A chill night heralded the coming of winter, the clear sky host to uncountable sky-sparks and a sliver of sky-ice shining down on the boundless sea. Dreamer's wings caressed the air as they flew low and quiet, speeding over the water, only the occasional leathery flaps of broad Nightstriker wings to break the silence.
There was a new ship in the area, a larger one, with a similarly wide hull for transport. It did not have the hunter's crest on the sail, sporting instead what looked like a simple stick man with horns but no legs, but it was still suspicious. They were in foreign waters, and the similarity of shipbuilding could be because they were purchased or otherwise shared a common source, but he suspected the hunters might be trying to throw them off.
Which was amusing, actually, all they had seen so far was a pair of Night Furies crippling countless ships. Did they expect dragons to be that smart? That was quite a logical leap for most humans to make on their own.
After carefully circling the ship from afar, where their silhouettes would be dismissed as tricks of the eyes, they descended to the dark sea and swiftly approached the boat from the side. Dreamer was extremely nervous at attempting this again after it had gone so badly last time, but Wanderer was confident. They weren't planning on killing anyone this time, and they had their fire. All they needed was evidence of whether or not these people were hunters.
Unlike the regular hunter ships, which had a cabin on the deck, this one had two cabins, built into and on top of a sort of second level of deck that covered the back of the ship, and not one but three sails. It was all much larger than anything Dreamer had ever seen before, and very impressive.
It also made a lot of corners and shadows to hide in.
They silently alighted on the rail and slipped over it onto the deck, lurking in the shadows in front of the lower cabin. The ship appeared to be controlled by a wheel above them, which was currently manned, and there was a second person they had seen occasionally making rounds, adjusting sails and poking around. The two were unremarkable burly men with weapons at their waists, loudly talking about a variety of mundane topics.
There was nothing to be learned from their conversation – plenty about several women that Dreamer wished he could claw from his mind – and the deck of the ship was clean and bare; a thousand faint scents had been tracked onto it, none standing out more than any other. Why would such a vessel need such a big hold if they weren't going to make use of the deck? Unless it was intended to sail through storms or something…
Wanderer peeked around the door into the cabin, then gestured to look inside. Dreamer crept around him and poked his head around the door frame, quickly taking in over a dozen sleeping forms. If the crew was up here, and maybe even more crew in the cabin upstairs, then what were they keeping in the hold? They had to find out.
Unfortunately, the deck was exquisitely built with nary a crack to scent, so they would need to find a way in. The closed hatch, a body-length from the cabin and in full sight of the man steering the boat, was not a good idea. Maybe there was a back window or something…
But then, totally by chance, a scent caught his nose for just an instant, a heavy musk… The hatch, he realised, wasn't totally sealed. The scents of the men in the cabin were thankfully being swept away by the wind as the ship travelled, but occasionally he got whiffs that were making it hard to confirm what it was he'd just caught.
If he could just get closer… He crept forward, likely into the line of sight of the man at the wheel but trusting his dark scales to hide him as long as he didn't move too quickly.
There was only the slightest crack, but the scent was pungent, that of Spine-Tail. He couldn't tell how many there were, but the rank smell accompanying it suggested they'd been there a few days.
A scuff got Dreamer's attention, and he whipped his head around to see the deckhand descending the stairs. The man hadn't noticed him… until a pair of bright green eyes appeared out of the darkness to glare at him. They both froze, staring at each other.
"D… D… D…"
A tense huff from Wanderer got him moving, bounding over the deck and leaping off the rail to catch the wind. Shouts of alarm drifted up to them, and the deck of the boat began to glow as lanterns were lit.
"They hunters?" Wanderer asked him as they climbed.
"Yes," Dreamer said with a growl. "Spine-Tails inside."
Wanderer scowled. "We shoot trees again? This big floating-thing…" It took roughly half their fire to destroy a mast, so one of them would be completely out of fire if they wanted to destroy all three.
"No, I want do," Dreamer purred maliciously, then folded his wings. He watched in amusement as the lights below him paused, then began scurrying around, some into cover or into the cabin, and others to the railing as if perhaps hoping to get a glimpse of him. He could see bows and axes being readied, but they wouldn't do them any good.
He wrangled his fire into shape – it felt like it was trying to move around on its own while diving, making it much more difficult – and released it to smite the ship almost directly from above. The shot instantly disintegrated the steering wheel and a good few paces of the cabin beneath it.
"What you do?" Wanderer asked curiously as he swooped back up to height. "I know target wings, but how that stop it?"
Dreamer was only half paying attention, more interested in the people inspecting the damage. "Hrrr, it move thing like tail-fin. Not can-" He cut himself off, suddenly realising what he was saying and to whom.
But his friend just huffed in satisfaction. "Yes, not can fly with no tail-fin. Good."
At any rate, the ship was going nowhere for now. The crew would probably be able to rig something up, but that was fine, and intentional. It meant they'd be able to limp home after they returned in the morning with the rest of the riders to free the dragons.
"Alright guys, up and at 'em!" Astrid shouted, banging on the twins' door. A pair of sleepy, unenthusiastic groans came from inside. "Ah well, guess we'll just go blow up these hunters without you." That got them moving.
Astrid grabbed the zipline and whizzed down a few levels, then climbed the short ladder up to Fishlegs' hut and banged on his door. A sleepy and incomprehensible shout came in reply, though the door opened soon after.
"Astrid, wha-? It's not even daylight yet." He yawned widely, swaying a little on his feet.
"Yeah, we got a hunter ship to raid, and we want to hit them at dawn. Come in with the sun behind us."
He smacked his lips a few times as he stared at her. Then comprehension sunk in, and his eyes widened. "You mean, like, actual fighting? With swords and blood and danger and stuff?"
"Yes, Fishlegs," Astrid said with a roll of her eyes, "don't tell me you forgot why we're out here."
He scratched his cheek, looking off to the side. "Well, to be fair, you did kind of rope us all into it without much choice."
"You could have stayed on Berk if you wanted, but come on, would you really have passed this up?"
"Ehh… Probably not. Well, time to see what we got, I guess…"
"That's the spirit!" Astrid left him to get dressed, scowling up at the fourth hut. She wouldn't hesitate here, but she didn't have to like this part.
The climb up to Snotlout's hut was actually quite invigorating, enough to get the blood running. But did he really have to build on such a tall rock column? They'd needed a lot of nails for this ladder.
She reached the top and stretched, working her stiff muscles from their slumber, and-
The door opened before she had a chance to knock. "I'm up," he said shortly.
Astrid gave him a flat look and crossed her arms. "Good, we're going to go free some dragons from a hunter ship."
"Sounds like fun."
She turned to look sideways at him before climbing and leaping her way back down, then made her way back up to her own hut.
"Hey girl," she said warmly as she entered, gently waking Stormfly with a stroke over her head. The Nadder huffed at her, then stretched and got to her feet. "Ready to knock some heads together?"
They were all quickly in the air, eating a small breakfast on the flight as they followed the Furies out to sea. She could only just make them out against the glow of the impending dawn, but Stormfly had no trouble keeping track of them.
"Remember," she called out as a sliver of sun blinded her to the horizon, "we're not aiming to kill anyone. Just make sure they stay down, knock them off the boat if you can, but try not to kill them." It was a bit strange, having a dragon argue for a non-lethal approach, but she didn't need much convincing. Filling their infirmaries and breaking their morale was a brutally effective tactic, if they could pull it off, not to mention depriving them of an honourable death. Highly disrespectful, but she couldn't blame the dragon for that; from his perspective, these people deserved no respect.
Snotlout was staring forwards, giving no indication he had heard. Was that determination on his face, or anger and frustration? Astrid couldn't tell. Fishlegs looked nervous, which was understandable, but he knew his way around a fight; his freakish strength always took her by surprise, and she knew about it. The twins were conversing but went quiet when she looked their way; not in the way that said they were up to something, they just didn't want her to think they were talking for whatever reason.
Still, this was their first real fight. It would be prudent to go in with some strategy. "Ruff, Tuff, I want you breaking up clusters of hunters. Make your shots count." Zippleback gas wasn't usually lethal, but it hit like a war hammer and usually left some light burns. "Fishlegs, you're in charge of getting the dragons out, break through the hold and shout if you need help. Snotlout, we're covering him."
She didn't really know how to factor in the Night Furies. They would be out of their element here, in the daylight, but they were still incredibly fast and strong dragons, to say nothing of… Actually, their fire might be too powerful, and she had no desire to know what it could do to a man. She very suddenly had no qualms whatsoever about the non-lethal approach. "Toothy, Hiccup, you guys help how you can." One of them barked a confirmation; they knew what they could do more than she did.
There wasn't any real indication they were turning, but the rising sun was creeping around their side, and then the Furies led them down to fly just above the waves; smart, she realised, as they would be less visible against the choppy water. Shortly after, they made a more noticeable turn and put the sun behind them, though Astrid still couldn't see their target.
Finally, it resolved into shape from the water, a large vessel with three tall masts and a tall back, bigger than anything she'd seen before. The Furies had said maybe fifteen to twenty crew, in their odd way of counting with their claws, which seemed easy enough for six dragons and five warriors. If each dragon took out two hunters, each rider would only need to fight one each.
As much as she wanted to take out more than one, as hard as she'd trained, she had to be realistic. She had no experience in a real fight, which she was told was very different; anything could happen in a real fight.
They successfully approached the ship without alerting them until the last moment, close enough that the shouts of surprise and alarm were clearly audible. One of the Furies then opened fire on what looked like the cabin at the back of the ship, the shot striking the corner and smashing apart the front wall to leave a tangle of splintered wood across where the door had been.
Stormfly landed on the rail, and Astrid leaped down with her axe at the ready. "Surrender, and nobody gets hurt!" she shouted into the chaos. The rest of the dragons swiftly surrounded the hunters, growling at anyone who moved.
"Stand yer ground," a grizzled man said firmly, not shouting but with a voice that carried well over the deck, a big muscly man with a shaven head and long beard. He hefted his hammer and waved it. "Night Furies'll fetch a handsome price."
"But they's ridin' dragons!" one of the men shouted back uncertainly.
"And yer a dragon hunter!" the one who was presumably the captain snapped back, deftly grabbing a light bola from his belt and throwing it almost casually to wind tightly around Hookfang's mouth and head, and both sides startled into motion.
Astrid cut another bola from the air, and Stormfly leapt away from a third to barge into the nearest hunter and fling him overboard. There were sounds of engagement from all around, the snarling Furies leaping at the captain, but Astrid was suddenly preoccupied with a big man advancing on her.
"Oy, yer jus' a kid," he said patronisingly, advancing without a weapon in hand. "Now wha's a swee' li'l thing like you doin' out 'ere?" Even riding a dragon to their boat and declaring their intention, they still weren't being taken seriously!
At least with this guy she could make him regret it. She charged forward and swung her axe, but he only reached out to grab it by the handle.
Fool.
She yanked on it as she swung, shifting the weapon so that his hand met the blade instead of the handle. That was the first thing Spitelout had done when he'd started training her personally, grab her axe off her. Then he'd shown her how to punish it.
After slicing his hand open, she followed and redirected the momentum to open up his leg while he looked at her in dumb surprise, and then slammed the flat of the axe against his shoulder, knocking him aside; he was far too occupied with ensuring he didn't bleed out to get back up. The hunter who took his place looked far more grim and determined, drawing a heavy sword and advancing steadily but warily.
Finally! She grinned and met him with a feint, which he stepped away from – and then she was very suddenly aware that the sword she'd just dodged was not only capable of cleaving her in half, it was trying to.
Frantic heartbeats and several metallic clashes later, a pair of Nadder spines suddenly impaled his arm, causing him to drop his sword. She jabbed him under the chin with the blunt end of her axe, then took a shaky step back.
Tunnel vision. Action and reaction. Sounds heavy and dull in her ears. She struggled with herself, tightly gripping her axe, flooded with more adrenaline than she could handle and unable to think clearly, unable to see or think about anything other than what she was directly looking at. She could barely even remember the brief fight she'd just engaged in. Nobody else seemed to be coming for her, though a large portion of the deck was on fire.
She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus, trying to make sense of the utter chaos. The dragons were all over the place, one of the Furies was racing around the deck but only managing to distract the few remaining hunters, the other was Odin knew where, and a wild-faced Snotlout stood between a flaming Hookfang and an arc of fire, his axe dripping blood. As she watched, the twins rose over the side of the boat on their dragon and took out the group surrounding Snotlout, and then the remaining hunters shouted and jumped overboard.
Stormfly startled her, appearing out of nowhere to nuzzle her shoulder. "Hey girl," she cooed at her, dazed, her own voice hollow in her ears… then noticed the bola around her dragon's head. "Oh-!" She holstered her axe and drew her knife to cut the rope.
The Nadder shook herself and warbled happily, then stared out over the mess that was the deck of the ship.
"That… could have gone better," Astrid said slowly, shaking herself out of her vacancy. How was it that she could fight dragons without as much as blinking, but people made her… like this?
Think about that later. "Where's Fishlegs?" she asked loudly, looking around and forcing her breathing to slow.
"Here!" came a muffled reply from down below. "Can, uh, someone open these doors? I don't want to start opening cages until they have somewhere to go."
"I got it," Snotlout growled, reaching down and hefting to open up a hinged section of flaming deck.
"Hey, watch it!" Fishlegs shouted.
"You watch it!" Snotlout shot back, flipping over the other door.
"Sure, just rain fire down on someone without warning, how am I-"
"Enough!" Astrid snapped. "Just do what we came here to do and let's go!" She hated these hunters, she hated this ship, and she hated herself, she didn't want to spend any longer here than she had to.
A strikingly colourful Nadder scrambled out of the hold shortly after, flinched back from Snotlout, and flapped wildly into the air, free once again. Hopefully it would learn from however these hunters had caught it, and pass that knowledge on to others.
"Why're yeh doin' this?" a gruff and unfamiliar voice grit out, one of the hunters propping himself up against the nearby mast and holding a crude and bloody wrap tightly to his upper leg.
"Because," Astrid responded calmly, still forcing her breathing to steady, "dragons are intelligent creatures and deserve to be treated with respect. Someone's gotta fight for them."
He laughed, though he was clearly in pain, as another Nadder escaped the hold. "Bunch o' kids playin' a dangerous game. Yeh'll be dead 'afore winter, an' yer dragons'll be sold and skinned, not necessarily in tha' order."
The Fury on the deck, which looked to be Hiccup, approached him and sat down just out of reach. "Tell him stop hunting," he said, then snorted. "Also that small claw not help him."
"He says to stop hunting dragons," Astrid translated, wondering where he was keeping the knife. Must be amongst the cloth he was using to keep himself from bleeding out.
"Cute," the hunter grunted disdainfully. "Coin's coin, gotta make a livin' somehow. Riddin' the world o' monsters is jus' a bonus."
"Ask who his alpha."
"Who are you working for?"
The hunter laughed again. "Couldn' tell yeh, don' even know 'is name, don' even wanna."
Hiccup huffed and walked away, apparently satisfied, and the man relaxed a little. Astrid smirked at him. "Oh, don't worry," she said sweetly, "if he wanted you dead you'd be dead. A little knife wouldn't make a blind bit of difference."
He gave her a startled look as she walked over to the doors to the hold and peered down. "How're you going down there, Fish?"
"Last one," he called back. "Nearly got it…" There was some scuffling and growling from somewhere out of sight, and the boat shuddered as the last Nadder leapt straight from the hold into the sky. "Whew, he was feisty. Toothy had to hold him down so I could get the muzzle off."
Said Fury leaped up onto the deck and looked around. "Fly," he prompted, glaring at the remaining hunters who were still alive but wisely not getting back up.
Still alive… except for one. While Fishlegs and Meatlug carefully navigated their way out of the hold, Astrid took a few steps towards the corpse to get a better look, finding a gaping wound in his chest. An axe wound.
"Stormfly," she called tersely, then vaulted into the saddle and braced herself as they took off.
It made sense now. Snotlout had killed the first hunter he'd fought, and they'd ganged up on him in response. Stupid, just stupid. As much as she hated to admit it, the fact that they hadn't taken her seriously had probably kept her alive in the brief fight. Snotlout had needed the backup of three dragons, perhaps even Stormfly as well, and for what? Some stupid sense of 'manliness' having earned his first kill? He could have got her killed if it turned out she'd needed help herself.
At that, why wasn't he lording it over her now? He had to know he'd done wrong or he'd be gloating over his first kill. That must be it.
She continued to fume as they climbed into the sky, following the Furies. She had to calm a bit, let herself think before just tearing into him. "Report!" she called out.
No volunteers. "Fishlegs," she barked.
"Oh, er, well, we managed to get into the hatch while everyone was distracted," he called back. "Meatlug might have broken it a bit to get through. Toothy took out a hunter, and I tried to find the way out until, well, you know that part."
"Ruff, Tuff?"
"That was awesome!" both twins shouted in unison, throwing their arms and legs out.
"There was chaos everywhere," Tuffnut said excitedly.
"And you guys were like, all over the place," Ruffnut added.
"Yeah, made it really easy to move around."
"So we just kinda rolled with it!"
"And then they all went-"
"Kablamo!" they shouted together, then high-fived.
Astrid rolled her eyes, unsure why she had expected anything coherent. Not that they were entirely wrong in their assessment. "Snotlout?"
"Took one out, distracted the rest while Fishlegs got into the hold," he said shortly. "Astrid?" he prompted, folding his arms and looking at her expectantly.
"Took one out, huh? By which you mean killed him."
Hiccup's ears went up and he bobbed in the air in front of her, then tilted his head a little so he could look back at them.
"Probably," Snotlout said casually. "I had a shot, I took it. What's it matter? The rest are still alive, and there's one less hunter in the world."
"We say not kill," Hiccup said with a growl, falling back between Astrid and Snotlout to glare at the idiot.
"That's just not how it played out," Snotlout replied breezily.
"You endangered yourself and the rest of us," Astrid shot at him. "We agreed not to kill."
"Ohh, I see," he yelled sarcastically, "so it's alright when you kill a bunch of hunters, but when I do it-"
"What!? I didn't kill any-"
"When Dagur snuck onto Berk, you didn't hesitate. But now you've got your kills, well, Odin forbid anyone else get one up on you!"
When Dagur… Right, she'd forgotten about that in the aftermath, when the Furies had been kidnapped. "Like I care about that," she replied honestly. "And that was different!"
Hiccup roared, then glared at both of them. "We all talk later," he growled. "That was very bad hunt, all us need be better."
"But he-"
Astrid was cut off by Hiccup snarling over the top of her. "I not want hear it. If say more, I put you, you," he gestured to both of them, "in den, not let out."
"Come on Hookfang, let's get out of here." Hookfang then arched his back and thrust his wings hard, quickly pulling ahead.
"This isn't how this was supposed to go," Astrid sighed.
"No," Hiccup agreed. "But life like that. Learn, be better. All you can do."
…Was this really the playful little dragon that had, only a few years ago, loved to climb over her until he fell exhausted into her lap and instantly started snoring? Who had fit into the crook of her arm, that first winter, from where he liked to watch her do her chores?
He still loved to have fun, of course – both of them could still be cheeky little trolls when they felt like it – but when he spoke, people listened; not out of any sense of duty or position in the tribe, but just because he had spoken. As hard as Astrid had trained, and as much as Stoick had taught her, that commanding presence had always eluded her, but here it was in a dragon a fraction her age; albeit one bigger than perhaps Stoick himself. What separated them? Even now, she was taking his words to heart, changing her thinking from hopeless failure to learning experience, and she couldn't say exactly why.
Well, one thing he had in droves was experience. That couldn't be everything… but it was somewhere she could start.
"We should jus' sail a small fleet ou' there an' take 'em ou' now! Tha' type's always trouble…"
"Patience, brother," Viggo Grimborn replied neutrally, ignoring Ryker's pacing around the tent to focus on the details of the report. He would question the captain and several men personally, but this report would lead him to the right questions to ask.
Ryker stopped pacing to face him. "Well while you talk abou' patience, tha' lot are cripplin' 'alf our fleet!"
"If you can mark a map and tell me they'll be there in the time it takes to get there, you may go with my blessing," Viggo replied calmly. He didn't even look up for the response, far too absorbed in reading into the subtleties of the words before him.
Such as the fact that only two men had died, and one of those to infection days after the attack. These were likely the two Night Furies from the little Viking village, with some of the dragon riders he'd heard about while there with Johann, so that pacifism was an enigma. He might think them from somewhere else, but the first death was specified as by axe to the chest which implied they were indeed Vikings and thus had no business leaving survivors.
That aside, the dragon riders of Berk had flown their island in some misguided sense of compassion for the dangerous beasts. They were inexperienced, that much was dreadfully obvious, but the Night Furies alone more than made up for it, according to the report.
"When was the las' time you slept?" Ryker asked sternly, leaning on the table.
"Finding fault to obscure your own is unbecoming of you." Sleep was such a tedious necessity, there was far too much to do here to waste time being unconscious; much better to pass long journeys with it instead.
"Well I ain't goin' easy on you today."
"When do you ever," Viggo sighed, folding the report and filing it in a drawer. Brawling like a common thug was another tedious necessity, but one he could at least appreciate the purpose of. "Send them back out once their ship's repaired, somewhere further north." It was currently the biggest and most profitable ship in his fleet, and he'd been depending on its now departed cargo. They could not afford to have it sat idle.
"You don' wan' ter talk to 'em?" Ryker asked uncertainly.
"They cannot tell me what I need to know," Viggo confirmed as he crossed the tent and stepped outside. "Have our crest put back on the sails, while they're at it." The symbol for Mercury, believed by many to be the mark of the trickster, had not lived up to its reputation; but that was before he'd known there were human pieces on the playing board.
"And the riders?" Ryker asked as he followed.
A small and inexperienced group with likely minimal resources, but also possessing unparalleled travel capabilities and incredible firepower… "Allow me to think on my opening move." He just hoped they survived it. This had the potential to be an incredible game… just as long as there was someone on the other side who could play.
Suspended from a rafter by his tail, Dreamer murred thoughtfully as he inspected the map laid out below him. A large piece of parchment they'd purchased from Johann depicted Dragon's Nest in the centre, and then a number of surrounding islands from there.
After seeing Johann's maps – from a distance – he'd decided on making his own. Awkward, certainly, but well worth the accuracy; Nightstrikers had a very good sense of geography, and he'd go insane if the map in his head didn't match the one he was using to plan.
But right now, he was stumped. There seemed to be no pattern to the hunters, no common source or destination, though that made sense if they were just sailing from island to island looking for dragons; not that a boat's heading was much indication of direction, what with avoiding dead zones and being unable to sail directly into the wind. Over the last week the boats had become rarer and shabbier, but… it didn't feel right.
The big boat with the strange crest hadn't reappeared. That was part of what was bugging him, they hadn't destroyed enough of it that it wouldn't limp back home for repairs. But where was it? And as many ships as they'd hit, none had held dragons in the cages on the deck, and they'd checked quite a number of them at night to confirm there weren't any in the hold either.
He murred thoughtfully again, then stretched his wings and wrapped his torso in them, the motion leaving him swaying slightly.
By all appearances, they were winning. But it was too easy, there was no big hunt for the riders, no last ditch effort, they were just dwindling away. He didn't believe it for a moment. Whoever was leading these hunters was clever… He just needed to be cleverer.
But what should they do? Storm another ship, this time for information? Follow one for days to see where it was going?
Resolving to mull it over, he deftly reached up to grab the rafter and swung away from the table to the ground, landing lightly, then trotted outside. Harsh sunlight assaulted his eyes for the instant it took them to adjust, and then he hopped into the air to glide over to the training grounds.
The first and so far only raid they had gone on had been, to put it mildly, a disaster, salvaged only by swift claws and an unhealthy dose of luck. The training grounds were the response to that, a raised platform in the shape of a ship's deck. Putting Snotlout in charge of the drills seemed to have done wonders for everyone, not only did it turn out he was somewhat versed in battle strategy but he and Astrid weren't at each other's throat anymore. Still glaring daggers at each other, but no more than that.
Dreamer watched as the riders assaulted the stick and straw dummies on the platform, knocking them around and occasionally dealing moderate wounds with weapons or spines, but it wasn't the focus. Rather, they now all worked as a team to secure a section of the deck, break inside, deal with resistance, and release the dragons as quickly as possible. A real raid would be very different, but it would give them confidence and direction, help them deal with unexpected situations.
Actually, on that thought… Dreamer swooped down and landed at the prow of the ship, then reared onto his hindlegs and walked forward with an angry shout. How would they deal with an unexpected and dangerous opponent?
Astrid and Snotlout leaped out of the saddles – in opposite directions, away from each other – and signalled to their dragons. Dreamer quickly found himself walled off by two dragons and two axes, facing them down, watching for an opening-
"Clear!" Fishlegs shouted as he emerged on the back of Meatlug, navigating out of the small hatch and buzzing into the air, and Snotlout and Astrid were on their dragons and off in moments.
"We totally had you, just so you know," Tuffnut said behind him, the twins and Zippleback heads rising up over the side of the ship. The structure lurched a little as they pushed off to catch up with the others.
Dreamer huffed, impressed, and followed them up and over to the communal hut.
"That good, you do much better," he said with a purr as he landed.
"I'd hope so," Astrid gritted, "we've been training our butts off. I think we're ready for the real thing now."
"Maybe," Dreamer warbled. "Only know when we try." They thought they'd been ready the first time.
Fishlegs left to pick some vegetables to go with dinner, Astrid and Ruffnut left together, and Snotlout and Tuffnut stayed to play some game that involved… a lot of punching each other, harsh insults… Dreamer didn't really understand it, nor did he have any desire to.
Instead, he put his mind back to the hunter problem. It seemed they were as prepared as they were going to get to raid a ship, and a slight change of objective would be simple. But what was he looking for in such a raid? Plans? A map to their base?
A barely audible cutting of the air reached his ears, and he turned from where he was lounging by the door to look outside. Wanderer was back! He barked happily, and his friend angled down to the communal hut to land in the doorway and bounded to a halt.
"Dreamer," he barked, "hunters all flying north. Many ships."
"Many?"
"I count three pawfuls."
A dozen ships, and those only the ones he'd seen… "Show me."
They bounded over to the map, and Dreamer swept off the little chips of wood they'd been using for markers. Wanderer then nudged them back onto it, showing them in a variety of places and indeed all heading north. He could even trace them back from their respective islands that they had last been on for repairs.
Snotlout peered around him. "Hey, that looks different, they're all pointing the same way."
"Yes," Dreamer huffed. "I need think. We talk after eat."
"Ugh, it's not Astrid cooking today is it?" Snotlout asked plaintively. "I think I'd rather eat the floorboards…"
"You make food, if not like," Dreamer growled absently, slapping the rider's leg with his tail.
"Hey, I'm not that desperate," he said as he wandered away.
Dreamer rolled his eyes, then chirped happily to Wanderer. "I think new word! 'Dragon'." He'd settled on basically just the Norse version without the consonants, a bit like "ah-roh" but with the hard tonal edge of 'scale'.
"Dragon," Wanderer said slowly, then gave Dreamer a wry look. "What this word mean?"
"It mean," Dreamer growled back, "us, Storm-Fly, other wing-hunters here in nest."
"It mean wing-hunters we nest with?" Wanderer warbled back tiredly.
He sounded like he wasn't all that into the teasing, and there was the matter of the hunters to consider. "I just tell you if thing is dragon," Dreamer huffed. "We fly?" he asked, gesturing outside.
Wanderer hummed consideringly, turning to look outside. "Lazy fly. I flew much today."
"Yes," Dreamer agreed, trotting outside and off the platform, then began a casual climb for height.
He watched the island slowly shrink below him as he ascended, imagining a map in its place and all the ships sailing through it. There were more islands further out than they'd explored, he was sure, but they'd never found any sinister operations out that far. They'd been too busy with the local hunters, whittling away their resources and morale.
Well, it seemed the hunters had been beaten in the war of attrition, and now they were making their next move. But what were they doing?
Dreamer's next move, were he in their place, would be to assemble them into a single fleet and hunt for the Nest, intent on driving the riders out. It wouldn't save them from the Nightstrikers' fire, but that was very limited and they could carry tools and materials for repairs on the move. With at least a dozen ships, it was feasible.
Where else would they be going? Some sort of base? So far they had shown no signs of communication or organisation, though there must be some. Of course, it could be both, returning to a base with the intent of regrouping for an assault.
Whatever he could come up with, there was really only one action to take. The ships had to be followed. It would either lead them to the fleet, or to the hunters' base. Whatever the case, they could then dismantle it all.
Night fell slowly, the sun departing the sky and blanketing the world in darkness. A far more ominous event after one had invited the fearsome essence of night itself to their abode.
Viggo peered around the tree at the wide path leading to his hut, careful to expose as little of himself as possible. There was no telling what would happen. Maybe they would attack the fleet, currently in the process of docking and unloading, or the camp at the base of this hill. He had positioned the few caged dragons he still had in innocently conspicuous places to imply there might be more out of sight to hopefully ward them off those targets; the riders seemed to value dragons' lives, something Viggo was all too happy to exploit.
Alternatively, they might send Ryker running for his life, recognising the superior lodgings of which he stood in the threshold, a comfortably sized hut at the top of a hill. Not much fazed the big man, but the sheer damage the Night Furies had been dealing thus far was unparalleled. Everyone knew the stories, of course, but seeing it first-hand was still sobering.
Viggo let out a slow breath and leaned back against the tree, hidden from sight. This waiting was dreadfully tense and boring. All planning and preparation was finished, but normally the execution was triggered either predictably or on his own whim. It was rare he needed to subject his plans to outside influence like this. There was always the chance they hadn't taken the bait, though there were still desirable outcomes to that.
But the anticipation just made it that much more satisfying when wingbeats and the scraping of claws on trodden dirt announced the arrival of his adversaries.
"Are you the one leading these hunters?" a young feminine voice asked brusquely.
"Who's askin'?" Ryker growled right back from the top of the stairs to the hut.
"We're Vikings, riding dragons," a boastful voice replied, "with two Night Furies. That's all you gotta know."
"A bunch o' kids ridin' dangerous beasts, looks ter me," Ryker said disdainfully. "What's yer game 'ere?"
Viggo couldn't resist, and peered around the tree again; he would have killed any of his men for doing the same, of course, but their curiosity was worthless. There were six dragons in total, two of them mere silhouettes afore the meagre torches lining the path, the others a Nightmare, a Nadder, a Zippleback, and a Gronckle. Four of the most common, and two of the rarest of all.
"We want you to stop hunting dragons, and leave," the boastful one demanded.
"Else we'll dismantle your entire operation," the girl added sternly.
One of the shadows turned, only evident by the bright green eyes within it, and Viggo tensed as that piercing gaze immediately locked onto him. To see only a sliver of his face in near total darkness, and past the light of a flame… Truly, these were creatures of darkness.
No point in hiding further. He strode from the trees while Ryker laughed in confidence borne of this all going exactly as Viggo had anticipated. That was actually a compliment to these young Vikings, in truth he hadn't expected them to live up to his expectations. "So you are the ones who have been making a mess of my fleet," he said loudly to announce himself as he strode unhurriedly into the firelight.
"Who are you?" one of the boys asked disdainfully from a neck of the Zippleback.
"I am Viggo Grimborn, and this is my island, my fleet, and my, as you put it, operation." Even as he spoke, he analysed the ragtag group, his first priority being understanding his opponents. The three at the back, the Gronckle and Zippleback riders, were clearly mere support, uninteresting at this time. The Nightmare and Nadder riders were the ones with drive, whose eyes gleamed with motivation and ambition.
"Well, then same to you," the girl on the Nadder said. "Pack up and ship off."
Viggo absently stroked the sides of his mouth, taking in her appearance and demeanour. "Now why should I do that? Let me guess. Some measure of authority, like to think you're in charge, but you feel that nobody takes you seriously and are just desperate to prove yourself." There was a look to someone in charge, and she didn't have it.
"Ha, he nailed you!" the small one crowed from the back of the Monstrous Nightmare.
Viggo had plenty of ideas about the boy, but settled for giving him a brief pitying look. They were both captains, in their own right, but neither led this resistance. A pity, he had hoped to get a measure of his adversary.
But it did mean he could now address his immense curiosity, the black dragons pulling and tugging at his gaze. They were beautiful, their hides gleaming in an odd way that seemed to eat the light around them, making it difficult to see more than their sleek silhouettes. Four large green eyes watched him carefully-
Viggo's mind reeled. One of the Furies was glancing at his hands, waist, shoulders, reading him for threats. Undoubtedly, were he to so much as think of making an aggressive move, it would react.
But the other, the slightly smaller of the two… It met his gaze, unwavering. Not tensely, not warily, just with a calm stare as if everything were in hand. There was the look, letting its subordinates handle things, simply watching, learning, but perhaps most frighteningly, understanding.
"I have introduced myself," Viggo prompted almost giddily, gesturing with an open palm and maintaining the staring contest with the dragon.
"Oh yeah," the boastful little man drawled happily, "meet our two Night Furies, that one's H-"
A large black wing snapped out, only the tip reaching in front of the boy but silencing him nonetheless. Proof of what Viggo already knew, but proof was nice to have when the conclusion was as impossible as this.
The Night Fury took a slow step forward, then broke off its stare and looked to the ground; it somehow managed to make such an action seem as if it was simply unconcerned of the man in front of him. It reached out with a wide paw, and deliberately wrote large, neat runes in the dirt.
Viggo kept himself level as the dragon stepped back, hiding his excitement. "An utmost pleasure to meet you, Dreamer," he said with a slight tip of his head. The Fury almost imperceptibly repeated the gesture back to him, maintaining its level stare.
The larger Fury shot Dreamer a brief and stern glance before going back to its wary glaring, and Viggo suddenly appreciated the pair anew. The larger and slightly older brother, most likely, looking out for his reckless little brother who could sometimes be a little too smart for his own good.
He'd known they were intelligent, the notes he'd traded for the design of a cage lined up perfectly with the report of his scout, who claimed it had understood him. But this was unprecedented. Intelligence was not quantifiable by a single measure, but nonetheless this dragon was undoubtedly smarter than most humans.
"Are you two done?" the girl on the Nadder asked impatiently, a shrill note entering her voice. "As I was saying-"
Viggo raised his hand and clicked his fingers, and thirty hunters swiftly emerged from the trees around them with crossbows levelled at the group. The common dragons hissed, flaring wings and spines, baring teeth, and their riders raised their weapons as they looked around.
But the noise of such was drowned out by a piercing shriek, both Night Furies staring at Viggo with a blue glow in their open mouths. Right, of course they knew the hunters were there; dragons had impeccable senses of smell, but these Furies were intelligent enough to understand the connotations. Many of his usual tactics would need revising…
"Ever seen a Night Fury shoot anything?" the second Zippleback rider asked in a voice only slightly higher than could be considered masculine. "There'll be nothing left of you before these goons can even pull the trigger."
"I have no doubt of that," Viggo replied calmly. "Are you familiar with dragonroot? A favourite of the Berserkers…" The smaller Fury twitched in recognition, its pupils narrowing and its head seeming to flatten a little. "You know of which I speak. Suffice to say, they would be the last shots you would ever fire."
"Cool," said the apparent girl on the Zippleback. "You kill us, we kill you, everybody wins!"
"And loses," her twin added. "You know, 'cause everyone's dead." Viggo had presumed the reports were exaggerated, but this really was just a bunch of kids.
Moving on. "Mutually assured destruction, a wonderful construct, is it not?" he asked Dreamer, wondering for how long they could hold the screeching glow in their mouths. "We will meet again, I am certain of it." He would make sure of it.
Dreamer's maw went dark again, and the other Fury followed suit, leaving bright spots and lines in Viggo's vision. The two riders at the front groaned in frustration, the twins on the Zippleback groaned in disappointment, and the Gronckle rider looked relieved. They were giving a solid impression of their dynamic, information to be used later.
And then all the dragons spread their wings and swiftly took off, somehow not buffeting or colliding with each other as they did so despite their close proximity – so they were well practised, if nothing else.
"You don't seriously believe tha', do you?" Ryker asked gruffly as he strode over, looking up into the dark sky as the sound of the Gronckle's wings faded. "Yer talkin' like the dragon's in charge."
"There are two ways to be fooled," Viggo reminded him. "To believe what is not true, and to refuse to believe what is. Underestimating that Night Fury will be the death of you."
Ryker snorted. "I know better than to estimate, tha's your job. So they're clever beasts."
"I do believe I just said not to underestimate it," Viggo said sternly. He didn't know about the larger one, but they should really just assume Dreamer was as intelligent as Viggo himself; overestimation was a far more forgiving mistake than underestimation.
"Wha' do you…"
He trailed off as a sound met their ears, followed by uneasy talking between the hunters still surrounding the path. "Into the trees!" Viggo shouted as the wail continued to rise in pitch and volume, then sprinted into the treeline alongside the path, away from the hut, balancing safety and a view of the sky.
The shrieking note peaked, and a short whistle accompanied a small blue light streaking from the black sky to punch into the solitary building, which simply exploded as the wail tapered off and faded into the distance.
Splinters and planks of wood rained down over the path and around the haphazard corner posts, all that was left standing of what had a moment ago been a perfectly serviceable and comfortably-sized hut. Bizarrely, there were only a few tiny flames scattered around the debris that quickly burned themselves out, as if fire was a by-product of the destruction rather than the cause.
Then again, Viggo knew of no fire that could be dropped like a hammer in a line as straight as a good sword. He'd seen it burn in a multitude of colours and in strange and fascinating ways, but it always burned. This was beyond understanding.
"Thor's britches," Ryker cursed loudly, jogging out to survey the damage with a hand to his bald head.
"Quite," Viggo agreed, waiting a few moments before walking out himself, half in awe of the devastation and half preoccupied with estimating the travel speed of Night Furies based on the sound of it departing. "Everyone start packing!" he ordered the hunters, some of whom were still pointing weapons at the sky. "I want this island clear by daybreak!"
"I need a drink," his brother growled, turning to stomp down the path, but hesitated. "Are you sure abou' this? If yer sayin' the thing tha' did tha'," he pointed at the wreckage, "can think, and plan?"
"Then all the more reason," Viggo asserted, stroking his beard. "This was no threat, but rather a demonstration. Their aim is not to kill us, it is to win."
"You an' your games," Ryker groaned with a roll of his head as they walked towards the camp. "Fine. Just stay focused, we go' a business ter run here, one already runnin' into the red, an' this little scheme set our dragonroot production back months! We didn't even use it, and we got nothin' for it!"
He wasn't about to get into that argument again; its presence alone was a use in and of itself. But, "Fear not, by focusing their attention we were able to work uninhibited elsewhere." Right about now, several shipments of dragons should be in the process of being unloaded and sold, the profits of which were crucial for paying the men they had and to expand and improve the fleet.
"Ah, I dunno why I worry," Ryker laughed, sounding relieved.
Viggo nodded to himself. "Played right, they could even be used to our advantage. Of course, we'll need to bait them into another meeting…"
"Oh, now ah remember why…"