time coming from behind Ignitus. "Whilst a living being is required to have the ability to take in food, adapt to the environment, grow, and reproduce we do not have those abilities." A yellow scaled dragon with a blue underbelly, horns and wings stepped out from the shadows. The Electric guardian beamed down at the awestruck Spyro as he moved to take a place besides Ignitus. "But that by no means indicates that we are dead by our accounts."
"What Volteer means to say is that we are, indeed, dead, but our Spirits live on here, in the Chronicler's temple." A third pride-filled voice followed the second, the source of which was a powder blue dragon who glowered at Volteer as he moved past him. "Why he couldn't just tell you that is beyond me, perhaps he just thought you had suddenly come across a well of knowledge and could understand his relentless babble."
"Or perhaps he is just set in his ways and can't help but use his vast vocabulary to get his point across, Cyril." The deep booming voice of the earth guardian chastised the ice guardian, much to Cyril's annoyance. Terrador then revealed himself to Spyro, his green and brown hide rippling as the muscles worked beneath his scales.
"He's no more set in his ways than any of us, Terrador," Cyril replied. Spyro simply gaped at the four guardians before him, whilst Saphira and Rhaxma simply looked on in confusion.
"Why are you here, what happened, how did the world end up like this?" Spyro finally managed to get out, his enthusiasm and curiosity evident in his voice, much to the amusement of Ignitus.
"It seems time hasn't impeded your questioning personality, Spyro," The fire guardian replied. "There are two reasons why we're here. The first is that Malefor killed us." Spyro thought as much but hearing it from Ignitus himself was a strange experience. "One by one he hunted us down like animals, inflicting us with torture to the limit of what we could bear and then finally, when we could stand no more, put us out of our misery."
"The coward wouldn't even fight me like a dragon," Terrador interrupted. "He had me strapped down to the floor by his vile minions and proceeded to torture me from there."
"He knew exactly how to cause us the most pain with the simplest of gestures." Cyril added, "Denying Terrador his warriors death; muzzling Volteer and forcing him to do nothing but listen to ridicule as his body was whipped mercilessly; and humiliating and degrading me…as well as a few other tortures."
"I," Ignitus interrupted, "was killed before your crystal. I was forced to listen as Malefor gloated that he would conquer the world and when the time was right release you and Cynder and force you both to be his slaves…he then set his apes on me…luckily with death the sense of pain doesn't follow you, I can't remember how the knives and axes felt."
It seems your lives were not given their rightful ends, Saphira finally spoke. Dragons of your stature should have been allowed to die in peace on Du Fells Nángoröth.
The guardians looked at Saphira and studied her form, taking their time to note the differences between their features and strengths. "Thank you, Saphira, but we came from a time before your mountain ever existed. But we appreciate your words."
"As for the second reason why they are here," the Chronicler said as he walked between them all, Rhaxma watching him carefully, wondering if he would become irritated at having so many dragons in his home. "When a purple dragon is born and brings about the new age a new dragon is chosen from the existing dragon guardians to become the new Chronicler. Because Malefor imprisoned you, you were not able to bring about that age. When the guardians were killed I could not be replaced so their spirits are kept here. They will all remain until you perform your duty and one of the three will be chosen."
"What happens to the three that aren't?" Spyro asked.
"That is up to them; they can either move on or remain behind with the new Chronicler as companions." The Chronicler explained. "My fellow guardians wanted to remain with me, especially my mate, but I urged them to move on, not wanting them to keep themselves from their afterlife with the ancestors just to be with me."
The explanations can wait, Saphira interrupted, causing all eyes to fall on her. I must find my rider, Eragon, before he is killed or worse, made to serve Galbatorix.
Ignitus nodded. "Yes, Saphira, we understand the importance, we must save him as well as Cynder. But first there is much to discuss." Saphira let out a growl of impatience, but if her training with Glaedr and Oromis had taught her anything it was that dealing with ancients required an immense amount of patience, more often than not it required more patience than she had.
I bet some of you are upset that I once again excluded Eragon and Cynder from this chapter but think of it this way, you'll appreciate it all the more when I do bring them back into it; Good things come to those who wait and all that. Please Review.