Chapter Twenty-Four: The War Of The Alchemist, Part Four
"Hiccup, this plan is stupid," cautioned Astrid.
"I know."
"Hiccup, this plan is crazy," she further cautioned.
"I get it."
"Just because we're desperate doesn't mean you get to sacrifice yourself."
"I hear you, Astrid."
Toothless had pulled out every speed trick in his repertoire, and they had almost caught up to Dark Star. They flew several dozen feet above the half-metal dragon, and one good dive would bring them the rest of the distance. The Alchemist had her eyes on them, and would easily see them coming. It almost looked like she was daring them to try something. Dark Star's attention was on the Zenith, right ahead and impossible to miss. The massive aerial warship was less than two minutes away from the Omega Catalyszier, an unstoppable force about to meet an immovable object.
Dark Star appeared to be slowing down, which was not a good sign. The dragon was drawing power to her breath weapon, if you could call it that. It was more like a device that opened a mini-portal to the Scouring, or so Hiccup surmised. Whatever you called it, Dark Star was about to fire it.
He felt Astrid squeeze him protectively as he unbuckled his harness from his saddle and slipped his steel foot free of its mooring. Then she let him go, because she knew this stupid-crazy plan was the best of their options.
"Don't make me a widow before we even get married," she told him.
He smiled back at her, and he felt oddly confident as he did. "Astrid, if there's one thing I'm good at, it's falling."
He signaled Toothless with a pat, and the dragon went into a harrowing dive. At the same time, Toothless fired a trio of plasma bolts, the blue flashes speeding out to their target… which wasn't Dark Star.
The Alchemist had expected a dive, even the fire bolts, but she had expected such predictable attacks to be directed at her. Instead, the hot plasma detonated in front of Dark Star, coating the dragon in thick plumes of fire for the briefest second before the Alchemist's energy-dispersing orb robbed the fire of its fuel.
The Alchemist felt the dragon panic and shudder under her, all thoughts of firing the negative beam gone as the dragon struggled to see. As a cloud of soot blanketed them, the Alchemist understood her folly, for Dark Star's metal eye wasn't as fireproof as her natural parts. Dark Star violently shook her head to clear her vision, but the fire damage done to her red eye could not be undone with a simple headshake.
Then there was suddenly a hitchhiker on her dragon.
Hiccup landed right in front of the Alchemist and immediately shot his hand out at her harness. His hand held one of his own harness clips, and so shocked she was at this insane move that he succeeded in looping it around one of her harness straps and securing it back to his harness before she could react.
Toothless veered off before the Alchemist could summon up a new stone squadron, and Hiccup wasted no time grabbing for the zanick stone in the center of the Alchemist's battle harness. The Alchemist wasn't about to allow that, however, and she entered into a wrestling match with the young Dragon Rider, the Alchemist pushing Hiccup's hands away as he tried again and again to rip out the zanick. Much to their mutual dismay, they were of comparable strength, and while the Alchemist held him at bay, she couldn't dislodge him completely.
Dark Star grew increasingly agitated and went into a rapid spin, trying to throw Hiccup off his back. Hiccup yelped as his feet went airborne, the force of the spin threatening to send him flying, but Hiccup's preparative thinking saved him once more, for the strap that held him to the Alchemist kept him rooted. He grabbed the Alchemist with both hands and weathered the spin storm, which was pretty minor compared to the paces Toothless sometimes put him through.
The Alchemist's face started looking rather green, and Hiccup had the horrible feeling that he was about to experience some airsickness right to the face. Lucky for him, the Alchemist barked out a harsh order to Dark Star and the dragon righted himself back to level flying. She now looked more angry than ill, though Hiccup half-expected to see more than words coming out of her mouth at any moment.
"I can no longer tell if you're brilliant, insane, or both," said the Alchemist as they resumed their wrestling.
"Right now, I'm desperate," he replied.
"You would really throw away your life for all these strangers?" she chided. "For these people, none of whom can locate your village on a map and who wouldn't care if it vanished off the face of the planet?"
"Yes, I would," he defiantly shot back, "because that's what a Champion does. We don't stand by and let the bad guy win."
"Bad guy? Don't you get it, Hiccup? I am saving humanity from itself. The past and the future are the same thing. We are destined to repeat our mistakes until it kills us, or until we stop trying."
"You're the one who stopped trying. You gave up, Alchemist. You see no way out but destruction. You haven't seen people change like I have. You haven't seen Vikings put down swords and pick up saddles. Qiao told me everything about you, Alchemist. You've watched history, but you haven't lived it. You've skipped over it – you've cheated your way through it. Humanity changes, Alchemist. It's hard, it's extremely hard, and sometimes it doesn't stick, but we can and we do."
She didn't have a comeback. In fact, she seemed remarkably quiet, her eyes hinting at a submerged doubt somewhere in her psyche. Hiccup lightened up on the grappling for a moment, hoping that maybe some compassion remained in the Alchemist's mind.
"You want to save humanity? Help us do it. Teach us. Aid us. Show us our mistakes. Deep down, I know this isn't who you are, Alchemist. You keep saving Qiao. You even saved Astrid. You're not a monster, Alchemist, but if you go through with this, you will be."
She didn't reply that time either, and Hiccup couldn't tell if anything he said had gotten through to her. But this had to be a good sign, right? If you could make a villain stop and look at their decisions, it had to be a step in the right direction.
Then something shifted on her face and that little tidbit of doubt Hiccup thought he saw in her was wiped away. The Alchemist, the one he had fought against all this time, was back in full.
"Dark Star, bank left 45 degrees," she instructed, her stern eyes on Hiccup the whole time. "Then lower your head 65 degrees. Prep for a full-power blast."
Seized by the horrible realization that his talk had done nothing, Hiccup lunged for her harness once more. But she grabbed his wrists and shoved them away, all the while looking like the patient mother whose kid was acting up. Hiccup felt Dark Star straighten up his flying, heard an enigmatic humming that grew in volume as Dark Star drew in energy for his attack. His heart rammed against his chest as he fought the Alchemist to a standstill, helpless to stop what was coming.
"I get it now," she calmly said. "Disable my battle harness and your dragon can shoot us down. Not a bad plan, even though I doubt your dragon would have fried you along with me. Even your little spiel about the goodness of humanity wasn't half bad. But understand, Dragon Rider, that there is no doubt in me… only regret."
Am I one of your regrets, Alchemist?
Hiccup and the Alchemist heard the terrible voice and immediately let go of each other, though they remained bound by Hiccup's tether, a fact that Hiccup placed in the category of "halfway okay idea that ended badly" when a silver-clad skeleton hand grabbed the Alchemist at the waist and yanked her free of Dark Star. Hiccup's strap pulled him along for the ride, the dragon-less rider grabbing onto the Alchemist's right leg as he dangled hundreds of feet in the air.
The one-winged metal-boned dragon that was Cervantes flew upward with the Alchemist vainly struggling in his right arm, looking pretty good for having been partly disintegrated the night before. Below them, Dark Star stopped her power buildup and let loose a tortured artificial cry full of rage and fear. She swiveled her body and went into pursuit. Not far behind, Toothless followed, the dragon and Astrid wearing identical expressions of shock and concern. Hiccup knew they wouldn't attack with him in Cervantes's clutches, and not for the first time Hiccup was regretting not having crafted a myssteel dagger. He could have cut the strap and fallen free by now.
Thank you, Hiccup, for that lovely diversion, teased Cervantes. I doubt I could have nabbed the poor Alchemist here under normal circumstances. For that, I will let you live until I'm done with her.
Hiccup normally would've gotten a comeback in, but he was more concerned with the look on Dark Star's face. Or maybe it was the glowing circle of rancid green energy forming before her mouth that worried him. Hiccup hoped the Night Fury's aim was up to the task, otherwise they were all about to be Scoured.
Ah, yes, Dark Star. Cervantes threw his arms out wide, practically daring the dragon to fire. We do have a reckoning, don't we? It was then that Hiccup noticed a circular object attached to Cervantes' left rib cage, a weird device that sported a number of stones and metal protrusions on its surface. It had a look of True Alchemy, but none of the grace or care that went into the Alchemist's inventions.
The Alchemist noticed it as well, and her eyes opened wide in an unmistakable expression of horror. She looked down at Dark Star and shouted, "Dark Star, NO!" but the dragon was too far into her attack to halt it.
A pulsing beam of sickly-green light jetted out from Dark Star and connected with Cervantes, the necromancer laughing the whole time. Not getting turned to dust must have been the joke, for once the beam faded not a single shred of Cervantes was any different. The only change was the disc on his chest, its stones illuminated with the same ugly green energy he'd been bathed with moments ago.
Cervantes curled his toothy mouth into a triumphant grin as his eyes blinked out more words. By the Void, it truly works. I had been worried that the energy absorber couldn't take that much raw power. Now let's see if the expulsion capacitor is up to snuff.
Dark Star stared up at her mistress, completely at a loss at to how Cervantes had survived all that. The Alchemist wasn't in the dark, and she screamed out a denial as the same pulsing beam of energy erupted from the disc and right into Dark Star's surprised face. Hiccup watched, transfixed in terror, as the beam enveloped Dark Star from head to tail, her form turning to shadow as the beam flowed around her, and then fading away entirely as the beam finished its destructive coarse through the air.
Then the sickly light was all spent, and there was no trace of the dragon save for a little cloud of glittering residue, already dispersing into the uncaring winds.
The Alchemist gaped in disbelief while Cervantes widened his artificial grin. Hiccup felt a smidgen of regret for poor Dark Star, but a part of him knew she was destined to meet a fate like this. His actual sorrow was more for Toothless, who had just watched the only other member of his species perish. But he couldn't get too choked up right now, as he had to be next on Cervantes's hit list.
Much to Hiccup's surprise, Cervantes didn't flay him open or anything. The necromancer looked at him with quiet amusement and said, You can go now, before lashing out with his left hand and slashing the strap holding him to the Alchemist. The momentum of the attack knocked him free of the Alchemist's legs and he went into freefall, Cervantes zooming off towards the nearest barren hillside with the Alchemist writhing in his grip.
Hiccup hadn't been kidding to Astrid about how well he fell, and he felt no fear as he rushed towards the ground. He knew Toothless would be there to catch him, and he wasn't disappointed. Already the Night Fury was vectoring to meet him, and soon Astrid was reaching out her arms to pull him in. He grasped her hands as she yanked him into the saddle, Toothless pulling then out of the dive with a couple dozen feet to spare, freaking out a family of chitterling ground squirrels in the process.
Astrid gave him a quick hug and then a rather angry face. "That was more far more stupid and crazy than I agreed to."
"I can't help it if Cervantes shows up like that," he replied. "You didn't see him coming?"
"We were too focused on you… and that." She pointed in the direction of the Zenith, but it wasn't the flagship that had her attention. One of the airships was making another try at the Zenith, and based on how smoking and banged up it looked, Hiccup didn't think it could do much. But it was coming in pretty fast, and it would overtake the flagship before it reached the Catalyszier. No one else was around to stop it.
"Do we leave the Alchemist with Cervantes?" asked Astrid, her tone implying the answer wasn't as cut and dry as Hiccup thought it was.
"Is that what happened?" came another voice, and Hiccup was happy to see it belonged to Qiao, riding atop a stubborn green dragon. Arc closed in with Qiao on his back, the young thief looking winded but in one piece. Arc's scales were blackened in several places, suggesting he'd had a serious fight not long ago.
"Cervantes just killed Dark Star and took the Alchemist," said Hiccup. "But the Zenith might be in trouble." He gestured at the airship pursuing the Zenith, and Arc's eyes narrowed in response, mostly in consternation.
"Nestor is on that ship," said Arc. "Hiccup, you can reach it faster than me."
Hiccup nodded without argument. "What about Cervantes and the Alchemist?"
"That's our job," said Qiao, her voice thick with determination. Arc nodded in agreement.
They sped away on their respective missions, Hiccup still reeling from how quickly the battle was changing, and how close they were to succeeding. But now was the most dangerous of times, when one mistake could cost them everything… and where the price they may pay to keep that mistake from happening could be terrible.
Cervantes found a nice quiet spot on top of an uninhabited hill, where the soil had proven too infertile to grow anything other than rocks. Had the Alchemist been allowed to keep her battle harness, she would have acquired all the ammo she needed to encase the necromancer in a cocoon of stone. But after severing Hiccup from their presence, he had lashed out again and ripped away her harness, tossing it and the valuable zanick stone it carried away like it was moldy bread. It plummeted into the wilderness, swallowed up by the vast carpet of bristling trees.
I'll find it later, he commented, answering her unspoken question.
He floated above the rocky ground with the Alchemist firmly in grip, and he raised her up so that she could see the entirety of the battle – the Timberjack fighting off the last of her Hunters, the incoming fleet arriving too late for a last-minute rescue, the Zenith in an final exciting race with the Firecracker to see who rammed who first. The whole boondoggle in its entirety, her utter failure displayed like a mural of mistakes.
Do you understand now, Alchemist? spoke Cervantes. You overplayed your hand, as all aspiring conquerors do. This is a better revenge than I could ever cook up, watching your work crumble before you.
She held her face as still as a stone, but her heart felt like a dead thing now. Dark Star, the one creature in the entire world who had never turned from her, was gone, and soon Qiao and Norom and the rest would be gone as well. But she would not give this monster the satisfaction of seeing her break before him.
It won't all be nothing, though, continued Cervantes, for I will pick up the pieces of your little empire. Your hidden base, your zanick stone, your knowledge, your power – all that, mine. I've learned a lot from you, Alchemist, and I will put that knowledge to good use. Instead of your half-baked idea of controlling the development of the human race, I will keep it simple and lord over them.
"And you think the Champions won't come after you?" said the Alchemist, her voice deathly calm as she awaited the inevitable.
They have other concerns at the moment beyond me, he replied.
"Truly, Cervantes?"
Though Cervantes wasn't capable of getting chills down his spine any longer, hearing that ancient voice would've done the trick. He whirled his long neck around and found Arc landing off to the side, with the Alchemist's foster child on his back, a glowing arrow notched in her mystical bow. He groaned in annoyance at his own stupidity. Villainous monologues were such rookie mistakes, but the temptation had been too great.
"Did you really think I would forget you, Cervantes?" said Arc, letting Qiao slide off his back and then advancing a step in Cervantes's direction.
"Drop her, metal head," said Qiao, aiming her bow at the necromancer's head.
"Qiao, no!" shouted the Alchemist, squirming in Cervantes's grip. "His device will AHHH!" He squeezed her none too gently to cease her warning.
"She's right, Qiao," said Arc. "He's protected. How else could he have destroyed Dark Star?" Qiao, unconvinced, kept her bow trained on Cervantes.
Could you come back later, Archibald? asked Cervantes. As you can see, I'm about to do your job for you.
"Put her down, Cervantes," said Arc, "and I will give you a head start."
My, how generous, said Cervantes. Doing this for the sake of your young friend here? Don't want her to see the only mother she's ever known die before her very eyes? Problem is, there is only one being on this world I hate more than you, Archibald, and if we're going to have our final battle here and now… well, I'm getting something for all my troubles.
Arc knew what was coming, and though he charged Cervantes in the hopes of distracting him, he could only watch as the necromancer brought his left hand to the Alchemist and drove his wickedly sharp fingers into her chest. Qiao howled in anger as her bow fired and took Cervantes in the head, but instead of an explosive outcome there was only a dismissive grunt as the energy snaked down Cervantes's neck into the disc-shaped device on his chest. He did release the Alchemist from his grip, and her face was one of absolute astonishment as she slipped down to the rocks, leaving a smear of red on Cervantes's fingers.
You should listen to your mother more often. Cervantes waggled a finger, then pointed the same finger at Arc. As for you…
A blast of lightning erupted from the digit and struck Arc right on his snout. Arc recoiled slightly, then reopened his eyes and smirked at the necromancer as the electricity surged about his body harmlessly. "Lightning dragon, remember?"
Up close and personal, then? Cervantes sneered right back at Arc. With a sound like that of a sword leaving its sheath, the claws on both his hands suddenly grew twice their length and twice as sharp. I'm game.
Cervantes came straight at Arc, confident that the old Hyperion had made a fatal error. His body was composed of myssteel, the strongest alloy ever created, and without Arc's lightning he was as good as helpless. There wasn't a claw in nature sharp enough to scratch myssteel. But Arc was scales and blood, and with no pesky barrier field to get in the way, he would peel the Hyperion like a potato.
Arc ducked Cervantes's predictable claw sweep and lashed out with his own, dragging his right claw-hand across Cervantes's chest region. The necromancer stepped back in sudden alarm as he took in the deep rents along five of his ribs, half of one rib completely sheered off. He was lucky that his energy absorber hadn't been hit, though Arc had missed it by mere inches.
Cervantes now noticed the glove-like piece of equipment covering Arc's right claw-hand. Arc brandished it so the necromancer could get a better look. All four claws had a silvery shine to them and a razor's edge right to each tip. Someone had upgraded Arc with an artificial set of myssteel claws, which he wore over his real ones.
Without taking his eyes off Cervantes, Arc said, "Qiao, go to your mother while you have the time." He gave her no chance to argue as he snarled a dragon war cry and charged the necromancer.
More than a little relived that she wasn't getting in the middle of Arc's savage grudge match with Cervantes, Qiao rushed over to where the Alchemist lay, her supine body hardly moving save for her blinking eyes and slowing breath. She stared up at the sky as if seeing it for the first time, and it was a great effort for her eyes to shift to Qiao as the thief knelt down at her side. One quick look at her horrible wounds and Qiao knew there was no chance of saving her.
In the shadowy corners of Qiao's heart, she had wanted to see the Alchemist like this - broken, defeated, finished. She had tried to kill the people Qiao cared for, had betrayed everything she had once stood for. She had emerged into the world only to bring great darkness and despair with her. But kneeling there, watching the life slip out of the Alchemist, all she could think of were the myriad lessons the Alchemist had taught her, the sights she had shone her. A bedtime story about the first Guardian ever, forged into life by the Prime Smithy; a field trip to the African Continent to study lions; a peek through a dimensional portal at a world where everything floated in the air, even the land; their last conversation in their underground sanctuary, where Qiao bade the Alchemist goodbye while the Alchemist silently drew another of her endless schematics, not even bothering to look up from her desk.
The Alchemist saw her this time, and somehow managed a smile, even gathered in enough breath to speak. "I… screwed this up… rather badly…"
Qiao had vowed not to cry for the Alchemist, but it was a vow she couldn't keep, and tears began to well up in her eyes. "That's quite the understatement."
The Alchemist tried to move her right hand toward one of her shirt pockets, but too little strength remained in her body. "Qiao… lower right pocket…"
Trusting that her foster mother meant her no harm, Qiao searched the pocket in question and found a memory stick, half the size of the other ones in her possession. As Qiao pulled it out, the Alchemist said, "When… you are ready… it was made for you."
Qiao wasn't sure she wanted to see what was on it, but her instincts told her to keep it. As she tucked it away, the Alchemist inched her left hand toward Qiao, and again her strength failed her. Qiao found the strength for both of them and gripped it in her hands.
"I wanted… to give you… a better world…" she managed to say, her voice little more than a whisper.
"I… didn't need a better world," said Qiao, her tears spilling out at last. "I would've lived in this one with you, if you would've lived in it with me."
Qiao couldn't tell if the Alchemist had heard her, for her eyes had lost all focus. Her breath came to a final rasping gasp, and then one long exhale… and then silence.
Even as Arc and Cervantes battled around her, kicking up clouds of dirt and grit as they traded blows, Qiao stayed with the Alchemist's body, gripping her mother's hand tightly, mourning all the she was and all that she might have been.
Two things Nestor had a natural knack for involved languages and timing, and right now neither of those talents were of any value. Well, his ability to produce accurate ETAs was getting some use, as he calculated that the Zenith was a minute-and-a-half away from plowing head-on into the Catalyszier. But since the Firecracker was less than a minute away from plowing into the Zenith, only one of those two estimates was going to be right.
Trapped under the stone slab Norom had piled on him, Nestor had made little headway in getting free of it. His left arm had squeezed out from under the slab a few seconds ago, so now both arms were liberated, but he still lacked the leverage to push the slab off him entirely. All the while, Norom stood at the helm and steered the airship on its collision course, seemingly heedless of the fact that he was likely to die in the collision. All the sensible crewmen had jumped to safety after catching wind of Norom's plan.
"You do realize that you won't survive the collision, right?" Nestor yelled up at Norom, holding onto a slim chance that the half-troll hadn't thought this through.
"A sacrifice worthy of the Alchemist," replied Norom.
"How is any of this worth your life?" said Nestor. "How can destroying all these lives be a good thing?"
"She saved me from remaining the brute I used to be. If she can turn me around, she can turn the human race around as well."
"But you can't force the human race to become better. They have to want to do it."
Norom laughed bitterly at Nestor. "No one ever wants to be better, Outlander. Something makes them do it, a reward, or a punishment. I'm happy with the punishment angle myself."
"You must really hate humanity."
"Let's just say that I like cockroaches more than I like humans."
Nestor glanced at the fast-approaching Zenith, his heart revved up with fear as he weighed his options. Talking was a no-go, and he couldn't see any other dragons flying in to help. If he could just warn Saga and the others on the Zenith…
Salo krebit, of course he could warn the others. With his left arm free, he had access to the conduit capacitor. Instant communication was still a new concept to him.
He brought his right hand to his left arm and pressed on the capacitor. He was immediately greeted by Proto's monotone voice. Human Nestor, the unit registers you on the incoming airship. Trajectory indicates it will collide with airship-designated-Zenith in 45.2 seconds. Strong recommendation for Human Nestor to leave airship.
"Proto, right now I need you to warn Linebreaker and have him do evasive maneuvers," said Nestor, deciding not to mention how difficult leaving the airship was at the moment.
Human Captain is aware of situation, said Proto. Vessel unable to maneuver without further delaying objective. Two Alchemist airships will arrive within 2.12 minutes. If Zenith delayed, enemy airships will overtake and…
"I get it, Proto." Nestor replied, more sourly than he intended. He didn't bother to ask about using the siege cannons. They wouldn't be able to shoot down the airship in time. That left having Proto fly over and attack Norom directly, but Norom had a powerful barrier field and Proto wouldn't be able to disarm him. He envisioned the half-troll tearing apart Proto with his bare hands, and Nestor couldn't allow that. Besides, Proto was Saga's ticket off the Zenith, and Nestor wouldn't have Proto abandon her and the others just to save his skin.
Nestor had faced nigh-hopeless situations before, and the thing about nigh-hopeless situations was that they weren't the same as completely hopeless. You could squeeze in a drop of optimism, assume that no matter how bleak the night was, the dawn would still come and the sunshine would arrive to drive away the darkness. But this time around, there was no dawn coming to the rescue… because the sunshine was already here. Nestor and all his friends, all the Hyperions and Champions who had come to save the day – that was it. If they failed, the darkness would reign supreme over all of humanity for a very long time.
No time to waste on regrets, though. No time to waste on anything… except one last communication.
"Proto, you have two orders to follow," Nestor instructed, surprisingly himself with how calm he sounded. "First, you keep following Saga's orders. She's in charge until she says otherwise. And second… no matter what you see or hear from my direction, you do not come for me. You understand? Do not come for me. Protect the others, get them safe, but do not come for me. Tell me you accept this, Proto."
Nestor got only silence for several agonizing seconds, time he didn't have to spend. But he needed to hear Proto say it. This was not a time for Proto to grow a concept of disobedience.
Human Nestor… This unit accepts orders.
Nestor had to struggle for another long moment to push down his emotions, everything but his anger. He needed that for what came next. But he still almost choked up when he said his final words before taking his hand off the capacitor.
"Thank you, Proto. Thank you for everything."
The buzz from Proto's mind faded as Nestor focused his eyes on the helm, zeroing in on the right control sheath, the one that directed the ship. Norom's muscular hand held it securely, a grip that Hercules himself would find a challenge to break. Right now, nothing was more important to Nestor than to grab that control sheath and wrench it away from Norom. Adonis had taught him that the distance between him and the target was irrelevant. You just had to visualize it, close your fingers around it… and grab it!
Eyes opened, hands outstretched, and field taxed to the maximum, Nestor felt his anger rise as he envisioned the airship ramming the Zenith, destroying their only chance at stopping the Alchemist. He envisioned the city vaporizing under the unearthly beam of terrible light, envisioned Hiccup and Toothless and Astrid and Arc and Linebreaker and Qiao and Heather and the Twins and Proto and countless other people snuffed out like candles in a storm, all of their lives made meaningless, all their efforts reduced to dust and ashes.
He envisioned Saga keeling over as her head overloaded, the Scouring wiping out her mind and everything he loved about her with it.
That did the trick.
A pair of disembodied hands, red as ripe apples and glowing like fireflies, materialized around the right sheath and yanked it to the left with enough force to wrench the sheathes off of Norom's hands. The ship lurched into a hard bank as it changed direction away from the Zenith. Nestor felt the pressure on his lower body increase as he diverted energy from the field holding up the slab, but he kept enough to keep from being crushed outright. So far, so good, but he knew it would only get worse from here.
"What?" cried out Norom in disbelief. "What? How?" He looked carefully at the ghost-hands wrapped around the control sheath, and yet that did little to slate his confusion. "Are you doing that?"
Nestor gritted his teeth and said not a word, happy to just pull at the sheath and get the ship as far off course as possible. He began to feel a little tightening in the chest, but he kept his field fully powered and fully projected.
Norom quickly ascertained that Nestor was the culprit behind this magic act and started to descend down to the lower deck, where he would undoubtedly begin stomping on Nestor. But as the ship banked even further to the left, Norom reconsidered his options and ran for the control sheath. Drawing on his own field, he grunted and pulled the sheath to the right. Slowly the airship leveled itself out, then commenced veering the opposite direction, as Norom struggled with the sheath.
Nestor pumped more power into his projection, feeling the pressure on his lower body increase to an uncomfortable level. It was on par with the tightness growing in his chest, his body straining as he pushed it past the limit of a mortal's endurance.
"How are you doing this?" grunted Norom, unable to get the sheath to budge any further right. The course change had knocked the Firecracker's flight path too far to the left, and in less than ten seconds it would reach, and then pass, the Zenith. The flagship charged through the final half-mile, directly at the central mass of the terrifying crystal tower, and if Nestor could hold off Norom, the Zenith would be safe.
"I don't care what tricks you think you know," screamed Norom through clenched teeth, his muscles straining and bulging from exertion. "You are not stronger than me!"
"I don't have to… be stronger than you," wheezed Nestor, sweat blinding him as the pressure in his chest went from gripping to pounding. "I just… have to be strong enough."
"You can't stand against me!" He shoved down hard on the sheath, and the airship curved back at the Zenith. Where things stood now, it would barrel into the flagship's midsection, crushing both ships in a traumatic embrace.
"Standing… is what I do," shot back Nestor, shoving the last of his field into his projection, the glowing ghost-hands wrenching the sheath the other way, turning the ship enough to put it off course once more, and just barely. His whole chest felt like a bonfire cooked inside it, burning up every last inch of him, but still he held on.
The airship screeched as its bow nicked the side of the Zenith, stone scrapping against stone. Norom screamed out his denunciation of reality as the Firecracker sped under the Zenith rather than ramming it, taking with it a small chunk of the stern as a souvenir. Norom screamed out in utter rage as he pulled on the sheath, but the combined stress of Nestor and Norom's tug-of-war grew too much for it. The top half abruptly snapped off in Norom's hands, and the half-troll shook in uncontrolled fury as the airship sped off on its own Fates-inspired journey, which would probably be a short one.
Barely conscious of anything other than the inferno that raged inside him, Nestor ceased his harrowing efforts with a great moan of relief. While the pressure around his lower half abated as the barrier field now had the power to push back the heavy slab, his chest remained one continuous conflagration of agony. Worse, he felt a growing numbness spreading through his body, removing the pain as it went. He had broken something this time that not even Arc could fix, but that was okay. His friends, his family… they'd have their lives, even if he couldn't have his.
His vision clouded over, the faraway sky turning black and the dying airship fuzzy with half-seen images, and as the world grew distant and cold he comforted himself with a familiar refrain, the one an old cranky dragon had taught him a few scant years ago.
I stood against the mistakes of the past, so that they don't threaten the future.
I stood between the people I love and the ones who threatened to destroy them.
I stood… for the one thing… worth standing for…
And then he stood no longer.
Saga saw the Firecracker narrowly graze them, felt the Zenith quake as part of the ship broke off from the collision, and she half-expected to find herself in a sudden freefall, but the flagship held together. She didn't see the intense struggle between Nestor and Norom, for her attention was largely on fighting off the last few boarders still on the ship. With Heather injured (but alive, thank the Gods), Proto charged with protecting Linebreaker, and Adon… gone, she alone faced the remaining boarders and convinced them to give up the fight and flee the scene. Myssteel daggers were very good at winning debates.
When the Firecracker dipped below the Zenith and ceased to be an immediate threat, she didn't give it a second thought. She didn't know that Nestor was the one to sway its course, or that he was even aboard, and with the Omega Catalyszier rapidly rising before her like the world's ugliest mountain, the upcoming collision was all that mattered. They had mere moments to spare before both the tower and the flagship came together, and they couldn't be on the ship when that happened.
There was the issue of the far-smaller-by-comparison First Catalyszier, which had sat in the middle of the Zenith like so much useless ornamentation, albeit one concocted from a fevered mind. Saga considered slicing it apart with her daggers, but she had not the time to waste on such actions. It would undoubtedly perish in the collision, though they would have to take pains to double-check its destruction afterwards. This was not an artifact that should ever fall into power-hungry hands.
Heather groaned slightly as Saga gathered her up, bracing her with her shoulders and walking the two of them up the stairs to the helm, Linebreaker manning the control sheaths as steadfastly as always. The good captain's face lit up when he saw Heather conscious. He must have expected the worst.
"How are you, my lady?" he asked.
"Ow… busted rib, I think," she answered. "The suit took most of the damage."
"What of Adon?" Linebreaker asked, though the cheerless look on his face suggested he already knew the answer. "Is he...?"
"He is not on the ship," Saga stated grimly. "That is all I know."
"I saw Qiao flying on Arc's back a little while ago," said Heather, wincing as her rib took a jolt from the bouncing ship. "Ow… not sure how she got there, but I think that accounts for everyone. Can we leave now?"
Saga signaled for Proto to come over, and she instructed him to take them all off the ship. Heather went first, the machine gingerly lifting her to his back with a pair of tentacles. The captain went next, eagerly slipping his hands out of the control sheaths and climbing onto Proto. As soon as Saga stepped up behind him, Proto's tentacles retracted into his body and he hovered away from the deck, carrying his human cargo from the doomed airship.
"She was a strong ship, the Zenith," commented Linebreaker, watching the airship's last moments as it flew straight and true to its destiny. "A shame to see such a remarkable vessel go to waste."
Ever the mindful warrior, Saga was more concerned with the approaching fleet, the two airships and their accompanying squadron of platforms, which would be upon them in the space of several heartbeats. The fleet had come too late to stop the Zenith, but if, after all this, the Catalysziers survived the crash, then the Champions' remaining time in this world would last only slightly longer than that of the Zenith.
The Zenith: the symbol of the Alchemist's conventional power. Her might at sea, her foreboding presence, her promise of great changes and great ambition, embodied in a stone-forged warship that could fit the population of a small village.
The Omega Catalyszier: the symbol of the Alchemist's mystical power. Her control of the uncontrollable, her terrifying dream made reality, her promise of great destruction and great misery, embodied in a crystal tower made to resemble a horrible being from a different realm of existence.
The few fledgling philosophers who lived in Riki Poka would argue that there was some great message to be had from witnessing one symbol destroying the other. But most people who witnessed the great spectacle would tell you that, regardless of its existential meaning, it was a sight that no one would ever forget.
The great stone airship of the Alchemist sailed right into the center of the Omega Catalyszier. Stone meet crystal, and the meeting was shattering. The Zenith buckled and cracked as tons and tons of stone surged forward, driven by mystical power and basic inertia. The Zenith ceased to be a ship and became a twisted shape, folding and bending until splitting apart into thousands of chunks, some driven forward into the tower, others falling downward. The gems intertwined within the hull winked out, some crushed, some spat out like nutshell casings from a mouth, the hillside below pounded by a merciless flood of minerals.
The tower seemed to weather the battering at first, barely shaking from the impact. But close up, rents and fissures in the crystal surface commenced a race to see who would reach the other end of the tower. The rents lengthened, the fissures widened, and the starry surface of the tower grew dark as the cracks found the individual lights and extinguished them. Like the cobweb of the world's biggest orb-weaver, the fissures journeyed all over the tower, crisscrossing and dissecting the structure. Bits began to fall off as the rents expanded, the tower wobbled as the cracks spread to its base, and the starfish arms quivered as if slowly coming to life.
Then one of the arms fell off, collapsing like an undermined turret on an ancient fortress, and the true destruction commenced. Crystal shards collided with the tower roof and drove in deep. The rents found new energy and their growth exploded. The four remaining arms followed suit, battering the central tower and causing the chain reaction that brought the whole structure tumbling down the lonely hillside it had roosted upon. Centuries of lively evergreens fell before the cruel weight of the tower, a massive avalanche cleaning the hill of all life that had once struggled upon it.
A gargantuan dust cloud covered the final results of the destruction, and would do so for many long minutes. But the effects of the Catalysziers' ruin were quickly felt, particularly by the remnants of the Alchemists' forces, for they soon found the repercussions dire indeed.
It was rare that Ruffnut didn't find acts of pure devastation enjoyable, considering that she and her brother had once tried to sheer the village sheep with clubs ("we'll knock the wool off 'em," had been Tuffnut's reasoning). But as she stood on a crowded city street and watched the crystal-tower thing collapse in the distance, she found little to be happy about.
Her brother wasn't the problem. Tuffnut loudly complained behind her as a pair of healers attended to his wound, the cheers of the people celebrating the downfall of the Alchemist masking his unhappiness quite nicely. The people of Riki Poka turned out to be a gracious bunch, even with a two-headed dragon in their midst, and had taken them to the local healers, who had removed the arrow and were now bandaging her brother's arm up. They said he'd be okay, even get a nice scar out of it.
The ground battle was already over, so she didn't have to worry about enemy soldiers sneaking up on her or anything. Some of the Alchemist's goons had still wanted to put up a fight, but their morale snapped after the Catalyszier went down. She had watched the lights inside the gems in their belts and harnesses cease their illumination, and that apparently was the signal to surrender. Most of them now sat on the street, all gloomy like, and awaited their punishments. Ruffnut hoped it wouldn't be pleasant.
So, her brother in pain, the bad guys about to be punished, a crowd cheering in victory, and a great once-in-a-lifetime sight of a hillside collapsing – she should be ecstatic. And yet… nothing. Not a single feeling of joy.
For the first time since starting this trip with Hiccup and Nestor and her brother, Ruffnut began to believe she really had changed. Because all she could think about was what had happened to Hiccup and Astrid and Toothless, and all the other stupid people she had come to call her friends. Even Nestor, that guy who had tried very nicely not to break her heart. She would refuse to ever admit it, but her heart did feel a little bruised over the guy.
If they weren't okay… then there really wasn't anything to cheer about, was there?
The crew aboard the airships and platforms were now faced with their fleet's power vanishing under their noses, their once-mighty vessels slowly sinking toward the ground as if they had sprung leaks. The captains and pilots quickly surmised the situation and had their ships do emergency landings, their crews holding on for dear life and praying to their various divine benefactors. It was a credit to the Alchemist's foresight that the airship armada didn't instantly drop and kill everyone aboard, for the gems within the vessels held onto their mystical energy long enough to allow for survivable landings. Most landed hard but lived to tell the tale, though the casualties were numerous. Still, they fared far better than the few who found out the hard way that their floatation belts no longer protected them from falling.
The blow to the morale of the Alchemist's army was severe. With no lieutenants to lead them and no Alchemist to rally them, those caught in the city surrendered to Dunkirk and his men. The ones in the wilderness had more luck escaping the authorities, fleeing for safe havens and open seas.
It was the end of the War of the Alchemist… but not everyone had accepted that fact.
Norom seethed with cold rage as he watched the Catalyszier fall, unable to deny what had happened. The strongest army in the world, the strongest army ever created, defeated by a handful of young whelps and a bunch of talking dragons. The Alchemist was nowhere to be seen, which could mean only one thing…
No, that he couldn't accept. She had to be alive. She had to be. She was the Alchemist, and she brought the thunder. She couldn't go down like this, not at the hands of these unworthy, simple-minded malcontents.
The ship crumbled around him, stone after stone slipping away from the hull, as the magic faded from the weakened ship. Unlike the other airships, the Firecracker was too damaged to hold together for long. But he paid it no heed, for there was no point in caring about anything now. He had failed the Alchemist, and failure required penance. It required his death.
But before he went, he'd share his penance with the one who had made him fail.
With a hideous snarl on his face, Norom jumped down to the lower deck and stomped over to Nester, the young man still nice and trapped under his stone prison. Ire leaked out of every pore in Norom's body as he gripped the stone slab and heaved it off Nestor's still form. The fact that the slab felt twice as heavy as before barely registered in his rage-filled mind.
He reached down and grabbed Nestor by the shirt, hardly bothered by the limpness of Nestor's arms and legs. He shook Nestor roughly to rouse him, but the boy didn't stir, didn't even bat an eye or move a finger.
"Wake up, Outlander," he ordered, his voice a barely-understandable growl. "Wake up so I can see the terror in your eyes before I rip them out of your…"
A blast of burning air erupted under his feet, forcing Norom to cover his eyes and drop the lifeless Nestor back to the deck. Sensing he was under attack, Norom whirled to face his aggressor and show them how bad a mistake they'd just made. What he got instead was a black-scaled tail smacking him in the chest and sending him flying off his feet, skidding along the deck several feet before coming to a halt.
Standing over Nestor's body was the Dragon Rider and his Night Fury, the dragon baring all his teeth in an aggressive gesture that said your move, pal. There was also the young female Viking, her axe poised to lop off his head if he tried anything. As Norom watched, she lowered her axe and got off the dragon to check on Nestor, turning him over and calling his name. Like Norom before her, she got no response.
Shock suppressed Norom's combat instincts as much as the pain of the blow, for he now realized that his barrier field hadn't flashed during the attack. What the Alchemist had told him was true – the Catalyszier had been the source of her power. Without it, he was utterly outmatched.
"We've all had a long day, Norom," said the Dragon Rider. "I don't want a fight. I just want my friend. And if you think you can be civil, I'll give you a lift off this ship."
"Hiccup, he's barely breathing," said Astrid, her voice tinged with distress. "I think he's…"
"Just get him up here, Astrid," said Hiccup. As she lifted Nestor to the saddle, Hiccup successfully imparted how tenuous his offer was with one terrible glare. "You think you can be civil?"
Norom regained his feet and returned the glare two-fold. "Not to you and yours, Dragon Rider."
Hiccup stared at him a moment longer, then patted Toothless to take off. Perhaps if Nestor had been in a better shape, he might have been more merciful. But not this time.
As the dragon shot into the sky, Norom thought he heard Astrid say something about the Outlander having stopped breathing. Norom took what solace he could from the news as the Firecracker lost the last of its power and went into a sharp dive, the ground swiftly coming to greet him. At least he would have company as he bowed out of this life.
Cervantes and Arc had reached one of those classics lulls in a duel where two opponents felt a need to stop and review the situation. In Arc's case, he desired a quick breather, as nonstop fighting was exhausting. For Cervantes, he was looking for an escape route, as he didn't expect to survive another minute of this.
Even with the Catalyszier brought to ruin and the Alchemist's armada falling from the sky, they had battled nonstop. Every time Cervantes attempted to fly away, Arc was on him and slashing away another pound of metal. Every step backwards Cervantes took, Arc took two steps forward. Arc was of singular focus now, and nothing less than a pile of myssteel fragments would satisfy him.
Qiao calmly watched them from the side of the Alchemist's body, and while she itched to send an arrow in the necromancer's side, she held her fire. This was Arc's affair, and she would respect his wishes for now.
Both dragons wore deep scratches on their real and metallic hides, Cervantes more so as Arc had proven quite adept at claw fighting and Cervantes had always been more tactician than warrior. Cervantes hadn't scored any serious wounds on Arc, but the dragon was going to look like crud until he shook off his old scales and grew new ones. Cervantes now lacked his left arm, torn off by Arc right before this little pause in their battle. He might be able to divert myssteel from the rest of his body to replace it, but that would take concentration, which would take time he couldn't afford to use.
Arc watched the metal monster with murderous eyes as he awaited Cervantes's next move. The wily necromancer had escaped him on so many occasions that Arc could have written a thousand-page epic on the matter and still have enough material for six more tomes. Then again, Cervantes didn't have the power he once had. His undead minions couldn't rescue him this time. All Cervantes had was this myssteel monstrosity, and it was a poor imitation of his old self.
Round and round we go, Archibald, spoke the necromancer. Don't you tire of it?
"I'm tired of you, Cervantes," replied Arc. "I'm tired of your plots and your despicable nature. All you know of is death."
Death is the one true certainty in this existence, said Cervantes. It is the only constant. To know death is to know everything.
Arc rolled his eyes in annoyance. "You can skip the philosophizing, Cervantes. It bores me."
Then think about this: you owe me one.
Arc's eyes stopped their rolling and narrowed instead. "If this is your idea of joke, you do know I don't have a sense of humor, right?"
My efforts delayed the Alchemist. My efforts ended her. She was the greater threat, and you know it. I am broken and alone, Archibald. Spare me, and all you give up is your sense of entitled revenge.
"You are beyond redemption, Cervantes," shot back Arc. "Latimar deserves justice. And you deserve a place in Hell. Today, I make sure that…"
The impulse that entered his mind had nowhere near the sharpness that came with feeling Adonis suffer a mortal wound, but to the old Hyperion it was akin to a dagger through his heart. Ever since he had given Nestor his barrier field, he had feared the day that he would feel the touch of a small presence winking out of existence, signifying the loss of the boy he had come to regard as far more than just another human.
That moment had come.
Arc couldn't hide his shock any better than he could deny the impulse, and Cervantes reacted to the sudden mood shift with mistrusting bafflement. Had he acted during Arc's distress, he might have gained the upper hand. But instead he stood there, wondering what Arc was up to, if this was some kind of fake-out or new tactic.
Arc turned his head away for a moment, frantically glancing back toward the now-quiet battlefield, as if he now had more pressing business elsewhere. He turned back to Cervantes, then turned back to the battlefield, and then finally settled on Cervantes, his face contorted by a mash-up of helpless rage and growing grief.
"You… can go, Cervantes."
Cervantes clearly didn't hear that correctly, and apparently neither did Qiao. The young thief's mouth dropped as she exclaimed, "What?! After everything he…"
"We need to go, Young Qiao!" demanded Arc, and his authoritative tone brooked no allowance for dissent.
"But… the Alchemist…" stammered Qiao, alarmed and terribly confused by Arc's behavior.
"She will keep." His furious eyes bore holes into Cervantes. "Make no mistake, necromancer. This is a stay, not a pardon. We are not done."
Arc bounded over to Qiao and grabbed her between his claw-hands. Qiao continued to protest as they launched into the air, leaving Cervantes to contemplate the rather sudden turn in his fortunes. Something must have occurred just now, something personal to the dragon. Whatever it was, it wouldn't keep the dragon from pursing his vengeance for very long. Many of the Alchemist's secrets remained on the battlefield, lying amongst the debris of her war machines, but to stay longer was to invite a true death. He was damaged, low on power, and lacking any element of surprise.
He took one final look at the Alchemist's cooling corpse, and he managed a smile. Not exactly a loss in the end. The agenda he had set into motion years ago had paid off. The world was safe once more… safe for Cervantes.
He activated his mystical flight and took to the air, fleeing to the north, toward freezing climates and places the living could not touch.
Oh, Archibald, he mused aloud as he vanished into the clouds, I think we will never be truly done.
On a quiet pasture at the base of another rugged hill, Lothar keep vigil over his fallen comrade. A few farmers watched him from a distance, more curious than alarmed at the presence of the spike-covered dragon squatting in the middle of their land.
Lothar concentrated on the welfare of his Hyperion brother, the little dragon sprawled out and unresponsive. So close to death's door was the Terror that Lothar was quite pleased to see Adonis's eyes open after long minutes of little movement and sporadic breathing. The far larger dragon had stayed with the Terror through the last exciting moments of the battle, shielding his fellow Hyperion with his body as he attempted Rejuvenation. But one Hyperion wasn't enough to repair a body this busted up, and Lothar knew it. Instead, it was a way to postpone the inevitable, so that he could complete the proper preparations… and, hopefully, to say goodbye.
Adon's bulbous eyes locked onto Lothar, and the little dragon gave a weak chuckle. "You should see… the other guy…"
"You should see zem all," Lothar replied solemnly. "Ve did it, Adonis."
"Are… you doing… what needs to be done?"
"It has already begun," confirmed Lothar, nodding. "Ve vill find an adequate replacement."
Adon's eyes lost focus for a moment, then refocused on Lothar. He was fading fast. "Make sure it's… it's not a Fire Worm. Those guys… are downright hot-headed."
Lothar nodded again, humoring the dying Terror. "You vere ze mightiest of us today, Adonis."
Adonis chuckled again, grimacing as he did it. "Feels good… to go out this way… instead of in… some dusty cave." The humor left his voice as he whispered: "Do… do you really think… they're worth it?"
"I do," said Lothar, with no hesitation at all.
"Then… don't let this… be the end of it… Make this… where it begins for…"
For even the longest-lived creatures that graced the world, death must finally arrive. So to did Death catch Adonis before he could finish his sentence, his eyes closing peacefully for the last time.
"May the Ancestors grant you peace, old friend," whispered the Hyperion, closing his eyes in mourning and letting the Terror's essence flow into him, tucking it into a corner of his own spirit until the time was right to release it to a new host, a new dragon. It would be his job to find a new Hyperion, one worthy to carry the sacred essence, but for now it would stay within Lothar, safe and protected.
For now, there was only the grieving for a life lived.
Hiccup knew the day was won, that Riki Poka was safe and they had scored an epic takedown of the most powerful armada in history and that bards would be singing their praises for years to come.
It felt like the complete opposite.
They had landed in a safe stretch of forest, and Astrid had pulled Nestor's insensible body to the ground. Astrid had tried to get Nestor breathing again, pulling every healer trick she knew, even pounding on his rib cage to get his heart pumping again. But it was like his body had given up the fight, even though there wasn't a mark on him. Hiccup knew what this was despite his lack of healer training. Nestor had projected his barrier field during his battle onboard the Firecracker. He must have had no choice but to use it. Must have worked, considering Norom's irate attitude when Hiccup had arrived.
Nestor had saved the day… and it cost him his life.
Feeling that familiar wetness growing under his eyes, Hiccup told Astrid to stop trying. She wouldn't listen, and she pounded on Nestor's chest a few more times before she came to the same conclusion as Hiccup. She sat back on her knees, not knowing what to do other than wipe the stinging tears from her eyes.
Hiccup had no idea what to do either, and he stood there with his hands at his sides, feeling useless and miserable. Toothless came up to him and gently nudged his hand, ever the supportive dragon. Hiccup took Toothless up on the offer and leaned on him, silently hoping that some miracle worker would show up and drag Nestor back to the land of the living.
Instead of a miracle, it was Arc that showed up, carrying Qiao underneath him. He landed in a rush and almost forgot to drop off Qiao. To her credit, she didn't protest the rude treatment as she hit the earth, for she saw Nestor's body and immediately sussed out what had happened. She found a stump to sit on, facing away from the group and trying not to sob too loud. Hiccup wasn't sure if it was for Nestor or in sympathy for Arc, or some of both.
Arc came over to Nestor and spent a long minute staring down at his… boy. Hiccup expected a reaction – anger, tears, grief. But his face was totally neutral, bereft of emotion, like it had been sucked out of him. Astrid couldn't tolerate it for long, and she said, "Arc… is there anything you can…?"
He looked up from his vigil and gave Astrid and Hiccup the same vacant stare, as if unwilling to accept what he was seeing. He turned from Nestor, slowly walked off a few steps, sat down… and just stared out into the woods, his back to them all. Astrid, sadly, had gotten her answer. Hiccup thought about saying something to Arc, but what could you say to a dragon that had seen empires rise and fall? If anyone understood death, it was Arc.
Hiccup didn't think this moment could get any worse… and then Proto showed up. Saga, Heather, and Linebreaker were atop his back, the flying Guardian floating in like an autumn leaf in the breeze. He stopped to let the others off, and then just froze in place, his sensor-head locked on Nestor, as if trying to analyze the situation into something better than it was. Linebreaker supported Heather as they walked over to Hiccup, neither of them asking any obvious questions.
Saga walked up to Nestor's body with the same emotionless visage as Arc and then sat down on her knees next to Astrid, who looked at her friend as if wanting to apologize for some grievous wrong on her part. Saga's stone-faced demeanor was full on as she took Nestor's left hand and held it, turning it over as if inspecting it for signs of life. When she was done, she gingerly placed it on Nestor's chest, placed her own hands on her knees, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. Hiccup expected some kind of prayer or words of parting from the stoic warrior. It was her way, her people's way, to treat death like an expected honor, and Saga had handled the other losses in her life with similar detachment.
So Hiccup wasn't sure it was a good thing or not that the first sound that escaped her lips wasn't a word, but a sob. Several more followed, with tears in accompaniment, as Saga cried for the first time ever. Astrid was instantly there, cradling Saga to her shoulders as Saga released her grief into the open, saying quiet soothing sounds that did nothing to abate the torrent of emotion coming from her friend.
From the initial landing to Saga's burst of human emotion, all this had taken but a few minutes. For Hiccup, it felt like a million. An old phrase popped into his head, his father's voice once again reaffirming the harsh lessons of life: someday, you're going to lose someone you care about, and it's going to hurt. A lot.
He'd gotten saved from that eventuality once, but not this time.
And then Proto happened.
Soundless as the grave, Proto had stood on his tentacle legs all through Saga's grieving, his head aimed at Nestor the whole time. It had been said that Proto hadn't the emotional capacity to understand death, just the clinical way of realizing when someone was broken beyond repair. No one in the group was in the mood to deal with the machine, and he went ignored, seemingly at a loss as how to proceed.
The operative word being seemingly.
Two more tentacles suddenly erupted out of Proto's torso, snaking through the air right for Nestor's body. One curled around his waist, the other supported his neck, and then the tentacles retracted, carrying away Nestor's body back to Proto. Before anyone could react, Proto had laid down his human's body at his tentacle-feet, releasing it. Grippers tore at Nestor's shirt, exposing his chest to the open air. A third tentacle came in and planted a flat section on Nestor's exposed chest, rhythmically pushing up and down in a steady pattern.
Reactions by the others were not positive, ranging from bewilderment to anger. Saga shot up to her feet and demanded Proto explain what he was doing, but the machine now ignored her commands. Arc was forced to actually pay attention, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Hiccup himself had a horrible thought that the machine might have just gone some version of machine-crazy, like what had happened to its "brother," 429. Could Nestor's death have driven it over the edge somehow?
But while everyone else more or less freaked out, Hiccup noticed how methodical and attentive the machine was to Nestor's body. This didn't seem like a machine out of control – quite the opposite. And then through the sporadic yells of warning by the others, he heard the machine utter something that rekindled his hope.
Emergency command structure enabled. Attempting resuscitation.
Big words that even Hiccup didn't know. But the intent was obvious… well, to him. Saga had unsheathed her daggers and looked ready to use them. The others weren't any happier.
"Let him be, machine," growled Saga. "I order you to let him…"
"NO!" Hiccup shot forward and got between Saga and Proto, his arms wide and flailing around wildly. His rash move shocked Saga into staying her hand, the others looking at him like he was joining Proto in the crazy house.
"Let him try!" Hiccup demanded, turning around to watch Proto do whatever magic he had in him.
It wasn't magic, he soon realized. It was more than that. As Proto kept pumping Nestor's chest, the two other tentacles each developed a snappy current of electricity, the voltage leaping between their grippers. The current was weak, barely visible, but as Proto removed the pumping tentacle and applied the two other tentacles to Nestor's chest, the current made Nestor's body jump from the charge, as if there was still life in him.
The others may not have understood what Proto was doing, but they all decided to let him do it, watching in amazement and hope as Proto reapplied the first tentacle to Nestor's chest and continued the pumping motion.
No response, stated Proto aloud. Increasing power.
Proto repeated the process again, Nestor jumping higher this time from the stronger current, but there was no other response. Proto did it twice more, each time increasing the strength of the voltage, each time stating no success with his efforts. Hiccup started to wonder if the flicker of hope he felt was doomed to be brief, that death would not be cheated today after all.
Proto applied the electric-grippers a fifth time, shocked Nestor's chest into heaving upward once more… and this time, Nestor's eyes shot open, as if he'd just had the surprise of his life.
There was a communal gasp as Nestor flopped back to the ground, coughing weakly but quite audibly. Proto stopped his efforts for the moment, staring at his human while Nestor wheezed back to life, and after a while Proto declared Nestor functioning at minimal standards. Hiccup, smiling with absolute relief, assumed that was a good thing.
Saga, shaky with astonishment, managed to walk over to Nestor before collapsing back to her knees. Hiccup and the rest came up as well, but they gave priority room to Saga and Arc, the dragon's face stuck on incredulous amazement. Saga grabbed Nestor's hand again, and this time he grabbed hers as well. He managed a tiny smile, and it was enough to make tears fall from Saga's eyes, but of the joyful variety this time.
Proto stood back to allow the others to crowd around Nestor, but Hiccup didn't want the machine to be left out of the moment he just made possible. He walked up to Proto's sensor head and said, "That was… amazing, Proto."
This unit has studied Human Nestor's cardiovascular system since last incident, explained Proto. This unit found command structure instructions that resembled this particular scenario.
"Last incident?" said Arc, looking over at Hiccup and Proto with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Yeah… we'll talk about that later," said Hiccup sheepishly. So much for keeping Adon's little secret. "Proto, how did you know shocking his chest like that would work?"
This unit did not know, technique never attempted before, but this unit desired to make the attempt. This unit found Human Nestor's status as permanently nonfunctional… unacceptable.
Hiccup laughed at that. "Yes, yes it was."
"It seems I misjudged you, Proto," said Arc, deigning to use the machine's name for once. "Perhaps… what, Nestor?"
Arc's keen ears caught Nestor whispering something, but it must have been too low to hear clearly. Arc lowered his head down and Nestor repeated himself. Arc laughed as his head came back up, the biggest smile on his reptilian face that Hiccup had ever seen.
"He said… still here, Old Man."