Author's Notes:
Here's another update guys! It's a bit short—a little over 8,000 words. Planning this out had been quite difficult since it had implications for both old chapters and the ones that are coming. Still, I managed to hash things out thanks to my two beta readers. They've been awesome to bounce ideas off of.
Speaking of which, here are the messages from them:
AzureDragonZX. Hello readers, AzureDragonZX here. Here's some more Aimless for you to enjoy. We've been having a ton of fun planning out this side of the story, so I hope you're all enjoying it. Things are really getting interesting now!
Strykeruk. Hey all, Strykeruk here. I doubt most of you read this, so I'll let you get on and read another excellent chapter courtesy of Silent.
My reply to them—I appreciate the continued support, guys! I'm glad y'all are excited for what's gonna come next in the chapters to come. Aimless wouldn't be as good if you two weren't around. Thanks again! ^^
Timestamp key: "D" for days, "W" for weeks, "M" for months, "Y" for years, "EM" for early morning, "LM" for late morning, "EA" for early afternoon, "LA" for late afternoon, "EE" for early evening, "LN" for late night, and "AD" for all day. Note that the Dragon Realms follow the sexagesimal system for keeping time, just like Earth. (In other words, 60 seconds per minute and 60 minutes per hour.)
Snip category key: There are four categories of snips. "Settling In", "City Life", "Beyond the Wall", and "The Journey Home". All four represent parallel storylines that take place within Aimless, and other than "Settling In", each snip category has at least two subtypes. Those subtypes aren't listed due to potential spoilers.
Enjoy!
Beyond the Wall — Ape Menace
Chapter 51: Lay of the Land
"Those who do not use local guides cannot take advantage of the ground."
~ Sun Tzu
[60D/LN]
"His very existence is wrong, and a calamity might happen the longer we allow him to walk the Realms."
Claytor, Jayce, and Ophelia were all struck dumb by the revelation. For a short time, the only sound that could be heard was the wind gently blowing across the frostbitten village of Eyria.
None of them knew what to say in response to that. Claytor would have laughed it off if it hadn't been Spyro who said it. He couldn't comprehend his ominous statement. On what basis could Joshua pose a threat to not just the City of Dragons and the Allied Territories, but rather the Dragon Realms itself? He'd guarded Joshua for days and there was nothing that indicated that he might actually become a threat in the future. Certainly, that unique element of his was worth some concern, but the boy himself bore no malice for Warfang. Lifebringer's tail, even now he was making friends and allies among the apprentices!
Spyro's admission perplexed Claytor more than it did a couple of villagers in a far-off land. The hesitation he displayed clearly showed he knew it was irrational, completely unfounded when confronted with Joshua's behavior and elemental ability.
Jayce had come to the same general understanding as the knight did. Rather than pressing Spyro for further elaboration, he simply put a paw on his withers. "Must be a Purple Dragon thing," he said before leaving them altogether, while also mentioning to the Savior that he was free to come to him at any time while he was in December. "My hut will always be open, Spyro."
As the ape slowly walked away, Ophelia reassured them that honesty, civility, and conscientiousness were Jayce's most redeeming qualities. Even now, the apes were not known for such things. He was a rare treasure, a precious gem, and it was only right that he found happiness here in December instead of a meaningless death fighting for a deranged, bloodthirsty lunatic. Claytor couldn't find any reason to disagree.
Ophelia led them inside the village temple. A simple construct no less austere than the buildings in Uzali, it couldn't be compared to the luxurious homes in the Blowout and Lodestar districts of Warfang. Carved from the rocks that comprised the canyon and layered with slabs of pinewood, the building emanated a rugged atmosphere. Fur sheets dyed in royal blue draped the walls, their borders painted white.
Claytor was not surprised to see candles illuminating the insides, basking the walls in a gloomy orange. The luminescent crystals commonly found in Warfang homes were unavailable here, and they had to be reserved for public roads and major structures instead.
The furnishings were as expected—simple. Handmade. Painstakingly crafted without regard for art, instead prioritizing necessity and function. The Talonpoint Knight managed to glimpse inside a bedroom, where he saw a lounge of dragons—an entire family—slumbering atop two thick sheets of fur, huddling close to each other and sharing body warmth. He saw Nuodai among them.
Claytor hid his frown. Even though the room had candlestands on each corner, tonight would not be comfortable. Spyro had also seen what their accommodations would look like, but said nothing. The Purple Dragon must have experienced worse before.
The village temple began with a small foyer, where bipeds could take off their shoes or dragons could wipe their paws. The passage terminated at a set of closed doors—a meeting hall—and continued in either direction. Statues of what must be Eyria's past chiefs and elders lined the hallways. The corridors most likely went around the central chamber but they passed at least two stairwells. Ophelia took them to the nearest one, where she informed Claytor and Spyro that guest rooms were on the first, second, and third levels and that the structure even had a basement cellar. The layout caught them by surprise. Neither Claytor nor Spyro expected something like this from a remote village in the north.
Ophelia brought them to a chamber on the third level. It was clear this room was reserved for more important guests. Thicker furs lined the floors like a pristine, white carpet. A couple of futons hauled in from Warfang rested on opposite sides of the room. A metal lampstand with tribal inscriptions stood at the very center, its source of light a white, dimly glowing crystal no different from those that lined the ceilings of the Warfang Temple. Polished bedside tables stood next to the lampstand. To top it off, they were both given a pair of pillows.
The sight was quite impressive knowing that Eyria subsisted more from the forests of December than it did from trading with Uzali. Claytor couldn't help but commend Ophelia. The old hen offered a warm, if proud, smile in reply. All the rooms on the second floor were like this, she explained, matched only by the homes of Eyria's chief and her fellow elders.
Ophelia bid farewell and left Spyro and Claytor to themselves. The futons were too thin for the knight's taste; it was quite obvious that these would be inferior compared to the mattresses provided to the dragons living in the central districts of the massive walled city that was Warfang.
The Savior voiced no complaint. He didn't mind, having fallen asleep like a hatchling within a couple of minutes. Claytor put the lampshade down and left the slumbering young drake alone in the room.
The sun had already dipped beneath December Cliffs, but there was still enough light left in the sky for Claytor to take to the air and survey the airspace above Eyria. Kalen, the village guard from earlier, flew up after him with a warning about Eyra's "no flight" policy, though any threats the ice dragon had for his fellow villagers were easily defeated with the Vinetar's authority.
Kalen advised Claytor to beware the powerful winds above the canyon. It would be no different from a death sentence should he get blown away, with hapless flyers normally ending up in Devil's Reach or the Aorathan Desert. The knight climbed the air whilst encased in solid stones drawn from the canyon in which Eyria was nestled. He was shocked by the sheer strength of the air currents above December Cliffs. They became more violent, more ebullient, more ferocious the higher he climbed. Claytor had just reached the height typically flown by flying patrols in Warfang and already his added mass had been completely neutralized! Any higher and he would've found himself dying by next morning.
Shuddering from what could've been, Claytor circled above Eyria and studied the landscape while lazily gliding downwards. He burned the scenery into his eyes, arranging them neatly on a mental map, with the Village of Eyria oriented at the northeast. Tall mountains surrounded December from all sides, their unseen slopes dropping nearly vertically as per Altai's and Nuodai's accounts.
It was as though Azeroth the Infinite crowned a habitable valley with these mountains not to isolate its inhabitants from the world but to instead shield them from the terrors of what rested in the northernmost tip of Markazia. Claytor found Cliff Town at December's northernmost point—a plateau in a circumference of crags and peaks. Dragon Rock, where Bartholomew ambushed them, was visible to the south. Mystic Pinnacle—the tallest peak in December—soared in the west. A black spire of stone devoid of snow and glossed over with ice, looking down upon the region from where the air currents were most dangerous. A nearby mesa rose far beneath its shadow, with lights twinkling on its flat top.
The rest of Claytor's survey was rendered worthless by the low visibility. Darkness had quickly laid its claim to the pine forests surrounding Eyria, and the frigid winds were starting to take their toll on him. Even ice dragons wouldn't last more than a couple of hours under their assault. The Talonpoint Knight could only give up and resign himself to sleep in the room Elder Ophelia provided them.
For the first time in a week, Claytor had taken off his armors. Although it felt good to have his scales breathing freely once more, the biting cold had become so much more noticeable than before.
Spyro had obviously woken up while he'd been gone, evidenced by the heated stones resting next to both futons. That the hero had been kind enough to consider him brought a smile to his muzzle. Truly, in spite of everything that Spyro had experienced in his short life, he still carried the gentle and hopeful soul that came with youth.
With these thoughts in his head, Claytor curled up on his futon, resting his head on the cushion and expecting to wake up fresh the next morning after a good night's rest.
But that was not to be.
Claytor had only been asleep for a few hours when someone thumped loudly on the sliding door multiple times. Both occupants jolted awake, uncurling and rolling over on their flanks. "Sir Claytor?" he heard Spyro utter. "What's"—he yawned.—"What's going on?"
The knocking continued. "Vinetar Claytor! Lord Spyro!"
"You're too slow. I'll handle this."
Claytor leaned over to the lampstand and pulled the shade up, bathing the room in the dim crystal light. "I'm not sure, Lord Spyro." The knight rose to his paws and performed a quick stretch. "Stay there. Let me—
The door suddenly shifted sideways. A monoscale with deep, blue scales strutted into their chamber with authority. Claytor noted the slender, aerodynamic features, recognizing a beautiful dragoness on the spot. Her tail whipped about behind her, the spade on its tip looking dangerously solid. A white shawl provided the contrast her underbelly scutes needed and complemented the four horns atop her head.
Claytor's gaze was drawn immediately to the bejeweled ornaments on her horns. He thumped his tail—hoping Spyro got the message—and stood to full attention. "Clear skies, Madam. I am Vinetar Claytor—
"We have no time for these formalities, Vinetar," the dragoness interrupted him, her voice clear and smooth. Her cold, navy eyes panned the room. "I am Aurona, Acting Chief of Eyria. The elders, their heirs, and I are about to have an emergency meeting in the conference chamber with our counterparts from the other villages. We'd appreciate it if—no, we need you and Lord Spyro to join us."
Claytor's head perked up at her declaration. Tilting his head slightly, he saw Elder Ophelia and Altai standing outside their room along with two village knights. All were drowsy as their drooping necks suggested. He could sense the urgency in the air. "We'll be there, Chief Aurona. Just give us a few minutes to freshen up and relieve ourselves." And put my armor back on, he thought.
"Good. I'll see you downstairs." Chief Aurona gyrated skillfully, her long tail not even coming to striking distance of the lampstand between Spyro's and Claytor's futons. Aurona's entourage followed after the monoscale, though Altai had just enough time to wave happily at the two visiting dragons before disappearing into the halls.
Spyro gazed at Claytor. "Honestly, I was expecting this during breakfast."
Claytor yawned. "I agree, Your Grace. Alona's wings! I wouldn't have taken off my armor if I'd known we'd be joining their emergency meeting."
"I don't really blame them for it." Spyro stretched, tail curling up behind him. His wings trembled as he let out a sigh of relief. "They've been desperate for help for more than a cycle now. For the moment, we're their only hope."
Claytor did not reply as he shoved his head through the breastplate. How he wished he could tell his younger companion the truth. No, Spyro, you are their only hope.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The emergency meeting took place in the central chamber on the first floor of the village temple. As soon as they walked in, Claytor understood why the structure was so large compared to every other building in Eyria despite not having as many rooms as he expected from the space it occupied.
The conference hall was a wide enclosed space. It spanned an area equivalent to six rooms put together, enough room to house the chiefs and their heirs in the center, and rose three levels high, with each level accessible by both stairs and short runways. A strong fire roared on the first level, the smoke rising within stone-encased tubes and exiting the village temple through the chimney it shared with other fireplaces.
Claytor cast his gaze around the conference hall as he entered. It was furnished in a manner similar to his and Spyro's room. The ornaments and fixtures decorating the hall were made from materials commonly seen in Warfang. Even the craftsmanship was undoubtedly from the many artisans living in the merchant districts. from the long table the dragons convened around to the wooden platforms on which they sat. The carvings on their surface were artless in comparison to nearly everything Claytor saw in Talonpoint Keep and the Warfang Temple.
Back home, such furniture would be an insult to Serene Lady Meredy, the Weaver of Epics.
But here, they were a symbol of prosperity. They stood out and highlighted the power and influence that Eyria wielded in December. A power and influence that they continued to exert even now, with the monoscale known as Aurona sitting on her haunches at the head of the long table.
Ophelia and another pair of old dragons the same age sat close to Acting Chief Aurona. The drowsiness in their demeanor had vanished, replaced with the solemnity and adroitness that were demanded of them in meetings like this.
Aurona snapped her neck towards them. "Lord Spyro, Vinetar Claytor, thank you for joining us." She unfurled a wing and pointed to an empty platform opposite hers. "You may take your place over there."
That one platform turned out to be two, separated by a paw's width. One was slightly higher than the other, indicating the difference in status. Claytor automatically offered this one to Spyro. If the young dragon didn't like it, he did not let it show on his snout.
The Vinetar quickly scanned the rest of the table before sitting down. He almost chuckled when he found Altai beside her mother—none of the heirs sat on the platforms—drooping her neck, struggling not to yawn. Claytor also recognized Nuodai, poised behind an older hen, who resembled him. His mother, he guessed. The chief of Pystis.
Two more from Altai's group of messengers were present as well, stationed obediently beside (or behind) their parents. The chiefs of Syla and Mishkan, if he recalled correctly. Two of the more prominent villages in the region.
But they were not the only ones present at the long table. There were at least four more chiefs. Not all were accompanied by their direct heirs, if they actually had any, and none of them were dragons. Claytor had only spent a few seconds pondering over how leadership was decided when Acting Chief Aurona began the meeting proper.
"Clear skies and steady winds, everyone," Aurona began. "I apologize for calling a meeting this late, but with the storm we're caught in, this cannot wait." She paused and shut her eyes for a minute. For a moment, conflicting emotions passed through her muzzle, and none of them were positive. Her lips curled down in a grimace; the atmosphere of the entire room grew bleak and dire. "Chief Gileao, my father. His condition is getting worse by the day and I… I expect him to join the Ancestors by the end of the week."
Altai let out a small whine in response to this. Ophelia thumped her tail on the floor, the loud noise silencing her daughter.
"Is he still unconscious?" asked another elder of Eyria.
"Yes. The wounds he received from our last raid were too much for him."
Couldn't they just use spirit gems? Claytor thought. Those would surely save her father from death's grip.
"Ah," Aurona interjected before the question could be voiced. "Since our esteemed guests aren't aware of this, my father has been suffering the worst of Diminishing Absorption. In addition, something is interfering with the growth of spirit crystals in December. Up here, they aren't as abundant as they are in the southern lands and we've observed less than usual growth since summer began. The apes have also been crushing whatever gems they find to dust"—a tactic from the great war, Claytor noted.—"So what we find is too little for him."
Diminishing Absorption was a condition that resulted from overuse of the red or green spirit gems. They stimulated the latent magical energies within all of dragonkind, inducing greatly enhanced regeneration and mana production, respectively. But these effects diminished in each use, and at its worst, they did nothing. Overstimulation at that point would pass after a week.
"But did they help, Chief Aurona?" Claytor replied.
"Lifebringer's mercy, they did, just a little. Earlier this evening, Chief Gileao woke up for an hour thanks to our last batch of spirit crystals. He had just enough time to pass on precious intelligence to me." Aurona set her gaze on Spyro. "And hear the news that the Purple Dragon himself has come to Eyria."
The emotion in her voice remained constant. Misery coursed through her body language. Claytor surmised that Aurona and her father also bid each other their last farewell.
Aurona continued, "For someone who's known in December to be skeptical, he took it well. Very well. Father didn't question me even once and returned to sleep worry-free.
"However." The monoscale turned to Spyro. "Lord Spyro, I mean no disrespect when I say this. As the Savior, few are your equal. But without strategy, your presence is irrelevant, if not harmful. After all, you are still merely one dragon."
Spyro held his posture steady. "No offense taken, Chief Aurona. It's true I ultimately ended the war, but most people forget I didn't accomplish that all on my own. I had direction, guidance from the Guardians. I was a young dragon then. I'm still a young dragon now. I have no experience in leadership and I do not know the lay of the land. I'll defer matters of strategy to you."
Claytor spoke as soon as Spyro finished, "Chief Aurona, I will do the same. As with Lord Spyro, I am unfamiliar with the situation here. My vintaine shall be at your command."
"Your Grace, Vinetar, thank you for your kind words." Aurona gave a deep bow to the two dragons seated across from her. Claytor could've sworn he saw a few tears drip from her eyes. The monoscale's snout was dry when she raised her face. "With that out of the way, I want to discuss the information we received from Chief Gileao. It could change our current flight path."
One of the other chiefs raised their paw. Her paw. Claytor no longer remembered the dragoness's name. He simply knew that she was the chief of Pystis, as well as Nuodai's mother.
"Yes, what is it?" asked Aurona.
"Before we discuss strategy of any sort," began the chief of Pystis, "We have to know—we must know what Warfang is planning." She turned to Claytor. "Vinetar Claytor, what do you know about Warfang's plans for December Cliffs? I hope they aren't expecting a single vintaine will end this crisis."
This question flew along with the conversation Claytor had with Ophelia when she led them here. He simply repeated what he told her: that the vintaine would come first to deliver relief goods and scout the situation. Profile the landscape, as the saying went. "From there, we'll relay the information to the two centenaries who're arriving in Uzali by the end of the week. The weather will not be a problem; I was assigned two orators from Skylands for that very purpose."
This time, Claytor opted not to reveal everything Councilor Tuconsis and Master Terrador told him. He didn't know how well December's leaders would react to Warfang's initial assessment of their storm and he was far better off avoiding the unnecessary turbulence.
The entire congregation in the chamber reacted in nearly the exact same manner as Ophelia and Altai. "It's Virith tonight!" cried the chief of Syla, slamming his tail on the stone floor behind him. "We can't wait seven days until Valorem!"
"Vulcan's flames, I agree!" said Mishkan. "If we keep hovering in the air doing nothing, those Ancestors-damned monkeys will strike and wipe us all out!" His muzzle shifted to Aurona's side of the table. "No offense to your resident ape, Chief Aurona."
"None taken," Aurona replied.
Pystis seized control before the conversation could go off on a tangent. "If I may add," the dragoness said, "traversing Icy Peak will take another week at most, plus the pathway isn't built for a centenary, let alone two. Autumn is coming in a little over a week. Weather conditions will become more treacherous while the centenaries are climbing and they will have to tread carefully. They'll be slowed down at best. At worst…"
For a moment, Pystis gazed back at her son, Nuodai, who stood behind her. "At worst, they will be ambushed by the same four-armed beast that took the Vinetar by surprise."
People started murmuring to each other. Even without listening in, Claytor could still hear pieces of their hushed comments.
"...almost wiped out…"
"If the Purple Dragon wasn't there…"
"...could fight him horns-to-horns…"
With a loud flap of her wings, Ophelia cut across the din. "My daughter Altai claims this monster is a yeti!"
"A yeti!" one of the attendants exclaimed in surprise.
Claytor heard someone yell, "Why would a yeti join hands with the Apes? They've been our allies for decades!"
"I've never even heard of a four-armed yeti!"
"Lord Spyro!" Syla cried. "Are the airstreams true? The freak fought you on equal terms?"
"He fought better than most," Spyro clarified. "If it hadn't been for Sorceress Bianca, I might've been forced to fight him more seriously." He flicked his tail towards Claytor. "Sir Claytor and his vintaine probably wouldn't be here right now if things had escalated to that point."
The murmuring continued. Hearing how Bartholomew fought well enough to push the Purple Dragon a little made the atmosphere uneasy. It wasn't the boost of confidence they needed. Their faces wilted some more after Spyro added, "He was prepared for me. He had an artifact that neutralized one of my favorite moves and his magic weapon was formless. He adapted it to every situation Bianca and I put him through." He turned to face his companion. "Sir Claytor, I think you should tell them what you told me."
"Right, Your Grace." Claytor straightened his posture and spoke as politely as he could. He couldn't let his fatigue show. "Chiefs of December, the yeti Bartholomew is surely connected with the people behind this crisis. The artifacts on his person aren't common. They're not mere baubles anyone could find lying around. The apes are also equipped with weapons and armor on par with Talonpoint Keep, enchanted for durability and sharpness.
"It's clear that someone wants to sow conflict in Markazia and they will somehow benefit if the apes seize control of December."
"And you believe capturing this 'Bartholomew' alive will help?" asked the chief of Mishkan.
"I do," Claytor said, resolutely. "One of the two orators in my vintaine seemed to recognize the yeti. I've considered the possibility that Bartholomew might have stolen his weapons from the Skylanders Corps."
Aurona made her decision, preempting it with a thump of her tail. The thud sounded unusually loud, echoing throughout the conference hall. "Very well, Vinetar. I will send messengers to Frozen Altars. Chief Bentley will want to hear about this. Hopefully, the news will spur the yetis to exit seclusion."
"Thank you, Chief Aurona," replied Claytor, letting his muzzle dip in a small bow.
Silence descended on them. For a moment, only the blazing fire could be heard. One of the logs splintered sharply, echoing across the chamber. Aurona spoke after letting this moment pass. "It's clear to me that we can't just hover in the air and wait for the storm to pass. We need to move decisively if we want Eyria—if we want all of December to survive this and spare the Allied Territories immense trouble in the process."
"The Allied Territories!" exclaimed one of Eyria's elders. "Isn't this just a localized problem?"
Aurona closed her eyes for a second and dipped her muzzle before replying, "It's not. The intelligence I received from Chief Gileao… these apes aren't simply scat eggs trying to cause trouble in the Dragon Realms. This shrewdness is a rogue faction that disagrees with apekind's self-exile in the Blackstone Mountains. A great ape similar to Gaul is leading them. Bleakshooter, he's called. A former adviser to their previous king." The last word was laced with venom, her disgust palpable. Everyone in the room knew what Gaul had unleashed upon the continent. Anyone who agreed with him was surely no less horrible and depraved.
"Fa—Chief Gileao's report says Bleakshooter has already gone so far as to call himself the 'True Ape King'," Aurona continued. "They have sinister plans for the Allied Territories. Should they succeed in usurping December—and killing us all in the process—they will restart the great war with multiple offensives from the north and, at the same time, call on their disgruntled kin in Blackstone Mountains to join them, even if they have to overthrow the same ape who imposed self-exile four years ago."
Ophelia's muzzle whipped to Claytor in alarm. "This is terrible news! Vinetar Claytor just reported that someone is giving the apes tailwinds! If they can supply an officer enough to the point they could pressure the Savior of all dragons, they can quickly equip the rest of the apes with enchanted gear like the ones they're using now." She breathed sharply. "The war that'll follow would be more devastating than the last one!"
Apprehensive, another elder voiced their question. "Chief Aurona, what do you propose we do?"
"Ophelia's right. The Allied Territories will see unprecedented losses if the conflict escalates to that altitude, but that's why we have to—we must defeat Bleakshooter! Whoever's putting air in his wings will abandon this, this… project—for lack of a better term—as soon as they realize it has no hopes of succeeding."
Syla opened their mouth to ask a question, only for Aurona to preempt them. "We already know the direction we'll take. Chief Gileao's party identified the butte hiding the fort they're using as their western staging ground. Once we eradicate all ape presence there, we won't have to worry about enemy reinforcements when we finally attack Cliff Town."
One of the non-dragons raised their voice. "Chief Aurona, I recall the apes having two forts of this nature in December. What if Eyria is attacked during the raid? This is our last bastion! The other villages are all—
Aurona growled, irritated. "Did you forget why father—why Chief Gileao is dying?" Indignantly, she stomped her forepaw. "He led a lounge of our best to attack the apes' southeastern fort!"
The offending chief blanched. "I-I apologize. I forgot—
Aurora cut him off, if only to press the advantage and highlight the merits of her plan. "That place is in ruins, with most of the enemy dead! It's true none of our fighters returned smooth and whole, but they can no longer hit us with a pincer and we won't be defenseless even if they found a way to do it!"
She maintained her momentum. "Remember that the Purple Dragon himself is with us! With Lord Spyro, Vinetar Claytor, and several Warfang knights taking part in the assault, we can afford to leave half of our forces behind for security. There's no way we'll lose to their numbers! When we're finished eradicating this filth from Narvas Mesa, we'll regroup in the ruins of Pystis and then launch a full assault on Cliff Town."
The mumbling resumed once more. The whispers sounded more positive this time, with quite a few gesturing towards each other in agreement.
The monoscale trained her gaze on Spyro. "Lord Spyro, Your Grace. What do you think?"
"I think it's a good plan," Spyro answered without hesitation. "Sir Claytor and I can draw most of the attention to us. Bartholomew looks like one of Bleakshooter's more important officers. If we wreak havoc on this forward base, he would definitely show his unsightly muzzle again, for sure!"
Claytor quipped, "I'll make sure you'll have enough airspace to go all-out on him."
Spyro let out a confident snort. The exchange greatly improved the mood, with many of the other chiefs, their attendants, and their heirs starting to smile. However, Claytor noticed that one dragon didn't share in this improving ambiance.
It was Nuodai.
He was nudging his snout on his mother's flank with a worried expression on his face. Claytor couldn't hear them from his spot on the long table, but the concerned look indicated they had something significant to say.
The Chieftess of Pystis herself finally relented to her son's fidgeting and cleared her throat. She thumped her tail on the floor twice, the thunderous echoes drawing attention. "Chief Aurona," she said, "I think this is still too reckless. I suggest we ask Sir Claytor and his vintaine to remain in Eyria while we increase the fighters in the raiding party."
Aurona frowned. "Mother of Knowledge, why? We've already addressed all the threats."
"All but one," Pystis elucidated. "Isn't Vanish a threat? We need to have a plan against them."
Spyro and Claytor shared a look. Vanish? That was a new name. They certainly haven't come across that at all during all the conversations they've had with Altai and Bianca. Spyro raised his paw. "Umm, excuse me for interrupting, but who—what—is Vanish?"
Chief Aurona turned to Ophelia. "Elder Ophelia, can you give Lord Spyro and Vinetar Claytor a quick overview?"
"Of course, Chief Aurona," the dragoness answered. Claytor expected her to leave her platform, walk to them, and provide the explanation in private. Instead, she turned her neck in his and Spyro's direction and raised her voice. "Vanish is a figure of interest since this crisis began. As you already know, the apes have been destroying our hamlets and villages for roughly a full red cycle. They've been successful to the point where only Eyria and a few other villages are left, but the latter are currently preparing for evacuation into the canyon sheltering us.
"As Jayce had warned us before, his kind has proven themselves brutal. They've left none alive. It didn't matter whether it was a small hamlet of twenty or so people, or a village three times that size. They slay everyone caught in their net."
Spyro wore a grim expression on his muzzle, his folded wings stiff on his flanks. "They didn't spare whelps and adolescents, did they?"
Ophelia sighed. Altai quietly whimpered and, breaking decorum, nuzzled her mother's back. "No, Your Grace. The few survivors we found reported that they were treated no differently from the adults. Knowing this, great sacrifices were made so that they could escape, but…"
Claytor sensed where she was heading next. "Elder, I assume this is where Vanish comes in?"
"That's correct, Sir Claytor," Ophelia acknowledged. The ice dragon maintained eye contact with them. Her eyes were shaking. "Every time the apes ransack our communities, a shadowy figure appears during the raids and skulks about the outskirts. This is who we refer to as Vanish. So far, we've received reports of them being a dragon, a bear, and even a leopard. The description varies greatly among survivors."
He blinked. "You couldn't identify their species?"
"No. For some reason, the species of Vanish seems to correspond to the species of the witness. If a dragon saw them, they were a dragon. If the witness was an atlawa, then they saw an atlawa."
This whole situation reeks of magic, thought Claytor.
Spyro tilted his head as he voiced a question. "Won't you get conflicting testimonies then? A dragon and a bear from the same incident would have seen the figure of a dragon and a bear in the same place at the same time."
"Indeed, we received reports like you'd just described," Ophelia said with a sigh. "It was honestly quite baffling. We simply concluded this was due to the survivors' anxiety. Running from apes is one thing. Dealing with some mysterious interloper is another."
"Elder Ophelia," Spyro asked, "are you sure they saw only one person?"
"Your Grace, only one person was ever spotted," she reaffirmed. "One! That much is consistent throughout every report we've had."
"I understand..." Spyro hummed quietly, apparently unsure how to process this information, before proceeding to his next question. "What happens when Vanish appears?"
Altai let out a loud whimper and interrupted her mother. "They take almost everyone, Lord Spyro! Hatchlings, whelps, adolescents, even young adults like you! They only leave older dragons alone. The rest just, j-just disappears! As if they, they—!"
"As if they suddenly vanished into thin air," Ophelia completed her sentence. "Forgive my daughter. She has lost good friends to Vanish."
Claytor spread one wing placatingly. "It's all right. We understand. But I must ask: do you have any suspicions, any leads as to Vanish's allegiance or motives?"
"We do not. We were planning on asking Sorceress Bianca the next time she visited Eyria, but her return trip didn't go the way it should have." Altai had already shared more details of her journey with her mother, it seemed. The lack of reaction from Chief Aurona's end of the table suggested they also had a quick meeting on the matter earlier that night. "Our heirs at least believe that Vanish is exploiting this crisis for their own ends."
Spyro hummed again in contemplation. "...I'm thinking multiple people are involved in this abduction scheme."
The Mishkan chief reacted. "Multiple people!" He exclaimed. "Weren't you listening to Ophelia? Vanish is a single entity!"
Spyro was unperturbed by the sudden outburst. "That might not be true," he said, making eye contact with Mishkan. "I've learned a little bit about magic from Bianca before. She showed me this obfuscation spell of hers. It blurs the light around the face, covers it in shadow. This 'shadowy figure' thing must be a stronger variation of that magic if it can encase one in shadow and mask their species simultaneously.
"Coupling that with what are clearly multiple instances of 'Vanish' and the rapid disappearances, my best guess is that portals are involved. How else can Vanish appear and reappear out of nowhere and be nearly everywhere at once? Nothing else would explain why so many dragons would suddenly be lost."
"...Portals?" echoed Ophelia. "Your Grace, do you really mean...?"
Pystis's chieftess flew straight at the implication. "Lord Spyro, are you implying that Skylands is up to something?"
Spyro left nothing to doubt. "I'm afraid so."
Chief Aurona leveled a glare at Claytor. She was gnashing her teeth. "Vinetar Claytor! You have Skylanders in your vintaine, don't you?"
"Y-yes, Chief Aurona. But, I don't think they—
"It doesn't matter! At the very least, we must hear what they have to say about this." Aurona looked to the nearby guards. "Bring the orators here at once!"
A few minutes later, a single wind dragon ambled through the double doors. He entered the conference hall with sleepy, but wary eyes. Claytor recognized Akash from his bandaged wing. His snow-white scales seemed more pale than usual and the way he squinted indicated his struggle to stay awake and appear alert.
Aurona released the question sitting on her tongue before the Skylander had a chance to speak. "Where is your partner, Skylander? Vinetar Claytor informed me that two orators had been assigned to his vintaine."
The dragon shifted his wing as best he could as he planted his rump before the doors. "I am sorry, Chief Aurona, but my partner had been shot down during the ambush and hasn't woken up since." His muzzle twitched in several directions, eyes darting across the room. "May I ask what's wrong?" He visibly gulped. "...Why is everyone glaring at me?"
Spyro cleared his throat and drew the foreigner's attention. "Chief Aurona had just given us some disturbing news. I don't like to say it but, it implicates Skylands." Seeing the confused expression on Akash's snout, the Savior explained, "Several individuals have appeared all over December Cliffs, almost in tandem with the apes' raids to date. They are clad in shadow, and they apparently come and go in a blink of an eye, taking dragons. Abducting dragons."
Akash gaped. "I-I, Your… Y-Your Grace, I, I don't understand—
The Acting Chief of Eyria slammed her tail down. "Skylander! The only way this can be logistically possible is through the use of portals! Only Skylands possesses such magic!" She growled at Akash and threateningly so. "What is the Empire planning? Are you in league with the monkeys attacking us?
"Twin moons, no!" gasped the wind dragon. "Skylands has nothing to do with this crisis. The Sky Empress doesn't even have eyes for Markazia! Her Majesty seeks only diplomatic relations with the Allied Territories. If it means anything to you, our expansionary operations are focused on the continent of Isken!"
"Then why are portals being used here? Why are December's dragons being taken? Don't you have two Portal Masters over there?"
"Chief"—Akash gazed at Spyro and Claytor, incredulous.—"Lord Spyro. Vinetar Claytor. You understand these are grave and baseless accusations, don't you? There isn't even any proof—
Spyro snarled at the Skylander. "Submaster Kaos attempted to recruit me and Cynder several times for more than a year! His last attempt was just last cycle! I've seen his portals at work and there isn't anything else in the Realms that can explain what's going on out there."
"Akash," added Claytor, "even if we don't have any proof, the circumstances are pointing in Skylands' direction. Only Portal Masters have the ability to do this."
The wind dragon couldn't say anything in reply. He laid himself down and bowed his head, snout touching the floor. "I swear to you—to all of you—that Her Majesty has not given the Skylanders Corps any commands like that. She only wants a smooth, working relationship with the Allied Territories. If Skylands is involved in these abductions somehow, these weren't done with the backing of the Empire. You have my neck!"
A terrifying thought came to Claytor. "Are you suggesting that… that the Portal Masters might be acting on their own?"
"The Sky Empress is not a ruthless dragon!" Akash responded.
The lack of a direct answer was profoundly disturbing. "You, you don't have the Portal Masters under control, do you?"
Spyro whipped his head around to face the knight. "Sir Claytor! Are you serious? That doesn't sound right. Wouldn't Master Eon and Submaster Kaos show their necks to the Empress in the same way I present mine to the Guardians?"
Akash laughed helplessly at Spyro's words. The Purple Dragon stared down at the wind dragon. "W-what? I, I-I didn't say anything wrong."
"We've never had the Portal Masters under control," the foreigner answered. He turned his neck away in shame, unwilling to look at Eyria's assembly in the eyes. "After all, it was because of them that Skylands eluded the Great War in the first place and continued to prosper.
"The Portal Masters don't answer to the Sky Empress. The Sky Empress answers to them."
A frigid chill descended Claytor's spine. Electricity tingled in his wings and tail. "Then why is she making all the decisions? How does she have authority over the Skylanders Corps?"
"Because they gave everything to Her Majesty. Everything unrelated to the pursuit of magic."
If Claytor understood Akash correctly, the Sky Empress' rule covered every facet of the Empire for so long as it didn't conflict with the Portal Masters' interests. It meant that the two parties could clash at any time. It also meant that she would most likely yield to them as soon as they laid a claim to anything contradicting her position.
Spyro frightened the knight with his synthesis. "Flight plan as a whole, Skylands is definitely not involved with Vanish, but the Portal Masters might be."
Akash nodded in resignation. "That's right, Your Grace," he said, weakly. He must've been thinking how far he'd failed as an orator, having disclosed what sounded like an embarrassing, if scandalous, secret.
Chief Aurona grunted. She had an irked expression, but she could be feeling something else for all Claytor knew. "You may leave, Skylander. Thank you for cooperating. Now return to your hut and get some sleep."
Akash left them with only a few parting words. "May the winds guide you all."
If he had intended on comforting them, he had completely failed in that regard. For as soon as he left and the doors shut behind the guards escorting him, the other chiefs began to panic.
One couldn't believe what he'd heard. "A Portal Master? Here? In the middle of nowhere? Alona, you're pulling our tails!" An earth dragon with tribal ornaments of his own curled inward, betraying the dignity of his status.
"Azeroth help us!" The chief of Syla wailed, wings fluttering restlessly. "December's as good as gone now! We're all doomed if they have a Portal Master giving them wind!"
Claytor heard moans of grief, of anxiety, from the various chiefs and their successors. They lost their poise, lost to the possibility that they could lose it all in the next few weeks. Their dignity shattered, and what little etiquette and formality they had now evaporated.
A bear knelt on the platform, clutching his head. "Why? Why the dragons? What do they want?"
"Ancestors! Wasn't Selema the first to 'vanish'?" mewled one of the chiefs' offspring. "This must be years in the making! Years!"
"Even the Purple Dragon can't guarantee anything now! We're done for. We're done!"
A leopard glowered at Spyro. "Spyro—Lord Spyro! Tell us! What are the possibilities that a Portal Master is involved? I heard from a friend in Warfang that there were three in total! Who do you think it is?"
Spyro's withers sagged. His face crumpled as he frowned. "I'm sorry, guys, but I don't know enough about them," he confessed. "But based on what I do know, it can't be Kaos."
Claytor agreed with this. Submaster Kaos was the only Portal Master to have actually visited the City of Warfang. Including his most recent visit last cycle, Kaos had shown his face about four or five times, if he remembered the stories right. The foreigner had a tendency of making himself known in the most obnoxious of ways. Stories arose from the few high-flyers unfortunate enough to confabulate with him said that he never bothered with decorum and always did whatever came to mind—making life difficult for the Empire's orators and Warfang's officers alike. An operation like the one Spyro had just described would be completely out of character for that unhinged menace.
What element was he anyway? Kaos had been described to be a dragon with peach scales, a striated underbelly the color of gray and black, scarlet red eyes, and with weird marks or tattoos on his muzzle. Was he even good at it? He'd never read about Submaster Kaos using an element. It was always spellcraft...
Claytor shook away his daze. By Egeria, he should be listening, not get lost in his own musings!
"...a renowned commander," Spyro was speaking as Claytor tuned in. "Dearly beloved by nearly everybody on the floating continent. They've been vague about specifics, but even so, it's really difficult to imagine Master Eon would have his paws in December either."
Syla snapped, "So then the most likely suspect is this rogue Portal Master they're calling 'Strykore'? I don't think we should care about specifics! The way I'm profiling this landscape, there's no escaping this twister, regardless of who it actually is!" The chieftain snapped his muzzle forward at the Savior. "We've heard about what happened with Submaster Kaos last cycle, Your Grace, and we aren't a bunch of stupid eggs! They know how to deal with Purple Dragons! If they could evade the Dark Master back during the war, then today, they could kill you!"
For once, Spyro snarled. He sunk down, instinctively adopting an aggressive posture. "I'm not the same dragon I was four years ago! They won't be able to—
Syla scoffed. "Of course you're not! The airstreams say your head's been filling up with—
A freezing chill coursed through the conference hall, causing everyone's breaths to condense during the few seconds that it lasted. Even the fires dimmed in its wake.
"GROUND YOURSELVES!" roared Acting Chief Aurona. "Panicking now will accomplish nothing!" The monoscale trained her pointed snout at Syla. "First, never take the airstreams at their word. People can easily mix fake news with actual facts. Be rational; don't act like a dumb egg!"
Aurona then addressed the others, swinging her muzzle around in several sweeps, cerulean eyes lingering over each and every individual in the conference hall. "Second, even if it's true that a Portal Master can fight horns-to-horns with the Purple Dragon, we MUST have faith in him! As a mere whelp, Lord Spyro defeated Cynder and rid the Realms of King Gaul! Three years into his adolescence, Lord Spyro triumphed over the Dark Master and saved our world!
"Our Savior fought through countless headwinds and overcame them in the end. He will keep us safe. He will lead us out of this crisis! And I do not want to hear any more of this nonsense!"
She screamed that last word with another flare of her element. A thin layer of frost coated the long table as well as the supporting pillars and beams that kept the village temple up. It not only silenced the other chiefs but also demonstrated her position as the incoming chief of Eyria, and effectively at that.
Even the chief of Syla had been cowed.
Only Pystis broke the silence. "What you say is true, Chief Aurona," remarked the hen. "It's best if we'll focus on what we can do now. To capture Vanish, we must overwhelm them. I propose that each village allocate a lounge of four of their best fighters to the sole purpose of subduing these Skylanders and stripping them of their illusion magic. They must also have their fastest dragons ready to fly at any given time; we'll most likely need Lord Spyro's help as I doubt Strykore or whoever will simply let us capture his subordinates..."
The suggestion tendered by Nuodai's mother spurred a whole new conversation about the method and timing of dealing with the anomaly that was Vanish. Spyro offered his inputs every once in a while, but seldom spoke after Aurona salvaged the chiefs' morale. Claytor, however, stopped following the conference; his thoughts preoccupied with the possibility that the incident in December could lead to war between Warfang and Skylands.
The emergency meeting was adjourned after a plan was formed to combat Vanish and the chiefs agreed to draft a list of all who are joining Spyro and Claytor's assault on the apes' fort near Narvas Mesa, which was apparently the geological structure he saw yesterday afternoon in the distance.
Having determined that the raid would take place in a few days, Acting Chief Aurona instructed everyone to get some rest or return home, if they still had villages to go home to. They were to prepare for combat. Azeroth willing, this crisis would end before Valorem, and in their favor.
As they vacated the conference hall, Claytor overheard Aurona call out to the Savior. "Lord Spyro, may I speak with you in private?"
Claytor had no reason to stay with Spyro. Together with Ophelia, Altai, and the other village elders, he exited the chamber with the intent of reclaiming his sleep.
"I, I wish to thank you for being here, Your Grace," Claytor heard Aurona muttering. Her voice grew softer the closer he approached the doors. "I've always wanted to meet you snout-to-snout, but never like this! I'm truly sorry that we pushed this on your withers. We have no choice but to rely on you…"
Claytor didn't get to hear Spyro's reply. Although, having known the nineteen-year-old hero these past two weeks, the knight could easily imagine the Savior confidently taking on the responsibility.
"It's okay, Chief Aurona," Spyro would say. "That's why I'm here."
Author's notes:
Whew, glad to finally be finished with this chapter. Lots of things going on in this one—world-building and foreshadowing! What's not to like? XD
I'd also like to mention that the latest OC Aurona belongs to Bizzleb. Aurona is from their Key series of Spyro fanfiction, particularly "Key to the Soul: the Untold Story". Old-time visitors to the Spyro FFN archive should recognize the name of the fanfic (or the writer), as Biz was around during the heyday of the TLoS section, with the series having been followed by Riverstyxx and DragonMaster000 in the past. It's a bit cringey to read now with all the Spyro FFN sins stashed in there, but what can you expect from a fic written 10 years ago? The term "post-DotD template" wasn't even around back then!
Still a guilty pleasure to run through it every once in a while. Anyway, many thanks to Biz for lending me the setting and OCs!
Replies to reviews as follows:
Bizzleb. Not much to say here now since I pretty much mentioned you in the outgoing A/N and we've been going back and forth on each segment insofar as OC portrayals are concerned. Glad to know I've done your characters justice in this portrayal. Whether it will send readers your way... who knows? It's been ten fucking years. People's tastes have changed.
Djax80. I'm sure they'd get along well if they would.
I'll point out that Joshua doesn't have to be the one to cause the apocalypse. ^^;;
Nah, my beta readers love my chapters. They're totally fine with the chapter lengths. If anything, they're the ones who make sure I'm staying within my lane.
Stay safe!
Guest #1 and #2 (Guest). Interesting theory, there. Not gonna confirm a thing. As for your English… it's forgiven. Don't worry about it. Though most of my readers are from the USA, I have a pretty global audience and I understand some don't have English as a first language.
EndlessPossibilities57. With so many stories to work on, you'll have a massive delay between updates. I only have two serialized stories I'm currently maintaining and I plan on sticking to that number.
Good luck to you with Fated by the way! I know it isn't everyone's cup of tea, what with the Spyro gang being villains, but I got to check it out and it has its merits as a decent story. People should be open to certain ideas/premises, even if it might go against the grain in terms of character portrayal.
Sol1234. Spyro going mental? Ehehe, is he now?
Piston24. Thanks for your review!'
Hehe, your experience serves as a lesson for people to keep an eye out for clues even in chapters that look like they have nothing to do with the main story. You never know when it'll come up! The numbers you mentioned weren't intentional though. Like, I know I'm a decent writer, but I'm not that good. XD
Jayce is interesting yes, especially for a character that's mainly (a) a cameo and (b) limited to the December Cliffs arc. He sets plenty of precedents here. I counted at least four, in-universe. On the meta side of things, he's currently my best example of an OC imported from someone else's fanfic, blended into Aimless lore while presenting their biography as an alternative path to what happened to them in their source material.
Guest #3 (Guest). It's gone. He can't grow it back.
Guest #4 (Guest). Yes, Christopher Van Numen is from that story, but that fic takes place on a different timeline from Aimless. If he ever shows up here, he will not be staying very long.
Charu. Hey Charu! Oh, now I recognize your pfp/name! Tsk, tsk... Shame on me—I should've remembered your name the second I left a review on your AWSW fic. (Which is AWESOME, btw.)
On 1st and 2nd review—the people are jumpy because the war had recently ended. Any little spark can trigger a riot or, in Joshua's case, a speciesist frenzy. Sorry if the action sequence was a little too long... but I had to take my chances with it.
On your 3rd review—I'm of the opinion that the same events would occur whether Joshua went with "I'm a part of this planet but outside your world map" or "I'm from a different world". What Joshua doesn't want to happen is for them to find out that they're fictional characters to him, as he doesn't know how they will react.
Anyway, thanks for reading Aimless! I hope you didn't stop your binge-reading and actually got to the end. It must've been a pretty long ride if you binged it all the way to Chapter 50. ^^;;
Guest #5 (Guest). I don't like "HTD" or "Transformation" type stories either, so I empathize with your feelings on the genre. As for a "meaningless crossover" of Hiraeth and Aimless, sounds like a good idea but… I can't think of something that'll make even a oneshot work...
MysteryWriter175. Hi! Good to hear from you again.
Yeah, Spyro can instinctively sense Joshua's otherworld origins and is more sensitive to it than others. Why this is so... well, it ain't just for the heck of it. XD
We will see how Spyro will act once he returns to Warfang.
As for the lifelike quality of my characters, thanks very much for your compliment! Whenever I write my characters, I normally draw from life experiences as well as the people I've interacted with over the course my life (in school, at work, in bars, in airports, or elsewhere).
To make some examples... Vara is written with my cousin-in-law and a University friend in mind. Kilat acts like the youngest sister of one of my ex-girlfriends (back when she was about 9 years old), but I took her inquisitive side from my younger brother. Volteer, I write him like one of my groomsmen. He doesn't have this habit where he acts like a thesaurus, but he subconsciously flouts his vocabulary and can speak with a similar style.
DiabloPProcento. Hello! Sorry if I'm just getting to your review now. I'll be replying to you here on the A/N instead of PM as usual.
First, thanks for the review. No need to worry about the delay. You're always free to read this whenever you want, and to leave your comments at your leisure. I'm not pressuring you or anything ^^;;
Second, I'm glad you liked Jayce. Unlike his canon self in Firelight, he's a lot wiser here as he actually had the opportunity to grow older fighting for a cause he didn't buy completely into. As a plus, his years of living in December has made him much more fatherly than his canon self.
Joshua will not be revealing his origins for a very long time, I can assure you.
Hoped you like this chapter!
Henchman1997 (Guest). Thanks for the review! Logically speaking, yeah, Spyro's development will most likely go in either direction. But why mull over it? There's a lot of other stuff here to unpack, plus… gotta enjoy the (long) journey!
I guess this chapter just answered your question about the Skylanders!
Apes' thoughts about Warfang—they don't know yet! XD
Mizo Remenman (Guest). I'm sure Spyro is stronger than you'd think. He did grow up relatively well for being a child soldier.
We will see how Cynder will fare as the story progresses. Thanks again for your review!
Somas35. Thanks for the review!
Story's currently at the point when I'm free to start dropping shit, so it's time to get some things moving along.
Glad to have inspired you to write! I hope your endeavor will turn out well. It sounds like an OG work from the way you wrote your comment... care to share? I'd like to check it out.
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[61D/EM]
[December Cliffs, Northern Markazia — Village of Eyria, Outskirts]
Altai couldn't sleep.
A small part of her was worried for Eyria. Before, high-flyers like the Portal Masters or the Purple Dragon never involved themselves in the isolated north. Nothing ever happened here, not even during the time of King Gaul or the Terror of the Skies. Aside from the end of the war, Uncle Jayce's arrival and eventual adoption was the only massive change that swept through December, and that took place over ten years ago! The day Uncle Jayce became her surrogate father was a happy celebration in and of itself.
It felt surreal. Since when did the December Cliffs become important enough to attract a rogue Ape King? To involve the highest powers of a foreign nation? To draw the Savior himself?
What would come next after this was all over? Alona's wings! Would the furless ape eventually head north too?
Altai could only feel that Markazia—no—that the Dragon Realms itself was soaring towards a massive and turbulent gale, casting her fate and that of her beloved community into uncertainty.
Perched on an outcropping above the village temple, nestled in the canyon within which rested Eyria, Altai gazed up at the twin moons. They were beginning to set, with the stars coming to life in the darkness that laid beyond their light. Altai's tail whipped left and right as she stared, her thoughts meandering to a dear friend in the past. Her wings tightened across her flanks, tears marching slowly down her flews as she remembered Selema.
The brightest star in all of December, with her pink scales, her shiny blue scutes, and the warmest smile she had ever seen on another dragon.
What she heard earlier disturbed her incessantly. It nagged at her, clawed through her insides. A hot pain in her heart coursed through Altai as she cogitated over the revelations that had been spilled tonight.
Selema was the very first. She was the first dragon who vanished into thin air. It had been an ordinary day back then, one that portended the games they always played on December's eternal snow, the challenging treks up the mountain paths, and an intimate view of the stars above. On nights like this, Selema would wistfully sigh as she gazed longingly out into the black, dotted sky, her eyes searching the nothingness for something the dragoness had never told her.
"Why was it you?" Altai muttered. What would a Portal Master want with an unusually-colored ice dragon? What made Selema special? What did they do to her?
Suddenly, Bianca's words became a hope. A lifeline to the alternative she did not want to think about. Didn't the Magus say that, if Selema had been blown away to Devil's Reach, there was a slim chance she was still alive, wasting away in the stomach of a carnivorous plant? Wouldn't that be better than being tormented by the whimsical desires of a being capable of fighting Spyro himself on equal terms? Wouldn't that mean there was still a chance that she could be rescued before she lost her soul forever?
A loud whine escaped Altai. She curled in on herself.
I miss her…
.
.
.
Sheltered from the snowfall, Altai must have spent upwards of an hour up on her perch before the black sky started its slow transformation into a dark blue. A light appeared at the crest of the hill that overlooked Eyria.
A traveler, Altai noted, they have no baggage on them.
The dragoness did not think much of it at first. Lone travelers during these turbulent days were normally Uzali citizens bearing information from the southern lands of the Allied Territories, or bold merchants who were ambushed and barely escaped with their lives.
Kalen would take care of them, Altai thought as she ignored the traveler descending the hill. However, the single mote of light dangling in the distance continued to prod and poke her scales. The dragoness couldn't help but gasp when she squinted and realized the light wasn't a lantern or torch. From the unnatural way it descended the slope, it was magic.
Her interest piqued, Altai studied the figure more intently. Her tail began to wag back and forth when she cast her gaze on the dark brown robes. She swore there was a light skirt hidden in there. The figure also had a hood covering their face. "It can't be…"
A few seconds passed.
Altai's brief depression began to fade, forgotten and replaced with anticipation. With happiness.
The more she looked, the more convinced she became.
It was Bianca!
Bianca survived! And she had finally caught up to them!
Alona wasn't pulling her tail after all!
Overjoyed at seeing her newest friend in ages, Altai rose to her paws. She shook away the snow that had been accumulating on her form. Shook away the fatigue, the weariness on her young scales. With three beats of her strong wings, Altai leaped off the outcropping and soared into the air.
She zoomed straight for the shining light on the hill, tongue lolling out her jaw in her fervor. She flapped her wings and angled herself, trying to pick up speed.
"Hey, you! No flying in Eyria airspace!"
Her altitude was so low that she couldn't escape Kalen's notice, but she didn't care. The adolescent dragoness didn't want to take her time slowly plodding to the gate; she wanted to see Bianca immediately! Altai didn't know why, but there was something comfortable about approaching the Magus. Their relationship was still fresh, but her instincts told her that they would grow to become close friends, that Eyria too could rely on Bianca's aid.
Altai's thoughts were broken the second she felt calloused paws grasp her forelegs. Dumbfounded, she glanced down and found the village guard Kalen glaring up at her. "Damn it, Altai! How many times do I have to tell you? No flying!"
"Gnnnnhh!" Altai grunted, resisting the drag. Kalen was heavy, armor and all. She wanted to blast an ice ball on his snout, but she didn't want to get in trouble with Uncle Jayce or her mother tonight.
"I said get down!" Kalen shouted.
She finally spoke. "I-I can't—I don't want to! I need to get to the gate!"
"Why?"
"Bianca!"
Kalen relinquished his hold. Altai hovered in place, panting while the large, bulky guard reoriented himself and flew in front of her. "Who?"
"Sorceress Bianca!" She lashed her forepaw towards the hill. "She stayed behind to buy time for Lord Spyro and our caravan, remember? Sir Claytor and I told you the story!"
"How do you know that's her?" He said, skeptical.
"I just do! Why else would someone come to Eyria alone in the middle of the night?" Altai went around Kalen and sped off.
"H-hey, wait!" Kalen said, chasing after her. "Altai, what if it's an ape?"
"If you don't believe me, just follow! You and the other guards would've accosted her anyway!"
"Mother of Knowledge, that's because it's our damn job!"
Altai dismissed anything the village guard had to say and continued flying. With a low, disgruntled snarl, Kalen followed closely after her. It rankled Altai that he remained close enough to tackle her out of the sky whenever he wished.
Yet she couldn't complain or get mad about it, for it was his presence stopped the other villagers from obstructing her. Altai and Kalen flew over the pinewood walls that bordered Eyria, passing the stone arch that welcomed its visitors. With the distance between her and the traveler now nonexistent, Altai could discern their features in further detail. A smile broke out on her muzzle when she recognized the trim on the traveler's cloak and perceived the short, cream-colored snout beneath their hood.
"Miss Biancaaaaa!" Altai screeched as she tucked her wings in and went into a dive. The traveler looked up in surprise, eyes widening when she found the dragoness shooting down straight at her.
Sorceress Bianca jumped back a stride. Altai was enshrouded in a cloud of snow upon landing, but that did not stop her from leaping at the witch with forelegs outstretched. "Altai, ground your—whoa!"
Bianca's warning came too late. Altai would have slammed into the rabbit if the latter hadn't sidestepped at the last second. With the dragoness disgracefully tumbling on the snow, a chuckling Kalen touched down beside them.
"Clear skies, Sorceress," Kalen greeted her. "Altai informed me it was you."
"Steady winds, sir," Bianca greeted back. There was a pause in her words. "And did she now? I didn't expect you to fly over here. Thought Eyria had a no-fly rule…"
Altai's head popped out of the snow with a furiously irritated frown. Thanks to the magical orb of light hovering close by, she could see the gauche look on Kalen's muzzle and the smirk on Bianca's. It poked her scales. "Hey! You weren't supposed to dodge!"
Bianca raised her arms in mock surrender. "Altai, you were beating the wind. What if I was injured? You wouldn't want to cripple me by accident, do you?"
Altai dropped her jaw. She felt stupid. Heat rushed to her face and paws. Sweat coated her pads while she turned away in embarrassment. "I-I didn't know, Miss Bianca. I was just excited to see you again."
Bianca replaced her smirking visage with a warm, softer smile. "I know. I don't blame you."
Altai got up on all fours and ambulated towards the witch. Their eyes were level. It was easy to rear up a little bit and wrap her forelegs around the Magus, nuzzling her neck. Bianca's hood fell back, revealing the rabbit's large, floppy ears. "I was so scared," Altai spoke. "I thought that yeti killed you on Dragon Rock!"
"Didn't Spyro tell you about me?
"Yes, he, h-he did! But I didn't believe him. I thought he was just comforting me…"
Altai felt the rabbit run her hands over her scales. "Well I'm here," she said, softly. "Smooth and whole, as you dragons like to say."
Kalen's muzzle hung close by. "Ah, truly smooth and whole!" he exclaimed in wonder. "Sorceress, for someone who fought one of their officers, you don't look as roughed up as I expected." He raised a chunky forepaw, one claw tracing the contours of her cloak. "There isn't much damage on your robes. It looks a lot like ordinary wear and tear to me."
"As it should!" Bianca not so much said as she bragged. If Altai hadn't been rubbing her snout on the witch, she would've seen the conceit dripping from her face. "My cloak is woven from the skin of a Skiaclipse, one of the fiercest magical beasts anyone can encounter in Devil's Reach. Its tough hide is impervious to most enchanted weapons and it can easily shrug off solid blows from an Earth dragon encased in rock. Very few things on Markazia can actually damage my cloak after a single strike."
Altai gyrated to scrape her flank along Bianca's chest. "That's great to hear! I'm so glad you're—
Bianca suddenly pushed Altai away from her arm before her horns could rub into it. "Not there, Altai. I have a sensitive bruise there. As tough as my cloak is, multiple attacks on the same area can still penetrate, even damage, the material."
Altai tittered. "Sorry."
"Still amazing that there isn't much damage," Kalen remarked. "It appears your fight with this 'Bartholomew' didn't last very long."
"It did not. I wasn't able to kill him, but I was able to get most of the other apes off my tail once I was free to utilize the more powerful spells in my arsenal."
Altai felt Bianca clasp her hands on the sides of her head and slowly, gently pry her off. "Altai," she practically cooed. "How's everybody doing?"
"Well…" Altai hesitated answering her question. Physically, everybody was all right. But—
"I can answer this," Kalen said. He straightened his posture and looked down at them. The dragon was larger and higher than both her and Bianca, even on all fours. "The caravan arrived smooth and whole. All the relief goods were received without any damage. Nobody has died and the wounded are recovering."
"Even the Skylanders?"
"Yes, even the two Skylanders."
"That's great news!"
"Indeed. To be honest, it was very fortunate that you and Lord Spyro had been with the caravan."
Before the conversation could continue, Altai jerked up and glared at Bianca. "Hey! I heard from Mother that you've always been passing by Eyria! How come you didn't tell me? Why didn't you say hello to us before?"
She whirled around at Kalen and scolded him as well. "And you! You never told me or Selema about Miss Bianca before! To think, we could've been friends years ago!"
"Ehehe," Bianca let out an awkward laugh.
"Apologies, Altai." Kalen bowed. "I was under Chief Gileao's orders at the time. He was explicit in keeping quiet about Sorceress Bianca's activities in Eyria. Jayce was also keeping an eye on her."
Altai grimaced. "Really? Uncle Jayce never told me that!"
"We didn't want any of the whelps to know about the Sorceress. You know how protective we are of our young."
Bianca rubbed her hand on Altai's head. "It's all right, Altai," she consoled her. "I didn't mind the treatment. If anything, it gave me plenty of peace and quiet. I'm not one to socialize."
"But Miss Bianca! Look at us now! Aren't we friends? Imagine what things could've been like before!"
The rabbit sighed. It sounded melancholy. "I'm just not comfortable with people," she responded. "And I don't want to make connections with anyone.
"You see, loved ones and friends are… liabilities to a Magus. They are distractions from the Path of Truth at best, and crippling weaknesses at worst. Weaknesses that enemies will not hesitate to exploit." Bianca raised her blue eyes, gazing towards Eyria—staring through the canyon, Altai realized, in the direction of Devil's Reach. Of Castle Shadowstone. "And I have many enemies, Little Wing, even in the Castle. I am a disciple of Archmage Cauldra, its current mistress. It's a highly desirable position with limited slots. Apprentices there sabotage, if not kill one another."
Altai whimpered. "That sounds…"
Miserable.
Sad.
Joyless.
There were many other ways she could describe it, but it all would've meant the same thing. Sympathy poked at Altai's heart. She switched words and, gripping the hem of Bianca's cloak, invited her to the village. "How about you join us back at the village now? Mother, Uncle Jayce, and I will be having breakfast at the temple in a few hours. Lord Spyro and Sir Claytor will be there! I'm sure they'll be happy to see you!"
Altai's ecstatic demeanor drooped at Bianca's lack of enthusiasm. She felt her liver heat up as the witch returned her invitation with a patronizing smile. "I'm grateful for the invitation, but—
"Come on, Miss Bianca! By Gintomyr the Prosperous, even Sir Claytor thinks well of you now! Just come!" Altai bit down on the monster-skin robe—the Magus did say it was very durable so it ought to be fine—and pulled on it with all her might.
The look in Bianca's eyes hardened. Her smile turned straight. She allowed Altai to drag her a wingspan's length—she didn't have a choice, given her small mass and posture—but she managed to dig her boots deeper into the snow, stopping Altai completely. "I said no. As nice as it sounds, I simply cannot."
Kalen approached them slowly, keeping his paws spread so as not to sink into the snow himself. Altai would've found his actions laughable at any other time. Dragons of the earth or ice elements would never see that as a life-threatening problem. It was an annoyance at worst.
"Sorceress Bianca, you really should join us," he said, encouraged by Altai. "We're preparing a feast to celebrate the Purple Dragon's presence among us. Seeing as you were one of his companions for a short while, I feel it's only right if you joined as well. You are a familiar face to my fellow villagers, more or less."
"And thr wilcm wd we mrch beder fom yerp pst," Altai mumbled, her mouth full with Bianca's cloak.
"Your gratitude and enthusiasm are welcome, but as I said, I must refuse." Bianca slipped her delicate-looking fingers into Altai's jaw and, displaying a shocking amount of strength, pushed into her fangs and pried her gracefully off her robes. It did not surprise Altai that her fur tasted like those of feral rabbits from the southern lands. What did, was the fact her teeth couldn't prick the skin. Ancestors, the dragon couldn't bite her even if she wanted to. "I already explained my reasons and if you don't—if you can't accept it, then it's not my problem."
"Miss Bianca…"
Bianca pointedly ignored the dragon as the latter dilated her eyes like an emotional hatchling. The Magus trained her gaze solely on the only nearby adult. With a wave of her hand, a small crate wrapped with ropes materialized on the snow between her and the village guard.
"What's this?" Kalen asked.
"Inside are twenty potions that will accelerate the healing process for your wounded. To be applied topically or ingested, as is or diluted. Obviously, direct consumption is preferred, but until now I haven't met anyone who can handle the bitter flavor."
Another flick of her wrist and a leather sack small enough for Altai to carry with her teeth appeared beside the crate. "I'm including some flagons of Glimmer, too. Tell Spyro and the Vinetar that it's my token of apology for being absent." Her characteristic sneer returned. "And for the accident I had with that Skylander back at Dragon Rock."
Kalen had the tact not to question Bianca about that. Altai, however, knew who she was alluding to. It was difficult to forget the respected Skylands orator who had nothing but curses flying out his snout while they were in the wagon together with Oxspring.
"Where are you going?" the village guard asked instead.
"Back to the Castle. I've been gone long enough. Mistress will punish me if I delay my return any further."
Altai let out a disappointed whimper. "Do you have to leave now?" The dragoness pleaded. She leaned her snout forward and tenderly licked Bianca's cheek. "Won't you stay for just one day? Maybe your mistress won't mind if you leave tomorrow morning. Your trip around the Allied Territories must've been exhausting…"
Bianca groaned. "I told you already, I can't"—she gasped.
Altai perked. "What's wrong?"
Bianca raised a finger to her cheeks. She brushed against the fur, pulling a tiny drop of ice that had just frozen on its surface.
"S-Sorceress," Kalen couldn't help saying. "You're crying…"
Altai scrutinized the rabbit. Despite her insistent refusal, her forced emotionlessness, there was no mistaking the grief that had unexpectedly appeared on Bianca's mien.
A protective instinct suddenly overwhelmed Altai. She leaned in further, to wrap her wings around the Magus, and provide some comfort.
"I, I-I need to go."
"Stay, Bianca. Please."
"Nhhh—no," Bianca forced the words out. "I only came here to check on you. To make sure you all got here, smooth and whole."
Altai begged as she slowly wrapped her wings around the witch, "It's only one day. Just, one, day."
"I said NO!" Bianca wrenched herself away from Altai and propelled herself back, easily penetrating the snow as though it had never entrapped her legs in the first place. "I am a Magus."
"Bianca—!"
"I AM A MAGUS!"
Before Altai or Kalen realized it, Sorceress Bianca abruptly shot up into the air. She soared high above them, dragging the magical light with her. Her figure became nearly invisible in the dark, indigo sky. Altai and Kalen gasped in astonishment as they both realized Bianca's altitude was so high that she was at the mercy of the jetstreams that doomed so many of December's young to a premature death further north.
Yet, contrary to expectations, the extremely violent winds failed to seize her fragile body and tumble it around like a ragdoll. Bianca and her magic light remained stationary in their bosom for at least a second or two before they transformed into a beige star. A star that blasted the snow as it surged northbound and instantly disappeared behind Eyria's canyon. It left a trail of light in its wake, like a comet.
Seconds later, a deafening boom slammed into Altai and Kalen from above, smashing them both deep into the snow. They couldn't help but gaze up at the empty sky when they recovered from the sudden shockwave.
"Did, d-did that just happen?" Altai muttered, finally finding her voice.
Kalen absentmindedly replied, "...Yeah… it did. It really did…"
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And that's all, folks!
Until next time.
FYI, the actual word count was 11,600 after including the Post-A/N scene. Thought I'd let y'all wait so long for a short update, didn't you? :P