A Knight in Shining Armour part 2

Beast Wars Knights: A Knight in Shining Armour

Part 2

The beautiful day grew dark as heavy ominous storm clouds obscured the sun, blown across the sky by a sudden cool wind. Black shadows of clouds slid across the ground, engulfing the green waves of grass with their cold embrace. Two lone travelers glanced up as a shadow passed over them. Drawing his cloak closer for precious warmth, Waspinator shuddered.

“I hope it doezzn’t rain,” he whined, “I don’t like water anymore…”

Terrorsaur rolled his eyes for the fifth time. “A little rain won’t hurt you. Now come on.”

They continued traveling down the dirt path in silence as the wind continued to blow. Before them the path sharply curved as it met a path coming from the opposite direction and merged into one larger road that lead north into Predacon land. Castle Migrazor watched over it from the heart of the plain, standing tall, a black dagger penetrating the beauty of the territory. Terrorsaur and Waspinator stopped at the merge in the path, scanning the horizon of the other road behind them.

“I wanna go back to the cazztle!” grumbled Waspinator, “It’zz cold!”

“Well, we can’t, not unless you want Prince Megatron to send his blood-thirsty wolf on us,” snapped the Red Knight. Waspinator gulped.

“We have to wait for the traveler coming from the west,” Terrorsaur explained, “And he should get here anytime.”

His smaller companion shivered as a cold blast of air came up over the hills. Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Well, I hope he getzz here quick!”

Despite Waspinator’s complaints, the person the two Predacons were waiting for took his time. He rode along the dusty path on his black-and-white horse Patch, singing more than a little off-key.

“Oh give me a home where the wind don’t blow, an’ I c’n fight varmints all daaaaay! Where seldom is heard, from a horse named Ferd, that there ain’t no varmints anywaaaaay!”

Patch whinnied in annoyance at his rider’s singing ability. Quickstrike laughed.

“It wasn’t THAT bad, was it, pardner?”

Patch neighed and nodded his head. Quickstrike laughed again.

“Aww, well, I won’t quit mah day job then.” He let out a low whistle. “Hoo boy, sure did git cold an’ windy mighty quick. Them storm clouds just came outta nowheres! –Hey!” Quickstrike grabbed his black cowboy hat back as the wind tried to snatch it away. Putting it on straight, he rode on. Although a small man, he was a fierce mercenary knight from the western borders. He wore armour fashioned from metal and leather and on his back a harness carried a large wicked battle-axe, his weapon of choice.

Coming up over a hill, Quickstrike saw the merge of two roads and two figures sitting at the juncture, their cloaks billowing in the wind.

“Well howdy!” He called, his voice carried by the gale. Although he sounded friendly and at ease, Quickstrike readied himself for battle just in case. One never can be too cautious while traveling these roads. The two men jumped up and the taller one approached him.

“Greetings fellow traveler,” the man said, brushing red hair out of his face. He motioned to his friend. “You caught us while we were taking a break before we carried on to our lodgings.”

That caught the knight’s attention. “Lodging ‘round here? Is it far?”

Terrorsaur shook his head, “No Sir, it isn’t at all. Just about two miles up the road. Castle Migrazor. You can almost see it from here.”

“Really?” Quickstrike squinted at the horizon. He could barely see black spires poking above the skyline. “Well shoot! I’ve heard o’ that place before. Can I come with ya? The wind’s getting stronger an’ I reckon it’ll rain soon.”

“Yes, of course Sir Knight.” Nodded Terrorsaur.

“Mah name’s Quickstrike, and this here’s mah horse Patch. There’s no need to be callin me ‘Sir Knight’ cos I never was one for formal stuff. And yer names are, if I may ask?”

“Terrorsaur, the Red Knight.”

Waspinator shivered, waving. “I’m Wazzpinator, Zzir. Now let’zz go, it’zz cold out here!”

Quickstrike frowned at his statement, suspicious. “What, were ya waitin for me or somethin?”

Terrorsaur shot Waspinator a glare before smiling at the knight. “We’re just fellow travelers, is all. I must agree with my friend, however, it IS quite cold.”

An hour later they arrived at Castle Migrazor’s black gates. It reluctantly lowered its drawbridge and allowed the heavy iron portcullis to rise. When the twin doors opened, the three travelers quickly hurried in to flee the cold. Waspinator took Patch to the horse stables was Terrorsaur led Quickstrike inside the castle. Outside, storm clouds billowed and swirled in the sky, angry at their escape from its wrath. Thunder rumbled louder than before. Soon the storm would unleash its fury.

Safe within the castle’s halls, Quickstrike was amazed at the size and splendor of the place. Burning torches hanging from the walls gave it an eerie atmosphere, casting strange shadows across the stone grey walls. Rows of armour said nothing as the two men passed by them, watching them with hollow black eyes.

“Maaaaarrow!”

A fuzzy orange blur ran across Quickstrike’s feet, startling him from the gloom’s grip.

“What in tarnation?!”

Terrorsaur smiled faintly. “That was just the resident cat. You may want to put your back against the wall in a moment.”

Before Quickstrike could question why, heavy paws thundered down the hall.

“Woof woof woof woof bark bark bark bark!”

A large wolf tore past them and disappeared around the corner, pursuing the cat. Quickstrike peeked carefully around the corner before peeling himself off the wall. He adjusted his cowboy hat so it was straight again.

“Sheesh! Is there anything else I should know about? What are animals doin in here anyway?”

Continuing down the corridor as if nothing happened, Terrorsaur laughed.

“The wolf is the Prince’s pet, Bloodbane. He’s always been around. Don’t try to pet him though. He’ll rip your arm off. The cat belongs to my sister.”

Immediately Quickstrike took off his hat and smoothed his ruffled blonde hair.

“There are ladies here?”

“Well, my sis went back home awhile ago, but there is another… erm, lady. I’d stay clear of her if I were you. She isn’t very….” He hesitated, finding the right word. “…social.”

“And why should I be?” asked an annoyed voice as it emerged from the shadows with its owner. Black Arachnia eyed the two men with disgust. “It’s hard to while in the present company.” She paused, sneering. “Or any company from around here.”

Terrorsaur sighed. “Hi, Black. Is supper ready yet?”

“How should I know?” She snapped, “I don’t take care of it. That poor excuse for a cook Inferno does. Ugh, if he serves that meatloaf again….” Black Arachnia tried not to gag. “I’d rather eat my dress.” She caught Quickstrike’s gaze. “What are you staring at, bucko?”

He quickly looked away. “Erm… nothin ma’am, just admiring the scenery. Nice place you have here.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” She said haughtily, turning away from them. She marched down the hall and out of sight. Quickstrike watched her go, smirking.

“Nice lady.”

Terrorsaur rolled his eyes. “About as nice as a dragon with a toothache. C’mon, let’s go see if supper’s ready yet.”

A few moments later Quickstrike pushed a blackened piece of steak around his plate, wondering what to do with it. Under the table, Bloodbane the wolf whined and Speckles the cat meowed pitifully.

“Umm… are all meals around here this well done?”

Inferno, who was sitting next to him, took that as a compliment. He grinned widely. “Yes they are. It’s a pity, if I had had time I would have made my special meatloaf.”

Across the table Black Arachnia choked on her drink. Inferno didn’t notice. “I was busy serving the Royalty.”

“The Royalty? Is that another kind of food you serve around here?” Quickstrike asked, quickly passing the steak/coal under the table when Inferno turned away for a moment. Bloodbane quickly gobbled it up. Inferno straightened up in his seat with strict loyalty.

“The Royalty is our great leader, Dark Prince Megatron, soldier! You’d best remember that!”

“Oh. Why isn’t he here eatin with us, then?”

“He eats alone in his private chambers. He’s too important to come out here and join us,” explained Terrorsaur, slipping a similar piece of burnt meat under the table. Speckles pounced on it before it could touch the floor. Beside him, Waspinator nodded, attempting to cut into his steak with his sword.

“Prinzze Megatron just likezz to be alone and think a lot.”

“Oh.” Quickstrike nodded, “Will I ever get to meet him anytime soon?”

“Probably later, when he bothers to show up,” grumbled Black Arachnia as she tried to force herself to eat the meat. When Inferno wasn’t looking it found a place on the floor at her feet. When he glanced up, he noted several empty plates.

“Are you all that hungry?” he started to stand up, “Shall I get more?”

Terrorsaur sat back in his chair and sipped at his drink. “Boy am I stuffed!” he declared.

“I couldn’t eat another thing,” said Black Arachnia faintly, “It was all too good.”

“I’m zztill trying to finish mine,” said Waspinator, picking up his sword again. “No more for me, pleazze.”

“Um…. I ate on the way here,” said Quickstrike when Inferno looked to him. “But it sure was good!”

Speckles appeared from under the table, giving a rather loud unfeline-like burp before licking her paws clean. She saw Bloodbane with another piece of meat and vanished below the table again to help him eat it. Inferno smiled happily and gathered up the plates.

“Very well, then. I’m glad you enjoyed it!”

After he left Terrorsaur grabbed a large loaf of bread and broke it into several pieces. He took one and handed the rest to Quickstrike.

“Here. Pass it on.”

Dark Prince Megatron strode into the chamber and scanned the table where his soldiers sat and ate. He spotted Quickstrike and smiled with satisfaction. Excellent…. Terrorsaur and Waspinator had done their job bringing him here. Now it was his turn to…. pleasantly persuade the knight to stay at Castle Migrazor. Before entering fully into the room, Prince Megatron adjusted his purple cloak around his shoulders to make sure the bottom flared dramatically in the breeze when he moved forward. From across the chamber he heard the Predacons grumbling about Inferno’s cooking ability. It was time to give them something more important to talk about. Black Arachnia noticed his arrival first. Her nasty tone faded, replaced by a quieter, seductive voice.

“Good eve to you, Prince Megatron,” she said. When he nodded to her in recognition, the other Predacons suddenly straightened up, turning to him.

“Nizze to zzee you, Zzir.” Said Waspinator.

“Prince Megatron!” Terrorsaur began, standing up. He motioned to Quickstrike, who arose beside him. “This knight has come to stay with us for an evening.”

The Dark Prince studied him with narrowed blue eyes. “Yes, so I see. And your name, Sir Knight?” he asked smoothly.

Although Quickstrike was much smaller than Megatron, he was not intimidated.

“Mah name is Quickstrike, an’ as I told yer Red Knight, there’s no need to be callin me ‘Sir Knight’ cos I never was one for formal stuff, unless you happen to be an enemy, o’ course.”

Prince Megatron smiled slightly. “Of course.”

“I’m a mercenary knight from the west, yer Honor,” he continued, “An’ I’ve been wanderin the lands just to see what’s out there.”

Megatron’s eyes lit up. “A mercenary? Tell me, do you wish to have a bed to sleep in at the end of the day and a plump bag of gold in your hands every two fortnights?”

He grinned greedily. “I s’ppose I could settle down for awhile.”

“Excellent! Now, if I may inquire…. How are your battle skills?”

Quickstrike scanned the room without answering. He pointed across the chamber, where a lone candle stood by itself on a table against the wall. Reaching behind him, he withdrew his battle-axe from its harness. The Predacons watched in curious silence as he drew back and threw the axe. The wall shuddered under the impact of the great blade. But the candle was still there, its flame put out. Black Arachnia snorted.

“You missed!”

Quickstrike’s normally animated voice came flat and serious. “I suggest you check, Sugar.”

She stiffened at the pet name. Glaring at him, Black Arachnia marched across the stone floor to the table. She examined the candle for a moment, then gasped. She picked up a small black cord. Whirling, she gazed at the knight in disbelief.

“You… you cut the wick the candle’s flame was burning upon!”

Quickstrike tipped his hat politely in modest acknowledgement. “That I did, ma’am.” He turned to Prince Megatron. “Does that answer your question?”

The Prince struggled to regain some composure.

“Yes. Yes, it does. Quickstrike, welcome to the Predacons!”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Grey clouds boiled in the sky, threatening rain. Thunder rumbled, this time louder than before, as the storm’s fury traveled closer. Airazor stood by the window of her balcony room wrapped up in a heavy green blanket. A cool breeze stirred her long dark hair that framed her face, still pale from sickness. A depressing atmosphere had replaced the beautiful day. She sighed, breathing deep. Not all was lost at least— she could still smell flowers from the garden below. Turning from her window, Airazor smiled when she saw the glass vase full of colorful blooming flowers beside her bed. The men could be so sweet sometimes…. A soft knock came from the door.

“You may come in.”

Cheetor appeared in the doorway. “I… uh, we were wondering if you felt well enough to come downstairs and eat supper with us,” he explained quickly, then added with a grin, “and you’ll be able to meet my cousin Silverbolt.”

Airazor smiled back, nodding. “If I stay in here any longer I shall go mad!” she declared, “Illness or no illness, I think I should venture from my quarters for a little while at least.”

Cheetor laughed. “You must be feeling better then, if you’re saying that. Should I get another blanket or shawl for you?”

“The blanket I have now is enough,“ she told him.

He was quiet for a moment, staring outside.

“Cheetor?”

“Hm?” He looked to her with a distant gaze. “Oh, my apologies. I was just… thinking. Come with me Airazor, I will assist you down the stairs.”

Although she didn’t want help, she allowed him to aid her down the twisting stairs anyway. She was always touched at how the Golden Squire wanted to do so much for everyone.

Rattrap’s eyes squinted hard in concentration. Just a bit more…. If he pushed just a little harder… he was so close! His elbow ground into the table, trying to gain some leverage. A thin trail of sweat trickled down his brow. Despite his intense focus, he managed to give a wily grin to the man sitting across from him. Dinobot returned it, grasping Rattrap’s hand firmer as he tried to press it down.

“You cannot defeat me!” he growled, “you never will!”

“We shall see, my friend,” Rattrap’s grin grew wider. “There is always a first time!”

The arm wrestling match continued in silence, a steady battle of wills and strength. Rhinox appeared with a large platter of meat for supper. He saw them and groaned.

“Cease the child’s play, you two!” he demanded, “Make room!”

Eyeing each other for a moment, their hands separated.

“I would have beaten you if it had gone on for a moment longer,” said Rattrap confidently. Dinobot huffed.

“That will be the day dragons fly.”

Before Rattrap could retort, Rhinox interrupted him. “Instead of bickering to one another, why don’t you help me carry tonight’s meal out here?”

Shrugging, the two Maximals got up and went into the kitchen. From across the hall, Cheetor and Airazor emerged from the stairwell. Silverbolt, who had been cleaning his sword and battle shield at the table, hailed his kin.

“Greetings Cheetor… oh! I see you have Lady Airazor!” abandoning his task, the noble knight took her hands into his and escourted her to an empty chair.

“Are you comfortable, my Lady?” he asked her.

“Yes, thank you Sir Silverbolt.” Airazor giggled unintentionally, “You are very kind.”

“One must be so with a lady, especially one recovering from illness,” Silverbolt stated sincerely, “If you need assistance with anything, let me know and I shall help you.”

She giggled again, flattered at his words. Quickly she turned away, fearing she may insult the Silver Knight. When her eyes laid upon Cheetor, her laughter died. Something was clearly bothering the boy.

“Is there something the matter, my Lady?” Silverbolt asked, concerned.

Airazor shook her head. “No, not with me….” He followed her gaze to his younger cousin.

King Optimus strode through the corridors lined with windows to let sunlight stream into the castle. The air wafting in smelled of rain. Optimus sighed. It was a shame the nice day will be taken away by a storm. When he entered the dining hall he passed by Cheetor, standing by himself while gazing out a window into the forlorn grey-black sky.

“Cheetor?”

The Golden Squire turned to him with haunted eyes. “Yes my liege?”

“My boy, is there something on your mind?”

He hesitated, but realized he must tell his king. “This day is like a dream I once had. I fear danger.”

Upon hearing this, Optimus felt a cold chill run down his back.

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Bloodbane discreetly crawled out from under the dining table, a large hunk of steak hanging from his jaws. Speckles followed him as he crossed the room to a far corner, away from the Predacons deep in conversation. She pawed at the meat, meowing. In response the wolf held it up higher out of her reach. As he sat down to eat, he pressed both paws on the steak to make sure Speckles couldn’t snatch it away. She hissed at him. Bloodbane growled back. The cat hissed louder and began yowling. She drew back to pounce on the meat. Bloodbane moved it just as she leapt. She hit the wall instead. Jumping back slightly dazed, she yowled, batting his muzzle with claws outstretched. He snarled fiercely, teeth bared. The yowling and growling rose to a crescendo as the cat and wolf squared off to fight. Fur rose on their backs. They circled. Speckles crouched low, preparing to pounce again. Bloodbane’s ears pressed against his skull. Both would fight to the death for the prize.

“WILL YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF?!”

Startled by the shout, the pets jumped. Bloodbane’s ears pricked up and he whimpered, looking upwards. Speckles delicately landed on her feet from her unplanned leap into the air, highly annoyed. Dark Prince Megatron stood over them, looking even more annoyed. He pointed to the open door.

“Both of you, out!”

Bloodbane looked to his master, then to the steak, torn between loyalty and his stomach. He whined, unable to decide. Speckles decided for him, settling down as she licked the meat. The wolf snarled at the orange tabby cat. Prince Megatron shook his head in exasperation, drawing his sword.

“There’s only one way to settle this.”

At the hiss of the steel blade, both pets cringed and darted away, fearing for their lives. Swiftly the Prince sliced the meat in two. He threw one to each.

“There. Now get out of here.”

Barking happily, Bloodbane picked up his half and trotted out of the room. Speckles dragged hers away with as much feline grace as she could.

The Dark Prince returned to the dining table, sheathing his sword. He seated himself at the head of the table, rubbing his head with a hand.

“My apologies for the interruption, Quickstrike. Please continue.”

The other Predacons turned politely to the knight, suppressing smiles and chuckles. The Prince’s pets were always giving him headaches. Quickstrike cleared his throat, reaching into his large leather saddlebag.

“Uh… yeah, as I was sayin…. I’ve been all over the place an’ come across lots o’ stuff. Long ago I came across this,” he pulled out an aging book, dusting off its timeworn cover. Gold print gleamed in the candlelight. “All I know is it’s from Old times, you c’n tell by th’ language on it. But problem is, I’ve never found anyone who can read the bloody thing.”

Prince Megatron’s eyes widened. “Let me see it!” he demanded.

Quickstrike passed it across to Black Arachnia. Her hand lingered on the cover for a moment until she gave it to her leader. Megatron examined the title, which was written in ancient markings. He opened it, turning to a random page. He flipped to another. And another. Curiously his soldiers watched him, his face becoming brighter and more excited with each passing page. Chuckling madly, Megatron finally closed the book.

“Have you ever wanted a place in history, my dear Quickstrike?”

Taken slightly aback, the knight nodded slowly. “I s’ppose so…. Why?”

“Because with this book, we can make it.”

THAT made everyone pay attention. Quickstrike nearly jumped out of his seat with delight.

“You can read it?! Pray tell, what does it say? I’ve been carrying that book for over two years!”

Prince Megatron was more than happy to explain. “This book was written in Runic, the writing method of the Ancient Ones, long lost to history. They must be translated twice, you see… from the Runes to our writing system, then from the words of Old Tongue to our language. One must have knowledge of their history and their linguistics to read this.” He smiled, “I have the background to do both.” He underlined the title with a finger, reading it aloud: “ ’The Writings of Magic’. What you have discovered, my friend, is a spell book.”

Waspinator’s eyes bugged out. “Such thingzz are real?”

“Spells and sorcery are only things of legend!” exclaimed Terrorsaur in disbelief.

“Legends can be based on reality,” Black Arachnia told him softly.

Prince Megatron nodded. “Indeed my lady, you are correct.” He opened the book again, turning to the first page. He began to read the spidery handwritten runes:

“ ‘This book in your hands is my life’s work. I give warning to those who dare read these spells. Be weary, for if you have dreams of power, you will be destroyed by them.’” Megatron frowned, noting the lack of a signature. He scoffed. “Bah! Power is the only thing that matters in this world. Stupid fool.”

Inferno’s hands shook as he gazed at the open book before his leader.

“M-my Prince! We should heed his warning and not read those words! It can only bring us ill fortune!”

Ignoring him, Megatron grimly turned a few pages and found what had interested him before. An evil smile slid across his face. Inferno pleaded again.

“Royalty, please do not speak the words of sorcery! Not within these walls!”

The Prince stood up, clutching the book. “I won’t. Men, prepare yourselves for battle and meet me outside.”

Adorned in heavy battle gear, the Predacons stood against the mighty winds of the storm with their nervous war horses. Before them burned a raging bonfire. Inferno, no longer frightened and in his element, cackled madly as he threw more wood into the fire. The flames nearly reached the sky, burning the heavens. The clouds, angered at the intrusion, became black and crackled with lightning. Dark Prince Megatron’s purple cloak swirled in the gale as he strode in front of his soldiers with the spell book in hand. He opened it and spoke in Old Tongue, his voice rising above the wind and popping flames:

“I call upon wind, ash and flame

Create for me a creature from the very depth of hell from whence he came

Blood red scales and golden eyes

I command thee Dragon, I command thee rise!

Come forth into this world to do my will

Death, destruction, whatever I shall tell!

For I Megatron, summon thee by name

Harvenger of Chaos, Humanity’s Bane

Methos, Lord of Dragons, come upon this plain! ’”

The Predacons watched with fascinated terror, barely holding onto their screaming horse’s reigns as the flames of the bonfire twisted and molded into the shape of a demon dragon, reaching higher and higher into the sky, breaking into the clouds. Gradually the flames burned out, replaced by flesh, scales and talons. The ground shook as the mighty dragon roared with its first breath, a billowing fireball escaping from his open mouth. Lightning struck around him as he unleashed the fury of a living dragon for the first time in centuries. Huge golden eyes peered down at the mere humans below him, who were all trying to hide behind each other at once. Had he the ability, he would have laughed.

“Methos!”

His attention came upon his summoner. Flexing great wings he created a gust of wind, completely blowing out the bonfire that had spawned his existence. Methos came to rest before Megatron on all fours. Puffing a cloud of smoke, he awaited the Prince’s commands.

“By the Pit, you live! Yeeeesss!” Megatron laughed, “You live! My creation, I command you— there lies a castle south of us. DESTROY IT AND EVERYONE WITHIN ITS WALLS!!"

Nodding once, the dragon flapped his wings, soaring up and away. At this moment the storm broke, pouring down sheets of rain. Triumphant, Megatron leapt onto his war horse Nightmare, calling to the Predacons:

“Come, tonight we shall have VICTORY!”

Having finished the spell, Megatron stowed away the spell book. In his excitement, he never saw the last line:

“ ‘Beware the Dragon’s wrath.’”

-- -- -- -- -- -- --

Standing under the eaves of the horse stables, Rattrap sighed as he listened to the heavy rain strike the wooden roof. It figured. The storm was only waiting for him to go outside for a moment before it decided to rain. Lightning flashed, blinding him. Behind him, the Maximal horses stamped uneasily, wary of the storm. Smiling, Rattrap stroked Periya’s mane to calm him. Dinobot’s steed gazed at him fondly. Suddenly an unearthly shriek filled the air, echoing even over the pounding rain and rumbling thunder. A gust of wind tore across the ground, knocking Rattrap down. Frantically grasping the horse stall for leverage, he hauled himself upright.

“What…?”

He ran outside into the rain, unprepared for the sight that overtook him. A great red dragon circled in the sky screaming and roaring like a demon creature. His wide brown eyes reflected the orange burning flames the dragon spat into the air. Rattrap stood frozen, paralyzed by fear and wonder. The dragon took a dive at the castle, pulling up just before it would strike the east castle turret. He gulped, realizing the demon’s intentions. In the stables, the horses screeched in terror, kicking the stable walls. Their cries brought Rattrap back to reality. He ran to the extra horses, quickly unfastening the ropes holding them in their stalls. In one corner of the stable Rattrap pulled hard on a rope cord.

In the gatehouse a bell began to ring crazily. Rhinox sat up and yawned, wincing when his stomach wound reminded him of its presence.

“Hm? Rattrap wants the drawbridge lowered? Whatever for?”

A shriek from the skies answered him. Snapping awake and moving to a window, Rhinox saw the terrible form of a dragon.

“Primus!”

He drew back in alarm. Without hesitation he turned to the drawbridge controls and pounded on a large lever. The drawbridge clanked and dropped to the ground with a dull boom. Daring to look out the window again, Rhinox saw Rattrap letting the spare horses free to run and escape the dragon’s attack on the castle. Satisfied, he jumped down the gatehouse stairs three at a time calling out at the top of his voice:

“Everyone! We must abandon the castle! A monster is attacking us! We must leave Castle Axalone!”

Dinobot was the first to answer the man’s shouts. “We are being attacked by a monster?” he demanded.

“YES!” cried Rhinox, “A dragon that means to destroy us! Quickly, we must leave or we will be buried in a grave of stone!”

“A dragon?!” Cheetor skidded into the room with his cousin close behind. “Are you daft, man? They do not exist!”

The castle suddenly shook, and a blood-curdling scream filled the air. Silverbolt looked down at his cousin, fright written on his face. “My boy, I believe they do now.”

“Where is King Optimus and Airazor?” questioned Rhinox, “We must leave NOW! Rattrap is outside getting our horses ready!”

“We are here, my friend!” yelled Optimus as he ran into the room, blue cape swirling. Airazor was behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Rhinox says we are under the attack of a dragon!” explained Cheetor frantically, “My King, we must abandon the castle before it is destroyed around us!”

“A dragon? How is that so, and how do we know it is to destroy—“ Optimus was cut off as the castle shook again, the stone walls cracking and fracturing. He looked to his soldiers, fear apparent in their eyes. Without another word he led them out of the room, hurrying outside into the rain.

Rattrap sighed with relief as he counted the number of people who came out of the castle. No one had been trapped. Above him, the red dragon took another swoop at the castle, the wind he created striking heavily against the structure. He scowled. The dragon was only playing, it seemed. What a fine thing it had chosen Castle Axalone to be its playmate! Upon its next passing, the creature blew fire at the walls, scorching the red brick black. It took another swat at the north turret, sending it crashing down.

“Rattrap!”

Rhinox came up to him and patted his back. “Good thinking to let the other horses free,” he said, glancing at the remaining Maximal steeds Rattrap had quickly saddled up. The reared and bucked as their owners held the reigns, fright in their eyes. Optimus fought to keep control of his horse. The other Maximals mounted their steeds with equal difficulty.

“My King, where do we go?” asked Airazor.

Still struggling to keep his steed under control, Optimus managed to turn to her.

“There is a trail into the canyon on the other side of the drawbridge. We must go there; otherwise we’ll be right out in the open, easy prey for the flying beast. Draw your weapons for defense, Maximals!” he shouted in the falling rain, “Let’s ride out!”

They crossed the drawbridge just as the red dragon had come down for another pass. Methos saw the tiny men on their horses and dived upon them, listening to their pitiful cries of fear. He blinked as he felt a sharp knick cut into his flesh. Roaring outrage, he blew fire at them. They barely escaped the flames, riding away as fast as the horses would carry them. But it was nothing the Lord of Dragons could not match. Below, King Optimus continued leading his soldiers along the side of the canyon, searching for the trail. Above the wind, rain and dragon screams, he suddenly heard a voice call out:

“Well, if it isn’t the great King out for an evening trot!”

Dark Prince Megatron rode out of the darkness with a full army at his back. Startled, the Maximals drew their horses to a halt before brandished weapons.

“Megatron?!” bellowed Dinobot, “by the Pit, what other demons shall we come across tonight?”

The Prince grinned maliciously, motioning to the red dragon, which was still toying with the castle. Another turret came down with a rumbling crash as lightning struck.

“Do you like him? He’s my new pet. Methos, Lord of Dragons!”

“That monster is yours?” demanded Optimus angrily, “You set that creature against MY castle?”

“Truthfully, it would have been silly to have him attack my own, King Optimus,” replied Megatron mockingly. Behind him the Predacons laughed scornfully. Optimus scowled at his enemy, taking the moment to think of the situation. In order to get to safety they had to get through the Predacons. But his warriors were not dressed for battle, having only what weapons they always carried or managed to grab before abandoning Castle Axalone. They were at a distinct disadvantage against the heavily armed Predacons. A man the king had never seen before rode beside Megatron, tipping his hat to Silverbolt.

“Howdy pardner, I thought we’d be seein each other again.”

It took a moment until the Silver Knight recognized him. “Quickstrike!” he shouted, “You joined the Predacons?!”

The newly recruited knight chuckled dryly, nodding. “Well, the price was right an’ there’s a lot of fun in destruction, ya know,” his dark eyes glittered, “And I like destruction!”

“Why, you—“ Optimus had to hold Silverbolt back before he could attack the man, “Lowlife SCUM!”

“Name-calling isn’t very nice,” said Terrorsaur as he cackled with laughter. It was then when King Optimus made up his mind, confident his soldiers would know what to do. With a dragon at their backs and the Predacons before them, the only way to was go forward. He whipped out his sword.

“Maximals, chaaaaarge!”

They surged forward at the Predacon ranks, which broke easily under the element of surprise. As they passed through, they could hear Megatron’s cry of fury.

“You fools! AFTER THEM!”

Methos decided to fly above them, taking part in the merry chase. Stretching out his talons, he snatched one of the Maximals off his horse. Gaining altitude, he watched the human squirm in his claws. Dinobot cursed loudly, managing to loosen his sword, which had already tasted dragon’s blood tonight.

“Set me back upon the earth, you spawn of the devil!” he slashed at the dragon’s fingers in frenzy. “You made a bad choice taking m--- ARRRGH!” Dinobot cried in agony as the hand squeezed him. Glaring into Methos’ huge golden eyes, he took a swing at the dragon’s throat with his blade, undaunted.

“If you wish destroy me, so be it! You shall go down too!”

The small cuts did not harm him, so Methos decided to carry the lively human just for fun.

“Dinoboooooooot!” cried Rattrap, drawing an arrow from his quiver to shoot at the retreating form of the flying beast.

“Rattrap— Don’t!” ordered Optimus, “You could hit him!”

“With a target before me the size of the moon?!” he snapped back, “I think not!”

“We need your arrows down here!” King Optimus replied sternly, “They will do little against a dragon. We must fight off the Predacons before we can rescue Dinobot!”

It was no longer important to get into the canyon. What mattered was Prince Megatron and his Predacons, who were still pursuing the Maximals. It was time to stand and fight. Wheeling his horse around, King Optimus met the Predacon leader head-on. His Maximal warriors did the same, having come to the equal conclusion. Surprised by this tactic, their enemies scattered. Black Arachnia’s horse slipped on the wet grass and mud, staggering over the canyon’s edge. She was thrown sideways with a shrill cry and began to fall into the deep pit. Suddenly a hand seized her in mid-air, pulling her up. Black Arachnia looked upon the face of Silverbolt for the first time. He carried her away from the gorge.

“Are you all right, my lady?” he asked.

She answered him by punching him soundly in the face. More shocked than hurt, Silverbolt dropped her to the ground in a heap. Their gaze held together for a moment until he sped away into battle.

Cheetor clashed swords with Waspinator once more, searching for an opening to strike him. The Predacon was putting up a tremendous fight circling and slashing from all directions. The Golden Squire managed to fend him off each time, but was starting to falter and make mistakes. He narrowly dodged the flashing blade in time to prevent losing a limb. Waspinator grinned in anticipation of victory as he steered his horse for a devastating final attack. Bounding out of nowhere into the fray, Silverbolt unseated the Predacon fighter with one blow of his sword. Cheetor protested.

“I almost had him!”

Silverbolt smiled fleetingly. “I am sorry, but I need your help to rescue Dinobot!”

“How?”

“That catapult you told me about— where is it?”

The boy stopped to think. “Not far from here, but I set fire to it. It may not be very useful. Why?”

“Just lead me to where it lay, we’ll get to that when the time comes. Did you see where Dinobot’s horse got to?”

Cheetor sat up straight, searching through the crashing weaponry and moving bodies. He spotted a silver mane and pointed.

“There he is! In the direction we must go!”

Silverbolt nodded. “Lead on, my boy!”

They left the battle and rode off into the darkness with only lightning to brighten their pathway. Rain pounded heavily on the ground, coming down in relentless waves of water. As they came upon Periya, Cheetor whistled, drawing the horse’s attention. He grabbed the reigns and tugged him alongside his own horse. Continuing on, the wind itself seemed to be against their mission, pushing them backwards. Wiping rainwater from his eyes, Cheetor surveyed the territory. He could hardly see a few feet before him. Shaking his head, he led Silverbolt further until blackened ruins finally appeared out of the gloom. Leaping off his horse, the Silver Knight surveyed the catapult. It had been mostly damaged by the fire, but there was a chance…..

“Cheetor, tie the horses to the catapult.”

Although puzzled, the squire did as told. He secured the reigns and watched Silverbolt knot a thick rope onto the frame of the machine. Before he could question his curiosity, his cousin explained:

“We have to take the chance that this contraption will still work. We must wind it up. When the dragon approaches, you will launch me at the beast. You and the horses must anchor the catapult to the ground. Do you understand?”

Cheetor nodded.

“Good.” Together they stood at the controls, trying to figure the machine out. Silverbolt found a crank that connected to the catapult’s arm and began to turn it. The damaged wood creaked dangerously, but still held together until it fastened itself into a clip near the ground. The Silver Knight steadily began to climb up the structure, carefully placing himself in the launching bowl. Grasping his sword in one hand and the thick rope in the other, he took a deep breath.

“Good luck, cousin!” Cheetor called up to him.

Silverbolt closed his eyes for a moment, praying. If man was meant to fly they would have been given wings…..

Methos the dragon flew in circles above the battle between the Maximals and Predacons, enjoying the carnage. In his hand, Dinobot shouted hoarsely,

“Do you hear me, you great leather-winged bat?! I swear someday I shall make a pair of BOOTS from your hide and a TENT from your wings!! DO YOU HEAR ME??”

Methos was becoming rather bored with threats he had heard before from past victims, although he had to admit this human was coming up with some very creative ones. He began wondering what he should do with the noisy squirming creature. Dangle him amidst the battle, perhaps? Drop him into the canyon, where he would be swallowed by the darkness forever? Swooping away from the skirmish for a moment, he debated on what to do. Suddenly from the ground Methos heard a shout.

“Cheetor, NOW!!”

There came a loud snap of wood shattering and he felt something brush by his right hind leg, then his forearms, then back around his left leg. He screeched when something ripped a long cut through one wing, damaging it. His flight faltered for a moment. Worried, Methos regained his balance and began flying away from where he heard the shout. The thick rope wrapped around his limbs did not let him go. The dragon jerked backwards, nearly crashing down from some unseen force. He let out a startled roar, flexing his wings to propel him forward. But he couldn’t, and swayed dangerously near the ground. In the dragon’s clawed hand, Dinobot cried out in surprise at the creature’s sudden inability to fly.

“What ails you, you stupid lizard? Have you forgotten how to—Silverbolt?!”

The Silver Knight held onto the dragon’s tail as it moved haphazardly in the air. He tightened the knot around the dragon’s legs, pulling all four of them closer together. He had lassoed Methos, Lord of Dragons.

On the ground, the burnt ruined catapult rocked and yanked violently under the strength of the dragon’s wings. Cheetor realized that it wouldn’t be enough for the horses just to stand and anchor it. They needed to do more. He leapt onto the middle horse’s back, calling the other two by name.

“Periya! Chasin’ Thunder! Let’s MOVE!”

Under his command the horses grunted and began galloping forwards, straining at the weight of the machine and the dragon’s mad tugs.

“Come ON! We have to do this!” Cheetor urged them on, “Pull! Pull! Pull!”

The cart rolled roughly on the rocky ground under their combined power. Suddenly it halted; a large rock in one wheel’s path.

“Come ON! Keep pulling! Keep pulling!”

The rope between the catapult and dragon grew taught. In the air, Methos’ great wings began to tire, his ripped one aching painfully.

“C’mon Chase, c’mon Periya, c’mon Fleetfoot! Pull!”

The cart came free of the rocks and moved onto smooth ground, slick from the falling rain. The horses gained speed. Under tremendous stress, the catapult’s framework started to crack and fold. Cheetor knew there wasn’t much time before the burned wood would disintegrate. He let out one more cry.

“PUUUUUULLLLLL!!”

Methos, Lord of Dragons, could not free himself from the dragging rope encircling his limbs. It wrenched him backwards, hauling him out of the air, sending him crashing to the ground.

In the midst of battle, Prince Megatron saw his mighty red dragon being torn from the sky. He howled in rage, shaking in fury.

He fought off Rhinox and charged directly at King Optimus, bringing his blade around to behead him.

“Something good shall come of this night!”

THOCK!

An arrow drove deep into his shoulder, in between the black steel armour plates. He spun around to face Airazor, who already had drawn another arrow.

“Not if I can help it!” she cried, “BACK OFF!”

Prince Megatron turned his steed Nightmare to go another way. Another arrow nearly pricked him between the eyes. Rattrap glared at him, sighting down the arrow’s shaft. He smiled grimly.

“You should always watch for a rat behind your back, Prince.”

Death had its sights on him from before and behind. But Megatron refused to stay that way. In one desperate move he slashed Rattrap’s arrow away, only to have Airazor’s penetrate him in the shoulder again. Ignoring the burning pain, he called to his troops:

“Predacons, retreat!!”

Riding through the never-ceasing rain, they disappeared into the night.

Limping, Cheetor checked over the three horses that had pulled their very hearts out for him. None of them were hurt. Behind them, looming like a fallen mountain was the dragon, still and silent. A few yards away Silverbolt sat up, groaning. He had been thrown from the beast’s tail before it smacked into the ground. While attempting to stand he found he could not from dizziness, clutching a broken arm to his side. He sat down heavily to regain his bearings. Cheetor staggered up to him.

“Cousin! Are you alright?” he demanded.

The Silver Knight managed a small smile. “I am alive, that is all that matters. Why do you limp?”

“When the dragon fell I was tossed off my horse Fleetfoot,” explained Cheetor, “But I too, am alive.”

Approaching hoof beats made them look up. The other Maximal warriors rode to them from out of the night and rain, which had begun to soften its fall. King Optimus dismounted quickly, running to his friends’ side. His face, dirtied with sweat and blood, furrowed in concern.

“Are you two alright?” he cried.

The cousins smiled. “Alive.”

Their leader let out a shaky laugh, motioning to the unmoving carcass beside them.

“More so than him! You have done well slaying the dragon, Silverbolt. You have my congratulations.”

He shook his head modestly. “I do not deserve all the credit, Optimus. Cheetor drove the horses to pull the dragon down.”

Rhinox laughed, patting his back. “You did? Well done, boy!”

The Golden Squire stumbled under the friendly pat, crying out in pain. “Rhinox!”

“Oh, my apologies, here, hang onto me, you shouldn’t be walking on that ankle!”

Cheetor glanced at him, bloody, soiled, in torn clothes and a fresh wound across his face.

“You look worse than I do!” he laughed.

Before the large man could reply, a distant call rang out,

“Come help me!”

Airazor tended to the cousins’ wounds as Rhinox and King Optimus ran to the front of the dragon. There they found Rattrap on his knees, frantically trying to lift the dragon’s massive hand.

“Dinobot’s under here!” he shouted, his voice shaking, “Help me get him free!”

Without wasting a moment, Rhinox used his mighty strength to move the deadweight flesh. Optimus and Rattrap gingerly pulled out the limp bloodied body of their fellow warrior. Dinobot sagged between them, unable to stand.

“Dinobot, Dinobot! Can you hear me? Say something!” cried Rattrap.

“Are you alright?” asked Optimus in a barely less anxious tone.

His breath was labored and he stayed silent. Now fearing for his friend’s life, Rattrap’s voice became irritated.

“Hey, you old geezer! Wake up, will ya?? Say something!”

Dinobot slowly opened a swelling eye and managed to glare at him. He tried to take a swing, but nearly fell out of Optimus’ arms.

“QUIET, you annoying pest!”

Rattrap sighed with relief, hiding it with a cough. “Well, you can’t expire yet, I still gotta annoy you some more!”

He growled at the smaller man. “By the Pit, I should have died with the dragon!”

Laughing, the Maximals saddled up on their horses as sunlight began to break over the horizon. They rode to their castle in high spirits; everyone was injured but alive, and the dragon was dead, no longer a worry on their minds.

But they were on the dragon’s mind.

Methos, Lord of Dragons, watched them disappear through the gently falling rain and growing daylight. When they were gone, he lifted his bulk up, flexing his mighty wings. The torn one still hurt, but it would mend. From his vantage point, he could see the distant black structure of Castle Migrazor. The Predacons, too, were on his mind. Silently he took to the air east to far off mountains. There he would rest, heal, and plan the dragon’s wrath.

A week after the vicious battle between the Maximals and Predacons, Dinobot marched across the courtyard, unhindered by Rattrap’s attempts to prevent him from going anywhere.

“You mustn’t! You’re still injured, you fool!”

The larger warrior snarled as he pushed him aside.

“A broken arm, cracked ribs and two black eyes do NOT mean I cannot train!”

Rattrap had to run on his little legs to keep up with Dinobot’s strides. He protested again.

“You ARE allowed to relax for awhile you know; you don’t have to be training ALL the time!”

“I have been on my feet for three days now; I can and will train myself for future battles!”

“The training courtyard is covered in stone rubble, remember?” Rattrap pointed out, “We’re still cleaning up from the dragon’s attack!”

Never breaking pace Dinobot replied, “Then I shall train elsewhere!”

“I’ll arm wrestle you! If I win, you have to go back to bed. If you win, you can train all you want!” Rattrap declared.

He stopped at that. Turning, Dinobot glanced at the younger man’s arm still hanging from a sling, just like his own. The corners of his mouth turned up in a small grin.

“You’ll win when dragons fly.”

Rattrap laughed. “You can’t use that phrase anymore, Dinobot!”

Realizing the irony of his words, he joined in his friend’s laughter.