There was something surreal about sharing a hut with a dragon.
Heather walked into the main room of the hut, rubbing her eyes clear, and almost tripped over Togi's tail. He was asleep on the floor, but not in his usual spot by the far wall. His body took up most of the empty space in the hut; Rotison had not provided anything more than the bare minimum he thought they wouldn't be able to complain about.
Luckily for him, Togi liked the close quarters, so they weren't complaining. Besides, whining about living conditions while their friends were all off fighting a battle seemed wrong on a fundamental level.
'How's dad?' Einfari asked, checking in on Heather's senses just as she was prodding the long-dead ashes of the fire.
'Sleeping.' She knew that would be reassuring; sleep did not come for Togi as often as it should. She suspected being in a human building on a human island, and seriously injured to boot, was making it much harder than it should be.
'Good. I just checked the storage building. All good there.'
"Perfect." Astrid hadn't escaped since the last time one of the Nótts had checked, late the night before. Rotison's people hadn't slacked off yet, but Heather and Einfari were not taking chances with the most dangerous person on the island. Nóttreiði would stick his head in to look in on her around noon, and then Einfari at dusk. Night checks were even more frequent, happening irregularly, whenever one of the Nótts felt like it.
In that way, they could reassure Togi that there was no real danger.
Heather moved over to the back door of the hut and checked the deadbolt. Another precaution; making Togi feel safe was a hard task, given how paranoid he could be. The deadbolt was good, and luckily for her, this particular hut had no windows.
'Need fire?' Togi asked sleepily.
"I'm going out and Einfari is coming in," Heather replied, "so no. Thank you, though."
'Glad to help…' he rumbled sleepily, shifted on his side, and flinched.
"How are you feeling today?" Heather asked. She tried to ignore the downright appalling pattern of intricate scars visible on his underside. He might feel comfortable with letting her see it, a privilege only for those he considered family, but staring would be rude.
'Better than ever,' he groaned.
"Really?" she asked skeptically, picking up her bow and quiver and holstering her ax.
'No,' he admitted, laboriously rolling to his paws and standing. He flexed each of his front paws in turn, in a routine Eldurhjarta had made him memorize before she left with the rest of the pack, then rolled his wing shoulders.
Heather hated the many short pauses and growls he let out during the process, and the way his three paws quivered every time he lifted the fourth was just sad. She was not used to seeing Togi injured and struggling.
'Still fierce jabbing pain when I move my neck or paw,' he reported clinically. 'I feel weak and shaky when standing, of course. Breathing hurts if I do it too quickly.'
"Got it. No change." She made her way over to him and crouched by his side, one hand going to the bandage she had applied the night before. "Does this hurt?"
'Of course,' he grunted, flinching as she pushed on the canvas covering his chest wound. 'It is things like this that make me question his intelligence. Of course pushing on a wound hurts.'
"Fishlegs would not waste our time," Heather objected. He was the one who, in lieu of Eldurhjarta, was overseeing Togi's recovery, albeit from afar through Eldurberg.
'Have you met him?' Togi grunted. 'His whole family loves to waste time on things that likely will never matter.'
"Yes, but he is too smart to waste your time," Heather said with a smile. Pain made Togi grumpy, but she didn't disagree with his assessment. Fishlegs was in many ways the most over the top of the Eldurs she knew, probably because he was surrounded by people who encouraged him. It was endearing, but only from afar, in small doses, as she had learned over the last week. There was a reason she was the one to deal with Eldurberg and by extension Fishlegs; Einfari didn't like him, Nóttreiði didn't have the patience, and Togi wasn't supposed to be in charge of caring for himself while he recovered, per Eldurhjarta's orders.
'Speaking of time…' Togi craned his neck, moving slowly to avoid aggravating his wound, and looked directly at her. 'Will you ask?'
"Definitely." The pure longing in his voice clued her in to what he meant; he wanted to know how long it would be until he could fly home. She wished she could bring him good news, but Fishlegs was all but guaranteed to say that it would be a long while yet. Such serious wounds did not heal quickly, not even for dragons.
'See you this evening,' he said politely as she stood to leave.
'Sleep well,' she said cheerfully, stepping out into the bright sunlight-
And, in the moment it took her eyes to adjust, stepping right into Eldurberg, who was waiting just in front of the door. "Hey!" she exclaimed, tripping over a Night Fury for the second time that morning.
'Sorry!' Eldurberg stuck his head out and caught her before she could land face first across his front paws.
"Don't worry about it," she said graciously. "Is Fishlegs ready?"
'Watching now,' Eldurberg replied.
"Right. No change from yesterday, and yes, pressing on the wound hurts. It'd help if you told me why you had me check that." She had found that it was easier to pretend she was talking directly to Eldurberg, but that was difficult when he stared at her blankly, clearly just waiting for her and Fishlegs to be done.
'It's to check for infection. If it really hurts, then there might be a problem,' Eldurberg explained.
"Got it. And just to check, what's the estimate for how long until he can go home?"
'Weeks, probably months,' Eldurberg said solemnly. 'But Fishlegs says Nóttskarpur told him she will be flying out to visit as soon as someone she trusts comes home to watch Nótthljóður.'
"Really?" That would have to be either Einfari or Nóttreiði, neither of which had gone home since the fight, feeling they were needed with their father. She would have to see if one of them would go just to give Skarpur a chance to visit her mate. Really, they should have thought of such an arrangement before now. The difficulties in communicating directly were probably to blame for that.
'He says yes,' Eldurberg relayed. 'And I get to fly as soon as my sister gets back and checks my wing.' He flared his injured wing to show off the rapidly closing gap in the membrane.
"Good for you, but if you tell Nóttleiðtogi that, one of us will make sure you're grounded as long as he is," she threatened. The last thing Togi needed was someone bragging about how quickly they were healing.
'I never even see him, cooped up in that hut all day,' Eldurberg grumbled, taken aback. 'Have a nice day. Fishlegs says goodbye.' He turned and bounded away, leaping up far higher than he needed to in an obvious attempt to feel like he was flying. It looked absolutely hilarious.
'Someone should talk to him about maintaining our reputation,' Einfari said, landing on their hut. Nóttreiði landed beside her and watched Eldurberg's departure, his ears flat against his neck and his eyes wide, clearly offended by the silliness of it all.
"Feel free," Heather offered. "Who's staying with Togi today?"
'Me. I thought you and Nóttreiði could go walk through the village,' Einfari proposed. 'There are ships docking, and we both want to know what is happening. I can watch, tell Father what you're seeing, and Nóttreiði can go with you.'
Heather knew far better than to think that was Einfari's only motivation, and from the way Nóttreiði shifted his perch on the roof but didn't object, she knew he saw the other reason too, and wasn't objecting.
Nóttreiði was an enigma, a dragon who reacted to everything in ways she didn't expect. Being captured once had almost broken him, but having his old views on humans validated by being betrayed had simply set him more firmly on the right path.
"Sounds like a plan," she agreed, seeing no harm in it. Spending time with Nóttreiði by walking through the village and investigating what was probably just a few traders setting up shop sounded like a good way to spend a day, and it was certainly better than sitting around and wondering what was happening with the fleet and most of the pack.
Nóttreiði hopped down from the roof, and Einfari dropped down behind him, turning and squeezing through the door Heather had left open, leaving it ajar behind her.
Heather, for her part, smiled at Nóttreiði and began walking, heading in the general direction of the docks. Now that she thought about it, there were fewer people about than normal; traders coming in might explain that.
"So," she said after a few moments, "you're interested in human activity?"
'I want to understand,' he said shortly. His response lacked any real annoyance or anger, and was instead incredibly uneasy and awkward, like he didn't know how to act around her anymore.
She understood that; he no longer hated her, truly believed she was as she said, but had hated her for so long. He'd get used to not hating her eventually.
"Well, there's lots to learn," she said cheerfully. "Do you understand humans yet, or just me?"
'Just you and the others from our island,' he said stiffly. 'Haven't spent enough time listening to humans talk.'
"Right. Well, I'll go over the basics once I know what's happening here." The streets were all but abandoned, and she could hear the hum of many voices in the distance. It was a cheerful, eager noise, one that reminded her of celebrations in other villages, events she had seen while passing through, on the run and unable to stop to enjoy the festivities.
They walked on in silence, until finally they turned a corner and saw the crowds they had been hearing. Scores of Vikings swarmed around the docks, men carried large crates to and from three ships that had clearly just arrived, and a fourth was visible on the horizon, sailing in at an impressive pace, so long as one wasn't comparing it to a dragon.
Nóttreiði tensed, stopping where he was. 'This looks hostile,' he said warily.
Heather shook her head. "No, nobody's hostile here. They're traders. Really popular ones." She didn't fully understand that; Vikings were pushy and impatient at the best of times, but the loosely-formed lines to board the traders' ships were moving incredibly quickly, which made no sense. How did they have time to haggle, going that quick? Everyone seemed to be in a huge rush, but not in a bad way.
"Let's go see what they've got on offer," she suggested. There was nothing else to do but dive into the crowd-
'Heather?' Einfari asked, chiming in. 'You do realize you're talking to Nóttreiði, right?'
'No,' Nóttreiði objected at the same time, growling under his breath. 'Some of those will be humans who are not allies.'
"Right, I forgot about that." Now that she looked, she could see a few of the obviously foreign visitors staring at them, noticing the silhouette of a dragon in the distance. None of the native Vikings seemed eager to explain, either.
'I will go do something else,' Nóttreiði volunteered.
'Don't let him go,' Einfari immediately objected. 'I wanted you two to spend time together!'
"Way to just admit it," Heather said under her breath, amused. "Or we can just watch from afar," she offered. "I don't have anything to trade, so it's not like I'll be missing out on a good deal."
'What do you mean by trading?' He turned his attention to the seething masses, staring as if unable to comprehend what he was seeing. 'What is the point of all this?'
"I'm not entirely sure why they're all doing everything so fast," Heather replied, watching the street between them and the crowd, just in case a foreigner decided to come investigate what they were seeing, "but generally, the people who sailed in go from island to island, taking some things and giving others, depending on what the people living there need or don't need."
'Like fish?' Nóttreiði asked. 'But can't they get their own? And what do the ones moving around get out of it?'
"Like... " She struggled to find a simple way to explain that would make sense to a dragon who was self-sufficient, didn't even really like other dragons outside of his family, and didn't produce anything others would need or want. The culture divide was vast, and Nóttreiði lacked even the very basics in understanding the differences.
"Yes," she eventually continued, "like fish. Imagine you want to eat many different kinds."
'Variety is good,' he agreed.
"But only one kind can be found in the water around the island," she elaborated. "You only get the one. But the dragons on the next island over get a different kind of fish, but only that one."
'So… I would have to go fish there and avoid them in case they do not like me stealing theirs?' he asked.
"Or," Heather objected, "you could talk to them, and you could both agree to fish up more than you need, and share."
He looked over at her, eyes wide and curious in a way she had never seen before. He looked… unguarded. Open. 'And the ones travelling from island to island, they get both kinds of fish without doing any of the work, in exchange for going back and forth all the time. I think I understand.'
'I do too, and so does dad,' Einfari chimed in. 'That was a good explanation.'
"Yes, exactly," Heather said happily. "That is what is going on here, on a large scale, with all sorts of things. Everyone cooperating, more or less. And since going from island to island is much more troublesome as a human, trading is more important."
'You say more or less.'
"Yeah, nothing is perfect. Everyone tries to make as much profit, keep as much fish for themselves, as they can. Sometimes people break the system for their own benefit." Thieves, liars and cheats, and those who just attacked traders in transit, though that was frowned upon and could get a tribe in serious trouble.
'Of course, humans would do that,' Nóttreiði grumbled.
"Like the Myrkurs," Heather added, just to mess with him. "Messing with people for personal amusement or gain."
Nóttreiði huffed and looked away.
'You told him,' Einfari crowed.
'And there are things down there that humans want?' Nóttreiði asked, not looking back over at her.
"Yes. Not just food, all kinds of things."
'Then you should go,' he offered again. 'I am hungry, anyway. If we must, we can meet in the fields after?'
Was Nóttreiði actually giving up a chance to avoid her for the rest of the day? Heather nodded, immediately accepting that compromise. She did want to go down there long enough to find out what the big deal was, and maybe look around. There could be something useful. A book on dragon injuries and recovery processes would be a godsend, but she'd settle for something interesting to mess with while staying in the hut with Togi.
"Yeah, sure," she agreed. "But I'm going to go back to the hut first, to get something to trade with, just in case."
Heather had hoped that by leaving with Nóttreiði, going back to the hut, and returning to the docks alone from a slightly different direction, that none of the foreigners would connect her with the girl standing in the company of a dragon they had seen from afar earlier. So far, it seemed to be working.
But even without the extra attention, she didn't like being in the midst of the crowd. Everyone was larger than her, in both height and width, and she felt trapped, standing in one of the rowdy lines leading to a stall hastily erected by one of the traders in front of their ship, in what she believed was an attempt to keep the masses off the ship itself.
Someone shoved her from behind the moment the thick line moved, and she stumbled forward. She whirled and glared at the man who had pushed her, but he just laughed, unconcerned. A foreigner; the people who lived here would all recognize her by now, and all who knew her knew who she represented.
She was almost used to being feared or disliked on sight. It was weird to be anonymous again. It reminded her of her time on the run, but for some reason, those memories weren't quite so painful anymore. She rarely thought about that part of her life nowadays.
The line moved again, and she intentionally waited a moment before stepping forward, all but daring the man to push her again. She wasn't going to be pushed around, literally or metaphorically.
And then, far quicker than expected, she was at the front of the line. The trader greeted her with a wide smile. "Weapon, food, or exotic?"
"Uhh… Exotic?" This wasn't how trading usually worked, but she wasn't here for anything in particular, so she could just play along without worrying about not getting what she needed.
"High value or low?" The woman pointed at her ax. "Trading something like that?"
"Just some of these," she replied, holding up the bag of various coins. Some of them were leftover from her time on other islands, and most weren't taken on this island, but a trader-
"Let me see." the woman all but snatched the bag from her and opened it. "Good enough. Medium value. Now, give me an idea of what you want."
"Books. Something useful and long." She could feel the pressure of the crowd behind her, everyone for some reason intent on getting their turn as fast as possible. Ironically, the very rush she wanted to ask this trader about prevented her from actually asking.
"Subject?" the woman asked, gesturing behind her to the ship. There was a loud clanking sound, like metal being shoved to the side.
"Healing," she decided. She might as well learn something useful, and reading about it sounded far more interesting than listening to Eldurhjarta.
"Healing books!" the woman called back. A few moments later, a sack was tossed over the side, hitting the docks with a thump. It had to contain at least a dozen different tomes, and looked heavy enough to be used as a weapon in a tight spot.
"Random, or do you want to look through them and pick one?" the trader asked, gesturing for Heather to step aside.
"I'll look, if that's okay." She was glad to get out of line, in any case.
"Just take one, or I'll set my guards on you," the trader warned.
"Got it." She crouched by the sack, mindful of the heavily armed men watching from the ship, and quickly pulled a few out.
None looked at all interesting on first glance, but she wasn't an expert on books. She only knew how to read because she had thought it worth learning a long time ago; she didn't usually seek out books.
She quickly settled on one that seemed, at first glance, to be focused on battlefield injuries, and held it up, waving it at the guards before leaving. Someone jumped off the ship to retrieve the sack before she had taken two steps.
'Okay,' Einfari said, speaking up for the first time since Heather had entered the line, 'can you please go ask someone what is going on? It's driving me crazy.'
"Me too. That was really weird." She didn't like this way of doing things at all. Trading was partly about looking over everything the trader had at leisure, seeing unexpected things, talking to the trader. None of that was happening.
A chorus shouts and yells distracted her from her thoughts, and she looked up to see one of the trade ships pulling away from the dock, leaving already. They had only been at the island for half a day!
"Hey," Heather called out, making eye contact with a random Viking and walking over to them. "What's going on today? I've never seen anything like this before."
The Viking, a man with a ridiculously large helmet and a club in his hand, pointed out at the remaining ships. "Trader race came in today. There are four o' them, an' they do this every year. First ta finish the route and make a profit wins. We 'elp 'em along by bein' quick about everythin'."
"I see. And the one that has yet to dock?" she asked, pointing out at the approaching ship, which was getting close.
"That one's losin'," the man replied. "Badly. Gonna be here until nightfall, probably. We've got a bettin' pool goin' over who wins, if yer interested?"
"No, just curious. Thank you for explaining." She lost sight of him as a surge of Vikings chanting something swept between them, headed for the taverns.
'So that is it. A competition based on speed.' Einfari sounded impressed. 'It is more reasonable than I thought it would be.'
"Reasonable?" Heather asked as she made her way out of the crowded part of the docks, heading through the village, intent on meeting Nóttreiði in the fields as planned.
'Competition drives improvement, according to dad,' Einfari explained. 'He says he bets they get faster every year, or learn new ways to do better.'
"Probably," she agreed. If that sort of frenzy was what came of traders focusing on speed and efficiency, she would just as soon they not bother, but maybe they profited more? She had at least gotten something out of it.
She held the book up and looked it over as she walked, turning the rough leather cover in her hands. It was simple, had no markings on the outside, and was filled with a spidery script alongside a generous amount of images-
Some of which, she noticed as she flipped through, were painfully graphic. But helpful; one in particular, depicting a wound half-sewn together, seemed like exactly what she needed, if not on the right subject.
'Does dad need help so much that you have to learn things the Eldurs don't know?' Einfari hissed, so quietly that Heather would have missed it if Einfari wasn't speaking directly to her.
"Oh, no," Heather said forcefully, not liking that idea at all. "He really is healing. I'm not keeping anything from you. This is just for me to learn more, and to have something to do." She could, hypothetically, be keeping a dire diagnosis from Fishlegs to herself for whatever reason, but that wasn't happening.
'Okay, just wondering…' Einfari trailed off. Then, a moment later, she spoke again, far more urgently. 'Wait, turn around.'
Heather immediately complied and saw what had Einfari worried. She had just walked by the storehouse used as a makeshift prison for Astrid, and there were no guards outside. There were always guards.
'I'm closing this door,' Einfari growled. 'Heather…'
"Stay there. If she's coming for Togi, you need to protect him." Einfari had just locked herself and Togi inside the hut, hopefully safe from Astrid. Nóttreiði was waiting in an open field; there was no way he would be in any danger. They had no way to find or contact Eldurberg, but he didn't like being in the village without Fishlegs there to speak for him, so he was probably out of danger too.
No, the only one in danger was Heather herself, and she could feel it. She didn't resent Einfari for picking Togi; she would have done the same, because if Astrid was going to go after any one of them, it would be him. But she felt the distinct lack of a Night Fury backing her up all the same.
She took her bow out, and drew an arrow, feeling more comfortable with it than with her ax, and approached the ominously unguarded storehouse. She leaned to the side and pushed one of the doors open, immediately readying herself to fire if someone came leaping out.
"Oy, get out o' the way, lass!" a familiar voice called. Rotison himself, leading a squadron of men bearing heavy crates, was approaching from the direction of the docks. "We gotta get through there!"
"Where is she?" Heather asked nervously. She thought she understood what had happened, and if so then there was no reason to worry, but until she heard it from Rotison and saw the truth for herself, she wasn't going to relax.
"Oh, don't worry yerself," Rotison said condescendingly as his men pushed through the doors, revealing a half-filled storehouse. "I 'ad her moved this mornin' when I saw the trader race approachin'. Needed the room."
"Right. Where is she now?"
"The storage cells on the side o' the cliffs," Rotison explained. "Much smaller, less wasted room, and no less secure. Now, if yer done questionin' my decisions as Chief o' my island, get out o' me face."
"Somebody feels cocky with the fleet gone," Heather muttered, leaving Rotison to his storage management. "Those cells aren't bad, as security goes. Actually built to hold people and dragons, I think. So…"
'False alarm?' Einfari offered hopefully.
"It still doesn't feel right," Heather admitted, beginning the walk back to the hut. Einfari had shut the door, and only Einfari would be able to open it again, though undoing a deadbolt was much harder for a dragon than slamming one shut.
'You said it yourself, built to hold humans or dragons,' Einfari said reassuringly.
"Yes…"
She had taken about a dozen steps when it hit her.
"Oh, gods," she said frantically, "dragons! Camicazi loosened all the hinges!"
The cell was easy to find, one among many though it was. It was the only one with no front grate and two dead guards in front of it, lying on the walkway in a pool of blood. Neither had a weapon on them.
"She could be anywhere on the island by now," Heather said morosely, picking her way past the bodies. She felt extremely helpless; having already sounded the alarm, there was nothing more she could do. It would be impossible to find Astrid by any method other than sheer luck, and it was obvious her luck was terrible.
'Eldurberg and Nóttreiði are staying in the field,' Einfari said reassuringly. 'There are guards around our hut. We are safe. Come back and be safe too.'
"In a moment." She didn't feel like she was in danger, as strange as that was. Astrid might be on a murder mission, looking for her and her people.
But something told her Astrid had other priorities. "She's been out for a while," she said, noticing how cold the corpses were, clearly not fresh. "He said he moved her here in the morning. Think she heard him and his men talking about why?"
'The traders that leave really fast?' Einfari asked, sounding like she understood. 'Oh.'
"Three are already gone," Heather observed, looking out at the docks. The crushingly dense crowd was still there, impervious to being searched in any meaningful way. "And I bet you a few weapons would buy passage to wherever they stop next, no questions asked.' And they couldn't even follow; the only dragons capable of flying out ahead and intercepting the traders were needed either here or on the Isle, or out on the offensive with the fleet.
'She could still be here,' Einfari offered.
"My bet is she's already gone, and out of our reach," Heather admitted morosely. "And it's our fault. Mine, and Camicazi's." They couldn't have known… But it had been their doing. Astrid was free because they had wanted to prevent Rotison from imprisoning their own people.
The moment Heather saw the fleet on the horizon, out on a long morning flight with Einfari, she knew the attack hadn't succeeded as well as anyone would have liked. There were too few Night Furies in the air, no jubilant Myrkurs racing ahead to trumpet their victory and steal the Vikings' thunder.
Einfari sped up and approached the fleet, flying to meet the single Night Fury and rider who rose from the ship. Maour and Toothless flew up to them and circled around to fly beside them.
"How bad?" Heather asked morosely, remembering her part in the humiliating failure that was Astrid escaping.
"Eldurvatn is dead," Maour said solemnly. "We did some damage, but not nearly enough for the price we paid to get that far."
'No,' Einfari whined. 'That's terrible. But just him?'
'Him, some Vikings, and a few of our ships,' Toothless reported. 'And Myrkurvængur isn't going to be fighting anymore. The Myrkurs don't think he's old enough to handle it.'
'So really, we lost two,' Einfari murmured. 'And we have bad news, too.'
"Nóttleiðtogi?" Maour asked worriedly.
'No, he's fine,' Einfari replied.
"Astrid escaped," Heather continued, feeling like it was her duty to actually break the news. "Rotison had her moved to the cells on the cliff, and I had asked Camicazi to sabotage them back when we first arrived months ago. She's long gone."
Maour scowled aimlessly, not at her, though she felt she would have deserved it. "I can't say I'm surprised," he admitted. "Not with how things have been going recently."
'I am surprised,' Toothless countered. 'She didn't go after anybody?'
"As far as we know, she never even tried," Heather replied. "We never found her, and three ships left port without anyone checking for her, so she had to have gotten away on one of them." Nobody being attacked was the one bright spot in Astrid's escape, and it was only bright because it wasn't the worst possible outcome.
"So she's still out there, probably making her way back to Dagur now," Maour concluded sourly. "Bad luck."
"My mistake. I should have stopped Camicazi."
Maour turned in the saddle to stare at her, looking confused. "Months before we even had a prisoner to worry about? Back when Rotison was trying to put our people in those cells?"
"It turned out terribly." She knew it was irrational, but hearing him say it like that made her feel stupid.
"Some things do. Doesn't mean the path to them was bad. Just unlucky."
'Something we should all keep in mind,' Toothless said vehemently. 'Einfari, are you dealing with a guilty rider too?'
'Yes,' Einfari said firmly, ignoring Heather's half-vocalized protest.
'I find that dropping them midair and then letting them fall for a bit helps cheer them up,' Toothless said. "Or at least forces them to think about the present for a moment."
'Good advice.' Einfari looked back at Heather. 'Don't hold on.'
"I-" Heather yelled as Einfari flipped and shook, completely dislodging her in a single movement, and sent her plummeting. She shut her eyes tightly and tried not to scream too loudly, knowing all too well that Einfari was probably falling right beside her, totally in control of the situation.
'This isn't so bad,' Einfari said as they fell, totally at ease. 'I should drop you more often.' With that, something bumped Heather's side, and she blindly grabbed on.
When she opened her eyes, they were gliding again, though she was facing the wrong way in the saddle.
'Feel better?' Einfari asked hopefully.
"I feel like I almost died," Heather complained. "Don't do that!"
'We really should practice free-falling,' Einfari said smoothly, totally ignoring Heather's request, 'and you sound less depressed.'
"Utter fear is not a solution to my mood!" She slipped around in the saddle to turn and face the right way.
'Then give me a real solution,' Einfari demanded. 'You've been moping around since Astrid broke out. I don't want to see that get worse because the attack didn't go so well. We'll have enough mourning and sadness to go around with the Eldurs losing one of their own.'
"You're right," Heather admitted. "Honestly, I'll feel better once this is all over." When Astrid and Dagur had been dealt with, when she could be sure her actions hadn't doomed them all in the long run.
'I hope so.' Einfari turned them back in the direction of the fleet. 'We should offer our condolences.'
"We should," she agreed absently. She wasn't looking forward to that. Truth be told, she was only looking forward to one thing. Finding out what was going to happen next. The attack had failed, they didn't have Astrid as a potential bargaining chip… Were they just going to sit and wait for Dagur to attack Mahelmetan again?
She didn't like that it felt, more than ever, that they were on the defensive, waiting for the next blow to fall and wondering how bad it would be.
'I did not expect you,' Nóttleiðtogi admitted. He lurched over, rolling onto his stomach with a speed that almost defied the severity of his injuries. The pained whine that forced its way out of him dispelled that illusion far too quickly.
Toothless felt distinctly uncomfortable, standing in a human hut far too small to comfortably contain two adult Night Furies. 'You asked for me.'
'You and Maour, one at a time. I thought he would come first,' Nóttleiðtogi explained. 'He is not listening in?'
'No, he's not. He's busy talking to the Chieftains, discussing our next move. I should be there with him.'
'I will not take much of your time. This is important.'
And just like that, Toothless felt his apprehension increasing. The patriarch of the Nótt family had a way of making him nervous, though he hid it as much as possible. He didn't feel threatened, exactly. It was hard to put a claw on why Nóttleiðtogi made him nervous. Maour certainly felt no such thing, and Nóttleiðtogi was Shadow's closest friend. He was, by all accounts, trustworthy and reliable, even when it came to humans, nowadays.
'I have spent a lot of time thinking,' Nóttleiðtogi began, grimacing as he spoke. 'For obvious reasons.'
'And you were thinking about…' Toothless prompted, wanting nothing more than to find out what it was so that he wouldn't have to wait in suspense any longer.
'It does not have a name,' Nóttleiðtogi said, still being maddeningly vague. 'Conditions, maybe. Requirements. What I have, what she had, and who else matches us.'
'I don't follow.'
'I know,' Nóttleiðtogi said with a wry purr. 'Sorry. You know the story of the pack, and more specifically of the female who used a strange power to free us?'
'Yes?' He had heard the highlights from Maour. It was certainly interesting, but he didn't see how it was relevant.
'I have twice now used that same power, whatever it is,' Nóttleiðtogi said bluntly. 'I have spent long days pondering how and why, and come to the conclusion that you and I have reason to speak.'
'You have used it?' This was huge! When had that happened?
'Once without realizing it, and then again, where it was pointed out. I must know, what was the worst moment of your life?'
'What?'
'What was your greatest failure?' Nóttleiðtogi pressed. 'A moment in which you strived to do more, only to fail?'
'My greatest failure?' He took the question seriously, and tried to think back. 'It has to be something I really failed to do, not just a moment I thought I would fail?'
'A true failure,' Nóttleiðtogi confirmed. 'A loss, a defeat, something you did not achieve. A time when you lost something precious.'
'Something precious…' He tried. He really did. But after an almost embarrassingly long time, he sighed and shook his head. 'I do not know if I have failed like that. I was only close to my mother in the nest, and I only feared her never coming back from a raid, which didn't happen. I almost lost both her and Maour a few times back in those days, but chance or Maour's clever plans always won out, even if I failed to do anything personally.'
Nóttleiðtogi rumbled thoughtfully. 'What about those times? The moments you personally failed? What was at stake?'
'My mother's life, and Maour's life,' Toothless immediately replied. That was easy; both had even happened at around the same time, within the same two days or so. 'Oh, and my own life.'
'And of course, that last one just wasn't as important,' Nóttleiðtogi mused.
'Well…' He really didn' have an answer for that.
'No,' Nóttleiðtogi continued, waving his tail dismissively, 'that's fine. It fits with what I am thinking.'
'And that is...?' Why had Nóttleiðtogi wanted to talk to him?
'I am thinking that I failed to prepare my son for real life, and then, in my desperation to correct that mistake later, used the ability to force him to learn,' Nóttleiðtogi said thoughtfully. 'Or to force him to obey, in the hopes of making him learn. I also used it to save him from what I saw as my own failure. There is a common thread, though I doubt I truly understand. There are too many missing pieces.'
'And you think I can use this power too?' Toothless asked. It was the only reasonable conclusion he could come up with. 'I never have felt anything that makes me think I can.'
'Neither had I. I didn't even notice while I was using it. Heather had to point it out.' Nóttleiðtogi shook his head. 'I know nothing. I suspect that using it requires great need and the feeling of failure, of regret, of the need to prevent something from happening again. That could explain all occurrences, and why none of the pack aside from me have used it.'
'That seems very specific. Why would it work like that?'
'I don't know, and like I said, I am almost certain that is not exactly it,' Nóttleiðtogi stressed, staring into Toothless's eyes. 'But I found it easier to use it when I was told I was doing so, and I suspect you and your mother are more likely to be able to trigger it, whatever the exact trigger is. You especially, because you are a leader.'
'Of what?' Toothless objected. He wasn't a leader; nobody listened to him above all else and did as he said.
'Your generation. Einfari says as much about you, and she does not like to admit that she follows someone else on occasion,' Nóttleiðtogi rumbled. 'It is not a big thing. Just that when you speak, in dangerous situations, others listen. Do not take it to heart. The same could be said of me, and I lead nothing but my family.'
Toothless caught himself just in time, and thought about the fact that he was about to object that Nóttleiðtogi did lead, because when difficult decisions needed to be made, the pack always turned to him and his mate for the cynical, careful opinion on the subject. If Nóttleiðtogi did not think he led, but it looked that way to everyone else, who was he to say that the same could not be said of him?
'Just keep it in mind,' Nóttleiðtogi advised. 'Do not count on it, do not rely on it. I cannot, and I know I can use it. I am advising you without having all the information, and that means I am probably wrong, missing something key.'
'But since knowing it is possible makes it easier, you thought I should know just in case,' Toothless summarized, finally understanding. 'Thanks, I guess. Why did you need Maour? I am going to tell him.'
'No, do not,' Nóttleiðtogi objected. 'He might accidentally relax and rely on you too much if he thinks you might be able to pull in some extra power in a moment of need. That's dangerous, and there is no advantage to him knowing.'
'I don't like keeping secrets,' Toothless objected, though even as he said it he knew he would end up keeping this one, for the good of everyone. Nóttleiðtogi had clearly thought this through.
'But you will keep this one?' Nóttleiðtogi pressed.
'I don't like it, but I don't have a choice, not really,' Toothless growled. 'And I don't like that you forced me into this.'
'I had as little choice as you. If there is an advantage to be seized, I have to work toward that, and this is the safest, most efficient way to do that.' He struggled to his paws, a process that took far too long. 'Because I am not going to be able to use it before this war is over. I am lucky to be alive at all. It will either not come into play, or someone else will use it. I would have every one of us using it if I could, but I think it will come down to one or two of us, and you are the most likely.'
'Okay.' He didn't like it, but he understood, and he understood that Nóttleiðtogi was willing to bear his resentment if it meant they had a better chance of surviving. Paradoxically, that made him less willing to resent Nóttleiðtogi. 'Can you show me?'
'Show you?' Nóttleiðtogi sighed and shook his head. 'I have not been able to do it since that night, though I feel like I should be able to. I don't know enough to even say why.'
'That's discouraging,' he admitted. 'I liked the idea of you being able to go crazy if anything bad happened around here.'
'So did I. And maybe I could, but just cannot do it until then.' Nóttleiðtogi sighed and lay back down. 'Could you tell me how the battle went? I know Maour will, but I want two perspectives from the same location, so that I can tell what is him exaggerating out of guilt.'
'How do you know he's feeling guilty?' Toothless asked.
'We've met regularly for years now. Understanding goes both ways.' Nóttleiðtogi waved his tail, urging Toothless to start talking.
Toothless did, but his mind wasn't on the fight. It felt like Nóttleiðtogi had given him a burden to carry, a secret burden of knowledge and responsibility, but he couldn't fault Nóttleiðtogi for that. If it helped him save people or turn the tide of this war, he'd thank Nóttleiðtogi for it afterward. They needed an edge.
Dagur stood at the edge of the still slightly scorched docks, watching a small, undercrewed ship sail in.
"Traders are like insects," he said to absolutely nobody, aware that there was nobody around and talking anyway. "Always showing up when you least expect them." He didn't know what this one thought they were doing, but it was definitely a trader's ship, and docking here, on the island he had claimed as his. They wouldn't be leaving alive.
No anchor was let down; a man was heaved overboard, his arms tied behind his back, and the entire crew jumped after him, presumably to save him, given he'd drown.
Dagur was already smiling when Astrid jumped down, landing in the water by the docks and pulling herself up, sopping wet and looking as if she hadn't slept in days.
"You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to kill anyone for days on end," she griped, wringing out her hair. "Do me a favor and slaughter them."
"I'll let them struggle to get that guy out of the water first," Dagur decided. "Once they think they've got away I'll let some of my men have fun with a chase and destroy training mission."
"That works." She shrugged her shoulders and swayed drunkenly. "Kept that one at swordpoint the whole way here."
"How'd you manage without sleep?" he asked curiously.
"The first trader I hitched a ride with had a lot of gold, and when I switched ships at the first port, I bribed one of them to help me. Be sure to get that gold back."
"Perfect." He approached her, slung an arm across her shoulders, and led her away. "So, how was the solo killing spree? I'm jealous."
"One seriously injured," she said grimly. "Lost my ax and stake."
"We'll get you one like mine," he immediately offered. "But you didn't kill any?"
"No," she growled. "But I got something better."
"Better?" He put off revealing his prize until later; this was more interesting.
"Get me a map and I'll show you."
Dagur and Savage stood over a wooden table, a map of the area spread across it. Astrid held a charcoal pencil. Gobber lounged in a corner, his head nodding drunkenly. He was awake and presumably paying attention, but only barely.
"Where's Mahelmetan?" she asked.
Savage silently pointed to the island in question.
"And how far can a dragon get from there in a single day's flight?" she continued. "How much faster is one than a boat?"
"I'm not sure," Savage answered. Dagur let him speak; he knew ships better than either of them. It was one of the things that made him useful. "I'd say four or five times faster?"
"Six, then," she concluded. "How far is that on this map? From Mahelmetan."
"What direction?" Savage asked, leaning over the map.
"All of them."
"So a circle…" He picked up his own pencil and painstakingly drew a circle a few inches in radius around the island. "There."
Astrid's smile had grown wide and cruel as Savage drew, and she wasted no time striking out with her own pencil, roughly scratching out one of the two islands inside the circle. "Occupied, nothing but a miserable village. I went there on the way here. So it has to be this one."
Dagur watched as Astrid drew a small circle around an island the map had labeled as dense, lifeless, and incapable of supporting life, only good for restocking fresh water. "That is what?"
"The island our men lost Heather on," Savage said eagerly. "That's the one."
"That," Astrid said slowly, drawing it out, "is their home. Heard from the mouth of your sister, when she didn't know I was there. She let slip that it was a day's flight from Mahelmetan."
A trio of dark smiles broke out around the map; Dagur could feel his mood settling firmly in sadistic anticipation. "Really. Well, we were going to attack Mahelmetan again, but that seems much more fun."
"Do they know ye know?" Savage asked. "Or can we catch them by surprise?"
"They have no idea," Astrid reassured him. "It will be a total surprise."
In the corner, Gobber's helmet slipped, and he slouched a little more against the wall.
"Then that's where we're going," Dagur decided. "Now, let me show you what we managed to accomplish while you were off on your own…"
Author's Note: And now that it's already happened, I can reveal that originally, Astrid was going to make it off the island immediately after the fight with Heather and the Notts. But I realized that just wasn't going to happen, and decided to let her spend a little time in jail first. Much easier to escape when her captors have gotten lazy, and their allies have unintentionally sabotaged them in the process. Having the perfect cascade of her escape route causing her captors to unknowingly put her in a sabotaged cage is just the fun way of getting her out.