A/N: Hi everyone! Happy belated holidays! This is my present for you :P
First of all, I wanted to say I'm sorry for taking so ridiculously long to start this. Remember when I said, at the end of Burning, that this would be a complicated semester? Well, it was even worse than I expected. I had no life outside of college and choir rehearsals (but the latter were enjoyable, even if they did take up a lot of time), I sometimes didn't even have time to fool around online, much less get down to writing. Hell, I barely even had time to finish the outline. Admittedly, that was another thing that took way longer than I expected, since I had a lot of plot points and scenes I wanted to include, but had to string them together coherently.
Anyway, even if it's been five months, at least now I have time, so the schedule should be the same that Burning had: no longer than two weeks for each update.
Finally, if you're here and have never read Burning, yes, you do need to read it or you won't understand a thing xD
Enjoy the (extremely late) sequel!
The bag of fish was heavy in Einar's arms as he carried it towards the dragon stables. Several men offered to help him on the way, but he refused. He remembered Eret's advice on how he had managed to get so strong, and he'd said that lifting large things was a good exercise, so he made sure to follow it. If Hofferson heard, she would probably tell him something about how he didn't need to be a huge, bulking man to help. However, he wasn't trying to impress anyone; he only wanted to prove to himself that he could do it. And so he stubbornly pushed on, until at last he reached the wooden building. Breathing in relief as he put the bag down, he looked around. The stables were empty, which meant Heather and Eret had taken their dragons with them.
While he sorted the fish, he pondered when Hofferson was going to get back. She'd been gone for some time now, looking for something, or rather someone. From what he'd heard, one of the men hadn't returned from whatever mission they'd had. It was always reassuring to him, the fact that she cared enough to go searching herself. That she didn't consider the people who worked for her to be disposable. It was what had convinced him to join her in the end, even though at first he'd staunchly refused.
A sudden flurry of activity caught his attention when he went back outside. Looking up, he noticed the shape of a Deadly Nadder. They all waited with baited breath, some people around him preparing bows; the dragon circled above them three times before doing a backflip, and everyone relaxed at the signal that it was indeed Hofferson coming back. Most of the people dispersed and went back to their jobs, while Einar stood in place, waiting.
Stormfly landed and squawked in greeting at them. Hofferson jumped off her back, pulling her hood down.
"Morning, everyone", she said.
"Morning, Hofferson", said Gerd, the blacksmith. "Shall I take your axe for servicing?"
"Yes, please" she replied, handing him her weapon from Stormfly's saddle. "Thor knows it needs that." The man nodded and left. Hofferson turned towards Einar, who was struggling to keep Stormfly at bay. The Nadder had smelled the fish on his hands, no doubt, and was trying to find the source. Hofferson laughed.
"Stormfly, attacking Einar won't convince him to feed you. Lay off, girl." The dragon stepped back, chirping, and the woman smiled at him.
"Get her to the stables, would you? She's pretty hungry."
"I've noticed, ma'am." Hofferson grinned, but as she turned around to greet Heather, who was coming towards them, he could see her face turn sour. No luck in her search, then.
His suspicions were confirmed later, while he was in the stables brushing Stormfly's scales. Normally, this was a task that Hofferson preferred to do herself, and the fact that she was apparently too busy to set time apart for it spoke volumes. However, he didn't know for certain until she walked in with Heather, the latter bringing Windshear in for feeding. The women greeted him, then resumed talking in hushed voices. He simply continued his task, knowing that eavesdropping would be disrespectful.
Heather left immediately, but Hofferson stayed behind, looking at Stormfly with a troubled expression. He was reluctant to speak, for fear he might be out of line, but he was worried. Hofferson was quite the force to be reckoned with, so what could possibly have her like this?
"Ma'am?" he asked softly.
She looked at him. "Yes?"
"Is..." He hesitated, but continued anyway. "Is everything all right?"
"Why do you ask?" Ah, that was another thing she was famous for: evading questions.
"You seem... troubled." She raised her eyebrows, and he quickly backtracked. "Uh... but it must be the missing man, which you haven't found. I'll, um, I'll mind my own-"
"I did find him", she said quietly, and he stopped.
"You... you did?"
"Well, I didn't find him, but I did find out where he was."
Her tone didn't indicate good news. Was he buried somewhere? "And... it's a bad place?"
"You could say that." She was scrutinising him right now, and he tried not to squirm under her stare. Although Hofferson had never been even remotely threatening towards him, something about her confidence still inspired a sort of fear deep within him. Suddenly, she stepped closer to Stormfly and stroked her snout. The dragon purred.
"You care for the dragons, don't you, Einar?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What would you do if one of them was taken to be killed and sold for their hide?"
Einar blinked. "Why should that happen?"
"Just consider it. What would you do?"
"I'd do anything I could to get them back, ma'am. And I'd make sure the culprit could never do it again", he said as sincerely as he could.
She stared at him for a moment. Apparently satisfied with his answer, she smiled sadly. "Good, because that's exactly what you might have to do."
"Ma'am, are the dragons in danger? Did someone try to take Stormfly?" He checked the Nadder once more. He hadn't noticed any injuries.
Hofferson sighed. "There's an entire organisation, Einar, just like ours. And they hunt dragons. They kill them and then sell their skin, their fangs, their poison, anything that could be valuable. They have plenty of customers too."
"So... we're going to stop them, right?"
"Yes, but it won't be easy. The head of the organisation, a certain Viggo Grimborn, is far smarter than the people we're used to dealing with, and they're quite widespread. It'll take more than just men and brute force to stop them."
"But... you have dealt with smart men before, ma'am. What about Drago?"
"Yes, I know. However, we still have to be careful." She regarded him for a moment. "I haven't told anyone other than Heather yet, Einar. Can you imagine why I decided to tell you?"
He considered the question. "So that I can be on the lookout if anyone suspicious comes to the stables?"
She laughed briefly and scratched Stormfly. "I hope they don't get that far, Einar. No, the reason I told you is because you understand what we're protecting. Most of my men will think that I'm going against the dragon hunters as a way of preventing them from taking my dragon, but you and I know what wonderful creatures dragons really are." Stormfly squawked, though he couldn't tell if it was in agreement with her rider or if she was just enjoying being scratched. "We know they don't deserve to be treated like mere livestock."
He nodded. Hofferson gave Stormfly one last pat and walked towards the entrance. He hesitated for a second before deciding that, if his first question hadn't been a transgression, this one shouldn't be, either.
"Ma'am?"
She turned her head. "Yes, Einar?"
"Can I help stop the hunters?"
She smiled. "I wouldn't have told you privately if I hadn't intended for you to take part."
Einar barely managed to contain his grin until she left.
Astrid was crouched behind the crate, axe grasped tightly in her hand, listening. Beside her, Heather was in the same position. Her people were spread out all over the place, waiting for her signal that it was time to move. At last, she heard heavy footsteps followed by an authoritative voice.
"All right, the people have started coming, so make sure that those dragons are restrained until the time of the auction or you'll have to answer to me!" That, according to the information she'd got, was Ryker, Grimborn's brother and second-in-command. His instructions were what she'd been waiting for. As soon as Ryker's footsteps faded outside, she jumped out of her hiding place and took down the hunter in front of her. Her men followed suit, attacking the enemies before they could react or, more importantly, spread the alert. Two of her people stripped the hunters of their clothes and quickly dressed up as soldiers, staying behind to guard the entrance. The rest of her team moved forward, disposing of anyone they encountered. She wished she could say these losses would be problematic for Grimborn, but she knew that they would be replaced easily. After all, her people had had no problem getting rid of the guards when they'd made their move; no effort had been made to train them. Then again, she thought, maybe they were better prepared to deal with dragons than people, which had worked out in her benefit. However, she was aware that this was the only instance where sneaking in would be so easy; Grimborn wasn't expecting her. He was smart, and she didn't doubt that next time she tried to attack, he'd be ready for it. Which was why she should make this count, she decided.
They advanced all along the cave, taking care of every single man inside. Once they were sure there was nobody else left, Heather went back to the entrance. She brought a large bag of fish and a few of the men quickly created a trail leading to the exit. After getting confirmation from their guards that nobody had come yet, each of them stationed themselves next to a dragon's cage. They were pretty agitated from all the fighting they'd just seen, which would also be in their favour; they'd cause a bigger ruckus, allowing them to, hopefully, escape unseen. At Astrid's signal, they opened all of the cages at the same time and then immediately crouched low on the ground, raising their shields. The dragons got out and, seeing the fish on the floor, quickly went after it, going towards the exit. Astrid and her people followed a prudent distance behind. When the dragons were out and they could hear the noises of weapons being drawn and men cursing, Astrid signalled. One by one, the men filed out of the cave and carefully made their way to the forest, on the other side of which waited their ships.
When Astrid was the only one left to get out, she looked behind her, at all the open cages, and thought of Hiccup. He'd probably approve of what she was doing, even if he would nag her about killing Grimborn's men. She really hoped he didn't learn of what was going on here. She didn't doubt that he would do everything he could to stop Grimborn, and that worried her. Grimborn was no Dagur; he was smart, had a big, powerful organisation, and he wasn't blinded by revenge. Hiccup would be no match for him, and she didn't want him anywhere near the dragon hunter. She'd deal with him alone, even if she wasn't sure she could actually put an end to his business.
Snapping out of her thoughts, she pulled her hood over her head. As she sneaked out of the cave, she was unaware that she was being watched by a pair of confused, suspicious eyes.
Viggo sipped his mead without really tasting it. He'd always found that the one sold in this particular tavern was rather bland, but the tavern's owner, he'd discovered, was more willing to cooperate with people he regarded as customers than with strangers. In the past, he'd used threats, and he still did with some of the people he traded with. However, he didn't see the point in using brute force, and having to bring extra men, when there was a much easier way.
The owner – Strongarm, they called him – finally came back with the bag.
"Here you go", he said in a much too loud voice. Viggo didn't like to draw unnecessary attention.
"Thank you", he replied flatly, giving him a cold stare. Even if he wasn't planning to do anything to him, a little fear was always good. The man seemed to understand his mistake and flinched.
"My apologies, Viggo", he practically whispered. " Is there anything else?"
"No, that will be all", he replied. Although he wanted to leave immediately, he should probably finish his mead first; not doing so would seem strange to the others. When he was getting close to the bottom of the mug, some drunk came and sat on the bench right next to him.
"Mornin'", he slurred.
Viggo didn't pay him any heed; he was too busy thinking. He needed to figure out who was attacking his business. The first time had been catastrophic; he hadn't expected it, and as a result all of the dragons he had prepared for that auction had escaped, a fair number of his men killed. Nobody had seen anything except for one of his crew, a man who'd told him he'd seen someone get out of the cave. He'd tried to follow, but wasn't able to. The man had noticed it was a female, but since she'd been wearing a hood, he'd failed to get a good look at her.
With so little information, there wasn't really much he could do except prepare for another attack. He trained a select few of his soldiers better, and doubled the guard on the dragons. The second time it happened, during a transaction with one of his regular customers, they were able to prevent some of the damage, though a fair number of dragons still escaped. The attackers who'd been captured didn't speak, no matter how much Viggo tortured them. A few of them had been women, but none of them wore a hood. Frustrated, he'd had them all executed. If he'd known who this mysterious foe was, he'd have hung up their corpses where they could see, as a lesson.
And as if having to deal with these attacks wasn't enough, just a week ago he'd sent Ryker to the Reaper to get the Dragon Eye so they could find some new dragons. Viggo had been hoping to soften the blows to his trade, and his fury upon his brother's discovery that the precious item was gone had been terrible. He didn't know if the person who took the Eye was the one behind the attacks or not, but he wasn't going to let anyone ruin his business. He would find his enemy, whatever it took.
"Hey", the drunk said. "I said good mornin'". When Viggo still didn't answer, the man slammed his hand on the table in front of him. Viggo responded by taking out his dagger and placing it against the drunk's throat, and the man quickly recoiled.
"A'right, a'right", he said, sitting back. "Don' know wha's going on with everybody."
"Nothing's going on, Muggy", Strongarm laughed as he passed by, cleaning tankards. "You just have a knack for going where you're least wanted."
"No kiddin'. Lady last week, so pretty, an' she refused my money!"
"Not every woman at a tavern is a whore, Muggy. As long as you don't learn that, you'll keep getting punched in the face." He smirked. "Especially if that woman is none other than the Astrid Hofferson."
Viggo had barely been paying attention to the conversation, but that name ringed a bell. "Hofferson? Wasn't that the famous assassin?"
"Hœttr Hofferson, yes", Strongarm replied, looking at him. "Astrid Hofferson is his daughter."
Now that the man mentioned it, he did remember seeing her name in wanted posters across a couple of islands. From what he'd heard about her, she wasn't a person to be crossed; anyone who tried usually ended up dead. "And I imagine she didn't take kindly to the insinuation that she was a whore."
"I'm surprised that Muggy's still alive, to be honest. I thought he was a dead man."
"Weird, tha' one", Muggy interjected. "I wen' out, y'know, take a piss, an' there she was, gettin' on a bloody dragon of all things…"
Viggo turned sharply towards the man. "What?"
"Oh, don't listen to him", Strongarm interrupted. "He swears he saw Hofferson leave on the back of a dragon. It seems he had enough mead in him to confuse a horse with a dragon, of all things."
"I' was a dragon!" the drunk insisted. "Blue, head wi' pointy things…"
"Did it have spines in its tail?" Viggo asked.
"Spines?" Muggy seemed confused.
He sighed. "Small pointy things", he clarified.
The man considered it for a second and then smiled. "Yes! In t' tail! I saw them!"
Viggo stood up abruptly. "Thank you", he said, both to the drunk man and Strongarm, and stepped outside, his mind racing.
It could be nothing but the ramblings of a drunk, of course. However… the attacks on his business had been carried out with precision, by someone with experience, which he knew Hofferson had. He'd never considered her because there was no reason for her to suddenly go against someone; she was a business person, as far as he knew. If she rode a dragon, though, she might very well have some sort of motivation.
At the very least, he now had a lead to investigate. He had to wait until the next hit to confirm it, but he had something to work with. And if it turned out to be her… well, then she'd be sorry for betraying the unspoken pact between people like them: they stole from others, but not from each other.
A/N: You may not remember this, but at the end of Burning, Astrid found the Dragon Eye in the cargo she stole from Alvin ;)
So how was it? This and the following chapter will set up the events of the fic. After that, plenty of action coming :P
See you soon!
