Hello, readers!
Got another update for you. Smaller than before, as I spent most of the month trying to hash out the last 7 chapters of my AVP fic instead. This is another chapter that has been split into two in order to flesh out some scenes and make things flow a little easier. I rushed through a lot of the interaction with Frits and the Gronkle, so hopefully, everything feels more natural.
Changelog: Frits no longer tries to touch the dragon. That's reserved for Vermund and Skuli this chapter. My beta pointed out that it was too quick of a change of heart and I agreed! That's the only big change, though. Otherwise, it's just general scene embellishment and a bit of rearranging.
I have another chapter to post, but it might not be until tomorrow that I post it as I have to be in bed early for work! But maybe I'll be able to publish it before I have to go to sleep. We'll just have to see how it goes. Since I posted seven chapters of Phantasm, I'm well over my monthly quota anyway so there! If you notice, I'm changing the format a bit! Mostly just the chapter titles.
~ Crayola
10 - Leads
The Gronkle stood his ground, refusing to back down from those who dared aim their swords at him. He postured with his stubby wings flared and teeth showing, trying to keep them at bay while he searched for a familiar face within the crowd.
This was the right island, he was sure of it, but the children who had been with Oddny when she helped him weren't there.
His original plan had been to move to the island and make it a permanent home. He had staked it out for a while prior to being caught in the trap, making sure it didn't have any rival dragons or predators and housed plenty of food. The citizens of Penshaw hadn't bothered him, especially since there was plenty of open space outside of their town.
He'd never thought he'd find himself smack dab in the center of it all, surrounded by confused and aggressive humans.
The Gronkle had been taking great care of Oddny's parka during his day of rest and then the long journey back and still was cautious about stepping on it. All he had to do was make sure he returned it to someone he knew. Someone he was certain knew that it belonged to her.
So he scanned the crowd, searching for anything familiar. A scent, a face—but nothing stood out to him besides an agitated man that seemed close to a violent outburst.
Frits studied the soldiers until he spotted Oskar, nearly running him over in his haste to approach and find the answers he sought.
"What is going on?" he demanded. "Where did this thing come from?"
Oskar glanced at him and replied, "We're not sure. It didn't land here long ago and it won't let anyone near it. It hasn't attacked anyone or tried to flee yet, but it clearly wants some space. It's strange, to say the least."
"Why does it have Oddny's coat? Did it kill her?"
"I don't know, friend," Oskar sighed, shaking his head. He had some reassuring news, though. "I've sent one of my men to fetch Lorens. If there's anything to see, Lorens will find it."
Scoffing, Frits said, "We don't have time to wait for him to get here! Kill the dragon and get my niece's coat back, now."
"Patience, friend! It hasn't shown any hostility, but dragons can be dangerous if provoked."
"As if I wouldn't know that with how much they've taken from me."
The captain raised his hands defensively. "Now, I didn't mean any—"
"Kill it! Now!"
Expression firm, Oskar placed his hands on Frits shoulder and said, "That's enough Frits! This is a highly unusual situation and we need Lorens' opinion. Even one dragon can take out a handful of my soldiers before we're able to subdue it."
With a grunt, Frits pulled away from Oskar's grasp and glared over at the dragon. "I don't like this. It has Oddny's coat."
"I know, friend," Frits sighed, "and we'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."
Unconvinced, Frits stared at the dragon and watched him growl and pace, never wandering far from his niece's belonging. The man growled and shoved Oskar hard, taking him by surprise. While he was off balance, Frits stole his sword and charged the Gronkle.
This is for Calla and Oddny!
Taken by surprise at the sudden threat, the dragon reared back and the inside of his mouth glowed a bright orange as he prepared to lash back in kind. However, neither Frits nor the dragon had the chance to do anything before a few of Oskar's soldiers jumped on Frits, wresting Oskar's weapon from him and holding him still.
"Are you insane?" one soldier demanded.
Another asked, "Do you have a death wish?"
"You could have doomed us all!"
"Let me go! If you won't do it, I will!" Frits snarled, struggling against those holding him back.
Though the threat seemed to be neutralized and the dragon settled back down, he now knew to watch Frits with a sharp eye. No one else tried to move in close, so he backed up and crouched down, ready to defend himself.
This was why he had avoided humans for so long. Rash, angry creatures they could be.
"Don't do that again, Frits," Oskar warned as the soldiers threw him back into the rest of the crowd. "I don't want to, but I will lock you up for the night. Stupid moves like that is what gets good men killed and I won't tolerate it!"
Frits said nothing until he was able to shake off the soldiers who had detained him. "Fine. Fine! So then what do you propose we do, instead?"
Oskar pushed Frits back further, nearly chest to chest with the much smaller scribe. "Lorens is on the way. His hut isn't that far, so he should be here soon. Until he arrives, and so long as the dragon doesn't attack us, we'll wait for him and be patient."
When Frits opened his mouth to retort, Oskar gave him a light shove. "That is final. You are going to stand here with the rest of us and keep your damned mouth shut. Do you understand?"
For a few brief heartbeats, Frits was ready to argue. He kept his gaze even with the taller captain, but couldn't hold it for long. He soon deflated and averted his eyes. "Yes, I understand."
"Good," Oskar huffed, finally removing himself from Frits' personal space.
The commotion had brought more and more citizens from their shops and homes. However, as it became obvious that nothing was actually happening, they started to return to their own business. The cold wind and coming darkness were making a chill settle over the area.
There were those that were far too invested to leave until they figured out the mystery of the Gronkle. But, with things settling down, the dragon had ceased his defensive squatting.
He still watched Frits closely, but it was more out of curiosity than hostility. The two often stared one another down, and the Gronkle sensed much more animosity from him than he did anyone else whose gaze he met. He wasn't sure why, but there had to be some reason for it—unless the man just hated dragons more than anyone else.
The Gronkle wasn't afraid of him. The man looked thin and weak in the dragon's eyes. Easily dispatched. The dangerous-looking soldiers had already lowered their weapons, so he had nothing more to worry about.
Despite keeping quiet after Oskar's command, Frits found his patience wearing thin. "What are we doing? Staring the damn thing to death?"
"Might work, actually."
The voice belonged to Lorens, who had finally shown up long after the crowd had thinned somewhat. He was ushered to the front to stand beside Oskar. Frits was forced behind the soldiers, unable to pass their line no matter how desperate he was to steal Oddny's coat back.
"What might work?"
"This dragon is tired," came Lorens' first observation. He moved as close as he could, stopping when the dragon bared his fangs at him. "If you want the coat back without hurting him, we could wait until he collapses from hunger or exhaustion. I'm not sure how long it'll be, though. They have great stamina."
"No!" Frits said, trying to push through two soldiers. "I won't wait!"
"Frits, what did I say about keeping your mouth shut?" Oskar snapped, turning to point an accusatory finger at the scribe.
Lorens ignored him altogether. "He's defensive but doesn't seem aggressive. If we figure out what he wants, we could coax him away from the coat."
Though Frits let his disdain be known with a scoff, he spoke no words.
"I would prefer solving this peacefully, at least until we know for sure whether or not the dragon hurt Oddny," Oskar agreed. "I would rather not hurt an innocent creature."
"Innocent? They terrorized our town for years!" another voice from the crowd piped up. "We should just kill it on principle!"
Frits pointed toward the person who spoke. "You see? You see!"
"I won't risk my men or the citizens for revenge," Oskar huffed. "If we can do this by giving the dragon what he wants, no one gets hurt."
"If we kill him now," Lorens added, "it could spark an end to this peace. Dragons haven't attacked us in over a year, but they might strike back if we kill one of theirs unprovoked. Wayward travelers could once again be in danger walking to and from Penshaw."
One of the soldiers asked, "Can we subdue him somehow? Maybe lead him away from the coat?"
"Maybe someone can concoct a sedative strong enough to knock it out. We could stuff a fish with some herbs or something else that would put it to sleep?" another offered.
The sudden increase in volume had the Gronkle back on his feet, growling in agitation.
"Wait!"
At the sound of the new voice, the crowd parted to allow Skuli and Vermund to break through. Skuli was breathless, but Vermund was able to handle the sprint from their homes.
"We've seen this dragon before," he explained.
Skuli, bent over and trying to fill his lungs with air, nodded and waved his hand. "It's—the one. The. . .same one. . .from the woods. It's the one."
At the sight of the two boys, the Gronkle's demeanor changed like the flick of a switch. His defenses came down in an instant and his tongue flopped out from between his teeth. When he made to bound toward them, the soldiers reacted in kind and thrust their weapons toward him, immediately setting the dragon back into a fit of threatening growls.
"Woah, wait." Lorens lifted his hands and ushered the soldiers back. "When he saw those two, he acted differently. Come here, boys."
"You're kidding," Skuli said, his face paling.
Vermund, however, walked forward without hesitation. Skuli glanced around, searching for someone to intervene, but not even his father had any objections. Lorens was well trusted among Penshaw, and he knew his boy would be safe with the hunter. Groaning, he joined Vermund at Lorens' side, step by step, afraid sudden movements would set the dragon off.
With them in full sight, the Gronkle perked back up and wiggled his whole body with delight. He'd learned his lesson, however, and didn't try to approach.
"You said you found the dragon in a trap, right?" Lorens asked.
The boys nodded and Vermund added, "Oddny was the one who cut it loose."
Lorens watched the dragon as he digested this information. Slowly, cautiously, the dragon closed the gap with tentative half-steps, only to hop back when he caught Lorens staring at him. He always kept his sharp gaze on the soldiers around him, wary of their swords and of retaliation.
But these two boys—they had definitely been with Oddny all those weeks ago.
"He recognizes you boys," Lorens finally concluded.
Looking between the two, the dragon scooped up Oddny's parka in his jaws and tossed the loose end up and down like a dog trying to share its toy.
"Take it from him," Lorens prompted, nudging the teens.
Though Skuli made no move to do so, Vermund showed less trepidation. He took a few sideways steps toward the dragon, his hand outstretched. When the dragon made no effort to scare him away and even shuffled toward him, Vermund bent down to his level.
Huffing and snorting, the dragon tossed the parka up and down with slow bobs of his head. Everyone was silent, save for the Gronkle, as Vermund took the parka's sleeve between his fingers. The boy kept his eyes on the beast, gently pulling the parka toward him. Instead of putting up a fight or playing tug of war, the dragon let it slip from his teeth and smacked his lips.
"That's a good. . .dragon," Vermund murmured, raising his free hand, palm out, to keep the dragon still. It wiggled, tongue lolling and mouth gaping in a wide dragon grin. He knew to keep his distance, though, especially with so many armed humans.
They were quick to startle and even quicker to strike.
"Good job, Vermund. Bring it here and let me see it," Lorens beckoned.
Though he kept his eyes on the dragon, Vermund edged back to the hunter. When he tried to hand over the slightly damp coat, however, their Gronkle visitor snarled and took a threatening step forward, setting the soldiers on edge.
Lorens held up his hands in a placating manner. "Okay, sorry, never mind. . .I won't touch it. Just show it to me, Vermund."
Nodding, he unfolded Oddny's parka and showed Lorens the front, back, and inside. The dragon seemed satisfied and sat back on his haunches, panting and smacking his tongue over his face. Lorens waved the soldiers back and they reluctantly stood at ease.
"I don't see any blood, not even a stain or a trace of it. There aren't any tears in the fabric. It's, er, a little dirty and worn, but I'd say she was unharmed when she stopped wearing it," said Lorens, looking to Frits. Everyone heaved a collective sigh of relief and a few muttered amongst themselves, wondering what they could do with that information.
"So what's the dragon doing with it?" Skuli asked.
"He was with her, obviously," Lorens said. "He might have followed her after the Viking took her. Somehow, he brought this back here to show us. Or, rather, you."
Vermund stared at the parka for a moment, then looked back to the dragon. "Why?"
"It's hard to tell," Lorens murmured. "I'm not familiar with how they think, but obviously he knows you and was waiting for someone he recognized to show up. He could be trying to thank you, he could be trying to tell us something. . .we'd have to spend more time with him to really dig in and find out his intentions."
Frits suddenly pushed through the line of soldiers while they were distracted, earning a few disgruntled complaints. He stumbled his way next to Lorens and the boys. Ignoring the surprised snarls from the dragon, he snatched Oddny's coat from Vermund and fell to his knees, embracing the bundle of fabric to his chest. No one stopped him and no one said anything. A few could only avert their gazes.
Only the dragon seemed miffed at the display, hopping and snarling. After a moment, his bluster came to a stop and he shifted where he stood, uneasy and unsure of what to do. Normally, baring his fangs and making a fuss worked. It was good enough to scare off most non-Viking or trapper humans he ran into but. . .this man didn't care. The Gronkle wasn't planning to attack, he'd just wanted to keep the parka from anyone he didn't recognize.
This was the same man who had nearly accosted him earlier and the pieces were starting to fall together. The way he clung to Oddny's coat, the anger when he'd come at the dragon—maybe this gangly man somehow knew Oddny and had wanted her belongings back.
So, he simmered down. The Gronkle still wasn't happy with how Frits had yanked it away from Vermund, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
Not when there were still so many armed men around.
At last, Frits gathered himself and pulled his damp face away from the fur lining to look at the dragon. Their eyes met and the man lifted the jacket to the Gronkle.
"You were with her? She was okay?"
The dragon glanced down at the parka in Frits' arms and then up at him, no hope of understanding.
It was a rhetorical question anyway.
He stared at the dragon a moment longer, then staggered to his feet. The dragon shuffled and made a low growling noise.
"Slowly, slowly. You don't want to accidentally set him off, especially since you attacked him," Oskar grunted,
Frits shot him a glare but turned his attention back to the dragon. His jaw worked as if he wanted to say something, but he clamped his mouth shut in the end and merely stared at the dragon. It was still watching him, but he allowed a fraction of his attention to rest on the soldiers standing around—just in case.
"Thank you," Frits said at last, speaking through his teeth. The Gronkle narrowed his eyes at the conflicting tones in his words and voice.
That was all Frits was going to allow the dragon. These things had taken so much from him, and this small token wasn't going to quite be enough, but it was a start. Knowing that Oddny hadn't been injured when her parka was lost was a good enough consolation.
But where is she now?
Vermund glanced at Frits, then took a few steps closer to the dragon, crouching down until he was in a kneeling position. The Gronkle blinked at him and cocked his head, dropping his guard.
This boy was alright. He shuffled forward with confidence, even if he couldn't completely trust the rest of the humans around him. For now, at least, they were calm and not poised for violence. He stopped outside of arm's reach of Vermund, though, stretching his short neck out to sniff curiously at the young man.
"What are you doing, Vermund?" Lorens asked, his just loud enough to be heard.
Taking a deep breath, Vermund put his arm down and looked over his shoulder. "Bring me some fish, or whatever this thing eats. I'll pay for it later."
Oskar gave the order as Lorens asked, "What for?"
"He already trusts me and Skuli, but we want him to stick around, right?"
"Why would we need it to stick around?" Frits huffed. "We already got her parka from it."
Lorens said, "This creature is the only thing that's seen Oddny. If he found her once, then it's likely that he can find her again."
Before he could elaborate, a runner arrived with a small woven basket of fish. It was passed forward until finally given to Vermund, and the young man pulled out a couple of them to offer the Gronkle. His ears perked up and he edged forward, mouth open. Vermund tossed the two fish onto the dragon's tongue and he swallowed them whole, smacking his lips in contentment.
"There we go," Vermund murmured, showing him a few more. "Some tasty fish."
The Gronkle moved closer and Vermund fed him the entire contents of the basket, but even then the dragon still seemed hungry and shoved his snout in the basket, sniffing around for seconds. Vermund pulled it away and gave it to Skuli, who handed it back into the crowd.
"Sorry, boy. We can get you some later," Vermund said, inching forward with an awkward hop before raising his hand once again. The dragon tilted his head to one side but shuffled forward all the same. The audience shifted, giving them a little more room. After a few tense heartbeats, the Gronkle stepped up and allowed Vermund's rough palm to rest on the crest of his nose. Vermund swallowed hard and released the breath he'd been holding.
No one said anything for a spell, but eventually, Skuli made it past his own reservations and moved to crouch beside Vermund.
If they were making friends, he wanted to try.
"Careful, now," Lorens warned with a soft voice. Oskar and a few of the soldiers tensed. "No sudden movements. We don't want anyone to lose their hand."
Vermund glanced at Skuli and made room for him, sliding his hand over so Skuli could place his own. Skuli forced the lump in his throat down and took his place next to Vermund, tentatively raising his hand. The Gronkle was watching Vermund, distracted, so he took his chance and gently set his hand down.
He couldn't help the nervous chuckle he made in victory.
The extra hand drew the dragon's attention and he examined Skuli with narrowed eyes, his ears flat. However, the suspicion and irritation dissipated when he realized it was one of the other children that had been present with Oddny. The Gronkle let his tongue fall from his mouth and he settled back down, peering between the lads.
"Lorens," Oskar called as softly as he could, trying not to interrupt the boys' moment.
"Yes, captain?"
He nodded his head toward the scene before them. "Can you tell us anything about where Oddny's been with that jacket?"
"Nothing that we haven't already figured out. She went overseas and was in a boat, then probably made landfall somewhere. It had some dirt and twigs in it, and I doubt the dragon would have landed on the ship for her. That's all I can discern, though. Did you think I'd be able to smell it and tell you its entire life story?" Lorens huffed.
Oskar sniffed and looked at the ground. "I, uh, well no, I guess not."
Lorens shook his head and watched as Skuli and Vermund tested their boundaries by patting the dragon and circling around him. No one else tried to step up and take a turn petting the dragon, and the crowd had slowly dispersed until it was just their parents and the soldiers.
"Skuli, don't get too comfortable."
While the parents policed their handsy children, Frits started to realize what exactly Lorens and Oskar were discussing. He stopped watching the two boys and the dragon with contempt—how can they act like this around a dangerous beast?—and turned to the other two men.
"Can we make it lead us to Oddny?" he asked with a hint of desperation.
Lorens shrugged. "If we had a boat."
"What if we got one?"
"I can spare less than half a dozen soldiers," Oskar offered. "We're not in a war right now, but if I send too many away, we'll be open to raids and bandits."
The hunter sighed. "We could round up some volunteers, but we'd have to figure out how to communicate our intent with the dragon. Even then, she may not even be in the last place he saw her. If we had more information. . . ."
Everyone muttered amongst themselves in agreement. There were too many variables, and it would be difficult to make the dragon understand.
Finally, someone piped up. "If we can wait, Johann is due to make port in three days. If anyone would have information, he would. The children can speak with him and give him a description of the man. We have plenty to trade with him, and you know how that man likes to talk."
A ripple of knowing nods moved through the gathered soldiers and remaining citizens. If they asked Johann anything, he'd be certain to give them a detailed history and weave in his own life story.
But, if it meant gaining any lead on the girl's whereabouts, then they could weather it.
"Three days?" Frits groaned. "What about Oddny? She's already been gone for so long. The longer we wait, the more her chances to survive drop!"
He looked between the other two and added, "Right?"
Sighing, Lorens took a long look at the parka in Frits' arms and shook his head. "It's dirty, but there's no damage, no blood. They most likely have her working. So long as she's able to work, I'd say she'd be okay."
"Well, Frits," Oskar said, "can Oddny handle some manual labor if they have her working?"
Frits bristled and clutched her coat tighter to his chest. "Are you saying they made her a slave?"
Oskar and Lorens shared a glance, then Lorens locked eyes with Frits and said, "I should hope so. With Vikings, the only other outcome is death."
Growling, Frits turned in angry circles, wiping his mouth with his hand. He searched for an answer, or someone to take his fury out on. Most of it was directed at himself: he knew the answer was yes. That she would be able to handle it—would do well.
I treated her no better. She might as well still be home with me, he thought bitterly. If I could just get her back, I could make it up to her.
It wasn't an ideal situation, and he could only imagine the things they were making a young maiden like her do, but she was a decent cook and he took some solace in telling himself that they'd have her doing various things like cleaning and preparing food.
"She'll be fine," he sufficed to say. "She's a strong girl."
The two men nodded, drawing some relief from his words. "Good. Then we will continue under the assumption that she's alive."
Lorens said, "We just have to wait for Trader Johann to make port and we'll see if he knows anything. He travels all over, trades with many. He's our best shot at figuring out which tribe kidnapped her, and where they might be taking her."
"But the longer we wait—" Frits began to insist.
"We can do nothing right now but wait, Frits. If she's strong like you say, then she'll be alright for a little while longer," Lorens pointed out sternly but not unkindly.
"So that's the plan," Oskar added. "We have the dragon. After we get what information we can from the trader, we'll decide what the best plan of attack is. Depending on the tribe, we may not stand a chance of ever getting her back, but we can hope for the best."
"'Hope for the best'?" Frits scoffed. "Are you saying that—"
Captain Oskar cut him off. "My men and I fight off bandits and thieves at the worst of times. We're not equipped to fight an entire tribe of Vikings. No other village will lend us aid, either, even if we promised to compensate them. Not when all we want is to retrieve one lost lass."
"That's my niece!" Frits snarled, letting go of Oddny's parka with one hand so he could grab Oskar by the lapels. "Are you saying that depending on what Johann says, you might not even bother trying to go and find her? Because you're a little afraid of Vikings? I can't just stand idly by—what am I to tell her parents if—"
Lorens pulled Frits off of Oskar and pushed him through the crowd, away from the increasingly more agitated dragon. The Gronkle had been fine making friends with the boys, but with Frits shouting, they had to move back to a safe distance when he'd started growling and stamping his paws.
Oddny had been such a quiet, nice girl. How could this loud, angry man know her?
"Frits, calm down. We're only trying to be realistic and it doesn't matter right now," Lorens interjected, his hand against Frits' chest to keep him back. "We'll just have to wait. That dragon is in no condition to go anywhere for a while. He's tired and irritable."
All three turned to look at the flying reptile. He had calmed somewhat when Vermund approached again to soothe him. Once the Gronkle was certain that he was not under attack and that Frits was merely being loud and obnoxious, he rested all of his bulk on the ground and resumed his content panting, looking more and more sleepy as time passed.
"Just tell me that when the time comes, you won't give up," Frits demanded.
"I can't make that promise," Oskar said, placing his hand on Frits' shoulder. "As I said, we aren't equipped or trained to handle Vikings. Hopefully, Johann can give us something to go off of and if we keep the dragon around—keep him fed and happy—he might help us."
Frits worked the parka in his hands, staring down at it. "Can the dragon track her by scent, if we have nothing else?"
Captain Oskar deferred to Lorens for the answer and the hunter said, "I'm afraid not. I don't believe his class is capable of high-tier tracking. We'd need a dragon from the tracker class, not a boulder class like this Gronkle."
"Can we find one?" Oskar asked. Lorens and Frits gave him questioning looks, so he explained. "If we can successfully tame this dragon, we can do it with others."
Lorens shook his head. "This is the first dragon we've seen in a year. There's no guarantee we'd see another one anytime soon, and the scent trail may go cold by then. Especially if she's too far away. We can keep it in mind, though, if one does show up."
He eyed Frits and motioned toward the parka in his arm. "That would be the best bet to track her with, but you'd have to stop clinging to it. Otherwise, it'll be your scent all over it, not hers."
Grimacing, Frits stopped clutching the jacket to his chest and held it loosely in his arms instead.
"Perhaps Johann can shed some light on the mystery of the missing dragons, too. Not that I miss the dragons raiding our land for fish and food," Oskar chuckled. It was a sound without mirth.
The two started up a conversation between themselves and Frits backed up, turning his attention to the dragon attempting to doze in the town square. Skuli was seated next to the Gronkle, lightly touching his ear to make it flick.
All of this planning—all of this speculation—and Oskar couldn't even guarantee that they would start a rescue at all.
That dragon didn't look so tough, letting the two boys mess around with him. Frits wasn't sure what kind of dragon had taken his flower from him, but he could convince himself that it wasn't this type of dragon.
And if he could lead Frits to Oddny, then maybe he could set aside his hate for them.
Well, fine. If Oskar won't do anything for Oddny, then I'll just have to do it myself.