Krogan stared out over the water, reflecting on the current situation as the sea glimmered before him.
The biggest advantage these Riders had held was their mobility. They could go anywhere within mere hours, while Viggo had been content waiting up to a week before even being alerted of an attack. That advantage was now thoroughly diminished via the use of his own flyers, their numbers more than enough to combat the Næturlansar's speed.
And yet, the information he received was confused. He had regular reports of ships going missing, and others being where they should not, but, frustratingly, no more information than that. There was also the matter of a number of his flyers simply vanishing.
But that was all irrelevant. He held every advantage; even if all of these 'Berserkers' were to rise up against him, he would crush them with ease, now that he had an established foothold.
The Næturlansar still posed significant risk. They outranged any weapon known to man, including the new ones recently fitted to his ship, and could land a devastating attack before anyone knew they were there. It was foolish of them to not do so, but that only made things easier for him.
Easier, but he needed a means of taking them alive, and that was no easy task. The other dragons could be cornered here, but the Næturlansar might retreat south, where others of their kind still resided, so running them down was a fool's errand. No, he needed to bait them in with something… which he happened to have. It was still broken – he hadn't deemed it important enough to have Viggo fix it before having him killed – but they would not care, if they even knew.
"Get me my flyers!" he shouted. If there was one thing he'd learned, it was that the simplest way to get a message to the enemy was to ensure his own men knew it, and it would handle itself from there.
"Hiccup!"
Viggo glanced back as Heather came rushing through the trees on her dragon, wondering what information she brought. It was odd to be on this side of things, learning of hunter movements and activities practically before they were made; they could hear of a fleet going somewhere in the opposite direction and still beat them there with hours or days to spare.
But he would likely not be privy to such things. He was listening, learning, but the Riders did not seem fit to fill him in on everything, treating him with a healthy and welcome suspicion, although the rider of the Gronckle seemed more wary and nervous of him than anything; only to be expected, after what had happened last time.
Viggo turned his attention back to the paltry tools he had to work with – a small cauldron of fresh Gronckle Iron, a draw plate and tongs, a hammer, a file, some small clamps, and an iron plate on a rock at the base of a tree. It could hardly be called a forge, and he was used to working with more precise instruments, but these should suffice; it would just take longer, and he had nothing but time.
"I've seen that look before," he heard Astrid say while he carefully filed down the tip of a thin length of Gronckle Iron.
He ignored her, too focused on his task to bother with distractions, and poked the now thinner end through the next slightly smaller hole in the draw plate. Finding enough head to get a grip with the tongs, he kicked his feet up to set his heels against the plate and firmly drew the wire through it, focusing on providing a consistent pressure and grimacing at the pain in his side.
A week of being able to do nothing had been necessary to heal, but it was good to have a task to put himself to, and something that required a high level of focus. They didn't even have the Dragon Eye yet, but he needed something to take his mind off things. The last of the length pulled free of the plate, and he inspected it carefully before attaching it to a clamp with the three others hanging from a branch.
"Why are you making so many?" Astrid asked.
"Are you still here?" he asked, surprised. "To answer your question, Gronckle Iron can be a fickle metal to work with. I am certain of the rigidity I require, but not the exact steps to get there. Therefore, I must experiment." He took down the first length he had made, which was now a little duller than the others, and set to working the corner of the file near the end of it to cut a short length off. "At the very least, its heat retention is remarkable, so it does not require constant annealing."
"You remind me of someone," she said thoughtfully. "In the way you talk nonsense, too."
The wire cut through, and he set about carefully smoothing the end off, gently so as to not warp it. He needed to do this for both ends of every pin he cut from it, as later it would be harder than the tools he had to work with. "I am using established terminology, therefore it is not nonsense."
She snorted. "If nobody you are talking to understands it, then it is nonsense."
"I suppose there is something to that logic," he conceded. "Though I am surprised to hear you know of another like me. I would very much like to meet them." Likely as an adversary, but all the better.
"You might, if you make it to Valhalla," she said sombrely.
He paused in his filing, then sighed before resuming. "I see." He wasn't all that convinced of the notion of Valhalla, being more inclined to work in tangible principles, and the whole logic around it eluded him. If all one had to do was die in battle, then why did anyone ever try to win? Something about earning respect and honour, but that was unquantifiable. Ryker insisted that was the point, but it all just seemed down to interpretation, and he had heard many different claims as to what it all meant, each speaker certain theirs was the only surefire way. Well, whatever kept people happy, he supposed. He had to admit, it felt good to think that Ryker might be among like-minded people, feasting and slamming down tankards of mead and fighting to his heart's content.
"Ryker was going to kill Toothy, you know."
Viggo took a deep breath, then turned to look up at her. She had grown into her features since he had first met her, her jaw more defined and her gaze and tone no longer obscenely overconfident. "I had reasoned as much. Why are you here? In case you had not noticed, I am working on something important and time-sensitive."
She gave a little shrug, then a small nod towards his work, which he obligingly returned his attention to. "If you wish to help," he grumbled, "you could find me a mirror, a razor, and some fine scissors. I feel as if I have a badger clinging to my face."
"A what?" she almost laughed.
"A furred creature with a prickly temperament," he said dismissively, measuring the finished pin against some notches in a scrap of leather – measured from the lens he still had, though they didn't know that – and then dropping it into a cup of water. One down, fourteen to go. He took down the second rod and pulled it through the appropriate hole in the draw plate before moving on to the next pin from the first. With this process, he would hit close enough to the required properties with at least one pin, he just wouldn't know which until they were cooled.
Hurried footsteps, both human and not, emerged from the quiet of the camp and headed steadily closer. That was something he was getting used to, these riders could be so far away so quickly that they were naturally more spread out, and made less noise in general than his Hunters, so it made for quite a peaceful camp. And then the footsteps slowed as they drew near, and he almost groaned. As was typical, the moment he tried to put his mind to anything, he was inundated with distractions; which was something this camp shared with the Hunters.
"Astrid," Heather's voice said urgently while Viggo delicately smoothed a burr from what would be the next pin, careful not to warp it. "And Viggo," she added, piquing his curiosity, though he remained focused on his work. "There's news. Krogan apparently wants a trade."
"It is a trap," Viggo surmised, inspecting his work, and then put the next pin into a small leather pouch to slow its cooling. Two down.
"Obviously," Heather scoffed. "It is more his terms. He wants a Night Fury-" He, Astrid, and likely Dreamer all scoffed. "-for the Dragon Eye."
Viggo pondered that for all of a few moments. "He does not expect you to even consider the trade," he advised. "He is not subtle, and he knows it. This is merely him telling you where the Dragon Eye is and daring you to take it."
"But will it be there?" Astrid asked.
"Most likely," he replied, working on filing the last pin from the wire. "Definitely, even, if it really was still in my hut when it was burned down." There had been nothing else of real importance in there, so he wasn't that upset about the arson, just recognising Krogan asserting his 'victory' in claiming the Hunters. "His methods are broad enough that they encompass whatever his opponent may do or know. Effective, but excessive. Still, the things he puts his attention to are generally not trivial pursuits." He glanced over his shoulder to give the Night Fury a significant look.
"So whatever we do, we're walking into the trap?" Heather asked.
"Essentially," he agreed, twisting the pliers to snap the pin off. "The only thing they will not expect you to do is attempt to make the trade, though that would of course be laughably foolish. This is how Krogan works, forcing an engagement on his terms and then overpowering his opponent with everything he has. Admittedly, in this situation, it may be more effective than I had given him credit for. I suppose there must be a reason for his influence, wherever he comes from." He then redirected his attention back to the pin, carefully filing it down. Ideally, he would have made crude dummy pins and then only put effort into one good one, but it would require another batch of Gronckle Iron and more waiting than working, and he had a novel excess of time.
From there, he could only understand about a third of the conversation, and with the metal actively cooling this wasn't any time to be trying to figure out the odd language; a lot of it was so subtle and just outright different that it was a wonder they had figured out there even was a language in the first place.
"So we scout it from a distance, you two sneak in, and we'll cover you as best we can," Astrid eventually summarised.
That gave Viggo pause. On one hand, these people and dragons were not his allies. Granted, he was not exactly a prisoner here, he was free to go where he pleased, but he doubted they would let him just sail away. On the other hand…
"I think you can agree that it is in my own interests to keep you out of Krogan's hands," he announced, feeling everyone's eyes return to him, though he was still focused on his work. "I do not know what he intends to do with you, but given his demeanour and methods, I would assume it is for war of some kind." Dreamer growled lightly, but Viggo just grimaced. "This is a man who was disappointed with the level of control exerted by the Death Song. Bear that in mind when you think about where he wants to take you." The growling abruptly died off. "Indeed. I think you can also agree I would prefer the Dragon Eye was out of his hands. Even if I must put it in yours, so to speak."
Dreamer walked around him and sat down next to the rock he was working on, staring at him intently, but he was used to that; dragons almost seemed to be able to smell dishonesty, something he was highly envious of. "I would rather ensure the safe retrieval of the Dragon Eye, and playing into his hands does not seem the best way of achieving that."
"So," Astrid said with an edge of annoyance, "there's something better we could do?"
"You could do something, or nothing," Viggo mused, "either way, you are disadvantaged. But, those are not your only options…" He had to grin at the puzzled expression the dragon gave him.
Dreamer groaned, slumping, as the grip of responsibility loosened somewhat. Daylight streamed in through the door that Astrid, Mala, Dagur, and Heather had departed through, and it remained open behind them. He yawned widely, something about all this was just inexplicably tiring. He would need an early night for when they made a move on the Dragon Eye, but he really wanted to take a long evening nap…
Two other people remained behind, in the Defenders' large but plain Hall. "Ho man, am I glad that's over," Fishlegs groaned, taking a seat and leaning wearily on the round table, a simple but well-crafted furnishing in the centre of the Hall.
"Speak for yourself," Stoick grumbled. His enormous stature was almost comical in the comparatively tiny chair, though it had certainly not made him any less intimidating in the sort of mini Thing they had just held. "You don't have to deal with the fallout. Heh, or maybe you will, one day. People will remember we go back on our word when it suits us."
Dreamer huffed. "We make new arrangement," he said, using the word for how prey or other things might be grouped and correctly trusting Fishlegs to catch his meaning as he translated. "Better for us, better for them also. This good." Reversing the condition for Dagur being Chief had not been as simple as he had thought, but it was all planned out now.
His sire chuckled at that. "You do not understand us humans. Perhaps, that is better… I do not know where life will take you, but I do not recommend tribal affairs. They're dreadfully tedious and boring." The irony of his words was not lost on Dreamer, or Fishlegs either, by the look on his face.
"Besides," Stoick continued grimly, "you have to work with people like… that. Both of them have hurt you greatly, and I take that personally. They will find no generosity from me."
Dreamer chuffed agreeably, Heather seemed to know that and was keen to make it up to Berk. Not that she'd said so, of course, that would have been stupid to admit to a Chief. But there would be relations, trade and all that; they had basically already promised Berk its own private army, should they have need of it, in an amusing twist of fate. As if the dragons weren't enough, anyone sailing to Berk for war would be in for a nasty surprise.
"And these Defenders are quite the people. Mala is a remarkable young woman, I can give her that. To think, all this time, an entire tribe…"
Dreamer looked over the table at him, seeing an old and familiar hurt in his eyes, and crooned sadly.
Fishlegs shuffled nervously, then made for the door. "I'll just… give you two some… yep…" His footsteps echoed in the quiet Hall until he passed through the doors, leaving Dreamer and his sire in silence.
"You know," his sire rumbled, cupping a hand, "when we first found you, you were this big." Dreamer rolled his eyes. Yes, I remember, he thought dryly. "And in only a few years, you're already handling diplomacy, preparing for war. This plan is a good one." Was that… praise? Whatever the case, he didn't know how to respond, and could only shuffle his paws uncomfortably. "I suppose you have been through much… It takes a certain kind of strength to take that pain and forge a blade of it. I wish…"
He stared at Dreamer, eyes full of longing and… a bit of hope. He was hoping he had not failed the Nightstrikers as he had failed his son, and possibly his wife.
And then he sniffed and snapped out of it. "You were a lot cuter then, too," he said teasingly.
Dreamer huffed indignantly – the nerve! He stalked up onto the table to fix his sire with the most intense stare he could manage, staring into those twinkling eyes…
And flopped onto his side, letting his eyes dilate and his ears and frills flop out while he pawed at the enormous beard. It wasn't a small table, but there was little spare room, and most of his long tail dangled off the end.
Sire chuckled, putting a hand to Dreamer's chest, which Dreamer then grappled and playfully tried to bite. "I suppose not by much," Sire laughed, easily keeping the limb away from the teeth despite Dreamer's best efforts. "Does this still work?" He scratched his chest behind his foreleg, and Dreamer stretched out with a groan, pawing at the air in a way that wasn't entirely voluntary. It reminded him of the times he and Wanderer had played with those massive hands as fledglings, helping the big man overcome his grief just by being there.
He continued lying there a little longer after the scratches stopped, forehead resting on the corner of the table, then carefully rolled over; this table felt solid enough, but he was a big dragon nowadays, much bigger than he ever would have been as a human.
"Did I do right by you?" Sire whispered, then seemed to realise the dragon he was talking to could actually understand him.
Dreamer nodded vehemently and nuzzled into his beard with a purr, and Sire chuckled sadly as he stroked down Dreamer's ears and neck. He had done right by the Nightstrikers, as best he was able to whenever he physically could. There had been bad decisions, and pain and suffering, but none of that was his fault.
It was a strange feeling he had towards his sire. He had not forgotten how he had been treated as Hiccup, but had… set it aside. Strange as it may be, were his sire to learn of his old identity, Dreamer would no longer be able to face him. It was only because he was a new person, and Stoick was treating him as a new person, that he was able to put the past aside.
He pulled back and dropped from the table, then yawned widely with a stretch. This day had been very productive, and he really would just fall asleep if he hung around any longer. His sire got up and also stretched, then made for the door, and Dreamer followed him out.
Wanderer, who had apparently been dozing outside this whole time, hopped to his paws and gave Dreamer a hearty nuzzle.
"I need stay awake," Dreamer grumbled, blinking drowsily at everyone else preparing to leave.
"We should fly back to resting-place," his friend churred. "Can do things there, not need to fly before sleep."
Dreamer purred appreciatively, nuzzling him back, then took to the air. He was actually looking forward to a nice slow flight over the sea, given how busy he was with everything else at the moment.
The light of the sky-fire crept into the sky, the uncountable sky-sparks slowly fading as dawn grew near. From his hiding place, in a pile of logs and leaves, Dreamer couldn't see where it would rise, but he was more interested in the entrance to the cave at the head of the beach, and the sea before it.
The cave most likely contained the Dragon Eye; Krogan seemed to have little interest in the incredible device, and he was apparently not one to bluff. The sea was carrying a small boat, the one Dagur had been getting around in before reconciling with Heather.
He and Wanderer had scouted this island the previous night, when they'd heard about the Dragon Eye, forcing him to – reluctantly – go with Viggo's plan. There were Singetails flying overhead constantly, even during the night, and the land itself had been scorched bare of any cover. They were clearly prepared for a night attack, as much as anyone could be, with huge bonfires prepared all over the place ready for lighting, the remains of the forests that had once grown here.
Dreamer was currently hiding in one such unlit bonfire, one of three near the entrance to the cave, where they'd crept in during the dark night and Wanderer had helped cover him. The other Nightstriker had withdrawn to fly overhead, well above the Singetails who patrolled within earshot of the ground, but watching and ready to intervene if needed.
Hopefully it wouldn't be needed. The island was crawling with hunters, with very few places to hide, and he'd been getting whiffs of dragonroot, plus who knew how many Singetails and whatever else Krogan had in store here.
Minutes before dawn broke, the boat touched the beach, its prow carving into the sand. It was warily approached by three hunters, swords drawn, clearly unsure of what to make of it. Their surprise was evident even from behind when Viggo leaned over the rail to address them. "Is the Dragon Eye safe?" he called down tersely.
The hunters backed up a step, angling their weapons. "You were dead," one of them replied in the same smooth accent Krogan spoke in.
"Do I look dead?" Viggo snapped back, gripping the rail and leaning on it. "I will ask again, is the Dragon Eye safe?"
"Your hunters answer to Krogan now," another shouted up to him, though his voice was rife with uncertainty. "You were to be killed on sight."
"Right, and I am also dead," Viggo said dryly with a roll of his eyes. "Does it not occur to you that if one is false, so is the other? Surely you would not be so stupid as to act on misinformation."
The hunters looked thoroughly perturbed now, clearly unsure of what to do. This would all fall apart if Krogan had happened to tell one of them directly, they apparently took his every word as law, but according to Viggo, he did not typically grace his subordinates with his presence except to berate them. But just in case, they had contingencies, that was why Dreamer was there; he could not send someone in on a possible suicide mission, not even Viggo.
While the hunters whispered among themselves, Viggo grabbed a rope attached to the prow and leaped over the rail, landing in the shallow water with a splash. The hunters were instantly on the defensive, but he spoke something to them too quiet to make out, and they drew in close, lowering their weapons…
Theoretically, this should go smoothly. Viggo would make his way to the Dragon Eye, claim he needed to test something with sunlight, and Dreamer would snatch him up and carry him away.
Theoretically. He wasn't certain Viggo would be able to convince everyone, though he had a good shot at it.
Whatever Viggo had been saying seemed to have convinced these three at least, and they waved him on, though they still watched him sceptically as he pulled the boat up onto the sand. Dreamer had to grin. From their perspective, what could go wrong? Viggo just wanted to look at it, then put it back. He was hilariously outnumbered, and his only apparent method of escape was a little boat that could be sunk in moments.
They walked up the beach and two of the hunters disappeared into the cave with Viggo, the third staying outside to guard the entrance, and Dreamer went back to pondering his plans while he waited.
Everything was already in motion. The next day would see a battle unlike anything the Archipelago had ever seen before, and would hopefully be hilariously one-sided. Krogan happily flaunted his strength, as if nobody would even dare attack him, which was a fair assumption… to a point. Everything that had happened in almost two years had been leading up to this, from harassing the hunters to striking at Viggo's resources and earning a strange sort of respect from the man. Everyone had flown their own paths, but all intertwined, and all leading to the upcoming confrontation.
Even this little side mission, in a sense. They could have waited until after the assault, but then what? The hunters would likely see no reason to keep up the trap if their leader and army had been defeated. They would probably disperse, and there was no telling which of them would take the Dragon Eye, or what they would do with it. Viggo was alternatively of the opinion that their fear of Krogan would even keep them to their task until they were unable to complete it, though they would be more dangerous without a firm hand holding them back.
They knew what they were dealing with now, while later there would be many unknowns. And if they could find the Singetail on any of the lenses, they would have more information to fight Krogan with.
There was also planning for if things went wrong. If this didn't work out, if he or Wanderer were to be captured, there was a literal army to help break them out. And if the main assault failed… at least the Dragon Eye would be safe.
It was worth the risk, because even if it did go wrong, Krogan wanted them alive.
Still, he was nervous. About this, but especially about the next day. In some ways, it felt like a failure on his part. He wanted to end this without bloodshed, but that wasn't going to happen. It was going to end in a big battle full of death. He could not smell it here, but he imagined he would always remember the scent of rain, and what it would bring tonight and tomorrow.
But it was going to end, and it was going to be ended by Long-Paws, not by bringing down the might and wrath of dragons. And then… a whole life of possibility ahead of him. It was a daunting feeling.
Viggo walked into the cave, into the warm light of regular torches on either side that left no shadows; about eight paces across, it looked as if it had been carved by some kind of dragon, but long ago. He was uncomfortable with what he'd needed to tell these Hunters, though it had been necessary to gain their trust. Still, it shouldn't matter. Krogan would be defeated shortly, and his men would either die or disperse while Viggo carried out his own plans.
"How long will you need?" the escort in front of him asked.
"You will need to put up with me for only a few minutes," he replied, twisting the truth into what they wanted to hear. It was a game he loved to play with people, particularly when there was something on the line and the other player or players did not realise there was a game.
"Was it not broken?" the man behind him growled.
"Well, yes, Krogan has not yet seen fit to return a Gronckle to provide the necessary material," he said, allowing some of his very real frustration into his voice. "But it is not entirely nonfunctional. It is more than sufficient for my purpose today." It could be entirely nonfunctional and still suit his purposes, since he only intended on leaving with it.
Three things, he required. The Dragon Eye, the black lens, and a Night Fury. Once before, all three had been in his presence. They would be once again, but he wouldn't be able to…
They walked deeper and deeper into the cave, Viggo lost to his thoughts, passing various traps and weapons designed to withstand a siege that even a couple of Night Furies would have difficulty fighting through, confined to the tunnel as they would be. Many were set into tunnels branching off in various directions, but many were empty; he suspected there was more weaponry hidden further in that would be brought out only after the dragons had trapped themselves inside.
By the time they finally stopped he had lost track of how far they had walked, but it was deep. "Wait here," the one in front grunted, then walked off into a tunnel to the side.
Viggo paid little attention to him, until he heard echoes of conversation. That was worrying; individuals and groups alike made stupid decisions as a general rule, but for some reason if they conferred with someone external to the immediate situation then they were much more likely to do something intelligent.
The Hunter returned, looking far more confident. "This way," he grunted, and Viggo subtly shifted his shoulders, preparing to draw his sword if needed, and kept a careful ear on the man behind him. He wasn't overly worried, these Hunters did believe in reaching Valhalla with honour even if they weren't as fervent about it as the Vikings, so they likely wouldn't stab him in the back, but they were not entirely above catching him off-guard.
Still deeper they went, and he wondered how Dreamer's patience was holding up. He would need to walk just as far to get out again, and he wasn't even there yet.
"One small thing to do first," the Hunter drawled smugly, gesturing into an intersecting tunnel and watching Viggo.
Viggo himself was very careful to school his features straight as he rounded the corner, but his eyebrows went up nonetheless. "A Death Song?" he asked, rolling with the surprise wracking him. "You did well to find it again so quickly." Or perhaps not, given they had a fleet of dragon riders. An army of riders? Someone needed to invent a term for it.
"You got no way off this island but that little boat," the Hunter sneered disdainfully, as all of Krogan's riders did when talking about methods of travel other than dragonback. "Just call this… insurance. That there are no Night Furies waiting for an opportunity… and that you don't have a dragon hidden somewhere and somehow figured out how to ride it." Or both, Viggo thought wryly to himself. "Neither is likely, but it don't hurt to check."
"Indeed," Viggo said, gesturing to the dragon and brushing past the obvious attempt to bait him. The Death Song was bound even more tightly than last time, held to the centre of a roughly round cavern with multiple chains holding down every limb and its long mouth wrapped in canvas and rope. It looked wretched, weak and starved, its usually vibrantly colourful scales dull and faded.
Would Dreamer and his brother be able to withstand it? Viggo knew it had multiple types of control, and it depended on which one it used. The call for food was one of the weaker forms it exerted, more effective on unsuspecting prey. The non-aggression call it made to potential threats was much stronger, and he had seen its effects on the Riders' dragons first-hand. The call for aid was just as strong, and it was this that he had intended to use to pull dragons from across entire islands and even down from the air.
Krogan would not have settled for any weaker form of control, so that made him certain of how it would be used, but not the effect it would have.
He analysed his options while the Hunter walked to the dragon, quickly narrowing it down to three outcomes.
One, he does nothing, and the Furies resist the control. The plan carries out as normal. That would be ideal, but he did not have influence over the outcome.
Two, he does nothing and either or both Night Furies blunder into the caves. With the Death Song exerting its control, they would have no hope; they had little enough without that difficulty. But Viggo could probably talk his way back into the graces of the Hunters, being the one to reel in the Night Furies. Particularly if he could fix the Dragon Eye. He'd even brought a suitable pin to repair it, just in case, as more than one had turned out suitable to the task.
Three, the only outcome he could control… He himself does something preposterously foolish.
He had made his decision by the time the Hunter reached the ropes. It was the only logical choice.
Dreamer brooded while the sun rose agonisingly slowly into the sky, his thoughts returning to Viggo more and more regularly. The Singetails landed and the next lot flew out, tired and weary swapping for tired and bleary. But they wouldn't be inattentive forever, and he couldn't lie here all day. What if Viggo needed help? What if he was stuck in there?
What if he… betrayed them?
Dreamer didn't like that thought, and he wasn't going to doom someone because they might betray him, so he set it aside.
Do something, or do nothing, those were the obvious choices that Krogan had accounted for. The third option, have someone else do something, had a chance of success; however smartly it had been suggested. Viggo had been in there for about three quarters of an hour, judging by the position of the sky-fire. But the longer this took, the more alert the hunters would be.
Wait, or attempt to break in and help?
If he broke his cover, he risked falling victim to whatever Krogan had prepared. If he stayed hidden, he put Viggo at risk, who really should have made it back out by now.
To risk his own life, or Viggo's?
He snarled under his breath as the sky-fire continued to rise, and Viggo continued to be absent. When the hunter at the entrance to the cave turned and went inside, his patience snapped.
Carefully but quickly, Dreamer slinked out of the pile of wood, disturbing it as little as possible, then raced to the cave. There were no shrieks or cries of warning from above, but the hunter who had just entered ahead of him turned and made a startled sound-
Dreamer rammed him with his shoulder, slamming him into the wall where he slid down to the ground, unconscious. He had never really seen one up close before, and was glad to find that their strange headgear did offer good cranial support, so he could afford to be a little rough with them as long as he was careful of the horns jutting from the back. Interestingly, the man also had a black line painted across his eyes, for some unknown reason.
After only a moment of inspection, he took off at a brisk trot through the wide tunnel, ears trained for danger, nose following the heavy scents of traffic, paws carrying him in near silence, mouth held open in preparation to fire or bark a note of sound-sight. This was an impulsive decision, but it was not made out of impatience or weariness, and he was alert.
Footsteps racing from an intersecting tunnel stilled him, and he pressed himself to the wall next to it as they drew closer. Four hunters rounded the corner, headed deeper into the cave system, but the last one looked back and happened to see Dreamer bearing down on them with his teeth bared.
He landed on that hunter, driving him into the ground with the cracking of ribs before he could do more than squeak, catching two more with his wings which he then threw out without stopping, and headbutted the hunter at the front to knock him to the ground. One of the hunters his wings had taken hit the nearby wall face-first with a crunch, while the other tumbled across the floor of the cave. Dreamer ran past the hunter he had headbutted, slapping his tail down heavily on him as he went, and landed next to the last conscious hunter. Calmly and surely, he put a paw behind the man's head and smacked it into the ground.
He looked back to confirm the hunters were all sleeping, and decided against dragging them to somewhere less conspicuous. They had been headed deeper, towards something else, so he should hurry.
The walls of the tunnel sped by as he ran, the subtle tells of regular foot traffic leading him and his nose confirming. He only needed to backtrack once, but suddenly stumbled on dozens of hunters all crowded into the tunnel.
They didn't immediately notice him, their attention was elsewhere – which could only be one thing – and he took the opportunity to charge a concussive blast and fire it into the roof over their heads. The instant his fire shrieked with its shaping, he received the layout of the immediate caves, the map of how they wove together burning into his memory. And then the shockwave hit him like a punch to the head and chest, but he was expecting it and pushed through the discomfort to leap through the midst of humans clutching their helmets and torsos, and rounded the corner into the tunnel they had been sieging.
He had only a moment to register Viggo crouching behind the torso of a Death Song, which was limp and lying in a pool of blood, before he spun around and fired two shots at the roof of the tunnel, collapsing it between them and the hunters.
"Dreamer," Viggo grunted, his voice strained. "While I had hoped to prevent you being dragged down here, I must admit I am glad to see you."
Dreamer, after watching to ensure the pile of rubble suitably blocked off any access through that particular path, turned to the Death Song and Viggo – and barked in alarm, rushing to him at seeing the short arrows jutting from his left shoulder and one from his back.
"You should see the other guy," he chuckled tensely, gesturing to the several bodies lying around, then grit his teeth and yanked one of the bolts from his shoulder with a pained grunt. "Can't say I favour your fire in confined spaces though, not being on the receiving end," he said as he fitted the bolt to a crossbow he was holding.
They needed to get out of there, ideally with the Dragon Eye. There were three exits, and he had a short distance of them mapped from his shots, but he needed more. He had… about two shots left, including his reserve; his capacity was slowly improving. Information was more important.
He shaped his fire and barked through it, and the cave system exploded into being in his mind, its paths racing all the way up to the surface. There was only one exit from the caves, but several paths to get there… and hunters moving into position to cut them all off. He whined, scanning through his options and realising he didn't have enough fire left to break through.
"What did you just… Echolocation?" Viggo asked faintly. "Seeing with sound?" Dreamer nodded absently, still trying to figure out an escape, his surprise at finding there was an actual word for it tempered by the gravity of their situation. "Fascinating… And I take it our chances are not good."
Dreamer shook his head, then left a sombre Viggo to retrieve something else he had 'seen'. In the tunnel behind the Death Song was a sort of pedestal, which turned out to be a wooden table, and on that… He sighed at finding the Dragon Eye, intact as far as he could see. No lenses with it, but at least there was that.
He took it in his mouth, then returned to Viggo and held it for him to take, which he did, because it would be easier for him to carry. He then turned and offered Viggo his shoulders, beckoning with a flick of his head.
The tip of the crossbow bolt, still loaded into the crossbow, touched his neck. "I could bargain for my safety," Viggo said in a low voice. "Krogan wants you alive. His men fear his disapproval more than death."
Dreamer snorted, then beckoned again.
"It is the best option for me now. The one in which I am most likely to live." Dreamer rolled his eyes, and the sharp tip withdrew, Viggo turning and taking a few steps away from him, his head tipped down as if in thought.
They didn't have time for this! With a groan, Dreamer bounded around him, barked impatiently, and gestured to his back again.
"Why are you so infuriatingly trusting?" Viggo growled at him, and he growled right back. "Tell me, are there more than ten hunters between us and our escape?" Reluctantly, Dreamer nodded… three times, deliberately. "More than thirty?" He nodded again. "And are they in more than one group?" He nodded three times. "By my count, you have one shot left." Dreamer shook his head, then nodded twice. "Two? I presume you are still adolescent. Can you get us out?"
Dreamer bared his teeth and growled, then gestured to his back again; he would certainly try.
Viggo took a deep breath, then used his sword to cut the leather strap from the crossbow. "Listen closely. Here, there is a small hole," he gestured to the 'jaw' of the Dragon Eye. "Put one of the extra pins into it and hit it with a hammer. This will disassemble it, allowing you to replace the pin. It attaches a focal lens to the dial. Do so somewhere safe and with lots of clear space, there are a lot of parts." He made a loop of the strap around the Dragon Eye, feeding it through itself to make a strong knot that would only tighten as it was pulled. "I will distract the first group," he said, ignoring Dreamer's protests, "and you run through the rest. You will be faster without me, and you must escape. I… cannot bring myself to hold you back. They cannot be allowed to have this. Or this."
Dreamer went rigid, inhaling sharply and rising onto his claws as waves of chills ran from his tail to his nose, staring with wide eyes at the black lens Viggo had pulled from his pauldron. All the other lenses were green – or so he assumed, given that's how he saw them – and a black lens could only mean one thing. The intricate little engravings around the hexagonal piece were even vaguely Night Fury shaped…
Viggo took his shock as an opportunity to tie the Dragon Eye firmly to his upper left foreleg, fitting the lens to it in the process. He'd had it all along… He'd never expected Dreamer's fire to work with the other lenses, that was just a bonus, he needed a Night Fury because he had the Night Fury lens… This whole time…!
A distant shout dragged him back to his senses, finding the device secured uncomfortably to his leg but not restricting his movements. "Are you listening?" Viggo snapped at him, and he nodded dumbly. "There is a secret on this lens, one that caused my grandfather to dissolve his whole tribe and set up some inane little workshop. I do not intend on dying here today, but I cover all my bases. If I do not return, find that secret. At least then someone will make sense of his actions."
Dreamer whined helplessly, struggling to absorb all this new information. The Night Fury lens, a great secret, Viggo putting himself at risk just to give him a better chance of escaping-
"Move!" Viggo snapped, slapping his ear, and he jolted back with a small yelp. "There is no time, and you know the way out! Lead!"
Later, he would think about all this later! He shook his head and ran for the exit from the cavern, poking his head out to listen. There were two paths forking out from it, and running footsteps were very near in one of them. Those hunters had recovered quickly, the tunnel actually went out a fair way before doubling back.
The other path was slightly longer but had no more choke points than the first, though there was a small ballista in one of them. He could recall the vague images of people in his map, rough numbers, but still moving into position; they might not be where he expected them.
The footsteps pursuing them faded as he made turn after turn, confident in his direction and-
He threw his wings out and heaved himself backwards as a dozen arrows flew out of a side tunnel, narrowly missing his nose and leaving the air reeking of dragonroot. The first choke point wasn't quite where he'd expected it to be, but this had to be most if not all the hunters that had been in this immediate area, so it didn't change anything "This is where I come in," Viggo asserted. "A little help first, though?"
Dreamer turned to him to find him gesturing to the bolt in his back, and churred apologetically before yanking it out with his teeth. "Much obliged," Viggo gasped, then pointed the crossbow at his neck again. "Hold your fire!" he announced loudly, prodding Dreamer with the point and forcing him forwards, out into the passage. "If either of us are struck, I will kill it. Krogan would not take that failure lightly, I assure you."
Dreamer growled, both for appearances and because he didn't like this for a number of reasons. "The instant I say 'hold'," Viggo whispered, "make a run for it. Do not hesitate." Dreamer dipped his head a little to show he understood as he spotted the hunters, hunkered down behind a wooden bulwark with bows and crossbows at the ready but not firing.
He continued growling as they walked slowly up the tunnel and eventually into the midst of the hunters occupying it, the sharp point pressing into the side of his neck the whole time, right where he had been struck on the other side taking an arrow for his sire. The hunters glared, all now wearing masks attached to their helmets that left only a strip for their eyes that was painted black… Oh, that's why. Wrrr, it explained the shape, but not the purpose.
"Nice and easy," Viggo said calmly. "Do not fret, I intend on leaving it for you, alive of course. I merely wish to leave this wretched place." He walked close to Dreamer, hiding the Dragon Eye attached to his leg as the hunters started rearranging themselves to circle around them. "Which reminds me, I have something to show you." The sharp tip disappeared from his neck. "Hold this for me a moment."
Dreamer took a heartbeat to register the signal in a context he wasn't expecting, then flattened his wings to his sides and leapt forward, the corners of his mouth pulled back and his eyes stinging as he fled. There had to be a better way, a way they could both have escaped, if only he'd had time to plan and… not so many insane distractions! But even as he streaked down the tunnel, arrows clattered around him and one skipped off his back, and he knew that he would not have been fast enough with Viggo. Even now, as he raced away from horns blowing behind him, he started to encounter random hunters; he sped by them so quickly that most of them did not have time to react, and the few that did were unable to hit him.
He reached the next choke point in moments, preparing his fire as he approached the corner and using the fresh images from the screeching plasma to plan the shot before he even laid eyes on his target. He fired into the little room the moment he hit the sharp corner, landing sideways on the wall and immediately pushing back and away from the hail of arrows while the shot exploded in their midst. He scrambled back into and around the corner, leaping over the bolt from the ballista parked beside the entrance to the tunnel and slapping the weapon with his tail before speeding off again.
The horns continued to blow behind him, and he realised they were directing the hunters, calling them in and towards him. Now that they had been blowing for maybe a full minute or two, he was passing hunters in almost every tunnel meeting this one. His breath hissed between his teeth as he pushed himself for a little more speed, jumping aside from the occasional arrow and throwing hunters aside with his wings or slapping them with his tail if they made it into the tunnel ahead of him, then prepped his last shot as he neared the final obstacle.
His sound-sight showed numerous blurry figures in the nexus of tunnels, where six paths all joined at irregular angles. The corners were rounded off into a sort of room, and some of the tunnels around it were also connected.
Dreamer raced straight past the first entrance to it, firing as he went and leaving the arrows to clatter and snap into the rock behind him, then bounded off the wall at the second entrance and raced through it. The shot, being the very last of his fire, wasn't as large as he would have liked and left some hunters standing around the outskirts of the cavern, and two more arrows skipped off his hide as he crossed the room in two long bounds, his lithe body stretching and contracting in a rhythm of speed.
And then he was in the final stretch, the horns sounding up immediately behind him, and he roared at the top of his lungs as daylight shone faintly from around the next corner.
Even this deep, he heard Wanderer diving, and three explosions sounded in quick succession as the entrance of the cave came into sight. He stretched his wings, then jumped the last stretch and flapped hard almost before he was even outside, powering over the hunters strewn around the entrance, and streaked out into the air.
Fireballs rained down around him, the attackers uncoordinated and distracted. Another Nightstriker shot donated behind him and he spotted Wanderer flying backwards away from them. His friend flipped around and joined him as they powered through the air together, Dreamer flipping out his sub-wings to add his own shriek to Wanderer's.
The blurry shapes faded behind him, and Dreamer immediately gasped in distress, the devastation of what this had cost crashing into him, but simultaneously conflicted with excitement over what he had gained.
Wanderer crooned enquiry, flying on his right and thus unable to see the Dragon Eye. Dreamer rolled a little to show him, then let out a long, mournful moan. His friend likely noticed the lack of Viggo, but while he hummed sympathy, there wasn't an ounce of regret or sorrow, so it didn't make him feel any better.
He now had a long flight to ruminate on the outcome, and wonder about Viggo's fate. It didn't seem fair that he would gain the Night Fury lens like this. By convincing his adversary to side with dragons, yes, but not to then have him sacrifice himself. There wasn't even any hope of going back for him, there were too many hunters and riders to even hang around, he was out of fire, Wanderer was low, and he was already tiring.
All he could do was hope… and, with an excitement he felt painfully guilty about, honour the man's last wish.