"Six days, fourteen hours, thirty-seven minutes, twelve seconds. That is when the world will end." The viking pronounced this gravely, his voice full of meaning and gravity. His cloaked head nodded once, slowly, to the night fury, and then the figure was gone.
Nothing remained but the blackness of the night, the cold glimmer of distant stars, and the faint resounding echoes of the battle below.
...
The night fury continued to stare at the place where the viking had been, transfixed and deeply disturbed. But just as the viking had vanished, the veil that had seemed to obscure the rest of the world left, too, and the battle became as loud as it once was. Jarring himself back to reality with almighty effort, the night fury turned away from the obtrusively empty patch of sky, and streaked, unseen, towards the viking village. There was no time to question his own sanity, no time to listen to the viking's words rattling around in his mind. No, they had a battle to win.
His wings created a high-pitched whistle that screamed through the chilling night air, and then he shot another plasma blast with unerring aim. The blast made contact with the net that a few vikings were using to hold down some dragons. The vikings shouted and scattered, narrowly escaping being burnt to a crisp, and the dragons underneath broke cleanly free and soared immediately into the sky. One of them - a blue Deadly Nadder - approached him quickly, radiating relief and gratitude.
"Thank you," she told him fervently and genuinely, her wings flapping hard to keep up with the night fury's unparalleled speed. "I mean, really - thank you! Who knows what those horrible vikings would have done to us." She shuddered, a flash of fear igniting in her eyes for a moment.
"You're welcome," the night fury responded with a smile. Or at least, what was supposed to be a smile. The ominous countdown was echoing in his ears, and he wasn't sure if he had managed a proper smile. The Nadder's grin faltered slightly, and the night fury got his answer. Definitely not a smile. Probably closer to a worried grimace. "I'm just glad I was able to free you guys," he told her, conversing to make up for his lack of enthusiasm. "It's always a great feeling to return home with every dragon that went out."
"It is," she agreed. "And, speaking of which, there are so many of us dragons at the nest. I don't think I've flown with you before."
"No, I don't think so, either," the night fury confirmed, and he smiled at her - a real one this time. "It's good to meet you."
"And you," she smiled. The night fury slowed his pace ever so slightly, adjusting his speed so as not to wear the Nadder out. Together they flew for home, to the island upon which their nest lay, and whence the Red Death awaited. They passed the long flight in conversation about this and that - the places they had flown, the storms they had survived, the strange and wonderful dragons they had encountered over time. And by the time the enormous flock of dragons had arrived back at their island, the night fury had nearly forgotten all about the disturbing viking.
With practiced ease, the dragons flew in a synchronized rhythm, dipping down into the opening that led to their warm and comforting nest. The dragons that had been assigned to fight landed lightly upon the rocky edges of the nest, and the dragons that had been assigned to steal food flew easily to the center of the nest. They hovered there, above the smoky lava that simmered and bubbled below, and then released their catches. They watched as the humans' food disappeared into the veil of smoke and steam, on their way to being incinerated by the lava's disintegrating temperatures.
"Good riddance," the blue Nadder remarked as the last of the food fell out of sight. "The raids may be dangerous," she said, "but when I see the remnants of evil being destroyed, I can't help but feel like I've done something good."
"Yeah," the night fury agreed vaguely, distracted. He had always felt that way before, but for some elusive reason, he didn't feel that way tonight. He watched as the last of the dragons perched happily around the nest, and he wondered, out of nowhere, whether they were doing the right thing. But then he shook himself. Of course they were doing the right thing. Humans were evil; dragons were good. By fighting against evil, they were not just doing what was right. They were doing what was required - good always triumphed evil.
Then why, a small voice in the back of his mind asked, do we never really triumph?
Just then, the nest began to rumble slightly, a loud noise beginning to emanate from below. The dragons rose up to sit expectantly where they were, eyes looking down, where they knew the Red Death would emerge. Sure enough, the blanket of steam swirled, disturbed, and then the Red Death arose, colossal head first, out of the scorching heat below.
"Well done, dragons," she spoke, her thunderous voice echoing around the caverns, reaching the ear of each and every dragon present. "I congratulate you on another victory against the cruelty and viciousness of the human race. Sleep well, my admirable dragons." The other dragons made noises of contentment and pride, but the night fury remained silent. He wasn't feeling proud tonight.
The Red Death moved, readying to descend back into the roiling lava beneath them. And then, as she began to descend, she suddenly met eyes with the night fury. This was nothing unusual - it was not like she never made eye contact with her dragons. But what was unusual was the look in her eyes. This, the night fury noted with a little chill, was a look he had not seen before. The usual warmth and pleasantness she showed them all was gone. In its place was a hard gaze - cold and calculating, as if she were reading the same doubtful thoughts that had just gone through his mind. For a second, the night fury could just imagine what was running through her mind.
The night fury knows... What shall I do with him?
The night fury shuddered in the coldness of her gaze, but then, quite suddenly, she had disappeared into the steam's obscurity, and was gone. Like that, the feeling left him, and the warmth of the nest returned to him suddenly. He felt foolish. What was he thinking?
"Good night," the Deadly Nadder told him sweetly, interrupting his thoughts. He looked over at her, smiled back.
"Good night," he returned. She paced a respectful distance away and then laid down to sleep. Yes, the night fury thought. That's exactly what it is. A good night. He had no idea where the odd, suspicious thoughts had suddenly come from, and he huffed angrily, displeased with himself. He was just out of sorts today. Yes, that was it. He was out of sorts. He had probably imagined the whole strange experience with the mysterious shrouded viking. A good night's sleep would fix everything. He'd be back to normal in no time. So convinced, the night fury burned the rocky surface beneath him to a pleasingly warm temperature, and then settled down. He closed his eyes, curled his tail, and spread his tail fins out like a blindfold over his eyes. All he needed was some sleep. Then everything, surely, would be right once more.