Shellshocked

Chapter 4

Viggo left the ash behind him, two shallow trails marking the path where his feet shuffled through the grey. He didn't look back as he pushed on down the mountain. The boulders grew smaller, the trees more numerous, and the haze that shrouded his already hindered vision began to fade. Dawn on the Edge was giving way to the brighter morning but despite the warm sun he felt bitterly cold. After leaving the scorching volcano he hadn't felt warm since. Now he was shivering. The calm breeze was bone-chilling to him and the cool stones were made of ice. He hugged his hands to his chest in hope that it would bring some warmth to this inner winter he was experiencing.

He must have a fever.

As the Hunter stumbled out of the rocky ruins and into the forest, he welcomed the natural windbreak of the trees. His walk through these woods had been so different as he had made his way to Hiccup on the cliff. It had been dark then, and he had the Dragon Eye clasped protectively in both hands. Wild dragons hadn't interrupted him as he had climbed uphill to where he had seen the boy and his dragon land. If one had, Viggo would have been more than capable of fighting it off, but his current state left him exposed and weak.

"I've never been so vulnerable," he said to himself shakily; not in his usual steady tone. The sounds coming from his parched throat were dry and hoarse. He could barely even speak. Groans and exclamations of pain unwillingly escaped from within as he clambered over the debris strewn in the forest.

Viggo looked ahead to spot a deep crater carved into the ground. It was so wide that he could lay four of himself across it. Curiously, the walls of the crater created a spiral around the charcoaled centre, which cradled the shattered remains of a strange black rock resembling the lava he'd seen earlier. It was still smoking. Viggo hadn't seen these up so close before but he instantly knew what is was. This was the remnant of a Shellfire missile.

Project Shellfire had at the same time been the most successful operation he had ever run but also the biggest failure. The design had been almost flawless, a submersible dragon proof ship on the top of a massive tidal class beast, with long-range blasts capable of laying waste to an entire island. Almost all of his resources and men had been devoted to building the Project. But it had all been for nothing in the end. The dragon was now free and the heavy ship had sunk to the sea floor.... along with his brother.

Ryker. Viggo pushed him out of his mind forcefully. He'd think over that later. He himself didn't know why, was it that he had more important matters at hand, or because of hatred, or guilt? Betrayal stung his chest and nestled next to his heart. All the emotions surrounding Ryker had dug a hole there. And now the hole was big enough to fit his conflicting feelings about the Riders. Gratitude kept wanting to float to the top like the blasted remains of his hunting ships, but there was debris that stopped it and dragged it back down. He supposed he owed them now, but did he actually? They may have unknowingly saved his life, but before that they had disrupted his tribe, and caused his business to crumble. His profits had been shattered and his reputation as the most prolific and renowned dragon dealer in the Archipelago had been diminished by the dragon riding teenagers. What he had worked so hard for his whole life had been taken from him. And Hiccup... he wouldn't give up. Even though he aggravated the man, Viggo admired his strength of will that was three times that of most Vikings he knew. The most worthy adversary he'd ever encountered. His strategies rival Viggo's, and that was saying something. The Hunter respected him despite their differences, and he suspected that Hiccup did the same.

But he wasn't going to go crawling back to the Edge base and ask for help. He would not even if the Riders would give it to him. Astrid would surely take advantage of his weakness and axe his neck before he got a word out. And even if she didn't, why would he want to go back to them? They were enemies, and once he was healed they would surely imprison him on Outcast Island. Hiccup may have honourable morals but all men drew the line somewhere.

No, he would not even consider going there. He'd get off this island himself.

As he climbed awkwardly down into a shallow valley, a faint trickling noise sounded somewhere to his right. Water! He imagined the cool sensation of it on his burns, the relief of it as it wet his throat, the dulling of the hot stinging plaguing his face! With a desperation he hadn't felt since he'd collapsed amidst the ashy stones, he stumbled as fast as he could towards the noise. It was a high, echoing sound that he yearned to dive into. Viggo reached the source: a clear stream winding through the trees in the deepest part of the valley. It was about two feet wide and quite shallow. The Hunter dropped to his knees and cupped the water in his soot smudged hands, gasping in thirst. Drinking it, Viggo sighed in relief. He shivered feverishly but still didn't hesitate to splash the water on his face.

The moment it touched his burns he let out a shaky breath as the pain was numbed a little. It felt so soothing on his skin! After it dripped away his burns felt even hotter than before though, so he splashed some more on, but was never satisfied as it ran down off his singed beard.

Viggo decided to ignore how freezing the rest of his body was and rolled into the stream. Ash and dirt were washed from his clothes. The flaky grey drifted down with the current, mingling with the stirred up sediment of the creek. Inhaling deeply, Viggo lay on his back. The water rose to cover his cheeks but he could still suck in the clean air he had been missing.

This was a time to reflect. To plan what needed to be done - where he would go, how he would get there. If he stayed here and one of the Riders found him... he refused to let it come to that. Or a wild dragon? There was a slim chance he'd survive an encounter with one of those.

Time flowed past like the water that caressed his sore limbs. It lapped around him. Who knew how long had passed when he sat up and climbed out. Minutes? Hours? He couldn't even remember if he was conscious the entire time. It was a new agony to leave the coolness of the water—somewhere along the line his fever had receded albeit the cold—and expose his fire-ravaged skin to the hot air once more. He winced as he touched the left side of his face with the corresponding hand. He could tell it was serious, but he didn't know how so. What if....?

Viggo reluctantly leaned forward on the moss with both hands to peer into the water, and gasped.