II.
"Not everyone can see the map here," Hiccup began – or rather, began several times, repeating the same phrase with a bit of a stutter until every tribal representative in the room had sufficiently quieted, "much less read a letter on this map, so I'll try to recap everything that's going on aloud. Drago Bludvist and his allies –" Hiccup grimaced, wishing for an infinite time that the Murderous Tribe, Outcasts, and Berserkers had supported himself rather than the power-hungry Visithugs "– have taken solid control of the north, including the Frozen Isles, Grimbeard's Despair, and the Dragon's Nose. They are as far south as Wrecker's Bay off the coast of Murderous Island, and as far east as Breakneck Bog, the Haunted Marshes, and the Gorge of the Thunderbolt of Thor." An enormous swath of territory they had conquered, hundreds times greater than the land area of Berk, which in itself was smaller than just the Visithug's home island. The mass of enemy territory loomed like an enormous cloud over the small isle on his map.
The young chief traced his pointer finger from the very top of the map to its left-bottom corner and chewed on his lip pensively before continuing. The action slightly stretched his cheeks, the left one of which now supported an obtruding pair of light parallel scars that ran from a slightly-split left nostril to the high point of his cheekbone. An unfortunate encounter two years back with one of the Vigilante's feral dragons caused that – though otherwise, he had been very fortunate these past four years of battle.
"Drago conquering the north in turn has – has ousted the Vigilante from her mountain. She's moved further south…" his eyes traced the route. "We have lost control of Changewing Island, Hysteria, the – the Isle Glum, Fireworm Island, and the Isle Villainy, which frankly no one wanted to live on or control anyway even before it got scorched by her dragons into an uninhabitable crisp." His stray dry comment complete, Hiccup pulled his finger east until it landed on a spattering of small shapes which bedecked a corner of the map's blue sea. "But lately reports suggest that the Vigilante, whose dragon numbers appear to be declining from the effects of the war, has retreated and – and – and withdrawn her hold from many of these islands, and though she has not been seen in person for several months – her dragons are another matter – we guess that she is secluded somewhere within the Mazy Multitudes, perhaps securing a stronghold in the old abandoned Fort Sinister."
"Confirmed in Fort Sinister, actually," a large-nosed Viking chief across the table corrected. He leaned in to provide his report. "My men sailed past the southern part of the Mazy Multitudes and noticed there were teal ice formations jutting out from the shores like giant spears." He raised his arms up in a rather magnificent gesture to accompany his rather unoriginal metaphor.
"Nothing else could make ice like that except her Bewilderbeast," another voice agreed from elsewhere in the room. Around the fire flickers and dancing shadows, heads nodded.
"Fort Sinister, then," Hiccup nodded, grabbed his pencil, and placed a new mark at that location.
Someone bent over from behind him. Breasts hovering near-directly above Hiccup, the wide-shouldered chief of the Bog-Burglar Tribe leaned in to study Hiccup's map closely, and after omitting a rather gruff but nonetheless satisfied snort, pronounced, "If that dragon rider has retreated so much as you say, we have her cornered!" Her alto voice sang through the hall at much greater a volume than Hiccup had been speaking. "We can surround her and finish her off at Fort Sinister and end one front of the war."
"Assuming we can even navigate our ships to Fort Sinister! Have you tried to sail an armada through the Mazy Multitudes?" Yet another contributor to the conversation.
And another. "There's a reason they're called a maze, if you started to think with your head instead of your chest hair. Many a ship has sunk winding through those islands. The waters are shallow, ships are often beached, and those which aren't capsized sail in hopeless circles trying to find a passage through the archipelago."
"We're fighting a war against two armies, fire-breathing five ton dragons, a war-conquering tyrant, and an island-sized Bewilderbeast controlled by a bloody lunatic, and you're more worried about steering your boat through a cluster of islands?"
"Yes, in fact, I am." The previous speaker slammed his hand down firmly on the table. Even had he not, his emphatic intonation alone would have garnered the attention of everyone in the room, for Logan Longsword was well-respected amongst the Vikings in the Barbaric Archipelago. More than a little gray grew like snakes throughout his beard, and much of that gray had been well-earned by experience. His sunken wrinkled eyes panned throughout the room as he explicated his concerns. "The point of the matter is, no one sails enough in the Mazy Multitudes to know a clear route which would get us from the open ocean to the shores of Fort Sinister. Those islands have been abandoned for centuries. Our ancestors who used to occupy Fort Sinister either left us no good map, or we've gone and lost all the copies." He shook his head, beard rustling up against his breastplate. "Prayers to Hlin and Njörður for divine guidance would be our best strategy for navigating those treacherous waters, and even then, the gods might not preserve us. It could take us weeks to cover ground we elsewise would cover in a day! And during those weeks, that dragon rider will spot us, attack us, and defeat us."
"Berk's dragons could –"
"Berk doesn't have enough dragons to force out the Vigilante by themselves! Even when their dragons were hale and in their full numbers –" many casualties had occurred during the past four years "–they wouldn't have been enough to take her down! If you know anything about what the history and legends have said about Fort Sinister, it's that it's impenetrable. No one has ever successfully conquered it during a war. If we want to break past its walls and seize the Vigilante – Odin, if we even want to make it to the foot of that fort – we need some careful planning. She might be cornered, oh yes, she might be cornered, but the great war god Týr well knows she's far from being defeated."
A short silence in the hall loomed eerily over the heads of every Viking representative.
"Dragons could still be of use, though, as scouts," Longsword's opponent finally returned. It was a beautiful, tall, steel-eyed young woman named Tantrum who spoke. Her flame red hair and green eyes seemed to cast their own light in the room, ignited by her internal heated temperament. "It would be possible for riders to sneak undetected into the Mazy Multitudes and fly overhead to chart a route to the stronghold."
For a short moment it appeared as though Longsword would open his mouth to dispute, but listening to the pealing majority around the hall supporting Tantrum's suggestion, instead snapped his mouth shut.
"Let me see that map," Logan finally sighed, and Hiccup passed over the paper to the left side of the table.
This did not, inevitably, end all debate on the matter. A high-volume dispute commenced. Frustrated gesticulations. Fervent points hammered. Ideas projected and discarded. Head shakes. Head nods. Thankfully, more of the latter occurred the further on in the discussion they headed.
"Sail over from this path once the scouts return…"
"If we send the Bog-Burglars over to the eastern entrance of the fortress and…"
"No, we need them over to the south…"
"South then."
"While all the Bashem-Oiks will lend support after the initial assault…"
"Good, good."
"Berk will send its dragons…"
"No, you remember the last time Berk's dragons attacked the Vigilante's? She almost gained control of them!"
More discussion.
"The dragons have to stay north, protecting the borders between our territories and the Visithugs."
"Oh? And what about Drago's Bewilderbeast?"
The steady, churning flow of discussion suddenly halted. Everyone turned to stare at the woman who spoke up.
"Drago's… what?" Chief Bertha intoned dramatically from behind Hiccup. The young Berk leader in front of her flinched from her booming voice, then glared up, greatly irked at her unnecessary shouting.
The first chief responded, her voice ringing out through the hallway, "You mean you didn't know Drago Bludvist just captured a young Bewilderbeast?"
Wide-eyed, Hiccup responded, "No. And that might have been good to mention at the, you know, start of this meeting?"
"Anything else you'd like to share?" someone else growled.
"In the last battle up north between myself and some of the Visithugs, we caught sight of Drago attempting to control a very young Bewilderbeast – not full grown, but still a monster – by waving his staff in a similar manner to the Vigilante's. Assuming he gains control of it, and he's abusing it enough I believe he will… then we have two large dragons to contend with."
A host of frightened murmurs rose up.
"All the more reason to strike down the Vigilante immediately! We can't fight two Bewilderbeasts at once!"
And the war plans resumed, all the more vigorously than before. While once a sense of urgency danced upon the walls, now a horrid pressure built upon them, of time rushing away, of the deaths of future men collapsing upon them if they failed. Though some chiefs continued balking about the gamble they were making entering the Mazy Multitudes – even just the southern edge of the islands – in general consensus amongst the tribal representative rose up they could indeed strike at the Vigilante now. That they needed to strike her now. And that they could succeed in such an assault. One tall and lean young man even spoke so confidently as to boast, "It will be good to see that dragon rider's head on the edge of my spear after we take the fort."
To which Hiccup responded, suddenly quite firm for the first time this meeting, with a resounding, "No."
Everyone turned their gaze toward the young chief.
"We're not killing her," he announced adamantly.
Tantrum raised her eyebrows. Longsword frowned. An old woman from the back – the Elder of the Northern Wanderer Tribe – snorted and scoffed aloud, "You're one chief, young man. This is not your decision to make. If everyone else wants her dead, she'll be dead unless you get to her first."
"If we mean to be the voice of peace in this war, and end it, rather than charging out with unnecessary aggression, then –"
Hiccup was cut off. The Elder, stepping forward so that her face was only mostly, rather than completely, obscured by shadow, intoned, "Do you really still hold onto such peaceful ideals? After every horrid thing you have seen the past four years?"
Hiccup stared up at her as she pronounced, "The Vigilante cannot be turned. Cannot be imprisoned or contained. There is no mercy for someone like her."
Ever since the Elder had met Hiccup and placed the Slavemark on his forehead, she held such an unwavering opinion of the Vigilante. Yet it never had been such a direct point of contention until now.
Even if the Vigilante weren't my mother, I wouldn't want her dead.
At least none of the chieftains at the table knew his relation to that dragon rider.
Responding to the Elder, Hiccup said, "That's exactly what got us into a war in the first place. The firm opinion that other people are bad and can't be changed. It's why Drago's dragon trappers attacked the Vigilante, and it's why she attacked back. And everything escalated from there. That is how this whole war started, if you remember."
Before the Elder could once more speak up, Hiccup gestured – a bit of a wild sweep of his hands, but somehow intent nonetheless – and clarified, "I want this war to end just as much as you. And I won't just naïvely let the Vigilante go away. But at the same time, I will not turn myself into a second Drago in the process, or a second Vigilante. Maybe you're right and I can't stop you from killing her if you reach her first. But if I have the chance, I will spare her."
I cannot kill you as you killed my father.
But I will keep you from killing others.
I will end this war.