.
Broken
Chapter 31: Tears of blue fire
Ingifast rose to a gray morning. It wasn't just the overcast sky that covered his heart in deep shadows. Nor was it the familiar ache behind his eyes from drinking too much ale the night before. It was the memory of the previous day's council. As one of the oldest members of the village he was often privy to Stoick's important decisions. But the news the chief had given them yesterday had dimmed much of the light that had shone on Berk the last six months.
He stared at the rafters a while, reluctant to move from under his blanket and bed furs. As many recent springs had, this one had him regretting taking his shack's door off to make his work table outside. When he'd been a younger man he'd always relished waking to brisk mornings and the rattling calls of the gulls. With age came stiff joints and less energy and an occasional desire to throttle the birds that woke him from a sound sleep.
It was easier to think about his age than to consider the chief's warning that Berk needed to face down another Red Death. That thought, all by itself, could drain the color out of everything.
Ingifast hadn't complained after the battle when he realized he would be building new ships until he either fell over dead doing it or got too weak and was forced to spend his last days in the great hall being cared for by Freya and her daughters. What good was a shipwright if his village no longer needed ships built? Granted, having to rebuild an entire fleet was not how he wanted to spend his elder years. But he was being useful and still able to do what he loved most. Perhaps he would even take on a few more apprentices this year. Stoick had been after him the last few summers to get more helpers. The few men who helped him now could only work on one ship at a time. If he started training a few more, perhaps they could build two ships at once.
Perhaps, he thought sardonically, I should work on getting my creaky bones out of bed before I worry about apprentices.
He swung his feet to the floor, shivering slightly in the cool air. His head throbbed harder as he moved around and he stifled a curse. He quickly set aside his sleeping tunic and drew on his work clothes. His bedside bowl was full of fresh seawater, brought in the night before. He scrubbed his face and neck with the cool brine and then dunked his head in to slick back his thick grey hair. A few minutes were spent bringing the fire in his tiny hearth back to life and heating water for some tea. He glanced out his open door a few times during his chores but saw nothing amiss.
It wasn't until he'd stepped outside, steaming mug in one hand and a large chunk of yesterday's batch of brown bread in the other, that he realized something was off. He gazed at the lumpy sky, wishing for a bright sun to warm him up. A glance up and down the beach found no dragons lounging on the shore to interfere with his work. Finally he looked out at the water to make sure Rorik was still at anchor.
Ingifast didn't hear his mug shatter or notice his breakfast was crushed under his boot as he staggered toward the water, searching desperately for a sign of his charge.
"Where, where?" His eyes swept the gentle waves and found nothing. Rorik was gone. Next he turned to the anchor, a stout pole sunk deep into the beach beyond the high tide line. The line that had been tied to Rorik was slack, its end dancing gently at the ocean's threshold. He rushed to it, grabbed it up and pulled. Had it broken? Had it come loose? Ingifast doubted his knots had given way but that didn't mean-
The rope resisted at first and then stubbornly refused to move. He pulled harder and harder but it was no use. He knew then he could never retrieve the rope. It was still attached to the ship.
Rorik had sunk.
"No," he whispered. He let the rope fall and staggered back a step.
He'd never lost a ship under his care. Rorik's encounter with the rogue wave was the closest he'd ever come since he finished his own apprenticeship. He groaned and sank to the pebbly shore, the knees of his trousers getting soaked in the water.
How would he tell Stoick? Worse, how would he tell Hogknee? He groaned at his misfortune.
Eventually he pushed himself up and made his unsteady way toward the great hall and the chief's house. The gray morning had turned black.
Stoick was doing something he hardly ever did as chief of Berk; he was brooding.
The senior Haddock sat on his front steps and stared at the endless layer of sullen clouds hiding the sun from his village. It reflected his mood all too well. Seldom had he felt so impotent, so conflicted.
The morning had started off badly. He hadn't been able to eat breakfast; his appetite was gone. His son and the Fury were no better off, sitting disconsolate by the cold hearth. He doubted they had slept much more than he had. No words were said between the three of them. Nothing seemed appropriate. Finally the dragon had grumbled one of his special words that Hiccup could understand and they left, taking off into a sky that didn't especially look to want them.
Left to consider his failure as a decision maker, Stoick couldn't find the will to walk down to the gathering circle or to Gobber's smithy or any of the other places he would usually visit any given morning. He just sat, considering the lengthy discussion that had passed between him and his council the day before.
'What can we do?' Those were the words that were uttered over and over. And in the end, no good answer ever came. The problems were many: not enough ships to carry all of Berk's warriors, no clear idea of how to fight an enemy that had already defeated them at their strongest and no real proof such a threat existed despite Hiccup's word and Stoick's opinion.
It had seemed less complicated when he'd treated with the Night Fury. He'd basically sworn to that being that Berk would stand together to deal with the threat. The question of 'how' hadn't entered his mind then. Once it had been asked, he'd found himself without a useful answer.
The only possibility that had offered any hope had been difficult to even discuss. It had been his brother who had broached the subject. Spitelout had gazed at him with respectful sympathy and asked, "Would Hiccup be willing to... to try his luck again?"
Everyone in the council had been on that beach. They remembered fearing themselves lost, seeing themselves hopelessly outmatched. They'd all seen Hiccup's incredible battle, his amazing command of the Night Fury. They'd all waited through his recovery, understanding how terribly close he'd come to dying. If a weapon works once against an adversary, it should work again. But if that weapon is a beloved hero and future leader living with the crippling scars of that terrifying encounter, who could encourage such risk a second time?
It had been Gobber who'd voiced what everyone was ashamed to be thinking. "Send a young lad alone against a monster to protect a whole village of battle-hardened Vikings? We barely got away with that once. I'd not suggest trying it again."
Spitelout, ever the pragmatist in council, could only half-heartedly defend his question with, "But he and that dragon of his, they're so... powerful together." He'd looked to Stoick, his expression showing how much he hated to mention the choice.
"Aye," Gobber had responded. "And if they fail this time we lose a lot more than just Hiccup and his dragon, don't we?"
That statement had silenced the hall for nearly a minute. It was Mord who'd finally broken it with the ultimate, unanswered question. "Then what can we do?"
Vikings are stubborn and do not fear battle. But no amount of arguing or scheming could answer the question to their collective satisfaction. And certainly not to Stoick's.
So he sat on his front steps and wondered if it would rain. He wondered if Hiccup was right about telling the rest of Berk about the dragons. Mostly he wondered if Berk would survive new rounds of dragon raids.
Stoick wasn't surprised when a familiar form came stumping around the gathering circle down the hill and headed for his house. Gobber often made the laborious climb to the chief's house to visit if he didn't have work waiting on him in the morning. He noticed there was a small wrapped bundle in his good hand.
"Oy Stoick!" The smith's greeting was just a bit forced but his smile seemed genuine. While he wasn't displeased to see his friend he could summon no more than a raised hand for a reply. When Gobber stopped at the steps to stare at him, he looked the younger man in the eye for an instant. Several moments of silence passed before the blonde demanded, "Aw, cheer up ye big lummox! I got ye a honey cake from Styrkar and Tola." He flipped the contents of his hand to toss back the edge of the thin linen wrapping the cake and held it out.
Stoick gave a wan smile but shook his head.
Gobber looked annoyed but Stoick's keen eyes saw the hint of mischief in them as well. The smith confirmed it by declaring, "Look, either take the cake and eat it or I'll cram it in yer helmet and mash it on yer head!"
Now an honest smile touched the corners of his mouth. The burly smith had made a similar threat long ago in their youth and had the bad judgment to carry it out. The ensuing fight ended up costing the Haddock household several coins as they somehow wound up in a sheep pen hurling ewes at one another. It had taken many years for the parties involved to see the humor in the event but it had definitely been a memorable fight.
That Gobber was evoking the memory of their worst, and best, fight was a sign that he understood how his chief was feeling. That meant a lot to Stoick. It pleased him to see his friend smile as he accepted the cake. He didn't eat it, though. He could only stare at it, suddenly thinking of it as food and therefore a target of ensnared dragons trying to feed another gigantic monster.
'What can we do?'
Stoick hitched a breath to say something, perhaps something unwise. There were thoughts in his head he hated keeping from his friend. They were thoughts that must surely factor in the solution to ridding themselves of their newest threat. But would speaking them help Berk or hurt it? He couldn't be certain.
He looked up at Gobber, the helplessness of it all plain in his voice. "I hate not knowing what to do."
His friend nodded knowingly. Doubtless that was why he'd come wobbling up the hill with a honey cake in his hand. He was one of the very few people the chief would ever let hear such words. As much as he leaned on the master smith for advice he was still surprised at Gobber's softly spoken reply. "Aye. But I think ye do know what to do."
Stoick stared at him a second, uncertain what he meant. Then he remembered. The smith had advocated sending a ship to Red Death Island to determine if it was, in fact, once again hosting an enormous monster. He hadn't seen a need for it, given that he'd spoken directly to one of the dragons that used to live there about it. Of course he couldn't spell out his position quite so plainly to the council. Not yet.
In fact, when he tried to imagine finally explaining the new knowledge Hiccup and the Night Fury had given him to his advisors he got an uncomfortable twisting sensation in his gut. He had serious doubts they would believe him. Proof would be needed and his son would be put on the spot. How would that go? How would the village see their chief after they had learned he kept critical information from them?
What if they weren't able to get rid of it? What if things got worse this time?
What if Hiccup and his dragon really were the only way they could defend themselves?
Questions began to overtake him and he could only stare at his empty fist, tightly curled upon his knee. Gobber broke him out of it. "Ach, I know ye trust Hiccup. And I know he trusts his black beastie. But this is too important to go on the lad's intuition."
Stoick shook his head. "No, Gobber, it's not that. It's just..." He stopped himself, torn over letting his best friend know the source of his information. Before he could decide, he realized there was someone else coming up the hill. It took him a second to recognize Ingifast with his head down and his shoulders slumped. The shipwright had never looked so... defeated before. Not even after Rorik had been towed back to the docks with damage to her hull.
Gobber turned to see what had caught Stoick's attention and frowned slightly at the sight. They waited together as the older man finally reached them and raised his eyes to the chief. Stoick knew some dreadful news was coming but he couldn't figure out why Ingifast would be bringing it to him.
Seeing the old man look so wretched bothered him. Without even stopping to think about it, he straightened and stared hard at the shipwright. Giving his voice a touch of command he asked, "What news, Ingifast?"
It had the desired effect. The grey haired fellow also straightened his shoulders and met his leader's eyes. But there was no strength in his voice as he hesitantly said, "I'm sorry, Stoick. I failed." He clenched his bristly jaw, fighting for control of himself. "Rorik's gone."
There was more wrong at the beach than just a missing ship. Ingifast said he'd been out late, wanting to celebrate in the hall as he usually did upon finishing an important job. He admitted he'd actually been drinking more than usual to help him cope with the chief's disturbing news. The sliver of moon showing that night had made his journey home a little harder than usual, coupled with all the ale he'd had. The old man assumed that was the only reason he didn't notice anything unusual at the time.
But there was something that bothered Stoick as he looked out to where the rope supposedly was tied to the sunken Rorik. He stared out at the water, trying to understand this strange turn of events. It was hard to concentrate with Ingifast muttering about how he was certain he hadn't damaged any of the seams as he'd done his work. Gobber wasn't much help, as he was looking around at the beach and picking up small bits of debris.
There was little to be done, at any rate. Over the generations Berk had tried raising ships sunk in shallow water and never found a way to accomplish it. Once the ocean claimed a vessel it refused to release it. The wreck would have to be marked to keep other ships coming to the beach for work from tangling on Rorik's mast.
Stoick blinked as he realized what was wrong. Where was Rorik's mast?
"Ingifast, did you take down the mast?"
Reddened eyes turned to his. "No. No need. She was nearly ready to sail."
The chief pointed out across the water. "Then where did it go?"
Both men were surprised when Gobber spoke up next, walking unevenly over the stony beach. "Here." He held up a blackened object as he approached them. "Rorik didn't sink, Ingifast. She was burned."
"Burned?" Stoick couldn't figure out how Gobber would know such a thing. As the smith took out his small work knife and began scraping the lump he carried Ingifast's gravelly voice echoed his own.
"Burned!" The shipwright's misery vanished as he considered the nature of the younger man's statement. Whoever had burned Rorik had essentially attacked Ingifast. Hogknee, too, would doubtless share his wrath against the culprit. "Who?"
Gobber raised the darkened edge of his knife to his nose and sniffed. As he stood before them, they could now see that the charred object in his hands was, in fact, the broken and burned tip of a mast. The smith raised his gaze and frowned deeply. "A dragon."
With his mind traveling down new and unfamiliar paths, Stoick realized this information could mean several things. None of them made sense and all of them basically implied a possible new threat. "What kind of dragon?"
Gobber held out the knife. "Monstrous Nightmare, by my reckoning."
Stoick leaned forward and sniffed. The familiar sulfurous taint the Nightmare's fiery sputum left behind was obvious. It did nothing to clear up the mystery of why a dragon would suddenly burn one of their ships. As it turned out, it was the new knowledge he possessed about dragons that kept him from seeing the obvious. Gobber, unhindered by such revelations, pointed the way.
"Stoick, who do we know that rides a Monstrous Nightmare?"
Rides? This wouldn't be the work of a domesticated dragon. This had to be some feral who was wanting...
No. Domesticated... feral. These were the old thoughts. The Fury had intimated all dragons were as intelligent as he, roughly speaking. Dragons had thoughts of their own, reasons and purposes of their own.
This was the action of a dragon working against Berk in a way they'd never seen before. But why?
"The only two I know of who still ride and have a Nightmare", Gobber went on, "are Snotlout and Anvindr."
The mention of Kettlecrack's name tripped up his thoughts for a moment. But it still made no sense. Why would he burn Rorik?
And so it became a choice of questions: 'why would Kettlecrack burn a newly repaired ship' versus 'why would some random, supposedly intelligent dragon burn a newly repaired ship.' Stoick could get nowhere thinking along those lines. He needed more information.
He needed to speak once more to the Fury.
Hiccup wasn't used to being a passenger on Toothless' back. It was noticeably different from 'flying' with his friend, directing them or catching the Fury's motions to determine where the dragon wanted to go. It had been a little awkward at the start. After fitting him with his flying rig, taking to the seat and connecting his metal leg to its hinged brace, Toothless hadn't taken off immediately. He had instead worked his hind paws to grip the extra controllers. Once they were airborne, Hiccup felt the tension in the pedals as the dragon took control of the tail fin. He'd understood and withdrawn from his pedals, letting the Fury work the fin on his own.
Now he just sat on his back, wondering where the black dragon would go next. They'd circled Berk several times as the morning sun had risen. Each time they'd headed toward the glowing splendor of the dawn's spreading light Toothless would glide toward it for some time. He seemed to take some comfort in the sight; each time they moved toward the sunrise Hiccup could feel the muscles in the Night Fury's neck and shoulders relax a bit.
Each time they circled back, however, Toothless would head an equal distance west, toward the vanishing night. Toward the old nest. His flight would become stiff, his muscles tense and rigid.
Hiccup noticed after several circuits that Toothless began heading farther west each time, as though the new threat to Berk was drawing him in. When he finally got worried about it he placed a hand on the warm, wide brow and asked, "Toothless, are you ok?" He was reassured when his friend's head twisted back and the single visible eye met his with a calm, knowing gaze. The deep, rumbling purr he felt in the compact frame beneath him put any remaining fears to rest.
He knew Toothless was unhappy about the events of the previous day. The warmth of the dragon's response was comforting.
As the day grew older, however, he began to wonder once again. Hiccup was more than willing to give his friend the time and space he needed to think about their common problems. His own thoughts had run in roughly the same circles they had the night before. None of them had managed to come up with a solution to the presence on Red Death Island. He could see the weight of it bearing down on his father just as hard as it did on the Fury. The most difficult aspect of witnessing their frustration was knowing the only solution he could offer would be rejected by both of them.
In truth, the idea of flying against another Red Death did not fill him with confidence. That, in turn, allowed the other questions he had about their adversary to fester. Why couldn't they try talking to it? Why was Toothless so determined to destroy it? Was there truly no middle ground between Berk and Red Death Island?
The clouds that had made for a beautiful sunrise became sullen and gray. By noon Hiccup was spending more time watching the ocean or his home island slide along beneath them. When his stomach growled he leaned forward, put one hand on Toothless' neck and asked politely, "How about a break?"
Toothless nodded. Instead of immediately landing, however, he began cruising the shoreline. Some distance up the western coast he spotted his goal. A shallow, careful dive, a compact ball of blue fire close to the beach and a deft snatch with his front claws provided Hiccup with a quick lunch. After they landed he scrounged up some deadwood which his friend easily set alight. Sizzling fish and popping firewood helped create a relaxing mood despite earlier tensions.
They sat facing the beach, Hiccup's fillets surrounding them with a tempting aroma that mixed well with the fresh sea air and the spicy scent of pines and flowering bushes. The pleasant environment fought valiantly against the disturbing questions in his mind. When he glanced at Toothless, he saw a contemplative looking dragon staring out across the waters. Surely the Fury was deep in thought, seeking the same answers he wanted.
He hadn't eaten breakfast and so quickly finished one of the fillets. He looked again to the Fury. Toothless hadn't eaten recently that he knew. He held up the second fillet. "Hungry?"
Toothless considered, rumbled contentedly and opened his mouth. Hiccup smiled despite his remaining hunger as he tossed the fish in. He would always be happier working together with Toothless, regardless of any sacrifices he might need to make. Their friendship would forever be worth it. If only they could spread the idea to other Vikings and dragons.
An image burst into his mind. Dragons. Hundreds of dragons, maybe thousands. Odin's eye, why hadn't he thought of it before!?
"Toothless, I have it!" That got the dragon's attention quickly. The Fury gave a questioning growl. "We don't need more Vikings or ships! We need more dragons!"
The large eyes squinted in apprehension.
"We need to lure the dragons at Red Death Island away, a few at a time. If we can get them away from it long enough for the effects to wear off, we can get all the other dragons on our side! Surely that would be enough to beat it!"
Toothless' wide, reptilian face wasn't exactly as expressive as a human's but it was still able to convey disappointment. The softly crooned, "No" combined with a slight shake of his head made the answer clear.
"There's no way to undo the effects of that thing's smell?"
The Fury pulled out his drawing spike. [much strong for] He hesitated, seemingly uncertain how to express himself fully. Twice he started drawing and twice he flattened his work unhappily. He glanced up at Hiccup a moment, perhaps looking for some clue to closing the gap in their vocabulary. Eventually he started drawing something familiar.
He started with the Red Death symbol and the 'meadow grass' lines that he associated with the beast's wounded dragon/hatchling smell. Next he drew two dragons with an egg between them. He tapped the egg and said, "No."
Hiccup stifled a groan. This was going to turn into another session of frustration and endless guessing, he could see it. "Are you saying that, uh... dragon eggs don't have a smell?"
"No."
He sighed. "Let's see," he muttered. "Baby dragons have a smell that makes their parents want to feed them."
"Yes."
Hiccup nodded absently. "The Red Death uses that to force other dragons to feed it. But why is the egg 'no'?"
Toothless held up his drawing spike, tapped the Red Death symbol once, then the egg drawing again. "No." Before Hiccup could say anything he flattened the egg and drew a small dragon between its parents. This he also tapped. "No." Now he wiped all three dragons clear and clumsily drew two dragons together in what could only be called the reproductive act.
"Uhhhhh..."
This pair of coupled dragons the Fury tapped with his spike and said, "Yes."
Hiccup was having a hard time taking his eyes off the drawing. "I, uh, I don't..."
Toothless' metal spike sharply rapped his metal leg, then pointed to the Red Death symbol again.
"You... oh, wait. Wait a minute!" The young man looked up at his friend. "The smell only affects dragons that are old enough to... to, uh, have babies. Right?"
"Yes!" [much strong for breeding]
He digested this for several moments. There were a couple of jarring thoughts that came to him.
"Are you saying that any dragon old enough to... to breed... will be affected? They can't fight it?"
"Yes."
Hiccup stared at him, almost afraid to ask his next question. "Are there enough young dragons around to help us fight it?"
Toothless shook his head and crooned sadly. "No."
He'd only just come up with the idea so it didn't bother him quite so much to have it proved impossible so quickly. But there was another question that nagged much harder at him.
"Toothless, are you... are you old enough to..." Hiccup frowned slightly, bothered by the personal nature of his question. "Are you fully grown? An adult?"
"No."
Hiccup found that surprising. He'd always considered himself the younger half of their partnership.
"Will you get bigger?"
"No."
"How old are you?"
That question stopped Toothless cold. He didn't seem to understand the nature of it.
"Well, how many winters have you seen?"
If anything, that puzzled the Fury even more. And it forced Hiccup to backtrack his questioning even further.
"Do you guys use numbers?"
A sizable portion of the afternoon was then spent learning that dragons had no solid numbering system. They seemed to have the idea of 'one', 'two' and 'three'. Beyond that came simple generalities. 'Few', 'much', 'some' and 'many' were the closest the scaled people got to using numbers. Hiccup tried to get the basics across to his friend, using his fingers and the Fury's claws to explain the names of numbers and their values. Toothless seemed to do well until he finished counting all the claws on one paw. When Hiccup attempted to introduce the next number, including the first claw of his other paw, Toothless repeatedly went back to 'one' again. Math functions like adding were simply outside the dragons' mindset.
He did learn, however, that dragons kept general track of their age, often using descriptions of whatever portion of their body continually changed over their lifetime. For Monstrous Nightmares it was the length of the horns on their head while Hideous Zipplebacks were judged by the density of spots on their hide.
When he asked how Night Furies distinguished their relative age, he almost burst out laughing at Toothless' response. His dignified, powerful friend stuck his broad, forked tongue out at him. It took a good deal of self control and a lot of pantomiming to work his way through to the explanation: the older a Night Fury got, the darker the skin of his or her tongue became. Apparently the warm pink of Toothless' tongue was the mark of an adolescent.
Their talk turned to Hiccup's age. Toothless was just as surprised to find that his rider was not yet an adult. The young man described some of the many ways Vikings showed their age. This apparently cleared up some minor mysteries for the dragon; the variations he'd seen among the villagers hadn't made much sense to him until he was told that many of them were related to age.
By the time they were ready to return to the house it was nearly dark. Once again Toothless took the initiative and controlled his own flight on the way back. Some part of Hiccup's heart was mightily warmed by this simple act. While it still wasn't a true replacement for what his friend had lost, it was as close as he could make it for him. And the dragon was getting more confident with the controllers, too. As they landed in front of the Haddock home, Hiccup felt the Fury's hindquarters shift as he released the wooden control rods. This was immediately followed by a flaring of his wings and a four-footed landing that ended with a short slide. He could have sworn he heard the dragon chortling softly as he started removing the flying rig.
The house was empty when they entered. Wanting to keep his pleasant mood going, Hiccup built the fire back up and started fixing a simple dinner for when his father returned. As he worked, Toothless practiced some of his newer symbols in the cold end of the hearth.
The fish stew was nearly ready when the door opened to admit Stoick. The chief glanced at the pair of them, at the simmering pot over the fire and gave a satisfied grunt. "Evening, Hiccup. Evening, Toothless." Both answered quietly as he sat in his chair, his son offering a soft, "Hey dad" while the Fury matched a short rumble with an upraised paw that held his drawing spike.
"I'm glad you're here. I've a new puzzle for you."
"Oh?" Hiccup was grateful the unsolvable dilemma they faced could be put aside for the time being. "What's that?"
Stoick leaned forward in his chair and held out a chunk of burned wood. "This." He looked directly at the dragon and asked, "Can you tell me how this got burned?"
The Night Fury's ear fins twitched and he cocked his head slightly in confusion. Hiccup voiced what was almost certainly going through the dragon's mind. "What do you mean?"
"Smell of it," was all Stoick said.
Toothless rose up and approached him, putting his snout close to the burned wood and sniffing repeatedly. When he jerked his head back to stare at the object, both Vikings watched him intently. The Fury's gaze went from Stoick to Hiccup and back again. He then moved back to the hearth and started drawing.
A long neck and tail, large wings and two pair of horns protruding from the long-snouted head made identifying the Monstrous Nightmare easy enough. When Toothless tapped his drawing of that species, pointed toward the hearth fire and then to the burned wood, it was only part of the answer Stoick needed.
"Aye, so we thought. But can you tell me which one?"
"What's going on," Hiccup wanted to know. "What's happened?"
Toothless approached the object again, sniffing deeply. He backed off a bit and sat a moment, apparently considering what his nose was telling him.
Before any answer could be given there was a rough knock at the door. Stoick bid their new visitor to enter. Oddly, the chief looked as confused as Hiccup felt to see Hogknee Vapnfjord at their door with Herdis Lundby in tow. Both looked worried.
Stoick stood and approached the man. "Hogknee, come in please. Have a seat." He nodded at Herdis and greeted her as well. The two of them entered but came no closer than the end of the hearth where Toothless had been drawing. Hogknee, Hiccup noticed, was entirely focused on his leader but Herdis' eyes went immediately to the black dragon and stayed there. "Care for some stew? We were just about to sit down."
The head of the Vapnfjord family shook his head minutely. "No, thank ye. I've no appetite just now." Hiccup frowned, wondering what had happened to the man to upset him so. The young man looked again to Herdis but the girl was still staring at Toothless. The Fury only sat where he was, staying still and watching the others in the room.
"No, of course," Stoick said gently, confirming to Hiccup that something had happened to Hogknee. He only had a moment to wonder if the new 'puzzle' of the burned wooden object in his hand was related to Hogknee's distress before his father continued. "We're still looking into it. I've some idea of how it happened but I've no particulars yet." As he said this, Stoick's eyes shifted momentarily to the Night Fury. Hiccup's curiosity was growing by the moment but it was all swept away by a quick shake of Hogknee's head and the desperate tone of his voice.
"It's not that, Stoick. It's Jaspin."
Except for the subdued crackling of the fire and the gentle bubbling of the stewpot, there was complete silence in the Haddock house.
Stoick changed on the instant. His face hardened, his back straightened and his voice took on the tone of command Hiccup knew from so many times of crisis in Berk's history. One of the villagers was in trouble and the chief was now committed to dealing with whatever dilemma Hogknee had brought. "What's happened?"
"He left yesterday afternoon and hasn't been back since."
Stoick's demeanor softened a bit. "I know he's your only child, but he is at that age when a boy will usually start exploring on his own."
Hogknee shook his head sadly. "Most might, but Jaspin's always been a good son. He always comes home at night. It's just not like him to up and disappear." He looked at Herdis, who was still preoccupied with the Night Fury. "That's not all, though. Herdis came looking for him tonight and told me something."
Hearing her name, the Lundby girl finally looked at the men in the room. It took her a moment to realize they were waiting for her to speak. "I... I'm sorry. I just wanted to know if Bitterbug was ok. I asked him to see if he... if he could find her."
The chief's eye narrowed in concentration. He turned to Hogknee. "Is his dragon with him?"
"I've not seen Bitequick either. I guess they probably would be together."
With a slightly more relaxed tone, Stoick gave a faint smile and said, "Then most likely they've gone and gotten themselves farther from home than they intended. I'd be surprised if they weren't back by morning, red faced and full of their adventure."
"But if they're not-" Hogknee protested. The senior Haddock held up his hand.
"If they aren't, Hiccup can have a look for them. Eh, son?"
"Uhh, I... uhh..." Taken somewhat off guard, Hiccup's first instinct was to agree. But he instantly realized it was inferred that he and Toothless would fly around Berk to search for the boy. A short while ago that would have made no difference. Now, however, he found himself balking at agreeing to anything that involved Toothless without his friend's consent. He turned to the dragon and saw the Fury give an immediate yet subtle nod. "Y-yes, yes of course. We- I'd be happy to." Strangely, Toothless shifted his gaze to Blacktongue's daughter. That's when Hiccup noticed she had gone back to staring at the dragon.
Had she noticed his friend's silent answer? The two of them continued to stare at each other as Stoick spoke up once more.
"Right. If he's not back by breakfast, I'm sure he'll be found by lunch."
By late morning of the next day, Hiccup was sitting with Toothless on their favorite seastack. They stared out at a relatively calm sea, leaning against each other and trying to find some comfort in each other's company. They'd been uneasy since learning that a new Red Death was occupying the dragon's old nest and was once again forcing them to raid Berk to feed it. Hiccup felt like everything the two of them had gone through had been undone. He never would have imagined things could get worse.
He now knew that, for some unfathomable reason, a Monstrous Nightmare had burned and sunk Rorik before the trading voyage could begin. When asked if he knew which of that breed had committed the act, Toothless had been unable to provide an answer. Snotlout and his dragon had been around Berk enough to establish a fairly good alibi even though no one suspected him or Asgeirr of anything. Anvindr, the only other villager who rode a Nightmare, couldn't be found.
Then there came the news that Jaspin and his dragon had gone missing. After volunteering to search, Hiccup had gone to those members of his dragon training class who still rode their dragons and asked for their assistance. They made as thorough a search of Berk as they could without finding any trace of the boy or his Deadly Nadder. They did come across something unexpected: a few dozen nesting dragons on the far north shore of the island, comfortably guarding nests and calling to their dragons as they flew past.
And so now they sat, quietly and separately contemplating their recent discoveries. Hiccup intensely disliked when problems showed up in multiples. He preferred to deal with one problem at a time. His focus tended to suffer when it was divided among more than one crisis. Jaspin's disappearance didn't feel as urgent, not when the presence to their west threatened the whole of the island. Hiccup tended to agree with his father on that subject; most likely the boy had wandered a greater distance than he or Bitequick intended and would soon be back. He'd done it himself in recent years. One of the few pleasant surprises in his life had been the lack of anger when he'd been gone from the house for several days to test some new weapon idea. In those rare moments he almost felt like a normal Viking, seen as being able to care for himself out in the woods.
Toothless, of course, changed that entire scenario. The two of them could, and did, journey for days at a time, exploring the nearby islands without need of a ship or supervision. Dragons had given Berk a mobility they'd never experienced before. Heading to Greslardin to hunt used to be a prospect of several days. Now it could be an afternoon's distraction.
The image of Vikings flocking to that hunting ground on the backs of dragons prompted another thought. What would happen to a rider if his or her dragon was suddenly exposed to the deceptive scent of the Red Death? Would he or she be summarily dumped into the new parasite's immense maw without regard? Would the dragon struggle to choose between following its instinct and its emotional connection to a rider?
In a blink the question came to him, connecting two of the problems they faced; had that happened to Jaspin? Hiccup stiffened at the thought and Toothless grunted inquisitively at feeling the sudden tension in his rider's slim frame.
"Toothless, was Bitequick fully grown? Would she be in danger if they went to Red Death Island?"
The Night Fury didn't answer. At least not directly. The dragon suddenly looked pained, as if the question had caused him some personal discomfort. Hiccup felt a disturbing chill at the implication.
"She... she wouldn't hurt him, would she? I mean..."
He couldn't continue, not when the look on Toothless' face already gave him the answer. Perhaps it was something the dragon had learned, or perhaps he'd simply started mimicking what he'd seen on the faces of Vikings now that he'd been closely exposed to them for many months. The Fury's range of expression had noticeably grown lately. While Hiccup had wondered in odd moments at its cause, he was too deeply struck by how terribly guilty his dragon looked at his question to consider it now.
There was no longer any doubt. Hiccup knew what they needed to do. "We need to go look, see if we can find them there." He started to get up.
The dragon suddenly reared to a seated position, his wings spread and his pupils thinned in agitation. His jaws parted, his teeth flashed and a percussive roar that Hiccup could barely recognize as "NO" rattled his eardrums.
The young man couldn't have been more shocked if his friend had bitten him. It wasn't just the violence of the dragon's reaction, either. It was also the look of unadulterated fear that wiped away the shameful expression of only a moment ago. Toothless the Night Fury, the most fearsome predator known to Berk, was terrified of Hiccup's suggestion.
Hiccup was frozen for several moments, uncertain of what Toothless' reaction meant. Surely he didn't feel that Jaspin and Bitequick weren't worth the effort or risk to explore the possibility they were in trouble on Red Death Island. He could only assume it was the monster itself that spurred such a deep-seated aversion. He stood and put his hands under the Fury's jaw, trying to give what small comfort and reassurance he could. A strange inversion, considering the marked difference in their physical abilities.
"We have to, buddy. We can't just leave them there if they're in trouble."
The guilt reemerged, stronger than before. Toothless pressed his crown into Hiccup's stomach and moaned, "No." Hiccup nearly stumbled as he was pushed back a pace and his false foot bumped an exposed tree root. He looked over his shoulder a second, making sure they were far enough from the seastack's edge.
He rubbed the ridges over the tightly closed eyes. "It'll be ok, Toothless. You said you're young enough not to be in danger. We just need to take a quick look around. I'm sure we can handle it together."
Toothless raised his head, unintentionally nudging Hiccup back another step. Their eyes locked and now the young man had to puzzle out another new expression on that familiar draconic face. The Fury backed up a pace and reached with practiced surety for his sheathed drawing spike. [much bad danger need fly alone]
It was Hiccup's turn to utter a quiet, pained, "No." The idea of being left behind again was more than he could stand. "Please, Toothless, don't do that to me again. That's... I can't... we'll be fine, I'm sure. We'll be really careful, I promise."
The dragon looked miserable but scratched another [much] in front of the first one. Fear spiked into Hiccup's heart and he felt like he was losing too much of the ground he'd gained since he first understood the true nature of his friend. Words tumbled from his mouth, higher pitched than he wanted and on the edge of trembling uncontrollably. "Why? Why won't you let me go with you? Do you think I'll be a burden or a... an obstacle?"
Toothless shook his head vigorously. "No."
"It's not like we haven't done this before!" All the pain and fear that had lodged in his stomach the last time he'd been left behind returned. This time, however, there was a flickering of heat, an unaccustomed hint of anger at his friend for suggesting what had put him through such emotional turmoil before. "And we didn't even know what we were doing then! We're better equipped and better prepared and..."
And Toothless still looked like he'd rather do anything but agree to Hiccup's request. But the more he remembered the time he'd just spent agonizing over his dragon's absence the more determined he was to push Toothless for an answer. "Why? What are you afraid of? Why do you want me to stay behind?"
Perhaps Hiccup's insistence sparked a bit of anger in the dragon as well. The look of fear became tempered with that look of irritation he knew so well. Whether unintentional or playfully deliberate, he'd caused that slight lowering of ear fins and eye lids enough times to recognize it instantly.
Toothless dropped his head, looking down and perhaps ready to concede Hiccup's point. But then he reached out with his drawing spike and tapped the wood and metal construct that allowed the young man to walk.
A heartbeat of confusion, another of realization and a third of sudden heated resentment thudded against his breastbone. How could he?! Never once had Hiccup expected his friend to consider his infirmity to be a limiting factor in the young Viking's life. Certainly not when something as important as searching for the lost was at stake. He quickly saw the hypocrisy of such a position and practically shouted, "Hey!" When the dragon's eyes met his he stabbed an accusing finger at the end of his tail, a mighty frown pulling at his features.
The Fury actually had to look behind him to understand the focus of his rider's irritation. Even then his comprehension wasn't immediate. He turned back to Hiccup, clearly bewildered by the comparison.
He gave a heavy sigh, aggrieved that the dragon still couldn't see the problem with such an attitude toward their different handicaps. "You're not the only one who's not whole anymore, remember?"
The range of Toothless' expressions had expanded quite a bit that afternoon and now he added another. He looked almost horrified at Hiccup's statement. Perhaps the vocal response of "No no no" helped clarify what he was seeing, or maybe the energetic shaking of his wide head. With a hurried sweep of his paw he cleared a spot to write [much like leg, not want give more] in the dirt.
"Oh. Oh, Toothless. I'm... I'm sorry, I thought-" Heat rose to his cheeks as he saw where the dragon's real concern lay. He felt rather small at that moment, but the specter of abandonment still lurked in his mind. "Look," he entreated. He put his hands under the Fury's jaw again, wanting that contact as he tried to explain his own fears. "I'm... I..."
Hiccup hesitated. He couldn't place blame or burden on Toothless, even if the gut-gnawing fear of waiting for his friend to return from a dangerous journey nearly made him sick. He stared into those enormous eyes, deep green and holding him as firmly as any family member or close friend ever could. He had trouble finding the words. Finally he just opened his mouth and let his heart speak its piece.
"This is ours. This thing... there's no one else who can deal with it. No matter how we do it, it has to be us. Not you. Not me. Us."
There was pain in those eyes. He was sure it was showing as plainly in his own.
"I know you feel the same way I do. Being apart just... it just doesn't work, you know? Whether we fight this thing or not, it has to be together. I'm scared, too, but I'd..."
His throat locked up. His arms shook. He closed his eyes a moment and gathered his strength. When he could speak, his voice was far rougher than usual.
"I'd rather fight a hundred of those things than spend the rest of my days staring at the sky waiting for you to come b-"
He had to clench his jaws a moment.
"Come." He swallowed. "Back."
There were no tears. Not for him or for Toothless. Dragons, he knew, did not weep. But there was an understanding that passed silently between them. A new connection was made as they both agreed, without words, that their fates were tied in all things.
Even the most dangerous ones.
If they'd experienced more tension or anxiety on a recent flight, neither could remember it. Hiccup had to constantly adjust to Toothless' twitchy course and the dragon grumbled incessantly. It had started with a brief argument about letting someone know what they intended. Despite his own misgivings about getting close to the new Red Death, Hiccup felt they should let his father know where they were going. Toothless agreed but when they found the house empty he protested leaving anyway. Hiccup suspected his friend might be stalling or perhaps even hoping Stoick would forbid them to go. They found a compromise in leaving a clear message in the ashes of the hearth with the poker stuck straight in the middle to catch his attention.
Once they were in sight of the island they started having minor conflicts in direction. Hiccup favored a high approach while Toothless wanted to come in low over the water. The dragon won that little contest since his rider hadn't seen the island but twice and only for a short while each time. The massive drifts of fog that had always obscured the land were present, making Hiccup realize the wisdom of letting the Fury handle navigating their way ashore.
As they got closer, he could see the tips of the rocky obstacles that had always prevented Viking ships from making a successful approach. They passed beneath them like the breaching fins of hungry sharks. Before they actually touched ground, Hiccup noticed a strong scent of decay mixed with something far more noxious.
"Toothless, what is that? Is it... the old one?"
Before Toothless could respond, they broke into the lee of the island. The ocean winds that blew the fog and steam around the base of the island formed a large cleared area where they could see the land easily. The dragon checked his flight suddenly, causing Hiccup to exclaim in surprise. Toothless hovered a distance from the shore and the two of them took a moment to survey a painfully familiar landscape.
Far to their right sat the shattered remains of the catapults Berk had brought to the nest. Not one remained untouched. Those not trampled to kindling by the Red Death had been torn down for lumber to repair ships for the return voyage. Closer lay the charred hulls of their former fleet. Bits of rope and chain and a few meager scraps of sail cloth were all that they could see among the blackened ribs of ships that rose out of the water's edge. Beyond the woeful debris of a hopeless battle lay the staggeringly large hole left by the Red Death's forceful eruption onto the beach.
All this held Hiccup's attention for only a few heartbeats. The smell that assaulted them waxed and waned with each casual breeze. At its worst it was nearly unbearable, feeling like it was actually biting his nose and throat and making his eyes burn. He looked to their right, expecting to see the remains of their common foe.
What had once been the ultimate power behind the nest, and the unending raids it instigated, was only barely recognizable as a once-living thing. Hiccup had heard numerous descriptions of the beast, both living and deceased. Although details were nebulous due to the amount of exaggeration bestowed by each storyteller, a few facts had been established as common. One of those was the amount of damage done to the body of the Red Death upon its impact on the beach.
Hiccup remembered, though only hazily, an enormous raging fireball that threatened to consume them before they could escape. In the instant before the massive dragon's body exploded, the creature had done what any living thing would do when in a panicked fall. It had put it forelegs before it in a hopeless attempt to catch itself. It had tilted its head back as far as it could, trying to protect all those related vulnerable areas; nose, mouth and eyes. As a result of those two actions, nearly everyone who caught sight of it said the Red Death had driven its forelegs into the beach with the massive bulk of its body collapsing on top of it. Three or four accounts had the sides of the dragon splitting open like a rotten sack with the force of the impact an instant before its gas bladder ruptured and ignited.
As Toothless brought them to the shore a good distance from the carcass, the basic shape of the body looked to represent the remains of a creature that perished in that way. The head was comparatively undamaged though the scaled skin was sloughing off in large areas. From the neck back, however, it was a hugely misshapen lump of blackened... something. A few lighter colored spires may have been ribs. The highest point of the body tapered roughly outward as the force of the explosion had sent the softer portions of the internal organs flying. Strangely, one huge hind leg and foot was completely separated and lying folded back along the spine. Whatever remained of the tail was lost among the rough rocky beach, except for the club end which seemed to be entirely gone.
Hiccup was struck dumb at the sight. Beyond the scope of the damage caused to the creature and the horrific results that lay before them, there were several things that he noticed after staring for some time. The most notable thing was that the body still smoked. Tendrils of thin, greasy looking smoke could be seen occasionally rising over the thickest portion of the body. Generations of experience had taught Berk that the carcass of the average dragon was worthless; the meat couldn't be eaten, the hide couldn't be cured and some time after death they began to smoke and stink. Disposing of dead dragons had become as much a tradition in the village as fighting them. No one questioned the why of always removing them before beginning the efforts to rebuild after a battle.
It also seemed that scavengers viewed dragon carcasses the same way Berk did. There were no gulls or hawks hovering around such a huge pile of disintegrating meat. Perhaps they'd visited it early on and it was too far gone to interest them. Whatever the reason, the Red Death had no visitors.
His eyes locked on the head, lying canted on the rough ground. At first it was hard to be certain of what he was seeing. Then he realized the huge skull was broken and misshapen. The top of the head was sitting at an angle to the ground, facing them. The lower jaw, however, had fractured and tilted out to form a macabre line of shattered teeth facing outward, as though defending the skull from possible attackers.
Hiccup was simultaneously intrigued and repulsed by the sight. The smell certainly didn't help. Perhaps it was the sight of it, truly dead and unable to harm anyone as a result of their actions. It was proof of their victory. The dragon's victory, as well.
Which turned out to be short lived.
As grateful as he was to be alive and able to view a beast he had considered an enemy, there was something else that pulled on him. "Toothless, can we get closer?"
The Night Fury twisted his head around enough to look him solidly in the eye. He gave a questioning grunt, as though he would prefer to stay back.
"I just want to see it."
The closer they got the more powerful the smell became. As he fought the burning in his nose and throat and the fierce watering of his eyes, he noticed that Toothless seemed almost as badly affected by it. The Fury shook his head and pawed at his nose, emitting short, annoyed growls as he did.
Toothless landed them a short distance away and set himself side-on to the corpse. He began fanning his wings to keep the worst of the smell at bay. It helped noticeably. It also made it harder to see the damaged skull with the huge sheet of black leather rising and falling between Hiccup and the carcass. He stared at it as best he could, seeing the three empty holes where its eyes had been.
Something about those lifeless sockets bothered him. As much as there was of the thing to stare at, its eyes drew his attention most powerfully. He concentrated, trying to solve the puzzle.
The skull was tipped toward him, patches of decayed and desiccated flesh hanging like sheets from the bone. The lower jaw, broken at the tip of the snout and pushed out toward him, seemed to forbid a closer approach. And still the eyes held his own. What was...
"Wait. Toothless. Stop flapping a minute, would you?"
The black dragon did as asked, looking back at him questioningly.
Hiccup couldn't help it. Without thinking about it, he slipped from the saddle, disconnecting his safety straps and dismounting with his left leg out. For once, he landed squarely despite the rocky terrain. He stepped closer to the skull, to those eye sockets. The huge nostril gaped nearby, large enough for him to enter had he wished. But the smaller openings, the three round holes that traced an angled line toward the top of the skull wouldn't leave him alone.
The lowest one seemed largest. In fact, each eye that followed after the first seemed slightly smaller than the previous. The eyes themselves were long gone, those delicate structures able to withstand hammer blows from his cousin but not the dissolution of death.
A dead Death. The deadly Death was dead. Hiccup's mind spiraled off into a strange loop of pointless wordplay as he stared at those three vacant holes. His memory echoed with terrible roars and pure malice in those absent eyes. He could see the rounded cup of bone beyond the opening, the support for the eye and protection for what lay behind it. He glanced at the second one, then the third.
Wait...
Hiccup stared, uncertain of what he was seeing. He moved carefully along the uneven ground, wincing when his iron foot landed on something that squished slightly. "Toothless, are you seeing this?" He pointed and the Fury came to his side, looking up. "Is that what I think it is?"
Toothless stared, seeming to be as surprised as Hiccup. The dragon gave a quiet grunt of, "Yes."
He backed up a step, taking in the whole of the head and the placement of the third eye. "If you could get the angle right and figure out how to... but what would you use? Anything heavy enough... and if it's moving..."
He was interrupted by a sound. It was undeniably a dragon's roar, but it sounded like it came from beneath the ground. It reverberated strangely and was diminished as though by distance. Toothless instantly became alert and started growling. The Fury looked behind them at the hole torn into the mountain, then nudged Hiccup roughly with his head.
"Uhh, yeah." Hiccup had managed to forget that there was now a living version of the carcass before them within that mountain. "We need to look for Jaspin." From where the sound seemed to originate, Hiccup felt they would do best by relocating upward. He glanced up, pointing. "How about we take the high ground so we can see more of the island? He might even be flying around here."
Toothless hadn't stopped growling. He'd taken an aggressive stance facing the hole and the lack of his flapping had allowed the power of the Red Death's rotting scent to invade their senses.
"Come on bud," Hiccup urged him as he climbed back onto the saddle. He coughed once before adding, "Let's get up there."
The weight upon his back appeared to calm the dragon and he quickly settled his controllers and lowered his hindquarters to launch. One last glance at the old Death's head gave Hiccup some measure of hope. If he was right, if what they'd seen could be used against a Red Death then perhaps Berk had a real chance at winning the freedom of both the village and the dragons.
Hiccup kept that image in his mind as they climbed the cool, moist air for the summit. Three bony sockets in a row, empty of eyes yet full of secrets. And there on the beach, the truth in decay; two sockets with deep bowls of bone and one without. The third eye socket that opened into nothing less than the vulnerable interior of the Red Death's skull might just be their salvation.
Once they had gotten as high as the central peak of the mountain they circled, looking for any obvious signs of Jaspin or his Deadly Nadder. Hiccup was not surprised to see nests with dragons hovering around each one. There were far more nests here than the far shore of Berk. It looked like possibly the entire adult population of dragons was trying to raise a new generation. And those they could see could also see them. Unlike the ones on Berk, these ignored them as they flew by.
Several passes around the spire revealed nothing that could tell them what had happened to the fisherman's son and his dragon. Hiccup noticed a large opening at the top of the spire that led out onto a fairly wide open area where many nests had been built. If anyone had come here and needed shelter, they might be within that high cave. Assuming they'd had a dragon to fly them up there. He pointed it out to Toothless and the Fury agreed to land.
From the air, the size of the opening wasn't apparent. Standing at its threshold revealed the cave's true dimensions. Hiccup had to wonder if any dragons used it for shelter. He looked around, having trouble adjusting to the dim light. He took several careful steps in, Toothless close by his side.
The first thing to which his attention was drawn was what he stepped on. The sole of his boot broke something that snapped with a familiar dry crunch. Hiccup looked down to see several ribs beneath him. They looked to be seal ribs, still connected to a short section of spine. Scanning the floor around him revealed many more bones, mostly from larger animals. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim interior of the cave he noticed a few other things. A long dead Gronckle lay against one wall, bitten clean in half. He saw that as proof positive of the existence of the new Red Death. He felt a tingle wash over his skin as he considered it.
Another object claimed his attention briefly. It was a rough cloth sack sitting near the entrance. It looked to have been made from an old tunic. Inside it were a few shriveled potatoes. Hiccup looked around, trying to figure out how it had gotten there and whose it might be. Could Jaspin have brought it? And if so, why?
He dropped the sack when he heard a sharp, pained wail. He turned to see Toothless standing on the other side of the cave. His wings were partially spread, blocking the view of whatever he'd found. Hiccup quickly approached, worried about the noise his dragon had made.
Stepping around Toothless brought him to another dead dragon, this one newly killed. It was a Deadly Nadder. Hiccup felt a rush of cold in his gut. Could this be her? He stepped to one side.
A saddle. It wore a saddle. "No," he whispered. "Oh, no." Slowly he approached, his empty hand before him, wanting to deny the sight. His heart was numb as he knelt by the horribly crushed chest of the dragon. He touched the stirrup where it lay against the cold scales. Turning it over revealed a piece of wooly lambskin. It was the addition he'd made to Bitequick's saddle to give her comfort against the chafing leather.
Hiccup drew a shaky breath, fearing that Jaspin was dead as well. There was no sign of him, except perhaps the sack he had found. He gently touched Bitequick's neck, his fingers tracing the scales until they reached a spot where the broken bones beneath had nearly come through the hide. "Gods, Bitequick."
A low keening sounded behind him. He turned to see Toothless hunched over, his wings draping the floor and his head hung. He keened again and Hiccup was shocked to see tiny trickles of wispy blue flames escape his muzzle.
"T... Toothless?" The wide head slowly came up, the eyes opening. The Fury keened once more, little blue flames leaking from his slightly opened maw. The pain in those eyes, in that voice; it was too obvious. Hiccup had been wrong. Dragons did weep. But they didn't weep with tears. They wept with fire.
Stricken by their discovery and Toothless' display, Hiccup stood and threw his arms around the Fury's neck. He pressed his face against the warm scales and thanked whichever gods were listening for the presence of his friend.
Behind his closed eyes he saw Bitequick, standing next to Jaspin. He remembered the fondness those two had shown each other. He recalled Jaspin's heartfelt question outside his small forge: 'Hiccup, do you love Toothless?'
Had Jaspin been here when this happened to his friend? Hiccup couldn't imagine seeing Toothless injured or killed in such a way. It must have been horrible. He held his friend all the tighter, trying to dispel the weight of Bitequick's death. "I know," he said softly. They stayed that way for a time, trying to deal with the loss of their friends.
But what had become of Jaspin? Nadders were no easy target and Hiccup had to assume the Red Death had brutally overpowered Bitequick. If they'd both been in the cave... Hiccup pulled back from Toothless' neck, looking around again for any sign he may have missed. Even with his eyes adjusted to the cave's dark interior he could see nothing helpful, nothing that would tell the full story.
Hiccup, his arms still draped over the Fury's neck, turned back to Bitequick. He swallowed, wishing he knew what to do. Should her body be attended to? Was there something they should do for her, some draconic ritual or rite to be performed to ease her passing to-
His thoughts suddenly got too complicated and he shied away from them. He shook his head and deliberately moved a step away from Toothless. He needed to think.
Thinking did no good. The only thing he could come up with was to return Bitequick's saddle to Jaspin's father as evidence of his son's probable fate. Hiccup moved to unbuckle the main support strap and found it bent to the point it pinched the leather. He tried to unwedge it without success. Sudden anger built and he withdrew his knife to cut the strap.
Once he had the main strap free he cut the secondary strap and pulled at the saddle. The Nadder's weight kept him from freeing it, though. He pulled harder, straining against Bitequick's considerable bulk and his bad leg. When he realized he couldn't retrieve it, he glanced behind him. "Toothless, could you help please?"
The Night Fury's pupils were narrowed but he wasn't showing aggression or anger. He didn't move.
"I want to take the saddle back to Hogknee. It's all he may ever get back of..." He looked down at it, imagining how the fisherman would take the loss. Then, sympathetically, he imagined his own father being handed Toothless' saddle in lieu of his remaining family. "Of his son," he finished quietly.
A moment later, Toothless stepped forward. He shot his teeth out and grabbed one of Bitequick's unbroken head spikes. Pulling with all four legs, he rolled the body partially over. Her neck swiveled at an unnatural angle. Hiccup pulled the saddle out and held it close to his chest. When Toothless let go, Bitequick fell back with a dull thump.
Hiccup had seen dead dragons his whole life, but never before had the sight disturbed him as much as it did now. Bitequick was a dragon he knew, one that had sat with Toothless on occasion and, one would assume, spoken to the Fury. He hadn't given his relationship with other dragons much thought beyond the fact that he considered those he knew as 'friends of friends.'
Staring at the dead Nadder, Hiccup suddenly recognized this as another first. He'd been the first to befriend a dragon, the first to ride one and the first to speak to one. Now, for the first time in the history of Berk, he would mourn the loss of a dragon.
Clutching the saddle tightly to his chest, Hiccup returned to his friend's side and leaned against him. He closed his eyes again and just let the Night Fury's presence calm him. He heard a familiar rustling and felt the light pressure of Toothless' wing as he draped it across his shoulders. A deep groan bubbled up from the Fury's chest as they tried to cope with a moment of shared grief.
The saddle in his arms eventually pulled his thoughts away from Bitequick's loss and back to their original intentions. "Toothless, we need to look for Jaspin. He might still be alive somewhere on this island. He might be hurt or... or hiding."
A roar answered him. From that moment on things happened too fast for Hiccup to understand until later.
It wasn't Toothless' voice that responded to him. That meant it was unlikely the powerful sound had anything to do with his statement. It came from the back of the cave and it spurred a short series of events that left Hiccup terrified and bewildered.
An instant after recognizing that some other dragon had sounded off, the young man was roughly shoved to the floor by his wing as Toothless spun in place to face the rear of the cavern. The saddle in his possession did much to soften the blow to his chest and face but his arms were rudely battered by the rough floor. He could only grunt in pain and surprise as his ears registered yet another sound.
A new growl came from very close, almost feral in its ferocity. There was no time for Hiccup to compare it to the one other instance in his life he'd heard such a sound. It had been in the arena the previous autumn when an enraged Night Fury had defended him from an attacking Monstrous Nightmare.
The moment Hiccup spent on the ground, trying to gather his wits and raise his weight off his scraped and bleeding arms was the last relatively calm moment he had in the cave. Another, louder roar sounded from somewhere within the mountain, the power of it vibrating through the stone beneath him and setting his muscles to shivering. Alarm spread through his being and he immediately shifted to his knees, pushing first against the saddle then lifting it as he prepared to stand.
Another roar, close and filled with a promise of destruction. There wasn't even time for his blood to run cold as he swiveled his head toward Toothless. From the empty depths came two large eyes, huge green orbs barely marked by shrunken slits. The eyes rushed toward him, displaying fear or rage he couldn't tell. He tensed, not understanding at all what his dragon was doing but knowing the speed at which he moved guaranteed no gentle contact.
An eyeblink later he felt an unreasoning stab of real fear as the Fury's head arrowed straight toward him, maw gaping and pink gums glistening. Another shock pounded through his body as that wide mouth slammed into him and clamped shut, pinning him from his lower chest to his upper legs. He was harshly jerked off the ground, instinct forcing him to clutch at the saddle as if it could offer support. He nearly lost the leather device as he was bounced up and down with each panicked stride the Night Fury took toward escape.
Hiccup could say nothing, could think of nothing. He barely recognized that they had moved from darkness to light, that the rushing wind was making him deaf to any other sounds. Toothless changed course once they were free of the confines of the cave; he could tell by the wrenching he took which threatened to sling him from the dubious safety of the dragon's mouth. Perhaps that was what prompted the wide jaws to close harder upon him, nearly driving the breath from his body and pushing his instincts harder toward fear of his life. The increased pressure also made it possible to feel the hard impacts of Toothless' paws upon the stony ground. The dragon was running as though in mortal fear. Facing down in the dragon's jaws as he was, he could catch the flash of one forepaw as it repeatedly reached forward and struck the ground, only to disappear as quick as a fly's heartbeat.
Just as Hiccup started to get some small amount of grip on his situation he was once again tossed into a maelstrom of confusion and fear. There was a slight hesitation, a strange sensation of subtle shifting and then a familiar hard SNAP of massive wings extending to their full reach. He nearly dropped the saddle as they launched from the edge of the mountainside which whipped by his view.
He'd never seen this before. From Toothless' back a dive off a cliff was thrilling, the broad stretch of wings and body beneath him giving him the support his mind needed to counter the innate terror of sudden and uncontrollable falling. Dangling like a mackerel in his dragon's jaws as they literally jumped off the side of a mountain felt like he was being driven toward certain death, pushed by the Fury toward ever greater speed. The sight of approaching rocks below filled him with dread as he realized he was in the wrong place. He needed his foot in the control pedal. Without the adjustments he needed to make to pull out of this dive, they would both meet the same end as the old Red Death.
Thor must have been laughing his godly guts out at the irony. The two tiny heroes who had drawn the immense Red Death to its doom were now plunging directly for the carcass of that same creature in the same way. Hiccup could see it below through the clearing fog and steam. He wanted to shout, to tell Toothless to pull up but the shrieking wind made it impossible. He impulsively gripped the saddle tighter and pushed it away as if to ward off the inevitable impact.
Just as the familiar rising scream of air passing over a Night Fury's midwings reached his ears, Hiccup felt their direction begin to change. With room to spare the stony beach began to arc away and behind them. The foggy seastacks took its place, then the wide open ocean.
Perhaps it was the unrelenting pressure on his lower body. Maybe it was the stunning and unexpected physical stress he'd just experienced. Whatever it was, Hiccup had to fight valiantly to keep his last meal down. When he was sure words would come out of his mouth and not vomit, he made a simple and heartfelt request.
"Toothless! Down! Please!"
With all that had happened in the last ten minutes or so, neither one noticed something hidden at the back of the cave: a pair of small, round eyes, silently observant and full of anger.
(c)Wirewolf 2013
"How to train your dragon" and all attendant characters are copyright
Dreamworks Animation and used without permission
AN:Things are slowly gaining speed now; a couple close encounters and a secret revealed.
I'm sure you all know he sequel, "How to train your dragon 2" will be in theaters June 13th. This will probably stall my writing for a little while as I absorb the new canon material. I won't let it derail me - I've put far too much effort into this to let it go unfinished. But it might make it harder to be creative as my story and Dreamwork's diverge for good. We shall see.