Disclaimer: I don't own HTTYD
Chapter Five
Finding a single ship in the ocean was like finding a needle in a haystack. When that ship had plenty of time to reach its destination, it was almost futile. The crew of the Tempest weighed anchor in a secluded fjord of so called Dogshead Island, and their Seashockers towed the vessel into a convenient sea cave. The mouth could be seen rather clearly from the waves, but it was harder to spot from above; which of course was where the dragons would be.
Nicole sent a few of her crew members out to spy on Berk. By wearing a suit of waterproof dragon scales and lying flat on the Seashocker's backs just below the water, holding their breaths, they could be all but invisible. It was hard to get a good view of the island beyond the mysterious ring of spiky green ice that surrounded it, but eventually the spies returned with word that they had glimpsed two jet-black dragons, and a wasp coloured Triple Stryke.
They now knew for certain that their quarry was nearby, so Nicole decided to go ahead and prepare the bait. The trap could be set late that afternoon, before sundown; after all, she knew that Triple Stryke's tended to be more active in dawn and dusk when it was cooler, and the Night Furies were unlikely to be much different. The clue was in their name.
In the case of the Triple Stryke, the bait was easy. Not long before this job came up, Nicole and her crew had captured a female of the species. A fine specimen, with rust orange and sand yellow scales, fearsome pincer claws and strong, deadly tails. They had it on good authority that the Triple Stryke they sought was male. It better be, thought Nicole, or heads are going to roll. Once it got the scent of the female, surely it wouldn't be able to resist. All animals had the same basic urges, after all. Food, shelter, sex; their target Triple Stryke was no different. Same as any man, really she thought wryly.
As for the Night Furies…if there was a mated pair, then they couldn't rely on luring either in with a potential suitor, let alone both. There was a chance, however, that they'd come to the aid of one of their own. The only problem was that Nicole didn't have a Night Fury to use as bait; but she had the next best thing. She had the Loki tree ash, which they'd mixed with water and acacia gum to make a tar-black paint – and she had two Sand Wraiths.
The nocturnal desert dragons were golden brown in colour, camouflaged in the sand, but they had the same shape as a Night Fury. The Sand Wraith had a few key differences, like a forked tail and tongue, an arrow shaped head, hooked wing claws, a ruff of spikes and sharper spines. Other than that, the resemblance was uncanny. Only the fabled Light Fury, though Nicole didn't think they really existed (seriously, albino Night Furies?), would be closer.
She'd chosen the female Sand Wraith for the bait. The crew had already done most of the work, sawing away the tell-tale spines; they would fetch a decent price on the black market, not as much as a whole body, but still. All that was left was to paint the dragon in black. "I don't even want to see a speck of brown on it" Nicole instructed, as the crew painstakingly covered the unconscious Sand Wraith with the tar-like paint. The tree they had burnt to charcoal had been huge, and yet she feared it would not be enough.
At last, the dragon was covered in black paint and looked, to an undiscerning eye, like a Night Fury that had been harvested. Convincing enough to lure their targets in, or so Nicole fervently hoped. Quite aside from their deadly reputation, Night Furies were renowned for being amongst the most intelligent dragon breeds. Still, the disguise only had to draw them in close enough.
The trappers heaved both the Sand Wraith and the Triple Stryke onto rowboats, carefully lowering them into the ocean. The dragons were knocked out; they were so much easier to deal with that way. The boats were rowed around to the western side of the island, in view of the Isle of Berk. The mountainous island could be glimpsed on the horizon. "You realise the odds of them flying out here are very slim, right?" Cateline asked.
Rolling her eyes, Nicole countered with "Must you criticise everything? We have the dragon-heart oil, just a drop or two will make the bait irresistible. Is the blind set up yet?" she demanded of her crew.
"We've got it ready just beyond the tree line, Captain. What about the dragons? They'll be waking up soon" Gelvira pointed out.
"Sooner than you think. Please tell me someone remembered the oil – Ah, thank you, Clarencia" Nicole smiled, taking the stoppered flask and stepping over to the Triple Stryke first. She uncorked it and wrinkled her nose; it wasn't an unpleasant odour, exactly, moreso an unusual one. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it" Nicole remarked to the unconscious dragon as she poured a bit of oil onto its snout. The Triple Stryke's nostrils flared at the scent, even in sleep.
The flowering shrub from which they took the oil grew in arid land, in deserts. The plant used lizards to carry away its seed pods and scatter their precious contents, usually with a generous helping of dung, but it had an unusual method of attracting its would-be seed carriers. The oil secreted by the pods could only be described as a reptilian aphrodisiac.
Nicole vividly remembered when she'd first come across the shrubs, and found several horned lizards enthusiastically going at it like bunnies all around the plants. Locals in Egypt, where the plant was most common, called it sahaliat shahwa; lizard lust. Intrigued by the oils peculiar properties, Nicole had experimented and found that, when highly concentrated, the oil could be used as an aphrodisiac for dragons. In her line of work, it was a godsend (1).
Soon both dragons had oil dripped on them, and were on the verge of waking up. "It's a shame having to do this, but we don't have a choice. They'll survive it." Nicole ordered, "Break their wings."
"I can't believe you!" Snotlout practically bellowed. "I can't believe you called me that, in public!"
Fishlegs rolled his eyes. So did Meatlug and Hookfang. "Snotlout, would you relax? They don't suspect a thing. What are you complaining about? You like it when I call you that."
"Yeah, but not where people can hear you" Snotlout protested, cringing. It was supposed to be private, that nickname; a little code just between the two of them. If people heard it, they might put two and two together...gods, his dad was probably scowling in disgust up in Valhalla right now.
He could hear Spitelout's voice in his head. Let me tell you something, boyo. Some men…ain't real men. Now I don't mean cowards, or weaklings like Stoick's boy. They ain't much, but they're still men, of a sort. But you've gotta watch out for 'rassraugr' – Snotlout still remembered the disgusted curl of his father's lip at the foul word – you know what that means, boyo? It means a man who's let himself be taken like a woman, by another man, and liked it.
It hadn't made any sense back then. Men, having sex with other men? He'd thought his dad was joking. It ain't no joke, Snotlout. Someone calls you that, you can kill him on the spot, no questions asked. Same if you call another man that. Worse though, is being a rassraugr. They ain't right; they're sick in the head. Unnatural. Depraved. Remember, son – a Jorgenson is never a coward, never a weakling, and never, ever a rassraugr. Do you understand?
Yeah, dad. I understand.
He'd understood perfectly. Don't be cowardly, don't be weak, don't be a sodomite. The first two he was, without a doubt. Years of winning the Thawfest Games were undeniable proof that Snotlout was no weakling; he was the strongest of all of them, except maybe Astrid. Not that he'd ever admit that. As for being a coward…well, he'd gladly challenge to holmgang anyone who dared to call him that, either behind his back or to his face.
Snotlout maintained that not wanting to venture into deep, unfamiliar tunnels, or tangle with Scauldrons and Whispering Deaths was not cowardice – it was just being sensible. There was a difference between being brave and having a death wish, after all. Something no-one had ever told Hiccup, apparently.
He tried so, so hard to be the perfect son…and he'd failed. At first Snotlout hadn't realised the terrible truth, and when he did he'd denied it, especially to himself. He wasn't that. He couldn't possibly be that. He was a lady-killer, an irresistible stud – it was Astrid who was in denial about her obvious attraction to him, clearly. Okay, maybe she just had more of a thing for skinny uppity brats. No, he was not crushing on Dagur, he just admired the guy! Platonically!
Then it had happened. That fateful night. The whole debacle with the Changewing eggs, everything spiralling out of control until Fishlegs, heart-on-his-sleeve wimp Fishlegs, had got right up in Snotlout's face, looking angrier than Snotlout could ever remember seeing him. He'd demanded attention, respect, the sort of respect Snotlout could only dream of.
For a moment, all Snotlout had been able to think was – Oh my Thor that was hot, take me now.
It was wrong, so wrong. If the village discovered his humiliating secret, he could kiss his standing, the esteem he worked so hard to earn, goodbye. He wouldn't be a real man; he'd be a freak, worse than when Hiccup was the outcast. Here comes Snotlout, the man-whore. The very idea made his insides shrivel up in shame. So why, oh why, couldn't he stop thinking about it?
Ever since then, he'd pestered and annoyed Fishlegs as much as possible, trying to provoke him again. It hadn't really worked; if anything, Fishface learned to ignore him more than getting riled up by him. Snotlout had been delighted when he'd gotten hypnotised. Here was his chance! He could make Fishlegs be the man that Snotlout dreamed of…being, not being with. Or so he'd told himself at the time. It didn't matter if he openly fawned over Thor Bonecrusher, because everyone was fawning over Thor Bonecrusher. Well, almost.
It had backfired horribly, of course. 'Thor' had been rude, even cruel at times, and unlike Fishlegs he clearly didn't give a damn about Snotlout. He'd hated to think that Fish really saw him as just a dumb lackey to do his bidding; just because he (might have) had a few fantasies about being dominated by the man (in battle, not in bed), it didn't mean he wanted to be…less than him.
It had taken a lot of apologies on Fishlegs' part after the second time he'd become Thor for Snotlout to be reassured. ("I get it, Fishface, you were just faking. Sheesh, don't be such a worry wart, I can take a joke.")
For years, he'd buried the wrongness inside him, ashamed. Until he'd learned that Gobber was one of them – a 'rasser', he called himself. So was Tuffnut. At first he thought 'this explains why they're so strange', but he couldn't bring himself to reject them. They were his friends, afflicted with the same curse as him. They were all in the same boat up the same creek. Snotlout began to wonder if being a 'rasser' wasn't as bad as his father had always claimed.
He could never work up the courage to tell Spitelout this to his face. Then, his da had been killed. Snotlout was furious – with the hunters, with Adulfr, with Hiccup, with himself. Nobody could possibly understand what he was going through - except that somebody did. Fishlegs knew what it was like to lose someone. None of the others could compare, especially not…
"-lout? Snotlout! Hello? Are you in there?"
Hookfang helpfully set his horns on fire, briefly, making his rider jerk in the saddle and blow frantically on his palms. "Ow! Seriously, Hooky? Oh, sorry, Fishlout – legs! Fishlegs, uh – I mean, you say something, Fishface?"
The other man raised an eyebrow. "You okay? You kinda zoned out on me there. Also, you can call me 'Fishlout'. I really don't mind if you call me that – or where" he added pointedly.
Snotlout blushed. "Uh, yeah, okay. But I do mind, you know. So uh, you can call me 'Snotlegs', but only when we're alone, got it?"
"Oh, sure, so it's alright for you to call me 'Fishface', but not for me to" –
"Hey! I only call you that because I care. Besides, it makes sense. Fish have faces – sort of. They've got mouths, anyway. You know what they don't have? Legs."
Fishlegs rolled his eyes again. "I told you, my mam wanted to name me 'Fishtail', but it was already taken. They had to improvise."
"Did they ever. What is it with your lot and fish?"
"Watch it, Snotlegs. The Ingermans are the" –
"Oldest family of fishermen and sailors on Berk, carrying on a proud and long-standing tradition!" Snotlout parroted, "Yearly winners of the annual regatta, before one of 'em turned out to have a seasick dragon" he grinned.
Meatlug grumbled. Fishlegs patted her reassuringly and glowered at Snotlout. "Ha, ha, very funny. I'm surprised you remembered what I said."
"Oh, I remember every boring thing you say, Fishface. Somebody ought to."
"I can't think why you'd wanna remember what I say, if it's so boring."
Again, an adorable pink flush appeared on Snotlout's cheeks. "Uh, y'know, maybe 'boring' was the wrong word. I meant…soothing. Your voice could put anyone to sleep."
"Gee, thanks. I could say the same about you; Aegir loves the lullabies you sing him, y'know. Heh. Maybe you should sing me a lullaby one of these days."
And now, a scoff. "Oh, please. I wouldn't sing you a lullaby, Fishface, I'd sing – uh…"
"Sing me poetry?" Fishlegs teased, "Bring me rings of gold?"
The blush was back in full force, and close to matching the shade of Hookfang's scales. "S-something like that. Th-the gold, I mean. Not the poetry. Snotlout Jorgenson doesn't do poetry."
"Oh, really? Well, fortunately for you, Fishlegs Ingerman does!" He cleared his throat exaggeratedly. "I call this piece, 'Ode to Snotlout'. Oh…"
A dragon's shriek rent the air; Meatlug snarled, Hookfang flamed up.
Their riders were shocked as well. "What the heck was that?!"
"A dragon – it sounds like they're hurt! It came from up ahead, come on!"
Hookfang and Meatlug put on a burst of speed, hurrying towards the sound of the shriek. A second cry rang out, then all was silent, but they could have only come from one place. The dragons reached Shadow Island, and there on the beach, facing off against each other and clearly injured, wings trailing, were two dragons. It was only when they got closer that the riders could see what kind of dragons these were, and it was unbelievable.
"Is that a Triple Stryke?" Snotlout exclaimed.
"And a Night Fury! At least I think it is. Snotlout, go back to Berk, get help; we'll stay here and try to calm them" Fishlegs ordered. A thrilling little shiver went up Snotlout's spine at the other man taking charge. Then he remembered himself, and rushed off with Hookfang.
Meatlug descended to the beach, keeping a careful distance from the distressed newcomers. They both turned and hissed at her, every dragon in a three way stand off. Fishlegs dismounted, but stayed close to Meatlug's side. "No threat" he said gently, holding his hands up to show there were no weapons in them. The injured dragons roared at him. Meatlug apparently took offence, planting herself firmly in between Fishlegs and the aggressive wild stranger-intruders to their territory. *Leave him alone!* she bellowed, *My human is good!*
*There's no such thing* the female Three-Tail hissed. Across from her, the female Swift-Wing snarled *You have to go! Now! It's-*
Meatlug suddenly sniffed hard – her kind had the next best sense of smell after Spike-Tails – and grunted incredulously, *You're not a Swift-Wing at all!*
Her eyes narrowed. *I'm a Sand-Wing, and you're in danger! It's a trap, we're bait! Look!* she growled, jerking her snout towards the tree line.
Wary, Meatlug heaved herself around to face the trees, growling menacingly at whatever threat lay within. Alarmed, Fishlegs hurried to her side, asking "What is it, girl?" He grabbed a quarterstaff – Snotlout had shown him it was a better weapon for him to wield than a sword – and raised it defensively.
There was a rustling sound, and he heard something hissing through the air. It sounded like an arrow, and he instinctively threw himself to the sand. When he twisted his head to look up, however, he saw something was wrong with his dragon. "Meatlug!" he cried, scrambling back up and over to where his beloved Rock-Tail was standing stock-still. Had a Speed Stinger – Quick-Sting, whatever – gotten her? Had some of the web-footed ones gotten onto this island?
Fishlegs faced the trees again and hefted his staff once more, bracing himself for an attack. And it came, but not in the form of a small vicious dragon raptor. Another hiss, a sting in his shoulder, and Fishlegs' muscles locked up. He couldn't move!
A figure emerged from the trees – a shapely woman in about her mid-thirties, with olive brown skin and raven black hair. She walked boldly right up to Fishlegs, her gait confident, a small but ominous smile gracing her lips. She walked right past the injured dragons as if they weren't even there, although that might have been because more armoured women and men stepped out with blades and bows to defend her.
Something had occurred to Fishlegs whilst he anxiously waited for his girl to get through to the strangers. He'd thought, at first, that the two dragons had broken each other's wings in a fight – but watching them, he realised they had no other injuries. They weren't really acting like dragons who'd been fighting so viciously as to do each other such serious harm, and besides, dragons rarely broke each other's wings on purpose in a fight.
Now, Fishlegs saw the truth. These people had purposefully broken the poor dragons' wings, to keep them grounded. The very idea made his blood boil, and he protested vehemently, albeit unintelligibly. The woman gave him a mock-pitying look, and stepped right up to him, placing her hand on his shoulder like they were old friends.
"Sorry about this, but it's nothing personal" she told him, "It's just business. Oh, and don't worry about your dragon." With that, her hand suddenly tightened, fingers digging into and pinching his neck. For a split second, he felt his muscles go limp, and then the world went black.
Meanwhile, the dragon diplomats in training and the A-Team had reconvened in the airspace above Outcast Island. "First off, headcount!" Brenda announced. "Me and Gustav, check; Braun and Agnes, check; Otto and Sven, check; Ashildr and Phelgma (2) check; Margret, Mulch and Bucket, triple check" she joked, "Good, everyone's accounted for. Second, has anyone seen anything?"
There were disappointed shrugs and shaken heads all round. With one exception. "Oh, we saw lots of things! We saw sea stacks, and some wild dragons, and uh, lots and lots of waves" –
"Bucket, ya dolt, she's talking about the ship we were s'posed to be searching for!" Mulch cried exasperatedly.
"Oh…sorry."
"It's alright, Bucket" Brenda reassured him, then glared at the others until they stopped making 'he's loopy' gestures. The Berkians were used to Bucket's, and indeed any member of the Hooligan Tribe, eccentricities.
"This was stupid" Braun complained. He'd been put on edge by the idea of his island being unknowingly invaded – what the heck had the sentries been doing, napping? – and it was making him tetchy. "I knew we were gonna be too late. I bet that Fire-Scale didn't even see any strangers, she just made it up" he declared, scowling.
"Liekki wouldn't lie to Hiccup" Brenda declared confidently. "I don't know if he and Toothless being the Alphas means anything to us, but it does mean something to the dragons. They respect those two."
Her statement was undeniable; all of them had seen the deference that their dragons showed to Hiccup and Toothless. "Still, we haven't found anything. We'll just have to go back and tell Hiccup the ship he sent us to look for is long gone" Margret insisted, before adding, "And maybe that's for the best."
"Come on, everyone; back to Berk, double time!" Gustav declared, and they arranged themselves into 'arrow formation' with Fanghook in the lead. The dragon riders winged back towards Berk, riding the northwesterly wind towards Berk – a course that would take them right over the unnamed island.
Astrid invited Dagur, Heather and his twin children to eat with them that evening. Of course, having their dragons in the house would have made things rather crowded, so Toothless, Selena, Sleuther and Windshear remained outside, as well as Cloud Jumper and Skull Crusher. Thus they had an excellent view of Hookfang flying in and Snotlout vaulting out of the saddle before the Fire-Scale had even alighted on the ground.
Snotlout rushed past the dragons and hammered frantically on the door. *Hookfang, what's going on?* demanded Toothless, all of the dragons picking up the scent of urgency and rising to their feet.
Just then, the door opened. "Snotlout?" Hiccup asked, bewildered and concerned, "What's the matter?"
Unwittingly (on Snotlout's part at least), both Fire-Scale and rider replied to the Alphas questions simultaneously. "*There's a Night Fury/Swift-Wing and a Triple Stryke/Three-Tail on Dogshead Island!*"
Hiccup blinked as he sorted through the double helping of speech and thought-speak. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Snotlout grabbed him by the shoulders. "Would I lie about something like that?"
"Right, sorry" Hiccup winced. He moved aside and Snotlout stepped into the doorway, looking in at everyone watching from around the table.
"Did you say 'Triple Stryke'?" Dagur demanded.
"Yes! Fish and Meatlug are with them, but they're hurt, we need to hurry" Snotlout insisted urgently. The Berserker Chief immediately leapt out of his chair, and Hiccup went to fetch something.
"Hold it!" Astrid and Heather started getting up as well. "We're not letting you two fly off alone after what happened last time" said Heather.
"We wanna come!" protested Cammie, echoed in eager nods from Helena and Ebony. Shy little Oswald didn't look nearly so enthusiastic, but it made no difference anyway. They weren't being brought along, and that was final.
"It's too dangerous" her father told her, "And you're not old enough. You three are only six."
"I'm nearly seven!" Helena proclaimed, "I'm a big girl now!" Her insistence was undermined somewhat by her thumping a fist against the table. The adults were amused, a bit, but unmoved.
Hiccup returned from getting whatever it was he'd gone to fetch. Astrid turned to him and instructed, "You stay here and keep an eye on these three."
He shook his head. "I've already asked Toothless to ask Cloud to ask my mom to come watch them" Hiccup explained. "Astrid, I have to come with you."
"You're supposed to be" –
"In hiding, I know" he said, exasperation tinging his voice, "but Snotlout's seen injured dragons, not dragon hunters or – Snotlout, did you or Fish see a ship nearby? With three blue jagged lines on the sail?"
He shook his head, but then admitted, "We didn't really look; we saw these dragons and he told me to come back for help. Why?"
"There's been a sighting of potential hostiles" Astrid explained before her husband could say anything. "If they see Hiccup it will ruin the whole 'he's supposed to be dead' gambit and we'll be right back to square one."
"I'm still coming" Hiccup insisted, "Toothless and I are our best chance of getting through to these dragons, to the other Swift-Wing at the very least. It might be someone we know, they'll trust us more than any of you. Nobody's going to recognise me, Astrid" he told her, cutting off her protests. "I'm gonna wear a disguise." With that, he set about putting it on.
The others stared at him. "Seriously?" Dagur blurted out, incredulous, "That's your disguise? A boot?!"
He looked up from where he was fastening a boot over his prosthetic. "And my helmet, to whichI've added clasps that only I know how to undo." Astrid still looked sceptical. Just then, his mother appeared in the doorway, Snotlout having gone off to fetch a couple of slings.
"Hiccup? Toothless said you needed me?"
"Yeah, sorry. Snotlout and Fishlegs found a couple of injured dragons on Dogshead Island, we're going to help them, but the kids…"
Valka smiled and nodded. "I understand. Good luck…and be careful."
"We will, mom."
Astrid wasn't exactly pleased that Hiccup was coming; but she knew she couldn't stop him. Selena insisted on accompanying them as well. *Ebony will be fine* she insisted, *I trust Valka, and you can't expect me to stay behind when something this interesting is happening!*
Hiccup's parents knew where they were going. His mother could babysit Helena and her cousins, his father could make sure the villagers didn't panic at the absence of their chief. Hookfang and Windshear had slings to carry the injured dragons back to Berk for treatment in. They were prepared, but Astrid couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on than they knew.
When they got back to the beach on Shadow Island, something was obviously wrong. The sand was scuffed, as if someone had walked on it and swept away their footprints. The two injured dragons were collapsed on the sand, having apparently passed out from the pain. Worst of all… "Where's Fishlegs?" questioned Snotlout, dismounting and stomping forwards, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling, "Fishlegs! Meatlug!"
He whirled to face the others, insisting "They were here, I swear! They wouldn't just leave, something's happened." His voice was shaky, expression taut as he struggled to hide just how worried he was about his…his partner. I can admit it to myself, at least. "We have to find him! I mean, them!"
"Heather, you, me and Snotlout will look for Fishlegs. Hiccup, Dagur, you guys try to get those two into the harness" ordered Astrid, nodding towards the unconscious dragons, before warning Hiccup, "and don't take your helmet off."
Face concealed behind the visor of his spiked black helmet, Hiccup gave her a long-suffering look, but he nodded. It's for your own good he reminded himself. Beckoning to Dagur, the two of them carefully approached the injured Triple Stryke, and the Night Fury. Dagur breathed a sigh of wonder at the sight of the orange and yellow dragon; but strangely, when Sleuther got closer, he froze, sniffing the air and shifting from foot to foot in agitation.
*You guys recognise her?* Hiccup asked Toothless and Selena, gesturing to the Swift-Wing, which he guessed was female from her slighter form. They eyed the black dragon, and sniffed…their pupils turned to slits. *Her scent…* Toothless growled softly, staring at the unfamiliar female and then at Selena with a strange, worrying intensity. *It's good…*
Hiccup stared at him in shock. He could feel Toothless' emotions shifting, sense his arousal rising, but now of all times?!
"Sleuther! What's the matter with you!"
Hiccup looked over to see Dagur struggling to restrain his dragon, who seemed desperate to get to the other Three-Tail, panting heavily.
*They're musking* Selena revealed – it was the draconic equivalent of being in heat – and then she yelped in shock, struggling to get away from her suddenly 'eager' mate. *Toothless! Stop!* Selena clawed at him as he rubbed up against her forcefully, trying to get on top of her.
Hiccup couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then he heard a roar from Windshear and spun around to see – "Astrid!" He cried out, she was frozen in place, so was Stormfly, Heather and Snotlout. Everything suddenly happened at once. Darts hissed out of the trees; Windshear snatched up Heather in her claws and retreated, as did Hookfang with Snotlout; Dagur and Sleuther were frozen, Toothless and Selena in mid-struggle, and Hiccup himself. A dart struck his bare hand as he raised his sword and he felt the paralysing venom course through his body, immobilising him.
It was all over in a matter of minutes. Unable to move, Hiccup could only watch as dark-skinned strangers – the ones Liekki had warned them about – emerged from the trees. The leader; or so he guessed, from the trio of lightning bolts on her belt, some kind of crest; approached him first, looking him over with an appraising expression. He couldn't even close his eyes if she peered through the slit in his helmet, and Hiccup felt exposed.
She turned from him to give orders to her crew. "Get the Night Furies and the Triple Stryke onto the ship. Splint the wings of the other two and bring them aboard as well – you'll have to make two trips! Think for once."
"What about the Nadder?"
"Leave it; too common."
"And the riders?"
"Forget them; we've got what we came for. By the time the venom wears off, we'll be long gone" she declared. The words were like a spike through Hiccup's heart. What we came for. They had used a Swift-Wing – actually, more likely a dragon disguised as a Swift-Wing – of course! The Loki tree ash, it could be used to make black paint. These hunters were after Toothless – they were taking his other half away!
He heard Hookfang dive down on the hunters in flames, shrieking a battle cry – and he clearly heard the thud as the Fire-Scale was struck by more of those damned paralysing darts – actually, probably dragon root arrows, the darts would be burned away – and crashed to the sand. At least he tried.
Hiccup could already feel the heart bind tugging at him, chest getting tighter, colder. They'd knocked Toothless out, Hiccup couldn't reach him. The captain turned to him and murmured, "I wonder…" She reached out to grip his helmet, and his breath caught in his throat. But when she tried to lift it off…nothing happened. Same when she tried to raise his visor.
She frowned…and then it disappeared. She stepped on his foot. On his left foot, on his prosthetic. Hiccup didn't feel anything, naturally, but his blood ran cold. She smirked at him. She knew. The woman leaned in to whisper. "Don't worry. They'll be well cared for, and hey, the world could use more of them, right?"
With that, she moved away, leaving Hiccup rigid and helpless. She knows about me. She wants Toothless – and Selena, too? What for? The world could use more of them – more Night Furies? They have a Three-Tail, a female…oh, no. No, it can't be, they can't use our dragons like that! They're just doing it for profit, not to help. Oh, gods. What if she knows Adulfr? He probably told her about me…
All Hiccup could do was think, going around in his own head in a panicked spiral. Toothless was being taken away from him, and there was nothing he could do. NeedToothlesssaveToothlessneedToothlesssaveToothless, his instincts screamed at him in time with the thundering beat of his heart. Where was Windshear? The darts couldn't possibly strike through her metallic scales, why wasn't she doing anything? How could she just have fled?
*TOOTHLESS!*
Aboard the Tempest, as it was towed swiftly away from shore, a certain male Swift-Wing jerked awake with a scream. *HICCUP!* He lurched to his feet, and the ground rocked beneath his paws. No, no, no, no, no! He could not be trapped on another moon damned boat! Where was Hiccup?!
Cage – metal grate. Toothless charged a plasma blast. His fires burst forth and shone brightly from his dorsal spines, vivid blue. He was furious. He let it build up to the breaking point and released – the greenish metal glowed white hot, but it didn't give way. With a roar of incendiary rage, he slammed his shoulder against it and fired another blast. He had to break through, he had to get back to Hiccup, he had to get off this wretched boat!
He fired yet another blast, shoved and clawed at the door of the cage with all his might. The metal would give way any moment now, he was sure of it. Humans appeared – he roared at them, back arched to display his glowing spines, eyes fierce and wild.
They raised long hollow sticks – blowpipes – and fired darts at him. Sleeper darts. Toothless staggered, snarling viciously. He fought the pull of sleep, like a current dragging him into deep cold waters. He had to stay awake. He had…to stay…awake…with the last of his strength, Toothless threw back his head and roared in absolute desperation. *HICCUP!*
(1) I know what you're thinking; 'oh great, another plant that makes dragons lose their senses' – I'm sorry, but at least I made it affect reptiles and not just dragons specifically. Also yes I know the plant makes no sense.
(2) For arbitrary reasons I have decided that Phelgma is a relative of Snotlout (not his mother, probably an aunt), mostly because 'Snot' and 'Phelgm'…there's a pattern here somewhere.
