Hello, everyone! I hope things are going well for you all.
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With all that being said, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter, and have a wonderful day!
Chapter 18
Saw Through Closed Eyes
The ocean slipped past me in a daze.
I swam great distances before I surfaced and filled my air-starved lungs. It was a sick kind of game, to see how long I could stand the desperate burn, the spots in my eyes, the panicked pounding of my heart. It seemed fitting for a dragon banished to be an Outsider, an unwilling wielder of forsaken magic, to always slink along the precipice of life and death. I knew Killed the Sea Serpent and the unnamed male would be disappointed—sad, even—to learn of my self-inflicted punishment.
But I deserved it.
Schools of fish came and went. Most I left alone, some I chased, and even fewer I successfully caught. Though my stomach crumpled with hunger, I had no appetite. Once warm and delicious, now the fish-meat was bland and tough. What little I hunted, I had to force down my unwilling throat, like making a sick swimling burning with fever take water.
So the day passed. I alternated between floating on the ocean waves, dozing restlessly, and swimming half-asleep beneath the chill comfort of the ocean. Always I flicked my useless eyes upwards, wary of the gaze of fake gods.
Based off of the heavens above, I was moving somewhat in the direction Killed the Sea Serpent had instructed. But if a stray wave or current pushed me astray, I didn't stop it. Eventually, I would correct my alignment, but only once it became noticeable how far-off I'd gone.
A few days ago, if I had been sent out with directions, the mistake would have sent panic pulsing from my heart. Now, I felt nothing.
It was scary. Or, it should have been. I didn't feel that, either. I didn't want to.
My meandering continued as night blossomed from the east, the sun a dying streak on the western horizon. All that I felt was the soreness of my body, the sting of salt-water on my still-opened wounds from the nameless male's claws, and the smothering numbness of my mind. My eyes drooped and my sight-sounds diminished, until I was only occasionally taking note of my surroundings. Everything centered down to the aching push of my paws, winding of my tail, beat of my wings.
Push...pain...paddle...burning...sight-sound...nothing...aching chest...flap...air-starved lungs...wait...wait...deserve it...blackening vision...now, upwards...breathe...relief...shouldn't be, though...salt-sting.
On and on and on…
I could sink, I realized. Nobody would find me out here. My body would feed the fish, and then at least I would be useful.
Survive...survive...
I pressed reluctantly on.
Yet exhaustion is not a thing that can be ignored, regardless of how deadened to the world I was. Eventually, paradoxically, the need to rest drew me out of my stupor. This wasn't the kind of tiredness I could simply spread my wings out, tuck my nose over my wing-shoulder, and doze away. Even when I floated, I still needed to make constant adjustments with my paws, wings, and tail to keep afloat. My limbs screamed for rest, throbbing with wave after wave of fresh agony with each passing hour.
I resurfaced, snorting the water from my nose and scenting the air. The sharp tang of lightning zipped down my tongue. A cold wind from the east sliced against my eyes, forcing me to blink rapidly. I faced into it and squinted. The moon cast cerulean light onto the ocean. My useless eyes could not see the stars, though I knew they were there. I was glad for it.
I looked around for anywhere to rest. I don't even know why I tried, with how dark it was.
A pit opened up in my heart. That something there, that burning heat, prodded at me. I shoved it away, tossing my head in a frustrated snarl.
...wait, what was that?
I squinted towards the blotch on the horizon I had barely seen. It was like a shadow beneath the moonlight, a break in the sky. If the moon were not so full, the sky would have been just as deep a black, and I would have never noticed it.
An island.
Unexpected relief washed over me. I let out an exhausted breath that I had been holding. Some part of me did want to survive, it seemed.
Pushing my limbs one last time, I made my way to the island with purpose and speed, taking note when the temperature of the water plummeted. I remembered that there had been a storm on the horizon, just two nights ago. The night of my banishment. It must have been the first of the winter-storms, and it seemed fitting that I turned to the deadly cold it left in its wake.
It took a long time, but finally, I got close enough to the island that I could rest in its shadow in the water. Poking my head out of the water, I let loose a wide array of sight-sounds. My heart sank.
There was no shoreline. It was as if a mountain had been dug up and dropped into the ocean: sheer, unbroken, stony cliffs. I had hoped there was a cave near the ocean, maybe even a tunnel Under. But my sight-sounds only revealed rough, unforgiving stones jutting into the air like snapped bones, some even forming arches like giant ribs jutting out of the water.
I would have to fly.
With a hollow sigh, I dipped below, lingering Under and clinging to the water. A moment passed. Then another.
It was only when my lungs began to burn that I craned my neck above, meeting the moon's eye below the waves. I bared my teeth at it.
Opening my wings, I thrust them down, weaving up, up, up.
The water broke apart. I darted into the air, narrowly avoiding flying straight into the cliff. Chattering with sight-sounds, I climbed further upwards, each beat of my wings sending a racing burn down my shoulders and back. With every strain, I feared that it would be the last before my wings simply tore off.
Survive...survive…! I repeated to myself with every streak of agony. The wind pushed down upon me, buffeting my wings, threatening to spin me off-course. I clenched my teeth and pushed, pushed, pushed!
The cliffs suddenly fell away, dropping below. At once, the achingly familiar smell of pines, moss, and fertile soil drifted into my nose. A forest stretched out of my blurred sight, ancient and alive, swaying with the frigid winds.
It smelled like home. What was once my home.
I was diving towards it before any doubts forced me to reconsider. Straight into the boughs of the trees I flew, dipping and twisting around their behemoth trunks. This was an elderly forest, deep and wise. The canopy above was so thick, it almost seemed as though I were in a cave Under. The smell of the ocean faded to a taste at the tip of my tongue, and with the trees pressed so close together, the temperature rose again.
I settled in a small, fern-coated clearing and gasped out a few sight-sounds. A few paces deeper into the forest, an enormous tree tilted at a wild angle, its roots springing out of the ground. It looked like any stray wind would sweep it to the ground. It must have been partially unearthed by a strong wind when it was young. Half of its roots arced before gently sloping back into the ground.
I managed to limp a few steps towards it before collapsing beneath the roots. Wheezing, I scooted closer and closer into its shelter until my spine bumped up against its base.
It wasn't a cave, but I could curl up here and smell the moss from my old nest. I could press up against the trunk and pretend it was Killed the Sea Serpent. I could breathe soft billows of fire below and imagine that it was the warmth of the lavender crystal cave, gracing us with the touch of the first ones.
I could close my eyes and dream that I was home.
o.O.o
When I came to, I was almost as sore as when I had been afflicted by the sting-smell mushrooms.
For some time, I lay there, watching the dappled light from the leaves and roots play across my scales. In the early-morning mist, I seemed to glow where the light touched, leaving bright spots behind my eyes when I blinked. Even though I was on land, I felt a phantom swaying, like I was still grasped by the rocking waves of the ocean. It was almost nauseating, giving me all the more reason to simply...lie there.
I truly did not want to get up, move on, face what was next.
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, the sun had flown. The dappled light settled on a different part of me, hotter now. It was midday. I was still horribly sore. My stomach grumbled.
My throat clogged up with unexpected tears. I choked down a sob, confused and frustrated. Why was I crying? Nothing had happened. Nothing at all.
My breath hitched against my will. Maybe that was why. Everything I had ever known had turned against me, violently expelling me from all that I had known and loved. Yet the world moved on. Nothing here knew nor cared.
Another sob. I knew why, now.
I was so, so alone…
When I closed my eyes, I could see the others. The disgust, fear, and hatred of my flockmates. The agony in the nameless male's eyes. The sorrow-filled resignation in Killed the Sea Serpent's expression.
I remembered other things, too. The soft rustle of the willow trees, unlike the oppressive silence of this deep forest. The shimmering of the glowing crystals, absent in the dark shadows here. The friendly chatter of other dragons, achingly missing. The individual scents of my flockmates, all mingling into the singular scent of our flockmates, the marker of us. First ones, I even missed the sting-smell. At least it was something from home.
I lay there, still as a corpse. Nothing mattered. Nothing cared. Nothing would happen.
Survive, the nameless male whispered in my ear.
How? I replied, my heart reaching out to him.
In my mind's eye, his golden eyes brimmed with anguish. Can't you try?
I must have gone mad, imagining conversations with someone I would never see again. I feared drawing away, though; it would feel like a second banishment. I couldn't bear it, not again. Not so soon.
I don't want to try, I whispered. I miss you so, so much.
He drew closer, but his form was fuzzy, unsaturated, faded. He could not embrace me, even as I craned my neck to him. You have to try...you'll find something, Saw Through Closed Eyes...
I stirred, feeling even less well-rested than when I had gone to sleep. Even shifting my head hurt. I couldn't tell if the pain was from swimming for nearly two days and nights, or for lying completely still for almost an entire day.
Eventually, I forced myself to get up, stiff-legged and groaning like an elderly dragon. When I crept out from under the tree roots, I needed to plant my feet and shake just to get all of the debris off. Some bits were so thoroughly plastered to my side that I had to lick it off. The bitter taste of the dirt was shocking after the constant salt of the ocean. When it was done, I took care to stretch my limbs and back, wincing as each muscle group sent stabbing complaints shuddering down my legs, wings, and spine.
I supposed I could...try to eat, first. That was a good idea. It was something I needed to do to survive, at least.
Picking my way through the forest, I lifted my snout to the air and took in a deep breath. Amongst the earth, green, and flowers, I could find plenty of prey-smells. Rodents, foxes, rabbits, even deer. A blanket of shade descended from the canopy, accented by long specks of light stretching to the ground in brilliant beams. The cool, indigo shadows almost reminded me of Under.
I was not Under, I needed to remind myself. The fake gods could still see me here, no matter how much it felt like I was hidden.
Taking in a deep breath, I sought out the brine on the air. Once I found its tingle on my tongue, I trudged towards it, sight-sounding to keep from tripping over an upturned root and falling down a sudden slope. The forest was nearly mountainous, with huge valleys, gorges, hills, and small bumps between.
The hassle of it, combined with the persistent complaining of my stomach, finally helped me make up my mind. After cresting another climb and finding, to my frustration, an even steeper one waiting for me, I finally shook my wings out and craned my neck upwards. I crouched, spreading my wings and tailfins, and burst upwards, swerving with my sight-sounds.
I emerged from the forest, startling an entire flock of birds into flight. I snapped at them, even managing to catch and swallow one. All it took was that small taste of food, and my stomach roared, pulling me into a steep dive towards the ocean. It raced up to embrace me, and the surge of cool water felt like as much of a homecoming as I could ever have. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the welcoming depths.
My sight-sounds opened up the ocean before me. Below, a deep floor, fluttering with the anxious movements of sand-dwelling fish. Hulking and stern, the island and its offshooting spires loomed hundreds of wingbeats above. Here and there, shoals of fish, accompanied by iridescent flares of reflected sunlight.
I locked onto a smaller school of fish and sped towards them, keeping my distance. They moved as a single creature, bobbing along the water, each twitch of my tail sending all of them zipping off in the opposite direction. Further and further I encroached, tightening my circling, pressing them closer to the surface. It was only when I heard the tell-tale splashes of fish leaping for their lives that I pounced. I charged below them as fast as I could, spun, and spat a ball of flame directly upwards.
My fire sputtered out almost immediately, but the force of it was enough, sending a pulsatile wave throughout the water. Some fish died, some lay stunned, and the majority scattered. I didn't care. I lunged upwards, snapping up as many glistening, silver streaks as I could. I must have filled my entire mouth with them before the whole school had escaped, leaving only a few injured stragglers behind. Those ones, I raced to gobble down, if only to end their suffering.
With my first real meal in days came new energy. New strength. New awareness.
I circled the island, picking away as much fish as I could. There was a simple satisfaction in a successful hunt. I could settle into it, forcing myself to focus only on my immediate next movement, the occasional breath of air, and the images brought to mind by my seeking sight-sounds. Off in the distance, I heard the low moan of a whale calling out. It was soothing, almost. I wasn't the only lonely creature out here.
I tried not to think about how I had nobody to share my meals with.
By the time my belly was full, the sun had begun its descent into its ocean nest. I clambered up onto an enormous rock jutting off the island's coast, splaying my wings and legs along it. If I had learned anything, it was that I should never swim myself to exhaustion again. Not if it meant an entire day's worth of lying in recovery, memories and regrets plaguing my thoughts. I laid my head on the rock, eyelids drooping.
It was mere luck that they didn't spot me, a death-white dragon resting on dark stone.
The sharp warning calls of gulls drew me out of a light doze. I jerked my head up, eyes half-lidded.
The great, hulking, dead thing that could swim came straight towards me. Its unnatural, angular wings folded from the outside in, like its bones were snapping one after the other.
My heart stopped. The fire within it flared in unison with my terror, begging to be released.
It was the...the...the thing. The thing with the monsters. The monsters who had almost killed the nameless male, who had forced magic out of me.
I swiveled and flung myself into the water. The low, creaking groan of the thing brushed at my ears, a low-pitched boom that I felt more than heard. I shook my head, heart racing, and swam at flying speed away.
Never again, I promised myself. Never again!
They would not force me to use magic! I would never use magic!
As I thundered away, sending ripples flying behind me, my thoughts swarmed. Was it the same dead thing as last time? The same monsters? Was it hunting me? Had it tracked my scent? How could I escape it?
The answer came, but I wished it hadn't.
It had no legs to climb with, and with its wings snapped in half now, it couldn't fly. The only safe place was up.
On the opposite end of the island, I popped my head above the water and took a careful look around. All I saw was the ocean, sky, islands, and rocks. The gulls here were not crying out in alarm, but only having their usual arguments.
I bobbed, flapping my wings wildly, scrambling with paws and tail. It took a moment, but it was enough to convince the ocean to let go. I tumbled into a frantic climb, neck straining upwards, eyes wide, breath thin.
The forest surged into sight. I flung myself into its harborage, begging the first ones to help me, to care for me as they once had.
Forgive me! I cried to them, curling away from the gazes of the fake gods. Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me!
I refused to stop until the forest thickened so much that it blocked the light. When I dropped into a landing and pressed up against a small alcove in a hill, a family of foxes raced out and away. The songbirds in the trees shrieked in anger and alarm at my entrance, but eventually calmed down.
My legs shook. I gasped for breath. If the monsters had hunted me, was this enough?
The magic in my heart pulsed invitingly. I could hide forever if I used it.
My nose wrinkled with a deadly snarl. I snapped at the air as if I could tear the idea apart.
Never. Never. Never.
I was an outcast, an Outsider, a cursed dragon. But I would not become a true traitor to the Shell.
I curled up underneath the alcove. The damp mud grasped onto my scales. Nose wrinkling, I leaned down to lick it off—and stopped.
Here in the dark, even I could tell how my scales nearly shone. But where I had lain down, it was difficult to discern my hide from the surroundings.
I flopped onto my side and rolled, winding my tail back and forth and digging my wings and legs into the soft soil. The mud clung and itched horrendously. A few bugs crawled in it, tickling with their spindly legs. I grimaced. Still, I got up, dug up more mud by scraping at the ground with my claws, and squirmed into it again.
It was only when I was confident that I was fully covered that I stopped. Based on the intense itching roiling across my entire body, I had done a thorough job. My sides twitched with the need to get it off. An almost unbearable urge to clean my clotted-up wings and tailfin threatened to overtake me.
I lay there, filthy and quaking, coated from nose to tailtip with grime, wide eyes peering out from beneath the foliage in search of danger.
So began my first watch.
o.O.o
Stoick
Beard of Thor, I knew I should have tied those two down.
The sea-dragon floated aimlessly upon the ocean like a ship without its sail. The birds nesting in her spines were silent, shaken from the storm. The endless expanse of blue above and below merged into one solid, gut-wrenching hue, as if all the world hung suspended in it. It was as though we were an insect trapped in amber, time frozen in this endless moment.
Haugaeldr would not have been able to fly that storm. I had known that, just as deep in my gut as when I knew to abandon ship when she had taken on too much water. Throwing our lives into such danger would have been foolish, especially with Hiccup and Toothless lost into that gaping maw of the thunder and rain.
But still, I wish I had leapt onto Haugaeldr's back and surged after them, a force of nature myself. I was a Viking. We were Vikings. What was a storm to us?
A ship-killer, this one. Dragon-killer, too.
So we had stayed, endured. The storm had grumbled away, the sun had risen, and Hiccup and Toothless had not returned.
My spyglass showed nothing. No land. No glaciers to rest on. Just ocean.
Though I fought the panic bubbling in my stomach, I couldn't stop my fingers from clenching white-knuckled around the spyglass nor from grinding my teeth until a headache set in. With a sigh, I turned to my companion, who was fretting back and forth across the sea-dragon's back. "I suppose you don't have a magical telepathic power you've never used?" I asked Haugaeldr.
He glared at me, magic always being a sore spot, and whuffed a gust of hot air in my face. "No."
I sighed. "Can you ask the sea-dragon how close we are to the mountains?"
He nodded, wings and tail drooping. He leapt into the air, the sun catching his iridescent, gold scales and making him appear set aflame. He spiraled away, serpentine body undulating with his wingbeats, and squawked at the ocean.
The spines up ahead shuddered. Water flopped along their sides, grasping up into the air. The ocean sucked down into a sudden, frothing whirlpool, and then sprang up into a tidal wave, racing away in a frothing mass.
The sea-dragon emerged from the depths, carrying a storm's worth of water on her coral-encrusted neck. It flowed down from her scales like the mane of a horse. It was surreal, unworldly, to see the clear water glow in the sun.
The ageless god-of-dragons turned her head towards us. Two pairs of eyelids creaked open, and she set her depthless eyes upon me. I braced myself against their pulling, the way they seemed to grasp a man's heart and suck him in. This was a dragon who, according to Hiccup, could close her eyes and sleep for a hundred, two hundred years. This huge, this old, I could only wonder at the worlds of the past she had lived through.
Haugaeldr fluttered to my side and then crept slightly behind me, neck low, tail swaying with discomfort. I put a hand on his shoulder. He leaned against my side.
The sea-dragon rumbled, a gentle sound that I could only barely hear. I caught something in her overtone—or, rather, the mere fact that it existed. Her rumble shifted along guttural sounds, with the occasional nasal vocalization that cast fish-scented gales upon us.
Haugaeldr nodded. He turned to me, and some of the anxiety in his eyes fell away with his same old excitement.
"King," he said. He began to speak in that slow, elongated, pinpoint way that Toothless once used to teach Hiccup.
Still, I could only understand a few words.
"She—Hiccup and Toothless—ocean—dragons. That—south—nest—and—west—dragons?"
I couldn't even think of a response. Haugaeldr narrowed his eyes and squared himself.
"There," he said, pointing a claw south. "Hiccup and Toothless."
"The mountains," I confirmed. "How far till we get there?"
"One...one...sun," he said, struggling to simplify. At my disbelieving look—the sea-dragon had said herself how fast she could swim—he shook his head. "Me. You and me."
Realization dawned. "She doesn't want to go near the mountains?"
"No. Eggs," he reminded me. The sea-dragon, watching with fascination, nodded solemnly with what I was sure was an apologetic, ear-dampening croon.
That complicated things. We needed to reunite with Hiccup and Toothless, but if it took Haugaeldr an entire day to fly out to the mountains, we would already start off a day behind.
"Then we're off," I said. I grabbed my bag from a short spine I'd looped it around and slung it over my shoulder. Haugaeldr exposed his side to me, holding up a leg so that I could tie the bag under his saddle and strap it to his belly.
The dragon-god interrupted with a low rumble. Haugaeldr tilted his head, listening. He slowly lowered his leg.
"She speak—she hear—one boat—west," he said.
I frowned. "One boat…" my eyes widened. "The other two sunk?"
Haugaeldr nodded. "What…" he paused, as if he couldn't bear to say the words, "Hiccup and Toothless there?"
What if Hiccup and Toothless had been captured, he was asking. What if setting towards the mountains sealed their fate, as they inched further away with each moment?
Fear clasped its familiar claws around my heart.
Thor Almighty, if they had been shot down...or even had been too exhausted to fly anymore, and been forced to land...and these men had possibly taken up employment with Grimmel…
How quickly everything had slipped from my grasp, like sand through my fingers.
Haugaeldr looked to me, his eyes shining with the very fear that had thrown my confidence to the winds.
"Where, King?"
o.O.o
The god-of-dragons was much more eager to shift course away from the mountains and villages to the south. She towed us for half a day before pulling up to a stop, sending the ocean slopping about like water in a bucket. We had reached the end of her territory.
The only thing left out here was the ship. If Hiccup and Toothless weren't on it…
But if they were…
Haugaeldr spoke with the behemoth at my request. After several long minutes of the two going back and forth, he swooped back over to me.
"Alright," I said, already stepping up to the saddle.
Haugaeldr let out a medium-pitched, ascending growl-bark. I didn't recognize the word, but that was no matter. He held up his a front paw like a man, even splaying his claws out in a clear message: Wait.
He bent his neck, nipped his sandbox, and set it down before me.
"Haugaeldr, drawings can wait," I scolded him. He leered back at me, sliding the level-paddle over the contraption while making full, petulant eye contact.
I sighed. It was no wonder who he picked that stubbornness up from.
He curled his claws through the charcoal-holder and settled down. The sun snapped away into a sudden, chilling shadow; the sea-dragon, come to watch.
Despite my urging, Haugaeldr would not be persuaded from his slow, painstaking style of drawing. First he started with dots. Then circles, and then even larger circles. He reserved an entire end of the sandbox with one long half of a circle, its edges disappearing beyond the sandbox's limits.
If I hadn't seen such things before, I would have been lost. Luckily, his time alone with me during the boys' reconnaissance flights had allowed me to become well-accustomed to this.
"A map?" I asked. Haugaeldr beamed, nodding exuberantly. "But where…"
And then Haugaeldr dipped the pencil-holder in the sand and drew a set of finite symbols.
Norse words.
Me and you, he drew above two dots in one corner of the map.
My jaw fell open.
Ship, he indicated another dot west-southwest from our position.
I crouched down to get a closer look, mind whirling.
Island. Glaciers. Sea dragons.
Oh, if only Hiccup could see this...
Nest.
This was reserved for what I now took to be an enormous island—no, continent that filled the map on the opposite end of us.
Haugaeldr sat back, admiring his efforts.
"How long have you…?" I breathed.
Hiccup had tried for years to teach dragons how to read and write Norse. Even Toothless struggled with it. Yet here Haugaeldr was, sitting with his chest puffed up and a proud smile engulfing his face.
He reached out a claw and carefully wrote the next word:
Secret.
His grin only widened when I let out a groan.
"Haugaeldr, this is incredible," I said, "but it could have been very useful. Like when we were trying to talk earlier."
He shrugged. "I—you learn—dragon—!" he pointed out. "You—and—speak—dragon—now!" Then he poked me, instructing in a blessedly-simple sentence, "Now, you."
"We'll do that later," I said, waving off his prodding paw. "We're looking for the other two, remember?"
The way his elated, mischievous expression melted into aghast horror told me that he had, indeed, forgotten. He spun towards the sandbox, pried the charcoal-holder off of his paw, and closed it inside. With a practiced snap of his maw and swing of his neck, the sandbox flung through the air—narrowly missing my head—and came to rest against his shoulder and side.
I wasted no time leaping in the saddle.
Haugaeldr twined his neck around. "Oh, King, you think—?" he began to ask something.
"Let's go!" I cut him off.
Finally, he gained something like a sense of urgency. With a little jolt, he braced himself, flared his wings, and took us into the sky. The ocean fell beneath us.
I took out my spyglass, my face grim.
A whole night and half a day had gone by. I wouldn't allow myself to agonize over the lingering thought that we may already be too late. That was a path down despair—one I could not afford.
We were going to find them.
We had to.
o.O.o
Based off of Haugaeldr's map, the ship was within a day's flight. We raced high above the clouds, desperate for a visual other than the swallowing blue of the ocean. Within the first few hours, a migraine split through my head from the constant use of my spyglass.
Soon we would come upon the island the sea-dragon had described. The sun would set even sooner.
Haugaeldr's neck drooped and his tongue lolled with his effort. He needed no urging once the weight of our search settled upon his shoulders. He strained his wings and clutched all of his baggage to his belly with his claws, tail swinging like a water-snake behind him as if he could swim through the air.
The blue, blue, damnable, endless, unbroken blue of the ocean and sky soon morphed. Rays of orange, pink, even green striped across the sky, and the ocean descended into a dark gray. The sun was setting.
I narrowed my eyes. "Haugaeldr," I said, "be honest. How much further can you fly?" Already, I was scanning the empty, uncaring nothingness of the sea for something to land on. Even a stray glacier would do.
"Hours!" he insisted. He lifted his neck and straightened his slumping shoulders, muscles shuddering with the effort.
"No, you can't," I said. "We need to find somewhere to land. How much further do you think—"
Haugaeldr tensed below me. His head snapped up, this time effortlessly. "Wait!" he cried, the same word I hadn't known from before. He opened his maw and inhaled deeply. "I smell—smell—metal!"
He dipped his wings into a shallow dive, and it was all I could do to hang on. Haugaeldr wound his neck back and forth, dipping and turning, and pulling up again in mad pursuit of the scent. His wings beat at a blur, the excitement of the discovery offering him renewed energy.
But it would not last for long.
"Wait!" I shouted. "Haugaeldr—don't wear yourself out!"
I might as well have been telling Hiccup what to do. He flicked a long ear at me dismissively and charged.
I cursed, clenching my spyglass in my hand and trying to focus it on the horizon. Haugaeldr's lurching and swerving only intensified my headache, but I grit my teeth and tried to look for what scent he had caught.
A mist hovered above the ocean far in the distance, glowing golden in the sun's rays. There even seemed to be a shadow lurking within it. My first thought was that it was an illusion, a trick of the mind that fed off of desperation. I wouldn't—couldn't—let myself get caught up in the same foolish, reckless hope that afflicted Haugaeldr now, driving him to waste what precious energy he had left over a false dream.
I wouldn't believe it, wouldn't encourage it until...until…
A faint shadow, painted orange in the golden atmosphere, resolved from the illusion. First it was nothing but a hazy gradient, but as Haugaeldr strained closer and closer still, its form hurried itself into something solid. Something recognizable.
An island.
And anchored off its coast, a ship.
"See?!" Haugaeldr wheezed. "I—ship—smell—Hiccup and Toothless—now!"
We were close enough now that the skies receded from our target, breathing life and color back into them. The island was astoundingly tall, bristling with ageless pines that seemed to stretch to the heavens. The ship was anchored off the island's coast—there seemed to be no beach—and bobbed haphazardly in the water.
"Take us around," I told Haugaeldr. "We don't want them to spot us. We need to think this through, and you need rest. Do not go charging in, Haugaeldr!"
He grunted.
"Haugaeldr," I growled, using my "Dad Voice", as Hiccup called it.
This time, he groaned and relented, "Yes, King…"
We dipped into an ocean thermal and soared into the encroaching night above, banking just off-course to take us towards the island's backside. I lamented the lack of clouds for Haugaeldr to duck into; his scales seemed to catch any ray of sun in greedy claws and present it to whoever looked at him, making him seem to glow in even the weakest light. With the dimming sky behind us, any stray glimpse up towards us would show what appeared to be a star glittering alone.
We ducked into the island's shadow as soon as possible. The mountains and trees of it cast great blankets of darkness out to sea. It was with that small blessing that Haugaeldr swooped into a gust of wind, put his belly to the cliffs, and charged upwards at a near-vertical angle. He crested the cliffside and snapped his wings out, frozen in the air for a moment, and then dropped to the grassy mesa.
Lush foliage, towering elder trees, and a carpet of ferns met us. I dismounted the moment I could for Haugaeldr's sake. He wobbled forward, his legs uncertain as though he'd become accustomed to the sea. He collapsed to the soft underbrush with a high-pitched gasp.
"S-s-sorry!" he panted, eyelids fluttering. "I—"
"Rest," I shushed him. Reaching into one of his saddlebags, I pulled out a water skin and held his head up. His heartbeat roared against my fingertips. "You did well, Haugaeldr," I soothed, pouring some water into his mouth. "We'll need your strength again soon."
He merely grinned, too breathless to respond, and took his fill of water. I gave him all that was in the vessel, sure that we would find some fresh water somewhere with all of this foliage. He struggled to drink, still fighting for air, but managed to take all of it.
He was lost in a deep sleep before I could even lay his head down.
o.O.o
I was loath to leave Haugaeldr alone on an unfamiliar island, but we had to keep track of the ship in case they pulled their anchor and set out.
My compromise was to find a rocky outcropping near the cliff and crawl on my stomach to its edge, peering around the island towards the ship. I could only see some of her stern and accompanying deck, but it was enough. There were men milling about, stretching their legs and craning their necks towards the sky. I could see plenty of cages on her deck, but all that I could see, praise Thor, were empty. Most likely, they released their captives to ease the ship's weight load during the storm.
They had not abandoned their cannons, however. I narrowed my eyes. Cannons and their artillery were expensive—even Berk only had a few to its name. A catapult with a good hunk of rock could do just as much damage, with far less...expensive explosions involved. This vessel, by my count, had at least four. Quite a number of them, for such a seemingly-common trade ship.
The heavens shifted above, swirling from the warmth of sunset to the chill of night. The pale half-moon rose, its companion stars competing with it in brightness. The men aboard lit fires all along the ship's deck, a luminescent display of inexperience. A hardened Viking would never do such a thing in an unknown place, destroying their night vision and blazing a beacon to all where their exact location was.
But, I considered, this island may not be so unknown to them.
I would not need to wonder for long.
My sights were set on the sea, seeking out the ghostly-white glow of an oncoming ship's sails. So when the rustle of wings swept directly overhead, it was all I could do to flatten myself against the stones with a hissed curse. Holding my head completely still, I lifted my eyes upwards—and could scarcely believe them.
My first thought was how unnatural it looked: a hulking, silent mass hovering overhead like a celestial body. It looked like a ship being built, raised above the ground on stilts to work at her hull. Except, for this thing, it was not risen above the ground.
It was dragged beneath dragons, the steel of their chains and harnesses flashing like teeth in the moonlight. Four of them were attached to equidistant arms on the flying platform. They were silent—not a whistle, not a whuff, not a whine—and I would have never known they were there were it not for the steady flaps of their wings.
They passed directly overhead, straight towards the ship.
I whipped around towards Haugaeldr. His eyes were wide open, glinting in shock. He hadn't moved upon awakening, thank Odin.
"What that?!" he whispered.
"Shh!" I cast my eyes above, wary of any stragglers. Keeping low, I inched upwards into a crouch and motioned for him to follow. Together, we rushed into the cover of the forest. Once the shadows closed in, we raced along the cliff's edge in earnest.
Through the gaps in the trees, I caught glimpses of the platform's descent. In the bleak moonlight, it nearly melted into the night save for the occasional shine of metal. But I could clearly tell it carried no cargo. Maybe it was my imagination, but in light of that observation, I could almost trick myself into seeing a figure standing at its bow.
Haugaeldr came up beside me as we ran and bumped his shoulder against my hip. "On!" he whistled, gesturing at his saddle. I grabbed hold of it and swung up onto it, and he leapt mid-stride and unfurled his wings. He weaved between the foliage with the ease of a serpent, twisting and curling within a hand's width from the trunks. I kept myself square on his back, so that my weight would distribute evenly, and did all that I could to hold perfectly still.
Which meant that when Haugaeldr skidded to a complete stop, I was nearly thrown.
"Oof!" I grunted, flinging a hand towards Haugaeldr's neck and ducking my head. I narrowly avoided goring myself on his slender, twining horns. "Haugaeldr!"
He had his nose to the ground, mouth slightly open to draw air in. "Smell dragon," he said.
"Then we need to go," I urged him.
He frowned. "Two dragons."
"Then we should have already been gone," I grunted. The last thing we needed was a territorial dispute. All it would take was a challenging roar, and every man on that ship would be alerted to our location.
Haugaeldr sniffed the air, stomping his feet uneasily. His wings fluttered. The scent of these dragons made him anxious.
"I...Um…" he struggled to say. Then he jolted, shook his head in exasperation, and leaned over to grab the sandbox.
I sighed, running a hand over my face. Best to let him get it out, so that we could be off.
He strapped the pencil-holder on, scrabbled a quick message into the sand, and nodded. I leaned to look over his shoulder.
Different scents. Not nestmates.
"Good to know," I said, though I scarcely meant it. Why should this matter now?
Haugaeldr huffed loudly, nearly prancing in place. He quickly shut the sandbox, resetting it, and scratched a new message in.
One familiar. One very strange.
That gave me pause. "The boys?" I whispered, chest tightening.
He shook his head. I let out a sigh.
"Then we'll find out why later," I said. "But first, we need to make sure they're not on that ship."
He continued to frown, spinning in antsy circles with his snout pressed to the grass.
"Haugaeldr. Now."
Finally, he relented, but not without a loud snort. He carefully unhooked his pencil-holder and packed up the sandbox, swinging it over his shoulder. With a disgruntled rattle of his spines, he took off again.
The forest faded into the clear, shimmering night sky before us. Haugledr splayed his wings, arched his back and neck, and dropped effortlessly to the ferns below. Without a word between us, I dismounted and both of us flattened ourselves to the ground, creeping forward towards a cliff.
Now we could see the whole length of the ship with the empty cages scattering her deck. The platform had settled upon an unoccupied area near the bow where the captain normally stood. Now I could plainly see the figure standing atop it, towering over the men on the ship. He looked down on them, refusing to step down nor grant them access to his platform. The dragons crowded around him, a throne of glinting teeth, insect-like armor, and spines.
I took out my spyglass, looked through it, and felt my blood run cold.
We'd never met formally. But over the years, I had heard enough tales and whispers to know exactly who I was looking at.
Grimmel the Grisly stood upon that platform, an eerie ghost of a man. Lanky, grotesquely thin, all bones and joints and legs, he would have been laughable on a good day, a newborn colt stumbling about. It was a fool's impression of the man. If one cared to take a look closer, they would see the contraptions tied to his person, the dragons bowing at his heels, and know that he carried a different kind of danger upon his shoulders.
Grimmel turned and faced us. Haugaeldr gasped.
He met my eye.
And grinned.