Desperate Motivations
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Yes, I'm well aware that this is late. Veeery late. Like, about, three months late. You try coming up with a plot while you have a heavy artist's block over the summer, and then later get admitted into AP classes. Not only that, the whole stress of some people abusing the review system really brought me down. XP
But okay, I didn't forget this. Will SOME people stop spreading rumors about how I ran off to write Oracle of Shadows? I cancelled that fic (partly because I completely lost interest with Rayman, and partly because the plot ran itself into the ground.), and I'm working on this one. I just joking that one time.
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"So, the thief that gave you this map is called Fishtail, eh? Interesting name...for a thief."
A few hours after the tiring battle against The Queen, Red found enough strength to speak. The sun that had once glowed serenely out of the large hole that engulfed the ceiling of the cave was now slowly sinking into the west, sending warm, golden hues into the cave and dying everything with a rich color. Pyran had started a conversation with Red, partly to explain why the son of Spyro had saved the greatest scourge of the Realms, and partly because he was completely bored out of his mind. He figured that, since Red was more or less a new member of his small heroic group, he might as well fill him in on what had happened so far.
"Although that does sound familiar. Isn't she the Lion Serpent that leads a group of thieves that guards the entrance? I'm pretty sure I heard some of the gnorc troops talking about having their best heirlooms stolen." Red stated plainly as he fiddled with the map in his hands. Already he was figuring out exactly how far he had to go in order to meet this "Mortigon" that, apparently, was the brains behind the bat-like gnorcs that destroyed his army.
"It wasn't their heirlooms; it was their weapons and armor. Half the army wanted to go back home because they were lacking proper equipment. Course, what do I know? My suggestions, no matter how life-saving, mean nothing compared to a staff adorned with Dark Gems. That really says something about your priorities, Red." Gnasty Gnorc hissed from his spot in the cave. His back was resting against a solid rock wall, and despite the serious damage that The Queen had caused during the fight, he still had strength to come up with comebacks while treating his wound. It was almost macabre to see the gnorc sitting casually as blood trickled out of the various wounds.
Red opened his mouth to make an equally snappy comeback, but he immediately closed it. He lacked the energy to start a fight with the gnorc, and he just wasn't in the mood to say anything cruel. Instead, he settled with weakly tossing a rock in Gnasty Gnorc's direction, not caring at all when the rock clattered a few feet away from his target.
"Will you just let that go, Gnorc? They're dead and there's nothing we can do."
"Gnasty Gnorc, please. Call me by that, while we're still on friendly terms. After all, I did just save your live from a giant green monster with wings. You should count your blessings, especially since I'm almost ready to tear your wings out of your sockets, you spoiled excuse for a dragon." As soon as he said those words, Gnasty Gnorc knew that it was nothing more than an empty threat. He barely had enough energy to move his arms, let alone walk up to where Red was sitting.
Still, this small exchange of words concerned Calub. He had to destroy this rivalry before they killed each other when their strength returned. It was amusing to watch, he had to admit, but it was delaying their rescue of their parents. The little woltoc decided to take matters into his own hands; he climbed onto the highest rock in the cavern and shouted to his friends seated in the cave.
"Guys. As much as I want to talk about tearing Red wings out, we need to think more seriously here. We're a small group of six Avalarian children, plus a gargoyle, a gnorc, and a fallen Dragon Elder. The Queen got away, probably to report to her master what happened. For all we know, Mortigon knows exactly where we are and is planning his next move. If we don't stop fighting, we're not going to have a snowball's chance in Magma Cone against him. We've got to stick together!"
His speech had the opposite effect than what he intended. Red's eyes lit up with amusement as he chuckled coldly at Calub. His laughter bounced off the walls of The Queen's lair, adding an almost spectral effect to his laughter. His ambition shattered, Calub disheartenly slid down the rock perch as Red mocked his efforts to lighten his mood.
"Well, aren't you a cutie? Not even a teenager and already he's leading a troop against an evil menace. How sweet." Red replied with a voice full of fake sincerity. When Harmony shot him a venomous glare, he only chuckled some more to himself. "As much as I'd like to be included in your merry band of heroes, I'm going to have to decline. As an evildoer, I know that large groups of heroic people, especially if most of the members are below the age of 20, attract more danger and attract more thugs. You're going to step outside of this cave and be swarmed by cronies sent by Mortigon. Happens every time."
Red stood up, paused to flex his wings, and began to stroll towards the entrance of the cave. His sharp claws clicked against the floor of the cave as he left the 'merry band of heroes' behind.
"If anyone needs me, I'll be busy avoiding death by exiting to the nearest portal out of here."
Red took a few steps, but immediately jumped back. The end of Gnasty's club crashed into the floor just inches from his right foot claw. Gnasty stepped in front of Red and folded his arms casually around his bloodstained armor. Despite the grisly look about him and the fact that his strength had imbedded his club a few inches deep in solid stone, he had a very calm tone to his voice as he addressed the dragon in front of him.
"No can do, Red. We're stranded. Unless you can trek across a desert for a few weeks by yourself, be my guest. Especially since we're not sharing any of our rations and you don't have a map."
"I'm Red the Fallen Dragon Elder! I can survive a desert with or without your maps or rations!"
"You seem to be forgetting exactly how fast those Desolation Gnorcs defeated you, and you had an army with carts laden with food backing you up. Out there, you'll be all by yourself. Maybe you'll get lucky and some Muu Dragon camp will adopt you and make you into their loyal slave, or maybe you'll die of thirst before the next sandstorm. No skin off our bones, but it'll be some skin off your bones once the vultures find your sun-soaked carcass."
Red stood there, staring banefully at Gnasty Gnorc. He tried to look as dignified as possible, but judging from the giggles rising from both the six hybrid children and that insufferable gargoyle, he wasn't succeeding.
"You...bring up a very valid point." Red agreed at last. Gnasty Gnorc's gaze never left him, and judging from the silence he was receiving from the other creatures in the cave, more than one pairs of eyes were watching him. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity of being examined by hateful stares, Red slammed his foot on the ground and balled his hands into fists. "Okay, fine. If dying in the desert is worse than dying while fighting some crazed maniac with some powerful crystals, then I might as well pal around. But don't expect me to like it."
Red added the last sentence under his breath, but the others knew exactly what he was thinking.
"We don't expect you to do anything except follow us and Kannica, who will be leading the way to Mortigon's Palace." Gnasty Gnorc replied. He reached down to pull out his club out of the ground. Kannica, happy to hear her name mentioned, burst into a singsong voice as she repeated what Gnasty Gnorc had said about her.
"Yeah, follow us and Kannica, who will be-HEY!" Her brain finally figured out exactly what Gnasty Gnorc had intended for her. With an indignant flap of her wings, she took to the air and flew over to where Gnasty Gnorc was standing. In midair, she glowered at the green monster as he casually brushed the dirt off his weapon.
"Why are you involving me? I said I was going to lead you to The Queen, not to Mortigon himself!" Kannica shouted. Gnasty Gnorc, knowing exactly how to win Kannica's trust, immediately tried to figure out exactly how many creatures he had to crystallize in order to get his little tour guide to help.
"Okay, what's your price?"
"Nothing! All the shinies in the world would not convince me to go up against him! There's a reason we gargoyles work for him, and not because we feel like helping. That guy has more power in his little claw than both you and Jutjaw have in your entire bodies!" Kannica hissed. She paused to rest her wings on the tallest perch in the cave, which happened to be Red's horns, much to the dragon's chagrin. When she wrapped her wings around her green-tinted body, Gnasty Gnorc thought of an idea to get Kannica to perform the dangerous deed of leading them to Mortigon.
"Okay, I see. I understand that you're too afraid to do it. It is, after all, a job only people bigger than potatoes can complete. If I was your size, I'd be chicken too."
Kannica's body tensed when the gnorc's words hit a sensitive spot on her nerves. The hybrids, seeing exactly what kind of trick the gnorc was playing, decided to add insult to injury by giggling and saying similar things to her. When Pyran shouted "Do you want some Aloe Vera for that BURN?" in her direction, she launched herself into the air and flew back to where Gnasty Gnorc was standing.
"...Fifty statues." She said through gritted teeth.
"My, my. Quite a steep sum."
"Mark my words, Gnorc. Any smaller of a number, and my brain will overpower my pride and I'll refuse to do this." Kannica growled. She hung in the air, seemingly defeated by her own avarice and pride, but already her mind was thinking about all the things she could do with more than fifty emerald shinies. Her mind wandered back to Brandimuu, who was still waiting in a cave in the desert, just waiting to be prided over. Her shinies were her pride and joy; she might as well make this trip worthwhile.
"Okay then. Fifty. Mortigon's got a lot of troops anyways. I might as well have a little fun while I'm on this trip."
Gnasty Gnorc walked over to where the rest of the group was, Kannica perched on his helmet. The group sat down, gazing at the map. Already, Karydor had taken the liberty of drawing the path that they took on the map in pencil. She circled the spot where they were and the spot where they needed to go. Kannica fluttered from her previous perch to a convenient spot on the ground. Folding her wings to her side, she examined the map and studied its miniscule details.
"Now, where do we start?"
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When Elora woke up, she immediately regretted it. When she slowly stirred from her short coma, pain shot up from every part of her body. The faun's limbs felt like lead as she struggled weakly to fight off the pain. Her head felt like someone was jabbing a thousand hot picks in her skull, and it felt like fire was coursing through her veins instead of blood. When she opened her eyes, even the low flickering of the dungeon's torches was too bright for her. Convulsing violently, the faun brought herself to her knees and vomited whatever was left in her stomach. She slumped on the hard, moldy cot that she was lying on, bile still dribbling out of her mouth.
"I must admit, Mortigon's pretty clever. Not only does he know how to cause his victims as much pain as he possibly can, but he never kills them in the progress. Whatever spell he cast upon you when he caught you spying isn't going to kill you, but it will definitely feel like it will." a familiar voice replied. Elora listened to the telltale sounds of a clutch clicking against the hard stone tiles. Letting her eyes focus, she saw Vincent, who, with the exception of a clutch tucked underneath his right arm, looked the same as when she spied on both of them. She took the time to notice that, unlike Changeling, the cells were fairly clean, as Vincent examined her.
"Hey, you're that scientist that works for Mortigon." Elora replied softly, fighting back more stabs of pain in her body. When she coughed, Vincent took out a napkin and wiped the spittle and bile from her lips. His eyes were a very deep shade of brown, but they were bloodshot from lack of sleep. He kept watching her and, when he saw that she was well enough to talk to, explained.
"Yes, and I'm the only licensed doctor in this dump. If it wasn't for me, you'd be begging me to die." Vincent replied, somewhat darkly, as he twirled an empty syringe in his free hand. "Mortigon ordered me not to use painkillers, but what the crazy rotter doesn't know won't hurt him."
"And it'll hurt Elora a lot less. That was definitely a torture spell of the highest degree...except that he sort of skimped on the last incantation of that spell. You're supposed to be bleeding internally." A voice, Ripto's most likely, drifted out from one the cells next to Elora's. Regaining enough strength to look around, she found that she was alone with only her husband and Vincent. Two prisoners to each cell. Laigon may have been stupid, but Mortigon showed more inklings of cunning with each revelation.
"Still, it doesn't explain why you're working for him. I'd figure someone as smart as you would've moved on from being someone's minion and made some sort of career for yourself." Spyro said with a hint of venom in his voice. From what Elora could see, he had a lot less chains on him than when he was being transported here. Save for a heatproof collar chained to his neck, Spyro was free to roam around. His wrists still showed signs of bruising where Muugara had chained him up.
"Sadly, this is my career. He saw that I had the knowledge of what he needed and whisked me away. Now I'm basically playing the role that Airazor filled in the past; lackey to some cruel monster that wants to play around with Gigas Crystals. He doesn't have the omnipotent White and Black Gigas Crystals, but he doesn't need them. His plan is much more sinister than that. After all, with a prophecy linked by bloodlines and the hatred of an accursed Holder, who needs them?" Vincent explained. A moment of awkwardly filled silence passed before anyone summoned enough strength to speak.
"Gee, for someone who hates working for him, you sure are keeping us in the dark." Spyro hissed. The brown-scaled dragon blanched at the sight of Spyro's glare. The heroic dragon's purple eyes, normally bright and filled with a spirit for adventurer, had hardened and seemed to belong to the eyes of a madman. Vincent took a step backwards, his clutch held tightly to his body.
"I'm sworn to secrecy. Mortigon will kill me and hang my carcass on a pike before I reveal any part of his plans." Vincent replied. He turned his back to Spyro, as if the sight of the glowering dragon was almost too much to bear. With his brown eyes riveted to the wall, he kept his stance firm. "Every part of his plan must fall into place. The best thing for you to do is to lay low and stay in the dungeons until the children that Mortigon needs for his plan come here. After all, that's the best thing to-"
Vincent never had a chance to finish his sentence. He gagged when Spyro wrapped his arm around his throat and pulled him backwards. The clutch fell from his hands when Spyro slammed him against the dungeon's wall, his hands wrapped firmly around his throat. Vincent found himself staring into a face so filled with hatred and disgust that he was instantly reminded of Mortigon.
"To hell with your secrecy, you goddamned piece of dragon dung!" Spyro hissed, his grip tightening. Spit fluttered from his lips as he yelled at Vincent, who was trying desperately to keep balance on one good leg. "I'm NOT going to sit idly in a dungeon and twiddle my thumbs while my son's life is at stake!"
Elora, despite the grogginess and pain racing through her body, stood up and reached a quivering hand towards her husband. When Vincent's eyes locked with hers, he made a pathetic whine.
"Spyro, please..."
"Elora, don't encourage this waste of skin! Did you even hear what he said? He referred to our children as a part of some plan, not as actual-"
"SPYRO, YOU'RE CHOKING HIM!"
Elora's exclamation brought Spyro back to his senses. He froze in his spot, staring almost in awe at the fact that his hands were squeezed so tightly around Vincent's throat. The brown-scaled dragon he was holding was clawing desperately at the air, his face turning blue. Immediately, he let go, his entire face cloaked with the expression of utter shock. Vincent sank to the floor, wheezing for air and clutching his broken leg. Hard brown eyes stared angrily into Spyro's as the dragon found the air to speak.
"So, twenty years and you're still a bully. You picked on me when I was just learning my profession and you pick on me here. Do you think brute force alone is going to stop this monster, you purple Neanderthal? Why do you think Red and Gnasty Gnorc got their tails kicked, huh?"
An awkward silence filled the room as he sat there on the floor, massaging his throat. Elora offered him his crutch, which he hastily snatched away from her hands. As Spyro helped him up to his feet, he tried again with his approach.
"There has to be some way, Vincent. Like I said, the worst thing is sitting around idle and doing nothing."
"Well, there is one way, but it won't involve you, Spyro." Vincent hissed as he jabbed a finger in Spyro's direction. He slowly hobbled out of Spyro and Elora's cell. As he shut the reinforced-magic door to the cell behind him, he noted that neither dragon nor faun rose to escape. He leaned against the wall adjacent to the cell, his arms folded across his chest and his one good leg used for a balance.
"Mortigon's got tabs on all the Gigas Holders in here and he's not letting even one of you crawl away. Not you, not Ripto, not even Mell or Nazza can escape." He paused to shrug his shoulders; he loathed admitting it, but he'd certainly enjoy watching Mortigon being defeated by Spyro. "Which is a shame too; I have information from the outside that there's a lizard thief named Dishmail or whatever the heck they called her and she's building a resistance against Mortigon. Be kind of crazy to send one of you there, unless I want my skin hanging from the rooftops as a flag..."
"That doesn't mean you can't."
Vincent jumped when he heard Ripto's voice; he had forgotten that there were more than just two prisoners in the dungeon. His spot against the wall was at too far of an angle to see the short riptoc sorcerer in his cell, but Vincent's ears could hear Ripto pacing around, chains clicking dully at his side.
"M-me?"
"Yeah, you said Mortigon's got tabs on all the Gigas Holders. What he doesn't have a tab on is you, a lowly scientist. You can go talk to Dishmail and get her to help our children." Ripto replied. Several of the other prisoners voiced their approval at this idea. Vincent felt like he wanted to sink into the wall behind him and disappear; he hated Mortigon, but he didn't want to risk his life.
"But Mortigon needs me too! He's going to notice if I disappear!" Vincent shouted, sounding a bit more hysterical and pathetic than what he intended. If Vincent could see through solid stone, he would've seen Airazor roll his eyes while nursing the wounds he received from Mortigon; his attitude seemed almost too familiar to what Airazor had to go through back in the days.
"I'll make up a story. Mortigon is still living in the past; to him, I'm still an arrogant jerk who hates dragons."
"You're still an arrogant jerk, honey. You just somewhat tolerate dragons instead of hate them." Snowflake replied with a chuckle. Vincent had healed her first, and already she was returning to her normal self. Using a piece of chalk that Vincent was kind enough to give, she was currently amusing herself by drawing random doodles to pass the time. Ripto rolled his eyes at her.
"Very nice of you to support me, dear. Anyways, I'll make up a story that involves magical annihilation, I take a few lumps, and you go off Scott-free. I'm agreeing with Spyro on this that I'd rather take my chances and see if this 'Dishmail' will help me instead of just worrying."
Airazor shuffled on his spot on the floor. He decided to add his own two cents in the whole discussion.
"I don't know. Mortigon's pretty cruel, and I doubt he'll hold back if-"
"Okay, fine! I'll do it, okay? No discussion, no questions asked. I'm doing it. I'm sick of being a doormat!"
Vincent was surprised at himself by his sudden outburst. He stood there for a moment, bathed in the light of the flickering torches hanging above him, as he tried to piece together his thoughts. He thought he saw Spyro nodding in approval, but he was unsure if it was just a figment of his imagination. He ran a hand across the soft black frill that, like all Artisan Dragons, ran across his spine and ended at his forehead. Looking down at his feet, he added something to his statement.
"Just...just...if I die, try to remember me, okay?"
"Will do, dragon. Now, walk a little more to the left so I can see you." Ripto answered. When Vincent did what he commanded, he caught a glimpse of Ripto pointing a glowing scepter in his direction. Mortigon, to prove that he wasn't afraid of any of the Gigas Holders, had made sure that the magic-casters like Ripto and Eledor still had their magic wands and scepters so that they could see that they were powerless against him. Seized by the instinct to flee, the dragon remained rooted to his spot against the wall as the room became flooded in bright red light.
"Oh, and make sure you scream as loud as you can. I want to make this teleportation spell look like your demise. As soon as you land outside of Mortigon's Palace, find Dishmail." Ripto shouted to the terrified dragon. He hurtled a large fireball in Vincent's direction, one that looked like an extremely small comet and in a color that reminded the dragon of fresh blood. Immediately, Vincent's mind began to picture what would've happened if that elimination spell was real. Blackened spot on the wall. Scorched dragon skeleton. The smell of blood filling the room...
Vincent didn't need Ripto's reminder to know when to scream.
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"Well, welcome to the Legendary Riptoc Flats."
After about one day of traveling through a long chain of connected caves, the group was finally acquainted with unadulterated desert sun as they sat perched on a large cliff. Several of them had to shield their eyes from the light as Kannica brandished her wings and motioned to the land in front of her. Spreading as far as the eye could see, a giant patch of sand spread out in front of them. Unlike the desert they had traveled across before they entered the caves, there was absolutely no shrubbery, dunes, or scattered boulders; the ground look like a colossal piece of sandpaper resting in-between the caves and their next destination.
At the sight of the Riptoc Flats, Red snorted, flames sparking from his nostrils as he did.
"Why are they legendary? Looks like nothing but a giant sandbox to me."
Kannica turned, her expression like that of a used car salesman. She held her wings over her head in an elaborate gesture as she explained.
"Ah, that's where the secret lies. You see, this is where the Desolation Riptocs live, large gruesome monsters that burrow through this area, eating anything they can get their hands on!" Kannica replied, making wild gesticulations with her claws as she did so. She made little shadow puppets of a dinosaur devouring some people on the opposite wall to add effect to her words.
"Uh, wow. There's two Riptoc kids standing right by me and I'm expected to care about where some dinosaurs live." Red said, not all impressed by what he was hearing.
"Oh, but you will care. You see, the thief that gave us the map made a very valid point. We have to travel through all the territories of the three rival races in order to get to Mortigon's Palace in the quickest amount of time. We could go around, but that will add, I don't know, an extra two weeks of traveling in the desert." Kannica answered. The hybrids looked at one another, knowing very well that they couldn't spare an extra two weeks while their parents were trapped in the hands of Mortigon. Pyran, puffing out his chest in what he thought was a heroic fashion, he stepped out towards the Riptoc Flats.
"Well, no sense in just standing he-"
His sentence was cut off when Kannica violently tugged on his tail. The draun froze, his left foot dangling in midstep.
"You idiot! You don't just stroll in the Desolation Riptoc's territory!" Kannica shouted. Pyran stepped backwards, his heart pounding against his chest. He tried to cover up his fear by rolling his eyes and folding his arms across his chest.
"Well, why not? They're underground. What's the worst that could happen?" Pyran replied.
Kannica decided for a visual aid, so to speak. Without speaking, she picked up a very large pebble off the ground. Testing its weight with her claw, she deemed it heavy enough, and with a burst of air magic, she tossed it a long ways away from where she was standing. The hybrids, Gnasty Gnorc, and Red watched as the rock twirled in the air before it came to rest on the Riptoc Flats. As soon as the rock touched the ground, a large monster burst from the sand with a monstrous roar that filled the air. The monster was definitely thirty stories high in the least, with a large sinewy body as thick as a redwood tree, scales the same color as dried blood, and two very skinny arms that looked almost useless in their design. Its mighty jaws snapped at the air, catching the rock in its mouth and shattering it to dust, before the creature fell to the ground. Like a breaching dolphin, the Desolation Riptoc slid into the ground, leaving no trace that it was ever on the surface.
Pyran stood there, his entire body shaking violently. Kannica grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
"That could've been you, dragon spawn. Desolation Riptocs can sense pretty much every vibration. Set your foot on that ground and you're a goner. Talk loudly and you're a goner." Kannica yelled, sounding very much like a drill sergeant. Pyran summoned enough strength to nod before the gargoyle pushed him aside. Karydor looked hesitantly at Pyran's quivering form and then walked slowly to where Kannica was perched. She tapped the gargoyle gently on the shoulder and expressed her concerns.
"Then it's impossible to travel across, right?"
Kannica shrugged her shoulders, her gaze never leaving the dangerous flats in front of her.
"Well, no. Fliers have no problems; The Queen made a pact with the Desolation Riptocs that none of them will eat any flying troops for Mortigon in exchange for her splitting the prisoners she captures. In fact, I think I remember one of the gargoyles saying that after Gnasty Gnorc was taken care of by The Queen, Red was going to be the dinner for the Desolation Riptoc Chieftain."
"THAT COULD'VE BEEN ME?" Red paled at the thought of him replacing that rock's role, being caught in that Desolation Riptoc's jaws. He had more comfort when he was under the impression that The Queen was going to kill him; this new angle on his imprisonment disturbed him and, temporarily, shattered his aloof and haughty attitude that he was famous for.
"Be lucky that we arrived, then. The problem we have to deal with is the fact that there's quite a few of us that can't fly. A lot of us may have wings, but Pyran's the only one that can manage a steady flight. We can barely glide on our wings, plus even Red can't carry Gnasty Gnorc across those flats." Torin added. He looked at Pyran with concern, wondering if the Son of Spyro was going to regain his composure before their dangerous trip over the flats.
"Well, it's not like we don't have a spell that will solve this problem. Being such an advanced and powerful member of my species, I know a spell that will make you walk on air. Rather complex, but my superior intellect is enough to master this spell." Kannica replied, a smug expression carved on her face. Suddenly, she turned to the other members of the group, her expression exceedingly savage as she addressed her comrades.
"But mark my words, you'd better be dead silent or else we're all goners. Desolation Riptocs keep a pact, but believe me, sometimes they choose to conveniently forget when they hear an opportunity. Many a gargoyle and Desolation Gnorc has fallen to their might just because they sneezed, burped, or farted at the wrong time." Kannica replied. At this shocking new revelation, Pyran made a horrified squeak. Calub and Glacier, in a frighteningly good mood, were too busy snickering at the fact that Kannica said the word 'fart' to be scared at all.
Immediately, a green flash of light filled the air. The group jumped back as what looked to be a laser beam shot from Kannica's hands and sliced across the sky towards the horizon. She turned to them with a great smile on her face.
"There, now all of you can walk on the air as if it were a bridge. It's a long, straight, and silent walk, but I know of an oasis that the Desolation Riptocs don't touch. We'll get there, rest for a little bit, and then change directions to the volcanoes. I must warn you though. One sound and we're dead. And believe you me, if you're the cause of my death, my ghost is going to reek spiritual vengeance on your ghostly ass in the afterlife!"
It was the worst three hours of Pyran's life. For the entire time, he had to concentrate on not making a single sound as he half-walked, half-jogged across the hard patch of air that served as a path towards their next destination. Everywhere around him was so silent that his heartbeat and his breathing sounded almost obscenely loud to him. Part of him thought it was kind of neat, walking on a path that he couldn't see at all, and part of him was terrified to see a few stories drop hanging below him with no visible means of stopping his fall. Instead, he kept his eyes away from the ground and riveted towards Kannica, who was flying in the lead in an absolute straight line. Sometimes she'd turn her head back to check on the others to make sure that all were present. Gnasty Gnorc, because of his metal armor, had to wear an enchantment that made every part of him and his armor mute. The only side effect, since the enchantment was a rather powerful one, was that he was going to be speechless for the next six hours.
When they finally saw the Great Zephyr Lake, the kids could hardly contain their excitement. Smack dab in the middle of the Desolation Riptocs' territory was a giant lake ringed with beautiful trees, giant rocks and boulders, and colorful vegetation, with a giant rock ring on the outside to prevent the Desolation Riptocs from destroying the land. It was like the world before the cataclysm, just in one small spot, had remained intact for everyone that found it to enjoy. As soon as they set foot on the safe soil, the children cried in joy. Several of them took off their packed provisions and ran headfirst into the lake, feeling fresh cold water for the first time in days.
Karydor was among the last of the hybrid children to relax inside the lake. She was still sorting out her provisions while the other hybrids dove through the pristine waters while still wearing their clothing. She smiled cheerfully at her friends, who seemed to be motioning to her about something. She saw them waving, unreadable expressions on their faces. They were so eager for her to jump in, but not before she filled the canteens with the water from the oasis.
"Finally, we can get some rest and relaxation, guys. No more Queen, no more Muu Dragons, no more Desolation Riptocs."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that."
Karydor immediately froze, her hands dangling over her backpack. She knew that voice before; she heard it once before. Immediately her mind was flooded with the vivid imagery of a Muu Dragon attacking her father at a party, his savage metallic claws sending bolts of electricity through his body. Tears welled up in her eyes. 'No, it couldn't be. He couldn't have found us...' she thought to herself.
The rhygon turned her head, and sure enough, Muugara was standing just a few feet in front of the entire group. He had that same horrible grin he wore when he delightfully defeated Airazor at the party, that same happy expression when he was causing pain in others. Calub was right, Mortigon did know that they were coming and was kind enough to send them a welcoming party.
Muugara activated his ever-familiar weapon, smiling as electricity arched across his fingertips. He advanced towards the group, his toeless feet making hardly any sound as he stepped through the vegetation. Karydor attempted to stop him by throwing a large explosion of magic in his general direction, but the spell harmlessly bounced off a shield that Muugara was clever enough to bring. With a dangerous close range weapon attached to one hand, a shield activator and various other gadgets attached to his arms, and a pair of canons attached to his body in a way that reminded Torin of Gulp, Muugara looked like a cybernetic nightmare. He cracked a hideous smile to everyone in front of them, looking very eager to bathe in their blood. He held out his arms for all to see, letting the sun dance on all of his metallic inventions attached to them.
"Muugara is in a very good mood today, finding such a wonderful prize of both hybrids and runaway slaves. I'll tell you what; all of you kiddies step quietly from that lake, stand still, and let the electricity do its work. We should make it easy for all of us..."
------------- End of Chapter 6
Yep. Cliffhanger.
Sorry about the lack of Mortigon and Muugara. They'll show up more.
As for other chapters, I will NOT be this slow. I just ran into some problems when school resumed, what with AP classes and math, and well, now look at me. This chapter is four months late. I'm terribly sorry.
Yes, I'm well aware that there's a certain Spyro game that says otherwise in terms of Red's evilocity. I'm just going to play the Devil's Advocate here and attempt to explain that, except for the cameo by Grendor, this series is in no way connected to any handheld games. Plus I'd like to be consistent. I can't have Red evil in one chapter and good the next. It'd confuse everyone, including me.