Well, it's almost 2017. My new year's resolution is quite simple. I plan to complete a few of these stories I've started and have for numerous reasons put on hold. Well, here's hoping I can actually get a few done.
FYI: I'm not sure if the translation is accurate and I'd be glad for a more precise translation if any of my readers speak German. As I understand it, Ritter is German for Knight. If this is incorrect or if there is another term please let me know.
Also, if anyone knows the translation of Squire in German, I'd be most appreciative.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 62: The Second Battle of Launces, Part II
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"Attention all flights, due to the loss of contact with the Partisan cells in Launces, we are to advance our orders. All aircraft prepare to take off and make a heading for Launces. Transports will deploy paratroopers to assist the ground forces while the escorts will begin attacking hostile ground forces. Be aware, due to reports stating the enemy land battleship Chimera is in the area of the city, His Majesty has also given the green light for Project Indomitable to be deployed. Launces First Air Wing, you have the honor of leading the formation."
"Lieutenant-Colonel Bertram de Launces, callsign Paladin, begin final launch procedures."
Bertram smiled a bit at that as he flipped some switches on the panel. Slowly, the new engine spun up to full power, the large five-bladed propellor spun slowly in a clockwise direction as the drive shaft started turning. Placing his left hand on the throttle, he slowly pushed it forward, the engine pitch changing from a dull roar to a high pitched whine. He felt pulled into his seat as the P-31d rolled down the runway. As he passed the flight control tower and saw the cheering civilians of Royalis lining the airbase, he locked the throttle to full power and flipped the red switch next to it, engaging the supercharger.
Flames shot from the exhaust pipes and the rpm of the engine rocketed into the red zone. The plane, with little need for him to touch the stick, rose into the sky. The latest incarnation of the P-31 had reinforced armor, improved weapons, and a new engine, the RL34 which had a special gear, a turbocharger, that pushed the plane faster than any other aircraft before it. While the various types of jets were being examined and the R&D department was working on decyphering the chemical composition of the new jet fuel that Tullinar had sent along with one of their prototypes, the military had been busy updating the aircraft currently in service.
In return for all they had done, the Launces First Air Wing was first on the list to receive the new updated planes.
Bertram climbed to 800 feet and waited for his wing to join him. Once they were in formation, he keyed the radio.
"Paladin to all aircraft, form up around me and then assume defensive pattern around the transports. Black Knight, I'd like for E Squadron to form up on my left." Dieter chuckled through the radio.
"Very well Paladin, but I'd like to point something out... Black Knight was the callsign given to me under Mechanos' command. Now that the Rotarian Royal Military-in-Exile has been officially recognized, I've decided to retake the callsign I used during the Callinar Incursion: Ritter." Bertram nodded at the good fit but then thought of something.
"Ritter... isn't that your son's callsign?" The radio crackled again.
"It was but... well... I decided to pick another since Dieter... I mean... Dad wanted to use it again. My new callsign is Squire." Bertram smiled.
"Very well. Ritter, please have your squadron form up on my left. It'll be your's and mine that protects the transports until they're finished dropping the troops."
"Understood. It would be an honor."
Bertram angled towards Launces, his resolve and nerves steadied and steeled.
(Here we come George. We're coming home.)
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Bullets bounced off George's scales as he shielded the Partisans and soldiers behind him from the OAC attack. His body was large enough to act as a barrier, his scales strong enough to stop everything short of cannon rounds. The grenades still stung a bit but the pistol rounds the OAC were using just bounced off. The Partisans meanwhile, sheltered behind his body, using his legs as pillars, his tail as a barrier, effectively, and accurately, returned fire.
George normally didn't like remaining still in dragon form, his instincts were screaming at him to go on the offensive, to charge towards the Rotarian soldiers and rip them to pieces. Yet for this one time he fought against them, the simple reason was he didn't mind it. The shock and horror on the faces of the soldiers of the OAC every time their bullets bounced or deflected off his scales in a shower of sparks pleased him. For the first time since the city had fallen, he felt he had the upper hand against the hostiles. He reasoned: so what if he was a shield instead of a sword this time around? This battle was for his home, and the best way to win it was to ensure that as many of his allies survived as possible.
His mind raced, quickly coming together with a diagram of the castle in his head. Currently, they were in the entryway. To send the signal for the tanks to start the attack, they'd have to advance into the foyer, head up to the second floor, and from there start the climb up the eight floors to the mechanical room and start the clock and the bell. George turned his head to the soldiers.
"Prepare to advance forward! We must send the signal to our allies!"
Advancing was difficult at first. As he moved, his tail moved back and forth. Soldiers taking cover behind his tail had to scramble to whatever cover was nearby and those taking cover by his legs had to cease attacking to keep up with his stride. It quickly became a rythmn. Right foreleg forward, Miles would run, catch up and fire a burst. Left foreleg forward, Grant would advance. Right hindleg forward, Amber would run forward, take a knee, and fire a deadly shot from her scoped rifle. Left hindleg forward, Carmine would charge forward and fire a few rounds. The process repeated time and again.
Those who had been using his tail for cover followed close behind him, firing shots whenever they could. By the time they reached the end of the hall, the remaining foes had broke and run, leaving their path to the second floor unobstructed. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, George returned to human form and glanced at the stunned Royalists. Carmine had tempered his surprise while they were fighting but now he openly showed his shock.
"So, the stories about the de Launces family are indeed true. Despite all evidence to the contrary, there are many in Rotiart who believed that a family of humans capable of shifting into dragons was pure fiction, a Syllian lie to discourage war and conflict." George chuckled at that.
"Technically that is the reverse. We are a family of dragons who just prefer to live out our lives as humans unless we, or those we care about, are threatened. I don't know if you heard or not but during the Damoneni Campaign, my younger brother, Joshua, destroyed a Rotarian battlecruiser while in dragon form." Carmine's eyes were wide as platters at that and he shook his head.
"No, we hadn't heard that. Mechanos... he squelched all news regarding the Damoneni Campaign after recieving word that they had put up next to no resistance when the Syllian forces landed troops to liberate Tullinar. He felt it too much of an embarrassment but still kept a force in the area to cover his bases." George nodded.
"Well, there's no way he'll be able to stop word of this day from spreading." Carmine nodded.
"Indeed not. Still, I am concerned about what Terref said. There may not be an atomic failsafe but the Chimera is still in range of the city. What if they start shelling the city while the tanks are still trying to make it in? You saw what just one if those large-caliber shells did to the outer wall and the Tower. There's no defence against something like that." George shrugged.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let's just focus on things that are within our control."
The group made their way to the base of the tower and, noting a lack of OAC troops, climbed the stairs cautiously. Upon reaching the sixth floor of the tower, they noticed a small trap had been rigged close to the stairs. This small charge led to a large wire that ran to more explosives lining the supports of the tower. Carmine, thankfully, knew about this type of explosive and was able to disarm it with ease. Then George pointed to the machinery at the top floor.
The clock tower of Castle Launces housed a massive clock. The inner workings, the mainspring, gears, bearings and weights all fit on the seventh floor in a massive jigsaw puzzle that likely only a de Launces, or an extremely perceptive human, could have decyphered. In the near center of the room there was a control panel that worked the clock and the bell.
"Alright everyone, when I throw these switches, cover your ears because this is going to get loud."
George pulled a series of three levers. The first started the main clock which, since the attack on the city, had been stuck at 11:59. The second lever removed the brakes on the main shaft, allowing the minute hand to slowly start rotating up towards the twelve. The third and last lever was the bell alarm lever. Just as the clock clicked together at 12 sharp, George pulled the third lever and covered his ears.
A series of gears spun rapidly, lifting the twin hammers on either side of the massive bell dead center of the top floor. The gears slowed down as the hammers reached a 45 degree angle and then the catch released and the hammers swung down, striking the bell.
BONG!
George felt his teeth rattle in his skull. He also heard people near him moan as the loud noise reverberated throughout the room. He glanced up just in time to see the clappers finish rising again just to fall once more.
BONG!
George motioned for the others to get out of the tower, the bell was currently at the alarm setting which meant it would keep ringing until someone shut it off again, or someone blew up the tower. He spared a moment to glance through the large clock face before him.
(General, the time has come...)
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BONG!
...
BONG!
...
BONG!
...
BONG!
...
The ringing of the bell got everyone's attention. Without a word, everyone turned to General Montague who stood at the lead tank, clad in his bright blue tank uniform with his white helmet, distinctive from the other soldiers and their grey metal helms. The General drew himself up and faced the tanks and armored cars arrayed behind him.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, start your engines!"
A young cadet with the rank of Corporal climbed about the General's tank and started turning the flywheel that acted as the starter. After the initial spin, it spun once, twice more, then with a spluttering cough, the engine started. The Corporal then saluted the General and took his place manning the traversion gears of the main gun. The T7s, once they got started, could only be stopped by pulling the two levers in the open driver's cab. Otherwise, they would just keep rolling forward. General Montague turned to his driver who was looking up from behind the cab.
"Forward, march!" The young driver nodded and, gripping both brake levers, released the catches and let the levers slide forward into the OFF position.
With the sound of grinding gears, clanking metal track links, and rattling wheels and axles, the tank started off, soon followed by the rest of the formation. General Montague took a moment to gaze at the formation before remembering to reach up to the smokestack above the engine and open the vent, releasing a column of white smoke. This was mimicked by the rest of the tanks and billowing clouds of smoke and steam, the old tanks rolled towards the Tower and the first gate into Launces.
However, as they reached the road, four tanks with OAC markings appeared from the gate. General Montague growled angrily as he recognized their types: three T9-L light tanks trainers, and one M-A7V medium tank trainer. Syllian tanks.
"Hostile tanks ahead. Target the largest one, bearing five degrees right. Load cannon."
The two soldiers did as they were told. The first soldier, the Corporal from before, opened the box he had been sitting on and removed a 30mm 'Brick' round from the crate. He then opened the breach, slid the round in, closed the breach, and nodded to the second soldier who turned the small traversion gear which turned the cannon itself and not the turret to the five degree mark.
"Range: fifteen hundred."
This time the soldier reached over for the elevation gear and rotated the cannon up to the three degree mark and then looked to the General.
"Hostile tank bearing five degrees right, range fifteen hundred, elevation three degrees. Ready to fire sir!" General Montague nodded.
"Fire." The second soldier pulled the lanyard.
The cannon went off with a loud bang that rattled the General's teeth. He watched as the barrel slid backwards, then as the recoil springs stopped the backwards motion and slammed the cannon back into the original firing position. He glance at the tank he had called out and watched as the 30mm round struck the slanted armor on the front of the tank, punching a fist-sized hole through the front armor. Fire and smoke immediately blew out of the top hatch and the tank stopped dead in its tracks, the sound of ammunition inside cooking off as the fire inside grew stronger.
Beside them, three other tanks had opened fire. The first tank fired on the T9 closest to the M-A7V, likewise punching a hole through the forward armor and setting the engine and fuel tank ablaze. The second tank fired a shell but the angle was wrong. The shell struck the right tread; a 'mobility kill', as it was called. The metal tread links clanked as they fell off the wheels, the left tread now turning the tank hard to the right, showing its weaker, larger side profile to the tanks. A second shell blew a hole straight through the tank, killing the three man crew.
The third and final T9 managed to get a shot off but apparently the Rotarian crew was unused to Syllian weaponry. The shell went high and clipped the smokestack of a tank on the far right flank of the formation. This allowed the last lead tank to fire its cannon. This round sailed true and struck the turret, detonating the magazine. The small turret was blown upwards in a ball of fire, the force of the explosion shearing bolts and 'banana peeling' the entire front of the tank. The armored front was folded half over itself, the sides were blown out, and the front axle was split, making the tank's front dip down into the ground.
What made it noteworthy was that the engine was still functioning, driving the tank forward until the treads finally came off the wheels, the corpse of the driver still ludicrously enough sitting upright at the controls, wreathed in flames.
As the group passed the formation, the gates of the outer wall slowly creaked open. There on the other side were sixteen of the tanks freed by the Royalists, ready for action. The CO of the Tower saluted General Montague but showed worry on his face.
"We arrested a traitor this morning. He's informed Terref and the OAC about everything. An army of OAC soldiers and Mechanos Loyalists attacked, and retook, the Midtown Keep, Grand Gate, and the Castle District Keep. No matter what happens now, I'm afraid we've got one helluva slog in front of us." General Montague grimaced and the Corporal with him cursed.
"Snafu..." General Montague, rather than chastising the young man, nodded.
"Situation Normal: All Fucked Up."
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"Rise up, comrades! To horse! To horse! For freedom we're going into battle!"
"In the field a man can choose his course! For his heart will be judged in the saddle!"
"No other man can take your place; in the fray, you alone, your fears must face!"
Zafra found herself humming along with the men of the 8th Cavalry as they mounted up and prepared to ride, their voices joined together to sing the Cavalryman's Anthem. In the distance, the loud noise of the bell kept sounding throughout the city. She could also glance towards the Tower and see the tanks beginning to stream forth through the open gate. What made her curious was that the Midtown Keep gates remained shut. She nudged Caldor from his half doze and spoke her worry to him. He nodded. The sound of the bell was unmistakable. It was the signal that all Royalist officers had agreed would be the signal to throw open the gates and let the Resistance take the city.
"Stay with the Colonel, I'll cloak myself and fly over to the keep to investigate." Zafra nodded.
"Please be careful." Caldor nodded.
"For you, always."
With a beat of his wings he took off, then to the amazement of all watching, used his light element to seemingly vanish from sight. Zafra snarled as she heard more than one man mutter that 'the traitor is running' and turned to face the men who had said as much.
"No he's not, he goes to see why the gates aren't opening. He's putting himself in harm's way to ensure that you don't charge into something you aren't prepared for." That at least shut the men up for the moment. Zafra using her senses, was able to faintly detect Caldor as he flew above the Midtown Keep.
Suddenly, an air raid siren split the sky, drowning out even the bell from the castle. At once everyone looked up and cheered, seeing Syllian aircraft overhead, paratroopers leaping from the open doors. Then, suddenly cannonfire erupted from the Midtown Keep as the flak guns stationed at the Keep opened fire on the transports flying overhead. Colonel Falcyion paled.
"The Keep has been retaken by the enemy! We must ride to retake it immediately!"
Artillery from the Keep also started pounding the road and, much to Zafra's horror, the tanks were steadily advancing, their small cannons still out of range for them to target the fort. She turned to Falcyion.
"Sound the charge Colonel, I'm going to help Caldor and the others!" Colonel Falcyion nodded and turned to rally his men. Just as Zafra prepared to launch herself into the air, she saw a blast of light split the sky and saw it rake the artillery on the Midtown Keep. Her heart leapt as she saw Caldor drop from the clouds, cloaking gone, and firing light bursts into the Keep. Then she saw him land before the keep, and then somethine extraordinary.
Mana flowed from around Caldor to a focal point before him and he fired a light beam so massive in scale and so powerful it charred the stone face of the fort, shattered windows, caved in the wooden gate, melted the wrought iron portcullis behind it, and from the loud BANG! that reverberated from inside the city, he had also blown the second gate in the back of the Keep off its hinges.
Just as she rose to fly over to him to help, her heart skipped a beat. Caldor's attack had missed one cannon on the roof. It was now in position to fire at him. She opened her maw to shout a warning. But just as she breathed in breath, the cannon fired, the shell struck the ground near Caldor, the blast lifted him up, rotated him mid-air, and he fell to his left side, a look of shock on his face.
Zafra, furious beyond belief, used her earth element to create a wall of stone in front of Caldor, shielding him from another attack, and she roared so loudly that the crew on the gun gazed at her with horror and hastily tried to crank the gun in her direction, only for another light beam to fire up at them, disintigrating the emplacement.
Zafra looked down and saw Caldor, still alive, but badly wounded, leaning around the wall and panting heavily. His right wing was a mess, the webbing torn in several places, and his right side was ripped open in several places from the shrapnel and he was bleeding badly. He gave a pained glance to her before he collapsed again. By this time, a vehicle had arrived, stopped, and several people got out and ran to him.
As they stopped, Zafra landed, fearful for Caldor as he lay there, wounded. As she closed with him, the sound of wingbeats pierced the sky and gazing up, she saw several welcome faces. Her Mother, her Father, her siblings, Shimmer, and then another fire dragoness she didn't recognize.
As they landed, Zafra's siblings ran to her and embraced her, her parents did likewise. The unknown female with them caught sight of Caldor and keened and ran for him, a look of sorrow on her face. Zafra wondered who she was and glanced at Caldor to see him conscious and angrily growling at the female.
"Here to finish me off yourself, Mother?"
Zafra gasped as he all but spat that word at her, causing the female to look away with an ashamed expression.
"Caldor... my son... I... I have no right to call you that... or ask your forgiveness... but..." Caldor coughed, this time, he coughed up a small amount of blood, renewing Zafra's fears that he was wounded far worse than she had thought.
"Save me... the speech... You're right... after all the things you did to me... all that you allowed others to do to me... you have no right to call me your son..." He coughed again.
"Z-Zafra is the only one who ever cared or gave a damn about me... I..." He fell into a fit of coughing and Shimmer rushed to his side, worry creasing his brow.
"The shrapnel has gone deep... it's likely pierced a lung. We need to act quickly if we are to save him. Did we bring any healing crystals?" Thera nodded.
"I did but... they won't do anything... the wound is too large..." Caldor groaned.
"So... it seems even divine power doesn't want me to finally have some degree of happiness in my life... Zafra... I'm sorry..." Zafra began to tear up and she ran to him.
"No! Don't you say that! Don't you dare say that! You are not going to die on me, do you hear me Caldor? Don't you dare give up so easily!" Shimmer sighed.
"If only a dragon with the power of the Guardian Aegis were here, they would be able to heal Caldor... sadly... that power passed away with it's last master." This caught Zafra's attention and Shimmer nodded.
"Among light dragons there are special techniques passed down from generation to generation. Some, like the Light Dart, can be taught, but others, like the Guardian Aegis or the Eternal Vigil, are only passed down from bloodline to bloodline, parent to child. There were once seven great houses of light dragons, each had its own special 'blood rite', a special light technique they could use once certain conditions were met." Zafra nodded that she understood.
"The blood rite techniques were called Prism Burst, Eternal Vigil, Heaven's Fire, Solar Shot, Aurora Cascade, Champion's Aura, and Guardian Aegis. Today, only three of the original blood rites remain: Eternal Vigil, Champion's Aura, and Prism Burst. The last dragon who possessed the Guardian Aegis was Illuma the Paladin-Dragon, but... he was one of the dragons murdered by Silverus years ago..." Caldor grunted at the irony, then Zafra glanced around.
"Maybe a human surgeon can sew him up? Reduce the worst part of the injuries?" Shimmer nodded.
"That might work... You there! You're a Dracocorps surgeon aren't you? We need you to help Caldor here!" The man Shimmer called out grimaced and gazed at Caldor and shook his head.
"No." Shimmer growled.
"What did you just say?" The man steeled his gaze.
"I said 'no'. He is the son of the traitor, Silverus, he is not entitled to any treatment from the Dracocorps. He's done his duty, let him die in peace, and we can all move on." Zafra growled and turned on the man.
"Listen to me. I am Zafra de Launces, granddaughter of King James de Launces. I am asking you nicely once more. Help. Him. Now." The man shook his head again.
"Sorry. Even if I could, he's mortally wounded. I'd only be delaying his suffering." Zafra started crying again which brought Thera up to the man.
"By my order as Magothera de Launces, daughter of the King, I order you to treat Caldor. He is no traitor, he is a hero and my dauther's mate. If you won't do it because you've been asked nicely, perhaps you need to be ordered to do it." The man, clearly shaken, shook his head again.
"I'm sorry. That is an order I would have to disregard as unlawful. Firstly, because it violates my oath to 'do no harm'; he's too badly injured to be helped. Secondly, I don't care who's mate he is or what he's done, the same blood that betrayed this country flows through his veins. On personal grounds, I cannot obey that order." Caldor coughed again, this time gazing at Elisari, his mother.
"You find this funny, don't you? After all the times you beat me, burned me, clawed me, bit me, kicked me around, and allowed others to beat me and do the same, I'm dying, not from your abuse or from other's hate but as a hero... yet I'm still a traitor's son... not worth the effort to save compared to a loyal dragon..." Elisari recoiled as if she'd been slapped and uttered something barely audible. Shimmer looked to her.
"Eli... what was that?" Elisari sighed and gazed to Caldor then to the surgeon.
"Caldor... He's not Silverus' son..." The surgeon scoffed.
"Yeah, right. We all heard the stories about how you and that traitor were all over each other. What makes you think I'd believe that?" Thera cleared her throat.
"Because she admitted as much before my Father, the King, my Mother, and us."
Caldor, who had been feeling weaker, suddenly snapped back to clarity as he gazed at his Mother.
"Is... is this true...?" Elisari nodded.
"Silverus was skilled at many things... but he could never finish what he started... I... I was desperate for a child... A light dragon child so... I mated with another light dragon, despite the fact that the child may not have hatched a light dragon. The reason I could never bear to look at you, Caldor, was that every time I did, I saw your Father, your real Father, and I couldn't bear what I had done. If I hadn't done what I did, maybe he would have still been alive..." Shimmer gazed at her.
"Then... who is his Father?" Elisari looked to him, tears forming in her eyes.
"You just said it a while ago... Caldor... is the only son of Illuma, the Paladin-Dragon, Hero of the Federation War, wielder of the Guardian Aegis blood-rite, and Syllia's Guardian of Light." Shimmer gazed at her with a slack-jawed expression and then turned to Caldor who was equally thunderstruck.
"The supposed son of a traitor... is in truth the son of one of the bravest, most loyal, noble, and strongest Light dragons who ever lived... a Hero in both name and deed... a dragon who, once we learned of his death, every dragon in Syllia mourned as if we had lost a parent and close friend..."
The sound of running feet got their attention and several Dracocorps surgeons and field medics rushed past the one who had refused to help Caldor and ran to his side. Just as quickly as they had been hesitant to treat Caldor when they thought him a traitor's son, they all now rushed forward, all doubt gone, replaced with true concern and a sense of what it was they were saving. One of them turned to Zafra.
"Lady Zafra, we'll work on Caldor to help stabilize him. Meanwhile, I'm afraid the Resistance still needs you. We have to retake the city quickly so that we can repel the attack from the Chimera." Zafra looked at him.
"That Rotarian Land-Battleship? It's here?!" The surgeon nodded.
"At last report from Bertram, who's been leading his force to harrass the machine and attempt to disable it, it was currently trying to maneuver to bring it's larger caliber stern guns to bear in order to bombard the city. We need to retake Launces so that we can send our forces out to attack it before it can fire." Zafra nodded and then gazed back to Caldor who was still in shock about the whole thing. She leaned down and kissed him, holding it for a while before breaking it.
"You hang in there Caldor. You've been asked more of than any dragon I know and you have done far more than what you were asked to do. If you need a reason to fight, think of me, and think of what kind of family we'll be able to start once this is all over. I told you that you are you, I don't care about anything else except you. Don't forget that."
Caldor smiled, his eyes sliding shut. Then a surgeon uttered a startled oath.
"His... his lung! His injuries! They... they're glowing!"
Zafra, Shimmer, Elisari, and indeed all the others gathered watched in amazement as the injuries that Caldor sustained started to glow with a soft golden light and shrink. Muscle tissue writhed and flowed, reconnecting, severed blood vessels, veins, and arteries refused, and the flesh started slowly closing over the wound, sealing it shut. A wound that would have taken months to recover from in the span of a few moments, looked as it it had been healing for several.
What's more the shrapnel still in him was being pushed out, every piece slowly being pushed out and landing on the grass before the surgeons. The glow didn't regenerate scales but closed up the flesh beneath the scales. As a result, he had large splotches of bloodshot pink flesh in amongst his scales where the shrapnel from the blast had pierced him running down the right side of his neck, chest, and belly. Even the damage to his wing slowly healed up in a matter of moments.
One of the surgeons checked his chest and sighed with relief.
"The wound in the lung... it's closed... he's breathing normally... all internal injuries have been healed..." Shimmer smiled, relief evident on his face.
"The Guardian Aegis... the blood rite that calles a dragon's inner light forth in dire times to heal the sick and wounded... a light so powerful yet it requires whoever bears its power to know the meaning of true love before it shows itself... so it does live on..." Caldor opened his eyes and tried to rise, only to have Shimmer gently place a wing over him to hold him down. When Caldor glared at Shimmer, he gave Caldor one of his big smiles.
"You have done quite enough for one day young dragon, you still lost a lot of blood. I suggest you rest and leave the rest of this battle to those of us who wish to avenge ourselves after our forced retreat from our home." Multiple thunderous roars got Zafra and Caldor's attentions as they gazed upwards in shock and joy.
The sky was filled with hundreds of dragons, male and female, dragons of all elements, the sunlight reflecting off their scales bathing them in a rainbow of hues and colors. The tanks of the Resistance rolled by, passing through the hole Caldor had punched through the Midtown Keep, the flag of Launces now flying from the top, and continued on towards the Grand Gate. They were in turn followed by paratroopers who had landed in the field. Once they saw the huge hole punched through the Keep and the exhausted Caldor lying before it, they put two and two together and each and every one gave Caldor a pat on his left shoulder and several words of encouragement as they marched by.
Feeling exhaustion starting to come on, Caldor decided to heed Shimmer's advice and slowly closed his eyes and, for the first time in his life, found a deep, restful sleep, a broad smile across his muzzle.
His heart, once knowing only anger from others, now radiated hope. He now knew what love truly was. His mind, once filled with memories of hatred for a Father he had barely known, finally stilled in peace. He didn't even mind when he smelled his Mother' scent next to him giving him a caress before leaving to join the other dragons in battle leaving him with only Zafra, Thera, Ignitus, and Shimmer nearby.
He was free. Free of Silverus' name, blood, and curse. He was alive, he was free, and yes, he was loved.
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Next Chapter: The Indomitable Will of Syllia