It was supposed to be a clean sweep. In and out. No casualties.
He had said those exact words to them but now, he couldn't even move.
His body felt numb. His eyes wouldn't close. His breath remained ragged just as his heart wouldn't stop pounding against his broken ribs. Yet he struggled. Firmly pressing an arm against the wound, as if holding it would stop the pain.
How foolish he was to think so, but he couldn't give up. Not when his enemy stood before him.
The Monstrous Nightmare stood in the ruins of the square, bathed in ash and shadow. Its hide was pockmarked with scars, each one telling the story of a fight this creature survived. One horn was cracked near the base. Its wings hung in tatters, but its eyes... they gleamed with something too sharp for instinct.
As if staring not at a beast, but a survivor... one who has endured who knows what in Surtr's name.
Far from his vision laid two corpses. He didn't need to see to know who they were. Yet again, across the square, two more of his men laid dead. The first had been thrown like driftwood against a stone wall. The second lay curled, face-down, smoke still rising from his charred back, with blood still spilling through the cracks on the stone.
But it was Jòrn that the dragon held now. Held. not killed.
Jorn was screaming. Not with rage... not like a warrior but like a child. Afraid, scared, and crying for whatever it was that would stop the pain.
"Flynn –Flynn, please! Gods –Flynn!"
The beast's jaws clamped around his midsection, careful, deliberate. Like it knew how to hurt, how to wait... while making sure that Flynn was watching.
And all he could do was glare at the beast. Still, steady, and mocking him as it watched, and slowly... it begun to clamp down even tighter.
"AAAHHHHHH!!!" Jorn's scream was a shrill of fear and pain, and with it came fire - "Mercy please! Flynn save me!"
It started like a glow inside the dragon's throat. Pulsing through its neck, a slow burn that lit up its belly like lantern glass.
Flynn moved. Groaning and spitting blood against the pain. He yet crawled for it was all he could do when his own body had long failed him.
He wanted to scream, to charge, to do something but his knees had buckled. His sword hung limp in his hand. His mouth opened, yet nothing but blood and pain came.
The fire licked out... not a roar, not a torrent, just a thin, steady stream. It poured around Jorn's chest, under his arms and they froze.
His eyes locked with Jorn's, finding nothing but regret and surrender. He screamed again. Trying to reach him, but again he failed as his knees barely held up, his elbow kept him up with the only force he has left to drag his body forward.
And so he begged, begged the gods to strike his enemy down. To save his kin. To spare a life... And then the fire caught.
Jorn's scream filled the square while his armor blackened. His skin blistered. His flesh light aflame and his blood boiled from the heat. His screams turned to gurgles, what little life he had was spent trashing against the jaws of Hel.
And then... silence. His limbs twitched. His body hung in smoke, his face locked in terror as the dragon finally crunched down and dropped what was left of him.
Flynn cried at the pain in his gut that erupted to his heart and out his mouth. The screams were gone, but the image has been carved itself into his mind.
His mistake. His men.
The dragon turned its gaze toward him and smiled... Mocking, satisfied, and eager for more. As if their suffering was it's food and sustenance.
*Gurlg- *Gurlg- *Gurlg- *Gurlg-
It laughed...at him...
The humiliation was heavy and thick to the point he felt like he was about to lose consciousness. Till suddenly, it turned and ran and to Flynn's horror. It went straight for the Great Hall.
—.—.—.—.—
"Let's go..."
It was all I could whisper. As I watched the first of the Outcasts to reach the steps of the Great Hall. My eyes found itself shifting to the corpses of two others at the foot of the steps, yet I could only feel anger.
Anger at the two fools who chose their place in Valhalla and charged forward rather than stay and protect the Hall behind them.
With a flick of a finger, I unlatched my crossbow. Unraveling in a metallic clink. The noise felt like a closing mechanical gate that shut all my worries away. And in once more... my vision was all shades of grey.
"Remember, wound them at the very least. Only kill them if you could." my eyes caught the glint of steel above my wrist as I centered myself, with feet slightly apart, and arm raised while standing sideways.
"Open fire."
*Twack! *Twick! *Twack! *Twock! one bolt and three arrows flew. Two of which finding itself buried into the man's arm and leg, while my bolt struck at the other's shoulder.
Two more men came running. And again, we let our arrows lose, aiming straight at the new arrivals. Four more came running, and again we shot bolts and arrows. Injuring them as much as we can.
"Five master Haddock!" said Fjorn.
"Keep firing!" I ordered.
My plan was simple, injure them as much as possible before they could reach us at the very least. For facing an injured man is easier than downing a wild man, full of strength and eager for loot and claims.
And so we kept spending arrow after arrow, shot after shot. Each meant to make our enemies fall.
"We're out Hiccup!" shouted Falric, a boy ten winters older han him. Among the slimmer vikings but with a nack for a bow.
"To steel then!"
Blades we're drawn while Falric stepped behind us with a fifth and sixth quiver of arrows and his bow.
With a couple of heavy breaths, I unlatched my blade from my baldric, removed the strap and tossed it aside. Along with anything that might slow me down.
And as we assumed position Infront of the doors to the Great Hall, I griped my blade –easily as long as I am tall and a round shield, both made of pure Gronkle Iron– while stepping up to the front. Only to feel Fjorn hold me in place by my shoulder. And as he took the front with axe and shield at hand....I said nothing but silently sighed in unspoken relief.
A feeling that had me gritting my teeth while looking down in shame.
"Don't worry lad." said the blonde aged viking. "I was the same during me first fight aye. You get used to it. Oh! And tell Stoick I stopped ya'. Thor knows what his hammer would do to meh if didn't." I nodded, smiling as I did whilst taking his advice to heart.
The first one came charging in with one arm limping. Fjorn met him, dodging the sword while pivoting to the man's wounded side. And with a loud clang of his weapon, Fjron harshly parried the man's wide strike with his shield, and cut his throat open with swift movements.
Two came barreling in. Only for one without a shield and helmet to receive an arrow to the head. While Bodin, a brown haired and bearded viking met the other.
Two others came up, one guarded against Falric's arrow. While Fjorn met the other. And so I moved, not wanting to give the Outcast a choice.
"ARAAAHH!"
I ignored his warcry as I felt my blood boil, my heart hammer and my eyes trailed his movements. Familiar, obvious and...sloppy. The man swung down, where my shield met its edge, grazing till he missed, and thrust my sword through his face without hesitation.
And as I saw him die, all I felt in my heart was a cold acceptance and a sudden warmth that engulfed my shoulders and back.
Two more came forth. Falric takes down another while Bodin engages with a wide swing of his hammer to the man's head. Forcing the guard up while my blade cutting off a limb through the knee. The Outcast screams in pain, cut off by Bodin's Warhammer burrying itself at his skull.
The battles wore on. One fight at a time. And as the injured found themselves against us, they died quickly with only those who were unharmed to actually pose a danger in every fight. To my unspoken relief, we continued to win.
Despite my labored breath, my arms that felt like they were on fire from within and my wrist and ankle hurting from the building strain. I didn't stop as if I could feel the victory in every swing.
That was until– *boom!
*RAAARRRRRGG!!!" burst a dragon through one of the Houses.
"Gods be good... a Monstrous Nightmare..."
The dragon looked around, growling as flames licked its lips, with blood still drenching it's jaws and claws still caked in entrails and blood.
And as soon as it found its eyes trained on us... it smiled, wide and toothy....
"Demon..." Fjorn whispers. "What do we do?"
"Win or die... We do it here."
Beats carried on. Our hearts were like war drums that danced along the sounds of conflict. And then it sprung.
"We kill it!"
It's tattered wings glided as it leaped, bounding great distances from the foot of the steps all the way to us.
"Watch out!"
I rolled out of the way, as it's claws descended. Bringing my sword down at its limb yet it jumped again, and with it's wings stretch, it breath fire. Forcing me to duck and cover.
And while my shield covered most of me, my boots still felt like it was on the verge of melting.
"HARh!" Fjorn jumps, his axe buried itself at the joint of a wing. It stopped it's flames as it screeches while falling harshly but not before swating him away with it's clawed wing, long enough for me to drive my sword through its tail. Cutting it clean off.
My relief turned to pain in an instant, not seeing the dragon swat me away with the same wounded tail.
I rolled across the floors of the Great Hall, ignoring the sounds of the various civilians around me. I spat what pain I had from throat, grabbed my sword and rushed back into the fight.
—.—.—.—.—
They watched in silent fear with mother's holding their children's mouth closed. Afraid to gain the Dragon's attention.
Yet they couldn't stop them from seeing the chaos unfold.
The Monstrous Nightmare, scarred, jagged, wounded continues to smile as it fought unlike any dragon they had ever seen before. Slowly pushing the Vikings passed the very doors of Great Hall all the while spreading it's flames through the gates doors, the tapestries on the wall, and wooden portraits along the pillars.
It stood on four limbs, back set with slowly diminishing flames, yet... it used it's claws like a human, to the point that it arcs itself till it stood on its two hind legs.
Falric unleashed arrow after arrow, only to find itself embedded at its wing's membrane as the dragon continues to use it as a shield.
Fjorn had tried to chip off a wing, only to find himself swatted and clawed by the beast. Making him lose a weapon due to a dislocated shoulder. Leaving only his shield.
Borin remained steadfast with his hammer. But the blood from the Dragon's horn that tore a wound atop his brow had slowly sipped the man off of his sight. Leaving only one eye open.
And while Hiccup still his stamina, he has an injured arm from the dragon's claw and a closed eye as an old wound reopened itself atop his brow.
The four breath ragged as the Dragon remained standing on all fours, watching and observing as its eyes darted from one person to another.
"I'm sorry." said Falric, a he dropped his bow, snapped in half. Pulling out a pair of daggers from his hip.
It lunged, they dove to the side. Falric threw a dagger, planting itself at the neck deep. Borin rushed with a swing, the dragon dove back, wings spread as it evaded with a blast of fire. Fjorn stepped up, blocking the flame. While Hiccup rushed with his lightweight sword, injuring one of the wings till it dangled from its shoulder.
The dragon nearly dropped, it's fire turning to Hiccup but Fjron threw his shield. Smacking the dragon's breath upwards. Hiccup ended up rolling beneath the flames, only to freeze in pain as he gritted his teeth at the shock from his dislocated arm and shield.
The Dragon, then dropped harshly, its clawed feet screeching against Hiccup's hastily raised arm. Blinding him from a swat of it's remaining claws. But the Dragon screeches in pain again, as Bodin smashed the claws connectedit to its wings with his hammer.
The Dragon turned in anger, fire brewing in its throat, and just as it breath, Fjorn steps in. Blocking the flames again.
Falric rushed forward, dagger aimed at the eyes, only for the Monstrous Nightmare to ram him with it's snout, tossing Falric away while leaving his dagger clattering at the ground.
The Dragon returns it's attention to Fjorn, who guarded against another fire blast, cut short with Bodin's hammer to the jaw. Only to be impaled by the dragon's horn.
"NOOOO!" Fjron tried to help but stumbled as his knees suddenly buckled.
Hiccup rushed towards him, sword aimed at the Dragons skull, but it swerved, losing only the horn that impaled Bodin. He swung again, but the dragon jumped back and as it landed, it flexed its legs and rammed like a gong against Hiccup's shield as he turned last second.
And with a loud crash, the boy laid sprawled against a pillar, flames lighting the dim caverns of the Great Hall and as the Dragon heaved- a dagger found its mark at its throat. Falric gripped the dagger tightly as the dragon screeched while shaking off the young viking.
With blood pouring out of his mouth, Hiccup tosses his sword to Fjron's waiting hands, and as the viking rushed with his last remaining strength. Hiccup unlatched his shield with a loud *clang! and with a flex of his bruised arm, he tossed it like a frisbee.
*bang! it went, as the shield smacked straight to the Dragon's eye. A momentary stun that allowed, Falric to gathering his remaining strength and pull the dagger down, *crash! went the dragon against the ground, and *squelch- went Fjorn's sword through its neck.
""RAAAHHH!!!"" with roar of their own, Fjorn and Flaric tore the Dragon's head from its neck in a spray of blood and flames.