Lightning and Death Itself
Finis Ludum Chapter 5
The Night Furies spent the next two and a half weeks waiting, with varying levels of patience, for the Roman general to respond to their offer of a negotiated surrender.
The news of this offer affected the residents of Berk in different ways. Most of the dragons approved of the idea. They knew that a Roman takeover would mean death for them; any offer of life was worth considering. Only a few hotheads (including the young Night Furies) thought that a fight would bring better results, and they were unable to convert any of the other dragons to their way of thinking.
The Vikings weren't so keen on the idea. Their world view required them to die fighting in order to get the best chances of going to Valhalla in the afterlife, where they would spend their eternity fighting battles all day and eating and drinking all night – paradise! A surrender would endanger their chances of earning such a wonderful eternity. Chief Night Fury held them at bay by reminding them that nothing had been decided yet. The Romans might reject the offer out of hand, or their terms might be so outrageous that the Vikings would have to reject them. They might still get their fight.
One particular Viking was irrevocably against the idea. Thuggory, as Bang had predicted, wouldn't hear a word of it – he had left everything for freedom and he wasn't about to embrace a voluntary servitude. When he wasn't hunting for food, he was trying to persuade the other Vikings to form a delegation and demand that Berk's chief renounce such an un-Viking-like solution to the Roman problem. Some listened to his arguments, but none of them was ready to rebel against their chief. The fact that their chief was a powerful, scary-looking dragon was only one of several factors that held them back.
Remarkably, there was one person who eventually decided that Hiccup's idea was a good one. Felix Natalis, the captive Roman centurion, had grown weary of living as a prisoner in the dragon-training ring and had demanded better accommodations. Hiccup, with Anya as his interpreter, had visited the ring to hear his argument.
The Roman soldier stood outside the cell that had been furnished for him and looked up at them. "My people are not, technically, at war with your people," he began. "It isn't right for you to treat me like a prisoner of war if there is no war!"
Hiccup snarled and growled; Anya translated. "You have already told us that Rome's intent is to conquer every Viking island, rule over every tribe, put the dragons to the sword, and take authority over the entire Archipelago. Maybe you haven't formally declared war on us yet, but your intentions sound pretty warlike to us."
"A technicality," he said dismissively.
Snap-snarl-growl. "We can't afford to put our faith in technicalities when our lives and our freedom are at stake. Your people have made war a question of 'when,' not 'if.' Do you have any better reasons why we shouldn't leave you in this place?"
The Roman looked around. "Some of your guards have mentioned that this ring was once used to hold dragons for battle practice. Is that true?"
Grunt-grunt. "Yes, that's why we built this ring. We haven't used it for that purpose in years."
"Then I appeal to you on humanitarian grounds," the centurion said. "This cell was never meant for people! You've given me a bed to sleep on, but there's no ventilation, so I can't light a fire to stay warm, even if you gave me wood to burn. I don't dare close the door because the latch works only from the outside, and I don't want to get locked in. That means I get wet whenever it rains, and cold whenever the wind blows. I have no window, just a hole in the roof. These conditions are abominable!" When the dragon and the interpreter didn't respond, he added, "Would you want to be imprisoned in a place like this?"
He didn't know it, but that last remark hit Hiccup where it hurt. Now that he was a dragon, the fear of being confined in small places had grown strong inside him. It first afflicted him when he let himself be locked inside a shed to fool the Law-Speaker into thinking he was a human suffering from a throat sickness. It was a key factor in his rejecting the Green Death dragons' offer of a safe life inside a cave. He knew that dragons used to live as prisoners inside those holding cells... and the mere thought of being one of them gave him the shivers.
Grunt-growl-snap. "If we turn you loose, you'll either steal one of our ships and escape, or you'll work to weaken us against your army's attack when it comes."
Felix Natalis thought for a moment, then straightened and tapped his chest with his fist. "I swear by my personal honor that I will not escape or work against you. Just let me out of this dark, stinking prison cell!"
Hiccup glanced at Anya and began to ask her for advice. But this wasn't an Anya problem. He grunted and rumbled at his translator, who said, "The chief will make a decision before sunset tonight." They turned their backs on the Roman soldier and returned to the Nest. Hiccup would find advisors and counselors there.
"Don't trust him!" Astrid said as soon as she heard the story. "You've heard everything he's said since we brought him here. He wants all the dragons dead and all the Vikings bowing the knee to Rome. He's a soldier through and through; he won't rest until his mission is accomplished."
"Dad said he promised by his own honor," Bang interjected.
"And how much is that worth?" she shot back. "Lying to fool your enemies is the oldest trick in the book!"
"Rome must be a very well-organized society," Hiccup thought out loud. "A group like that can't function if lying is a commonplace thing."
Astrid wasn't buying it. "Every Viking will loudly tell you how honest he is... and the louder he says it, the less true it is."
Hiccup shook his head. "Felix isn't a Viking. He very matter-of-factly appealed to his honor as though that would settle everything, without any self-righteous protests about what an honest man he was."
"He's arrogant, cocksure, and he hates dragons," Full-of-surprises went on, "but we've seen nothing that suggests that he's lying to us. Maybe he'll... Dad, that's it! I've guessed your plan!"
"You have?" Hiccup looked baffled. "I didn't even know I had a plan!"
"It's a variation on the same plan you always have," she said smugly. "You want to turn this Roman loose on Berk so he can see how the dragons live and interact with the Vikings! You want to soften his anti-dragon attitude. Then you'll return him to the Romans so he can spread the good word about us."
"Hiccup, is that your plan?" Astrid wondered.
"Well... it is now," he admitted. "At least, the first part is. Letting him return to the Roman army doesn't sound like the best idea I've ever had, but changing his attitude about dragons would be a very good thing. Thanks for telling me about my plan, dear daughter."
"Night-fury-full-of-surprises, I don't believe you!" her mother burst out. "You're thinking just like your father! No, you're thinking even more like your father than your father is!"
"Mom, that doesn't make any sense," Thing One objected.
Bang had a thought. "Dad, do you really think you can change this guy's attitude that quickly?"
"He already changed his mind about being our strong, unbending prisoner," Hiccup replied. "It's like he said – everything is negotiable, and that includes his attitude. It's just a question of how much time the Romans give us. Anya!"
"I'm here," she answered from the ground level below them.
"Find Viking woman with free time. Tell her to get guest house ready. When ready, take two guards. Release Roman prisoner. Show him guest house. Tell him he eat in Mead Hall. Remind him of his promise. Tell him I talk to him in morning."
"Okay, Chief-night-fury," she nodded and walked off. Thing One followed her. Anya slowed down until her dragon friend caught up to her; then they walked toward the training ring together.
"At least those two are mending fences and getting back together," Astrid commented.
Hiccup thought back to the black-boot affair, in which Thing One had played a pivotal role. "Ironically, if Camicazi and Thing One had delayed their Meathead burgling expedition until now, no one would have cared what they stole, because the Meathead chief's longhouse is now occupied by a Roman leader. The Bog-burglars could have robbed the Roman guy blind, and it wouldn't have become an issue for us."
"What if the Romans found out who did the burgling?" Bang wondered.
"How would they find out?" Astrid answered. "The Meatheads can't be very happy about their new Roman overlords. They won't tell the Romans anything useful, except at the point of a sword. None of them would admit to knowing who the burglar was, unless he was a turncoat trying to curry favor with the Romans. A Viking like that wouldn't last very long in Meathead society. But that's just a 'what if.' We need to focus on our real problems."
Felix Natalis spent his first afternoon as a free man in Berk barricaded inside his room. He came out for supper, sitting in a corner and speaking only Latin to anyone who tried to talk to him. If he saw a dragon, he gave it a wide berth, even though that meant going around the whole village to avoid the dragons that were resting on their human friends' housetops. He soon realized that the only way he could avoid dragons and Vikings was to return to his cell in the training ring. Berk wasn't going to change for him, so he was the one who had to change.
He remained nervous about the Night Furies, probably because one of them had given him such a terrifying ride. It didn't help that Full-of-surprises requested that one of the Night Furies keep an eye on him from time to time. His first non-negative comment about a dragon came when he saw a Nadder land next to a fish-feeding station, pluck out a huge fish, and swallow it whole. "That's a warrior," he muttered to himself. (Ironically, the Nadder in question was no warrior – it was Nadder-green-the-drama-queen.) He soon was checking out the various kinds of dragons, muttering to himself about their perceived value in battle, scouting, and other military applications.
On his fifth day of freedom, he sought out Rangi, and found him adjudicating a property-line dispute between two shepherds who were claiming the same pasture. "I want to speak to the dragon chief," he said.
Rangi was surprised, and his face probably showed it. "You're willing to speak to a brute beast?" he answered.
"I have a question, and only the dragon chief can answer it," Natalis replied.
The Law-speaker-in-training shrugged. "I don't know if he's available right now, but I can take you to the Nest. That's the most likely place to find him." He sensed that this might be very important. He told the shepherds to draw a line down the middle of the pasture and deal with it, and led the Roman to the open-framed building that was home to Berk's Night Furies.
"Chief-night-fury!" he called out in Forge. "Roman want talk to you."
Hiccup had just settled down for a nap, but he wasn't asleep yet. He stretched out and rolled over so his head hung over the edge of the building. "Send him up."
"The chief will see you now," Rangi told the centurion. "Follow me." He led the way up the stairs to the second floor of the Nest, where Hiccup was lounging along with Astrid, Bang, and Youngest-boy. He noticed the soldier patting his empty sword scabbard and looking very nervous.
"I have a question," the soldier said, not sure which Night Fury to address (they all looked the same to him).
"I might have answer," Hiccup answered, and Rangi translated.
"Have you given any thought to surrendering to Rome and saving your tribe from useless bloodshed?"
"I have sent message to your leader," Hiccup answered. "We willing to surrender if dragons not die. We waiting for answer."
The centurion made a face. "Good luck with that! I've told you what Rome's plans for the dragons are."
"Those are only terms we ask. If your leader rejects terms, then we fight. You hostile prisoner, you die first. Maybe you should hope your leader accepts terms."
"Huh. Well, I suppose there's some logic in that statement."
Then Hiccup's face lit up with his "I just had an idea" expression. "If leader come here, you talk to him? Maybe you help convince him to accept terms?"
"I, uhh... I'll have to think about that." The soldier was taken aback by that idea. Help his enemies gain better terms, just so he could live? Unthinkable! He was a soldier of Rome, not a cowardly turncoat! But there might be advantages beyond simply preserving his own skin. A surrender, even a negotiated surrender, would be much faster and cheaper than a military conquest. That would be good for Rome. If he played a role in arranging that surrender, that would look good on his military record.
He was also beginning to appreciate the kind of battle that Rome would face if they attacked this island. The dragons might be brute beasts, but they were very clever, they could be incredibly destructive, and many of them were guided by human riders. He couldn't tell what kinds of tactics they would use, but unless their leaders were completely incompetent, the first few battles would probably be bloody defeats for Rome until they figured out how to fight against these winged enemies. He counted some of his soldiers as friends, and he didn't want to see them slaughtered. Dying in battle wasn't the worst way to go, but being roasted alive from a distance, without being able to fight back? Going down with a sinking ship in the darkness as the cold waters extinguished the dragons' flames? Blasted out of existence by a dragon fireball so he couldn't even have a proper burial? The dragons could do all of those things, and probably more. Maybe he could help to avoid that somehow, without compromising his principles or betraying his own people.
He spent his days talking to the people of the village. His goals were twofold: he wanted to improve his skill at the language they spoke, and he wanted to learn more about the dragons and how they fought. The people of Berk were happy to oblige him on both counts. The more he learned of Old Norse, the more easily he could ask questions about dragons, and the more questions he asked about dragons, the less he liked the answers. These Vikings sincerely seemed to treat the beasts as equals, and that was well-justified, at least in battle. The stories they told about their recent wars with other tribes, and how the dragons fought the battles so well that the humans barely had to be involved... this did not bode well for Rome.
He still had no doubt that his army would triumph in the end. But, for all his tactical skill and his years of experience, he could think of no simple way to overcome these foes. The only strategy that might work against them was the meat grinder – engage the enemy head-on, retire to lick your wounds, engage the enemy again, and hope that Rome could train replacement soldiers faster than Berk could hatch new dragons. Rome hated victories like those. They cost the winner almost as much as they cost the loser.
And what about their claim that the black dragon was their chief? Such a claim was absurd on the surface. But, as he wandered around the town day after day, he repeatedly saw people approach that dragon with problems. The dragon, along with one or two people who translated his animal noises into Old Norse, really seemed to be calling the shots here. When he spoke, the humans obeyed.
That led him to two more conclusions, and he didn't like either of them. The first was that, in battle, the dragons would be led by a dragon, not by a human commander. That meant that the dragon leader's plans would take the other dragons' strengths and weaknesses into account, and his commands would be instantly understood and obeyed without the need for an interpreter. Natalis had gone into battle alongside auxiliaries who spoke poor Latin and needed a translator; he knew firsthand how much confusion that could cause in the heat of battle. These dragons would fight under no such handicap.
The other conclusion perturbed him even more. If the black dragon was really the Vikings' chief, that meant that he was as intelligent as a human. That would be true of the other black dragons as well, and possibly some of the other species. Was he justified in thinking of them as brute beasts? Was it possible that some of those dragons might be as smart as himself and his commanding general, or – perish the thought! – smarter? If so, then Rome's victory was by no means certain. Until he knew more, he could not discount that possibility. For the good of Rome, he had to find out. And he could think of only one sure way to make that happen.
Rangi was helping the shepherds and the wool-spinners work out a fair arrangement for distributing the wool when he noticed the Roman soldier waiting nearby. "I don't trust that guy," the spokesman for the shepherds muttered. "I don't care what Chief Night Fury says. An enemy is an enemy."
"He's probably listening to us talk so he can learn some new words in our language," Rangi suggested. "He seems to do that a lot. We've almost got an agreement here; let's not get distracted." After about fifteen more minutes of negotiations, the two parties reached a deal that didn't displease either of them. They clasped hands, and it was done. Rangi thanked them for being reasonable, then wandered over toward the centurion.
"Is there something on your mind?" he called as he approached the bigger man.
"Etiam, est – I mean yes, there is," Natalis began. "You're the man who translates dragon language for Chief Night Fury, right?"
"My wife and I share that responsibility," Rangi answered politely.
"Is that why you don't ride a dragon like the other important Vikings?" the Roman asked.
"Yes," Rangi said, wondering where this conversation was going. "When I'm on duty, I have to be free to respond to any situation that involves the chief. Riding and caring for a dragon can be time-consuming, and I don't have that luxury."
"That's what I wanted to talk about. How does somebody start riding a dragon?"
Oh ho! Rangi thought. So he's been here long enough that he's caught the dragon fever! But what is his angle? Is he hoping to fly back to his people, or maybe ride his own dragon into battle against us? This could be good or bad. Out loud, he said, "You start by making friends with a dragon. That's a two-way street. You don't just arbitrarily pick a dragon; the dragon has to approve of you as well. If you and a dragon pair off, it's supposed to be for life, not something that you try and then discard if it's not what you expected. I think –"
"I just want to learn more about dragons! I don't want to marry one!" the soldier burst out.
Rangi smiled in spite of himself. "If you just want to learn all the facts, then talk to a man named Fishlegs. He's forgotten more about dragons than most of us ever knew. But if you do decide to pair off with one, then I think you should get the Alpha dragon's approval first, seeing how you're not actually one of us."
"You mean Chief Night Fury, right?"
"No, Chief Night Fury is chief over the Vikings," Anya explained as she joined them. "The Alpha dragon is Chief Night Fury's daughter, Night-fury-full-of-surprises. She has authority over all of the dragons of Berk."
"Okay, let me see if I've got this straight," Felix Natalis said, as much to himself as to the two Vikings. "You've got a dragon who's in charge of all the people, and the dragon's daughter is in charge of all the dragons. What if they disagree about something?"
"In that case," Rangi answered, "they do what any rational beings would do. They put their heads together, they get some wise advice, and they work it out. I can't remember the last time that happened, though."
"Do you want us to introduce you to the Alpha?" Anya went on.
"Umm, yes," the Roman decided. "I don't have any dragons in mind yet, but if I find one and he likes me, it'll make things easier, knowing that we're already cleared for takeoff."
"You'll have to wait until later in the day," Rangi cautioned him. "Night-fury-full-of-surprises is on a night schedule, like most of the dragons. She's sound asleep right now, and one of the cardinal rules of getting along with dragons is that you do not wake them out of a sound sleep!"
"Night Fury, night schedule. I get it," the centurion nodded. "Should I meet you at the Nest at sunset?"
"Sure. One of us will be there," Anya answered.
Felix Natalis spent the afternoon watching the Vikings throwing their hand axes at targets and bragging about their prowess. He could easily tell which ones had some skill with their weapons and which ones were all talk. As a prisoner of war, he wasn't allowed to handle the axes, so he did the next best thing. He borrowed a few small coins from one of the better-dressed Vikings, placed some bets on who would win the axe-throwing contests, and soon had a small pouch of Viking coins of his own. They were mostly copper, crudely made and marked, but they were legal tender and they belonged to him. After his lengthy captivity with nothing to his name except the clothes on his back, it felt good to own something. Maybe he'd keep the coins as souvenirs when he finally got off this island and rejoined his cohort.
The meeting with Night-fury-full-of-surprises went well enough. The dragon looked and sounded exactly like Chief Night Fury, to Natalis' untrained eye. He wasn't shocked at dealing with a female leader; many of the tribes and nations that made up the Roman Empire had queens instead of kings. Rangi translated her words, which could be summed up as, "Yes, befriend a dragon if you want to, but if you ever try to leave Berk, the dragon will stay here and will try to keep you here."
Okay, Natalis thought as he walked back to his room in the gathering darkness. I've been pre-approved to make friends with a very big, powerful animal that might be as smart as I am. I don't have any ties to this island, but that might change if I get a dragon of my own. Should I go through with this? Life was a lot less complicated in the army.
He spent the next few days in the fields above Berk village, where the wild dragons lived. He had quickly found out that all of the dragons in the village were already claimed by human riders. This wasn't an arrangement like a prized war horse, where two men could fight over it and the winner would ride off on it; this was more like a relationship of some kind. He couldn't control whether a dragon liked him, but he certainly had his own preferences.
He definitely didn't want one of those slow-flying fat dragons; the locals called them Gronkowskis, or something like that. He wanted a fast-flying, dangerous-looking beast that would impress the other Romans when they landed on this island. That left a lot of possibilities. He had heard about dragons as a child, and he had seen some pictures, but he had never imagined that there were so many different kinds of them.
He was especially intrigued by the Nadders, with their super-hot breath and their poisonous spines. Every Roman soldier carried two kinds of weapons into battle – pila et gladius, the javelin and the short sword – and the idea of a dragon that also fought with two kinds of weapons seemed sensible and practical. None of the Nadders in the fields showed any interest in him, though. For that matter, none of the other dragons seemed to care for him either. Maybe my Roman armor smells strange to them, he thought to himself. Or maybe someone warned them that I can't be trusted. But one of Rome's virtues was patience. If he didn't quit, then he would succeed eventually. It didn't even have to be a Nadder, as long as it was a warrior.
He was sitting on a rock in a field, watching a handful of young dragons playing around the sleeping bulk of their mother, when he heard and felt a snort from behind him. He jumped up and whirled around; his soldier's instincts had saved him from ambush from behind several times in the past. But there was no ambush, just a huge green dragon with three horns, armor plates, and a determined look.
"Horns and armor," the Roman mused out loud. "I haven't seen one of your kind before. I hope you aren't hostile." The dragon sniffed and snorted at him several times. "Are you checking out my scent? You aren't acting like I smell bad... but who knows what kinds of smells dragons like?" He gazed from the dragon's nose to its tail and back. It wasn't as nimble as a Nadder, and while its tail looked dangerous, it didn't have any spines to throw. It looked impressive, though; it reminded him of the testudo formation, where the Roman soldiers would hold their shields up and interlock them to form a solid mobile wall against arrows and spears. Men in a testudo could advance slowly; how fast could this armored dragon move? He would have to take his questions to the Viking called Fishlegs. The dragon grunted at him.
The grunt was answered by another snort from above him. It was one of the Night Furies; he still couldn't tell them apart. The dragon landed next to him and began writing in the dirt with its claw.
SHE IS THINKING ABOUT
BEFRIENDING YOU.
RUB HER NOSE HORN IF
YOU WANT TO BE FRIENDS.
Natalis hadn't been considering this dragon as a friend, but as a curiosity. The Night Fury's words brought his thoughts back. "She likes me?" As much as he preferred Nadders, he had no assurance that a Nadder would ever choose him. This dragon was willing to be his friend, and she was certainly built like a fighter. She? How could the dragons tell the males and females apart? This specimen didn't look feminine; she looked dangerous. Some mares could make fine warhorses, so perhaps this female dragon could make a fine mount for a centurion. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps! He had so many questions, and no answers. It was time to take action.
He hesitantly reached out and rubbed the dragon's nose horn, much like he would rub the nose of a horse. The dragon grunted and pushed back, hard. He would have been knocked off balance if he hadn't been on his guard. Was this a friendly gesture or a hostile move? He braced himself and pushed against the nose horn. There was no way he could win a shoving contest against this huge creature; why was he even trying?
He heard a scratching sound behind him. The Night Fury was writing in the dirt again.
THAT'S THE RIGHT APPROACH.
The dragon slowly waved her head from side to side; he stayed in place and pushed sideways on her horn. He had never heard of a creature being tamed or domesticated like this! Perhaps she was moving her head because she couldn't see directly in front of herself, and she wanted to keep an eye on him. "You're a strong one," he grunted.
Grunt gra-grunt grunt, the dragon answered. She was copying the sounds of his words! That moment crystallized his attitude toward her. This was no warhorse, and she was no pack mule, either. She was more like an optio in his centuria, a second-in-command of an Army unit and a worthy warrior. What would Cedere Nescio, the optio in his actual unit, think of him befriending a dragon? The man would wave his hand and say, "Brute beasts have their uses." Nescio had reached his rank due to courage, not imagination.
He turned his head as far as he could, so he could see the Night Fury behind him, and asked, "What should I do now?"
OFFER HER YOUR HAND TO SMELL.
RUMBLEHORNS HAVE VERY
SENSITIVE NOSES.
Without pushing any less hard with his right hand, he put his left hand near the big dragon's nostrils. The dragon immediately stopped pushing and sniffed his hand several times, hard. She let out a low rumble and pushed at his hand with the side of her head. This was clearly not a challenge or a contest, but a gesture of affection.
"Are we going to be partners?" he asked her. Instead of making any sound that might be construed as an answer, the dragon suddenly turned away, started running, then spread her wings and bounded into the air. She was soon out of sight.
Natalis turned back to the Night Fury. "Did I do something wrong?"
NO, SHE SMELLED SUPPER IN
THE MEAD HALL. RUMBLE-
HORNS FOLLOW THEIR NOSES
ANYTIME THEY SMELL
SOMETHING INTERESTING.
"Distractable," the Roman said, looking back to where the dragon had disappeared. "Undisciplined. We may not make a good team."
GIVE HER A CHANCE.
TRY AGAIN TOMORROW.
MAYBE FEED HER A FISH.
The Roman nodded, already lost in thought. Was this the dragon he should pair off with for life? He wasn't sure about that. Of what use was a dragon who might break off in the middle of an important mission because she caught a whiff of the enemy's cooking fires? That kind of sensitive nose might be useful in some situations, but he very much preferred other traits that this dragon seemed to lack. But none of the other dragons had shown any interest in him. It might be the Rumblehorn or nothing.
The next day, he made sure to bring a fish when he hiked up to the dragon pastures. Several dragons of various species immediately showed an interest in him. "I should have brought a fish every time," he said out loud to no one. "I'd be the most popular human in these pastures." He looked around for the Rumblehorn, but he didn't see her.
What he did see was a large, bi-colored dragon with a huge, toothy maw and a tail tipped with something like a spiked iron ball, striding toward him on two legs. It approached confidently, sniffing the air, homing in on the scent of the halibut he carried.
"Hey! This isn't for you!" Natalis called out. He'd brought only one fish; if he gave it to this newcomer as a bribe to leave him alone, he'd have nothing with which to impress the Rumblehorn. There was no place for him to hide if the dragon got aggressive. He quickly searched the sky, in hopes that a Night Fury might conveniently appear again and give him some advice, but this time, he was on his own.
The new dragon had walked right up to him and was checking him out by sight and scent. He tried to hide the fish behind his back, knowing that this would be pointless if the dragon was even half as intelligent as the Rumblehorn. But the dragon seemed more interested in him than in the fish. After sniffing him noisily and satisfying its curiosity about his scent, it rumbled and gave him a gentle nudge in the chest.
"Do you only want me because I have a fish?" he asked it. "Or did you never notice me before, and now that I smell interesting, you want to know more?" He kept the fish behind his back with his left hand; with his right, he rubbed the dragon's nose horn. This dragon wasn't as big or as imposing-looking as the Rumblehorn, but he sensed that it could fight if it wanted to.
That was his last coherent thought for several seconds. A sharp incoming whistle ended in a thunderous blast right next to the dragon. Dirt and burnt grass flew through the air; some of it got in his eyes, and he missed what happened next. But once he rubbed his eyes clear, it was obvious what had happened. The Rumblehorn had returned, she had seen her preferred human making friends with another dragon, and she had attacked from the sky with fire and fury.
The new dragon roared back and stamped one of its powerful hind legs; Natalis felt the vibration through the ground. He backed away quickly – one place he did not want to be was in the middle of a dragon fight. The Rumblehorn landed about a hundred feet away and snarled viciously. The new dragon echoed the snarl and sidestepped to block his view of the bigger Rumblehorn. Both dragons shot fireballs out of their mouths that struck the ground just in front of their targets. More dirt and rocks flew through the air. The dragons closed in on each other and fired again. Again their shots landed short. Was their accuracy that bad? Or were they deliberately missing each other and trying to win this battle through intimidation?
There was less than a dragonlength between them now. They took turns roaring at each other. The Rumblehorn was the bigger and better-protected of the two, and she seemed angrier. The newcomer looked more imposing because he stood erect on two legs. What was this other dragon fighting for? The Rumblehorn tried to get around the newcomer, but the smaller dragon sidestepped again and kept itself between the bigger dragon and himself. Maybe it was trying to keep the Rumblehorn from seeing him so her anger wouldn't keep rising. How violent would this pair become? Would they fight to the death? Perhaps if he sneaked away from this battlefield, the two dragons wouldn't fight over him.
The Rumblehorn was driving the other dragon back, mostly by sheer ferocity. As the smaller dragon gave ground, Natalis realized that he had to get out of the way or that spiked tail would be the death of him. He sidestepped to the right just as the Rumblehorn fired another shot... right at where he had just stepped.
To his astonishment, the other dragon jumped sideways and took the full force of the fireball in its own body, bellowing in pain. That was when he realized that the dragon's sidesteps had nothing to do with its own fighting tactics. It was trying to protect him against the Rumblehorn! But why? Felix Natalis wasn't the most emotional man who ever lived, but he understood sacrifice and he understood gratitude. That Rumblehorn is totally undisciplined, he decided. The new one likes me just as much, and he is a better fit for me. He rushed at the Rumblehorn, waving his arms and shouting in Latin for the creature to leave. It stared at him in confusion, then backed off.
He turned his back on the bigger dragon and faced the smaller one. It had an ugly charred wound in its chest and it was obviously in pain. He knew how to treat minor wounds in soldiers; he had never tried to doctor a dragon before. First, he had to free up his hands, so he tossed the fish into the dragon's maw. It swallowed his offering with a mighty CHOMP!, then bent down, trying to see him as he stood under its chin to examine the wound. He used a kerchief to wipe away the burn marks from the creature's scales.
He heard a rising whistle from overhead, and at least two dragons swooped out of the sky behind him and roared at the Rumblehorn. He glanced over his shoulder; it was two Night Furies, and they quickly persuaded the big dragon to go elsewhere. Then they stepped up beside him, one on either side, to check out the injured dragon.
WE CAME AS SOON AS WE
HEARD THE FIGHTING.
WHAT HAPPENED HERE?
"I came here to befriend the Rumblehorn," Natalis began. "This other dragon took a liking to me, and they fought. I think the Rumblehorn fired to scare this one, but I was in the line of fire and he stepped in front of the fire shot to protect me."
The other Night Fury had a quick conversation with the injured dragon, then with the first Night Fury.
THE SNAFFLEFANG CONFIRMS
YOUR STORY. THESE FIGHTS
AREN'T SUPPOSED TO END IN
BLOODSHED.
SHE REALLY LIKES YOU
"I got that impression," the Roman nodded. "Is her injury... I mean, is she going to make it?"
DRAGONS ARE VERY TOUGH.
WE'LL GUIDE YOU IN
TREATING THE INJURY
UNTIL SHE'S ALL BETTER
"That's good news. She's not the biggest dragon I ever saw, but she's very brave, she's got two means of attack, and I can't ignore the fact that she stepped in front of a fireball for me. You called her a Snafflefang?" The Night Fury nodded. "That sounds like a name that a child would invent. She needs a better name than that! Does she have a name of her own?"
HER DRAGON NAME IS
SNAFFLEFANG-TAN-BLUE-
ROCKBITER. YOU CAN GIVE
HER A HUMAN NAME IF
SHE DOESN'T OBJECT
Natalis looked at the creature that had risked its life to save him. "She's tough, so I'll call her... Tenax. That means 'tough' or 'tenacious' in Latin." He rubbed the dragon's nose horn again. "Do you like that name, Tenax?" The black dragons explained to her what he had just said. The dragon rumbled at him, pleased.