I Am Dragonblood: The Grim Beast (Book Four)

Chapter Twenty - Truth

With tensed muscles they stood on the ledge outside the cave, leaving enough room of about three foot between each other so they could Shift. Anic was already in Deathgripper form, nervously awaiting her time. 
    ‘Ready?’ Hiccup asked, rolling up his sleeve. 
    ‘No,’ everyone chorused. 
    Bolt rolled her sleeve up, too. ‘Do you all know the commands?’
    Everyone nodded in affirmation.
    ‘Right,’ Hiccup said, nodded to the Deathgripper Dragonblood. ‘You're up.’ He held his forearm out to the dragon, indicating the place she should inject him with the venom. 
    ‘Are sure this is going to work?’ Flitt asked, her hand resting on her dragon's, Flickering's, shoulder. 
    ‘No,’ Hiccup said. ‘But it's worth a shot.’ He winced as the fine tip of the Deathgripper's barbed tail slid beneath his skin, the venom winding into his bloodstream. He became almost instantly blank, just a soldier awaiting orders. 
    ‘Here goes,’ Gale breathed, letting the venom take her. 
    One by one Anic injected the Dragonbloods and dragons with venom. Even Myth's Sand Wraith, Dewi, joined the ranks. The red haired boy stayed back in the shadows, watching silently, almost like a statue. After a moment Anic injected herself with venom, becoming docile and almost not pulling the needle thin spike out. 
    Bolt looked over them. Nine venom-induced dragons against Grimmel and his flock. What were their chances?
    None if they stayed there. She whistled the command to Shift and with a ripple of energy they all changed to their dragon forms, crowding the small ledge. She called a three tone whistle and as one they took flight, sweeping through the air and through the tunnel towards the Alpha. 
    Bolt flapped hard and lifted into the air, still in hybrid form. 
    ‘What should I do?’ Myth called, stopping her just as she was going to follow. 
    ‘Er, stay here?’ She said, flapping backwards. ‘I don't know, just... Don't get yourself killed!’ She sped away after the Dragonbloods, calling for them to spread out to either of the Bewilderbeast. The bioluminescence glanced off of their scales as they flashed by, catching Grimmel's eye as he saw the flash of metal among dragons. 

***

Grimmel's PoV

The boy was back, he could see him darting between beating wings and lashing tails. Of course, this had been part of his plan. He knew Hiccup would come back to the Hidden World to see his dragon, so it had just been a matter of integrating himself into the flock, waiting until there was a number of dragons in one place then taking control. Smashing the eggs had been an afterthought, almost an accident. He had inspected the Night Fury eggs on a quiet night and could see, and smell, that they would never hatch. Then he'd stepped on them when he was manoeuvring around the crystal and the rock pillars and thought, oh well, and crushed most of them.
    With only a handful of clicks he turned the flock of dragons on the invaders, turning his head as quickly as a massive dragon could to keep track of the Night Fury. He focused as much of his attention on the Dragonblood Chief as he dared but found a wall, a complete blank, very much like what his Deathgrippers were like. He growled, which sent the dragons in his control into a slight frenzy. 
    A whistle pierced the thrum of wings, high and clear. A second later a Deathsong's amber blast hit him square between his eyes. He went cross eyed to look at it and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the stuff hampering the two clicking spikes.  
    Another short whistle and dragon fire bombarded him, right where the first blast had hit. For a moment he had a flashback to the Night Fury, Toothless, challenging him, the terrible hatred he'd felt then rising again like a weed squashed but not dead. 
    With the spikes that made half of the clicking sound unable to function, dragons began to break free and shake their heads in confusion, finding themselves exhausted in the middle of a flock after such a long time flying. They began to drop away from their entranced brethren, finding rest on the rocky outcrops and pillars. Grimmel roared to them to come back, but none of them took any notice. 
    Now that the air was clearing of reptiles he could see the ones who had started this chaos. They were circling around him, their pupils slits and movements the same as each other. With a snarl he brought his finned tail up to whack the grey and red titan Shockjaw, but it evaded with ease, flipping onto its back and swooping under his tail. He instead tried catching a Sand Wraith off guard with the tip of his wing, and he would have succeeded if a whistle had not warned it. The Bewilderbeast turned to the whistler, catching sight of the Night Terror Dragonblood he'd seen escaping when he'd first taken command. 
    He took a breath and readied himself to spew ice at the Dragonbloods. Without their commander they wouldn't be able to function, and without function they'd be his to control. 
    ‘Stop!’
    His triple beat heart seemed to stop for a moment, the water almost freezing in his throat. Surely it couldn't be who he thought it was. He had left him in another country, far from this place. 
    Grimmel looked down and saw, like an ant scurrying down a slope, the red haired son he thought he'd never see again. Even though he must have been eighteen now, he was still recognisable as the six year old hunter who had bested his father a handful I times. The same easy grace in his hurried movements, the same unblinking green gaze. 
    ‘Myth?’ He asked. It felt like he was in a dream turned nightmare. 
    The teen slid down to the feet of the Alpha on loose crystalline stones. ‘Father,’ he said, his accent matching those of the Cymru guards. 
    Grimmel lowered his head as much as he could to look at Myth. ‘Why are you here?’
    Myth stared at him, unnervingly calm. ‘I cannot understand you.’
    He growled, glancing up at the flock of dragons. ‘I can't Shift...’ He muttered. If he Shifted to human or hybrid the rest of the dragons would be free of his control. Free to take whatever action they pleased.
    ‘You can,’ another all too familiar voice said. Like a dazzling sunbeam Arianwen swooped down and landed beside her brother. Apparently the venom had worn off quickly from her, or perhaps the venom they'd used hadn't been strong enough. ‘And will. Shift to human, father. It'll save a lot of trouble.’
    A white Flightmare touched down next to Arianwen, Shifting to a girl who could have been his daughter's younger sister, they were that similar. 
    ‘Why are you here?’ He asked again, growling slightly as he watched the other Dragonbloods gather a little way behind the three in front of him. 
    ‘Shift and we will explain,’ the Light Fury Dragonblood said, her stubborn side shining through. 
    He frowned at her, then a small smirk appeared on his face. ‘Then why don't you?’
    A pause, then, ‘I cannot.’
    The smirk became more obvious. ‘You've spent too long in dragon form,’ he commented. 
    She growled, showing sharp white teeth. ‘What do you care?’ You never have done.’
    A low growl rumbled deep in his throat. He had cared, just a little, hadn't he? When he'd tried to get them to come with him... He looked up at the circling dragons, still more of them dropping away like dizzy flies to watch the drama unfold. Then he looked at Myth and the girl, whom he recognised from the year before at New Berk and vaguely remembered being called Flitt. He wasn't going to get anywhere if he stayed in this form. 
    A wave of energy, almost like a gust of wind, and he was in hybrid form. Immediately the dragons above him came to their senses, shaking their heads and tiredly flapping to the sidelines to watch, no longer bothered by the presence of humans, or humanoid, after months of Dragonbloods coming and going. 
    ‘You left me. You left us,’ Myth said, his tone dark. 
    Grimmel snorted. ‘You left me, not the other way around.’ But in a way what Myth said was true. He could have stayed and kept an eye on them. No matter how much the young Hunter had hidden their tracks, he would have been able to follow them. 
    ‘Surely you know why we left you,’ Myth said, taking a small step forwards. 
    Yes, he did know. Deep down, in a box at the back of his mind, he'd always known. He didn't want to admit to himself that what he'd done was wrong, let alone reveal it to an audience. 
    He gave an almost inaudible whistle, calling the Deathgrippers to come nearer, slowly. 
    ‘What you've done is insanity,’ the white haired girl, Flitt, said. 
    ‘You've made so many lives suffer,’ Arianwen growled. Even though Myth couldn't understand her, her meaning was clear to him. ‘And for what? To be Alpha of captive dragons?’
    Grimmel shook his head slightly. ‘You don't understand,’ he said, his voice hinting at uncertainty. ‘I had to.’ But had he? Cendane had ordered him to kill the Furies, yes, but he hadn't had to do all the other stuff. He hadn't had to abandon his partner or his tribe. He hadn't had to take his children with him. He hadn't had to have accepted the Deathgrippers or control them with their own venom. He hadn't had to side with the Hunters, or stayed with Drago, or taken control of flocks of dragons. His mother had only asked him to track down and despatch of the two dragons that had disobeyed her. 
    ‘You stole us, I and Arianwen,’ Myth said. ‘You did not ask, you did not even think that we may not want to come. You just took us in the middle of the night.’
    He went to answer back, but the words got stuck in his throat. The little box in his mind had cracked open, spilling its contents through his consciousness. He'd been selfish, he hadn't, like Myth said, even thought. 
    ‘You abandoned your tribe,’ Flitt said. He turned his pale gaze on her, her green irises so like his son's. ‘You deserted your partner and you left me. Even though I hardly remember you, I remember the day after you vanished. The sadness, the chaos. You left your tribe to die.’
    Grimmel stared at her. No, it couldn't... But he could see the similarities. White hair, green eyes, slim frame, pale skin, her mother's fieriness glinting in her eyes. The small child he'd left behind in the hammock ten years ago, standing right in front of him now. ‘You're... You're...’
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I'm the youngest. You're youngest.’
    ‘No.’ He could not believe this. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. ‘Why are you here? I left you with the tribe, safe.’
    ‘The tribe's dead,’ she said with finality.