Chapter Fourteen: Warfang Ablaze
"Wake up!" A shrill voice screeched into his head. It sounded almost like it was out of breath, or exhausted. Why would a dream be telling him to wake up? Spyro's eyes fluttered open to the sight of Elice and Cynder.
"What's wrong? Is some one hurt? Wait... Why are you here Elice?" He got to his feet and looked around. They were still on Dragon Shores, Cynder was okay but a little scared, and Elice was panting like she had just flown around the world.
"Warfang is under attack! You need to come help immediately!"
Spyro's eyes widened, "Not more fighting," He thought sadly, "I figured there'd be peace after that last skirmish."
Cynder opened her wings and jumped into the air, looking over her shoulder at Spyro as she did so, "Hurry up my love!"
Spyro shook the look of shock off of his face, if there was ever going to be another time were he could peacefully finish what he began here, he'd have to fight, "I'm ready."
Elice nodded, "Let's go then."
She wasn't kidding. Warfang was once again under seige. But this time, the great city's defenses weren't finished reconstruction, "Do you know anything about who's attacking?" Yelled Spyro, trying to be heard by Elice over the battle roars below.
The yellow dragoness shook her head, "Unfortunately no. Volteer, his kids, myself, and the rest of the council were in the middle of eating when the alarm was sounded. I never got a good look at the attackers since I was sent to fetch you during the initial attack."
Cynder scanned the battlefield below and looked at her soon-to-be mate with worry in her eyes, "Spyro, I don't think we can win this battle."
"Why's that?" He asked, cocking his head to the side curiously.
She looked back down and said solemnly, "Those soldiers down there in the black armor... I recognize them."
Spyro followed her gaze and saw what she saw. Huge hominid creatures, about twice the hight of a teenaged dragon like himself or Cynder, slowly marched toward the outer wall of Warfang. The wall had been breached by a massive fireball probably created and launched by a mechanism somewhere in the horde, "What? I've fought larger creatures!" The purple dragon boasted.
Beneath them, shouts could be heard from what would probably be battle commanders giving out orders, "Fall back!" One yelled as he spewed flame over the approaching monsters.
"Defend the opening!" Roared another, charging with the young battle-ready dragons he had under his command.
Spyro's tone died as soon as he witnessed his first death. It was one of the charging commander's soldiers. A small blue, not much different from himself, tried to knock over what was probably going to be his first kill. But the dark hominid had different plans. The... Thing, grabbed the hatchling by the horns and lifted him into the air before grinning and pulling in two different directions at once. Naturally, the small blue's brains were spilled onto the marble path below, "That... He... I could've done something..." Spyro stuttered, unsure of why he stood idly by and watched this gruesome spectacle.
"Spyro, whatever you do, don't go down there." Cynder pleaded, "You're no match for those things."
The purple dragon turned to look at her, "I defeated Malefor! These things can't be tougher then him?"
Elice sighed, "She's right Spyro."
Both turned to look at her; Spyro asked, "What?"
"Those monsters down there aren't your average ordinary bad guys. We created them. Or rather, our ancestors created them."
The purple dragon's head was spinning out of control, "What? Why? How? When? Who?" Questions upon questions filled his head. Enough to distract him from what he was flying towards.
"Spyro look out!" Screamed Cynder.
She was too late.
Spyro woke up lying in the middle of Warfang's dragon temple with a gigantic bruise on his head, "Ugh..." He grunted, standing up. The male dragon looked around, curious as to how he got there and what was happening outside. There was a hole in the ceiling that told him his point of entry. No point in flying back out of it though, the sides of the hole were covered in sharp broken shingling that would obviously slash up his wings. There were silhouettes in the hall and on the windows showing that the battle was still raging on. A battle that his people were losing,
"Is somebody there?" He called, wincing in pain as he tried to move, "Anybody?"
"Search the building for survivors!" Ordered a loud echoing voice.
Spyro knew what would happen next, and braced himself. Two of the dark spawn walked in the doorway carrying swords that looked more like fish hooks. They looked at him, and he looked back, "It's the purple one." Said the one on the left.
"Are you sure?" Questioned the one on the right, turning his head towards his comrade.
"Absolutely." Confirmed the first one. They both held their swords before them in perfect unison; almost as if they were one and the same.
They were close enough to get a real good look at now, and that's exactly what Spyro did. He liked to examine his enemies before a fight; sometimes it produced their weaknesses. It walked on two legs like a grublin, but it stood tall and firm, unlike the grublins who were well known for their slouched over stance. Then there was the head. Possibly a helmet, but from where Spyro stood it looked like the thing was entirely made of metal. For armor, the monsters had pitch black metallic plates lining every inch of their body. Some plates had spikes, or were reinforced with new plates. These were the most heavily armored creatures he'd ever fought! Then it hit him, he had seen this kind of design before on the snow king in Dante's Freezer! Maybe the snow king was a long lost relative of theirs? Or perhaps it was the other way around? He didn't know, nor care at this point. He had to deal with these two jokers and find Cynder and Elice.
The one on the left swung first, followed closely by his comrade. Spyro rolled to avoid them, and pounced on the left's arm. His claws dug trenches into the armor that would make any sane creature smarten up and get the hell out of there. But the dark soldier didn't even flinch. It just dropped it's weapon and grabbed Spyro by the back of his neck. Holding the purple dragon before him like a stuffed animal, the creature let him fall to the floor, "Creature analysis." It said, making whirring a clicking sounds. Two red dots in the front of it's visor, probably it's eyes, slowly blinked on and off.
"What kind of horrible abominations are these?" Wondered Spyro as he witnessed this strange sight.
"Subject's name: Spyro. Race: Dragon. Sex: Male. Age: Unknown. Origin: Unknown. Warning: Anomaly! Anomaly! Anomaly! Subject shouldn't exist!" The suit of armor started to freak out! Smoke spewed out of it's ear holes, and it's red eyes spun back and forth wildly. The armor beside him noticed his partner's strange actions and started to freak out as well.
"I should probably get out of here while I can." Figured Spyro, dragon-dashing for the exit. He left the strange monsters still spazzing.
"No Cynder! Stop!"
"Spyro's down there! I need to help him!"
Elice looked at Cynder with a forced smile, "He's strong, he can take care of himself. Right now we have to think about getting ourselves out of here before any of those 'things' catches sight of us!" Cynder thought long and hard; taking a few glances back at the hole in the temple before nodding to Elice, and flying away wondering if she'd ever see her love again. The yellow dragoness could sense Cynder's pain, and tried to cheer her up, "Don't worry Cynder, he's going to be alright. Just you wait."
"I hope you're right." Whispered Cynder, looking back at the burning Warfang for the last time.
The entire city was drenched in blood and flame. Spyro ran frantically; ducking and dodging falling buildings as his home came down around him. Even throughout the chaos, his mind remained on one person. Cynder. That was actually why he fought so hard to stay alive during his escape; because of her. It was all because of her.
"Spyro! Over here!" His head swiveled quickly and caught sight of Volteer, waving and calling from a clearing in the destruction, "Hurry! We haven't much time! The city is about to collapse on it's self!"
The powerful muscles in all four of Spyro's legs pounded in pain as they strained to keep him surging forward and out of harms way. Eventually, he and one of his most trusted generals Volteer, made it out of one of the city's main gates and into a well-burnt grass field. There weren't any enemies for miles around, "Volteer! You're bleeding!" Cried Spyro in alarm.
The old yellow dragon looked down at his chest to find a few of his scales missing and blood trickling slowly from the wound, "It doesn't look too bad, just a scratch. Nothing compared to the atrocity committed on every living organism in our great, magnificent, omnipotent, amazing, wonderful-"
"Alright alright, I get it." Cut in Spyro, not feeling up to another of Volteer's famous word binges, "Cynder and Elice certainly flew somewhere safe; we need to find them!" The purple dragon looked around and suddenly realized something was missing, "Volteer? Where is your family?"
Volteer sighed sadly, "I lost track of them in my haste to escape the temple. All I remember was telling my mate to bring the kids somewhere safe until the fighting had been subdued." He looked at his purple companion with regretful eyes, "Was I wrong to send them away? Are they still alive?"
Spyro knew the truth was too painful to even consider, so he lied, "Of course they're alive. We'll find them, then we'll kick whoever's ass is responsible for this whole thing!" Spyro's smile and encouraging words were enough to put fire back into the old yellow's eyes. And while they slowly retreated from the slow burning rubble, Spyro asked, "I never learned your mate's name, care to tell me?"
Cynder, Elice, and a few dozen survivors stood in a circle inside the last remaining dragon temple. Probably the only reason why the evil soldiers hadn't found it yet; the temple was hidden deep underneath the planet's surface. The only way in or out, was in the form of an extremely long tunnel that exited out onto a remote island no one but dragons knew about. It was used a few times before as a safe shelter for dragons fleeing Malefor's wrath.
"So, does anyone have a plan?" Asked Cynder, looking around the room. There was a good variety of dragons and dragonesses; something they'd have need of since their race would probably need repopulating after this was over. If this was ever over.
Elice saw a green dragon, about Terrador's size and height maybe a few inches smaller, raise a paw, "Yes, you! What is your name?"
"Lt. Rocco sir, and I propose we gather what forces we can scrounge up and fight back!"
Two other dragons, an orange and a blue, were obviously against his proposition, "No way man! Were you not there when they attacked? Our entire army couldn't defeat them, what makes you think a small group could?" Yelled the blue male.
"We should think of more peaceful, constructive ways of dealing with this problem." Offered the orange female, looking around the room as if wishing for all the attention, "Rebuilding our race should be the priority!"
The green was displeased, "It's because of you fucking pacifists that we lost this war in the first place!"
While the orange harrumphed, the blue retaliated with, "War? Are you blind? That was slaughter! The same that will happen to all of us here if we try to fight back right now!"
Cynder looked at Elice, and vice versa as a verbal fight broke out. Both were thinking the same thing with their eyes, "I wish Spyro were here."
End Chapter Fourteen: Warfang Ablaze
Author's notes: And so this marks the end of this story, and the beginning of a new one. It will have the same cast, same setting, but a different title. Thanks for reading!