CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: Supernatural
Hunter groaned, desperately trying to stretch his legs for the hundredth time. After hearing that Spyro was back from the Fireworks Factory with Greta and some sweet rocket plans, he rushed over to see if he could help assemble it. One fake apple by the lakeside later, here he was: trapped in a cage underground who-knows-where. The cold metal made the cage particularly uncomfortable, and it was just big enough to hold the lengthy cheetah standing up, not leaving much room to sit or lay down, much less stretch his legs.
Worst of all, he was hungry. The stupid apple was plastic.
His ears perked when a noise came from down the hall outside, so he jumped up, claws at the ready to...do something to whoever came to check on him. He'd figure that part out when he got there.
He half-expected it to be the Sorceress, or at least one of the rhynoc goons he saw pass by outside. Instead, it was a rabbit, her hood down and robe thrown back to reveal her golden fur and shapely figure for the very first time. Up until now, Hunter had only seen shadows of her (albeit still very pretty) face from under the hood, so it took a moment for the recognition to set in. "...Bianca?"
"Yeah, hi," she dismissed quickly, trying to avoid Hunter's eyes as she brushed away her bangs and flattened her ears. Approaching the cage, she pulled out an apple. "I, uhm...I thought you might be hungry, so I, uh..." Not wanting to finish her sentence, she offered the fruit to her mentor's prisoner.
Hunter hesitated, just to be sure Bianca wasn't attempting to pull something, but when she did and said nothing else, he reached through the bars and took it, poking it with his claws and polishing it to assure it was a real apple and not another cheap fake. "Thanks." He smiled with a laugh. "You bring any chips?"
Bianca wasn't in the mood to be laughing. "Look, I'm sorry this happened," she sighed. (Especially since the trap was meant for Spyro.) "I...did try to warn you guys about the traps."
"Yeah, I know," Hunter conceded. "But what were we supposed to do? We have to rescue the eggs!"
"No, you don't!" Bianca finally snapped, turning away in case her exhaustion got the better of her and let a tear slip past. "You don't understand! Neither of you do! We have to do SOMETHING. If we don't bring the dragons back, all of our magic is going to dry up forever!"
Hunter raised an eyebrow, not nearly so versed in the ways of dragon lore. (He always left that kind of stuff to Elora and the Professor.) "Wait. Dragons used to live here? Really?"
Bianca nodded. "They did. This was their original home, thousands of years ago when our worlds still had magic and harmony." She gulped; to this day, the story of the dragon's demise unsettled her stomach. "But one day, a thousand years ago, the Sorceress revolted against the dragon's power, and she banished them all to the other side of the world, to the Dragon Realms your friend's from. But when the dragons left, so did the source of all of our magic; it's been drying up slowly, and now it's just at the point where we can't sit and watch it happen anymore."
"...The Sorceress is really that old?"
Finally, Bianca cracked a smile. "Yes, but don't tell her I told you that."
"You know, the dragons are actually pretty cool," Hunter pointed out. "I'm sure if you told them your story, they'd work something out. I could even put in a good word for you." He gently pointed to the lock. "If you let me go, that is."
The apprentice took a heavy breath. She didn't want to strip the eggs from their homes and families any more than they did; was it worth a shot to ask the dragons to return after a thousand-year banishment? Or was it just a trick so that they could snatch the remaining eggs and high-tail it home? Hunter didn't seem to be the smart one in the group, not by a long-shot, but she still couldn't take your chances.
"I like you a lot more than your dragon-friend," she said, reaching for her hood, "but I still don't trust you. I'm sorry, I can't let you go."
Hunter sighed as he watched her run out, likely to cause more trouble for Spyro as he hunted down the last of the eggs. It was worth a shot. "Hey, Bianca?"
"What?"
"At least don't wear that dumb robe so much. You look really cute under that hood."
oo00oo00oo
"Be careful 'round dese parts, lil' dragon! Dere be more ghosts in dis here shipyard den I kin shake me pick at!"
Spyro and Sparx looked at each other after Crazy Ed's...interesting introduction to the Lost Fleet. "Is it just me, or are we back in Misty Bog?" the dragonfly asked.
"I don't know, but if I see killer tree frogs, we're leaving."
The Lost Fleet was a perfect throwback to the Beast Maker swamps, right down to the oozy-green water and the thick accents of the locals. Everything that soured Spyro about the swamps, paired with an infestation of the giant crabs that plagued Aquaria Towers. (However, they also had cannons, which made up for all of the bad parts.)
And while there weren't any killer tree frogs, there was another huge problem plaguing the Lost Fleet: ghosts. The strange creatures were everywhere, wispy white beings that circled the shipwrecks, firing acidic ghost-blasts down on Spyro, Crazy Ed, and anything else that dared to cross their path.
"So how do you plan on dealing with the ghosts, Spy?" Sparx buzzed as they watched a pair of the angry spirits wreak havoc on the graveyard.
"I don't," Spyro answered simply. "Let's just sneak around them, find the dragon eggs, and get-"
BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA-BOO!
The dragon-duo's faces paled as they ran right into one of the wiry ghosts, which cackled maniacally at the sight of their panic and fear. "Did I hear you say you were avoiding us, dragon?! This is OUR graveyard! Turn around and run home before you join us, trapped amongst the ghost fleet FOREVER!"
"Well, you heard him, let's go!" Sparx buzzed, flying off in a flash.
Spyro, however, was frozen to the ground. There was another voice over top of the cackling ghosts, one that came in low and soft as a cold iciness settled into the murky heat of the swamp.
"Listen to their warning, dragon. The Sorceress' patience grows thin, and I fear you unprepared for the full might of her magical prowess. She is your final Goliath, dragon; no matter which of you dies in the arena, the journey becomes much, MUCH harder from here. Save yourself and return to the Artisans. You won't do much good to your friends from beyond the grave, will you?"
"Who are you?!" Spyro finally snapped, searching to find the spirit's voice in the onset of darkness. "Why do you think you know so much about me?! What are these dark forces you keep talking about?!"
"Foolish dragon; I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise for you, now would I? I need you out of my hair and your friends need you alive. Do us both a favor and go home."
Spyro growled, digging into the sandy beach below him. "Not a chance." He reared back, and with a mighty blast of flame, dispelled the darkness once more. The voice vanished as the warm, green glow of the swamp returned, and he looked down to find the taunting "ghost" writhing in pain from his fiery attack. Its sheets were burned away, revealing no more than a rhynoc, crying in misery as it sat up and ran for its life. It didn't get far.
"Stupid ghosts," Spyro spat, swiping at the remains of its costume. "Should've known it was just a dumb prank."
"Y-Yeah, I totally knew it was fake," Sparx buzzed, staying unusually close to his partner's horns.
"Sure you did."
"...So...who were you talking to back there?"
"...I don't know. But I get the feeling I'm gonna find out sooner rather than later."
oo00oo00oo
During their first trek through the Beast Maker swamps, Spyro struggled to manipulate the bogs because of his then-rampant hydrophobia. He sank like a rock, and the mere idea of being trapped under the water, cold and unable to breathe, dying slowly as the air was drained from him...Horrifying. It paralyzed him, shut down everything but a blind flail for survival.
Now, of course, he had gotten over his fear. He had actually swam through the swamps that once gave him such nightmares. (It wasn't pleasant, but he did it.) But here it was, his oldest nemesis, staring him down once again. The water in the Lost Fleet was anything but; it was actually a plasmic acid, poisoned by the erosion of all of the ships (or, if you asked Crazy Ed, the ghosts). It gave off a noxious smell and you could feel the heat constantly steaming from it.
No sane person would ever want to go swimming around in it. Unfortunately, "sane" wasn't one of Spyro's outstanding features, especially since he noticed a trail of dragon treasure trapped at the bottom of the acid river.
"Seriously, Spyro, we don't have to bring ALL of the dragon treasure back home, right?" Sparx buzzed nervously, trying to talk his partner out of the unthinkable. "What's the harm in leaving a few gems down there? Maybe we could find Moneybags and make HIM go down for them, what do you say?"
"Sparx, you know we can't just leave gems laying around," Spyro argued, never once taking his eyes off of the treasure trapped below. "Every gem we forget is a gem the Sorceress can turn into some kind of rhynoc that'll take out the whole area once we turn our back."
"If the rhynoc can survive down there long enough to get to dry land?"
"We have to at least explore, Sparx. There's dragon treasure, what if there's something else down there? What if that's where they dropped one of the dragon eggs?"
"WE are not exploring anything. Even if you find a way to survive down there, I don't have dragon scales. You are on your own for this one, Spy."
Spyro quickly turned on his paws and ran. "Fine! I can move faster without you anyway!"
"SPYRO, YOU GET BACK HERE BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING STUPID!" Sparx shrieked, rushing to keep up with his dragon. But it was too late; by the time he reached the ship Spyro had ran into, the Artisan had rushed through the invulnerability power-up that the locals used to traverse their own swamp and dived straight for the river. In a panic, Sparx rushed back outside and followed the darting dragon through the river, thanking the gods that it was at least thin enough that you could see through it. From dry land, though, he was useless. He could only watch and hope Spyro knew what he was doing.
The purple dragon, on the other hand, was on a mission. The power-up worked just like the one he found in Skelos Badlands last year, coating all of his scales with a cooling chill that fought off the acidic burn of the river. Granted, he held his breath just in case; no telling if invulnerability applied to his lungs, and it wasn't a risk he wanted to take.
He scooped up as much of the dragon treasure as he could spot and kept moving. There was no telling how far the river stretched, or if there was even anything else to find, but he had to look.
At first, he didn't mind the swim, apart from the smokiness building up in his lungs. (Fire dragons didn't hold their breath well.) The surface was right above him, so if anything went wrong, he could just jump out. After a short swim, though, he found himself at a split in the road. One side led to a quick dead-end, while the other led into a cove. The path was darkened, like a tunnel that was just begging for him to traverse it. However, the temptation came with a price - if he went, the surface would abandon him. He'd have nowhere to run.
Swallowing the urge to breathe, Spyro kicked off down the darkened tunnel, the acid rushing past his ears preventing him from hearing Sparx's panic above the water. The path twisted and turned, but he followed along. He shuddered as the light continued to drain from his path, almost hearing the dark spirit taunt his foolish choice. The heat in his chest was almost unbearable now, and his lungs were screaming for air. He saw a few scales start to peel off of his paws as the heat started to come upon him, scorching his underbelly as the invulnerability spell began to wear off. The path was almost pitch-black, his vision was hazy as the world began to spin...
SPLASH! In a panic, he rushed towards the first light he saw, clamoring for the surface and pulling himself up just in time. The acid had sunken into his tail, leaving the purple scales around its tip burned off and rubbed raw, but apart from that, he was okay. He spluttered and spat on the step, shaking off as much of the plasmic acid as he could before it caused any more damage to his tired, battered scales. With a few hungry breaths and a few hearty flames, the ache in his chest passed and he could breathe softly yet again.
Tiredly dropping over, he winced after landing on what he thought was a rock. Looking down, it was far too beautiful to be a rock, its speckled white shell glistening in the moonlight that shone down from below, lighting up the exit and saving Spyro's life.
It was their hundredth dragon-egg.
oo00oo00oo
According to the locals of Evening Lake, the Lost Fleet wasn't just a breeding ground for evil crabs and toxic swamp and spooky ghost stories. It also made the perfect jolted terrain for skateboarding, and those same stories said that a group of rhynocs had taken over their personal racetrack. Hunter and Spyro, always eager for a race, agreed to meet behind the Fleet to strap on their gear and reclaim the track.
Unfortunately, they STILL hadn't heard from the elusive cheetah.
"Seriously, where is he?!" Spyro asked, pacing to ignore the skaters as they rubbed in their 'victory by default.' "It's not like him to pass up a challenge."
"Uh, Spy? You might wanna take a look at this."
Following his dragonfly, Spyro ducked around one of the pseudo-ramps the locals had built out of half-wrecked boats. Hiding behind it was Hunter's skateboard...and a scrawly note.
Looking for your friend? Turns out he's a lot less crafty than you are. Aw, is poor widdle dragon gonna cwy? Don't worry, my dearest Spyro - YOU'LL BE JOINING HIM SOON!
- Best regards, The Sorceress
Spyro growled, gritting his teeth to keep from sending Hunter's board and the note taped to it into a fiery inferno. It was bad enough that the Sorceress caused so many problems for the locals of her own Forgotten Realm. She crossed an unfathomable line when she sent her goons to dragon-nap 150 unborn babies and hide them everywhere like some cheap game of hide-and-seek.
There were no words for this. She had kidnapped his best friend, his second sidekick, his racing partner. Gods knew where he was, or what she was doing to him. What if she was using him to steal back the eggs they had already found? Or bewitching him as just another obstacle to throw in his way? He shuddered to think of the chance of facing Hunter in an arena, or worse, not moving fast enough to save him from a deadly trap. But the Sorceress clearly had no limits; why WOULDN'T she go that far?
Without another word, Spyro abandoned the Fleet and rushed back to the Evening Lake as fast as his four legs would carry him.
oo00oo00oo
"Greta! How soon until we have that rocket ready to go?!"
"It'll be done any minute now. Why?"
"The Sorceress has Hunter; the sooner we get to Midnight Mountain and take her out, the better."
Only took ya three chapters to figure that one out, Spyro. XD THIS IS WHY YOU ALWAYS DO LOST FLEET FIRST. Also, how convenient that the Lost Fleet chapter happened to fall on Halloween weekend. Ooooh, 2spooky.
With that out of the way, everybody get hyped, 'cause Midnight Mountain is on the horizon! :D Make sure you tune in next week for all of the excitement; thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!