A/N: Apologies-this is a couple of days later than planned.
Four: Frost and Fire
Dawn on Frost Isle almost wasn't worth the effort, a weak orange glow on the horizon amid the few snowflakes swirling around in the ceaseless winds. It was almost as cold as it had been at night and the Riders were thankful for the the fire they had maintained and the warmth of their dragons. Heather took charge, cooking a swift warming breakfast and helping the others try to wake Snotlout. In the end, Gothi had jabbed the stocky rider with her staff until he sat up, furious and in pain.
"I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled. "How dare you wake me and…" And then he looked up into the faces of all the other Riders, less than impressed that he was holding up the mission with his laziness while their friend and leader was dying. "And…is that the time?"
"Get dressed!" Heather growled. "It's another dawn. Hiccup only has five days and we have to find that antidote today or we may not have enough time to collect the ingredients to make the cure!" Stumbling to his feet, Snotlout grumbled as he rolled up his blanket, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'stupid Hiccup' which no one believed he actually meant.
The settlement was unlike most normal Viking settlements and in the weak morning light, the stone buildings were half-buried, each solid house blocky and uniform. There were no dragon's-head decorations, no curved roofs or protective runes. As the Riders walked through the streets, Fishlegs was wide-eyed and intent on finding the Archives while the twins were wondering where the Armoury was. Heather paused, her green eyes scanning the settlement and saw one roof rising above the others.
"There!" she said as Fishlegs turned to see her. He glanced down at the map in his hand.
"That looks like it!" he admitted and headed out in the direction. They tramped through the snowdrifts, up the shallow slope to the sturdy and impressive grey stone hall that was the former AllThing of the Vikings of the Archipelago and the Archives of Frost Isle. Snotlout folded his arms under his black wolf fur cloak.
"Now that's more like it," he commented. "I could just about live in a house like this…" Heather peered at the door.
"Someone's been in-fairly recently," she noted and everyone was instantly on alert. There were the scrapes and clangs of various weapons being drawn but she rolled her eyes. "Not that recently, muttonheads," she sighed. "The snow is deep and the doors are iced closed."
"Makes sense," Fishlegs commented. "Because Viggo must have come here to find the recipe for the Wine of Hela." Gothic shrugged and scraped a few symbols in the snow. "Oh. Gothi says…she hopes that he's left the document behind with the cure."
"Only one way to find out," Heather commented and pushed the door open. A huge waft of must rolled over them and they peered into the clammy darkness, seeing vague shapes outline by the weak light filtering through the clouds that had rolled in.
"Bleugh! Smells like it would suit Snotlout," Ruff commented. Tuff nodded.
"Definitely not suitable for a chicken," he added.
"Good thing you left her on the Edge then," Ruff shot back. He sighed.
"She's be a frozen chicken anyway if she was here," he admitted. Heather growled in her throat and pushed past, grabbing a torch from the sconce. She glanced at Windshear and the Razorwhip lit the torch, the flames warming her grim face. Fearlessly, she waked into the gloom, followed by Gothi and Fishlegs. There was a pause as Snotlout peered into the gloom.
"Aren't you going in?" Ruff asked him and he gave a false little laugh.
"Someone needs to guard the entrance," he said quickly. "Right, Hookie?" There was a less than enthusiastic grumble from he Monstrous Nightmare. "I mean, what if those Fliers come back?" The twins shrugged.
"At least it would be more interesting," Tuff confessed. "I wonder where the Armoury is…" Ruff winked.
"Looking at Fishlegs's map-I would say…that way," she commented pointing west. There was a pause.
"Really?" Tuff asked. She handed over the map, which she had picked from his belt pouch.
"Check for yourself," she challenged her brother and he peered at the symbols.
"That way it is!" he grinned and set out happily. Snotlout stared at them.
"You muttonheads can run off all you want," he scoffed. "I'll just stay here…keep watch…and avoid the boring looking through smelly old scrolls…" Ruff eyed him suspiciously.
"Stay awake!" she told him as he settled down sitting with his back against Hookfang and his hands resting casually behind his head.
"Me? You don't have to worry! My eyes are as alert as a Gronckle at a granite party!" he sneered.
"Is that even a thing?" Tuff sniggered.
"It may be for a Gronckle," Snotlout replied defensively. "And who knows what Fish gets up to in his rock garden…?"
"A worthy point," Tuff mused. "What say you, sister mine?"
"I say…it sounds as bogus as Snotlout actually offering to do some work!" she scorned and stomped off. Tuff leered at the stocky rider.
"I tend to agree," he chuckled. "We're off in search of some awesome ancient weapons because rumour has it, they were blessed by the Gods and have some completely supernatural powers!" Suddenly Snotlout sat up straight.
"What?" he protested. "Why did no one tell me that?" Tuff chuckled.
"I think you were asleep when we were talking!" he yelled as he ran off. Snotlout scrambled to his feet.
"Hookie-stay and watch the door!" he ordered the Monstrous Nightmare as he ran off after the twins.
oOo
inside the Archives, Fishlegs and Heather cautiously led the way, with Gothi following, her face screwed up as she peered at the ancient runes inscribed in the walls and on the stone shelves where the Archives were resting. Cobwebs matted above the shelves and over the scrolls and dust was thick on everything-but Heather noted the blurred marks of footsteps in the thick covering of dust and debris. Pointing with her torch, she carefully followed the trail towards the back and the row of shelves marked as 'Scrolls of the Gothi'.
Fishlegs turned and stared at the wizened old woman, realising now that her name was an Ancient term for the healers, shamen and mystics who guided the Viking Tribes. He had always known her as Gothi-as had his parents. In fact everyone in the Tribe knew her as Gothi…but maybe that was a name conferred on her when she became the Tribe's Healer and wise-woman? Ignoring the scrutiny, the woman leaned on her staff and limped forward until she reached the shelf, a crooked fingers sliding along the runes with an almost-loving gesture. And then she turned to her helpers and began to scratch in the dust on the floor. Automatically, Fishlegs translated.
"What lies in these scrolls is secret-but Hiccup needs the knowledge. Seek for reference to the Wine of Hela-but of the scroll does not contain that information, close and replace. Please respect the secrets of my forbears." Heather nodded as Fishlegs finished speaking and each chose a shelf, then began the search.
oOo
Loki's Pebbles were a small group of rocky islands halfway to the Edge but rather more northerly than the direct route that barely featured on any respectable maps. Home to a few yaks and goats, there were no permanent settlements-which made them ideal bases for the Dragon Hunters. The islands looked like misshapen lumps of wet rock, devoid of any trees or shrubs and decorated only by moss, lichens, a few brave ferns and grasses and pools and small rills that dived down the precipitous sides into the hungry seas below.
They also provided no opportunity for a Dragon Rider to sneak in low or land and walk round-but Astrid came in high through the clouds and scouted the base, seeing only a single ship and a small selection of Hunters, none of whom looked to be especially organised or efficient. There were no signs of the Fliers so she swooped down and attacked, sending a volley of spines at the men manning the catapults and driving them away. Swooping down, she slammed Stormily's flames into and collapsed the main mast on the lone vessel before she leapt down, disarming the couple of men who put up resistance…and then she cornered the few Hunters and advanced on them, with her Nadder standing hissing behind her, the spines on her tail raised and menacing.
"There ain't no dragons here," the leading man said. "Hunting's been bad and it's been hard with the Grimborns gone…" Astrid growled in her throat and raised her axe as she advanced.
"Viggo Grimborn is alive," she growled. "Where is he?" The man shook his head, his eyes defiant.
"I don't know," he protested. "We just follow orders…"
"So who gives the orders?" she demanded. The man sneered.
"They're delivered and we collect them at the Northern Markets…" he said.
"Liar!" she snapped. "Where is Viggo? Where is his base?"
The man shook his head.
"I wouldn't help you if I knew, Dragon-Riding scum!" he spat. There was a thunk and her axe buried in his chest. She wrenched it out and watched the corpse fall, turning to the next man, who was pale and standing aghast because they all knew that the Dragon Riders avoided killing.
"Anyone else want to be unhelpful?" she snarled. There was a general shaking of heads as she grabbed the next man by the throat.
"Viggo. Grimborn. WHERE?" she screamed as the man trembled and felt her eyes bore into him fiercely.
"I-I may have an idea…" he whimpered.
oOo
Fishlegs could have spent a good month in the Archives, for every scroll he opened was fascinating, documenting lore and medicine and even some tasty recipes that he found himself memorising to try later. But always, his mind was running over the predicament of his best friend and every time he opened a new scroll, his eyes scanned the runes and disappointment and a rising sense of panic ran through him. Because the answer wasn't here.
As he approached the end of his allotted shelf, he glanced up, seeing Gothi reading carefully each scroll and clearly mentally making notes while Heather was skimming for the relevant words-but their shoulders were as slumped and expressions as dejected as he felt. He reached the end of his shelf and rolled up the last scroll, which explained how to cure Eel Pox. He had skimmed the familiar recipe and was pleased to note that he still recalled the cure perfectly before sighing.
"Nothing?" Heather asked, placing her last scroll back and he shook his head.
"I guess it just isn't here-or there isn't a cure…" he sighed.
Gothi's staff prodded his shoulder and the old woman squinted up at him, scratching a few symbols in the dust.
"She says the cure is here-but not on these shelves," he read and sighed. "But where would they be?" Gothi paused-and then pointed to the footsteps in the dust, obvious even though they themselves were partly covered in dust. Heather sighed.
"I wonder where we're going next?" she asked-as an explosion sounded and the whole building rocked. Both riders shared a look and then glanced down at Gothi.
"Fliers!" Heather guessed and looked over at the other two. "Fishlegs-keep looking with Gothi! We have to find that cure for Hiccup!" The husky rider nodded as Heather dragged her hood up over her head and ran for the doors as another explosion sounded and a faint trail of dust sifted down from the roof. Fishlegs watched her for a second then turned, his eyes scanning the faint shapes of steps in the dust as he raced off after the old woman, who had vanished into the gloom.
Heather erupted through the doors and saw five fliers circling, their red, yellow and green Singetails roaring as they swept round for another strafing run. Whistling, Heather saw Windshear gallop towards her, the Razorwhip's green eyes narrowed with anger at the other dragons. Leaping into the saddle and gripping her saddle, Heather urged the dragon up and flipped round, arrowing directly at the leader. The man leered behind his facepaint and mask and dived sideways, narrowing missing the spines Windshear fired at him. Barrel-rolling, the silver dragon sideswiped a a Flier off a yellow Singetail. He screamed as he fell and a colleague dived down to save him as the Singetail determinedly flew off into the grey sky, roaring in delight at its freedom. But the others closed on her and Heather found herself outnumbered and being chased for her life.
Leaning low over Windshear's neck, she glanced over her shoulder and scowled.
"Thor help me," she muttered. "And where are those muttonheads?"
oOo
It had taken Barf and Belch about ten minutes to dig out the Armoury, with Ruff and Tuff bouncing up and down with anticipation. For all they knew, the building could be empty and, to Snotlout's mind, probably was. If you ere to abandon a settlement, you would hardly abandon precious resources like weapons unless you had to leave in a desperate hurry, right?
So why did they leave the scrolls, rather than leave them somewhere easier to get to?
He folded his arms and watched the twins and their dragon all use their heads like bludgeons to force the doors open. There was a waft of musty air and the stocky rider adjusted his helmet.
"Okay, Hookie-lets show these muttonheads that there's nothing worth losing sleep over in this place," he grumbled and the Monstrous Nightmare gave a rumble that sounded very much in agreement before flaming up and inching towards the open door that the twins had already run through. Snotlout skirted him and peered smugly into the gloom-and then he gaped.
Rows upon rows of weapons faced them. Axes, maces, swords and spears, catapults and other siege weapons. Most were rusty and in need of a polish-but it was clear they were extremely well-made and superior weapons. The twins high-fived.
"Result" Tuff whooped. "Look at all that stuff. We can take some of this back and when we clean it up, we can sell this for a fortune!" Snotlout's eyes gleamed as he lifted an ornate and very heavy sword.
"Yes, we can," he added as the twins turned to stare at him.
"I thought you weren't interested," Ruff pointed out.
"I wasn't-until I heard the weapons were blessed by the Gods and awesome!" Snotlout argued. "And Hookfang will be able to double the number of weapons you take back to Berk…" Tuff glanced over at his sister and winked.
"That's true," he said thoughtfully. "So maybe we can share our bounty with Snot…"
"But he'll need to really pull his weight in taking the weapons back," Ruff added snarkily as the other Rider gathered a wickedly sharp and still shiny double-headed axe.
"Oh…my…Thor…" Snotlout muttered. "This is a weapon worthy of a Chief…"
"So that means you should put it back, Snot," Ruff chuckled but Tuff was frozen, his jaw dropped as he stared at a magnificent catapult.
"Oh…my…Thor…I think I may have to ask Macey if she minds sharing me…" he mumbled as Ruff followed his gaze and rolled her eyes.
"We'll never get Barf'n'Belch to carry that!" she told him bluntly.
"We can try, you jealous hussy!" Tuff snapped. "Odin, she's magnificent…" Ruff groaned.
"Snot-start carrying the best looking and best condition weapons outside so we can decide what we're taking," she ordered as she dragged her twin back from the catapult and started to sort through the weapons.
Somehow, the catapult had pride of place in their pile of loot when an explosion sounded and the trio guiltily looked up as a quintet of Fliers zoomed overhead.
"Oops," Tuff commented, lovingly stroking the catapult. Snotlout swore as he saw what they had attacked.
"That's the Archives!" he choked, dropping his weapons and running towards Hookfang. When there was no acknowledgement he stopped and looked at the twins. "You know-where Fishlegs, Heather and Gothi are?" he added sarcastically. Another explosion sounded.
"We knew that," Tuff told him.
"And Hiccup will die if we don't get that are!" Snotlout yelled. "You muttonheads-we can't allow them to destroy the Archives and the recipes for the antivenom!" As they were arguing, the silver shape of Windshear arrowed into the air and attacked.
"There you are-Heather has everything under control," Tuff explained as Snotlout saw the Fliers close in on her.
"Really?" he snarked. "You may wanna look again…" And Hookfang took off, his Rider urging him forward and blasting hard at the nearest Flier to gain Heather some leeway. They flipped round in a tight loop and fired again, managing to blindside the Flier and slam it sideways, spoiling the Singetail's aim at the Razorwhip. They ducked a ferocious Singetail blast and Snotlout winced as he realised his helmet was on fire…again.
"Thor, I wish Hiccup was here," he muttered.
An enormous noise echoed across the desolate landscape and a trio of builders slammed into the nearest two Singetails, snapping a wing on each. The cries of the dragons were pitiful and through his anger at the battle, Snotlout recalled that it wasn't the dragons' faults that they were used for the Fliers's evil. Then the noise sounded again and he stared as the twins whooped as another couple of missiles arched through the air, catching the nearest Singetail and glancing against Hookfang. The much larger dragon lost its second left wing and dropped from the sky as Hookfang spun away. But the Singetail was downed and it crashed with a slam straight onto the Archives.
Heather swooped round and looked at the crashed dragon, the unmoving Flier and the partially collapsed building.
"Thor," she murmured. "How did this happen?"
oOo
"D-Dad?" Hiccup's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper but there was a creak to his right and his father leaned close.
"Son?" Stoick's voice was rough as well, the warm burr gentle. "I'm here." Hiccup's brow furrowed, the flush from the fever warming his pallid skin.
"Can't see you," he admitted roughly as Stoick leaned closer.
"Hiccup?"
"I can't see," the young Rider repeated, hearing the sharp intake of breath from his father. There was a creak and a large, warm hand enclosed his, tenderly letting the patient know that the Chief was with him.
"When?" Stoick's voice was starting to crack, looking into his son's clear emerald eyes and seeing them slightly unfocussed. Hiccup have a weak cough.
"Before Astrid left," he admitted. "I-I didn't want her to know, didn't want to hear any more pity in her voice…"
"Oh son…"
"I-I always wanted you to be proud of me, Dad…and I'm sorry…"
"There's no need…" Hiccup grasped his father's hand and inclined his face to look towards the sound of his father's voice.
"I'm sorry I lost Berk's gold. I'm sorry I let our people suffer. I'm sorry I risked our people in my fight against the Hunters. I'm sorry I wasn't the son you wanted…" Huge arms wrapped around the young man, feeling his feverish shape snuggle against the Chief's powerful shape.
"Hiccup…son…I could not be more proud of the warrior, the man that you have become," Stoick said gently, stroking Hiccup's wild hair off his face. The young warrior's eyes closed and he snuggled into his father's chest, feeling like he had when he was a small child. "I should be apologising. I didn't support you, treat you as well as I should when you were younger. I imagined that I wanted a brawny, rock-headed Viking like my brother and nephew…when I should have realised that Val and I would produce a child who was a stubborn as us both and who would never give up, no matter what."
"Thanks…I think…" Hiccup murmured.
"We're family…peers…fellow Chiefs…" Stoick reminded him gently. "Astrid has gone, following a lead from Johann to try to get that antidote from Viggo. And the other Riders are in Frost Isle with Gothi, locating the recipe to make the antidote. No one has given up."
"I'm…scared, Dad," Hiccup mumbled slowly, his head burrowing against the Chief's chest. "I-I don't want to die. I don't want to let you and the Tribe down…" Stoick kissed his son's head.
"It won't come to that," he reassured his son. "Your friends are crazy but determined as well. They'll get that medicine. And your lass will move mountains to save you." Hiccup managed the faintest smile.
"Yeah…I have given up arguing with Astrid…" he admitted. "I really love her, Dad. And I so wanted to marry her, to spend the rest of my life with her…but I don't think I'll ever see her again…"
"I'm sure it won't come to that…" Stoick said reassuringly.
"Dad…I'm blind and even if they stop the poison, will I ever regain my sight?" the young man murmured slowly. "My limbs feel numb and I can't feel my legs at all. It's very difficult to stay awake. I-I don't know if any of this can be reversed. Even if I survive, what will I have left?" He swallowed. "Viggo will know we're going after the cure. He will lay an ambush at Frost Isle. he will send men to destroy or steal the components of the medicine. He won't hand over the antidote to Astrid."
"Your betrothed is very persuasive," Stoick reminded him as the leathery sound of Toothless came closer, a gentle warble sounding. Hiccup smiled, extending his hand and feeling the warm muzzle press into his palm.
"Tell her I love her-please?' he murmured.
"You tell her yourself-when you recover, son," the Chief assured him, feeling his son relax against him.
"Love you too," Hiccup breathed, his body relaxing. "And love you,bud…" Stoick felt his son's body go limp, the breathing shallow as he slept and he closed his eyes.
"We'll stay with him, Toothless," he vowed. "But if we lose him, we'll join Astrid in killing every last Hunter."
oOo
Stormfly was flying impossibly fast, as if sensing her Rider's urgency as they skimmed the surface of the sea. The Hunters had volunteered the information that Viggo may have a secret base in Midnight Straits and-after a little persuasion-agreed he was likely to be hiding there with Krogan, his new partner. They were also exceptionally eager to explain that they were looking for DragonEye lenses and promise they were all taking up new careers as fishermen.
Astrid was almost lying flat over Stormfly's neck, wearing a jacket and hood against the vicious wind, her eyes narrowed. The location was not that far off the familiar seaways but tucked amid a dangerous group of islands riven by treacherous currents and channels. Collectively known as Disappointing, they were individually known as Snivelling, Aching, Whinging, Whining, Muttering, Coughing and Too Too Small and astonishingly, Astrid realised that Hiccup had shown them to her on his map of the Archipelago. Sometime while she was practising and perfecting her aerial combat and axe skills, Hiccup had sneaked off and mapped everywhere that they knew and a load more places besides. And as she flew, she kicked herself, for she had wasted time when she could have been with him, savouring the banter with the amazing, kind and curious man he was rather than muttering because he didn't seem to have a plan like she did for her life. And now she realised: he was an explorer, a man whose incessant desire to know things he didn't, to visit news places and meet new people and new dragons.
And now all of that promise, that gentle curiosity was dying-because of the vicious spite and cruelty of Viggo and Krogan.
Astrid thought she had hated dragons when they had been the enemy, when they had ravaged the village, destroyed home and stole food and killed people…but they were just animals, attacking because they had to. Now she knew what hatred was, acid throbbing through her veins at the thought of Viggo torturing Hiccup, at the thought of her beloved screaming in pain or defying the man at such terrible personal cost. And of Viggo forcing Hiccup's mouth open and forcing the Wine of Hela down his throat. And knowing that even when his friends rescued him, they would still lose.
And then the shapes coalesced from the haze and Astrid felt her body tense, feeling Stormfly slow slightly.
"It's okay, girl-we're ready," she murmured as they arrowed between Whinging and Whining and zipped past Too Too Small and headed for the jagged shape of Coughing. She hugged the coastline-and as they rounded a small point, the shapes of Hunter ships appeared-along with a hail of arrows. The Nadder flipped and unleashed a blast of her Magnesium-bright fire that vaporised the arrows as they blasted down, taking out the sails and sinking the Hunter vessel at the mouth of the narrow harbour. Circling, she blasted the two ballistas covering the camp and then dived straight down at the tent and landed on two Hunters, Stormfly's claws digging deep into their bodies.
She was off the instant they landed, her axe swinging round to take out the next man. She knew there would be a small window to get Viggo so as she cut the man down and Stormfly hissed and spun, her tail spines raised. Astrid nudged the flap of the tent, ducked back as a couple of crossbow bolts waffled through where she would have entered and then dived in, rolling and swinging her axe to take out the two Hunters waiting
"I must congratulate you," said Viggo. "That was worthy of Hiccup himself." Growling in her throat, Astrid bounced to her feet, her axe raised. But Viggo raised a hand sharply, his horribly scarred face pulling as he frowned. "Stay back," he ordered her.
And then she froze-for under his foot was a small flask that she was certain contained the antidote. He smirked at her expression.
"One more step and your precious Hiccup will certainly die."