Chapter 15 : The Last Day of Peace (Full Chapter available in download)


The next morning....


The unease which had gripped the city the previous day continued on into the next. As the sun had risen it had illuminated the now densely packed ramparts as hundreds of Mole at Arms and dozens of dragon warriors lined the city walls, anxiously watching in every direction. Throughout the night there had been a heightened state of alert as the entire garrison was mobilised and the number of dragons patrolling the skies above and around Warfang had intensified around the clock. The Doxantha remained stationary in the clouds high above the centre of the city as her crew battled the cold and thin air as they awaited the arrival of the Ape King. Every second that past by that morning was laden with suspense at the prospect that they might arrive at any time and what it could mean for the citizens of Warfang and all the realms.


Ignitus stood along with the other Guardians on the roof of Castle Hill with its great dome behind them as they stared out across the city and the green western horizon they expected Gaul to come from as it was the most direct path from the Mountain of Malefor. On each side of the roof were two moles peering through their large spyglasses, scanning for any sign of Gaul’s approach. The Fire Guardian looked to his right across the line of his friends and colleagues as they all gazed across the sky expectantly but also with trepidation. Far outside the city they saw another patrol of six dragons flying back to the city as another formation of six flew out to greet and relieve them. It was the first time in twelve years the city had seen such an amount of military activity and it had, as Ignitus had said, bought back memories and feelings that had been numbed and forgotten by much of the citizenry and soldiers below. It only further confirmed their beliefs that the conference was a hasty, dangerous mistake.

Messengers had been hurriedly dispatched to every region the previous day to inform them of the planned conference, inviting representatives of the Atllawa tribe of Tall Plains, The Manweresmalls of Boyzitbig and the Cheetah’s of Avalar to attend. The Manweresmalls were a community of Moles native to the volcanic island and were the distant relations to the Moles of the mainland who had left the island thousands of years ago. The Guardians had been informed of the two parties agreeing to attend the conference during the night, but as of that morning had heard nothing from the Cheetahs.

It was around midmorning with still no word that the Earth Guardian finally let loose his frustrations, “Has Prowlus become so infuriated that he won’t even dignify us with a response?” asked Terrador crossly as he bought the subject up as he had during the night before they had gone to bed.

“At this rate it probably won’t matter,” Cyril remarked grumpily, “Gaul could be here any minute.”

“It boggles the mind!” Volteer exclaimed, “It’s completely nonsensical that he wouldn’t want his people to be represented at this conference, especially since the trouble started in Avalar!”

“The trouble started at Mount Malefore and it spread to Avalar,” Ignitus said firmly, “We can only hope it will not spread any further.”

“It might be too late, Ignitus,” said Cyril cautiously, “If Spyro saw what he believes he did, then they are already conspiring against us.”

“I don’t believe they ever stopped,” the crimson dragon replied flatly. As he looked forward at the two moles in front of them looking through their spyglasses, the one on the right suddenly perked up as his posture stiffened at something that caught his eyes.

“Sirs!” he called, “Looks like a messenger Falcon coming in!”

“Where?” Ignitus called back as he ran towards him, hurriedly cutting across in front of his colleagues who all followed him in turn.

“Just off to my right, sir!” the mole pointed his tiny hand out towards the outside of the city, “Looks like it’s coming right to us!”

The latter detail was unnecessary as all messenger birds were trained to come straight to Castle Hill, but still the four Guardians strained their eyes to try and make out the approaching falcon which they assumed was the reply from the Cheetahs. Moments later, a golden shimmer flashed out in the sky and as it faded the silhouette of the bird came into view. The shimmer was the sun reflecting off the tribal sigil carried by each of the Cheeth’s falcons.

“There it is! You see it, sir?” asked the mole excitedly.

“I see it, well done,” Ignitus replied as they all watched the falcon swoop around and travel on a direct course to Castle Hill and the balcony the Doxantha had formally been docked at. Without warning, Ignitus leapt out over the edge of the castle and dived into a glide, followed by the others. They swept down the walls of the castle and pulled up at the last moment, their massive wings fanning out and bringing them to a controlled but firm landing on the balcony.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” called a mole sentry who was already on his way as he passed between the four dragons and waddled quickly to the end of the balcony as they all heard the shrieks of the approaching falcon. The Guardians followed behind the mole as he reached the railing as the bird made its final approach. The majestic falcon came to a graceful stop right atop the stone railing, its sigil and the small message capsule on its leg glistening like gold. The mole sentry strained his arm to reach up as the bird knowingly lifted its left foot and dangled it down towards the mole as his hands grasped towards it. The mole unclipped the capsule from the birds leg and worked to uncurl the message within.

“What does it say?” Ignitus demanded quickly. The mole pulled the tiny roll of parchment from the capsule and carefully rolled it out between his fingers.

“Message from Chief Prowlus, sir. It’s addressed to the council.”

“Read it out to us, if you please,” Ignitus requested shortly.

“But sir...”

“That was an order, read it out!” Terrador snapped harshly, his booming voice enough to unsettle even the most powerful of dragons, let alone moles. The sentry gulped nervously as he held up the message close to his eyes, pulling down his magnified spectacles to make out the tiny words as he read aloud,

“To the Warfang Council from Chief Prowlus of Avalar.

After much deliberation and discussion, I have seen fit to accept your invitation to the aforementioned peace conference at Castle Hill. However, I want it to be clear that this in no way diminishes my belief that the recent events that have caused turmoil for my village can be rightfully blamed on the dragons just as much as the apes.

Therefore, my current ban on dragons freely entering the valley without prior permission shall remain in effect until further notice. Hunter of my village has, at his own persistent request, been chosen to be our representative for this conference and is making the journey on foot at this moment. However, I have reminded him that his only obligation is to attempt to protect the interests and safety of our tribe and not to be swayed by any attempts by either the dragons or the apes to further their interests at our expense.

I hope this conference will be fruitful and lead to a lasting peace,


Yours,

Chief Prowlus of Avalar.”


The mole sentry looked up at the faces of the four dragons the way a worm looked up at a bird about to pluck it from the ground. Their faces were a mix of surprise or indignation at the provocative tone of the message. After a few nerve-racking moments, Ignitus locked eyes with the mole and nodded to him,

“Thank you. Best you go and deliver it to the council now.”

“Yes, sir!” the mole nodded as he hurriedly rolled up the message.

“And send word to dispatch a courier to find Hunter. We want him here as quickly as possible.”

“Of course, sir!” the mole nodded quickly as he took off running in-between the four dragons towards the huge doors to the castle. As he left, the Guardian dragons finally let their tongues loose.

“It’s a disgrace! Borderline treachery!” cried Terrador, “Where is his honour?”

“Well, at least he’s agreed to even communicate with us,” said Volteer mirthlessly.

“It’s a bally awful show,” snorted Cyril. Ignitus tempered his frustration and suggested with a shrug,

“Seems that it was a last minute decision by him. I’m sure Hunter did his best to persuade him.”

“Maybe so,” Cyril added crossly, “But I’d say Prowlus has done his best to make this a difficult as possible for us! Imagine sending poor Hunter off on foot like that! It simply isn’t done!”

Terrador grumbled, “He knew we’d send someone for him as soon as we read that. I just wish he had the courage to come himself rather than have Hunter take his place.”

“Indubitably!” concurred Volteer. As the others continued to discuss their dissatisfaction with the conduct of Chief Prowlus, Ignitus turned to his left away from the group and walked over towards the southern side of Castle Hill. He stared out across the open sky as he followed the path around the bandstand towards the edge of the plateau. He heavily breathed the heavenly scent of the flower garden as the path took him through them, but it did little to settle his anxiety as he reached the edge and looked out across the city. His eyes veered over to the airdock across from the observatory and settled on the second of the three levels of the tall building. From where he stood he could see the blocky silhouette of a merchant airship sitting still on the southwest corner of the dock. A ship he had long expected to be gone by now.

“They still haven’t left,” Ignitus muttered to himself crossly. He turned his head to the right, his eyes darting across the sky for any sign of the imminent arrival of Gaul, his heart thumping anxiously. He looked back towards the airdock and then back over to the other Guardians who were beginning to stroll over towards him. Ignitus then looked back at the dock a third time, cursing under his breath that the ship was still not underway.

“What in the world are they playing at?!”

Spyro was wondering the very same thing as he and the rest of the four survivors hunched low inside a large wooden crate on the lower deck of the merchant airship. It was dark inside with only faint light coming through the holes which had been drilled in the top of the crate to make it easier to breath. Just before sunrise they had been awoken by Ignitus who had then escorted them down to the tunnel that ran through the plateau of which Castle Hill was built where they had been greeted by the other Guardians and a single mole wearing an oversized green tunic and leather cap standing beside an ox drawn cart. On the back of the cart was the crate of which they had now been inside for over three hours and were promptly given the rundown of what was going to happen to them. For the sake of security, it had been decided that the four young dragons would be taken aboard the merchant airship inside the crate rather than simply board it as the crew or passengers might, a proposition none of them were pleased with.

“In there?” Cynder had raved, “Why are we being packed like fish off to market?”

“No one but us knows you are leaving,” Ignitus had explained to them, “Captain Remy here has not even told his crew you are coming. You’re leaving the city must remain secret until you are well clear of Warfang.”

“So we have to go in that?” Spyro had asked incredulously.

“We are sorry for the suddenness of it,” Terrador had said apologetically, “But we can’t take any chances.”

Without any further disagreements from them, the four who lived had clambered onto the cart and inside the crate. The lid could be slid back easily enough and the bottom of the crate had been lined with an old carpet to give at least a modicum of comfort. But even then it was not a pleasant thought being confined inside a crate normally used for cargo. Cynder had intentionally made herself the last the climb inside as a final protest, but as she finally did Spyro was overcome by the strange feeling like they were not going to be returning soon. As he sat with Flame, Ember and Cynder with their heads sticking out from the crate, the Guardians had all watched them with reassuring expressions that only gave away to him how uneasy they were about all of it.

“I’m sure you’ll be in good hands with Cyril’s relatives,” Volteer smiled to them, to which Cyril had of course replied with a pompous, “Of course they will!” and barely stopped himself from starting another bickering session with the Electric Guardian.

“Okay well, I guess we’ll see you guys later,” Flame had blurted out loudly in an impulsive attempt to appear calm. Spyro, Cynder and Ember all raised their eyebrows at him as Terrador said, “Safe journey to you all. We’ll send a message about the conference at the end of the day. You should be properly accommodated by then.”

“And do not fear the cold!” Cyril added pride fully, “Respect it!”

“We will!” Ember beamed excitedly, turning to Spyro with her smile ear to ear. He smiled back, unable to avoid its infectiousness. But looking past her back to Ignitus, his orange eyes stared fiercely back into his as if to remind him of the promise he had made the night before. He heard the Fire Guardians voice in his mind as if he were speaking to him telepathically;

“If anything happens between then and now, if anything goes wrong; you must take the others and get away. If you cannot make it to Freezer, you must find somewhere to go. If Warfang is not safe, try and make it back to the temple with all due haste. Don’t stop or wait for anyone, not even me. Go there and wait until help arrives. Am I clear, young dragon?”

“Goodbye, Ignitus. Goodbye everyone,” Spyro announced solemnly, glancing at their eyes one last time before he and his companions hunched down inside the crate. Captain Remy hopped up and peered down to them, passing down a large white bundle to them before holding his finger up to his mouth to shush them.

“Apologies, my friends,” he said in a thick French accent, “But you cannot make a peep until we are out of the city. Here is some bread and cheese for you. Once we are clear of the city, you’ll be free to wander the ship, oui?” he said.
The four who lived had no clue what the last word of his sentence meant, but assuming it was variation of ‘Yes’, Spyro replied with

“Uh... Yes?”

“Tres bien,” he said readily. With that he pulled the lid overtop of them and closed the crate, the air holes now the only view out of the outside world. Spyro and his friends had all shared uneasy glances with each other in the sparse light they had as the cart began to rumble out of the tunnel and across the viaduct. Just before they had arrived at the airdock, Captain Remy had reminded them to keep quiet while the crate was being loaded and when it was taken down below. The four of them had done so, despite of how much the crate had been roughly carried and bumped during the loading process and the harsh language of the workers complaining of how heavy it was.

“Do we really have to stay in here ‘till he says so?” Flame had whispered a few moments after they had been placed below the deck of the ship.

“You heard what they said, nobody knows we are leaving the city,” Ember whispered back coldly, “Besides, we should be leaving soon. We won’t be here for long.”

“Now you’ve definitely jinxed it for us!” Cynder hissed at her. It seemed as though her accusation had been prophetic, for three hours later they were still crammed inside the box and the ship hadn’t moved.

Spyro sighed, sitting back against the corner of the crate with Cynder in the corner to his right with Flame opposite her and Ember opposite himself. He arched his neck back and breathed in close to the holes in the lid, even though the air below decks was stale and stuffy. They could hear the muffled commotion of voices and coming from upstairs, but there was no sign of the Captain who had come to check on them after they had been taken aboard but not since. He had readily assured them they would be soon underway, but again, that was three hours ago.

“At least they gave us something to eat,” Flame remarked optimistically as he pushed the last of the cheese into his mouth.

“Yeah, but nothing to drink. I’m thirsty,” Cynder replied coarsely. Spyro sat up as he heard the creaking of the stairs they had been carried down, holding up his paw to remind the others to be quiet as the steps became louder. A pair of feet dropped down onto the deck and started slowly tapping across the timber floor, coming ever closer to them. The young dragons all looked up at the airholes anxiously as the unseen figure strode up beside the crate.

“Are you alright in there?” asked Captain Remy in a hushed tone as he clambered onto a smaller crate beside them and pulled back the lid. The mole scratched his nose as he looked at the four disgruntled faces awaiting an explanation.

“What’s going on, Captain?” Spyro asked sharply.

“So sorry, my friends,” he apologized, “But we have some er.... trouble with the constabulary, you see? Some of my crew, they have a little too much of the drink last night, eh? Did not show up for work. I had to go... how you say? Bail them out?”

Ember promptly snapped her paw over her eyes disbelievingly as Cynder said,

“Hey, speaking of drinking, any chance you could bring some water down to us?” she asked glaringly, “I’m thirsty.”

“Ah, of course! Mon Dieu!” exclaimed Remy, “Just a moment, mademoiselle Cynder,” he said as he dropped down and ran off somewhere amongst the cargo. The four young dragons all took the chance to peek their heads out of the crate and take in their new surroundings for the first time.

The area below decks was packed with crates and barrels of varying sizes. Almost straight across from them was the staircase leading to the upper deck where bright sunlight streamed down on the deck.. Other than that, the cargo hold was lit with several candle lamps hanging across the walls while a few small portholes lined the sides of the ship. After hearing the sounds of crates being shifted and clanking bottles, Captain Remy appeared from around a pile of barrels with a flagon in his hands.

“Here you go,” he said as he quickly waddled over and climbed up once again, passing down the flagon to Cynder, “Now hush once more, eh? We will be underway shortly. Then you can come out and meet my crew. They will be happy to see you, oui?”

Without waiting for a reply, Remy closed the lid back over and hopped down, scurrying back up the stairs as Cynder drank took the flagon in her paws and drank from it liberally.

“Not if their language was anything to go by,” Ember remarked tersely, to which Flame nodded nervously in agreement. Spyro said nothing as he leaned back into his corner and sighed with boredom. He lazily turned his eyes to Cynder as she lowered the flagon from her maw and let out a satisfied exhale, water dripping from her snout. A smirk suddenly danced across his face.

“Better now, mademoiselle Cynder?” he asked, impersonating Captain Remy’s accent.

“Shut up, Spyro,” she replied icily.


At Castle Hill....


They heard the signal rocket launch before they saw it, but Ignitus and the other Guardians followed their ears and rushed out from the bandstand towards the front of castle. As they ran to the end f the balcony, they saw the brilliant red flash lighting above the western gatehouse as the lookouts scrambled to make out what had caused it. A dragon warrior with a mole at arms holding onto the spines on the back of his neck rushed between them and in front of them. The mole hopped onto the dragon’s head, holding onto one horn with his right hand and holding his spyglass in his left, staring out to the western approach of the city. After only few moments, what he saw became faintly visible to all those watching behind him.

“Dreadwing formation on approach! Seven of them! They’re flying white flags, but the center one appears to have a royal insignia!”

“Its him,” Terrador said gravely, eyeing the distant silhouettes scornfully.

Ignitus scowled before turning to a nearby mole at arms and saying, “Inform the council. Make ready for reception.”

“Yes, sir!” he replied before he ran off towards the door, the Fire Guardian looking side to side at his fellow Guardians as bells and gongs began to ring out across the city to announce the arrival of the Ape King.

“Hunter has still not arrived!” Volteer said in dismay.

“Nothing to be done about it,” Cyril remarked, “If Gaul must repeat himself to him then so be it.”

Ignitus felt his scales quiver as he sensed that in that moment, the entire city held its breath. Breathing deeply, he looked up to sky above, mumbling softly, “Ancestors, please be with us this day...”

As he tilted his head down, his expression became firm as his eyes quickly shot side to side once more to his colleagues.

“Shall we?” he asked. As they all nodded in unison, Ignitus stepped forward, the others waiting until he was his body length in front of them. The edges of his mouth lifted to reveal his glistening fangs as his wings extended to their full length and in one leap, took to the air. Volteer, Cyril and Terrador followed after him as formations of dozens of dragon warriors from all over Warfang began to form and follow them as had been planned; a show of force to dissuade the party of apes of trying anything impolite. The four dragon Guardians soared upwards as the aerial armada amassed around them. Looking over his shoulders, Ignitus saw the colourful formation form up behind them, creating a massive flying umbrella that covered the ground below as they soared over the city walls and followed the viaduct out of the city.

Ahead of them, he could see the formation of seven Dreadwings beginning to descend low, aiming for the far edge of the viaduct that connected the two great hills that proceeded Warfang’s western approach. The first four flew in two pairs in front of the larger one in the middle whilst the last two flew behind. It was obvious the central, larger monster was Gaul’s mount, owing to its size and the figure on its back clutching a royal banner. As the dragon formation flew halfway above the viaduct, Ignitus gave two hard downward points of his right foreleg, the other Guardians nodding firmly just before he dove down towards the end of the viaduct. The rest of the formation continued flying straight on as the Dreadwings swept down and landed as a group on the grass a short distance beyond the viaduct. Ignitus, Volteer, Cyril and Terrador flew four abreast just above the viaduct as they watched the visitors distrustingly.

The apes were in the act of dismounting their foul beasts, the shadows of the dozens of dragons above covering the landscape as the Guardians approached them. Climbing from the larger Dreadwing was Gaul, his horned helmet towering over his subjects as he clutched his staff in his left hand. The other apes formed a protective line in front of their king, dressed in full plate armour and helmets, clutching menacing poleaxes in their hands. Ignitus fanned his wings out to slow himself as did his colleagues as they came to a stop and hovered just on the other side of the viaduct before letting themselves drop gracefully on their feet. The four dragon Guardians stood firm as they looked across at the party of apes standing just over fifty feet from them.

The titan that was Gaul glared across at them in turn, his brow lowering into a hateful scowl as the swarm of dragon warriors filled the sky above him, their Dreadwing mounts screeching and hissing nervously. Ignitus felt his heart become stone cold as he looked into the Ape King’s face; a face that he had not seen since the night of the temple raid twelve years ago. A large part of him wished only to lunge at the wicked despot and tear at him with his claws and fangs for all the suffering and pain he had been the author of. For the loss of all those who had perished that night. For Pyra.

Feeling his blood burning like the fire in his belly, Ignitus strode forward formally but cautiously as he refused to take his eyes off Gaul. Volteer, Cyril and Terrador all stepped in line with him as they approached Gaul and his entourage. His bodyguards gripped their weapons even more fiercely, but Gaul pushed past them and stood out in front of the group, squeezing his right fist down by his side as he held up his staff on his left side. The dragons flying overhead began to circle like vultures over a carcass, alertly watching the meeting below. The four Guardians stopped just a few feet in front of the Ape King, Ignitus drawing a deep breath as he suppressed his inner most feelings and worries behind a resolute exterior. They stared each other off as the other apes watched their king and the four dragons tensely.

“Your majesty,” Ignitus managed to say softly, barely able to hide how bitterly the words rolled from his tongue, “It is our duty to escort you within the walls of the city of Warfang.”

“Why so formal, Ignitus?” Gaul chuckled coldly, “I am not some unfamiliar diplomat. We know much of each other, do we not?”

Ignitus continued on rigidly as though he hadn’t detected the trap he was trying to lay out to him, “I must inform you that not all the representatives of the realms have yet arrived. The spokesperson for Avalar is still on his way to the city.”

“No matter,” Gaul replied shortly, “I’m sure they will understand the due course of events when they join us,” he said in a voice that gave the Fire Guardian great concern. He quickly glanced across to his colleagues who all it seemed noticed his subversive tone. With a hard swallow, Ignitus retained his composure and said,

“However, the conditions of entry state that neither you nor your guards can bring weapons with you into the city. You will have to leave them out here or surrender them to our troops at the main gate.”

“You expect me to enter a city full of warriors without weapons?” asked Gaul indignantly yet calmly.

“It is the law,” Terrador remarked bluntly, “And all who enter Warfang must obey.”

Volteer and Cyril nodded sternly as the Ape King remained unmoving from his spot, his face wearing a look of being deep in thought. After a few silent moments, he snapped his head to the left and stretched out his staff arm its full length. At once, one of the bodyguards behind him dropped his poleaxe and hurried over to him, taking Gaul’s staff in both hands. The Guardians watched him suspiciously as Gaul flexed his clawed fingers as he slowly lowered his arms to his sides. Then with reflexes seemingly too fast for his size, he reached behind his back and drew his pair of massive blades, causing the guardians to flinch readily. He held the blades out to his sides as if at the ready, the fangs of his bottom jaw leaning forward. Ignitus and the others extended their claws out into the grass, mouths slightly ajar ready to unleash the power of their respective elements.

Gaul smirked, letting out a short laugh as he spun the handles of his two blades, flipping them over before slamming them into the grass in front of him with a hearty grunt. He slowly let go of them and lifted his hands away, the blades still quivering as they sat imbedded in the earth. Ignitus scowled as he took a shallow breath of relief, but his claws remained ready to pounce. Two of the other ape bodyguards marched up beside their king on his right and readily dropped their weapons onto the ground. Gaul held out his hand and the guard holding his staff handed it back to him before also disarming himself.

“That too must remain here,” Ignitus said sternly, eyeing the green crystal atop the staff scrupulously.

“You would also force me to go without my royal staff?” Gaul sneered coldly, “Your law allows exceptions for ceremonial attire, does it not? You would insult me by denying my right to carry it?”

‘I would do so much more,’ Ignitus thought darkly, but he knew, as much as it pained him to admit, that Gaul was right about the law regarding ceremonial attire. But it was clear to all of them that it was also a magical staff and not merely a ceremonial trinket, likely the same one the four who lived had described which had sapped them of their mana. But the reality was that ceremonial staffs were often also magical by design and under the law were considered on par with blunted ceremonial weapons.

“Please give us a moment,” Ignitus said formally as he beckoned the other Guardians to follow him. Gaul snorted impatiently as they turned way and walked back towards the viaduct until they were out of earshot. Ignitus looked over his shoulder at him, watching him look up at the armada circling above and assuming Gaul was deciding that trying to attack them while their backs were turned would be a foolish and fatal move. Cyril let out an exasperated groan and remarked, “It would be a very bad idea to let him bring that into the city. I wouldn’t trust him with a quill, let alone a magical staff!”

“I agree, Ignitus,” Volteer added. Terrador nodded his large head heartily,

“He cannot be trusted, Ignitus. Royalty or not, he should not be allowed into our city with anything he could use against us.”

The Fire Guardian sighed regretfully, “You know I agree with all of you. But alas, we do not write the laws. Such objects have been allowed in our city before and we know our laws must be enforced equally, even for the apes.”

Volteer sighed moodily, “The complete lack of nuance and common sense is absolutely incredulous, stupefying, nauseating, infuriating and...ah!” he scoffed.

“If the worse come to pass,” Cyril added gravely, “Who do you think the Council will hold responsible? Themselves or us?”

“If the worse comes to pass,” Terrador said heavily, “There may be no one left to be held responsible.”

End of Part 1.