Ooh, I've been waiting so long for this! The Runaway 2: Under Siege. It's finally here! I hope you're as excited as I am!
The brisk night was filled to the brim with stars in all colours; greens; reds; blues; all set like diamonds in a sparkling velvet quilt of deepest, darkest blue. Not a single wisp of cloud brushed the face of the sky, lending a nipping chill to the autumn air and leaving the dazzling moon to shine brightly down on all of them, its light every bit as bright as the sun. Below the silken sky, a rippling cushion of sea swirled and shimmered, the reflection of the moon like a pathway across its calm surface, so clear and solid you could almost step out onto it.
Berk clung to the moon-bathed rocks like a limpet, its many buildings set alight with silver strands. The fullness of the orb in the sky was such that no-one needed to light the lamps. There was light enough to see without them. The squat, broad, wooden buildings slept peacefully beside one another, weather vanes and water towers poking up in places. To one cliff was clamped the dragon's stables, with the dragon wash nearby and the dragons themselves tucked up warmly inside. Around the village snaked the maze of gutters and gulleys, all filled with water; their fire protection system. Upon the upper decking of the grandstand, a lone figure and dragon sat, cuddled up to one another for warmth, looking out across the shimmering vista of the sea.
"Well, Meatlug, now you can see why I wouldn't want to live anywhere else. Just look at this!" Fishlegs threw his arms out wide, trying to somehow capture and frame the perfect image of the night to keep in his mind forever. If he could take any snapshot of the view, it would be this one. Sighing contentedly, he leant back against his dragon's warm belly, breathing the scorched scent of dragon scales deeply into his lungs. Nothing could be more perfect than this.
"A beautiful night on watch with my beautiful dragon. Nothing could be better!" He beamed, patting his Gronkle on the nose. Meatlug was heavy and strong, her thick, rocky skin encasing a gentle and kind interior. Her stone-crushing jaws were nothing to her but a way to eat and to nibble and to lick in the most affectionate ways. There really was nothing scary about Meatlug at all. As soft as a sponge, she and her rider fitted together like the pieces of a jigsaw.
Fishlegs was a tall, stocky boy, broad-shouldered and strong, and yet, he too was as gracious and courteous as his dragon. His knowledge of the creatures was rivalled by no man, for he kept the Book of Dragons, the Vikings' compendium of the entirety of their information on everything scaled and reptilian. This book was the most precious weapon in all the Berkian's arsenal, for with it, they could tell the strengths and weaknesses of every single dragon in the world. The precious volume was safely stored away at Fishleg's house, leaving him free to relax on his night patrol.
Suddenly, an unusual wave disturbed the softly rippling waters. Fishleg's scowled, becoming tense. His dragon sat up warily, giving an uneasy growl as she searched the skies. The young man barely dared to breath, scouring the landscape for any sight, sound or feel of an intruder. Suddenly, Meatlug relaxed, and Fishlegs was almost on the verge of convincing himself that he was imagining things when suddenly, he heard something.
His heart skipped a beat. A sort of rustling, snuffling coming from behind him, the timid tapping of tiny claws. Could it just be a Terrible Terror come to bother him in the night? Or could it possibly be something more sinister? The plump Viking stood and turned just a second before the first explosion rang out.
He uttered a scream quite unbecoming of a man his size, staring at the rising silver cloud in horror. It bloomed like a mushroom, up into the cold night air. He could see fire, smell burning, hear screams as the occupants were awoken abruptly from their sleep. Then, came another, off to the north. This time, he watched as the shaped charge, purplish in hue, whizzed through the air with a hoarse screech and tore into the ground, tossing mud and shrapnel high into the air. His blood froze colder than the harshest winter.
"Toothless?"
There could be no doubt. Their alpha dragon was destroying the village. The blasts could only belong to a Night Fury; he'd never before seen a dragon with fire like it. And the shape, and the speed, and the size, it all seemed to match, though it was hard to tell. A black dragon before the darkness of the night sky is never an easy thing to spot. Calculating quickly, he realised that their Alpha had to be very high in the sky, meaning only that the chief must be with him. The Night Fury could not fly alone. His prosthetic tail fin was controlled by his rider as he flew, and that was none other that Hiccup, chief of the Hooligan tribe to which he belonged.
Everything was beginning to make his head hurt. What was going on? Why would Hiccup and Toothless, their ever kind and nurturing leaders, attack the village? Had they had enough? Were they so very upset that neither one could control their emotions? Another blast rang out into the night, this time from the east. Then another, to the west. Another, to the far side of town.
"They're moving way too fast! I knew Toothless was good, but I never though he could rapid-fire like that!" Fishlegs cried aloud, grabbing a comforting hold of his dragon. She gave a snort, looking all about her with her teeth bared. "Wait... what if it's not them? What if it's another dragon? One that's even more powerful than our Alpha?" He gulped at the horrendous thought. "Well, Meatlug, there's only one way to find out whether it's Hiccup and Toothless or not. Come on!"
Toothless' head shot into the air, turning this way and that, the growths atop his head standing on end like ears and pulsing with the sound of explosions. He gave an uneasy grunt, standing up and sticking his head out of the small skylight. Instantly, the sulphurous smoke hit his sensitive nostrils. He gave a cry as he spotted the little flickering fires lapping at the clouds as they began to spring up around Berk. Instantly, he was below again, nudging his rider awake.
Hiccup pushed him roughly away, completely oblivious, and rolled over. "No, Toothless. Please, let me sleep..." His dragon gave another frenzied screech, jumping about this way and that, trying to get his rider's attention. Hiccup only realised properly that there was a problem when he heard Fishlegs beating on his door outside, screaming his name. He sat up to the impatient gaze of his beloved dragon, giving him an unhappy look.
"Sorry, Bud," He muttered lamely, tossing his sheets off and reaching for his prosthetic leg, usually on his bedside cupboard, but now... no-where to be seen. He gazed around frantically until his dragon dropped it into his lap, satisfied that he had got his rider back for ignoring him.
"Ha ha, very funny, Toothless." Scolding his dragon, the chief attached his leg and rushed down to throw open the door.
"Took you long enough!" Fishlegs was hopping from foot to foot, flapping his arms restlessly as the explosions continued behind him.
"Fishlegs!" Hiccup cried, taking in the unholy sight for the first time. He staggered blearily out into the blanket of the night, blinking as the fire and smoke stung his eyes. "What on earth is going on?"
Dun dun dun! What could be causing this calamity? Could it possibly be a new breed of dragon? Find out soon!