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Half an hour or so later, the leftovers of the meal had been cleaned up and the dragons and villagers were all gathered at the other end of the village at the top of the ‘L’ in two groups standing opposite the newly lit ceremonial fire. Spyro sat at the front with Cynder, Flame and Ember along with the cubs and Hunter about twenty feet from the fire. On the other side of the fire behind the second group of Cheetah’s was the home of Chief Prowlus, a much larger hut that had two large crimson tribal banners draped beside the doorway. It was also used as a conference building for the Chief and the most senior members of the tribe, like Hunter. It had the same open second level as the other huts but was more densely packed with boxes and chests, which Spyro had always assumed were full of personal items and treasure, given that Prowlus was the Chief of the village. Spyro saw him behind the flames at the front of the second group, the purple dragon wondered then why his wealth of possessions didn’t seem to give the grouchy feline any joy as he rarely ever seemed happy, at least not whenever he or his friends were around. There was light chatter echoing among the gathering as everyone waited for the night’s storyteller to emerge from the hut to the left of where the dragons and cubs were sitting. Spyro looked up to his right where Hunter was standing, still not satisfied with the answer he had given them for his Chief’s apparent dislike for them and dragons in general.
As he sat their more than once had he nearly but then resisted the urge to press the matter to him, deciding that he did not want any more grief to ruin an otherwise enjoyable day. The chatter suddenly cut off as a rustle came from the hut, all eyes turned as a figure emerged from the doorway. The shimmering gold eyes of a hooded blue-grey she-Cheetah glanced around at the surrounding audience. She wore a dark blue tunic with sagging sleeves that fully covered her arms unlike most of the other Cheetahs whose tunics were sleeveless. Her hands were slipped inside her sleeves and out of view as she strolled out casually towards the fire, behind her two other Cheetah’s carrying drums walked out, one taking a seat just outside the hut while the second walked over to the other side of the fire. The hooded she-Cheetah paused in front of the flames before she slowly side-stepped and turned her body to face the four dragons at the front of the crowd as the second drummer sat crossed legged opposite his partner across the fire. The she-Cheetah pulled her arms apart and exposed her hands as she lifted off her hood, revealing the two-gold bracelet sized rings in both her ears as she slowly returned her hands in front as she pressed them together as if she were praying. She panned her head around the crowd before she turned herself to the group behind her, giving a soft nod to Chief Prowlus.
The she-Cheetah then turned around and looked back to Spyro and his friends, her fingers flexing as she smiled politely to them, “As you all know, we are privileged to have the famous ‘four who lived’ once again in our village,” she announced brightly, “We know their story very well, it is one that I have told myself around this fire many times. But tonight, I have decided to tell the story that is the genesis of that tale. Indeed, the story that set into motion the events that led to the beginning of their story which continues to play out this very moment as they sit among us.”
“Which story is it, Roaraya?” one of the cubs demanded excitedly, a murmur of laughter following in the wake of his exuberance as the cub’s father clipped him lightly around the ear for bursting out. Roaraya, the storyteller, opened her hands and turned her palms out to her listeners dramatically,
“The story of the Great traitor. The story of the Fallen Legend,” she said ominously, “The story of the Dark Master.”
The light murmurs cut off sharply as even the night itself became silent. Spyro looked to Cynder as she and Flame and Ember looked between themselves with surprise. While it was a story that they were extremely familiar with, they could not recall it being told in the Cheetah village, or at least not when they had visited, much less in the theatrical way that Roaraya was well known for. With lightning speed, she reached into her pocket and threw what looked like sand into the fire, the flames suddenly releasing a roar not like that of a raging fire but like that of a roaring dragon. The flames whooshed into the air as they curled and morphed, an unsettling image taking shape within its form as the four young dragons stared, mesmerized and even fearful of the magical theatre.
The image grew wings that spanned across the peak of the fire, rising up as a dark dragon silhouette with glowing eyes that scowled with contempt at its audience. Spyro felt a chill run down his spine as he stared at the gargoyle like face, the horns that curved upwards like the talons of a demonic beast, the hard, snarling teeth that seemed able to tear stone and metal as easily as flesh and bone. The cubs gasped and some hid behind their hands as the frightful sight swelled and roared away into the air as the flames returned to their normal state. The silence continued among the village as Roaraya glanced curiously around, her purple eyes settling once more on Spyro. His eyes flinched as he saw all those around and across from him focus their attention on him, swallowing nervously as he put on a toothy grin to try and hide his discomfort. He caught sight of Prowlus’s disapproving scowl from across the fire as he flashed his grin towards him, feeling the edges of his mouth beginning to strain.
“Don’t look like you are trying so hard,” Cynder whispered as she leaned over to him. Immediately he allowed his mouth to loosen as the cubs beside him shuffled up closer, eyes and ears open anxiously for the story to begin. Perhaps it was because they were older, or perhaps in Spyro’s case was because he had been particularly introspective this anniversary of the temple raid. Whatever it was, he and his friends seemed more invested in this telling of the story they had been told their entire lives. Like Roaraya had said, it was the story that had set the stage for everything that had happened before them and more than likely would do so for their future. The cubs and young dragons all sat wide eyed and alert as the night wore on and Roaraya’s magic dust made the flames dance to her will. The adult Cheetah’s perhaps treated the story with more weight as they could well remember the dark times of the last war and the value of the twelve years of peace that their cubs had been born into, only knowing war from stories.
Roaraya stepped around the fire continually as she told the tale, illustrating with her hands like she was conducting an orchestra and every so often throwing more dust into the flames to conjure up another image. The story began as it always did, with the ancient prophecy that had been passed down through the generations that there would one day be a dragon that would bring about an everlasting peace upon the world. The prophecy of the purple dragon had remained unfulfilled for centuries until the day Malefor was born, the first purple dragon in history. The young hero to be amazing the elders and his peers with his fantastic abilities, not just been able to wield four elements but wielding them in ways that no dragon, even Guardian, had ever been able to. It had been a time of great excitement and anticipation as the young Malefor won favour with almost everyone and his power and prestige grew. The sky was the limit for future saviour; there was no limit to his potential.
It was always foreboding to Spyro every time he had heard the tale, especially that of Malefor’s younger years. It was hard to imagine that he had once been someone like him or even like his friends. Someone who had been raised in the same halls of the temple as they had, someone who had honed his skills in the same dojo against the same straw dummies in preparation for fighting the same real enemy. Spyro wondered if Malefor had ever felt the same feelings of doubt or apprehension as he did, the sense that the whole world was resting on his shoulders and if he would measure up to their expectations? He wondered if he had had the same kind of relationship with the Guardians of his time as he did now with Ignitus and the others? He thought that the answer should be obvious given what he ended up becoming, yet still Spyro’s curiosity persisted.
“As he rose through adolescence, there was yet one thing that eluded him,” said Roaraya as she circled the fire, “The power of Aether, the mysterious element that surpassed all others had not yet come to him. Malefor became impatient, arrogant as he trained harder and pushed fiercely for the elders to impart more and more knowledge to him, to share more secrets of the elements as he lusted for this great power that he did not possess. Few dared besmirch the dragon of legend, so the elders appeased him and he became more powerful still. But still the power of Aether did not come to him. When he finally reached adulthood, fortune smiled upon him and Malefor finally discovered the power of Aether. How and why, nobody knows for certain, but from that moment everything changed… for the worse,” the she Cheetah said darkly as she swung out her left arm and tossed more dust into the fire, the flames howling as they changed into an ominous dark purple, a black shadow of Malefor’s silhouette rising from the centre of the purple flames. There was a collective gasp among the younger audience and some hidden ones amongst the adults as the silhouette turned to smoke and the flames returned to their orange glow. Roaraya stepped around the flames slowly before she resumed her telling;
“The dragon elders were just as eager to learn the secrets of this mysterious power, so they allowed him unlimited freedom to explore and practice in its lore, to study and master it. At first, Malefor was cooperative with them, but it did not take long for his arrogance to return as he sought to discover the secrets of Aether without their intervention and observation. Only now did they begin to fear what he was becoming, of what he might be capable of if he chose to move from the path they had started him down. Little did they know, it was already too late…” Roaraya’s eyes narrowed as they once more settled on Spyro, who tried not to show how unsettling it was for him, as if she was drawing comparisons between the subject of her story and him.
He heard faint whispers among the adult Cheetah’s standing behind him, though he couldn’t make out what it was they said. Looking back across at Chief Prowlus, Spyro began to suspect that he was paying more attention to him than to Roaraya’s story. He felt a touch on his left paw that caught him by surprise, turning to it he saw Cynder had moved her paw overtop of his as if she had sensed his unease. She only gave a modest smile at his befuddled expression, which he swiftly changed to a broad, unintentionally goofy grin. He payed no heed to Ember’s furiously jealous expression as she sat beside her while Flame continued to keep his eyes on Roaraya as she continued on.
“But Malefor’s desire for power and knowledge outstripped the desire for understanding of the elders who had so readily been riding on his coattails. He became obsessed with it, delving deeper into its murky depths and soon refused to come out. He had begun to harness the forces of Dark Aether, a power that so terrified the elders that they finally tried to force him to restrain himself. But whatever respect he’d had for them had long vanished and he ignored them. When he was bought before the council to face up to his disobedience, he mocked them and challenged them. He argued that his power was his to control and not theirs, that he was above their authority. His unrivaled power along with his insolence was the final straw; Malefor was exiled. He fled to the mountains to the far north of our realm, their he made a new home and a new moniker for himself; the Dark Master.”
Roaraya drew more dust from her pockets, raising her hands like she was conducting an opera and thrashing them forward as the dust settled onto the fire. The flames violently flared up high, rippling like a flag in the wind as a new image came to life. From the base of the fire rose a towering stone edifice like an enormous weed tearing out of the ground. An image of a mountain against a bleak sky took form, its exterior riddled with sharpened thorn like rocks all across it. As the image finished rippling, it exposed the peak of the monstrous tower as it came into full view. Genuine fright sank into Spyro’s body like the cold of winter as he stared at the mountain peak, formed into the unnatural likeness of a dragon’s head with its mouth bearing its teeth towards the heavens as if it threatened to devour them.
“In what is now known as the Mountain of Malefor, he created a fortress and gained the allegiance of the Apes after he gifted them the ability to harness the power of the spirit gems for their own purposes. Then he began to wage war upon his own kind, without mercy or remorse. Perhaps his greatest crime was what proceeded the demise of his mortal form at the hands of the Dragon Guardians…”
“The Night of Burning Tears,” Ember suddenly announced impulsively, her outburst taking her companions and the audience by surprise, but Roaraya did not seem to mind the interruption. The mere mention of the catastrophe weighed heavily on the hearts of the young dragons, but especially on those dragons who could still remember it. Spyro felt his mouth dry as the she Cheetah nodded solemnly to them before she slowly turned her back and slipped her hands into her pockets once more. She drew them out slowly, some of her mystical dust slipping from her palms and being carried away by a sudden gust of wind as she raised her arms above her head. Spyro, Cynder, Flame and Ember collectively held their breath as she paused for a brief but dramatic moment.
“The Night of Burning Tears,” Roaraya concurred soberly as she flicked her hands forward and the dust went flying into the fire, the flames bellowed and morphed, the image of the mountain exploding in a swirl of magic flame. She leapt back as the flames expanded outwards like a flower opening in the spring, several Cheetah’s edging back in fright. The enchanted flames stretched far out and above from the kindling that had fuelled them, shimmering above it like aurora borealis in the sky. Finally, the waving flames began taking up another distinctive, terrifying image.
Spyro at once recognized the Warfang skyline that they had seen from the Doxantha and from when they had left for Avalar, but it was apocalyptic. The vision played out like a frightful memory plucked from the mind of a survivor; the towers crumbled like ash and great sheets of flame swept through the streets like a storm wind. Though the image was flat and lacked perspective, the vision was accompanied by nightmarish screams as the unseen citizens stared up at the sky into the face of their doom as a roaring image of Malefor suddenly appeared, raining yet more fiery doom upon the city that had once been his home.
“He sent his armies against Warfang time and time again, but her walls had never fallen no matter how much they had tried. Believing his army to be broken, the Dragon Guardians; led by Dragsooth of Fire, the father of the current Fire Guardian, noble Ignitus. Alongside him was Bissthlan of Ice, Hargen of Earth and Zygoren of Electricity, whom he led in a raid against Malefor’s mountain fortress, only to realise too late that Malefor had outwitted them. He had left his fortress and awaited them to leave the city without their leadership and protection. He assaulted the Dragon city himself, the sheer strength of his malice fuelled the fury of a thousand dragons as he unleashed his full power upon the city. Though the survivors called it the ‘Night of Burning Tears’, the Dark Master rained terror upon the city with every element he had mastered. Not just the natural elements, but the dark elements he had unlocked through the power of Dark Aether; Poison, Fear and Shadow. Scores of noble warriors fell as they tried to face him, but like leaves from a tree they fell all too easily.”
“What about the Guardians? How did they stop him?” one of the cubs asked fervently. The young dragons looked to each other as they found themselves unconsciously edging forward as they sat. Roaraya turned to her right and threw a handful of dust into the air, the flames bobbing like ripples in a lake as they burning skyline of Warfang morphed into an inky black mass as the image changed.The black mass reformed into an image of four dragons, the Guardians, flying high above the smoke of the city, each channelling their elements into concentrated beams as they surged like blades towards an image of Malefor, his head arched back and mouth open as he roared in pain at the elemental beams coursing through him. The sight lifted Spyro’s heart as he watched the scene of the tyrant dragon facing the combined power of the dragon Guardians. It was a glimmer of hope, a light shining through the darkness, but then again, he already knew how the story ended.
“As fast as their wings would carry them, the Guardians returned to the city as Malefor decimated it. In a battle that has been lauded through the centuries, the Guardians fought him with all the power they could muster, but despite all they had done, Malefor was left only weakened after enduring what would have killed any other dragon. He fled the battle and the Guardians, though wounded and exhausted, pursued him. What happened after that, we only know from the words of Dragsooth, the Fire Guardian, the only one who survived long enough to tell…”
“Convexity…” Spyro murmured slowly, only Cynder seemed to notice what he had said as he saw her tilt her head to him in the corner of his eye. Roaraya slipped her hands back inside her sleeves as the flames behind her died down, the aurora like form closed in on itself as the fire began to burn just as it had from the start. She cast a quick gaze around at her audience as the flames crackled softly behind her.
“In his seclusion, Malefor had fully immersed himself in the forces of Dark Aether. What we know of the powers and knowledge it gave him barely scratches the surface of what he uncovered. He had found a way to summon a gateway to another realm, a place that had been thought of only as a myth. But then so too had the Purple dragon been until he was born. This place we know only as Convexity. The Dark Master opened the gateway to this dimension and fled through it, the Guardians following after him, not knowing if there was even a way to get back. Dragsooth described it as an iridescent void that seemed to go on forever, like flying through space among the planets. He described strange creatures that floated through the air, some he said looked like flying eels or enormous whales. He also described, most mysteriously, a stone platform floating in the middle of this strange void with a glowing violet portal in its centre; a doorway to another world.
“It was there in this strange dimension that the Guardians fought they’re final battle with Malefor. It seemed that he drew strength from this portal, like he was somehow connected with it and whatever lay beyond it. Weakened, but knowing that no one else could stop him, the Guardians fought against his overwhelming power, but realised to their horror that the power he drew from the portal of Convexity made him essentially immortal. They could harm him, but not kill him. In a final, desperate attempt to defeat him, the four Guardians mustered all of their strength in unison, their elemental powers creating a devastating Fury attack that at last seemed to deal the fatal blow to the Great Traitor. Malefor fell before the portal, his reign of terror seemingly ended. This heroic act cost Bissthlan, Hargen and Zygoren their lives in the process, taking every once of life in them to achieve this. Only Dragsooth was left barely alive afterwards, laying on the stone platform dying next to his fallen brothers, sure that he was soon to join them.
“However,” Roaraya announced forebodingly as she brushed the top of her head with her right paw, “As he lay on the platform, the whole realm began to shake like an earthquake. The debris and strange objects floating in the sky began to be drawn into the portal. So too did the bodies of Malefor and the fallen Guardians. As Dragsooth struggled to his feet, fighting against the force trying to draw him in, he looked back a final time at the bodies of his brothers and Malefor. He saw the hateful, yellow eyes of the traitor looking back into his, still alive but his body too weak and broken to move. In that moment, Dragsooth had to make the choice to either finally finish him, or try to escape. With the portal dragging him in, the Fire Guardian mustered what life he had left and made his escape, flying out of Convexity and leaving Malefor to what he thought was his inevitable fate. As he returned to our realm, the portal closed behind him and Dragsooth fell unconscious and fell to the ground just outside the ruins of Warfang. He awoke the next day, living just long enough to recount what had happened before he finally passed on. The survivors hailed the sacrifice of the Guardians, believing they had finally defeated the Dark Master. This news sowed discontent among the Apes and along with the defeats they had suffered, their army fell into disarray, even rebellion. The final victory seemed to have been achieved… until Malefor sent a message beyond the grave.”
The cubs gasped and whispered fearfully to each other as Spyro on reflex drew a deep breath as he felt his scales quiver like a swarm of spiders were crawling over them. He felt Cynder clutch his paw tighter in hers, his claws digging tensely into the dirt beneath them. Roaraya turned back to the flames for a final time, slipping her hands into her pockets as she drew two more handfuls of enchanted dust. She casually tossed them in one after the other, the flames widening though not as greatly as before. The inky likeness of the ruined skyline of Warfang reappeared, a black cloud sitting above the city, though the flames had died out days ago. The cloud was shaped roughly like a triangle, the partial features of a reptilian face just distinguishable. Spyro looked nervously into the scowling yellow eyes that gazed upon the city with remorseless vile. Every face in the village, even Prowlus, regarded the image with trepidation.
“Trapped within Convexity, Malefor ushered his powers to deliver a message to the world; a proclamation that one day he would return to finish his work. That he would rise again as the uncontested, most powerful being in the world and ordered his armies to continue their war against his enemies for however long it took for his return. With that promise, the cloud vanished and Malefor was not seen or heard from since. The Apes reformed and rebuilt their armies and followed in his words to continue to wage war against the dragons and all their ally’s. The last war, as we know, ended twelve years ago and the Apes have not renewed their hostilities since then. Some think they have finally conceded defeat, but others… think they are just biding their time, waiting for the right moment to restart the war in the Dark Master’s name.” The image in the flames faded away as they settled again, the she-Cheetah let her arms fall loosely by her side as she walked towards the Cheetah cubs and young dragons. She sighed and drew an exhausted breath, her eyes dipping thoughtfully as she stopped just before the younger members of her audience. When her purple eyes opened again, she took the time to gaze into the eyes of each of her youthful listeners, their awe as stratospheric as ever. When her eyes touched that of Spyro’s, he felt like she was looking into him, not at him, like she could see all the trepidation, fear and self-doubt that the story had bought up inside him. He watched as she finished perusing the younger audience, Roaraya saying finally,
“For the sake of our young, I hope that Malefor’s promise remains unfulfilled and that you may experience life without war, but if the day comes that Malefor does return…” she said as she cast her eyes at Spyro, “I hope that the promise made long before his time, about the purple dragon that would restore peace to the world, what we thought Malefor was to be before he left that path, will come true for all our sakes.” Cynder gave him a reassuring nudge as he sat with all eyes focused on him, but he could not prevent the response that came to mind almost straight away,
‘Yeah, I hope so too.’
The next morning in Avalar was as glorious as there had ever been. The sky was as clear as crystal, unveiling every detail of the surrounding forests and mountains of the valley like that of a great landscape painting. The rising sun swept away the shade over the lush, thick grass that covered the ground as the hum and chatter of insects filled the air as the rivers flowed like an elixir that preserved all life that it touched. With the beginning of the day, the Cheetah’s had started to go about their business as they did every day; there had been an early breakfast just after dawn of bread and leftover meat from the previous night. Spyro and Cynder and Flame and Ember had joined in with the breakfast, Flame forgetting his poncho when they had emerged sprightly from their tent beside Hunter’s hut while many of the Cheetah’s had been yawning and groggy, save for the cubs who were as restless and energetic as ever.
The fire which had been used by Roaraya the storyteller continued to blaze in the morning as it had during the night while the other fires had died down, owing to the infusion of magic preserving its life. Spyro had paused just after leaving the tent and stared into it thoughtfully as the others went on ahead of him, the glowing eyes of the apparition of Malefor still visible in his mind as it had been when they had been before his eyes that same spot. He looked away from the flames distrustfully as if they may conjure them again as he followed on to join his companions. Spyro sat down with them around the same table they had eaten dinner at as the Cheetah’s all slowly began to congregate around the seating area, Hunter being among those who had risen before dawn to help prepare the breakfast. The dragons watched as he and a few other Cheetah’s began placing loafs of bread and plates of leftover meat on each of the tables as the villagers began to help themselves. On each table were also jars of jam and honey for those who wished for a lighter start to the day. Hunter eventually came to them as the young dragons found themselves being accompanied by the cubs who chose to have their breakfast with them,
“Good morning, young friends. I hope you slept well,” he greeted cheerfully as he set the plates of bread and meat down, which they and the cubs all began to settle into eagerly. Hunter walked back and picked up a goblet laying on another table, surprising them by choosing to sit down between Ember and Flame as he took a piece of bread and lathered it with honey. He noticed that Spyro was eyeing him oddly, almost suspiciously, the reason of which he seemed to know and announced so with a wry smile.
“I suppose you are wondering why I am eating with you now and not last night,” he said, a response that caught everyone but Spyro off guard.
“I didn’t really notice,” mumbled Flame with a mouthful of bread, oblivious that he was not the one whom the question was aimed at.
“I did kinda’ wonder,” Spyro admitted sheepishly as he reached across for his own helping. Hunter chuckled lightly before he took a bite from his bread, chewing it for a few moments before he said,
“I was just trying to remind Chief Prowlus that we are both on the same side.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ember. Hunter gazed down upon her and said,
“Just so he knew that I haven’t turned my back on him. So he doesn’t think that I am spoiling you.”
“You mean not making us feel like we are intruding?” asked Cynder cynically. Spyro and Hunter chuckled lightly as they cautiously looked around to be sure that Chief Prowlus wasn’t listening in on them. As they did, Spyro noticed that Roaraya was no among the Cheetahs gathering around for breakfast. He guessed that the she was especially tired from her use of magic last night, but before he could remark as such Hunter spoke up again.
“But unfortunately, I have to tell you I won’t be able to accompany you today. I have business in Warfang to attend to and expect to be gone most of the day.”
“Really?” asked Spyro in a disappointed tone, “But I thought you were in charge of looking after us?”
“I am,” Hunter replied simply, “Which is why I’ve asked Meadow the Herbalist to keep an eye on you while I am away.”
“Meadow?” asked Cynder, “Does that mean we have to help him pick flowers and grind herbs?” she said dismally.
“No,” said Hunter, “But I expect you to behave yourselves while you are in his charge. I mean it; he won’t turn a blind eye to any misbehavior like I might,” said the Cheetah as he eyed Cynder amusingly.
“Meadow doesn’t like fighting, does he?” quired Flame as he looked up from his food.
“He’s a pacifist,” answered Ember for Hunter, “He doesn’t believe in violence. That’s why he chooses to be a healer.”
“That’s correct,” nodded Hunter, “But that’s no reason to laugh at him or underestimate him. If we all believed as he did then there would be no need for warriors.”
“But don’t you?” asked Spyro curiously, “Don’t you believe in peace?” Hunter chuckled mirthlessly,
“Of course I do. But our enemies do not. Unless they were to have a sudden change of heart, a lasting peace an only be achieved through war, unfortunately.”
“But as Roaraya said,” added Cynder, “The Apes have been peaceful for twelve years. You think they are just waiting until they are strong again?” Hunter shrugged his shoulders as he drank from his goblet, “Gaul is far more cunning than your average ape. He learned a hard lesson the last time his armies were defeated. He has had twelve years to learn how and why. What troubles me is if that time has been enough for him.” “What do you mean?” asked Spyro.
“Well, will he wait another twelve years or has he had the time he needs to plan his next move, whatever that may be?” he asked ominously. Spyro swallowed hard as the four dragons swapped eyes with each other, the excitement of the new day taking a downward turn. In an effort to change the subject and mood, Cynder cleared her throat and leaned across the table nearer to Hunter;
“So, what is your business in Warfang today, Hunter?” she asked.
“I’m trying to negotiate a deal with a merchant to take a larger stock of our wares. Prowlus thinks we should limit out trade with Dragon City, but I think it is essential for our prosperity that we try to expand our trade. We may be self-reliant, but there is no harm in raising a little capital.”
“Huh,” Spyro remarked, “Will you be using a courier again?”
“Of course, I have already sent for one. Why? Are you offering to convince whoever they send to give me another free ride?” Hunter grinned. The other three dragons all laughed somewhat nervously as they recalled the purple dragons angry spat the previous day. Spyro only turned his head away with a blush, Hunter seemingly confused at the response.
“No, I think actually I’ll give you the rest of my allowance to pay for the last time. I feel guilty about it,” Spyro said flatly.
“Come on, Spyro, it was only a little fun,” jeered Cynder, trying to cheer him up, “Besides you only ever did it the one time. If I were you, I’d probably demand everything for free.”
“I don’t want to flaunt who I am,” he replied gravely, “I just want to do what’s right.”
“How very noble,” remarked Ember with dreamy eyes, causing Hunter to roll his own in annoyance. He took another sip from his goblet as Spyro finally started to eat, the others all following suit as the cubs seated by them began squabbling over the bread plate. They began talking excitedly about the story of last night, recalling with wonder the spectacular magical effects used by Roaraya to bring the tale to life.
“It was great, wasn’t it, Mr Spyro?” the cub beside him asked as he nudged him with his elbow, causing the purple dragon to smile and nod in agreement, though the story had in fact left him feeling more concerned than amazed. He hid his feelings as not to spoil their enjoyment.
“It was a scary story, huh?” Flame asked aloud earnestly, gazing around the other faces at the table.
“We’ve heard it a hundred times over,” Cynder replied dismissively. Her answer was met with a grim silence from the rest of the group, save for the cubs who kept loudly talking and playfully shoving amongst themselves. Even Hunter ignored them as he and the three young dragons seemed expectant of an answer from Spyro. The purple dragon looked up from his breakfast and cast a weary eye around at the faces all turned on him. Spyro’s eyebrows rose as his eyes grew large and solemn.
“Yeah,” he confessed frankly, regretfully, “It’s a scary story.”
End of Chapter 8.
Next Chapter: Hide and Seek and Hermits
As he sat their more than once had he nearly but then resisted the urge to press the matter to him, deciding that he did not want any more grief to ruin an otherwise enjoyable day. The chatter suddenly cut off as a rustle came from the hut, all eyes turned as a figure emerged from the doorway. The shimmering gold eyes of a hooded blue-grey she-Cheetah glanced around at the surrounding audience. She wore a dark blue tunic with sagging sleeves that fully covered her arms unlike most of the other Cheetahs whose tunics were sleeveless. Her hands were slipped inside her sleeves and out of view as she strolled out casually towards the fire, behind her two other Cheetah’s carrying drums walked out, one taking a seat just outside the hut while the second walked over to the other side of the fire. The hooded she-Cheetah paused in front of the flames before she slowly side-stepped and turned her body to face the four dragons at the front of the crowd as the second drummer sat crossed legged opposite his partner across the fire. The she-Cheetah pulled her arms apart and exposed her hands as she lifted off her hood, revealing the two-gold bracelet sized rings in both her ears as she slowly returned her hands in front as she pressed them together as if she were praying. She panned her head around the crowd before she turned herself to the group behind her, giving a soft nod to Chief Prowlus.
The she-Cheetah then turned around and looked back to Spyro and his friends, her fingers flexing as she smiled politely to them, “As you all know, we are privileged to have the famous ‘four who lived’ once again in our village,” she announced brightly, “We know their story very well, it is one that I have told myself around this fire many times. But tonight, I have decided to tell the story that is the genesis of that tale. Indeed, the story that set into motion the events that led to the beginning of their story which continues to play out this very moment as they sit among us.”
“Which story is it, Roaraya?” one of the cubs demanded excitedly, a murmur of laughter following in the wake of his exuberance as the cub’s father clipped him lightly around the ear for bursting out. Roaraya, the storyteller, opened her hands and turned her palms out to her listeners dramatically,
“The story of the Great traitor. The story of the Fallen Legend,” she said ominously, “The story of the Dark Master.”
The light murmurs cut off sharply as even the night itself became silent. Spyro looked to Cynder as she and Flame and Ember looked between themselves with surprise. While it was a story that they were extremely familiar with, they could not recall it being told in the Cheetah village, or at least not when they had visited, much less in the theatrical way that Roaraya was well known for. With lightning speed, she reached into her pocket and threw what looked like sand into the fire, the flames suddenly releasing a roar not like that of a raging fire but like that of a roaring dragon. The flames whooshed into the air as they curled and morphed, an unsettling image taking shape within its form as the four young dragons stared, mesmerized and even fearful of the magical theatre.
The image grew wings that spanned across the peak of the fire, rising up as a dark dragon silhouette with glowing eyes that scowled with contempt at its audience. Spyro felt a chill run down his spine as he stared at the gargoyle like face, the horns that curved upwards like the talons of a demonic beast, the hard, snarling teeth that seemed able to tear stone and metal as easily as flesh and bone. The cubs gasped and some hid behind their hands as the frightful sight swelled and roared away into the air as the flames returned to their normal state. The silence continued among the village as Roaraya glanced curiously around, her purple eyes settling once more on Spyro. His eyes flinched as he saw all those around and across from him focus their attention on him, swallowing nervously as he put on a toothy grin to try and hide his discomfort. He caught sight of Prowlus’s disapproving scowl from across the fire as he flashed his grin towards him, feeling the edges of his mouth beginning to strain.
“Don’t look like you are trying so hard,” Cynder whispered as she leaned over to him. Immediately he allowed his mouth to loosen as the cubs beside him shuffled up closer, eyes and ears open anxiously for the story to begin. Perhaps it was because they were older, or perhaps in Spyro’s case was because he had been particularly introspective this anniversary of the temple raid. Whatever it was, he and his friends seemed more invested in this telling of the story they had been told their entire lives. Like Roaraya had said, it was the story that had set the stage for everything that had happened before them and more than likely would do so for their future. The cubs and young dragons all sat wide eyed and alert as the night wore on and Roaraya’s magic dust made the flames dance to her will. The adult Cheetah’s perhaps treated the story with more weight as they could well remember the dark times of the last war and the value of the twelve years of peace that their cubs had been born into, only knowing war from stories.
Roaraya stepped around the fire continually as she told the tale, illustrating with her hands like she was conducting an orchestra and every so often throwing more dust into the flames to conjure up another image. The story began as it always did, with the ancient prophecy that had been passed down through the generations that there would one day be a dragon that would bring about an everlasting peace upon the world. The prophecy of the purple dragon had remained unfulfilled for centuries until the day Malefor was born, the first purple dragon in history. The young hero to be amazing the elders and his peers with his fantastic abilities, not just been able to wield four elements but wielding them in ways that no dragon, even Guardian, had ever been able to. It had been a time of great excitement and anticipation as the young Malefor won favour with almost everyone and his power and prestige grew. The sky was the limit for future saviour; there was no limit to his potential.
It was always foreboding to Spyro every time he had heard the tale, especially that of Malefor’s younger years. It was hard to imagine that he had once been someone like him or even like his friends. Someone who had been raised in the same halls of the temple as they had, someone who had honed his skills in the same dojo against the same straw dummies in preparation for fighting the same real enemy. Spyro wondered if Malefor had ever felt the same feelings of doubt or apprehension as he did, the sense that the whole world was resting on his shoulders and if he would measure up to their expectations? He wondered if he had had the same kind of relationship with the Guardians of his time as he did now with Ignitus and the others? He thought that the answer should be obvious given what he ended up becoming, yet still Spyro’s curiosity persisted.
“As he rose through adolescence, there was yet one thing that eluded him,” said Roaraya as she circled the fire, “The power of Aether, the mysterious element that surpassed all others had not yet come to him. Malefor became impatient, arrogant as he trained harder and pushed fiercely for the elders to impart more and more knowledge to him, to share more secrets of the elements as he lusted for this great power that he did not possess. Few dared besmirch the dragon of legend, so the elders appeased him and he became more powerful still. But still the power of Aether did not come to him. When he finally reached adulthood, fortune smiled upon him and Malefor finally discovered the power of Aether. How and why, nobody knows for certain, but from that moment everything changed… for the worse,” the she Cheetah said darkly as she swung out her left arm and tossed more dust into the fire, the flames howling as they changed into an ominous dark purple, a black shadow of Malefor’s silhouette rising from the centre of the purple flames. There was a collective gasp among the younger audience and some hidden ones amongst the adults as the silhouette turned to smoke and the flames returned to their orange glow. Roaraya stepped around the flames slowly before she resumed her telling;
“The dragon elders were just as eager to learn the secrets of this mysterious power, so they allowed him unlimited freedom to explore and practice in its lore, to study and master it. At first, Malefor was cooperative with them, but it did not take long for his arrogance to return as he sought to discover the secrets of Aether without their intervention and observation. Only now did they begin to fear what he was becoming, of what he might be capable of if he chose to move from the path they had started him down. Little did they know, it was already too late…” Roaraya’s eyes narrowed as they once more settled on Spyro, who tried not to show how unsettling it was for him, as if she was drawing comparisons between the subject of her story and him.
He heard faint whispers among the adult Cheetah’s standing behind him, though he couldn’t make out what it was they said. Looking back across at Chief Prowlus, Spyro began to suspect that he was paying more attention to him than to Roaraya’s story. He felt a touch on his left paw that caught him by surprise, turning to it he saw Cynder had moved her paw overtop of his as if she had sensed his unease. She only gave a modest smile at his befuddled expression, which he swiftly changed to a broad, unintentionally goofy grin. He payed no heed to Ember’s furiously jealous expression as she sat beside her while Flame continued to keep his eyes on Roaraya as she continued on.
“But Malefor’s desire for power and knowledge outstripped the desire for understanding of the elders who had so readily been riding on his coattails. He became obsessed with it, delving deeper into its murky depths and soon refused to come out. He had begun to harness the forces of Dark Aether, a power that so terrified the elders that they finally tried to force him to restrain himself. But whatever respect he’d had for them had long vanished and he ignored them. When he was bought before the council to face up to his disobedience, he mocked them and challenged them. He argued that his power was his to control and not theirs, that he was above their authority. His unrivaled power along with his insolence was the final straw; Malefor was exiled. He fled to the mountains to the far north of our realm, their he made a new home and a new moniker for himself; the Dark Master.”
Roaraya drew more dust from her pockets, raising her hands like she was conducting an opera and thrashing them forward as the dust settled onto the fire. The flames violently flared up high, rippling like a flag in the wind as a new image came to life. From the base of the fire rose a towering stone edifice like an enormous weed tearing out of the ground. An image of a mountain against a bleak sky took form, its exterior riddled with sharpened thorn like rocks all across it. As the image finished rippling, it exposed the peak of the monstrous tower as it came into full view. Genuine fright sank into Spyro’s body like the cold of winter as he stared at the mountain peak, formed into the unnatural likeness of a dragon’s head with its mouth bearing its teeth towards the heavens as if it threatened to devour them.
“In what is now known as the Mountain of Malefor, he created a fortress and gained the allegiance of the Apes after he gifted them the ability to harness the power of the spirit gems for their own purposes. Then he began to wage war upon his own kind, without mercy or remorse. Perhaps his greatest crime was what proceeded the demise of his mortal form at the hands of the Dragon Guardians…”
“The Night of Burning Tears,” Ember suddenly announced impulsively, her outburst taking her companions and the audience by surprise, but Roaraya did not seem to mind the interruption. The mere mention of the catastrophe weighed heavily on the hearts of the young dragons, but especially on those dragons who could still remember it. Spyro felt his mouth dry as the she Cheetah nodded solemnly to them before she slowly turned her back and slipped her hands into her pockets once more. She drew them out slowly, some of her mystical dust slipping from her palms and being carried away by a sudden gust of wind as she raised her arms above her head. Spyro, Cynder, Flame and Ember collectively held their breath as she paused for a brief but dramatic moment.
“The Night of Burning Tears,” Roaraya concurred soberly as she flicked her hands forward and the dust went flying into the fire, the flames bellowed and morphed, the image of the mountain exploding in a swirl of magic flame. She leapt back as the flames expanded outwards like a flower opening in the spring, several Cheetah’s edging back in fright. The enchanted flames stretched far out and above from the kindling that had fuelled them, shimmering above it like aurora borealis in the sky. Finally, the waving flames began taking up another distinctive, terrifying image.
Spyro at once recognized the Warfang skyline that they had seen from the Doxantha and from when they had left for Avalar, but it was apocalyptic. The vision played out like a frightful memory plucked from the mind of a survivor; the towers crumbled like ash and great sheets of flame swept through the streets like a storm wind. Though the image was flat and lacked perspective, the vision was accompanied by nightmarish screams as the unseen citizens stared up at the sky into the face of their doom as a roaring image of Malefor suddenly appeared, raining yet more fiery doom upon the city that had once been his home.
“He sent his armies against Warfang time and time again, but her walls had never fallen no matter how much they had tried. Believing his army to be broken, the Dragon Guardians; led by Dragsooth of Fire, the father of the current Fire Guardian, noble Ignitus. Alongside him was Bissthlan of Ice, Hargen of Earth and Zygoren of Electricity, whom he led in a raid against Malefor’s mountain fortress, only to realise too late that Malefor had outwitted them. He had left his fortress and awaited them to leave the city without their leadership and protection. He assaulted the Dragon city himself, the sheer strength of his malice fuelled the fury of a thousand dragons as he unleashed his full power upon the city. Though the survivors called it the ‘Night of Burning Tears’, the Dark Master rained terror upon the city with every element he had mastered. Not just the natural elements, but the dark elements he had unlocked through the power of Dark Aether; Poison, Fear and Shadow. Scores of noble warriors fell as they tried to face him, but like leaves from a tree they fell all too easily.”
“What about the Guardians? How did they stop him?” one of the cubs asked fervently. The young dragons looked to each other as they found themselves unconsciously edging forward as they sat. Roaraya turned to her right and threw a handful of dust into the air, the flames bobbing like ripples in a lake as they burning skyline of Warfang morphed into an inky black mass as the image changed.The black mass reformed into an image of four dragons, the Guardians, flying high above the smoke of the city, each channelling their elements into concentrated beams as they surged like blades towards an image of Malefor, his head arched back and mouth open as he roared in pain at the elemental beams coursing through him. The sight lifted Spyro’s heart as he watched the scene of the tyrant dragon facing the combined power of the dragon Guardians. It was a glimmer of hope, a light shining through the darkness, but then again, he already knew how the story ended.
“As fast as their wings would carry them, the Guardians returned to the city as Malefor decimated it. In a battle that has been lauded through the centuries, the Guardians fought him with all the power they could muster, but despite all they had done, Malefor was left only weakened after enduring what would have killed any other dragon. He fled the battle and the Guardians, though wounded and exhausted, pursued him. What happened after that, we only know from the words of Dragsooth, the Fire Guardian, the only one who survived long enough to tell…”
“Convexity…” Spyro murmured slowly, only Cynder seemed to notice what he had said as he saw her tilt her head to him in the corner of his eye. Roaraya slipped her hands back inside her sleeves as the flames behind her died down, the aurora like form closed in on itself as the fire began to burn just as it had from the start. She cast a quick gaze around at her audience as the flames crackled softly behind her.
“In his seclusion, Malefor had fully immersed himself in the forces of Dark Aether. What we know of the powers and knowledge it gave him barely scratches the surface of what he uncovered. He had found a way to summon a gateway to another realm, a place that had been thought of only as a myth. But then so too had the Purple dragon been until he was born. This place we know only as Convexity. The Dark Master opened the gateway to this dimension and fled through it, the Guardians following after him, not knowing if there was even a way to get back. Dragsooth described it as an iridescent void that seemed to go on forever, like flying through space among the planets. He described strange creatures that floated through the air, some he said looked like flying eels or enormous whales. He also described, most mysteriously, a stone platform floating in the middle of this strange void with a glowing violet portal in its centre; a doorway to another world.
“It was there in this strange dimension that the Guardians fought they’re final battle with Malefor. It seemed that he drew strength from this portal, like he was somehow connected with it and whatever lay beyond it. Weakened, but knowing that no one else could stop him, the Guardians fought against his overwhelming power, but realised to their horror that the power he drew from the portal of Convexity made him essentially immortal. They could harm him, but not kill him. In a final, desperate attempt to defeat him, the four Guardians mustered all of their strength in unison, their elemental powers creating a devastating Fury attack that at last seemed to deal the fatal blow to the Great Traitor. Malefor fell before the portal, his reign of terror seemingly ended. This heroic act cost Bissthlan, Hargen and Zygoren their lives in the process, taking every once of life in them to achieve this. Only Dragsooth was left barely alive afterwards, laying on the stone platform dying next to his fallen brothers, sure that he was soon to join them.
“However,” Roaraya announced forebodingly as she brushed the top of her head with her right paw, “As he lay on the platform, the whole realm began to shake like an earthquake. The debris and strange objects floating in the sky began to be drawn into the portal. So too did the bodies of Malefor and the fallen Guardians. As Dragsooth struggled to his feet, fighting against the force trying to draw him in, he looked back a final time at the bodies of his brothers and Malefor. He saw the hateful, yellow eyes of the traitor looking back into his, still alive but his body too weak and broken to move. In that moment, Dragsooth had to make the choice to either finally finish him, or try to escape. With the portal dragging him in, the Fire Guardian mustered what life he had left and made his escape, flying out of Convexity and leaving Malefor to what he thought was his inevitable fate. As he returned to our realm, the portal closed behind him and Dragsooth fell unconscious and fell to the ground just outside the ruins of Warfang. He awoke the next day, living just long enough to recount what had happened before he finally passed on. The survivors hailed the sacrifice of the Guardians, believing they had finally defeated the Dark Master. This news sowed discontent among the Apes and along with the defeats they had suffered, their army fell into disarray, even rebellion. The final victory seemed to have been achieved… until Malefor sent a message beyond the grave.”
The cubs gasped and whispered fearfully to each other as Spyro on reflex drew a deep breath as he felt his scales quiver like a swarm of spiders were crawling over them. He felt Cynder clutch his paw tighter in hers, his claws digging tensely into the dirt beneath them. Roaraya turned back to the flames for a final time, slipping her hands into her pockets as she drew two more handfuls of enchanted dust. She casually tossed them in one after the other, the flames widening though not as greatly as before. The inky likeness of the ruined skyline of Warfang reappeared, a black cloud sitting above the city, though the flames had died out days ago. The cloud was shaped roughly like a triangle, the partial features of a reptilian face just distinguishable. Spyro looked nervously into the scowling yellow eyes that gazed upon the city with remorseless vile. Every face in the village, even Prowlus, regarded the image with trepidation.
“Trapped within Convexity, Malefor ushered his powers to deliver a message to the world; a proclamation that one day he would return to finish his work. That he would rise again as the uncontested, most powerful being in the world and ordered his armies to continue their war against his enemies for however long it took for his return. With that promise, the cloud vanished and Malefor was not seen or heard from since. The Apes reformed and rebuilt their armies and followed in his words to continue to wage war against the dragons and all their ally’s. The last war, as we know, ended twelve years ago and the Apes have not renewed their hostilities since then. Some think they have finally conceded defeat, but others… think they are just biding their time, waiting for the right moment to restart the war in the Dark Master’s name.” The image in the flames faded away as they settled again, the she-Cheetah let her arms fall loosely by her side as she walked towards the Cheetah cubs and young dragons. She sighed and drew an exhausted breath, her eyes dipping thoughtfully as she stopped just before the younger members of her audience. When her purple eyes opened again, she took the time to gaze into the eyes of each of her youthful listeners, their awe as stratospheric as ever. When her eyes touched that of Spyro’s, he felt like she was looking into him, not at him, like she could see all the trepidation, fear and self-doubt that the story had bought up inside him. He watched as she finished perusing the younger audience, Roaraya saying finally,
“For the sake of our young, I hope that Malefor’s promise remains unfulfilled and that you may experience life without war, but if the day comes that Malefor does return…” she said as she cast her eyes at Spyro, “I hope that the promise made long before his time, about the purple dragon that would restore peace to the world, what we thought Malefor was to be before he left that path, will come true for all our sakes.” Cynder gave him a reassuring nudge as he sat with all eyes focused on him, but he could not prevent the response that came to mind almost straight away,
‘Yeah, I hope so too.’
The next morning in Avalar was as glorious as there had ever been. The sky was as clear as crystal, unveiling every detail of the surrounding forests and mountains of the valley like that of a great landscape painting. The rising sun swept away the shade over the lush, thick grass that covered the ground as the hum and chatter of insects filled the air as the rivers flowed like an elixir that preserved all life that it touched. With the beginning of the day, the Cheetah’s had started to go about their business as they did every day; there had been an early breakfast just after dawn of bread and leftover meat from the previous night. Spyro and Cynder and Flame and Ember had joined in with the breakfast, Flame forgetting his poncho when they had emerged sprightly from their tent beside Hunter’s hut while many of the Cheetah’s had been yawning and groggy, save for the cubs who were as restless and energetic as ever.
The fire which had been used by Roaraya the storyteller continued to blaze in the morning as it had during the night while the other fires had died down, owing to the infusion of magic preserving its life. Spyro had paused just after leaving the tent and stared into it thoughtfully as the others went on ahead of him, the glowing eyes of the apparition of Malefor still visible in his mind as it had been when they had been before his eyes that same spot. He looked away from the flames distrustfully as if they may conjure them again as he followed on to join his companions. Spyro sat down with them around the same table they had eaten dinner at as the Cheetah’s all slowly began to congregate around the seating area, Hunter being among those who had risen before dawn to help prepare the breakfast. The dragons watched as he and a few other Cheetah’s began placing loafs of bread and plates of leftover meat on each of the tables as the villagers began to help themselves. On each table were also jars of jam and honey for those who wished for a lighter start to the day. Hunter eventually came to them as the young dragons found themselves being accompanied by the cubs who chose to have their breakfast with them,
“Good morning, young friends. I hope you slept well,” he greeted cheerfully as he set the plates of bread and meat down, which they and the cubs all began to settle into eagerly. Hunter walked back and picked up a goblet laying on another table, surprising them by choosing to sit down between Ember and Flame as he took a piece of bread and lathered it with honey. He noticed that Spyro was eyeing him oddly, almost suspiciously, the reason of which he seemed to know and announced so with a wry smile.
“I suppose you are wondering why I am eating with you now and not last night,” he said, a response that caught everyone but Spyro off guard.
“I didn’t really notice,” mumbled Flame with a mouthful of bread, oblivious that he was not the one whom the question was aimed at.
“I did kinda’ wonder,” Spyro admitted sheepishly as he reached across for his own helping. Hunter chuckled lightly before he took a bite from his bread, chewing it for a few moments before he said,
“I was just trying to remind Chief Prowlus that we are both on the same side.”
“What do you mean?” asked Ember. Hunter gazed down upon her and said,
“Just so he knew that I haven’t turned my back on him. So he doesn’t think that I am spoiling you.”
“You mean not making us feel like we are intruding?” asked Cynder cynically. Spyro and Hunter chuckled lightly as they cautiously looked around to be sure that Chief Prowlus wasn’t listening in on them. As they did, Spyro noticed that Roaraya was no among the Cheetahs gathering around for breakfast. He guessed that the she was especially tired from her use of magic last night, but before he could remark as such Hunter spoke up again.
“But unfortunately, I have to tell you I won’t be able to accompany you today. I have business in Warfang to attend to and expect to be gone most of the day.”
“Really?” asked Spyro in a disappointed tone, “But I thought you were in charge of looking after us?”
“I am,” Hunter replied simply, “Which is why I’ve asked Meadow the Herbalist to keep an eye on you while I am away.”
“Meadow?” asked Cynder, “Does that mean we have to help him pick flowers and grind herbs?” she said dismally.
“No,” said Hunter, “But I expect you to behave yourselves while you are in his charge. I mean it; he won’t turn a blind eye to any misbehavior like I might,” said the Cheetah as he eyed Cynder amusingly.
“Meadow doesn’t like fighting, does he?” quired Flame as he looked up from his food.
“He’s a pacifist,” answered Ember for Hunter, “He doesn’t believe in violence. That’s why he chooses to be a healer.”
“That’s correct,” nodded Hunter, “But that’s no reason to laugh at him or underestimate him. If we all believed as he did then there would be no need for warriors.”
“But don’t you?” asked Spyro curiously, “Don’t you believe in peace?” Hunter chuckled mirthlessly,
“Of course I do. But our enemies do not. Unless they were to have a sudden change of heart, a lasting peace an only be achieved through war, unfortunately.”
“But as Roaraya said,” added Cynder, “The Apes have been peaceful for twelve years. You think they are just waiting until they are strong again?” Hunter shrugged his shoulders as he drank from his goblet, “Gaul is far more cunning than your average ape. He learned a hard lesson the last time his armies were defeated. He has had twelve years to learn how and why. What troubles me is if that time has been enough for him.” “What do you mean?” asked Spyro.
“Well, will he wait another twelve years or has he had the time he needs to plan his next move, whatever that may be?” he asked ominously. Spyro swallowed hard as the four dragons swapped eyes with each other, the excitement of the new day taking a downward turn. In an effort to change the subject and mood, Cynder cleared her throat and leaned across the table nearer to Hunter;
“So, what is your business in Warfang today, Hunter?” she asked.
“I’m trying to negotiate a deal with a merchant to take a larger stock of our wares. Prowlus thinks we should limit out trade with Dragon City, but I think it is essential for our prosperity that we try to expand our trade. We may be self-reliant, but there is no harm in raising a little capital.”
“Huh,” Spyro remarked, “Will you be using a courier again?”
“Of course, I have already sent for one. Why? Are you offering to convince whoever they send to give me another free ride?” Hunter grinned. The other three dragons all laughed somewhat nervously as they recalled the purple dragons angry spat the previous day. Spyro only turned his head away with a blush, Hunter seemingly confused at the response.
“No, I think actually I’ll give you the rest of my allowance to pay for the last time. I feel guilty about it,” Spyro said flatly.
“Come on, Spyro, it was only a little fun,” jeered Cynder, trying to cheer him up, “Besides you only ever did it the one time. If I were you, I’d probably demand everything for free.”
“I don’t want to flaunt who I am,” he replied gravely, “I just want to do what’s right.”
“How very noble,” remarked Ember with dreamy eyes, causing Hunter to roll his own in annoyance. He took another sip from his goblet as Spyro finally started to eat, the others all following suit as the cubs seated by them began squabbling over the bread plate. They began talking excitedly about the story of last night, recalling with wonder the spectacular magical effects used by Roaraya to bring the tale to life.
“It was great, wasn’t it, Mr Spyro?” the cub beside him asked as he nudged him with his elbow, causing the purple dragon to smile and nod in agreement, though the story had in fact left him feeling more concerned than amazed. He hid his feelings as not to spoil their enjoyment.
“It was a scary story, huh?” Flame asked aloud earnestly, gazing around the other faces at the table.
“We’ve heard it a hundred times over,” Cynder replied dismissively. Her answer was met with a grim silence from the rest of the group, save for the cubs who kept loudly talking and playfully shoving amongst themselves. Even Hunter ignored them as he and the three young dragons seemed expectant of an answer from Spyro. The purple dragon looked up from his breakfast and cast a weary eye around at the faces all turned on him. Spyro’s eyebrows rose as his eyes grew large and solemn.
“Yeah,” he confessed frankly, regretfully, “It’s a scary story.”
End of Chapter 8.
Next Chapter: Hide and Seek and Hermits
Category Story / Fantasy
Species Dragon (Other)
Gender Multiple characters
Size 50 x 50px
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