Call of the Ancestors

Chapter 3: Risen Anew

In the slightly too small and cramped floor which was used for nursing and healing the wounded DOW soldiers back to either their office or field positions, was Sethelis. Her head still felt like it had recently been hit by that explosive. She could still hear a vague ringing, even though she knew very well that it really wasn't there.

She never liked being here. Watching the sick, or weak. And she especially did not like being treated herself. She had always preferred the more old school method of dragons simply letting their bodies absorb the pieces of a shattered red gem, and then be on their merry way. It was quicker, simpler and she could understand it. It was not like the arts of medicine or healing magics which were both unknown areas for her, besides the very basic things she had to know as a captain. However, as of that point, the DOW's supplies of the precious red stones had been drained to their very limits. With all the dragon DOW soldiers taking damage in things like helping with construction jobs, getting themselves hurt during fights with criminals, evil doers or maybe even a training section gone wrong, the supplies were diminished.

She groaned, and opened her eye. She tired to think through what she remembered before ending up here. She drew her thought back to how she had carried #2 on her back the whole long way from the Warfangian working-class living quarters, managing to find a late night operating lift leading to the floating island on which the DOW tower was located. Without it, she would have been stuck, as #2's wings most likely wouldn't have been able to carry them both in their bruised state.

All that would have accomplished would have been passing out in the lobby due to exhaustion.

At least it was still late morning, judging by the sunlight which hit the curtained windows. The dragoness decided that it was due time to get up and out of bed, as it seemed like the healers had done a fine job with patching her ribs together, even if Sethelis could feel a stiff inability to stand on, or move, her right front leg.

She looked down only to find it in a spleen, which was keeping it in a position tightly kept against her body via bandage which in turn was wrapped around her chest and the base of her neck.

Walking properly was a bit of a worry, as she was forced to limp her way around until the leg healed. She hoped this wouldn't intervene with this whole meetup she had hoped to be able to get to today.

The dragoness then proceeded to realize, her eye widening at the mere thought…

She had yet another reason to prefer red gems; She was terribly uncomfortable knowing that people had been all over her body when she wasn't aware of it. She'd liked to have one hundred percent acknowledgement of everything that had to do with her, or her body for that matter, but now she just didn't. Either way, this slight setback wouldn't stop Sethelis. Much more than mere social awkwardness would be enough to stop the Captain of the Shadows!

Hence, she simply left the room which she had rested in. The Shadow captain proceeded to continue up one of the tower's many dwindling staircases, struggling slightly with the steps every now and then.

Many steps, and many curses later she found herself at the halfway point of the flight of stairs, as she almost even tripped. It was so severe that Seth actually did fall over, which forced her to stop, with her nose meeting up with the marble staircase. Sethelis groaned in pain as she felt her hurt leg taking weight from her body's impact with the cold marble. "Ow…" She said to herself, struggling to get up on her paws again.

A few minutes later, Sethelis had finally reached the Captain's floor. Floor 17. She fluttered her wings slightly, as she had noticed how there was barely any traffic in the cross-junction corridor which let the Captains and their subordinates to move around the offices at that point of the early day. She proceeded to limp through the corridor, happy that none of her colleagues or fellow Captains were out to see her in this state. She finally reached the familiar door with the insignia on its smooth wooden surface, and as she stepped into the office she'd called hers, she sighed deeply, shutting the door with her tail as she walked in.

She studied her desk, seems like someone dropped off a note. It was signed "Zhadow #2"

As she glanced at the note she saw that the sly cheetah had simply scribbled the words "Get well soon, Captain!" with her personal little "Zhadow #2" sign-off on the very corner of the piece of paper.

For some unknown reason, this bothered Sethelis to beyond any measure. It was as if the cat was mocking her. Especially with that completely unnecessary way of spelling "shadow" with a Z.

Which made her really grit her fangs however, was the fact that she simply couldn't focus on work. Too much was on her mind right now, and yet she had the report of the last mission to write. Sethelis was just about to crumble the note as best she could with one paw when she saw that something was written on the backside;

"Did the mission report for you. Felt bad for my mess-up last night. Do I deserve a raise?"

This made the dragoness chuckle to herself. The cat had nothing but profit and work on her mind. Feeling one point of stress being removed from her overflowing mind was relieving to the dragoness, to say the least. Hence, she decided to take the rest of the day off, prepare for Miarko, and possibly go and get them a table reserved at that café he had mentioned. Who knew where this night was going to take her?

The flight to the supposed attack site took much longer than Miarko had anticipated. As his medical professional kept telling him, the tears in his membranes were starting to get to him. The doctor had recommended all sorts of ways to relieve the issue of slower flight stemming from the damages, but Miarko was apprehensive to undergo any sort of treatment. He wasn't one to request medical supervision unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Captain?" came the voice of one of Miarko's companions.

The Fire Captain turned, shaking himself from his thoughts, to find Spyro staring at him from a wing's length away.

"Director?" addressed Miarko, wondering what he needed.

"Something we didn't go over in the briefing has caught my curiosity, if you'll entertain me for a moment," said Spyro, Miarko nodded, earning more dialogue from the DOW Director, "One thing you didn't note in your report was the specifics regarding bandit groups in the area. I'm not entirely aware of the reports regarding them; would you mind giving me a rundown?"

Miarko nodded, noticing that they were still a distance away from the spot where they were headed. He had plenty of time to explain the situation to the Director.

"Well, sir, there's a few that are active on this side of the city. The Bloodclaws, Red Suns and Anointed Ones all have a presence on this side of the city," said the Fire Captain, explaining the local crime system, "Is there any of them in particular that you would wish to know about?"

"I'm familiar with the Bloodclaws and Red Suns," responded Spyro, "I'm more interested in hearing about this new group, the Anointed Ones."

Miarko nodded, turning to gather his thoughts, "Of course, sir. The problem is," he said, "I don't have much intel on them myself. They recently moved into this area, and we believe that they have some presence in Warfang as well even though we haven't been able to track down their hives in the city as of yet. They're lead by some enigmatic wolf they just refer to as their leader, I have no direct references to the name as of yet. They're oddly secretive for a group that engages in just as many illegal activities as others; the Suns and Claws prefer that their victims know that it was them that committed the crime and not any of their rival groups in Warfang."

"Beyond that," continued the Fire Dragon, "They think of themselves as the 'bringers of chaos' and the 'servants of Congeria,' whatever in the Afterlife that means."

Spyro nodded as he mulled over the Fire Captain's report, there was a lot to process in what he had to say.

Turning back to him, the Purple Dragon said, "Are you at all familiar with Ancient Draconian Mythology, Captain?"

Miarko shook his head and pointed to a small necklace that hung around his neck, it was a symbol that was foreign to Spyro, "No, sir. Not a worshipper of the Ancestors like most of our race are," he responded,

"Oh, you're one of those...Prime Mover types, hm? I wasn't aware, Captain," responded Spyro, "My apologies."

Miarko was slightly surprised that the Director had heard of this. The Prime Mover wasn't a mainstream belief in Warfangian society, and most citizens weren't even aware of the movement's existence. There were no churches or temples devoted to the worship of the Mover, unlike those that were devoted to the Ancestors like the one Spyro had been trained in in the Swamp all of those years ago. While there were plenty of other splinter religious group, like these Anointed Ones it seemed, the Ancestors were still the most dominant religion in the Dragon City and the countryside.

"It's of no concern, Director," responded the Fire Captain, "Individuals tend to assume, I can understand that. To answer your question however, yes. I consider myself a member of the Prime movement. But we didn't come out all this way to discuss my religious beliefs, what does Draconian Mythology have to do with these Anointed Ones?"

"The fact that you mentioned Congeria, and the fact that this group, this cult worships her to some extent confirms my belief that they may be more trouble than we initially realized. Do you want the short or long version of this explanation, Captain?"

"Short version, sir," responded Miarko, grinning slightly, "You know about my horrible attention span."

Spyro chuckled lightly, "Indeed, Miarko, I do. In that case," he said, "I'll give you the short version. Congeria is the name belonging to one of the Ancient Ancestors that were worshipped some millennia ago as gods by our actual Ancestors. Some individuals in Warfangian society today worship our forefathers and foremothers as the "Ancestors" but the truth of the matter is that the term Ancestors simply means "Those Who Came Before."

He continued, "Congeria was a member of the Ancient Draconian Pantheon, each member of which was devoted to a different sphere of influence if you will. One was associated with the sun, another the source of magic that flows through our world, and another was the symbol of motherhood, family, care and love. And another one watched over order, righteousness and justice. There are quite a few more, but I am only making examples. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Sir," responded Miarko, "Please continue."

Spyro nodded his head and said, "There is peripheral evidence that these Ancestors still exist today, and their paws have subtle influences in our world, and can sometimes shift the very nature of our surrounding just by committing slight acts of influence in the Realms. In this case, the Ancestors seek to further their own interests and bring about a world in their image, but their counterparts stop them due to them doing the exact same thing. In a sense, a balance is preserved in this way and has remained for a countless number of years."

The Fire Dragon took a moment to mull over everything that the Director had told him, "I only have one question, Director," he responded, "If all of these Ancestors have their own roles, what is Congeria's?"

"A good question," responded Spyro, nodding his head, "You see, Congeria isn't actually the true name of this Ancestor. It's just one of her many monikers, another name that we call her by. Her true name is simply Chaos. I'm sure you know now what her area of influence is. Chaos, destruction, invention. Anything that turns the tide away from the stagnation of order."

"How come I've never heard of this….Ancestor before, sir?" asked the Fire Dragon, still probing for more information from his superior.

"She's not worshipped as much as the others in the pantheon, if you want to call their group as such. There was some disagreement long ago between the members of the Ancestors, and she was cast out by the others. This did eventually lead to her demise."

"I see," stated the Fire Captain simply, not sure what to make of this information.

The Purple Dragon laughed at this, a deep and hearty laugh. Miarko had always thought his voice and laugh sounded like one of those portrayals of a benevolent monarch that the Fire Dragon had seen in a local theater back in Warfang. It only added to the charisma that the Purple Dragon possessed himself.

"I know none of this interests you, Captain," said Spyro, sighing as he finished with his deep laugh, "You Primes are almost insufferable when topics of religion come up...but, no matter. I believe we are almost to our destination, are we not?"

Miarko averted his gaze from Spyro, taking a look around at his surroundings. Terron was speaking to Cynder several meters away from the Director and Captain, he could barely overhear a few words, the rest were blocked out by the roaring wind. Something about the Grand Library of Warfang. Miarko smirked at that, the Lieutenant was nothing without his books and traditions. He almost admired that about him, the devotedness to the structure of society and culture that he saw each and every day out of the Earth Dragon. It was admirable, if nothing else.

Looking around again, it was fully apparent that the four had flown some distance away from Warfang. Looking behind himself, Miarko could see the city's walls as a small speck beyond the horizon. It was beautiful from this vantage, but this was coming from a hometown lover, so maybe that assessment was more than a little biased…

Turning back to the flight path ahead of them, it was clearly visible to make out the Avalarian Road. The main thoroughfare around the continent, the road run through all the way to Warfang. It was often-traveled by Merchants from cities, towns and villages all around the continent. That was why the wreckage had been discovered quickly...and why the attack had been all the more shocking. The last raid this close to Warfang had been years prior, and the previous before that even longer before hand. Either one of the Bandit Clans had grown more bolder, or something else was afoot.

"We've arrived, Director," said Miarko, responding to Spyro's question, pointing to an area a short distance in front of them on the road.

Spyro nodded silently and made a signal to his counterpart and Terron. They both nodded and began their own descent.

A short time later, all four of the group were on the ground, surveying the wreckage before them.

There were a few wrecked caravans around the area, as well as a few members of the Warfang military. The section of the Avalarian had been cordoned off at the request of the DOW, and soldiers had been poking around here and there. According to Miarko's reports, however, they had been unable to make any significant discoveries.

Cynder paced to the front, nodding as she began, "Alright. We need to fan out here and cover more ground. Lieutenant, ask the soldiers around and get the story that they've uncovered so far. If they've discovered anything of note, relay it to either spyro or myself."

Terron nodded and set about talking to the nearest soldier to him, who saluted the Lieutenant immediately. Whether it was out of respect or the Lieutenant demanding for it was up for debate.

Turning to Miarko next, she said, "Captain, examine the area around the caravans, specially not on the road. Perhaps the attackers dropped something without noticing. A badge, weapon, piece of armor, anything that might help us identify who did this and what their plans are."

"Understood, I'll begin my search," said the Captain, beginning to walk away.

"We'll be here, searching the caravans. Good luck," finished Cynder.

An hour or two or later, it was quickly becoming clear that the group would not find anything. They had reconvened a few minutes prior, with no new information. Terron's interviewing had dug up no findings, and the search by the other three had uncovered nothing. Cynder had insisted that they continued for more time, and had set all members out to continue their findings.

Miarko knelt down on the ground, sighing to himself and shaking his head. He hadn't found anything of note. A few discarded arrows meant that the raiders had been bipedal, but that didn't mean much more than they already knew; the bandits in the area were mainly comprised bipedal individuals anyways.

He rustled around in some grass where he found another arrow. Sighing, he turned it over and around a few times, not seeing anything of interest at first glance. It was another iron arrow, the same as all of the dozen others that he had discovered so far. Portions of the head of the arrow were slightly charred, indicating that it had been used a fire arrow, something to burn the area around it. Portions of the Caravans were burned, indicating this arrow had been used in combat...just like the other arrows that the Fire Dragon had discovered.

Wait.

He quickly turned the arrow over again.

There was writing on the shaft of the arrow.

"Surgant, magistra est in damnatis."

To Miarko's great shame, he didn't speak the old languages. But…

Walking quickly back towards the caravans, he looked around for the two Directors. They were nearby, inspecting the wheels of the last unit in the group.

Walking quickly up to the pair, he spoke quickly, "Madame Director, I think I found something."

Cynder looked up and rose to her paws. Approaching him, the Black Dragoness took the arrow from the Captain's paw.

Looking over the inscription herself, she read the old language out loud again, "Surgant, magistra est in damnatis."

Her eyes narrowed at his, as if she was considering the language very carefully. The dragoness took great consideration into the way of translating this text, like she does with everything else, trying to piece together the language word by word. Then, it came to her.

"Rise, mistress of the damned."

Cynder's eyes widened as she said the phrase aloud, earning a questioning Miarko saying, "Madame Director? What does that mean?"

Cynder didn't answer, instead choosing to shake her head, her face showing just a slight hint of worry. Spyro put a paw on her shoulder, and turned to Miarko. His answer would mean more than Miarko realized.

"They're going to attempt to revive Congeria."

(Hey, Hawk here! I think this was a pretty good moment to end the chapter! Because I love my cliffhangers. Quite literally…. Sorry for the bird-pun but still. Also changed the chapter name. )

A/N: Thank you a thousand times for reading! Sorry for the lack of updates over the previous weeks, but both me and Mike has had it busy with real life, classes and we've both been ill at the same time! Fortunately I am clearing up a bit and I hope Mike will be back on his feet soon.

Please leave a review if you have anything to say, it helps us a lot! (And we appreciate both compliments and constructive criticism equally!) If this A/N ended up a little "rambly" It's because it's Hawk signing this one off, Mike will most likely be back long before it is time for the next one, so stay tuned 'til then! /Hawk & Mike signing off.