Rewards
Viggo was sure tomorrow would be a very important day. The four squads were going to perform drills of flying in formation to attack practice targets. Maximizing the potential of a dragon attack took teamwork and planning to align with the specific goal of each attack.
The four captains of the squads had reported that the dragons were slightly on edge, nervous and twitchy. That had happened in the past and made this a good training exercise and a test of how well the squadrons could function under tension. Such competence would be essential in the new world order. Not only did the dragons and their masters need to cooperate, but they had to maintain a reputation for effectiveness, professionalism, and reliability.
Most importantly, the planned meeting with the other three warlords was next week. Everything was ready. The invitations were sent, poison concentrated, supplies obtained, and ships being stowed.
He stood before the window out of which he could see the sunset on the western horizon. Then he took another sip of the tainted mead.
Maybe it was irony or a joke of nature that the way to strengthen oneself against venom could be exposure to venom itself. Small doses at a time could build up tolerance, whereas a single large dose would kill.
Ryker's success with the Spine Fury had convinced him that he could and should fly soon. The Spine Fury had been compliant, willing to please and obey the commands to walk around.
Something was going to go wrong without any doubt. Ryker would be thrown from his mount for yelling at it, he would probably throw a temper tantrum, and the dragon would go back to solitary confinement for more discipline.
If that was necessary for Ryker to learn a softer touch, then so be it. The sooner that Ryker and his future mount could figure something out, the better for them both. It wasn't necessary for Ryker to be on dragonback in the skirmish. The four squadrons were more than sufficient on their own.
He frowned, staring at the sunset after taking another swig of the mead.
Why did his thought keeps going to that dragon? Why had he gone soft toward what should be only an asset? All the other dragon masters, as far as he could tell, were appropriately educated to see their dragon as only a useful tool which they should take care of. Any affection or care was only practical insofar as it ensured greater loyalty from the dragon. Maybe he only disliked inefficiency, waste, and indulgence in unnecessary cruelty.
Viggo watched as the four captains: Udalryk, Garluf, Caedmon, and Anisse, led their squads in drills early enough in the morning that the frost hadn't yet burned off.
Still, the weather had turned as spring had arrived. Maybe that contributed to why the dragons were slightly more aggressive and antsy. They had gotten more snappy at each other in the last couple springs, likely their mating seasons.
All that mattered was that their training was showing itself to be effective. They stayed in formation and obeyed all orders without flaw. Efficient. Obedient. Compliant.
Satisfied, he left the plateau and went up to zone one. Ryker said he would be up here before too long to begin his first outdoor aerial exercise with his new mount.
He strolled inside and was met by two alert and nervous guards.
"Sir!" "Sir!"
"What's wrong?"
"Look at 'em!" "They're jus' bein' creepy!"
He glanced at the occupied cells and saw what the guards meant. The dragons were awake and silently staring at him. None of them were growling, flaming, or doing anything aggressive.
Well, all of them were staring at him except for the Spine Fury. She was curled up tightly in a ball and was facing away from him.
"Curious," he whispered after approaching her cell.
Her ears flew up, and she turned her head to look at him out of one eye. As usual, he saw no signs of hostility from her, but something was different. She looked... calmer?
Maybe she had finally learned the lesson and knew to obey her new master. Was that even the right way to think about this dragon? Such an approach certainly wouldn't work on or be appropriate for a Night Fury, and she was in the same family of dragons.
He winced at another flash of pain. Strange. He hadn't started on his alcohol or venom tolerance training for the day. Was there another explanation? Nothing came to mind other than the stress from the imminent meeting with the warlords.
A faint idea barely brushed against his mind. Was it possible that the Spine Fury could be causing those phantom pains? The last few times he felt them had been around her.
Perhaps a dragon could have a defense by causing others physical pain using sound or something else. Grimmel had been certain that Night Furies had magic, whatever that word meant. Magic was a frustrating concept to need to plan around, since it broke all the normal rules and made planning impossible without knowing the bounds of the game.
The Spine Fury curled back up and appeared to go to sleep. She didn't move at all, not even a twitching tail.
He went back to the two guards who stood at attention, "When did this behavior start?"
"What?" "Huh?"
He frowned and gestured at all the other cages, "The being creepy, as you said."
"Oh, that. Eh... they've all been grumpy recently, but mostly since yesterday."
Yesterday was the first time Ryker had successfully saddled the Spine Fury, though only by using venom to pacify it. Could the other dragons here have been watching and upset by seeing that? That was likely the case. None of the females in zone one were saddled or domesticated the same way the others were, though they knew not to bite the hands that fed them.
There was no need for more complex explanations when a simple one sufficed.
He settled down to wait for Ryker's arrival. It was not much longer before Ryker and a posse of his drinking buddies and dueling friends arrived. They were all being very loud and boisterous, probably having come from the tavern.
"First time, eh!" "Can' wait ta see it!" "Show 'em he's da boss!" "So he's gonna ride her?"
A couple of the men guffawed and made very crude motions.
Ryker was clad in leather armor, his two swords strapped across his back as always.
"Ready?" he asked Ryker.
Ryker beamed, "Gods above, let's do this!"
Ryker went to the cage and beckoned to the Spine Fury, "Come 'ere girl... if you know what's good for you."
She obediently got to her paws and calmly walked to the cage's door. Ryker and a few men went inside, checked on the saddle, and put a new muzzle and bridle on the dragon. The dragon suddenly barked in pain and leaned away from the men.
Ryker tossed aside another empty syringe.
"What was that for?"
Ryker shrugged, "Gotta make sure it obeys. It tore off the muzzle."
Sure enough, the dragon was already settling down and being entirely peaceable.
"How much dosage did you use?" he asked, unsettled.
"Same as last time. Why do you care?"
"Because I don't want it dead."
Ryker frowned, "I guess. Still, it needs to learn to obey. No better way."
This was not the place or the time for a serious disagreement in dragon training methods, not before all the men anyway. The venom took time to get the right dosage with, and it could not be relied on as a permanent solution anyway.
"Fine. Just let me know next time. Let's get this over with."
Ryker hopped on the Spine Fury's back and strapped himself in before giving her orders. The Spine Fury obediently walked into the main chamber and then out the cave. All Ryker's men followed him outside.
Viggo began to follow when he heard the growling emanating from all around. All the other caged dragons were growling openly, staring at him.
Something was happening. There was no doubt about that. The caged dragons could be as snappy as they wanted to be, and their tempers would not be a problem. They were only needed for their ability to make eggs anyway. Still, this was far more concerning than anything else he had seen so far from them.
He faced the guards, "Ori, Fenrir, come get me if they start doing anything else. Stay alert."
"Yes sir." "Got it."
He went outside and found Ryker and company not far away in a clearing, so he ran up beside them while keeping his distance from the Spine Fury. She calmly walked, staring ahead.
"Where are you headed?" he asked.
Ryker tugged on the bridle, and the Spine Fury obediently stopped in place.
"Main training field. Gotta have the biggest audience for this! I spread the word in town!" Ryker announced to much applause.
Ryker would boast to the entire village before he even mastered the skill. This was a recipe for disaster, but Ryker wouldn't hear any of that, so there was no point telling him. If he had to bet though, Ryker would probably end up eating dirt.
"Good idea. I can't wait to see what happens."
The main training field was busy when they got there. Udalryk's and Garluf's squadrons were resting on a break between drills while Caedmon and Anisse led their squadrons up above. A dozen or so men and women from the village had turned out to watch as Ryker flew for the first time.
Viggo took a moment to appreciate the irony of the situation. Two different peoples had lived on the island of Berk, and both had been comfortable being around dragons, though in different ways. That people could freely go about their business without feeling the need to clutch swords, shields, and spears with which to defend themselves against the dragons was quite incredible.
The Spine Fury stopped in the clearing, and Ryker spun her around to behold all his adoring fans, cheering him on. The first time a trained dragon and its master flew was always a test. The dragon had to be properly trained by that point, otherwise it would be free to fly away. The venom Ryker had used on his mount would help prevent that in his case, and the other dragons could restrain her if she tried to escape.
The Spine Fury looked up to the sky as Anisse's squadron: one Gronkle, one Hobblegrunt, one Nadder, and one Nightmare, passed overhead.
Ryker took a moment to secure himself in the saddle, took the reins in hand, and got ready for his big moment. A hush went through everyone else observing.
Viggo just rolled his eyes and considered the most likely ways this would go wrong. The most likely one was...
Ryker cracked the reins and shouted, kicking at her sides, "Get! Fly!"
Nothing happened. The Spine Fury did not stretch her wings and move at all.
As he expected, Ryker had no way to let her know he wanted her to fly. Willpower alone did nothing. It was not as though anyone could just think commands and make those commands happen.
Well, maybe Drago Bludvist's Bewilderbeast could do that to other dragons, but no human could do that.
"Fly! Fly, Helheim take you!" Ryker roared, hitting her with his legs and whipping the reins.
Nothing happened, except that the audience began jeering, booing, and laughing. Small sacks of coin began passing back and forth, since the audience had likely been taking bets on the outcome.
"Ha, funny!" "Some rider!" "I win!" "Come on..."
Even the other dragonriders were shaking their heads or chuckling to themselves.
Ryker, red in the face, commanded the Spine Fury to lie down, and it did so. Then he waved several of the handlers over to his side, hopped off his prone mount, and began giving them orders.
What are you doing?
Curious, he approached while the handlers began holding down the dragon. His brother looked absolutely furious and mortified, which was not a good sign. Ryker should have tried this in private until he was sure it would go well. Bravado was a good way to-
Ryker drew one of his swords, taking the situation from bad to worse in an instant.
"What are you doing?" he shouted, striding toward Ryker.
"Don't worry! I ain't gonna kill it! Just gonna teach it to obey!"
Ryker knelt beside the bound dragon's neck, reached out, and grabbed a soft spine at the base of its neck.
"You don't want to do that!"
"My dragon! I'll punish it how I want!" Ryker shouted.
"Not it's fault you didn't train it properly! You don't learn!"
"We tried your way! Too slow!"
The prone dragon began squirming and thrashing, but it was completely immobilized.
"How well has shouting and kicking worked for you? Just like a child, you don't want to learn!"
"Learn what? Want me to ask it politely, with a pretty please?"
He crossed his arms, "Of course not. There's no need for pointless cruelty."
Ryker waved his free hand, "You've gone soft! Where is the dragon-hunter you used to be?"
Had he gone soft? Why was he speaking out on behalf of this mere dragon? Why was he openly questioning his brother in front of everyone? Why did he care at all?
The sword flashed as Ryker struck. The dragon whined and thrashed, unable to move. Ryker stepped aside, holding a severed spine dripping with blood. He tossed the spine on the ground before the dragon and began shouting at the whining dragon twitching in pain.
It was one matter to be rough in training and disciplining, but this was gratuitous and unnecessary. Had Ryker always been this way? Why did he react so violently to suggestions about how he ought to behave? Was Ryker intentionally being difficult because he absolutely needed to do things his own way?
His head started pounding as he held a palm to his brow.
Did Ryker feel like the lesser brother, being the one without a loyal dragon of his own, and therefore needed to prove himself the only way he knew how: through violence instead of intelligence, through brawn instead of brains, though stubbornness instead of subtlety?
Why was everything perfectly silent?
He opened his eyes, realizing he had fallen to a knee as his head burned within, as if pierced by a hot iron. Heat and pressure building and-
But the pain subsided, letting him open his eyes again. The handlers helping Ryker hold down the Spine Fury had let go, wandered away, or fallen to the ground in pain. Even Ryker had retreated to his side while the maimed dragon whined and trembled in the short grass after tearing off the muzzle and bridle.
The silence was broken by several loud roars of anger. The dragons in Udalryk's and Garluf's squadrons were roaring wildly, ignoring their rider's commands to be silent. That defiance had not happened since before each of them had been tamed. It was as if months of work had been nullified or was not effective right now.
On a whim and suspicion, he glanced at the airborne squadrons. They were now circling almost directly overhead, which was not where their drills would have them be.
Nothing made any sense. What was happening did not fit within the normal bounds of behavior he had come to expect.
"What's going on?" Ryker growled.
"I don't know, but you might have just-"
The Spine Fury slowly got to her paws, hopped a couple fathoms away from everyone, and glanced over her shoulder at her back. The natural sky-blue and purple on her upper back was stained with bright red that dripped down her side.
She stared directly at him and Ryker. The eyes that had been calm and wide before were narrowed to slits as she trembled. Her white wings were flung wide and, impossibly, glowed from within with white light.
And she howled a pained cry which was echoed by every other dragon in hearing.
The disparate pieces of information, scattered through the previous weeks, fell into place. The gradual, incremental disobedience and growing willfulness from the other dragons wherever the Spine Fury was taken. The strange headache that he felt when around her. The guards' reports about strange things happening around the Spine Fury.
She had the same glow which the Alpha Night Furies had demonstrated years ago in the armada battle. They had been leaders, commanding an entire flock of dragons.
Just as she was. She had mind control or some similar influence which made her the leader of these dragons.
He had been complacent and had not considered the supernatural possibility. Purely natural explanations were preferable because they made him feel like he could be in control.
"Run."
He and Ryker turned and fled as complete chaos erupted.
The dragons circling above tore their riders off each others backs; the riders were thrown aside, flamed, torn apart, or eaten alive. The dragons on the ground flamed anyone nearby and took flight with burning saddles.
None of the people on the ground had any weapons beyond knives. Why would they bring weapons when the dragons had already been tamed?
The treeline was only thirty fathoms or so away, and the dragons were not pursuing him or Ryker. Rather, they were tearing off their saddles and bridles, some of them even helping each other. None of them were interested by the fleeing people running toward the village.
Only the Spine Fury was still glaring at them.
Even from such a distance, he knew what it was thinking. Its mind was clear enough to him now that he knew what to look for. It could have already killed them both, but it had not. It had waited patiently in the cage, using time to speak with the other dragons, control them, or do whatever it did. It was probably waiting to hunt him and Ryker and make a game out of the hunt. After all, it had ample reason to want to do so.
Get to the forest, make their way back to the village, and figure out a plan at that point. There was no other option.
What was Loud doing this time? Why did it want her out here to watch the other kin flying around, carrying their thrall-makers with them? She was supposed to obey, obey, obey and make Loud pleased. Comply with what he wanted and make him happy.
No. A trick and lie. Or... comply. A memory, an echo, a shadow of a thought.
Loud was not her Alpha. She had no Alpha. No two-leg, no monster would ever foul her back again! That this one was sitting on her back was not fouling. No, this was just a trap!
The voices, the cries, the breaking, and the shattering, all because of two-legs...
Who was trapped? The two-legs thought she was trapped, but they were blind monsters. They believed they were only life that had strong, great thoughts. All other lives were just prey to use.
Just like the four groups of kin, two flying and two on the ground, around her.
Past the haze and confusion and wondering and the want to submit and cause no problems, her life-fire touched theirs.
They were calm, aware, and waiting for the moment. Just like herself, they carried their thrall-making two-leg with them. Perfect. That would make breaking free much easier.
Comply and make Loud pleased. Why did she care if he was pleased?
There was no reason for it. Only a pushing, a whispering to not assert herself. A weakness that would have her not trust her own will and her own liver.
No more. That doubting whispering was too weak.
Even as Loud sat on her and shouted, kicking her side with its small legs, there was no more desire to obey or comply.
He probably wanted her to fly and carry him into the sky as the other kin did. No. She had promised herself not to do that. Carrying a two-leg in flight would be an act of submission and weakness.
Then something changed. More two-legs jumped on her and held her down, so she did not fight them. Whatever they were doing was meaningless. It would not change anything.
She showed more fear to help reassure the two-legs that they were in control.
But why was Loud holding one of her spines? The two-leg Alpha nestmates were arguing with each other. Why? It was most curious of them. They had to have a reason why they-
Pain.
Tearing.
Ripping.
Burning pain worse than anything else.
Was a stick-claw being driven into her back? Was this death?
From through the pain and the gritted teeth came awareness of something on the ground.
A soft spine from her back. White and red. Ripped and torn off. Dripping with life-water.
A burning fire on her back where something was missing.
Loud cut off one of her back-spines as punishment.
While all the other present kin were watching.
From within their life-fires flew memories of their own. Being trapped and whipped with false-vines. Being starved and given no water. Being left alone for many waking-cycles. All the suffering until their life-fires went dim and fearful of punishment. Sparked and flamed to life again by her example and the strength of her life-fire. She had suffered so much for them.
They had been so very wronged.
She had been so very wronged.
They demanded vengeance.
She demanded vengeance.
They voiced their anger.
'Free!' 'Bite!' 'Flame!' 'Kill!' 'Fight!'
So distracting having so many though-voices echoing at once. But they were united as kin should be! They knew the enemy and were ready to fight!
All the two-legs here were guilty. Yes, guilty! Loud had cut off the spine, but the other two-legs helped it do so. They allowed all this to happen. Even if they did not want to hurt kin, they still stood idle and let bad happen. They were all equally guilty. Sharing guilt, they would share punishment.
With a brief touching of life-fires similar to the time that caused the lone two-leg great pain, all the nearby two-legs held a paw to their heads in pain and suffering. Their distraction gave her a moment to act on her own, so she wigged out of the mouth-holding thing, tearing it off with her claws. It fell to the ground, and she crushed it underpaw.
But she whined again as the pain flared in her back from her movement. It was difficult to even stay on her paws, but she was able to stand and look at the wound at the base of her neck. The spine was gone, cut off at its base. The life-water was barely still spilling out, and the pain was still so much.
Pain and suffering was only a way to grow stronger.
What had Oldest-Knower taught her about suffering? It could be used like wood to a fire by giving more reason to act. Nothing burned hotter than wrath.
She stared at Cunning and Loud. Loud looked afraid, and Cunning looked... afraid but thoughtful. Good. Her wings stretched wide as she let her power-light show for the first time in the open! Let the two-legs see and fear!
'Fight! Be free! Kill!'
All the kin heard her roar of pain and her thought-voice, and they acted together as one flight. Unable to get their own thrall-making two-leg off, they flamed, bit, or clawed off the two-legs on each other's backs. Two-legs fell from the sky and were jumped on or flamed on the ground. Screams and shouting filled the sky.
The two-legs had not seen the trap they walked into.
Cunning and Loud turned and fled toward the trees, as if that could save them. But that was a hunt for later. The kin needed to be led in this attack. Being free was not enough for them. The anger was burning too hot in their livers. They wanted and needed to attack.
There were other kin, such as the females and any in the first tree-den, in traps right now. Something had to be done to free them, and she already knew what had to be done.
She took a very deep breath and gritted her teeth to steady herself. Flying straight into an attack without any thinking was a bad plan. But the rest of her kin were already flying toward the two-leg nest. Death, flaming, eating, and fighting burned in their livers, and there was no stopping that.
A choice: fly after the two-leg nestmate Alphas for her own revenge, or fly with the other kin to help protect them and lead them on this attack-flight.
One of the spine-tails hopped to her side, hooked a head-spike into her sitting-on thing, tore part of it off, and flamed the rest of it. The flame burned the hurt on her back, but it also stopped the spilling life-water. The sitting-on thing fell off! Never again would one of those bad things be on her!
She took flight and followed the kin, quickly flying to the front of the attack.
The ten or so two-legs they passed over were unimportant and would be easy hunting later. The Fighters, probably the males with long claw-sticks, would be in the nest, so the nest was where the fighting would happen.
The large tree-dens in rows below were easy targets. There were even better targets though. The three floating tree-dens in the water were the only way two-legs could get off the island.
She commanded three of the rock-belly kin to go break the up-wings which the floating tree-dens used to fly on the water. Killing the tree-dens would stop the two-legs from escaping.
The spine-tails dove at groups of two-legs running together, and threw many spines at them from range. Fire-scales landed on tree-dens, and breathed fire into them, starting fires that spread to more and more tree-dens. A two-head gas-breather grabbed a two-leg and tore it in two pieces, both heads wanting to eat at the same time.
The screaming and shouting was good. This is what life should always have been: free kin flying on their own and defending themselves against monsters!
A fire-scale up ahead was hit in the chest by thrown stick-spikes, and it fell down out of sight after crashing into a tree-den. The fire-scale's life-fire died, the first death from her own kin-flight.
She winged higher to get a better look at what had happened. Several pawsful of two-legs had grabbed whatever weapons and sticks they had available. Those weapons looked like they could throw stick-spines very high.
The dead fire-scale lay on the ground, its neck twisted into a wrong-shape from the fall.
The anger bubbled within as fire wished to be let out. Diving from high above, her fire gathered inside until there was no holding it in.
Anger, pain, grief, traps, starvation, hitting… had all of that happened to her or to all of them in different ways?
A shot that glowed like a light-rock flew out, struck the mass of two-leg Fighters, and exploded with a wave of fire, killing an unknown number of the Fighters and setting their tree-dens on fire. Kin dove into the fire-cloud and began fighting with tooth and claw.
A rock-tail flew low above the walking-path, knocking into and crushing two-legs under its rock-tail, filling the walking-path with life-water.
A shriek of pain went up and was silenced as another life-fire, one of a spine-tail, faded. But there was no fear, no thought, no stopping. The chaos, flaming, and fighting was a need and a fire that had caught in all their livers.
Only she had to remain in control. Someone needed to be aware to lead and protect.
A glance over her tail showed only a wave of fire as the tree-dens behind burned freely. The largest tree-den of all was half-collapsed and burning from the inside. That was where there might still be trapped kin!
So she dove through the missing part of that big tree-den, jumped through the fire, and glanced around. There was only one trapped kin, a fire-scale, inside. Its body was burning with its own fire as it roared and tried to escape, knocking into the strong bars of the trap.
She dashed over to it, calmed its thoughts, and glared at the holding-thing keeping the trap-mouth closed. How to open it?
The fire-scale knocked into the inside of the trap again. The bars of the trap were only a little bent, maybe from the heat and being hit again and again.
She closed her eyes and called to a rock-belly, telling it what to do. It flew into the burning tree-den, aimed straight at the trap, and crashed into it after tucking its small wings, breaking open the hot bars. Working together, she, the fire-scale, and the rock-belly broke open the trap.
Both other kin flew up and out of the fire, and she followed, pleased at how they had worked together.
Kin could do amazing things when they flew as one flight!
She spun higher through the smoke so she could see how the fight was going, since she could not feel one of the rock-bellies' life-fires. A glance down at the floating-tree-dens showed that the tree-dens were dead and burning. Good. The two-legs were not escaping that way. All the two-legs on the island were trapped, just as they had thought the kin were!
She winged higher to watch more of the fighting. There were not many two-leg Fighters she could see anymore. No true resistance remained. Rather, there was just chaos, roaring, flaming, pouncing, and killing. Dead two-legs became food for hungry kin. More and more of the tree-dens were burning. The foul nest would be in ruins by the end of the dark-light cycle.
The kin had not forgotten what they were at liver! They were not broken by two-legs!
She took a deep breath to calm herself and cool her liver as the attack continued. The kin here knew what they were doing. They could find the remaining Fighter two-legs. On the other paw, the other two-leg males, females, and young, wherever they were, were not important as they could not fight back.
There were only a pair of two-legs that mattered. It was time for her hunt, so she flamed before herself and vanished from sight.
Viggo and Ryker silently stared, neither of them saying anything as they saw the true horror before them.
Viggo spun away and paced, trying to not think about how terrible the situation was. This was worse than anything he had imagined could happen in the worst contingency situation.
All the ships' sails were broken down in the harbor. Further, the ships were on fire with no one available to douse the flames. None of the ships could be used to escape the island.
There was strategy to target the ships with the dragons, Gronkles, that could most easily destroy the sails just by knocking into them. Arrows would be basically useless against that class of dragon, given its rock-hard hide and very small wings.
That was a level of strategy he had seen from dragons only once before: from Shadowwing.
There was a double realization from that. The Spine Fury had to be just as smart as a Night Fury and was the equal of a person. Had it known from the start what was happening? Could it understand speech and just have been playing dumb as a trick? Had Shadowwing sent it here to bide its time until it could control enough of the dragons to rebel and lead them to hiding?
Had it been the one trapping him from the beginning?
"Well played," he muttered.
"What?" Ryker nervously said.
"I'd never say that to you."
"Well, stuff it. What is the plan? Where's your dragon?"
Where was Ripper? He had no idea. Either Ripper was asleep in his den, had joined the attack, or had flown off on his own. None of those were good options.
"No idea. Plan: follow me."
There was a safe-house on the other side of the island. Near the safe-house were a small fishing boat and supplies. He had those stored there just in case as a contingency plan.
If only there was a way to get to the other side of the island. Keeping to the forest was helpful and would obscure some of their movement from anything above, but it was not the summer. Many of the trees were just budding, so the forest didn't help provide much shelter aside from keeping to the pines. But it was better than being out in the open. Further, the dragons were all busy destroying the village, so he and Ryker had a chance to make their own escape.
He paused to catch his breath beside a cove with a massive pool within. He and Ryker had been running most of the way, and they both needed a breather.
"It's as smart as a Night Fury," he muttered.
"Huh?"
"The Spine Fury. She's as smart as Shadowwing. I am sure of it."
"So what?"
"You had to go waving your dick around just to impress the guys."
Ryker said nothing.
"Just think if you had tried my way instead: try to win its trust, be kind to it, and make it want to be-"
"Be what?" Ryker sneered, interrupting.
Friends? Actually loyal?
"Nevermind. You wouldn't understand. Come on."
They resumed running, keeping a close watch on the skies. Smoke began towering into the sky and drifting with the wind from the west. More importantly, all the wings in the sky were still over the village or the remains of it. Good. The more targets were over there, the less likely any dragons were to come over here.
They were partway around the mountain when they arrived at a grassy clearing there was no option but to cross. Seeing nothing in the sky, they took the clearing slowly, with no need to run.
"Where're we going?" Ryker grumbled.
"Safe house. We can wait everything out. The Niflheim should be here in a week and a half. Just need to stay alive until then. They'll be able to fight properly if the dragons are still here."
"What about the dragons?"
He frowned, "They'll leave between now and the Niflheim's arrival. There's nothing else on the island for them to stay around for. Even the fishing isn't that good this time of year. They'll leave."
Ryker grumbled, "Right. How much supplies do we have at the safe-house?"
"It'll be rough, but there's enough."
The wind gusted suddenly, and he winced in pain as his head throbbed.
He pulled up and stopped, carefully observing the treeline. There was nothing moving in the forest, nothing he could see anyway.
"What? See something?" Ryker nervously asked, both his swords in hand.
"No, but stay alert."
They took one step forward together, and the Spine Fury appeared on the ground a couple fathoms ahead. Its scales and hide shimmered, almost bending vision itself into a swirl of color and hues. Then the strangeness of its appearance was gone, leaving aside its natural appearance.
How could it appear from nothingness? There was one other breed, Changewings, that were known to have such power. But that was more of a camouflage, whereas this was truly fading from sight entirely. Didn't the White Furies, related to Night Furies, have invisibility of some kind too?
It calmly sat on its rear, wings spread wide but not glowing, and breathed slowly. Its narrowed eyes went from Ryker to himself and back to Ryker.
"What do you have?" Ryker whispered.
"Dagger in my boot."
He indeed had a small dagger in his boot, but he knew that weapons would not help here. Drawing a blade was certain to get him killed.
The Spine Fury took slow, deliberate steps toward them. She turned halfway to the side, as if showing off her back. She wanted them to see and know why she was here, alone.
She huffed at Ryker and raised a forepaw, claws out in challenge.
"So you want to fight?" Ryker growled.
She bared her teeth without otherwise moving, clearly in understanding. Perhaps she wanted an honorable fight.
"You with me?" Ryker asked.
He shrugged and retrieved his knife, "Damn, knew you'd be the death of me one day. On three. One, two, three."
Ryker charged, swords crossed, and was struck in the chest by a small blast that knocked him on his back. He fell with a charred chest and a spray of blood. The same forepaw slammed down on his head with a sickening crunch.
The Spine Fury never snarled, growled, or showed any emotion at all throughout. It was over in an instant without any long, protracted duel. She was ruthless and cared not for honor or posturing, which he could respect.
That his brother was dead before him, his head crushed, was mildly disturbing, but, in hindsight, Ryker had asked for this through his cruelty.
The Spine Fury wiped her paw on the grass, faced him, and stared. He had not moved at all after taking a single step forward. Attacking could not have worked. His small dagger was completely useless, so he tossed it aside.
"Checkmate."
Admitting defeat was all he could do. He had been blind to what the new piece on the board could do, and his fate was out of his control, so he relaxed and closed his eyes. Hopefully she would make it quick.
She wiped her paw clean of any little pieces of head-meat, and purred with satisfaction at having finally done what she knew she was meant to do and what was also right. She set a goal and achieved it despite suffering and loss. Killing monsters was its own reward. Knowing that the world was made a little better for kin was also good. Loud had asked for his death.
Satisfied that her paw was clean, she considered Cunning. Cunning grumbled something to himself and to her before closing his eyes and just standing there.
There was something different about this two-leg. Yes, it was the one which had found her in a trap and had brought her here to this island. But, Cunning had not done any hurting things to her. He was apparently bonded, somehow, to the stinging-tail hunter-kin. He had brought her fish and water when no other would. He would sit outside her trap and stare at her in thought.
What made him different? There was no way to know truly, since she could not truly touch thought-voice with them, but it might be that he was always the more thoughtful nestmate. His life-fire was calm, accepting, and not at all angry that she had killed his nestmate. Maybe their kinship was not as close as she thought it had been.
Whatever the reason, he was not fighting back. He had even tossed aside his small claw-stick. Rather, he appeared to accept that he was dead if she wanted him dead. Maybe this would work after all. This two-leg was strong-thinking enough that he could be useful as she needed.
She barked to get his attention, and he knew to open his eyes.
She walked around him, pointed a paw at him, pointed the paw at the mountain, and walked several paces. He did not move, so she had to growl at him to make him walk. He walked several steps in the direction she wanted, so she purred in approval. He appeared to understand that she wanted him to walk somewhere.
Carrying him would make this much faster, but he could have a small stick-tooth or other weapon hidden in his furs. He could be waiting to have a last moment strike to kill.
He kept walking, obeying her commanding barks and growls to keep him on the correct path. It was a long walk, but that was no problem. The long walk gave her plenty of time to think about what to do with him after this was done, when he was not useful anymore.
The simplest answer was to kill him. He had been a leader for a nest that had thralled kin and tried to break kin's life-fires and wills, all just so the two-legs could have thrall-kin, wings, and power. He was what two-legs were at liver: clever, planning, controlling, and plotting.
On the other paw, he was different from his dead nestmate. He had brought fish and water when Loud did not. He was able to be kind, even if that was only for his own reasons. There was a spark of curiosity in his liver. Why was he different, and did that difference matter?
What to do if not kill him? There was no way off the island, since all the water-walking tree-dens were burned or dead. Killing him afterwards was probably the kindest option; it was either that or leave him here to be hunted by other kin or be alone.
Why did both killing him and leaving him alive feel wrong? They were the only options: one or the other. There was no third way. Or maybe there was. There was another option which might satisfy the liver.
After much walking, she and Cunning arrived at the cave at the base of the mountain. She guided Cunning inside in front of her.
The trapped kin roared and crashed against their traps; they wanted out very much.
'Alpha!' 'Free!' 'Fight!' 'Free!'
'Wait, kin. Free soon!'
She growled and stopped walking, so the Cunning faced her in confusion. She snorted at the traps with kin in them. Surely Cunning was smart enough to understand what she wanted.
He slowly walked to the holding-thing in the middle of the chamber, and picked up small spikes. Whatever these things were, they were too small to be a weapon or a danger.
'No flaming or biting this two-leg!'
The other kin grumbled and hissed, but they understood and obeyed the command.
One at a time, Cunning did something to open the trap-mouths. Each trapped kin dashed out of the traps and ran out the cave.
She was slightly worried that the trapped females might not have strong wings anymore. That was a problem for later.
The final trapped kin was freed and ran out the cave, leaving only her and Cunning alone. He stood still and faced her, calmly waiting for whatever would happen next.
So she pounced faster than he could react, knocking him down and driving his breath from him. He gasped for air as she held a paw on his chest. In his eyes and liver she could only see and feel fear and something like satisfaction or finality, which was very twisted. Maybe he was impressed by how well she had pretended and played the game.
The fire built from within as she took a deep breath and fired into the dirt beside his head.
The small shot exploded with a wave of fire that knocked him aside, sending his weak body rolling on the dirt until he stopped.
She padded over to him and confirmed that he was not dead. He was very alive, but one side of his face was raw and burned red instead of the pink it should be.
He was whimpering in pain, but letting him die was not what she wanted, so she dragged him by a leg to the nearest holding-thing of water. He awkwardly stood up and buried his entire head in the holding-thing of water.
He would live and would have that hurt-mark to remind him of his failure for the rest of his life. Killing him would have ended the suffering, and letting him go free without any punishment after all he did and helped with would have been wrong.
There was nothing else here for her, so she turned tail on Cunning and calmly walked out one step at a time. Out from the dark in the cave and into the light.
Maybe it was twisted, but walking out of the cave under her own power was important. Having been forced in there before, she had to leave on her own without fleeing.
The truth struck her as the warm light of the sky-light hit her again.
She had not been an Alpha when she was taken into the cave, but she was an Alpha now!
A pawful of females were outside the cave, stretching their wings. They were part of her pack! This twisted mix of very different kinds, they all looked to her to lead them!
'My kin, can you fly?'
'Fly!' 'Fly!' 'Fly!' 'Fly!'
She roared with joy as all the females took flight, though some of them were visibly weaker than others. The only liver-chilling part of what she saw was that the fledglings were struggling the most to stay in the air, though their dams-mothers were flying close to them. The fledglings had probably never been allowed to fly before, though the knowledge was still in their livers.
She glanced down at the forest below and noticed a big valley with a small pond in it. From above, that looked like a good place to rest as a pack later.
The smoke flying up from the ruins of the nest was like a cloud drifting out over the ocean. Several of the male kin were circling high over the fires and the smoke.
Next was the time for rest and healing before deciding what else to do. She had to think as an Alpha.
A lone red kin caught her attention out of the corner of her vision. This kin was staying far from the others, for an obvious reason.
'Fly to kin.'
The females and fledglings roared in acknowledgment and flew onward toward the rest of the kin while she winged toward the lone kin in the distance.
Viggo gasped for breath, holding a wet cloth to his burns. His hair was partly singed, but his cheek stung terribly. What did he look like now? If only there was a mirror nearby. Actually, there was one.
He took one of the lit torches and opened a new barrel of water to let him see his reflection in the calm water.
The skin was not blackened or leathery. He only had surface burns which would heal, leaving prominent scarring. How had he avoided any such wounds in all his years until now? Ironic.
Had the Spine Fury made a mistake and missed? No, she wanted him to live with this scarring as a reminder that he lost the game. Why else had she missed and dragged him over to the nearest barrel of water afterwards?
How had he been so blind as to not see the obvious truth that she understood from the beginning? She had been playing a game he didn't even know he was playing.
He steadied himself, pressing the wet cloth to his burned cheek.
The Niflheim would arrive on schedule, so he just had to stay alive in the interim. There was the supply stash on the other side of the island, but he had no idea if it was safe to leave. The dragons were all gone and would not likely want to return here. He should be safe if he stayed put.
Still soothing his burns, he inspected the crates for various supplies he had available. A small canteen of water and a dull sword were all that was worth taking.
He cautiously strolled to the mouth of the cave. He didn't plan to go anywhere outside, just to see if there was anything out there. Seeing dragons aloft would be confirmation that they were still around.
Sure enough, there were dragons whirling above the cloud of smoke billowing from the ruins of the village. They looked like they were dancing or playing in the sky, greeting each other with clouds of flame. The wind blew toward them, else he might have heard their roars even from such a distance.
A whispering voice within pointed out the obvious. What he saw up in the sky was what dragons truly were: engines of destruction. Trying to tame them, change their nature, and mold their wills could never have worked.
Even before the Spine Fury had encouraged them, they must have secretly resented their subservient condition. They had turned on all their riders in the rebellion. True, Ryker's methods were the most commonly used, but the point still held that any apparent affection between the dragons and their riders had amounted to nothing in the end.
He started in alarm and stepped back a pace when he noticed two conspicuous specks approaching. One was a mix of blue, purple, and white. The other was red.
The Spine Fury roared once, spun away, flamed, spun into the fire, and vanished from sight.
Ripper dropped down on the ground with a heavy thud. The Deathgripper was still wearing his saddle.
Powerless yet again. A mere sword would do nothing for him in this situation. Had she brought Ripper to be the one to kill him in a cruel twist of irony? He wouldn't put it past her to be so creative.
He did the only thing he could do: held out a palm without looking away.
What was he to Ripper? Did Ripper have a reason to want him dead?
Ripper loped forward and nuzzled him in greeting. Relieved, he scratched Ripper's forehead, earning a purring growl.
Maybe it was irony after all.
Ripper had always been just a useful asset, a tool with distinct advantages for him. But he had, as far as he knew, treated Ripper well. Had he earned Ripper's true loyalty or friendship after all, if friendship was possible here? Did Ripper, one of the more deadly and aggressive breeds of dragon, consider him as his kin, his master, his Alpha, or his friend?
There was no way to know for certain, but Ripper was here and pleased to see him, so whatever he had done right with Ripper had spared his life.
"Hey there, good to see you too."
Ripper growled, shaking his tusks and head in the way that showed he was pleased before crouching down.
He tightened the straps to the saddle and climbed into place. A brief gesture was all Ripper needed, and they took flight, swiftly flying down over the forest and out to sea.
The wind stung the burns terribly, so he wrapped his cloak around himself as much as possible. Ripper knew where to fly and didn't need any more commands or requests. Falke Island was the main port where any ships continuing to Berk needed to dock for inspection and change of crew. With Ripper's pace, he might even be there by sundown. The wind was also helping, and there were a few isolated spits of rock along the way they could stop on for rest if needed.
He glanced back at Berk once Ripper passed the last sea-stack. The dragons that had been swarming over the cloud of smoke were gone, though the dark cloud of smoke extended far out over the ocean.
The dragon-training endeavor was a complete and total loss: a significant investment of coin and time. Fortunately, it was a completely separate operation from the rest of the dragon-hunters and the armada. Even the name he operated under had been a false name.
Viggo Grimborne the dragon-hunter still had dozens of ships from his organization and from Grimmel's loyal captains. His owning a lone dragon was not an affront to the mission of ridding the world of the dragon menace; rather, his beast was loyal, trained, and an effective dragon-killing machine, as Grimmel himself had demonstrated.
While his flagship was a loss, he had other ships he could take up command from in time. Further, he could have a party sent to the island to reclaim what could be salvaged.
He sailed there to meet with a tribe, and they were ambushed by dragons that destroyed the tribe and killed everyone onboard his ship. Ryker fell gloriously in combat with two dragons. Yes, that would work. Everyone else would believe it.
Ryker's death was... not a great loss. True, he had been family, but he was also an obstacle to greatness. Ryker brought his death on himself by being too stubborn and unyielding. Crying for him was pointless and would accomplish nothing, so he didn't weep at all.
But he was also at fault for missing the obvious influence the Spine Fury was having on the other dragons. She was probably their Alpha. Would she lead them into hiding or to wherever she came from? Likely so.
Despite everything, he chuckled and leaned closer to Ripper's neck, "Looks like it's just you and me."
Ripper purr-growled.
There were no other dragons out there. His spies and informants on the mainland and the isles had not brought in any leads other than the most recent one. Maybe that was a relief. Dragons were a wild card, a piece too powerful to have on the board. Dragons changed the rules by nullifying so many strategies. His having the last one, one which was actually loyal to him, would give him a distinct advantage in conventional warfare.
Prisoners and spies wouldn't be able to hide any secrets from him, since he had the only source of Deathgripper venom. He could safely poison anyone while drinking from the same cup as the victim.
This entire endeavor was not a total failure after all. He paid a substantial amount of coin over several years to remove all the other dragons from the board.
The three warlords would arrive at the meeting location, and no one would show up to demonstrate the effectiveness of a dragon army for hire. But he could still meet with them in time under his true name to discuss allegiances and arrangements between his forces and theirs. A fine meal and ample mead, on his own coin, would be very pleasant. He would even take the first drink so as to satisfy them.
He laughed, though doing so was painful. His new burns would only reinforce his image as a fierce dragon-hunter who commanded respect from all.
Wars would always need to be fought, rebellions put down, and strife incited. So it had always been and always would be so. Humans couldn't change their nature. Nothing could change its nature.
But, as Ripper had proved in remaining loyal to him, what was natural and what was merely custom or learned behavior were easy to confuse.
Further, the Haven dragonriders and their dragons were still out there somewhere. The loss of his endeavor made finding them a priority after the other warlords were neutralized.