Okay everyone, here's the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 34: Caldor
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Caldor didn't know how long he was out. He only knew that his wings ached terribly and for some reason he couldn't move his legs. He remembered falling after coming under attack, being saved by the very dragoness he was protecting, and then, likely after realizing who she had rescued, being dropped like a bad habit, skipping across the canal, and crashing head first into the embankment.
He stirred for a moment and heard people yelling around him. He thought it annoying and decided to crack an eyelid and growl a little bit to let them know he was in no mood for their japes and jeers today. When his eyelid cracked open, just enough for the people around him to see a part of his flame orange iris, he gave an audible gasp.
Surrounding him were soldiers of the Rotarian Army...
...and they were chaining him to a truck!
Caldor snarled angrily, wide awake now, and pulled at his limbs and tail and tried to flex his wings and neck to try and get them in range of his light element. He craned his neck around so far he could hear his vertabrae creaking, opened his mouth, and fired a solid blue-white beam of light at the nearest soldier who dodged out of the way at the last possible moment.
The light beam continued on and struck a parked vehicle nearby, causing it to explode. The soldier he had missed came up, the right side of his uniform was scorched and his hair frazzled. Caldor got enough of a glimpse of his uniform to see that he'd fired on an officer.
A young and untested officer who likely had never been on the recieving end of a dragon's element attack.
"For the love of all that's holy someone put a muzzle on the damn beast before he tries to roast us again or blows a hole through the truck!"
Caldor saw a group of soldiers preparing to lasso his mouth shut and renewed his struggles. Suddenly, he heard the distinctive sound of a weapon being cocked and turned an eye towrads the sound and saw a big man with sergeant's stripes holding a large caliber pistol to his head.
"Cease your struggles dragon. You are now a prisoner of war of the Rotarian Empire. Normally our orders do not encompass dragons but then again, you are the first dragon we've ever taken alive. If you do not cease your struggles, however, I will end you. Most weapons cannot pierce dragonscales but this pistol was specially developed in case such an event took place. Will you cease?"
Caldor saw that the situation was hopeless and sighed.
"Very well. But no muzzle." The sergeant nodded and waved the men with the ropes away.
"We saw how you fought. You know dragon, you're lucky it was us that found you. If it was the 16th or the Griffon Corps, you'd have been executed while you were still unconscious." Caldor chuckled weakly.
"Not that it matters. I doubt I shall survive much longer anyway." The sergeant looked to him curiously.
"Why's that? Won't your compatriots see to your wounds?" Caldor shook his head.
"Not mine. I am the son of a traitor. Silverus the Bloody. Likely the moment you turn your back after locking me up, they'll execute me." The sergeant looked unconvinced.
"I doubt they would. Look, normally I'm not supposed to give a prisoner hope but, it is unlikely that you'll be harmed." At that moment the officer came forward, a smug look on his face.
"Doubtful. Unlike you Sergeant Brenner, I have heard the stories of Silverus the Bloody and about his...offspring. We would likely be saving ourselves a lot of trouble and a lot of headaches by executing him now. Likely, we'd make more friends of the citizens and even persuade some of the holdouts to surrender as well, maybe even defect."
Caldor decided that he liked the human, Sergeant Brenner, better than his CO.
Moments later, Caldor felt the last chain snap in place and sighed. The CO called something to his men and then motioned for Sergeant Brenner to ride in the back with Caldor.
(So, this is what my father was subjected to. Gyved, muzzled, placed under heavy armed guard, and at the end of all of it, the guillotine...)
In his thoughts, he felt a hand on his side and gazed to see Sergeant Brenner by his side, an unreadable smile on his face. Brenner caught the glance and nodded.
"Believe it or not, you're the first dragon I've ever seen up close. Compared to the dread griffons I grew up fearing, you're not as much of a monster as the higher ups claim your kind to be." Caldor harrumphed and turned his head away.
"Trust me. I may not be anything like my father, but there are monsters like him who revel in evil deeds and others who act monsterous towards anything to do with those who were wicked. In their minds, I was guilty by blood. I carry my Father's genetics within me. If I ever sire children, they too will be seen as traitors. For some humans, their deeds are their sins. For me, me worst sin was hatching instead of slowly dying in my egg. Would have saved a lot of others a lot of trouble. But...I am a light dragon. We are supposed to be serene, graceful, slow to anger, yet, I'm the complete opposite of that. I cannot end my own life either. My will to live is too strong." Sergeant Brenner looked at the dragon next to him and sighed.
"You know...I had a son, once upon a time. He...He was a lot like you. Didn't think he belonged anywhere, he had his own querks that made him a unique individual. However, most kids his own age didn't like his...independance...they did everything they could to aggrevate him, get under his skin. One day, they went too far. He was found hanging from the second floor of the academy. I...I hated myself for so long that I had allowed this to happen. That I had not given him more support than I should have. I joined the Army to help me move on with my life...now...I think all I've done is walk into a living nightmare."
Caldor was listening but not showing any outward appearance of doing so. Despite himself, he felt a tear form in his eye.
The last time he had cried was when his father had been executed and his mother had subsequently abandoned him.
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George felt the wind on his face and felt the grass swaying in the breeze around him. Beside him was a young man with the Resistance, another farmer named Conner Graham. He couldn't escape the glance of Conner looking at him oddly. Then again, he had one eye bandaged and was holding a scoped rifle in his hands. When he had grabbed the weapon, an old hunting rifle, earlier, one of the others stopped him and asked him if he was sure he wanted to use that rifle. George's reply had been simple.
'A sniper only needs one eye to shoot.'
He was now on a little knoll on the opposite side of where Amber and Miles were stationed and then gazed down the road. In the distance, he could hear engines coming, slowly but surely. George turned to Conner.
"Here they come. Remember, only fire on the first and last vehicles in the convoy. The vehicle that's carrying Caldor is not to be fired upon." Connor nodded and readied his own rifle.
Using binoculars, George spied the vehicles and then wound up the field radio nearby.
"Alright everyone, I see two cars, a truck, and then another car. Amber, you and Miles take out the first car. Lee and Sherman, take out the rear car. Conner and I will take out the second vehicle. We...we cannot allow any survivors."
There was no confirmation, nor did he expect one. Everyone in the group knew that this would be a long, dirty fight. When fighting in occupied territory, prisoners were not possible.
The vehicles entered the valley completely unaware of the group hiding in the tall grass on the surrounding hills. In the back of the truck, George could see Caldor with only one soldier, a sergeant, sitting with him. The first car passed the point of no return and the peace was shattered with a volley of rifle rounds tearing through the first, second, and last vehicles in the convoy.
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The first thing Caldor noticed was a scent on the wind. The smell of humans in the grass. Part of him wanted to start thrashing about, maybe in the hopes the truck would crash. The other, more curious part of him, wanted to see what would happen. He got his answer when gunshots rang out and the first vehicle skidded off the road, flipped and landed upside down in a ditch, and the last vehicle slowed to a stop, the driver's lifeless corpse fallen over the horn.
The truck carrying Caldor started to speed up along with the car carrying the officer but more shots caused the tires on the left side of the truck to go flat, forcing both vehicles to stop. Whether the soldiers in the last car wanted it or not, they were now engaged in a firefight. Sergeant Brenner looked to Caldor and nodded.
"Not to worry, I'm not going to resist." Brenner moved to the hitches on the chains holding Caldor down and started releasing them. All the while, shots buzzed all around.
As the last chain became slack, Caldor rose, shedding chains with a cacophanous rattling and looked to Brenner.
"Thank you." Brenner nodded but then went wide-eyed with shock.
"Caldor, MOVE!" Before Caldor could think, a voice broke through the sound of battle.
"Traitor!"
Caldor turned to see the officer he'd missed earlier holding a pistol in one hand, his face twisted in anger. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Brenner coming in front of him, arms out stretched, a look of defiance on his face. The officer squeezed the trigger, the pistol fired, time slowed down.
Caldor saw the bullet leave the gun, travel a straight line, and impact Brenner in the chest, just below the heart. Brenner went wide-eyed and fell back, landing in between Caldor's forelegs. Caldor focused solely on the officer whose expression now became one of fear as he realized what he had just done and how close he was to a very pissed off dragon. Fear gripped the officer's hand as he dropped the pistol and raised his hands. All for naught. Caldor opened his mouth and fired a light blast, point blank at the officer who screamed once before the light burned him away until nothing but his boots remained, smoking, the soles melted to the pavement.
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George and the Resistance teams heard the shout and saw the blast of light and charged down as the light faded. The first thing he was aware of was the officer's boots, still comically standing upright, the soles melted to the pavement. A broomhandle-style pistol lying on the ground beside the boots, and a long scorch mark running along the road to the opposite side.
Looking up at the truck, he saw the dragon, Caldor, hunched over the body of a Rotarian soldier. The man was still breathing but his coat was open, revealing the dark red stain spreading over his white undershirt. George climbed aboard the truck and gazed at Caldor who watched him with both confusion and also wariness. He came forward and knelt by the soldier.
"I saw what you did. Thank you." The soldier chuckled and then grimaced.
"I didn't do it for you. I...I did it...because I failed...my son long ago...I was not about to fail again...Caldor...he's a good one...no matter what anyone says...give him the chance no one else is willing...to...give..."
The soldier closed his eyes and slumped to one side, his mouth twisted into a smile. Caldor rose and looked down at the soldier, denying his emotions to show now of all times.
"I hope you find your son in the afterlife Sergeant Brenner. Y...You were one of the good ones. Not a monster...a man." Caldor turned to George, still not recognizing him, and used his right wing to salute.
"Aerial Sergeant Third Class Caldor the Silverwing reporting for duty. I am aware you must be a Resistance cell but surely you must know who I am. So allow me to ask you, why? Why risk yourselves to save me when allowing me to be imprisoned would have been easier?" George came forward, allowing himself to smile slightly.
"Because Caldor, my Father saw something in you but was unable to give you the chance he believed you were entitled to. I believe that, despite what others think of you, you have what it take to help us liberate Launces and push the Rotarians back. Plus, I don't really give a damn what others think of you, as we're on the same side, you're one of us."
Caldor gazed at George for a moment as if trying to recognize him and then jerked his head back with a startled snort.
"George de Launces. So, like my father before me I am pulled into contact with your family. Only, I do not wish any harm to you or yours." George smiled and nodded, resting a hand on Caldor's neck.
"I know. That's why we need you. The Resistance is only just fledging now. We need a heavy hitter who has no love for the Rotarians and doesn't give a damn about what people think of him." Caldor grunted and then gave a smile.
"Well then, I suppose you found the right dragon. However, before I can be of any use to you..." He lifted his shredded wings that still dripped with blood. A sight that made Conner and Lee turn green, which made Caldor smile even more.
"...I need to have my wings sewn up." George nodded.
"We have a surgeon standing by at our little hideout. He's sew you up and while you recover, we'll continue recruitment." Caldor thought for a moment and then chuckled.
"Well, if you need more veteran members, I did overhear a while earlier about some soldiers who had been captured on the wall. A few of them were Fahrpanzer crews, some were snipers with the 11th Elite Rangers, and the rest were Dragoons. ALL of them, I highly recommend recruiting as soon as possible." George nodded and then turned to see Amber coming up.
"One of the cars had a briefcase. Looks like some maps, along with some rosters, even the locations of planned defensive fortifications, fuel dumps, ammo dumps, guard barracks, and...hello, what in the world is this? See there? On the MacGreagor farm, what does that mean?"
George looked at the map where Amber pointed and there was a circle with a designation he'd never seen before.
'V1'
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(Black Sand Island, Mechanos' Factory Compound)
Mechanos sat at the desk overlooking the compound which was his achievement. His citidel sat atop the small mountain on the volcanic island, the sand for which the island was named covered the shores. To the south and southwest sat the dockworks, each massive dock held three to four ships moored on each. To the west was the airfield, a massive undertaking housing dozens of super hangars each holding anywhere between 100-300 aircraft. The north held the manufacturing buildings for the ground units. Rifles, machineguns, grenades, tanks, armored halftracks, and various other pieces of equipment rolled off the conveyors at a rate that would stagger and confound even the greatest of geniuses.
Before him however, lay the reports from his field commanders about encountering enemy fortifications and strong resistance from the military forces. He gazed at the paper next to the report and sighed. He had wanted to keep this under wraps a little while longer but now circumstances had forced his hand.
Then again, hadn't he wanted an excuse to use them?
Still, what is the people found out about his secret workshops? What would their reactions be about him delving into such research? What would they think, what would the reaction be if they found out he was working and following his notes and equipment?
He shook his head to clear such weak thoughts from his mind and turned on the transmitter next to his desk. He then began typing the message that was addressed to all forward units.
IWWKVWMEV, IUU AEOZKY (ATTENTION, ALL FORCES)
RKOBMYYMEV WE TYK VKL UEVC-OIVCK LKIREVY COIVWKJ. (PERMISSION TO USE NEW LONG-RANGE WEAPONS GRANTED.)
WIOCKW BISEO ZMPMUMIV IVJ BMUMWIOH AIZMUIWMKY. (TARGET MAJOR CIVILIAN AND MILITARY FACILITIES.)
ROESKZW P4 MY ITWXEOMDKJ. (PROJECT V1 IS AUTHORIZED.)
The green light came on showing that the message had been sent and confirmed, then he buzzed his adjuctant.
"Send word to Captain Kronan. I have an...assignment that requires the expertise of the 11th Air Group."
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Okay, gonna skip around while George and Caldor heal up, next chapter goes back to Bertram who, after the loss of his best friend, is in a very dark place.
Next Chapter: Vengeance.