My shame is overwhelming. I did the exact opposite of what I said I'd do. Please bear with me – I have some pretty bad classes bunched together this semester, and they're totally killing my muse.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my fellow Canadians, Happy Columbus Day to you Americans, enjoy all your lovely holidays, and I hope you also enjoy this chapter.
The whole of the Viking forces were now on the beach except for a few men, continuing to empty out the holds of the ships. Among them was Trap, who was tasked with, once again, making sure that Toothless's head belt was secure, which, as the boy voiced, was incredibly dull. "This is ridiculous. 'Check the dragon, Trap.'" He muttered, "'make sure the belt is good an' tight, boy'o.' Well, Uncle Gobber, the belt don't get no tighter than it does." The young Viking pulled on the belt for spite, even when the Night Fury grunted in pain.
Leather was certainly a very good device for inflicting pain, now that Toothless thought about it.
"Watch yourself, pup," Toothless growled when Trap took the strap and jerked it. Boredom seemed to be getting the best of the boy, and he certainly didn't want his comfort to be at the behest of the adolescent's boredom.
"Yah, yah," Trap scowled, "We're all annoyed with this situation. Probably you more than myself of course, you're the one strapped to a boat, no escape, nobody coming to help you..." The Night Fury grunted in agreement, "Yep. You more than myself." He said in resignation. "Hey, keep that tail down." The boy thwacked the dragon roughly on the shoulder when Toothless had shifted his tail.
"Oi, boy," a man came up from behind, "Stop talking to the dragon, we're all going nuts as it is and we don't need you talking to that mindless beast."
"Sorry Mr. Ack, just not myself today."
"Aye, none of us are," the man replied. He placed a calloused hand on Trap's shoulder, shooting Toothless a poisonous glare over his voluminous beard, "It's the beast setting us on edge."
"Yes, Mr. Ack. Of course, Mr. Ack." Traps eyes flicked from the man's rough had on his shoulder to the Night Fury. Although Toothless's ebony head was bowed, his eye facing to the humans was intently locked with Trap's. The dragon knew his emerald gaze was making the boy uncomfortable; he tried to imagine that his eyes were piercing through the tough exterior to the boy's soul. The sadistic part of Toothless's mind was really getting into the mood – the Vikings were making all too easy for the voices to return.
Young blood. Warm. Fresh. Hot.
Resisting was important. List, a list had helped before. My name is Aranon. I am a Night Fury. My mate's name is Tempest. She is also a Night Fury. Tempest will be home when this is over, and I shall meet her again. The first opportunity I have I'll tell her that we're naming our first pup Veripedes.
The voices were persistent. Kill. Kill! Drink the blood. Stain your maw with the blood of their hatchlings!
Humans had pups. Pups! He shouted at the voices. Veripedes, Mzi, Kor, Raevun, Heldane, Abernea! With a final yell he finally banished the voices from his mind, and it became blissfully quiet and alone within his own consciousness. It was a comforting emptiness, strangely enough.
"Come with me, Trap, I'll take you down on the beach. That belt can't get any tighter without popping the beast's eyes out from their sockets." Damn right it can't. Toothless thought sourly. Trap allowed the older man to steer them away, only sparing the Night Fury a fleeting second glance. It was one that spoke anger and regret at the same time.
He was frightened and angry at something he couldn't control. It was out of both of their capacity to stop whatever stone had begun to roll.
The two humans lay a plank over the side rail that bridged them to the next ship, which also had a plank waiting to be connected to a network of planks that spanned across the entirety of the fleet, each time the men crossed though, the plank would be pushed back into the its original boat, to keep the system working. So when the plank dropped to the deck with a loud slap, Toothless was completely alone.
The dragon looked around the boat, only a spare axe lay on its side on the aft, forgotten by its owner in the excitement of getting off the boat after the dragging days spent on it. The metal was lackluster and pitted by dragon's blood that had eaten away at the metal long past in its life. Toothless pawed absently at the wood of the cart – the wood had begun to bow under his weight on the send day of the voyage, and with the combined efforts of his lack of movement and his pawing, he could possibly break through the wood sometime within the next century.
He wasn't kidding himself with his chances of escape, which were little to none.
The sky was getting darker, as if the clouds had somehow managed to condense even further and move around the island seamlessly. The fog was rolling away and eddying on the fringes of human activity.
Men were hacking logs into spears and wedging them into the pebble beach, creating a protective barrier from the ground to the tips of the spikes – as long any attacking dragon didn't bother to breathe fire, any man that took refuge beneath a pole would be protected, and the dragon would be either deterred or speared through the chest or soft belly.
Toothless hoped to whatever gods would listen that no dragon would even attempt to get close to the humans, he would rather any dragon with a hint of self-preservation would turn tail and fly as long and hard as they could. But the Nest itself was yet to be touched by the humans, like they were too frightened to touch some sacred ground that existed at the base of the volcano. An invisible force seemed to buffer them away from the blackened rock.
A plank thudded back down to the rail of the ship, and when Toothless whipped his head back around to see a new Viking traversing the makeshift bridge. The man's bristly beard resembled a stiff sheaf of straw, and the black beetle eyes that peered out from under eyebrows that could lift a boulder if the owner decided that was what he wanted to do.
Toothless quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to be targeted by the monster of a man, shrinking down on his haunches and tucking his wings against his sides tighter than he ever anticipated possible. His ears lay back as far as possible on his head and neck. The man growled low at the Night Fury like a feral animal, then lumbered off to the back of the ship to collect something. The dragon swept his tail away from the human; the prosthetic clicked and scraped against the rough wood of the deck, only amplified by the stark silence of the fleet.
The Viking's head snapped back to the Night Fury, cold hard beetle eyes staring into Toothless's emerald ones. The Night Fury held the grim stare, his mouth a hard line of black scales and a few exposed white teeth, but the human broke it off and spat onto the deck, grabbing the forgotten axe on the aft and going back to the plank and crossing onto the neighbouring ship.
The Night Fury squinted towards the shore – the chief was holding council with Gobber, Spitelout, and a blond haired woman that greatly resembled Astrid and even more distantly, Trap. She must be their mother. Toothless scanned over the rest of the beach, eyeing back over the pikes and to the men that swarmed around them.
Toothless knew that they would strike soon enough – the catapults were lined up and loaded with rocks, a single one held a rattan ball, which seemed extremely useless against an active volcano. He could only speculate. Stoick broke away from the council, his fur clad-back to the longship fleet. He raised a muscle-bound arm, hand open. The chief's hand clenched into a fist, and the throwing arm of the middle catapult snapped forward and hurled its boulder payload.
The Night Fury watched in horror as the first boulder connected with the mountainside, the rocks cracked and crumbled outwards like wet sand at the contact.
Stoick stood solidly at the entrance, the apex of the arch far above him.
Toothless's brow furrowed at the eerie silence that filled the air, thicker than a bog and just as stifling – it seemed to be like when he dashed across the sky at his top speed, being able to become so fast he could outfly the sounds of his very wingbeats. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, but it was suddenly pierced by the rattan ball catching fire in its cradle, the sharp hissing and popping of the straw and twigs within were in sharp contrast with the suffocating silence. The arm of the catapult pitched forward, flinging the flaming ball towards the Nest and into the hole.
As it flew in, it illuminated the bodies of hundreds of dragons – Nightmares, Nadders, and Zipplebacks mostly, with the odd Gronkle that managed to cling to the tunnel wall. They must have taken refuge in the lower tunnels of the Nest to evade the Queen's growing appetite, most of them were either elderly or yearlings, the venerable ones that the Queen would most likely to target in her fury and hunger.
The swarm of dragons tensed against their roosts, pressing themselves with all their might to their stalactites and stalagmites and every bump and crevice between. The Night Fury could sympathise – they felt that if they didn't move or got out of the way enough, the Vikings wouldn't see them.
The human silence was broken when the chief growled out a frightening scream, and all the dragons scattered, not only from the tunnel opened by the humans, but from the narrower tunnels that let out from the side of the mountain – strong, capable dragons that had power in their veins were fleeing as if they had the horrors of Helheim on their tails. They cried out in a cacophony of terror, others in anger. Toothless could feel some of their gazes burning at him, boiling pure hatred under their hides for the Night Fury who led the humans to the Nest and endangered all of them.
His shame quickly turned into desperation, looking urgently for Celine in the streams of the dragons, any flash of blue and gold across the grey sky would be welcome at this point. He didn't. Toothless sank down on the cart, ears drooping past his neck and eyes following the numerous paths of the fleeing dragons. The Night Fury prayed that she was leaving on the other side of the mountain, or that she had had sense and had tried to leave the Red Death again after Toothless shooed her out of the cove.
He saw the Vikings throwing their spears and swinging their swords and hammers at the dragons in a vain attempt to strike at least one, but not a single dragon fell to their weapons. But these people were Vikings, Vikings with incredibly thick skulls and simple minds, so it didn't surprise Toothless when he heard the shout of Spitelout rise above the masses, "We've done it!"
The responding cheers of the Vikings only confirmed Toothless's earlier musing, because the Night Fury suddenly picked up on underlying vibrations, like whispers of movement, coming from within the mountain.
Toothless's eyes widened when Sorcha's words came back to him, from when she batted him across their ledge in order to keep him from taking off - "We ain't allowed flying out of the nest till the Queen say we can! She'll eat 'cha if you try going out!"
The Queen was coming for her disobedient dragons to punish them.
She was going to eat him.
The Night Fury strained at his yoke, feet scrabbling at the wooden cart in desperation. Long gauges appeared in the grain when his razor claws sheared through the wood, he ignored the splintering wood that needled through his foot scales and into his flesh, although he was staring to wish that he had let his puphood calluses remain.
The rumbling grew louder, the guttural noises of the queen clearing her throat amplified through the exit tunnels – the sound of massive muscles stretching and her claws scraping on rocks as she ascended from her abyss of lava and smoke, and into the surface world for the first time in what Toothless guessed would be centuries.
The chief finally saw Toothless's struggle with the yoke and shouted at his men, swinging his shield to emphasize his words. It was unintelligible to the dragon, who was still straining to hear the progress of the Red Death.
Suddenly, there was a cracking noise of rock fracturing and ground in an unnatural way as the Red Death pushed her way through the nest – he could hear her knocking over pillars and the cries of the dragons that were unable to leave the nest being crushed by the falling rocks and Queen.
The Red Death let out an ear splitting scream, the air from her massive lungs blew out the new fractures in the sides of the Nest, blustering through the mass of Vikings and between the ships of the fleet – the boats moaned and rocked as they were pushed about by the forceful wind. The sails had been tied to the masts, but the wooden poles still caught the air current just fine, and the ship that Toothless was on swayed dangerously, the side rail to his right nearly dipped into the frigid water.
The chief yelled for his warriors to get clear, and that's when the panic began.
The mountain began to crumble, boulders and rocks falling loose from the ledges they used to perch on then, gradually, larger sheaths of rocks sheared off the sides of the Nest, burying themselves in the pebbles below or just shattering when they hit rock with a higher density. The bellows of the Red Death could hardly be heard over the crashing noises of the destruction, but it never fell away, for just as the Vikings cleared a space that seemed safe enough for them, the Queen under the mountain rose up and broke open the side of the mountain.
Her nose horn was the first thing to show through the rock – broken and leading towards her rotting and pitted teeth. Rock and dust burst forward with her, tumbling down in a waterfall of deadly projectiles at her feet, crushing men and women beneath them.
The Queen shook her head to rid herself of the rocks that lodged behind her crown, then opened her giant maw and screamed.
In that scream, Toothless was hit with the brunt of the Red Death's telepathic emotions, as if her scream conveyed her emotions rather than her speaking. Kill Lightningwing! He staggered. Angry. Hungry. Hungry! Stupid Lightningwing! Curses! Hurting! Eat it! Lightningwing – the old name, one of the many, for his kind, from the days they shared lightning bolts with Skrills. Idiot! She stepped forward, scattering the Vikings further. Four of her six eyes were closed protectively, only to be opened when she absolutely needed to.
Toothless continued to wretch at the yoke, desperate to get off of the boat and away. The Vikings let their catapults fly, but the rocks hardly put a dent in the Queen's composure, instead, she reared her head back and then swooped down, catching the closest catapult to her in her giant maw. She kicked over another.
There was a cry from a man to retreat to the ships, but was stopped by the chief's yell in contradiction.
Toothless's eyes widened, then clenched shut when the jet of flame came, engulfing the fleet.
Dragon scales were impervious to fire in most cases, but Toothless could still feel the flames licking his hide. He quickly tucked his tail underneath the cart to protect the prosthetic – if the metal melted onto his scales, it would be painful and constricting until he shed them – if he ever lived to shed them. Toothless hissed at the sound of men screaming, jumping off the boats to escape the flame that would burn them alive if they didn't, weapons flew from their hands and clattered against the sides of the ships.
The Night Fury felt the flames cease, and slowly opened his eyes to find that the boat he was in was burning. The pine pitch that filled the cracks between planks had caught fire and was spreading throughout the ship – the smell was like a pine forest burning, the scent stuffing his nose. If the ship was burning, there was only a matter of time before it burned through the hull and sunk the ship – he would drown before he could even begin to get himself free.
The Red Death howled when somebody threw a pike at her face, hitting close to one of her eyes. She brought her head down and swung it side to side, trying to get around her various blind spots to get a good view of the humans that dared to attack her.
Gobber yelled at the Queen, egging her on to fight him, rather than the chief, but Stoick fought Gobber for the monster's attention. She rumbled deep in her chest in confusion, why the humans wanted her attention seemed to be beyond her comprehension after centuries of being purposely avoided by creatures other than her Smokebreaths. The Queen reared up onto her hind feet, opening her mouth and gathering gas in her throat.
Toothless scrunched his wings to his sides and his tail back under the cart again in preparation for the second blast of fire – surely the last he would witness at the rate that her last blast that had by now reduced the aft to embers.
He almost missed the ball of fire that exploded behind the Queen's crown. She bellowed angrily, stomping back down heavy on her haunches. A group of dragons flew past her swinging head, flying in perfect formation.
Toothless was stunned – what dragons were crazy enough to fly so close to the Queen when she obviously would've eaten them upon their return? When they leveled out, Toothless saw one dragon that he knew – Kieron. The Nightmare was carrying the burly black-haired boy, who was whooping and shouting something to the Viking men and women below.
The Night Fury needed a few moments to collect himself – the voices of Ephos and Dophos, Izara, and Kaliddene were clearly recognisable, shouting at each other in their usual bickering way.
"Ephos, Dophos," Izara snapped, readjusting a large boy on her back, "watch your tails; you nearly took me out – again!"
"You try-"
"-carrying these two idiots!"
Toothless desperately searched for his pup on any of the dragon's backs, and found him on Kaliddene. It was odd to see Hiccup on the back of another dragon, hair swept back by the wind and looking far more in control in the sky than he did on land. Astrid was behind him, arms around his thin waist, her face fixed into a determined scowl.
The ground sung around the beach a second time, the teens were communicating across the space between dragons, then they broke apart and went their separate ways – Kieron, Ephos and Dophos, and Izara split off towards the enraged Red Death, and Kaliddene winged her way towards the boats.
Hiccup was coming.
AND that's the product of three long weeks of blood, sweat, and tears.
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