Dragon(s)layer
16
Flight
"Oh, there you are. They said you were taking a nap, I wasn't sure if you were still asleep." Lightnux chuckled as he buzzed through the foyer nook. "You didn't have to sleep on the floor like that, we could have gotten you another nest."
Taliopia realized that she didn't understand what the dragonfly was saying. So, shaking her head, the poor medic could only cough and rub her snout tenderly, nodding at him and just hoping he would go away.
"Well, it isn't a big deal, we're happy to host you all. This village hasn't had visitors from the North before, in all its time. We're actually writing history this moment." Lightnux hummed, making conversation as he fixed a little thimble-sized cup of tea. "When me and the scribes finally get down to completing the next totem stack in the Mayfly Shrine, I'm quite sure you, your friends and Spyra certainly are going to be all over it, from top to bottom. A high honor."
"…Oh, y-yeah… it… it sounds it…" Taliopia scrunched her eyes open and closed a few times and swept her snout around the thicket. "-W-What time is it?"
"Early afternoon." The dragonfly sipped his cup.
"What? But- But the expedition- Morinth-!" Taliopia leaped unsteadily to her feet, leaning a wing on the bramble wall when she couldn't stand. "-she left without me!"
"It's quite alright! Your Wingleader said that they would be back within the hour, it was just to check on the wreckage of this tower you all are speaking of." Lightnux held his palms up for calm. "Morinth came in to check on you before she left. She's a very sweet soul, really beaming all the time."
"Hah, yeah… that's my Morri-poo..." Taliopia swallowed her own chuckle, looking at the little dragonfly awkwardly. "…Mr. Spyra's Dad-"
"Just Lightnux is fine."
"…Right, uhm… d-did Spyra… go on the trip too?"
"Of course, she wouldn't let them leave until her and her Fallen friend were ready." Lightnux scratched his mandibles. "Come to think of it, I didn't see the Fallen go to sleep in one of the thickets last night… Bah, it's no issue. I was exhausted, Spyra had to carry me and Cometcu to our own nest, haha."
"…Yeah, he must've gone to… to another thicket, and not Spyra's nest at all-" Taliopia bit her tongue and quickly started to limp outside. "I need some air, excuse me, Mr. Spyra's Dad…"
{🐉}
Taliopia shoved a fist in her mouth when she became too loud. She could never really help it. Her and Morinth usually were… noisy, it was why they had had to stay away from each other for so long when they went to the academy.
That, and because professor Cyrila separated their dorm rooms after enough people complained for the Guardians to put two and two together. At least Ignitia had been kind enough to say it wasn't done because they were both females, but for professional reasons.
Inappropriate behavior on school grounds, or something like that.
Good thing the swamp wasn't school property.
Taliopia squeaked around her talons as she climaxed all over her paw, weakly sagging against the wall she had hidden behind.
She was in the rear of Spyra's thicket, just underneath her room nook's window. Taliopia had chosen the spot because the heavy stench of mating was still wafting out of the room and it turned her on.
Though with the feeling of relief came a whole bunch of complicated questions.
The Fallen…
Taliopia whined as she wiped herself off on one of her shapely white scaled thighs. She had never been interested in males before.
But then again, Taliopia had never seen a male naked before either…
The Fallen was quite developed.
She slapped her chops, cleared her throat and preened her wings to try and focus on anything but her own heavy blush.
Stop it, Tali', what would Morri-poo think if you were looking at other people?
Actually, Taliopia had to pause as she staggered back around the thicket in a daze. Her and Morinth had been talking a lot the last few nights about the very subject in question.
"The Fallen's a cheeky chap, I like him." Morinth had said in their thicket as they groomed one another. "He's really got his head into getting back to the north and ramping up this war. He's a warrior, actually. He told me by the banquet baskets earlier."
"Sure, he really knows how to fight." Taliopia shyly uttered as she nibbled on Morinth's wingtip. "…and he is kinda' cute, for an alien…"
Morinth was silent for a minute, and Taliopia stopped teething, lifting her head to look her mate in the eyes.
"Morri-poo? I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Nonono, it's all good my loovveee~…" Morinth licked her snout. "…I know what you mean, it's just a compliment, nothing more and… yes, he is quite… cute."
The medic sighed.
Her and Morinth would have to have a long talk when they got to Warfang…
{🐉}
{Legend of Spyro: The Movie OST: Heaven's Tide}
Grasping at strings of hope normally wasn't productive. But the Fallen couldn't help himself. The last few days had been messy.
Just maybe, against all odds…
The pods.
Tearing from Spyra had been the most difficult part of it, and walking past Ignitia, who had no idea what to do. He felt shitty for abandoning them with the baggage. But if there was any small amount of hope, it was out here, not down there.
"I'm coming back." He had said.
"-D-Don't leave-!" Spyra had begged.
He couldn't listen to her and it was killing him more than climbing through all the rubble. Physical exertion was nothing to him, but seeing all the signs of his prior work was enough to elicit a pained grunt or two.
Now that he was examining Forlorn's remains more closely, he could see them. Apes, Giant Anteaters, Dreadwings. Lots of them, all crushed, dismembered, popped like grapes, intestines spilled everywhere…
Luckily the collapse had been so total that most of the carnage and viscera had been completely buried.
But luckily, his pods were still visible.
They had survived the sub-orbital impact when he had first come here, they could survive falling tens of stories through the crashing wreckage of Forlorn. They were two indestructible bulbs of lead among all the dusty rocks and strains of ruins. Each was surrounded by cracked, ancient stonework and smashed scrap. There wasn't a scratch on either of them.
Almost there. He hiked like mad, driving forwards until his muscles cramped, trekking the artificial slopes and hills, the wide view of Forlorn's wreckage sprawling around him, penned in with slabs of what parts of the massive atrium wall hadn't collapsed. Just a little more.
The Fallen had to jump down an almost fifteen-foot drop. He grunted in pain and landed on the ramp (that had once been a wall) with an impact-defoliating roll.
Even as he moved, and horror filled his heart, he could actually feel the air itself changing. The darkness birthed deep inside the Forbidden Funguswood…
…it was receding.
The Fallen glanced over the mountains of death at the forest line penning in Forlorn's foundation in three directions. The darkness underneath the mushrooms was lessening. He could hear birds in the distance, and the croak of a frog.
Destroying the Pool had lifted a lot more than Malefora's corruptive gaze. Now he understood. That Pool had been a conduit for the Dark Continent to literally bleed into.
He was happy Ignitia had been the one to destroy it. She deserved that vengeance after all that had happened.
But Morinth didn't deserve death.
He had to stop this. He had to fight fate.
"You know what the odds are, right? That you actually missed something in one of those pods?"
The Fallen ran right past Conscience when he appeared, sitting on the crumpled remains of a wagon that had been smashed.
"If you had sense, you'd let it go, man! You said it yourself-"
He appeared again standing at the top of a rubble summit.
"-we needed to be prepared to see our new friends die!"
-And again monkey-barring from a chute duct curling overhead like a black rainbow.
"Fallen, save who you still can save and get the impossibilities out of your head. Cynder would be a better goal to chase now…"
"Fuck you." The Fallen snarled, picking up the pace.
"Tell that to them, old bean." Conscience was now running beside him, pointing at something.
The Fallen followed his finger, just in time to see the crossbow bolt coming right for him.
Sliding on the ball of his heel, he dipped his arm and let the round travel between the nape of his neck and his shoulder. It whizzed past and smacked into a brick.
The dodge- while effective –knocked him on his knee. Looking up, he was shown the visage of a black, red-armored and seven-foot-tall creature striding towards him over Forlorn's rubble.
The monster had a vaguely reptilian head, beady red eyes, a medium-sized tail and gnarly limbs each tipped with daggered claws and talon-toes. It had a compact handed crossbow in one hand and a dagger in the other, and it was moving with a lupine sort of grace, navigating the difficult terrain like it was nothing.
Flanking the creature was a handful of Apes, ones marked with Visigoth's gray tribal attire. They hooted as they climbed, lagging behind their leader by a longshot.
The Fallen grimaced, his body still screaming at him from the fight with Malefora. Without those regen-injectors, any injuries he suffered were permanent, and reliant on his own healing. If he broke a bone or fractured something, he was done for.
Moving, he ducked behind a strain of rubble and let a few more crossbow rounds clink off the stone. The squad leader raspily grunted at the Ape sharpshooters in the band, waving his claw and patting at his shoulders and knees.
Wounding shots only.
The Fallen wasn't a fool, he could read that.
Why did this thing want him alive? Malefora certainly hadn't sent them with orders like that, she wanted him and Spyra dead. So that only left…
Cynder.
She must have sent for help before Forlorn had been destroyed. He was confident in that, especially after their talk last night. At least they'd gotten to a point where Cynder was after him for him, and not just to mind-break him and use his body.
Though, the using part I don't necessarily mind…
The Fallen popped out from cover with his own crossbow, and the line snapped as a bolt flicked out. One of the Apes cartwheeled with little fletching jutting from his face. He reloaded and was able to kill another one before the rest of the group closed distance.
God damn it, and I'm so close.
Hissing, the first Ape to reach him was a burly officer with a cleaver and little forearm shield. The beast hooted at him and kicked sparks as it slashed, missed and hit a rise of rubble. The Fallen swept under his big arms, gutted him, and ran the Ape through the chin when he started to fall.
His pods were visible just ahead. The archer leader and his band had advanced around them.
Rolling off the corpse, he tucked over a ridge and escaped the manic hacks of some of the other Ape attackers. He landed on one and forced the monkey down to his knees before burying his blade through its eye.
Small numbers… I bet these are some of the last of their tribe. We have them on their knees.
The Fallen killed with abandon as he hacked his way through the stringent mob of howling barbarians, his eyes remaining locked on the dormant pods.
The archer leader peppered him with crossbow rounds, all of which either missed or lodged in Apes (some dead and some not) that the Fallen appropriated as makeshift shields.
Blood spattered the ground as he sliced through his victim. The last Ape turned tail and tried to run. The Fallen chucked a hand ax from the hilt, letting it spin twice before it ended its flight in the Ape's back, felling him.
The pod was just a few feet away. His hand reached out to it-
The red armored creature landed in front of him and invaded his vision a second later. It snarled something in a tongue he couldn't understand, and flipped from heel to head, crashing a boot toe into the Fallen's chin to send him reeling.
He stumbled over a debris rise and grabbed up a stick of dynamite, snapping the fuse and tossing it over the hill. He waited for the device to go off with a whmmp~! –and then stormed through the dust.
Where'd it go?
The Fallen heaved as he stood in the scorched blast crater, eyes darting everywhere.
The archer had vanished, leaving only the dull howl of the coastal winds to bracket the rubble slopes. All the Ape corpses were still lying around. No body for the archer creature.
No body meant it wasn't dead. He needed to work fast.
The large pod wasn't his goal. He skirted around that one and journeyed for the smaller auxiliary pod lying in the debris next to it. Cynder must have been intending to study the things before Forlorn crashed. Only he knew that nothing she ever did would've gotten them open. These pods were constructed of a material even he didn't understand.
He felt around the smooth waist until he found the little hidden niche he'd used when Spyra was injured. The pod hissed as its surface unfolded, and hinged plates flowered open to reveal its blackened, padded interior, glistening in the grim gray light.
The Fallen swept his eyes around the pod's depths. There was an empty canteen, some discarded plastic ration wraps and…
There.
Hidden, in the very back, under a pile of wrapper trash. A single regen-injector sat, a little cylinder of silver in the dark.
The Fallen delved inside the pod up to the hip. Then the archer creature landed behind him and attacked.
"-No-!" He barked, dark, sharp claws enclosing around his chest and hauling him back from the pod. He twisted in the taller monster's grip, steadying himself on the center of its plated chest, he hammered his elbow into its throat twice before the last blow saw the thing hack and toss him to the ground.
The Fallen scrambled as he dropped the blade he was holding. The archer's booted foot swept in, and before the human knew it, all he could hear was white noise as the heel slammed into his forehead and looped him onto his back painfully.
That'll leave a mark.
"…Slippery little thing…" Zargos grumbled, his tail lashing as he paused a second to examine the sprawled hoo-man lying before him. "Why Cynder wants you alive is beyond me. You're dangerous."
The Orc knelt, batting away the Fallen's hands. He gripped him by the hair and hoisted him up to hip-height, sending the human crashing back down with a full-fisted punch centered on the bridge of his nose. The blow echoed like a drum clap and the Fallen sprawled.
"Stay down." Zargos breathed, reaching into a little pouch on his belt, and producing the black pearl that Cynder had given him. He touched it, and within a moment, Cynder's face materialized in the center of a black cloud of dust rising from the pearl's heart. "M'lady…"
"Zargos?" Cynder sounded surprised, and quite strained through the pearl's little echo. He could hear the papery flap of her wings and the whip of sea-air. She was flying, evidently. "Why do you contact me? What is wrong?"
"…What is wrong…" Zargos sneered, glancing around himself at all the debris. "…is that I journeyed to find a thousand-year-old tower, and instead discovered a hill of rocks. I'm guessing the battle went poorly, my Mistress?"
"Sarcastic jokes are not the way to get on my good side today, Pathfinder."
"Then perhaps news that I have captured your Fallen alive will suffice." Zargos held the pearl closer to the Fallen, who was holding his bleeding nose and staring hatefully up at the Orc.
"…Fallen~…" Cynder gasped, making Zargos blink at the level of sudden emotion in her voice. "-D-Don't hurt him more than you must."
"My Mistress, what is going on?" Zargos growled. "The Dark One wishes this creature dead. Her orders overrule yours."
"Not if you wish to keep your head, Orc! Restrain the Fallen and bring him aboard your ship! You'll be sailing him towards Concurrent where I will relieve you of him."
"And what of the Purple Dragon? Where he is, she no doubt is as well? I cannot abandon the other part of my mission."
"She isn't as important! Do as I say!"
"Isn't as important." Zargos stared at Cynder's little reflection in the black mist. "The Purple Dragon is the prophesized ruination of our Dark Army."
"Zargos, you are bound to my word and I am telling you that I will destroy your mind, then your body, and then your spirit if you fail to bring me that human! I. Want. Him. ALIVE."
"I've been led to question your sound mind, Mistress." Zargos sneered. "The Dark One will be hearing of this. Consider our contract modified."
"Zargos-!"
He crushed the pearl into dust and sprinkled it onto the ground.
Treachery.
From Cynder of all Malefora's champions…
Truly this was a time of apocalyptic ruination, Zargos now realized. There was only one way to deal with sedition. He slipped his dagger from his belt and immediately thrust it downwards for the human's belly-
-and found he had vanished.
Zargos froze, listening to the howling wind.
….Whistling…. Whistling….
Crumble. South. Left foot.
The Orc vaulted on his heels, pinwheeling across the ground in an impressive display of acrobatics. The Fallen- frustrated –grunted as he landed in empty space, an ax he'd picked up clinking into the stone.
Zargos landed upright and snapped his crossbow to attention, now aiming for the Fallen's head. The human gasped, and purely by reaction, saved his own life, flinging his ax up before his face, the bolt sparked off the blade's flat and smacked the weapon out of his grip. Zargos started to reload, and the Fallen lunged.
He grappled the Orc across his lithe back and locked an arm around his throat, squeezing, tossing around as Zargos shook himself like a dog and pushed against the Fallen's stomach with the spine of his tail.
The Orc gripped him by the hair and swung him bodily over his shoulder, crashing the Fallen back-first into the ground. Zargos made to stamp on his face, but the Fallen rolled, and his heel cracked bare stone.
The Fallen barked in pain as he was forced to use his fists, punching Zargos across the helmet in three heavy blows that sent the Orc's reptilian head jerking in neck-breaking tosses. The Fallen skinned his knuckles, globules of his own blood flying everywhere as he beat Zargos back. A heel to his leg got the Orc to a half-kneel. The Fallen gripped the back of his head, and thrust Zargos forward in a rush of movement, slamming his forehead into the hard, metal rim of the pod's open hatch.
Clung~! –Zargos felt a tooth dislodge, and his own blood started to flow like a river underneath his helmet and down his snout. He bit the tip of his tongue off, and felt it leave his mouth on a bloody ream of spittle. His skull was reverberating and he had lost the ability to hear.
The Fallen chucked the Orc to the ground, snarled at him for a moment, and then delved inside the pod, scrambling for the regen-injection in the back.
Yes.
Pulling out with his prize, the human blinked when he spun to finish the Orc off.
Zargos was gone, vanishing as easily as he had appeared.
{🐉}
"…This is my fault." Ignitia muttered. "I led you all down here because… because I thought numbers would thwart any efforts Malefora put forth from the pool… and… and look at what I've done…"
Spyra didn't have the energy to try and console her. She had been crying too much, and had taken to defeatedly sprawling on the chamber floor, staring at Morinth's body.
She looks like she's sleeping…
Spyra rocked a little bit and tried to focus the mental chaos in her mind.
She had only known Morinth for a few days, but in that time, Spyra had become very attached to her. She was a friendly dragoness, a fellow female to spend time with, talk with, laugh with… her and Taliopia.
"…uhm…." Spyra croaked like a frog, her voice hoarse from all the sobbing. She looked at Ignitia, who was hollow, and staring at the blood matting her umber paws with an empty expression on her face. "…Ignitia…?"
The Guardian didn't answer her.
"…what do I tell T-Tali'….?" Spyra hiccupped. "…Ignitia? Please… I don't… I don't know what to say to her, please… just… just help me…"
Ignitia stewed in silence for a moment before her chest started to heave in and out. Her eyes scrunched shut, and she slowly sank into her forepaws, quiet sobs wracking her spined back.
When she had a moment to breathe, it came out as a pained, shrill exhale that sounded around the chamber. Ignitia bawled and curled up on the floor, completely immobilized.
"…Me and her had it rough…" Corrinthol's voice crawled out from the dark. "…b-but I didn't… want her to…"
Torrdonal attempted to lay a wing over his back, but even in mourning, the haughty flame drake sneered and pushed him away with a growl.
"-O-Once-" Ignitia heaved, hiding her face pathetically inside her arms. "-Once at the a-acade-my…. V-Volt eer-a t-told me… t-that she wanted to- to di-e-ee…"
Spyra tried to crawl closer to her, but her legs felt numb. She growled and leaned against a fallen buttress, snarling down at the blood dripping from her mouth.
Damned Dark Mistress really banged me up… She's tougher than she looks, even as a ghost-thing, whatever she was…
"-I-Ignitia… hold on a sec' there…" She coughed. "I'm comin' over…"
"N-Now-" Ignitia heaved, crying: "-I w-want to die t-too-"
"Nobody's dying."
The Fallen swept into the room in a brisk run, hurrying over to Morinth's prone form. He had a regen-injector in his bloodied hands. Spyra gasped, seeing the horrific damage on his hands, his arms, and the blood leaking from his black and blue nose.
"-W-What happened to you?" She squawked. "Holy shit, can't any of us catch a break?"
"Ambushed." Was all the Fallen breathed, sticking the needle in Morinth's flank, and draining most of the blue liquid inside, a hand trailing down the still dragoness' cheek. She felt cold, like ice. "…God damn it, work. Work."
"Wait-" Spyra fell on her face as she tried to limp over, resorting to crawling, until she grabbed his thigh and hoisted herself against him. "-d-don't drain all of it… y-you need it too-"
The Fallen drained the tube until only a quarter remained. He slipped it out of Morinth, held the syringe up to Spyra's mouth.
"Fire." He sputtered.
Spyra winced and puckered her chops, coating the needle's tip with a small lighter-like cone of flame. The Fallen shook it, wiped it off, and then stuck it in Spyra's arm before she could protest.
"No." She gasped.
"Yes." He grunted.
Spyra doubled over as something snapped back into place inside her gut. Her eye began to lower in its swelling and she could see again. The blood stopped flowing in her mouth and her muscles began to feel relaxed.
"…Fallen…" She gripped his arm, squeezing, a look of panic on her snout. "what about you?"
"Forget me." He growled. "Not important."
Spyra wanted to punch him so badly for saying that. And she just might've had she not noticed Morinth's belly.
The flap of flesh hanging from her! It was… restitching.
The Fallen quickly and gingerly laid a hand under the loose flesh-flap, easing it into place from where Malefora's wing-blade had peeled it from Morinth's torso. Soon, the black, gaping trench revealing some of Morinth's pink intestines began to become smaller, and smaller, and the blood stopped dribbling.
"Ohmygod she's breathing…" Spyra gripped Morinth's side, laughing as it started to weakly rise, and then fall.
"She's not out of the woods yet." The Fallen cringed as he rose to his feet, slipping his arms under Morinth's heavy frame, he barked as he fought against the pain and hoisted her in his arms. The black dragoness limply draped over his elbows like a dead fish, her tail dragging on the floor behind him. "Help me… get her outside… blood loss… need medicine…"
"I have her." Ignitia ducked under the Fallen's arm and slipped Morinth over her back, adjusting until she was properly affixed. Spyra marveled at her, tear-stained and puffy-eyed, Ignitia mustered every bit of strength she had left to take back command. "Torrdonal, Corrinthol, are either of you injured seriously?"
"N-No, Wingleader. Some cuts, bruises, but…" Torrdonal stood at attention.
"Go outside and canvass the area, start heading back to the dragonfly village and prepare for our arrival with Morinth." Ignitia nodded at the Fallen and Spyra. "Spyra, you'll be our escort, and Fallen, when we get airborne you're riding with Morinth in your lap."
"…C-Can you handle that?" The Fallen blinked.
"I must, so it shall be done." Ignitia said.
Traversing the steps, up out of the hallways and through the ruined chute cap, daylight streamed from outside and briefly blinded the dragonesses and the human.
But as he limped ahead of them, blade at the ready, in case Zargos returned, the Fallen saw a shadow in the light, and raised his axe to counter the offender.
"-Get behind me!" He hollered, rearing back to swing, when-
"Stop! Fallen, it's us! We are allies!"
"-H-Harad…?"
The Fallen fell on his knees and dropped his weapon, lazily looking up at a large dragon that he initially thought was the Captain, as, he had heard General Ass-Pole's voice…
But this dragon was… different.
He was dark navy blue, with bronze horns, plates of silvery armor with dragon designs and lightning bolts carved into them layering his breast, back and shoulders. He was staring at the Fallen with a look of an almost childish intrigue.
"That's a hoo-man?" The dragon gasped.
"W-Who the fuck are you?" He slurred, feeling his world spin as he grabbed the ground and looked about.
There were dragons.
Tens of them, of all shapes, sizes and colors, all wearing silvery Warfangian armor.
"Wingleader!" –And Harad was still the biggest of all of them as he barreled through the ranks towards them. "What happened?"
Torrdonal was following close on his heels, yet another panicked rant leaving his chops, statements about an evil killer pool, the Dark Mistress killing everyone and the tenacity of water.
Harad ignored him and weighed a shoulder into Ignitia as she came trudging out with Morinth slapped over her back like a used wet-rag.
"…Captain… back so soon…" Ignitia smiled, sniffling. "Morinth has suffered extreme blood loss and needs immediate aid…"
"Take her, quickly." Harad nodded for a pair of dragons in the group, a light blue and a yellow one, who hurried over and slipped Morinth onto their backs. "Are there any other injuries?"
"The Fallen!" Spyra cried, and the whole crowd of dragons stared at her with a collective gasp.
"The Purple Dragon!" Someone breathed.
"It's true, the stories…"
"She's real..."
Spyra ignored them and slid the Fallen's arm over her shoulders. He looked like he was ready to pass out.
"You idiot!" She sobbed. "Why didn't you use the injector on yourself?!"
"…not… as important…" The Fallen snatched the empty vial off his hem, and tossed it on the ground like it was a piece of litter. Spyra started to cry again.
Harad- moved by what he was hearing –lifted the human onto his back himself, and nodded for the medical team.
"This one too. But be careful, he's… delicate. Think of treating a really tall, thin Mole."
{🐉}
When he awoke, he found that he could taste his own pain. And he didn't fancy it one bit.
Ouch.
The Fallen grit his teeth as he attempted to sit up, his eyes rolling in his head as reality slowly bled back into his senses. His back was on fire. So were his hands. His legs and arms were aching, like he'd been constantly moving them without rest for the last week, and his head was spinning whilst also being gripped by a horrible headache.
Ouch.
He brought a hand up to his face, freezing when he caught sight of his own palm. It was white. Not his skin tone white, sheet white. Bandages, affixed in a firm wrappage.
Both of his hands were like that, with his fingers poking out and wriggling from each cast. Bandages formed a loop over his thin chest, around both of his arms, and even around the bridge of his nose. He felt awkwardly around his face, realizing that someone had made little eye-holes for him in a completely sealed mask of dressings, ones going from his upper lip to his cranium.
Ouch.
He hissed when he pressed on his nose in a little testing push. It was probably broken, or at least fractured. Without regen-injections, he'd have to tough it out, just like with the rest of the dressings.
He'd been through worse.
Trying once again to sit up flared all kinds of fiery shit in his chest. He gave off a loud- 'Hooooo….' –at the stinging discomfort, scrunching his eyes closed as he waited for the pain to lapse. When it got a little better, he blinked and tried to take in his surroundings.
At least everything was in its normal place. Spyra's room nook looked as prim as ever, freshly organized too since earlier this morning. The nesting he was lying had been changed and some clean furs had been added. The toiletries basket was in order, Spyra's soap bars, her toothbrush and the scale ointment she'd shown him…
Wait…
He did a double-take. Then, he raised his hand and pointed at the arch frame, then himself, and then at the little window as if someone was there to observe and provide elaboration.
What in all that is mighty? –He mouthed, craning his bandaged head about. He checked past his stomach when something shifted, and someone snorted.
Briefly freezing, he relaxed when he saw a purple dragoness draped exhaustively over his exposed stomach, her puffy eyes closed and little breaths leaving her snout.
At least that's something I know pretty well.
Idly scratching her behind one of her golden horns, he painfully chuckled when she slapped her chops and leaned into the touch in her sleep. Her tail coiled over his leg and her wings had become a makeshift blanket.
If he didn't feel like he'd been trampled by an elephant and summarily shit on by a passing rhinoceros, this would've been pretty dang nice.
But he had to wonder…
Were they all dead? Or had someone actually found them?
"-Oi-! I gotta get in dere! My master's in there, and the purple drag! They spared my bloody life, yu know, I gots a right to see em! Patient confidentiality and whatnot. Bugger! Get outta my way-!"
…No, they weren't dead.
Unless they were in hell.
Given his record, that certainly was a possibility. But Spyra wouldn't have been there, so no, this couldn't have been hell.
A commotion grabbed his attention as something jolted into the nook frame, nearly collapsing on its hands and knees just ahead of the nesting.
"-Bloody ell, how's anybody supposed ta navimigate these tight little nooks with any comfort? I know it's fer bugs and whatnot but this ain't convenient in da slightest."
Palmet tugged at his jaw, his eyes locking with the Fallen's as his complaining rant drabbled off.
"-Great ancient monkeys!" Palmet shrieked, making the poor Fallen wince.
"Headache." He weakly croaked, but the Ape didn't hear him.
"My master's been turned into a bloody mummy!" Palmet gripped at his mane in panic. "I can't believe it! I ain't servin no undead scrabblah! Now I'm on the market again…"
"Palmet." The Fallen wheezed. "S-s…"
"Master? You can still speak? Mummies can't speak… oh! So you aren't a mummy then? Fantastic, that one, I was terrified fer a moment there that you'd spring up all jolly and such and start scribblin high-ro-glifficks on the nook wall…"
"Palmet. S-s….s…"
"Aye, tell me, Master, I'm right 'ere!" Palmet leaned a little closer, making Spyra snort in her sleep as a slight snore started to drone from her nose. "Say again? You want me to rub ya feet or something? I can make yer hospitally stay so much bettah, believe yu-me-"
The Fallen snatched Palmet's mane scruff and yanked the Ape closer.
"Shut. Up. Please." He croaked.
"…Oh." Palmet blinked, stepping back when the Fallen let him go. "Y-Yeah, sure thing, boss. Ehm… h-how's them head of yours?"
"Pounding." The Fallen growled. "What happened?"
"Well, yu lot got picked up by a whole party of Warfang lads and lasses who brought ya back to the village and are waitin for you to get up so we can all leave." Palmet jammed a thumb at the arch. "There are dese two soldier-types out there with the absolutely crappiest sense-a companionship, unrightly. I had to hem and holler to dat angry guy, Haragon, or Harrimomey, or whatever the blimey his name was… they wouldn't leh me in ta see ya otherwise!"
"I can't imagine why. I'm surprised no one tried to kill you."
"Oi, course they tried ta kill me, but then that Ignitia lass jumped in and saved my tail at the last min. Fast lady-drag that one is."
"She vouched for you?"
"Yeah, said I was important tu ya." Palmet interlocked his fingers, and his eyes sparkled. The Fallen cringed. "Am I really dat meaningful to ya, boss? Aw, c'mere and give ole Palms a hug-"
"Step back, or I will slice off your testicles." The Fallen snatched one of his stolen Ape blades that had been left with the rest of his gear by Spyra's nest side. "…But I'm glad you're alright, butler."
"Aye, likewise, Master." Palmet wrung his palms together. "…Ehm, there's some peepol out dere waitin ta see yah too, I'm kinda on a bit of a timer ere."
"Who else?"
"Well, dat medical type drag with the rosey wings an eyes for starters, and the fire lass."
"So send in the first one." The Fallen painfully leaned back, drumming his fingers on the back of Spyra's neck. She started to merge her light snoring with a slight purr. "And see if you can get me a pitcher of that amber-beer, I'm parched."
"Aye! Eager ta serve ya, Master!" Palmet clapped his paws, making him wince. "Off rightly then I go! Oh- ya want anyfing else while I'm about?"
"No, really it's-"
"How about a nice side of some of them salamander jerkeys? Ooo! Or what about a few pairs of apples, or pairs-a-pears! Ha! A little fruit based humah fer ya. I can also find ya a warm towelz or whatnot, or a fresh set of socks! Though, wait… I don't gots any socks… Yu know where I can get some socks, Master? Meep could use some small size-"
"Palmet."
"-Right, right, off I go…"
The Fallen rolled his eyes when Palmet grinned one last time and vanished out the arch.
Guy was a load to deal with.
But, menial labor was done when he was on the job.
He'd never say no to a pack mule, especially when Corrinthol wasn't available.
Spyra snored loudly and adjusted on his stomach, rubbing her face on him a few times like a cat would. He marveled at how she was actually asleep through this whole thing. He wondered if all young dragons in this realm were this lazy…
Knock-knock
"-Yep." He called over. The Fallen's heart leaped when the white scaled, timid, slender form of Taliopia silently slipped in from the hall nook outside.
The medic paused in the frame for a second, her rosy eyes scanning the nesting- as if she was just checking this time –before she smiled nervously and sat on her haunches in the nook's corner, curling her tail and wings protectively over herself.
"…. Uh…. H-Hey, Taliopia." The Fallen waved cheaply. Taliopia smiled again and waved back.
"Hello." She said lowly, pointing at Spyra and mouthing: "Is she asleep still?"
"Don't worry about it." He said in his normal voice, grabbing one of her horns and wiggling her to demonstrate. Spyra's snore jostled in volume. "See? Out like a light."
"How are you feeling?"
"Like Spyra set me on fire."
"I'm sorry, me and the other medics did the best we could…"
"You did a wonderful job. I could be feeling dead." The Fallen grinned, before his expression turned serious. "Morinth? How is she?"
"S-She-" Taliopia's jaw quivered. She put a claw over her mouth, and took a deep breath before smiling. "-they think she's going to be okay."
The Fallen sighed and deflated into the nesting.
"…thank god…" He muttered. "…I thought… nevermind what I thought. I'm glad."
"The others were saying you saved her life." Taliopia scooted closer to the nesting, her rose-colored eyes locking on his face with a deep sort of expression. "You healed my Morri-poo instead of yourself, and Spyra too. They said you got attacked by Malefora herself. B-But that can't be true… she's…"
"It's half true." He grimly nodded. "We were attacked by a magical aspect of her. She's very powerful. She nearly killed all of us."
"-*snorreee-* -ehm-w-wha….?" Spyra licked her chops and groggily sat up, looking at the Fallen as a stupid grin crawled up her snout. "…hey, you're awake… and you look like a tree that got toilet-papered."
"Funny." He cupped her chin and looked back at Taliopia. "Am I good enough to walk?"
"You'll be sore for a few days, and it'll be difficult for you to stand, and sit down, and walk and-" She paused. "-it'll be hard for a week or so. But when we get to Warfang, we can use healing potions on you to accelerate the process and make you all better!"
"You're a miracle worker, Taliopia." He chuckled. "Thank you."
"N-No, I need to be thanking you, Mr. Fallen, I…" Taliopia leaned over, and in full view of Spyra, chanced a little lick on the Fallen's cheek. "…you saved Morinth. I don't know if I could live knowing something happened to her. You save her life, you save mine."
The Fallen didn't know what to say. This was probably the deepest he'd ever witnessed the medic acting.
Taliopia blinked and quickly sat back, cupping over her snout.
"Everyone else is waiting for you." She smiled, looking playful. "When we get to Warfang, I'm gonna' buy you a stuffed animal as a thankyou present! 'Kay?"
"'Kay." He winked. She giggled, blushed, and scampered from the room, before her head poked back in and she said. "-A-And about what I saw earlier…"
Him and Spyra froze up.
"…It's, uhm… I kind of… didn't mind and…" Taliopia's blush was furious. "I'll let myself out. See you later, Spyra?"
"Count on it, babe'." Spyra winked. "So, you, you feel good enough to walk?"
"I feel like someone dropped bricks on my kneecaps and shot me through a wind tunnel." He grumbled.
"What happened when you got back to the surface?"
"I got ambushed by this creature leading a pack of Apes, some kind of assassin sent by Cynder. I overheard that his name was Zargos, and that he's a Pathfinder. I killed his Apes, kicked his can and sent him packing. But I didn't get a chance to finish him off."
"Just another douchebag to add to the list." Spyra sighed happily, nosing his naval. "I'm glad yer' alright, Fallen."
"Worried much?" He grinned like an asshole. Spyra clicked her tongue and tossed one of the nest furs at him. "You don't have to stay here with me, Spyra, I can manage."
"You sure?"
"Spyra, how long have you been here?"
"Since they brought you in, like… an hour or two ago."
"Go get some fresh air."
"…Yeah, sure." Spyra sat up and stretched, making sure to show him under her tail as she sauntered for the door. He reached out and slapped her backside before she got out of range. "-Rawr-! Quit it, dude! Wasn't today enough already? We almost died."
When he only giggled at her, she rolled her eyes and passed through the frame.
"Don't spend all day in there, you'll atrophy." She called.
Ignitia appeared outside the nook window after a little while, her usual, matronly smile on her snout.
"Hello, Fallen." She said, snaking her neck through the window and bowing just over the nest.
"How's it going?" He sat up and started to flex his arms and legs. "…This actually isn't as bad as I thought… it still hurts like hell, but… it's doable."
"Very good. I-I hope you don't mind me saying, but I was terrified about Morinth…" She paused. "and about you. Everything is in working order?"
"Everything's where it's supposed to be." He stood up from the nest, leaning on her offered horn until he could balance. "Warfang?"
"We're leaving the moment you're ready." Ignitia nodded. "The Wings Harad recruited brought riders saddles, for all the Moles, and for that Ape of yours… But there is also a saddle for you as well."
"Ah." The Fallen tugged on his jumpsuit, noticing that it had been cleaned. "So who's the lucky dragon I get to give back problems?"
"Me." Ignitia clicked her tongue.
"…Ignitia, you don't have to-"
"I volunteered. Now prepare all of your gear, say your goodbyes to the dragonflies and get ready to leave immediately. The war has waited long enough." Ignitia slipped back out the window, noting to him in passing: "We can further discuss personal matters, Fallen, once we have the proper quartering in Warfang."
The Fallen paused mid-yank of his boot, and stared at her through the window.
Ignitia blushed, but kept a straight face.
"Just move with haste, will you?"
"Yes ma'am."
She trotted off.
The Fallen shook his head and grinned, wincing as his muscles complained.
Today had sure been one hell of a trip.
{🐉}
Spyra spent a long time with Cometcu, Firefly and Lightnux. The Fallen couldn't hear many words exchanged between them. But in the end, the purple dragoness had touched foreheads with both of them for what felt like hours, before separating, and taking her place in a row of dragons beside Ignitia. He didn't mention anything about the tear she quickly wiped away with her wing.
"What're you lookin' at, punks?" She sneered at a cluster of dragon soldiers who were gawking. They startled and immediately turned around, even though some of them were twice her size. The Fallen chuckled, adjusting the securities on his dragon-saddle secured over Ignitia's back.
It was designed for a Mole. He was a little oversized in the thing, but it would do, he was thin enough.
"How checks everything, Fallen?" Ignitia asked, curling her neck around to inspect his legs and lap.
"Everything is green." He held onto the rider's bar, giving it a little yank experimentally. "So… we're flying over an ocean?"
"Yes."
"From extreme heights?"
"The Wing will be ascending for roughly a few minutes, but flight will be consistently maintained at 1500 feet throughout the majority of the trip. We'll begin descending once we pass the sanctioned port of Beacon to a much lower terrestrial level until we reach the walls. So, yes. From good heights certainly."
"Alright." He nodded.
"Nervous?"
"I'm always nervous. But it isn't the first time I've done something like this." The Fallen grinned, noticing several of the Warfangian soldiers around him staring. He winked at a dark blue, black underbellied dragoness, and chuckled when she shuddered and quickly turned away, struggling to not peak back at him. "I've learned the best way to conquer fear is to smile at it."
"Apt advice." Ignitia extended her great wing length and gave them a little flush. "Hopefully, you won't have to smile too long at this."
"I wish I was carrying you." Spyra glumly remarked, though, it did little to hide her anxiousness. She was giddy, rocking in place and constantly glancing around.
Her first Wingflight. With other dragons.
Spyra was vibrating.
Behind the organized rows of Warfanging dragons, the entire dragonfly village had gathered in a colorful crowd to see them off.
The Fallen could pick out Lightnux, Cometcu and Firefly in the front of the gathering, three lights shining in the marsh. He raised a hand to them and nodded. Only Lightnux responded in kind.
"You've promised to defend my daughter with your life?" Lightnux had asked him earlier as he was preparing his gear.
"Many times. So far, I haven't failed, and I have been tested." He assured, clamping his crossbow to his back belt. "I wouldn't be bringing Spyra to this war if she wasn't needed."
"I believe you." Lightnux nodded. "No other thing but fate would see you and her linked in such a way. What was meant to be was meant to be."
"Goodbye, Chieftain. I will bring your daughter back to you."
"Are all passengers secure?" One of the soldiers called out. Most of the Wing had saddles of their own, filled with one to two Moles each. A few confirmatory barks sounded out. "Take flight when ready!"
"Arrowhead formation." Harad's deep voice came from the front of the Wing. The Fallen could see him meet eyes with him and Ignitia over the rows of horns and wings briefly. "Un-saddled are at the forefront and rear. Fly fast."
Nearby, a larger medic had Morinth strapped into her own saddle. The tired-looking half-breed dragoness was slumped, but visibly awake.
She looked over at the Fallen, and weakly smiled, blinking her brilliant emerald eyes at him. He felt lightened at her appearance. She was okay.
Taliopia, Corrinthol and Torrdonal were arranged behind Ignitia and getting ready as well. Taliopia was the only one saddled, carrying a young Mole female and her infant swaddled in a blanket. The medic shyly met his gaze and blushed.
"Here we go." Spyra kept repeating to herself. "Here we go."
"Hold on." Ignitia muttered to him.
The first rows of dragons started to lift off the ground. The Fallen blinked, astonished. They were so… fast, but graceful.
Tens of dragons, darting up into the sky to create a blackened flock sailing over the treeline ahead, Harad at their forefront, his mighty wings bucking.
The dragons ahead of Ignitia shot off the ground, and the Fallen felt his knuckles going white as he gripped the bar tighter.
This is it.
Spyra zipped into the air with a little wiggle of her hips, whooping as she shot through the atmosphere like a bullet. The Fallen felt Ignitia's back flex, and his weight bottomed out in his heels and backside.
Up, up, wind and breeze…
Ignitia's wings flapped again, and again, and soon air was tickling his black hair. The Fallen held on tight and chanced a look past his knee, seeing his restrained foot over the blurry, gradually shrinking landscape below.
The dragonfly village got smaller and smaller, until he could no longer see it, hidden in the trees.
For the first time since he had arrived here, the swamps began to flow away from him forever. The giant mushrooms, the willow trees and that horrid morning stink…
There it all goes.
The dragons were like a flight of gliding, scaly birds. Their wing membranes quivered in the upkick, and their eyes were narrowed behind silver helmets, limbs tucked to their bellies to form themselves like arrows zipping through and through.
Spyra was in the middle of it, divided by fresh sky from him. She was smiling, her orange wings flapping excitedly as she glanced around at all the soldiers.
Ignitia tipped her neck forwards and fell into a glide with the rest of the flight. The Fallen hunkered lower in his saddle, fighting against the wind hitting his eyes.
The gray sky above contrasted the darker shades of the world below. They passed the River of Amber, now nothing but an orange little string winding through the heavy foliage. They passed the ruins of the Dragon Temple, which he noted Ignitia's nose briefly tracking. They passed the crumbled remains of Forlorn, tan and minute from this height. A small shape sat, lonely on the beach, the blackened pill-shaped corpse of the beached Hail Digger that the Moles had washed up in. The Fallen couldn't imagine many of them were sad to see the ordeal behind them.
Finally, they passed the immense ruins of Stormwatch, which he stared at until the coast started to shrink behind them.
The Fallen curled his back as best as his injuries and the dressings would allow. He watched the Southern Marshes as they became a hairs length line running the ocean's gambit, and soon it vanished in the gray expanse of the waters below.
Little did he know that Spyra's swampy home would never be seen by his eyes again.
{🐉}
