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The purple dragon sighed for what seemed the dozenth time as he considered simply curling up right there on the balcony and try to go back to sleep, too emotionally and physically lethargic to go back inside the temple, which no longer seemed like the place it once was. Just then he heard the sound of four large feet stepping down the ramp behind him, causing him to sit up and slowly turn his head over his left shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw Ignitus walking softly down towards him, his expression one of curiousness.
“Ignitus…” Spyro said with dampened surprise. The Fire Guardian stopped a short distance from him.
“May I join you?” he asked formally, his eyes pointing at the space beside the young dragon. Spyro looked ahead and answered with a mild,
“Of course you can.”
Ignitus nodded earnestly, taking the last few steps until he was parallel with Spyro, tucking his feet in and slowly seating himself down, his large tail curving around in front of him. The crimson dragon let out relaxed exhale, turning his attention to the sky that Spyro was not feeling appreciative off. The young dragon shuffled an inch or so away to the right of him, acting that he was trying to make himself more comfortable. Ignitus turned his head slightly until both eyes could see him, Spyro looking up to the right and away from him. The Guardian eyed the grazes and scratches across the purple dragon’s body, the sight stirring memories of injuries to himself and to others he would rather forget, but there was one particular dragon came to mind; a dragon who had been Spyro’s size and age when he had first met him fifteen years ago, a young dragon that he could recall sitting with just the same as here.
“How are you faring, young dragon?” Ignitus asked softly, cautiously reaching out to him with his voice alone. Spyro stared blankly ahead at the horizon and murmured,
“Fine, I guess…” with flat emotion. Ignitus’s bottom teeth peeked out and clutched his upper lip, slowing receding as his instinct detected a tenseness hidden in Spyro’s voice. He filtered a cool breath through his nose as he said,
“You have certainly been put through your paces, Spyro, you and your friends. Certainly more than anyone should expect from dragons your age.” Spyro gave a light shrug of his shoulders,
“Yeah, well, we should be careful of what we expect. Some things aren’t what we always thought,” he replied with a hint of antagonism that did not go unnoticed by the Fire Guardian. He raised his eyebrows curiously, Spyro still not making eye contact with him. But there was a sympathy to the young dragon’s spite that smoothed over the breach of respect in his tone and body language.
“Indeed,” Ignitus said as he looked out towards the sea as Spyro did, watching the water shimmer in the light of the twin moons. The young dragon turned his head a fraction towards him, surprised by his response as Ignitus slowly turned to meet his gaze, but Spyro snapped his head forward again.
“While you were asleep, we all talked at great length to the others about what happened. What they had to tell us about you was most extraordinary,” Ignitus complimented sharply.
“Thanks,” Spyro replied dully, followed by an irk filled sigh. Any glee he had felt from being complimented by the Fire Guardian had morphed into cynicism which he felt he was about overfill within him. Brooding, Spyro stood up and made to turn back to the temple,
“I should get to bed…” he began, but Ignitus fanned his wing out in front of him swiftly but not aggressively, halting him in his stride as the crimson dragon turned to face him. Spyro looked up in confusion, Ignitus setting a pinpoint gaze upon him as he slowly withdrew his wing. He paused for a moment to see if Spyro still wished to leave, but the purple dragon stood firm as if to say he had given his permission to the Guardian to keep him there.
“You are not a good liar, Spyro. It seems you think the same of me,” he said heavily, the young dragon’s ridge like eyebrows rising sharply as his eyes softened. Ignitus sighed, “And you are right,” he confessed, gently beckoning him to sit down again. He once again waited as Spyro slowly sat down before he did the same as they both faced towards each other.
“I know that the worse scars are not always ones inflicted upon the body, but on the mind. The Ancestors know I have quite a few,” Ignitus said dolefully, his eyes turning away regretfully. Spyro sat and watched him and in silence, yet Ignitus could sense that he was madly chatting and debating in his mind every thought and emotion his words had summoned. When he looked back, Spyro’s upward stare at him was like that of a pet dog watching anxiously yet hesitantly at the door that its master was soon to return through. A sad smile lifted the edges of his mouth as he said,
“I see you saw through our façade long before you overheard our discussion this evening.” Spyro blinked hastily as if he had just awoken,
“What do you mean? I was just going to…”
“Generously giving me another example of your poor skills at dishonesty, I see,” Ignitus cut in sharply but with a touch of humour in his voice that slightly eased Spyro’s anxiousness.
“Sure, of course,” he replied in equal fashion. Ignitus smirked at his reply, but it soon faded as he bought the conversation back to its origins.
“I’m sure that it was all very confusing for you,” he said plainly. Spyro banked his head to the right as he shrugged,
“It all just seemed off to me. Like everyone was reading off a script somewhere behind me.”
Ignitus nodded, “Well, you can place the blame on me for that,” he replied tersely, “It was rather a last-minute decision.”
“But why?” asked Spyro hurtfully, “Why couldn’t you just tell me the truth? If what I did was wrong, if what I did had serious consequences, why couldn’t you just say so? Why lie to me and call me a hero?”
The Fire Guardian grimaced, turning his eyes away guiltily as he turned his head slightly to the front balcony.
“I take it that you heard what I said, about not wanting to dampen your spirits? Well, that’s true. I know we could not keep it from you forever, I just hoped I could deliver the truth slowly to you.”
“Did Prowlus really do what I heard?” Spyro asked fearfully, “Has he really banned dragons from Avalar?” Ignitus looked back and lowered his gaze with a regretful sigh,
“I’m afraid so,” he replied sadly, “You did not get to see how irate he was when we returned with Meadow. He said that he no longer wanted dragons to ‘invade’ his territory. He was also not impressed by the sizeable force we arrived in the valley with, including an airship. He believed it would only invite retaliation from the Apes and that we put his village in danger.”
“But he sent for help from Warfang!” the purple dragon protested. Ignitus merely shrugged,
“It is outside my power, Spyro. He is legally entitled to decide who may enter his territory, and we are no longer.”
Spyro gulped as he sat in disbelief in what he had heard, a near paralysing shame collapsed over him like a net. He had always known Prowlus had his reservations about dragons, but he never imagined he would become so furious that he would ban dragons from Avalar. It was within his power, true, but doing so would be a terrible blow to trade and diplomacy between the Cheetah’s and Warfang. But he had done it, all because of him.
“He didn’t have to do that. He shouldn’t have,” he said firmly. Ignitus looked back and looked at him with a sense of irony that wasn’t lost on Spyro as he blushed and looked away from him, “I know, I’m the last dragon who should be telling him or anyone what they shouldn’t be doing,” he admitted shyly. He shook his head as his wings dropped down dismally. Looking back at him he told Ignitus, “Just tell me the truth about what I did. How badly I messed up.”
The Fire Guardian lifted his eyebrows as he looked into the purple dragon’s sincere gaze, raising his head level but keeping his eyes down at him.
“Very well then,” he said formally, closing his eyes while taking a breath in preparation. Spyro mentally braced himself for the truth. Ignitus opened his eyes slowly and flicked his tongue out with Tut, before he shuffled his body around to face the end of the balcony and began;
“It is true that you disobeyed the wishes of your caretaker and ventured off alone without him. It is true, according to what the others said, you returned to find Meadow was missing, an event which may not have occurred had you been present.”
Spyro remained silent, only nodding in agreement as his sad eyes looked up towards the moons, imagining them being a pair of eyes judging him for his actions as Ignitus went on,
“Upon reporting what you had discovered to Prowlus, rather than wait for assistance to arrive from Warfang, you made the foolhardy decision to take your three friends on a ill conceived rescue mission with no idea of what danger you might face and even if Meadow was still alive for you to find.”
'This is what you wanted,’ Spyro reminded himself as he silently absorbed the criticism.
“And it is true that despite what you did accomplish in rescuing Meadow and escaping with your lives, your incursion into the very heart of Ape territory may very well be the catalyst that they will use to justify reigniting open warfare against the realms. With the great responsibilities of the future resting on your shoulders, it was an extremely reckless and dangerous choice you made for the sake of saving but one life.”
‘Well, there you have it,’ Spyro thought miserably. He waited to hear Ignitus say more or to ask if he had anything to say in his defence, but a few moments went by in silence, prompting the young dragon to say in a meek voice,
“I didn’t force the others to go with me. I asked them to stay, but they chose to come with me because they are my friends. But it was my idea to go, Ignitus. The blame lies with me, not them. So whatever you have to say and whatever you have to do, just put it on me and not them.”
The Fire Guardian’s eyes narrowed as he studied what he had heard and what he could see in the youthful face before him, a face again so reminiscent of the young squire he had once taken under his wing. When he blinked next, Ignitus swore for just a moment, before he flashed his eyes again, he saw someone else in place of Spyro sitting before him. A young dragon with orange scales like the sunset as if a memory had projected from his mind and fogged over his eyes like a cold window in the winter. But when did blink, the purple dragon was all he saw.
“What I have to say, Spyro,” he announced slowly, the young dragon lowering his head and closing his eyes as he prepared for verbal lashing he knew he was owed. The damning condemnation for his actions from the dragon he had looked up to the most all his life. “In light of all considerations, I have to tell you…. Well done, young dragon!”
Spyro opened his eyes faster than lightning, his heart stopping for a dangerous moment as he asked himself if he had heard that right. When his heart began beating again, he lifted his head to see Ignitus staring down with a warm smile on his face, winking his right eye to him almost playfully.
“What?!” Spyro exclaimed in disbelief, sure that wishful thinking had taken over his senses.
“What you accomplished with your companions is far beyond what anyone would expect from dragons your age,” Ignitus lauded, “To mount such a daring expedition to save a friend from certain death and to return alive to tell the tale is truly remarkable. You certainly know how to impress.”
“Ignitus, are you feeling okay?” Spyro asked with genuine concern, “I heard you say what I did was ‘illogical’. I’m not sure if you know what it is you are saying.”
“My mind is a clear as the night, Spyro,” he replied proudly, “Of course, I appreciate that your actions did have some negative consequences, but all great endeavours usually have some kind of shortfall. And as for your actions being illogical, well, they were in the same sense that it is illogical to rush into a burning building to save a life when it may claim your own as well.”
Spyro shook his head like a dog shaking water from its fur, more confused than ever,
“But what about what you said? What about Chief Prowlus kicking us out of Avalar and what we did maybe starting another war?!”
“Shush,” Ignitus said delicately as he raised his right paw to calm him, “If any war is to come, it started the moment the Apes invaded the territory of our allies and seized one of their citizens illegally. To my mind, the war did not end twelve years ago, it merely took a pause while Gaul made plans for the future. Your little rescue mission to save Meadow was a justified extradition of an ally of the dragons.”
‘Has Ignitus gone crazy? Have I gone crazy?’ Spyro asked with his mind as wondered if he could trust his own ears. “But then what about what the other Guardians said? They seemed furious!” he raved.
Ignitus nodded slowly, “They have their points, but make no mistake; when they congratulated you, it was not that they were lying, only omitting certain facts.”
“So when I was feeling better then they were going to throw the book at me?” asked Spyro cynically. Ignitus gave him an odd expression,
“We have rules and you did surely break them, even if you had a good reason.”
The purple dragon raised an eyebrow in a manner that spelled out; ‘You serious?’ but then he broke out in a smile as he shook his head and uttered a short chuckle.
“That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say, Ignitus,” said Spyro humorously.
The Fire Guardian inhaled and sighed thoughtfully, looking back towards the end of the balcony. Straightening up as if he had seen something, he stood up and walked a few paces until his chin was above the edge of the balcony. Spyro stood up as if to join him, but he changed his mind at the final moment and stayed put as he watched the large red dragon stare out into the sky.
“When you have lived as long as I have, Spyro,” Ignitus proclaimed whimsically, “You learn that there is a time for following the rules, which is indeed most of the time. But then there are times when we must take the leap to do what we believe is right, no matter what the rules might say. That is a lesson that cannot be taught by anyone but ourselves.”
Spyro’s face twisted as he thought over the Guardian dragon’s words, asking meekly,
“Was what we did one of those times?”
Ignitus turned his head to the right slightly, his eyes panning the rest of the way as he looked back to the young dragon. He looked at him contemplatively for a moment before looking back and saying,
“Rarely is it up to others to tell us if it is one of those times. It is a choice that we must make in a moment of crisis and face whatever the consequences may be. I have made that choice, as did someone I knew very closely, someone whom I see very much a lot of in you.”
Spyro’s expression became unsettled from the brief cheer it had worn, finally coaxing him to walk up slowly beside the Fire Guardian, looking up at him as he kept his eyes out to sea. Hesitantly, the young dragon asked barely above a whisper,
“And who was that, Ignitus?” He felt a pang of guilt as the old dragon lowered his head and eyes mournfully, hearing the tips of his large claws scrape the stone floor as he flexed them.
“On the night of the raid, it had always been our plan that if the worse were to happen, myself or Volteer was to take your egg and leave the others behind, ensuring that the purple dragon would survive above all else. It was grim plan, but one that I was committed to. Or so I believed,” he said grievously, sitting back down on his haunches as the weight of that decision seemed to force him to, “But when I realised that it had come to that, I could not do it. I knew what was at stake, knew that I could reason that it had been a sacrifice made for the greater good, but just to think that made me loath myself. I knew I could not save just one when I knew it was possible to save more, even if it carried greater risks. So I made the choice that we would take three others, three randomly selected among dozens. I took on the weight of that choice, to do what I thought was right, just as Pyra made his.”
“Pyra?” asked Spyro gravely. Ignitus lifted his head and nodded, slowly and almost robotically as his eyelids gradually lifted, turning his head to look at the purple dragon.
“I see so much of who he was in you, Spyro, in all four of you. Steadfast and headstrong, a little cocky. Sharp witted and sharped tongued when antagonised, but loyal to a fault and infinitely compassionate. I like to believe he passed on these qualities to the four of you when he died.”
Spyro felt a lump form in his throat as he was unsure whether to feel flattered or remorse at such a notion. But his curiosity was up with the moons as he asked in the same quite voice as before, “What was his choice, Ignitus?”
Ignitus sighed, “He had been badly wounded as you know. But his wings were still airworthy. There was only a slim chance that he might have escaped with us, but rather than do so he chose to stay behind with the others to the bitter end, believing he would have only slowed us down. This story you have heard many times before. But every time I think back to that night, I think of how I wanted Pyra to leave with us simply because he could have; the others could not have come with us even if they tried. Their fate was sealed the moment we were forced into the grotto. That would have been my right choice; to save him. But it was not his right choice to leave that room that night. In my heart I knew that, even before he told me he was going to stay. Pyra had made his choice; what he knew was the right thing to do.”
Spyro simply found no words, found no thoughts that he could articulate into speech that seemed appropriate enough. To say that he felt sorry was earnest but so predictable it seemed uninspired. He watched the way Ignitus quivered as if he was ill, struggling to contain the emotions that were coursing through him. He wished that Cynder and Flame and Ember were with him right now so that one of them might speak before him, but he was alone and had no one to take that step but himself.
“He sounds braver than I will ever be,” he finally remarked glumly, not wanting to compare his deeds with Pyra’s. Ignitus turned his head to him, and to his surprise smiled humbly at the young dragon.
“Pyra said the same thing to me when I told him about my experiences in battle. He assured me that I would become a legend spoken of throughout the ages while he would fade to obscurity,” he said as his demeanour became overcast again inspite of his smile, “But whose statue do we have in our garden? Who is it we gather every year to commemorate?”
“I’m not sure he would see it in a such a great light, Ignitus. I think he and the others would have preferred not to be the ones being honoured,” Spyro replied with sombre, black humour. Ignitus nodded and remarked cynically,
“They greatest of us are usually not remembered until after we have died.”
The Fire Guardian then realised how depressing the atmosphere had become around him and the young purple dragon, particularly noting how it seemed to have affected him. To try and lift his spirits as well as his own, Ignitus turned his body to face Spyro, who only moved his head as he watched him closely. Ignitus waited until they locked eyes and he smiled proudly.
“You and your friends showed a determination equal to Pyra’s, Spyro. Others might view your actions as acts of disobedience, but I view them as proof that we have every right to have so much faith in you and what you will become. You are well on the way to becoming a legend all your own, Spyro. I only hope I live to see the day you become the dragon you were born to be.”
It came as something of a shock to Ignitus that his words did not seem to lift the spirits of the young dragon at all. Instead, he found himself staring back into a pair of glossy amethyst eyes brimming with uncertainty. Spyro averted his gaze and looked out towards the sea, the Fire Guardian tilting his head oddly as he leaned in closer to his pupil. He looked like he was on the brink of bursting into tears.
“I can’t, Ignitus,” he told him softy with a defeated shake of his head, “I only just survived my first taste of real combat. If it wasn’t for my friends being there to motivate me, I don’t think I would have acted the same way.”
Ignitus’s eyes widened as he leaned in and gently nudged Spyro with his snout, the light touch prompting him to look directly into his red eyes. The purple dragon’s sullen face did not change as the Guardian’s face lit up in a commending smile.
“You can, Spyro. You can,” he told him delicately but firmly, “You are a purple dragon; a very special creature! But more than that, without realising it, you just exemplified what makes you who you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“What gave you the strength to carry on was not fear for yourself, but fear for others. Your love of your friends motivated you to put yourself at risk for them, knowing it might be fatal for you.”
“I-I was…” Spyro stammered, looking away, “I didn’t think about it like that. I just kind of… did it.”
“Just like how you used the power of Fire to melt your bonds and free the others? Oh yes, Cynder was most anxious to tell us about that,” Ignitus chuckled light heartedly.
“She told you?”
“They all did. They told us that you became engulfed in flames and slashed through their chains like a hot iron through paper.” Spyro cocked his head as he tried to think back to that moment, but to his embarrassment he found himself unable to recall how he had done it. It all swept through his mind in a fiery flash.
“I barely even remember that. I just felt so mad, watching Gaul hurt Cynder and I just wished I could do something to stop it. Next thing I know, I was charging across the room like a meteor across the sky.”
“Hmmm,” Ignitus mused as he lifted his head, tapping his claws on the floor thoughtfully, “Most intriguing. I can recall instances of Fire Dragons summoning such an ability, but they were all adults with years of training and prowess. You summoned this ability by pure chance and at a moment’s notice. That’s very impressive and uncommon. But somehow I doubt you could do so again if you were asked to demonstrate it for us.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to begin,” Spyro said flatly, “It just came to me right when I needed it.”
“Perhaps that’s the only time you ever will,” Ignitus suggested brightly, “And who knows what you’ll discover next; what other powers lie dormant within you.”
Spyro looked up and saw the excitement in the Fire Guardian’s face, feeling some of it rub off on him, until a daunting thought came to mind about how these new abilities might be unlocked. “But does that mean my friends will always have to be in peril for me to find out?” he asked gravely. Ignitus paused before he crouched down and patted him reassuringly on his wings.
“I don’t think so, young dragon. I’ve seen you cross that threshold without such perils to motivate you,” he told him wisely. Spyro frowned,
“When have you seen me do that?” Ignitus’s throat rumbled as he chuckled inwardly, a playful light shimmering in his eyes.
“I remember a time, when you were quite younger, that you and I were standing together in this very spot, having a very similar discussion. You were only five years of age and half the size you are now. Do you remember what we talked about?”
“Five years old…?” asked Spyro quizzically, wondering if he could remember anything from that age even if it was just seven years ago. He stood puzzling, his pupils zipping back and forth across his eyes as he thought back to what Ignitus might have meant. When it finally came to him, his eyes bulged and he derided himself for having forgotten so easily.
“When you told me I could fly….” he gasped, remembering.
“Yes,” Ignitus nodded warmly, “Do you remember what I told you?”
“I remember…” Spyro said slowly, his eyes closing as the memories of that day flooded his mind. For a moment he felt as though he had left his body as the memory took over him.
“Now, close your eyes. Take a deep breath and empty your mind.”
He recalled these words as he saw the orange sun of one cloudy summer day, basking over the temple as his small, five year old self sat in the middle of the circular balcony, his tiny wings half the size they were now. Beside him like a great red mountain was Ignitus, standing beside him just like now, watching him stoutly but instructively. The little purple dragon was seated with his eyes fastened shut, while far behind him were three tiny heads watching excitedly from the temple door. It was Cynder, Flame and Ember, staring like puppy dogs out to their friend who was about to do something amazing. Spyro was suddenly flushed with emotions, recalling the fear and doubt that had plagued him all right to that moment. He remembered how he had cried, begged Ignitus to not try and make him do it.
The idea that he could fly was outrageous and scary. At the ripe age of five he knew he would never measure up, that he would never soar through the skies like all the big dragons he had seen. He had never flown in his life and was never going to! But then he recalled how calm he had become as he sat there with the summer wind brushing over him, listening to the Fire Guardian’s calm, patient voice as he kept telling him breath in and then out, in and out, entering a trance like state which he recalled felt like he was living in a dream.
“Yes, yes that’s it!” Ignitus had said excitedly as he remained in that state, feeling a surge of something running through him, but he didn’t blink or flinch in the slightest as he just sat and listened to his mentor’s words, the words Ignitus had asked him to recall;
“Now feel the power of your ancestors coursing through your body. In times of crisis they will come to you and teach you, unlocking powers you never knew you had!”
Spyro’s heart started to beat at a slow but heavy rate, just like it had in his tiny body seven years ago. He had unconsciously then stood up, bowing his head slightly as if manipulated by an invisible pair of hands. The something he felt coursing through him crashed and churned in his veins like the sea slamming against a rockwall. But oddly, each crash soothed him, lulling him into a more sleep like state.
“Just look at everything you ever thought you knew; your fears, your doubts. Let them drift away, forget yourself,” Ignitus told him, the anticipation in his voice enough to intoxicate anyone in earshot. Spyro then felt something happening to himself; he felt the faintest touch of air brushing down his back as his wings, again unconsciously, moved in synch with each other, flapping once, flapping twice, slowly but surely picking up speed as they did.
“Only through forgetting… will you remember what your ancient blood already knows…” said Ignitus softly, almost whispering as he recalled not being able to feel the ground beneath his feet and a sense of weightlessness overcoming him that should have been terrifying but felt as natural as the sunlight.
“…You can fly!”
When he had opened his eyes, he saw that his feet were no longer touching the ground! He remembered squirming like a worm with excitement when he realised that he was hovering above the ground. Only a few feet above the ground, true, but hovering nonetheless. He was flying! Spyro then recalled looking up at Ignitus, seeing him wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen the crimson dragon wear. Seeing that smile and proving to himself that he could fly after all was the happiest moment that he could ever recall in his young life.
Spyro opened his eyes, returning to the present. Flush with nostalgia, he looked up to Ignitus and broke out a beaming grin as he looked upon the same smile the Fire Guardian had shown him seven years ago.
“I remember that!” Spyro exclaimed happily, “I’d never felt so proud in my life!”
“It is surely one of my fondest memories,” Ignitus said with fatherly pride, “And its why I know that great things still await you. I know that as long as you stay true to yourself, Spyro, there is no limits to what you will achieve.”
“You really think that?”
“Always,” Ignitus said with a playful nudge of his right fist to Spyro’s shoulder, prompting a quick laugh from the purple dragon who promptly returned the favour with a quick jab into the Fire Guardian’s muscular leg. Ignitus chuckled as Spyro, now bursting with cheer, suddenly jumped up, flapping his wings and hovering up to his mentor’s head height despite the stinging in his injuries. Ignitus opened his mouth as if to remind of this, but Spyro zipped up like a fly and flew rings around the crimson dragon, laughing heartily. Ignitus could not help but catch his infectious laugh and share in the merriment as he swung his head around trying to follow the purple blur encircling him. Soon enough, Spyro swooped down and made a running landing on the balcony, skidding to a halt right beside the Fire Guardian as the young dragon grinned and struck the most heroic pose he could imagine. As he turned his head to look at Ignitus’s laughing face, the pain he had been ignoring suddenly caught up with him and Spyro’s expression became almost comically pained.
“Oh, ouch! Oh!” he exclaimed as he suddenly flinched uncomfortably, hobbling on his limbs like he was standing on hot coals.
“Spyro!” Ignitus cried, reaching out with his front paws and clasping him gently within them. He pulled him close against his belly as Spyro continued reeling from the pain of his weathered body. As his breathing relaxed and the complaining subsided, Ignitus pulled his right paw away but kept his left paw holding around his side as Spyro leaned against it for support.
“Guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself,” he confessed embarrassingly, his eye twitching as he gingerly flexed his left foreleg.
“I should have cautioned you,” Ignitus apologised, his voice heavy with anxiety. His change in demeanour seemed almost overbearing in his concern to the young dragon, making Spyro feel that there was something more troubling the Guardian dragon.
“Are you okay, Ignitus?” he asked solemnly. The Fire Guardian let out a sound that was half groan, half sigh, his eyes moving between the giant paws he held on either side of Spyro. He was immediately transferred to when he had flown with them tucked against his sides, clutching the pair of dragon eggs he had selected in them.
“You know, I forget how miraculous it was that you survived the very night you were born, let alone how you survived Gaul a second time,” he said heavily. Spyro wore a grave expression as he felt a sudden wave of dread come over him like the dark events of that night were lingering like a haunting ghost.
“You know I’ve been grateful for every day since then,” he replied heartfully. Ignitus stiffened his back as he sat almost upright, still with his paws encircling the young dragon.
“And I’ve been grateful for every day the four of you have had as well,” the Guardian said with an unsteady voice. Spyro’s heart surged with empathy as the crimson dragon closed his eyes and hung his head sullenly, weighed down from the trauma of his past. Spyro then, without any hint of pain, pushed himself over the short distance between the two of them, moving out from the large paws and standing upright. The purple dragon held the right side of his face against him as he stretched his paws and forelegs out across the crimson dragon’s belly, making the Fire Guardian’s eyes pop open as Spyro tried to hug his mass. Ignitus gasped silently as his mouth hung open in shock, the young dragon’s act momentarily paralysing him.
“I don’t know what it was like, making the choice that you did,” Spyro remarked emotionally, “But I know you did everything you could. I know why Pyra looked up to you so much.”
Ignitus finally caught his breath, feeling his throat quivering as the power of the embrace warmed his belly. He carefully moved his paws inward and lightly held them against the back of the small purple dragon. He looked upon him in a way a father would be expected to look at his own child, his heart humming with delight with the knowledge he had not lost Spyro’s faith and friendship.
“You’ve given me so much hope, Spyro. More than I’ve ever had in anyone. It’s my greatest wish that we can share that hope with everyone. You have had me feeling like a younger dragon again,” he said smiling. Spyro looked up and smiled humorously,
“How many centuries ago was that?”
Ignitus chuckled heartily, “If my lifespan were a great tunnel, it would burrow right through the centre of the earth and straight out the other side.”
The word ‘tunnel’ stirred something in Spyro’s mind. His eyes blew up like a frog’s croaking throat as he gasped in alarm. Something he just remembered from when he and the others had been taken captive, something he had not heard anyone else mention. Spyro suddenly leaned back from the embrace, Ignitus lifting his paws away confusedly as he looked at the Fire Guardian urgently,
“Ignitus, I just remembered something! Something I saw when we were captured. Underground…” he began feverishly.
“Calm down, young dragon,” Ignitus said smoothly, “What did you see?” Spyro caught his breath as he tried to deliver his recollections coolly. After a pause, he asked,
“The others told you about how we got caught in the catacombs, right?”
“Indeed,” Ignitus nodded curiously.
“They knocked us out with some kind of gas. But I woke up from it while they were carrying us underground. They hit me to try and put me out again, but I just pretended to be while they carried me. I couldn’t see much, but they were taking us through some underground tunnels, for however long I don’t know.”
“The others did mention waking up in the halls of the mountain, but not of underground tunnels,” said Ignitus thoughtfully. Spyro frowned,
“Then I guess I was the only one who saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“At one point they dropped me and I hit the ground. My eyes just shot open I guess from the shock. That was when I saw a huge underground cavern. It wasn’t natural; they’d dug it out! I only saw for a few seconds before they knocked me out; but it was like something you’d see at the Munitions Forge! There were dozens of apes breaking and shifting stone; there were metal carts going back and forth, it was huge! What I saw I think was only a tiny part of what was going on.”
“They were mining?” asked Ignitus calmly but with a touch of alarm, “What makes you think it was an extensive effort?”
“Because there were trains of mine carts on two big rail lines coming from other tunnels in the direction we had come. The ones coming back were full, the ones heading in were empty. Whatever was going on, it was bigger than just the cavern I saw.”
The large crimson dragon turned his eyes up to the corner of his head as he analysed what he had been told. His grip on the young dragon lessened as he placed all his strength into pondering. Spyro watched him curiously as Ignitus tilted his head to his left, his brow creasing heavily.
“What do you think it means, Ignitus?” he asked cautiously.
The Fire Guardian answered slowly, “It could mean many things. The land around Malefor is barren and offers little resources. It could be they have resorted to deep tunnelling for raw materials…” he mused unsurely. His eyes lit up as a thought appeared and he hastily looked back at the young dragon.
“Was there any way to tell what direction it was going in?”
Spyro shrugged, “I’m not sure. We were underground. When we got caught, I guess they must have taken us through the old ruins. We thought we might be able to use them as a shortcut to get to the mountain. If they took us straight from there, and if that’s why there were apes in there in the first place, then I suppose that’s where they were tunnelling.”
“Right under Avalar, straight to Warfang…” Ignitus said with something like fear in his voice.
Spyro stared in shock. “To Warfang? That can’t be true!”
“Gaul has had twelve years of no distractions to put such a plan into action. I most certainly wouldn’t rule it out,” Ignitus replied grimly. Spyro’s expression became one of concern, his emotions seeming to have bounced up and down like a grasshopper. He hesitated to speak again as he viewed Ignitus’s hard, thoughtful look. He carefully lifted up his right paw and gently placed it overtop of that of the Fire Guardian. The touch made his eyes flicker as he looked down at the tiny set of digits clasping over his enormous paw.
“Should we be worried, Ignitus?” Spyro asked quietly, almost fearfully. Ignitus sighed gloomily, the earnest gaze of the purple dragon piercing his heart. He reached up with his right paw and gently patted the young dragon’s back.
“There is always reason to be worried, young dragon. If your suspicions are correct, then searching the ruins you found would be paramount. But now that Prowlus has barred dragons from the valley, we cannot search his territory without his permission.”
“Then we have to get it from him! Let me talk to him!” Spyro pleaded. Ignitus shook his head,
“I’m afraid it’s a matter of diplomacy now. Any such request would have to go through the proper channels. We cannot simply fly to Avalar uninvited, it may be seen as an act of incursion.”
“You make it sound like the Cheetah’s are our enemy now,” Spyro remarked dismally as Ignitus eyed him apologetically, “But what if I’m right and the apes are planning something?”
“And what if you are wrong?” asked Ignitus pointedly, earning a look of confusion from Spyro.
“What do you mean? Don’t you think I am?”
“We must consider every possibility. I believe you saw what you did, Spyro, but I’m afraid that the word of an adolescent dragon, even a purple dragon, will not carry much weight before the council.”
Spyro groaned irritably, “Then what are we supposed to do?”
“The other Guardians and I will have to meet with the council in Warfang tomorrow to explain the events of the last two days. It is expected that when you are well enough that you and your companions will have to give an account of your actions. I will tell them what you have told me until then.”
“No, I’ve got to see them!” Spyro demanded, “If I go with you tomorrow, I can talk to them.”
“Spyro, Spyro, you are still not recovered,” Ignitus said warningly, “You barely have the strength to walk.”
“Then at least let me go to Warfang,” Spyro said pleadingly, “If I get better there, then I can talk to them right away! Or they can come to me, whatever,” he said hastily. Ignitus chuckled at his impulsiveness but respected the dutiful urgency in his tone. He sat quietly for a few moments as Spyro watched him impatiently.
Eventually, Ignitus sighed and gave a short nod to him, “I’ll discuss it with the others, see what they have to say.”
Spyro looked somewhat disappointed at not getting the definite answer he had hoped for, but he still nodded gratefully to the Fire Guardian,
“Thanks, Ignitus,” he said timidly.
“You are welcome, young dragon,” Ignitus said fondly, “But now I think you should be getting some rest. I think you’ve had plenty of fresh air, wouldn’t you say?” he asked with a wink.
Spyro giggled and nodded firmly, “You’ve really helped me to clear my head, Ignitus. I didn’t think I understood anything anymore.”
“I’m glad,” Ignitus said, extending his right paw in a clenched fist towards him. The young dragon grinned playfully as he clenched his own right paw and reached out and bumped it into that of the Fire Guardian.
“I thought only we did that,” Spyro remarked surprisingly.
“Some things are timeless, Spyro,” Ignitus grinned.
Meanwhile, in the Mountain of Malefor….
The solid green eyes of the monument to the Dark Master seemed to gaze down to the floor of the circular chamber with vehement anger as several apes carried tools and building materials up the staircase that circled around the statue to the throne room. They were careful to make as little noise as possible as they made their repeated trips upstairs, for their ruler who was currently kneeling before the statue of Malefor. With the dozens of candles burning all around him, Gaul had his right knee on the floor with his left arm resting upon his left leg. His helm was placed down in front of him at the feet of the monument while his right hand still clutched his crystal headed staff.
The Ape King remained in a motionless state with his eyes closed as his subjects moved as quietly as they could as they went about making repairs to the throne room caused by the purple whelpling and his infuriating companions.
The ritual of which he was a part was something the goliath ape had performed nightly for as long as he has been king; reaffirming his dedication to the dragon who had gifted to them knowledge and power of which they would never have gained on their own. Gaul had made it compulsory for himself to kneel before the statue for at least and hour every night usually before he retired for the evening. He had been dedicated to this however the fortunes of their struggle may have been; for when they had been mounting victories over the dragons and their allies to when his armies had been dashed against the walls of the Dragon city twelve years ago and he had failed to kill the purple dragon who was supposed to be the instrument of their defeat. But in this instance, he had been knelt before the monument since midday, forgoing food and water and enduring the agony to his muscles for the failure of the past day and the great step that was to come.
All day the ape workers had passed by in their labour, those heading upstairs and those heading to start repairs to the throne room floor from the floor below. Gaul was too proud to admit how much the escape of the four dragon whelps had shamed and embarrassed him, how they had slipped from his grasp when they had practically bought themselves to him against all expectations. He had no doubt that the dragons were praising the four whelplings and laughing at the incompetence of his troops, but he knew that their joy would be short lived. He knew that their time was still to come, regardless of such an embarrassing incident.
From the doorway straight across from the statue, an ape lieutenant strode through, marching sternly passed the two guards by the door straight towards the Ape King. The workers quickly made way for him as he walked indifferently by them. He approached Gaul from his left side, pausing a short distance behind him and stiffening his back.
“Your Majesty,” he announced formally in his gruff voice. Gaul’s eyes opened slowly, a light twitch of his tail being the only acknowledgment he needed to give to the lowly lieutenant.
“The assembly is ready, your highness,” the underling said firmly, keeping his head straight forward as Gaul reached forward and grasped his helm, groaning painfully as he forced himself to his feet, snorting a deep breath through his nostrils and he flexed his aching muscles. He looked up towards the green eyes of the statue as they glared down at him, the Ape Kings clutching his staff in both hands in front of him, eyeing the statue back reverently. He remained so for several moments as he let his body readjust to being on its feet, cramps burning in his joints.
“That will be all,” Gaul said gruffly, the lieutenant swiftly turning about and walking back the way he had come. The Ape King flexed his arms and legs, waiting for the pain to subside enough before he went on his way. He looked again to the stone dragon, breathing deep as he said,
“Our moment is approaching, Master,” he said resolutely before he turned his heavy frame around, swapping his staff over to his left hand and began walking stiffly towards the door, tapping his staff with each step of his left foot on the floor. The workers frightfully dropped their loads and knelt as he passed them, the guards standing to attention with their poleaxes as Gaul stepped heavily by them.
The Ape King entered into a large, wide open chamber with a long violet rug leading from the door straight down between rows of heavy stone pillars that ran down the centre of the chamber. Each pillar was adorned on its four sides with gargoyle heads in the likeness of Malefor with flames burning in its mouth. The chamber was as typical of most areas of the mountain fortress, that being it was shaped like a circle. There were two other doorways halfway along the circle forming a ‘T’ on the sides of the chamber with the same violet rugs running from each door and forming a cross in the centre of the floor. Just beyond the top of the cross, the floor of the second half of the chamber rose by a few steps which stretched across the breadth of the room.
Beyond the steps the stone floor continued on for half the length of the remaining space before oddly changing to sturdy wooden planks. The wooden floor formed its own circle with a heavy steel rim covering the edges. Inside the wooden disk where two large gear like wheels like what one might expect to see on a water mill standing parallel to each other on either side of the disk. The two wheels sat in open slots cut into the wooden floor and were fixed in triangular steel frames. Both wheels were forged of heavy steel with gear like teeth on the outside with heavy chains running through them and up to the ceiling where the chains formed a huge disk around another set of gears. Standing inside of each of the great wheels were two large muscle-bound apes side by side, the inside of the wheel having steps for them to pull with their hands and feet when operating them.
As Gaul walked up the steps towards them, they flexed their muscles and braced their hands against the inside of the wheel.
The Ape King walked onto the wooden platform, turning warily to face the way he had come.
“Down!” he barked harshly, the apes inside the wheels began to pull with their hands and feet, groaning with exertion as their muscles bulged. The chains around the wheels began to creak and rattle as the huge wooden platform began to shudder. With fierce growls of effort, the ape teams began to move their wheels in slow, steady synchronization. The massive wooden platform started to creep below the edge of the stone floor, the heavy chains screeching like bats as Gaul remained standing in the middle as the ape laborers grasped and clawed the inside of their wheels. The floor groaned as the Ape King watched the chamber disappear from view as the elevator slowly descended. The wheels rumbled as they turned and the elevator faded into the shadows as the light of the chamber disappeared above them. The platform was darkened except for the burning torches which were hung in intermittent rows from the walls of the mined cavern, which was only slightly wider than the platform itself. The hard, cold rock of the mountain was the only sight other than the torches as the platform lowered deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Mountain of Malefor…
End of Chapter 12.
Next Chapter: Be You For Me
“Ignitus…” Spyro said with dampened surprise. The Fire Guardian stopped a short distance from him.
“May I join you?” he asked formally, his eyes pointing at the space beside the young dragon. Spyro looked ahead and answered with a mild,
“Of course you can.”
Ignitus nodded earnestly, taking the last few steps until he was parallel with Spyro, tucking his feet in and slowly seating himself down, his large tail curving around in front of him. The crimson dragon let out relaxed exhale, turning his attention to the sky that Spyro was not feeling appreciative off. The young dragon shuffled an inch or so away to the right of him, acting that he was trying to make himself more comfortable. Ignitus turned his head slightly until both eyes could see him, Spyro looking up to the right and away from him. The Guardian eyed the grazes and scratches across the purple dragon’s body, the sight stirring memories of injuries to himself and to others he would rather forget, but there was one particular dragon came to mind; a dragon who had been Spyro’s size and age when he had first met him fifteen years ago, a young dragon that he could recall sitting with just the same as here.
“How are you faring, young dragon?” Ignitus asked softly, cautiously reaching out to him with his voice alone. Spyro stared blankly ahead at the horizon and murmured,
“Fine, I guess…” with flat emotion. Ignitus’s bottom teeth peeked out and clutched his upper lip, slowing receding as his instinct detected a tenseness hidden in Spyro’s voice. He filtered a cool breath through his nose as he said,
“You have certainly been put through your paces, Spyro, you and your friends. Certainly more than anyone should expect from dragons your age.” Spyro gave a light shrug of his shoulders,
“Yeah, well, we should be careful of what we expect. Some things aren’t what we always thought,” he replied with a hint of antagonism that did not go unnoticed by the Fire Guardian. He raised his eyebrows curiously, Spyro still not making eye contact with him. But there was a sympathy to the young dragon’s spite that smoothed over the breach of respect in his tone and body language.
“Indeed,” Ignitus said as he looked out towards the sea as Spyro did, watching the water shimmer in the light of the twin moons. The young dragon turned his head a fraction towards him, surprised by his response as Ignitus slowly turned to meet his gaze, but Spyro snapped his head forward again.
“While you were asleep, we all talked at great length to the others about what happened. What they had to tell us about you was most extraordinary,” Ignitus complimented sharply.
“Thanks,” Spyro replied dully, followed by an irk filled sigh. Any glee he had felt from being complimented by the Fire Guardian had morphed into cynicism which he felt he was about overfill within him. Brooding, Spyro stood up and made to turn back to the temple,
“I should get to bed…” he began, but Ignitus fanned his wing out in front of him swiftly but not aggressively, halting him in his stride as the crimson dragon turned to face him. Spyro looked up in confusion, Ignitus setting a pinpoint gaze upon him as he slowly withdrew his wing. He paused for a moment to see if Spyro still wished to leave, but the purple dragon stood firm as if to say he had given his permission to the Guardian to keep him there.
“You are not a good liar, Spyro. It seems you think the same of me,” he said heavily, the young dragon’s ridge like eyebrows rising sharply as his eyes softened. Ignitus sighed, “And you are right,” he confessed, gently beckoning him to sit down again. He once again waited as Spyro slowly sat down before he did the same as they both faced towards each other.
“I know that the worse scars are not always ones inflicted upon the body, but on the mind. The Ancestors know I have quite a few,” Ignitus said dolefully, his eyes turning away regretfully. Spyro sat and watched him and in silence, yet Ignitus could sense that he was madly chatting and debating in his mind every thought and emotion his words had summoned. When he looked back, Spyro’s upward stare at him was like that of a pet dog watching anxiously yet hesitantly at the door that its master was soon to return through. A sad smile lifted the edges of his mouth as he said,
“I see you saw through our façade long before you overheard our discussion this evening.” Spyro blinked hastily as if he had just awoken,
“What do you mean? I was just going to…”
“Generously giving me another example of your poor skills at dishonesty, I see,” Ignitus cut in sharply but with a touch of humour in his voice that slightly eased Spyro’s anxiousness.
“Sure, of course,” he replied in equal fashion. Ignitus smirked at his reply, but it soon faded as he bought the conversation back to its origins.
“I’m sure that it was all very confusing for you,” he said plainly. Spyro banked his head to the right as he shrugged,
“It all just seemed off to me. Like everyone was reading off a script somewhere behind me.”
Ignitus nodded, “Well, you can place the blame on me for that,” he replied tersely, “It was rather a last-minute decision.”
“But why?” asked Spyro hurtfully, “Why couldn’t you just tell me the truth? If what I did was wrong, if what I did had serious consequences, why couldn’t you just say so? Why lie to me and call me a hero?”
The Fire Guardian grimaced, turning his eyes away guiltily as he turned his head slightly to the front balcony.
“I take it that you heard what I said, about not wanting to dampen your spirits? Well, that’s true. I know we could not keep it from you forever, I just hoped I could deliver the truth slowly to you.”
“Did Prowlus really do what I heard?” Spyro asked fearfully, “Has he really banned dragons from Avalar?” Ignitus looked back and lowered his gaze with a regretful sigh,
“I’m afraid so,” he replied sadly, “You did not get to see how irate he was when we returned with Meadow. He said that he no longer wanted dragons to ‘invade’ his territory. He was also not impressed by the sizeable force we arrived in the valley with, including an airship. He believed it would only invite retaliation from the Apes and that we put his village in danger.”
“But he sent for help from Warfang!” the purple dragon protested. Ignitus merely shrugged,
“It is outside my power, Spyro. He is legally entitled to decide who may enter his territory, and we are no longer.”
Spyro gulped as he sat in disbelief in what he had heard, a near paralysing shame collapsed over him like a net. He had always known Prowlus had his reservations about dragons, but he never imagined he would become so furious that he would ban dragons from Avalar. It was within his power, true, but doing so would be a terrible blow to trade and diplomacy between the Cheetah’s and Warfang. But he had done it, all because of him.
“He didn’t have to do that. He shouldn’t have,” he said firmly. Ignitus looked back and looked at him with a sense of irony that wasn’t lost on Spyro as he blushed and looked away from him, “I know, I’m the last dragon who should be telling him or anyone what they shouldn’t be doing,” he admitted shyly. He shook his head as his wings dropped down dismally. Looking back at him he told Ignitus, “Just tell me the truth about what I did. How badly I messed up.”
The Fire Guardian lifted his eyebrows as he looked into the purple dragon’s sincere gaze, raising his head level but keeping his eyes down at him.
“Very well then,” he said formally, closing his eyes while taking a breath in preparation. Spyro mentally braced himself for the truth. Ignitus opened his eyes slowly and flicked his tongue out with Tut, before he shuffled his body around to face the end of the balcony and began;
“It is true that you disobeyed the wishes of your caretaker and ventured off alone without him. It is true, according to what the others said, you returned to find Meadow was missing, an event which may not have occurred had you been present.”
Spyro remained silent, only nodding in agreement as his sad eyes looked up towards the moons, imagining them being a pair of eyes judging him for his actions as Ignitus went on,
“Upon reporting what you had discovered to Prowlus, rather than wait for assistance to arrive from Warfang, you made the foolhardy decision to take your three friends on a ill conceived rescue mission with no idea of what danger you might face and even if Meadow was still alive for you to find.”
'This is what you wanted,’ Spyro reminded himself as he silently absorbed the criticism.
“And it is true that despite what you did accomplish in rescuing Meadow and escaping with your lives, your incursion into the very heart of Ape territory may very well be the catalyst that they will use to justify reigniting open warfare against the realms. With the great responsibilities of the future resting on your shoulders, it was an extremely reckless and dangerous choice you made for the sake of saving but one life.”
‘Well, there you have it,’ Spyro thought miserably. He waited to hear Ignitus say more or to ask if he had anything to say in his defence, but a few moments went by in silence, prompting the young dragon to say in a meek voice,
“I didn’t force the others to go with me. I asked them to stay, but they chose to come with me because they are my friends. But it was my idea to go, Ignitus. The blame lies with me, not them. So whatever you have to say and whatever you have to do, just put it on me and not them.”
The Fire Guardian’s eyes narrowed as he studied what he had heard and what he could see in the youthful face before him, a face again so reminiscent of the young squire he had once taken under his wing. When he blinked next, Ignitus swore for just a moment, before he flashed his eyes again, he saw someone else in place of Spyro sitting before him. A young dragon with orange scales like the sunset as if a memory had projected from his mind and fogged over his eyes like a cold window in the winter. But when did blink, the purple dragon was all he saw.
“What I have to say, Spyro,” he announced slowly, the young dragon lowering his head and closing his eyes as he prepared for verbal lashing he knew he was owed. The damning condemnation for his actions from the dragon he had looked up to the most all his life. “In light of all considerations, I have to tell you…. Well done, young dragon!”
Spyro opened his eyes faster than lightning, his heart stopping for a dangerous moment as he asked himself if he had heard that right. When his heart began beating again, he lifted his head to see Ignitus staring down with a warm smile on his face, winking his right eye to him almost playfully.
“What?!” Spyro exclaimed in disbelief, sure that wishful thinking had taken over his senses.
“What you accomplished with your companions is far beyond what anyone would expect from dragons your age,” Ignitus lauded, “To mount such a daring expedition to save a friend from certain death and to return alive to tell the tale is truly remarkable. You certainly know how to impress.”
“Ignitus, are you feeling okay?” Spyro asked with genuine concern, “I heard you say what I did was ‘illogical’. I’m not sure if you know what it is you are saying.”
“My mind is a clear as the night, Spyro,” he replied proudly, “Of course, I appreciate that your actions did have some negative consequences, but all great endeavours usually have some kind of shortfall. And as for your actions being illogical, well, they were in the same sense that it is illogical to rush into a burning building to save a life when it may claim your own as well.”
Spyro shook his head like a dog shaking water from its fur, more confused than ever,
“But what about what you said? What about Chief Prowlus kicking us out of Avalar and what we did maybe starting another war?!”
“Shush,” Ignitus said delicately as he raised his right paw to calm him, “If any war is to come, it started the moment the Apes invaded the territory of our allies and seized one of their citizens illegally. To my mind, the war did not end twelve years ago, it merely took a pause while Gaul made plans for the future. Your little rescue mission to save Meadow was a justified extradition of an ally of the dragons.”
‘Has Ignitus gone crazy? Have I gone crazy?’ Spyro asked with his mind as wondered if he could trust his own ears. “But then what about what the other Guardians said? They seemed furious!” he raved.
Ignitus nodded slowly, “They have their points, but make no mistake; when they congratulated you, it was not that they were lying, only omitting certain facts.”
“So when I was feeling better then they were going to throw the book at me?” asked Spyro cynically. Ignitus gave him an odd expression,
“We have rules and you did surely break them, even if you had a good reason.”
The purple dragon raised an eyebrow in a manner that spelled out; ‘You serious?’ but then he broke out in a smile as he shook his head and uttered a short chuckle.
“That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say, Ignitus,” said Spyro humorously.
The Fire Guardian inhaled and sighed thoughtfully, looking back towards the end of the balcony. Straightening up as if he had seen something, he stood up and walked a few paces until his chin was above the edge of the balcony. Spyro stood up as if to join him, but he changed his mind at the final moment and stayed put as he watched the large red dragon stare out into the sky.
“When you have lived as long as I have, Spyro,” Ignitus proclaimed whimsically, “You learn that there is a time for following the rules, which is indeed most of the time. But then there are times when we must take the leap to do what we believe is right, no matter what the rules might say. That is a lesson that cannot be taught by anyone but ourselves.”
Spyro’s face twisted as he thought over the Guardian dragon’s words, asking meekly,
“Was what we did one of those times?”
Ignitus turned his head to the right slightly, his eyes panning the rest of the way as he looked back to the young dragon. He looked at him contemplatively for a moment before looking back and saying,
“Rarely is it up to others to tell us if it is one of those times. It is a choice that we must make in a moment of crisis and face whatever the consequences may be. I have made that choice, as did someone I knew very closely, someone whom I see very much a lot of in you.”
Spyro’s expression became unsettled from the brief cheer it had worn, finally coaxing him to walk up slowly beside the Fire Guardian, looking up at him as he kept his eyes out to sea. Hesitantly, the young dragon asked barely above a whisper,
“And who was that, Ignitus?” He felt a pang of guilt as the old dragon lowered his head and eyes mournfully, hearing the tips of his large claws scrape the stone floor as he flexed them.
“On the night of the raid, it had always been our plan that if the worse were to happen, myself or Volteer was to take your egg and leave the others behind, ensuring that the purple dragon would survive above all else. It was grim plan, but one that I was committed to. Or so I believed,” he said grievously, sitting back down on his haunches as the weight of that decision seemed to force him to, “But when I realised that it had come to that, I could not do it. I knew what was at stake, knew that I could reason that it had been a sacrifice made for the greater good, but just to think that made me loath myself. I knew I could not save just one when I knew it was possible to save more, even if it carried greater risks. So I made the choice that we would take three others, three randomly selected among dozens. I took on the weight of that choice, to do what I thought was right, just as Pyra made his.”
“Pyra?” asked Spyro gravely. Ignitus lifted his head and nodded, slowly and almost robotically as his eyelids gradually lifted, turning his head to look at the purple dragon.
“I see so much of who he was in you, Spyro, in all four of you. Steadfast and headstrong, a little cocky. Sharp witted and sharped tongued when antagonised, but loyal to a fault and infinitely compassionate. I like to believe he passed on these qualities to the four of you when he died.”
Spyro felt a lump form in his throat as he was unsure whether to feel flattered or remorse at such a notion. But his curiosity was up with the moons as he asked in the same quite voice as before, “What was his choice, Ignitus?”
Ignitus sighed, “He had been badly wounded as you know. But his wings were still airworthy. There was only a slim chance that he might have escaped with us, but rather than do so he chose to stay behind with the others to the bitter end, believing he would have only slowed us down. This story you have heard many times before. But every time I think back to that night, I think of how I wanted Pyra to leave with us simply because he could have; the others could not have come with us even if they tried. Their fate was sealed the moment we were forced into the grotto. That would have been my right choice; to save him. But it was not his right choice to leave that room that night. In my heart I knew that, even before he told me he was going to stay. Pyra had made his choice; what he knew was the right thing to do.”
Spyro simply found no words, found no thoughts that he could articulate into speech that seemed appropriate enough. To say that he felt sorry was earnest but so predictable it seemed uninspired. He watched the way Ignitus quivered as if he was ill, struggling to contain the emotions that were coursing through him. He wished that Cynder and Flame and Ember were with him right now so that one of them might speak before him, but he was alone and had no one to take that step but himself.
“He sounds braver than I will ever be,” he finally remarked glumly, not wanting to compare his deeds with Pyra’s. Ignitus turned his head to him, and to his surprise smiled humbly at the young dragon.
“Pyra said the same thing to me when I told him about my experiences in battle. He assured me that I would become a legend spoken of throughout the ages while he would fade to obscurity,” he said as his demeanour became overcast again inspite of his smile, “But whose statue do we have in our garden? Who is it we gather every year to commemorate?”
“I’m not sure he would see it in a such a great light, Ignitus. I think he and the others would have preferred not to be the ones being honoured,” Spyro replied with sombre, black humour. Ignitus nodded and remarked cynically,
“They greatest of us are usually not remembered until after we have died.”
The Fire Guardian then realised how depressing the atmosphere had become around him and the young purple dragon, particularly noting how it seemed to have affected him. To try and lift his spirits as well as his own, Ignitus turned his body to face Spyro, who only moved his head as he watched him closely. Ignitus waited until they locked eyes and he smiled proudly.
“You and your friends showed a determination equal to Pyra’s, Spyro. Others might view your actions as acts of disobedience, but I view them as proof that we have every right to have so much faith in you and what you will become. You are well on the way to becoming a legend all your own, Spyro. I only hope I live to see the day you become the dragon you were born to be.”
It came as something of a shock to Ignitus that his words did not seem to lift the spirits of the young dragon at all. Instead, he found himself staring back into a pair of glossy amethyst eyes brimming with uncertainty. Spyro averted his gaze and looked out towards the sea, the Fire Guardian tilting his head oddly as he leaned in closer to his pupil. He looked like he was on the brink of bursting into tears.
“I can’t, Ignitus,” he told him softy with a defeated shake of his head, “I only just survived my first taste of real combat. If it wasn’t for my friends being there to motivate me, I don’t think I would have acted the same way.”
Ignitus’s eyes widened as he leaned in and gently nudged Spyro with his snout, the light touch prompting him to look directly into his red eyes. The purple dragon’s sullen face did not change as the Guardian’s face lit up in a commending smile.
“You can, Spyro. You can,” he told him delicately but firmly, “You are a purple dragon; a very special creature! But more than that, without realising it, you just exemplified what makes you who you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“What gave you the strength to carry on was not fear for yourself, but fear for others. Your love of your friends motivated you to put yourself at risk for them, knowing it might be fatal for you.”
“I-I was…” Spyro stammered, looking away, “I didn’t think about it like that. I just kind of… did it.”
“Just like how you used the power of Fire to melt your bonds and free the others? Oh yes, Cynder was most anxious to tell us about that,” Ignitus chuckled light heartedly.
“She told you?”
“They all did. They told us that you became engulfed in flames and slashed through their chains like a hot iron through paper.” Spyro cocked his head as he tried to think back to that moment, but to his embarrassment he found himself unable to recall how he had done it. It all swept through his mind in a fiery flash.
“I barely even remember that. I just felt so mad, watching Gaul hurt Cynder and I just wished I could do something to stop it. Next thing I know, I was charging across the room like a meteor across the sky.”
“Hmmm,” Ignitus mused as he lifted his head, tapping his claws on the floor thoughtfully, “Most intriguing. I can recall instances of Fire Dragons summoning such an ability, but they were all adults with years of training and prowess. You summoned this ability by pure chance and at a moment’s notice. That’s very impressive and uncommon. But somehow I doubt you could do so again if you were asked to demonstrate it for us.”
“I wouldn’t even know how to begin,” Spyro said flatly, “It just came to me right when I needed it.”
“Perhaps that’s the only time you ever will,” Ignitus suggested brightly, “And who knows what you’ll discover next; what other powers lie dormant within you.”
Spyro looked up and saw the excitement in the Fire Guardian’s face, feeling some of it rub off on him, until a daunting thought came to mind about how these new abilities might be unlocked. “But does that mean my friends will always have to be in peril for me to find out?” he asked gravely. Ignitus paused before he crouched down and patted him reassuringly on his wings.
“I don’t think so, young dragon. I’ve seen you cross that threshold without such perils to motivate you,” he told him wisely. Spyro frowned,
“When have you seen me do that?” Ignitus’s throat rumbled as he chuckled inwardly, a playful light shimmering in his eyes.
“I remember a time, when you were quite younger, that you and I were standing together in this very spot, having a very similar discussion. You were only five years of age and half the size you are now. Do you remember what we talked about?”
“Five years old…?” asked Spyro quizzically, wondering if he could remember anything from that age even if it was just seven years ago. He stood puzzling, his pupils zipping back and forth across his eyes as he thought back to what Ignitus might have meant. When it finally came to him, his eyes bulged and he derided himself for having forgotten so easily.
“When you told me I could fly….” he gasped, remembering.
“Yes,” Ignitus nodded warmly, “Do you remember what I told you?”
“I remember…” Spyro said slowly, his eyes closing as the memories of that day flooded his mind. For a moment he felt as though he had left his body as the memory took over him.
“Now, close your eyes. Take a deep breath and empty your mind.”
He recalled these words as he saw the orange sun of one cloudy summer day, basking over the temple as his small, five year old self sat in the middle of the circular balcony, his tiny wings half the size they were now. Beside him like a great red mountain was Ignitus, standing beside him just like now, watching him stoutly but instructively. The little purple dragon was seated with his eyes fastened shut, while far behind him were three tiny heads watching excitedly from the temple door. It was Cynder, Flame and Ember, staring like puppy dogs out to their friend who was about to do something amazing. Spyro was suddenly flushed with emotions, recalling the fear and doubt that had plagued him all right to that moment. He remembered how he had cried, begged Ignitus to not try and make him do it.
The idea that he could fly was outrageous and scary. At the ripe age of five he knew he would never measure up, that he would never soar through the skies like all the big dragons he had seen. He had never flown in his life and was never going to! But then he recalled how calm he had become as he sat there with the summer wind brushing over him, listening to the Fire Guardian’s calm, patient voice as he kept telling him breath in and then out, in and out, entering a trance like state which he recalled felt like he was living in a dream.
“Yes, yes that’s it!” Ignitus had said excitedly as he remained in that state, feeling a surge of something running through him, but he didn’t blink or flinch in the slightest as he just sat and listened to his mentor’s words, the words Ignitus had asked him to recall;
“Now feel the power of your ancestors coursing through your body. In times of crisis they will come to you and teach you, unlocking powers you never knew you had!”
Spyro’s heart started to beat at a slow but heavy rate, just like it had in his tiny body seven years ago. He had unconsciously then stood up, bowing his head slightly as if manipulated by an invisible pair of hands. The something he felt coursing through him crashed and churned in his veins like the sea slamming against a rockwall. But oddly, each crash soothed him, lulling him into a more sleep like state.
“Just look at everything you ever thought you knew; your fears, your doubts. Let them drift away, forget yourself,” Ignitus told him, the anticipation in his voice enough to intoxicate anyone in earshot. Spyro then felt something happening to himself; he felt the faintest touch of air brushing down his back as his wings, again unconsciously, moved in synch with each other, flapping once, flapping twice, slowly but surely picking up speed as they did.
“Only through forgetting… will you remember what your ancient blood already knows…” said Ignitus softly, almost whispering as he recalled not being able to feel the ground beneath his feet and a sense of weightlessness overcoming him that should have been terrifying but felt as natural as the sunlight.
“…You can fly!”
When he had opened his eyes, he saw that his feet were no longer touching the ground! He remembered squirming like a worm with excitement when he realised that he was hovering above the ground. Only a few feet above the ground, true, but hovering nonetheless. He was flying! Spyro then recalled looking up at Ignitus, seeing him wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen the crimson dragon wear. Seeing that smile and proving to himself that he could fly after all was the happiest moment that he could ever recall in his young life.
Spyro opened his eyes, returning to the present. Flush with nostalgia, he looked up to Ignitus and broke out a beaming grin as he looked upon the same smile the Fire Guardian had shown him seven years ago.
“I remember that!” Spyro exclaimed happily, “I’d never felt so proud in my life!”
“It is surely one of my fondest memories,” Ignitus said with fatherly pride, “And its why I know that great things still await you. I know that as long as you stay true to yourself, Spyro, there is no limits to what you will achieve.”
“You really think that?”
“Always,” Ignitus said with a playful nudge of his right fist to Spyro’s shoulder, prompting a quick laugh from the purple dragon who promptly returned the favour with a quick jab into the Fire Guardian’s muscular leg. Ignitus chuckled as Spyro, now bursting with cheer, suddenly jumped up, flapping his wings and hovering up to his mentor’s head height despite the stinging in his injuries. Ignitus opened his mouth as if to remind of this, but Spyro zipped up like a fly and flew rings around the crimson dragon, laughing heartily. Ignitus could not help but catch his infectious laugh and share in the merriment as he swung his head around trying to follow the purple blur encircling him. Soon enough, Spyro swooped down and made a running landing on the balcony, skidding to a halt right beside the Fire Guardian as the young dragon grinned and struck the most heroic pose he could imagine. As he turned his head to look at Ignitus’s laughing face, the pain he had been ignoring suddenly caught up with him and Spyro’s expression became almost comically pained.
“Oh, ouch! Oh!” he exclaimed as he suddenly flinched uncomfortably, hobbling on his limbs like he was standing on hot coals.
“Spyro!” Ignitus cried, reaching out with his front paws and clasping him gently within them. He pulled him close against his belly as Spyro continued reeling from the pain of his weathered body. As his breathing relaxed and the complaining subsided, Ignitus pulled his right paw away but kept his left paw holding around his side as Spyro leaned against it for support.
“Guess I’m getting a little ahead of myself,” he confessed embarrassingly, his eye twitching as he gingerly flexed his left foreleg.
“I should have cautioned you,” Ignitus apologised, his voice heavy with anxiety. His change in demeanour seemed almost overbearing in his concern to the young dragon, making Spyro feel that there was something more troubling the Guardian dragon.
“Are you okay, Ignitus?” he asked solemnly. The Fire Guardian let out a sound that was half groan, half sigh, his eyes moving between the giant paws he held on either side of Spyro. He was immediately transferred to when he had flown with them tucked against his sides, clutching the pair of dragon eggs he had selected in them.
“You know, I forget how miraculous it was that you survived the very night you were born, let alone how you survived Gaul a second time,” he said heavily. Spyro wore a grave expression as he felt a sudden wave of dread come over him like the dark events of that night were lingering like a haunting ghost.
“You know I’ve been grateful for every day since then,” he replied heartfully. Ignitus stiffened his back as he sat almost upright, still with his paws encircling the young dragon.
“And I’ve been grateful for every day the four of you have had as well,” the Guardian said with an unsteady voice. Spyro’s heart surged with empathy as the crimson dragon closed his eyes and hung his head sullenly, weighed down from the trauma of his past. Spyro then, without any hint of pain, pushed himself over the short distance between the two of them, moving out from the large paws and standing upright. The purple dragon held the right side of his face against him as he stretched his paws and forelegs out across the crimson dragon’s belly, making the Fire Guardian’s eyes pop open as Spyro tried to hug his mass. Ignitus gasped silently as his mouth hung open in shock, the young dragon’s act momentarily paralysing him.
“I don’t know what it was like, making the choice that you did,” Spyro remarked emotionally, “But I know you did everything you could. I know why Pyra looked up to you so much.”
Ignitus finally caught his breath, feeling his throat quivering as the power of the embrace warmed his belly. He carefully moved his paws inward and lightly held them against the back of the small purple dragon. He looked upon him in a way a father would be expected to look at his own child, his heart humming with delight with the knowledge he had not lost Spyro’s faith and friendship.
“You’ve given me so much hope, Spyro. More than I’ve ever had in anyone. It’s my greatest wish that we can share that hope with everyone. You have had me feeling like a younger dragon again,” he said smiling. Spyro looked up and smiled humorously,
“How many centuries ago was that?”
Ignitus chuckled heartily, “If my lifespan were a great tunnel, it would burrow right through the centre of the earth and straight out the other side.”
The word ‘tunnel’ stirred something in Spyro’s mind. His eyes blew up like a frog’s croaking throat as he gasped in alarm. Something he just remembered from when he and the others had been taken captive, something he had not heard anyone else mention. Spyro suddenly leaned back from the embrace, Ignitus lifting his paws away confusedly as he looked at the Fire Guardian urgently,
“Ignitus, I just remembered something! Something I saw when we were captured. Underground…” he began feverishly.
“Calm down, young dragon,” Ignitus said smoothly, “What did you see?” Spyro caught his breath as he tried to deliver his recollections coolly. After a pause, he asked,
“The others told you about how we got caught in the catacombs, right?”
“Indeed,” Ignitus nodded curiously.
“They knocked us out with some kind of gas. But I woke up from it while they were carrying us underground. They hit me to try and put me out again, but I just pretended to be while they carried me. I couldn’t see much, but they were taking us through some underground tunnels, for however long I don’t know.”
“The others did mention waking up in the halls of the mountain, but not of underground tunnels,” said Ignitus thoughtfully. Spyro frowned,
“Then I guess I was the only one who saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“At one point they dropped me and I hit the ground. My eyes just shot open I guess from the shock. That was when I saw a huge underground cavern. It wasn’t natural; they’d dug it out! I only saw for a few seconds before they knocked me out; but it was like something you’d see at the Munitions Forge! There were dozens of apes breaking and shifting stone; there were metal carts going back and forth, it was huge! What I saw I think was only a tiny part of what was going on.”
“They were mining?” asked Ignitus calmly but with a touch of alarm, “What makes you think it was an extensive effort?”
“Because there were trains of mine carts on two big rail lines coming from other tunnels in the direction we had come. The ones coming back were full, the ones heading in were empty. Whatever was going on, it was bigger than just the cavern I saw.”
The large crimson dragon turned his eyes up to the corner of his head as he analysed what he had been told. His grip on the young dragon lessened as he placed all his strength into pondering. Spyro watched him curiously as Ignitus tilted his head to his left, his brow creasing heavily.
“What do you think it means, Ignitus?” he asked cautiously.
The Fire Guardian answered slowly, “It could mean many things. The land around Malefor is barren and offers little resources. It could be they have resorted to deep tunnelling for raw materials…” he mused unsurely. His eyes lit up as a thought appeared and he hastily looked back at the young dragon.
“Was there any way to tell what direction it was going in?”
Spyro shrugged, “I’m not sure. We were underground. When we got caught, I guess they must have taken us through the old ruins. We thought we might be able to use them as a shortcut to get to the mountain. If they took us straight from there, and if that’s why there were apes in there in the first place, then I suppose that’s where they were tunnelling.”
“Right under Avalar, straight to Warfang…” Ignitus said with something like fear in his voice.
Spyro stared in shock. “To Warfang? That can’t be true!”
“Gaul has had twelve years of no distractions to put such a plan into action. I most certainly wouldn’t rule it out,” Ignitus replied grimly. Spyro’s expression became one of concern, his emotions seeming to have bounced up and down like a grasshopper. He hesitated to speak again as he viewed Ignitus’s hard, thoughtful look. He carefully lifted up his right paw and gently placed it overtop of that of the Fire Guardian. The touch made his eyes flicker as he looked down at the tiny set of digits clasping over his enormous paw.
“Should we be worried, Ignitus?” Spyro asked quietly, almost fearfully. Ignitus sighed gloomily, the earnest gaze of the purple dragon piercing his heart. He reached up with his right paw and gently patted the young dragon’s back.
“There is always reason to be worried, young dragon. If your suspicions are correct, then searching the ruins you found would be paramount. But now that Prowlus has barred dragons from the valley, we cannot search his territory without his permission.”
“Then we have to get it from him! Let me talk to him!” Spyro pleaded. Ignitus shook his head,
“I’m afraid it’s a matter of diplomacy now. Any such request would have to go through the proper channels. We cannot simply fly to Avalar uninvited, it may be seen as an act of incursion.”
“You make it sound like the Cheetah’s are our enemy now,” Spyro remarked dismally as Ignitus eyed him apologetically, “But what if I’m right and the apes are planning something?”
“And what if you are wrong?” asked Ignitus pointedly, earning a look of confusion from Spyro.
“What do you mean? Don’t you think I am?”
“We must consider every possibility. I believe you saw what you did, Spyro, but I’m afraid that the word of an adolescent dragon, even a purple dragon, will not carry much weight before the council.”
Spyro groaned irritably, “Then what are we supposed to do?”
“The other Guardians and I will have to meet with the council in Warfang tomorrow to explain the events of the last two days. It is expected that when you are well enough that you and your companions will have to give an account of your actions. I will tell them what you have told me until then.”
“No, I’ve got to see them!” Spyro demanded, “If I go with you tomorrow, I can talk to them.”
“Spyro, Spyro, you are still not recovered,” Ignitus said warningly, “You barely have the strength to walk.”
“Then at least let me go to Warfang,” Spyro said pleadingly, “If I get better there, then I can talk to them right away! Or they can come to me, whatever,” he said hastily. Ignitus chuckled at his impulsiveness but respected the dutiful urgency in his tone. He sat quietly for a few moments as Spyro watched him impatiently.
Eventually, Ignitus sighed and gave a short nod to him, “I’ll discuss it with the others, see what they have to say.”
Spyro looked somewhat disappointed at not getting the definite answer he had hoped for, but he still nodded gratefully to the Fire Guardian,
“Thanks, Ignitus,” he said timidly.
“You are welcome, young dragon,” Ignitus said fondly, “But now I think you should be getting some rest. I think you’ve had plenty of fresh air, wouldn’t you say?” he asked with a wink.
Spyro giggled and nodded firmly, “You’ve really helped me to clear my head, Ignitus. I didn’t think I understood anything anymore.”
“I’m glad,” Ignitus said, extending his right paw in a clenched fist towards him. The young dragon grinned playfully as he clenched his own right paw and reached out and bumped it into that of the Fire Guardian.
“I thought only we did that,” Spyro remarked surprisingly.
“Some things are timeless, Spyro,” Ignitus grinned.
Meanwhile, in the Mountain of Malefor….
The solid green eyes of the monument to the Dark Master seemed to gaze down to the floor of the circular chamber with vehement anger as several apes carried tools and building materials up the staircase that circled around the statue to the throne room. They were careful to make as little noise as possible as they made their repeated trips upstairs, for their ruler who was currently kneeling before the statue of Malefor. With the dozens of candles burning all around him, Gaul had his right knee on the floor with his left arm resting upon his left leg. His helm was placed down in front of him at the feet of the monument while his right hand still clutched his crystal headed staff.
The Ape King remained in a motionless state with his eyes closed as his subjects moved as quietly as they could as they went about making repairs to the throne room caused by the purple whelpling and his infuriating companions.
The ritual of which he was a part was something the goliath ape had performed nightly for as long as he has been king; reaffirming his dedication to the dragon who had gifted to them knowledge and power of which they would never have gained on their own. Gaul had made it compulsory for himself to kneel before the statue for at least and hour every night usually before he retired for the evening. He had been dedicated to this however the fortunes of their struggle may have been; for when they had been mounting victories over the dragons and their allies to when his armies had been dashed against the walls of the Dragon city twelve years ago and he had failed to kill the purple dragon who was supposed to be the instrument of their defeat. But in this instance, he had been knelt before the monument since midday, forgoing food and water and enduring the agony to his muscles for the failure of the past day and the great step that was to come.
All day the ape workers had passed by in their labour, those heading upstairs and those heading to start repairs to the throne room floor from the floor below. Gaul was too proud to admit how much the escape of the four dragon whelps had shamed and embarrassed him, how they had slipped from his grasp when they had practically bought themselves to him against all expectations. He had no doubt that the dragons were praising the four whelplings and laughing at the incompetence of his troops, but he knew that their joy would be short lived. He knew that their time was still to come, regardless of such an embarrassing incident.
From the doorway straight across from the statue, an ape lieutenant strode through, marching sternly passed the two guards by the door straight towards the Ape King. The workers quickly made way for him as he walked indifferently by them. He approached Gaul from his left side, pausing a short distance behind him and stiffening his back.
“Your Majesty,” he announced formally in his gruff voice. Gaul’s eyes opened slowly, a light twitch of his tail being the only acknowledgment he needed to give to the lowly lieutenant.
“The assembly is ready, your highness,” the underling said firmly, keeping his head straight forward as Gaul reached forward and grasped his helm, groaning painfully as he forced himself to his feet, snorting a deep breath through his nostrils and he flexed his aching muscles. He looked up towards the green eyes of the statue as they glared down at him, the Ape Kings clutching his staff in both hands in front of him, eyeing the statue back reverently. He remained so for several moments as he let his body readjust to being on its feet, cramps burning in his joints.
“That will be all,” Gaul said gruffly, the lieutenant swiftly turning about and walking back the way he had come. The Ape King flexed his arms and legs, waiting for the pain to subside enough before he went on his way. He looked again to the stone dragon, breathing deep as he said,
“Our moment is approaching, Master,” he said resolutely before he turned his heavy frame around, swapping his staff over to his left hand and began walking stiffly towards the door, tapping his staff with each step of his left foot on the floor. The workers frightfully dropped their loads and knelt as he passed them, the guards standing to attention with their poleaxes as Gaul stepped heavily by them.
The Ape King entered into a large, wide open chamber with a long violet rug leading from the door straight down between rows of heavy stone pillars that ran down the centre of the chamber. Each pillar was adorned on its four sides with gargoyle heads in the likeness of Malefor with flames burning in its mouth. The chamber was as typical of most areas of the mountain fortress, that being it was shaped like a circle. There were two other doorways halfway along the circle forming a ‘T’ on the sides of the chamber with the same violet rugs running from each door and forming a cross in the centre of the floor. Just beyond the top of the cross, the floor of the second half of the chamber rose by a few steps which stretched across the breadth of the room.
Beyond the steps the stone floor continued on for half the length of the remaining space before oddly changing to sturdy wooden planks. The wooden floor formed its own circle with a heavy steel rim covering the edges. Inside the wooden disk where two large gear like wheels like what one might expect to see on a water mill standing parallel to each other on either side of the disk. The two wheels sat in open slots cut into the wooden floor and were fixed in triangular steel frames. Both wheels were forged of heavy steel with gear like teeth on the outside with heavy chains running through them and up to the ceiling where the chains formed a huge disk around another set of gears. Standing inside of each of the great wheels were two large muscle-bound apes side by side, the inside of the wheel having steps for them to pull with their hands and feet when operating them.
As Gaul walked up the steps towards them, they flexed their muscles and braced their hands against the inside of the wheel.
The Ape King walked onto the wooden platform, turning warily to face the way he had come.
“Down!” he barked harshly, the apes inside the wheels began to pull with their hands and feet, groaning with exertion as their muscles bulged. The chains around the wheels began to creak and rattle as the huge wooden platform began to shudder. With fierce growls of effort, the ape teams began to move their wheels in slow, steady synchronization. The massive wooden platform started to creep below the edge of the stone floor, the heavy chains screeching like bats as Gaul remained standing in the middle as the ape laborers grasped and clawed the inside of their wheels. The floor groaned as the Ape King watched the chamber disappear from view as the elevator slowly descended. The wheels rumbled as they turned and the elevator faded into the shadows as the light of the chamber disappeared above them. The platform was darkened except for the burning torches which were hung in intermittent rows from the walls of the mined cavern, which was only slightly wider than the platform itself. The hard, cold rock of the mountain was the only sight other than the torches as the platform lowered deeper and deeper into the bowels of the Mountain of Malefor…
End of Chapter 12.
Next Chapter: Be You For Me
Category Story / All
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