Spyro: Dark Companion Chapter 14

Spyro glanced back at Malefor, the dark dragon defensive, eyes thin with bewilderment. He then looked to Haedrig, the mole mortified.

Haedrig rushed forward and put himself between the two. “No arguing! Please.” Flustered, he collected himself and gently ushered Spyro, Cynder, and Sparx outside, who met the guardians' bemused looks with their own.

Haedrig put himself in front of Malefor, held his hands out in front of Flame as he escorted the dark dragon out. The mole pleaded to Flame, “Just wait, please!”

Flame tracked Malefor with a slow turn of his head. Haedrig said to Malefor, “Not a word! Not a bloody word!” The mole gave himself a deep breath once everyone was outside. “My mind has been racked with trying to keep up with everything. I'm sorry for this confusion.”

Ember stood next to Flame. She brushed her paw across her mate's shoulder before she sided next to Haedrig. “Need some help?”

“No, thank you, dear.” Haedrig wiped his hand down his chin, eased his breathing. “Spyro.” He directed his hand towards Flame, who still glowered at Malefor. “I've known them for some time, helped them. I was going to tell you, but as I said, things have been moving too quickly.”

Spyro gave the mole a slight nod before he turned his head to Flame. “Good to meet you. Hopefully the feeling's mutual?”

Flame wrenched his sight from Malefor to Spyro. “I'd like to think so. But you didn't answer my question.”

Spyro blinked. “Didn't Haedrig tell you?”

“I want your version.”

Spyro blew out a slow breath. “Flame...There's no real easy way of saying this, but...” He caught his tongue, referred to Malefor in the third-person. “He's not the main threat here. I know he's done evil in the past, but the mind behind the deeds isn't the same.”

The guardians listened intently, eyes narrowed. Goon and Raziela stood with their hips canted and weapons shouldered, their grins expectant.

Flame uttered quietly, “Behind the deeds.” His eyes shifted briefly to Malefor. “Why the collar?”

“To bind his power.”

“I thought he's changed.”

“He has.”

“Then why is he in the collar?”

Spyro bit back his rising agitation. “Cynder and I have our own reservations, but we're giving him a chance. I think if we can then you can too.”

Ember bit her lip and looked away. Spyro had hit Flame's sore spot.

The crimson dragon mouthed, “Us too.” Ponderously, he ambled towards Spyro, his head canted. “So...Same stake, is it?”

“Of course not,” Spyro said as he held his ground. “But there are factors to consider.”

“Like?” Flame stopped a few paces from Spyro, his voice stoic, volatile. “Tell me.”

“The Black Star, for one.”

“Our main concern, yes. No need to complicate things.”

Spyro's eyelids tensed. “What do you mean?”

Again, Flame pointed at Malefor. “He's a risk.”

Spyro inhaled through his nostrils. “Alright then. And how is coming here and starting trouble a contribution?”

Flame's muzzle creased. “Starting trouble? You resurrect the dark master and you accuse me of that?”

Terrador bellowed, “What?” Cyril and Volteer whipped their heads towards Malefor, who slouched beneath their gaze. Terrador asked Spyro, “Why did you hide his identity?”

Spyro sucked his teeth and pivoted towards Terrador. “For the reasons I just said! I don't know how else to say it!”

Goon gave a patronizing, “Ooooooooooo!”

“Shut up!” Spyro snarled.

Goon stuck out his lower lip. He whispered to Raziela, “Someone's in trooouuuble.”

Raziela's ears perked up. “Who are you betting on?”

“The red one. I think we click.”

“I'm betting on the pink one.”

Goon canted his head at Ember. “Her? She hasn't said anything. She's just watching and worrying. You know. Being a girl.”

Raziela's ears lowered. “Well guess what.”

“What?”

She reared her arm back and smacked Goon's flank. “I'm the boy now.”

Goon, terrified, tensed up and gawked at the female feral. “You're a freak.”

Raziela's ears perked back up. She narrowed her eyes and put her muzzle in front of Goon's. “Mah-ah-ah.”

“I'm going to get you back.”

Raziela cocked an eyebrow, her opposite ear flat. “Huh?”

Goon leaned his head in. “Mah. Ah. Ah. Ah.”

Flame barely acknowledged the ferals. He canted his head to other side, his voice husky as his anger simmered. He said to Spyro, “Do you know who the Aphos are?”

Spyro jogged his memory. “Zealots of Malefor. They willingly took the crystals into themselves.”

“Right,” Flame said, his voice lower. “Do you know what else I learned from the Aphos?”

“What was it?”

“I learned about Gaul, Spyro. I learned about how you defeated him.”

Spyro's jaws tightened. “How?”

“I have ways of getting answers. I've learned much.”

Spyro's chest rose with a heavy breath. “You know about the dark element then.”

“I do. And that concerns me. Because that means that that...,” he jabbed a paw at Malefor, “bastard's power creeped into you. Now I don't know how strong his influence is, but resurrecting him doesn't exactly put me at ease.”

“You're bending this.”

Flame's extended arm kindled with a slow blaze, his paw splayed at Malefor. “Am I? Am I really?”

Ember's voice snagged in her throat. She wanted to be by her mate, support him, but his anger had a foothold. She rushed to Cynder, her face stricken. “We didn't come here for this. Seeing Malefor must have set him off.”

Cynder didn't hold any misgivings against her. “I can understand, but I don't think Spyro's going to let Malefor come to harm.”

“And if he does?”

Cynder's head alternated between Spyro and Flame. “We'll have to leash our mates.”

Malefor, meanwhile, stood his ground against the element aimed at his face. He inwardly cursed the collar around his neck, wished bitterly for his power. Spyro stood poised, ready to intercept if Flame unleashed his fire. Something tugged at Malefor, something foreign as Spyro's voice went through his mind, a voice strong but weary, sourced from compassion. He swallowed and found his own voice. “Flame...” A dome of sweltering heat burst from Flame, and a spiraling, thin ribbon of fire burned through Malefor's shoulder, hurled him onto his back.

Spyro batted Flame's arm away. “What are you doing?”

Another surge of power, of searing heat. Spyro recoiled, narrowly evaded Flame's enveloping fire.

The ground blackened beneath Flame. His crimson scales darkened, the overlaps incandescent: burning diamonds with black centers. He spread his wings, and a burst of embers and ash erupted with a rush of blistering air, the dragon's plating and horns as pulsing, hot coals.

Only the eyes remained the same. He narrowed them at Spyro and hunched. His tail swayed, created a fan of fire. His voice crackled and rumbled like great tinder before an immolation. “Earn my trust. Let me end him.”

Spyro didn't budge. “No.”

Flame lunged and sank his talons into Spyro's shoulders, the perforations cauterized before the heat of his claws. With vicious strength he flung Spyro away from the home and gave chase, the red dragon's body a streaked inferno.

Spyro rolled to his fours, summoned his ice element. A frozen wall rose between him and Flame, hissed with cold.

Flame melted through it, a roaring bulb of fire in his attacking paw. Gnarled, thick roots sprung from the ground and ensnared his arm. He yanked his limb free from the burning roots only to glimpse a hovering sphere of electricity before him. A crackling explosion ensued, rocked him off his fours and hurled him.

Spyro pursued. Flame regained his balance and spread his wings. Coils of white fire spiraled around him. They untethered from the dragon and hissed towards Spyro. Spyro switched directions, kicked up soil as he leaped atop a summoned pillar of soil. He bounded to another risen pillar. A series of them formed as he evaded the homing flames, which deadened as they lost their heat through the organic barriers.

He dove off the final pillar towards Flame. Spyro brought his paws together, and a massive spear of ice protracted, cut the air with a shriek.  

Flame's wings beat the air, sent a heat-wave towards the spear. The ice melted within a great cloud of vapor. Spyro spread his wings and barreled from the mist, dodged a follow-up column of fire.

Flame met him quickly, threw blazing swipes. Spyro dropped height, countered with an upper swipe to his jaw that connected with a dull crack. Spyro winced against Flame's heat, distanced himself with a parting bolt of lightning to the red dragon's chest. Spyro took advantage of the stunned dragon, breathed a hailstorm that battered Flame, smothered his calidity.

Spyro combined elements. Another pillar erupted from the ground, this one swathed in fire, the heat as a hearth against the soil, solidified it into a giant obsidian spear. With a directing swipe he sent the spear at Flame, who caught its tip between his paws. The force of it cratered him to the ground.

Spyro descended quickly, his pattering fours across the grass towards Flame's landing. He regretted the attack, hadn't wanted to push it that far. The obsidian projected from the soil like an edifice, glimmered in the scarce light through the clouds.

He halted when the obsidian spear coursed with brilliant orange streaks, melted in waxy runoffs of glowing reds and oranges. Flame's paw emerged at the lip of the crater. He pulled himself up, his breathing slightly labored.

Spyro called to him. “I don't want to continue this, Flame! Listen to reason!”

Flame cocked his head. “Reason or excuse?” A blinding flare erupted from him. His voice seared the air as he approached the purple dragon. “Your reason's weak, the latter unacceptable.” His footfalls left smoldering fissures that webbed outwards. “Let me kill him, and you'll have my loyalty.”

“I'm not sacrificing anyone, Flame! Not when there's hope.”

The fire of Flame's wings spread, became ember curtains draped in soot. “Hope is barbed, Spyro. You of all dragons should know that.”

A presence came from behind Spyro, a different heat, one that teetered between warmth and conflagration, a candle or a wildfire. He backpedaled as a veil of rose fire blocked him from Flame, its color of blushed whites and bruised reds. He turned around, his rear path clear of the strange fire.

Cynder and Ember approached him, the fuchsia dragoness alight with her element, her scarf burned from her neck, the rubicund gem within her chest relucent. Ember's words came out sweet despite her imposing presence. “Let me speak with him, please.”

Spyro turned his head to Ember's fiery veil, the crimson dragon behind it at a loss, voice muffled before the low roar of the dragoness' power. Spyro nodded to Ember. “Alright.” He joined Cynder's side, left Ember to deal with her mate.

Ember waited till they were out of earshot. With graceful steps she crossed through the veil and  stood before Flame, the red dragon still rattled from battle. He said anxiously, “Why did you stop us?” She didn't answer. She drew the answer from him, an act that flustered him. “Didn't you hear that? Am I really in the wrong here? This is Malefor we're talking about!”

“Flame...,” she said with a light persistence.

“He'd rather fight me than kill off that bastard!”

“Flame.”

The red dragon let out a defeated sigh. “Please tell me you're with me on this.”

“You burned your necklace.”

The remark struck Flame. His fours faltered, and the searing fire around him dwindled, receded into his normal scale pattern. The ash settled around him, the licks of fire gone. “I did?” He looked down at his chest, his paw to where the necklace previously hung.

Ember nodded. Her veil of fire fell, left a fine ribbon of ash upon the grass. “I know why you're upset.” Flame remained silent, his shoulders bunched and head stooped. Ember's voice softened. She lowered her head to his. A little smile sprung to the corner of her mouth. “Maybe I could help clear things up?”

Flame gave her a slight nod, his face slack with shame. She softly beckoned him to her side before they walked back to Spyro and Cynder. Ember's gem still shone, caught the curiosity of the two dragons in front of her. Ember said to the pair, “I think I can help explain some things.”

Spyro and Cynder couldn't help but glance at Ember's gem. Cynder asked her, “How did that happen?”

Ember's eyes strayed to the side, her mind's eye reluctant to relive the experience. “The Aphos, as Flame said. They're responsible for this.”

Spyro cringed. “But why? Why you?”

Ember gave a weak shrug. “Who knows? Perhaps to test the black crystals, see if they could force Malefor's influence on a dragon, make it their vessel, golem. Maybe they shared Malefor's hatred of dragons at the time.”

It donned on Spyro. He said to Flame, “You blame Malefor for what happened to your mate.”

Flame closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes.”

Cynder mulled over that. “And the alleged savior and former minion bring him back. No wonder you were furious.”

An inner guard dropped within Flame. His composure loosened, voice rough and low with weariness. “Couldn't have said it better.”

Spyro returned the reparation. “Would you two still be willing to join us? I know you have your doubts about Malefor, but we wouldn't have brought him back if the risk was too great.”

Flame glanced over at the dark dragon, who limped closer to the ferals, away from the guardians' accusatory glares. “What's he like?”

Spyro gave Flame a light laugh. “Why don't you ask him?”

Flame glanced again at Malefor. The dark dragon sat on his haunches, head downcast, his paw over the cauterized hole in his shoulder. Flame walked over to him, uncaring of the stares he received. Ember joined him shortly after.

Malefor took a few steps back, his frown crooked, teeth bared in fear, pain. Flame summoned his thoughts the best he could. “You called my name.”

Malefor dry-swallowed. “Suppose I did.”

“Why?”

Malefor huffed. “Well, I was trying to be civil until you burned a goddamn hole through my shoulder.”

Flame gave him a quiet, “Oh.” A pause. “Sorry about that.”

A wavering, agitated groan came from Malefor. He peered up at the guardians, who still stared down at him, albeit with kinder eyes. It did nothing to assuage the dark dragon. “What? Are you going to make my other shoulder match?”

The guardians passed inquisitive looks to each other. Terrador craned his head down towards Malefor. “You are The Dark Master?”

“Former,” Malefor said irritably, “Dark Master. I'm not one for titles at the moment, seeing as breathing's becoming a commodity nowadays.”

The outburst surprised the guardians. Terrador said to Spyro, “I still don't understand why you hid the truth.”

Spyro extended his paw towards Flame and Malefor. “For the same reasons you just saw. I wanted to give Malefor a chance to be something other than what everyone perceives.”

Cyril grunted. “I knew 'Mitch' was a stupid name.”

Malefor muttered, “You and I both.”

Flame regained his rein on the conversation. “Look, I know I acted rashly. I think my reasons were valid, but that didn't mean I had to shut out other reason.” He shifted on his fours as he rested his vision on Malefor. “Truth be told I doubt I'll trust you for awhile, if ever. But at the same time you don't seem to be who I think you are, were. I can at least give you the chance to prove me wrong.”

A small sigh came from Malefor as he released his paw from his shoulder. “Doesn't fill the hole in my arm, but fair enough.”

Ember gave it a once-over, her tone just as impassive as Flame's. “Have Haedrig put one of the crystals on it. It should heal quickly.” She turned to her mate and tilted her head towards Spyro and Cynder. With that gesture the two left Malefor between the ferals and the guardians.

Malefor's lip curled. He turned his head to the ferals. “You've been quiet.”

Raziela perked her ears up and nodded at him. “Mm hm.”

“Why?”

“Mah-ah-ah.”

Malefor grumbled and returned his sight to the ground. A finger pressed against his tricep.

Goon hissed and said, “Burned.”