Wanderer growled down at the many distant ships that had alighted on the Rock-Scale small-land. Long-Paws, hunters, were hauling things onto them, familiar things of metal branches that trapped things inside, 'cages', that likely held Rock-Scales. That would definitely explain why there were so few around, and none in the air.
"We need get closer," Dreamer growled, and Wanderer chuffed in agreement. They were already flying low, so they simply folded their wings and landed on the ledge they were gliding over. "Stay here," Dreamer told Fish-Legs.
Fish-Legs started rocking from side to side. "I, but, they, we… Yeah, okay… But come straight back, you guys are out of fire, remember?"
"Not need tell us," Wanderer grumbled. He had precious little fire left, enough for one decent shot that would get them out of a bind, but nothing to use against these hunters. He couldn't do much either way, there were far too many of them…
The Nightstrikers flew daringly low and fast around the mountain, staying out of sight as much as possible and trusting their dark bodies against the dark rock would not be noticed by the unobservant Long-Paws below. When that became too risky they dropped to the ground and ran, leaping from boulder to ledge until they were directly above their quarry.
They crept over the side of a large, rounded boulder, gripping the rock with their sharp claws, until the whole scene came into view below – a lot of Long-Paw dens, some familiar and some strangely small and soft-looking. There was a lot of shouting, but it didn't appear the hunters had noticed anything, and were just directing each other in their loud, blustering ways.
Wanderer could see 'carts' trundling along towards the ships, loaded up with cages. So many Long-Paw things, most of them used to help them hunt – they were hunting the small-land clean! He couldn't even begin to count the number of Rock-Scales he could see down there, to say nothing of those already in and on the ships.
A resounding bellow that drowned out the distant din had them scanning the ground below, but whatever was causing it wasn't in sight, and the sound soon ceased.
"I not know what we should do," Dreamer said worriedly. "Too many…"
"We come back when night," Wanderer growled. The nights were getting longer, but it was not long past halfway through the light; by the time night fell they would have some fire to use.
But Dreamer hummed concern, uncertainty. "I think ships leave this light…"
Wanderer looked to the ships, at the Long-Paws busily swarming over them. That was where much of the shouting was coming from, one big Long-Paw pointing and blustering at the others. Some of the Long-Paw dens were being taken down too, the soft-looking ones just crumpling into a tiny bundle to be tossed into a cart.
"We can stop them leaving?" Wanderer asked; if the prey could not be caught now, trap it until it could be.
Dreamer examined the rock they were clinging to, then looked around, looked up to the giant rock spikes jutting out from the water towards the mountain, and sighed. "I not think our fire strong enough for break rocks on their nest," he said dejectedly. "Too many ships even if we have all our fire…" He looked defeated.
While they watched, the bellowing started back up again, this time much more loudly. The source was now quite visible, one of the giant rock-hunters that had chased them earlier, firmly bound to a cart on its own. It rocked the cart side to side, roaring angrily, while one of the Long-Paws hit the ground with a big rock on a stick. Every time it struck the ground, the rock-hunter flinched and jerked away, until it went quiet and still again and the Long-Paw stopped.
"We need help them," Dreamer murmured.
"How?" Wanderer asked. "What we need do?"
"Free wing-hunters this light," came the immediate response. "What we need for that…?"
"I not think we can," Wanderer huffed. "Too many. We fly back to nest, bring other wing-hunters? Attack ships?"
"Too many ships. They all protect all." Dreamer gave his head a little shake, as much as he could without dislodging himself.
They watched as the roaring started up again, only to be quelled by more beating of the ground. Dreamer suddenly perked as the noise subsided. "We need someone help us, not can go back to nest. Rock-Scales, other dragons here maybe help!"
Wanderer hummed thoughtfully at that. The Rock-Scales they'd met had been shy enough, simply running away, what good would they be in a fight? Most likely the more aggressive and fight-worthy hunters would have fought already, and probably lost and been trapped, maybe even already taken away…
But the big hunter below them wasn't submitting, it still had fight. Maybe it would work…
Fishlegs wasn't sure what was more disconcerting – the plan, or that Hiccup was smiling about it. "What makes you think this is a good idea?"
"Many things," the Fury chirped, "we help dragons fight hunters away, maybe they not want come back. If they not see us, they think this bad place for hunting."
"Or maybe they'll just come back with a bigger fleet."
Hiccup huffed in amusement. "They have many ships now. More ships not help more."
Fishlegs picked up a rock and threw it off the ledge they were sitting on, a short way up the mountain with a good if distant view of the hunters' operation. "Well, okay, but how exactly are you going to do that? You know normal dragons won't talk with you until they already trust you."
"You say you not can get Rock-Scale's trust?" Hiccup jeered, prodding him with a sharp claw.
"Ow! Stop that. Yes, I could get a Gronckle's trust. I could get talking with… maybe twenty of them by the end of the day. That doesn't include training them to do what's needed, or actually attacking before the ships leave. That's not enough!"
"Big dragons?"
"Maybe? We've only met one and it wasn't really interested in being friends." He picked up another rock and threw it, trying to hit the very corner of the ledge but missing it entirely.
Hiccup got his head behind Fishlegs and nudged him, forcing him to his feet. "Not know until we try."
"Alright, alright, I can't say I can think of any other options… But maybe we should check out the hunters' defences first? So I know what I need to get them to do?"
"I think you just not want do this," Hiccup grumbled. "Why? You love rock-dragons."
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't scope things out," Fishlegs hedged. "And I prefer actually knowing about the dragon I'm working with, I can't just wing it like you can."
Hiccup sat on his haunches and held his wings forward, looking at them, then offered them to Fishlegs.
"Oh ha ha, were you always like this?"
The Fury shrugged with a grin as he folded the enormous appendages, then went to stand with Toothy to watch the hunters.
"Any change?" Fishlegs asked.
"No," Toothy replied. "They still bringing many Rock-Scales…" It wasn't difficult to see that the dragon was riled, even from behind, by his swept-back ears and tense wings; he looked as if he was ready to fly down there and tear the whole camp apart by himself.
"Okay, well I'm going to go get an idea of what we're dealing with," Fishlegs told them. "Yes, I'll be careful," he added before Hiccup could tell him. "Come on, that'd be like me telling you two to stay out of sight…"
He mounted Meatlug and they lifted into the air, towards the hunter base. He carefully held them higher than the reach of any arrows, and just low enough that he could see what was going on. From this distance they wouldn't see his bulk from Meatlug's, not from below. They'd just see another Gronckle to hunt…
Maybe that was another way… Lure the hunters away in groups… Argh, no, there were too many for that. There were easily a hundred he could see, and that didn't include any inside the tents, makeshift huts, or ships.
He passed over one of the slanted pillars and lost sight of the camp. He could see why they had set up here, the only approaches were by air or through a channel between the mountain and these pillars; any sort of attack was going to be difficult.
As he passed the end of the camp, he noticed several guards lazing in groups at the choke point, prominent against the dark rock. Several more carts were also visible, trailing out of various nearby tunnels towards the camp. Gods, how many Gronckles were even left free on the island?
"No," he growled to himself, "they're not getting away with this…"
"All right, that should do it," Fishlegs huffed as he wiped his brow, tossing the saw aside. The thick beam – it was actually just the trunk of a tree – was still jutting out at a sharp angle into the tunnel, just as they'd found it, but now it would not serve the purpose it had been put in place for. "Now we just need to find another… I've been thinking 'Catastrophic Quaken', what do you think?"
"But what I should call it?" Hiccup said, rolling his eyes. "Big-Rock-Scale?"
"Sure, you do that. But we still have to find one." Fishlegs looked over the trap again with distaste, then set off down the tunnel. This appeared to be one that the hunters weren't using, possibly because there was nothing left in it anymore… or perhaps because it went on a wide arc out towards the coast, making it much longer than the others. Either way, it wasn't in use, and that was the main thing.
"You should fly," Hiccup suggested, "we not can fly but we run fast."
"All right," Fishlegs agreed, then mounted Meatlug and guided her through the tunnel. True to Hiccup's word, the Furies kept ahead with ease, their lithe bodies taking long bounds over the hard ground, barely even seeming to touch it.
Just as before though, it didn't take long for one to find them. The Furies halted in their stride, and Fishlegs pulled up behind them just in time for them to dart either side of him and start running the other way. The ominous rumbling started soon after.
"Well that was convenient," Fishlegs mused to himself somewhat tensely as he urged Meatlug around and back the way they'd come. There had to be something more to it, but right now he was more interested in not getting squashed.
His heart raced as the rumbling gradually grew louder, indicating the dragon was getting closer. They were almost at the trap when it bellowed, urging them on a little faster through the tunnel, and then almost without warning they were passing the four wooden beams.
The first two were irrelevant, almost flush to the sides of the tunnel and set up to swing out when pressure was put on a plate on the ground, but they faced the wrong way; they would only stop the Quaken from rolling back. The other two…
Fishlegs looked over his shoulder in time to see the Quaken smash into where the beams met in a 'V' shape, shearing them off at where they'd been mostly cut through. They were embedded deeply into either side of the tunnel, and would otherwise have probably stopped the Quaken in its tracks, unable to roll forwards or backwards, trapped in the middle of the cross.
But it was not trapped, it was still rolling at speed, just as planned.
They emerged into sunlight moments later, quickly banking away and landing behind a large boulder. The hunters didn't notice him or the Furies, but they did notice the Catastrophic Quaken launch from the tunnel, slamming into a heavy landing that shook the ground. It slowed a little, as if confused...
A deafening roar had Fishlegs grinning even as he covered his ears. Bolas and nets wouldn't do squat against such a big and heavy dragon, especially once it picked up speed again and veered around towards the clusters of hunters.
But the hunters didn't look worried… and that made Fishlegs worried. One group was forced to dive out of the way, narrowly escaping being crushed or impaled by its many spikes, but the others hefted their large hammers…
Fishlegs grunted in confusion as they started beating the ground with the hammers. He had no idea what it was meant to accomplish… But whatever it was doing was extremely effective against the Quaken. It unfurled halfway through veering around for another pass, flinching and shying away as the hunters approached.
"No!" Fishlegs shouted. "Fly away!" The dragon obviously couldn't hear him over the hammers, let alone understand him, but its massive wings spread out – just in time for a hunter to throw a long net at it, catching the spikes on its wing and side. "No…"
He could only watch, helpless, as the dragon was gradually subdued, the hunters expertly using nets to tangle it with its own spines.
A defeated croon next to him made him jump, the Furies watching the scene unfold with him. He couldn't even be irked at them for sneaking up on him again, they'd just led another dragon to its doom… Dozens of hunters were already rushing onto the scene with an empty wagon, preparing to load the massive dragon onto it.
Fishlegs couldn't watch, and backed around the boulder to slump against it. "Now what?" he asked helplessly.
"Hunters," Hiccup growled, "they know how hunt…" He sighed, sitting down and closing his eyes.
"Uh…" Fishlegs made to ask what he was doing after a while, but Toothy glared at him and then shook his head. Well, he had to do… something! He edged around the boulder again, to watch the hunters use ropes to roll the dragon onto the cart.
"Tha's all of 'em now, righ'?" one of the hunters shouted over the bulk of the dragon as he heaved.
"Other than tha' one aroun' the south shore," a gruffer voice shouted back, barely audible over the distance. "But we ain'…"
Their conversation faded into quieter, more wary tones for a little while, Fishlegs only catching the occasional word but nothing of use… They didn't seem to agree on something.
"We have more time," Toothy huffed from beside him, making him jump again.
"Would you stop doing that," Fishlegs hissed, glaring at him.
Of course, Toothy just ignored him. "They say they need more time for that Big-Rock-Scale. But ships still leave this light…"
"Okay… Silver lining, I guess… How's Hiccup with a new plan?"
They both looked to the smaller Fury, still sat there with his eyes closed, still deep in thought, but now sagging a little. Probably not good, in that case.
Fishlegs walked back around the boulder and sat down against it, in front of the Fury. "There's another Quaken on the island, and we know roughly where it is," he explained. "They apparently need some more time to load that Quaken up, or something, so we've got a little longer than we did before…"
Hiccup's eyes opened and focused on Fishlegs, watching him for long moments. "Yes," he said eventually, "that good… We not have much time, should go… try talk with it. Maybe we think something."
"Yeah, okay," Fishlegs agreed as he hopped back onto his dragon. She looked downcast, so he gave her a scratch around the neck. "Don't worry girl, we're gonna fix everything…"
He hunched low over the saddle as they took off, flying south; he wasn't overly worried about being spotted, he knew from experience that riders were mostly indistinct from any sort of distance. The Furies bounded ahead of him for a short way before spreading their wings and gliding extremely low to the ground.
None of this was going the way it was supposed to. Dark Deep was a sacred place, there shouldn't be hunters here. It should be a sanctuary for Gronckles…
At that, why were these Quakens so aggressive? The Gronckles in the tunnel had run away from one. If there were hunters here he could understand their wariness of him and Meatlug, but of another native boulder class dragon? That was weird.
The island was maybe five miles across, a long trek for the hunters but a paltry distance for a dragon, and they were watching over the southern shore in no time. "Any idea how we find it?" Fishlegs asked as they rose a little for a better vantage. Searching every tunnel would take-
A resounding roar shook the very air they were hovering in.
"Never mind!"
Three Gronckles erupted from the ground nearby, zipping low to the ground towards a depression next to a boulder that they then huddled in. In the interests of getting more information, and nothing to do with his unease with confronting a giant aggressive dragon, Fishlegs guided Meatlug down to land a short distance from them.
They turned to him, backing up warily but seemingly unsure what to think. "It's okay little guys," he assured them, keeping his voice gentle and friendly and his posture calm and non-threatening. He could talk to them in Dragonese, but from experience they would immediately distrust him and he'd get nowhere. They had language, but it was a secondary means of communication between dragons, even for the Furies much of the time.
He hopped off Meatlug and retrieved a fish for each of them from the saddlebag, caught fresh by the Furies on the way from the Nest. He tossed one to the ground in front of each of the Gronckles, and they scented them warily before snapping them up.
This was all easy, routine. Part of the reason Fishlegs really liked Gronckles was because they were friendly by nature, and simply feeding them was enough to crack the ice. Even though these had clearly had brushes with hunters, they were already letting him approach them and scratch the places Gronckles tended to like; mostly their backs, as their cute little legs weren't long enough to reach far.
That quickly led to three happy, friendly Gronckles. Not exactly an army to take on a massive hunter camp, but it was a start…
"Well, they're friendly now," Fishlegs told Hiccup, "but you should probably still ask. See what the deal is with the Quaken."
Hiccup chuffed and approached the Gronckles, asking the questions.
"We chased away," one said awkwardly.
"Not want us in tunnels," another offered.
After a bit of back and forth, Fishlegs rubbed his head. "I think I get it," he sighed. "Below ground is the Quakens' territory, but the Gronckles are being forced into hiding down there by the hunters. It's getting everyone riled."
"But what we do?" Hiccup asked, watching him closely.
"I don't… Hey, aren't you the plans guy? I'm terrible at this stuff…"
"I not think that," the Fury said with a warm warble. "You have good thinking. Also know rock-dragons better than me."
"Maybe…"
Now that the Gronckles weren't distracted, they were looking around warily, clearly not happy to be out in the open. Fishlegs watched as they ventured a short distance from the boulder, then one grunted and they all darted for the crevasse it had found.
Maybe Hiccup was right, he did know a lot about Gronckles, and probably about more dragons in general than even Hiccup himself… but he didn't feel qualified to be planning to uproot such a massive hunter camp, particularly not on such sacred ground.
Still, something about all this was bugging him. Being boulder class dragons living on the same island, the Quakens and Gronckles should be pretty friendly with each other. Were the Quakens simply that territorial?
The Gronckles disappeared into the crevasse and Fishlegs hopped on Meatlug onto drop in after them, her wings blurring to soften the landing-
Three barks surprised him, nearly as much as the three Gronckles pressing up to Meatlug's sides and holding her still while they remained motionless themselves. One of the Furies huffed at him, both of them peering into the crevasse, and he could only shrug back, just as confused as them.
But then they tensed, eyes going wide and pupils narrowing, and the wild Gronckles backed away. It only took a moment to work out what was happening. "Of course," he said half to himself, "the hammers... Quakens must be susceptible to vibrations… So a Gronckle's wings in their tunnels…"
Hiccup was right, he did know more about boulder class dragons. "Meatlug, are you with me?" he asked, feeling suddenly determined and certain of himself.
His Gronckle looked at him, taking a step back and looking down the tunnel… and then took a step forward again with a growl. "Knew I could count on you," he said fondly. To his surprise, the three wild Gronckles were still behind him, though they were cowering.
The Catastrophic Quaken rolled into and out of sight down the long stretch of tunnel as it passed through beams of light, approaching rapidly. Fishlegs stood his ground, and Meatlug stood with him. A tense questioning sound from probably Hiccup came from above, but he ignored it. He was committed now, he had to do this.
He squared his shoulders as he watched the dragon approach, certain he was right. Well, certain enough to bet his life on. Fairly sure of himself. Maybe there was time to back out…?
It was suddenly very close, the air quaking around him as the huge dragon crossed the last of the distance-
Fishlegs let out a small sigh of relief as it unfurled at the last moment, skidding to a stop not two paces away, and then it roared in their faces.
"Yeah, you're not that mean," Fishlegs asserted, Meatlug adding a fierce growl next to him.
The Quaken considered Meatlug, eyeing her intently. After a few moments, the ridges around its face seemed to relax and soften a bit, and Meatlug relaxed a little as well. Yes, he was right!
Its gaze went to the Gronckles behind them, and it suddenly looked angry again, snarling at them. Why would…
And then it locked eyes with him. He went blank, not showing it any fear but also not the steadfast confidence he wanted to project. Something told him showing any weakness to this dragon was not a good idea, but he didn't know what it wanted to see in him, and indecision was paralysing him.
Whatever it wanted, it didn't like what it saw. It roared again, a long, deafening roar that had him clapping his hands to his ears and scrunching his face to weather it-
Something shoved past him, knocking him aside, and the noise stopped. He now had four Gronckles in front of him, growling at the Quaken.
The big dragon reared back a little, its tiny eyes widening as it looked over them. It tilted its head as it looked back to Fishlegs. This went on for long moments, the only sounds the quiet growling of the Gronckles and the pounding of Fishlegs' pulse in his ears.
He breathed a huge sigh of relief as the Quaken totally relaxed, fitting its wings flush to its body and settling into a more natural posture. It was still big, but it didn't look quite as big now.
An enquiring chirp had him look up to see two very confused Furies. "Well," he said, thinking quickly, "it didn't seem to like me, but maybe it was angry the Gronckles are running and hiding?" It had been appeased by showing it some backbone.
Everything fell into place. It was territorial, yes, but maybe it didn't like that the Gronckles weren't fighting, they were running and hiding… "But then why are you hiding here instead of attacking the hunters yourself?" Fishlegs murmured.
The Quaken suddenly curled up and rolled away, disappearing into the distance. "We've gotta follow it!" Fishlegs shouted to the Furies, who quickly withdrew their heads and took off after it, following above the ground.
Fishlegs hopped onto Meatlug and guided her out of the tunnel, confident a short burst of flight wouldn't bring the Quaken back, then picked out the Furies – with difficulty – and took off after them.
They were led to a point under a headland on the south-west coast, then had to backtrack to find an opening into the tunnel; there were cracks, but none big enough to fit inside.
When they did get inside, and followed it to the end, Fishlegs inhaled sharply at the sight that met them, sporadically lit by various cracks in the rock.
"I get fish," Toothy said immediately, and disappeared.
"Yeah, good idea," Fishlegs agreed numbly, holding his hands out to placate the growling Quaken again. It stood in front of another Quaken, one that didn't look so good, tangled in nets and held in all sorts of awkward angles. It must have come back here and tried to untangle itself, but only made it all worse, as now there was no way it would be able to move at all; its head was wrenched to the side by its wing, its tail appeared to be stuck to its belly and held it in a partially curled state, the hindleg he could see was wrapped up tightly and its foreleg was stuck to the side of its head.
Various burn marks over the nets were evidence of trying to free it with fire, but evidently it was not effective; dragon-trapping nets would of course be fireproof.
"I can help," Fishlegs said slowly in Dragonese, causing the Quaken to back up with a start. "Please," he pressed, "I want help you."
It watched him with a startled look that bordered on fear, but then it glanced back to what was probably its mate, and then looked back to him sadly. It still didn't talk, but it did back out of the way a little.
Fishlegs warily hurried forward to inspect the tangled dragon, murmuring under his breath. This was beyond cruel, and quickly pushed him past whatever moral qualms he was having about any hunters that would probably be injured or worse in whatever they were going to do. The dragon's breathing was tense and erratic, it had clearly been here a while…
He slowly drew his knife, careful to hold himself so that the free Quaken could see what he was doing, and then began sawing at the ropes. They were extremely dense and tough, and felt a little bit waxy and slimy, but the sharp serration on the back of his knife made steady progress through them.
With each taught rope he cut through, the dragon's head twitched a little further forward with a pained moan. It was so wrong for such a big and beautiful dragon to sound so weak… It was making him furious. No wonder the Quaken was so angry at everything, but of course it wouldn't leave its mate.
Finally, as another rope was cut, the Quaken's head jolted forward with a long, low moan, and then it set about weakly stretching it with jerking movements. It moaned again, and the other Quaken walked around to nuzzle it. Fishlegs smiled warmly, blinking back what must be dust in his eyes, and got to work on the rest of it.
Toothy returned with a mouth full of fish shortly after, and Hiccup soon after that. They were consumed ravenously, which actually turned out to be very good timing because Fishlegs was just freeing one of its legs and happened to notice as it stretched that the long claws were capable of eviscerating him in a heartbeat; having it distracted by food and knowing them as friendly was something he was suddenly grateful for.
"All done," he announced as he pulled off the last scrap of net. There were three of the abominable things overall, now cut in various places but still made of strong and apparently fireproof rope, and he happily replaced the last few fish in his saddlebags with it. The fish of course went to the Quaken.
He had a moment to process that it had two tongues, one for each of its lower jaws, as it licked him.
"Thank you," the other Quaken said with a gravelly rumble.
Fishlegs graciously dipped his head, beaming widely. He wasn't about to thank the hunters, but this really was a unique experience, something he would not have otherwise had.
Although, speaking of the hunters…
Dreamer observed the chaos from above with a smirk, perched at the tip of the same rock spire as before. Everything had fallen into place so easily once Fishlegs got his feet under him.
One of the Quakens was rolling around the camp, flinging off any nets that were thrown at it and devastating everything in long sweeping passes. The other Quaken, which had quickly recovered after a meal, a stretch, and a drink, was currently tearing into a ship, throwing up huge sprays of surf as it ripped into the hull to free the Gronckles calling out from within. More Gronckles swarmed over the fleet, looking for ways in but often making their own, and chasing off any hunters brave enough to try anything.
As Dreamer watched, a third Quaken tore its way out of one of the ships under assault, then curled up and joined the one rolling through the camp.
There was surprisingly little screaming. A few people were still running around, but the Quakens were more interested in flattening the structures than killing the hunters, while the Gronckles were specifically targeting those with hammers or any hunters foolish enough to fight. That had been tricky to teach them, but it had been the only thing they'd needed to do before setting the dragons loose on the camp.
Early into the attack, nearly every hunter had rushed for the battle, abandoning the ships. Fishlegs had then snuck aboard the furthest and knocked out the one hunter still on board, then gone through and freed all the Gronckles inside it. It was quickly filling up again, being the only one safe from the dragons' apparent rage, but aside from some posturing it seemed quite safe to be on. They had nets and weapons to defend themselves with, at any rate.
Dreamer smirked down at them, reflecting on how fitting their punishment was. The ships weren't designed to hold that many people, but they were designed to hold a proportionate number of dragons. Whatever conditions they had intended to subject the dragons to on the journey home, they would be subjected to themselves. For their sake, Dreamer hoped they hadn't intended on letting the dragons starve.
He continued watching, huddled up to Wanderer for warmth, as the ship eventually departed, and the Quakens, now six of them, rolled through the debris of the camp until it was nothing but rags and splinters. Interestingly, they had little interest in what was left of the ships still moored on the shore, but took great offense to anything on the island proper.
"I'm gonna go down and make sure there aren't any tangled in nets or anything," Fishlegs announced as things calmed down, then climbed onto Meatlug to descend to what was left of the camp.
Seeing nothing better to do, Dreamer gave Wanderer a brief nuzzle before dropping down himself to go through the ships, to ensure there weren't any more dragons trapped inside. He checked the captain's quarters of each while he was at it, finding nothing of any real interest. He'd been hoping for another lens for the hunter device, but it was a long shot, there wasn't any sense in keeping them anywhere other than with the device.
Night was starting to fall when he and Wanderer hopped from the last ship, gliding the short distance to the shore. They walked through the debris in an eerie quiet broken only by the humming of the wind and the occasional fluttering rag.
It took a little while to locate Fishlegs, as the camp was really quite big, but Dreamer wasn't in a hurry. Indeed, when he found him, Fishlegs looked like he was having the time of his life. "Hiccup!" he shouted enthusiastically as he saw them approaching. "You wouldn't believe all the stuff I've learned! All the Gronckles here are so friendly, even the ones that were captured! Well, not so much those ones at first, but a good word goes a long way, apparently. It's all indicative of some sort of social structure, I've already got most of it figured out!"
Dreamer purred for him, personally just happy to have thwarted another hunter operation, and on a much larger scale. Unlike breaking a few masts and freeing some dragons, this felt like actual, tangible progress.
"I also learned a new word!" Fishlegs cleared his throat, then made a sound like he was choking. "I think it means 'inedible rock'. I mean, Meatlug occasionally chokes on some quartzite but I've never heard of a rock being outright inedible…"
The several Gronckles crowding around his rock began chattering. "We show!" some of them grunted happily, then buzzed into the air.
"Oooh yes please!" Fishlegs agreed happily as he hopped onto Meatlug. Dreamer had to admit, he was curious as well, and winged up after them.
The Gronckles guided them around and up the mountain, closely following the sloped rock. They emerged from the mountain's shadow and into the light of the setting sun, though it offered little warmth in the chill autumn air, and then the Gronckles they were following suddenly ducked into the rock and disappeared from sight.
The twin peaks featured a round, sloped base that accounted for about half the height, above which rose sheer and jagged cliffs. The Gronckles had entered what looked like a cave where the mountain split in the middle, tiny and somewhat camouflaged by the knobbly rocks in that area.
Dreamer swooped in after Fishlegs, closely followed by Wanderer, gently set down – and immediately shuddered. Something about the ground here felt wrong against his claws, the sensation uncomfortably clawing at his spine with every step. He couldn't even say what it was about it, but he didn't like it. Neither did Wanderer, by his quiet, strangled growling, though the Gronckles seemed to have no problem with it, even gnawing at the rock in some places but apparently not able to break it.
"Can't see a thing in here," Fishlegs huffed, and Dreamer obliged him by lighting his mouth. "Oh, that's better, thanks."
Not that it really helped… The surfaces were dark, but he could see the regular angles, a low ledge ringing the room and a weathered pedestal in the middle.
"This isn't a cave," Fishlegs said quietly. "It's… more like a room. One made out of… indestructible stone? This is weird…"
Dreamer silently agreed, pushing past the discomfort of walking to look around – then did a double-take at something jutting out of the pedestal, something that gleamed dully in the light of his fire… the tip of a hexagonal piece embedded in the rock.
He pawed at it, his claws tapping loudly against the rock but quietly scraping across it; enough to get Fishlegs' attention either way. "Is that…?"
"Yes," Dreamer said, staring. There was a lens here of all places? He expected to find them in treasuries, trophy rooms, merchants' boxes, but embedded in a random rock where humans had no place ever being?
"It's… stuck…" Fishlegs grunted as he tried to pry it out with his fingers, to no avail. Dreamer reared up onto the surface and hunched over it to examine it closely, prodding around it with a claw…
He felt it move a little, and kept prying at it until it slid free, shedding little black flakes. It was definitely a lens for the hunter device, gleaming in the light of his fire.
"If anyone asked me what I thought I'd find at Dark Deep," Fishlegs said wryly, picking up the lens and brushing off the flakes.
Dreamer huffed in amusement as he took a breath, lit his mouth again to check over the rest of the room, and then stiffly walked outside; the uncomfortable sensation of the rock hadn't improved.
It was a relief to have real rock under his claws again, and both Nightstrikers spread out on the ledge overlooking the island with relieved purrs. Fishlegs joined them shortly after, tucking the lens into his satchel. "Well, what now?" he asked as he gave a friendly scratch to the last wild Gronckle hanging around. "Follow the hunters home?"
Both Nightstrikers groaned at that. Following a boat was boring, it would take up to a week to get wherever it was going. Thankfully, he had a legitimate excuse. "No," Dreamer swiped from his back, "they need think we not here. They only see Rock-Scales in fight."
"Well, you could always follow from a distance… But yeah, they might have hunters on surrounding islands or something, where you'd need to rest. Someone might see."
"Yes," Dreamer agreed; there was even more than that, the regular fog banks and rainstorms would lead to a high probability of losing the single ship if they hung as far back as to not be spotted, particularly as hunters seemed in the habit of following such weather where they could. "Also we have new thing now. Hunters know this place because they have thing that led us here. They not have this thing."
"Hey, yeah, they've never seen this lens! We could be one step ahead of them for once!"
"Yes." The hunters had a huge fleet, especially if they could commit almost thirty ships here, but there was a chance that with this lens, they could get there first… "We should go back to Nest now," he sighed, rolling back to his paws. "You can come back here another light."
"Yay, more night flying…"
After arriving back at Dragon's Nest well into the night, Fishlegs had wanted to see what was on the new lens, but of course the hunter device was no longer on his desk and he couldn't be bothered waking the twins for it. He'd gone to bed instead, and while he was restless with the impending knowledge within the new lens yet to be revealed, he was also worn out after such an eventful day.
Still, the nights were long with the encroaching winter, so it was still early morning when he emerged from his hut. He caught up with everyone just as they were finishing up with breakfast, grabbing some of the rolls sitting next to the fire and loading them with thinly sliced meat before it was put away.
"So how'd your adventure to the boring home of the boringest dragon go?" Tuffnut asked mildly.
"We only discovered a boring new dragon," Fishlegs replied, "then foiled a boring hunter operation with a boring dragon revolution."
"What?" Ruffnut asked, crestfallen. "That doesn't sound boring at all!"
"Yeah! Why didn't you bring us!?" Tuffnut shouted angrily. Fishlegs stared at him incredulously. "And lemme guess, you found a new lens and you want the Dragon Eye back."
"Yeah, actually, wait, what? Dragon Eye?"
At that moment, Hiccup landed just outside and trotted into the hut, the question on his face. "Dragon Eye?" he asked.
"You did find a new lens!?" Tuffnut asked, reeling back. "Great. We couldn't even figure out how to get the stupid thing to work, and now we're never going to."
"Dragon Eye?" Fishlegs repeated.
"Oh yeah, we named it while you were gone," Tuffnut explained.
"I was thinking 'Dragon Mouth'," Ruffnut added, "since, you know, the shiny thing's in its mouth? Well, either that, or since the other end's in its-"
"Yeah but Dragon Eye sounds much cooler," Tuffnut said over the top of her.
"I like Dragon Eye," Hiccup offered with a purr.
"Fine," Fishlegs huffed, "we'll call it the Dragon Eye. Now, if you don't mind, we do actually have a new lens to look at?"
The twins glanced at each other, then guiltily looked around with wide eyes.
"Oh Thor, what have you done with it…?"
"Nothing," Ruffnut said quickly.
"Yeah, we know exactly where it is."
"If, by 'exactly', one allows an area roughly the size of our hut."
Fishlegs took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Just go get it, you've got until I finish my breakfast."
The pair started for the door, then Hiccup gave a short growl and they ran for it, disappearing outside.
"Where did they get a stuffed yak, anyway?" Fishlegs asked curiously, then took a bite of one of the rolls. Hiccup just sighed dramatically and shook his head.
Eventually, long after he'd finished his breakfast and raided the stores for seconds, they returned with the device and a slightly singed bag. By this point, Fishlegs was just happy to have it back, and though he had a momentary panic at there being only four lenses in the bag, he quickly found the fifth in the device itself.
"Dragon Eye, huh," he mused, slotting in the new lens and then propping the device up.
"It good name," Hiccup chirped before leaning on the table and lighting his mouth.
"You would think that. Well, that's a Whispering Death..." Fishlegs inspected the new markings on the wall, a dragon with a big rounded head that tapered straight into a long whip-like body, the whole thing covered in long spines. "If there's an island of these guys, I doubt hunters would be able to take it."
The light died off so Hiccup could talk. "We might think that for Big-Rock-Scale also," he said dryly.
"Yeah, I guess so… I'll see what I can get out of it with Meatlug, you guys take it easy or something."
"We hunt ships," the Fury growled, then stalked for the door and disappeared into the morning. Fishlegs shrugged and collected the Dragon Eye and its lenses, just happy to have such a powerful tool out of the hunters' hands.
Viggo eyed his brother disdainfully as a meaty fist slammed into the table. "A week!" the big man shouted. "A week o' sailing, just to lose 'alf our fleet!"
Really, losing a week of Ryker's time was of little consequence, he was obviously just bitter about the conditions of sailing back. Cramming over two hundred men into a single boat for a week was not comfortable for anyone; even after he'd bathed, Viggo could still smell it on him.
"Calm yourself, brother," Viggo said calmly but sternly. "Do not let your temper get the better of you. Cool off in the sparring ring if necessary."
"Sparring ring? Le' me a' some Odin-cursed Gronckles and I'll cool off real fast."
"That would be a waste of precious resources. Besides, I doubt a handful of common dragons are to blame here." No, it was just too well-timed…
"Wha'dya mean?" Ryker asked slowly, a dark tone to his voice.
"Think about it, for once," Viggo sighed. "The Night Fury takes the device, and two days later our biggest operation meets actual organised resistance from dragons that, by all reports, were snapping at each other up until then?"
"It took you a month to learn ter read tha' thing," Ryker shot back. "No way a bunch o' kids could read it faster."
"True enough, but they already have knowledge of dragons. I was starting from scratch." Even still, what were the odds they'd start with that specific lens, and get there right before the ships departed?
Ryker stared at him for a few moments, but knew better than to second-guess or question him. "Those damn dragon riders!" he roared, slamming both fists into the table.
"Are you done having your tantrum?" Viggo asked mildly; condescending, but it never failed to remind the man to control his anger. "You were probably followed back, we should slip out while we can." The Night Furies and their followers seemed content to let everyone live, but Viggo wasn't stupid enough to assume that courtesy extended to himself.
"They're too big a threa'! They were dangerous even before they 'ad the device, which I still can't believe you managed to le' them take, but now!?" He spread his hands on the table and leaned in. "It's time ter take them seriously, brother," he growled.
"…Perhaps we should see what happens when we escalate things," Viggo decided, picking his words carefully. "Very well. When the dragons begin to nest, get me a shipload of Smokebreaths, and a fast, unremarkable ship."
"Smokebreaths? They're the beasts tha' like metal, ain' they?"
"And perpetually surround themselves in a cloud of smoke, yes."
Ryker narrowed his eyes. "Tha' don' sound like it'll be much use against these kids," he said suspiciously. Viggo just looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Aye, tha'd be too simple for your plans," Ryker chuckled. "Alrigh' then." As was customary, he took a deep breath and attempted a 'serious' conversation before he left. "We're gonna need it. Ah really hope yer goin' all out on this, 'caus five o' those lenses'll be trouble in their 'ands, bu' tha' last one we 'ad? If it's really wha' you think is on there…"
"Worry not, brother," Viggo asserted confidently. "Everything is in hand."
Ryker just grunted at him and ducked out of the tent.
Viggo waited until the footsteps faded into the distance, then reached into a hidden pocket in his armour and pulled out the sixth lens, one that he was almost desperate to know the contents of, and turned it over in his fingers. "Everything is in hand…"