Learning from the Masters
A How To Train Your Dragon Fanfiction
Based off Le'letha's "Nightfall"

Everything he had predicted and orchestrated had been going well.

The first surprise attack from (click)-uhp and Tt-th-ss on the patrol party had done its work to let them get close and ambush the men, save for one to go running back and report to his fellows, effectively cutting their numbers inside the cavern to a manageable half when the trappers went out to provide back-up.

That gave them a nice bone to chew on for a while as he led his group and the dragon-allies to the cliff where they could climb up and sneak in from above, pairing Embrik and the Fury-pair for extracting the dragons, and his men for the surprise assault to supply distraction. It was no surprise to him that, once the horses and flatbed carts had been brought, and the wounded dragons loaded onto them to move more easily, that those outside finally returned to confront them.

The leader of their band was a stout man with an ugly snarl contained within his large, black beard, spitting at them as being thieves and declaring that, after he killed all of them, he'd be taking all of the dragons back, with the rare Fury as an extra prize, though (click)-uhp's presence gave the enemy leader a few moments of perplexed pause.

On his signal, (click)-shhh-prrr dropped down from where he had perched at the very top of the cave, frightening the trappers into scattering away from the mouth of the entrance tunnel so that they could send the horses and carts rushing through, while Alekt and his crew held them back with weapons drawn and dragons firing when he bade it.

Once the carts were through, he ordered his retreat, and they were almost home free, but there was always that one hitch in a good plan. He had been expecting and waiting for it all along, knowing that their good luck couldn't possibly last the entirety of their mission, no matter how well he had accounted for all of the foreseeable factors.

That hitch finally showed itself via a thrown axe in Embrik's backside, as he was one of the last stragglers out, and he crumpled to the dirt, not even out of the tunnel yet.

"Stop!" he ordered sharply, a number of his men not hearing him, so he ordered again, even as he whirled back to meet his enemies, "stop! Reverse your retreat, and prepare to lock blade and shield! Embrik has fallen! Not a man leaves without him!"

There was a brief moment of scattering and confusion, before the men behind him regrouped and turned back to the fray. He only caught the turnabout in his peripheral vision, but his attention was focused ahead.

The leader of the opposite band yanked the earlier thrown ax from Embrik's back and stepping onto and over the lad. He paid no mind to the pained cough of the redhead beneath his boot.

Alekt narrowed his eyes at the larger man, baring his blades on either side of him. The man grinned in return at the silent challenge, hefting his axe up to clash.

Their paces were quick but not an outright run until the last two steps, as the larger man swung his axe over his head and down with a snarl of teeth. Alekt swept low and to the side. The directional change of the other man's swing was instantaneous, and Alekt felt the wind of it as the weapon barely cleared over his head, maybe taking some hairs with it, but he spared them no attention.

He shook his head faintly at the small shower of dirt from the tunnel wall behind him, but kept his eyes on his opponent and caught the man by the back of the leg with the point of one sickle, tearing a nice gash through flesh past the leather armor. There was a snarl behind clenched teeth, but it wasn't enough to drop the man, and Alekt didn't expect it to, but it would slow him, and that would make it easier to finish him off so long as he didn't get cocky.

The rest of the other man's group was hanging back, no doubt assuming that their leader would emerge victorious without help, especially given the difference in size. Size was as much to his advantage as it wasn't though, and he'd learned how to work with it.

He danced around the man's back toward the other side, and the man spun around the opposite way to catch him at the halfway point since he could only swivel effectively on the uninjured leg. Alekt realized that quickly, and turned his movements into a feint, reversing his direction back towards where he'd started, managing to slice the other's side now.

The man whirled to face him on his uninjured leg and lunged, landing with the injured leg somewhat clumsily, but the trapper pushed through the pain and kept up his charge, forcing Alekt to block with both of his blades. It left his stomach open for the larger Viking to kick him and send him staggering, but he thought it even better to let himself fall flat when he heard a distinct whistling sound and a ripple of alarm through both his group and the other one.

He let his back hit the dirt, and didn't miss his larger opponent throw himself to the side to avoid a bolt of violet flame, nor how the enemies crowded in the tunnel tried to scatter, some taking the hit and flying back into others. Alekt tilted his head back to glance the Fury pair at the entrance, the dragon's wings splayed and both snarling teeth in a unified crouch of menacing aggression.

Alekt knew better than to get back up when he saw the glow of another blast readying, and the satisfying noise of fearful, retreating jostling of the enemy band trying to move back.

"Where do ye' all think you're going?!" their leader roared, but even he instinctively ducked as Tt-th-ss fired, more to one side rather than down the center, making the wall explode into a miasma of dust, then another shot to the opposite side. It was when the dragon and feral man screeched at him, (click)-uhp making a sound that was somewhere close to saying go but still distinctly animalistic, that Alekt flipped onto his stomach and leapt to his feet.

The other band's leader went to jump back to his own feet and cut down the brunette, but the Fury and rider snarled an unmistakable threat that had him freeze where he was.

That gave Alekt a brief window to reach Embrik, who was still conscious, though only barely so as Alekt hefted him up and pulled one of the younger male's arms over his shoulder. He could hear the redhead wheezing, and there was a touch of pinkish foam from his lips and wound on his back with each strained exhalation.

"Y-y'could've... just left me..." Embrik pointed out hoarsely.

"I could have," Alekt muttered in return, adjusting the other's arm and making haste towards the exit.

Alekt glanced the man, who was watching him pass as well as the Fury in calculation. A calculation Alekt was soon to realize he didn't like. Dragons had shot-limits. Everyone who had bothered to learn anything about them knew that, and if this man was a trapper, he was probably aware of it too. Judging from the look etching onto his features, he might even know exactly how many a Nightfury had.

Standing up, the main raised his axe and took a gamble, screaming viciously at the dragon and daring it to blast him. Tt-th-ss and (click)-uhp roared back his challenge, but the black dragon didn't fire another blast, and the trapper leader was quick enough to realize why.

"Regroup, lads! The beast is fresh out of shots!"

Alekt issued a sharp, alerting noise, vague but hopefully enough for the other two - whom he had established were both fairly quick of wit - to realize where this fight was headed and that the enemy knew they were out of fire. They seemed to catch the hint and spun around to bolt from the tunnel, with Alekt and Embrik just behind them.

The enemy Vikings were close behind. The leader of the trappers caught pace with Alekt just as the younger man reached the tunnel entrance, and swiveled to avoid the worst of an incoming blade, which still managed to shallowly slice through the top of his shoulder and collarbone.

Alekt heard Tt-th-ss and (click)-uhp keen something, and the larger Stormcutter dropped from above, whipping its tail around. Alekt threw himself and Embrik to the ground. The trapper tried to heft his weapon up to wound it, but (click)-shhh-prrr was quicker. The man was knocked back into the tunnel a few feet, before the Stormcutter blasted a stream of fire through the enclosed space. There were screams, then the audible sound of wood splitting, and the following crash of collapsing earth and stone. Alekt highly doubted they had to worry about the trappers anymore after that.

There was a round of cheering, but Alekt didn't share in it, and paid it less than no attention when Embrik coughed again. He lowered the kid down to sit and kept a steadying hand on his shoulder to keep Embrik from lying down. The sounds of celebration were quick to fade.

"Let me see the wound," Alekt advised.

Embrik gave him a wry smile, wheezing a sort of liquid, whistling sound. "...'don't know... how much g-...good you can... do..." A cough interrupted his words, and stained his lips faintly red.

Alekt motioned for one of the other men to help by keeping a hand on his shoulders to keep Embrik upright, while Alekt himself removed some of his top to look at the gash in his back, gingerly pulling either side of the wound apart to examine it. It was deep, and experience had taught him that the sound probably meant there was likely a hole in his lungs and they were filling with blood. The broken ribs could be mended with time, but the other part was beyond his abilities. It would be a hard thing even for the best healer in their villages back home to fix.

"I'm sorry," Alekt apologized quietly, "but I think you're right. There's little I can do."

Embrik laughed hoarsely, a truly awful, sputtering, choking sound. "G-getting killed after... s-skulking... in the sh-shadows-... and r-running a-away... the gods d-do not f-f-favor me..."

"You did a good thing today," Alekt told him matter-of-factly, "and helped us find victory. I'm sure the gods will not fault you, and we will give you a proper send off so that they know of it."

The redhead smirked. "Who knew? That you c-could be something... other than a c-cold f-f-fish?"

Alekt didn't humor the statement, glancing to the other men standing around with grim looks on their faces, even the Fury pair and Stormcutter chattering something that sounded sorrowful and worried and unsure.

"Get the horses moving. We return to the ship."

The men lingered for some moments, but soon enough turned to obey. Alekt slung Embrik onto his back, supporting his legs on either side. It was a little awkward, given that Embrik was larger than him, but it wasn't too much for him to handle.

He trudged at the back, the party moving at a carefully slow pace, and there was little if any conversation, making the occasional coughs and increasingly shallow breathes against his ear all the more pronounced.

"Cinaed... i-is going to be-... u-upset..."

Alekt kept his gaze forward, picking his way down the path with care not to jostle the other male on his back. "Cinaed is your younger brother, isn't he?"

Embrik nodded faintly. "I d-don't kn-know... if he'll e-even be o-old enough... t-to unders-stand."

Alekt knew he couldn't relate, and trying to pretend as if he did wouldn't help anything. He has an older half-brother of his own, but it's not the same. He and his half-brother are family. They've grown up together, and Alekt couldn't remember a time without him.

This experiment of his is the longest he's been away from his half-brother, and surely either one would miss the other if something were to happen, but for them its different. They think more than they feel, put logic above emotion. They understand that everything dies and it isn't something to mourn, that the rest of their world continues no matter whose life is lost.

Nature at its core spares no special recognition towards any individuals as more or less important in the system at large. They fight for survival the same as anything else, but if death happens, it happens. It isn't worth grieving over. All it does is waste energy and time better spent surviving.

He knows, too, that they are very much alone in this regard. Even their rival Norsemen, who are feared in many a land near and far, grieve and cry, and consider him and his Clan to be especially brutal for how they regard the world around them and the dead.

Even the most vicious of wild beasts - bears, wolves, wildcats, and dragons - take time to mourn their dead.

Not the Kråke. To his people, it is a waste. It doesn't bring the dead back, so there is no point in it. The living need that time and energy more, even the small children know this.

So he can't relate to what it is to grieve, nor of feeling regret that someone else will grieve for him. But he can relate to understanding something, and he doesn't underestimate how much children can understand given the right kind of explanation, even if the explanation is simplified.

"He will understand, and I will be sure he understands that you didn't die for nothing."

"Go easy on him," Embrik replied hoarsely. "We c-can't all be l-like you, y'know..."

"I will," Alekt promised.

"Good," Embrik mused, breaths faltering. "B'cause... afterlife o-or not... I'll come after you... if y'don't..."

After that were a few halting gasps, and then nothing, chest falling silent and still against his back.

It was only a matter of time by then. Everyone knew it, but no one would say it outright. The silent knowledge was still palpable in the slow, mournful steps of the men and the contagious, noiseless tension. The procession of the horses and rattling of wooden wheels had most likely made most of the nearby animals flee, and the rattling was painfully loud compared to the disquiet of the group.

The confirmation came when they reached the ship and Hartvig turned to look at Alekt and Embrik properly, though he'd already had his suspicions when the sound of wheezing ceased.

"Is he...?"

"Yes," Alekt informed somberly. The tension fell then, only to be replaced by hung heads and lowered stares of mourning. "Have the injured dragons and the horses loaded. We return to our camp."

Hartvig gave a solemn nod, then turned back to the rest of the men, who seemed slightly at a loss of what to do in the face of their comrade's death. "You heard him. Everyone get to your tasks. Get the dragons and horses aboard, then ready the rigging to sail!"

The men went to do as ordered, but they didn't jump to it and there was no light-heartedness to any of their actions or demeanor. They didn't even spare much attention for the Night Fury and Stormcutter as they worked, not even to fear them at the moment, and they were only marginally more afraid of the wounded dragons that they had to get closer to.

They pulled out large, flat planks for the horses to climb and pull the carts up onto the top of the ship, then unlatched the horses and moved them below deck. It was a cramped fit above deck, but there was enough room to work. The ship sat lower in the water than it was supposed to, but didn't sink or have its sides fall below the waves.

The trip back was uneventful. The waves weren't too rough, the wind was fairly good, and the men in no mood to celebrate their victory just yet. The Fury and Stormcutter accompanied them from either side back to the island they were temporarily calling home, though he was sure it had more to do with the wounded dragons than any of they themselves.

Dawn was breaking when they reached the island and pulled their ship ashore, unloading the dragons and horses again to wait at the edge of the trees. The wounded dragons at least seemed complacent enough to rest on the flat of the carts, having no fight in them that would usually make them ornery and bordering on impossible to handle without chains and cages.

No one needed to be told what to do at that point. They silently and efficiently went about gathering branches of all sizes and fallen trees, whatever they could find, and stacking it into a rectangular stack on the shore, packing in dry brush and grass. It was a familiar scene to all Vikings, especially after a battle, but rarely was it any easier than the other times.

When the pyre was fully built up, Alekt stepped toward it carrying their redheaded youngest and laid him out on top of it.

The rest of the men stood in a half-circle around the pyre, facing towards the sea as it licked at the bank with a gentle growl. In the silence of the men, the click of flint and steel in Alekt's hands was easily heard until dry brush finally caught the sparks, and with a few breaths to give the embers greater life, fire started to spread over the wood structure until it was consumed entirely.

There were no words spoken for the departed, only grim observation, faces set in deep frowns and scowls, many a man looking like he'd aged many years in only minutes. Alekt's was the only face that appeared entirely neutral, but he respectfully stood and watched the flames the same as anyone else, with the only movement being the ocean wind tugging at his clothes.

Hartvig glanced to the side and a little ways behind them, noting that even the Stormcutter watched with a respectful sort of silence. It was strange to think of a dragon observing their long-held traditions, much less with such a look of intelligence and knowing, some sort of distinct and distant familiarity. He was sure that anyone else who might have seen it would argue that it would make sense to the nature of dragons: dragons burn things, fire is no stranger to them. Maybe it was simply the musings of an old man, but he felt like there was something more to it than that, some story that he would never hear.

The only observers to voice anything were the Fury and rider, quietly rumbling and trilling nothing that he could understand, until the Stormcutter gave them a low growl that silenced both of them. It gave the impression of many a human parent or older sibling hushing a small child that was being too fussy and causing interruption, rather than a threat. The black dragon and wild young man settled to watch next to the larger dragon, eyes focused ahead and curious but perhaps subtly sad, unless Hartvig's eyes were playing tricks on him.

Slowly, the group began to disperse as each finished their silent goodbyes, returning to their work to secure the ship and take the hitched horses and wounded dragons back to the cave they were calling home. Only Alekt and Hartvig remained until the fires ceased and left only ashes, the men taking the horses back to camp and the Fury pair and Stormcutter following them earlier on.

The brunette boy stayed to collect the remaining bone fragments and ashes of cremation into an urn, to return them home where they could be put in a proper resting place, and then turned and walked back without a word, Hartvig following and offering only companionable silence from a few steps behind.

Returning to their camp was less depressing. The horses were already unhitched, the injured dragons curled up near the cages - though still outside of them - and appeared to be resting. Hartvig could see the Stormcutter perched atop one of the cages, lazily overlooking the cave but not entirely unalert. It took a little longer for his aging eyes to make out the shape of the Fury and likewise black-dressed rider curled up on top of the adjacent cage, with the smaller feral human nestled between the Fury's paws and curled around its neck as far as he could go.

The men were the rowdiest of all, tired but celebrating their victory with drumming and a chorus of bad singing and trying to drown their loss in mead, which they would pay for later in unmercifully pounding headaches. Alekt snatched up a flagon for himself and slunk to the corner where he usually worked on his drawings, shedding the black cloak and immediately working on tending the wound to his shoulder. Hartvig let him be and joined in the food and drink, sharing laughs and old stories of conquest and years where the raiding of rival peoples were good and other years that weren't so good but still worth remembering.

When the sun began to set and cast a golden glow, the men began to settle, worn out between their battle and their party. Some passed out before ever reaching their proper beds, others actually managed to stagger to their piles of fur and blankets before falling unconscious.

It was then that Hartvig approached Alekt, who was busying himself with reviewing the sketches and drawings of the dragons and his designs for artificial wings, occasionally making a few corrective marks but mostly just staring at them.

"Everyone is turning in for the night," Hartvig announced, leaving a small trail-off for in case the younger boy had a reply. When Alekt said nothing, he continued, "I was wondering what your orders might be for keeping watch, before none of these drunken lumps can be risen from their beds."

"I don't believe it will be necessary. The trappers are either dead or too injured to cause a problem, and the same can be said for most of the dragons. I don't believe our Fury pair will be leaving either until their brethren are well enough to fly on their own, and we've given them plenty enough reason not to slit our throats in our sleep."

Hartvig nodded neutrally, though he was sure at least a few men would protest the logic were they of clearer mind. "Any orders for when the morning comes, then?"

Alekt sat back in his seat, looking thoughtful. "I want a patrol around the island sent out in the morning, as soon as you have a few men clearheaded enough to do so. Whoever is least comfortable with the presence of the dragons and most reactive would be best." Hartvig nodded his approval, waiting for Alekt to continue as the youth tiredly scratched the juncture of jaw. "The caged dragons will also have to go free in the morning, as per the agreement. If the food stores are starting to run low or spoil, there will also need to be a hunting party to replenish..."

Hartvig nodded. "Sounds like as good a plan as any." Alekt's gaze slid to something distant and unseen for a moment. Hartvig took notice. "Something on your mind?"

Silence was his only answer at first, then...

"I shouldn't have let him go." Hartvig was mildly surprised, straightening up a little more. "He wasn't ready. My plan was faulty and judgment in error. We could have gone ahead without him, and gotten the same result with no casualties."

Hartvig opened his mouth to protest, but halted himself, instead pursing his lips. He considered words of condolence, but he wasn't sure that Alekt would appreciate or want the gesture. For him to say anything at all, clearly he regretted the outcome, but there was nothing to be done for it now, and he didn't expect Alekt would grieve heavily.

In the end, he nodded and bowed his head in solemn agreement, thinking it the better response, at least in this case.

"Aye. It could have been thought out better. I expect you will ensure our losses are fewer the next time around."

Harsh, maybe, but as he understood it, that was the way of Alekt's clan. In younger years, he might have viewed them harshly just the same as most others - the same as Embrik - had, but he understood that it wasn't coldness for coldness's sake. It was a methodology of survival, calculating true needs above desires, weighing the consequence of action. Alekt especially had the future role of becoming a Chief to fulfill, and a Chief with no mind for how to at least minimize - if not prevent - loss was not one worth following.

Even if Alekt was not the most feeling or compassionate soul, he was sharp enough to grasp that reality.

"Well, if that will be all, I think I need to rest these old bones. We've had a long and trying day."

Alekt merely nodded, dismissing Hartvig with a subtle wave of his hand. The older man left, and the brunette was alone to his thoughts once more, mulling over designs and drawings. At least for a short while, but exhaustion was catching up with him as well, and he rubbed both his stinging, heavy eyes with the heel of his palms.

Perhaps it would be best if he were to find rest as well. At the very least, he should give up working any longer on his drawings for the night, unable to give them much focus anyway.

Standing up stiffly, he pressed a hand underneath the breast of his crow partner, receiving a slight scolding from the tired bird that he deposited on his uninjured shoulder. The other one he'd cleaned out and stitched, but it burned fiercely, and the inflammation had yet to go down despite that he'd used some medicinal herbs on it already.

Stifling a yawn, he went to where his own blankets were strewn. He considered merely curling up amongst them where they were, but ended up picking them up instead and wandering from the cave. The smell of smoke and sweat and blood and mead and roasted meat and dragons all mingled together was a little too much to his senses, and while other times he could tolerate it, now was not one of those times.

Outside, the air was clearer. The breeze was colder like his home in the deep mountains, and carried the sharp and less familiar smell of salt, hinted with a subtle waft of pine and fir that he knew intimately. It was dark, but he didn't take much notice, used to navigating in the dark almost as well as he could in the day, especially when he knew the territory. It was relatively easy to scale up some of the clefts, not far from the entrance.

More than that though, there was also the stars. That was one thing he didn't see often in his homeland. The clouds and driving snow usually blotted them out.

Laying out his blankets first, he nestled comfortably on top of them, pulling the corners around his shoulders, while his crow companion shuffled to get comfortable on his chest. He was sure to partly cover her with the blankets too.

She croaked quiet affection and fluffed against the night chill, and he returned the sound, lightly scratching behind her head in the one spot that was hard to reach on her own.

What came soon after was not from his companion, instead a flap of leather and a semi-heavy thrump of something landing and a series of low but non-hostile rumbles. Alekt recognized the sounds as Tt-th-ss and could somewhat make out the dragon pair's shape and faces in the darkness, perching on a nearby ledge, though still keeping a certain distance.

He thought that maybe he saw something distantly akin to regret and sympathy, at least on (click)-uhp's face if not the Fury's, but the lack of light made it hard to tell. Clearly, at least, the feral brunette was searching for proper words, straightening up slightly on Tt-th-ss's back.

"H-e-e-pp drakkkn, isss. Tt-(click)-th-up-ss h-e-e-pp pfikingr."

Alekt rolled the one sound he didn't quite know - Tt-(click)-th-up-ss - over his tongue.

The other boy beamed and laid forward on his dragon's head, chirping in an agreeing sort of way and lightly drumming his fingers, repeating "Tt-(click)-th-up-ss h-e-e-pp."

Alekt realized after some moments it was a combination of sounds, not a new one. Or rather a combined name, to be exact.

"Good," he returned, yawning widely. "Then you can start in the morning."