Heather pulled her arm back, sighted along the shaft of an arrow, and held the bow taut for the long moment it took for her to be sure she wasn't forgetting anything.

'Steady your body,' Skarpur advised. 'Moving while firing is not good for accuracy.'

Heather released the arrow, which shot out from her bow, arced through the air, and impaled the sand a few paces in front of the tree she had been aiming for. The head-sized piece of parchment pinned to the tree by a small knife was a distant, unreachable dream at the moment; she would have settled for hitting the tree at all.

'Better than last time,' Skarpur purred approvingly, walking behind Heather to stand off to the side of her. 'These have very little speed and a lot of drag, so you must aim higher, I think.'

"Sounds right," Heather agreed, drawing another arrow from the quiver on her back and readying it. This time, she aimed well above the parchment, even more so than before, and let go with little hesitation.

Skarpur winced as the arrow soared past the tree and into the underbrush, probably never to be seen again. 'Good range, but you fired before you were set.'

Heather nodded agreeably, having come to the same conclusion on her own. Her aim wasn't bad, but she had an annoyingly persistent habit of firing too quickly, letting go the moment she thought she was aiming in the right direction. It threw off far too many of her shots. That was not the first arrow she had lost.

A gust of wind blew across the shore, shifting Heather's hair around and blowing some of it into her face. She brushed it away with her free hand and waited for the wind to die down.

'This will also affect the path of the arrow,' Skarpur cautioned. 'I think. Our fire doesn't have that problem.'

"It definitely will," Heather agreed. "I should actually go check and see if we have any heavier arrows in the weapon stockpile." Heavier arrows wouldn't be so susceptible to being blown off-course and would do more damage. She was pretty sure her stolen longbow would be able to handle larger arrows.

'Maybe you should not,' Skarpur cautioned. 'It makes more sense to learn to work with the wind than to change weaponry so that it does not matter. You are doing this to strengthen weaknesses, right?'

"Yes…" Heather almost believed that was the real reason Skarpur objected, but something in the dragon's tone and demeanor told her otherwise. Maybe it was how quickly Skarpur had cautioned against it, not even thinking about it first, or maybe it was the slight narrowing of her eyes for the briefest of moments. "But that's not the real reason you don't want me switching arrow types."

Skarpur barked in surprise. 'I am impressed,' she said warmly. 'I really didn't expect to be called out on that. No, it is not the only reason.'

"So, what's the other one?" Heather asked, smiling despite herself. She couldn't take being deceived by Skarpur badly; this was just what Nótts did, and Skarpur hadn't even lied, just leaving out one of her motivations.

'See these?' Skarpur asked, nosing at the arrow dangling from Heather's free hand. 'They're thin, small. Lethal for humans, right?'

"If I get past their armor, yes."

'But not for our kind,' Skarpur explained, pawing at the arrow. 'This would hurt, draw blood, but not get anywhere near deep enough to really injure unless someone got prodigiously unlucky. Against us, it is a nonlethal weapon.'

"And larger arrows would be lethal for you," Heather realized. "You do know that the Berserkers are prepared to fight dragons, right? They'll be using bigger arrows, stronger bows, probably crossbows too."

'Yes, but that is not my point,' Skarpur replied. 'Togi and I approve of you learning this for a number of reasons. But if you switched to projectiles capable of killing us, it would make him nervous, and for good reason. You and Iknow that you just want to be able to ignore the wind, but that sounds very much like an excuse to ears accustomed to hearing what is not said.'

Heather considered that against the admittedly small advantages of changing her arrow type. "Good point," she admitted. "It's not worth that." Keeping the fragile but gradually solidifying trust between herself and Nóttleiðtogi was far more important. She figured she would have to learn to deal with the wind sooner or later anyway.

'I am glad you value my mate's peace of mind so highly,' Skarpur purred. 'It is heartwarming to watch him around you, to see him trying so hard and finally succeeding. Positively alluring, too.'

"Was that last bit really necessary?" Heather asked, casting Skarpur an embarrassed look. "I didn't need to know that."

'Probably not,' Skarpur readily admitted. 'My point is, you're doing great with him, and he with you. I'd say you only have one of us to go.'

"And I feel no closer than the day I met him," Heather sighed. She had long since given up hope of fixing Nóttreiði's acidic distrust, at least with the methods she had tried. He seemed downright uneasy around her and endeavored to avoid her as much as possible without making it obvious to his parents that he was shirking the tasks they had assigned him. Whatever the answer was, it wasn't what she was doing, or anything she could think of.

'Time will solve that,' Skarpur purred confidently.

"I wish I believed that," Heather replied, taking the arrow and drawing her arm back, aiming at the tree once more. She held her position for a long moment, and then shifted slightly to the right to account for the soft breeze blowing across the shore.

A loud thunk rewarded her patience, the shaft of the arrow quivering in the bark of the tree not far below the bottom of the parchment.

'See, you just need patience,' Skarpur warbled. 'Things are improving and will keep improving as long as you don't give up.'

Heather cast her a sideways glance. "That was way too obvious."

'Let me give my transparent life lessons,' Skarpur mock-whined. 'My children are too cynical to take that kind of thing seriously.'

"Whose fault is that?" Heather retorted, smiling all the while.

'Mine, of course, but that doesn't mean I can't guilt you with it,' Skarpur breezily replied, dropping her affected sadness in an instant. 'Fire again. I want to see you hit it twice in a row.'

"So do I," Heather agreed. Right now, she was aiming at helpless parchment, but eventually a lot more would be riding on each arrow, and she didn't want to let anyone down.

'My turn,' Von wearily announced, walking into the main chamber of their section of the caverns, looking as if she had just come off a hatchling-watching shift, not volunteered to take one.

Toothless was tired, mostly because the hatchlings had long since discovered their voices and begun complaining loudly whenever awake, which meant nobody was getting good, uninterrupted sleep, but he wasn't tired enough to just hand over the responsibility to her, looking like that. 'Did you get any rest?'

'Some,' Von replied shortly. 'Then I took a short patrol so that one of the Eldurs could take a break. They have to care for a hatchling too, you know, and things are tight all around. I can handle it.'

'Okay…' Hopefully their youngest brother and sister would sleep soundly for a while; he didn't doubt for a second that Von would doze for as long as they let her, and she needed it. They all did, really, but she looked worse than normal.

Toothless waited until Von was right next to him before standing and quickly backing out of the way, letting her settle down in his stead, a wing over a hatchling to either side of her. The faster and more seamless they made the transition, the more likely neither hatchling would be disturbed, and given they were blissfully asleep and thus silent at the moment, not disturbing them was vital.

'How long since their last meal?' Von inquired tiredly.

'Not too long. Mom and dad just fed them.' He had taken the first part of the night shift to give his parents a well-needed break. 'They'll be back soon, probably.'

'I hope so.' Von waved her tail at him. 'Go do something fun. I'm just tired. Watching them isn't hard, it's…'

'Tiring,' Toothless supplied knowingly. 'I get it. Good luck.'

'I'll need it,' Von grimaced. 'They were just fed.'

Toothless winced and quickly walked away, hoping that Von would have enough warning to take the hatchlings out to the entrance to the cavern, at least. The hardest part of raising them was shaping up to be dealing with their constant messes. His parents had long since resorted to using the moss that usually carpeted the cavern to more easily dispose of things, scraping it up and carrying it with their claws when it was soiled, but the moss didn't grow fast enough to keep up with that, so keeping their home livable was a messy affair.

But he didn't have to think about that; everybody else was on it for the moment. He didn't have to go flying patrols, either, because nobody wanted to try sending him and Heather out, even though they could handle normal flight fairly well. He had a couple of free hours to burn and was too restless to spend them asleep.

Out of habit, he checked in with Maour, but all he got was darkness unbroken by light or movement. Maour was asleep, which made total sense, given he was travelling with humans and it was the middle of the night. Still, that was one more occupation unavailable at the moment.

Toothless wandered out into the main chamber of the entire complex, idly looking up at the spire and ledges all along the vertical cavern. Nobody was there-

Scratch that, an Eldur was flying down. Eldurberg, looking harried. Toothless warbled at him as he approached. 'Eldurberg. What is it?'

Eldurberg dropped down to land right in front of him. 'I just got back from the long patrol,' he panted. 'There are three big ships heading our way. Passing by, but when they start sailing again in the morning, they'll be way too close for comfort.'

'You've told everyone, right?' Toothless asked urgently. 'I can't really help spread the word.'

'I have, mostly,' Eldurberg confirmed. 'Even Fishlegs knows. He's up late tonight. He wants to have a meeting with all the riders and the pack, which is why I'm talking to you.'

'That'll be hard to do right now,' Toothless murmured, thinking about just how many dragons were stuck in places they couldn't leave. The Svarturs and Eldurs had hatchlings to care for, everyone else was flying patrols…"

'Just a few dragons from each family, or one in your case,' Eldurberg clarified. 'All the patrols will be suspended while the ships pass anyway, just in case, and it'll be in the middle of the day, so the humans will be awake. Can you manage that?'

Toothless nodded. 'Yes, I can.' Getting permission from his parents to represent their family in official pack business wouldn't be hard, and the other families could send their representatives easily enough, so it would work. 'Where?'

'Here?' Eldurberg suggested, gesturing to the vertical cavern around them. 'We can just meet down here on the ground, though. We need to be able to talk easily.'

'I'll be there,' Toothless promised.

'So,' Toothless began, looking around at the scattered group lingering in the central cavern, 'are we all here? Eldurs?' He didn't know why Nóttleiðtogi was choosing to sit in a corner and observe instead of taking charge, but he could direct things if need be.

'I'm here, and my family says I can agree to anything the Nótts think is safe,' Eldurberg announced. 'Fishlegs is watching and listening, so he's here too, and Myrkurheili is with him. It might take us a while to get messages across, but still.'

'That's a problem for all of us,' Toothless agreed, not mentioning that both Einfari and Maour had direct connections present, and thus didn't have quite the issue the various traveling Myrkur dragons did. 'I'm here, speaking for my family, and Maour's here too.'

"For now. Einfari and I might have to step away if anyone tries to talk to us," Maour murmured. "I'm working on the saddle and obviously don't want to be disturbed, and Einfari is keeping watch, just listening in, so we should be fine even though we are out on deck."

Toothless nodded, having already seen Maour setting that up. 'Myrkurs?'

'We've got the connections,' Boom volunteered, not even looking up from the staring contest she and her brother had been locked in since Toothless had arrived. 'You know them, pretty much every Myrkur not here.'

'And we're here because there's nothing better to do,' Myrkurhryðjuverk added, nodding to Myrkureyðileggingu, who was trying futilely to break the concentration of either Blast or Boom by waving his tail between them.

'Great, so every Myrkur is here in some way,' Toothless concluded. 'Nótts?'

"I've got Einfari listening in," Heather volunteered.

'And I am here representing my family,' Nóttleiðtogi rumbled from his corner. 'Skarpur is with Joy and Nóttreiði, so if there is a big decision to be made, you will all have to wait until she can be asked for a decision. I trust that will not be a problem.'

"I like that he's careful, but I'm starting to think he shouldn't so heavily lean on his mate to make all the decisions out of fear," Maour commented. "I think he can handle it. He's made a lot of progress. But I'll wait until I'm back to tell him that."

'A month, right?' Toothless asked eagerly.

"About, yes. Now, what are we doing here?" Maour asked.

'Oh, right.' Toothless growled softly to gain everyone's attention. 'We're all gathered here to… Do what, exactly, Eldurberg?'

'Fishlegs and I think we should go around and get the situation from everyone in turn,' Eldurberg explained. 'And then talk about what we're going to be doing once everyone is at Mahelmetan. It's not actually that clear, and it feels like something we should at least think about before then.'

'A good idea,' Nóttleiðtogi hummed thoughtfully.

Toothless nodded in agreement. 'Okay. Fishlegs, what's your situation?'

Eldurberg hesitated for a very long moment, apparently listening to Fishlegs, before replying. 'He says the Waxears are surprisingly calm about everything. They're bringing eight fully-crewed warships and one of supplies. Everything is going well there. Aldir, the Chief, has been asking him about Skrill, and Myrkurheili has been trying to drive him crazy, but other than that everything is fine.'

'Sounds good,' Toothless said happily. 'Blast?'

'Tuffnut is dying of boredom, and my father is holding him down while it happens,' Blast reported with a sly grin. 'Apparently, their Chief is still in mourning, and everyone seems to consider making things out of metal the best possible conversation topic. But they've got three warships and a half-dozen floating armories, so we'll have a lot of fancy metal to outfit everyone with.'

"The Rockbreakers were never going to have much actual force to bring along," Maour added for Toothless's benefit. "Those armories are going to be their biggest contribution. But every little bit helps."

'Sounds good,' Toothless concluded.

'Tuffnut is suffering,' Blast objected. 'It's horrible. He's taken to trying to coach me when I pull pranks, and it's unbelievably annoying.'

'Agreed,' Boom growled. 'Because he's trying to get you to prank me, and we both know that never ends well for either of us. Ruffnut is doing fine, and apparently, judging by the incredibly smug look on my little brother's face, he's enjoying the trip. Ruffnut reports ten warships on the way.'

"They'll be lighter, less heavily reinforced, but fast and stealthy," Maour reasoned. "Good as scouts and sneak attackers, but not great in full-on combat. Want to give my side of things now?"

'Sure, I can do that. Okay, Maour says…' Toothless listened closely and repeated his brother word for word, not seeing any reason to summarize what was in itself already a summary. 'We managed to make a good impression on some of the Meatheads, but progress on that front has been slow since we set out. Thirteen warships and one supply, and they're bigger than the average Viking vessel. Mogadon and Thuggory were pretty belligerent at first, but they calmed down and seem to be mostly ignoring us now. To be fair, we're dead weight at the moment. They don't need us to sail to an island clearly marked on their map.'

'So that makes…' Eldurberg only hesitated for a brief moment before continuing. '… Thirty-four warships of varying types, two supply ships, and six armory ships, which I assume is pretty much just a supply ship. Thirty-four combat-ready ships in all.'

"Against Dagur's whole armada," Heather said quietly. "We're going to have to make up for that huge difference in forces. That'll take some doing. Einfari doesn't have anything to add. Apparently, it's been mostly quiet there since everyone settled into routine and got used to her presence."

'We have no information on the location of Dagur or Astrid,' Nóttleiðtogi rumbled, adding his own information, though Toothless hadn't thought he would have anything to add. 'That is our own fault, as we decided not to send scouts after them, thinking it too risky. Practically speaking, though, we could not have, not without sacrificing the defenses around our own island. We do not have enough dragons to watch ourselves, our allies, and our enemies.'

Toothless growled softly. 'That feels like a mistake,' he admitted. 'Once the fleets reach Mahelmetan, we will need to rearrange things so that we can afford to send someone to find Dagur and Astrid.' That was going to be a problem to talk over with Maour; they didn't actually know much about how to find him. He and Astrid were coming, but that did not actually help much with the vast tracts of ocean they could be arriving on, and their exact destination unknown.

Nóttleiðtogi nodded in agreement. 'Yes. And we will need at least one rider and dragon with the fleet at all times, even once they take Mahelmetan.'

"Wait, take?" Maour interrupted, albeit only in Toothless's own mind. "Toothless, ask him to clarify."

'It is an option,' Nóttleiðtogi rumbled in response once he had been asked. 'Or defend, though that has advantages and disadvantages. Is that not what we are here to discuss?'

'Yes, it is,' Toothless admitted. 'Let's get to it.' He was a little more worried about what their enemies were doing than the specifics of what their allies would do once they reached their destination, but only because one seemed very important, and the other a small thing. But they didn't know where Dagur and Astrid were, save for not directly approaching the Isle of Night, so it couldn't be helped.

"This place is a wreck," Dagur complained, stepping off the ship and onto the rotting, crooked pier. "I love it already!"

"Why are we stopping here?" Astrid asked impatiently, dropping down behind him, flanked by their guards who clambered over the side of the ship far less agilely.

"Every hunt needs a base of operations, and every armada a meeting point," Dagur explained, breaking out into a run halfway down the dock and skidding to a halt just before stepping onto the small, scraggly island it was attached to, staring down at the sand with disdain. "No matter how boring."

"Boring is good for a base of operations," Astrid asserted, walking at a steady pace despite his erratic movement. She did not fully believe they were alone here, and if there was a wild dragon around, she wanted to be the one to notice and kill it. Looking and listening for the possible wild dragon meant she had to move slowly.

"The Berserker who picked this place thought so," Dagur agreed. "His family regretted his lack of imagination. There's an island with an active volcano not a week's sailing from here, and yet he picked this place? Come on, he was practically asking to die. And he had the nerve to be proud about it!"

Astrid ignored his ranting, looking over the island in front of her instead. There were a few broken down wooden buildings, several of which looked like they had once been taverns, and many docks in similar disrepair lining the inside of the crescent-shaped island's deep bay. No sign of a dragon yet, but she could almost feel its presence in the air.

"But this is where that Berserker told everyone to come back to on occasion," Savage said carefully, "and we have to wait here if we want to get the armada back together. We can go to that more… interesting… island once we've done that, of course."

"I know, Savage," Dagur groaned. "Get the armada first. You keep reminding me. I have a wife to nag me, you know."

"Savage does the nagging," Astrid called out, only half listening to him at all. "Not me." She didn't nag; she ordered or threatened. With Dagur, it ended up being threats and persuasion because she couldn't order him around. Nagging was what weak people did when their subordinates ignored their orders.

"Yes, but the point stands," Dagur retorted petulantly. "I bet Heather wouldn't nag."

Savage shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, shying away from Dagur. "A shame she wants you dead, sir," he said carefully.

"Eh, I'll handle the disappointment somehow," Dagur said absently, hefting his ax. "And who knows? Maybe she'll see the error of her ways and join us once we start destroying everything around her and killing everyone she knows... again."

Astrid stepped off the edge of the dock and immediately took a left, walking down the inside of the crescent-shaped shoreline, passing by the other docks as she moved. Her attention was on the interior of the island. If there was a dragon around, it would be there, but she didn't want to just run in. Sneaking up and cutting its wings off first would make the hunt all the more satisfying, because she could drag it out without the threat of the dragon just flying away.

"Anyway, how long until my men get here?" she heard Dagur asking in the distance. "Yes, I'm sure we want to base our operations in this part of the world, this is where all of my ships are. I'll worry about where we're supposed to be attacking once I have something to attack with!" A muffled splash followed; Dagur had either pushed Savage into the water or jumped in himself to cool off.

Astrid tuned them out; the hunt was afoot, and they were serving as good distractions, nothing more. She crept forward, toward one of the outlying buildings, her ax at the ready. No signs of reptiles, but that didn't matter. There would be a dragon; after almost two months on a ship with nothing scaly to kill, there would have to be. She needed something to kill.

The first derelict tavern yielded nothing, not so much as a single Terrible Terror, but she kept sneaking along. She was thorough, checking every single building with growing dissatisfaction before stealthily making her way into the scrubby, unimpressive wilderness beyond. Dragons could be anywhere.

Anywhere but the fleet as it traveled. She grimaced at the memory, though it had not seemed so intolerable in the moment. Dealing with Dagur was refreshingly direct, infuriatingly difficult, and on occasion boring to the extreme, depending on her mood, but she had been given no other choice, stuck on a Berserker warship with him. They were married, and of course she needed to make it seem official to keep the power she now held over his people, second only to him, so there was no avoiding him and traveling on another ship.

That, in turn, led to other… difficulties… But she was fairly certain nothing had come of any of it. It was all irrelevant, if invigorating, and she didn't care. She had endured those unbearable months, but she was hunting now, so all was well. Even if this was just the warmup for the real hunt coming soon…

Maour was woken in the middle of the night by a warm muzzle pushing him insistently. His hand reached up to pat said muzzle, letting the Night Fury know he was awake, and he lay there for a moment longer, trying to clear his head.

Then it hit him that being woken in the middle of the night was strange when he and Einfari were on a diurnal sleep schedule, as they had been for the past two months, and he sat bolt upright, his eyes opening to see Einfari's amused face.

'That felt patronizing,' she laughed. 'Do you do that to Toothless?'

"Only when he's trying to get me up early and won't leave me alone until I respond," Maour replied, looking around. The night crew was going about its duties as normal, and nobody important was on deck. 'Why did you wake me?'

'We just passed an island with a stone spire in the shape of a headless Viking,' Einfari said urgently. 'I got an idea, and Heather was up, of course. By luck, so was Fishlegs, and Tuffnut. Not Ruffnut, but still.'

"What am I missing?" Maour asked, shaking his head to try and clear his apparently forgetful mind. "I mean, I know the one, but we're still a week out from Mahelmetan."

'We are, and so is everyone else,' Einfari purred eagerly. 'Tuffnut says his fleet passed this island less than a day ago, and Fishlegs hasn't reached it yet, but he says that according to their maps and a lot of other things, he's pretty close too.'

Now Maour understood. "We're all coming together," he realized. It made sense; they were all heading for the same place, and certain routes were more well-travelled and thus less dangerous than others. The closer they got to their destination, the more likely they were to run into each other.

Or in this case, fly into each other. He grabbed the saddle he had been using as a makeshift pillow and held it up for her to see. "Want to go find them?"

'With how slow these ships move, I don't fear losing them, so yes,' Einfari purred, leaning over for him to sling the saddle across her back. 'I am looking forward to seeing any other Night Fury, even if it's a Myrkur.'

After two months, Maour was just as eager. Travelling with Einfari, Toothless in his mind, and Heather watching through Einfari was not lonely, but he was still eager for a change of pace and a solid indication that their trip was almost over. He couldn't wait to get home and see the hatchlings with his own eyes, help Toothless fly with his own foot, and do everything he should have been doing this entire time. They were running themselves to the bone, and he could help if he was there. More than they expected, if what he had been designing on the sly when Toothless wasn't looking panned out.

With that thought, he checked in on his brother's sense of sight, but Toothless was asleep. Given it was the middle of the night, that meant his brother was probably with the hatchlings, meaning they weren't bawling or wetting themselves or worse. That was great, though it was happening less and less as time went on.

As he thought, Maour cinched all of the various straps and buckles mostly by muscle memory, having done it so many times that it was basically automatic. Then his hands fumbled for a complicated mechanism that wasn't there on this particular saddle and dragon, and he snapped back into the present. He was done.

Einfari flapped her wings a few times, took a step forward, and shook herself. 'Feels good,' she reported.

"Looks good," Maour replied, before hopping on. "Got any specific direction we should go?"

"While you were putting the saddle on, Heather and I were discussing exactly that. We all, except Ruffnut because she's still not awake, agreed to meet above the island instead of bothering trying to find each others' fleets directly.'

"As long as they can find their way back, that's great," Maour agreed. He wasn't worried about that; ships really did move slowly compared to Night Furies, so it wouldn't be much different than returning to a stationary target as long as they didn't spend too long away.

"Oy, where are you two goin'?" one of the night crew called out rudely. "Chief said not to leave withou' tellin' him."

'We do not follow Mogadon's orders,' Einfari growled.

"We're going for a quick scouting flight," Maour lied glibly. "We'll be back sooner or later." He wasn't any happier than Einfari about Mogadon apparently spreading that requirement among his crew without so much as telling them, but that was par for the course with how Mogadon handled them in general; pretending like they didn't exist until they could be useful or did something he didn't like.

Then Einfari was off, flying up into the clear night sky, making a tight turn to angle them in the right direction. 'Maour,' she rumbled as she flew, 'what stops us from just flying home from here? We know exactly where we are, and where it is.'

"Nothing stops us," he replied, having already asked himself the same question a few days ago, and thus knowing the answer. "But it would look really bad, and we told them we'd be with them all the way there. We could, but it feels like skipping out on them. And it's just a week, now. We would only gain a few days anyway." He wanted to see this through; once the fleets were all at Mahelmetan, and the pack had sent someone out to keep tabs on them, someone to convey messages back and forth, he could go home.

And he didn't worry that said someone would be him or Toothless; Cloey would make sure they weren't selected for that duty, no matter what happened. Most likely, Heather would be tapped to go out to Mahelmetan, and Einfari to stay behind and form the other end of the connection. Past that…

Well, past that they would just have to see what the Chiefs wanted to do; there were plenty of Berserker ships around, and the smart thing would be to start whittling them down, but keeping the full extent of the link's capabilities mysterious meant the Chiefs were going to have to meet and discuss that in person.

Meeting in person was probably the better way of doing it anyway; talking second-hand with one person was hard enough. Adding four obstinate Vikings into the equation would probably make an actual discussion impossible.

The distinctive spire of the island they were meeting over soon rose in the distance, and Maour could make out three shapes circling in the distance, flying close together.

'Oh, I forgot to tell you,' Einfari added as she saw the other dragons and sped up to meet them, 'Ruffnut woke up. Turns out, the Bog Burglars actually stopped there for a day just yesterday, so she was pretty close too.'

"Great, we're all here." Maour leaned forward in the saddle for no particular reason.

'Hey, Einfari!' Myrkurvængur called out loudly. 'You're going to be so jealous!'

Einfari snorted in annoyance. 'And now I am no longer missing the company of my fellow Night Furies,' she said ruefully. 'That was fast. Myrkurs are only good in very small doses, I suppose.'

Maour laughed at that. "What about?" he called out once they fell into formation with the other riders and dragons, all of whom looked the same as they had when they all parted ways-

Aside from Myrkurvængur. There was something subtle about him. He looked different, not older or physically larger, but… Cleaner, maybe? Maour squinted, trying to figure out what it was.

"The Bog Burglars pampered him the whole way here," Ruffnut said sourly. "He's already bragged about it to everyone else."

'They polished my scales and sharpened my claws, and my teeth too!' Myrkurvængur barked happily, flashing his teeth, which didn't look noticeably different to Maour's eyes. 'I'm ready for battle!'

'Do you suppose they would do that for us if we asked?' Myrkurheili inquired, looking his nephew over. 'It sounds enjoyable, given you're bragging about it.'

'Sure, but they might only do it if you tell them-'

"That you're looking to fight at your best," Ruffnut interjected, tugging on one of Myrkurvængur's ears to silence him. "They like training and preparing more than any honest warrior should."

'And you have to tell them you're female,' Myrkurvængur continued, ignoring Ruffnut. 'So Einfari, you're good, but dad, Heili, you'll have to lie.'

Heili stared at Myrkurvængur for a moment before slowly smiling, an unnaturally wide grin creeping across his face. 'You mean to tell me,' he began slowly, 'that you had to pretend to be female to get this done?'

'Well, not this specifically, and it is not like they checked aside from looking at me and assuming,' Myrkurvængur replied, sounding as if something very unpleasant was dawning on him. 'And… Well, I kind of assumed they needed to think that… Ruffnut told me they would be mad with me if I wasn't…'

Maour cast an incredulous stare at Ruffnut. Even for a Myrkur or Thorston, that was a cruel move. He could see Tuffnut and Fishlegs also looking at her, while Myrkurljós cast her a very unfriendly glare.

"Hey, it backfired on me," Ruffnut protested, throwing her hands up. "He got pampered while I'm covered in bruises from training with Camicazi every day for two months. He came out ahead."

'But…' Myrkurvængur looked back at Ruffnut, his eyes narrowing. 'I didn't like them thinking that,' he growled. 'Even if it didn't change much. That was mean.'

'It is the Myrkur way,' Myrkurheili volunteered. 'Just to get her back in kind.'

'There are limits,' Myrkurljós growled, contradicting Myrkurheili almost immediately. 'Lying to allies? Forcing him to pretend for two months? A few days, maybe. Not the entire trip! Ruffnut, you went too far.'

"I might have stopped it after a few days if he had been miserable about it, but he just took it in stride and ignored the whole issue!" Ruffnut protested. "Bro, help me out here."

Tuffnut, who was wearing a grin as wide as Myrkurheili's, smiled even wider at that. "I went without a prank for two months, while you were pulling an over-the-top one," he said happily. "I approve, but I'm not taking your side. I didn't get to enjoy it, so I'm not going to share the massive lecture you're going to get, either."

Myrkurljós looked up at Tuffnut with narrowed eyes.

Tuffnut crossed his arms. "Also, bad Ruffnut. How could you force one of our own to pretend to be a girl for two whole months! A week, tops. I'm offended on the behalf of men everywhere." He looked down at Myrkurljós. "What?"

'What was it like, anyway?' Myrkurheili asked, flying closer to the brooding Myrkurvængur. 'Anything interesting to report?'

'They were humans and didn't know any better,' Myrkurvængur rumbled. 'It was exactly the same, I think.'

'You wouldn't be able to tell the difference,' Myrkurheili remarked. 'Neither would I. Maybe if we had a female tell us what the difference was…' He looked back at Einfari suggestively.

'Come closer, and I can make you just like one,' Einfari offered. 'You're almost there, I would only need to bite a few things off.'

Fishlegs cringed, pulling one of Myrkurheili's ears. "Come on, don't annoy a Nótt, or at least let me off first!"

'Can we just stop talking about this?' Myrkurvængur requested.

'Yes, for now,' Myrkurljós said decisively. 'You had a good trip?'

'Aside from that, yes.'

'Then you had more fun than we did,' Myrkurljós remarked. 'Tuffnut and I are both bored to tears. Come on, who wants to race around the island a few times?'

'You might have pent-up energy,' Myrkurheili rumbled. 'I don't. Go on without me.'

In moments, there were only two dragons circling slowly above the island, Myrkurljós and his son, along with their passengers, long gone.

'They were overreacting,' Myrkurheili asserted, flying a safe distance away from Einfari. 'Give them a week, and everyone will be laughing about it, even Myrkurvængur. This trip has got us all riled up and tense.'

"Maour, Einfari, any chance we can switch around for the last week?" Fishlegs asked hopefully.

'Not a chance,' Einfari immediately replied. 'You can wait.'

'Yes, I still have a week to break him,' Myrkurheili rumbled eagerly. 'Or to draw out his fighting side. I'm hoping he gets mad enough to attack me.'

"I'm not going to attack you!" Fishlegs protested. "No matter how annoying you are. Why do you think I will?"

'I don't, but it's fun to find out,' Myrkurheili replied. 'Oh, and Maour, you might have to give the humans we're traveling with something valuable. I've broken a few things.'

"You stole all four legs off of a table!" Fishlegs complained. "And then you chewed them to pieces, swallowed the pieces, and threw it all back up right in front of their Chief!"

'And that was just one week of work,' Myrkurheili agreed happily. "Don't worry, I beat all of them at a simple game they were playing later, just to prove I wasn't some stupid animal.'

"He roped me into translating and somehow won every game they played," Fishlegs added. "And the winnings still weren't enough to break even on all the things he broke or stole. Maour, the Waxears know he's a person, but they need to see a more normal dragon for a little while."

'In a week, they probably will,' Einfari said firmly. 'I am not changing places now, there's no point. Why did we never hear any of this before now, if he's been making your life miserable this whole time?'

'Interesting, not miserable,' Myrkurheili corrected.

"The same reason we never heard any complaints about Ruffnut's trick," Fishlegs said glumly. "I didn't want to talk about it. It's not like anyone can tell him to be less crazy."

'Very, very true.'

Fishlegs looked down at the dragon he was riding. 'I miss Berg.'

'I miss flying on my own,' Myrkurheili countered. 'But I think we both learned something from this.'

"Yeah, I learned to never bring a Myrkur anywhere," Fishlegs shot back. "What did you learn? How to torment a Viking?"

'That, and that I enjoy having a serious person to play off of,' Myrkurheili countered. 'Fix the timid nonviolence issue, and I'd be happy to go adventuring with you any time.'

"You think I would want to go anywhere with you after this?" Fishlegs asked incredulously.

'I'm only messing with you to try and draw out some claws, so yes, because if you actually demonstrate that you can use yours, I'll stop.' He shook his head, slapping Fishlegs' arms with his ears. 'Come on, pinch my ears. Do something violent! Anything at all!'

"Maour, Einfari, come on," Fishlegs pleaded.

Maour pointed down at Einfari, shrugging his shoulders, just as Einfari snarled loudly. 'No.'

'Good,' Myrkurheili replied. 'Now, Fishlegs, we're going to go join that race, so hold on.'

And then there were two once more. Maour didn't speak for a long moment, trying to process all of that and come up with an opinion on it.

'I am not so averse to the idea of switching in itself,' Einfari said aloud. 'But I think Myrkurheili has the right idea, so I refuse to do it. We're about to fly into a war, Fishlegs needs to learn to strike when necessary. And I won't feel sorry if Myrkurheili underestimates him and gets his tail kicked in when Fishlegs finally snaps. That stupid attempt at flirting was so awkward and badly done it hurt.'

"You assume he will snap." Maour wasn't sure it would happen. In his opinion, Myrkurheili was wasting his time. Fishlegs wasn't immersed in Viking culture now, and peer pressure had barely gotten him to raise his hammer for sparring and dragon training, let alone to actually try and hurt anyone. Now, surrounded by Eldurs who valued knowledge and speech, it wasn't going to happen.

'True. They need to spend more time together.' Einfari warbled loudly in amusement. 'And I would watch if I could. I'm even more thankful Toothless put us together now. It sounds like everyone was miserable aside from us. We were just bored.'

'Yeah, I'll thank him in person. Once we fly back from Mahelmetan, I guess." He didn't want to wait that long, but he would survive. His own impatience seemed like a small thing in the face of everything else going on, but it bothered him nonetheless.

Einfari looked back at him, her eyes calculating. 'Yes, you will just have to wait,' she agreed.

The busy port island of Mahelmetan was not a large port, despite how popular it was. Traders came once or twice a year, and while occasional raids were sent out to neighboring islands, nobody ever raided back, and visitors who were not there to trade were generally sparse. The people of Mahelmetan did their trading in bulk, not frequently.

So, when more than three dozen ships appeared on the horizon, the people of Mahelmetan were understandably surprised, and more than a little worried under the usual Viking bravado. Men and women rushed through the streets, hastily donning armor and bartering for weapons when they couldn't find their own fast enough. The island was preparing to be assaulted, everyone sure that a glorious but ultimately futile battle was upon them.

Heather walked the streets confidently, at least on the outside. On the inside, she couldn't help a flutter of fear, and not because of all the ruckus surrounding her. The last time she had walked the streets of a village, she had been on the run. She felt exposed, in danger, even though she knew she should be safe because they scouted and found no Berserker ships at the docks.

But her lingering fear was not rational and cared not at all for the safety she presumably enjoyed. She might have felt more secure to have a Night Fury shadowing her from the rooftops like in the story Maour had told her about the time he, Toothless and Cloey had been looking for the pack, but the village was far too busy and alert for that to work. Her ride and escort were hiding in the woods, far from her.

A large woman with two massive maces brushed past Heather, almost knocking her over. She flinched away, nearly running into another equally massive Viking.

'Careful, they're like falling boulders,' Einfari remarked.

Heather slipped into an alleyway just to get out of the chaos, and looked out at the rush. "They're going to feel really stupid soon."

'Yes, they are. Any luck finding their leaders?'

"No. We really don't know who the Chief is?" She couldn't believe that Maour had never found that basic information out; he had been making trips to Mahelmetan for over five years. If it was her, she would have found that out within the first year, at least.

'Apparently not. Look for some sort of gathering resistance. Maour says any Viking leader would be at the front of the line, wherever that is."

She knew that; it was obvious enough. Glorious battle was upon them, or so they thought, and no amount of tactical planning would change the outcome, not with such a huge disparity in force, so there was nothing to be gained by hanging back and coordinating. The leader would be by the docks, ready to die in the first charge.

Heather was not in the mood to find any of this funny, per se, but it was ironic. Here they all were, freaking out over the smaller side of the war that had just landed on their island. She slipped out of the alley and continued making her way to the docks, watching out for ambushes along the way.

Sure enough, there was a makeshift barricade forming just shy of the docks, barrels and crates being piled high between buildings, men and women setting up behind the makeshift defenses, reinforcing and strengthening weak points. Too little, too late, but it wasn't going to matter.

"Block that doorway!" a voice boomed out. Heather turned, trying to see the speaker. The tone of command was a promising sign.

"More barrels here, the crates are lighter, we need a solid wall!"

This time, Heather had caught a glimpse of the speaker. She moved closer, observing before acting. He was a large man, portly and unless she missed her guess, out of shape, with an eyepatch covering his left eye. He waved a plain, battle-worn sword around, pointing at what needed to be fixed, and spoke as if he was in charge.

Still, Heather waited until she heard someone address him as Chief Rotison before making her move. "Chief!" she called out loudly, walking right up to him.

"Aye, lass?" he drawled, looking her over. "Ye shouldn't be here, this is a killing ground and you're not a killer."

Heather frowned at that; she wasn't proud of it, not particularly, but she could claim at least two Berserkers as proof he was wrong in saying so. "Sir, they're not here to attack."

"What are you babbling on about, lass?" Rotison barked. "Look at the size o' that fleet!"

"All I'm saying is that if they aren't here to attack, it would be stupid to strike first," Heather clarified. "Set up a white flag and find out. It won't cost you anything." The fleet itself was not waving white flags of their own, but only because three of the four Chieftains had steadfastly refused to approach a weaker opponent by asking for peace. Bertha had been amiable to it, but the others didn't want her doing it because people might assume she spoke for all of them.

"That's not the Viking way," Rotison grumbled, "but it doesn't look like we're going to survive this anyway. And we need to buy time to get the fishing boats away… Good idea, lass."

The fishing boats, the ones Heather assumed would be full of the children and anyone too injured or frail to fight. They were being sent away to die or survive on the ocean instead of facing the uncertain mercies of an unknown invader…

Just like her and her friend, out fishing when the Berserkers attacked. Everyone here was fearing that very kind of atrocity. Her side had inflicted that fear, because the Chieftains had been unanimous in wanting to intimidate the leadership of Mahelmetan in order to have a better bargaining position…

Heather felt sick, but she didn't show it, nodding thankfully and disappearing into the crowd before Rotison could try and send her to the ships, and maybe send an escort or something with her. "Einfari, it's done. He's going to wave a white flag in order to buy his people time to get away, but he still fully expects a fight. I did my best."

'Got it. That's enough. Now go get somewhere with a good view. This is going to be a mostly human affair, and if the humans plan something stupid that could derail it, I want you in a position to spot it before it happens.'

Heather looked around, spotting several huts with lightly sloped rooftops that would make good, inconspicuous vantage points. "I probably won't see anything, but sure." The parts she had played in all of this were over for now. She just had to make sure to stay close to the docks in order to play her final role once it was called for.

The majority of the fleet cast anchor a way out from the island; it would be foolish to come close before the island had been rendered safe. Vikings didn't fear battle, but they did want to die facing actual enemies, not neutrals in the war who just didn't know they weren't under attack. Pointless slaughter wasn't all that glorious, or at least wasn't nearly as glorious as a proper fight.

But four ships did continue onward, each carrying a full detachment of Viking warriors, a Chieftain, and in one case, a man and a dragon.

Not in four cases, as one might expect. Maour and Einfari were continuing onward, but the other riders were remaining with the bulk of the combined fleet until things were decided. Fishlegs was going to go find his parents once things settled down on the island, but the twins and their rides were heading home once it was confirmed that they didn't need to hang around, and Maour would be doing the same with Einfari after she and Heather had a brief reunion.

And all of that was coming after the likely heated encounter that was about to happen. Einfari was standing tall on the deck, saddled and ready to go, and Maour was by her side. Mogadon and his son stood at the front of the ship, also ready.

"Heather came through," Maour sighed, seeing the white flag flapping wildly in the oncoming wind, hanging off of the impressively expansive makeshift fortifications blocking the docks off from the rest of the island.

'Of course. She also reports no obvious sneak attacks, and says that the Chieftain has been going around, but that people put down their weapons when he speaks to them. He's not planning anything more than trying to stall us, and maybe hearing us out,' Einfari purred proudly. 'She's mingling with the crowd near the front, now, ready when we call her out.'

"Good." It had been officially decided that Heather, Eldurfjall, and Einfari would be serving as the pack's eyes and ears on Mahelmetan, their official representatives, for the time being. Heather and Eldurfjall would be staying, and Einfari would be going back to provide a link to the Isle of Night. That was going to be common knowledge soon, assuming they got that far.

The anchor was cast off the ship, a massive, crudely-shaped piece of metalwork dropping into the water, and a gangplank lowered.

'Here we go,' Einfari hummed thoughtfully. 'You know, this feels different. We're showing ourselves to a village that hasn't already allied with us, and we don't plan on trying to get their support past what's needed.'

"Before was careful, targeted exposure, but this is a general reveal," Maour agreed. "It is different." He was still a little surprised the pack had agreed to it, even though in reality nothing new was being risked. They had already shown themselves to four villages, and no new information would be given. The Isle of Night would remain an unknown mystery implied to not be nearby, and the Night Furies a mysterious race with unknown capabilities and a fearsome reputation. But some of the mystique was already gone; Night Furies were no longer the dragons nobody had ever seen.

Maour was pretty sure that was a good thing. There were two types of safety; secrecy and acceptance. The former could not last forever, while the latter could. They were ever so slowly moving away from secrecy, and his existence, the existence of the riders, hinted toward acceptance someday. Their way of life was new, but it could spread. Would spread, in some form, eventually.

But that was all for later. Here, now, it was not spreading, and could not. Everything had to be done slowly, gradually, and today was not a day for working on that. This was not a time for ending the secrecy, not when their enemies would use any knowledge that fell into their grasp.

But today was a new thing. For the first time ever, as far as Maour or anyone he knew was aware of, a Night Fury set paw in a human village in full daylight, visible to all who looked, silently treading behind four intimidating Vikings and a strange man in black scale armor.

The reaction from the crowd waiting behind the barricades was exactly what Maour was coming to expect in cases like this. Eyes narrowed, or widened, and hands either dropped or tightened on weaponry. Faces grew ashen, and silence reigned.

'That is their Chief,' Einfari murmured, identifying the large, eye-patch-wearing man who stood in front of the barricades, holding the white flag on a spear in one hand and a circular shield in the other. A tentative offer of peace hanging from a weapon of war, next to a shield. Obvious symbolism, if impressive for a Viking to come up with on the fly.

"We appreciate the white flag," Mogadon boomed. "But we're not here to conquer, so it's not needed."

"Who," the Chief of Mahelmetan asked warily, "is we?"

'We don't really have a name for all of this,' Einfari said quietly. 'Whoops.'

Luckily, it seemed Bertha was on the case. "The alliance against the Berserkers and their insane leaders," she declared without missing a beat, easily taking over for Mogadon, who to his credit didn't break the show of unity to glare at her. "We're here because they're already around here, and we know their leaders are coming. We don't know how long we're staying, or what we'll be doing yet, but we plan to pay fair prices for everything we need, and to frequent your establishments in the meantime."

"What's the catch?" someone yelled out from the barricade.

"Well," Aldir volunteered, speaking neutrally, "obviously we'd like you to not resent our presence. And we are of taking up a good portion your docks, but we'll be rotating ships so that there are no more than six docked at any one time. And we won't be tolerating Berserkers, so you'll be losing out on whatever trade they provided."

"That'd be little to none," someone else volunteered, sounding far less bothered by everything. "You'll want food?"

"Food, weapons, other things," Sigvard of the Rockbreakers rumbled.

"I have more pressing concerns," the Chief of Mahelmetan pressed. "You're fighting the Berserker armada, and you're using my home as your base of operations. If they attack here, we may well be wiped out in the process. You're forcing us to die for your cause if necessary." He hefted the spear the white flag was hanging from. "And I've yet to hear an explanation as to the unnatural thing behind you four."

"There are five tribes here," Bertha said casually. "Bog Burglars, Meatheads, Rockbreakers, Waxears… And the Isle of Night."

"That would be us," Maour volunteered, stepping forward with Einfari at his back. "So there's your answer. And think of it this way. We'll be defending your island from Berserkers, and if you know anything about them or their leader, you'll realize that even if we weren't here, they'd probably show up looking to take what you have, so they'd be attacking regardless." All true; the smart first move for Dagur would be to conquer the hub of trade in the region and take it over, using it to supply the long-term needs of his armada… Assuming he meant to stay in the area.

"I'll want the full details," the Chief of Mahelmetan said forcefully, "but as you don't seem to be giving us much of a choice, I suppose the terms are generous enough." He waved a hand at the barricade. "Welcome to Mahelmetan. Enjoy your stay."

'I do not like the look in his eye,' Einfari hissed, though Maour knew her outward appearance would betray none of her unease. 'This is not as good as it sounds.'

"No, not at all," Maour whispered back. "He's not actually welcoming us; he's just saying that he'll listen." All of this had been meant for the people watching, a visible demonstration to convey that there would be no fight; the actual explanation and bargaining over terms would be far less pleasant and straightforward and would happen behind closed doors. Right now, all that had been decided was that there would be no fight in the immediate future.

Still, they were in, and better yet, he wasn't going to be the one sitting in on the negotiations and representing the Isle of Night. That would be Heather. Maour knew that it was a small relief, a momentary break at best, but he was still looking forward to going home. The trip was over, and Mahelmetan taken, in a way. One step closer to the end, whatever that would be.

Author's Note: And thus, the war is finally beginning. I hope it lives up to the expectations I've been building this entire story. (It's certainly not going to be a one-battle-and-done thing; I didn't make that mistake in my first draft, and I certainly am not going to do it with the real thing.) Also, wow, I severely underestimated the length of this story in the first Author's note of this story. We're still far from done here; I'm doing every stage of this story justice, and that means things that before took one chapter (the trip back, for instance) now takes several, and plot points that I for some reason ignored (taking Mahelmetan for a base, and the obvious difficulties with that, both practical and moral, as a current example) are now expanded to fit the logical conclusions. My biggest fault in the last story was trying to skip interesting things, because what is a story if not interesting things following some sort of common thread? I'll not ignore the big things on that thread. But I also don't want to drag things out too much, which makes it even harder.

Anyway, enough rambling. Things are heating up, and there's a surprise in store for Maour in the immediate future. Can anyone guess what it is? It's a small logical leap, but I think it might be guessable.