Hey guys, here's new chapter sooner than I expected. Turns out getting a bunch of people who seem to like my first chapter is rather motivating. Please R&R!
Chapter 2: Cleverness against Guts
Sparks flew like fireflies around a masked face shrouded in darkness. It was evening, but the masked figure paid no attention to his surroundings―his attention wholly focused on his forge and anvil. Metal scraps littered the floor, and sent long, sprawling shadows across the cave's ground across from the bright orange glow of the forge's flame.
The person behind the mask fidgeted, staring into the forge's burning heat, watching the metallic color between his tongs merge with orange. He pulled it out, placed it, and began hammering it with a ferocity known only in wild beasts. Once it was shaped, he plunged it into a barrel of cold water and listened to it hiss like an angry viper.
He lifted it out, placed it to the side, and repeated the process with a dull, methodical drudge. The razorlike tines that he had created shone on one side with the orange glow of the forge, and reflected the colorless shine of the moon on the other. With a fluid movement, the smith removed his dragon-scale mask, revealing the sweaty face of Hiccup Haddock. Running his fingers over the dull metal triangles that he had forged, he gazed outwards, at the barely visible sliver of moon.
Hiccup suddenly stiffened, and a quiet swear escaped his lips.
"I had better get back."
Running to change his clothes and smother his forge, Hiccup's mind was in shambles. How had he not noticed the passing of time? He berated himself, but the damage had already been done. Hopefully, he could return home before his father, and avoid a pointless, one-sided fight. As Hiccup dashed through the forest, his mind drifted―back to another fight that had shaped his future…
Hiccup sat in silence, observing the muted movements of The Shadow―slow and pained. It moved its injured wing toward itself, crying out softly in the process. It hobbled slowly to the edge of the cove, leaving a trail of broken scales and blood behind it. Settling down, it breathed out flames, creating a small nest of charred ground. All of this, Hiccup watched, captivated by the cruel beauty of nature.
Beginning to move from his hidden position, Hiccup calculated how he could prove himself. His father had disowned him? Told him he was worthless? A cold smile, devoid of any joy, crept its way upon Hiccup's face. He would prove his father―the perfect chieftain―wrong.
Creeping around the edge of the cove, Hiccup stalked his prey. His plan was childish―foolish―but in his dazed stupor, he had complete faith in himself. He placed his items on the ground, all thoughts of running from his home now gone, and looked them over. Pencils and a journal were of no use to him, but he could use the blanket and the knife.
Twisting the blanket into a tightly-wrapped rope, Hiccup snagged it in a protruding root, put his knife between his teeth, and began to climb down. Thirteen feet down the wall, Hiccup was at the end of the makeshift rope. Planting his feet, he turned his head over his shoulder and saw the remaining distance to the ground.
It was much farther than he had anticipated.
He shifted his weight―then shifted again―and again. He tried to calculate distance, or where to fall, or how to escape this perilous position that he had foolishly brought himself to. As he thought, however, his blanket-rope began to tear. He felt himself slowly drifting backwards before he heard it, and once he jolted forward with the horrifying notion of what was occuring, he provided the force necessary to tear the blanket fully in half. With a choked yell, Hiccup fell.
With a painful, jarring thump, Hiccup hit the ground like a stone. A fleshy, human-sized stone, that could feel pain and react to it. And react he did―scrambling for the nearest boulder in search of a place to hide from the eyes of the injured dragon. Concealing himself, he began to shiver with fear and anticipation. He lifted one shaking hand to massage his newly bruised shoulder as his other hand flung the torn blanket away. He tasted blood, and his throbbing tongue told volumes.
Swimming through the shock, Hiccup's mind slowly dawned upon the reality that his mouth no longer held his knife. "The knife!" He whispered as urgently as possible. Heedless of consequences, he turned, and slowly began to creep out from behind the boulder. Surveying the area, he moved slowly as to not awaken the sleeping beast. His eyes snagged on a shining knife stuck point-first into the ground...five feet from the sleeping Shadow.
"Oh, that's just great" groaned Hiccup.
Any sane person would leave. Any sane person would walk away and thank their lucky stars they had survived. Even most vikings would attempt escape―unarmed and discombobulated as he was. But not Hiccup. Driven to the breaking point by his father and his clan, he felt nothing as he slowly crept towards the sleeping menace, the beautiful beast.
Hiccup found himself five feet from a mass of dark blue shadow. Soundlessly, emotionlessly, he bent to pick up his knife. It was cold against his warm skin, and seemed to weigh much heavier than any blade could. Hiccup walked up to the dragon, sleeping to escape the pain of reality. Hiccup lifted his blade.
"I'm gonna kill you, dragon" Hiccup muttered to no one in particular. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father." He lifted the knife above his head, searching―searching―for that one perfect spot for the knife to enter. He looked to the nose―not important enough. He looked to the eye closest to him―not likely to kill it right away. He looked to the crown of the neck, the point that was often protected by a ridge of spikes protruding from the back of a Nadder's head. But not now. The Shadow was unprotected, offering its weak point on a silver platter to the young viking reject. Hiccup inhaled, then exhaled. He paused, and wondered in a rational corner of his mind if he truly had to do this. But he steeled himself. He lifted the knife.
And he struck.
Objectively, it was a terrible choice to attack at all. As if from a bird's eye view, Hiccup watched himself stab the Nadder. It entered three inches, hitting bone. Then the pain brought him back to reality. It had woken―rather, been woken―and in response, had bitten at it's attacker. Hiccup stumbled backwards, one arm burning as if on fire, the other weakly gripping a bloody knife. The Shadow stumbled to its feet, crying out from the new pain in its neck. Hiccup's daze was gone, replaced by fear and pain. He looked at his arm, while keeping a wary eye on the dragon; a small chunk had been taken out of his forearm, due likely to The Shadow's injuries keeping it from moving the way it meant to.
It felt much bigger.
Hiccup stalled. Should he run? Hide? He'd never beat a Deadly Nadder, much less a special breed, in a match of strength, stamina, or speed. His weaponry was shoddy, and he was weak. What was he doing?
The Shadow breathed in a deep breath. Hiccup stumbled backwards, tripping, as it sprayed a thin line of fire towards him, missing his hair by inches. It stumbled at the difficulty, clearly off balance.
Hiccup observed this, and with a shrewd eye, caught the problem. "Huh. Why can't your tail lift? That's strange, isn't it?" speaking directly to the beast, he caught a whiff of helplessness. Its eyes narrowed and it shifted uncomfortably. He grinned. He could win after all―it was more injured than it had let on.
"Nadders have a shot limit of 6! If I count that it charred a patch of ground earlier, plus an obvious fight earlier, it should only have a few shots left!" thought Hiccup, relaying the memory from his perusal of the Dragon Manual. He lowered his stance and brought his arms up to mimic the fighting pose he always watched his father attack from. The dragon waited patiently, clearly at a disadvantage. Suddenly, Hiccup lunged forwards.
"It'll favor its right side, so I'll attack from the left!" Hiccup mumbled, rushing to the left while simultaneously gritting his teeth to endure a wave of pain from his left arm. The Shadow, unfortunately, seemed to understand the same thing. It hopped to the left, barely staying on its feet. With a squawk, it breathed in for another blast of fire.
A wave of heat flew by Hiccup as he dove to the side. "This is my chance!" he exclaimed―kicking off to run straight at the creature. Shocked by this seemingly suicidal rush, The Shadow swung its body downward to fling spines at the boy...but to no avail. The tail barely moved, as if it had been cut from the beast's control completely. Hiccup grinned, the momentary fear that he felt disappearing. As The Shadow squawked in surprise, Hiccup thrust his dagger into its mouth, hitting the unprotected fleshy throat behind the sharp teeth.
Feeling the warm blood begin to run down the knife and between his fingers, he began to pull away, but to his confusion, he was unable. Looking down, he found the Nadder's jaws clamped around his upper arm―not hard enough to hurt, but instead only hard enough to keep him in place. Looking up into its eyes, Hiccup saw a cleverness that rivaled a human's. His confusion was quickly replaced by a manic fear. The dragon had begun to breathe in, and Hiccup felt a different kind of heat than the hot blood on his knife.
As he jerked himself backwards, a stream of heat blew out, barely inches from his hand, and scorching the knife he had gripped in his hand. The burst was muted, the blood seeming to choke the dragon. In its last moments able to stay standing, it lashed its leg out, cutting a long gash in Hiccup's right thigh. Then, it fell to the ground―releasing Hiccup's hand, and rasping for its last breaths. Hiccup flung the white-hot knife away from him and massaged his heavily blistered hand. Approaching The Shadow, he knelt to get closer to it.
"You're smarter than you seem" mumbled Hiccup to the prone dragon. "No animal could have done something like that...but you must be much more intelligent than any old animal, huh?" It groaned in response, but Hiccup shushed it. "This is my fault. You're going to die because of me." He paused, then lowered his head until it was laying on top of the dragon's. "You can't understand me, but know this: I don't feel any sorrow for killing you. I won, and I won't feel sorry. But I understand you now, and I will respect your death. This is the last I can do for you."
Hiccup retreated, and with its last breath, he could've sworn the dragon had stared back at him with a level, trusting glare―as one would give to an equal; Hiccup returned the trusting gaze. Thus, The Shadow died.
And with that, Hiccup collapsed.
Hiccup ran up the mountain, then crested the hill behind his house. He paused, gasping for breath. His eyes scanned the horizon, and admired the moon's reflection on the ocean. Moving his eyes closer, his heart dropped like a stone as he noticed a different light; an orange like the sunset exuding from the window of his house.
His father was home.
...
Hopefully this chapter keeps the momentum from the previous. For those who are confused, Hiccup's first attack at the neck hit the Shadow's spine, and made its tail immobile. I don't know much about medical anatomy, or mechanics for that matter, so let me know if things seem too strange either now or in the future. Your support is appreciated!