A/N-The countdown begins, only 6 chapters left after this! The first of the well-deserved humiliations begin here.
As always, read and review!
Chapter 30
A Different Point of View
As the Vikings ran back into the village, Brutus rallied his troops from the ships as they docked, jumping onto the deck again and starting up the path. He really had no idea why the Vikings had decided to head back into the village, as he knew most were an "attack first, ask questions later" kind of people. Nevertheless, he shrugged it off and belted out his instructions to the troops, then headed up and into the village.
About a third of the soldiers stayed on the ships to set up the siege weapons and attack as a backup wave, if needed. Another third spread through the village to destroy supplies and anything else that might weaken the Vikings later, should they actually manage to lose. However, all of that was made slightly more difficult with the dragons on the Vikings' side, so even halfway through the battle no one had managed to get to even the main storehouse (unbeknownst to them, though, the storehouse was emptied days before anyway, so it would have been a moot point).
At the same time, the final third of the army followed Brutus as he headed for what he naturally assumed held all their important artifacts, like in the many other Viking villages he had visited: the Great Hall. "This way!" He yelled, charging through the streets, only a few Vikings making a half-hearted attempt to slow him down. Had Brutus actually taken a moment to think about the processes of war, he would have at least formed an inkling of an idea that something was wrong with that picture; it shouldn't have been a straight shot to the Hall.
When he and his men reached the steps of the Great Hall, there was at least a few Vikings guarding the doors, ready to stop Brutus from getting through. "Remove them, but do not kill them, if you can," Brutus instructed his men. The soldiers fell upon the Vikings, sweeping them aside easily. "Don't let them inside!" one Viking yelled. "They can't be let through!" It was useless though, as the group stationed at the doors were moved away and tied up. Brutus and his soldiers burst in through the doors and filled the Great Hall. "We'll break them now!" Brutus exclaimed gleefully, looking around as he searched for anything resembling a book or historical artifact.
Suddenly, behind him he heard someone yell, "Shut the doors!" and turned to see a very large, artificial-limbed Viking helping a new group of guards slam the doors shut. "No!" he yelled, and jumped for the handles. But he was too late, as the doors slammed in place, and he heard something lock outside.
"Augh!" he yelled in frustration, finally catching onto why so few people had tried to stop him. "It was a trap! They've locked us in!" Brutus turned to his men, then looked around the room. Spying a set of tables off to one side, he pointed to them. "Use those to break own the doors!" His men moved to pick up the tables, but didn't get far before a voice in the back of the hall froze everyone in their steps.
"You're not going anywhere, anytime soon," the voice said, echoing off the now silent walls of the hall. Brutus turned, but couldn't see anyone through the sea of soldiers blocking his way. He began muscling his way through, some of the soldiers parting the way for him, others too surprised to move.
"Let me through!" Brutus hissed, and shoved his way through the last line of soldiers, stumbling out into the open space near the back of the hall. There, standing in front of him and looking way too cocky for his situation, was the strange teen that Brutus remembered arguing with back on the docks. He narrowed his eyes, more irritated than shocked. "You!"
The teen smiled at the recognition and nodded. "Yes, me. I do sincerely apologize for being such a party pooper, but none of you will be rejoining the fight outside again today." Brutus couldn't help but laugh, being threatened by a teen, and a twiggy boy at that. "And what do you think could possibly stop us, boy?" he asked teasingly. The boy simply looked at his fingers as if bored for a moment, then replied. "Well, first there's the doors behind you, which I will inform you are a foot thick and made of hard oak, which you will never manage to break through, at least not until the battle is over. Secondly," the boy smirked, as if holding some hilarious secret, "you will have to contend with me while we're in here."
That was all that was needed. Brutus started laughing, and the rest of the soldiers surrounding him followed. "You?" he gasped, barely believing what he was hearing. This boy thought he was actually dangerous! "What could possibly be scary about you? You couldn't even possibly take down one of us, you twig, especially as you don't even have a weapon on you!" This time the boy laughed, and Brutus started getting irritated again. The twerp thought he still had an upper hand. "Yes, that's true, I left my weapons at home today," the boy replied, still not losing the mischievous smirk. "But the thing is, I don't really need a weapon, I am one. And I could take on ten of you at the same time and win. Plus," the boy continued, his eyes starting to gain a dangerous glimmer to them, and Brutus swore he was hallucinating a bit when he saw the boy's eyes shimmer a slight shade of red, "you won't even be able to see or even touch me, let alone land a blow on me."
Brutus couldn't help it, and he laughed again. "I see you perfectly well, twerp, you're hard to miss, save for the fact that you could hide behind fishing line. How do you figure I'm not going to be able to see you?" The boy simply lifted his arms and splayed them out, stretching out his fingers as well. "This is how I figure that," the boy said darkly, and the fell silent.
Brutus lost the smile as he watched the teen's skin start to change color, melting to a shade as dark as anthracite, and cracking into thousands of individual scales. A pair of dark humps appeared behind the boy, gaining immense size but not revealing what they were, as the scales spread across the boy's clothes, up his neck, and down his legs. From his fingertips, thin, needle-sharp claws appeared, shining in the low light but still the same deep black, and from behind the boy, a long, whipping tail snaked out, ending in a pair of small, scythe-like tailfins. The humps behind the boy finally revealed themselves, flaring out into huge, bat-like wings the same color as the rest of him, and along the boy's back sharp ridges raised up. To match, a pair of long, sickle-shaped horns grew from the elongating head, and the boy's neck extended as he smiled, revealing glistening, razor sharp teeth. The last of the changes completed, with the eyes changing from muted greens and blues to a red as fiery as lava, and in place of the teen that once stood there, was a dragon as menacing as any the men had seen in nightmares.
"They say the power of God is something that should be feared, his wrath a powerful thing," the dragon spoke, causing gasps to ripple through the crowd; this was the same voice as the creature that had frozen their ships. "What happens when you invoke the wrath of even a servant given a gift from God?" The dragon smiled again. "Meet the Shadow Dragon," he said. "Not something you'll find naturally around here, but still not something you'd want to mess with, now is it?"
"W-what are you?" Brutus stammered. The dragon frowned. "I just told you what I am," he replied. "Yes, my true form is that of the teenage boy you saw a few moment ago, but as you can see I'm not exactly normal." Brutus drew his sword and aimed it at the former teen, whom he naturally saw now as some new evil creature. "What sort of pact with the devil have you made now?" he hissed. The dragon's blazing eyes narrowed, and he growled in return, stepping right up to the tip of the sword. "As I believe I already explained," the dragon/teen hissed, "I follow the same God you supposedly do, so how could you possibly assume I'd deal with a being so lowly and evil as Satan?" He raised up on his hind legs and flared his wings out again, causing the soldiers to back up in fear.
"Now you'd better listen up, and listen well, all of you," the dragon yelled, causing even Brutus to cringe a little. "You will either believe all that I say, take all of your men here, and leave and never return to these shores again," the dragon explained, "or, you will be forced to face me in here, and while I truly do not like the thought of killing people at all-" at this there was a quiet sigh of relief "-I will admit that I have no qualms about using some pain to get my point across, and I don't mind humiliation, either. Past that, I will always leave you to my friends the Vikings to be dealt with." The dragon/teen swung his head to look across the crowd.
"I was given this ability by another servant of God, a messenger or guardian of sorts, if you will, to help and protect those who at least try to do good. Anyone who attempts to hurt those who I deem my friends will face the consequences that I will give them. I already told you the dragons have their own set of beliefs, while not quite like mine very similar, and though the Vikings do not, those I have met so far here are inherently good people." The dragon swung his head back toward Brutus, who still had his sword in his hands and at the ready, but he had lowered it for a moment when the dragon started his little speech and stepped up out of range. "Now, I give you a choice," the dragon said to him. "Leave now, with your men and never return, or you can try to face me."
There was a moment of silence, then Brutus yelled out a battle cry, and swung his sword upward, the sharp tip of the blade aiming right at the dragon's long neck. The dragon didn't even attempt to move as the blade sliced cleanly through.
Nothing happened. The dragon merely frowned for a moment, as his head stayed firmly attached, and not even a drop of blood could be heard or seen hitting the stone floor below. Brutus lowered his sword and stared, dumbfounded. The dragon shook his head and smiled sadly, before truly grinning, his hundreds of sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. "It was so sad that I expected you to do something like that," the dragon said, but suddenly, at the same time Brutus noticed the creature's body beginning to blur as if he was watching the dragon through watery eyes. "One thing you forgot to think about," the dragon continued to speak, and now Brutus was certain he was watching the creature beginning to dissolve into smoke, "is: why is this form called a Shadow Dragon?" The dragon grinned even wider as his head began to blur and dissolve as well. "And ask yourself this: how do you kill a Shadow?"
Immediately, the entire dragon dissolved completely, a cloud of black smoke hanging in the air in front of Brutus, with only a pair of glowing red eyes still clearly delineated. Then, the entire cloud seemed to seep straight into the shadows cast by the pillar nearby, with the eyes the last thing to disappear.
Brutus looked around, silence ensuing, now seriously worried. But as time continued to pass, he began to calm down as nothing happened. If that really was some sort of demon, he thought, maybe that is how demons die. With a sigh of relief, he turned back to his men, who had also started to calm down. "I believe he's truly gone," Brutus said. "Now, let's get back to trying to break down those..."
His words died on his tongue as amused-yet-menacing laughter began to echo around the hall, originating from nowhere in particular. "Did you not listen to anything I said?" the teen's voice followed, seeming to emanate from everywhere at once. "You can't kill a Shadow Dragon!"
Suddenly, a shot burst out from the shadows dancing on the ceiling and exploded in the central fire pit, which then began to burn in black flames, sucking what little light was left out of the hall. A yelp of terror echoed through a few of the soldiers, and even Brutus was beginning to shake in fear as well.
"As I said before, they say you should fear the wrath of God," the teen dragon's voice echoed again. "Well, I was given this gift by God, so even if no one can match Him, I can still bestow wrath to those who do wrong. And you have done much wrong in my eyes." All the men began backing away, toward the doors, the flickering shadows cast by the black fire around the room making them trip over unseen obstacles. An amused chuckle echoed now. "I see," the voice returned. "Now you want to leave. At least you've all finally got it through your head that I should be feared. Don't worry, I'm not going to kill any of you." A sigh of relief swept through the soldiers. "However, it should be noted that none of you will be left conscious by the time I leave this hall." The scrambling for the doors commenced again with renewed fervor, as the men began to see the shadows moving against the flickers of the fire, all around them. Their minds were not playing tricks either.
All around the hall, on the ceiling, walls, furniture, even on the men themselves, the shadows began to swirl and coalesce, twisting, growing, and extending out of themselves and lengthening to become blacker-than-black, writhing inky ropes with a mind of their own. One by one they began wrapping around soldiers, lifting them up in the air through a force not even their controller understood at the time, and waving them around where all left on the ground could see. They were smashed together, heads, helmets, and bodies crashing into each other and rendering the men unconscious. As the soldiers below continued to watch, the shadow ropes tightened around the now senseless men and flattened them against pillars and walls, tying them tight as the hidden chains and ropes were dragged up to make more permanent replacements. Then, the shadow ropes would drop away, and more men were lifted to their fates, sometimes ten or twenty at a time dispatched all at once.
Systematically, the soldiers were rendered helpless, unconscious and their weapons removed and hidden by the living shadows, and tied up along pillar, rafters, or hooks on the walls, until there was only one man left awake to see their fate: Brutus.
Brutus drew his sword again, though he wasn't sure exactly what he would do with it, ad as he did so, the voice of the teen echoed in laughter and amusement throughout the hall. "Come out from the shadows and show yourself, demon!" Brutus yelled. A venomous hiss melted around him, sending shivers down his spine, slithering from the shadows, and directly in front of the commander general, accumulating straight out of the impossibly black fire as well as the shadows all around it, the inky black ropes began to coalesce again, rising up and swirling in a slow motion tornado, spinning upward to a point, where they began to solidify again into the shape Brutus now recognized well: the sharp, ridge-lined snout of the nightmarish dragon the teen had become in order to incapacitate his entire crew.
The eyes appeared again, blinking bright in the darkness and glowing in anger, as the rest of the body and wings swirled into shape. "I thought I had already made it perfectly, without a doubt, CRYSTAL clear," growled the teen, "that I am as far as you could possibly get from being a demon without being one of God's ANGELS!" he yelled as the last of his tail solidified, swishing back and forth in rage, and he stepped toward the commander again. "I don't believe you," Brutus voiced back. the dragon narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you made that crystal clear as well when you tried to slit my throat," the dragon drawled. "You'll get a much longer explanation after I help the village finish this pointless battle, but I'll say it again: you are the ones in the wrong, I know your God, I follow his rules to the best of my ability, and you have proven plenty well that you do not truly do so."
Done with talking, the dragon whipped his tail forward, wrapping it around the sword as if it were nothing more than a smooth staff, as the scythe-like tailfins cut into Brutus' wrists. Brutus yelped in pain from the lacerations and the force with which the sword was yanked out of his hands. The dragon looked the blade over, shrugged, and tossed it into the flames, where it began to melt.
Brutus looked back at the dragon, and saw the dragon's tail whipping back toward him at a speed no man could hope to avoid. It struck Brutus against the side of the head, and he did not see anything else for a good long while.
Once the Shadow was finished tying Brutus to the rafters in a very special place (namely directly over the fire pit), he flew over to the doors of the Great Hall, and dissolved back into the shadows, materializing through on the other side, and morphing for only a moment back to human. On purpose, he did not unlock the doors, for on the highly unlikely chance that one of the men inside were to awaken and somehow get loose, there was still no way they would be able to escape the hall. In the meantime, their weapons were all also safely stored away in a place only the Vikings knew about.
Once outside, the teen saw very few people left still near the hall. Everyone was out fighting in the village or over the ships and near the bay he could see rocks being flung through the air and catching a few unlucky dragons. Worried about where everyone was at this point, he remorphed into a massive version of the typical Night Fury, twice the normal size, and lifted off. When he reached the main battle, there was still a great deal of headway to be made. So far, the Vikings were winning, but as the teen would soon find out, there would be some major casualties before the battle came to a close. Much was still to be done, and little time was to be had to do it.