Hey everyone, I'm back again. Don't worry, I'm not going to throw a corny joke out or anything. Besides I had corn yesterday for lunch. (A bushel of corn falls)
I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 14: Missing In Action
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Bertram groaned and peered into the stream to make sure everythng was still in one piece. He checked his forefeet, hindlegs, tail, his defective wings, everything seemed okay. With the exception of a few cuts and scuffs to his scales he got when he had to crash and the wound in his right foreleg where he'd been shot in human form. He looked up into the open sky and then turned to the wreckage of the bomber that had landed not far from him when he bailed.
He could have cursed himself for breaking a cardinal rule of parachutes: Never let anyone other than you pack your chute.
The moment he had pulled the string, the chute deployed but the lines were tangled and didn't slow his fall. Then the reserve slipped out and threatened to wrap itself around him, forcing him to shift forms in midair and pray that his wings would finally open.
They didn't.
Bertram had done the equivalent of a dragon-sized cannonball through the forest and splashed thankfully into a deep part of the lake in the center of the forest. No sooner had he surfaced and swam to shore than the hulk of the bomber came down, forcing him to dive back into the lake to avoid the explosion.
The aircraft was, to state the obvious, a total wreck. The tail section, including the rudder, the tail gun and poor Jacob, had been shot away by the enemy and had come down somewhere else, the right wing had finally broken free during the spin and the left wing was folded in half over itself. Through the charred remains of the nose, Bertram could see the body of Lieutenant Smith, burned beyond all recognition and riddled with holes, slumped over his gun.
After testing his joints and making sure nothing was broken or out of place, Bertram shifted back into human form to avoid detection by the planes that still flew overhead. He looked at his belt and sighed in annoyance. He only had his sidearm and three magazines as well as his knife for protection.
As he started for the forest, a whine entered his ears. Looking up, he saw a plane diving towards him, guns blazing. Bertram dove for a large outcropping of rocks and took cover behind them and aimed his pistol at the plane before stopping as the plane flew over and turned away.
"Yeah, a 9mm against an armored plane...might as well try spitting and cursing while I'm at it."
Thanks to his memory of the ground, he had a pretty good idea where he was and an even better idea of where he should head, remembering the spot where a gout of fire had erupted from while searching for the dragoness, Flaire.
Common knowledge was that if you survived a crash, try to remain where you were so that your allies could find you. Since nobody knew where he crashed except for the enemy, that idea was out. Hopefully, this Flaire would investigate the crash site and hopefully they could join together and get out of here together.
That is if she decided to investigate the crash site.
Still though, the choice was taken out of Bertram's hands entirely when he heard a rustling in the bushes. Weapon drawn, he turned and saw a gnorc coming out of the woods, weapon ready.
"Hands up human. You are my prisoner." Bertram had a bead on the gnorc and grinned.
"Yeah, but the fact remains I also have you in my sights. Why don't you lower your weapon instead?" The gnorc chuckled but kept his stance.
"Heh, you're lucky our orders are to take you alive Bertram de Launces, otherwise you'd be dead for that remark." Bertram was thunderstruck. The gnorcs knew about him and possibly about his mission which meant that most likely Gnasty was looking for the lair of Tomar as well. He gritted his teeth and then eyed the gnorc.
"So you've been ordered to take me alive? That works in my favor."
Before the gnorc could puzzle out what he meant, Bertram dived to the right and fired a wild round from his sidearm that went into the gnorc's leg, causing him to drop the rifle and howl in pain. Recovering quickly, Bertram took off in full sprint and ran into the forest, leaving a very angry gnorc behind. After running for a moment, he realized he'd gotten turned around in the ancient forest. Not able to see the sun through the thick tree canopy, Bertram decided to slow down for a moment. Just as well because his arm began to throbb with pain.
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Dieter couldn't hide his annoyance as his plane came to a halt on the runway. All the way back, Marks had crowed about how he had shot down Bertram de Launces and how he would be even more famous now. He even went as far as to suggest that Dieter should recommend him for the Onyx Star, one of Rotiart's highest military awards.
Dieter himself had been awarded the Onyx Star twice before and on top of that was a recipient of the Legionaire's Medal of Valor and felt disgusted in his wingman's behavior. He had half a mind to crack the insolent fool over the head with the hammer pilots used should their canopies refuse to open and put an end to his blathering. Thankfully, Jyne intervened and eyed Marks with a stern expression.
"You should choose your words carefully Sergeant. Every man among us in this squadron is a recipient of that honor, and we didn't have to harass a defenceless recon plane to do it. Even if it was piloted by de Launces. Then again, to be quite honest, bomber kills don't really amount to as much as fighter kills. It takes more skill and experience to down a fighter plane than a bomber. Perhaps you will recieve a letter of congradulations but that's it."
Marks looked as if he wanted to say something but was stopped short by Dieter as he came up.
"Furthermore, your tactics up there were dishonorable and not to mention downright disgraceful. You deliberately pursued a crippled plane long after it was obvious it was going down. The way you wage war and act in battle not only reflects upon the squadron, it reflects upon me. Therefore I am striking that so-called 'kill' from your record."
Marks moved his mouth like a fish gasping for air but Dieter payed no mind and turned back to him, his eyes cold and hard as stone.
"You have two black marks against you Sergeant. One more and I will have your wings. Do I make myself clear?" Marks clammed up and saluted stiffly.
"Yes. Sir." Dieter nodded and then turned to Jyne.
"Now that night's falling, he'll have to seek shelter. I saw his parachute tangle and he shifted to avoid any great harm. Likely he is wounded and thus will be easier to capture. Personally, I'd prefer to face him in the skies, one on one but if I can capture him, I can remove both a rival and an enemy ace and hopefully save his life in the process. The boy is good but he is too soft. That weakness is going to get him killed unless I intervene."
Jyne chuckled as the squadron, minus Marks, walked to the hangar. Another of Dieter's squadron, Manfried Voss, joined them, a smile a constant feature to his face.
"Captain, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're entertaining ideas that Bertram could be a worthy opponent." Dieter chuckled as he walked on.
"I cannot keep my emotions secret from any of you curious lot, can I? It is ture that my only love in this world is flying the skies of the world and testing myself against the best that the enemy has to offer. As an ace, no as a pilot, I must continually improve otherwise my skills will rust and grow stagnant. The one thing I long for in the world, more than all the riches, fame, and glory in all the world, is for an opponent who can push me to my absolute limits the way my mentor pushed me. I desire nothing more than a good honest fight."
Dieter paused for a moment and looked at the darkening sky, noticing the stars and smiling broadly, all previous anger and wrath gone.
"If I have a choice, I'd prefer to die up there in the clouds. Twenty-thousand feet up, edge of my seat, guns blazing, at four-hundred miles per hour. I want to just feel the satisfaction of knowing that I have done my best and that I have no regrets. Heh, I know what you're thinking and the answer is yes. I had a wife, three kids, and owned a ranch in southern Rotiart. I raised horses and cows and loved every minute of it. When the Callinar Incursion occured, I joined a mercenary unit that was meant to 'experiment' with new Rotiart plane designs. When the war ended, my wife wanted nothing to do with me and to make things easier for the kids I signed over the ranch and everything to her. I left everything behind so that I could fly. I still see the kids every once in a while. Each of them are going into professions that they love and want to do. As long as they're happy, I have no regrets."
At that moment, a small dog-sized creature came running from the squadron's barracks and leapt into the air, using its small wings to glide towards Voss who caught the little creature and laughed as it buried its head into his scarf and jacket.
The creature was a baby griffon, not one of those dread griffons that skulked about here and there and didn't speak except to order their subordinates, threaten someone, or demand something but a true, pureblooded, golden griffon, the very same type of griffon that had once been on Rotiart's flag. The griffon looked up at Voss with a child-like innocence and muttered something Dieter couldn't hear. Yet he was curious.
"So Voss, what does our little mascot have to say this time?"
"He says that if you were to die he'd be sad. You're always saying that the squadron is like a family. While there's no denying Werner sees me as a surogate Father, he sees you as a kindly grandfather and the rest of the squadron as big brothers. He thinks about everyone that way except for Marks who he sees as a...well griffon words translate differently than human but...he sees Marks as a 'loud-mouth, seed for brains, cuckoo bird'. T-That's only a rough translation, mind you." Upon hearing this, another wingman, Eric Wolff, let out his obviously pent-up laughter at this.
"Never you worry Voss, you and Werner can count on my silence. Still though, how the devil did you learn griffonspeak? I know the little bugger understands human language but how can you understand him?" Voss petted Werner's head as they walked on and sighed.
"I grew up just outside a griffon colony near Tenret. In my youth I sat with the griffons, observing them with my father and listening to them speak to each other. One day something just clicked and I began to speak griffon as if I'd been born to it. Just, don't tell anyone else. They may decide to transfer me to translator duty and I would like to keep my fingers, toes, and other limbs whole if you please. Dread griffons love giving orders but do not like to be on the recieving end."
"Again, you have my secrecy. Besides, if you left, I'd be defenceless up there without my wingman to watch my back. I don't trust Marks as far as I could throw him."
"On that we're agreed." Dieter nodded and then turned back to his squadron.
"Tomorrow, the ground teams will begin searching for the wreckage of the bomber. They have orders to capture Bertram de Launces alive but they will not hesitate to wound him further to hinder any escape attempts. Therefore, we shall be going out as well and we must ensure that we find him first. Are we agreed?"
The entire squadron nodded their approval. Unbeknownst to them however, a shadow lurked in the darkness between the tents, seething with anger at the remarks made.
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A sound akin to a Syllian screech owl startled Bertram as he made his way through the forest, trying to find even the slightest sign he was going in the right direction. His survival kit had proved useless as the compass had broken when the useless parachute had been ripped away by his dragon form. He remembered something about finding moss on a side of a boulder or a tree but there was a problem, the vegitation here in Avalon was far more...lethal...than in Syllia.
He kept his weapon ready and allowed his hearing to do more than his sight. He was certain something was following him but for the sake of survival, he refused to stay in one place and kept moving. Bertram kept walking until he saw something in the distance. It was too dark to make out but still, if there was a chance at shelter, he'd take it. Besides, even if his sidearm wasn't effective, he was still a decent sized dragon. Perhaps anything thinking a human weak and easy prey might be frightened enough by the trasformation and flee. As he neared the object, he slowed as he realized what it was.
What he had discovered was the mangled tail section of the bomber. Peering inside, he saw a lot of blood but no sign of Jacob's body. Evidently he had already been carried off by some forest predator. Thankfully the machinegun was still in good condition and Bertram didn't have any problems unbolting the heavy gun from the turret and swinging it inside to guard the open tail. The glass observation dome was open to the elements but the majority of the frame work was still intact.
He was glad to find a survival pack here in the tail, probably Jacob's, but still, it held a small bedroll, some C-rations, and a canteen of water. It was more than what he had so he availed himself to the pack and started a small fire in the ruined tail. After eating something and drinking some water, he lay down on the cot and eased into a light sleep, wary of anything trying to enter the tail.
Bertram had only been dozing for about half an hour when something brushed against the metal tail of the plane. The sound was slight but enough to wake him. He rose, clicked the safety off the gun and angled it down at the opening, waiting for anything to cross the sights. The sound, a slight rasping sound accompanied by a few taps and clicks seemed odd but then again there were still creatures that not even the people of Avalon had seen yet.
Bertram refrained from saying anything, wary that it may be a beast of the forest or it may be an enemy soldier trying to see if anybody was home. In the light from the fire, he saw ashadow start moving towards the opening and tightened his grip on the gun. He muttered a pilot's prayer, a rare occurance for him, and prepared to sell his life dearly.
"H-Hello? I-Is there anybody there? Please, answer me."
Bertram looked up in confusion. The maker of that shadow had spoken and the voice was definately female. He thought for a moment then realization hit him. Still, he remained at the gun and cautiously answered.
"I'm here. Lady Flaire? Is that you?" The voice came back, this time relieved.
"Yes, thank the Ancestors. Are you alright? I smell blood."
"I'm alright, none of it's mine. I was doing a recon of the area when my plane came under fire. The blood belongs to my tailgunner who was killed when the tail was shot off the bomber. I don't know where his body is but I assume some creature got it. I've been wandering around here trying to find a source of light so that I can find my way back to Warfang."
Flaire's voice chuckled as the shadow loomed larger outside.
"Good luck with that. This place is called the Twilight Forest. Even in broad daylight, the forest floor is shrouded in darkness. You won't find an easy way our of here unless you can fly." Bertram sighed at that remark and then thought of something odd.
"Tell me something Lady Flaire, if you're alright, which you sound to be, why don't you fly out of here to find which way to go? Your wings aren't broken are they?" There was silence for a moment as Bertram heard breathing but then he heard a few strange noises like hiccups. The voice replied a few seconds later sounding oddly choked up.
"I-I wish they were. At least that can be healed but no...when I was attacked...one of those Dread Griffons raked my face with its claws. I...I've been blinded and cannot see, I've been bumbling around these woods for three days now trying to find a way out. I launched a fire blast into the air to try and clear some debris but all I did was start a forest fire that nearly killed me." Something in that made Bertram choke back a laugh.
"How can a fire kill a fire dragoness?"
"The same way it can kill a human. Just because we can breathe fire doesn't mean we are immune to it. We can control fire we breathe normally or use in a fury attack but when it comes to wild fire we can burn as easily as any other race. The Belt of Fire taught us that when the Guardian Ignitus sacrificed himself." Bertram remembered that name and then linked it to what his Father had told him years ago.
"You mean the Chronicler?" There was a sharp intake of breath as the voice stilled for a few moments before answering.
"How do you know that? Who are you? I demand to know!"
"I am Captain Bertram de Launces. I was ordered to find you as well as try to find the lost lair of Tomar the Wise. I found the location of the lair and now I've found you."
"Bertram de Launces? The brother of Magothera? Mate of Ignitus?"
"Y-Yeah..."
The silence was deafening for a moment as Bertram could hear every little thing going on around him. Crickets chirped, owls screeched, bats flew through the air, Flaire pawed the ground in a nervous fashion and her breathing deepened. Bertram sighed and rummaged through the pack and found an few unopened cans of meat. Being blinded, he guessed that she hadn't eaten lately. A thought that was confirmed when he heard a loud rumbling outside and a gasp of surprise.
"Hungry? I still have some food here if you want."
"N-No! I refuse to be handed food like some beggar! I refuse to be hand-fed like a hatchling! I-" She was cut off by her stomach again as Bertram eased out of the tail, food in hand. When he saw her, he shuddered in horror.
Flaire had four gashes running across her face and was caked with dried blood. Her eyes were shut and he had a feeling that he didn't want to see what condition her eyes were in. He closed with her and gingerly placed a hand on her nose. She recoiled in an instant and huffed, smoke curling from her nostrils.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Bertram eased open the medical kit and laid its contents out and then looked to her.
"We don't have healing crystals here. I'm going to try and wipe some of this blood off of you so that you don't attract any wild beasts. Dragon you may be but if you cannot see your attacker, you need to avoid them. Plus, I need to disinfect the wounds so they don't fester and become infected."
Flaire huffed but relented to Bertram touching her snout and then working on her face to remove the blood. Twice she winced as he rubbed a sore spot or brushed the alcohol sodden gauze over a painful wound. He stopped when he neared her eyes and looked her over. Even in this small firelight he could see moisture glistening from under her shut eyelids. She was in pain, she was binded, she was crying. Bertram set the gauze down and then picked up the food.
"Open you mouth."
Flaire inhaled once and smelled the food, making her stomach growl again and her mouth water and she opened her mouth slightly. Bertram placed the food in her mouth and then tapped her snout. She closed her mouth, chewed for a second, then swallowed. It wasn't much, but hopefully it was enough to take the edge off her hunger. Bertram sat down by her and looked up at the canopy, vainly wishing to see anything that might point the way back, a star, the moon, something, anything.
He sighed and looked to Flaire who had settled down beside him and then, surprisingly, placed her head in his lap.
"Tomorrow, we'll go hunting. There has to be something in this forest worth eating. I'll help you in any way that I can and once we leave, we can get you home." Flaire shuddered as she raised her head. Bertram had a feeling that, if she could see, she'd be looking at him with a worried expression.
"No...I...I cannot go home. Mother...and Father...they would never be able to forgive me for getting hurt." Bertram looked at her curiously.
"Lady Ember and Lord Flame? I cannot believe that. They love you. They'd never abandon you because of an injury."
"That's just it. I wasn't supposed to go on this mission but a friend of mine who was assigned to it just learned she was pregnant and was taken off the roster. I volunteered in her place so that the wing wouldn't be short one. Against the apes, against the gnorcs we learned that one dragon in a flight can make all the difference. I heard tales about the Dark War that too often entire wings fell because one or two of their members didn't engage or were unable to fight. We were nearly driven to extinction during the war and many females and males bred to try and give our race a chance at life."
She paused for a moment, allowing Bertram to remember all the tales he'd heard from Spyro and Cynder and the Guardians as Avalon shared its history and culture with Syllia and the world. As a pilot, he'd been told of the battles of the Avalon Dark War and every story of horror and trajedy filled his with more and more shock at the cruelty of the apes and his own ancestor.
"After the temple fell and the eggs were destroyed we all but gave up hope and scattered into far flung groups, tribes, and settlements and tried to reproduce there. For a dragoness, being gravid or able to bear children is one of the greatest pleasures there is. I...I was to be engaged to a dragon my age in a few weeks but no male in his right mind would accept a mate who is blind and willingly throws herself into battle like me. Even if it is to help my comrades. A noble fight is only noble if you make it back unharmed."
Bertram felt her ease her head back into his lap as she crooned sadly. He couldn't explain his actions but he moved his hand over her head and lightly pet her and ran his hand along her neck and began to hum a song...a song his mother had sung to him when he was a hatchling. After a while, he sighed and looked at her.
"You're not alone in that you know? I'm a dragon, I have the de Launces name and yet, because of something wrong with me, I cannot fly. My wings are fused shut and cannot move. You say no dragon could love you for being blind? For being reckless? What dragoness, what female of any race could love me for this." He gazed at her but he saw no indication she was awake. Still, he'd said it, he might as well continue.
"To female dragons, or rather, the ones that know my secret, I'm a flightless lizard, utterly useless. To human females, I'm a freak. When they think of shapeshifters, they think of my older brothers or my Father, a hero turning into a dragon to save them like some damsel in distress and wisking them away to a castle in the mountain to engage in unbridled passion. The fastest I can move in dragon form is a ground gallop and that makes me slightly better than those old cavalry horses. The only way I can fly is in a plane and even then it's not the same. I'll never know that type of freedom, that type of passion. I heard of stories about the 'mating flight' where dragons bonded and mated while plummeting through the sky. I can never know that. At least you can still fly but what about me?"
Bertram leaned back and looked back into the canopy. He felt something on his face and reached a hand up to his eyes and realized he was crying. Cursing himself for venting his emotions at a time like this, he closed his eyes and dozed. Had he looked back at Flaire, he would have noticed that she, too, was crying.
She had heard everything he said.
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The next morning saw the darkness of the forest give way to a dull grey light as the sun rose. Bertram awoke and found himself snugly against Flaire's belly as she lay coiled around him. He slowly sat up and felt his shoulder flare up causing him to wince. Then he felt Flaire move and saw her rise up, eyes closed but she breathed the air deeply.
"This place was so peaceful back before the war. I often came here to relax and let my thoughts wander. Of course, now that war has come this place has become hostile and unforgiving."
She rose and stretched, joints popped, muscles creaked, and every part of her body rippled in the dull light like every scale on her was alive and had a mind of its own.
"Well, as to what you said last night, I do believe we should work together to snag some prey. I don't know what sort of weapon you have in human form but I have no intention to pick little pieces of metal out of my meal and I know nothing about your hunting skills. So, you will be my eyes and I shall catch the food. Agreed?"
Bertram hadn't said anything before Flaire rose and started walking off into the dull grey. He raised a hand to say something but was too late as a rather loud thunk reverberated followed shortly by a rather loud string of draconic curses. Bertram rose, shifted, and then followed the foul-mouthed dragoness into the forest.
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At Warfang, a modified gunship was just starting its engines and preparing to take off. Behind it were numerous fighters also revving up. Among these fighters was Ayatane and nearby was Sahne who shared a glance with him before watching the gunship coast down the runway and take off.
Sparing a glance to the left, he saw Bertram's sister and brother standing nearby with expressions of hope. As he awaited the signal to launch, he recalled the briefing from yesterday.
'The goal of this operation is to rescue one of our own. The gunship will be dropping flares into the forest along the path of the crash site of the scout. With luck, both Captain de Launces and Lady Flaire had met and can follow the flares to the clear zone on the south side of the woods. Your job, as fighters, is to protect the gunship. It goes down, the mission fails.'
'We will be launching a bombing raid over gnorc territory at the same time to cover our rescue efforts and draw the attention of the enemy garrison. The area is known as the Twilight Forest and is pitch black down there so the flares should light up a good distance. Once they are out, Lady Flaire will fly to safety in Warfang and Bertram will be accompanying her. Your role will then change to protecting them. This is our only chance to save them.'
'Do not fail.'
Ayatane heard the beep in his headset that was his key to take off and he pushed the throttle of the newly arrived P-31 he had been assigned to full power and rocketed down the runway, took off, and assumed a CAP around the airbase until the other fighters were up. He looked west toward the Twilight Forest and sighed.
"Hang in there Bertram. Help is on the way."
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Alright everyone, so Bertram and Flaire have found one another, Dieter and his squadron will be searching for them, and now the reinforcements are taking off with a screwball rescue plan. Sounds like this next one's going to be close.
Please review and I'll see y'all next time.
Next time: A Wing and a Prayer.