Dreamer woke with the dawn, already annoyed at himself. He'd spent far too much time sleeping lately, and there was far too much to do; he'd barely even begun to take down Viggo and his hunters, there was much to plan and share with the Defenders of the Wing, and beyond all that there were questions nagging at him around why some of these people hated and feared Nightstrikers so much; not only the drunk Defender and likely Cameron, but also Johann, who was still bitterly afraid despite passive efforts to assuage him.
He lifted his head from under his wing to find Wanderer lying between him and the door, keeping watch for threats even while asleep. He had growled and grumbled last night that these Defenders were so stiff and tense all the time it was impossible to know if they were up to something, and had defaulted to treating them all with suspicion. Dreamer wasn't about to suggest doing otherwise until he knew more on what was going on.
Which meant going and finding out. He rose as quietly as he could, but Wanderer's ear immediately twitched and his quiet snores cut off. Sure enough, when Dreamer silently padded around him, there was a green eye lazily looking up at him. "You need sleep," Wanderer rumbled.
"I had sleep," Dreamer replied, then gave himself a shake. Wanderer sighed and rose with a slow, deliberate, full-body stretch.
Though the sky-fire had yet to even leave the water, the village was already busy, Long-Paws marching around in ordered ranks. Dreamer admired it as he walked outside, they were an impressive tribe.
But now that he was wary again, having been attacked by one of them last light, he saw subtleties that were easy to miss with these stiff, militaristic people. Many of them stared at him and quickly looked away when they thought he would see, most becoming tenser than usual as they noticed him and then even more so as he noticed them. The usual signs, clenched jaws, hands twitching for weapons, and so on, were not present or next to imperceptible because these people were always so highly strung anyway.
But it was not everyone. Only a very small number of the people he observed showed any distinct signs of hate, though he knew there were a number who pretended he didn't exist or hid it well enough to be indistinguishable from those who were simply curious.
He shook his head and paid them no heed as he set off into the village. It was simple to keep his distance from everyone because they all marched in groups, always to the left side of the path, and all at the same speed. Walking briskly between two groups was all that was required.
It took a little while to find Mala – strangely, the tidy square streets were disorienting, lacking much variety to navigate by – but eventually, by chance, she happened to be passing the other way and pulled them aside. "I hope you are well today?" she asked, and Dreamer nodded. "That is good to hear. We are well on track to rebuild our fleet, it will be a good exercise in shipbuilding."
Already? She worked fast. CAMERON? he wrote at the edge of the path.
"Still recovering from his injuries," she replied sternly. "He will be allowed to wake naturally, and then he will be interrogated."
He huffed; the man could be out for most of the day, given how hard he'd been hit. There was also the matter of what the drunk man on the mountain had been rambling about, but he would wait for someone to help translate before broaching that topic. MAP? he wrote; there was something else he wanted to check.
Tracking down a map and then the one Viggo had given him took far longer than it did to compare the two, but it gave him something to think about as he and Wanderer flew north, towards the nearby hunter base.
He had been curious if Viggo had omitted any islands, and was unsurprised to find that he had. Two, in fact. One of them was along the border of the line he'd drawn, and likely served to bring attention to the Defenders, but the other had no such excuse. The question was, did he want to find out what was there?
Viggo was drawing attention to this island by omitting it for no clear reason. Had he included it like the dozens of others then it would be completely unremarkable. However, it was a long flight away, not the furthest island on the map but a suspicious middle ground that Dreamer himself might have picked were he looking to send an opponent on a wild chase, far enough to take time but not suspiciously far as possible.
He rumbled thoughtfully, letting the wind do most of the work for him and flapping only to maintain speed as the sparkling ocean passed by below. Why did Viggo want him to go there? It would not be a bluff, because regardless of if he thought Dreamer would ignore the discrepancy or not, it was safer for there to be no discrepancy.
Hrrr… He resolved to check it out at some point, but only as a low priority. He wouldn't ignore what had to be a deliberate act by his nemesis, but he also wouldn't let himself be distracted…
He eyed the island they were headed to as it came into sight through the haze of distance. It was heavily sloped, the near side of the grassy land dipping into the water and the far side rising high into the air to terminate in steep cliffs. As Mala had said, it was highly defended, featuring several catapults and ballistae that protected the entire southern shore and the dozen ships moored there, and there were more ships out on the water; it was difficult to tell if they were coming and going, just passing by, or patrolling, but they were similarly heavily armed.
Between himself and Wanderer, they had four decent shots to spare. They were still growing, and their capacity was improving, but they could still only manage two and a half each without using their reserve, and that last resort wouldn't be enough to down a mast anyway. There would be little point in just blasting holes in the hulls, they'd be repaired in no time. They could target the defences, perhaps, take out three catapults or ballistae each with slightly smaller shots and good aim, allow for the Defenders to engage… though they had no boats with which to attack; the last one was still drifting in the water below, on its way to the island.
The buildings were the obvious targets then, four of them, uniform and nondescript… but that went back to his earlier thinking about the maps. This was too easy, Viggo had led them to the Defenders and had to have known they would find this too. He either wanted them to attack it, or didn't care if they did. The more Dreamer thought about it, the more pointless it seemed.
Wanderer barked confused, enquiry, as they passed over the fortifications and kept going.
"I think hunter alpha know we do this," he warbled, still deep in thought, and still flying north. Some gut feeling was urging him on, encouraging him to keep flying. Some part of him must think he would find something...
"He hope we take small prey," he asserted more confidently. "That small-land have many teeth, but bad hunting. I think he want us hunt that… not keep flying, find better prey." It was exactly what he himself would do.
Wanderer didn't reply to that, just yawned widely and remained close by his side. Dreamer smirked, subtly preparing to pounce and fly ahead… but thought better of it, turning his attention back to the sea to look out for boats and islands. It wouldn't do to get distracted and miss something.
He recalled another island on the maps, vaguely crescent-shaped, about this far north again and slightly east, and it wasn't long before it came into sight. This one looked totally barren from a distance, made up entirely of a light green-grey rock, and only appeared more desolate as they approached. It didn't so much have a mountain as just a giant rock jutting unevenly from the ground, and there was nowhere for water to pool to sustain life. Not even Rock-Scales could survive here without flying to find water elsewhere.
However, while Long-Paws needed a lot of things to survive, they were very good at bringing, making, and finding those things where nothing else could. So it was with little surprise that he spotted the ships moored on one of the rocky shores, and from there the various-sized buildings built of a pale wood that blended with the rock. One of the ships had been pulled up out of the water for some reason, next to a bluff.
Dreamer silently scolded himself again, he should have come here at night when it would be far easier to see any activity by the lights, and where he himself would be practically invisible. But no, he had slept right through to the dawn, even though they were still in early spring and the nights were still longer than the lights.
Huff, he would just need to use what he had, his wings and his superior eyes to see from a distance that he would be only a speck in the sky.
"We shoot these Long-Paws?" Wanderer asked casually, staring down with him.
Dreamer hummed as he thought about it. Simply blowing it all up was certainly tempting, but he really wanted to know what Viggo was actually doing here, and why he would fortify an entire island to hide it. "No," he decided. "I want know more. We talk with nest-alpha."
He banked quickly to turn tail on the place, not wanting to risk even a slight chance of tipping them off. He was curious what Mala thought about it, but mostly he expected to bring the riders and raid the place, as there didn't look to be all that many guards. Wrrr, Fishlegs and Astrid would need to return to Dragon's Nest for their dragons' fledglings, if they hadn't already, but Snotlout and the twins would be enough with the right strategy.
Still, he expected that to be later in the day, and as they passed back over the first, more heavily defended Island, it was only mid to late morning. He could recharge a shot in that time, and he was always up for destroying masts. A quick explanation to his friend, a moment to pick their targets, and two ships suddenly found themselves limping along. There was now no doubt it was bait, but it was still two less ships on the water.
The sky-fire was burning brightly in the sky, and though it guarded its warmth, it was not cold on this Long-Paw-nest small-land. There was a warmth that seemed to come from below, and it was very pleasant being between that and the chill wind.
Wanderer yawned widely, blinking himself awake after a really good nap. He'd dreamed about digging a big hole and curling up in it, which was sounding more like a good idea the more he thought about it. But now that he was rested, he wanted to do something fun, and digging a hole without the intention of enjoying it was less appealing.
Hrrr, Dreamer was still talking with the Long-Paws, he wouldn't be any fun. Maybe one of the other nest-kin?
He pushed back with his hindlegs while pulling forwards with his forelegs, flexing his wings and groaning under his breath at the simple but glorious act of stretching his back, then took a few exaggerated steps to stretch his legs and set off into the nest.
Last warming-season he would have been much more cautious in a foreign nest, particularly one that had already attempted to harm one of them, but he had no such fear now. He was now the one to be feared, now that he had his fire, and after this last shedding he was feeling almost back to his old self. Almost, as he felt somewhat lanky, but he was enjoying that for now; it made him feel fast and sleek.
Unfortunately, any sensation of being stealthy was ruined when he decided to leap from den to den, and the occupants of some of them exclaimed in surprise. He needed to practise more on Long-Paws in their nests…
But he would do that another light. He needed to sharpen his fighting, and he had just spotted a Fire-Scale that was bored enough to be flaming his rider. Wanderer also needed the Fire-Scale to respect him as an equal or superior rather than see him as a fledgling, which Dreamer should probably work on also but either of them doing this would help both.
He leaped over to the den next to Snotlout and his Fire-Scale, and watched from above while they argued. He didn't really know what they were snapping at each other about, but it involved a lot of grabbing, head butting, and fire. A pawful of other Long-Paws watched in amusement.
Snotlout yelped as a misting of fire – a thin spray of flammable mucus that burned instantly but not as hot – caught his side, apparently somewhere he was not covered by the right not-skins to withstand it.
Wanderer dropped to the ground and cocked an ear at Snotlout, who was rolling around in the short grass. Stupid Long-Paw. Wanderer directed a light, condescending hiss at him, followed by a snort, then tossed his head knowingly at the Fire-Scale.
The reaction he received was not what he expected, a warning rumble and a casual swipe of a wing. He let it brush over him, then smirked at the Fire-Scale; he really did care for his Long-Paw, despite appearances.
His impertinence was rewarded with a heavy jaw to the chest, though his claws gripped the grass firmly to stop himself from being knocked back. He warbled confusion with a hint of challenge, then leapt away from the irritated snap at his leg. Fire-Scales were so easy to provoke into playing.
He bounced playfully from side to side and avoided the next snap, then leapt forward to grapple one of the Fire-Scale's big horns, holding it down with his forelegs and teeth. The head under him jerked and tugged, but he was too big now! No Fire-Scale could lift him with their head-
The horn lifted him onto his hindlegs, then bulled him back so quickly he nearly tripped over his own tail. He desperately walked backwards and the Fire-Scale kept pushing him, until his tail and then his wings struck something hard, one of the Long-Paw dens, which he was then pressed into.
They remained there for a pawful of heartbeats, holding each other to a standstill. This was good, it was important to show he could at least hold his own. But the long, spined tail snaking in agitation forced him to do something or risk the fight escalating into something less playful. He gave the horn a shove so that he could let go without it immediately slamming him into the den, then leaped off the Fire-Scale's head and over his back.
Faster than he expected, jaws spun around and clamped onto his flank, not piercing or even painful but holding firmly. He tucked his head so that he rolled off his back as he landed, pulling the Fire-Scale right over the top of himself and grabbing the broad leg as it passed over him, carrying over with it and landing on the Fire-Scale's belly.
A quick swat to the Fire-Scale's nose had his flank released, and he leapt off and darted away before the retaliation could come. Actually fighting to submission wasn't a good idea; submitting himself would defeat the point of fighting, but he would earn the Fire-Scale's ire if he fought to win. Running away let them both feel satisfied.
The Fire-Scale pursued, but Wanderer was much faster, and ran a long circle around the open clearing they were in before clawing his way up onto one of the dens.
"Yeah, you'd better run!" Snotlout shouted up to him, shaking a clenched paw.
"Stupid," Wanderer hissed playfully back at him, then grinned toothily.
"Hookfang, - and -!" the rock-head announced haughtily, turning and raising his paws to either side, as if they were wings and he was bragging of their span. "Not even a Night Fury got anything on a Monstrous Nightmare!" He then yelped as fangs bit into his fleshy hindquarters.
Wanderer tilted his head at that, reading the twitch of irritation that had preceded the reprimand. The Fire-Scale might be cleverer than he had thought. And he could certainly fight, he had more strength and speed than most Wanderer had fought.
Bent-Tooth, that was his name, or something like that. He had earned a little of Wanderer's respect himself, which was also good, particularly when they would occasionally be fighting together. The name wasn't that silly, if he assumed it to be proof of some impressive fight.
While he lay on the roof, panting lightly, Wanderer spotted one of the Long-Paws in the crowd that seemed… different, somehow. He did not stand with the total stiffness the other Long-Paws of this nest had… He looked as if he was trying to, but had tired. It was unusual. As was the way he was staring…
Wanderer stood and prowled off the den, eyes on the anomalous Long-Paw, who then slinked off into the crowd. The Long-Paws of this nest did not slink, they stomped about as if the dirt had personally affronted them.
He quickly crossed the clearing to where the Long-Paw had disappeared and proceeded warily from there. It was impossible to pick out its scent to track, but the distinctive sound of its footsteps was easy to follow as long as he didn't let them get too far away.
The sounds changed, and he soon followed them into a gap between dens, a sharply winding tunnel he barely fit into. But the walls of the tunnel were mere wood, he could break through them easily enough if he needed to, and he had replenished enough of his fire already to have two good shots at his disposal. The sounds were fading, he needed to move faster; he couldn't even jump on top of the dens because then the sounds would be lost to the din of the nest.
Winding through the tunnels, awkwardly squeezing around corners where necessary. Twice it opened onto a wide path, but following his intuition on where the prey would be fleeing kept him in pursuit.
He turned another tight corner and spotted his quarry at the other end, again emerging into a wide path. Before it disappeared into the crowd beyond, it turned and looked at him with… satisfaction? Smugness? Wanderer snarled and pressed forwards, scraping his shoulders and wings, preparing a shot to incapacitate his quarry-
The Long-Paw yelped as a Fire-Scale dropped onto him with a hiss of warning, challenge, and Wanderer let his shot die off. Bent-Tooth had been following it as well… Or had he been following Wanderer? Either way, he had to appreciate the Fire-Scale anew, he had much sharper thinking than most of his kind.
The Long-Paw clawed at the grass and tried to pull itself out from under the long talons holding it down, but Wanderer was quickly there and disabusing it of any thoughts of resistance with claws and growls. He teased the long claw out of the not-skins and knocked it away, then hunted out a smaller claw and flung it out of reach as well.
...Now what? Dreamer would know, he should summon him.
Actually, Dreamer was talking with the nest-alpha, and she was the one they probably needed to take this Long-Paw to. He made to grab it by the scruff of its neck, but Bent-Tooth simply wrapped his talons around it and glared at Wanderer significantly, a hint of warning in his eyes reminding him he was only helping because he currently felt like it.
Wanderer chuckled as he hopped into the air.
Dreamer unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn as Mala received a report on the condition of the Long-Paw who had attacked him yesterday. He had recently woken, so they would hopefully have answers soon. Had only taken until after noon.
"Let him sit in suspense a while," Mala said as she returned to kneel in front of the table, and Dreamer nodded. "Regarding our plan, I must say, I am still uncomfortable with it."
"I trust you," Dreamer hummed, which Tuffnut translated in the most bored, dejected tone he'd ever spoken in; must be nearly time to swap him out.
"It is not just I you need to trust," she growled, clenching her fists and staring down at the table, but he waved her off with a wing. They would know more soon, and there were precautions that could be taken.
A distant shouting lifted his ears, and he turned back to the door with a wary rumble. Mala immediately put her hand to her sword, alternating between looking at him and the door.
The voice quickly became more pronounced, angry and indignant cursing, though there were no running footsteps to explain how it was approaching so quickly – instead, heavy wingbeats preceded a cry of alarm and a thump, and the door opened from outside.
Wanderer poked his head in with a low bark, then retreated back outside, and Dreamer hastily followed with Mala hot on his tail.
He blinked in confusion at the Defender, pinned on his back under Hookfang's long talons and receiving a wary hiss from Wanderer. What did they think they were doing!? Had he attacked them or something? And where was Snotlout?
"How long did you think you could hide it?" Mala intoned in a dangerously level tone, folding her arms behind her back and striding forwards. Dreamer looked between her and the man, totally confused.
"Long enough," the Defender grunted, ceasing his frantic struggling and just trying to push the talons off. "You Defenders're so stupid, don' even see what's under yer noses."
Dreamer blinked. The man was talking as if he wasn't a Defender… He padded forward to scent him, taking careful whiffs of his ankles, head, and torso. He was heavy with the scents of the forest, and beneath that-
A pungent scent met Dreamer's nose, scrunching his face. It was like the oldest, most vile mead of Stoick's personal store, though there was none of it on his breath.
"What is Viggo up to?" Mala asked.
"Like I'll tell you," the hunter growled back, confirming exactly what he was and presumably why Wanderer and Hookfang had grabbed him. He tried prying himself out from under the paw again, then glared at Hookfang, who was starting to look bored.
"He smell like rot-water," Dreamer huffed, pawing at his nose.
"The Hel's rot water?" Tuffnut asked instead of translating.
Mala seemed to catch on at least. "So you were the one bribing my men to arrange all this."
The hunter grunted in amusement. "So they can talk. Clever beasts. Don't look so tough though, dunno what these wimpy Southerners're so afraid of."
Both Nightstrikers bared their teeth and snarled in his face, but he just stared back, unimpressed. "Yeah yeah, real scary. If Viggo says you won't kill, you ain't gonna touch me. Just like he said a bunch o' these wimps'll desert at the first sight o' ya."
That struck at Dreamer as fiercely as a blow to the head, forcing him a few dizzying steps backwards. What on Midgard was going on down south to cause all this? And of course, just when he thought he'd had Viggo figured out, there was another layer to his scheme. This was infuriating!
"They deserve the deaths we will give them," Mala said darkly, then turned to Dreamer. "Do not blame yourself," she told him sternly, "those who hold hatred of dragons are not welcome here."
He just growled to himself, thinking frantically. So much pain and suffering in the world, so much good he could do… but Viggo was a big part of that pain, and if everything going on was any indication, not a threat that was even remotely safe to just ignore.
A large presence moved up beside him, and a black wing reached around to shelter him from the world. He leaned into the gesture, taking comfort from the physical contact and grounding himself in the moment; there was no point spiralling into hypotheticals.
"Viggo thinks he is very clever," he heard Mala say. "His due will catch up with him in time."
"He's more steps ahead than most Vikings can count," the hunter chuckled darkly. "Now if you ain't gonna kill me, at least get this thing off me."
"Indeed. Take him somewhere unpleasant for now."
"Yes, my Queen," said Throck, who had apparently arrived at some point.
"Hookfang, what the Hel do you think you're doing?" came the voice of a very angry Snotlout, and pawsteps trotted to a halt nearby a moment later. "I'm sorry, your majesty, is he bothering you? Did he hurt that guy? Bad Hookfang! I promise I didn't train him to do anything like this, he-"
"Hookfang here just brought to me a spy in our midst," Mala cooly cut in. "I am most grateful for his assistance."
"Of course he did, I trained him everything he knows," Snotlout replied haughtily a moment later, then yelped as Hookfang presumably reprimanded him.
Dreamer sighed and shook off the wing around him, then glanced around for Tuffnut only to find he'd apparently slipped away. Huff. "Snotlout," he barked, "tell her I want see him now."
"Tell what you want see what now?" Snotlout echoed back, confused. Dreamer growled at him; he was missing Fishlegs. "Hey, I'm only human you know, I don't get any of this… contextual… tonal… stuff. You gotta give me something to work with."
"You wish to see Cameron now?" Mala asked, striding over after seeing the hunter away. "I will take you to him."
"You come also," he huffed to Snotlout, then nuzzled his best-friend. "I do more talking now, you can fly if want." Wanderer hummed thoughtfully, but then snorted and moved to follow Mala.
As they walked, Dreamer mentally prepared to meet the man who had attempted, and nearly succeeded, to kill him the day before. Close brushes with death was something he was becoming disturbingly familiar with, but he had always known why. Discovering someone wanted him dead and not knowing their apparently vehement motives for such was disconcerting.
They stepped up into a nondescript building, walking into a wide open space with several beds lining the far wall. They were still just flat boards mounted on a frame, but they looked more smoothed than what Vikings bothered to do; Dreamer preferred stone anyway. Propped up in the far bed was the Long-Paw in question, staring dispassionately at the opposite wall.
Wanderer took up vigil by the door, ears tense and eyes on Cameron, while Dreamer and Snotlout followed Mala who strode over to stand sternly over the man. "What do you have to say for yourself?" she asked, that cutting anger prominent in her voice.
"You missed," he grunted, then groaned in pain.
"Nothing broken," a stern woman called out from the other side of the room, "but we suspect cracked ribs, and there is a lot of heavy bruising."
"Leave us," Mala commanded curtly, staring disparagingly at Cameron. "He did not miss."
"Night Furies never miss," Snotlout bragged loudly. "If he'd wanted you dead, you'd be dead."
"What's it matter," the man said dejectedly. "They were right."
"Viggo is conniving and underhanded, serving only his own selfish motives," Mala intoned.
"And what are his motives?" Cameron asked dryly.
"That is obvious. He serves only himself, trapping and selling innocent creatures for profit."
"You really are a fool. Open your eyes. His strategy is unsustainable, hunting islands bare." He rolled his head a little to look at Dreamer. "What those demons started, Viggo Grimborn will finish. He makes no secret of it, he is hunting the dragons to extinction." Despite the pain it must have caused, he chuckled darkly, then groaned with a weak cough.
Dreamer wasn't all that surprised to hear that, actually. He'd known something of the sort, given the state Dark Deep had been in, how many dragons they were freeing, how many hundreds of hunters Viggo seemed to have. Of course, someone like that, he was in it for the profit, and probably the hunt itself… but he knew exactly what he was doing.
"I am no fool," Mala said in something close to a growl, "and Dreamer is no demon. Watch your tongue."
"Or what? They've taken everything else from me."
Dreamer nudged Mala's elbow and nodded significantly to the man. "Tell me about that," she asked on his behalf.
He sighed, and stared ahead for such a long moment that Dreamer almost thought he wouldn't reply. "The first of it is people don't come back," he finally said, quietly, his face and tone growing progressively colder and darker. "Sometimes they turn up, what's left of them… but it's better if they don't. If it's a small town, sometimes it ends at that. If not, they'll pick off a few buildings from the town's edge, and it's downhill from there. Some towns are lucky enough to have their bigger targets hit. The hall, the shrine. Often there are a lot of people inside, that usually sates them. Otherwise they just keep raining down fire until there's nothing left."
He turned his cold gaze on Mala. "We did nothing to them, and they took everything from us. No, not took… They wanted none of it. They just destroy. You know not what you invite into your home. If they are as intelligent as you and Viggo claim, then they know exactly what they are doing, and are all the more evil. They are demons, the unholy offspring of lightning and death, and they have earned the title and more. It is not as bad as it was, but there are still stories, and nobody forgets. You should cast them out. You should slit their throats and toss them into the-"
"Enough," Mala snapped.
"You should, but you won't," he sighed, closing his eyes and relaxing.
Dreamer felt nauseous. "Wanderer," he barked weakly, looking back to his friend. "You know why?"
"No," his friend huffed back.
What in Odin's name did it all mean? Nightstrikers weren't inherently evil, evidently… But could he attribute this to a queen or something? But if they weren't taking food…
"We not know why that happen," he said to Mala with a significant glance to Snotlout.
"Why would you?" Snotlout asked, totally misinterpreting. "You guys grew up on Berk." Dreamer thumped him with his tail, looking pointedly to Mala. "Ow, hey! What-... Oh, right. He says he doesn't know what this guy's talking about."
"I have seen more than enough evidence to the contrary of his tale," Mala asserted with a respectful nod.
"Believe what you want," Cameron muttered without opening his eyes.
"Nevertheless," she continued with a displeased glance back at him, "I will not dismiss it. I request that you report any knowledge on the matter to me directly, should you… encounter any. I also ask, with all respect, that you do not use your fire within our village, except in self defence."
Dreamer nodded, a glance confirming Wanderer understood as well, then glanced at Snotlout again. "Where this happen?"
"Down south, obviously," Snotlout replied. "Weren't you listening?" Dreamer thumped him again; he was starting to appreciate Gothi's methodology in dealing with unruly translators. "Hey, quit it! Alright, alright. He wants to know where."
"Everywhere," was the flat response. "Nowhere is safe."
"Other dragons attack also?" Dreamer asked, Snotlout finally producing a viable translation.
"There are no other dragons. Up here is the only place there are any others left. That might change soon… Don't care either way."
Dreamer shuddered at that, approaching the limit of what he could stand to learn. A hundred different scenarios came to mind, all equally probable and all equally lacking in evidence. All he knew was that Nightstrikers were attacking Long-Paws, for no reason the victims were aware of.
And what was the next logical step for Viggo, if he was hunting dragons to extinction here? With the power and wealth it would earn him, he would create weapons and armies capable of wiping the last race of dragon from the face of Midgard. If anyone could, it was him.
He turned to leave, to get some time alone, to think, to process…
"Dreamer," Mala called after him. "I… I apologise for my words yesterday. I will never ask you to kill again."
He offered her a nod and as grateful a purr as he could manage. That, at least, was something.
The light had been one for learning many things, things that Wanderer mostly considered irrelevant. He did not understand why other Nightstrikers might be attacking Long-Paws, he certainly recalled nothing of the sort, but that did not involve him. Maybe it would, one day…
No, there was no uncertainty; one day, they would involve themselves in these attacks, one way or another. His Dreamer had been emotionally hurt by the learning, and had disappeared into the forest for much of the remaining light. When he had returned, Wanderer had listened patiently to his reasoning that the hunter alpha was the bigger threat, that he could not be left alone to become stronger and kill all the wing-hunters on these small-lands, though it had clearly been a difficult conclusion.
Wanderer was starting to regret being as supportive as he had, though. He wasn't thrilled with the idea of carrying two Long-Paws on his back all the way out to the further small-land they had discovered early that light. He was even less thrilled with doing so for the third time.
The small-land was finally coming into view though, and angling down to it was a slight relief. Landing was sheer bliss, and he shook the Long-Paws off his back to flex and fold his tortured wings with quiet groans.
The two Long-Paws staggered for a few steps after hitting the ground, reminding him of his Dreamer after their earlier flights; something about Long-Paws caused their legs to stop working after being in the air, it was quite amusing. Dreamer had explained they could be trusted because they had been reared to think good of wing-hunters, but more importantly they had provided gestures of trust and respect with body language that could not be faked. Wrrr, the alpha had not, but Dreamer had a different sort of trust for her and had carried her himself.
The Fire-Scale and Two-Head had each carried a pawful of Long-Paws, while Dreamer and Wanderer had taken a pawful between them, each flight, so now they had… a lot of Long-Paws. It was a good thing these bigger wing-hunters, with their broader wings, had not been the ones who had needed to return to their fledglings, though even they were looking worn out. Personally, Wanderer was just looking forward to sleeping the rest of the night away, and probably much of the next light; if Dreamer thought he was getting groomed before sleeping, even with how turbulent his thinking was right now, he was in for a swatting.
Sadly, they weren't done yet. The Nightstrikers were best suited for seeing in this low light, so while they left the other wing-hunters with the smell-alikes, Dreamer and Wanderer led the raid into the hunter nest.
Though this was the weirdest raid Wanderer had ever participated in. It wasn't for their own benefit, so not all that different in that respect, but he wasn't being forced by bad thinking and he was walking with a bunch of Long-Paws. It was also almost totally silent, and Dreamer specifically ran around to knock out two hunters who were watching for threats so that it remained that way. It felt backwards.
A quick glance into the first den showed nothing of interest, a bunch of Long-Paw things of all sizes, smelling heavily of hot metal and rock. The second was thick with the smell of Long-Paws, and their snoring could be heard from within; some of this raid, including Snotlout, would stay there to do sneaky Long-Paw things.
The third was concerning, even before they reached it, by the dry and gravelly snoring emanating from inside. Quietly pawing open the door revealed many Rock-Scales, many pawfuls of them.
Why did these hunters have so many Rock-Scales here? He held back a sympathetic whine at the cramped and smelly conditions they were held in, at the bindings around their mouths and wings. This was cruel beyond his fiercest snarl.
Dreamer growled furiously under his breath as he looked inside, then climbed up the wall to a branch across the roof and lit his fire, shedding blue light on the scene below. Many of the 'Defenders' then quietly rushed in to quickly pacify the Stone-Scales and start removing their bindings, while Wanderer remained outside in the shadows with a small number of Defenders to watch for threats.
The first Rock-Scale to grab freedom in its jaws was a warming sight, but the sound of its thrumming wings lifting it into the air was terribly loud. He almost expected an army of hunters to rush out that instant, though the night remained otherwise silent. More followed shortly after, the sound of their wings all loud but quickly fading into the distance.
A pawful of Rock-Scales scrambled outside and into the air as Wanderer prowled back to the den of sleeping hunters. Some Defenders were fussing over the door, apparently doing something so that it could not easily be opened.
Footsteps rang dully through the flat trees that made up the den, coming from inside, and Wanderer snorted urgently at the Defenders at the door, who instantly stilled. The footsteps stopped, and the door rattled but did not open. It rattled a pawful more times, then there was silence.
Another Rock-Scale buzzed into the air, and startled shouts came from inside following by a loud crash, the door shuddering violently. This was all part of the plan, though they had expected to be looking around and maybe taking things, not freeing wing-hunters.
A broad claw emerged from the door with a crack – Wanderer wondered why they would try breaking through that instead of the softer walls, but Dreamer had laughed at the idea and assured him they wouldn't, then agreed that Long-Paws were stupid.
The claw emerged through the flat trees of the door a pawful more times, creating and widening a small gap. Wanderer waited until it was big enough, then as the claw pulled away again, reared up and slammed his paws into the door with his fiercest snarl directed through the hole, fuelled by his fury at how the Rock-Scales had been treated. The terrified shouts and sounds of stumbling were not as satisfying as sinking his claws into the offenders, but they were all he was likely to get.
Now it was up to the Defenders to keep them in there. Wanderer himself would do poorly at that, his speed and fire unsuited for such a task, so he bounded back to check on how many Rock-Scales were left.
Not nearly as many as there had been, but still pawfuls. They didn't appear to be bound, and Dreamer and the Defenders were trying to corral them out, but they were either too terrified or simply uncaring.
The latter made him growl, which he did not restrain now that their presence was known. "Stay away from wall," he barked with a toss of his head to the far side of the den, then sprinted outside and around it. Taking a running start, he fired at the back of the den, leaping through the hot cloud of smoke and dust with a crackling snarl.
Most of the Stone-Scales inside were already moving by the time he could see them, spurred into action by his very real anger and frustration at them. He didn't expect all that many of these to survive though; there was every chance they would give up on the flight away as well, and plummet into the sea.
Three lumps on the ground remained, unmoving… He padded over to the nearest, his anger cooling, and drooped at its ragged breaths. Solemnly, he put a paw just behind its jaw and lightly pressed down, and the Stone-Scale breathed a last sigh of relief. This one had not stopped fighting, even to its last breath. That, he could respect, and he hated the hunters even more for it.
Dreamer gave a sad sigh at the next, which was already dead, and they were both numb by the third. Wanderer wanted to kill a corresponding number of the hunters, maybe just fire on the building and leave whoever survived. But he knew his Dreamer would not approve, it would only make him feel worse with what was going on.
"I want know why," he said instead. It was not often he took an interest in specifically what the hunters did, but he felt he needed to know what these Rock-Scales had died for, that there was some reason for torturing them like this.
Dreamer growled his agreement, then trotted briskly out of the den with a loud bark, and Wanderer followed. The Defenders were all doing their own things now, most no longer in sight but some still holding the hunters inside their sleeping-den. That was a fight that could not be won, only prolonged, so they needed to move quickly.
"Here!" came the voice of the nest-alpha, and they quickly located her at the first den. "There is a metal Viggo uses," she explained quickly. "It is very strong, and apparently," she lifted a misshapen lump of it as wide as her torso with little effort, "very light. Making it must have something to do with Gronckles."
With a thoughtful grunt, Dreamer flitted about the den, quickly inspecting various things. "Yes, they make Long-Paw-things here," he confirmed, though of course the alpha would not understand him. "I not know what. Not small things."
Using Rock-Scales… to make things?
"Queen Mala!" one of the Defenders at the hunter-sleeping-den called out. "We can no longer hold them!"
"Go, and do not wait for me," she commanded, and they all instantly sprinted away. "May I count on you for one more short ride?" she asked respectfully, and Dreamer chuffed as he prepared to meet the hunters who were even now clawing their way through the tattered walls of their den.
The many pawfuls of hunters, some of them wearing very few not-skins, slowed and stopped in a line in front of the nest-alpha and the two Nightstrikers, watching warily as the nest-alpha drew her ridiculously long claw. "Normally I would not leave you alive," she loudly called over to them, "but consider it a mercy of these dragons. I still do not recommend fighting me, however." Her stiff posture never changed as she lowered into a firm stance, and even though she was on his side of the fight, everything about her had Wanderer's instincts clawing at him.
One of the hunters grunted in amusement, and then they all chuckled as they advanced-
The nest-alpha seemed to slide forward, that long claw flashing around her as she met their advance. Claws, and some of the paws that held them, fell to the ground around her, followed closely by their owners. She moved predictably, but so fluidly, so surely, so precisely, that it just didn't matter.
Her demonstration complete in mere moments, any hunters within reach now groaning on the ground and the rest unwilling to get any closer, she flicked the claw and sheathed it in an instant, then spun on her heel and strode away. "If we meet again, I cannot promise I will be so merciful," she declared, deftly hopping onto Dreamer's back and bracing herself as they took off. Wanderer snorted at the hunters as they started forward again anyway, then took to the air after Dreamer.
The last Defenders leapt up onto the last ship still against the small-land, and it started sliding out to sea. Three pawfuls of large ships, taken away from the hunters to replace the ones that had been destroyed. Wanderer purred proudly as they alighted on it, and Mala dismounted to immediately stride off and speak haughtily with her nest-kin.
A surprised grunt from Dreamer caught his attention. "What?" Wanderer asked with an enquiring warble.
"See," Dreamer growled, gesturing at the nearest tree protruding from the ship, and Wanderer immediately saw what he meant. It was wrapped in metal, totally enclosing about a leg's length up the base and along the ground, and a crossing pattern extended up to the top.
"Their scars scale over," Wanderer growled, glancing at an old wound along Dreamer's flank, "like our hides."
Dreamer huffed in amusement, though his face was grim. "It very good we find this. I look below. Maybe find new way for grounding ships…"
With the hunters slowly shrinking into the distance behind them, and the trusted Long-Paws keeping watch, Wanderer yawned widely and curled up next to the ship-tree. He had been pushing himself hard this light in particular, and couldn't even contemplate doing anything else.
"I told you to star' taking 'em seriously!" Ryker grit out, punctuating each word with a furious step, then swung his sword and embedded it into the wooden head of his little brother's macabre target dummy.
"Patience, brother," Viggo sighed, then swiftly drew another arrow and fired. The projectile glanced off its mark and bounced from the wall behind it; though that he could shoot straight at all was impressive, with how dark the rings around his eyes were.
"You wanna talk about patience?" Ryker asked incredulously. "'Av yeh met these two yeh brough' in?"
"Of course," the young man said in a lower tone that he used when he was grumpy about something, though he favoured firing another arrow over elaborating. This one stuck, standing stiff for a moment, but then drooped and fell to the grass. "Do you think me idle? Refining one's tools is paramount in the eternal fight for superiority."
"How you gonna do that when-"
"That was not our only facility," Viggo sighed, "but losing it is unfortunate." Ryker hated when he did that, guessing at something with such certainty, because he was always right. "I am curious to read the report, however."
"Yeah, yeah," Ryker growled, pulling a rolled parchment from the back of his belt and tossing it over. "We did reinforce qui'e a lot o' the fleet, so it weren't a complete waste."
"That is good to hear…" Viggo looked disinterestedly at his quiver, then tossed it aside and strode forward. "We need to move on to the next phase. Have the ship ready to leave in an hour, we must play distraction."
"Do we-"
"Yes, they will want to come too," he grunted, pushing the heavy target dummy back into the shed.
Ryker grit his teeth and stomped off to rally the men.
Author's Notes
What is going on down South? It's actually quite simple. No, I'm not going to tell you.
But maybe, just maybe, we can start getting there a bit quicker. Following the post of this chapter, I have five more written out. This means we're going back to weekly updates! Finally! I don't know if I'll be able to maintain it, but the last few have come out in under a week each and we can at least be assured the next five can be delivered even if I don't write another word in the meantime.