Astrid had thought she'd be out of place wandering around a dragon hunter market with her hood pulled low over her face, but despite the temperate spring morning it was a common sight. The majority of people hurrying around were wrapped tightly in heavy furs or cloths, and held their heads low against the chill breeze. The frost was only in the shade, what were they all shivering about?
But she was grateful for their weakness, as it meant she could literally walk through the crowds of her enemies without being seen. Even though it sickened her.
The main market was a straight and wide path walled off on either side by stalls. There were guards roaming, and others waiting, all looking for a fight, and there were no gaps between stalls to escape into.
But that didn't bother her. The worst of it was one side of the market, the busier side. Catching glimpses between the thin crowd, she spotted various dragon skins, scales, horns, claws, teeth, quills, spines, and a few stalls sporting trinkets fashioned from them. The trinkets did not seem to be selling so well, but the raw materials did, and there was no end to it in sight; when a stall started running low, more stock would be brought from somewhere behind it. How many hundreds of dragons had been murdered for all this?
And by her guess, there were about three hundred live dragons, each waiting to be sold to some snotty Southerner to end up doing who knew what. Probably sat in a cage for the rest of their lives, in most cases. The majority of them were being sold in a separate area, where they could be inspected before sale, but it was not open for just anyone to walk into. As far as she could tell, it was by appointment only and required proof of funds.
Not that she wanted to have to watch despondent dragons be inspected and valued, as if sheep for breeding and slaughter. She shuddered at the thought, looking away from the macabre merchants of death.
The other side of the market was only marginally better. Fish, harnesses, muzzles, and various tools were hanging on display, most of the people manning the stalls looking bored for lack of takers. Those would only be for the people buying live dragons, of course. They made her angry, but only in that they had the potential to be cruel rather than the result of cruelty already done. They were interspersed with random food stalls, though she had no appetite for their hot meats, and general travelling supplies, no doubt welcome to any who had foolishly come unprepared.
Doing her best to look casual and not out of place, she walked through the horrible place to the crowd at the end. Another cruelty, though no more than the rest of it, some dragons were deemed valuable enough to send to auction. Simply sold to the highest bidder.
Gritting her teeth, Astrid tried to add up how much gold Viggo stood to make from all this, but couldn't wrap her head around the numbers; there were too many factors, and she had no guesses for some of it. Regardless, if all carried on like this, he would have a small mountain of gold to fund his conquest of the Greater Archipelago.
The man infuriated her. How could he be so blinded by his greed?
It was a conundrum. The Furies refused to kill because people already thought they were monsters, but people were just as capable of being monsters and would not be swayed by such gestures. The only solution to monsters was to put them down, but in a sense that would prove them right, making the dragons monsters to be put down as well... Even if she could do it herself, she wasn't convinced it would be much different, being familiar with Viking feuds, as she would be killing on behalf of the dragons.
Sometimes, she missed her days training as a Shieldmaiden. But that had been a path her life was not destined to take.
She reached the end of the market and hung at the back of the small crowd by the big gates to where the auction would be held. From here all she could see was a tall wooden wall, but she knew it to be a big structure of tiered seating with a large platform in the centre. It would hold maybe a hundred people, and would likely be packed; while the hunter ships had ceased arriving at some point during the night, strange Southerner ships were still drifting in near constantly.
Two thin, sleazy-looking men stood on crates by the gates, apparently teasing the crowd with hints of what was to come. One particularly fat Southerner was demanding to know if there would be a Titan Wing Monstrous Nightmare, while the hunter representative highly suggested there would be but without giving an outright answer. The Southerner left in a huff, roughly shoving past Astrid on his way past.
The two men weren't offering anything useful, just giving vague hints and repeating that they should come back at noon and dusk. She did overhear someone grumbling something about a steep entrance fee, but that was useless in terms of information. She turned and walked away from them, hoping to stumble on something helpful.
While not useful, she did stumble on Snotlout. Or rather, his insincere laughter grated on her ears from across the path. What did he think he was doing!? Drawing attention to themselves was a very, very stupid thing to do!
She gaped as she neared, finding him with his hood back to show off his distinct face and messy hair, and the sleeves of his coat were actually torn off. He was taking every opportunity to flex his bare arms at a pair of thin, prissy girls, who wore ridiculous scraps of colourful cloth delicately balanced over themselves.
"Don't tell anyone," he said, his voice not nearly low enough to be secretive. "Monstrous Nightmares act all tough and mighty, but they love it when you grab their horns and-"
He grabbed the air and violently wrenched an imaginary Nightmare head down and to the side.
"Oh my," one of the girls replied airily, covering her mouth with a hand. "But wouldn't that hurt it?"
"Nah," he scoffed, "they're one of the bigger dragons. Could eat you whole." He grinned and clicked his teeth together with a little bark, and the girls giggled again.
Astrid realised she was just standing there gawking at them, and strode over to give him a piece of her mind.
"Oh, here she is now," he said as he noticed her. "Hello, sister," he greeted her scornfully.
"I thought you said she was a runt," one of the girls mused, both of them looking down their noses at her. "If anything, she could stand to lose a few more pounds."
Astrid blinked at her, the building tirade dissipating with her confusion at that statement; if anything, she was far too thin.
"Doesn't look that bright though," the other one added, nodding to herself.
"Brother," Astrid said sweetly, "we should return to our employer. We don't want anything bad to happen."
"Nothing's going to happen," he replied breezily, "I'm just talking to these girls, making sure they know what's going on, and are enjoying themselves. That's what he wanted, remember?"
Astrid scowled at him. They were supposed to be collecting information, but this was risky. But so be it, she had tried so if he screwed everything up it would be entirely his fault. "If you want to risk that," she said with a shrug. "Just don't forget your ointment, or it'll start itching again, and I don't want to listen to you whine about it."
As she turned around, she saw his eyes widen, and he grinned innocently at the girls… who both glanced downwards. Astrid clamped her hand to her mouth as she walked away, desperately trying to hold in her laughter. "Uh, I don't know what she's talking about," he said unconvincingly, and she had to walk a little faster as she choked down her mirth. At least she wouldn't have to worry about him sneaking off with them now.
Dreamer looked down over the camp, or market, or whatever it was, from the shade of a tree at the edge of the forest that tentatively ventured up the low mountain. It was not high enough up to really see what was going on, but he liked to think he would spot a commotion if there was one.
Unfortunately, there was no way for even a Nightstriker to sneak around, guards patrolled and watched everywhere including looking down on things from the top of the mountain. He had to rely on Astrid, Snotlout, and the twins to get information for him; Fishlegs had remained here with the other dragons.
Wanderer gnawing on his shoulder and wing was meant to bait him into playing, so he ignored it, but it was not helping him think. He'd probably get bored and go back to sleep soon.
They knew when the auctions would be held. Those times would be the moment to strike, but he needed to know what they would strike at and how. This was far too big to just attack and dismantle, he needed to strike the weak points until it crumbled in Viggo's hands.
They might not even be able to stop this. There was no way they would be able to raid every Southerner ship even if they knew which ones had bought dragons, there were far too many, and that one big ship was simply unassailable. Many dragons were being loaded up onto it, and its defences were like nothing Dreamer had ever seen. He could only offer silent apology to the dragons disappearing into its hull.
There was a huff, and then Wanderer barged into him. He let himself be pushed over and lay on his side, still trying to work things over in his head. There was another huff, then heavy paws walked up his side, and Wanderer sat on him. It made breathing a little difficult, but he wasn't in the mood for playing, and he knew all Wanderer's tricks. He wasn't falling for it this time.
Besides, everyone should be returning soon. He would feel better having something to work through, information to sink his teeth into.
Wanderer sighed and finally gave up, settling down and curling up a little as he did when he napped. The problem was, he hadn't moved off, and had arranged himself so that his heavy hindquarters were dumped squarely on Dreamer's head. Dreamer growled in annoyance, but did nothing more than that.
Of course, it wasn't long before the riders' footsteps became audible, walking briskly through the forest, and Fishlegs greeted them shortly after.
"That… does not look comfortable," Ruffnut observed.
"It not," Dreamer huffed, unsure if anyone could even see him swipe his paw.
Wanderer languidly stretched and flexed, and a paw pressed Dreamer's head further into the ground as he worked his body, before he stepped off and allowed Dreamer to rise. Now freed and with imminent talking and planning to do, he swatted at the other Nightstriker with a short growl before turning his attention to the riders; he wasn't used to seeing them without helmets, or iron circlet in Astrid's case. "What you find?" he asked.
"Tons," Tuffnut crowed. "There's a whole bunch of guards around the cages, and they were talking-"
"Wait," Astrid cut in, "you guys snooped around the dragons? How did you even get there?"
Ruffnut rolled her eyes. "C'mon Astrid, getting places we're not supposed to be is like, our thing."
"Anyway," Tuffnut growled with a sideways glare at Astrid, "they've got all the dragons under really heavy guard, but there's maybe thirty set aside for something."
"They must be the dragons for the auction!" Fishlegs said excitedly.
"Yeah," Ruffnut groaned, "which would be a good thing if there was any chance of getting near them. Seriously, they have actual ballistae guarding them! And they're behind this giant wall."
Dreamer hummed worriedly. His first thought, targeting and freeing the dragons up for auction, seemed to be out. Even that aside, the twins may have been able to sneak around the cages, but freeing any dragons was going to attract attention very quickly.
"Well we might not have a chance of freeing the dragons right now," Snotlout said mildly, inspecting his fingers, "but I happen to know that the auction is barely guarded at all."
Everyone stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, though he seemed to be milking the moment. Dreamer grunted impatiently, and he grinned. "I got talking to some talkative people, who happened to like big, muscly hunters." He flexed his arms for emphasis, which Dreamer only just noticed were bare, with the arms of his coat carefully removed. "Some of the hunters were grumbling that they weren't going to be able to see the flashy expensive dragons at the auctions because so few of them would be there for it."
They must not want too big a guard presence, keep things less crowded...
"I'm not done," Snotlout continued. "The more valuable dragons are going to be sold at dusk, at the second auction. It's supposed to be a secret, but everyone knows, so all the big shots are waiting until then."
"You do very good," Dreamer hummed, processing the information and adding it to the mix.
"I, uh, found there was an entrance fee," Astrid added, sounding unsure of herself and a little desperate for some reason. "A hefty one… Most of the Southerners can't afford it."
Dreamer cocked his head. "Not everyone can go in?" he asked.
"No," Astrid confirmed, shaking her head. "If we want in, we're going to have to bust our way in."
"That mean hunter alpha's biggest… Rrrr, Long-Paws who give him most shiny-metal, will be there. Alphas of big Long-Paw nests, with much shiny-metal. If they think hunter alpha is bad..."
Astrid's face lit up. "Yeah! We could hit his reputation! If nobody buys from him, he'll run out of gold and he won't be able to hunt anymore, if he even still wants to!"
"Yes," Dreamer chuffed. "I think now. Rest, we have time. Thank you," and that he nodded to everyone.
"We'd actually rather go check out the auction," Ruffnut said, trying to sound mild but failing to hide the hope, excitement in her voice from his Nightstriker ears.
"You can get in?" he asked sceptically.
"Psh," she scoffed. "Can a Zippleback tie its necks into a knot?"
Dreamer stared at her, trying to imagine that.
"Don't think about it too hard," Tuffnut advised, and then they turned and walked off through the trees. Wait, he still wasn't sure if it was something they considered obvious or not.
"You should rest also," Wanderer rumbled, nosing at his cheek.
"I need think," Dreamer huffed, nudging him away. "Then I rest." This was too important, he had to get it right. Failure here would mean Viggo sailing away with a mountain of gold, which would come right back as new weapons and equipment, while success would mean striking an actual blow against the hunters.
He settled down in the mushy leaves and gazed over the camp in the distance, plotting out everything he knew. An aerial view would be ideal, but he could not fly without alerting the hunters, and the mountain was guarded and patrolled. So was the forest, but that was much easier to hide in.
He could not see much from his oblique view, but he saw the general patrol routes, laid out over the camp before him. He saw the points of interest, the dragons and the auction stands. He saw the defences, and their blind spots.
There was no way to reach the auction without being spotted, but that wasn't really their goal. He wanted to make a scene, discredit Viggo's business and the perception of his regard for the Southerners' safety. A few dragons causing mayhem would be just the thing, the problem was getting it to happen in the right place.
The forest led around the back of the auction stands, that was the closest they could easily get, but from there they would need to cross a field of stumps, what had been part of the forest before being cut down to presumably build the camp. It was unlikely a human could cross unseen, let alone large dragons.
Again, their goal wasn't necessarily to be unseen though… They just didn't want to be seen there. Could they be seen elsewhere instead?
Nightstrikers were highly feared dragons, and Dreamer was loath to prey on that, but it was convenient. An alarm could not be raised if it was already raised. The threat of a Nightstriker diving would take most of the attention off the ground, and even if they were spotted it would take much longer for the message to spread, likely not as fast as dragons could run or fly. While everyone was looking up, they would barge in under their noses, wreak havoc on the auction, and fly away before any real resistance could reach them. If previous experience was anything to go by, the Southerners would flee in their panic and any deals would fall through.
Now that he had a plan, he walked a way along the treeline for a slightly different angle, then clambered up into a tree and perched on the lowest branch. He refined their path through the camp, recalled obstacles to avoid. Wanderer should probably be the one to dive, he was the better flier, and from memory there was a pile of crates close to the auction stands but just out of sight which would make an excellent target for him.
Of course, Dreamer didn't really want anyone to get hurt, and that was likely if everyone panicked aimlessly. He would blow out the gates, maybe make a few more exits if there was anywhere safe to do so. He could make a spectacle of it in the process; but not too much of one, he didn't want to reinforce their fear and hate.
Noon had come and gone by the time he was satisfied with his plan, and he lowered himself by his tail and dropped to the ground to return to the others. The midday auction was likely still underway, and what he could see of the sprawling camp looked normal.
The riders and dragons weren't quite where he'd left them, but he put his nose to the ground, noting what appeared to be the tracks of a hunter scout crossing through them, and followed with ease.
"See, told you he'd find us," Astrid said smugly as Dreamer emerged from the trees.
"It's not that I doubted him," Snotlout explained, though he didn't elaborate beyond that.
"I done thinking," he announced, then explained the plan; Wanderer would fly from the forest behind the mountain, to minimise the people who would see him taking off, and his diving run would be the signal for everyone else to sprint across the field into the camp, then fight through the light resistance to the auction.
"So now we gotta wait 'till dusk," Snotlout summarised. "Awesome. Can I go back down there? For… uh… more information."
"No," Dreamer replied, "stay here, rest, watch for threats. Sharpen claws, eat, play with your Fire-Scale. This fight not like other fights. Need you here. When Ruffnut, Tuffnut come back, tell them our plan."
"But… Fine… C'mon Hookfang."
Astrid helpfully set up some shifts for the watch so that the others could relax their guard, and Dreamer padded over to Wanderer. "You know what need do?" he asked.
"Yes," his best-friend replied, though he looked downtrodden.
"What wrong?" Dreamer asked, then nuzzled his cheek.
"I good."
He didn't look good, there was something he was unhappy about. "What?" Dreamer pressed, then licked his friend's jaw.
"Nothing," Wanderer purred.
Dreamer gave him a wry smile, then kept licking. It seemed to have worked a little, and indeed Wanderer began purring more happily and relaxing onto his side.
It naturally turned into a general grooming, Dreamer working his way over his friend and handling all the fiddly little bits that were difficult to reach themselves. He was cleaning down where Wanderer's wing met his side, when the raised wing slowly descended over him.
Unable to continue with what he'd been doing, Dreamer backed out… and found his friend snoring over the grass. He rolled his eyes with an amused huff. Lazywings.
He settled down next to him and closed his eyes, willing himself to rest. But his mind just wouldn't shut down, wouldn't stop picking at the details, the what-ifs… As much as he wanted to rest, it was just too important to stop thinking about.
"Hey," a soft, unwelcome voice said quietly, "it's time."
Dreamer groaned, then lit a little fire in his throat to blow a puff of smoke from his nose; it had a bit of a calming, relaxing effect, perhaps because it effectively blocked out scents for a minute or so.
But as much as he wanted to keep sleeping, this was more important. Much more important.
He shook the fog from his head and extracted himself from Wanderer, who had apparently curled up around him, and stretched, flexing his claws into the dirt. "Anything change?" he asked.
"No," Astrid replied. "One last hunter ship came in, but that's it. I don't think they unloaded anything though."
Dreamer nodded at that, then cleaned his face while Wanderer roused. "We go now," he told his friend once he was feeling a little less bleary-eyed.
"Yes," Wanderer agreed, then yawned widely.
No, don't do that, Dreamer thought, failing to stifle a yawn himself. "All ready?" he asked Astrid after shaking his head again.
"The others went ahead already, we'll meet them there."
Nothing to do but go for it. Dreamer nuzzled Wanderer heartily, and was nuzzled in return. "Be safe," he rumbled.
"Good hunting," Wanderer wished him back, then leapt away and disappeared into the forest.
Dreamer raced Stormfly through the trees, a weight lifting from his body as he bounded over roots and darted between the trunks. He found Stormfly's long and powerful gait an even match for his agility in the winding paths through the forest, and they thoroughly tested each other as they passed around the back of the mountain. When the treeline came into sight, they were still evenly matched, though Dreamer was panting; not enough as to be worn out, there was still an important job to do.
They found the others with ease, and likely with time to spare. After his run, Dreamer worked his paws into the ground, revelling in the cool dirt draining the excess heat that burned in his pads.
But now he needed to focus. He shook his head and walked to the treeline, staring out at the auction stands-
"What that?" he asked, staring intently at protrusions on the top of the outer wall of the stands that he didn't recognise. He was sure they hadn't been there before.
"What's what?" Fishlegs asked, pulling out the spyglass they'd bought from Johann. "The things on top? I dunno, I don't think they were there before."
Dreamer narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of what he was seeing over the distance.
And then one of them moved, someone standing in or next to it swivelling it around, and Dreamer's blood ran cold. "Spine-throwers," he hissed, setting the other dragons hissing as well. Now that he was looking, there were scores of hunters prowling the area, many, many more than he was accounting for.
He thought frantically. Had they been spotted, noticed somehow? He didn't think so, it didn't make sense. Had Snotlout been wrong? No, the auction during the day had gone as expected. What had changed?
A lone boat had arrived. Viggo. It had to be. Were he in Viggo's place, what would he do?
"Meet where dragons kept!" he barked, then sprinted into the trees without waiting for a response. This could still be salvaged, those ballistae had to have come from the hunters guarding the dragons, meaning the extra hunters had probably come from there as well. But he needed to stop Wanderer!
Trees rushed at him and passed in a blur, his body plotting and following a path faster than his mind could keep up with, but not fast enough; the sky-fire had already been sinking to the horizon, close to touching it. He leaped onto a tree and clawed his way up as far as its branches would support him, then leapt off it and beat his wings in a flurry of leaves and twigs to get airborne.
Just in time, as Wanderer emerged from the trees heartbeats later, half a mile away, and began ascending. Dreamer growled, then barked and hoped the hunters wouldn't hear or see, then a second time when his friend apparently didn't hear him.
That got his attention, and he halted in his ascent, then hurried after Dreamer as he banked around; if he was already flying, he was going to use it to meet the others more quickly.
"What happen?" Wanderer asked as they levelled next to each other, skimming the canopy.
"Hunters move," Dreamer growled. "We not can fight them there now. But we can maybe free dragons now."
They flew swiftly, in silence, until they reached the edge of the shadow of the mountain. There, they dropped into a clearing, and trotted the remaining distance to the vast array of cages.
The others weren't there yet, but neither were many of the hunters. It took him several racing heartbeats to find any, wandering aimlessly between the cages, but where there had been several dozen there was now only a pawful. He bared his teeth and growled. "We wanted strike at hunters."
"We also want free wing-hunters," Wanderer added.
"Yes. Hunter alpha give us that instead. That hurt him less. But we not will leave dragons here…" It wasn't that he didn't want to free the dragons, just that it was so much less damaging to Viggo.
Astrid appeared shortly afterwards. "What's going on!?" she demanded, leaping out of the saddle, and Dreamer gestured out at the field of cages. Meatlug buzzed through the trees shortly after, followed by Barf and Belch, with Hookfang coming up behind them; the Monstrous Nightmare looked very worn out.
Now that everyone was here, Dreamer quickly explained that Viggo had moved the defences to protect the auction, making the dragons a vulnerable and easy target.
"Well, at least we're freeing the dragons," Astrid sighed. "Man, this really felt like a chance to hurt him though."
Dreamer growled his assent, glaring down at the hunters below. There were long shadows creeping across the camp, cages and the market behind it creating plenty of darkness to move through. "We go now. Make sure hunters not can call for others." With that, he prowled out of the dense forest into the creeping shadows of dusk, confident that most or all the dragons would be free by the time any alarm was raised and reinforcements were summoned.
Why did he feel so terrible about this? He should be thrilled with the prospect of freeing so many dragons, but he wasn't. He felt on the back paw, as if Viggo had pulled one over him again. It was infuriating how he was always reacting to Viggo, even now when he'd thought he had the upper paw.
He put such thoughts from his mind as he reached the cages without incident, the others ducking into the maze to either side of him. There were thankfully no locks on the cages, just a sliding bolt that needed lifting first, but in his haste he got the cage open before noticing that the young Spine-Tail inside was muzzled. That would complicate things a little.
With a comforting croon, he approached the dragon, and she shied back. Though she tried to hide her face, she could not hide the straps wrapped around her head, and a sharp claw made short work of them. Noticing it was loose, she worked it off and quickly chewed off the ones around her legs and wings as well.
"Fly," Dreamer huffed encouragingly with a nod eastward, and she squawked in understanding as he backed out to let her loose. She sprinted for the trees the moment she was free, joining another Spine-Tail already fleeing.
Footsteps pricked his ears, and he swung the door shut with an audible clang. The footsteps stopped, then quickened. As they neared, Dreamer slinked around and behind the hunter as he peered into the cage, then reared up and slammed his head into the cage door. It made an even louder noise, but it wasn't particularly out of place where they were, and the main thing was that the hunter slumped bonelessly to the ground. For good measure Dreamer dragged him inside the cage and locked it again.
He decided to hunt down the hunters first, reduce the risk of them noticing something or stumbling on someone mid-rescue. He prowled between the cages, sticking close to them and keeping to the shadows to peer down the long corridors. He noticed one lying on the ground, but spotted another and trotted after him, keeping low… then found Wanderer had already dispatched him in the time it had taken to get there.
"No more hunters," Wanderer huffed, and Dreamer purred in reply, turning to the nearest cage.
It settled into a simple routine. Open the cage, cut the muzzle, tell them to fly east, let them out. He got the process down to a matter of seconds, moving on to the next cage before the dragon inside had even started chewing on the rest of their bindings in many cases.
A Sharp-Scale, or 'Razorwhip' in Norse, took him by surprise. She was bound with a sickeningly familiar type of binding, strips of leather reinforced with wire at the edges, and was not only muzzled but quite heavily bound in general, her wings tied down and her paws and tail all lashed together.
A careful stream of Nightstriker fire freed her from the muzzle, making a mockery of when he'd struggled so much to free himself so long ago, but she was so heavily bound he needed to cut through a few more straps before she was free. She too sprinted for the trees, as had every other dragon he had seen. Perhaps they were unable to fly, as Wanderer had said, or perhaps they were just running to the safety of the dark forest. It didn't really matter, as long as the hunters didn't catch them again before they left.
She had piqued Dreamer's curiosity about something, a walled-off area that had held valuable dragons. The chances they were still there were slim, but the sun had yet to fully set, so it was possible he would find something.
The area was easy to find, tall walls cordoning off the corner of the maze closest to the auction stands. It had no door, simply a wide opening in one side, presumably to funnel any traffic in or out into one place, preventing anyone sneaking in or even sneaking a look. Unless, of course, all the hunters had been either called away or taken out.
Upon seeing there were still cages in there, all covered in tarps, Dreamer warily crept inside, hugging the cage pushed up to the wall by the entrance and looking around. He couldn't hear any dragons, but-
The tarp over the cage next to him suddenly leapt out at him, driving down onto his head and pinning it to the ground. He snarled anger, panic, but it was difficult to get enough air out for volume and the thick waxed fabric seemed to absorb the sound. He flailed, but the tarp somehow wrapped itself around him, and then impacts with his head left him clinging to consciousness by a thread.
"Tha' was almos' too easy," a faint voice mumbled.
"Sold! Two thousand five hundred gold pieces for the Titan Wing Deadly Nadder!"
Viggo watched the auction progress with much trepidation, aware of what was very likely going on elsewhere in the camp but powerless to do anything about it. His ruse to have the Night Furies and Dagur hunt each other through a maze of traps had fallen through spectacularly, meaning he had to assume the Night Furies and dragon riders had caught wind of this market and infiltrated it.
Quite successfully, he had to admit, if they were indeed here. Nobody had the faintest idea anything was wrong, and everyone thought him paranoid for bringing nearly all the security from the dragons. But it was better to overestimate an opponent than to underestimate them.
He also had to admit that he had underestimated Dagur. Viggo wasn't sure how crazy the man had been going into imprisonment, but it had certainly done him no favours in that regard. That aside, he had expected the Night Furies to kill him outright, certainly not for him to almost immediately chase them away.
But now that their association was known so concretely, Viggo couldn't afford to let Dagur simply have at them as the man wished. If he actually managed to kill one of them, the other would certainly come for vengeance. Yes, that had been quite the learning experience for him as well as Ryker. The Night Furies had to be handled very, very carefully…
He watched as the last item was wheeled up the ramp onto the stage, a silver dragon with a nasty temperament.
"And now," the auctioneer announced, "our last item for today, a rare and very dangerous specimen. You might have seen Razorwhips before, but this mighty male is-"
"Three thousand," a dark-skinned man called out from the crowd, staring levelly at the dragon. Despite himself, Viggo couldn't help but stare at him a moment, just like everyone else. This man was literally spending a fortune as if it was nothing. Interestingly, he hadn't bought any of the Titan Wings, but he was otherwise snapping up everything that looked remotely dangerous and had pledged to buy whatever was left over at a small discount.
Which would of course be nothing, now. Still, the profits from this little venture were considerable regardless, and would just barely allow Viggo to move on with the next stage of his plans. He refrained from reaching for the lens still tucked away in his pauldron, as was his habit when his thoughts drifted there.
"Well," the auctioneer continued hesitantly, "ah, that is a bid at three thousand gold pieces. As I was saying, this is known as one of the most aggressive and lethal dragons found in this bitter North. Its jaw is wider and shorter than the females, capable of crushing through the armour of other males. Its tail is additionally host to five times as many spines for throwing, and its armour is generally more jagged and sharp. Are there any takers for three thousand five hundred?"
That Razorwhip had been a fluke, admittedly. They hadn't had its lens, so when one of his hunter ships stumbled on it, only stubborn Berserker pride and raw strength had taken it down. The fatally injured captain of that expedition had been rewarded with the death he craved – fighting a Night Fury, in a sense.
"Sold, for three thousand," the auctioneer announced. "And that concludes our-"
"Wait," a gruff voice called out, and Viggo spun to face it. This was a surprise, and he hated it when his pieces revealed surprises. His enemy surprising him was one thing, but his own pieces acting of their own accord was very dangerous. "We got one more tonight," Ryker announced as he dragged a covered cage up the ramp, shoving his way around the Razorwhip as it was taken away.
"Brother," Viggo warned.
Ryker ignored him. "Le' the bidding start," he announced, tearing the tarp off the cage, "for a Night Fury!"
"What have you done?" Viggo asked faintly, staring into the cage. All he could see was a pair of furious green eyes staring out, and the leather straps of a muzzle, likely the Berserker favourite that had been required for the Razorwhips. The rest was mere shadow in the failing light.
His prodigious mind stalled, like a ship cutting loose its sail to weather a storm, while the crowd erupted into shrieks and intense murmuring. All his careful planning, his sacrifice of the common dragons to keep these feared dragons away from the Southerners, thoroughly defenestrated.
And then, to his horror, a shrill sound began to echo over the island.
"Stay calm!" Ryker barked a moment before Viggo could offer the same reassurance. "We're perfectly safe!" With that last emphasised word, he yanked on a chain leading into the cage, and the eyes were pulled up to the bars to stare at the sword levelled at them. The rising wail coming from above abruptly cut off, and Ryker grinned widely. "See!? Everythin' is under control!" He raised his voice further, bellowing out into the night. "Now then! We'll star' the bidding a' one stolen device! Or wha'ever this lot offer otherwise!"
Viggo's sword cleaved through the chain, or more likely just pulled it from the ring on the muzzle, but whatever the case it clattered to the ground. "I had nothing to do with this," he desperately insisted as he opened the cage, wincing at the sheer silence the stands descended into, everyone unwilling to make a sound and potentially attract attention to themselves. "Weapons down!" he shouted to the guards, "whatever happens, do not engage or retaliate!"
Ryker spluttered as the dark dragon unhurriedly strode out of the cage, its features not much clearer for no longer being obscured. Just a black silhouette against the warm light of the torches that fought against that of the setting sun.
In the silence, the grating of wood was dreadfully clear, and a blue light instantly shot out of the darkening sky to take one of the ballistae arranged around the top of the stands. "Fools!" he shouted over the panicking Southerners suddenly swarming for the gate, instantly putting the blame on the targets of the attack and hopefully warding off any other bright ideas. "Do not even aim! Stand down!"
The Night Fury glared coldly at him as its tail cleared the cage, and Viggo unwittingly backed up a step. "I apologise for my brother's actions," he offered sincerely, and the dragon took off with barely a sound.
He sighed in relief as it cleared the stands and disappeared from sight, the hunters heeding his warning – or perhaps that of the smoking ruin of the ballista. It was hard to tell if anyone had been killed by that, but there had been no hesitation. When it came to their own and each other's safety, there would never be hesitation.
Viggo threw his sword at the ground, embedding the tip in the wooden stage to leave it standing upright, and grabbed Ryker by the collar. "How, pray tell, did that little demonstration a few days ago fail to get the message through your thick skull?" he gritted through his teeth. The Southerners were still panicking around them, but other people were handling it.
"It was under control," Ryker said slowly and confidently, meeting Viggo's furious stare. "They wouldn't a' done anythin' with one of 'em hostage."
"Information, brother! It is everything! Had you bothered to read my file on them, you would have known another had tried it before and was dead within the day! Even that aside, if you'd got captured by someone, do you really think I would watch them just sail off to put you in some Hel hole?"
"They ain't you," Ryker growled.
"Assume they are! Actually, no, compared to you they are me! Of all the thick-headed things you could have done, this is a complete disaster!" He shoved Ryker back, finished with his angry rant. There would be more talk later, civilised talk on thinking plans through and conferring with someone first, but there were more pressing matters right now.
This was almost a worst-case scenario. None of the clients had been killed, and he could hide any hunter deaths or play them off as something else. He rapidly dealt out orders, his spies would spin the tale from being attacked by a Night Fury to having protected everyone from a Night Fury. It wasn't quite the reputation he wanted just yet, but it would still work towards his end goal. Part of that was getting the island evacuated in an orderly manner, and reassuring everyone that he would protect them. He was willing to bet his reputation on that none of them would be killed, only one person had bought enough dragons to warrant an attack and his ship was a floating fortress.
That man was still sat in the stands, watching Viggo and apparently waiting patiently. He could be dealt with in a moment.
"So, Viggo," Dagur said amiably as he slowly walked up onto the stage, "would you mind telling me what in HEL you think you're DOING!?"
"Dagur, you told me yourself you don't want to fight them right now," he replied, patience wearing thin.
"I'm deranged, not stupid," Dagur spat, briefly lifting his splinted and heavily bandaged arm; it had indeed been broken, and would take time to heal like any human limb despite the superhuman feat it had accomplished. "You promised me Night Furies. So far you've done well in letting them escape."
Viggo wasn't about to comment on how Dagur had specifically asked nobody to interfere the first time. "I have not forgotten. Patience, you will have your fun. Everything is going according to plan." Everything except this auction, and that he'd planned for Dagur to be dead by now, but in the case of the latter he'd take the extra playing piece; he had an interesting and potentially exploitable influence on the Berserkers who had joined the Hunters, and the same could be said for his effect on the Night Furies. Actually, on that note, "I have a partner for you, someone I believe you are acquainted with. I am led to believe she is your sister?"
"Heather?" Dagur asked, his deep scowl flicking to ecstatic beaming. "You found her? That's, that's great! Ha! Maybe you're not so bad." He then turned and dropped down to sit on the edge of the stage, staring out over the stands. Viggo put the conversation from his mind, they were always abrupt and disjointed with him.
"Everythin' ter plan, eh?" Ryker said in a low voice. "Including tha' they got the device an' the lenses? The whole reason yer out 'ere in the firs' place?"
"Except that," Viggo lied. "We will get it back, but they would not have been so stupid as to bring it with them. Patience, everything in time." This was exactly why he didn't tell Ryker everything, it sold deception so much more effectively.
"My, my," a deep and foreign but well-spoken voice announced, the special guest at this auction, who stood and walked over to join them on the stage. "That was quite the performance. I will even give you the benefit of the doubt that it was not all an act."
"I assure you, it was not," Viggo said with a grimace. "Speaking of, I regret to inform you I likely do not have any dragons left to sell, and may not be able to meet my end of certain purchases, depending on what has yet to be loaded."
"Truly not an act, then," the dark man agreed, apparently unfazed. "We will settle accounts later. Please, walk with me. I am far more interested in something else I have seen tonight…"
Ryker watched Viggo and the foreigner walk away, out of the now empty stands.
So much for his clever little plot. He still thought it would have worked, but Viggo clearly did not, and was usually content to let such things play through just to teach the lesson. He had never been entirely wrong.
The inevitable lecture was going to be torture…
"You're… the older brother, right?" Dagur asked, still sat on the edge of the stage but now turned a little to look at him.
"Aye," Ryker confirmed, guessing where he was going with this.
"Why let him walk over you? If he was my bro, I'd have wrung his neck."
Ryker considered Dagur. The question sounded entirely curious, and if he wanted to try to seize control he was much more likely to do so through the Berserker warriors than a perceived rift between the Grimborn brothers. That particular ruse seemed pointless here. "Aye, I could," he agreed. "Easily. Bu' ah don't."
"Why?" came the expected question.
"Because," Ryker said in a deep voice, leaning over the man, "he's mah brother. Remember tha' nex' time yeh start questioning 'im." With that, he jumped down from the stage and angrily strode off to start dealing with the mess this island had become.
Dreamer shook his head again, ignoring the pitying looks everyone was giving him.
He hated this muzzle, but he wasn't setting paw back on that island just to have someone take it off. Astrid had reported all the dragons they could reach were free, and the rest…
There were dragons scattered on the Southerner ships, but there was no way of knowing which ones held such cargo below their decks. The only one they were sure of was the behemoth ship, with its impenetrable defences. There was also that the Nightstrikers would be received very, very badly by the Southerners, and any fighting was much more likely to become lethal in some way.
No, he had to accept that those dragons were lost. That was a much larger discomfort than the pressure around his head… though that pressure was much more persistent.
"All right," Tuffnut announced loudly in resignation, drifting up beside him. "This is painful to watch. I'm gonna jump on your back, okay? Don't bite me or anything."
Before Dreamer had a chance to respond, he had to adjust for Tuffnut sliding down onto his back, and he suddenly appreciated the warning; he certainly would have bucked him off otherwise, at the very least.
Nimble fingers began prying at the latch behind his ear, the one Dreamer had been unable to figure out with his stiff and unfeeling claws. But even with the advantage of hands and sight it took Tuffnut several minutes to finally pry it loose. Dreamer groaned in relief as the light pressure abated, and the straps slipped off his face. He immediately stretched his mouth and worked his teeth, then turned his head and purred thanks.
"Yeah, yeah," Tuffnut drawled, "don't go getting all mushy on me. You're too old for that now, and I ain't no dam."
Was that so? Dreamer churred thoughtfully as Belch leaned over and Tuffnut started climbing into the saddle.
Then Dreamer tilted entirely to the side, and a hand slipped down his wing as the weight vanished from his back. He casually righted himself and kept flying, and the Zippleback pulled up next to him again a minute later, Ruffnut still laughing heartily.
"I almost lost my helmet," Tuffnut complained petulantly, and Ruffnut laughed even harder. "I'm not even mad," he said levelly, "but revenge will be swift!"
"Revenge will be sweet!" Ruffnut echoed, eyeing Dreamer mischievously. They would just have to see about that, it wasn't so easy to sneak up on a Nightstriker.
...But had that been the case earlier? Ryker had simply hid behind a tarp and waited for him to walk past. He should have scented him there, should have heard his breathing, should have expected the trap, should have checked there were bars behind the tarp, should have taken another way in, should have brought someone to cover his back… He didn't think, and that had allowed Ryker to simply jump on him and subdue him.
Why hadn't he thought? Thinking back, it was almost as if his developing mind had regressed, as if some wall had been erected in his head to make it smaller. He felt alert enough now, after the fact and in spite of the blows he had taken, but there was a noticeable difference. Something was, or at least had been, wrong.
His battle with Viggo was almost entirely on an intellectual level, he couldn't afford not to think about things. This was extremely worrying. Maybe he should ask Wanderer… but then Wanderer would have told him if he thought something was wrong.
He awkwardly pawed at his head as he flew. His situation was so unique, so convenient for what he wanted to do, but it was not without tradeoffs. His only family was almost as damaged as he, also having had to learn many things on his own without help, and neither of them knew any other Nightstrikers. He wasn't even sure Wanderer still had a sire or dam out there somewhere; Wanderer himself may not even know that, from the small hints he had dropped.
But he was not entirely without help. The Defenders of the Wing were experienced with dragons, and in treating them, and he'd been planning a trip there soon anyway. Having them check him over while he was there would be very sensible, and they should probably check Wanderer while they were at it, in case it was some sickness that could be spread.
Dreamer sighed and levelled his nose to the wind. Right now, more than anything else, he just wanted to return home.