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secret-fiction · 5 months

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Spyro, Wrath of the Wraith

CH 2 - Sunny Flight

General Audiences, contains Cartoon Violence and Depictions of Explosions.

Aiming to rescue the Professor and recover his Guidebook, Spyro gives chase after the wizard Blowhard in the skies of Sunny Flight. Soon he is led to a patch of sea blanketed with fog where the reorganized forces of Gnasty Gnorc attempt to ambush and destroy him. Bianca and Hunter follow close behind to help Spyro, but none of them are prepared for the new tricks and weapons Gnasty can deploy.

Story MASTERPOST

Wind trailing off of his orange wings, Spyro the Dragon flew after a rickety Gnorc plane and a flimsy wizard. Both the Gnorc pilot and Blowhard watched Spyro in fear as he thwarted their attempted flight. Under the bright teal skyline over the island of Sunny Flight there was nowhere for them to hide. The only real issue for Spyro now was choosing which one to chase first.

“Whaddya think Sparx?” said Spyro as he drifted from side to side.

Sparx hovered over Spyro and pointed his antenna at Blowhard while buzzing.

“Yeah he might have some tricks left,” said Spyro, “and maybe we oughta let that Plane carry on for a moment…”

While Sparx’s gesticulation and language should be indiscernible from a distance, Blowhard seemed to already know their next move. His chant hastened and he spun his arms rhythmically as the tornado he rode skirted across the blue waves. The water sucked up into the funnel of wind, becoming some sort of opaque waterspout.

“W-wizard!” shouted the Gnorc pilot as he gawked at Spyro, “whatta we do?!”

“Fly! Fly! Fly!” said Blowhard.

Folding his wings in, Spyro let himself fall into a dive toward Blowhard. As he closed in he watched the wizard's hands closely for any sort of magic lightning. Instead of lightning from above however, a wave from below pounced and nearly engulfed him. With a gasp Spyro hit the water with a blast of fire, boiling a small hole through it. Yet the force of the now boiling water still struck his sides, nearly dunking him into the ocean.

“Ack!” Spyro fluttered his wings rapidly, throwing off the water and stabilizing his flight just above the waves. “Do… Do you think water beats Dragons because we breathe fire???”

Blowhard only looked at Spyro with wider eyes as he changed the tune of his chant.

“...Is that why you use storm clouds??”

Wide eyes turning to a glare, Blowhard thrust himself and the waterspout into the sky. Both Spyro and the Gnorc pilot above nearly crashed into the spinning mass of waves.

Spyro quickly looped up to dodge the waterspout but found himself facing the now diving Gnorc pilot head on. They made surprise eye contact for a split second. Then with a stinging smack Spyro crashed into the propeller, shattering its blades.

Losing his orientation Spyro spiraled into something hard but covered in fabric. His claws instinctively dug into what turned out to be a wing of the Gnorc plane. Beside him the screaming Gnorc pilot yanked on the controls making this situation worse. Ahead of him the sea was spinning and closing in.

If he bailed out now Spyro knew he could reorient himself. But in this intense moment he felt pure thrill. He let his claws dig deeper into the fabric wing. Then he unfurled his own wings. Feeling the air in a way the Gnorc couldn't, he took control of the spin and lifted the plane into a stable glide, nearly ripping the wing off in the process.

“Aaah… Hah…phew,” uttered the Gnorc pilot.

“Hey!” said Spyro, assuming a casual posture mid flight, “First time flying pal?”

“Wah?!” said the Gnorc, “W-Wah!! Get off!!”

“Are you sure?” said Spyro, “Does he sound sure Sparx?”

Sparx, now assuming a blue but still sparkly form, pulled up between them and shrugged with his legs.

“I’m sure! Let me go!!”

“Well alright!” said Spyro. He then released his grip from the fabric wing, which immediately collapsed from the structural damage and sent the Gnorc plummeting into the sea.

After watching the splash, Spyro looped around and searched the sea. “Now where’s that…”

Whirling away just over the surface of the water, Blowhard had already put a lot of distance between himself and Spyro. After only a moment in view, he flew around the corner of the island and out of sight.

Seeing this, Spyro looked over the island for a shortcut but found none. He’d just have to gain speed somehow, which is where having Sparx as a co-pilot came in handy.

Focusing his senses, Sparx the Dragonfly found spots ahead where funnels of sharp wind could speed them up. He then projected these spots to Spyro with guiding magic. With few distractions around, Spyro wove between funnels and gusts of wind, sending him spinning through the air with increasing speed. Soon they rounded to the other side of Sunny Flight where Spyro had to slow himself to regain his bearings.

Ahead and below him Spyro saw Blowhard ducking into a cloud of fog. Eyes dilating, he curved his wings and swooped down in pursuit. But the fog quickly thickened, so he pulled himself just above it to get a better vantage point. Several spots of fog spun and disturbed ahead of him. Clearly the wizard was zig-zagging around. Yet the fog remained too opaque for a good sighting.

In Spyro’s effort to get a good look at Blowhard’s path, someone else got a clear sight of him.

As the chopping sound of a propeller blade faded it was overtaken by an astonished praise. Abandoning their tasks, the Gnorc crew assembled at the edge of the ship.

Hoisted up from the sea, the only plane of Gnorc Squadron Four to return was plopped between the crowd. Its pilot slumped out of the cockpit and rolled onto the deck with a groan. Landing beside it with a thud was the Professor, Guidebook clasped tightly in his small arms. Then landing upon the pilot and standing tall, if yet jittery, was Toasty the Sheep.

From atop the bridge tower Gnasty Gnorc watched this procession for only a moment. Only one plane returned. Just one. That meant they had found trouble. Trouble that might find him. He stepped to a spyglass mounted to the ceiling and swiveled it around toward the direction of Sunny Flight.

The fog was thin enough at this height for Gnasty to spot anything flying above it. Things that’d stand out against the teal skyline. Such things as a flying purple object accented with orange wings. He choked on his breath. Double checking confirmed his sighting. At this he frowned. He snarled. He gritted his teeth. He focused his eyes. He chuckled. He smiled. “That’s it, Dragon.”

It was now time to make the whelps pursuit everyone's problem. Through a hatch on the bridge Gnasty let himself drop to the deck. The resulting thud echoed through his knees and the air, all eyes were on him. “That same purple whelp gives chase!”

The announcement pulled a collective gasp from the Gnorc crew and they looked to Gnasty for guidance. This many of them could scare off most threats, but experience had shown that the Dragon was too smug to know fear. This infuriating attitude must be answered with tricks. He looked down to Toasty. Eye contact revealed great apprehension in the sheep’s eyes, yet with a hint of malicious ambition.

“Your hideout is trapped, correct?” said Gnasty.

Toasty shuddered, but nodded.

“I have a weapon, use it successfully now or your vengeance will be lost!” said Gnasty.

“Heh heh heh,” chuckled Dr Shemp, “Old Metalhead would love this.”

“Excuse me,” said a terribly small but infuriatingly un-humbled voice, “By purple ‘whelp’ did you mean Spyro? From my observations, and I’m sure a quick calculation would confirm if I had my pencil, that boy will raze the lot of you in only two to four minutes.”

Dr Shemp scoffed and pointed at the professor, his mit of a hand nearly matching the mole in size. “My own remarkable di-vi-nation found a different outcome.”

“Ah, what method of deduction did you apply?” said the Professor, “so as I may cross reference it.”

“Stop, “ said Gnasty. “...From what grime was this thing plucked, and why?”

“He ha-a-as the book,” said Toasty.

“Then take it from him!” said Gnasty.

One of the larger green Gnorcs reached down and plucked the book from the Professor’s arms. After passing it between several other minions, for some reason, it finally reached Gnasty’s grasp. Indeed the red crystal embedded within the cover was brilliant. While mostly opaque, he could make out the obscure reflection of his head. What a horrible thing, this crystal. Though it was unlike the treasure he wished to withhold from the Dragon hoards.

“Shemp, deliver the Sheep and our secret weapon to his hideout.”

“I predicted you’d order that,” said Dr Shemp.

Gnasty faced the rest of the crew. “And to all of you, don’t reveal anything about us to this little brown creature!”

Skimming through the fog with his claws as he flew overhead, Spyro noted its warmth. Not a particularly impressive warmth, but definitely not as cool to the touch as the ocean air. There was also a subtle but unusual scent of smoke, from some kind of wood? “Is this even fog? It’s not smoke, but it stinks.”

Sparx gave a curious buzz and flew under Spyro. His golden glow remained visible through the fog, but too dim to reveal anything. It didn’t take long for Sparx to pop up again, buzzing in mild disgust as he wiped off his antennae.

“Don’t like the wizard’s wind?” said Spyro.

Sparx responded with some dramatic mimicry of a nasty cough.

“Okay okay let’s get up higher. I can’t see that wizard anyway, so let’s find out where this sea gas is coming from.”

It took some effort and many wing flaps but Spyro pulled himself far above the sea. Below him the air seemed calm, but soon he caught sight of a closing gap in the fog. It was hard to follow, but he managed to find more spots of disturbance further ahead. This trail led towards the thickest area in the middle of the cloud. While his eyes could not pierce the veil ahead, some aspects of the scene were becoming clear.

“This is some kind of on purpose… hiding fog,” said Spyro, “they’re hiding.”

Squinting his eyes and focusing on finding any shape, Spyro drifted closer to the heart of the shroud. Holding his wings still helped reduce excess noise. Only Sparx’s constant flutter and the sea itself reverberated through the air. Then he heard a strange sound in the distance, something hissing directly ahead. Like a muffled fire, or boiling water?

The fog grew higher and Spyro drifted lower. As he entered the shroud a large dark shape appeared ahead. Some kind of tower. Evidently unhappy with being seen, the tower ambushed Spyro with a blinding light. It didn’t sting, but made his vision refocus long enough to distract from the following sound of rapidly approaching harsh winds.

Spyro swung his body into a roll, but the force of a tornado engulfed him. No amount of struggling helped him escape the vortex, so he fell back on instinct. After feeling Sparx land in his claws he curled up and wrapped his wings on his sides. He soon felt his body drop. The ensuing impact against a hard surface rolled off of his back like water.

With a kick he popped onto his feet and checked his surroundings. There was now a clearing in the fog around him. The wind died down and the fog that had been sucked up formed itself into a spiraling cloud above. Under his feet was a small island of rock and crystal. Nearby was the structure he’d seen, now clearly a stone tower with a bright light focused into a beam.

“Oh, like an old light-tower,” said Spyro.

Sparx flew up from Spyro and stared at the light.

“You’re a bit dimmer and bluer than usual pal, no need to be envious.”

This coaxed an annoyed buzz from Sparx and Spyro felt himself smirk. “Y’know, what business does that tower have being so bright anyway?”

Sparx nodded.

“And in the middle of the day!”

Sparx turned and gestured rudely at the light.

“Yeah yeah, this guy’s asking for it!”

Riled up and rearing to start trouble with an inanimate light, Spyro and Sparx took flight again. As they lapped around the top of the tower they found that despite its age all the glass seemed to be secure and reinforced by iron bars. This didn’t dissuade Spyro from ramming himself into every side of the beacon. Yet despite his barrage they were unable to force their way in. This clearly wasn’t going to work, but seeing Sparx fly in frenzied loops was pretty fun.

It was about time to take this more seriously though, especially with the fog rolling back in. Having seen a wooden door at the base of the tower, Spyro flew around to gain momentum before smashing through it in a dive. The stone inside was soft under his claws as he skidded across the floor. Behind him he immediately heard a metallic slam, an iron bar portcullis had locked him inside. Ahead of him a tall brown cloaked figure blocked the base of a stairway.

“Oh! Hello!” said Spyro.

“Go Ba-a-ack!” said a voice from under the cloak. It pointed an arm at Spyro and creaked with every movement. Something uncanny about this foe was fascinating, but familiar.

“No-o-o!” said Spyro, stepping closer to the figure.

The figure responded with some sort of trilling snarl and mechanical click came from its arm. Spyro reared up at this sound. With another click a wooden bolt fired from under its sleeve at him. He easily leapt over this and landed at the figure’s feet, spitting a blast of fire. Much of the fabric incinerated and fell away, revealing a now smoldering box labeled ‘TNT.’

“Oh!” said Spyro.

The top half of the cloaked figure flew into the air and through a trapdoor in the ceiling with a winding sound. How clever! And annoying! Spyro jumped up but too late to grab hold of it. Instead he unfurled his wings in time to catch the force of the exploding TNT. A bright flash followed by a cloud of smoke disoriented him as his body flung up through the trapdoor before it could slam shut.

After hitting a wall and then flopping to the ground Spyro felt a predictable amount of pain. He coughed and caught his breath, then hopped to his feet with a smile. The figure hung from the ceiling but seemed similarly disoriented as it swung back and forth. Chuckling, Spyro waved some smoke off of himself with his wings and approached again. Little concern clouded his mind, even if Sparx was now a cautionary green colour.

“Cool trick!” said Spyro, “do it again!”

Despite Spyro’s genuine smile, the figure ba-ah’d in irritation. From out its other sleeve projected a blade, some kind of compact scythe. Watching it unfold and spin aggressively was pretty neat. But the idea of what else might be hanging from the ceiling distracted him from this distraction.

Sure as sunset the rafters held several oddly shaped wooden objects laden with metal spikes. Spyro let his vision onfocus and glanced back at the figure as it brandished its scythe some more. It wasn’t going to strike first, despite its effort to imply otheriwse. So it was time to play into its hand.

Light on his claws Spyro jogged, but didn’t charge, toward the figure. Right where he expected a click came from the figure and one of the shapes fell from the ceiling. Swinging by a rope, a crudely carved savage dog covered in rusty spikes lunged for Spyro. He took a second to appreciate its features before hopping out of the way.

Aiming for every ideal point on the ground to get struck by these swinging traps, Spyro baited one after another into going off. Soon the room was swarming with flying dogs. Things soon became complicated as some ropes began to tangle and their paths went awry. While this felt exciting, Sparx was giving increasingly nervous buzzes and pointing out his green colour. Admittedly he ought to find a point to cut this silliness off.

“Y’know, I’m glad to see you again,” said Spyro, “the lack of any good tricks up your sleeve always bothered me.”

Through the fabric of what remained of the cloak, two horizontal eyes glared back at Spyro. This made him wonder if perhaps his wide smile might be being mis-interpereted somehow. A bleat from the figure cut this thought off. “You'll bea-a-ar a ba-a-ad fate for pursuing us!”

“Promise?”

“DIE!”

Spyro leapt closer to the figure, Toasty, and was surprised to find him actually attacking with the scythe. Yet with each missed swipe he swayed back-and-forth. There was definitely a cool way to knock this thing down now. Running circles around the frantically swinging Toasty Spyro kept his eyes on the dog traps, letting Sparx worry about the scythe for him.

Soon he saw his opportunity and charged under Toasty and right at a swinging spiked dog. He leapt over the dog and caught the rope it swung from in his teeth. With a small bout of flame it was set loose. The momentum sent it hurtling right into Toasty’s cloaked torso. Several snaps echoed through the room as the cloak and several shattered wooden mechanisms fell to the floor.

Toasty, his shaggy wooled body now exposed, sat in what was left of a puppeteering frame hanging from a rope in a ceiling. Seemingly automatically the rope pulled him up toward yet another trap door. Luckily several other potential rides were left behind here. Spyro eagerly hopped aboard a swinging dog trap, narrowly avoiding stabbing his own paws. It launched him with enough force for him to glide through to the next floor.

“What'd you think of my trick?” said Spyro as he searched for Toasty, “are you still alive?”

It appeared they were on the top floor of the tower now. A large oil fueled flame sat in the middle of the room and the iron reinforced windows surrounded it on all sides. It took a bit to find Toasty, but soon Sparx gave a worried buzz and pointed his antenna.

Bleating out a shaky chuckle, Toasty hung in the air over a large out of place metal gun. His hoofs clasped onto levers on the back of this strangely familiar device and his eyes locked on Spyro. Thunder echoed from outside, and Spyro noticed sparks spit from a metal cord running into the gun.

“Ah, I was wondering where the windy wizard went,” said Spyro, “guess you make good bait.”

“Ba-ait?!” said Toasty. He gave a trilling snarl and pulled on the levers, aiming the gun at Spyro. “I’m a Ba–a-oss!!”

“Who has many tricks up his sleeve,” said Spyro. “But are these your tricks, or is Gnasty back too?”

Something about the way he said Gnasty’s name seemed to scare Toasty. It was hard to tell if this confirmed or denied Spyro’s guess. Unfortunately there wasn’t much time to dwell on that as the barrel of the gun lit up.

A line of electric bolts fired toward Spyro and he dashed out of the way. The shots trailed him sloppily as he made his way around the room toward a winch near Toasty. As the gun lost its charge he charged for the winch. Then he hesitated and ducked behind it instead of burning the rope outright.

“Wait, is that Metalhead’s arm gun thing? It is, isn't it!”

Unfortunately Toasty was too worried about saving what was left of his wool to answer Spyro's question.

From his spyglass Gnasty saw several flashes of lightning above the light of the tower. His face contorted into a smile, unconcerned with hiding his teeth at this opportunity. When he’d scouted Toasty’s hideout he found respect in how secure it was. Though Gnasty understood one tactical detail his formerly wooly minion did not. There ought to be an escape route. A fortress too well secured would become a prison or tomb. This was the folly he let the Dragons think he’d fallen to in the junkyard years ago.

“SHEMP!” shouted Gnasty through a hatch on the bridge, “is it sighted?”

“You’ve got the best quartermaster on the job,” said Dr. Shemp, “I’ve divined our arc of fire!”

“...being a quartermaster is irrelevant,” said Gnasty.

“Actually, uhm,” the Professor waddled over to Dr. Shemp, “I’ve been watching your, eh, range sighting. I believe there may be errors.”

“Cease sowing doubt, enemy agent!” Dr. Shemp turned away and looked at Gnasty, “I sense the time is now.”

“Yes! Unveil the guns!” said Gnasty.

Dr Shemp turned and repeated the order to the Gnorc crew who scrambled to their posts around the large tarps all over the deck. In short order each tarp was pulled up, revealing large metal guns. Four double-barreled artillery cannons were already aimed toward the bright light in the fog. As the crew stumbled over the last step of folding up the tarps, they neglected to man the several smaller cannons lining the edges of the deck. Those shouldn’t be needed though.

“Heh heh heh, dodge this you little bruise coloured whelp!” Shouted Gnasty as he beat his chest and bellowed an increasingly viscous laugh.

Wind deafening her ears, Bianca gripped the edges of the cockpit and tried to have faith in Hunter’s piloting skill. For a ‘toy’, this large plane flew incredibly fast. As he sat packed in front of her, Hunter continued rambling as if they weren’t constantly making sudden sharp turns and rolls like an out of control paper plane.

“Yeah this baby is great at outrunning UFO’s. I can't believe the Professor didn’t want to keep it.”

“Are you sure this wobbling is normal?!” said Bianca.

“Yeah this is just how it-” Hunter was cut off by the wind nearly throwing them into the ocean, “-how it handles when I keep it at full throttle.”

Below them Bianca could make out a crystal laden island. Past that was a thick cloud of fog. A bright light near the middle of this cloud stood out. At this altitude it was hard to make out details but it looked to be from a lighthouse.

“Spyro might be down there,” said Bianca, “but we probably shouldn’t fly into the fog at this speed!”

“Fly into the fog at this speed?” said Hunter.

“DON’T do that!”

As they passed overhead the lighthouse, Bianca saw several bright yellow flashes in quick succession. They came from deeper in the fog. The last few she caught lit up the silhouette of a large ship.

“You see that?” said Hunter.

The echoes of the cannonfire reached them as the shells reached the lighthouse. Smoke and rubble flew into the air like that of a sandcastle being kicked down.

“Oh no,” said Bianca.

“You don’t think-”

Hunter was cut off as Bianca recited a magic chant as fast as she could. The spell enveloped her into a ribbon of rainbow light that warped toward the lighthouse, even as the deadly battery continued.

While Toasty had swung the gun to face him, Spyro noticed a lack of electrical charging going on. Maybe he wouldn’t get to have Toasty shoot his own winch loose.

Sighing, Spyro prowled slowly toward Toasty. “Was that it then?”

“Get Ba-ack!”

“The wizard should’ve recharged that by now.”

“GET BA-A-ACK!!!”

“...You think he got scared?”

“Ba-a-ury you! Ah’ll BURY YOU!”

Spyro stopped, his snout inches from the firing end of the gun. “Wanna tell me where the Professor is? He’s not here…” He glanced around the room to double check, seeing no other exits. Through the windows he noticed what seemed to be a floating shape in the fog, Blowhard perhaps, staying a good distance away.

A loud snap redirected Spyro’s attention. Toasty had ripped one of the levers out of the gun and brandished it in his hooves. This brought back a memory of how hard this sheep could swing a stick. Spyro tensed up and took a breath.

Suddenly a crash of incredible thunder shook the tower. Had Blowhard somehow charged up a more powerful lightning bolt?! Spyro dodged away from the gun, but noticed a distinct lack of electricity as two more deafening explosions rocked the tower. Outside he saw the fog parting for bright yellow flashes and waves of flying rock shrapnel.

“Where-?!” another crash cut him off and the floor suddenly shifted to one side, “Sparx?!”

As a whistling sound flew overhead, Sparx gestured frantically at the trap door. Spyro wasted no time charging for it. But the remaining shells wasted no time in shattering this lighttower beacon.

A bright flash in his eyes and a shockwave rippling through his body left Spyro stunned. All of his breath had been forced out. Though he could still see, it took a second for him to realize he was tumbling through the air alongside a barrage of rubble. Instincts quickly took over and he curled up again. The screaming bleat of Toasty and following explosions became muffle as he fell.

Soon Spyro had been falling long enough to worry about what he’d be hitting upon landing. Upon opening his eyes, he saw rapidly approaching waves scattering off of sharps rock. Sparx was nowhere in sight and his heart jumped.

Standing between two naval artillery guns as smoke spilled from their barrels, Dr. Shemp visibly evaluated his decisions. “My ears have only narrowly survived the percussive onslaught of our awesome new cannons!”

“Did you not cover them??” said the Professor who had his hands on his ears.

“I’ll never miss out on the music of war!” said Dr. Shemp.

The Professor hummed to himself and readjusted his glasses. “Say, these weapons are reminiscent of the outlawed high-caliber cannons the Land Lubbers in Avalar were supposed to have scuttled.”

“Funny you keep talking but I only hear bits of what you say,” said Dr. Shemp

“I’m only making observations of what is surely… coinciding technological evolution,” said the Professor.

Gnasty squinted down at this talkative mole. Luckily none of his crew foolishly entertained the Professor's dialogue. Now wasn’t the time he wanted to worry about that anyway.

Ahead of him where once stood the old bright lighthouse floated a descending cloud of smoke and dust. Their aim could’ve been better, but the sheer power of the cannons managed to fell and shatter the tower in one barrage. Despite his reservations of claiming victory now, a wicked chuckle rose from his chest. “Serves you right.”

Glancing down he saw the Guidebook still clasped in his hand. He dare not look for too long lest the power crystal sour his mood in this moment of triumph and urgency. He leaned toward the open hatch of the bridge and shouted down at his minions. “Ready the sails and engine!”

“Ready the what?” said Dr. Shemp, “shall we fire another victorious volley?”

“No, we must make for the badlands!” said Gnasty.

“...What?”

“Ugh,” Gnasty looked directly at his scattered crew. “Ignore Shemp until his hearing has returned. Ready the sails and engine!”

Overhead a loud whooshing sound passed through the air. Gnasty jolted and searched the sky, the last thing he needed now was a full sized Dragon finding them. “Abandon the big guns! Man the point cannons!”

After watching his smaller minions salute and attempt to follow his order, Gnasty turned to watch the sky again. Though he found his view blocked by the wide eyes of Blowhard, who hovered in the air outside the bridge.

“AH!” Gnasty stopped himself from punching the wizard, “You’re back.”

“I am, though I have not one,” said Blowhard.

“...Well, report!”

“The Dragon scattered with the rubble into the sea! One violet pebble in a rain of stone!”

“Did you see him dead?”

“...It would take longer than I have wind to find a sunken body.”

“What kind of excuse is that?!” Gnasty glared as hard as he could, but Blowhard seemed unbothered.

“A true sentiment!” said Blowhard.

“Ugh, then we must leave now before we can find out.”

It took a little while to find which direction the surface was, but the sinking rubble helped Spyro figure this out. He oriented himself upward and faced the descending cloud of dust. Then it occurred to him that Sparx was nowhere to be seen. That’s okay, that’s fine. Maybe now was a good time to take a breather though.

Soon the taste of mud mixing with the usual salty flavor of the seawater became distracting. More than distracting, as Spyro started coughing on the dust. This was unpleasant and it didn’t sound as though the explosions were continuing. Might as well take his chances at the surface.

Spyro lifted his head high enough through the waves to spit out the seawater and take a breath of air. He still didn’t hear any more explosions. But soon there was a softer cracking sound. This accompanied small bursts of gravel and dust flinging off the rocky island and onto his spot of sea.

“Spyro?! Are you here?!” said a voice that sounded like… Bianca?

With a leap Spyro latched onto the side of the rocky island and climbed up to the surface. Indeed it was Bianca, who frantically blasted chunks of rubble with magic, sending it flying to the sea. Spyro took a second to wipe some mud out of his eyes before speaking up. “So what brings you out here?”

“Spyro!” A look of relief washed over her face before she straightened up and dusted off her hands. “You’re alright?”

“Uh, yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because the- Hunter and I saw-”

“Right, the cannonfire. It was very loud.” Spyro patted his head. “But I’ve gotta go.”

“Hold on, do you need anything?”

“Oh yeah,” Spyro was surprised to see Bianca get a determined look on her face, “...you can make butterflies, right?”

“Uh...yeah, that takes very little magic,” said Bianca. She raised her arms then slapped her hands together. In a flash a small pink and yellow butterfly appeared and fluttered toward Spyro. Then appearing out of thin air came Sparx who consumed the butterfly in one bite.

Still green and throwing off no sparks, Sparx started flying laps around Spyro. This wasn’t unusual behavior after anytime he's disappeared. So Spyro stretched all his limbs to show that he was intact. Now they could focus on the matter ahead.

Spyro hopped atop a taller rock and looked out to the source of the barrage. There a pillar of smoke was now rising above the fog. Did one of the elders show up? Probably not, as he couldn’t hear any billowing flames of death. Instead the air shook subtly with the sound of hissing and familiar machinery. He wasn’t left wondering about the source for long.

A massive wing rose into the air and cast a shadow over the sea. Then it forcefully beat down, rolling the fog up into a visible gust of wind. Seeing this, Spyro braced himself against the powerful wind as the fog blew past him.

As soon as the fog cleared away he saw the whole form of a large metal ship. Large cannons adorned its deck which was topped with a tall bridge tower. The ship was already accelerating on the water as the wings sped up their flapping. These assailants were clearly fleeing after their cheap shot. A wise choice but too late.

Before giving chase, Spyro squinted at the hull of the ship. There was a symbol of an anchor next to some text printed near the front. “What does that say?”

“Creeping Gale,” said Bianca as she shielded her face against the gusts, her cape flapping loudly behind her.

“Okay, those birds came up with a cool name,” said Spyro. “I’m gonna torch their ammunition now.”

“Wait, Hunter was-” Bianca started.

Spyro didn’t hear the rest of what she said as he unfurled his wings and let the wind carry him into the air. Once sufficiently high he turned toward the ship and began his attack run.

The sky was clear, they might actually be home free. Perhaps the single factor that ruined Gnasty's last scheme was truly gone. If so, he was sure to defeat the Dragon Kingdom in due time. To think this was a bonus outcome of this raid.

“Gnorc,” said Blowhard, who was holding onto the bridge as he floated, “I’m now capable of confirming the Dragon child’s fate.”

Gnasty’s smile instantly disappeared. “...How?”

Blowhard pointed, and as Gnasty turned to look out that direction he indeed saw something purple and orange flying after him. What an appallingly stubborn little creature.

“Man the cannons on the…!” Gnasty glanced at a nearby operators manual, “the stern cannons! And more power to the engines!”

Gnasty watched as his orders incited a traffic jam among his minions. They scrambled across the deck, stumbling over each other and creating a ruckus. Still the Creeping Gale gained speed forward and lifted further from the waves with each swing of the sails. Maybe they could outrun the whelp after all. If they couldn’t, they still had leverage.

“SHEMP!” shouted Gnasty.

After a moment, Dr Shemp appeared from behind one of the cannons. “You called?”

“Now that you can hear, take that mole to the stern and-” Gnasty stopped as he realized Dr Shemp was standing alone, “...where’s the mole?!”

“That short statured skeptic is right over…” Dr Shemp looked around for a moment, then froze as he stared at the edge of the deck.

With one leg swung over the railing, Hunter the Cheetah stared with wide eyes as he had the Professor under his arm. He stayed still for a moment, giving Gnasty enough time to process what he was looking at.

“Uh… I’m just testing the floaters?” said Hunter.

“KILL THAT CAT!!!” shouted Gnasty Gnorc.

Dr. Shemp yelled and lunged for Hunter. It was too late though as Hunter leapt with a yelp over the edge of the ship. As Shemp reached the railing and looked over the whole ship lurched. It seemed they were finally airborne.

“Dang, they ain’t drownin’,” said Dr. Shemp.

Gnasty yelled and hit the frame of the bridge, the metal stung his knuckles in retaliation. “Forget them! Get on the cannons!!”

They could get by without the leverage of a hostage anyway, right? Gnasty slowly turned to look past the stern of the Creeping Gale. The purple dragon was closing in, a look of terrible excitement in his eyes. Gnasty clenched his teeth, better than shaking. All he needed to do was get to the badlands below Dream Weavers, his crew could accomplish this, surely.

“Was that Hunter?” said Spyro as he watched an orangish yellow shape fall from the Creeping Gale and into the sea.

Sparx buzzed in an ambiguous tone.

Soon they passed over where Hunter had landed. He was treading water and had the Professor on his head. They both looked miserably soaked.

“Hey Spyro!” shouted Hunter while waving, “we could use a bit of help!”

Spyro drifted past Hunter as he evaluated their chances with the sea. One glance at the ship he pursued showed it wasn’t getting any slower. Meanwhile Hunter was a pretty good swimmer. Well when he had some gear. Still Spyro had made up his mind. “Two minutes!”

“I’d prefer two seconds!” said Hunter.

Looking back up Spyro saw a whole gauntlet of weapons aimed at him. First was four cannons trained on his path. Blowhard, who was tied to the Creeping Gale as he flew, was preparing another storm spell. Then several other Gnorcs brandished random scrap to throw. At the back of this procession stood whom Spyro recognized as Dr. Shemp.

“You too?” said Spyro.

“FIRE!” shouted Dr Shemp.

As the cannons fired, sending hot projectiles his way, Spyro put his claws to his face dramatically. He played as if resigning himself to fate, then rolled out of the way. All four projectiles missed and sped toward the sea. Right toward the area Hunter and the Professor were floating. Spyro’s eyes widened seeing this.

“Oh smoldering he-WATCH OUT!”

Hunter seemed to notice Spyro’s warning as he dived under the water. Soon several large splashes kicked up in that area. Spyro drifted slower in the air as he watched and waited. Luckily Hunter popped back out from the water and gave a thumbs up. Spyro unclenched his jaw, he hadn’t realized he was doing that.

Hearing a warning buzz from Sparx, Spyro rolled in the air before looking up. A small cloud of lightning flew past him and sent a bolt into the sea. He then shot a glare at Blowhard who immediately backed away.

While Spyro wanted to remove Blowhard from the equation, the wizard and the deck of the Creeping Gale started rising out of his reach. Flapping his wings wasn’t giving him anymore altitude now. In fact he was falling. The air seemed to become more fluid as the wisps of wind off of his wings dwindled.

“Augh! No!”

Random scrap and trash started falling at him now as the Gnorcs threw anything they could get their hands on. Spyro could only look up and glare, finding the lot of them laughing at him. But his focus moved to the trail of thick black smoke above them. What a silly oversight.

“Well okay then, Bye! See you all soon!” said Spyro with a wink.

For some reason the Gnorcs didn’t look very enthusiastic about his farewell.

#Spyro the Dragon #Spyro Fanfiction #Spyro #Fanfiction #Spyro Fanfic #Spyro writing #Fanfic #Gnasty Gnorc #Spyro Reignited Trilogy #Spyro Story #Spyro Wrath of the Wraith #My Writing #Chapter 2

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