10Chapter 4: Afflictions
Heart pounding in the back of her head to the rhythm of her paws thumping along the stone as she sprinted, Cynder's mind was flooded with pandemonium. She had to get away. Away from the danger lurking around every corner and, most importantly, away from those creatures. The way that Coated One looked at her like he was evaluating what she was rather than who she was. They wouldn't help her. They were just as much of a threat as that Ghoul. Cynder shuddered to think what they would do if she and Spyro lingered for too long...
When she almost ran right past Spyro's motionless form still crumpled against that wall, something clicked within Cynder's head. Forcing herself to stop, Cynder found that she couldn't stop her legs from shaking. What was wrong with her? She'd been in far more dire situations than this. Why was she afraid now? Why did she flee in the first place? The situation might have been salvageable if she had just held her nerve when Dismas confronted her, but she was just so shaken by everything. Cynder paused. Ever since the Ghoul howled, something snapped inside her mind, turning her into little more than a frightened animal. She was supposed to command fear as easy as breathing, not succumb to it in blind, panic-induced fits! What had that thing done to her?
Shaking her head as the sound of four pairs of boots echoed down the hall, Cynder turned back to her downed friend. "Come on, please wake up Spyro..." she said, prodding his cheek with her snout.
He was breathing. Barely. But there was no way she could risk moving him like this, not without equipment and not quickly. The gashes in his side weren't deep but bled profusely. A trivial injury normally, but drained how he was, Cynder dared not think about it. Even in the unlikely event that he did wake up in time, there was no chance he'd be able to outrun those creatures. There was only one course of action. Cynder knew the odds of her winning were beyond slim, but she had to try.
"There, I see it." Came Roselyn's voice as the light drew ever closer, Cynder forcing her legs to remain planted when her mind screamed at her to run.
"Just me, or are there two of them now?" Dismas asked to no one in particular, fingers drumming on the handle of his knife in anticipation.
"It did speak of a friend if I recall, remain cautious. I will attempt to open a dialect with it," Reynauld replied.
"Right. Though, I suppose it's refreshing to have a monster actually have some sense of self-preservation and run away from us rather than throw itself at us like a complete tosser."
Every step slow and deliberate, the Red Hook slowly drew nearer as if they were approaching a cornered animal. Tail lashing in warning when they grew too close, Cynder let out a low growl to deter them. Every muscle in her body tensed and ready for anything they may try. Reynauld halted the advance with a raised hand before stepping forward. A palpable tension hung in the air; both sides prepared to dive into action at the slightest prick of aggression. Aware that the situation wasn't going to improve by itself, Reynauld took the initiative.
"Hail and well met." the Crusader greeted heartily, trying to defuse the situation as quickly as possible. "I'm not sure exactly how to greet a creature such as yourself, but you at least demonstrated that you can speak our tongue, so I believe it would be more beneficial if we could find a peaceful solution to this misunderstanding. I do not believe you are in league with the dark. The lengths gone to if this were a ruse are far too convoluted and unbelievable. What say you?"
Cynder was taken aback at that. Had they never heard of the destruction, she wrought as the Terror of the Skies? Could they not see how the Dark Master's tainted power still stained her very scales? It wasn't an impossibility considering that they were definitely foreign in nature. Perhaps there was still a chance they'd be willing to help, but if the growing scowl on Roselyn's face was anything to by then, Cynder would have to choose her words very carefully.
"I... Thank you for the benefit of the doubt, I did not believe that I would survive if you turned on me." Cynder forced out through her constricting throat, even now she couldn't get her trembling limbs to still. "I'm sorry I ran, but as you can see, my friend here is gravely injured and... to be frank, I didn't think I could trust you. Still don't."
"Given you and your friend's wounds and the less than hospitable local, I'd be suspicious if you weren't." Reynauld said with a nod, "Your reaction to Dismas' borderline hostility towards your request was justified, he acted rashly albeit within reason. Though that does bring up the question, what exactly are you? And why are you in the ruins of House Tabitha?"
"You've never seen a dragon before?" Cynder asked, genuine surprise flashing across her features, "I... We must be far from home..."
"A dragon, you say?" Reynauld said, his sword hand tensing, "Hmm, now that I have a chance to look at you more closely I can affirm you do have a passing resemblance to the creatures mentioned in the scriptures. Yet in the old testament, they were little more than fell beasts who served the dark."
"Served the dark?" Cynder stammered, a chill shooting up her spine at what the Crusader was implying.
"Quite. However, not only have you been assailed by the servants of the evil, you called for our aid when your friend was in peril. I am honour-bound to assist those in need; however, if I were to give you directions to the Hamlet, then I fear you would be attacked on sight." Reynauld said, "These are dark times, and the peasants are quite superstitious. So you see, I'm at something of an impasse."
"I can't disagree," Cynder said, her limbs tensing up again as her eyes started darting between Reynauld and the rest of the Red Hook. She nearly raised to her hackles to retaliate when Dismas sauntered up to the conversation.
"I take it since you aren't trying to kill it and vice versa, you've made some progress." Dismas said with a hint of his trademark snark, never taking his eye off Cynder, "Christ, it's a freaky looking thing up close, all spiky and mean looking. So what's it's deal?"
Had Cynder been in a more coherent frame of mind, she'd have objected to being insulted in such a manner. But now? Incomprehensible voices screamed within her mind, separate from her own train of thought but no less her own. They wanted her to run, hide in some dilapidated crevasse and melt away into the darkness. It took every ounce of resolve she could muster to stand her ground, but why? Why was she so afraid? Why did her legs tremble so? Why?
"She was genuinely trying request our aid until you grew impatient; it is obvious to me that this place has dug its claws upon her mind, and your little outburst nearly ruined our parley with the first cordial non-human creature that we've ever encountered." Reynauld reprimanded, shooting the highwayman a glare before turning to the rest of the group, "She claims to be a dragon, an adolescent if I had to hazard a guess and a very lost one at that."
"Hell of a place to end up in." Dismas said with a dry chuckle before turning back to Cynder with a raised eyebrow, "Dragon, eh? Hasn't the church launched crusades in the name of someone who supposedly killed one? Imagine how uppity they'd get if they heard about this..."
"Do you seek to provoke her?"
"Pfft, if she's really so unstable as to attack at a jab like that, then you were wasting our time." Dimas said with a snort, "I imagine the boss would be interested in her if the way Felicia is leering at her is any indication."
"Pah, you have no sense of discovery." Felicia retorted, her pen dancing across the pages of her notebook furiously, "I may not be as well versed in veterinary studies or practices, but even I can see the value of an unknown specimen such as this. If she truly is not aligned with the horrors of the dark, then I have an obligation as a woman of science to protect and learn all I can from her."
"I rest my case."
"If you've finished, we still have yet to come to a conclusion." Roselyn said with a huff, "As much as I am opposed to simply abandoning this creature and her compatriot, the fact remains that we are duty-bound to our mission, and they pose an unacceptable risk if we were to take them with us. Regardless of our personal feelings on the matter, the mission comes first."
"What are you suggesting, Roselyn?" Reynauld asked, frowning under his helmet.
"It would be cruel to abandon them in these godless halls to a fate worse than death, and allowing them to become soldiers for the Necromancer is out of the question." Roselyn replied coldly before whispering: "There is one mercy we could still offer them."
Cynder's blood ran cold at the implication. Would they resort to such a method just because it was convenient for them? Just like that? Any sliver of faith she had for resolving things peacefully shrivelled up the instant the words left Roselyn's lips. They were just as dangerous as any other monster in this damned crypt. Brazen enough to talk about killing her and Spyro as an act of 'mercy' just because they thought she wouldn't hear. No, they wouldn't lay a finger on her or her Spyro. She wouldn't let them.
"This is hardly the time to be suggesting such drastic action, and in front of her no less." Reynauld said disapprovingly, "Frankly, I'm shocked you would jump to such a radical..."
"You won't touch him!" Cynder snarled with fangs bared and her good wing flaring instinctively.
"Did you have to piss it off, you bloody nun? I know you don't exactly get on with people, let alone supposedly mythical creatures, but come on!" Dismas said exasperatedly, "We ain't gonna do nothing to you or your purple boyfriend, alright? Why don't you calm down, and we can sort all of... this out, alright?"
Perhaps if Cynder had been in a more coherent frame of mind, she might have been taken aback by the insinuation and have come up with a snarky retort of her own. But at that moment, clouded by throbbing pain and all-encompassing dread, Cynder made a snap decision when Dismas took one step too close. Barely registering a thought before she'd already carried it out.
She screamed.
Voice splitting into an ungodly shriek a second later, Cynder let loose her most devastating weapon. Fear. Not as corrosive as her poison nor as vile as her power over darkness itself, the power to drive Terror into foes with just her voice was one of the more potent powers bestowed upon her by the Dark Master. In an instant, the air was alive with the unrelenting pulse of her tainted element, washing over the halls in muted crimson waves. Capable of scattering small armies at her peak during her time under Malefor's influence, it should've been feasible to drive off four warriors of the Red Hook even in her weakened state. Yet when Cynder's lungs puttered out her last gasp of air, her stomach twisted.
They had not moved even a step.
Palpable silence permeated the crypt for far longer than Cynder would have liked, yet still, they showed no sign of backing down. Was she really this powerless? They should be lapping and wailing down the hall, scrambling to get over each other like a pack of snivelling Grublins. A single question wracked her brains furiously as her world stood still; Why? Why could they stand up to a blast from her Fear that she put everything she had into while she could barely keep her legs grounded?
As the armoured behemoth that was Reynauld took a step forward, Cynder felt very small. She put everything she had into that blast, destroyed any goodwill she might have had with them and drained her limited amount of magic all in one fell swoop. She had no more tricks, no more options. She was cornered. Cynder was at their mercy.
Which made what happened next all the more jarring.
"Wh-what was that? Why...? Even my blade whispers my doom!" Reynauld muttered, clutching his helmet with quivering hands before turning to Cynder, "What did it do?! What did you do!?"
"Fucking hell..." Dismas cursed, wiping his brow clean of the cold sweat that beaded down before turning to the old Crusader, "Reynauld, look at me. You need to get a hold of-"
"Back! Stay where I can see you! I know your mind!" Reynald warned, blade pointed at his comrade, "Demons whisper in the dark, I hear them... This creature conspires with them! I should slay it now before it calls more of them!"
"Uneducated brute! The ignorance! The idiocy of you!" Felicia snarled, putting herself in the way of Reynauld, pounding her fist ineffectually against his armour. "I will not allow your incompetence and frail mental state get in the way of scientific discovery, and neither will that foul-tempered wench of a priestess!"
"There is light in these stones! And the smiles of flies!" Roselyn said with a small giggle as she knelt beside a patch of rubble, "Fetch me a newborn lamb! I must make an offering now! Lest my flesh turns black and my eyes splinter..."
"Great, now we have this to deal with. I swear, if there are any more screw-ups, I'm going to bring a set of cadavers back to the Hamlet instead." Hissed the plague doctor.
Utterly dumbstruck and thoroughly disturbed, Cynder looked on in abject horror as the intrepid Warriors of the Flame turned on each other as their minds cracked under strain in fits of madness. Insults, threats and curses flew through the air, the once stalwart companions turning on each other in a chorus of obscenities. This was all wrong. Her power over fear wasn't meant to break people like this, not since the Dark Master…
No, no, no, no, no. Cynder couldn't afford to go back there, not now. Not when she had someone more important than herself to take care of. Pushing her head under an arm, Cynder hoisted Spyro onto her back, ignoring her bad wing's stab of protest, and drew herself into motion once more, the wails of the warriors growing dimmer as she fervently traced the faint tracks left in the dust.
"It's getting away! We must track it down before it returns with more servants of the night!" Reynauld growled, malice almost leaking from the gaps in his helmet.
"Have you listened to nothing I have said?!" Felicia almost screamed, stamping a foot ineffectually as the Crusader paid her no heed, "You ought to apologise to the trees for the air you're wasting with your every breath!"
"Alright, that's it. I'm calling this off!" Dismas shouted as he unloaded his pistol into the weathered ceiling, silencing all but Roselyn, who continued to giggle maniacally as she stacked shards of rubble into bizarre shapes. "As the only one of us who have managed to retain some relative semblance of his sanity, I am using the power bestowed upon me by what little sense I have to call the mission off."
"What?! You would dare undermine my holy mission?!" Reynauld almost yelled in indignation, once again turning his sword towards his companion. "I should have you crucified for this! I should…! I, I…"
"No more of that." Dismas retorted, boldly snapping his fingers in front of the Crusaders helmet. "None of us are in any state to continue; whatever that thing did, it rattled us too much. You can either follow me out and come back when we've sobered up, or you can keep going with Roselyn like that."
"Ah hahahahahahaaa~! Yes, I can smell the flowers that grow from the young lambs' ears!" Roselyn cried rapturously, breathing deep of the dust coating the ground before devolving into a coughing fit.
"We should find…! No, no, you are right. The creature has sullied our minds." Reynauld agreed reluctantly, "Even now, I can see shadows clinging to you and the others, whispering sweet nothings in my ears. I'll drag sister Roselyn to the surface."
"Alright, we need to report back sooner rather than later." Dismas nodded before turning to Felicia, "No more lip from you either; just because you can help patch us up doesn't mean we have to put up with your psychotic rants."
"Why you-!" Felicia began only to be cut off by a cold glare from the highwayman, "Fine, but know that this failure will hang on your head when we return."
With nothing left to discuss, Dismas turned with a grunt and began following the mental map he made in his head in the hopes of escaping this godforsaken place before something else happened.
Cynder didn't know for how long she had been running for. All she knew is that she had to get away. From those creatures. From the monsters that stalked the halls. From this place. Each stride jostling her precious cargo a little too much for her liking. Her legs screamed at her for a reprieve while her mind begged for escape, each wrestling for control over her actions. The former steadily growing louder.
Eventually, her choice was made for her. A wrong step, a tile slightly falling under her weight, and a metal spike erupting from the ground and piercing her front paw. It all finally brought her to a halt as she let loose an anguished cry, tumbling over and over and over again. Blinking away the shock and shuddering as a new wave of stabbing burning pain laced her form, she observed her mangled paw with an almost serene detachment before eyes drifted over to Spyro's unmoving form.
A choked sob echoed from her as she cursed. She cursed her fate. Cursed this place, cursed the Dark Master. But most of all, she cursed herself. Her weakness. She was long past her breaking point. The only thing keeping her going was him, and she could see him fading away before her very eyes. Pitifully crawling towards him, she gently nudged at his neck, hoping beyond all hope to garner a reaction of some kind.
She received none.
"I'm sorry Spyro, I'm sorry I'm too weak to help you." She openly wept, her sorrow dripping onto the uncaring stone below.
So consumed by her intense feelings of sorrow, the young dragoness did not immediately notice how the slowly room dipped temperature. Nor did she notice the faint scratching of bone against stone until it grew closer. Blinking the tears from her eyes, Cynder's fear returned with a vengeance as the gravity of her situation bore down on her once again as she realised that she and Spyro were not alone anymore.
"Curious."
Harsh and raspy, the voice was grating like sandpaper and haunting like a beckoning grave, mere inches away from her. Paralysing fear wash over Cynder, making her hesitate before she slowly turned her head and saw it.
Towering, Fierce, Terrible. Nightmare made material.
Cloaked in red, a collar of iron spikes, a belt filled with profane scrolls and the biting cold weight of death hung from it. The very air seemed to protest the existence of the Thing looming over Cynder, who could only gape in horror at it. Unable to move even if she wanted, as it extended a sickly, clawed hand towards her. Blackness dancing along the edges of her vision as it almost touched her.
"Such power… Such potential… You are mine now…"
And with a simple touch, Cynder blacked out.
As much as I dislike leaving things unfinished, my drive to complete this as well as my interest in DD has waned over over the past two years. Life got in the way one too many times. I intend to keep writing, if not for this series then for others, but first I have to get back into the swing of things.
As for this fic? I intend to leave it up for adoption for anyone interested. If you really want to know how it ends, PM me and I'll give you a list of key things I wanted to implement in this fic.
For everyone else, I hope you enjoyed this little taste of what might have been. Thank you for reading.