Author's Note: Time for the second group of deleted scenes! As before, here's a table of contents to help make sense of it all:
Disowning and Adopting (Chapter 23)
Fighting For Respect (Chapter 23)
Crowd Problems (Chapter 23)
Conversing with Chieftains (Chapter 25)
Another Path (Chapter 27)
Too Far, Even for a Myrkur (Chapter 31)
Disowning and Adopting (Chapter 23)
Heather looked up and saw Dagur walking towards her. She instinctively reached for her ax, only to remember that Toothless had it, securely away from her.
'Remember, we can intervene if you need us to.' Shield was intentionally positioned only a few feet away, ready to move forward, and form the other half of the protective circle around Heather that Einfari was currently acting as the back of. They had been prepared for this. Heather took comfort in feeling her best friend behind her, who literally had her back.
She looked Dagur in the eye as he approached, and allowed herself to feel all of the hate for him she harbored. Hopefully, it would show in her eyes.
Dagur was oblivious at first. But as he got closer, he saw it.
"Wow, talk about a cold welcome. You'd think I wasn't wanted here." He sat down cross-legged a few feet from Heather. He motioned for Savage to sit next to him, carefully positioning Savage between himself and Shield, who was in that direction.
"You aren't. I'd kill you right now if I hadn't been convinced that some things are more important." Heather's voice was cold.
"That's the spirit! But really, you can drop the act. Hiccup isn't around." Dagur had come up with the theory that Heather was playing Hiccup in some sort of long con. What other explanation was there for her apparent hatred towards him?
Heather grimaced. "Svarturflugmaður, you mean. And why should he be around? This is no act."
Dagur looked at the Night Furies. "Oh, has he set his pets to guard you? Well, we can always work around that." He grinned.
Shield abruptly started laughing, and Einfari joined in. Heather tried to keep a straight face, but she had heard Shield's comment, and she couldn't. She broke out laughing as well.
Dagur was nonplussed by that. "What's so funny?"
Heather regained some level of control, and responded, voice heavy with scorn and mirth. "Shield said you should move downwind of us. You stink so badly of insanity that it's making him dizzy."
Dagur scowled. "Really, is that so? Well too bad. Heather, you should know better than to try and fool your own brother. I know very well dragons can't talk, no matter what Hiccup might claim. They're mindless animals." He abruptly laughed. "That's why they're so fun to hunt!"
Heather smiled condescendingly. "You're hopeless, so I'm not even going to bother. Just stop chasing me, and I might even stop trying to kill you." She really would, if Dagur would just leave the island alone. It would be worth it. She understood that now.
"But what about your destiny? You're a Berserker, like it or not. You belong on Berserker island, working to make our people as great as possible, like me!"
Heather glared at Dagur. "Get this through your insane head, and remember it. I would rather wipe you off of the face of the earth than spend an instant helping the one who had my entire village killed for no good reason."
Dagur frowned. "I'm actually starting to believe you a little. Great acting skills. But seriously, stop. We both know family is more important than anything, and I'm all you've got left."
Heather smiled. "Wrong, on both counts. Because you killed your own father. Clearly, family is not more important than personal power to you." She continued despite having already made her point, intent on hitting Dagur where it was going to hurt. "You are nowhere near the only family I have left. I don't care about blood or heritage, you are in no way related to me." She laughed at Dagur's enraged face. "And Einfari here is pretty much my sister at this point. Which makes Shield my brother."
Dagur scowled, staring at Einfari. "You count a dragon as family? Instead of me?"
"Yes. And Shield is a better brother and person than you could ever be." Heather truly believed that now more than ever.
Shield purred in appreciation, still not taking his eyes off of Dagur and Savage. 'Now?'
"Not yet." Heather took in Dagur and Savage's confusion. "Not talking to you two."
Dagur shook his head in denial. "Maybe you are crazy. It must run in the family. You're coming back to Berserker island with me, like it or not. It would be easier if you just came peacefully." He smiled slyly. "You could even bring your two guards here with you. I'm sure in time I can break that one over there to obey me instead of scrawny Hiccup." He gestured to Shield.
Heather really wished she had her ax. "I will not be going anywhere with you. I've already killed to prevent exactly that scenario." She remembered the man who had bled out in her defense of Einfari.
Dagur frowned. "When?"
Heather decided to drop the news. Maybe this would convince him. "We three here have been trying to catch you alone and kill you for weeks. Svarturflugmaður didn't even know, he thought we had gone home. We watched you all day for days. When we figured out that it would be too risky to attack you in your village, we worked to lure you out." Let Dagur realize the rest on his own.
Dagur's face was slowly turning red. "That was you?! The lone Night Fury roaring at the island patrol, and then killing everyone on board the next night?"
Heather laughed angrily. "Yup. Your little ambush the second night almost worked. We won't be that stupid again. Then we followed your fleet, all the way here. Hoping to get a shot at you." She glared at him. "I killed the soldier of yours that hurt Shield myself." She gestured to Shield, who glared. "Believe my desire to kill you is real now?"
"Yes. I don't know why, but app-"
"Don't know why. Did it ever occur to you that killing an entire village of people I knew and liked might be a great way to get me to hate you? Of course not, because you have no conscience. If I ever run into you on a battlefield or in combat, I'll kill you. But I'm done wasting my time trying to kill you otherwise. You're nothing to me but another insane idiot. Shield now would be a good time."
As Dagur got to his feet in rage, Shield moved between him and Heather, physically blocking her from view. He crouched in front of Dagur and folded his wings back, obscuring Heather even further, and getting them out of Dagur's striking range. He growled motioning with his head back in the direction Dagur had come from.
Savage saw that. "Uh, Dagur? I think the dragon is telling us to leave."
Dagur mumbled incoherently, fumbling for his ax. But the little self-aware portion of him that kept Savage around made him listen. He settled for yelling. "I'll never stop hunting you! If you won't be a Berserker, then you'll die like the rest of your stupid island!"
Shield snorted, eyeing him disdainfully. He spoke, knowing Dagur couldn't hear him. 'You'll have to go through me first.'
Reason for Removal: Really, it just didn't fit. Dagur isn't as passive as he would need to be for this to work, Raethi isn't anywhere near how his character should act, and neither is Heather, and it's generally mushy and crap. The story had already diverged too far for this to be salvageable.
Fighting For Respect (Chapter 23)
Maour made his way towards the Meathead's camp.
Toothless walked beside him, warily eyeing every Viking in sight. He wouldn't be caught unaware. He could still remember Dagur springing out of nowhere on that rocky nightmare of an island. Being surprised like that again was unacceptable.
Maour noticed his brother's wariness. He wouldn't tell Toothless to let down his guard, not here. Besides, it made his brother look far more intimidating, constantly surveying the area. Like a sentinel, ready to strike in an instant. But he felt Toothless needed to be reassured. "Bud, we'll be fine. Just, whatever you do, don't attack first. As long as you only strike in retaliation we'll be fine. And no one will attack because of that. But they might try to provoke you. So be careful." That was a big worry. Vikings who wanted a Night Fury trophy for their wall badly enough might try and trick Toothless into attacking so that they would have the right to kill him in retribution. Maour trusted his brother, but Toothless needed to be warned so he knew it was a possibility.
'Okay. But it's hard. I don't trust anyone around us.'
Maour nodded. "Neither do I. But these guys here might be our allies soon, so try not to be too hostile.'
Toothless snorted. 'They're the hostile ones.'
Maour didn't answer that. They were now in sight of the Meatheads' camp. Mogadon was watching his son Thuggory, who was sparring with another Meathead, the sand flying around them as they moved, grunting and panting in the sunlight, eyes squinted against the glare.
"Don't let up! Keep pushing him!' Mogadon was certainly optimistic with his advice. Thuggory was being beaten back at the moment, by the much older and apparently stronger Meathead he was fighting. Thuggory wasn't bad, but he certainly wasn't very good with the sword he was using. He was barely holding his own.
Through chance, the sparring was set up so that Mogadon had his back to Maour and Toothless, and Thuggory was angled so that he couldn't see them either. But the other sparring Meathead could. When Toothless happened to walk into the Meathead's line of sight, the Meathead faltered and stopped dead for a moment.
That was all Thuggory needed to put his sword to his opponent's throat. He seemed confused by the sudden victory.
"What was that?! I said to push him, not give up!" Mogadon did not sound happy.
"You were giving advice to your son's opponent?" Maour figured he might as well speak up.
Mogadon turned and flinched ever so slightly upon seeing Toothless. He answered angrily. "Of course. How else is he going to improve, if I don't push him? And I don't appreciate your interference."
Maour smirked. "It wasn't intentional. My brother can't help it if trained warriors freeze at the sight of him." And yet another point over Mogadon. It was a stupid system, but one the chiefs all used to their own advantage. He'd take advantage of it if it would help. "I've found that helping the person you want to improve usually works better."
"Your brother. Sure. The killer reptile can't help it if the people he raids for fun don't like him." Mogadon thought he was making a good point. "And of course the boy who could never even lift a sword would say that. I guess Stoick never pushed you hard enough." He smirked. "You need a dragon just to protect you."
Maour stared back. "That would be a compelling argument if it was true. But the dragons raided because they had no choice. When we killed their enslaver, they freely stopped." He glared. "And Stoick pushed far too hard. He never even considered that a ninety-pound boy might need a lighter weapon. Regardless, I have no need to be protected. I can handle myself."
Mogadon scoffed. "Prove it. There's going to be a friendly sparring competition among most of the chiefs at noon." He smirked. "Unless of course, you won't be there."
Maour hadn't known of that. The idea of 'sparring' with Dagur made his blood run cold. Accidents could happen. With Dagur, they would given half a chance. "That would be fine if I was stupid enough to spar against people who want me dead. I won't be participating." He wouldn't let Mogadon get one over him. "But I'd be happy to fight your son, and the Meathead he was sparring... at the same time. Two on one." He had gotten their measure. Neither of the two was very good, though the older Meathead was much better than Thuggory.
Mogadon stared at him. "Two on one. You're mighty confident."
Maour shrugged. "I'd offer to do it blindfolded too, but Camicazi kicked me in the shin when I beat her like that. I'd rather not insult any more heirs. Thuggory might be able to kick harder than Camicazi. Two on one makes it a fair fight." And another point to him. If he won, that is.
Mogadon smiled thoughtfully. "I don't believe that either. Thuggory, Zylus, you up for showing a chief his place?"
Thuggory laughed. "I'll get my hammer. I hate swords anyway." He stared at Maour challengingly. "I almost never use them." He grabbed a hammer sitting in the sand near Mogadon, and walked back to the place he had fought the older Meathead, apparently called Zylus. "Ready?"
Maour really wished he had known Thuggory wasn't fighting with his primary weapon. This was looking to be much harder than he had thought. But he couldn't back out. "Sure."
Toothless huffed in annoyance. 'You tell me not to worry, then get into a fight. You're sending very mixed messages.' He settled down in the sand, appearing relaxed and unconcerned. In reality, he was ready to leap into action in half a second, if need be.
Maour took his scythe off of his back and stepped onto the sand. He kept it locked for the moment. "Ready."
Thuggory hesitated for a moment, glancing at Maour's weapon. "What is that?" When Maour didn't answer, he shrugged and charged, hammer raised.
This was a fight to first blood. Maour had to assume that meant he would need to draw blood from both of his opponents, or put them in a position that would mean death in a real fight, which was why he hadn't unlocked his scythe. He was pretty sure he could catch one of them by surprise with that. The question was, which of them was more dangerous? He took a split-second to glance at each of them. Thuggory held the hammer confidently, no apparent unease at the prospect of facing someone with a polearm. Maour couldn't tell if his charging was an intelligent strategy or just Viking stupidity. It could be either.
Zylus, on the other hand, had begun advancing cautiously. He clearly suspected Maour was more than capable of being a threat. That made Maour's mind up for him. He might not catch Zylus by surprise, but he could definitely get Thuggory. He swung his scythe at Thuggory's hammer, aiming the folded spike behind the hammer itself.
Thuggory took the bait and tried to bat it away with the hammer. He hit the scythe on the rod, and the impact jarred the spike out of it's locked position. The sharp tip dragged a light furrow along Thuggory's forearm as it pivoted, even as Maour took a step forward and out to Thuggory's side, redirecting the force of the blow so that the scythe wasn't knocked away.
Thuggory stared in shock at the blood seeping out of his arm. It wasn't a very deep cut, but the rules were clear. He was already out.
Maour, however, had no time to appreciate that fact. His move against Thuggory had taken him into the range of Zylus's sword, which was at the moment speeding towards his neck. He jerked the other end of the scythe up and knocked the blade away. He continued with the forward momentum, spinning the scythe end down, which pulled the back end up and around, swinging down towards Zylus.
Zylus countered, and they settled into a fast-paced flurry of strike and counterstrike. Maour was doing most of the striking, as he had more blades to work with. Zylus was good, but not that good. It took longer than with Camicazi, but eventually, Zylus faltered, his sword rising just a hair too slow. Maour thrust the scythe forward with both hands, resting the sharp edge against Zylus's neck. It was over.
Zylus lowered his sword and backed away. He smiled and shook Maour's hand. "Well played. That weapon is terrifying in your hands. I wouldn't want to risk trying it myself. Have you ever hurt yourself in a fight using it?"
Maour smiled. "Nope. Of course, I spent a while just learning how to move it safely, and I cut myself a few times then. That was while wearing leather armor specifically so I didn't hurt myself. It took quite a while to master." A good portion of five years. But it had been worth it.
Thuggory was far less content with what had happened. "That wasn't fair, you just scratched me. In a real fight, I would have still kept going."
Maour laughed. "In a real fight, my brother would have taken you out at the start, so that I wouldn't be fighting two-on-one to start with. And Zylus, if he didn't move fast enough."
Thuggory scoffed, though it sounded fake. He eyed Toothless, hefting his hammer. "I wouldn't be that easy to stop, even for a Night Fury."
Toothless warbled happily, smiling gummily. Then his teeth shot out, and he growled.
Thuggory paled.
Toothless retracted his teeth, and purred smugly, sitting back down.
Mogadon scowled at that. "You've certainly taught that beast a few tricks. But I-"
Maour cut him off. "Don't bother. It doesn't really matter what you believe. But you should know, I have no grudge against either you or your son."
That caught Mogadon's attention. "Why would you?"
Maour shrugged. "No reason. I mean, it's not as if you used my lack of Viking-like qualities to embarrass my father every time we saw you. And I'm sure that had nothing to do with his disdain for me, having my apparent failures rubbed in his face by a friend every so often. And of course Thuggory, you were always so courteous and helpful. I'm sure you never once helped Snotlout make my life miserable for fun." His voice had been cold, but now it was neutral. "But as I said, Hiccup is gone. I harbor no resentments towards you. In fact, tonight I will be seeking you out, Mogadon. I have something to discuss with you then." Hopefully, Mogadon would listen.
Mogadon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I will be prepared to listen. More than that I can't say."
Maour nodded. "That's all I ask right now." He would do the real convincing tonight.
He and Toothless left the Meatheads' camp a while later, after some obligatory conversation with Mogadon. It would be seen as rude and manipulative for them to show up, make a point, and then immediately leave. Not that either Maour or Mogadon enjoyed said conversation. Mogadon boasted of his accomplishments, which mostly involved killing dragons. Maour listened silently and then described the Red Death briefly. That shut Mogadon down. But Maour had hated hearing of Mogadon's many kills, and the detail he went into in describing them was clearly designed to upset Maour and Toothless if Mogadon even considered the idea that the dragon was listening. The most positive thing Mogadon had said was that there weren't any dragons around to kill recently, so his tribe had given up looking. At least he wasn't consistently adding to his list of kills anymore. That was the best Maour figured he could expect.
'I don't like him.' Toothless was skeptical that Mogadon would be of any help.
"We don't have to like him. We just need his tribe as allies. He's nowhere near the worst of the chiefs." Maour was cautiously optimistic. That was one down.
Reason for Removal: Simply put, it was too easy, and no longer fit the larger plot. Also, in the revised version of the story I established that sparring had to be done off of the island itself, rendering this and the next scene impossible to use as-is. Both this and the other mentioned scene ended up not making the cut for that and other reasons.
Crowd Problems (Chapter 23)
Heather caught Maour up on what had happened with Dagur, and Maour told her Mogadon had gone as well as could be expected.
The crowd was there for the sparring of the chiefs. The Order-Keeper was actually the one who had initiated the event. It was a carefully calculated risk on his part. He knew that Vikings needed a way to let off steam, and if he hosted the event, he could make sure rules were followed. But participation was voluntary and restricted to chiefs so that it didn't last all day.
The Order-Keeper cleared a space in the sand and drew a large circle. "Everyone, settle down! Now, would all the participating chiefs step inside the circle, and everyone else back away!"
Once that had been done, there were eight chieftains in the circle. Apparently, Smith of the Waxears wouldn't be participating either.
When the Order-Keeper announced that, Smith spoke up from the crowd. "My daughter doesn't need to see me fighting. She's a bit too young for that. I'll crush you all next time." He looked down. "Oh, and if any of you see my daughter, give me a shout. I'm sure she's around here somewhere..." He wandered off into the crowd.
Then the Order-Keeper split the eight Vikings into their first match-ups. Maour enjoyed watching Alvin the Treacherous humiliate Snotlout in their match. Apparently, Alvin was still mad at Snotlout for killing Stoick and gave Snotlout many humiliating bruises with the flat of his ax before finally drawing blood.
Alvin had moved on, along with Duncan, Trott, and Dagur. Dagur had trounced Norbert in his match and apparently taunted him the entire time. Maour was watching the four chiefs prepare for the next match when Toothless let out a small bark of surprise.
'What are you doing?' Toothless sounded confused. He looked back at his tail.
"Toothless?" Maour was worried now.
'I felt someone tug at my false tailfin. But they're gone.'
Einfari spoke. "We shouldn't be in this crowd. It's a bit too enclosed. Someone could strike at us without revealing themselves.' She looked around uneasily.
Shield nodded. 'Follow me. I'll clear a path.' He proceeded to wind his way back through the spectating Vikings, glaring at anyone who wouldn't move to create space. The others followed him.
'I felt it again!' Toothless was getting frantic now. This invasion of his personal space was very unnerving.
Soon they had forced their way out of the crowd and regrouped a couple dozen feet away. They could hear cheering, and Dagur shouting above that. Toothless huddled in between Einfari and Shield, trying to protect his tailfin. Maour and Heather scanned the crowd.
"I don't know who it was. Everyone seems caught up in the fights. Well, almost everyone." Heather nodded at the crowd.
Maour grimaced. "I don't see Astrid or Snotlout." They might be the culprits. Although tugging a piece of fabric seemed somewhat tame for them. "Toothless, is your tail still intact?"
Toothless nodded. 'It is. Nothing's broken, or ripped.' He snorted. 'It didn't feel like they were trying to break anything. Just tugging at it.'
Heather squinted, looking into the crowd. "I think I see Astrid. She's watching the fight."
Maour abruptly laughed. "And I think I see our culprit." He walked back to the crowd.
Einfari watched him go. 'What is he doing?'
Heather shrugged. "No idea." Maour hadn't seemed angry.
A few seconds later, Maour reemerged, leading a young girl by the hand. She seemed excited, bouncing and talking to him happily. He was grinning.
Toothless stared in annoyance. 'She was the one pulling my tail?'
"Yup. This is chief Smith's daughter, Kim. Kim, this is Heather, Einfari, Toothless, and Shield." He had a feeling Toothless would be a better name to tell a child than Svarturkappi.
Now that she was here, Kim wasn't so enthusiastic. "Hi..." She waved shyly.
Maour smiled at her. "Don't worry, these dragons are friendly. You shouldn't just pull on a dragon's tail though. It's an important part of them like fingers are for us. They won't like it."
Kim looked at Maour questioningly. "But his is different from the others. Why does he have a tail with metal bits?"
"Because, well... Do you know any Vikings with hooks or peg legs?"
"Yes, lots."
"That's what his tail is. A replacement part, because he lost the original. It's just a bit more complex because it has to be able to do more than a peg leg does." Maour didn't feel like explaining any more than that.
Toothless was feeling much less annoyed now. He warbled, intentionally making the sound as happy as possible, and moved out from between Einfari and Shield. He sat down a few feet away and swept his tail around, so Kim could see the prosthetic.
"Cool. Way cooler than old Elser's hook hand." Kim cautiously approached Toothless, looking at the tail. "He's trained, right? He won't attack me?"
Maour frowned. "No, he's like you or me, not an animal. He doesn't want to attack you and is choosing not to. You should talk to him yourself. You can't hear him, but I can tell you what he says."
Kim looked from Toothless to Maour suspiciously. "How do I know you're not making up whatever you want?"
Maour sighed. "Even kids want proof. Seriously, where's the blind trust these days?" He laughed. "If you're brave enough, whisper your question into his ear. Then I won't know what you asked."
Toothless snorted. 'Seriously? I'll get spit on my ear!'
"Oh just go with it, you big baby."
'Fine.' Toothless nodded slowly and put his head at ground level, perking an ear.
Kim stared. "Alright, sure." She walked over and whispered something to Toothless.
'Maour, she wants to know why I'm called Toothless.'
Maour laughed. "Kim, he doesn't need me to answer that."
Toothless sat up and grinned, his teeth sheathed. He smiled wider when Kim giggled. 'She's better than any other Viking here.'
Einfari snorted. 'That's because she's still a child. They aren't so stubborn and set in their ways.'
"Wow. Alright..." Kim whispered something else.
Toothless immediately drooped, his face falling. 'She's asking how I lost my tailfin. I don't think that's a story she needs to hear.'
Maour spoke quietly. "That's a sad story, Kim, and a very long one. Maybe some other time."
Kim frowned. "Okay. Can you help me find my dad? He's probably looking for me somewhere around here. We got separated in the crowd." She turned to look ever her shoulder at the Vikings.
At that moment, there was a tremendous cheer, and Dagur could be heard screaming with glee. Maour guessed that Dagur had just won his match or even the entire thing. He didn't care. Even this was far more important. "Sure."
Reason for Removal: Really, I was just rewriting everything and didn't want to try and force this into shape when I could just redo it. (Also, they're fighting on the island, which I later established to be against the terms of the peace.)
Conversing with Chieftains (Chapter 25)
Toothless abruptly stiffened, only moving his eyes and tail, pulling Maour close. 'Astrid is coming this way.'
Maour quickly located her, striding towards them purposefully. "Let's take advantage of this. Get ready to run, bud. I'm going to push her as far as I can, and see what she says in anger. Hopefully, something useful."
Toothless whined. 'This is not a good idea.'
Maour smiled up at his brother. "Come on. Worst case scenario, she attacks. And then..." He frowned. "Well, we get to kill her, I guess. And I don't kill in cold blood. That might be a problem. Hopefully, she won't attack." He hugged Toothless briefly, fully aware Astrid was watching as she approached. "I trust you to be fast enough because you are. It will be fine."
'Okay. I would say be careful, but you're throwing that off of a cliff, metaphorically speaking.'
Maour grinned, turning to face Astrid. "That I am. But what better place than here?" He spoke to the approaching warrior, who was a few steps away. "Close enough, Astrid."
Astrid grinned unsettlingly, ax in hand. "Coward."
"Cautious for good reason. A madwoman with an ax is a fair reason for that."
"I'd kill you both right now. But I have bigger plans."
Maour laughed slightly. "Sure you do. That reminds me, you two were never properly introduced. Astrid, this is Toothless. Toothless, this is Astrid, a nutcase with an ax and an unhealthy obsession that will get her killed one day." His voice was still light and mocking. He really was going to push her as far as possible.
Toothless growled menacingly.
Astrid's face darkened. "I'll make sure to capture you alive. That way I can force you to watch as I raze your demon nest to the ground, salt the earth, and kill everything that lives on that island. Then I'll kill you."
Maour had a hard time keeping a happy expression. That threat hit way too close to home. "Why the hate, Astrid? The way I see it, we've done you nothing but good. No scrawny Hiccup to bother you, no more dragon raids to trash Berk, no more war. Hell, I even let Snotlout become heir by leaving, and that let you pull his strings. You've gotten everything. But you just can't be happy, can you?"
Astrid was only getting angrier, judging by her rapidly reddening face and cold eyes. "I haven't gotten what I want. A world rid of dragons for good. Starting with your favorite species." She smiled a sadistic smile, still impossibly angry and getting madder. "I like finding nests. We found a Nadder nest once. Smashing eggs is the best part. Does your home have any eggs? I bet it does. I'll make you watch that too."
Now Maour had to hold himself back. He dropped all pretense of levity. "Over my dead body."
Astrid grinned. "No, I've already decided to keep you alive, remember?"
Maour literally growled. "Fine. Over your dead body. You and anyone you bring with you. If there's even a body left."
Astrid smirked. "I thought you didn't kill in cold blood, the weakling that you are."
"Go to Helheim. I'm sure you'll be welcome there." Maour was done with trying to provoke Astrid. It clearly wasn't working. She was doing better at provoking him.
"And you'll go wherever mindless beasts like dragons go when they die. That will be a fitting fate." Astrid was speaking in utter seriousness.
Maour smiled, suddenly at peace, anger wiped away by what Astrid had intended as an insult. "Hopefully. No god would be cruel enough to separate me from my real family anyway. So I'm fine with that."
Astrid scowled. "You're more dragon than man. And the man is a spineless weakling, just like the dragon." She gestured to him. "You even wear dragon scales."
Maour spread his arms. "I wear armor made from the shed scales of my brother, mother, father, and sister. My family protects me, even when I'm alone. Too bad you can't say the same." He made eye contact. "You are so alone because you're so fixated on one goal. And that goal is nothing but the death of others. When we are gone, what can you claim as your impact on the world? A thousand grieving families and ended bloodlines if you get your way. Death and destruction. If I did nothing else if I died today, do you know what I'd have that you don't? Someone who can honestly say, 'they made my life better'." He inhaled briefly.
"My brother, who assures me the good I've done for him outweighs the harm. My family, who genuinely are glad I'm with them. My people, who I've spent years with, living happily in peace. Everyone in the archipelago who no longer suffers from the raids. And the thousands of dragons who are no longer slaves to an evil Queen. I've improved the world. You haven't." He broke eye contact and put his hand on Toothless's tail. "At least I build. You just destroy."
Astrid was silent. Her face was unreadable. Finally, she spoke. "I hate you. And I hate everything you represent. That will be my legacy. Destroying you, and all that you've done. If I could bring back that giant dragon that you destroyed and make the raids start again, I would without hesitation. Just to undo what you did." She walked away, back to the chiefs. She didn't seem to see the shocked faces of some of them. Of the ones who had heard what she had said. Simon, Smith, even Norbert. They stared after her.
Toothless crooned softly. 'I don't like to think about that, the time after you're gone. We Furies live so long. And humans don't.'
Maour smiled at his brother. "Bud, we've got a long time before that happens, and I'll be happy to know my family will be around so long. My descendants will get to know you and the others, long after I'm gone. And eventually, we'll all meet again, wherever dragons end up. I'll find a way there. I promise."
Toothless nodded. 'But it still feels wrong. There should be some way I could extend your lifetime. I'd be happy to cut my lifespan in half if you could live that long too.'
Maour sighed. "I'm not sure I'd want you to do that. It would hurt both of us, I think. You would die young, for a Fury, and I would live longer than my own children. It would hurt any family either of us raised. I don't think it's possible anyway. But I appreciate and share the sentiment." He grinned, trying to break the somber mood. "Let's just make the most of the time we do have. And it's a lot, anyway. I've always said Vikings die so early because they make bad life choices. I'll probably live to be a hundred. I'm pretty sure mead, constant stress, massive obesity, and lack of regular exercise does most Vikings in. Old Gothi is over a hundred years old, they say. I'll break her record."
Toothless chuffed seriously. 'And you'll still be a rider, even then. We can tie you to the saddle if nothing else.'
Maour laughed, playfully pushing Toothless's unmoving bulk. "Come on, give me some credit. I'll tie myself to the saddle. Besides, I'm pretty sure Gothi could ride a dragon today if she had to. I won't be outdone!"
'A Gronckle, maybe. Something slow and steady.'
"Is that a challenge? Are you challenging my future self's abilities?" Maour was laughing now.
'Yes. We'll test it in eighty years or so.'
"You're on."
'As if you'll remember this next week, let alone eighty years from now.'
"Fair enough."
They were stopped by a chief, who was watching them uncertainly. "Am I... interrupting something?"
"Yes, but we don't mind." Maour ducked a slap from Toothless's tailfin. "Fine, I don't mind. You're the one who wants to be called Trott, right?"
"Yes. Of all the chiefs, it makes sense you would remember, given your somewhat odd harping over your own names." Trott's jovial tone softened the somewhat harsh words.
"It isn't harping. Where I live, names are complicated and important. Many of us have multiple names. One given by parents, which anyone can use. For my brother, for example, that would be Svartukappi. Then there are other names, given by family or friends. They can be unique to the person speaking, but usually, the family decides on one short name for the person. That name is what family and friends use when referring to that person, no matter who they're talking to. But they're the only ones who can use it."
Trott seemed intrigued. "And, following your example, what would that be for Svarturkappi?"
Maour smiled. "Toothless. Although that was a special case. Usually, it's something less embarrassing. Like, if we called him Kappi. Or maybe Cap. Really, it can be anything. One of the Furies here with us is known as Shield, despite that being an entirely unrelated concept to anything his full name implies."
"Which one? The one with the scar, or..." Trott grinned sheepishly. "The one not with the scar? Sorry, they're hard for me to tell apart."
Toothless huffed in irritation.
Maour translated. "That's a bit insulting, given one is female and the other male. But they are siblings, so it is also understandable. Einfari is a bit thinner and more curved. Shield is a bit stocky and stronger-looking, though that's mostly an illusion. To be fair, Furies also use smell to tell each other apart. So it's much more obvious to them."
Trott frowned. "How many Furies do you know, to make those generalizations?"
"I can hear them, remember? They told me this themselves." Maour hoped that put Trott off of that line of questioning.
"That is interesting. How exactly did you acquire the ability to hear them?"
Maour liked this guy. He actually asked the right questions, instead of getting hung up on the impossibility of it all. "That's tricky. You need a Night Fury, first off. And they need to match you rather closely in personality, from what I can tell, although that's probably not necessary. Heather and Einfari are very similar, as are Toothless and I. If you could ever get that far, you need a Fury who's been taught to link, something only other Furies who know can teach, or the Queen, who's dead now. And to top it all off, you and the Fury need to trust each other completely, and you have to get to that point without being able to directly communicate. Get through all of that, and the Fury can link with you. That lets you hear that dragon, among many other things. Over time, the ability to hear any dragon can be acquired, though there is a trick to that part."
Trott blinked. "That sounds impossibly unlikely."
Maour grinned. "It is. Hasn't stopped it from happening, more than once." Five times so far, though Trott didn't need to know that.
"I do have one question. If the dragons need to be taught to do this, why only Night Furies?"
Maour considered that. "They seem to be the only ones capable of it, for some reason. The Queen tried all types of dragons, but she was only able to manifest the ability in her Night Fury thralls. Which is where Toothless learned it, albeit unwillingly. The Queen was a horrific monster, whose power of the mind far exceeded anything Toothless is capable of. This linking ability is a shadow of what she could do. She could entirely invade the mind of any one of her thralls at will, rendering them a passenger in their own body, incapable of doing anything of their own free will. Anything she ordered had to be obeyed by all of her thralls, which is why the raids occurred. The Queen wanted to be fed. And so, she raided."
Trott frowned, taking all of that in. "So this Queen dragon was an alpha, of sorts. And she could use the full extent of these powers. Night Furies can use some of these powers, but only a small fraction, a harmless fraction at that."
Maour nodded. "Entirely voluntary. Neither human nor dragon can force anything from one end to the other. Voluntary reception only."
Trott really seemed confused now. "But then how does he speak to you? Can you choose not to hear him?"
Toothless seemed thunderstruck. 'He's right. I'm forcing you to hear me, at least when I speak long-distance. Just like the Queen did. But I'm not trying to, and I'm sure I can't do any of the things she could. So why does that work?"
Maour shrugged. "You raise a very good point. We don't know why. But you're right, it is odd."
"Hmm... Maybe, if the Queen is an alpha, that means Night Furies are half-alphas? Or could become alphas?" Trott smiled. "Betas, if you will."
Maour liked the sound of that. "Betas. And that's something else. Skrill hate Night Furies. They always refer to them as 'Usurpers'."
Trott nodded thoughtfully. "A title reserved for those who overthrow, or take another's rightful place. Interesting. But your brother and the others know nothing about this?"
Maour shrugged. "They are all fairly young, not even considered full adults by dragon standards, even though they're in their twenties right now. It makes sense they wouldn't know."
"Then is it possible they will manifest the full effects at a further advanced age?"
Toothless whined. 'We know we don't. But I never want to be able to do what the Queen could anyway.'
Maour translated. "He doesn't like the idea that he might ever be able to do that. That level of control over others is evil, no matter who uses it."
Trott smiled. "That is wise of both of you."
Maour wanted to know something else now. "You seem far more intelligent than most Vikings. And far less aggressive, or power-hungry. Any other chief here would at least consider the military application of a dragon with alpha powers, but you agree they are better left unused."
Trott threw his arms wide. "It is a personal failing of mine. I know too much and have seen far too much to covet power. I am chief simply because my tribe wanted me to be when we lost our last leader to pointless conflict. And so, the name Pigfeet just doesn't seem to fit me. At least Trott sounds less stupid while conveying the same general idea." He grimaced. "My tribe is still paying off the debt of having a series of aggressive idiots for leaders. Everyone around us hates us. We get attacked every other year. It will take me most of my life to smooth over relations with all of them. Power and dominance will not help me right the wrongs of my predecessors."
Maour nodded. That was why Bertha had warned him against including the Lava-Louts in the alliance. They were always being attacked. "I wish you luck with that."
Trott smiled thankfully. "And I wish you the same. Just do me a favor, please. You say Night Furies must be of a similar personality to bond with a human. If you ever run into one like me, please introduce us. I would happily welcome such a friendship, and the communication abilities it could in time provide would be very interesting."
Toothless hummed thoughtfully. 'He's kind of like an Eldur, but not really. I don't think we know anyone like him.' He almost sounded disappointed by that.
Maour offered a hand for Trott to shake. "If we ever do, I would be happy to." He really would. Although Trott probably wouldn't want to live on the Isle of Night, so any Fury like him would probably have to move to Lava-Lout island. However, that would work. If they ever found one like him, they'd deal with that then.
Trott shook his hand. "And if I ever find anything out that might be of use to you, I'll contact you. Somehow."
Maour grinned. "Give a letter to Trader Johann. He can get them to me eventually."
After that, the second night of the meeting soon wound down. Tomorrow was the last important night. The night wars were traditionally declared, and other such big announcements. Maour really hoped there were no such announcements, but he was ready.
Reason for Removal: The first half was rewritten, and the second half just didn't make the cut. It's all a bit wooden so I would have had to rewrite it anyway, and given everything needs to be matched with the updated circumstances, it just wasn't worth doing. There are some nice tidbits on someone irrelevant here, but little else worth keeping.
Another Path (Chapter 27)
"Sure, sure," Dagur agreed, waving his ax at the Order-keeper. "Off-island. Got it, old man. Anyway. Who wants to work with the Berserkers? Everyone else gets to work for us, or die resisting. Such a great choice to make!"
Dagur shrugged his shoulders for no apparent reason and began to walk around the bonfire, prowling like a dangerous animal. The Chieftains treated him as such, watching warily. He had control of the situation at the moment. They were all just reacting to his insanity.
"Ally, Berserker, or death?" Dagur asked nobody in particular, staring into each Chieftain's eyes. "I'll not let some of you be allies; some of the tribes here need to be whipped into shape. But some of you are good as you are."
"He doesn't care that much about killing dragons," Heather murmured to Maour, not taking her eyes off of Dagur. "He wants the Berserkers to be in charge; the dragons are just a good target to aim for in the meantime, a common enemy to gather support against."
"But Astrid does care," Maour quietly replied. "This helps both of them anyway." It was not an elaborate, carefully rationalized plan, but it didn't have to be. Some of the tribes would ally with Dagur, and the rest would defy him, but he was strong enough to crush any individual tribe with ease, which was the entire reason Maour and the Chieftains he was on good terms with had allied in the first place. Dagur was trying to build his forces in a similar way.
"So?" Dagur asked, stopping by Mogadon. The Order-keeper was standing close by, having not moved as Dagur approached. At the moment, the mad Berserker Chief's attention was not on the Order-keeper anyway. "Serve me or die. Choose."
Mogadon stood, rising to dwarf Dagur in size and stature. "I don't have to choose anything you offer. My tribe will fight you to the death, but it will not be ours."
"The Berserker armada versus the Meathead fishing fleet," Dagur laughed. "Sounds like a good warm up!"
"I don't stand alone," Mogadon retorted.
That was their cue, though Maour had expected to be the one calling for his allies to stand with him. Mogadon taking the lead was unexpected.
"The Bog Burglars will fight you too," Bertha announced, standing to face Dagur. Camicazi was right there by her side, smiling enthusiastically.
"As do the Waxears," Aldir agreed, standing in turn. Sigvard of the Rockbreakers spoke at the same time, also affirming his commitment.
Maour stood, feeling Astrid's crazed eyes on him. He was glad she was still on the opposite side of the bonfire. He'd get at least a moment's warning from Toothless if she tried anything from that distance. "The Isle of Night stands to defend the Meatheads," he announced.
Heather stood with him, but said nothing. The glare she sent Dagur's way was enough for her, apparently.
"I'll destroy you all!" Dagur laughed maniacally. "It's war! Finally!"
"This is an official declaration of war," the Order-keeper interrupted. "Dagur, are you sure you want to do this?"
"Are you questioning me?" Dagur asked angrily, pointing his ax at the Order-keeper. "Of course!"
"Against five tribes?"
"Definitely." Dagur eyed Mogadon. "But you'll have to wait in line, Meathead. I'll come raze your island to the ground when I feel like it."
"The Berserkers have declared war on the Meatheads, Bog Burglars, Waxears, Rockbreakers, and the Isle of Night," the Order-keeper announced officiously. "But war does not start on this island. Are there any other announcements?"
Dagur smiled crookedly at Maour and the others. "None come to mind. Have fun learning what fighting real Vikings is like, weaklings." WIth that, he returned to the other side of the bonfire and said something in a low voice to Astrid. The two of them left the hilltop, followed by Savage.
"Is that all?" Bertha asked in an urgent voice. "Some of us have a war to get to."
"Well, I was going to announce a new trade deal I made with the Lava Louts," Aldir remarked dryly, "but somehow, it just doesn't feel all that important to brag about now."
"Is it over?" Heather asked in a low voice. "Already?"
"No," Bertha replied, having heard Heather, "but keep in mind that Dagur has ships circling the island, and we have to get out of here somehow. We have to leave now and hope he hasn't ordered his men to attack anyone who departs."
'But that is exactly what he would do,' Toothless remarked. 'Maour, they are allies. We should defend them, right?'
"Right." As much as he didn't want to get into a fight tonight or any night, he had just committed to war against Dagur. He wasn't about to start that war by leaving his allies to fend for themselves, not when Dagur could take out the most important people opposing him in a single, easy fight. The Chieftains and their ships needed to make it safely out to the open sea.
"You'll have air support," Maour promised. "Is everyone just going to go back to their own islands after?"
"We need to plan, at least a little," Bertha grunted irritably, speaking to their entire group. "We have to meet up once we're clear of Dagur's little fleet here."
"If we get clear at all," Sigvard said, looking down at the small clusters of tents on the shore all around the island. "He's ready for this."
"And we have Night Furies evening the odds," Heather retorted. "Just get clear. Maour," she added, beginning to walk down the hill, "Einfari is picking you up in about ten seconds."
Maour walked over to an empty part of the hillside and held his arms out to either side. This was going to-
Two pairs of strong paws gripped his pauldrons and shoulders, yanking him off the ground just slowly enough that his body didn't snap from the sudden force. His back still felt like it was breaking for a long, torturous moment as Einfari got back up to speed and settled into a fast glide.
"Gotta… work on… that…" he groaned. His neck hurt like crazy, too. "That could hurt someone."
'Sorry,' Einfari whined. 'We should have tested the pickup. Heather?'
'She is fine,' Nóttreiði called out, swooping in to fly beside Einfari. 'I grabbed her at a slower speed.'
"He's right," Heather confirmed, sounding extremely relieved. Given whose claws she was dangling from, she had every reason to be pleasantly surprised. "Maour, what are we doing now?"
"Getting to Toothless, and then striking the Berserkers fast and hard." Maour knew he and Toothless could do it. "Einfari and Nóttreiði, you'll follow Toothless's lead; he knows Viking ships and how to attack them." Spending more than a decade under an always-hungry Queen had taught Toothless plenty about attacking Viking villages and ships, even if the Queen had been the one actually acting through his body. The tactics were the same either way.
'This will be easy enough,' Toothless declared as they set down on the sea stack. He ran over to Maour, licked him across the face, and leaned over to let Maour onto the saddle. Maour, still sore in his back and neck, took a second to lean forward and hopefully ease the pain, and then jumped into the saddle. They didn't have much time.
"It should be easy," Maour agreed once they were in the air. "We're lucky, really. Dagur didn't get any allies."
"How do you figure that?" Heather asked pessimistically. "That speech about uniting against the dragon menace and allying with them was a good one for a group of Vikings. He'll have half those tribes on his side."
"No, he won't," Maour argued. "They'll wait and see. If he's winning, then they'll join in. If he's losing, they'll let him burn on his own, or even join in against him." He thought he had that right. Vikings weren't afraid to fight, but they also didn't like people trying to lead them around and command them. Dagur wouldn't get any obvious support in the beginning. If he started winning, that was when the currently neutral tribes would join him.
'Focus on the here and now,' Einfari suggested. 'Last time we attacked a ship it ended badly and could have gone even worse.'
'Last time,' Toothless growled, 'you had no experience on your side. Follow my lead and don't argue.' He shot a look over at Nóttreiði, who didn't seem to notice, flying blithely on Einfari's other side.
'What is the best way to do this?' Einfari inquired. 'We want to protect the ships on our side. Do we sink all of the Berserker ships?'
"We should see what's going on first," Maour suggested, tuning in to Toothless's vision and surveying the island's shores as they got closer. The hill was low enough that he could see the entire island from their current height and distance. Or, Toothless could, which amounted to the same thing.
The Bog Burglars, Waxears, and Rockbreakers had all pulled to shore adjacent to each other on one side of the island. The Meatheads were on the far side, closest to Dagur's lead ship. The rest of the Berserker ships were still circling like carrion birds above a fresh corpse, just waiting for something worth attacking to come out into the open water. There was activity on the decks of the ships of both allies and enemies, and it looked like the Bog Burglars were already weighing anchor, though Maour could only tell it was their ship due to the flag, which was clearly visible with a Night Fury's eyes, even in the dark. Most Viking ships were similar in build and looks.
'Four ships to protect, seven enemy ships,' Nóttreiði summarized tersely.
'We should sink a few right now,' Einfari proposed.
'Right now, while they're nowhere near our allies,' Toothless agreed. 'Maour?'
"If you can do it without getting shot at, go for it." Sinking ships was perfect. He didn't even have to wonder whether they would be killing people; the island was within swimming distance, and shooting at the waterline was the obvious way to use their shots efficiently, meaning nobody would die directly from their shots.
But should he care? This was war, and Toothless's advice about a hand to hand fight also applied here, in the long term. If these Berserkers just lost their ships, they might be back to fight again eventually, and that might mean they would get a chance to stab him from behind, metaphorically speaking.
At least in this case it didn't matter whether Maour wanted to kill the Berserkers preparing to attack his allies. The best course of action was the same either way.
Toothless led the other two dragons down close to the water, not quite skimming the waves, but below where the deck would be on any normal ship, just low enough that anyone watching for dragons would be looking in entirely the wrong direction. Maour knew very well that in this fight, he was an extra mind and a tailfin, not another warrior. It was fitting, in a way. Toothless had chosen to sit out the final meeting, and now he was getting to fight anyway, while Maour helped him fly and watched, when it was possible he would have had to fight on the island.
That would have been horrible. Maour could envision a version of Dagur's little speech that culminated in him killing somebody, probably the Order-keeper, and driving the entire meeting into chaos as everyone struck first and justified their actions later. As it was, Maour was surprised the Order-keeper had lived through both being kidnapped by Berserkers and telling Dagur to his face that his men had been executed for said kidnapping. Then again, the man probably had to be pretty tough to discipline other Vikings, regardless of the other consequences.
'We go in low, we fire two shots at the place where the wood meets the water, and we move on,' Toothless instructed. 'Einfari and Nóttreiði, I want you to take turns. One of you will fire, and one will watch from above. Switch with every ship. I will be firing on the other side each time.'
"Heather," Maour added, "lie low and don't make any noise. There's nothing either of us can do with this." Really, Einfari should have left Heather on the sea stack when she had the chance. At the moment, Heather was just vulnerable extra weight. It was too late now.
The water rushed by beneath Toothless as he flew straight for the side of the closest Berserker ship. 'Nóttreiði first,' he declared. 'Get into position. I am taking the left.'
Nóttreiði pulled over to the right without complaint, and Einfari rose up into the air, taking a high view to watch the chaos. The ship, a dark blob topped with light, loomed in the distance, growing larger with every second.
Toothless inhaled, and the eerie noise Maour knew and had grown to love, the harbinger of purple fire and perfect aim, screeched through the dark sky. Toothless and Nóttreiði fired simultaneously, and in the next instant Toothless was hurtling past his own explosion, water and shards of wood impacting both him and Maour.
'Next time I will pull away quicker,' Toothless said sheepishly as they cleared the suddenly crippled Berserker ship. 'On to the next one!' he roared excitedly.
"You're enjoying this!" Maour observed, not at all bothered by that. He felt the thrill of hitting and running, the same thrill flight through any kind of obstacle course brought. Sure, it was war, and war was terrible, but this moment was not so bad. It would cease to be fun the instant something went wrong, but until then there was no harm in enjoying the rush.
'I actually get to do something!' Toothless replied happily. 'No more waiting, no more worrying, no more being forced to let them strike first if anyone is to strike at all!'
'Next ship,' Einfari called out as a reminder, drifting down in to take Nóttreiði's place by Toothless's side. 'Do not get overconfident. That is what did us in last time.'
'Got it.' Toothless silenced his roar and powered forward, circling around in an arc to approach the next ship. They were coming from behind so as to maximize the element of surprise.
Another pass, this one pulled out of with room to spare, and the second ship was down. Heather whooped in excitement as she and Einfari neared Maour and Toothless. "This is easy!"
It was easy, at that. Maour didn't like it being too easy, too predictable. "Toothless, let's skip the next one and come back for it." They could afford to spend a little time being less predictable. He worried somebody smarter than average on one of the ships they had yet to target would get the idea to just fire blindly at the water. Going out of order in what they targeted would be safer.
'Got it. Einfari?'
'I heard. Nóttreiði wants to watch over, so I'll be taking every shot,' Einfari replied, looking up at the Night Fury flying above them. 'I don't know why. He did fine on his first shot.'
The three dragons flew out around the third ship and forward to the fourth, and blasted it from both sides. Then they headed out to-
'No, that's one of our friends!' Toothless roared, pulling out of his firing run with a few seconds to spare. 'Einfari!'
'Heather told me, I know!'
'On to the next one!'
Flying around and shooting ships was all well and good, but as they headed for what would be their fourth actual target, Maour found himself wanting to see what was going on overall. This wasn't going to work very well if the ships they hadn't hit yet managed to attack their allies. Down here, he had no idea what was going on with the larger conflict. There was only water and whatever ship was directly in their line of sight.
Another attack, another rush of fire, flight, and indistinct cries of shock and anger from the ship-
A splash sounded behind them, distinct in that it was very close despite their speed. Maour looked back in time to see another net striking the water below where they had been.
"They're catching on!" he relayed worriedly. "They just fired nets where they thought we would be." He wouldn't have thought the Berserkers would figure out that trying to see a target was worthless, at least not this quickly. Them firing where they thought Toothless would be was far less predictable and more dangerous.
'They almost hit Einfari; this is too dangerous to continue!' 'Nóttreiði roared down at them.
'I am fine, but that was close,' Einfari admitted. 'But this is war, it is dangerous.'
"Toothless, bring me up. I want to see what's happening," Maour requested. In moments, all three dragons were flying higher in the sky, angling toward the cloudy, dark sky.
The first thing Maour noticed was that none of the Berserker ships had actually sunk. The four they hit were listing but not irreversibly damaged. "Two shots aren't enough to sink a ship."
'But they are enough to cripple said ship, and that was all we needed to do,' Einfari replied. 'Look. Our allies are all getting away.'
Maour had noticed that, too, which was why he wasn't rushing to figure out what they needed to do next. The Bog Burglars were entirely away, and the Waxears were getting there, pulling out in front of the Berserker ship they had managed to maneuver around. The Rockbreakers were also gaining distance, leaving behind a Berserker ship Toothless and the others hadn't hit yet.
"Who's the fifth one?" Heather asked Maour.
"What fifth one?" Maour could see all seven Berserker ships, and the…
She was right. There were five ships making a break for it, not four. Another ship, somewhat more rickety than the rest, was sailing away with the Meatheads, leaving a strangely well-lit Berserker ship in their wake.
The sail had no insignia, but the patchwork state of the ship revealed who it was. But why would Alvin be fleeing? Dagur hadn't declared war on him.
'I do not think we blasted that ship,' 'Nóttreiði growled. 'It is burning, not sinking. At least these humans have taken out one enemy on their own.'
That was why it was so well-lit. It was burning. Maour was beginning to see what had happened. Mogadon and Alvin had, between them, picked off the Berserker ship closest to them, boarded it, and set it alight. With Vikings, that meant they had also killed off most or all of the crew, as someone would be fighting the spreading fires if there was anyone left to do so.
"Which ship had Dagur on it?" Heather asked, looking down at the burning one.
"The one that hasn't even weighed anchor yet," Maour replied, dashing her obvious hopes. Something had gone wrong on the Berserker lead ship, and they weren't making good time. Maybe the Order-keeper had executed enough Berserkers that the lead ship was short on sailors.
'So… Both of our biggest enemies are on that ship?' Toothless asked. 'Maour, If there was ever a time to strike first, this is it. We can end this war before it starts.'
Maour stared down at the ship that was just now beginning to move. Dagur had declared war. This was war. And if they could end it here and now…
"What's the safest way to totally destroy that ship?" It didn't matter whether he would regret it later. If they passed this chance up, every death this coming war wrought would be on his head. They had to try.
'We go for it right now,' Toothless replied, flying over the ship in question. 'But we pull out of the first dive early, without shooting, to see what they have ready for us.'
'I'm in.' 'Nóttreiði spoke seriously. 'Sister, stay up here.'
'I am going.'
'You have extra weight and might throw it off,' 'Nóttreiði countered. 'This is a dive, not a level flight.'
'Maour and Toothless are going.'
'I don't care what they do.' That seemed to be the end of the discussion, as Einfari glided away in a huff. Heather seemed just as annoyed, judging by the way she sat stiffly in her saddle, arms crossed.
"I don't have to remind you to compensate for my weight," Maour quipped as they got into position to dive. "Right?"
'Maybe if you had any weight to start with,' Toothless joked back. 'Ready?'
"Let's do this." Maour looked down at the deck of the ship below, hoping to see Astrid or Dagur. If they were going to do this, he wanted to be sure-
"No, not ready," he corrected urgently. "Look at that. On the deck."
'What… Oh, I see it.' Toothless roared at 'Nóttreiði. 'Don't go, they're ready for us!'
Ten Berserkers were spread across the deck of the ship, all armed with crossbows, and all aiming directly upward. There were more looking out to either side of the ship, also armed with crossbows.
'Why are we not going?' 'Nóttreiði asked disagreeably.
"Crossbows," Maour replied. "Aimed up. The second they hear us diving, they'll all just fire straight up. You or Toothless might get a bolt to the face or chest." He didn't like how easily they had just been prevented from striking; there was no way to get close enough to effectively fire on the ship without risking casualties. Enemies that aimed were avoidable, but enemies that just fired in a set direction were far more dangerous, because they could be arrayed to cover all angles.
Astrid was down there, looking up into the sky. Maour recognized her blond hair and angry, eager pacing. This was her doing, he was sure. She killed dragons.
"Let's just make sure our allies all make it away safely," he decided, looking away from the ship. This war was going to be dangerous, and they weren't stopping it that easily.
Reason for Removal: This one really was removed, as it actually made it to being published for a few hours before I decided it wasn't good enough. Really, it just didn't feel right, for a number of reasons.
Too Far, Even for a Myrkur (Chapter 31)
Ruffnut swung her fist forward, only to find herself tumbling after it, and cursed wildly as her side hit the wooden deck. A boot impacted her side, driving the wind out of her.
"Had enough?" Camicazi asked impishly, planting a foot on her back and leaning down.
Ruffnut grinned through the pain and pulled her leg up and back, just flexible enough to impact where she had guessed the back of Camicazi's knee was, buckling the leg holding her down just long enough to roll over-
And then the boot stamped down on her stomach, driving the wind out of her. Camicazi was still smiling smugly. "Saw that one coming."
Ruffnut held up both hands and performed the Thorston-spiting gesture she and Tuffnut had recently invented, knowing that Camicazi would have no idea what it meant.
"I think that means 'I yield' given you only use it when I win,' Camicazi guessed, stepping back and allowing Ruffnut to recover. "Are you telling me that I'm number one?"
"You know… Very well… That it's an insult," Ruffnut panted, sitting up despite feeling as if she could just lie there a while longer.
"But not what it means, so I get to pretend I don't know that," Camicazi replied smugly. Everything about the girl screamed 'smug' to Ruffnut. Aside from that admittedly annoying quirk, she was all that Ruffnut had anticipated. That was one of the reasons Ruffnut never intended to tell her what the gesture meant; as long as Camicazi didn't know for sure, she wouldn't risk using it for fear of Ruffnut changing the meaning on her.
"Ready for round…" Ruffnut stood, trying to think back as she did. "Fourteen?" She hadn't been keeping count.
"Six," Camicazi supplied. "No, let's take a break."
"Fine." Ruffnut had no intention of leaving it on a losing bout, but she could wait a little bit before continuing. "Now what?"
"Well, I think they'll be bringing your dragon up soon," Camicazi said idly, leaning against the railing that ran along the edge of the deck, toying with one of her knives as she did. "We can't miss that."
"No, no we cannot." Ruffnut would never forgive herself if she missed too much of Myrkurvængur's ongoing humiliation in the name of keeping their allies happy. She was only up here instead of belowdecks with him now because there was only so much girly activity she could take before she tried to kill something to balance it out.
"Maybe we should move on to knife-fighting once this gets old," Camicazi suggested, still toying with one of the expensive-looking blades she carried around.
"Save that for when we're really bored," Ruffnut decided. "This is going to be a long trip. We're not even halfway there." If they escalated to trying to stab each other this early on, the trip would end with them each taking charge of a ship and waging all-out war. As cool as that would be, she had a feeling Bertha would step in and shut it down too early for it to be worth doing.
The sound of waves sloshing against the hull of the ship was the only thing that could be heard for a while. Ruffnut rolled her shoulders and felt the many bruises all across her torso. At this rate, she would be forced to sit around and recover for a few days. Camicazi was very good at fighting dirty.
Then a very put-upon voice broke the silence, at least for her. 'This has to be the last one.'
Ruffnut was surprised in spite of herself; Myrkurvængur had to be near the end of his rope if she could hear his mental voice from here without him trying to be loud. She had outdone herself with this one, though she really couldn't claim all the credit. Who knew a tribe of all-women warriors would be amiable to-
A very strained roar erupted from under the deck, muffled but not silenced by the wood between them and him.
"She doesn't sound happy," Camicazi remarked, looking down at the wood under her boots. "What do you think they came up with this time?"
"Something great," Ruffnut asserted confidently. This prank was exceeding her wildest expectations. "Are all Bog Burglars like this, or did we pick the best ship?"
"I have a personal detachment of warriors that I'm supposed to travel with," Camicazi admitted. "They're all older women who are supposed to keep me in check."
"But-" Ruffnut began.
"So of course, I do everything I can to never spend a second around them except for when we're actually in battle," Camicazi continued. "This ship is the one all the newest warriors travel on when we set out as a tribe. They're all fresh off of initiation and haven't had to act like the crudest of men for years on end just to make the warriors of other tribes take them seriously."
"So, we did pick the best possible ship for entertainment purposes," Ruffnut concluded with a sly grin.
At that moment, the hatch in the middle of the deck popped open, swinging upward. A horned helmet poked up from the depths of the ship. "We're done!"
"Bring her up!" Camicazi commanded, waving her hand. "Let's see what your team came up with!"
Ruffnut snickered at that, too. What better way to get everyone trying their hardest than to make it a competition? She deserved all the credit for that detail, even if the Bog Burglars were doing all of the actual work.
Moments later, Myrkurvængur's nose poked up above the lip of the hatch, twitching furiously. Already, Ruffnut could see hints of what was to come. 'Ruffnut, tell them to put me back to normal,' he requested. 'I don't like this.'
"Come on up," Ruffnut called out in reply. "This is the last one, just let us see and then we can judge and the competition is over." She couldn't let on just how much she was enjoying his misery; he might figure out that she was pulling a prank if she was too obvious. He was still a Myrkur, and not totally gullible. Just gullible enough.
'I'll make your life miserable if you ever tell anyone about this,' Myrkurvængur threatened, creeping above deck and sticking low to the ground.
Despite her best intentions, Ruffnut felt her jaw drop. She had no words for the amazing abomination in front of her. Luckily, she wasn't the one who had to judge it.
"Hildegarde, what did you do to her?" Camicazi asked incredulously. "She doesn't look like she likes it at all."
"Well," the named Viking responded, coming up the hatch after Myrkurvængur, "first we tried to paint her scales pink, but we ran out of pink dye halfway through. So, we used orange dye for the rest and tried to blend it."
"You get to explain to the Chief why we don't have all of our camouflage dyes when she finds out," Camicazi remarked. "Then?"
"Well, we took some of the false beards from our disguise kits and wove them together to go over her head like a wig. We can disconnect those, so don't worry."
"And the pointy scales?" Ruffnut asked, unable to help herself.
"The same gunk we use to give ourselves fake warts if needed," Hildegarde explained. "We have a lot, so we were able to mix some with the dyes and add it to her face to make her shapelier."
"And you did an excellent job," Ruffnut commented, eyeing the decidedly emphasized ridges around the eyes and big, pouty false lips. None of it really looked like it belonged, though it was close enough to throw one off for a moment, but she supposed that was inevitable. She had been surprised to find out Bog Burglars did disguises at all, given their reputation was for pure stealth. Between the makeshift wig, pink-orange coloring, and aforementioned physical shaping, Myrkurvængur looked like he was trying to pass as a Viking woman, but failing miserably.
"I mean," Camicazi began, walking in a slow circle around Myrkurvængur, "if you were going for a complete 'Viking woman' disguise, you failed miserably. She's naked and looks like a wax figure that got tossed into a fire and remolded. But if you were going for 'pink and orange abomination,' you did amazingly. Either way, the idea was to make her look good."
"We started out trying to do that, but right about when the dye ran out, we decided to just run with it," Hildegarde admitted. "Nobody could top the first group."
Ruffnut didn't agree; in her opinion, the first group had been the least interesting. They had done very little, just adding some yellow highlights after polishing and shining his scales. Every one after that had been more creative and more entertaining.
"Ruffnut," Myrkurvængur whined, "make them take it all off."
Ruffnut hated the small twinge of pity that tainted her enjoyment of the moment and her prank, but she couldn't ignore it. "I think that's enough," she found herself saying. "Clean her off before she jumps in the ocean to do it herself."
"I thought you said she couldn't swim very well," Camicazi objected.
"She can't," Ruffnut replied seriously.
Camicazi frowned. "Okay, get to it. I'll announce the winner tonight, once I've had time to think it over."
"Thanks for being a good sport," Hildegarde said, getting Myrkurvængur's attention by lifting the makeshift wig off.
'Only because we need allies against the other humans,' Myrkurvængur grumbled, following Hildegarde over to the wet spot on the far side of the deck that had been used to sluice him off previously.
"She really doesn't seem to like that sort of thing," Camicazi remarked, watching as Myrkurvængur was freed from his unwanted decorations.
"We probably shouldn't do this again," Ruffnut agreed. Myrkurvængur would only take so much before snapping, and she was going to have to face him once this was all over, assuming she couldn't keep him in the dark about just how unnecessary this was forever. As long as she kept it secret until she had Boom ready to fly her away, it would be fine.
"It's not that," Camicazi continued, looking over at Ruffnut. "You have a very different way of doing things. With Maour, it was asking and listening to the dragon, and then deciding together. Here, it seems to be you telling her what to do."
"Yeah, but only because she's the little sister of her family," Ruffnut explained. "I wouldn't be ordering her around if she took the initiative. You think I could have forced her to do this?" Of course, that was ignoring the very potent force of 'do it or else everyone at home will blame you for losing one fourth of our allies' on her side lending authority to her words as long as she framed it right.
"I think she didn't want to do this," Camicazi observed, "and it was all just to have something to do, so you forced her to for our amusement, basically."
"You have a problem with that?" Ruffnut asked, feeling just a little guilty.
"Yes, I do." Camicazi crossed her arms. "I like Maour's way better. Look over there." She jerked her head over at Myrkurvængur.
Ruffnut looked, just to humor Camicazi, and saw Myrkurvængur, now back to normal, shaking himself vigorously. He still looked put-upon and stressed, if she judged by his ears, but to the uninformed observer, he would look relieved to be clean, and nothing more.
"Sisters in battle don't push each other down," Camicazi said sternly. "I get that you might not see it as a problem, but aren't you supposed to ride her into combat? Can you honestly tell me she will want to protect you after this? Even if it is a small grudge, it's still a grudge, and an unnecessary one."
"I thought you were fun," Ruffnut muttered rebelliously.
"Don't make friends with someone trained her whole life to lead and expect to be praised for abusing your underlings," Camicazi retorted. "Anyone with a grain of common sense knows that's not how it's done if you want to inspire loyalty, and Maour made it very clear that there's no difference in intelligence. I'm not happy you made my people a part of it."
Ruffnut crossed her arms, annoyed. Camicazi didn't even know the whole story, which made her words ring even more true, to an extent. She was making Myrkurvængur miserable for fun, and at the rate she was going, he would hate her when he found out…
But she didn't like being told she was wrong, not by someone who didn't even know the Myrkur dynamics, so she didn't outright admit that Camicazi was right. "Maybe you should keep your nose out of another tribe's business."
"Keep it up, and I'll ask if your dragon would like a change in tribe," Camicazi threatened, looking over at Myrkurvængur. "Something tells me that if I promised to treat her how she wanted, it would tempt her."
"His mom would kill him for running away," Ruffnut retorted. Then she realized what she had said.
"His?" Camicazi repeated in confusion.
"Just a slip of the tongue, I'm used to talking about my brother," Ruffnut improvised.
"Not buying it," Camicazi replied, glaring at Ruffnut. "You do know we don't care, right? You're not in our tribe."
"Don't tell him that," Ruffnut warned, laying out her true intentions more out of a lack of alternatives than anything. "This is my payback for being stuck with him on this trip, and for him trying to pull me into the water when we got here. And I'm teaching him to question authority too, so it's for his own good. He's way too pliable as it is. This will toughen him up."
Camicazi looked over at Myrkurvængur, who was now curling up in an out of the way corner of the deck. "Gods, you're a jerk. There are less humiliating ways to do that."
"Yup," Ruffnut agreed. "But this way is fun, too."
"So long as you know. And I want to hear it from Maour that you're not this bad to him normally."
"Done. I'm going to pay for all of this once Vængur finds out what I'm doing, anyway." Ruffnut felt that she was getting back on to less unstable footing with Camicazi, so she kept going. "He'll get me back twice as bad, somehow, and I'll probably be punished by his parents if he decides to tell them. It'll all end up even eventually, and we'll be good. That's just how Myrkurs work."
"I'll be looking forward to seeing his revenge," Camicazi decided.
Ruffnut was looking forward to it too, though with more dread than anticipation. She knew she was going to pay dearly for this, even if Camicazi made sure her people didn't accept any other offers that humiliated Myrkurvængur in the name of inter-tribal relations.
Reason for Removal: Unique in that this wasn't from the first draft but also didn't get published and then retracted, I knew I wasn't going to be keeping this scene before I was even done writing it. It has the feel of being in the middle of an actual arc, paints Ruffnut in far too cruel of a light, involves half-baked character development for Camicazi that isn't handled well and feels abrupt… Really, this scene was a failure from the start. Not because it wasn't good, but because it didn't fit with the rest of the story. Ruffnut isn't usually depicted as cruel, and this isn't the main focus of the story. It adds weight where weight shouldn't be and detracts from the actual plot at far too late a stage to be corrected. I only finished it to this extent (and it's not actually finished, there would have to be more after this bit, and plenty before it, for this to really work) because I was interested in seeing where the argument led. Past actually seeing Myrkurvængur's humiliation, I knew I was only writing out of curiosity because I could see no satisfactory continuation that fit with the rest of the story, and thus had to discard that important consideration in order to continue.
Basically, it just doesn't work. The actual story's version of this scene is far more in-line with everything else, and far more lighthearted to boot. I have no regrets in regard to trashing 2,500 words immediately after writing them, at least in this case.