A/N – Two updates for this story over break – whoo! Thanks to everyone who's stayed with this story. I appreciate each one of you. I really do. Don't forget to leave me a review and tell me what you think.
This chapter is the twist where we head into one of my favorite AUs. I won't tell you which one, because it's obvious.
X
Chapter 8: Catch Me if You Can
Astrid sped through the woods toward Blood Tree Pass. She wasn't sure what her plan was, but she knew she had to reach him before the hunters did. She could hear the hunters in the distance, growling and shouting, growing fainter with ever step she put between them. Out of breath, she collapsed with the pass in her view.
She scanned the Blood Tree forest, but she saw nothing of a witch or breasts. Hunters roared not far away.
"Where are you?" Astrid begged of the air, half mad that he wouldn't show himself at a time like this and half afraid that he'd been caught. "Stop hiding!"
A twig behind her broke, and she whipped to face whoever or whatever, only to find herself staring into the mask she'd come to know.
"You're okay," Astrid breathed.
He nodded, then pointed toward the arena, toward the hunters' noise.
"Did you set the dragons free?" Astrid asked as she stood. Her heart pounded as if she still ran. "Was it you?"
He nodded.
"They're looking for you," Astrid said. "You should go. Hide somewhere they can't find you."
He looked over his shoulder at the noise, then shrugged. He held out his pale hand toward her. Astrid froze; his fingers were callused and scared. He took another step, moving his open hand closer, and she shook the feeling off. Carefully, unsure of what might happen, she placed her hand into his.
He closed his fingers around hers and pulled her after him, deeper into the forest, where the Blood Trees grew thick and close together, blocking out the sunlight almost completely. He knew where he went and she did not question it. She followed him through the winding trees, in the fake-midnight.
She could not hear the hunters. She only heard their footsteps, his light and agile, hers heavy on the forest floor. At last, he came to a stop and she almost ran into him. He turned around and put a finger to his mask's lips. In the dim light he looked like a nightmare, made of shadows and air, or a Blood Tree that had come to life.
She nodded at his signal for silence. Not that she'd been talking before.
He tiptoed into a small clearing. The gnarled canopy parted and a small amount of speckled sunlight fell through. Astrid hesitated at once, a lump jumping into her throat. The Deadly Nadder from the arena was sleeping soundly in the clearing. Astrid opened her mouth, but he placed a finger over her lips.
His touch startled her, but it was gone as soon as she felt it.
The witch carefully approached the beast, lowering himself to all fours, and making a guttural clicking sound as he neared it. The Nadder stirred and Astrid steeled herself. She could run back through the trees if she needed to. The Nadder turned its head to look at the witch, without malice or surprise. It chirped and nudged him with its nose, playfully, if that word could be used to describe such a thing as a dragon.
The Nadder stood up and the witch held no fright. He rested a hand against the dragon's snout and it chirped again, wiggling its crown of horns.
Astrid would not have believed it unless she had witnessed it. The dragon did not attack him or bite at him. What kind of witchery did this stranger have?
He looked toward her then, holding out his free hand. The dragon's yellow eyes flickered to her and she froze. She'd never been this close to the beast, not without worrying about tail spikes or a fiery death. The witch motioned for her, but Astrid shook her head. He motioned again. Astrid took a cautious step, watching every move the dragon made. She came to stand by the witch, and she felt the dragon's hot breath. She could hear its life, beating, breathing, living.
The witch gently reached for her hand and lifted it to the dragon's snout, just as he had done. She took a step backward, but an arm fastened around her waist. Her heart skipped. The witch held her on one side, the dragon faced her on the other. If this should go wrong, there was no way out.
It won't go wrong, Astrid told herself firmly.
The witch laid her hand against the dragon's nose. The dragons sniffed her, breathing even, gentle. It stretched its broad wings out, flashing yellow and blue in the sunshine. The crown of horns twitched and the dragon nosed Astrid, sniffing her clothes and hair. The spikes that lined its tail were flat, indicating the dragon sensed no threat.
"I don't understand," Astrid said to the beast. "If you're not…you're not the monster I fought before. You're different. You're…I don't know."
The witch's hand on her waist gently squeezed and let go. He moved around to the dragon's back and patted it, and climbed up onto the dragon.
"What are you doing?" Astrid asked, feeling her hearth thump again.
He motioned to her, but no sooner had he moved than a commotion sounded through the forest. The witch slid off the dragon's back and the Nadder tensed.
"The hunters," Astrid said, recognizing the chaotic sounds.
The witch grabbed her arms and pulled her to the side of the clearing as the Nadder pushed off from the ground, elegantly navigating the narrow opening and vanishing into the blue sky.
"Where is it going?" Astrid asked, but he didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed Astrid's arm and yanked her to the other side of the clearing and through the forests, away from the commotion. "Where are we going?"
The commotion sounded like it was coming from all around them. She couldn't see where they ran, only the witch in front of her, who she followed. She'd placed her trust in him, and she couldn't take it back without getting lost in the forest. The forest became rocky, with large jagged boulders jutting up from the ground, hugged by tree roots and dead vines, and she didn't know where they were. They had to be closer to the mountain.
Something happened, Astrid thought. Those were not the shouts of hunting Vikings, but of proud ones. He stopped and she did, too, as two hunting parties came together on either side of them. He dodged into a thick alcove, between two large rocks. They were not in immediate view, but they were not well-hidden.
"Hoark, what is it?" a Viking yelled.
"We caught one!" A hoarse Viking called back, Hoark, Astrid believed.
"What? Which one?"
"A nightmare. Burned Kak, but he'll live."
Just then, a wild cry of a wounded Monstrous Nightmare filled the afternoon air. Astrid felt the witch beside her tense, and she reacted before her thoughts connected. He made to climb out, but she reached around him as he moved, snaking her arms around his narrow middle, snatching him back into the alcove.
"There's nothing you can do," Astrid said into the witch's back. She hugged him tighter, fearful by what might be done to him by a hoard of angry Vikings. "There's nothing you can do without getting yourself killed."
The Vikings stomped away, back through the forest, as Astrid held the witch to her chest. Through the cloak she felt his heart, beating against her cheek, warm and alive, rapidly thumping.
"They would kill you if they saw you," Astrid pleaded with his back, even though he'd stopped moving.
The commotion faded, but Astrid didn't let go of him until it was gone entirely. When she did, he didn't move at first. He stepped out of the alcove and meandered a bit, arms swigging and head rolling on his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," Astrid said. "There was too many of them."
He shrugged and threw his arms out, a growl on his breath.
"It's the dragon, isn't it?" Astrid asked.
He nodded.
"I wouldn't try to rescue it like that again," Astrid said, and he turned to her, green eyes blazing. Astrid bit back an unpleasant sensation of fear. "Stoick will have ordered guards to the arena. It'll be dangerous."
She didn't know if he understood or not. Did he even speak? He might not understand her. He seemed to, though, and he paced in a defeated stance. He crossed his arms and his eyes narrowed at the trunk of the nearest tree.
"I should be getting back before they know I'm gone," Astrid said. With this latest disaster, who knew what her father would think, or do. She didn't want to think about it.
He grabbed her hand again, and pulled her back through the thick trees. In no time at all they stood a small distance from the Pass.
"Thank you," Astrid said, but he was already making his way back through the trees.
X
Astrid kept to herself, which wasn't hard. The village spun in chaos, of the missing dragons, the newly captured dragon, and all the gossip in-between. Through it all, Astrid fought the nauseous bubble in her stomach. Her thoughts kept returning to the mysterious witch in the Blood Tree forest, and those green eyes.
She had told him about the competition and then he had set the dragons free. That could not be a coincidence. But why?
That next morning, the village was still buzzing. Astrid went with the others to the arena. Guards had been stationed there, several of them, all armed to the teeth. The dragon mumbled in its reinforced cage, growling and scratching. It looked as though half the village had shown up to watch.
Astrid bit back her spiteful laugh; they'd come to see if the dragon went missing. Why were Vikings so nosy? Of course, there wasn't much else to talk about on Berk. Gobber laughed as he came down into the arena's floor.
"Look at these numbers," he pointed toward the crowds on the other side of the caged-roofing. "We don't see these numbers unless it's killing time."
Fishlegs squeaked, "What?"
"What's the matter Fishlegs, you afraid of getting eaten?" Snotlout taunted.
"Yes, I am, and so should you," Fishlegs said sternly.
"Ah, well, might as well make it a good show," Gobber said, hand on the door's lever. The crowds grew quiet as the pushed the lever and lifted the dragon's door.
Astrid gripped her axe and readied herself to dodge. Nightmares could go in any direction, although they typically dove headfirst. Astrid made sure she wasn't in that range. The Monstrous Nightmare burst from its cage in a fiery rage, sending stray embers on its flight to the arena's roof, where it crashed into the metal fence. Vikings on the other side shouted and ran as a bright, liquid flame erupted through the fence.
Gobber laughed as the Vikings clattered.
Astrid kept her eyes on the Nightmare. They were tricky, flighty beasts, and as hotheaded as a lava rock. It rounded on Snotlout, and the crowd gasped. Astrid paid no attention to those watching, distractions earned burns and blood. She wanted neither. The Nightmare lost interest soon, and Astrid luckily won its attention.
Its red eyes turned toward her, narrowed and angry, nothing like those of the Nadder that day before. Astrid gripped her shield and axe, trying to imagine this beast as calm as the other, but it proved hard. Smoke oozed from its nostrils and stray bits of flaming spit lingered between its dagger-like teeth.
The silence in the crowd ended abruptly, with sharp gasps and cried, and it was only when the Monstrous Nightmare averted its eyes did Astrid look. Above the forest, a small dot appeared, and it grew greater with every moment. Massive wings flapped in a rapid motion and it came closer at a frightening rate.
No one had the time to react. A blue fireball crashed into the iron fence faster than Astrid could blink, and the arena filled with thick smoke. She waved it away from her face and backed up until her back hit the stone wall. Heavy flapping of leathery wings departed the smoke, thinning it out enough to see.
A black beasts landed on the arena's floor amid the smoking debris. A dark-clad rider climbed from its back and extended a hand toward the jittery Nightmare. Astrid held her breath; she had seen that trick the day before. It was the witch, no doubt, who had exchanged his wooden mask for one of leather. Under his supervision, the Nightmare settled. The witch pointed a gangly arm toward the hole he'd made in the fence, and the Nightmare flew toward it, swishing the lingering smoke.
The witch had no sooner climbed back onto the black dragon than the smoke cleared enough for onlookers to see. He and the dragon rose into the air as it did, framing them with an otherworldly, sunlit halo. Gasp and screams came from the arena's sides, and a fearful silence.
Gobber coughed his way through the cloud. At the sight of the dragon he froze. The color drained from his face. He gasped, "A Night Fury?"
Astrid whipped her head to look at the dark dragon again. So that is a Night Fury? The name fit. All dark scales and a vicious snarl, poised to strike. She clutched her axe. Why didn't he fly away while he could?
"What is this?" Stoick roared above the whispering, uneasy crowd. He gestured toward the dragon rider. "What witchery is this?"
Astrid swallowed hard. The witch did not speak. He lifted a wooden staff toward Stoick, and the Night Fury growled. Eyes shifted between Stoick and the rider. Astrid held her breath. Few threatened Stoick the Vast and lived. Before any more words could be spoken, the Night Fury and his rider whooshed back into the air, and vanished above the clouds.
Astrid hugged her axe. Had he wanted her to ride that Nadder with him? A Night Fury. How in Thor's name did he find a Night Fury? Maybe he did have a power over the dragons. There was no other explanation for such a thing. Relief and terror fought in her gut as the Vikings exploded into outrage.
"What do we do, Stoick?"
"This is an act of war!"
"It was a witch!"
"What can we do?"
"We're not safe!"
"They'll be attacking the village next!"
"They're evil, I say!"
"Enough!" Stoick's roar silenced the panic. "Go back to the village. Prepare for battle in case they return. The council will meet me in the Great Hall. Immediately."
Astrid wanted to get away from the crowd, to seek out the witch, but Gobber kept his students in check until they reached the village. From there, he ordered them home until the craze blew over.
Astrid did not eagerly await what would lie on the other side of her front door. She paused in front of it, inhaling, and as she reached for the handle it swung open from within. Harald stood in the doorway, looking none too happy.
"There you are," he said. He pulled her inside. "There's dragons about, and some dragon rider. Stay inside."
The door closed.
"What happened today?" Ingrid asked. She looked shaken. A stew boiled over the hearth with the leftover mutton. "We only heard a small bit about a witch riding a dragon. Your father's been called to the Great Hall about it."
"I don't know," Astrid shook her head. She didn't really know, not other than what anyone else knew, but she relayed the events to her mother as best she could from an onlooker's perspective.
Ingrid stood with her hands clutched around a wooden spoon. "He recused the dragon, did he?"
"I suppose," Astrid shrugged.
"Well," Ingrid heaved a sigh. "That's a new one. It's madness, is what it is. A man on a dragon. Odin only knows what those men will say about it. Let's just hope your name stays out of it all."
Astrid's stomach clenched. Her father might think the worst, but she knew he would not betray her, his family, to the council.
X
"What should we do about it?" Hoark cried. He fisted his hands in his hair.
"We can't sit by and do nothing," Spitelout said with his arms crossed. "This is an outrage, Stoick. We've not choice but to hunt the monster and his pet down. He's a menace."
"He's the one controlling those dragons!"
"He's setting them to steal from us!"
"It's his fault our friends have died!"
"They've never come that close before. Something's changed."
"That's enough," Stoick said as he stood. The council around him silenced. "I know what this dragon rider is not a good sign. But we have searched that forest for weeks and found nothing but a few scales and scat. If that rider lives in the forest, he'll have the advantage. We can't go hunting him down."
"The we wait for him to come to us and slaughter out children while we sleep?" Spitelout spat. A few others cheered him on, agreeing with fists on the table.
"Not at all," Stoick said sternly. "He won't catch us of guard. We will double the lookouts and sentries, on all sides of the village at all hours. We will still search the forest, but our main objective is to keep the village safe."
"And then what?" Spitelout taunted.
"We'll find the nest. Take it out." Stoick hammered his fist on the table, ending the argument. No witch would harm his village. Not with him still breathing.
