*SCREAMS* HEY HEY HEY WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT, IT'S AN UPDATE! IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S BEEN 360 DAYS OR ANYTHING

Eret snarled and dove for the kid, who made a similar noise right back at him and slid his feet backwards in the snow, bending his knees and look surprisingly dangerous for such a lanky figure. Eret landed with a soft whump in the snow, he considered being winded before he got over it and wrapped his calloused fingers around the chilled metal of the boy's leg.

The skinny kid made a shocked augh as he hit the ground with a clatter, Eret's weight suddenly pulling on his metal leg, which skidded, managing to crunch against the rock beneath the snow. Sparks flew, and Eret flinched as they flickered a little too close to his eyes. Dangerous, this was. And he hadn't even gone for the dragon yet!

Something punched him in the eye, managing to push into his nose at the same time, and he spat out a curse, eyes watering and the scene before him blurring under a sliding veil of tears.

His grip slipped on the leg, and the kid began squirming away.

Eret snarled and pushed down on the kid, intent on holding him still so the dragon could be more easily taken by his men (who had all stupidly gone for the Night Fury), but it was like trying to hold onto a wet fish. The boy slipped through his arms with an agility Eret didn't consider possible- especially from such a scrawny little man- rolling backwards and coming up standing, the ominous silver cylinder clasped firmly in his hand.

Eret swore with feeling, and made a second lunge as he heard the screech of his men behind him, facing down the dragon. The boy's thumb hovered over a tiny switch, and found himself toppling to the ground, Eret's arms tying his arms to his waist, and that silver cylinder dropping and clattering, bouncing across the stones. Gas – was that Zippleback gas? – began leaking into the cave from the device.

One of his men cried out, and scurried past him as he pressed the dragon rider's face into the ground. "What are you doing?" he demanded, too focused on the scrambling kid to look at his men. There was an odd sound like a shriek of thunder, moved up to a higher pitch, and then –

"Blast, get down!"

Eret flattened himself to the ground, loudly-protesting dragon-rider squashed beneath him. The hair on the back of his neck sizzled, and Eret felt sick for a second wondering what would have happened if his head had been in the way. The heat alone burned his skin, and he flinched, patting at the back of his head with a large hand. Hair crumbled away between his fingers into ash.

The dragon-rider let out a furious yell, pointy elbows jabbing this way and that. One caught Eret in the side of his head with surprising strength, and he sat backwards with the shock of it all, feeling a bruise on his cheekbone join his blackening eye, swelling nose, and the blistering burns on the back of his scalp.

The prosthetic leg skidded and more sparks flew, but Eret wasn't scared of them anymore. A dragon had just breathed – fire, or plasma or whatever the Hel that was at him, and he'd survived. A few little sparks were nothing.

The dragon-rider was breathing heavily through his nose, and then one armoured hand was reaching down, reaching down towards his leg where there was a silvery handle sticking out..

And Eret wasn't going to let this boy get an advantage. He lunged once again, one arm encircling the kid's waist, the hand of the other punching up just under his jaw with a force that made the boy's breath stop. They crashed back down to the floor, the rider kicking at his knees, and Eret flinched as hard metal collided with his kneecap.

There was a thick slap from behind him, and three of his men sailed backwards, striking the cave wall and bringing chunks of the icy cavern down upon them. Two shook their heads and feebly struggled to get up. And the dragon pulled back its tail, preparing for another blow that would take Eret and all his remaining men out, but -

"Dragon!" he bellowed stupidly, dragging himself and the rider back to their feet, one arm locked around the other's throat. It was a dragon. It wasn't going to respond! It wasn't even going to understand. It was a dumb, vicious beast intent only on pain and hurt and eating. One of his men, the one still prone on the ground, tilted his head up just so he could peek at the action.

"People generally like being addressed by their names," the dragon-rider said indignantly, another elbow coming out of nowhere and planting itself into Eret's stomach. Oof. That kid was stronger than he looked, too! Not just speedy!

"Oh, I'm sorry," Eret snarled, pulling the boy's head back so his throat was exposed. And then he reached down with a free hand, ignoring the elbows and the kicking, and pulled out a knife. "Mr. Dragon, you can stop that right now or your young friend here is going to find himself lacking in several organs and a fair amount of blood. Understand?"

The rider made a sound in the back of his throat, but Eret had no time to analyse it. He stared at the dragon.

And the dragon stared back.

And, startlingly, it stopped. Eret nearly released the rider from the shock. It then cast Eret the most withering glare that had ever been bestowed upon him. Nearly as awful as the murderous look in Drago's eyes barely half an hour ago.

Nearly as awful.

"You do understand," Eret said somewhat weakly.

The dragon looked faintly amused, but its face quickly turned back into a snarl, and the dragon-rider groaned.

"Really?" The boy said irritably. "Really? You're only getting that now? Aren't you meant to know this about dragons? You capture them for a living!"

"Shut it, tiny," Eret snapped. His men started climbing back to their feet, groaning, but the dragon didn't attack them. It just sat there, eyes narrowed, teeth – wait, didn't it not have teeth about thirty seconds ago? Anyway, teeth visible in a growl like a big cat.

The rider didn't take his advice. "Can't you see? Don't you understand what it means?"

"What means?"

The rider's voice suddenly lowered, calm and quiet and reassuring in a way Eret had not heard in years. "He understands you. He's intelligent."

"Yeah, I got that from the – No, that's a dragon. They're beasts. Dumb animals."

The dumb animal glared at him so irritably that Eret felt his iron resolve waver.

"They're intelligent," the rider repeated. Didn't Eret tell him to shut up just a few moments ago? But it was true! The beast was intelligent, it knew what he was saying, it knew – "You don't have to fight them!"

"They're dragons. That's what they're for."

The rider shook his head, infuriatingly calm. "I don't think you believe that."

"I – " Eret felt the rider slip out from his grasp, and was almost about to snatch him back, but the boy didn't move away far, just so he could speak without a knife to his throat. Eret held the blade out to the rider's chest, and he took a hasty step back, hands out as though he were trying to pacify him.

"I can help you," the rider said. He turned, gesturing to all of Eret's Sami crew, who were watching the whole display with open mouths and confusion in their eyes. "I can help all of you. We can help all of you."

The dragon warbled affirmative.

"Do you honestly want to follow Drago? He was going to kill you. He would kill all of you in a second if it would help him in his quest." The calm quality to the boy's voice was rapidly disappearing; he was making wild gestures to no one, but what he said made sense. "Drago doesn't care about dragons or people, not anymore. Maybe he started out differently, but at the moment he is using his power to achieve – something. I don't know what," he admitted. "And do you?"

Eret chewed on his lip.

"No," one of his men offered, raising his hand like a child. Eret glared at him.

"I'm here to help all of you," the rider stated confidently, "and that's including Drago. He's lost his way, treating people like dragons and dragons like people, and neither how they should be." His speech was punctuated with pauses and gaps like he was trying to find the right words to fit the concepts that were travelling at dragon-fire speed through his mind. "There is a peaceful solution to this conflict between Drago and dragons and the rest of the world, and I'm here to find it. And I won't allow any of you to get hurt. From what I've seen, I don't think you have a choice in the matter."

"We don't," Eret replied automatically, and nearly punched himself in the face for it. Idiot. "But don't think for a second we're going to join ranks with these – " he wildly waved his hand at the dragon.

The dragon glared.

He could almost see the rider smiling under that helmet.

"Not now, obviously," the rider laughed. "Just – just give me a chance to prove to you that they aren't what you think they are, okay?"

Eret tightened the grip on his knife.

"Let me show you," the rider said, almost pleadingly, and the dragon leaned forward, gently butting its head into the boy's hand. And there, on its back, clearly exposed, was that saddle.

Eret felt his knife lower of its own accord, and the rider stretched out a hand to take Eret's and lead him to the dragon, and –

A bola flew across the cavern, the rider tensed as he saw it coming and then it crashed into his shoulder, a crack sounding from where the joint must have been knocked out of place, the other end smacking into the side of the helmet and then the rider was on the ground, out like a candle had been blown on.

The dragon screamed and lurched to protect the rider, but there were darts and nets being thrown and it was only seconds before the dragon too was sprawled on the icy floor, pitifully moaning and nudging with failing strength at its fallen master.

Eret was still frozen. His crew were frozen. And yet there was man hoisting the rider up over his shoulder, a great many gripping the cords tying the dragon down and pulling towards the cave entrance, and then right there was Drago, laughing darkly, just laughing.

And now...

back to the hiatus

(hopefully not another year though)