File type: Word Document(.docx) [Download]
-----------------------------------------
Could not generate preview text for this file type.
-----------------------------------------
Could not generate preview text for this file type.
Chapter 12: The Heroes Return
With a glum expression and fearful heart, the purple dragon began stepping closer to the edge of the platform, nervously awaiting whatever lay down below, if anything. He stepped until his claws were reaching the edge of the platform, Spyro peeking down and his eyes bulging. He could see nothing but an everlasting sky, not any hint of land. It seemed that the platform and its temple look alike were floating in the sky, suspended by some levitating magic. There was an eeriness to wherever he was, not a hint of life and dead silent. As he lifted his head, a lump formed in his throat as an oppressive loneliness overcame him. He felt a quiver ripple through his body, then a simmering anger began to surface as he strained to see if he had missed something, something that would show him he was not alone.
“Hello?” he called loudly, “Is anyone there?” He didn’t know if he expected a response, but if he was indeed dead, what harm could it do? He couldn’t be killed more than once. Hopefully.
“Anybody?!” he called out again at the top of his voice, wondering if he should fly away from the platform and explore whatever there might be. He decided that he should and opened his wings to prepare to take flight.
‘You are not alone, young dragon,’ said a voice that wasn’t his own.
Spyro froze just before he had leapt into the air, turning his head erratically to find the source of the voice. It sounded like it was coming from right by him. He gazed over the mysterious building behind him, looking towards the doorway as he saw nowhere else the voice could have come from.
“Who’s there? Where am I?” he challenged.
‘Do not be frightened. You are in no danger here,’ the voice answered calmly. It was a male voice and sounded heavily aged. It sounded like it was coming from all around his head, Spyro frantically searching for its source. He looked up towards the two dragon statues, watching them suspiciously. Raising an eyebrow, he asked himself mentally,
“Did it come from one of them?”
‘No, they are but statues,’ the voice suddenly replied, Spyro’s mouth falling open as the realisation struck him; the voice wasn’t coming from around him, it was coming from inside his head!
“I… didn’t say that…” he said quietly, recognizing that the voice had just responded to a thought, not a spoken sentence.
‘Speaking through your mind or through your mouth makes no difference here, Spyro,’ the voice answered plainly. It knew his name as well!
The purple dragon stood still, his eyes pointing up as if trying to look at his own forehead that seemed to be the source of the mysterious voice. He felt a terrible vulnerability at the notion that there was some other presence inside his body, one that could read his thoughts and seemed to see everything he was doing.
“How do you know my name?” he asked through his mind, his mouth dangling open in part awe and part terror at this new ability he had been given.
‘I have had more than a millennium to prepare for your life, Spyro. I knew your name long before the Guardians gave it to you.’
“Who are you? Where am I? Where are we?” Spyro asked verbally in a flustered tone.
‘Calm yourself, young dragon. I am a friend. Let me explain;’ the voice began formally, ‘We are deep inside your subconscious mind. A dreamscape inside your head. It may all look and feel real to you, but it is only an illusion. You could fall off that ledge right in front of you and all that would happen is you would tumble through the air in a loop, going past where you fell over and over until you flew yourself out of it. You may try it if you want.’
“Ah, not thanks. I’ll take your word on that,” Spyro replied apprehensively.
‘Good,’ the voice said brightly, ‘Then let me answer your other questions.’
“But I haven’t asked any yet,” Spyro said pointedly.
‘The ones on your mind that you are thinking right now,’ the voice said with a hint of amusement. Spyro blushed as he remembered that his thoughts were no longer shielded from view.
‘You are still very much alive, young dragon. You and your friends are safe, for the moment. The Guardians have lifted you from the Mountain of Malefor and are tending to you at the temple as we speak. So fear not, your body is safe while your mind is here.’
“But how did I get here?”
‘I summoned you here, so that I might allow you to be familiarised with me and so I may pass on a warning.’
“A warning about what?”
‘Dark days lay ahead of you, Spyro. Great events are fast approaching and you will play a pivotal role in what is to come. Choices will have to be made, choices which you may not want to make, but must be in order to set the timeline on the correct path.’
Spyro frowned, “Timeline? What do you mean?”
'I cannot tell you right now, but you will find out soon enough.’
“But who are you? How do I know I can trust you?” asked Spyro harshly, “How do I know this isn’t some evil trick?”
‘You don’t,’ the voice answered bluntly, ‘The only way you will find out is to trust in what I have told you.’
Spyro paused, tilting his head thoughtfully as his eyes narrowed warily, projecting into the empty space in the absence of a source of the mysterious voice. He considered every possibility that came to mind, fully aware that they were being read in his mind the same time as he was. To his surprise, the voice remained silent as he mentally scanned every reason he came up with for why he should not trust the voice and why he should. He looked towards the building, eyeing its open entrance, seeing a faint white glow now coming from the centre of the structure. He looked over the familiar design of it, so similar to the temple, almost as if it had once been a part of it. With a faint sigh, Spyro’s eyes looked up at his forehead as he said mentally,
“What is it you want me to do?”
‘Go inside, Spyro. You will find the way back home within.’
Cautiously, eyeing the statues mistrustingly one last time, Spyro started to walk slowly towards the building, his heart jittery and prepared to react at anything. Still, boldly he marched on, breathing calmly as he decided to follow the mysterious voice in his head. He passed through the stone archway, entering into the dojo like structure with an open ceiling. He saw at once it was just a single, circular room, the floor covered in greyish white dirt and overgrown grass circling the perimeter of the room. One again it was just like the temple, with four sets of elemental flags hanging evenly space from the walls. Taking up much of the centre of the floor was a large stone ring covered in the same blue runes as he saw elsewhere. The ground within dropped down a few feet with what looked like the pool of visions in the middle, the source of the white glow.
Spyro walked on slowly towards it, the runes of the stone ring lighting briefly as he passed over them, hopping down into centre ring. Holding his breath, he approached the lookalike pool of visions, the murky water showing a faint white light below the surface. It reminded him of the way the moonlight shone through water when viewed while submerged. It gave him the eerie feeling that he was staring into a mirror into another world as he leaned over it anxiously.
‘You and your companions have shown great bravery and skill tonight, young dragon. You should be proud of that. But now it is time for you to return. Are you ready?’
“Wait!” Spyro exclaimed aloud, “You still haven’t told me who you are! What do I call you?”
‘You will know me as The Chronicler. This will not be the last time we will speak, Spyro. But you must not tell anyone about me speaking to you or anything you have seen and heard here. Secrecy is paramount, for both of our sakes.’
“Why not?” he asked dubiously, “And what exactly have you told me? You keep talking in riddles!”
‘I have told you only what I believe it is safe to. You will know what I mean at a later time. Heed my words, Spyro; keep your heart strong and your mind clear. You will need these more than elements very soon. It is imperative for the sake of the future. Do I have your word?’
“Well, it not like I can lie to you, can I?” he asked cynically.
‘Indeed not,’ the Chronicler replied with a mild chuckle. Spyro gritted his teeth as he shook his head resignedly, knowing there was no other choice he could make.
“I give you my word,” he said firmly yet reluctantly. He waited for a reply, assuming the Chronicler was reading his mind to ensure his authenticity. ‘
Good’, said the Chronicler’s voice, ‘And now… take a closer look,’
Spyro leaned further over the shimmering pool, bringing the tip of his snout just above the water. He watched the light beneath the surface as it began to expand and swirl, the water beginning to churn with snow white particles, like the light was dissolving into it. He stared in fascination as the water swirled into a solid, bright white, no longer able to see the ripples of the water. From inside this white circle, he saw something beginning to come into shape. Spyro gasped as the whiteness swirled into a haze of brown and red, morphing into an image as if he was staring through another beings eyes. The face of a large red dragon stared back at him, as if it could see through the water to him.
“Ignitus?” Spyro said mysteriously as he beheld the Fire Guardian, the image seeming to rise from the pool towards him, the young dragon’s vision suddenly becoming blinded in a haze of pure white as the image seemed to absorb into him.
“Spyro?” he heard his mentor say as Spyro opened his eyes, suddenly finding himself in another place once again. He gasped in shock as he saw Ignitus and the familiar walls of the temple, realising he was laying on his cushion in the temple dormitory. The purple dragon stared wild-eyed and wordless as he saw a mixed gathering shuffle around the Fire Guardian.
“He’s awake!” said a female mole wearing a white gown, behind her a were six others as they all walked quickly over to him. Spyro looked at them deliriously,
“Who? How? Where….?” he stammered.
“It’s alright, Spyro,” Ignitus told him reassuringly, moving his large paw over closer to him, “You are safe now. We are taking good care of you.”
“Care of me…” he repeated drowsily as the mole nurses surrounded him, one of them wiping his forehead with a wet towel as he suddenly became aware of the pain in his body, the pain he had lost only a few minutes ago.
“How do you feel?” Ignitus asked cautiously as he saw the young dragon wincing in discomfort.
“Like I’ve been chewed up and spat out…” he replied exhaustedly, a jingling sound above his head made him look up. He saw what looked like a metal chandelier of red healing gems dangling low over him, their narrow cylinder-shaped gems gently rattling like a windchime.
“Those will help your body’s natural healing process,” one of the mole nurses explained, “Lucky for you nothing appears broken, dragon bones are hard as rock. But your muscles are strained and you have some nasty external grazing.”
Spyro looked down and over himself, seeing the cuts and grazes he had sustained from the escapade to the Mountain of Malefor. The red sores and scratches had been covered in a green herbal balm which stung like ants were biting into his wounds. They certainly looked less serious now they weren’t bleeding and all things considered, Spyro knew he could have expected far worse during their mission to rescue Meadow. Meadow! His eyes nearly popped as the name went through his mind again, followed by those of Cynder, Flame and Ember.
“Where are the others?” he demanded hotly, “Where’s Meadow? And Cynder and Flame and Ember…”
“Fine,” Ignitus told him calmly, “They are all alive and well, Spyro. Meadow is being treated back in Avalar and your friends are just outside, waiting to see you.”
“They are? Oh, thank heavens!” Spyro sighed heavily, flopping down onto the cushion heavily, ignoring the pain his movements had stirred in his body. The young dragon sighed again as he smiled widely, closing his eyes in contentment. He lay for a few moments, enjoying the relief that swept over his body and mind. He the felt the moles dabbing his head and checking him over, their tiny hands making him feel relaxed and safe. Absentmindedly, he remarked,
“That was some weird dream…”
“Dream, young dragon?” asked Ignitus curiously, Spyro suddenly realizing his tongue had slipped, his eyes bolting open fearfully. With his head still laying down, Spyro tilted his head slightly and turned his eyes up to the Fire Guardians who gazed down at him with fatherly attentiveness. His heart began beating with remorse as he looked into the warm eyes of his mentor, remembering what the voice, the Chronicler, had told him. The doubts he’d had during those conversations began to take hold again.
‘How do I know I can trust what he said’, Spyro thought, ‘How do I know it wasn’t just a wacky dream? Maybe what happened at the mountain just messed up my head, somehow. I can’t lie to Ignitus…”
The sound of a door opening down the hall interrupted his thoughts, followed by a flurry of excited voices and clambering feet. Ignitus pulled his head back and looked towards it as Spyro weakly lifted his head as Cynder, Flame and Ember came running through to him.
“Spyro!” the black dragoness cried elatedly, running ahead of the others as she rushed past Ignitus and nearly crashed into him. Spyro’s eyes bulged as she wrapped her forelegs around his neck, pulling her head around the left side of his face. Over her shoulder, he saw Ember’s disapproving scowl and Flame’s wide eyed, puppy like excitement.
“Hi guys,” Spyro said sheepishly as he endured Cynder’s embrace, “Hope you weren’t worrying too much about me.”
Flame laughed heartily, “We saw what you did, buddy. You set the whole mountain on fire! Those apes must have been shivering in their boots!” he said as Cynder finally released the purple dragon from her hold.
“I was afraid we wouldn’t see you again,” the black dragoness uttered softly and earnestly, her emerald eyes glistening with relief, her two companions striding up beside her.
“How did you guys get away?” Spyro asked curiously.
“We just did what you said, flew for the moons,” shrugged Flame, “The Guardians saw us and they swopped down to us. There were others dragons with them, they took Meadow and flew us back to Avalar. You should have seen it, Spyro! They had the Doxantha and about a hundred dragons in the valley ready to assault the mountain if they needed to!”
“Really?” asked Spyro, feeling almost embarrassed that such a force had been gathered just for the four of them, “I only saw the four of them and Hunter…”
“It was just a precaution,” Ignitus explained with a casual sweep of his paw, “I did not want any unnecessary casualties.” Spyro nodded slowly, believing he heard a judgmental tone in the Fire Guardians voice. His attention was suddenly broken by the gleaming face of a certain pink dragoness.
“Just a shame Meadow wasn’t awake to see how brave you were,” Ember said in a cutesy voice as she lunged forward like a cat pouncing at a mouse, pushing Spyro away from Cynder in what seemed an attempt to out-hug him. As her hold choked the air out of him, Cynder gave Ember a vain glare as suddenly more faces appeared behind them. It was the other temple Guardians, accompanied by Hunter who all gathered around the purple dragon.
“The conquering hero returns!” Terrador boomed brightly as he stepped up beside Ignitus, followed by Cyril and Volteer.
“Well, young chap, not everyone returns from their first scrap but nor do they put on quite a show as you did!” Cyril congratulated firmly.
“Indeed!” Volteer remarked feverishly, “It borders on the miraculous, incredible, stupendous!”
“We are all very glad to see you return, all of you,” said Hunter with his hand over his heart. When Ember finally released him, Spyro shuffled to sit up more, grimacing as his body opposed him. He looked at all the eyes that were staring widely at him, finding the praise to be unexpected. Spyro had expected to get some sort of reprimand for such a dangerous and prohibited act such as what he and the others had undertaken, but lacking the energy to think any harder on it, assumed that it would come all in good time.
He looked across to Ignitus, expecting to hear something like what the others had said. But instead, the Fire Guardian seemed to avoid his gaze, looking at his fellow Guardians with an odd expression, almost like he had not expected to hear what they had uttered. A strange feeling arose in his gut, suggesting that he may have even disproved of the words of praise they had given him. Spyro at once felt his heart sink, but he masked it behind his drowsiness.
“Uh, thanks. I’m glad too,” he replied with a glum voice.
“I’m sure Meadow will want to thank you all when wakes up,” remarked Hunter. The mention of the Herbalist perked Spyro up.
“How is he?” he asked, “Is he still unconscious?”
“He was when we left him. But he may have woken up since I’ve been here,” the Cheetah answered, raising a point that had slipped Spyro’s mind up until that moment.
“Wait, what time is it? How long was I out?”
“Its close to midday now. You have been asleep for close to twelve hours,” Terrador answered.
“Yeah,” added Flame with a yawn, “None of us have slept because we didn’t know if you were okay.” Spyro looked more closely at his friends, seeing the red strain in their eyes from having stayed awake for so long. He let out short, mirthless chuckle,
“Sorry I kept you guys up.”
“Well, now that you are awake, I guess we can leave you and go to sleep now,” replied Cynder sarcastically. As Spyro chuckled mildly, Ignitus suddenly snapped his head to her, watching her thoughtfully for a moment before he abruptly cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, I think that might be a good idea. Spyro needs his rest and we have all been awake for so long,” he remarked dryly.
“But I only just woke up,” the purple dragon said contrarily, only then noticing that the other cushions in the room were missing, prompting him to ask, “Wait, where are you guys sleeping?”
“In the sparring area,” answered Cynder, “They decided it was best if you had this place to yourself while you recover.”
“You have been through quite an ordeal, young dragon. You need to rest up and recover,” the Fire Guardian instructed shortly, stirring a trio of groans from the three young dragons.
“He is right,” Hunter concurred with a shrug, “And it’s about time I was going. Prowlus made me promise I would leave as soon as Spyro was awake. He said he did not want me to fawn over a dragon while one of our own was lying unconscious in the village.”
“Well,” said Volteer, “One can understand his preoccupation with the wellness of his own population but I really wish he would not be so uh, er…. discordant about it!”
“Give my regards to Meadow, Hunter, and to Prowlus,” Spyro told him somberly, “Tell him I’m sorry for causing him trouble.” Hunter smiled warmly, stepping up to him and kneeling. He reached out and patted the young dragon on the head,
“I’ll be sure to tell them, my friend.”
“And that I’m at Prowlus’s disposal for however he wants me to make it up to him the next time we come to Avalar,” Spyro added seriously. The Cheetah took a sharp breath suddenly, patting him on the head again but more firmly as there was an odd glint in Hunter’s eyes.
“I’ll be sure to tell him that as well,” he said with a low voice, causing Spyro to look at him questioningly. Hunter stood up and turned his back swiftly, sharing a glance with the Guardian dragons as he stepped between Cynder and Ember and began walking back towards the temple interior. Spyro looked up at the Guardians hoping for an explanation to Hunter’s sudden low mode, but they all seemed to avoid his gaze. He then looked over to Cynder, who he hoped would be more open with him, but she only shrugged her shoulders accompanied with a soft shake of her head. Something in her eyes made him focus on them, something that told him that there was more that she had wanted to say, but the presence of the others kept it secret. His growing doubts about everything that was happening started to make him wonder if he was still dreaming. Hunter suddenly paused just before he went out of sight, turning around and looking across the gathering soberly.
“These four young dragons did something quite amazing yesterday. I hope we all remember that well,” he said before he gave a parting wave, nod, and pulled his hood over his head before strolling off towards the dormitory exit.
‘Why is everyone acting so strange?’ Spyro wondered in his head as they all watched Hunter leave, Ignitus turning his head back and saying,
“Well, let’s all run along now and let Spyro rest and have a rest ourselves.”
There was a murmur of agreement from among the group, the other Guardians each stepping forward and individually wishing him well. Terrador was the first, leaning over the purple dragon as he stared with a seemingly lost expression to the Earth Guardian.
“Congratulations on your first battle, young warrior. Wear your scars with pride,” he said proudly, Spyro mustering only a weak smile in thanks, though he secretly hoped he would not end up with any scars as Terrador lumbered away, Cyril filing in next.
“The others said you used Ice as a barrier to slow your enemies. Very intuitive, young chap! I knew that when the chips were down for you that you would realize Ice is the superior element!” Spyro again said nothing, only giving a sheepish shrug of his shoulders and nod as if he agreed, too tired and confused to contend Cyril’s pomposity.
“Yes!” exclaimed Volteer before Cyril had even stepped away, “They told us a terrific and tremendous tale! Using Lighting as a light to find your way is most suitably fitting! Er, anyway sleep well, young hero!”
‘Hero,’ Spyro repeated in his mind. He felt something flutter inside him like a cluster of moths gathering around his heart like it were a light, realising that he was feeling bashful at Volteer’s words. The Electric Guardian and a slightly annoyed Cyril stepped back and walked as a pair back down the hall, the three others younger dragons all quickly rushing forward and encircling the purple dragon as they shared in a group hug. Cynder hung her head low and brushed it against his chest, Flame reached over his back and Ember took his right side and spread her wings and forelegs over him. Blushing, and although his wings were stinging, he lifted them and curled them around in an effort to return the embrace of his friends. The mole nurses all sighed in adoration of the sight while Ignitus failed to supress a smirk. After just a few moments though, he cleared his throat again and tipped his head towards the hall.
“Come along, now,” he said gently, the four survivors ending their embrace slowly and stepping back, Spyro feeling that three large pieces of his body had suddenly vanished, including two thirds of his heart.
“You’ll be good as new real soon, buddy!” Flame said cheerfully as he parted from him, Ember squeezing him a last time before she slowly left. Cynder was the last to leave, looking up at his eyes, showing that same troubled shine that he could not put a name to. As if sensing that he was about to, she sharply turned her head away before he could ask and followed the others, not looking back as she headed down the hall. Ignitus watched her go before turning to the six mole nurses down at his side.
“Please be sure to keep a close eye on him, and let me know if his conditions changes at all.”
“Of course, Master Ignitus,” said the head of the group. Spyro looked forlornly to the Fire Guardian as he lifted his head and turned his attention upon the young dragon. He seem to have some difficulty in speaking for a moment, even just looking at the purple dragon. He took a breath and leaned in closer to Spyro, mustering a smile as his crimson orbs reflected some sort of regret in the amethyst eyes of the young dragon.
“Its good to have you back, Spyro,” he stated softly, “Now rest up. You’ll need it.”
“Yes, Ignitus,” Spyro nodded slowly, obediently but not happily. There was a gentle nod back from Ignitus before he backed himself up and raised his head, turning slowly to head up the hall. The nurses began to waddle over to check him over again, but Spyro impulsively pulled himself up and exclaimed,
“Ignitus!” The mole nurses paused after his exclaim, to which Ignitus stopped and turned back around.
“Yes, Spyro?”
“There’s something I need to tell you…” he began hesitantly. In that moment he froze, suddenly unsure what or if he was going to tell the Guardian. He could not lie to Ignitus, could he? What about the dream he’d had? What about the voice calling itself the Chronicler that he had given his word he would say nothing of? Ignitus surely had to know something about it, perhaps if it was someone he could trust or not. But what if he didn’t? What consequences would there be when, as the voice had said they would, speak again and he had gone back on his word?
“I have to tell you… well, tell all of you; thanks. You guys showed up at the right moment. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think I would have made it out of there,” he said, seeming to rush the words out of his mouth. The moles and Spyro all looked to see the Fire Guardian’s response to his seemingly jittery response. The crimson elder smiled humbly,
“You are most welcome, young dragon,” he replied gently, nodding to him thankfully before finally turning and walking out of view. As his tail disappeared up the hall, Spyro flopped down on the cushion, sighing moodily as the mole nurses finished walking up to him.
“That’s very noble of you, young hero,” one of them said, “Now try and get some rest. We will be right here for you if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Spyro replied dully, his eyes fixed on the spot where Ignitus had been, paying no attention to the nurses as they dabbed his head and looked over his wounds, laying as still as a lizard bathing in the sun. He lay thinking about everything we wanted to say, everything he might have said but didn’t. He slowly rocked his head side to side like a pendulum, rolling his thoughts back and forth across his mind until boredom more so than anything else finally made him close his eyes and try to sleep.
For the next several hours he remained half asleep, tossing and rolling as much as the pain allowed him to. His wounds stung not just from the pain and the layer of healing balm, but also the minute healing magic he knew the red gems were slowly sewing into his skin. The news that his injuries were mainly superficial had given some relief, but the uncanny behaviors he had witnessed kept his mind wide awake while his body tried to find rest. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the Guardians were acting; that their praise of him was insincere. He couldn’t understand why they would do that. He had fully expected to receive some king of lecture or reprimand for endangering himself and his friends, but they had instead offered him congratulations as if he had past a test or trial, singling out actions he had taken that Cynder, Flame and Ember must have told them about, or else how would they know?
He considered the way Ignitus had acted, having given him the most reserved praise compared to the others and acting the most uncomfortable. What was he hiding; that he felt guilty about not being honest with him? And what about Cynder and the look she had given him? What had she been trying to say? What was she hiding?
The mole nurses stayed with him the entire time, continually checking his temperature every hour or so and doing their best to keep him comfortable, though he remained feeling restless the entire time, more so due to his mind than body. In-between his brief naps they offered him small amounts of food and water, the latter being the only thing Spyro would consume as he didn’t feel like eating even though his stomach rumbled. Eventually he simply closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep, half expecting that he would open his eyes and find himself elsewhere, discovering that the dream in which he had heard the voice hadn’t ended after all but simply changed. But as he sensed time crawling by he felt more sure that this was the real world and became all the more perplexed why those closest to him suddenly seemed untrustworthy.
‘I’ve got to talk to Ignitus. I’ve got to find out what is going on. Or am I just going crazy?’
Spyro groaned as he opened his eyes irritably, still unable to enter a lasting sleep. By now he knew it must be night time, though he had no idea how late it was. He rubbed face and his eyes and looked around him, seeing one of the mole nurses slumped against the wall near Igntius’s quarters, fast asleep. She sat with her head down and her arms crossed, snoring quietly. He waited a few moments and listened for any sound of the others, but he heard nothing. He noted how dark the hall was, guessing that it was indeed late in the evening. Taking the chance, he slowly lifted himself from the cushion, flexing his claws and gingerly stretching his limbs. Taking a deep breath, he cautiously placed his right paw on the ground, putting his weight on it slowly as he followed it up with the left. He flinched slightly as his wounds reacted to his movement, but he was determined to seek out the Fire Guardian, assuming the medically conscious nurses would not let him see him alone. And in any case, he had not the patience to wait.
Turning his head to the left, he saw the door to the garden was wide open, assuming the other nurses had gone out for a break of fresh air, leaving just one of the nurses nearby, who they probably assumed he would wake up if he needed anything. The only thing Spyro needed was to was ensure he did nothing to wake her. He crept slowly by her, tiptoeing down the hall towards the dojo, fearful the other nurses would come back inside and catch him. If nothing else he had to find Ignitus and hopefully convince him to have an audience with him before the nurses found he was gone.
He made it around the turn in the hall and saw the door to the dojo ahead of him, putting on a weak smile of satisfaction as he crept towards it, sure he would find Ignitus before they discovered he was out of bed. As he approached the circular door, his ears perked up as he heard the muffled sound of voices behind it, immediately recognising them being those of the Guardians. He smiled at his luck, ready to walk on through and ask to see the Fire Guardian, but a single sentence spoken behind the door stopped him in his tracks;
“What Spyro did was not only dangerous, it was outright scandalous!” The voice belonged to Cyril. At that moment Spyro felt his heart stop for a moment, turning his head and putting his left ear apprehensively against the door. He breathed slowly as he listened in.
“He is still young and learning,” he heard Terrador say, “But speaking from a tactical point of view, it was borderline insane to set off with only a force of four to a place like Gaul’s mountain fortress.”
“I rather believe that is far beyond the point,” he heard Volteer chime in, “But even the four of us would be sensibly cautious about venturing to that place and especially for what reason!”
“I think we can all agree that his heart is in the right place,” Cyril conceded, “But when one considers the bigger picture, that he risked his life and his young companions to save but a lowly herbalist and risk starting up another war, why… its simply outrageous!”
Spyro let out a silent gasp of horror, his mouth falling open in disbelief. He felt his heart beginning crack to hear the Guardians speak of him, especially to hear Cyril refer to Meadow as a mere ‘lowly’ herbalist. Pushing aside the urge to tear his ear away, he continued listening despondently. From the sounds of the voices, he believed he could guess where each of the Guardians was standing around the pool of visions. Volteer sounded closest to the left hand side of the door with Cyril probably somewhere beside him. Terrador’s voice suggested he was standing in the middle beside the pool, leaving it more or less certain that Ignitus, who had not yet spoken, was somewhere to Spyro’s right.
“I disagree with that adjective,” he finally heard Ignitus say in contrast, his defensive tone offering some relief to the young dragon, “But it is undeniable that the actions undertaken by Spyro were, in the larger sense, illogical.”
‘Illogical?’ Spyro repeated mentally, aghast to hear his mentor speak of him so negatively, ‘We saved Meadow’s life!’
“But can we really blame him?” asked Terrador warily, “After all, have we not instilled in him the spirit of self-sacrifice and a higher calling all his life? The lives of all four of them? Perhaps we romanticized the struggles of the past too greatly to them. But what would any of us do if a comrade was in need?”
“But at what cost?” Cyril demanded, “Which do you think is the higher calling? Saving the life of but one Cheetah, or living long enough to save the future? What good would it do to lose him in a frivolous act of short-term heroics? Especially with how Chief Prowlus responded to what happened to Meadow?”
“He is well entitled to the anger he feels for what happened to one of his tribe members,” Terrador admitted sombrely, “But to bar dragons from returning to the valley? It borders on treachery!”
“Barred from the valley?” Spyro repeated slowly, his guilt intensifying, “That’s why Hunter seemed so depressed! We can’t see him anymore? Because of me?” he asked grievously.
“Frankly,” Volteer added sorely, “I’m surprised he even allowed Hunter to accompany us to see the condition of our young friend. Prowlus certainly seemed glad when we and the troops left Avalar.”
There was then a short pause in which Spyro heard no one speak, feeling his voice beginning to choke as he absorbed all the spirit crushing words of the Guardians before he heard an exasperated groan coming from Ignitus somewhere to the right.
“The young dragon was driven by what he felt was right at the time. We all have made decisions based on that in our lives at some point. All four of our young dragons have gone through a painful trauma the last day, especially Spyro. That’s why I asked you to not dampen his spirits further with the issues his actions have created. For tonight at least, all he need do is try and rest and be thankful he is alive…”
Spyro stood still, his front paws pressed despondently against the door as his glassy eyes stared blankly at the wall of the corridor. He was right. They had been deceiving him! Their smiles had been forced and their congratulations had been hollow. That was why their praise hadn’t sat right with him. That was why Ignitus looked like he couldn’t stare him in the face. They had all worn the faces of liars.
“Spyro? What are you doing there?” a voice from behind him exclaimed, the young dragon too overcome with emotion to take much notice. The group of mole nurses waddled quickly over to him, one of them quickly tucking away the pipe she had been smoking with her colleagues outside the temple.
“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!” said another as they all approached him, taking careful hold of him to take him back to bed.
“Let go of me!” Spyro snapped moodily.
“Come along, now,” another of the nurses said kindly, “Our young hero needs to rest…”
“Don’t call me that!” he growled, pulling himself out from their grasp and eyeing them coldly. The nurses all stared at him in shock as he glared at them harshly just before he heard the sound of the door creaking open behind him and a long shadow draped across the floor over him.
“Spyro?” he heard Ignitus ask curiously, “What are you doing up at this hour?” Spyro looked over his shoulder, looking up the chest of the crimson Fire dragon until he found his eyes. The sight of him for the first time filled Spyro with something other than feelings of admiration and safety. All thoughts of what he had wanted to say to him evaporated as he felt the tears in his heart bleeding with the trust he had once had for the Fire Guardian. He had lied to him, so Spyro lied back,
“I was just going to stretch my legs get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in here for so long I feel numb,” he replied barefaced and bluntly.
“He really shouldn’t be walking around for another day or so,” one of the nurses said with a raised finger.
“Well, I didn’t think it would be such a fuss,” Spyro replied lowly as he started to go back to bed irritably. Ignitus gave him an odd look as he watched him take a few steps before suddenly announcing,
“I see no harm in that, my dear ladies. If Spyro needs some fresh air and feels he can walk, why it just shows he’s on the road to recovery!”
The young dragon stopped, rolling his eyes as he now felt compelled to carry through with his lie even of it was just to not let them know that he had been eavesdropping on them. Turning back, he saw Ignitus backing up from the doorway to allow him passage through.
“Well, okay, if you insist,” he shrugged uncaringly, walking back with a mild limp towards the doorway to the grotto. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ignitus smile at him, but he pretended not to notice as he shuffled past him and the others Guardians standing around the pool of visions just as he had imagined them being. He walked stony faced through the door to the dojo, staring straight ahead and not even gazing up at the enormous dragon statue like he always did. He grinded his teeth together as he walked around it and headed for the door to the balcony, the circle splitting in two as he approached.
“Just stand outside for a minute and then go back,” he muttered to himself crossly, passing through the doorway into the open, the fresh air of the outside brushing irritably against his wounds. The sounds of night greeted him immediately, the chirping of crickets and frogs around the temple as the two Celestial moons shone high in the sky way out past the temple balcony. Spyro was in too much of a foul mood to be taken in by any of it, his hard expression keeping hold of him as he walked slowly to the end of the balcony. He sat down hard on his haunches and sighed despondently. He pulled his head back and stared blankly up at the stars.
“So this is what it feels like to be a hero is it?” he asked the night, clenching his left paw into a fist as he flexed his left foreleg back and forth carefully, trying to rub out the numbing pain that was afflicting it. He did so for only a minute or so, putting his paw back down as he drew in deep breaths of the gently night time breeze, half hoping it would carry him away like a leaf to somewhere he wouldn’t feel so angry. But in not too long, his anger withered into sadness, Spyro’s large eyes growing as soft as a bag of rose petals as his thoughts went back to the words he had heard of his once trusted Guardians.
He wasn’t sure if it was the words they had spoken that hurt him most, or the fact that they had not being direct with him about them. He sat staring uncaringly at the sky, his eyes moving from one useless star to another. Anyone else would have been in awe at the way the dark blue sky glittered with millions of tiny diamonds and the twin moons cast their hues of green and red light across the top of the mushroom forest and across the sea, but never in his life had Spyro felt so indifferent at something he had always admired.
With a glum expression and fearful heart, the purple dragon began stepping closer to the edge of the platform, nervously awaiting whatever lay down below, if anything. He stepped until his claws were reaching the edge of the platform, Spyro peeking down and his eyes bulging. He could see nothing but an everlasting sky, not any hint of land. It seemed that the platform and its temple look alike were floating in the sky, suspended by some levitating magic. There was an eeriness to wherever he was, not a hint of life and dead silent. As he lifted his head, a lump formed in his throat as an oppressive loneliness overcame him. He felt a quiver ripple through his body, then a simmering anger began to surface as he strained to see if he had missed something, something that would show him he was not alone.
“Hello?” he called loudly, “Is anyone there?” He didn’t know if he expected a response, but if he was indeed dead, what harm could it do? He couldn’t be killed more than once. Hopefully.
“Anybody?!” he called out again at the top of his voice, wondering if he should fly away from the platform and explore whatever there might be. He decided that he should and opened his wings to prepare to take flight.
‘You are not alone, young dragon,’ said a voice that wasn’t his own.
Spyro froze just before he had leapt into the air, turning his head erratically to find the source of the voice. It sounded like it was coming from right by him. He gazed over the mysterious building behind him, looking towards the doorway as he saw nowhere else the voice could have come from.
“Who’s there? Where am I?” he challenged.
‘Do not be frightened. You are in no danger here,’ the voice answered calmly. It was a male voice and sounded heavily aged. It sounded like it was coming from all around his head, Spyro frantically searching for its source. He looked up towards the two dragon statues, watching them suspiciously. Raising an eyebrow, he asked himself mentally,
“Did it come from one of them?”
‘No, they are but statues,’ the voice suddenly replied, Spyro’s mouth falling open as the realisation struck him; the voice wasn’t coming from around him, it was coming from inside his head!
“I… didn’t say that…” he said quietly, recognizing that the voice had just responded to a thought, not a spoken sentence.
‘Speaking through your mind or through your mouth makes no difference here, Spyro,’ the voice answered plainly. It knew his name as well!
The purple dragon stood still, his eyes pointing up as if trying to look at his own forehead that seemed to be the source of the mysterious voice. He felt a terrible vulnerability at the notion that there was some other presence inside his body, one that could read his thoughts and seemed to see everything he was doing.
“How do you know my name?” he asked through his mind, his mouth dangling open in part awe and part terror at this new ability he had been given.
‘I have had more than a millennium to prepare for your life, Spyro. I knew your name long before the Guardians gave it to you.’
“Who are you? Where am I? Where are we?” Spyro asked verbally in a flustered tone.
‘Calm yourself, young dragon. I am a friend. Let me explain;’ the voice began formally, ‘We are deep inside your subconscious mind. A dreamscape inside your head. It may all look and feel real to you, but it is only an illusion. You could fall off that ledge right in front of you and all that would happen is you would tumble through the air in a loop, going past where you fell over and over until you flew yourself out of it. You may try it if you want.’
“Ah, not thanks. I’ll take your word on that,” Spyro replied apprehensively.
‘Good,’ the voice said brightly, ‘Then let me answer your other questions.’
“But I haven’t asked any yet,” Spyro said pointedly.
‘The ones on your mind that you are thinking right now,’ the voice said with a hint of amusement. Spyro blushed as he remembered that his thoughts were no longer shielded from view.
‘You are still very much alive, young dragon. You and your friends are safe, for the moment. The Guardians have lifted you from the Mountain of Malefor and are tending to you at the temple as we speak. So fear not, your body is safe while your mind is here.’
“But how did I get here?”
‘I summoned you here, so that I might allow you to be familiarised with me and so I may pass on a warning.’
“A warning about what?”
‘Dark days lay ahead of you, Spyro. Great events are fast approaching and you will play a pivotal role in what is to come. Choices will have to be made, choices which you may not want to make, but must be in order to set the timeline on the correct path.’
Spyro frowned, “Timeline? What do you mean?”
'I cannot tell you right now, but you will find out soon enough.’
“But who are you? How do I know I can trust you?” asked Spyro harshly, “How do I know this isn’t some evil trick?”
‘You don’t,’ the voice answered bluntly, ‘The only way you will find out is to trust in what I have told you.’
Spyro paused, tilting his head thoughtfully as his eyes narrowed warily, projecting into the empty space in the absence of a source of the mysterious voice. He considered every possibility that came to mind, fully aware that they were being read in his mind the same time as he was. To his surprise, the voice remained silent as he mentally scanned every reason he came up with for why he should not trust the voice and why he should. He looked towards the building, eyeing its open entrance, seeing a faint white glow now coming from the centre of the structure. He looked over the familiar design of it, so similar to the temple, almost as if it had once been a part of it. With a faint sigh, Spyro’s eyes looked up at his forehead as he said mentally,
“What is it you want me to do?”
‘Go inside, Spyro. You will find the way back home within.’
Cautiously, eyeing the statues mistrustingly one last time, Spyro started to walk slowly towards the building, his heart jittery and prepared to react at anything. Still, boldly he marched on, breathing calmly as he decided to follow the mysterious voice in his head. He passed through the stone archway, entering into the dojo like structure with an open ceiling. He saw at once it was just a single, circular room, the floor covered in greyish white dirt and overgrown grass circling the perimeter of the room. One again it was just like the temple, with four sets of elemental flags hanging evenly space from the walls. Taking up much of the centre of the floor was a large stone ring covered in the same blue runes as he saw elsewhere. The ground within dropped down a few feet with what looked like the pool of visions in the middle, the source of the white glow.
Spyro walked on slowly towards it, the runes of the stone ring lighting briefly as he passed over them, hopping down into centre ring. Holding his breath, he approached the lookalike pool of visions, the murky water showing a faint white light below the surface. It reminded him of the way the moonlight shone through water when viewed while submerged. It gave him the eerie feeling that he was staring into a mirror into another world as he leaned over it anxiously.
‘You and your companions have shown great bravery and skill tonight, young dragon. You should be proud of that. But now it is time for you to return. Are you ready?’
“Wait!” Spyro exclaimed aloud, “You still haven’t told me who you are! What do I call you?”
‘You will know me as The Chronicler. This will not be the last time we will speak, Spyro. But you must not tell anyone about me speaking to you or anything you have seen and heard here. Secrecy is paramount, for both of our sakes.’
“Why not?” he asked dubiously, “And what exactly have you told me? You keep talking in riddles!”
‘I have told you only what I believe it is safe to. You will know what I mean at a later time. Heed my words, Spyro; keep your heart strong and your mind clear. You will need these more than elements very soon. It is imperative for the sake of the future. Do I have your word?’
“Well, it not like I can lie to you, can I?” he asked cynically.
‘Indeed not,’ the Chronicler replied with a mild chuckle. Spyro gritted his teeth as he shook his head resignedly, knowing there was no other choice he could make.
“I give you my word,” he said firmly yet reluctantly. He waited for a reply, assuming the Chronicler was reading his mind to ensure his authenticity. ‘
Good’, said the Chronicler’s voice, ‘And now… take a closer look,’
Spyro leaned further over the shimmering pool, bringing the tip of his snout just above the water. He watched the light beneath the surface as it began to expand and swirl, the water beginning to churn with snow white particles, like the light was dissolving into it. He stared in fascination as the water swirled into a solid, bright white, no longer able to see the ripples of the water. From inside this white circle, he saw something beginning to come into shape. Spyro gasped as the whiteness swirled into a haze of brown and red, morphing into an image as if he was staring through another beings eyes. The face of a large red dragon stared back at him, as if it could see through the water to him.
“Ignitus?” Spyro said mysteriously as he beheld the Fire Guardian, the image seeming to rise from the pool towards him, the young dragon’s vision suddenly becoming blinded in a haze of pure white as the image seemed to absorb into him.
“Spyro?” he heard his mentor say as Spyro opened his eyes, suddenly finding himself in another place once again. He gasped in shock as he saw Ignitus and the familiar walls of the temple, realising he was laying on his cushion in the temple dormitory. The purple dragon stared wild-eyed and wordless as he saw a mixed gathering shuffle around the Fire Guardian.
“He’s awake!” said a female mole wearing a white gown, behind her a were six others as they all walked quickly over to him. Spyro looked at them deliriously,
“Who? How? Where….?” he stammered.
“It’s alright, Spyro,” Ignitus told him reassuringly, moving his large paw over closer to him, “You are safe now. We are taking good care of you.”
“Care of me…” he repeated drowsily as the mole nurses surrounded him, one of them wiping his forehead with a wet towel as he suddenly became aware of the pain in his body, the pain he had lost only a few minutes ago.
“How do you feel?” Ignitus asked cautiously as he saw the young dragon wincing in discomfort.
“Like I’ve been chewed up and spat out…” he replied exhaustedly, a jingling sound above his head made him look up. He saw what looked like a metal chandelier of red healing gems dangling low over him, their narrow cylinder-shaped gems gently rattling like a windchime.
“Those will help your body’s natural healing process,” one of the mole nurses explained, “Lucky for you nothing appears broken, dragon bones are hard as rock. But your muscles are strained and you have some nasty external grazing.”
Spyro looked down and over himself, seeing the cuts and grazes he had sustained from the escapade to the Mountain of Malefor. The red sores and scratches had been covered in a green herbal balm which stung like ants were biting into his wounds. They certainly looked less serious now they weren’t bleeding and all things considered, Spyro knew he could have expected far worse during their mission to rescue Meadow. Meadow! His eyes nearly popped as the name went through his mind again, followed by those of Cynder, Flame and Ember.
“Where are the others?” he demanded hotly, “Where’s Meadow? And Cynder and Flame and Ember…”
“Fine,” Ignitus told him calmly, “They are all alive and well, Spyro. Meadow is being treated back in Avalar and your friends are just outside, waiting to see you.”
“They are? Oh, thank heavens!” Spyro sighed heavily, flopping down onto the cushion heavily, ignoring the pain his movements had stirred in his body. The young dragon sighed again as he smiled widely, closing his eyes in contentment. He lay for a few moments, enjoying the relief that swept over his body and mind. He the felt the moles dabbing his head and checking him over, their tiny hands making him feel relaxed and safe. Absentmindedly, he remarked,
“That was some weird dream…”
“Dream, young dragon?” asked Ignitus curiously, Spyro suddenly realizing his tongue had slipped, his eyes bolting open fearfully. With his head still laying down, Spyro tilted his head slightly and turned his eyes up to the Fire Guardians who gazed down at him with fatherly attentiveness. His heart began beating with remorse as he looked into the warm eyes of his mentor, remembering what the voice, the Chronicler, had told him. The doubts he’d had during those conversations began to take hold again.
‘How do I know I can trust what he said’, Spyro thought, ‘How do I know it wasn’t just a wacky dream? Maybe what happened at the mountain just messed up my head, somehow. I can’t lie to Ignitus…”
The sound of a door opening down the hall interrupted his thoughts, followed by a flurry of excited voices and clambering feet. Ignitus pulled his head back and looked towards it as Spyro weakly lifted his head as Cynder, Flame and Ember came running through to him.
“Spyro!” the black dragoness cried elatedly, running ahead of the others as she rushed past Ignitus and nearly crashed into him. Spyro’s eyes bulged as she wrapped her forelegs around his neck, pulling her head around the left side of his face. Over her shoulder, he saw Ember’s disapproving scowl and Flame’s wide eyed, puppy like excitement.
“Hi guys,” Spyro said sheepishly as he endured Cynder’s embrace, “Hope you weren’t worrying too much about me.”
Flame laughed heartily, “We saw what you did, buddy. You set the whole mountain on fire! Those apes must have been shivering in their boots!” he said as Cynder finally released the purple dragon from her hold.
“I was afraid we wouldn’t see you again,” the black dragoness uttered softly and earnestly, her emerald eyes glistening with relief, her two companions striding up beside her.
“How did you guys get away?” Spyro asked curiously.
“We just did what you said, flew for the moons,” shrugged Flame, “The Guardians saw us and they swopped down to us. There were others dragons with them, they took Meadow and flew us back to Avalar. You should have seen it, Spyro! They had the Doxantha and about a hundred dragons in the valley ready to assault the mountain if they needed to!”
“Really?” asked Spyro, feeling almost embarrassed that such a force had been gathered just for the four of them, “I only saw the four of them and Hunter…”
“It was just a precaution,” Ignitus explained with a casual sweep of his paw, “I did not want any unnecessary casualties.” Spyro nodded slowly, believing he heard a judgmental tone in the Fire Guardians voice. His attention was suddenly broken by the gleaming face of a certain pink dragoness.
“Just a shame Meadow wasn’t awake to see how brave you were,” Ember said in a cutesy voice as she lunged forward like a cat pouncing at a mouse, pushing Spyro away from Cynder in what seemed an attempt to out-hug him. As her hold choked the air out of him, Cynder gave Ember a vain glare as suddenly more faces appeared behind them. It was the other temple Guardians, accompanied by Hunter who all gathered around the purple dragon.
“The conquering hero returns!” Terrador boomed brightly as he stepped up beside Ignitus, followed by Cyril and Volteer.
“Well, young chap, not everyone returns from their first scrap but nor do they put on quite a show as you did!” Cyril congratulated firmly.
“Indeed!” Volteer remarked feverishly, “It borders on the miraculous, incredible, stupendous!”
“We are all very glad to see you return, all of you,” said Hunter with his hand over his heart. When Ember finally released him, Spyro shuffled to sit up more, grimacing as his body opposed him. He looked at all the eyes that were staring widely at him, finding the praise to be unexpected. Spyro had expected to get some sort of reprimand for such a dangerous and prohibited act such as what he and the others had undertaken, but lacking the energy to think any harder on it, assumed that it would come all in good time.
He looked across to Ignitus, expecting to hear something like what the others had said. But instead, the Fire Guardian seemed to avoid his gaze, looking at his fellow Guardians with an odd expression, almost like he had not expected to hear what they had uttered. A strange feeling arose in his gut, suggesting that he may have even disproved of the words of praise they had given him. Spyro at once felt his heart sink, but he masked it behind his drowsiness.
“Uh, thanks. I’m glad too,” he replied with a glum voice.
“I’m sure Meadow will want to thank you all when wakes up,” remarked Hunter. The mention of the Herbalist perked Spyro up.
“How is he?” he asked, “Is he still unconscious?”
“He was when we left him. But he may have woken up since I’ve been here,” the Cheetah answered, raising a point that had slipped Spyro’s mind up until that moment.
“Wait, what time is it? How long was I out?”
“Its close to midday now. You have been asleep for close to twelve hours,” Terrador answered.
“Yeah,” added Flame with a yawn, “None of us have slept because we didn’t know if you were okay.” Spyro looked more closely at his friends, seeing the red strain in their eyes from having stayed awake for so long. He let out short, mirthless chuckle,
“Sorry I kept you guys up.”
“Well, now that you are awake, I guess we can leave you and go to sleep now,” replied Cynder sarcastically. As Spyro chuckled mildly, Ignitus suddenly snapped his head to her, watching her thoughtfully for a moment before he abruptly cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, I think that might be a good idea. Spyro needs his rest and we have all been awake for so long,” he remarked dryly.
“But I only just woke up,” the purple dragon said contrarily, only then noticing that the other cushions in the room were missing, prompting him to ask, “Wait, where are you guys sleeping?”
“In the sparring area,” answered Cynder, “They decided it was best if you had this place to yourself while you recover.”
“You have been through quite an ordeal, young dragon. You need to rest up and recover,” the Fire Guardian instructed shortly, stirring a trio of groans from the three young dragons.
“He is right,” Hunter concurred with a shrug, “And it’s about time I was going. Prowlus made me promise I would leave as soon as Spyro was awake. He said he did not want me to fawn over a dragon while one of our own was lying unconscious in the village.”
“Well,” said Volteer, “One can understand his preoccupation with the wellness of his own population but I really wish he would not be so uh, er…. discordant about it!”
“Give my regards to Meadow, Hunter, and to Prowlus,” Spyro told him somberly, “Tell him I’m sorry for causing him trouble.” Hunter smiled warmly, stepping up to him and kneeling. He reached out and patted the young dragon on the head,
“I’ll be sure to tell them, my friend.”
“And that I’m at Prowlus’s disposal for however he wants me to make it up to him the next time we come to Avalar,” Spyro added seriously. The Cheetah took a sharp breath suddenly, patting him on the head again but more firmly as there was an odd glint in Hunter’s eyes.
“I’ll be sure to tell him that as well,” he said with a low voice, causing Spyro to look at him questioningly. Hunter stood up and turned his back swiftly, sharing a glance with the Guardian dragons as he stepped between Cynder and Ember and began walking back towards the temple interior. Spyro looked up at the Guardians hoping for an explanation to Hunter’s sudden low mode, but they all seemed to avoid his gaze. He then looked over to Cynder, who he hoped would be more open with him, but she only shrugged her shoulders accompanied with a soft shake of her head. Something in her eyes made him focus on them, something that told him that there was more that she had wanted to say, but the presence of the others kept it secret. His growing doubts about everything that was happening started to make him wonder if he was still dreaming. Hunter suddenly paused just before he went out of sight, turning around and looking across the gathering soberly.
“These four young dragons did something quite amazing yesterday. I hope we all remember that well,” he said before he gave a parting wave, nod, and pulled his hood over his head before strolling off towards the dormitory exit.
‘Why is everyone acting so strange?’ Spyro wondered in his head as they all watched Hunter leave, Ignitus turning his head back and saying,
“Well, let’s all run along now and let Spyro rest and have a rest ourselves.”
There was a murmur of agreement from among the group, the other Guardians each stepping forward and individually wishing him well. Terrador was the first, leaning over the purple dragon as he stared with a seemingly lost expression to the Earth Guardian.
“Congratulations on your first battle, young warrior. Wear your scars with pride,” he said proudly, Spyro mustering only a weak smile in thanks, though he secretly hoped he would not end up with any scars as Terrador lumbered away, Cyril filing in next.
“The others said you used Ice as a barrier to slow your enemies. Very intuitive, young chap! I knew that when the chips were down for you that you would realize Ice is the superior element!” Spyro again said nothing, only giving a sheepish shrug of his shoulders and nod as if he agreed, too tired and confused to contend Cyril’s pomposity.
“Yes!” exclaimed Volteer before Cyril had even stepped away, “They told us a terrific and tremendous tale! Using Lighting as a light to find your way is most suitably fitting! Er, anyway sleep well, young hero!”
‘Hero,’ Spyro repeated in his mind. He felt something flutter inside him like a cluster of moths gathering around his heart like it were a light, realising that he was feeling bashful at Volteer’s words. The Electric Guardian and a slightly annoyed Cyril stepped back and walked as a pair back down the hall, the three others younger dragons all quickly rushing forward and encircling the purple dragon as they shared in a group hug. Cynder hung her head low and brushed it against his chest, Flame reached over his back and Ember took his right side and spread her wings and forelegs over him. Blushing, and although his wings were stinging, he lifted them and curled them around in an effort to return the embrace of his friends. The mole nurses all sighed in adoration of the sight while Ignitus failed to supress a smirk. After just a few moments though, he cleared his throat again and tipped his head towards the hall.
“Come along, now,” he said gently, the four survivors ending their embrace slowly and stepping back, Spyro feeling that three large pieces of his body had suddenly vanished, including two thirds of his heart.
“You’ll be good as new real soon, buddy!” Flame said cheerfully as he parted from him, Ember squeezing him a last time before she slowly left. Cynder was the last to leave, looking up at his eyes, showing that same troubled shine that he could not put a name to. As if sensing that he was about to, she sharply turned her head away before he could ask and followed the others, not looking back as she headed down the hall. Ignitus watched her go before turning to the six mole nurses down at his side.
“Please be sure to keep a close eye on him, and let me know if his conditions changes at all.”
“Of course, Master Ignitus,” said the head of the group. Spyro looked forlornly to the Fire Guardian as he lifted his head and turned his attention upon the young dragon. He seem to have some difficulty in speaking for a moment, even just looking at the purple dragon. He took a breath and leaned in closer to Spyro, mustering a smile as his crimson orbs reflected some sort of regret in the amethyst eyes of the young dragon.
“Its good to have you back, Spyro,” he stated softly, “Now rest up. You’ll need it.”
“Yes, Ignitus,” Spyro nodded slowly, obediently but not happily. There was a gentle nod back from Ignitus before he backed himself up and raised his head, turning slowly to head up the hall. The nurses began to waddle over to check him over again, but Spyro impulsively pulled himself up and exclaimed,
“Ignitus!” The mole nurses paused after his exclaim, to which Ignitus stopped and turned back around.
“Yes, Spyro?”
“There’s something I need to tell you…” he began hesitantly. In that moment he froze, suddenly unsure what or if he was going to tell the Guardian. He could not lie to Ignitus, could he? What about the dream he’d had? What about the voice calling itself the Chronicler that he had given his word he would say nothing of? Ignitus surely had to know something about it, perhaps if it was someone he could trust or not. But what if he didn’t? What consequences would there be when, as the voice had said they would, speak again and he had gone back on his word?
“I have to tell you… well, tell all of you; thanks. You guys showed up at the right moment. If it hadn’t been for you, I don’t think I would have made it out of there,” he said, seeming to rush the words out of his mouth. The moles and Spyro all looked to see the Fire Guardian’s response to his seemingly jittery response. The crimson elder smiled humbly,
“You are most welcome, young dragon,” he replied gently, nodding to him thankfully before finally turning and walking out of view. As his tail disappeared up the hall, Spyro flopped down on the cushion, sighing moodily as the mole nurses finished walking up to him.
“That’s very noble of you, young hero,” one of them said, “Now try and get some rest. We will be right here for you if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Spyro replied dully, his eyes fixed on the spot where Ignitus had been, paying no attention to the nurses as they dabbed his head and looked over his wounds, laying as still as a lizard bathing in the sun. He lay thinking about everything we wanted to say, everything he might have said but didn’t. He slowly rocked his head side to side like a pendulum, rolling his thoughts back and forth across his mind until boredom more so than anything else finally made him close his eyes and try to sleep.
For the next several hours he remained half asleep, tossing and rolling as much as the pain allowed him to. His wounds stung not just from the pain and the layer of healing balm, but also the minute healing magic he knew the red gems were slowly sewing into his skin. The news that his injuries were mainly superficial had given some relief, but the uncanny behaviors he had witnessed kept his mind wide awake while his body tried to find rest. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the Guardians were acting; that their praise of him was insincere. He couldn’t understand why they would do that. He had fully expected to receive some king of lecture or reprimand for endangering himself and his friends, but they had instead offered him congratulations as if he had past a test or trial, singling out actions he had taken that Cynder, Flame and Ember must have told them about, or else how would they know?
He considered the way Ignitus had acted, having given him the most reserved praise compared to the others and acting the most uncomfortable. What was he hiding; that he felt guilty about not being honest with him? And what about Cynder and the look she had given him? What had she been trying to say? What was she hiding?
The mole nurses stayed with him the entire time, continually checking his temperature every hour or so and doing their best to keep him comfortable, though he remained feeling restless the entire time, more so due to his mind than body. In-between his brief naps they offered him small amounts of food and water, the latter being the only thing Spyro would consume as he didn’t feel like eating even though his stomach rumbled. Eventually he simply closed his eyes and tried to force himself to sleep, half expecting that he would open his eyes and find himself elsewhere, discovering that the dream in which he had heard the voice hadn’t ended after all but simply changed. But as he sensed time crawling by he felt more sure that this was the real world and became all the more perplexed why those closest to him suddenly seemed untrustworthy.
‘I’ve got to talk to Ignitus. I’ve got to find out what is going on. Or am I just going crazy?’
Spyro groaned as he opened his eyes irritably, still unable to enter a lasting sleep. By now he knew it must be night time, though he had no idea how late it was. He rubbed face and his eyes and looked around him, seeing one of the mole nurses slumped against the wall near Igntius’s quarters, fast asleep. She sat with her head down and her arms crossed, snoring quietly. He waited a few moments and listened for any sound of the others, but he heard nothing. He noted how dark the hall was, guessing that it was indeed late in the evening. Taking the chance, he slowly lifted himself from the cushion, flexing his claws and gingerly stretching his limbs. Taking a deep breath, he cautiously placed his right paw on the ground, putting his weight on it slowly as he followed it up with the left. He flinched slightly as his wounds reacted to his movement, but he was determined to seek out the Fire Guardian, assuming the medically conscious nurses would not let him see him alone. And in any case, he had not the patience to wait.
Turning his head to the left, he saw the door to the garden was wide open, assuming the other nurses had gone out for a break of fresh air, leaving just one of the nurses nearby, who they probably assumed he would wake up if he needed anything. The only thing Spyro needed was to was ensure he did nothing to wake her. He crept slowly by her, tiptoeing down the hall towards the dojo, fearful the other nurses would come back inside and catch him. If nothing else he had to find Ignitus and hopefully convince him to have an audience with him before the nurses found he was gone.
He made it around the turn in the hall and saw the door to the dojo ahead of him, putting on a weak smile of satisfaction as he crept towards it, sure he would find Ignitus before they discovered he was out of bed. As he approached the circular door, his ears perked up as he heard the muffled sound of voices behind it, immediately recognising them being those of the Guardians. He smiled at his luck, ready to walk on through and ask to see the Fire Guardian, but a single sentence spoken behind the door stopped him in his tracks;
“What Spyro did was not only dangerous, it was outright scandalous!” The voice belonged to Cyril. At that moment Spyro felt his heart stop for a moment, turning his head and putting his left ear apprehensively against the door. He breathed slowly as he listened in.
“He is still young and learning,” he heard Terrador say, “But speaking from a tactical point of view, it was borderline insane to set off with only a force of four to a place like Gaul’s mountain fortress.”
“I rather believe that is far beyond the point,” he heard Volteer chime in, “But even the four of us would be sensibly cautious about venturing to that place and especially for what reason!”
“I think we can all agree that his heart is in the right place,” Cyril conceded, “But when one considers the bigger picture, that he risked his life and his young companions to save but a lowly herbalist and risk starting up another war, why… its simply outrageous!”
Spyro let out a silent gasp of horror, his mouth falling open in disbelief. He felt his heart beginning crack to hear the Guardians speak of him, especially to hear Cyril refer to Meadow as a mere ‘lowly’ herbalist. Pushing aside the urge to tear his ear away, he continued listening despondently. From the sounds of the voices, he believed he could guess where each of the Guardians was standing around the pool of visions. Volteer sounded closest to the left hand side of the door with Cyril probably somewhere beside him. Terrador’s voice suggested he was standing in the middle beside the pool, leaving it more or less certain that Ignitus, who had not yet spoken, was somewhere to Spyro’s right.
“I disagree with that adjective,” he finally heard Ignitus say in contrast, his defensive tone offering some relief to the young dragon, “But it is undeniable that the actions undertaken by Spyro were, in the larger sense, illogical.”
‘Illogical?’ Spyro repeated mentally, aghast to hear his mentor speak of him so negatively, ‘We saved Meadow’s life!’
“But can we really blame him?” asked Terrador warily, “After all, have we not instilled in him the spirit of self-sacrifice and a higher calling all his life? The lives of all four of them? Perhaps we romanticized the struggles of the past too greatly to them. But what would any of us do if a comrade was in need?”
“But at what cost?” Cyril demanded, “Which do you think is the higher calling? Saving the life of but one Cheetah, or living long enough to save the future? What good would it do to lose him in a frivolous act of short-term heroics? Especially with how Chief Prowlus responded to what happened to Meadow?”
“He is well entitled to the anger he feels for what happened to one of his tribe members,” Terrador admitted sombrely, “But to bar dragons from returning to the valley? It borders on treachery!”
“Barred from the valley?” Spyro repeated slowly, his guilt intensifying, “That’s why Hunter seemed so depressed! We can’t see him anymore? Because of me?” he asked grievously.
“Frankly,” Volteer added sorely, “I’m surprised he even allowed Hunter to accompany us to see the condition of our young friend. Prowlus certainly seemed glad when we and the troops left Avalar.”
There was then a short pause in which Spyro heard no one speak, feeling his voice beginning to choke as he absorbed all the spirit crushing words of the Guardians before he heard an exasperated groan coming from Ignitus somewhere to the right.
“The young dragon was driven by what he felt was right at the time. We all have made decisions based on that in our lives at some point. All four of our young dragons have gone through a painful trauma the last day, especially Spyro. That’s why I asked you to not dampen his spirits further with the issues his actions have created. For tonight at least, all he need do is try and rest and be thankful he is alive…”
Spyro stood still, his front paws pressed despondently against the door as his glassy eyes stared blankly at the wall of the corridor. He was right. They had been deceiving him! Their smiles had been forced and their congratulations had been hollow. That was why their praise hadn’t sat right with him. That was why Ignitus looked like he couldn’t stare him in the face. They had all worn the faces of liars.
“Spyro? What are you doing there?” a voice from behind him exclaimed, the young dragon too overcome with emotion to take much notice. The group of mole nurses waddled quickly over to him, one of them quickly tucking away the pipe she had been smoking with her colleagues outside the temple.
“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting!” said another as they all approached him, taking careful hold of him to take him back to bed.
“Let go of me!” Spyro snapped moodily.
“Come along, now,” another of the nurses said kindly, “Our young hero needs to rest…”
“Don’t call me that!” he growled, pulling himself out from their grasp and eyeing them coldly. The nurses all stared at him in shock as he glared at them harshly just before he heard the sound of the door creaking open behind him and a long shadow draped across the floor over him.
“Spyro?” he heard Ignitus ask curiously, “What are you doing up at this hour?” Spyro looked over his shoulder, looking up the chest of the crimson Fire dragon until he found his eyes. The sight of him for the first time filled Spyro with something other than feelings of admiration and safety. All thoughts of what he had wanted to say to him evaporated as he felt the tears in his heart bleeding with the trust he had once had for the Fire Guardian. He had lied to him, so Spyro lied back,
“I was just going to stretch my legs get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in here for so long I feel numb,” he replied barefaced and bluntly.
“He really shouldn’t be walking around for another day or so,” one of the nurses said with a raised finger.
“Well, I didn’t think it would be such a fuss,” Spyro replied lowly as he started to go back to bed irritably. Ignitus gave him an odd look as he watched him take a few steps before suddenly announcing,
“I see no harm in that, my dear ladies. If Spyro needs some fresh air and feels he can walk, why it just shows he’s on the road to recovery!”
The young dragon stopped, rolling his eyes as he now felt compelled to carry through with his lie even of it was just to not let them know that he had been eavesdropping on them. Turning back, he saw Ignitus backing up from the doorway to allow him passage through.
“Well, okay, if you insist,” he shrugged uncaringly, walking back with a mild limp towards the doorway to the grotto. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ignitus smile at him, but he pretended not to notice as he shuffled past him and the others Guardians standing around the pool of visions just as he had imagined them being. He walked stony faced through the door to the dojo, staring straight ahead and not even gazing up at the enormous dragon statue like he always did. He grinded his teeth together as he walked around it and headed for the door to the balcony, the circle splitting in two as he approached.
“Just stand outside for a minute and then go back,” he muttered to himself crossly, passing through the doorway into the open, the fresh air of the outside brushing irritably against his wounds. The sounds of night greeted him immediately, the chirping of crickets and frogs around the temple as the two Celestial moons shone high in the sky way out past the temple balcony. Spyro was in too much of a foul mood to be taken in by any of it, his hard expression keeping hold of him as he walked slowly to the end of the balcony. He sat down hard on his haunches and sighed despondently. He pulled his head back and stared blankly up at the stars.
“So this is what it feels like to be a hero is it?” he asked the night, clenching his left paw into a fist as he flexed his left foreleg back and forth carefully, trying to rub out the numbing pain that was afflicting it. He did so for only a minute or so, putting his paw back down as he drew in deep breaths of the gently night time breeze, half hoping it would carry him away like a leaf to somewhere he wouldn’t feel so angry. But in not too long, his anger withered into sadness, Spyro’s large eyes growing as soft as a bag of rose petals as his thoughts went back to the words he had heard of his once trusted Guardians.
He wasn’t sure if it was the words they had spoken that hurt him most, or the fact that they had not being direct with him about them. He sat staring uncaringly at the sky, his eyes moving from one useless star to another. Anyone else would have been in awe at the way the dark blue sky glittered with millions of tiny diamonds and the twin moons cast their hues of green and red light across the top of the mushroom forest and across the sea, but never in his life had Spyro felt so indifferent at something he had always admired.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 50 x 50px
Comments