Author's Notes
I keep forgetting to mention that I have accomplished my original goal of surpassing Brothers of Night in length! Given it was much of what originally inspired me to write, that is a huge milestone for me.
However, I still do not technically own the longest Dragon Hiccup story... My beta VigoGrimborne is ahead of me there with Usurpation of the Darkness, which technically counts. I might argue the legitimacy of that claim were I not expecting to surpass it as well, in time. I highly doubt I'll break a million words, but 800k should be easy.
And then I have some other stories planned for this universe. One will be a relatively short side story to delve deep into the lore of this world, and the other will be a sequel to follow up on a loose end and see where the conclusion of AGoW takes us. But there's probably a good 20 chapters left here, I hope, so that's a way off yet.
Dreamer paced across Rising's and Breaker's cave, aware of their anxious eyes on him while his mind raced. Wanderer was projecting an image of certainty and confidence, allowing Dreamer to devote his attention to the issue at paw without worrying their hosts.
Humans… If the constant disappearances had not dissuaded them over the last few centuries, it never would. Why were they so interested in this area? Land? Resources? The danger itself? "What you can tell me?" he asked, stilling his restless paws to face Rising. "What they want? Where they going? They know you here?"
"I not know why they here," Rising growled, an edge of anger, frustration in her voice. "But I not think they know we here. We never let them see us, always ghost when we fly far from nest."
"What 'ghost' mean exactly?" The male he'd recently met with the name had been fairly vague on its definition. "More than camouflage?"
"We can camouflage," she huffed, "but we still make sound, pawprints, scents. We need ensure we make nothing. Fly quietly, where camouflage fully hides us, move slowly when close. Ghosting means nothing know we there."
He could hear the tension in her voice, her anxiety over not understanding why he was asking this. "Good, that they not know you here," he emphasised, "I can use that. They still are far away?"
"Yes," Rising growled, "but that not problem. They will make nests, places where they will spread from. I not can let them take our territory!"
"I know," Dreamer crooned calmly. "I want hear what they say, but will need wait for night. We have time."
She quietly hissed warning at him, "They not will talk with you, I not care what you say."
"They talk with their kin," he clarified. "I will listen."
"I also," Wanderer added, and Dreamer purred gratefully to him.
"I want them gone," Rising growled, standing and pacing back and forth herself. "But… we not can fight them safely. I will trust you…" She stopped and looked Dreamer squarely in the eye. "They not can know you there. If they see you, they all must die."
Dreamer's ears twitched with his discomfort at that ultimatum. "They not will know we there," he said with confidence nonetheless.
"But if they do see us," Wanderer rumbled neutrally, "we will use our fire, kill their spine-throwing-things. But that not will happen."
Rising relaxed a little at that. "Yes, your fire much better here, you could kill them all very safely… but killing their spine-throwing-things is enough. That not will help us when you leave, but if they see you, it will help." She sighed, then took a long, deep breath, and sat on her haunches by Breaker. "Thank you," she rumbled sincerely.
"We happy for help," Dreamer assured her, though he was still focused on the problem. Not that there was much more he could speculate on without knowing what these Long-Paws were here for and where they were going… "What you know about Long-Paws?" he asked; at the very least, he could give some general advice.
"Their flesh is weak," Breaker growled. "But they hide it behind things, also use other things to fight. Fight very well in packs. Best attack is ghosting at night, kill any watching, then kill rest while they sleep." That seemed to be all he had to say about it.
Dreamer grunted, not sure what he had been expecting. "Their sight, also hearing, much worse than ours. Their scenting is very bad, not even can smell you if you not touching their nose."
"How they find prey then?" Breaker asked sceptically, Rising briefly purring agreement with his question.
"Not with smell," Dreamer chuckled. "They use sight most. But need less prey than us, not even need hunt." A thought suddenly struck him, while they were on the topic of intrepid humans and nesting dragons. "Other Nightstrikers, they say anything about humans?"
Rising rumbled thoughtfully. "No… I not even think humans come while Nightstrikers here before…"
"They did," Breaker interjected, gently nudging her head with his snout, "much time past, before you alpha. They help us kill them."
"Hrrr, yes, them," Rising purred, leaning into her mate. "They were here much time. But I not remember anything they say about Long-Paws." Her tail tapped the ground in front of her paws. "Is good they not can track us."
Dreamer winced, tapping his own paws with his tail. "They maybe use land-hunters for that… Things with fur, also better scenting."
"I think there much more you can tell us," Rising rumbled, and Dreamer chuffed agreement. "Will you tell our pack? I know I ask you do much…"
"I like helping," Dreamer purred. "Everyone would be much happier if everyone helps." He sighed, staring at the worn rock ground. "Even Long-Paws. We can do much together… but much anger, also bad thinking, that need killing first."
"Better for us if they not come here," Rising huffed, then strode around them to the entrance of the cave; she kept a much more respectful distance than usual in doing so. "I will arrange some small groups. Thank you." She then dropped out of sight.
"These are harsh winds across her flight," Breaker rumbled, looking solemn. "We had daughter, in our second hatching. She flew to another Lightstriker pack…"
"There more Lightstriker packs?" Wanderer warbled curiously, beating Dreamer to it.
"Not now," Breaker said quietly, and a cold chill crept down between Dreamer's wings. "We not know what happen. But we not see her again." A quiet whine escaped under Dreamer's breath as he stared outside, after Rising.
The same would not happen to her pack. Not if he had anything to say about it.
The notion of 'ghosting' hadn't really clicked with Dreamer until he'd truly witnessed it.
He had been flying with Wanderer and Rising along the coast, towards the Long-Paw army camped on the cliffs, when Rising had just… vanished. He had heard the wind whispering over her wings as she flew with them, seen the distortion and her eyes now that he knew what to look for. He had not heard her peel away, or seen her go anywhere. It was as if she had simply ceased to exist.
Such an ability did not come without limitations, he understood. She could not walk right up to someone and expect to remain hidden, it was a conscious effort to go undetected by moving in the right ways and in the right places. But it was astonishing just how effective it was.
He didn't need to worry about her, in any case. He needed to worry about the army of Long-Paws invading the Lightstrikers' territory.
And it was an army at that, well over a hundred men. All men, that he could see, to the point he would feel dreadfully sorry for any women that might be present. They were spread out, arranged in groups of three to five around their own little fires, already having trampled most of the tall grass in the area. A few patches remained here and there, mostly around small triangular tents haphazardly scattered everywhere. There were also three ballistae arranged through the camp, each mounted on a wagon drawn by what he assumed was a horse, a tall land-prey rippling with dense muscle.
He swooped down past the cliff to come up on them from below, wary of the sentries, then grabbed the sheer rock just below the lip, Wanderer doing the same further along. The mood within the camp sounded generally upbeat and casual, if a little nervous, but the sentries vigilantly watched from the edges, including out to sea. Only the dark night and their darker scales kept them undetected.
Dreamer felt nervous. He hadn't so much as seen a Long-Paw since the farm on that first morning, and not up close since the island on the flight from Berk. That felt as if it had been months ago, and may very well have been; he still hadn't been keeping track of time, seeing no point beyond the obvious change of seasons.
There was no reason to be nervous. Maybe a little; the lives of these men were entirely dependent on his ability to go unnoticed by them. But he had been unwittingly practising stealth his whole dragon life, creeping around and up on unsuspecting prey, so he had every reason to be confident.
Wary of the sentries watching the cliffs, he slinked up onto the grass and swiftly into the mess of tents, into a cluster backed by a wall of four-foot grass swaying gently in the light breeze. The scents of the camp immediately surrounded him, mostly sweat and the collage of fabrics and leather and such that followed Long-Paws, but also smoke, cooking food, and stale water. He kept low to the ground and moved fluidly, with no sudden movements, to be dismissed as a trick of the eye at most.
Conversation in the camp was rife, but Dreamer paid close attention to just the tone of it all as he prowled from shadow to shadow. Confident, jubilant, but with an undercurrent of uncertainty and unease. It reminded him of Snotlout boasting even while he was afraid, his unshakable confidence in himself carrying him past all doubt.
Those conversations were not so interesting, full of bravado as they were. Dreamer prowled around the edges of the camp, wary of his escape route at all times, as he sought out any hushed whispers, those who did not want to be overheard. Then would be the ones speaking their true thoughts, not just showing off-
A particular pair of words caught his ears, even though he was not listening for them, and he immediately angled deeper into the camp towards the source. He knew they could not possibly be speaking of him specifically, but Night Fury had always referred to himself or Wanderer for as long as he could remember. It was so ingrained it felt almost like his own name.
"Yeah," a voice casually agreed with something Dreamer had missed, "he's right. Couldn't be them, doesn't make sense."
"You don't know that," another voice challenged as Dreamer rounded a tent to find the speakers toasting bread and some sort of dried meat over a fire. "What else could it be?"
"Not ha Night Fhury," said a short and somewhat plump man in an airy, rolling accent, waving a stick speared through three sausages over the fire. "Vhere is de 'reckage? De survivors? Vhatever dis is, it is insidious. It is vaiting, vatching… vondering how best to strike… Dat is not how Night Fhuries hunt."
In the depths of a hostile encampment, with so many lives hanging in the balance, the moment had enough gravity that Dreamer was not tempted to laugh. He may have entertained a broad and feral grin while he carefully tucked himself into a hollow between two tents and some grass with a narrow view of the fire, but he did not laugh.
"Not how wolves hunt, either," the previous speaker said in his fast, crisp accent that strongly reminded Dreamer of Viggo. "We don't know a lot about Night Furies, or why they hate us. Or anything, really. We do know what they can do, but not what they can't."
"Hyu go anyvere on dis land," the plump man said firmly, "de story is alvays de same. People go missingk. Den de strikes start. Hy am tinking dis here is someting poisonous. Maybe our fathers missed one in deir dragon hunts."
"They'll find the scouts afore they find us," a new speaker said in a startlingly Northern accent. "Bu' nah, no' even hunters be game ter sail these seas. No' the smar' ones, a' any ra'e."
"So what does that make us?"
"No' hunters."
Dreamer had a sense that he wasn't going to get anything more of use from listening further, and crept from his hiding spot to move on. He held off thinking about what he'd learned for the moment, focusing on remaining undetected as he made his way back towards the edge of the camp, still with a partial ear on the tones of the conversations going on around him; he could focus on any one, which he did regularly, but not listen to all at once.
This was all oddly familiar; prowling through a Long-Paw camp, looking and listening for something useful. His objective was even similar, to get them to leave, although these Long-Paws did not understand what they were up against.
But for all the conversations in the camp, they were not particularly inclined towards useful subjects, the participants all very familiar with their objective. Most were talking about families or spending money, while some huddled around a makeshift table to play games of some sort or another. It wasn't long before they started returning to their tents – Dreamer was almost spotted once, but quickly dismissed as a shadow playing tricks – and then the camp gradually fell quiet, save for the snoring and occasional voice.
With a little more freedom to move around, Dreamer made his way to the nearest ballista to get a closer look at it, silently weaving through the now dark camp. Interestingly they had a good dozen sets of eyes on the sky, but didn't seem to think anything would be already in the camp with them, as he was able to move around unchallenged. Which was fair, he supposed, typically a dragon wouldn't be sneaking around as he was.
He made sure to approach from downwind, wary of the horse and its sense of smell, which briefly caught his attention as he rounded a tent and beheld the weapon and its mount. The animal looked much like a deer, but with even shorter fur and a larger head with a weird snout. While it certainly looked like prey, he would pass on it given other alternatives, as it looked very lean and dense.
His curiosity satisfied, he turned his attention to the weapon. It looked like a standard ballista from the short distance he found himself at, but upon further inspection, there was a little bundle fitted to it instead of a bolt. He'd seen one once before, used by the hunters he and Wanderer had encountered on their way to the ice nest. And yet, one of the two barrels beside it had smooth wooden shafts protruding from it.
So they were capable of launching either nets or lethal bolts. Hrrr… They had come prepared for pretty much anything. But the thought of them snaring one of the Lightstrikers, doing who knew what to them...
He turned and loped back towards the clifftop, carefully watched the sentries for a few moments, then slinked out and over the edge to drop down and skim the cliff away from the camp. Best not think too hard about what these people might do it given the chance, and instead focus his attention on depriving them of it.
Which he did, now that he was free to let his thoughts drift, sifting through what little he had learned for details he could use. The Long-Paws did not know the Lightstrikers were here, but more than that, they didn't have any idea of what they were up against. They were pretty sure there was something, and were just prepared for everything they could think of.
Best to keep it that way. Revealing that there were dragons protecting this area would only bring hunters, and then it would be a matter of time before something happened. The Lightstrikers' only real defence was the mystery of this corner of the land.
He quietly flared his wings and descended into the clearing he had agreed to meet Wanderer and Rising in, finding Wanderer already there, standing next to a floating pair of blue eyes. He and Dreamer trotted forwards and briefly nuzzled each other, relieved and proud of a successful mission, or at least one where nobody got caught. "They not know what here," Dreamer confirmed, "but they sent some ahead. Rising, you should stay camouflaged." She chuffed agreeably, her disembodied eyes eerily bobbing and briefly vanishing as she blinked.
Wanderer hummed thoughtfully. "I hear some talking about finding things," he rumbled, "but we not have word for it. Hrrr, things Long-Paws give other Long-Paws…"
Dreamer huffed. Sometimes, it was very annoying not being able to pronounce-
"You can write it?" he suddenly realised.
Wanderer groaned and rolled his head, but huffed acknowledgement and stared at the hard ground for a few moments. Then, after clearing away some twigs and leaves, he wrote a single word, GOLD. "I think that right," he said, tilting his head at it.
"Yes, that good," Dreamer confirmed, staring at the word. It was good to know what they were here for… but on the other paw, something as valuable as gold would definitely be a tempting lure.
"I will explain later," he said to Rising, "when we return to nest. Now I want find Long-Paws that went ahead." The fundamentals of a plan were beginning to form in his mind, a way to route this army and discourage further invaders. And it started with those scouts.
The next light, after a short and somewhat restless sleep, Dreamer returned to the pack and alighted on the top plateau deep inside the hollowed mountain. There, he was presented with twenty or so Lightstrikers, the group Rising usually entrusted to handle Long-Paws; all they could spare, in case of the tragic event they were all caught or killed. Breaker was part of the group, while Rising herself seemed to want to observe.
There were no other familiar faces present, none of the single females who had been chasing him and Wanderer around for weeks now. That was for the best, from what he knew of them they would be far too distracted, too excited to be receiving his attention here like this. Wanderer had the important job of keeping them distracted enough to not interfere, which Dreamer was sure was a great burden to carry.
"I want do things differently," he announced to the group, sitting down in front of them. "Before, you killed them. That not keep them away, also is becoming more dangerous. They bring things that help them fight now. This group have things that will catch or hurt you, even if flying." There was a lot of nervous shuffling of wings and paws, which was understandable. "But we will not be fighting them. If you give them death, they will return it. You need give them another reason for not come here."
He liked this group, they were all listening, not pointlessly questioning him. Though it remained to be seen how long that lasted… "First, you will need learn how do this." Then he smiled.
Several of them glanced across to Rising – credit to her, she met each of their eyes evenly, without a shred of doubt. He knew she was plenty doubtful this would work, but he had convinced her into at least trying it. If nothing else, it would serve as a distraction.
"Try not be too serious," he advised, then stood and bounced around a bit. "This will work much better if you have fun!"
One of the males turned to the female next to him, presumably his mate, and grinned at her. She lost it, laughing hysterically and falling onto her side from where she pawed at his leg.
"Good!" Dreamer praised happily, letting some of his nervous excitement out as tall bounces across in front of them. "Try it! Have fun! If this hunt fails you can kill them, so not worry, but try this first. It not will fail."
They looked utterly ridiculous as they practised. Some were slow to come around to the idea, trying very halfheartedly, but about half were contorting their smooth, rounded faces at each other. One male was struggling to keep himself composed while his mate grinned at him, waving her rounded ears up and down.
Off to one end, furthest from Rising, a female stood on her own, staring at nothing as she tried different things. She'd pull a face, hold it for only a heartbeat, then frown thoughtfully at the ground before trying something slightly different.
Dreamer walked up to her and purred encouragement. "Not need try much. Just think of being happy." He then demonstrated the grin again for her.
She hummed thoughtfully, then tried again, staring at him while holding a very forced smile. "Almost," he hummed. "You still trying too hard. Hrrr, you know why I am Dreamer?"
"How I would know that?" she shot back, staring at him dubiously.
He rolled his eyes. "It just saying."
Her head tilted in her confusion. "Saying what?"
Dreamer put a paw on his head, realising he'd mashed up a Long-Paw phrase in Dragonese again; this hadn't been an issue since Wanderer had learned Norse. "Not worry… Wrrr, I am Dreamer because I not know what I not can do. I will do it even if it impossible." He huffed. "Then I forget myself when we hatch again. Was dreaming even when not asleep. Funny, yes?"
The Lightstriker favoured him with a dry smirk. "You are very strange Nightstriker."
"You know why Wanderer is Wanderer?" he asked, and she shook her paw, back to staring dubiously at him. "He got lost." Then he grinned at her again.
She continued staring at him for several heartbeats. "...You," she eventually chuckled, turning to the side, "are terrible." He chuffed happily, and she looked back at him with a passable grin.
"Good!" he barked, bouncing on his paws.
"Why this is easier when I laughing?" she rumbled in amusement, then tried working her expression in various ways that were all more or less suitable for what they were going to do.
Dreamer shrugged. "It how Long-Paws show they happy. Their eyes not can widen, no frills, ears not can move."
"I not Long-Paw," she growled with affronted, amusement, tapping the ground with her tail.
He looked at her paws. Then he held up his own much larger paw and looked at that. "No, you definitely not," he agreed.
She stepped forward and swatted at him, and he laughed as he flinched to take the strikes to the top of his head instead of his snout-
Her scent enveloped him, strong and feminine and warm and available, lacking a male's touch, and he froze for a moment. He didn't recognise it at all. Names were one thing, but he almost never forgot a scent.
He looked questioningly across at Rising, and she tilted her head back at him, a knowing look in her eye.
The female looked at him, then across the others at Rising, then back to him. "What?" she asked challengingly, though with a hint of nervousness. He looked back at her, probably the picture of uncertainty. "You think I will distract you?" He blinked, and she purred smugly. "Or you think you will distract me. But I not distracted. You talk like hatchling, also your ears too long. I not see much I like yet." She then turned and trotted away.
Dreamer stared after her, entirely dumbfounded, while she joined another group and easily fell into practising with them. He then looked to Rising, who just continued to stare knowingly at him.
...My ears not are that long, are they? He pawed at one, running a claw up the back of it. He supposed they were quite long, compared to the Lightstrikers'. For that matter, their ears looked too short to him, among their other differences. It stood to reason that would work the other way too. It was just… a shock to have someone say something like that to him. As for talking like a hatchling, wrrr, that could not be helped more than he was already doing.
He gave his head a shake and turned his attention back to the task at paw – he still had a few other things to go over with them, and then they had a long night to look forward to. She was right, this was no time to get distracted.
Wanderer subtly pitched his wings in opposite directions and angled his tail to turn in a wide arc, barely even noticing the females around him. They were all flying for fun, out over the water sparkling in the afternoon light, but he wasn't finding much fun in it.
Long-Paws and hunter-nests did not have good track records together, in his experience, the cause for his concern. The first large nest he had been part of had been invaded by Long-Paws and its queen subsequently drawn out and killed. Granted, he had been instrumental in both killing her and getting the Long-Paws there in the first place, but that made it no less true.
And he had not had any part in killing the big-tusk-alpha, in fact he had done his best to help protect that nest. Unlike the warm-nest, the ice-nest would not survive without its alpha, the king, and had likely been abandoned since that dreadful fight.
Both times, Long-Paws had been the ones to attack. Both times they had wing-hunters to help them, and another big-tusk-water-hunter for the latter, but both times they had won. One time that was good, and one time that was bad. Regardless, it did not make him feel good about Long-Paws attacking this nest.
They did not have wing-hunters, no Nightstrikers or a mind-controlling not-alpha, so he was not particularly worried… this time. But when it came to two nests fighting each other… the Long-Paws would win, eventually. It didn't matter how many nests these Lightstrikers killed, the Long-Paws would only keep coming, there was no stopping them. So he was desperately hoping Dreamer's plan would work, he didn't want this nest to die too.
Though it wouldn't be the first time they avoided confrontation and bloodshed by behaving like hatchlings. Sometimes things got a little weird with how Dreamer handled things, but it always worked out in the end. He could trust.
"You look distracted," one female warbled as she flew beside him. "What you thinking about?"
He huffed and shook his head. "Long-Paws. Fighting them. We do that much. Even here…"
"I wanted fight them," the female, whom he finally recognised as Racing, growled. "But Rising not allow me. She say maybe next time." She visibly brightened, her ears and frills perking up and her eyes widening. "We could go see them! Rrrr, also you can teach us!"
Wanderer stared across his wing at her, ignoring the other females trying to drift into the conversation. "That not good idea," he huffed. "They very dangerous. You not should go near them."
"But how we will learn to fight them if we always stay away?" Racing countered. "Also they not will see us." She stared smugly at him with that statement.
"They would see me," he growled. "But you not should go without someone who knows them. Ask Rising next time."
"Or we could go this night?" she warbled hopefully, and there were murmurs and hums of agreement all around.
He realised they were all flying far out to sea, but he had much bigger issues with this flight right now; the main reason he was with them was to keep them occupied while Dreamer did his thing. "Your pack will be chasing them away this night."
"We can watch!" Racing persisted excitedly. "We can be quiet. See what Dreamer does. I very curious, he fight to kill but he not like killing…"
Uneasily, Wanderer counted the females with him… and came up a pawful short. They probably were just watching Dreamer, and probably wouldn't cause any problems… this time. But if anyone got the idea to tag along later? "We not explain everything when we tell about our lives," he said coolly, staring straight ahead. "How we meet Long-Paw nest. Why I needed hatch again. They shot me down…" He looked thoughtfully at the sea below, the waves barely visible at this distance as more than white lines fading into and out of existence. "...from about this high. Was night, I thought was safe. I crashed, stuck in things they hit me with. My tail-fin was pulled off."
He let the gravity of that sink in for a little bit before continuing. "When we were fledglings again, with no fire, when we were caught, taken away… that bad Long-Paw cut my claws off. Then he break all my teeth. You know he only fed me if I did what he wanted." He angled himself and held a paw up to the Lightstriker's already horrified face. "When I nearly die from hunger, another Long-Paw hold me against ground while he cut my paws. Each cut took many life-beats. He wanted hurt me, give me pain." He let the paw fall back against his body, and she continued staring at it. "I was there for… maybe one sky-ice-cycle. I not know, not could see sky." He let a low growl rumble in his throat. "I like that you never fought them. Never know what they can do. Because you never will want know. But you might know, if you go there this night. They are most dangerous thing in this world."
"But…" Racing whined under her breath a few times as she tried to find words, the minute sounds almost immediately lost to the wind. "How… We still need know how fight them…"
"Yes," Wanderer agreed. "But you should listen to your alpha. She keeps you safe."
She just stared ahead for a pawful of life-beats. Then she abruptly ducked into a sharp turn, fired ahead of herself, and disappeared. Wanderer groaned to himself, then a little louder as some of the other females did the same, simply vanishing.
He turned back towards land, the remaining females – about half, now – gliding around with him. "I understand," the nearest assured him, "I will listen. They are just stupid fledglings." She drifted a little closer, their wings overlapping, and in response the rest of them all drifted closer as well, almost to the point of impeding his flight. "But you seem tense," she purred, "I can help you relax…"
"I also!" another called out, and then they were all agreeing. He spotted Searching in the flight, and stared helplessly at her; even if she looked as eager as the others.
"We all not sleep well," Searching crooned neutrally. "We all should relax. Maybe we dig holes in sand to rest in?"
One of the further females said something about him and burying, he didn't quite catch the whole thing but got the general idea from the sniggering and swatting she received.
He'd tried, but many of them were just too excited to see him or Dreamer hunt Long-Paws. But so few were confident with fighting Long-Paws, the experienced fighters couldn't be worrying about more than one or two inexperienced participants, and none when trying a completely new hunt themselves. Besides which, these females were clearly more interested in Dreamer and himself.
He would just need to bring it up with Rising later. She'd handle it.
Night fell slowly, as it always did when it was tensely anticipated. When it would bring conflict, and possibly fighting and bloodshed. Particularly when the conflict was to avoid the latter, but could turn into it at any moment.
Dreamer exhaled slowly, deliberately, perched atop a large dead branch protruding from the canopy of the forest to watch the Long-Paw army in the distance set up camp. No, there would be bloodshed this night. It was taken into account, perhaps a necessity of his plan, and if the scouts had not been recalled then they would probably be killed too. There was a chance it would all be clean and 'peaceful', so to speak, but if he accepted that as only a chance now, he would remain more focused when it did turn violent; and if it didn't, he would be pleasantly surprised.
The sky-fire crept down behind the horizon, over the swathe of land stretching out to Dreamer's left and the sea beyond that. Above him, the eighteen combat-ready Lightstrikers circled, invisible to the eye and almost completely silent as well, though their scents occasionally drifted down to him. He still held reservations about that one female, even though he knew it was irrational; she had been nothing but focused on practising what they needed to do.
And it would be the Lightstrikers to do it, for the most part. Rising had been very clear that he could help, but the solution needed to be something they could continue doing; unless he and Wanderer intended on staying with the pack for the foreseeable future, which they didn't. That was an obvious requirement, when one stopped to think about it, but he was nonetheless appreciative that she had brought it up right from the start. He would only really get involved if they needed to be killed.
But he was confident. Nervous to the point that his tail kept winding itself around the branch he stood on, but confident.
The sky-fire very suddenly ducked out of sight, and the world began to fade. After an agonising eternity, the sky-sparks started twinkling far above, and the harsh blue sky gave way to a warm orangey glow and then, finally, the darkness of night.
He was eager to start, to begin this hunt so that he did not need to wait any longer. But he had to wait for true night. So that he did not rush himself, he had set a condition, an old lesson taught by his sire long ago. To his knowledge, Long-Paws did not read the sky-sparks to know what time of night it was, but he was waiting for a particular time, a particular arrangement to become visible on the horizon.
To pass the time, he went over everything in his head again. The cryptic messages they had left for the scouts, to put the army on edge. How he would lure some out. He shuddered in anticipation of it all coming together. So many little things, so simple on their own, but all together creating an image these Long-Paws would never, ever forget.
The last sky-spark he was waiting for twinkled in the distance. The night was not dark to him, and it was lit by a half-sky-ice through scattered clouds, but it was more than dark enough. It was time.
He took flight, intentionally shaking the branch in case the Lightstrikers above had grown inattentive with boredom, and purred in appreciation as they allowed him to hear their wingbeats when they followed. They each knew what they were to do, where they were to go, though when they neared the army he had only his trust in them that they had peeled off to get into position.
Dreamer himself landed in the long grass some distance ahead, and several patches of grass around him spontaneously flattened apparently of its own accord. He had to marvel at their camouflage anew, there was barely anything of the night sky reflected from their hides, not nearly enough to notice had he not been looking for it specifically. It truly was ingenious.
And necessary. He crept through the grass, staying low enough and stepping carefully to disturb it as little as possible. Though, it wasn't a huge issue if someone noticed. The whole point of this was to put on a show, and every little detail added to it.
The Long-Paws had wisely flattened a swathe of grass around their camp, ensuring a decent line of sight for their sentries – of which there were maybe three times as many as before, all twice as vigilant. They knew something was out in the darkness… but still had no idea what.
Dreamer huffed, and the grass in front of him blurred in strange ways before stilling again, a Lightstriker moving in front of him. This had required testing, their wings were surprisingly unsuitable for being slightly transparent, but the camouflage on their bodies worked fine. Dreamer quickly clawed away some of the dirt, probably alerting the sentries with the snapping of the thick roots, but that was fine. It was all added effect.
A few scratched lines, and he was ready for the last detail. He huffed again, nodded at the several huffs of confirmation around him, then dribbled some plasma into the grass and quickly retreated.
The blue glow off the grass behind him immediately alerted the sentries, even had they not noticed him tearing at the ground, but the sight of a blue fire appearing spontaneously as the Lightstriker moved away from in front of it would have put anyone on edge. They did not retreat into the grass or sky, they were still there, but entirely unseen in the night with their camouflage, particularly with the focus on the fire.
There was worried shouting, and a congregation quickly amassed at the edge of the camp. One Long-Paw was quickly shoved out ahead of the others, towards the flickering fire, and Dreamer got the impression the man was threatened with death if he didn't investigate. Looking as if he would rather be anywhere else, he held his torch, the light glinting off the few plates of armour protecting his chest and sides, and strode nervously into the night.
Dreamer watched from the side, peering through the grass as the man inspected the dying blue fire. "It's another message," he called out, his voice cracking. This would be eerie, after what had been left for the scouts – pleas for help, vague messages of pain, warnings of cursed treasure, with 'you are not welcome here' being a common message for all of them.
"Well, wassit say!?" a big man, standing a head above everyone else, bellowed back.
"...'Join us'." The man then shuddered, the torch in his hand shaking wildly, and an uneasy murmur broke out among the group gathering at the edge of the firelight spilling from the camp.
Dreamer had a partial view of what the man saw as he turned around, four disembodied sets of bright blue eyes and evil grins full of wicked teeth staring back at him, completely invisible from the camp. The man screamed at the top of his lungs, lurching backwards and throwing himself clean off his feet, then scrambled back and waved his torch around while the Lightstrikers closed their eyes and mouths and crept back a bit.
He sat there on his backside, breathing heavily, wildly looking around while the others demanded to know what he had seen. Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, sprinted the distance back to the camp, and kept going into it.
There was a long pause… and then everyone drew their swords at once. Someone was sent back after him, while the others looked nervously out into the night.
Dreamer purred to himself. That had set the mood wonderfully. Now to let them stew for a little bit…
On second thought, they looked about ready to send someone else out; forcibly, at sword point, of course. Dreamer grunted under his breath and tapped his tail against the ground behind him, flattening his ears…
An ear-splitting screech tore through the darkness, feral and inhuman and downright terrifying, sending chills down his spine. And he knew what it was, while these poor Long-Paws probably thought they'd stumbled into Hel itself.
Which was, of course, the whole point.
More Lightstrikers prowled from the grass, bodies hidden but eyes and maws wide, teeth glinting in the firelight of the camp. He hadn't told them why they had been practising that until after they were competent in it, to encourage creativity and individuality; they had found a remarkable combination of glee, enthusiasm, malice, that set Dreamer's teeth on edge just looking at it in these conditions.
This was the moment that would make or break it. Most of the Long-Paws were panicking, others running out to see what the commotion was as more screeching started up around the camp, but some were stupidly brave. Including the big guy, who was presumably some sort of leader. "Keep it together!" he bellowed over the din, slapping his sword against that of some of his panicking subordinates. This was the risky bit-
The man yelled as he suddenly, inexplicably, lifted a few feet from the ground and out into the field, away from the camp, where he fell to his side; that had not been part of the plan, but Rising, watching from above, apparently felt confident. The Lightstrikers did not hesitate, eyes and fangs appearing out of nowhere to immediately pin down his sword arm, and then-
Dreamer looked away as the man was literally torn apart, his deep screaming quickly cutting off but replaced with that of those in the camp. Most had witnessed it, but the ones who hadn't were quickly dealing with eerie eyes and fang-lined maws appearing out of thin air, and then – perhaps even more terrifying – disappearing again.
The army fled, exactly as Dreamer had hoped. Some of them climbed onto their panicking beasts and rode away, even cutting the ones free from the ballistae. Some leaped up onto the weapons themselves, but were quickly killed by all but invisible forces, inciting further panic and disorder. With so much chaos, the Lightstrikers were free to move around, so long as they did not stay in one place too long, which they abused to immense effect.
These Long-Paws were not Vikings, but they were warriors. And what all warriors feared most was that which they could not swing an axe at, the supernatural. It helped that Lightstrikers were apparently completely unknown, Rising and her pack having been so thorough in the past that the only survivors had never had any reason to suspect anything was there.
That had been what needed to change. He figured that the last group had come with protection, mercenaries or some such in the hope they could fight off whatever was here. But they had been too effective, warding off the attack entirely, and invariably left with their bravado and abandoned the tiny village to its fate.
The tattered camp fell quiet, the stampeding, screeching, and screaming fading into the distance, slowly giving way to the rustling of tent flaps in the wind. Dreamer stretched and walked into the camp, wondering how best to leave it for the next group to find, if anyone made it this far. Perhaps just exactly as it was; the creatures of Hel had no use for worldly possessions.
Rising faded into sight, looking towards the fleeing army. "This was strange," she said. "But effective. Also amusing." She turned to Dreamer. "Sorry," she said sincerely. "I not trusted you. Not understand why they would flee. But they did. Thank you."
He shrugged and sidled up to a nearby fire. "I happy I could help. They live, your pack is safe." Or safer, at least. "World is much better if everyone helps. Also you just protecting your pack. Not need apologise."
"But if they not come back… or if we always can chase them away like this…" She walked up to him and pressed her head into his chest, purring deeply. "You do much for us…" The fire caught her attention, and she pawed at it curiously. "I was told you teach some males how do this also. What we will do when you leave? Other than be very bored."
He chuckled and bumped her head with his snout. "Bored is good. After my life, I would like be bored for some time."
Agreement, amusement, she chuffed. "I should ensure we do not chase too far. They will not fear us all night." She spread her wings, but paused and looked back at him. "That female's name is Whispering. I not normally help… but you will often find her on highest northern ledge of our nest." She then leaped into the air and flew inland, angling around towards the retreating army, which was now only a distant echo.
Whispering. Perhaps it could also mean murmuring or mumbling or any other word that meant to speak quietly, but he liked Whispering more. That was interesting, she certainly did not seem quiet, but it may not be so literal. Regardless, a Lightstriker who wasn't falling over themselves just to get his attention was definitely someone he wanted to know more about, and Rising had all but told him to go after her.
He shook his head – not much he could do thinking about that now – and once again looked around the deserted camp, then stood and wandered through it. Some abandoned food did not go to waste, the fires were scattered so that they would burn out quickly, and, on a perverse whim, one of the tents found itself part of his territory. He also checked for any remaining Long-Paws, finding none as he had expected.
This wasn't what he had envisioned as being the bridge between humans and dragons, those few years ago. But humans didn't want to change. They fought and complained at every step, even while things changed for the better. It was at least nice to know that in this little corner of land there would be a place free from them, hopefully for a long time to come.
He sighed as he spread his wings, then leaped into the air to find his friend before returning to the nest.