The sound was so normal that Einfari almost missed it. Diving screeches were instinctive, providing intimidation and somewhere for the churning air in her mouth to go when forming a fireball.
But she wasn't supposed to be hearing any diving shrieks, not here and now, and she knew it meant something was going wrong, so she turned, trusting Heather to lean with her. 'Who was that?' she demanded, on the off chance that Heather would see first, and so that Heather knew why she was turning away from their chosen flight path.
"The screech?" Heather asked. "I don't know, maybe one of the Myrkurs forgot to hold it in?"
'Wouldn't be the first time they've disobeyed orders from mom,' Einfari grumbled, scanning the battlefield for the interloper. Nobody was making diving runs at the moment; there were no flaming sails up. Some of the others had landed on allied ships to rest for a moment, a few were in the thick of the fighting-
She saw them even as she thought about being in the midst of the fighting. Unidentifiable at this distance, a dark blur fighting all alone on a hostile ship, facing a group of Berserkers. There was no allied force backing up whoever that was!
'Trouble,' she barked, leaning into a dive without even thinking about it. The Fury ignored an opening to take off, either because of stubbornness or injury. She was far, high in the sky and above the other side of the field of battle, but she could be there in moments.
"Faster," Heather urged as they sped closer.
Einfari tried, pulling her wings in and allowing herself to fall as much as she flew. The fight was going badly, the Myrkur, for that was who they had to be, too skilled to be an Eldur and too reckless to be anyone else, was faltering-
A wiry, smaller Berserker met the Myrkur, and both stopped in a way that made Einfari tense her wings. Her worst fears were confirmed when the Myrkur slumped, clearly disabled or dead.
Heather spat something unintelligible, either because it was a curse Einfari didn't know or just not meant to make sense, and Einfari dove harder. If the Myrkur wasn't dead, they would intervene.
"No," Heather gritted, pulling on the saddle. "That was Dagur. He's not taking prisoners."
'Right,' Einfari snarled, turning aside well before anyone on the ship in question noticed her approach. She had been far too late, in the end, and she could see the archers lining up on the deck of the ship, ready to fire, undistracted by all of the chaos around them.
It hurt, seeing one of the people she had grown up around dead on an enemy ship, out of reach. She didn't even know who they were, whether it was Boom, Blast, or one of the older adults. Had the obnoxious but sometimes entertaining Myrkurheili been killed, or was it Myrkureyðileggingu, the crazy, enthusiastic old male? Or was it one of the parents, mother or father ripped away from their children? It hurt no matter who they were, but not knowing for sure somehow hurt more. They had just lost someone.
But, she reluctantly realized, as much as she wanted to avenge whoever that was, they had other priorities. Dagur would get what was coming to him; she was already bound to help Heather end him, and now it was just that much more personal. They just had to wait until either he was vulnerable or the only enemy left on the battlefield to deal with.
A sail burst into flame near where she had ended up, and she dove for that instead, glad to have something she could do, to take her mind off the madman they couldn't kill just yet.
Camicazi jerked her arm back as a Berserker threatened to crush it with a mace, wishing the ship would stop rocking for just one moment. Something had struck their ship, something big, and it was rolling back and forth as if it was about to sink, throwing her off.
She jabbed a knife at the Berserker's hand, forcing him to withdraw it or lose it, and swayed with the ship as it rocked back again, wishing she had more weight and a lower center of balance, like her mother. It would come in handy here-
Another mace swung in from behind, smashing down on the Berserker's helmet so hard she saw his eyes roll back in the instant before his body crumpled. One of her mother's best warriors, interfering. She gestured briskly for Camicazi to retreat, before turning to wade right back into the melee.
If this were the start of the battle, Camicazi would have refused, but she had been fighting for too long already, and was too tired to fight an order that probably came from her mother. She fell back from the rough battle lines, and another woman took her place immediately, shoring up the admittedly small gap she had left behind.
"Idiots," she heard her mother griping. She turned to see Bertha berating Thuggory, of all people. "Just because it's all gone to Hel doesn't mean throw away the plan for your own!"
"It wasn't my plan," Thuggory stressed. "They bashed our ship into yours before we retook the rudder."
"Fine, wha'ever," Bertha growled, waving her bloodstained sword at him and turning away. "I'm goin' back into the fight 'ere, we gotta clear our ships before we can do anythin' else."
"I already cleared mine," Thuggory retorted sullenly.
Camicazi wasn't about to miss the chance to needle him, in the middle of a battle or not, so she smirked in his general direction. "Finally returned to the battle?" she called out.
"I've been here this whole time," Thuggory said irritably, glaring at her. "How could I not have been? We're on ships."
"I don't know, it just seems like you disappeared the moment Mogadon's injury healed," she quipped, feigning casual interest. She was actually interested in the reason he had all but vanished since then, but she could annoy him and get answers at the same time if she played it right, stealing information and amusement in tandem.
"I stepped down as acting Chief once the true Chieftain was able to return to duty," Thuggory said stiffly, probably speaking more for the Meatheads he had brought over with him than for her. He knew by now that she didn't fall for that sort of thing.
"Sure, sure," she said sarcastically, "and he put you aside so he could feel in charge." She understood now; Mogadon had pushed his heir into the shadows out of insecurity, an ironic flaw in such a big, obnoxious man. That was something she and her mother could use to needle the Meatheads in the future… Assuming they all got out of this alive.
"Shut up," Thuggory said tiredly.
"So long as you don't go 'Dagur' on him," Camicazi admonished him.
"Shut up," he repeated. "What are those stupid dragons doing?"
"I thought you wanted me to shut up," she said, interested despite herself. A quick glance up showed nothing amiss, aside from there only being four dragons actually in the air. That was odd; the plan called for them to fly until…
"You idiots didn't follow the plan, did you?" she asked.
"Shut up," Thuggory repeated, apparently too stupid to come up with another retort.
"Oh, come on!" Camicazi said angrily. "It was so easy, so devious! Fight, draw some of them onto our ships, get their archers occupied, then let the dragons sink their ships!" She liked that plan, it was just the sort of thing her tribe would do.
"You try controlling Vikings when they get into a fight," Thuggory shot back.
Camicazi dramatically turned to face the slowly shrinking front lines, and the decided lack of a Berserker ship behind that. "Yes, it's impossible. Clearly I am hallucinating."
"Real Vikings," Thuggory corrected himself.
"Real idiots!" She didn't bother asking how badly the Meatheads had screwed up; Thuggory wouldn't give her a real answer. Instead, she ran to the prow of the ship and looked out over the battlefield, or in this case battle-ocean.
Chaos, complete and utter chaos. In other circumstances it would have brought a smile to her face, but chaos instead of a clever plan was just disappointing. There were sinking Berserker ships, but far too many remained afloat, some were maneuvering over to the side, and the Meathead warships were all still locked in combat with what she assumed were the first Berserkers to reach them. Those ships still had intact sails, archers watching the skies, probably making things hard for the dragons, and definitely defending their ships.
"Your people are braindead," she declared scathingly. There were dragons fighting on Meathead ships, probably because they couldn't do anything else at the moment. That wasn't supposed to happen, and it was all the Meatheads' fault. The dragons were ripping through enemy lines, it seemed, relatively safe from archers when they were in the thick of it, but they weren't as efficient fighting like common soldiers.
"So are the Waxears and Rockbreakers, then," Thuggory grunted. "It was a stupid plan."
"It was working until everyone else screwed it up," Camicazi retorted, not taking her eyes off the panorama of violence in front of her. She could even see a few Berserker ships breaking the line of defense; a group of Berserkers had overrun one of the Meathead warships entirely, and was using it to break the line.
As she watched, a dragon dove, aiming for the captured Meathead vessel, and was shot down. It fought on the deck and was quickly killed, though she was too far away to see by who, or how. Maybe they weren't so great on the ground when they were surrounded and alone, but that wasn't supposed to happen.
"Idiots," she repeated, knowing that there was nothing she could do but rant about it. She was stuck on a ship, and the larger battle was passing them by. Whatever that big group of untouched Berserker ships was doing off to the side, there was nothing anyone could do to hinder them, not when everyone was busy fighting the enemies that should have been quickly dealt with.
Nothing anyone stuck to the ground could do, anyway. Maybe the dragons could pull this mess out of the fire before it was too late. If they could just find a way around being shot out of the sky whenever they got close to an undistracted Berserker ship, that was.
Camicazi wiped her knives on the railing and decided to go back to the front lines and help her mother finish off the Berserkers. It was a small thing, almost inconsequential in the larger battle, but maybe once they could focus on the larger battle, they could make a difference.
The roars of two Night Furies at close range had a devastating effect on Berserkers. Not fear, not in the middle of a hand to hand battle, but the pure volume disabled them for a moment, much as metallic clanging did for dragons.
Maour knew this well, and when both Toothless and Cloey roared in unison, he took the chance to hook the curve of his scythe over a shield and yank it down before jabbing forward, breaking the front line for everyone else.
'Arrows!' Toothless called out, ducking and jerking back to avoid an ax blow as a trio of arrows flew overhead. Cloey had opted to haul a Berserker up to cover herself, and Maour just ducked a little, facing the next Berserker in the defensive line.
This wasn't the plan, but the plan had faltered and failed almost from the beginning, and this had to be done anyway. These Berserkers had seized one of the few Rockbreaker warships, and had enough archers that they couldn't be sunk from the outside. Fighting on the deck, along with a few Waxears from the next ship over, was the only fast way to retake the ship before it could be used to wreck the defensive line further.
Thus, the Berserkers were defending a ship that wasn't theirs. Thankfully, that very fact was tripping them up; Rockbreaker ships were messy and littered with metal chains that substituted for certain ropes, tripping hazards for the average Viking.
Seeing one such coil of heavy metal links, Maour shifted to the side and let the next Berserker run right into it in an attempt to overwhelm him. Cloey slammed the edge of her wing down on the Berserker the moment he tripped, driving him to the deck with such force that his upper body bounced.
'Get the shield down,' Toothless grunted, dodging three different axes thrown from the dwindling crowd. It wasn't clear who he was asking, but Maour could see the shield he meant, a heavy circular one being held in front of two archers. A strong blast would probably get one of them, but fire was in short supply.
'On it,' Cloey barked, stepping back to let two Waxears past, and by extension gaining a moment of respite. She was bleeding from a few shallow cuts, but most of the blood on her was from the Berserkers.
Cloey crouched, and Toothless roared loudly as she did, drawing everyone's attention to him for a moment. A silent leap had Cloey behind the lines, and a quick sweep of her paws had both archers and the shieldbearer over the railing, blindsided and out of the fight just like that. She proceeded to rip into the back line, taking advantage of their distraction.
Even as he hurried forward to help mop up the last of the Berserkers, Maour felt out of place. He could fight, though he had done precious little of it up until now, but he didn't feel right in the middle of a pitched battle. Not when his brother and mother were there, in danger, and he couldn't do anything to protect them. Their skill aside, it made him worry, though he knew that was a stupid way to feel in the middle of a battle.
"Charge!" one of the Waxears yelled, and they all ran forward, joining the fray. It was over in moments, the enemy beset on both sides.
'That was messy,' Toothless observed, licking a shallow gash on his paw. 'Easy, though. It's nice when there aren't a dozen archers aiming at us at all times.'
'That's the way we fight best,' Cloey agreed, leaping back over the pile of bodies the final push had left behind. 'I'm out of practice.' She was sporting a new wound on the side of her neck, a long slash with a strange depression in the center.
"What happened?" Maour asked worriedly. Cloey was acting as if it was fine, but it didn't look fine.
'Someone swung a mace, and I didn't hit them in time,' Cloey said briskly, tilting her neck to either side. 'It was already stinging, and now it aches too, but I'm fine.'
'This is a lot of blood,' Toothless observed, licking his mother's wound. 'Maybe you should stay here for a little while.'
'I've taken far worse, it just looks bad,' Cloey said confidently. 'I'm okay. What about you two?"
"Fine here," Maour reported.
'Cuts, scrapes, nothing more,' Toothless said confidently. 'They weren't ready for us, and they weren't fast enough.'
'Humans are almost never fast enough, the trick is hurting them without getting hurt at the same time,' Cloey asserted. 'But this is just one fight. Go see where else you can help. I'm going to stay here until the bleeding stops, then go find another fight to help with.'
"Stay safe," Maour said.
'Brother, we're in the middle of a battle,' Toothless snorted. 'But yes,' he added, 'safe.'
'No promises,' Cloey rumbled. 'That always seems to lead to them being broken.'
'If you say so,' Toothless rumbled. The moment Maour settled into the saddle he was off, leaving their mother and one liberated ship behind, trading the small fight for the larger battle, which had continued without them.
Maour's heart sank as he took in the scene below. It was all falling apart. Everyone was still fighting, but there were too many Berserker ships, and some were as of yet untouched, slowly sailing around the entire battle, aiming for the island. The Furies were doing great when they could get into a fight without being shot at on the way there, but there were precious few such fights available, and their human allies were severely outnumbered.
'Good thing nobody is home,' Toothless said quietly, looking at the Isle. 'Think we can stop them?'
"Not without somehow freeing up the rest of the fleet or becoming invulnerable to arrows,' Maour admitted. There were too many Berserkers, and the entire defending line was tied up in fighting them. Most of the other Furies were down on the ships, fighting where the archers couldn't easily target them, and they were likely all low or entirely out of fire.
'And somehow ignoring my shot limit,' Toothless added. 'I have a few left, but I'd need a lot more than a few for that.' He sounded almost hopeful, though that was an impossibility.
Maour thought about it as they glided above the conflict. "Maybe we can gather everyone up to do a run at them?" he proposed.
'The arrows,' Toothless reminded him. 'I think we have to leave them be for now.' He sounded mad about that, a sentiment Maour wholly agreed with. They had gotten this far, but if those ships made land, the one thing they couldn't keep safe would be ruined. Even with everyone long gone from the island, that stung.
But there wasn't anything he could do to stop it, and if he wanted to be effective he had to focus on the things he could change. The island was serving as a decoy, a distraction, and to a good fifth of the remaining Berserker warships. That was a small victory if he looked at it in the right way. If those ships had joined the battle, they would be losing by a huge margin, the way things were going.
"We have to focus on the Berserkers fighting right now," he decided. "Any flaming sails?"
'None, and none coming soon,' Toothless grunted. 'What can we do?'
"Go after some of the more active targets, I guess," Maour decided. It was risky, but if anyone was going to sink the ships that weren't distracted and probably wouldn't be at any point in the near future, it would be him and Toothless. They were the best fliers. Attacking a whole group of undistracted ships wasn't doable, but a lone ship might be.
'Okay…' Toothless looked to the left, and then to the right, surveying the battlefield. 'Where is Dagur?'
"No clue." The same went for Astrid. He hoped neither of them was on the currently untouchable portion of the fleet heading for the Isle, but it seemed likely. Probably Astrid, she was more obsessed with spiting him and destroying his home, specifically.
'Let's find him,' Toothless decided, flying lower. 'We can take him out.'
"Good plan." That was something they could do, something they would have to do at some point.
'And look for Einfari,' Toothless added as they descended. 'She and Heather might have seen where he is.'
"Right there," he said, directing Toothless' attention to one of the ships below. He had already noticed Einfari and Heather fighting aboard one of the Berserker ships, aiding an invading group of Meatheads who were obviously flaunting the order to hold back.
Toothless carefully angled in towards the ship and dropped down behind the allied lines.
"Here to help?" Heather asked, drawing an arrow and aiming.
'We are taking a breather,' Einfari panted from atop the ship's cabin. 'I'm out of shots.'
"Toothless still has a couple of shots, and we were thinking of using them where they would make the most difference," Maour said quickly. "Any idea where we could find Dagur or Astrid?"
'He retreated to one of his ships,' Einfari replied. 'The one with two catapults and men lining the sides, back just out of reach. We wanted to go after him, but again, I have no fire, and he isn't distracted.'
'Astrid?' Toothless pressed.
'Your guess is as good as mine.' Einfari slipped off the cabin and landed heavily on her paws. She sported a few cuts around her front paws, but otherwise seemed unhurt. 'I am going to jump back in and help them finish this.'
"Warn me first," Heather remarked, staring at the bloody conflict covering the opposite end of the ship. "This is all going bad."
'We're doing what we can,' Toothless huffed. 'You do not mind that we're going after Dagur?'
"It's war, kill him if you can," Heather said firmly. "I don't care who does it so long as it's done."
'If we can,' Toothless murmured to Maour as they took off. 'What's the plan for dealing with the archers?'
"I'm thinking fake dive them three times, pretend to fly away, and then fake dive again," Maour proposed, improvising the least predictable pattern he could come up with. "The fifth dive will be real, fire at Dagur, or the archers if you can't see him." If they could clear off enough of the enemy's defensive firepower, another quick firing pass would be safe.
'Sounds good,' Toothless agreed, winging his way toward another part of the battlefield. 'I see the ship she means. Near the edge, pulling away from the Meatheads.'
With that direction and a quick glimpse through Toothless' eyes, Maour saw it too. It was a ragged ship with a hole in the deck, one of those the rock-dropping run had struck but not sunk, and the two catapults were distinct, as was the black, misshapen helmet Dagur wore. He stood apart from his archers, just far enough away that any strike against him would fail to hit them, and vice versa, but that wasn't a problem, not with this plan. Maour had already assumed Dagur wouldn't be stupid enough to stand in the middle of his men in this sort of fight. "Ready," he said, crouching in the saddle.
The first false dive was loud and dramatic, Toothless screeching angrily as they fell, in a way that Maour was fairly certain none of the Berserkers would recognize as distinct. It was different, not the usual prelude to a blast because Toothless wasn't building up a shot, but in the heat of battle it was more than close enough.
A hail of arrows and one boulder rose to meet them, and Toothless pulled up short before circling around. The archers and crossbowmen bent to reload, and Maour could hear a distant yell that sounded distinctly unhinged. Dagur waved an ax at them.
The second dive run elicited even more of a response than the first, both catapults firing, and again an angry yell from Dagur. Toothless flew faster, and began his third dive run immediately, dropping into dangerous territory before they could all reload, and flying back out to a safe range just as they fired.
'Can we do this until they have nothing to shoot?' Toothless asked as he feigned retreating for a long moment.
"Maybe for the catapults, but not the archers." They could have upwards of sixty bolts each, if they had come well prepared, and that was assuming this ship didn't have any more in storage. That would take most of the day, and the battle would be all but over by then. Not to mention, Dagur's ship was heading straight for an in-progress battle between three ships, two Meathead and one Berserker. If he reached that fight, he'd get lost in the conflict, and things would get much harder for them.
'I'll stick to the plan, then,' Toothless rumbled, abruptly turning around and diving for a fourth time. The response he got was hesitant, slower and less thorough, fewer arrows wasted. They were beginning to expect each new dive was another fakeout.
Toothless launched into the fifth dive, the real one, without hesitating, following the pattern he had established. Then he kept moving, diving steeply and spiraling as he went to throw off archers, charging up a real shot, not a fake shriek-
Maour felt the moment things went wrong; Toothless dipped to one side to avoid something, throwing off their flight path, and didn't pull up from the dive they had committed to. The tailfin bucked against his foot, and Toothless flapped frantically, slowing them down, but not enough.
The impact rocked Maour in the saddle, and he only barely kept his face from slamming into Toothless' neck. His brother buckled under him, having landed on his paws and stomach.
Neither of them had taken the landing well, but Maour sat up and grabbed for his scythe as soon as he could breathe again, despite the ache he could feel all throughout his body.
"Talk about a dramatic entrance!" Dagur enthused from somewhere nearby. They had landed on one of the catapults, Maour noticed as Toothless stumbled off of the wreckage. Chunks of wood and metal connecting pieces were scattered with every movement.
"Or it would have been," Dagur added thoughtfully, crossing Maour's line of sight, a safe distance away at the moment, "if you hadn't faked us out so many times first. Takes all the fun out of it." He shook his head, jostling the macabre, poorly-crafted helmet he wore to the point where it looked like it might fall off.
Maour kept his eyes off the disgusting helmet and subtly tested the tailfin, flicking it to hopefully signal Toothless that now would be a good time to fly away. The archers were all holding their fire for some reason, but that didn't make them any less of a threat.
But in flicking the tailfin, he felt an uneven jolt of resistance, and in the foreboding silence, heard fabric rip on something. The tailfin was broken, and until he could replace it with one in Toothless' saddlebag, that meant they were grounded.
'Get him talking,' Toothless groaned, shaking his head. 'Play for time.'
"Had to get close enough to make the entrance at all," Maour quipped. He didn't know what he was stalling for, aside from the thin hope that someone else would see their predicament and come to the rescue. That probably wasn't going to happen; everyone else was tied up in their own individual fights. There were no Night Furies surveilling the battlefield from above at the moment.
"Yeah, but you did it in such a cowardly way!" Dagur exclaimed. "Make the dragon dive in and take the arrows, smash it through the deck, and jump off at the last second, that's what I would have done."
"It actually doesn't work that way," Maour countered. "You can't jump off a diving dragon and expect to survive the impact, you're still moving at the same speed." He slid his scythe around to rest on his lap, and slowly pulled his boot free of the prosthetic, just in case. This was going to get violent as soon as Dagur's mood flipped to anything other than his current amiable interest in dramatics, and he would be ready when that happened.
"Fine, whatever," Dagur conceded. "So, ready to die?"
Toothless bared his teeth and snarled.
"Perfect! Come at me!" Dagur crouched, holding his ax with the blade at chest height. "I've already killed one Night Fury today!"
"And you want to up your personal score?" Maour asked, his voice deceptively level. If the Berserkers were led by someone sane, he and Toothless would already be dead, filled with arrows the moment they crashed, but Dagur was in charge. There was something that held him back from doing exactly that.
"Duh," Dagur grunted.
"Sir!" Savage called out from the far end of the ship. "This is a bad plan. We can just fill them with arrows!"
"Shut up and look around, Savage," Dagur shot back, not taking his eyes off of Toothless. "We're winning. I can afford to have some fun."
"Two on one," Maour proposed, leaping at the chance. "If we win, we get to leave."
"No way," Dagur laughed scornfully. "You win, my men fill you with arrows. Either die now, or die fighting me. If you're lucky, die having bested me!"
'Still better than dying now,' Toothless growled. 'Maybe someone will intervene.'
"Fighting is the only choice, really," Maour agreed. He dismounted, seeing no benefit in weighing Toothless down and limiting his own mobility. For the moment, all they could do was fight. Maybe if they took Dagur hostage…
That was a plan. He felt better about the terrible situation they had stupidly flown into, having a way out in mind. Stall, take Dagur hostage, or if all else failed at least take him out of the fight.
Dagur stalked forward in a way that could only be described as predatory, slowly closing the distance between them, smiling eerily.
"No cheating, either," Dagur called out as he walked.
'I'll cheat my wings off if I figure out how,' Toothless snarled. 'Maour, I'm not going to use my last shot unless I have to. We want to stall, not kill him instantly.'
Maour nodded, glad they were on the same page, and leveled his scythe at Dagur, pointing the outside edge of a blade in his direction. Toothless bared his teeth threateningly and stepped out to the side.
"Don't try circling around me," Dagur warned. "It's too bad Astrid isn't here. I would have loved to fight you two on two."
"Where is she?" Maour asked.
"Somewhere important," Dagur sang out, his voice rising eerily for no apparent reason. Between that and the butchered half-skull he wore as a helmet, he looked and sounded far more unhinged than usual.
"And you aren't?" Maour asked, stepping to the side. He and Toothless were slowly spreading out, catching Dagur between them. The archers lining the far sides of the ship made him nervous, and in circling around he was putting his back to them, but there was nothing he could do about that.
"I like being the leader of the violent distraction force," Dagur remarked. He was turning to follow Maour for the moment, and occasionally glancing over at Toothless. "She got the boring end of the stick. Also, I said no circling. Penalty shot!"
Maour ducked the moment he caught Dagur's meaning, and Dagur took that moment to rush him, chopping his ax downward the moment he was in range. Maour chose not to block, instead throwing himself to the side and lashing out with his scythe without looking.
Toothless came up behind Dagur and slashed a pawful of razor-sharp claws at his head, raking the garish helmet he wore and tearing it off. Dagur rolled forward the moment his helmet pulled free, slapped the blade of Maour's scythe into the deck, and spun to face them both.
"You knocked my hat off," he complained petulantly, his tone totally at odds with the circumstances. "Penalty shot!"
Maour ignored the intended distraction this time and swung his scythe forward-
Then the wind was knocked out of him as something impacted his leg from behind, hitting the back of his knee and making his leg buckle. He lost his grip on his scythe, and only Toothless' enraged roar and full-on attack stopped Dagur from taking advantage of his weakness.
'They fire on us when he says that!' Toothless snarled as he forced Dagur away. Maour could now see a crossbow bolt jutting out of his hind leg. His own leg was fine, but only because the bolt had glanced off of his scale armor. That wouldn't happen with a more direct hit.
"I'd call that cheating," Maour said angrily. He had hoped Dagur was crazy in a way that meant fighting fair, not having his men shoot whenever he felt like it.
"It's fun," Dagur panted smugly. "I get to fight a Night Fury and a coward, and my men get to take shots whenever you annoy me."
"Such honor," Maour deadpanned.
"Who gives a flying yak about honor?" Dagur snorted. "Shut up and fight!"
Toothless flexed his back paw, taking advantage of the momentary lapse in combat. It hurt; there was an arrow lodged in exactly the wrong place. He was effectively fighting with three paws and a trashed tailfin.
Dagur said something and leveled his ax at Maour, and Toothless jumped forward, not trusting himself to walk without showing weakness. The ax flipped around to swing at his face, but he had expected that and stopped short, swatting the flat of the blade out of the air.
A snap of teeth right in front of Dagur drew his attention, allowing Toothless to jab forward with a paw and rake claws across Dagur's legs, though he couldn't take the time or pressure to dig deep, past the leather and into flesh. Every time he struck, he had to force himself not to go for the killing blow, and then was forced away by the blade he just couldn't keep out of the way long enough. Not being able to use both paws or walk normally wasn't helping, and as great as Maour was at fighting, they were both hampered by not wanting Dagur dead. Fighting to keep the enemy alive and one's own hide intact was far harder than just fighting to kill.
Given the option, Toothless wouldn't have taken this fight at all. He had agreed to a risky dive attack, not a brawl with archers at his back and arrows paining his every move. He hopped back, carefully holding his injured paw up so as to not scrape the arrow on the ground, and let Maour hook the ax with his scythe.
Dagur grabbed the haft of the scythe and pulled forward, unhooking the two weapons and yanking Maour toward him.
Toothless moved forward without thought, stubbed the arrow in his paw on something, and almost buckled under the pain. His patience for this stupid fight was all but gone, and he shrieked at Dagur so loudly that the man took his eyes off of Maour-
And Maour, taking advantage of the distraction, drove his knee into Dagur's stomach and yanked both their weapons away in a single move. Scythe and ax tumbled to the deck in a clatter nobody heard over his screech, and he flicked his ruined false tailfin over the weapons, catching them and dragging them away from Dagur's reach.
"Penalty!" Dagur yelled, slipping away from Maour before either he or Toothless could do anything.
Toothless hopped in front of Maour and snarled, but it was too late. Two arrows struck him in the side, and one sunk into Maour's right arm.
"Ax me!" Dagur commanded, and one of his men threw him another ax. He grinned maliciously at them, but his wild eyes and heaving chest betrayed his anger. "One win for you idiots," he sneered. "Now get up and fight me!"
Toothless snarled, his mind racing. He had no flight, so they had no way out, and the roar he had already let loose was the best he could do when it came to hopefully attracting the attention of allies. He had already fired all but one of his shots, and one wasn't going to be enough to stop anything, not when they could assume Dagur's death would lead to a hail of arrows. They were trapped in this sadistic, unfair, unending fight, and they were both hurt. Maour was hurt, because Toothless hadn't been able to shield him in time.
"I'm okay," Maour said unconvincingly, an arrow jutting from his upper arm. "You?"
"He's got three arrows in him, idiot," Dagur called out. "Stop tending to your wounds, or I'll have them shoot you again. Real warriors fight through the pain!" He tapped the flat of his ax against his left shoulder pauldron and grimaced at them.
Maour bent down to pick up his scythe, but he hesitated, and Toothless could tell that Dagur saw it. The moment Dagur's expression twisted to a sneer, his mouth opening to deliver another order, Toothless gave up and inhaled deeply.
Disdain turned to alarm as Dagur leaped to the side and then scrabbled backward. Toothless shot a quick blast, his aim unerring, but Dagur had pulled one of his men in front of him. The orderly line of Berserker archers fell into disarray for an all too brief moment-
Toothless found he could fire again, so he did, not even thinking about it. Again, his blast wreaked havoc in the Berserker lines, but Dagur was well hidden behind his own men, and taking to the air to weed him out wasn't an option.
"Kill them if it fires again!" Dagur yelled from somewhere out of sight. Toothless hesitated, instinctively sticking out a wing to cover Maour, and held in his next shot, letting it die away. He couldn't deal with them all, not when the group behind him was entirely unscathed.
"I guess it does understand," Dagur added, stepping out into the open and kicking the scorched bodies that had shielded him. "No more fire, we're fighting man to man here."
'Don't react.'
Toothless managed to turn his startled bark into a mocking noise that hurt his throat, but only barely. 'Einfari?' he asked hopefully. He couldn't see her anywhere, but unless he was going crazy, he could hear her.
No, he decided, not crazy, because Maour was picking up his scythe and hiding a grin. They were both hearing her.
'Keep that group's eyes on you,' Einfari continued. She sounded as if she was very close. 'We are going to thin out the ones behind you.'
Toothless could only think of one way to keep so many eyes on himself without getting shot, so he stalked forward, his side and legs aching every step of the way, and snarled at Dagur.
"Round two!" Dagur yelled, throwing himself forward. Toothless swatted his ax away almost without thought, held back the blast he had brought up by accident, and twisted his body to the side, bringing his tail into play from one side as Maour attacked from the other. Usually he didn't like putting his tail in danger, but the more of himself he had between the Berserkers in front of him and the ones behind him, the better.
Dagur fended off their attacks, baring his teeth in a feral grin of rage, and punched Toothless in the nose. Toothless tried to bite his hand off, but noticed the curved knife Dagur held clenched in his fist just in time and cut the snap short, taking a slash across the nose instead of a blade driven into his mouth.
Maour did his part in keeping Dagur's ax occupied, but at this close range that did as much to keep Toothless from lunging in as anything else, curved blades jerking back and forth in front of him. He pulled his tail back, not willing to lose another fin to their unpredictable struggle, and stood still for long moments as Dagur tried to disengage and do something, though he knew his inaction would seem strange to all watching. So long as they didn't figure out that something else was going on, that was fine.
'When I say go, attack the ones in front of you,' Einfari called out. 'Be ready!'
"Fight me!" Dagur screamed, stabbing at Toothless with his knife while he tried futilely to yank his ax free. Toothless leaned back, avoiding the clumsy blows and waiting for the signal, which only seemed to enrage Dagur further.
"Let go of my ax!" Dagur abruptly yelled, turning his knife against Maour. Maour ducked to one side and twisted his scythe, using the other blade to force Dagur's hand back while still tangling his ax with the front. Dagur couldn't pull without stabbing himself, couldn't shove forward without impaling himself, and couldn't slash without cutting himself. Toothless wished he had enough claws to do something like that for himself.
"Penalty shot!" Dagur yelled, dropping his weapons and jumping back into the small crowd of Berserkers.
'Attack!' Einfari called out.
Toothless fired a small blast at the feet of the Berserkers, and then another two into the crowd. It hurt to leap anywhere with the arrows in his side, but he jumped forward anyway, and then flung his wings out to either side, shoving with all of his strength.
Other Furies swarmed up the sides of the ship, two Eldurs, and tore into the remaining Berserkers. Toothless ignored them for the most part, his eyes on the red-faced, ax-wielding maniac scrambling to get clear. Dagur was yelling something incoherent, but it didn't matter; he was out of people to give orders to.
The sudden assault ended as quickly as it had begun, and there was an abrupt lack of noise aside from the panting of Eldurfjall and Eldurberg, the latter having no rider for some reason. Dagur was standing at the prow of the ship, weapons in hand and a crazed look in his eyes.
'Ship's clear,' Einfari remarked casually. Toothless turned to look at her, and was surprised to see an angry glare in both her eyes and Heather's.
'What?' he asked, confused.
'I thought better of you two,' Einfari said scathingly. 'What were you thinking, coming down here? You were going to die!'
"We weren't planning on landing," Maour objected. "A lucky shot forced us out of the sky, and Toothless' tail ripped.' He sounded as surprised as Toothless felt.
'Still stupid,' Einfari complained, but her gaze softened a little.
"But it worked out," Heather countered, looking past Toothless with hard eyes. "Because someone really was stupid, having all of his men focus inward instead of watching the sky."
Toothless shuffled to the side to let Einfari and Heather past, and nosed at Maour's arm. 'Does it hurt?' he asked.
"Not as much as three arrows probably do," Maour said, walking around him. "Let me get these out, at least."
'After.' He wanted to see Dagur dealt with first. It wouldn't take long, given the Berserker in question was cornered by four Furies and two riders.
Einfari glared victoriously at the panicked little human, feeling triumphant and wary, a mix she was sure only her family could contemplate. Maour and Toothless certainly weren't wary right now, murmuring to each other in the back. Sure, they had three dragons between themselves and the only current threat, but still.
"Drop the weapons or die this instant," Heather called out. Surprisingly, Dagur complied, letting his weapons fall and then kicking them behind him, off the ship, for good measure.
'Why are we not attacking?' Eldurfjall asked impatiently.
'It is called savoring the moment,' Einfari snorted. 'Just shut up and look threatening.' She wasn't sure how Heather wanted to approach this, but nothing good ever came of a Myrkur acting out because they were bored.
"You know, I'm glad you're crazy," Heather remarked, staring down at Dagur from Einfari's back. "It makes you stupid."
"I'm not stupid, dear sister of mine," Dagur retorted, his back to the waste-high railing that ran around the ship. He had the gall, or perhaps the insanity-granted confidence, to grin at her. "I took a risk and had some fun."
'Even worse, then,' Einfari said dismissively. She was glad he hadn't killed Maour and Toothless the moment he had the chance, but being thankful that the enemy wasn't cunning didn't translate to approving of their moves in the abstract. She never would have made the mistake of playing with her prey before snapping its neck, though even in thinking that something felt wrong-
'We shouldn't make the same mistake,' she blurted out, seeing the parallel. 'Heather, do you want to kill him or should I?' This was the exact scenario they had spoken of before the battle began, and the perfect setting to act on it. There would be no Viking witnesses to say they had broken some stupid Viking honor by killing the Chieftain of the enemy instead of taking him prisoner. They weren't going to taunt their prey before leaping for the kill, and they certainly weren't going to let the prey go.
"You're still welcome to become a Berserker," Dagur offered, ignorant of his fate being decided. "We're winning, join the winning side!"
"Even if you had already won, I'd only join to stab you in the back the moment I got a chance," Heather gritted. "I'm done being chased, done watching people I care about being threatened by you and your worthless tribe."
"Low blow," Dagur said lightly. "Come on, don't you feel the blood lust, the desire to win and kill?"
"Not at all," Heather said firmly. "If anything, I'm disgusted by how stupid and obvious you are. Einfari, you can kill him if you want."
'What?' Einfari asked. She had assumed Heather would.
"I don't feel the need to kill," Heather said coldly, her words obviously aimed at Dagur. "Why would I?"
"Disappointing," Dagur sighed, sounding for all the world as if he really was disappointed. Einfari didn't know whether that was her lack of experience in deciphering human sounds or his insanity at work. "But I have one more thing to-"
Even for a Night Fury, Myrkurheili was fast; Einfari barely had time to register the Myrkur's lightning-fast arrival before he was lunging forward and biting down on Dagur's body. He reared on his hind legs, violently shook Dagur's body, and slung him over the side. Something broke, and the bulk of Dagur's body splashed into the water.
'Drown,' Myrkurheili spat viciously, tossing the limb he had ripped off into the water. He glared at the place Dagur had disappeared.
Einfari walked up to the railing and looked down, checking for bubbles. None appeared; there was no sign of Dagur in the water. Even his arm had sank, weighted down by the pauldrons.
'You were being stupid,' Myrkurheili spat, unknowningly turning Einfari's complaint about Maour and Dagur back on her. 'Kill the enemy immediately.'
"We were about to," Heather said.
'Not soon enough.' Myrkurheili snarled and turned away from the railing, glaring at everyone and everything. 'He and his followers killed Eyðileggingu. Every moment they still breathe is one too many."
That same sinking grief from before crystallized in Einfari's gut at those words. She knew now who had died. Myrkureyðileggingu, the oldest dragon in the pack, the only one who had grandchildren. She barely knew him, but her mother spoke well of his enthusiasm and energy in old age, and he was one of them.
"Oh, no," Maour said sadly, sounding as pained as Einfari felt.
'Yes, and I'm going to avenge him by killing them all, one ship at a time,' Myrkurheili gritted angrily. 'If you need me, I'll be helping our humans rip theirs apart, since I can't get at the other ships.' He leaped into the air, almost smacking Eldurberg with a wing, and was off before anyone could respond.
'Eldurberg,' Toothless called out, 'Fishlegs is okay, right?' Einfari could almost see his line of thought, going from death to the conspicuous absence in their midst.
'He's just resting,' Eldurberg confirmed, his ears drooping. 'I don't think we lost anyone else.'
'Not yet, but this isn't even close to over,' Einfari growled, hoping to get them into a mindset to keep fighting. 'At least we're half done… Assuming humans can't swim with three limbs?' Dagur had never resurfaced, but that wasn't the same as seeing his dead body.
"Definitely not, but I'm glad we have people watching the shores," Heather replied. "If he washes up there, we'll know. Alive or dead."
'If he washes up alive, we will have to kill him for real.' She was sure they could do that, but it would ruin things with some of the humans, apparently.
'It was mostly Bog Burglars, so I can get Camicazi to do me a favor and 'let' him escape," Heather said quietly. "But if he gets picked up by another Berserker ship…"
'We were going to sink all of those anyway,' Einfari grumbled, seeing her friend's point. They weren't winning this fight as a whole, not as things stood now, and they had to win to ensure Dagur didn't return to bother them another day, to say nothing of Astrid, who was still out there.
'About that…'
Toothless limped into view. 'What are we going to do?' he asked plaintively.
Einfari stared. She was pretty sure Heather was staring too.
'What?' Toothless asked. 'Maour took the saddle off to fix the tailfin more easily. It won't take long.'
"And… he didn't notice anything?" Heather asked incredulously.
'Do I still have an arrow in me?' Toothless shook his wings out and tried to turn and look at his back. 'I don't feel anything.'
"No…" Heather shook in the saddle, a movement Einfari took as held-in laughter. She felt close to laughing herself, out of relief and amusement and more than a hint of confusion.
'What is it, then?' Toothless demanded.
'How much fire do you have left?' Einfari asked instead, wanting to draw out the moment just a little further.
'Some?' he warbled.
'Give me a number.'
Toothless paused, as if thinking. The moment stretched out.
'Enough?' he offered.
She stared at the extremely faint blue glow pulsing behind the scales running along his spine, so faint she could believe Maour hadn't noticed if he was preoccupied. 'Yes, it might just be.'
Author's Note: This was originally only the first half of the chapter, but then I got to this point and realized I was less than halfway through the events I needed to cover, with a full 8k words already written. Silly of me to assume I could cover a momentous battle in two chapters, I guess.