CHRIS

            Mauville’s great palace was in chaos that evening.  Outside the sun was burning red; burning as if it was the herald to signal the Brightflame’s attack.  The great doors were accepting any citizen they could as the battle raged on the outskirts of the city.  Thankfully, a watchman on the northern wall of the city had blown his horn, signaling danger to the rest of the men in the city, when the first Flygon was but a speck in the distance.  Of course, after that, the rush of the Mt. Chimney army fell on Mauville city in less than an hour.  The commanders of Mauville’s city watch estimated their numbers at around five thousand. 

            Five thousand teleporting men, Prince Chris Marsh thought.  From reading his histories, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Brightflame’s used trickery and their tradition for intimidation fires against a foe.  Why didn’t I foresee this?

            Chris and Marshtomp had been nervously standing at the door, waiting for Ryan and Hector to come back through.  Ryan spent most of his time in town with some new girl that he had met.  Chris couldn’t remember what her family did for a living.  That didn’t matter now; the only thing that mattered was his friends. 

            The occasional report from the city guard brought back ill news as well.  Brightlame’s air force of Flygon and their riders were dropping bags of powder over the northern wall, and archers were lighting their arrows aflame to try and ignite them.  Chris was anxious, and Chris was never anxious.  He knew that while the walls still held back the Mt. Chimney Kingdom’s army, the couple hundred men of the city watch could hold them at bay.  If the Brightflame army got in, however, all hope was lost. 

            It was these tidings that made Chris turn away from the palace entrance, and force his way through the crowd of common folk towards the weaponry. 

            “Marshtomp?” asked Marshtomp, and Chris felt that his Spirit Pokemon meant: “we fight?”  Chris met Marshtomp’s eyes and nodded.

            “We’re going to find Ryan and Hector, and come straight back here.  Now hurry, boy, there’s no time.”

            Once free of the crowd, Chris came to the armory.  He quickly found his short sword and his spear, for protection.  He took off his blue tunic strapped his weapon holdings across his bare chest.  He had neglected to bring any armor from home for himself or his Spirit Pokémon, and why would he? By all accounts not even Mauville was prepared for this assault, though in hindsight, they should have been. 

            “No armor, boy,” Chris said as Marshtomp was looking for some good helmet that it or its partner could wear to protect themselves.  “It will only slow us down; our task is speed, not combat.”

            Marshtomp nodded solemnly.  Even if they came into a fight, Chris knew that he and Marshtomp would have the upper hand on any enemy that may face them.  Countless hours and days of combat training had prepared Chris and Marshtomp far better than most foot soldiers, and even battle commanders from any kingdom. 

            As they turned to walk out of the armory, Chris saw a shadow quickly dart past him.  He reached out and grabbed the thin, yet muscular arm.  He had expected Princess Sarah to come.

            “What are you doing?” he asked her.

            “I need my arrows; I didn’t make five hundred of them for nothing.”

            “Your mother would have a heart attack if she knew you planned to fight,” he whispered to her in the dark.  He pulled her arm and brought her face to face with him. 

            Sarah scowled and pulled her arm away.  “She’ll be dead if the city falls anyway.”

            Chris liked how this girl thought.  “Then by all means, let’s fight the Brightflames.  Keep up if you can.”

            The Prince of Slateport and Princess of Mauville burst forth from the palace entrance before the guards could stop them.  Sarah was riding her Manectric, quivers of arrows saddled all along her spirit Pokemon. “I’ll search the east side of the city,” she said.

            Chris and Marshtomp sped off on foot for the west.  Shadows kept flying over the evening sun: Flygon riders from the Mirage Desert, one of Mt. Chimney’s territories.  One of the riders must have spied Chris and the out of place blue Marshtomp, so he swooped down to engage.

            Chris and Marshtomp ran along the streets, and the Prince could hear the beats of Flygon’s wings behind him, feel the whoosh of arrows sail past his ear.  He and Marshtomp ran in irregular, zigzagging patters so that the rider on the back could not get a clear shot at them. 

            Chris grabbed Marshtomp and turned into a side street, and stopped suddenly, readying his spear.  It wasn’t long before the Flygon Rider turned the corner to continue pursuit.  The flying green dragon was clothes-lined as the shaft of the spear knocked its rider from the seat.  Flygon went tumbling down the street, unconscious for the moment, yet Marshtomp kept a watchful eye on the much larger dragon Pokemon. 

            Chris Marsh turned his attention to the rider, he had fallen and his armor clanked as he tried to get up and fight.  His bow had fallen away somewhere, yet the Rider armed himself with a long knife and a single arrow.  He held the knife backhandedly, and the arrow forward, no doubt trying to confuse Chris.

            The Prince of Slateport didn’t even bother with his short sword, the long spear was all he needed for this fight.  The rider rushed Chris and twirled violently, yet conservatively with his strokes that the Prince parried easily with the shaft of his spear.  However, an arrow was not a second knife, as this man fighting for the Brightflames was used to, and in two swift strokes as Chris went on the offensive, both weapons had flown out of his hands. 

            It’s easier than I thought, thought Chris.  This man, terrible as he was astride his Pokemon, was above average at best when it came to hand to hand combat.  Ryan would ask me what took me so long to disarm the man. 

All these thoughts raced through Chris’s head as he toyed with the soldier, who would not give up, even though there was no weapon to be had.  Finally, Chris realized that finding Ryan and Hector was more important than humoring himself with this soldier’s incompetence in combat.  With a hard blow from the butt of the spear to the gut and a powerful kick, the man was on his back.

“Yield, now!” Chris commanded as the armored man remained silent.  “You are beaten, yield now and retreat and I will spare your life.”  

The soldier’s eyes were shaking, and suddenly they regained their determination.  Why won’t this man just give up?  What could possibly-

“MARSH!” cried Marshtomp, and Chris instinctively drove the point of the spear through the front of the soldiers throat, and then his eyes were lifeless.  When the light went out of the soldier’s eyes, he heard something hit the ground behind him. 

He did what he had to do, our Chris would be the one dead now. He turned and saw Flygon writhing in agony upon the ground, coughing up blood and beating its wings in vain.  The Pokemon would die, too, Chris knew.  The way the dead soldier had pursued on his Flygon meant that they had some kind of spirit bond, their movements and reactions in the air were too perfect.  Chris wondered if the soldier had a family, or if he was a free spirit determined to stake out his own place in history by finding and killing the Prince of Slateport.

The Prince tried to pull the spear from the man, yet it must have been stuck in the ground as well. Chris yanked his spear out of the soldier’s throat with both hands, and blood sprayed onto his face and chest. 

“There’s no more time to waste,” Chris Marsh said coldly.  Pokemon and human ran from the alley, determined to find their friends.  With a last sickening groan, and a cry that curled his blood, Chris knew that Flygon had finally died as a result of the Spirit Bond it had with its rider.  He didn’t look back. 

For ten minutes, Chris had been able to search the empty streets without engaging another flying enemy to no avail.  It was then the explosion pounded his ears, and smoke was rising from the north. 

“They’ve breached the wall,” he said to Marshtomp, matter of factly.  He looked at his Spirit Pokemon’s face, and Marshtomp was determined, instead of wanting to run back and hide inside the palace.  Sarah Spark’s words played in his mind:  We’ll be dead if the city falls anyway. 

Chris had never felt so alive, so in control of his senses, and somehow he knew Marshtomp felt the same way.  They sped toward the smoking sky, where Chris knew he would find city watchmen trying to beat back the influx of Brightflame’s army.

What he found shocked him.  There were dead bodies of city watchmen, and their blood spattered around on the rubble.  Dead Pokemon that also walked the walls with them strewn all over the place: whole and in pieces. 

Three men were fighting back ten times that number trying to make their way across the rubble that was the breach in the wall.  Two city watchmen, and Ryan, all spattered with blood and gore.  Marrill was perched on a rock launching bubble wave attacks at Brightflame soldier’s fire-type Pokemon: Torkoal and Slugma.  Chris looked around in earnest, and spied Wingull flying around in circles over a young man hiding behind a rock.  Hector.

Chris pointed a finger at the fisherman’s son, signaling for him to stay put.  The Prince turned his attention to the three men that Ryan and the guards were fighting.  Chris took aim, his senses heightened by the adrenaline, and threw his spear through the face of the man that Ryan was fighting, turning the head into a bloody burst melon.  Marshtomp sprang into action as well while Chris used his sword and the Prince and his Partner dispatched of the remaining two fighters. 

“I didn’t need your help,” smiled Ryan, even in the thick of battle. 

“You will, that’s not the end of them,” Chris said as he shook his friend’s hand. 

“Here comes another round,” said one of the guardsmen.  Sure enough, a different group of Brightflame soldiers came through the gate. Three imposing soldiers, and at their head was a huge warrior in coal black, shiny armor that seemed to have been crafted from the fires of a volcano.  He carried two long swords that shone like the sun itself was inside of them.  At his side was a Combusken in matching armor, and the Pokemon had razor sharp steel extensions on its claws.  Chris recognized the Pokemon from a picture and knew that this man was Brightflame, not one of his soldiers, but a relative of Carlos Brightflame, the King of Mt. Chimney. 

Brightflame, whatever his first name was, spoke to his men, also armored similarly, not like the rider Chris had killed earlier.  “Kill the men, but I want the fish-boy alive,” he said as he raised his sword at Chris.

The commander remained stationary, yet Brightlame’s warriors danced in their armor as if it was Swablu fluff.  Chris held is spear and Ryan his sword defensively, ready to defend themselves, yet it was the Mauville guards that received the first attention.  Chris watched as the Mt. Chimney soldiers in black armor quickly dispatched one of them with a blow that almost decapitated him, while the other guard threw down his sword and yielded. 

“Yield, you say?” said Brightflame with a little laugh.  “I am Brandon Brightflame of Lavaridge, crown prince of Mt. Chimney.  What will that bearded oaf of a King, Spark, trade for you if I capture you?  What are you prince of?”

Chris had to hold Ryan back; there was no way if they rushed in headlong that they would come out of this alive.  Brandon Brightflame’s two soldiers were keeping their eyes on him.  And then there’s that Combusken. 

“N-nothing, I don’t own no kingdom-”  The poor soldier was interrupted as a wave of fire washed over him.  Combusken’s fire must have roasted the guard from inside his armor as a lump of blackened flesh and bones fell limp.

“He yielded!” Ryan yelled at the Prince of Lavaridge.  Chris reached for his larger friend’s arm, but just missed.  “You’re a monster!”  Ryan was too rash for his own good as he charged the Mt. Chimney men.

Prince Brandon raised his hand to steady his men behind him.  The Prince of Lavaridge wanted to deal with Ryan himself.  Chris wondered whether or not he should rush into help. 

Three swords glinted in the setting sun, and surprisingly, Ryan parried the Prince’s twin swords easily, yet Chris ground his teeth as he observed there was nowhere for Ryan to begin to take the offensive.  Chris could feel Marshtomp’s anxiety as well, yet he didn’t rush in to help, the two Mt. Chimney soldiers and Combusken waited to jump in if they did, too. 

Chris heard something bounce from rock to rock, and he saw Marrill, Ryan’s spirit Pokemon bounding in to help its master.  The cute blue ball leapt off of the rocks and inhaled to blast a stream of bubbles at Brandon Brightflame. 

Chris’s suspicions were correct, and Combusken moved faster than anything he had ever seen.  The armored fighting chicken Pokemon’s razor extensions were covered in blood, and Marrill lay in a pool of blood: its tail separated from its body as it trembled at the open wound where its intestines were spilling out. 

Almost instantly, Ryan collapsed grabbing his stomach, crying in pain.  Chris had tears in his eyes.  No, no this isn’t happening. He glanced back to where he knew Hector was still hiding behind the wall’s rubble.  Wingull was perched on a rock, visibly upset, yet silent, for fear of its own spirit Partner.  Ryan was friend that had made his days sitting in his royal classes more bearable.  Now here lay Ryan, the childhood friend that Chris had sparred with, dying in agony as he lay on the ground, reaching for Marrill.  The blue aqua mouse reached out a hand towards its Spirit Partner as well, and then Marrill went limp. 

Chris’s vision was a blur as the tears piled on top of one another.  He heard Ryan scream in agony and sadness, yet Brandon Brightflame just laughed.  All Chris could see was the Prince of Lavaridge, in his pitch black armor lay his sword across Ryan’s throat.  “It’s always harder for the second one to die,” Brandon said.  “More painful, but let me just help you out.  You weren’t so bad of a fighter yourself.”  With that, the black-armored Prince drew his sword slowly across Ryan’s neck, and the guard-in-training from Slateport must have felt his life drip away as his hand fell to mirror his Pokemon’s. 

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” Chris Marsh heard himself yell, and he felt his own terrible pain inside his heart: for Ryan, and for Marrill.  There was a bright light as Chris felt himself grow more and more angry.  Suddenly, at his side, Marshtomp was no longer Marshtomp, but a large, powerful, and angry Swampert. 

Chris threw his spear at Brandon Brightflame, but the Prince of Lavaridge dodged it as it lodged in the belly of one of his guards.  Swampert banged its arms on the ground, and a great crack wound its way towards the other guard.  Swampert wasted no time rushing the Mt. Chimney guard whose leg was trapped in the dirt.  With one swift punch, the guards’ head flew off his shoulders, armor and all, and the fountain of blood sprayed all present.

Now it was only them, the two princes of water and fire, and their Spirit Pokemon.  Chris didn’t care about his training anymore as he drew his sword.  Swampert gave him the advantage, and the look in Prince Brandon’s eye told him that. 

They stared at each other, Prince to Prince, Pokemon to Pokemon.  Then, two long horn blasts were heard, and Prince Brandon ran back through the rubble towards the other side of the wall. 

He knows he’s done for if I capture him, Chris thought.  And when I do, I will make him suffer.  The Prince of Slateport rode on Swampert’s back as he dislodged his spear from the Mt. Chimney soldier he had skewered and gave chase to his enemy.

On the other side of the breach in the wall, an army armored in black with banners bearing the flame was running back towards north, being chased by an army of Doduo, and at the head of the Doduo was a King in golden armor astride a Manectric. 

Chris didn’t care, he knew the battle was won, yet he still gave chase from Swampert’s back.  He saw his foe, Brandon, and his foe’s Pokemon leap on the back of a Flygon and take off.  It didn’t matter; the two gave chase, rage filling their minds.

Then, something jolted Swampert and Chris felt himself get launched from the Pokemon’s back.  He found himself away from the battlefield, hidden in a grove of trees as Swampert lay dazed fifty yards away.  Chris’s vision swam as he saw men on Flygon dropping grenades of the explosive powder to shield Mt. Chimney’s retreat.  Then, he saw six Flygon come towards Swampert, drop a net over his partner and liftoff into the sky.    His ears rang, his arm was bloody, and Chris was beginning to lose consciousness as he saw Swampert being hauled off in a net, suspended from the legs of the six Flygon carrying it back towards Mt. Chimney. 

They have him… They took him… was the last thing that Chris thought.  They have me… Darkness swept over the Prince of Slateport.