The flight to the curious island on Viggo's map was about twice as far as back to the Nest, and while it still wasn't a particularly gruelling flight, Astrid was worried about Hiccup. His face was grim and determined, as it usually was where Viggo was involved, but he was clearly straining himself a little to keep in the air. Had Viggo done something to him? Or had he not been far enough away from the blue flowers so as to not be affected?
The Night Fury wasn't struggling to keep up, and he didn't look in danger of falling from exhaustion, but his wingbeats were irregular and stiff, and his mouth hung open a little to take slow, deep breaths. Even still, she flew ready in case he did drop.
He would need to rest on this island they were going to, and she had no problem putting her foot down for that. It helped that Toothy seemed to be aware of it as well, he would back her up.
When they reached the island, however, she was conflicted to find it inhabited, and quite heavily judging by the size of its fleet, which was mostly made up of large boats with three masts. A bustling village built in rigid squares extended from the water to the mountain in the middle, surrounded by the expected fields and forest. As they drifted closer, she realised that the rows standing in the more pale fields were moving – they weren't crops, they were people, standing in ranks that would put any Viking shield wall to shame.
They continued drifting overhead, past the mountain. It wasn't very high, but they had drifted down to look over the island, and she was only just now noticing it was a volcano. Not many tribes were brave enough for that, there was always the chance that it would one day erupt again.
Once the village was out of sight, the Furies led everyone down to where the forest met the dark, barren rock of the volcano. Even this close to winter, the vegetation was intensely green and lush. "That's pretty dense," she observed as she dismounted, peering through the trunks and vines.
"Vegetation around volcanoes tends to be," Fishlegs said as he worked his shoulders. "The lava enriches the soil, makes it-" He groaned as he stretched backwards, pressing his fists into his lower back. "Man, flying sure beats sailing, but long flights are horrible. Anyway, the lava-"
"Yeah we don't care, Fishface," Snotlout snapped, hefting his axe and cleaving a path into the trees. "I'll see if I can find some water."
On this island? Good luck to him. But if he went looking, however fruitless, it would keep him out of her hair. "You do that," she agreed.
Hiccup still looked a bit off. He was insisting to Toothy that he was fine, but Toothy wasn't buying it any more than she was. "It's been a hard day," she said to him, walking over and putting a hand on his neck. "We can afford to rest for a bit before flying back."
The Fury grumbled and lowered himself to his chest. "I want know more about Long-Paws here," he huffed.
"Thor, you're as bad as Fishlegs," Astrid teased, turning and walking back to Stormfly to grab a drink out of her saddle.
"Hunter alpha not want us here," he continued, "I want know why."
"Well I want you to take it easy for a bit. You look like you're about to fall over." At that, why wasn't Tuffnut all over this? He used to be the first to dote over the pair, but now it seemed he couldn't care less. Currently, he and Ruffnut seemed to be discussing something about a vine they'd cut from a tree; nothing but trouble, she was sure.
"I good," he growled, though he did not move to get up. "We wait here for Snotlout."
This was a very rare opportunity. The Defenders of the Wing were an elite force, and currently one with a more active role than usual, but Queen Mala was not often afforded the luxury of observing her soldiers in the field. She was sure to attach herself to the occasional expedition, but that did not guarantee she would see any combat.
Cameron, the commander of this mission, was a sharp man with several successful missions under his belt, and those placed under him spoke highly of their experiences, but she had yet to see him in a real situation. Letting him handle Viggo's newest scheme was a good test.
Four others joined them on this hunt, promising recruits pulled out of their drills. Between the five of them, plus Mala herself if necessary, on familiar ground, they had more than enough advantage to take out five "small" people.
The one they were trailing was certainly small, though he seemed a bit young for a dragon hunter. He cursed enough for one at least, muttering angrily and kicking shrubs and sticks. Perhaps it had something to do with the cruel method they had used to arrive.
The hunter's attitude suddenly changed, and the Defenders froze, but they had not been noticed. He had simply put on a swagger as he climbed up a short rise and passed out of the trees.
"There you are, where where you?" asked a feminine voice, and Mala instantly reassessed her assumption. Viggo was clever and underhanded, but he had yet to present an actual woman in his scheming. They weren't ruled out as hunters, but it seemed less likely.
"Around," came a voice that presumably belonged to the short one.
Cameron held up a fist, then made several hand gestures. Mala, observing from the back, finally reached the point she could see through the trees to the group beyond-
She immediately grabbed his hand and forced it down, then strode out into the open. Adaptability was a key trait for any warrior, she would need to adjust his training accordingly; such lethal tactics should be reserved for when there was no doubt. As the trespassers alternately stuttered and froze up, she gestured with the hand held primly behind her back. "I do not recall inviting you onto my island," she said calmly.
"We're just resting, and then we'll be on our way," the blonde said as she lowered her axe a little.
Mala looked around their little group, and at the dragons they had subjugated. The Night Furies were a surprise, these were the first she had ever encountered personally but they were unmistakable with their dark scales and fierce eyes. Regardless of who these people were, she was very pleased to have caught them preemptively.
"One of your Night Furies looks unwell," she observed, noting its breathing, the way it stared at her, and that its head was slowly drooping; she must have failed to entirely keep her anger at such mistreatment from her voice, as its ears and frills swept back aggressively.
Before the girl could respond, a series of practically inaudible sounds had all five trespassers slumping to the ground, hands going to the darts in their necks with groggy and confused groans.
In but a moment, there were deep, dangerous growls from the Night Furies, a sound that seemed to shake the air itself, but Mala was already drawing her long sword. In a single swift motion, she cleared it of its scabbard and lay it across her palms, the blunt back of the blade facing towards the dragons. The men with her did the same as they emerged from the trees, and the six of them slowly knelt and lowered their weapons to the ground.
Dragons were clever creatures, to understand the significance of such a gesture despite having no similarities or equivalent within any of their own gestures. The two Night Furies went silent, though they remained wary, while the Nightmare, Nadder, Zippleback, and Gronckle were appeased almost before they could even get riled.
"You poor thing," she said quietly as she rose, then stepped over her sword and gently reached out. The Night Fury, which she now noticed was slightly smaller than the other, leaned back away from her. That was normal, on occasions a dragon would show affection or appreciation to one that had treated a wound or fed it, but Mala herself had always been regarded with suspicion.
She straightened, returning her hands to the small of her back, as Cameron approached with the sagefruit. The larger Night Fury, like the other dragons, warily sniffed it before gently taking it and biting into it with caution. It then warbled, and the smaller Fury reluctantly took the one he'd been offered.
One of the other men came up, less concerned now that the dragons had been pacified. The fruit's calming effect worked on all dragons they knew of, though perhaps Night Furies-
The sick Night Fury released a heavy sigh as it slumped to the ground, giving everyone a start. "You really are not well, are you?" Mala asked it rhetorically as it was checked over by its… friend? Sibling? Mate? Perhaps its captors would know more. That was a horrible line of thought if they were mates…
"My queen," said the Defender as he crouched in front of the dragon, "it has symptoms of blue oleander."
Mala sceptically narrowed her eyes and leaned down to check for herself, indeed finding a glisten at its nostrils and a slight unsteadiness to its partially closed eyes. Mild symptoms, not enough to explain collapsing. Was there something else?
She stepped back and nodded to Cameron, who went off to make a stretcher. The other three Defenders were already making similar implements for the unconscious people out of vines and branches, putting to use their training, but they of course would not resort to dragging any dragon, let alone a Night Fury.
And all the while, they were watched by the steady green eyes of the larger Night Fury. Were these people keeping one sick to keep the other loyal? Savage, disgusting people. The extent of their transgressions would be determined, and they would be punished accordingly.
Someone was speaking, a woman with a strange accent and a firm tone. More than that was difficult to say beyond the blinding headache, though it was swiftly receding.
Snotlout blinked his eyes open and squinted at the harsh light, trying to make sense of where he was and what was happening.
"Good, you're awake," the new voice said sternly.
"Maybe?" he said groggily, trying to put his hands to his head… before realising they were tied behind his back. "Hey, what gives?"
"They know everything," Fishlegs said next to him. "Who we work for, all of it."
"All of it?" Snotlout asked, still unable to make out more than fuzzy blurs. "Wait, who we're working for? Does that mean we're getting paid?" The Furies were in charge, so… "Oh wait, dragons don't have gold…" Or did they? Maybe the Furies did sleep on a pile of gold, like in the old legends…
One of the two dark shapes in front of him was definitely a Night Fury. "Wait, why aren't you tied up?" he asked it. "Did you sell us out or something?"
"In a sense," said the woman from before.
"That was okay?" Fishlegs asked in his stupid frightened squeak.
"Yes," the woman said slowly. "That ties in with what I know. Do the same when the next one wakes."
Snotlout noticed, with a wave of smugness, that Astrid was only just starting to rouse and that he'd woken up before her. "Ha-"
"Do not speak until I give permission," the woman ordered, and cold metal pressed to the side of his neck.
If she intended to kill them, she would have already. He blinked rapidly and focused on the second dark shape, the one too tall and slim to be a Night Fury. It was the woman from the forest, one with a modest chest, short blonde hair, and a sharp, defined face. She held a long curved sword, which she withdrew from him and sheathed in one swift motion, and her long clothes were as black as the Fury next to her and trimmed with gold. Whoever this lady was, she had style.
"Whuh?" Astrid groaned, followed by groans from the twins.
"Did I… fall asleep?" Tuffnut asked slowly. "Weren't we in a battle or something? Did I miss it? Dammit guys, why didn't you wake me?"
"Good, you're awake," the woman repeated.
"They know everything," Fishlegs intoned. "Who we work for, all of it."
"Work?" Ruffnut grunted. "Wait, we're getting paid?"
"You idiot, dragons don't have gold," Tuffnut groaned.
"Unbelievable," Fishlegs muttered under his breath.
"Does this really work?" Astrid asked dully as she flexed as best any of them could, sat on the ground up against a wall with their hands tied behind their backs.
"Every time," the woman replied. "I am satisfied. Release them!"
A heavily muscled man with a chiseled jaw lifted Fishlegs to his feet with one hand, then untied him. That didn't look very dignified. Snotlout got his own legs under him and rose to his feet… a moment after Astrid. He scowled as the ropes tying his hands were removed.
But enough about her. "Now that that's all cleared up, we can get acquainted," he said, impressed with himself for using a fancy word. "I'm Snotlout, rider and tamer of the Monstrous Nightmare."
"Sure," Tuffnut said plainly, "if by 'tamer' you mean 'personal barbecue'."
"He's joking," Snotlout explained. "Nightmares are fiery dragons, nasty temper, you have to expect a few burns."
"I dunno," Tuffnut continued, "he looks pretty placid now."
Snotlout blinked, then looked around for his dragon, finding him with the other riders' dragons out in what looked like the middle of the village. They were all lounging around and happily snapping food out of the air as it was thrown to them.
"Hookfang!" Snotlout barked, only to be totally ignored.
"Under the effect of sagefruit, dragons are calm and agreeable," the woman explained.
"Oh, yeah, that would explain it…"
"Although," she added as an afterthought, "when we knocked you out, he was the least bothered by it…"
"Hookfang, get your butt over here!" Hookfang just stared at him disobediently before yawning widely and curling up.
"Where's Hiccup?" Astrid asked, looking around anxiously while Snotlout growled. Wait, wasn't Hiccup right there? It wasn't like Toothy to hang around people.
"'Hiccup'? Do not tell me you called him… You are Vikings, of course…" the queen sighed and shook her head. "Fear not, he is with our healers while he recovers. He will be as good as new once he's had some rest."
"Well, sounds like we're going to be here a while," Snotlout said thoughtfully, then gave her his winning grin. "Care to give us a tour, show us what's what, maybe get to know each other a little better?"
The beautiful woman stared at him for several moments. "Throck here will show you around. I have duties to attend." With that, she spun on her heel and strode away.
"Oof, shot down," Astrid said smugly, giving him the biggest, most punchable smile. "At least you haven't lost your 'touch' with women."
"Hey you heard her," he shot back, "she's a busy, sophisticated woman."
"Indeed," the man who must be Throck agreed in a deep voice, "Queen Mala would normally perform the tour personally, but now she must ensure lunch is served on time and consumed swiftly." A queen? She just kept getting better and better!
"Your queen serves lunch?" Ruffnut asked incredulously.
"Of course not," Throck scoffed, "she is merely a presence to enforce order among the trainees while they eat. It is normally a task I undertake myself, but today I will be busy showing you around."
Snotlout grinned smugly back at Astrid. "See?" She was clearly losing her mind – more than she had already – faced with being actually wrong about something, she looked like she didn't know whether to laugh or strangle him.
Mala, that was her name, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. She was clearly very strong, that much was obvious just by looking at her, but she'd somehow kept a slim form that he had come to appreciate, given the options he'd grown up with. The clothes she wore were practical, a full body leather that would protect against light attacks while allowing her mobility to evade the stronger ones, but at the same time it showed off her perfect curves and complimented her stature. The perfect embodiment of everything he looked for in a woman, and a queen to boot.
He followed Throck, who in Snotlout's opinion needed to learn to chill once in a while, with the rest of the riders, wondering what Mala was like when she wasn't bossing everyone around. Would she keep that sexy commanding tone, or would she flip to submissive and needy behind closed doors? The latter was something a lot of strong women apparently did, and his own preference of the two, but he'd happily take either.
"...the other Night Fury." Wait, what? He hadn't been paying attention to what the walking man-statue was saying. "You are permitted to check on him, but only one of you may enter, so as to not disturb him or the other patients."
"I'll go," Snotlout announced at exactly the same time as Astrid and Fishlegs.
"I'm the one who knows most about dragons," Fishlegs objected, "this is a unique opportunity to see actual dragon healing in action!"
"No offence, Fishlegs, but that's exactly why you shouldn't go," Astrid said haughtily, "you know how you get with new dragon things."
"Hey come on, I can control myself!"
Snotlout watched with a grin while they argued, waiting until she talked him into submission… "That's all pretty rich coming from you, Astrid," he said scathingly right at the point she thought she'd won.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she snapped back.
"I'm just saying," he continued, switching to a silky voice and peaceably holding his hands up, "if I could have one visitor while I was injured and in the healing hut, not that that would ever happen, it wouldn't be the person who had sold me to a bunch of filthy Outcasts."
She inhaled sharply, looking as if he'd physically struck her, and then her face darkened. "...Take… that… back…"
"Ooh, I bet you wish you could, huh? Face it, sugarface, they're never going to trust you again."
And now she was about to get physical – too bad she didn't have her axe, their weapons still hadn't been returned. He shifted his footing, squared his shoulders, if she thought she was going to pummel him as easily as she used to she had another thing-
"Uh, guys?" Tuffnut practically shouted, waving a hand between them. "You mind keeping it down? There's a couple of injured dragons in there. Hiccup's fine, by the way, just sleeping, somehow. Now can we move on? I wanna see where they practice sword fighting, I always wanted to learn the sword…"
Snotlout stared as Throck closed the door to the big hut. Wait, what? It took him a little while to realise Tuffnut had gone in while they were arguing. And where was Toothy?
"You have no idea what you're talking about," Astrid growled quietly as she shoved her way past.
Well, whatever. His little jab had clearly struck a nerve with her, he'd have to remember that one… Best save it for special occasions, it seemed likely to throw her into a fit of rage.
He wondered where they were going next, having not been bothered to listen again. At some point the streets had mostly cleared of the people who had been strutting around, and they seemed to be walking through the middle of it. Everything was all so neat, even the grass seemed to only grow in designated areas, where it grew green and short.
If he made Mala his bride, would that make him king of this place? A pretentious title, but he'd manage, somehow. He kept thinking about how organised everything was, he could definitely see himself moving here, which would mean he wouldn't need to…
He took a long, deep breath and squared his shoulders. Surely being a king would be enough…? But then again, maybe not, his dad was very fixed in his ways. If he wanted to be respected again, he needed to come home a Viking.
"These are our training grounds," announced the guide whose name Snotlout had forgotten at some point, leading them to a dusty square that had been trodden as flat and hard as any path. "Here is where recruits as well as our own people train to become the greatest warriors on Midgard." Psh, yeah right, no other warrior had a Monstrous Nightmare.
"Recruits?" Astrid asked.
"Yes, we have little to trade but our skill in battle, and nobody will pay to keep dragons free and healthy. Some generations ago we would sell ourselves as an army, but now, we pick up people from the South, those looking for their way in life. We train them, and then we take a cut as they are hired as skilled warriors. Sometimes we are also paid to train a specific individual, for a variety of reasons. It covers the few expenses we have."
Astrid surveyed the field for several long moments. "Will you train us?"
"Hey, what's this 'us' you speak of?" Fishlegs squeaked like a scared little mouse, "I don't want any part of this!"
"You must be committed to the path of the Defenders," the big boring guy intoned, "it is not a path to take lightly. It will consume every waking moment for as long as is needed."
Tuffnut held his arms up. "Okay, yeah, that does not sound like my cup of yak's milk," he said, backing up.
"Yeah, that sounds like a lot of rules and stuff we'd have to break," Ruffnut agreed.
"Fine," Astrid huffed, "just me then."
Snotlout didn't really want part of this training, but it would be something else for her to lord over him… and it would give him another chance to beat her! This would be Thawfest all over again, but this time there would be no stinking dragon events that favoured a Nadder instead of the raw strength and power of a Monstrous Nightmare! "Hey, if she's in, I'm in!" Dammit, why did he tie it to if she was doing it? It was true, but he shouldn't have admitted it.
"We shall speak when the tour is concluded," their guide promised, then motioned for them to follow as he walked off to the next boring thing to show them.
Great, what had the dragon queen roped him into now? This sounded like it was going to be a lot of effort.
They made their way around the village, peeking into boring buildings and doing nothing interesting, possibly because there were very few people around. The reason for that became apparent when their tour ended at the 'luncheon hall'. What the Hel was 'lunch'? Sounded like some weak Southerner thing, needing to eat halfway through the day.
"Throck, how are our guests?" asked the queen as she strode over with her imposing posture, arms held behind her in a way that made her seem even sterner.
"These two would like training," Throck said in the same tone he had used the entire time.
"Do they now?" She turned to face them. "You look like you've seen some combat, but I will not offer our Commander's course until you have proven yourselves. There is a test to pass for the Defender course, do you wish to take it?"
"What test?" Astrid asked.
"Yes!" Snotlout shouted at the same time. Ha! He had one up on her.
The corner of Mala's mouth curled up into a smile. "Remain standing," she said simply.
"Huh-?"
She suddenly dropped low to the ground, and her fist connected with Snotlout's stomach with more force than he'd ever felt in his life. The blow went as far as to knock him backwards, and he staggered – somehow remembering, or perhaps forced by his pride, to remain on his feet, shuffling around unsteadily and holding himself up only through sheer force of will.
"Not bad…" Her words were distant and hazy, it was much more important that he work out how to get some air back into his lungs. "I did not expect you to pass. It seems there is at least a little more to you than just bravado."
How could such a scrawny woman hit so damn hard!? He let out a long, tense groan, but strength was slowly returning to his body, and he looked up to find everyone watching him with mixed reactions.
Mostly everyone, Astrid was similarly doubled over and gasping for breath, though she was still standing too. Good, it wouldn't be any fun to thrash her if she didn't even pass the qualifier. "What's the... test for... commander?" he forced out. If he was in, he might as well go all the way.
"Queen Mala strikes you again," the guy said in his flat voice, "but she uses her dominant hand."
Wait, that had been her off-hand!? Snotlout groaned again. Maybe this would do more to make him a Viking than he had thought.
Strange sounds… Stranger scents. Eyes blinked open a crack, just enough to find the large black Nightstriker watching him with calm green eyes.
Dreamer let his gaze relax, staring at nothing in particular while his mind caught up to what was going on. He didn't know where he was, but he could tell from Wanderer's relaxed posture that they were in no danger. The sounds and smells around him were unfamiliar, a calm murmuring and scents of sharp herbs, but none of it suggested danger. A warm tongue gently ran up his neck and jaw, and he purred reflexively, tempted to just drift back into sleep…
But he needed to know what was going on, who the strange woman was, the people who had fed him something that had… done something strange to him. Wanderer had eaten it too, so maybe it really was just that he was sick.
He flexed his stiff body as he rolled onto his paws, which he tucked under his chest, and looked around. "Where this?"
"Long-Paw nest," Wanderer chuffed. "They think we hunters, that why attack. Wrrr, not us, they think our Long-Paws hunters." Dreamer snorted at that. "I use Long-Paw word-marks, tell them they friends!" he added proudly.
"Good," Dreamer sighed emphatically. These people seemed to revere dragons or something, even the insignia on their ships was that of a dragon's wing. He'd seen them occasionally at sea, but the people on their ships moved in a unique way that was easy to spot from a distance, so they definitely were not hunters and thus there had been no reason to interfere with them. He purred proudly at his friend too, inexplicably pleased that he'd taken the initiative to communicate with Long-Paws.
"Sleep," Wanderer hummed. "They say sky-colour grass-thing make you sick, they help you. No danger here."
It was tempting, but Dreamer felt better than he had in a while, and pushed himself to his paws. "I want see," he rumbled, then actually took a look around at the room they were in.
All around the room high up near the roof, there were large, open windows, big enough to fit through. The wood and furniture inside all had a light tone that caught the sunlight and made everything feel very spacious, but the sounds coming from outside were distant and muted, nothing more than a pleasant background noise. it was quite peaceful.
Kneeling by a pair of sleeping Spine-Tails were two women, who startled as he caught them looking. "Go get Mala," one whispered to the other, who then swiftly exited the room. Wrrr, at least he wouldn't need to go looking for the woman who had clearly been in charge; he'd rather not go prowling through an unfamiliar Long-Paw village.
Though he did quickly stretch and pad outside, easily nosing open the door and stepping out into the sunlight. It wasn't that much brighter out here, but the sky-fire felt good on his scales, and however safe he felt, inside a building wasn't a defensible position for a dragon.
The short time before Mala arrived passed in a calm detachment while he observed the village. The people walked around stiffly and with purpose, as he'd seen them doing on their boats, and Mala was the exception only in that her movements were also fluid, like a strung bow.
"I have seen many strange things today," the regal woman announced as she neared, "but seeing you on your feet again warms my heart. I am Queen Mala, and we call our tribe the Defenders of the Wing."
Dreamer lowered himself to his haunches with a purr, then reached forward with a claw. THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME, he wrote in the loose dirt.
She boggled at the words, though her impeccable posture did not slip in the slightest. "By the Protector, I… You are most welcome. You are," she paused to wince at him, "Hiccup?"
CALL ME DREAMER
"Dreamer is far more respectable. Why would you respond to such a demeaning name?"
That is a long story… Dreamer flexed his paw, feeling a rare frustration at the limitations of his dragon body; the ability to write was useful, but awkward and unsuited for long conversations, as this promised to be.
LATER, he wrote instead, then rubbed it all out. WHY, he scratched, then waved his paw in a vague gesture.
"Ah, well, we received a report of people riding dragons, and assumed Viggo and his brutes had stepped up their game." She spoke the name with a deep rage, tempered and refined to a razor point. "There is a fruit that grows here, sagefruit, when eaten by dragons it has a calming effect. When prepared correctly, it works well as a sedative on humans. Your… friends... are fine, my First Commander is showing them around now."
And Dreamer could also see the long tail of a Monstrous Nightmare splayed out across the path a distance into the village. A simple misunderstanding then, nothing to worry about.
"I... take it you have been in contact with blue oleander?" she asked slowly, and he nodded. "Yes, I thought so. Dragons used to know to avoid it, but these last few years they… seem to have forgotten."
That was almost certainly when the Green Death had been killed, and hordes of wild dragons had been unleashed on the world. Dreamer groaned and pawed at his head, there was a lot to catch each other up on.
"Oh, sorry, I should not keep you from your rest. Please, if you need anything… ask." The last word was said incredulously; at the start of their conversation she had been speaking clearly and slowly, as if to a child, which was something Dreamer hadn't experienced in a while now, but she was slowly becoming more comfortable.
Dreamer shook his head and waved a paw dismissively. FISHLEGS?
"He is the rotund one?" Mala asked, and Dreamer snorted in amusement. "He is with the others. You wish to see him?"
WE ALL TALK
"...So now we hunt Viggo's men, and free any dragons we find."
Dreamer purred as Mala finished her incredible story. A rogue army stranded here on this island fighting an Eruptadon, a boulder-class dragon Fishlegs was no doubt dying to meet, only to be soundly beaten. With nowhere to go, they pleaded the dragon for mercy, and were granted it. When their supplies ran low, it subtly led them to a steamy cave where fresh water pooled, and they later discovered it was redirecting lava flows underground to keep their camp from freezing over during the winter.
The leader of the army had been so humbled by this dragon that he had devoted his life and his clan to repaying it and all other dragons. They trained hard to protect it and its home, and made a living out of the skills borne of their determination.
It reminded Dreamer of what had happened on Berk, where a dragon had fought for them and subsequently been idolised and almost revered in some cases. There had been dissenters, and he had no doubt the original Defenders of the Wing had faced their own as well, but this was what had eventually come of it? He was having difficulty holding back a barrage of excited squeaks, even leaning heavily on the immaculately regal example Mala was setting in kneeling behind the foot-high table in the foyer of her house.
Throck, who seemed to act as a sort of aide or advisor to Mala, strode over from the door and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Another has been found, one of Cameron's." He was speaking too quietly to hear... unless one was a Nightstriker, so Dreamer feigned ignorance.
"Where do they keep getting it?" she murmured to herself. "Ah, please forgive me," she said to Dreamer, "an internal matter, worry not." He gave a light rumble to convey that he wasn't bothered. "As much as I'd like to say we have Viggo and his hunters handled… he has far more men and resources at his disposal, and I fear that the large confrontation we are best suited for would only end in disaster."
Dreamer hummed in agreement; Viggo would undoubtedly find a way to turn it to his advantage. "We break many ships," he said with Fishlegs translating, "but still more come. We hurt him, but not know how we can kill his hunting."
"Kill his… hunting?" Mala asked, as Fishlegs had begun repeating him nearly word for word for simplicity. "Surely it would be far simpler to kill the man himself?"
He felt his pupils narrow, though his previous jubilance cushioned his drop in mood. "Why?" he asked with a dark rumble.
"Why would you…?" She looked between him and Fishlegs incredulously. "Because he is evil!" she snapped, firmly pressing her palm into the table. "He is causing the suffering of hundreds of dragons, you would sit by and watch!?" She quickly caught herself, however, and dropped some of her stiff posture.
"I not will be what they think I am," he huffed.
"Night Furies weren't the most popular dragon a few years ago," Fishlegs added after translating, "and are hated by many even now. He refuses to be the monster they think he is."
"In this case, you would not be…" Mala stared at her empty cup on the table and seemed to find comfort in her discipline, straightening her posture again and neatly folding her hands in her lap.
There was more Dreamer wanted to say, but he was distracted by approaching boots thumping against the ground outside; the house was somewhat out of the way of the general traffic of the village, so it was noticeable to him when someone was approaching.
A slim but toned man with short dark hair halted in the doorway, shouting as he leaned inside, "Queen Mala- yeek!" He reeled back from Dreamer, though it only took him a few moments to find enough of his composure to address Mala again. "Third scout hasn't reported in!"
"Third… That is the path up to the volcano. What of fifth?"
"Late, ma'am."
Mala stood, turning her glare on Dreamer. "I have no doubt Viggo directed you here, he does nothing without a reason. Why he wants you here, I do not know, but this is too much of a coincidence. He is after our Great Protector."
"We will check," Dreamer offered, also rising to his paws. Viggo was not infallible, both encounters with him so far had arguably ended with neither of them coming out on top, and how could the Nightstrikers' and riders' presence be anything but helpful to the Defenders?
"They must have some way to move the Eruptadon. There is only one path, and they could not have made it back down by now. We can block off where it emerges into the forest, but if you can stop them from taking him at all…" She was actually shaking a little, her voice wavering.
Dreamer hummed confidently, but she shook her head. "No, you don't understand! He needs the heat from the volcano to survive, he very rarely leaves it and not for long when he does."
"We'll help too," Fishlegs announced, moving for the door. "We can scout the forest, check the path, make sure you aren't running into a trap."
Mala nodded, and then stood and strode outside, already calling out orders. Dreamer bounded out after her and took to the air with a roar that brought Wanderer up with him. "Hunters here, maybe," Dreamer quickly explained.
"I not like this," Wanderer growled darkly.
"I also," Dreamer agreed; nothing seemed to add up.
They beat their wings hard and powered up towards the mouth of the volcano. After a time, Dreamer picked out a wide, smooth path leading up the side, but it was often obscured by high rocks and eventually wound around the mountain as it grew steeper. He watched it where he could for signs of hunters, but they couldn't spare the time to check the whole length; better to reach the peak earlier, cut off whatever clever plot Viggo had brewing before it could get any momentum.
Finally, they alighted at the very top of the path where it cut into the rim of the volcano. The air wavered with the heat, so much so that there could not be a trap here simply because no Long-Paw could remain here for any real amount of time; even he would not be able to lie in wait in this stifling air. "I not see him," Dreamer huffed over the deep growling of the volcano. He tried scenting the ground, but any trace of anything had long since boiled away. He did find some scuffs and scratches, wide and deep claw marks, but nothing fresh and nothing suggesting a fight. Mala had implied the dragon lived in the volcano, but would he see it from here?
Wanderer barked from a little way down the path, and Dreamer hurried down. "I not think hunters here," he said, nosing at the ground. Dreamer put his nose to work too, and while the ground was still warm, he was sure he'd smell something an hour or two old.
They glided down the path, periodically dropping to scent it and growing more relieved as there were no new scents. Eventually there were older ones, maybe a day or so by the way the traces of crushed grass smelled. They descended warily, alternately trotting and gliding, wary of a trap.
Murmuring reached Dreamer's ears, and he leapt behind a boulder, closely followed by his friend. When it became clear the voices weren't moving, he crept out again and prowled towards the source. When it led him off the path and over some angular boulders, he gave Wanderer a confused look before flicking his head meaningfully and splitting off.
They had not needed to hunt this way for a long time, but it was so ingrained that every move came naturally. They approached the sound from either side, wings held tightly to their sides to minimise their frames, and moving deliberately through the maze. With every large boulder they passed, the sounds became louder, if not clearer, and soon it almost sounded like a couple of drunks…
Wanderer's stride hitched, and then he changed direction, leaping onto a ridge for the high ground. Dreamer leaped up behind him, the lead of the hunt seamlessly passing over, and he followed, totally focused on finding the quarry now below them.
He still had no trouble reading his friend's intent, silently dropping down near a cluster of rocks that was certainly the source of the sounds, and they approached from either side. He snapped back to his thoughts as he registered what he was hearing, slurred words and jovially shallow tones, and trotted the last few paces to look down.
Three men, one snoring on his face, the other two laughing drunkenly, and all of them dressed as Defenders of the Wing, came into sight. Dreamer looked around, wary of some trick, but found nothing.
He slipped back, then dropped down into sight a few body-lengths away, eliciting startled jumps and shouts from the two conscious Defenders.
"Ah, heh, 's jes' a dra- drag'n," one slurred, slumping back down and staring into his cup.
"'Ss'not a dragon," the other slurred back, still panicking. "Tha', tha', tha'ssa N-Nigh' Fury," he whimpered, "'S tol' th-ere were none arou'd'ere, I don' w-wanna die…!" They still hadn't noticed Wanderer staring down from above them, which in this man's case was probably for the best.
"Issa da- nng, drrag'n," the first insisted, tottering back to his feet and staggering over. "D'ag'ns good, good, good dragon…"
Dreamer had seen enough-
"Nnnuh uh. Nigh' Furies jes' kill. Kill an' kill an'... more kill. Los' muh home, los' muh brovver…" The man dropped his cup and his fear drained away, replaced with sobbing and misery. "Tol' 'im no'ter go… Bu'e go'an when wi' ffin' 'imm'e aw'in pieces."
What in-?
Later, he didn't have time for this now! He barked at Wanderer and leaped back into the air, banking sharply back to the path and forgoing caution for haste. Something was wrong here, something he was missing!
He scoured the twisting path just short of recklessly, gliding loosely with swept-back wings and occasionally bounding off the ground and the steep sides of tight corners. Nothing, there was nothing! He knew he would find nothing, but he had to check, had to be sure…
He rounded a corner and emerged onto a long section of wide, straight path that led all the way down to the forest, where his keen eyes picked out the Defenders lying in wait. He streaked down to them and skidded to a stop with a loud bark, ignoring the wary and alarmed murmuring.
"What is it?" Mala shouted tensely as she ran over, her voice laden with dread.
DEFENDERS DRUNK NEAR TOP, he hastily scratched out in the trodden dirt, finishing just as she reached him and as Fishlegs and Astrid broke from the trees to join them.
"Drunk? Near the top, on the far side?" Dreamer nodded. "That's fifth scout, they're late because… They are the only ones you found?"
Dreamer nodded, not that he had been looking for more, but Wanderer roared summons, haste, from above before he had a chance to elaborate. He glanced at Mala and leapt into the air, followed closely by all the riders, but did not need an explanation – the huge roaring flames suddenly reaching up from over the village were prominent enough on their own.
"Get alpha!" he roared, tossing his head back towards where the Defenders were waiting for hunters that were never coming, and strained his wings to reach the village.
It was quickly clear that the flames were not coming from inside the village itself, but rather from the fleet of docked ships, every single one of which was engulfed in fire. Most of it was already too far gone, and what wasn't was quickly reaching that point, too quickly. The air reeked of Fire-Scale fire, even from above the deserted village, and a thick plume of dark smoke was gradually reaching up into the sky.
Beyond that, a single Defender ship was sailing away. Dreamer pushed himself forwards, punching through the smoke so quickly the massive updraft didn't even have a chance to disrupt his flight, and banked around high above the lone ship.
Many people lined its rails, armed with bows and arrows sporting glistening green tips, but by the way they held themselves, most of them were Defenders. The rest were the hunters they had been so sure would be after the Eruptadon.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Mala had just finished telling him about how they had been hunting down Viggos's ships, doing what Dreamer himself was doing!
But he still didn't understand, why had so many Defenders joined the hunters? That was clearly what had allowed them to do everything they had.
Every moment he spent thinking was a little more distance from the island. He snarled angrily and pumped his wings, ignoring their growing protests, to climb high into the air, then let himself drop as he built a shot in his maw. Most of the Defenders began panicking as the air screeched with his dive, the sound layering harmoniously with Wanderer's, who dove behind him, but the hunters' barking and gesturing kept everyone at the railing; they knew the drill.
He clamped the shot together and it ejected itself from his mouth, the recoil jolting him in the air, and he levelled off away from the arrows rising to meet him as the base of the middle mast was torn to shreds. Looking back, the other two masts suffered similar fates moments apart, Wanderer once again proving his skill by taking out both at once.
They directed their momentum back to the village, Dreamer growling to himself under his breath. The riders were just rounding the raging inferno that had only minutes ago been a fleet of ships, but banked around to follow the Nightstrikers where they all landed on the shore.
"What in Odin's name happened!?" Mala demanded, leaping down from behind Snotlout and striding to where the land dropped off to meet the water less than a body-length below.
"Some of your nest join hunters," Dreamer snarled, for which Astrid provided a colourful translation.
"But why?" Mala asked helplessly. "What could possibly prompt them to join with Viggo?"
"We'll never know, because they're sailing away," Snotlout said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "In two or three days, we might never catch them!"
"Flying-claws make dragons sick," Dreamer huffed, "too many for fight."
"Dragonroot?" Fishlegs grumbled. "Everything's going to get a lot harder if they've got a supply of that now…"
"Then we follow them," Astrid growled.
"Don't bother," Mala said, considerably more calmly. "I know where they are going. It is a fortress, about a day's sailing north. Even rowing, as the current is favourable." She turned to Dreamer. "I have been fighting him for many months, this is what Viggo does. I can tell you without doubt that he built on that island specifically to receive that ship, and those people. You must understand, that even with the best intentions, and though our interests align, I cannot trust that having you here is not a part of his scheming!"
Dreamer stared at her, shocked. Was she kicking them out? But they would make such great allies-
"That maybe what he want," Dreamer blurted out. "He want you not trust us, that why he trick us-..."
He groaned and hung his head. He had played right into Viggo's hands, again, and once again Viggo had sailed off with everything he wanted. It wasn't even as if he could claim they had gained allies out of it, as Mala was even on the fence about that, and they likely would have stumbled over each other eventually anyway!
Everyone took a step back from him, likely due to the sounds working his throat raw, but he barely even took notice.
"...You are correct," Mala conceded, sounding back to her usual self, "I cannot let him dictate my actions. We are both fighting him, we will be more effective doing so together." She grimaced towards the series of bonfires moored at the docks. "Once we have rebuilt. Ships can be replaced, lives cannot, and our Great Protector remains safe. This is a blow, but we will take it and return it tenfold."
Dreamer thought about that, then purred gratefully, his anger at himself soothed by her words. All Viggo had won was a brief respite, and maybe twenty or thirty new hunters. They might even be able to take some of that advantage back by wrecking this base earlier than if they'd discovered the Defenders later on their own. He still needed to be better, but this was not the absolute disaster it appeared to be. From his own perspective, he had gone from having no allies to having one, even if they were a little worse for wear at the moment.
"You can sink it from here, can you not?" Mala asked suddenly, resting her arms in the small of her back. "I am looking forward to seeing your fire in action."
Dreamer warbled thoughtfully… before belatedly realising the meaning in her words, his eyes widening. "No," he snarled at her.
"Those are your people too!" Fishlegs added.
"Not anymore," Mala said haughtily, "not after pointing a poisoned arrow at a dragon, not after burning down our fleet. They are traitors, fit only to be put to death."
"Then you kill them," Dreamer said in a continued snarl, rising to his full height and staring at her with his teeth bared.
"He's not your executioner," Astrid helpfully provided as she leaped down from Stormfly.
"I would execute every one of them myself, but we do not even have a ship with which to chase them! They are going to get away!"
"Yes, they are," Astrid growled as she stood tall next to Dreamer, folding her arms. "They're going to leave knowing that a Night Fury could have killed them, but didn't."
"Whoo, you tell 'er, Astrid!" Ruffnut cheered inappropriately from Barf's neck.
Mala turned back to glare at the slowly departing ship, at its strange jagged outline with its toppled masts. "I cannot say I understand… but I… will respect the wisdom of the dragons." She didn't sound all that sure about that; tough, it wasn't up to her.
"My Queen!" a rough voice shouted, and one of the men that had originally met them in the forest jogged up to them to stand at attention. He might have looked quite tidy, with his angular jaw and short black hair, if not for the permanent scowl he wore. "The Defenders are on their way back now. I have also arranged for a roll call, in anticipation of that order."
"Very good," Mala said tersely, "I additionally want a sweep of the village for any remaining hunters. And someone to go find those idiots at the third and fifth posts."
"Yes, ma'am. If I may be so bold, can the dragons help us track the hunters?"
Mala paused, then turned to Dreamer. "I will not ask it of you, but your continued assistance would be greatly appreciated."
Dreamer grunted affirmative. "We not can smell hunter, not different from your nest, but we can smell rot-water. We will help."
"Queen Mala," the perpetually scowling Defender barked, "I wish to query one of the Night Furies as to the whereabouts of the missing scouts. Can it read a map?"
Mala raised an eyebrow at him. "He is right there, Cameron. Ask him yourself."
As much as Dreamer wanted to encourage familiarity, he didn't want to deal with the tedium right now, and nodded before Cameron could even open his mouth. "You go find hunters," he said to Wanderer, "I catch up. Fish-Legs, you come with me."
"Would you like another ride, your majesty?" Snotlout offered obsequiously.
"No, I can walk," Mala replied abruptly before striding into the village.
"Ooh, the cold shoulder," Tuffnut snickered. "Hey, maybe she would like you if you trained her another Nightmare!"
"Yeah, you should totally do that," Ruffnut joined in as everyone set off after Mala. "We'll be sure to watch... out for you." She pulled Barf's head over to elbow her brother. "Hey, remember to bring snacks this time."
"But I always bring the snacks…"
Cameron soon broke off from the group, and Dreamer gently bumped heads with Wanderer before following with Fishlegs. He was looking forward to this day being over, expecting Mala to grant them somewhere to sleep; though if not, he would happily sleep on the mountainside. The ache from his wings was creeping down his back and sides, which even made it uncomfortable to walk, but soon he would have a rock to flame and lie on… Mmrrr…
They were led to a nondescript building that was likely the man's home, by the scent. There were no other scents, so while Dreamer would have considered it small, it would be quite comfortable if he was living here alone. There was just enough room to stretch out in the common room; did it count as a common room if there was only one person living here? The chairs and low table made it a little cramped, but then it wasn't arranged with a dragon in mind.
With Meatlug waiting outside, Dreamer and Fishlegs remained there while Cameron disappeared through a door that would be a squeeze to fit through, and sounds of rifling parchment and opening draws echoed out to them. He emerged a short time later, a rolled parchment in one hand and one of the strange fruits in the other. "Here, thought you could use this after today," he said, tossing the sagefruit to Dreamer.
It had indeed been a long day, and Dreamer was still coming down from the confusion and tension, not to mention how hard he had pushed himself in checking the path for hunters and flying after the ship. He didn't react at all to Cameron taking a step closer.
No, his reaction was purely reflexive, his whole body instantly and violently jerking away from the hiss of a blade cutting through the air. He crashed straight into Fishlegs, who shouted in alarm, and the tip of the dagger skipped off the scales over his shoulder instead of embedding in his throat.
He flailed in the close quarters, wedged between Fishlegs, a big chair, and the table, and the leading edge of his wing took a painful slash as he tried to get to his paws while fending off the crazed man. He battered away the knife with the same wing as it was thrown, then grunted as a boot unexpectedly caught him in the jaw and pinned his head to Fishlegs, whose struggling was not helping either.
Cameron now had his back to him, but Dreamer's foreclaws couldn't reach him, and the Long-Paw weathered the battering of the one free wing as he drew his sword, flipping it back to-
Meatlug crashed into him, knocking him off Dreamer and sending him flying across the room to bounce off the opposite wall. It was now even more crowded in the tiny room with a big Gronckle taking up half the floorspace, but Dreamer managed to pull himself into a position he could face Cameron and began carefully shaping his fire.
"I am not afraid of death," the man growled, getting to his feet.
Too bad. Dreamer fired-
What should have been a loud pop sounded more like a muted thump, blowing several boards out of the walls and punching painfully into his ears and chest. He clutched his head, willing the pressure to recede while trying to keep an eye on the Long-Paw…
Cameron groaned as he slumped forward and fell out of the wall he was embedded in. Alive, but probably not feeling too great right now. That was a relief, that concussive shot had probably been a little too powerful – even aside from whatever had caused it to behave slightly differently – and Dreamer had worried he'd killed him. Not that he would be overly upset about it in this particular case, but more than anything he really wanted to know why.
He climbed to his paws, then startled back as something tore into a damaged section of wall from outside. Wanderer shoved his head through a moment later, looking around wildly, then pulled back to continue tearing the wall down.
Dreamer shook his head, then gazed at Meatlug, who was also getting to her paws and shaking her head. She had probably just saved his life…
He walked through the tattered mess of the room, over the broken table and through fibres floating in the air and settling on the floor, to nuzzle Meatlug with a deep purr of gratitude. She hummed back and leaned into him, then licked him across the face. "Thank you," he warbled, though he was already purring it.
"We friends," she grunted happily, giving him another lick. He chuckled, somewhat overwhelmed, and licked her back.
Wanderer finished tearing through the wall, then beckoned with a low bark. Dreamer, Meatlug, and Fishlegs all walked out in a daze, then Wanderer dragged Cameron out by the scruff of his shirt and dropped him on the ground just outside, where he stared murderously down at the Long-Paw.
Dreamer mostly had his bearings back by the time the other riders caught up, Mala hot on their heels.
"Aw man, you guys blew this up without us?" Ruffnut whined.
"Yeah, you owe us some serious explosions," Tuffnut sternly agreed.
"What happened here?" Mala demanded, staring wide-eyed at the destruction, the dragons, and the man lying in the grass. Dreamer just huffed tiredly at Fishlegs.
"I'm… not actually sure," Fishlegs said slowly, clearly still dazed and tenderly touching his ear. "It all happened so fast… I think… he attacked us?" Dreamer nodded. "And then you shot him…" Dreamer nodded again.
Mala took a deep, tense breath, then strode over to Cameron and dug the toe of her polished shoe into his shoulder, and he jerked into a coughing fit. "Explain yourself."
He was clearly in no state to talk, coughing and gasping for air, though Mala dug her toe in a little while longer before relenting. "I am certain he is connected to all this, but not yet how," she said sternly, then deftly prodded him over him for weapons before hefting him by the collar. "We will find out. Dreamer, please, get some rest. I recommend the healing hut, let them know if you are injured at all."
That sounded like a good idea, and it wasn't far away… Dreamer lifted his wing to lick the cut at the reminder, though Wanderer had apparently done so already at some point, then padded away with his tail dragging along the path and his best-friend following protectively at his side.
Author's Notes
I did say it would be with the next chapter but aaggghhh there were so many problems with this arc in canon, from Hiccup's backwards logic with the map to Viggo just hoping there would be a massive misunderstanding to distract the whole island while he teleported a multi-tonne dragon several days' sailing to the Edge where it chewed three feet into the mountain to make the volcano two mountains over erupt. And that's just the short list.
This was actually a really fun arc to revise, even if it did take me a little while to find my stride. As I said, RTTE was an absolute mess of plot holes, inconsistencies, and overly convenient plot devices, but it has a trove of awesome concepts that are going to be fun to play with.
Oh, and anyone worried about things sticking too close to canon, know that things are going somewhat off those rails from this point. RTTE covered a lot of little plots so I can't guarantee I'm not going to cross its path again, but hopefully everything is feeling different enough that it's not an issue.