I Hear Him Scream, Chapter 1

The raids were the worst part of it all.

I had never been a very active member in them. I never stole food or attacked any of the annoying humans that had taken over my people's home. All I did was evoke a heart-wrenching fear into all of the Vikings, keeping them at bay from a truly terrible attack.

Thank the Dragoness of the Moon that I can easily fulfill my duty as a dragon. Besides, what human in their right mind would face down a tribe of dragons with a Shadow-Blender? Why would the scream of "Night Fury!" always be immediately followed by "Get down!" if I didn't strike fear into their souls? Why would I overhear stories of the terrible offspring of lightning and death being told by adolescents to hatchlings in my flights during the night?

I rest my case.

While I did not particularly enjoy being seen as a demon hell-bent on killing everything, I played along with it. It's best to sacrifice one's needs for the good of many. The 'many' being the tribe of dragons I live in. Just so you know.

Oh, I forgot to elaborate on the 'sacrifice' part. Damn, I hate sounding dramatic.

They ridicule me for only knocking down every flaming torch-tower in sight (which, after awhile, can be quite fun if you've had a stressful day and need something to take it out on). They would scream, "Shadow-Blender! Help us kill these humans and take out their village for good!"

As I have already told you, I never did. Before the mighty Queen Dragon had taken over, I would not have hesitated to do as they suggested. But now that she was commanding—no, forcing my kind to attack the Vikings for her own selfish needs, I felt that it was wrong. You do not kill something because someone tells you to; you kill something on your own personal decision, whether it is justified or not. Telling someone to kill for you is weak and cowardly, the equivalent of slapping a dragon and running away before they see you. Dishonorable.

The Queen, a terrible dragon of tremendous power, was the only reason the raids were getting more and more frequent. Back before she had taken over the tribe, we only attacked the humans if we desperately needed food, like when the oceans froze over in the winter. We never attacked just to attack, and we certainly didn't unnecessarily kill any of the Vikings.

But then, the Queen had arrived. She had been from another tribe that had been destroyed by other Vikings and was furious. She wanted revenge on each and every single one of the human tribes, convincing herself that all the land was ours.

So she took over with brute force and magic that was usually unheard of. You see, dragons are magical creatures. Even the littlest of the dragon species can do something. But the mighty dragoness who had overpowered the entire tribe single-handedly had unspeakable power. She had been able to cancel out all of the tribe's magic. Simultaneously, she had enforced an enormous mind-control on the dragons, forcing them into thinking that they were better off with her and that she was their true leader.

This was decades ago. All of the dragons were affected. All of them but me.

Before I had met the Queen, I had assumed that Shadow-Blenders were the most powerful of dragons. Obviously, we aren't.

At the time, I was the only Shadow-Blender in the tribe. I was visiting from my home, trying to get my own life set in stone. I had been there for only a few days when the Queen had invaded. After seeing all the dragons lose their will and become mindless minions, I couldn't just leave them. So I stayed, and I waited. But the magic of the Queen never wore off, and no dragon ever revolted.

In secret, I would try to convince the tribefolk that the Queen was a malicious, evil dragon that needed to be taken care of immediately. I had only been gawked at, as if I had decided to befriend one of the Vikings.

Over the years, I became more and more frustrated with the Queen's takeover. It was so hard to just stand by and do nothing. But what could I do, when I wasn't even a quarter of her size? I was one lonely raindrop in a sea of lost souls.

If the Queen ever found out that I wasn't affected, she never let me know. On the other hand, I made sure she didn't. That was why I always participated in those terrible raids, watching as the Queen grew stronger right before my eyes. To make matters worse, the Vikings had gone from simply defending their homes from us to becoming blood-thirsty murderers on first sight.

That is why I hated the raids. Each one grew worse and worse, the specific line between species getting closer and closer to being crossed.

---

On a particularly gloomy night, I took flight along with the tribe to get food for the Queen. In the past month, she had decided that the raids would only be for her supply of food. The tribe would have to find spare time to hunt for food. I wasn't in the best mood as I spread my wings out and took to the skies.

"Go!" Her voice seemed to echo for miles. "And return quickly!"

All around me, the tribefolk let out a chorus of, "We will!"

I growled, teeth sheathing.

A Two-Walker flying next to me cocked her head to the side. "What's the matter? Do you think we will not find enough food for Her Majesty?"

I shot her a glare, but quickly reminded myself that the colorful dragoness was under a spell. "No." She looked at me in shock that quickly melded into anger. My eyes widened a fraction. Rumors had gone across the tribe that the Queen had been secretly assigning spies to weed out any dragon that was planning to revolt against 'Her Majesty'. "I am worried about the whole tribe," I quickly added, forcing my voice and expression to remain calm. "What if the Queen does not get enough food? What will happen to us then?"

Oh, the words burned.

The Two-Walker instantly relaxed. "I'm sure we will. What would make this night any different than the last raid?"

I grunted in agreement, and she moved ahead of me to talk to another Two-Walker. I dropped right back into my previous bad mood. I even snapped at a small flock of Little-Biters. They squawked in surprise and fear for a second before immediately becoming aggressive. They banded together, flapping towards me with the intent to bite me with their venom-infested teeth. I tensed, gathering some ready-to-ignite gas in my mouth to shoot at them.

"Stop!"

A red blur went between the Little-Biters and me. I dispersed the gas and put a passive expression on my face, giving them a 'serves you right' look.

The Flame-Skin struggled to keep a distance between us while staying level. "Do not," he huffed, "get into fights over small misunderstandings, you hear?"

The Little-Biters complained loudly in response, only silencing when the Fire-Skin roared at them. After a rather heated one-sided discussion, he finally sent them off.

"Shadow-Blender," he scolded, "I expect better of you. And just before we reach the Vikings!"

"It's not my fault. The stupid little things started it," I responded. We paused mid-conversation to cross through a forest of stone pillars blanketed in fog. After the tribe emerged, we continued. "What does it matter, anyway?"

"Don't do it again. Just because I defend you in some battles does not mean I will be completely loyal to you."

Ouch. I had considered that particular Flame-Skin a friend of mine. "Alright."

The dragons in front, some Hum-Wings and Two-Heads, let out a warning call. "We are approaching the Vikings' homes! Prepare yourselves!"

The raid-party lapsed into complete silence. We broke off into three groups: the assault team, the food team, and the destroy team. I flew above all the dragons, looking on from above. I was the fourth unofficial team. The Shadow-Blender team.

The assault team went first. They dove, going right into the heart of the Viking village and launching a devastating attack. In the confusion, the food team started to search and take the flocks of sheep and barrels of fish. The destroy team set to work laying waste to the human structures.

The Vikings were locked in battle with the tribe. Right on cue, they lifted giant flaming torches into the air to try and get a better view of my brethren. I compressed gas in my mouth and pressed my wings against my body. The familiar high-pitched screeching sound of a Shadow-Blender at full speed filled the air.

"Night Fury!"

"Get down!"

The Flame-Skin from before was sitting atop the torch that I was aiming for. We locked eyes. He nodded, turned, and flew away.

I felt my breath turn red-hot. I withdrew my teeth for better aim and closed the sides of my lips against my mouth. With a final burst of hot air, the blue-white explosive shot of raw power escaped the small opening at the front my mouth, hitting the torch dead on. There was a white flash that quickly turned to bright orange-yellow as hungry flames ate at the wood.

"JUMP!" Someone screamed. A burly, thick-haired Viking leaped off of the torch. I immediately recognized him as the leader of the Viking tribe. He was their King. His tribefolk followed his lead, each one bounding away from the destroyed torch. I banked left hard to avoid being seen in the light of the fire.

I swerved between groups of dragons fleeing with and without food. While the raid was nearly over, I wanted to take out one more torch-tower. I would never hear the end of it if I only destroyed one when I was considered the fastest dragon in the tribe. I shuddered at the thought of the know-it-all Flame-Skin lecturing me and pushed my wings to their limit.

I decided on one lonely torch-tower on a lonely little hill, near the edge of the village. It seemed deserted, which was fine with me.

I performed the same maneuver as before. I spat out the ball of fire onto the torch.

Looking back on the event now, I realize that my mistake lied in my escape.

Usually, I would swerve up, or in the general direction away from the Viking village. It was dragon fighting basics; stay away from them at all times, unless you are performing a direct attack. Instead of following that simple rule, I allowed my overconfidence to overthrow me and simply swooped under the torch.

The punishment was immediate. I heard a strange swooshing sound and saw the rope seconds before it hit me. I had only enough time to halt midair and roar in anger and surprise before it was on me. I screamed the entire way down as I fell, fell, fell! I crashed into the ground and sparks flew into my eyes. I started somersaulting on the ground, tumbling down a steep hill. Finally, I hit something wooden and hard, and stopped.

I rumbled in confusion and pain. What had just happened?!

~~~

I don't think I've ever been so happy in my entire life.

One minute, I was Hiccup the Useless. Now, I'm Hiccup the Night Fury Slayer!

"I-I-I hit it! Yes, I hit it!" I cried out triumphantly, throwing my skinny arms into the air and throwing my head back. "Did anybody see that?!"

The sound of rock being crushed under something heavy, followed by a too-familiar growl made my stomach dropped. I turned around with a grimace, one harm held up to protect my face. Standing before me was a Monstrous Nightmare, smoke fuming out of its gigantic nostrils and bulging yellow eyes glaring at me.

I almost groaned, dropping my hands and bringing my eyebrows down to rest in a straight line across my eyes. "Except for you."

In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have joked and, I don't know, got the hell out of there. While I had just taken down a Night Fury (Oh, my gods, this is the greatest day of my life!), there was no way I could reload the small catapult I had built and fling it at the Nightmare before it seized me. So, I was left with two choices: fight to (my) death, or run.

Naturally, I chose 'run'.

I screamed my lungs out as I fled, the demon right behind me. I jumped over a fence and bolted into a narrow alleyway. The Nightmare, having not judged the distance correctly, ended up lodging its shoulders in between the two buildings. With a furious roar, it set its entire body on fire and easily broke through the now-burning wood. I gulped and pushed my legs faster.

Come on, Hiccup! You just shot down a Night Fury! You can't be eaten now!

I leaped into the village center, a large circular area where the people of Berk would gather to talk about meat, dragons, fighting, how much of a failure I am, and meat. In the center was a torch-tower, and I immediately noticed a large crowd around it. I flailed my arms wildly and screamed, "Help! Somebody help me!"

Suddenly, my feet gave out under me, knocking themselves against a rather large rock. I gasped loudly as I fell, fear squeezing my heart. A felt an incredibly hot whuff of air above me and squeezed me eyes, waiting for the final blow. Wow, the one time I succeed, I die before I can even tell anyone. Just my luck.

A familiar shout above me wrenched my eyes open. I opened my eyes and saw my father, Stoic the Vast, running to my rescue. His enormous body, covered in a long red beard and lots of animal pelts, looked tiny next to the Nightmare. But that didn't stop him. He swung a large first at the Nightmare, hitting it square in the jaw. It screeched, its flames on its body dying out. Dad swung his left fist at it, hit it with his right on the top of its head, and kneed it in the chin. Then, while the beast was still distracted, he grabbed its head and thrust it so hard to the side that, for a moment, I thought he had broken its neck. But the Nightmare quickly got to its feet, and with a final deadly glare, it bolted off after the rest of the dragons that had escaped.

I sat up, staring in awe. Eyes wide and panting, all I could do was look at my father while he studied me closely with a disapproving eye. He opened his mouth—probably to scold me—but I beat him to it.

"Dad!" I cried, jumping to my feet excitedly. I grabbed his hand with both of mine and tugged it, walking towards where I thought the Night Fury had landed. "Dad!" I repeated, "I shot down a Night Fury!"

"What?!" He laughed. I dropped my hands immediately, insulted. Dad leaned back, arms on his waist. "Haha! That's a good one, Hiccup. But we all know it wasn't you who took it down!" His mirth suddenly went out, and his joking side that he rarely showed disappeared. "Hiccup!" He cried, as if first seeing me, "What have I told you about going out in dragon raids?!"

"Woah, woah, woah," I said, holding up my hands and gesturing. I hadn't been able to get past one thing he had told me. "'Take it down'? So it's here?"

Dad fell silent, and he was back to looking at me as if I were a map. "It's right over there," he finally said, pointing towards the crowd that was now staring at us.

I ran towards it without hesitation. The crowd parted before me. I pushed a few of the slower ones aside to make it to the center of the group and gasped loudly at what I saw.

There, bundled up in rope, was what I could only guess to be a Night Fury. Its eyes were closed and it was breathing irregularly. The dragon was a lot smaller than I had thought, but who really cared? I had shot down a Night Fury with my invention! I had been the first Viking to ever bring one out of the skies!

I nearly cried with happiness. No more name-calling. No more disappointment radiating off of every person I saw. No more being left out and ridiculed. Most importantly, no more dishonoring my father.

Like magic, Dad was there. His old-time friend and my mentor, Gobber, was at his side. He looked stunned, amazed, and disbelieving. Judging by my father's expression, he had spoken to Gobber beforehand and, hopefully, believed me. I had told Gobber about my invention, and he'd even seen it work (sort of). Besides, what human could possibly throw a weighed-down rope at a speeding Night Fury and actually hit it?

"Gobber, I did it! I told you it was only a mild calibration issue!" I gestured at the Night Fury for emphasis. "I shot down a Night Fury!" I grinned from ear to ear, and I didn't need a mirror to know that my eyes were shining. The crowd around us murmured, shooting glances at me. But they weren't scrutinizing or degrading; they were…something else. I puffed up my chest to try and look bigger.

"Is it true? Did you really shoot it down?" Dad asked me seriously. "Because if you're lying, Hiccup, then I'll…" He trailed off, eyes ablaze.

"Why would I lie?" I shot back in irritation, hurt by his lack of confidence in me. I was his own son, for Thor's sake! "Explain to me how a person could shoot this Night Fury down. Oh, and if someone else did, then wouldn't they be here to gloat about it?"

"Stoic, did you say he told you he shot it down before he knew the Night Fury was here?" Gobber finally spoke up. He raised his unibrow at Dad and stared him down when he didn't speak right away. "Well? Hurry up! I need to go back home and change me undies."

"…Yes." Dad sighed, holding a hand to his forehead. I grimaced. He said that as if this was a bad thing! Me, his son, had just shot down a Night Fury! And he was upset because he wanted it to be somebody else?!

"I just…" he trailed off, looking at me for the first time in ages, "I just find it so hard to believe that someone could shoot it down. Especially someone like…this." He waved his hands at me.

I glared. "You just gestured to all of me!" I held my arms out, sending him a silent 'what the hell?'.

"So you believe him?" Gobber went on as if our little argument hadn't even happened. He casually picked at a bit of meat between his teeth with a hook.

Silence.

And more silence.

And even more silence.

"Yes," Dad sighed. He looked down at me, and I prepared myself for the usual 'I'm-disappointed-in-you' glare. But instead…he smiled!

I blinked several times in surprise and returned the expression sheepishly.

"Well," Dad chuckled. He seemed to finally be warming up to the idea. "Let's go take a look at it!"

He clasped my shoulder, a feeling I wasn't used to, and led me through the crowd. Everyone whispered to each other excitedly, finally accepted the fact now that Gobber had spoken sense into all of them.

We went right up to the Night Fury. I thought I saw it open its eye, but it may have just been my imagination.

"Hiccup, you do the honors."

"What?" I looked in surprise at Dad. He had somehow produced a medium-sized dagger, one of the few things I could actually hold without dropping. I took it into my hand and absentmindedly ran a finger over it. Dad wanted me to kill the Night Fury?

That would make me the first teenage Viking here to kill a dragon. Even one before Astrid!

The thought of my crush made me straighten and look around for her. Astrid, a girl my age who was perfect in every single way, was usually around another gang of teenagers that had oh-so-charmingly outcasted me from their group. It didn't take long to find them. The twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, where in some sort of an argument. Snotlout, my big-boned and muscley cousin, was outright glaring at me with a defiant frown. The village nerd, Fishlegs, was rambling on about 'stats'.

But where was Astrid? She was nowhere to be found.

"Come on, Hiccup!" I heard Gobber yell from the crowd. "Do it already!"

"Oh, uh, yeah. Heh." I stuttered. I stepped towards the Night Fury. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I raised the dagger.

I never even got the chance to bring it down.

~~~

I had never been so ashamed in my life. I had been shot down!

So this is the one who did it, I thought angrily. The young Viking, a skinny, scrawny, weak boy, gasped loudly under me. He cried out for help.

I shot a large blast out of my mouth, knocking back every Viking near me, and kept the boy pinned under my paw. The King cried out loudly for him, but I was beyond angry to even try to understand what he was saying.

I snarled. Nobody shot down a Shadow-Blender without being punished. Nobody.

But right before I bit into the Viking's head, an idea struck me. This Viking, from what I had heard, wasn't used to this kind of hero-treatment. In fact, from the way he reacted, I'd be happy to bet that this was the first time he'd received positive attention in a long time.

Even if I killed him, he'd be honored. He'd brought down a Shadow-Blender.

I wanted this human to suffer. He had ruined me. The Vikings knew who I was now, and would be all the more determined to come after the tribe and me. So, suffer he would, with what I was planning.

I began to heave as I felt my magic abilities awaken. I aimed them to my paw on the struggling human's chest, closing my eyes in deep concentration. I felt the magic build more and more. Finally, I could take it no longer. I took in a deep breath, and with a deafening roar, let it loose from my paw—and into the Viking's body.

He didn't scream. In fact, he stopped moving all together. The boy's wide eyes stared up at me in terror. I smirked and stepped off of him.

And then he was screaming, just like I had wanted. The Viking howled, gripping his chest. His skin started to harden and clump together and his body began to grow. His eyes and nose changed shape and his hair was shed from his scalp. I noticed that his teeth were retracting into his gums, too.

His screeches of pain suddenly turned up a whole new octave. I heard bones snapping and rearranging themselves in his scale-covered body. Lumps appeared across his body as new appendages grew, making him look like some demonic half-human. Eventually, he grew too big for his clothes, and they tore into shreds around him. His skin turned darker and darker and his arms and legs migrated towards the center of his body.

Ever so slowly, the human-sounding screeches turned to pitiful roars. I'm sure it sounded horrible to his comrades. If I hadn't been so angry with him, I was sure that I'd have felt sympathy…for my ears.

When he had finally quieted down, there was only dead silence. Instead of a human Viking, there was now a full-grown, albeit young Shadow-Blender lying on the ground, heaving. His eyes were slightly open, and I immediately took notice of the pine-green color. Another thing that was off was that his scales weren't black; they were a very dark brown color. Almost black, but not quite. It appeared that his new body had carried over the splotches across his face, too. (I think they were called 'freckles'.)

I decided that that was enough. I spun on my feet, crouched, and took off into the night sky, laughing in delighted triumph. That would teach him! No Viking would ever try to capture a Shadow-Blender, no, dragon again!

What I didn't expect was to fall. I hissed when I plummeted, stumbling on the ground. I tried again and again, but could not even go into the air for five seconds!

I roared. That damned human had gotten payback! He'd taken my ability of flight away from me!

I gave up on flying, realizing I was in the center of a Viking village, and dashed off into a nearby forest. I screaming in fury the entire way.

"Damn that human! Damn him!"