Chapter 1
The Forest and the Island
I love the forest during the day. There are beautiful trees and animals. Dragon calls echo and you can find a sense of peace. But I hate it, and I mean HATE it when the night comes. When the sun sets, light extends across the branches of the trees, sweeps over the rocks, then disappears. Through gaps in the trees, the sky turns purple and black. The stars barely shine through the trees. So at night in the forest, I keep my head up. Looking around means you see darkness and shadows. Owls hoot loudly – if they haven't been eaten by some random dragon. So the night drags on. I can't sleep anyways, so I always look at the stars and try to sleep. Being on the run and thought to be dead has some benefits.
A huge forest lay out behind the fortress of the Berserks, and that's where Torch was heading. At 14 years old, he was tall; but horribly thin, probably because of the horrible treatment he received as a slave for the Berserkers he had just escaped from.
Torch stood and looked out over the city from the cliff that gave a view of the town. Torch sighed, something that took all of him to do, and continued to trek through the dense forest. His green eyes swept over his surroundings: rocks, trees, and, unfortunately, dragons. Torch gasped and backed up. He looked for an exit, but the only way was back the way he came. And from that path came the sound of the Berserkers search party. A bunch of slaves had broken out and Torch happened to be one of them. His one goal was to leave the island and find his home of Berk. He could almost picture it, but it was ruined with the images of the attack.
The attack. The two words made Torch flinch as if someone had hit him (which he had plenty of experience with). He shook his head slightly and carefully made his way through the sleeping dragons. Twice he tripped in his too small shoes that he'd worn for 3 years straight. He finally just ditched his shoes and continued on, the sound of the mob slowly subsiding.
Torch stopped for a bit to catch his breath from running. All the dragons would be waking soon, at least the nocturnal ones. All he needed to do was get to shore. A cracking sound made him jump. A couple hundred feet away was the search party! Torch suppressed a shriek and looked around wildly. He jumped, diving into a ditch off the side of the small path, one that looked like it dropped off into the canyon below. Torch pressed himself against the dirt, hoping that no one would notice. Above, voices came down, and what they said made Torch sick. He heard Dagur's voice first.
"Where is that stupid Berkian?" Dagur said, his voice at a whisper, knowing that Torch was hiding. Torch resisted the hundreds of urges he had to scream, run, stab Dagur, or cry. He felt so weak, so small, but he had to go. He would die if he didn't.
"I don't think he's here sir." Savage said. Savage had once been a slave of the Outcasts, but when Dagur had gained control of the Outcasts, everyone was his. When Alvin had come back, Savage went back under his command until Dagur broke out of Outcast prison a little while ago. Savage was kidnapped by Dagur and brought back to the Berserkers.
"I want to make him wish he had never been born or run away. There will be boot kissing! I want every single one of those idiotic Berkians bowing to me."
"Yes sir. As soon as we get the Night Fury, all of Berk will be ours." Savage said foolishly.
"No. Once we get Hiccup, we will have all of Berk. The Night Fury will just be bait." Dagur said, "But now we just need that blasted Berkian."
"Hey boss, there's a little drop off over here... do you think he could have used that?" One of the many members of Dagur's armada grunted. Torch's breath caught and he tried not to panic.
"GO LOOK THEN!" Dagur said, and Torch heard the stomping of his boots. He was practically flat on the wall, but if the soldier looked at a certain angle, he would catch him...
"Ah, nothing here." Torch inwardly sighed with relief. He heard the mob backing off, and he quickly got up. The sun was low on the horizon, and Torch was worried he wouldn't make it to the beach in time. He picked up his pace, and thought back on how he had escaped.
He had been minding his own business, ignoring Dagur's torturous speech about cleaning the chief's hut perfectly and not screwing anything up. Torch looked up around the room at the other slaves, working away to just be punished by the end of the day. He continued to scrub the floor, the ground already shining where he was cleaning, but Torch's mind was on other things. The door suddenly burst open with a strong force. Torch jumped to another spot on the floor, fearing it was Dagur, but it wasn't. A small and cloaked form stood in the doorway. All the slaves stopped, scared beyond reason. "Is it Hel coming to take us?" One wondered aloud.
The figure chuckled, and the voice that came from it was high-pitched, like a girl's. Torch stopped and looked up at the person. He could've sworn he saw blonde hair sneaking out one side of the hood, but when he blinked it was gone. "I am certain you all have attempted to escape. You want to be free. Well there is a small exit, so small even you will barely fit through-"the figure pointed at Torch, who blushed. "-but you will all get out. Tonight, when you are sent to your beds, go out and escape through the woods. I have placed enough boats for you to all escape. Tonight only though."
Everyone nodded. The figure bowed its head and left. As soon as it was out of earshot, Dagur appeared.
"Slackers, you better get moving, idiots!" Dagur kicked a nearby slave, who cringed from the blow, "In fact, if you don't finish in 20 minutes, I assure you; you all will be unable to move from the pain you'll be in."
Torch visibly stiffened. He knew what that was like, and all the things that Dagur liked to do because they couldn't tell anyone. It was a violation of humanity.
Torch looked up at the path in front of him and saw that it ran out in front of the ocean, and there was the boat, just as he had been promised there would be. After rowing for about 10 minutes, Torch finally reached the island he had seen from all the way back on the Island of the Berserks. It was small by the standard of islands around here, but it was at least only half the size of Berk. Torch pulled the boat up to the shore, washing in with the tide. He found a couple of fish and a small bag in the bottom. A few feet away started a forest, where there would be plenty of things to start a fire with.
Torch figured he was a couple islands over from Berk. He got up to get firewood, and his vision went black for a moment. He tripped and fell, and realized he hadn't eaten for 2 days. Torch felt faint as he got up, but got a couple of tree branches.
"Night is falling. You shouldn't be out here by yourself. Actually, you shouldn't even be out at all." Torch spun at the voice. He was facing a teenage boy, probably 2 to 3 years older than he was. The boy had auburn/ red hair, and Torch guessed his eyes were green, but the light wasn't strong enough to tell.
"Who are-" Torch was about to ask, but the boy cut him off.
"I'm Wreav." The boy said, his gaze fixed on the boy in front of him. Torch figured he seemed friendly enough, considering they were strangers.
"I'm Torch." Torch said; his arms still full of the wood.
"Where'd you come from? I'm usually the only one on this idiotic island." Wreav asked. The boat washed further up the shore.
"I escaped. I was kidnapped by Berserkers." Torch said softly, like the Berserkers could hear him. Wreav could see Torch's arms shaking, the signs of fatigue on his face, and he looked as if he was going to pass out from hunger and had pity.
Wreav looked up at the overcast sky, flinched, and then looked back down at Torch. "Well, you'd better stay at my house tonight, I mean, since it's the only house here. Come on."
Torch was too tired and vulnerable to argue, so he followed behind. He looked up at the sky and realized why Wreav flinched. The dark gray clouds were only above the island, cutting off perfectly at the shore. Something was really unnatural about that.
Wreav walked up to a seemingly flat wall of rock and struggled to push it to the side. He stuck his spear into the ground, then put his back against the rock and pushed off the ground. Eventually, the rock budged, and Wreav went through. He shoved the boat next to the slightly open rock.
Inside was a pathway, lit by little nanodragons, to a wooden door. Wreav pushed the door (built into the solid rock) and it opened into a small little hut. The walls were smooth rock covered with dried up leaves to make it fell comfier. The ground was dirt with a couple of animal furs that were beds, though Torch wondered why there were four of them when Wreav said he lived all alone. Torch wondered if there was more to this island and its inhabitants than he thought. The way Wreav acted, though, still made Torch guess that he lived by himself.
There was a spot that Torch guessed was where Wreav slept because it was the only fur that was covered in dirt and stuff from outside. The small fire pit was close by, and Torch dropped the wood down for Wreav to burn. The two fish went up on a shelf with Wreav's other food. The boat was outside, so Wreav went out to get it and came back, shutting the door behind him.
"Oh crap, I forgot my hunting spear outside." Wreav said.
"I'll get it," Torch said, and quietly he went out the door.
"Wait, Torch!" Wreav yelped, getting up and running out the door after Torch. Torch was already out of the stone "gate". Wreav swore heavily in Galician and went out. The piercing sound of the teenager's scream broke the stream of swears.
"I told you to wait!" Wreav yelled, grabbing the spear from the ground. He hit the first animal with the wooden end. "On this island, if you're out for too long at night, something gets you."
Torch was shaking hard, startled from the abrupt change of events. Wreav hit another animal that strayed too close. A small dragon lunged at Wreav when he was slowly backing up. Torch didn't see it until too late, and he went to kick it with his bare feet. He missed. The small dragon smacked into Wreav's stomach, knocking him backwards, and its claws scored red lines into his arms. Torch went to help Wreav up, but Wreav ignored his outstretched hand and shoved him at the stone wall. Wreav himself barely made it before Torch pulled the rock shut to keep the animals out.
"I'm sorry Torch. I should have told y–" Wreav cute himself off when he looked at Torch. He was lying on the floor by the stone, his hands in fists, his eyes shut tightly. "Torch?"
Torch moaned, but it sounded deep. His eyes opened, but they were dark and narrowed. He walked towards Wreav like a zombie.
"No," Wreav whispered. He felt awful. Torch had been outside for too long. Torch suddenly moved inhumanly fast, tackling Wreav against the door. The door opened, and they both crashed to the floor. Wreav pushed Torch off him, holding the younger boy's forearms. Wreav smelt something burning and Torch yelped, the deep voice replaced by his own, his eyes widening and lightening to green. Torch's arms were burnt. Wreav winced. He had forgotten about his fire-tainted blood. Torch looked as if he was seeing Wreav for the first time and passed out on top of him.
Wreav gently got up, trying not to drop Torch to the ground as he rose, then lifted him up and put him down softly by the fire. Torch groaned, but did not otherwise move.
Wreav decided to make the two fish, and he began to cook them while he waited for Torch to wake up. Wreav had been affected by it before and knew Torch would be disoriented and sick when he awoke.
Pain abruptly shot through Wreav's arms as he reached to take off the fish, something he was not accustomed to. He looked down at his forearms, the injury from the dragon throbbing painfully. Wreav shut his eyes and concentrated, ignoring the pain and looked down. The cuts were nothing but fading scars now.
Wreav couldn't take it anymore. He gently shook Torch, hoping he would awake painlessly.
Torch screamed loudly. Wreav looked awkwardly at the wall. Torch's face was contorted.
"Wreaaaav!" What's happening? Where am I?" Torch wasn't quite with it yet. He sounded like he was shining, but he was really just in shock.
"Shh, Torch, you'll be fine, come on. You're at my house, remember? You were outside for too long. You're gonna be sick for a little while–"
As if to prove Wreav's point, Torch bolted for the door, and even though he was in the hall, Wreav heard him throwing up, but there was nothing to come up. Torch came back in, tripped, and fell back into the place he'd been sitting. Wreav patted his shoulder as Torch hugged his knees miserably.
"Why is it always me?" Torch groaned. Wreav handed him a fish, and Torch accepted it graciously, in his tracks and dropped his right arm down.
Wreav didn't ask. He looked up when he finished his fish and immediately lay down and tried to sleep. Torch followed his lead. His paralyzed arm lay awkwardly at his side. Torch shut his eyes for the first time in a long time.
Wreav didn't sleep well. His amber eyes flashed as he abruptly awoke. There was an insistent pounding against the rock outside the door, and his head hurt. Wreav pulled himself up and leant back against the wall, wondering whether to prepare to attack. However, at the moment, he just wanted this blasted headache to go away. He wiped sweat off his forehead, from his usually whacked dreams. The fire barely crackled, and Wreav quietly added another log to the glowing pile of embers. The pounding continued. It was like someone hitting their axe to the door.
Torch suddenly awoke. His eyes immediately snapped to the door. Wreav nodded towards the door silently, then motioned for Torch to come over. He handed Torch the sticks that the fish were just impaled on and waited for the door to come crashing down.
Through the door, voices came clear after the pounding stopped. "Sir, are you sure it's here?"
"Yes. No. Shut up." Dagur said, his voice full of rage. "I want to get the blasted kids before they make it to Berk. They'll tell Hiccup and he'll have time to prepare. I want the redheaded one who was kicked out and the Berkian slave who escaped. They will be treated with utmost disrespect."
Dagur sounded completely believable. They gave up the attempt on the stone door. Wreav quickly checked to make sure his arms were healed completely before turning back towards Torch, who had been trying to get comfortable in his bed again.
"Don't tell me they're after you too." Torch said. Wreav nodded, and Torch's shoulders drooped. "It seems that everyone is pretty much on his hit list that I've heard."
Not knowing how to respond, Wreav looked away, trying to sleep, but he heard Torch say something quietly to himself. Wreav bolted upright. "What did you say?"
Torch looked startled. "I wasn't saying anyth–"
"Shut up, you were."
"I was cursing my idiotic arm." Torch said, and Wreav couldn't tell if he was upset or sad. It seemed that Torch had a really bad past and everything that happened unearthed more and more of it. Wreav didn't exactly know how to deal with that. He had a mysterious past of his own, he was sure of that, but everything with Torch seemed to connect to his past.
"What happened to it?" Wreav asked, carefully picking up Torch's arm, trying not to burn him again.
"Oh, it's been like this forever. Randomly, it will just give out and get all limp on me. It's rather annoying." Torch said, like it happened all the time, which, according to what he said, it did.
"Here," Wreav said. He pulled a small box out from underneath the shelves on the wall. Inside were several things, but one of the things was a length of cloth that Wreav used to make a sling. Torch put it around his arm. "Thanks."
Both boys tried to sleep, but Torch's mind was racing, and he seemed antsy about something. Wreav felt awkward when he wasn't by himself. Both eventually drifted off again into an uneasy sleep.
