We're posted in a camp a good walk away from the old village that had the hospital. It's around late afternoon, soon to be evening. This time my dad was able to get Goathy to come along to for first aid and treatments for the wounded. I was more than happy at letting her join us, we respect each other, and it's the least my father owes me for bringing Mildew along, once again.
If I were to walk to the old abandoned village, it'd be a good hour, there and back. Gobber and a handful of other Vikings gather together a fire and our food. I manage to negotiate with my dad to let me go hunting, alone. But before I go, I gather a handful of berries, a leg from a rabbit, and a canteen of water.
I wander around the woods for a few minutes, before a crack behind me forces me to turn. Only to find I've startled a rabbit. He's my first kill today. I don't worry about gathering a big load. With the other Vikings, and the previsions we brought long with us, we'll be fine. Once I skin and gut the thing, I stuff it in my burlap sack and walk around, lazily, and once I reach an outcropping of rocks, I sit quietly. The flow of the river is soothing, and the birds dominate the woods with their songs.
The summer's still scorching hot, but I can feel the shift in the wind currents. Autumn will be approaching soon. I hug my legs and rest my chin on my knees. My muscles are clenched tight, and when I release them, they all have that feel of pins and needles poking me from within. For the next few minutes, I alternate between walking and jogging in an attempt to get the flow back into them.
My walk has taken me to the edge of the old village. My stomach knots and I feel the urge to turn and run. But somehow my muscles move forward against my will. I stop and stare down at my shoes, watching as a fine layer of ash settles on the black leather. Almost nothing remains of the hospital, the village. The place was obviously already abandoned before our soldiers even set up here, but I still feel like I had destroyed someone's home. Maybe I did. Maybe it was someone's home. For the wounded it was. It was their last stop before the hospital collapsed.
I'm in the middle of the hospital warehouse when I realize I'm crouched down, elbows on my thighs, my head braced between my hands. Thank Thor no one's here. I must look on the verge of some kind of breakdown. Even if I had company, I wouldn't want anyone to join me. Not even Skullette. Some walks you have to talk alone.
There's been next to no rain to disturb the piles if ash left by the attack. They shift here and there, in reaction to my footsteps. No breeze to scatter them. I keep my eyes on what I remember as the road. I wasn't careful and walked right into a rock. Only it wasn't a rock - it was someone's skull. Left behind since the raid, forgotten. Someone's going to have an incomplete body at a burial.
The thing rolled over and over and landed face up, and for a long time I couldn't stop looking at its teeth. I walk through some parts that I had not yet seen due to my special protection and limited time. But it's a bad choice. It's full of the remains of those who tried to flee. Some were incinerated completely, others probably as - assumed - overcome with smoke, escaped the worst of the flames and now lie reeking in various stages of decomposition. Carrion for scavengers, blanketed by flies. It surprises me that there are still this many bodies left here to rot. Even after the week that had passed.
As I'm passing an old bakery, I notice something lodged into one of the walls on the front porch. A knife. Still in good condition apart from the pommel being partially singed. I wedge it free and examine it. It's a fine one with a long sharp blade, serrated near the handle, which will make it handy for sawing through things.
A sound in the distance gets my attention. At first it sounded like one of Toothless's plasma attacks since it sounded so quiet. But when I here another one sound, there's a distinction that I know it's not Toothless. I do a 360 degree turn until my eyes find a small cloud of smoke in the distance. My heart skips a beat. No, no please I pray to Thor. But another explosion crushes my hopes.
I lunge forward. Running. Sprinting. Away from the square of the abandoned village and toward the campsite. I forget where I am or what lies ahead, only knowing I must reach the campsite. Reach her, and protect her. I run wildly in the direction of the smoke, heedless of danger, ripping through leaves and branches, through anything that keeps me from reaching her. Them.
Screams. I soon here them as the world suddenly transforms into flame and smoke. Burning branches crack from trees and fall in showers of sparks at my feet. All I can do is follow the others, the rabbits and deer, and I even spot a wild dog pack shooting through the woods. I trust their sense of direction because their instincts are sharper than mine. The heat is horrible. But even worse than that, is the suffocating smoke. I pull my hood over my head and pull out the cape from my belt and attach it to the hooks.
Up ahead I can see a branch about to fall and block my path. I sprint into a crook of the trees and pull my cape up over my body. I'm expecting the worse, but only feel a little tickling sensation. I crawl out and spring up and bolt forward again. I know my cape is on fire, but I don't stop to rip it off and stamp out the flames. I just keep moving, knowing it'll dissipate on its own. Enough so that I can stomp it later. And as long as my hood is fine, so will I be.
I pull the collar of my uniform up over my nose, shocked but relived to find it soaked with sweat, giving me a thin veil of protection against the flames. As I'm running I'm choking, my face is getting cut by the branches that materialize from the haze without any warning. I hurdle over a burning log. And soon my nose and throat are burning. It feels as if my intestines are really getting baked. The coughing begins soon after. I've got to be getting close
The air suddenly feels cleaner, but ever so slightly. I break through some foliage and find our entire campsite ablaze. I can't tell if it was man-made, but my eyes are desperately searching for my dad, Skullette, Gobber, Astrid. Anyone. By now my cape's probably blown out, and I focus my full attention on what's ahead of me.
There are people running in every direction in an attempt to get away from the circle of flames. It's as if everything's happening at one. Several Vikings try to fend off the Outcasts that I soon see, while others fly on dragons to stop the fire from spreading anywhere else in the woods. I try to listen to the sound of my dad's voice over the roar. I manage to catch a faint yell. An order, and then he's calling for me.
My feet rush in an attempt to help him, but I can sense the emergence of danger before I see it. The knife that comes whizzing at me ricochets off my bow - just like Gobber had thrown at me – and lands blade first in the ground. I turn, drawing back the bowstring and send an arrow straight at an Outcast's heart. He turns just enough to avoid a fatal hit, but the point punctures his upper left arm. Unfortunately, he throws with his right. I can tell as he's ten yards away, running toward me, his sausage hand clutching half-dozen knives. Fortunately he slows down for a few moments, having to pull the arrow from his arm, take in the severity of the wound.
That simple delay and distraction earned him the arrow that I lodged into his neck. He falls, the knives scattering across the dirt. I'd stop to gather them, but I still need to find my dad. I keep moving, positioning the next arrow automatically, as I learned how to from Skullette. I listen for my dad once again, and I can hear him still calling for me, only his voice has more panic than usual. I try to call, only to find my throat like sandpaper and my voice hoarse. I'm on my own. I need to get to my dad another way.
Toothless hasn't been seen, and my anxiety grows. As I turn to head in the opposite direction, ready to fire again, a random knife catches me in the forehead. It slices right above my left eyebrow, opening a gash that sends a gush running down my face, blinding my eye, and filling my mouth with the metallic taste of my own blood. I stagger backward but still manage to send my readied arrow in the general direction of my assailant. But I know it will miss.
Suddenly, cold fingers lock around my throat. I feel the wind get knocked out of me as a searing pain soared through my spine, and I realize I'm pinned against the trunk of an oak tree. I open my eyes and it takes me a second to realize I'm staring into the eyes of Savage. His mustache has bits of blood dotted on it, his eyes are full of loathing, and his breath reeks of old meat and molded yak milk.
"Well, nice to see you again Hiccup. Alvin's been expecting you." He says, baring a smile that had several missing teeth.
"No he hasn't. He's not that smart." I counter.
I'm not worried he'll kill me just yet. He and I both know that Alvin wants me alive, or else he won't be able to train dragons. But I can tell Savage wants to savor the moment. Even feels he has time.
"Well, I should give him more credit. He knew this fire would draw you in. Or at least smoke you out if you were present."
"Oh, too predictable" I snarl. When I manage to moisten my throat enough with my saliva, I scream at the top of my lungs, "Dad!"
Savage jams his fist into my windpipe, very effectively cutting off my voice. But his head's whipping from side to side, and I know for a moment he's at least considering someone heard me. Since my dad doesn't appear to save me, he turns back to me.
"You little liar," he says with a grin. "No one can here you now."
I'm struggling to break his grip, but he's still too strong for me, even with my training. His lock too tight on me. "I promised Alvin I'd give you a good welcoming before taking you to him. And don't worry, you'll still be alive, but just barely."
He carelessly wipes the blood from my wound with just his thumb. For a moment, he surveys my face, as if he's deciding on where to start first. I attempt to bite his hand, but his grip tightens on my throat, and I get so caught up in fighting for air that I stop. I clamp my teeth together as he readies a dainty looking knife with a cruel, curved blade.
"So you're going to chop me up, and then give me to Alvin? Smart. Real, smart." I choke in a mocking tone.
"As long as you're alive, Alvin will be pleased nonetheless." He says as he teasingly traces my cheek with the tip of the blade. "Want to blow your girlfriends one last kiss?" I work up a mouthful of blood and saliva and spit it in his face. He flushes with rage.
I won't close my eyes. That comment has filled me with fury, enough fury I think to die with some dignity. As my last act of defiance, I will stare him down as long as I can see, which will probably not be an extended period of time, but I will stare him down, I will not cry out, I will not beg for mercy, I will die, in my own small way, undefeated. I brace myself for the agony about to come. But as I feel the tip open the first cut at my lip, some great force yanks Savage from my body and then he's screaming. I'm dropped to the forest floor, to stunned at first, too unable to process what just happened.
Has my dad come to my rescue after all? Is it Gobber? But when I manage to push myself up, I see a black thing hovering over Savage. Once my eyes get into focus, I see it's Toothless. He has Savage imprisoned in his legs. I let out a gasp, seeing him like that. Teeth bared in hatred. Eyes with thin slits.
I manage to pull myself to my feet and after Toothless carelessly and unceremoniously picks up Savage by the feet like a rag doll, and chucks him a few yards away, I hold onto his head for support since the world's still divided into three's. We're walking a few paces a minutes, as Toothless uses his wing to protect me. When I manage to focus my eyes, I stand on my own and ready an arrow in my bow.
As we're looking to find my dad, suddenly a bludgeon whacks Toothless in the face and he's stunned. Within seconds, he's wrapped in rope and I'm pushed back onto the dirt ground.
"Toothless!" I scream as Outcast after Outcast dog-pile on him. Pinning him to the ground.
I get up to try and help him, but the minute I'm on my feet, as my fingers have just closed on the feathers of an arrow, another bludgeon smashes into the side of my head. The next thing I know, I'm on my back in the dirt again, a terrible pain in my left temple. Combine that with the gash on above my eyebrow, and together they make a harmony of pain.
Something's wrong with my eyes. My vision blurs in and out of focus as I strain to make the millions of purple clouds floating up in the sky into one. It's hard to breathe and I realize an Outcast is sitting on my chest, pinning me at the shoulders with his knees.
There's a stab in my left forearm. I try to jerk away but I'm still too incapacitated. The Outcast is digging something, I guess the point of his knife, into my flesh, twisting it around. There's an excruciating ripping sensation and warmth runs down my arms filling my palm. Probably doing irreparable damage to veins and arteries.
Suddenly, I'm able to breathe again. But I still don't move. My eyes shut, blocking out the inconsistent world, as I try to make sense of my situation. I hear the infuriated roar of Toothless. Then there's the sound of shouting men and their voices get very distant very quick. I know Toothless is probably throwing them yards away from me. I force my eyes to open, and thankfully the world has settled. There's the sound of heavy footprints coming, not trying to conceal their whereabouts.
"Hiccup!"
"Hiccup!" I hear it call. It takes me a few seconds to decipher that it's my dad.
I pull myself to my feet, but the world takes an alarming spin, and I have to put all of my strength into fighting against the urge to vomit. There's another roar from Toothless and he's by my side as I'm about to take a hard fall that would've knocked me out cold. My hands feel around so I know they're resting on his forehead. Flying away is out of the option. Not in my condition. But I need to find Skullette and the others, and get us all somewhere safe.
As I'm trying to keep up with Toothless, there's a call from behind me, and suddenly a flaming log hurdles at us. I'm forced to push myself off of Toothless so I'm heading right and he springs left. The impact of the hard-packed earth knocks the wind out of me. But something else catches my senses. There's that same tickling sensation I had before. When my cape caught fire. My eyes fly open and I spring to my feet, trying my best to ignore the tilting world. The sensation is stronger, like people are actually, annoyingly poking at my back.
"Hiccup!" a feminine voice shrieks. I can't decide if it was Skullette or Astrid. But I turn around until I'm facing the crowd of Vikings and Outcasts. My hood is still up, and while I'm expecting smoke, there's nothing coming out from behind me.
I look ahead, and everything has stopped. Like I'm frozen in time. They stare in 'aw' and amazement. It wasn't until I catch myself in the reflection of a metal shield that I see it. And I'm floored at how I look. In the deepening twilight of the day, there's fire on my back. And it illuminates my face. I have a trail of fire flowing off my cape. It's as if I'm completely engulfed in tongues of fire.
The creature standing before the crowd isn't me. I can't be me. It's come from another world. A world where a dragons' fire is used for power and for show. The slightest motion and the flames exaggerate my every move.
I'm not cute. I'm not handsome. I'm as radiant as the sun.
My body hesitates to step forward, but I know I can. Now that I look like this, the Outcasts will want to run. I can see my green eyes stand out from the flames. Thankfully the adrenaline rush from the flaming costume has subdued the pain from my arm, for now. I'll pay for it later. But for now, I allow myself to feel empowered. I put a grip on my bow and as I ready an arrow, over half of the Outcasts flee from me. Those who stay behind, struggle to stand their ground. Savage being one of them.
He readies himself with a sword, but as if on cue, Hookfang lands behind me and I lower my bow. Hookfang roars and the number of Outcasts dwindles. I walk forward and whatever bits of fire fly off my cape land on Hookfang and he ignites himself. I can feel and see and orange blaze behind me. A Deadly Nadder swoops down and after it zooms past me, it lands next to Hookfang. My face is stern and strong, and I can tell they fear me. I slowly bring my bow up and pull back the string. But before I even fully pull it back, all of the Outcasts, including Savage run for the hills.
The other Vikings cheer in victory and punch the air with their weapons. The adrenaline drains, and the pain resurfaces. The world takes an unexpected spin. Without warning, I double over and begin to convulse. I vomit up blood and an acidic substance that scalds my throat and makes its way into my nose. I stand there weak and sweaty as my body desperately tries to rid itself of the poisons I've been inhaling. I convulse until I'm sure there's absolutely nothing left.
I'm about to crash to the ground, but Toothless is under me in the blink of an eye. I don't even have the strength to hold onto him. It's like his skin has been soaked in soap, and my fingers slip. While he constantly tries to keep me up, finally, my dad rushes over and picks me up just like before.
He's careful about how he carries me and he double-checks his pace to make sure I don't vomit on his shirt again. I close my eyes in an attempt to drown out the world. Dad doesn't have to worry me messing up his uniform. I have nothing left. I can hear the shuffle of boots and weapons as Vikings try to clean up the campsite. There's the sizzling sound of singed bark and dirt. The light shifts and I open my eyes to find myself in a tent. A large tent with a circular opening. Goathy gets to work treating my wounds.
I watch whenever I can to see how this woman operates. She pours water from a pitcher into a basin while ordering my dad to pull a series of remedies from her medicine trunk. Dried herbs and tinctures and homemade bottles. I try and watch her bony hands, the long, fingers crumbling this, adding drops of that into the basin. Soaking a cloth in the hot liquid as she gives dad instructions to prepare the next brew.
In the midst, I hear my dad whisper quietly since he probably thinks I'm out cold. "Can you save him?"
She says nothing. Doesn't even write in the dirt, and just wrings out a cloth and holds it in the air to cool somewhat. I'm not sure if she knows I'm awake, and I'm no doctor, but shouldn't they be trying to keep me awake? With all of the blood I lost – which could easily be at least three pints – if I fall asleep, I could never wake up. Am I really a goner? Not if I can still think. But that's not enough for my dad. I want to move, just to show my dad I'm okay, but the slightest movement sends a stab of fresh pain through my joints.
"Don't worry," says Gobber. "Remember, she's healed plenty of our wounded. He's in good hands."
Ever so gently, she begins to clean the mutilated flesh that was my arm, then moving to my forehead which is clearly not a priority. She dabs here and there until she removes most of the blood. Enough so that she can start to heal my arm, even though I'm sure we both know the damage is irreparable. But I trust she'll do what she can. I hear Skullette arrive, breathless and flushed, her hair sweaty. Wordlessly she sits next to me, takes my hand, and holds it against her lips. I don't think Goathy even acknowledged her.
She's gone into that special zone that includes only herself and the patient, and occasionally my dad. Even in her expert hands, it takes a long time to clean my wounds. The smoke and fire irritated it and even dried it to my skin. Goathy tries to moisten them enough so that she can clean them without causing so much pain on me. I tended to slip in and out of a fuzzy daze. Unaware of what's going on or if they're still working on me. There are other soldiers too ho need treatment, but I guess being the chief's on, I'm the main focus.
When she gets to work nursing my arm, I can feel her carefully arrange what shredded skin can be saved, apply a salve and a light bandage. The slightest tug on my arm's skin brings tears to my eyes; and I pray to her to just cut it all off. But I know she wants to salvage as much as possible. As the blood clears, the air seeps into the wound. It feels fine, but the way it feels, it's like there's a hole right through my arm. I pray to Thor that Savage's knife didn't cut all the way through, but it feels like it did.
Now I'm praying that I'll go unconscious again, but apparently it's too much to ask for. As the final bandages are being placed, a moan escapes my lips. Skullette strokes m hair and whispers something while Goathy goes through her meager store of painkillers. Some of them are hard to come by, expensive, and always in demand. I'm pretty sure she gets most of them from Trader Johan. Goathy has to save the strongest for the worst pain, but what is the worst pain? Goathy tries to save them for those who are actually in the process of dying, to ease them out of the world.
Since I'm regaining consciousness, they decide on an herbal concoction I can take by mouth. "That won't be enough," I hear Astrid say. Her presence surprises me. I didn't even hear, let alone feel her walk in. "That won't be enough. That will barely knock out a headache."
"We'll combine it with sleep syrup, Astrid, and he'll manage it." Gobber says, though I'm pretty sure he's translating what Goathy's writing. "The herbs are more for the inflammation-" Gobber beings calmly.
"Just give him the medicine!" she screams at her. "Give it to him! Who are you, anyway, to decide how much pain he can stand?!"
I begin stirring at her voice, trying to reach her, mostly to tell her to stop. The movement causes fresh blood to stain the bandages. And an agonized sound comes from my mouth.
"Take her out." Gobber orders. I flutter my eyes open as best I can, only to see Tuffnut and Snotlout literally carry Astrid from the tent while she shouts obscenities ay Goathy. Ii know they have to pin her to something until she stops fighting. While I lie there, I can hear sobbing, I can imagine tears squeezing out of her eyes. Was she like this when I was our cold after defeating the Green Death? Was she like this when I got struck by that lightning one day in the village?
For a while, I doze off. Allowing Goathy to finish with me as best she can, then go on treating the other Vikings. A rustling of the tent flap gets my attention, and while my eyes aren't fully open, I can make out a few figures. One being my dad. There's the sound of glass bottles clinking together in a crate.
Suddenly, the pain, out of nowhere, multiples by ten, twenty, forty. I can feel my muscles tense, but that makes it worse. My teeth naturally grit together and I can feel my back and my forehead moisten with sweat. Whatever Goathy gave me, Astrid was right. It isn't enough. I listen to the commotion and try to translate what's happening.
It sounds like Goathy fills a syringe with one of the liquids from those bottles, and shoots it into my arm. Almost immediately, everything relaxes. I can feel the cold liquid course through my veins. I welcome it, embrace it as it spreads and germinates throughout my entire body. Once I drift away into the painkiller, everything seems to deflate. Once I feel the coldness of the drug snake up my spine, until I'm sure it's leaked into my brain. Then I begin to drift deeper.
Something must be weird with the drug, because my dreams aren't dreams at all. They're nightmares. Horrible, gory, terrifying nightmares.
Savage, has entered my dreams now. He chases me, pins me to the ground, and pulls out his knife to cut my face. It digs deeply into my cheek, opening a gash. Suddenly Savage beings to transform, his face elongating into a snout, dark fur sprouting from his skin, his fingernails growing into longs claws, but his eyes remain unchanged. He becomes this wired mutation of himself. A rat-like thing of the Outcasts that terrorizes me. tossing back his head he lets out an eerie screech/scream. Savage begins to lap the blood flowing from my wound, each lick sending a new wave of pain through my face. I give a strangled cry and wake with a start, sweating and shivering at once.
Toothless's green eyes pop into the tent, and the moment he sees me awake, instead of tackling me, he walks in and circles me until his body is coiled around me. I lift my right arm, and his head is there, resting on my lap, protecting me from the terrors of the night, like he used to. I rest my head on his, hoping his cold scaly skin will cool mine off. I feel his tongue lick my cheek and I flinch. His ears perk in shock and confusion.
"I'm sorry bud, bad dream." I say with a shaky voice. He purrs and as I lie back down, I feel him shift and when I open my eyes, I can see his head a foot from mine. His body above my head, and his tail coiling around my still shaking body. I crave the protective feeling he gives me. His right wing hovers over me, and I can feel my muscles relax. Knowing Toothless, nothing can get passed him. And he must be my first and only visitor since no one else seems to have heard me cry out.
As I drift off, as I feel his breath on my hair, I'm suddenly thinking back to when he was the one sick from the Blue Oleander. Mildew had planted the flower out in the Plaza in an attempt to get the dragons sick enough to, potentially die. After we had, disturbingly removed the poison of a Scauldron from his butt, they made a fair recovery. I think back to when I was lying next to him in the living room of our family home. Dad was outside, looking after Tornado who had been fairly affected as well. The agony I felt when he was sick was grueling. I can't imagine how he must feel. Seeing me all bandaged and bloody.
"It's you and me bud. Until the end." I manage to say.
He nuzzles close to me and his nose feels cool against my cheek. I drift off in a matter of minutes, but not until I hear Toothless purr, as if he really understood what I had saidl.
Then the drugs pull me back under.