Windwalker did not like the turn of events. It wasn't just that the Outcast they had snagged in the air had lied to them- he had been expecting that- it was that the Outcast had refused to tell the truth. Stoick had taken the guard for a wild ride on Thornado, and still the Outcast stuck to his story that Hiccup was in the north. Not even a deep toss to the ocean changed things.
Stoick, despite knowing that the terrible island's north side probably held a trap and not a son, split up the group; he went to the north to draw Alvin's fire, and sent Astrid and Fishlegs with Windwalker south. The twins and Snotlout went with Stoick, ostensibly to cause a distraction and as much destruction as possible. Thornado and the twins' dragon promised to protect their humans as best as possible.
Alvin's men would be free to unleash their catapults and flaming arrows, to pick off the riders one by one; Windwalker had seen it happen before on other islands. They would be better off finding one of the mellower wild dragons and asking him if he had smelled strange.
The Night Fury had protested Stoick's command and Astrid had translated, but the chief's orders vetoed any reasonable concerns. Windwalker could only offer a human-like curse in Dragonese- Hiccup was a bad influence on him- as he went with the Gronckle and Nadder that Astrid and Fishlegs rode. Meatlug offered words of support, and Stormfly wished to discuss battle strategies.
"Why did he go off into the woods on his own?" Windwalker asked for the tenth time that morning. "If not for the helmet, we may have not noticed him missing for days. What could have made him ignore self-preservation and common sense?"
"Habit," Meatlug responded. "He always liked walking there, in the days before you knew him. The woods were his sanctuary."
"He is very much like a wild dragon; he needs freedom in which to wander," Stormfly said. "Others could not find him in the woods, until last night, and he obviously wanted time to think. Our riders and we were pondering ways to get rid of the smelly man, and he was attempting to mediate."
Astrid stiffened. Windwalker turned to her as he increased his flapping. The rocks and trees below them looked dead, as if they had all been struck with lightning.
"Did you all make him angry, or question his judgment?" he asked bluntly.
Astrid nodded. She looked guilty as she scanned the ground.
"We were just talking about Mildew," Fishlegs said. "We weren't insulting Hiccup. He was just . . . trying to be reasonable."
"I should have guessed." Windwalker had learned that Hiccup was a clever, small human, but like all humans he was prone to irrational behavior when facing sheer stupid conversation, or people questioning his judgment. The Night Fury knew that the other riders had been similarly angry about the poisonous flowers, and that must have been why they hadn't thought to see if Hiccup were missing from the large dinner in the banquet hall.
An awkward silence followed; Windwalker had nothing to say to the humans. He was berating himself, also, for not being there in the morning. Yes, he had been scouring the skies for his enemy, but what did it matter if his nemesis were out there when terrible humans had stolen his Hiccup? At least if Windwalker had given up the search for the day, Hiccup wouldn't have been alone with the green pest in that burnt cove.
It was almost a relief when the enemy attacked; battle necessitated minimal communication. They had passed over the village that occupied the rocky Island, and the men there got on the defensive. The Outcasts were ready with flaming catapult, and arrows. Several even started a bonfire.
Stormfly and Meatlug were blinded, but Windwalker merely screeched. The echoes bounced off the men and village below, so that he got a visual cue of who and were standing, sitting, or rolling along. Quite a few dodged by locking themselves in the wooden buildings, or diving under nooks and crannies in the rocks.
The next part was fledgling's play: Windwalker was made to destroy human weapons under the cover of darkness. He unleashed his fury on the catapults, firing blast after blast and darting through the sky.
"Take to the air!" he roared at the other dragons. "I will destroy them personally! When I give the signal, clear the smoke!"
They obeyed, against Fishlegs and Astrid's protests, soaring higher. Windwalker kept firing, soon not distinguishing the targets as human or weapon. He rolled out of the way of flaming rocks and arrows, almost swimming in the air to get good aim. He had forgotten how to do this without a rider, without worrying about dropping Hiccup . . .
Hiccup. They had to find his boy.
It was a pleasure to see that the Outcast's smoke, meant to confuse him, had ended up confusing its creators and aiding him; Windwalker used it as he would have once used natural darkness. The archers he hit with precise fireballs, in return for their piercing arrows. There were about twenty of them, and he took them all down. The rest were the guards at the flaming catapults. He had used up most of his fire.
Windwalker's eyes grew large with concern, as a strange scent hit his nostrils. Something told him that Hiccup had recently been nearby, but it didn't smell like his boy, not exactly. He then caught a different scent, one that made his ears prickle and his eyes go wild. His enemy was on this island!
He became more ruthless with the guards, taking out their catapults. He ran them down, burning them.
"Windwalker!" Astrid called. "Stop!"
He couldn't stop, not with the reek betrayed his worst fears. His jaws opened to snarl and fire. More Outcasts kept coming, but they seemed to realize that nothing would stop the wild dragon. They sounded a horn for the retreat, leaving their wounded behind.
Astrid and Fishlegs hovered down on their dragons, Fishlegs whimpering on top of Meatlug as they noted the charred bone and blood that Windwalker had spread.
"What in Thor's name got into you?" Astrid hissed as she went to finish off the few bodies that were breathing.
Windwalker sniffed the air desperately. Then he soared away, leaving the dragons with riders behind.
Hiccup turned his head, though it was hard to move. He was back in his previous underground cell, forced to stand on both feet. Sweat clung to his flushed, burned face, and caught the grime from the wall. The collar around his neck, another new bracelet, connected with the shackles around his small wrists. The Outcasts had then raised the shackles above Hiccup's head and chained them to the ring in the cell wall; he could bend his knees but barely breathe. Alvin had told Hiccup that they'd release him when every dragon rider from Berk had fallen. Hiccup, still in shock and gagged, had not responded.
That in itself he could have borne, given time to spit out the cloth and to think of how to escape chains, if he had not heard Alvin hiss to a large, rattling figure. It was the Whispering Death, twisting in on itself, coiling around effortlessly like a sea serpent. Alvin's Dragonese was slow and forced, but he got the point across: guard the boy, and you will have vengeance on the Night Fury.
The Outcast chief could only have learned Dragonese from one of Hiccup's books, the easy manuals that his dad had made him stash in the Academy, or from a fluent Berkian.
Dad made me promise to note trade the books to a random traveler, in a case that a less scrupulous Viking would use Dragonese for war, but only Berkians know about the manuals-
Mildew's appearance confirmed the worst of Hiccup's suspicions. The old man leaned on his cane, gesticulating wildly to the dragon, and to Alvin. A sheep twined around the old man's legs, bleating occasionally. The rattles drowned out their conversation, but it was clear that Mildew had not been expecting the Slavemark.
Well, what were you expecting; that he'd give me a clean beheading? Hiccup thought, with sudden anger. Or a neat stab to the stomach?
Hiccup sucked in his breath and spat the cloth out. It fluttered to the ground. His mouth was dry, so he couldn't say much. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to think.
Alvin punched Mildew; there was a thunking sound as a fist connected with the elder Viking's helmet. The old man reeled, his sheep bleating in alarm, and Alvin left him prone on the ground; the Whispering Death remained. Mildew turned, and met Hiccup's eyes; he had a frightened look on seeing the betrayed, blazing hatred on the boy's face.
You sold me out to the Outcasts, Berk's worst enemies! I trusted you! I tried to accommodate your needs, to make life easier, and you betrayed me! Son of a half-troll!
Hiccup could say none of these things, however, because of his stammering and dry throat. Instead, taking a deep breath and locking eyes with the old man, he only said two words.
"Get out." His voice was raspy.
Mildew opened his mouth to say something, perhaps an apology or an explanation. Or, with the way his eyes started to narrow, he was going to accuse Hiccup of bringing this fate on himself for loving dragons-
"Get out, traitor!" Hiccup shouted; with a voice like sandpaper. He was shaking with pure anger, straining against the shackles.
The old man straightened, using his cane, when the Whispering Death approached. It brought its jaws close to his face, wrapping its tail around the sheep. Its eyes widened.
"The weak hatchling made his wishes very clear," it hissed at him. "I will make sure he has good company."
Mildew didn't speak Dragonese, but he backed away. When the dragon released the sheep, Fungus followed at a clipping trot. Hiccup glared at Mildew until the old man's figure receded. The Whispering Death coiled around the outside of Hiccup's cell.
"How strange and fickle time is," it purred. "Only a few hours ago our positions were quite reversed. I have to thank you for this turn of events."
"A few hours later and we're still prisoners," Hiccup coughed in Dragonese. "Leave the island while you can, and warn all the wild dragons nearby so you don't get recruited."
"And what about you? You're not going to ask me to assist you?"
"If you wanted to bite off these chains you would have done so already." Hiccup tried to shake the neck collar's weight off him. "You enjoy seeing me here. That doesn't matter; whatever Alvin has promised so that you stay, he will renege on it."
"Ah, but I have a good reason to stay, small human." The Whispering Death burrowed into the ground outside the cell, before popping up several feet from Hiccup's standing figure. Hiccup turned his head to avoid the blast of dirt that followed.
"You hate Night Furies. I got that much from your ranting and raving," he said with closed eyes.
"There is only one 'Night Fury'. The one who speaks arrogantly and considers me his 'enemy,' who killed my cousin the queen of the dragons," The Whispering Death made as if to wrap his spiny tail around Hiccup. "The one who has adopted you as his pet."
The boy winced and dangled as he tried to move his feet out of the way. Several spines shot out, pinning his trousers to the wall and immobilizing him.
"I'm not his pet," Hiccup protested. "I'm his human."
"Don't be a fool." The Whispering Death's tail brushed his legs. "I merely had to mention that I smelled human for him to attack me. He would've killed me, except I got away each time, hoping to find what drove him berserk."
Hiccup swallowed; the spines grazing his legs were sharp. The Whispering Death seemed to enjoy how he twitched involuntarily.
Gods. I'm dealing with an insane, monstrous dragon that has a grudge against Windwalker. Is this why Windwalker didn't want me wandering in the woods on my own, with just Toothless?
He heard the skirmishes from above, the sound of men yelling as flames incinerated their armor and flesh. Gushing water, also, and someone using faint Dragonese to call for Hiccup. A familiar screech cut through the human screams; it was an inarticulate Night Fury. Windwalker sounded like he was eating up the whole army while ramming through them.
"Windwalker, don't!" Hiccup called. "It's a trap-"
"Don't bother," The Whispering Death said with glee. "He can't hear you from here, and by the time he does-"
The Whispering Death withdrew its tail and prepared a dozen spikes. Windwalker screeched from above but said nothing that Hiccup could understand.
"I told the bearded man I would guard you, but he didn't ask me to keep you alive. Which limbs will hurt the most when impaled?"
"Go ahead and experiment," Hiccup said.
The Whispering Death paused. Those few seconds of hesitation bought enough time for a small dragon to tackle it. A dragon with a sharp beak and excellent aim for an enemy's rear end, small enough to bite between the spines.
"Toothless?!" Hiccup asked, in confusion as the Whispering Death roared in pain. "How did you-?"
A stream of water hit the Whispering Death in the back, just as it had managed to shake Toothless off. The Scauldron from the other cell bore down on the spiny dragon; the two opponents curled around each other. The Changewing also joined in, turning invisible and spitting acid.
Toothless crashed to the ground, shook the dirt off, and made a beeline for Hiccup.
"P-poor H-h-hiccup!" He said, scrambling onto the boy's shoulder. "G-got a b-b-b-ad b-burn and ch-chained up-"
"Yes, I got a bad burn," Hiccup said hastily, "but I need to get these heavy shackles off. Did you see any keys anywhere?"
Toothless pointed with his tail. There were a set of keys lying on the ground, just outside the cell; Toothless babbled that he had been trying to carry them. They must have fallen when the Terror had attacked the Whispering Death.
Hiccup took a deep breath. He wasn't going to risk Toothless's life to get past three violent dragons, fetch the keys, and fly back. Nor would he order the Terror to leave; Toothless wouldn't abandon his human.
"Toothless, this is really important, so you must do exactly what I say. You need to set fire to the shackles." He indicated by rattling his wrists. "Aim for the center, where the chains connect, and don't stop burning it until they snap."
"B-but H-hiccup will b-b-burn!" Toothless squeaked. "T-Toothless c-c-an't hurt-"
"Just do it," Hiccup whispered. "For the first time in your life, do as you're told."
Perhaps it was because Hiccup hadn't begged since the day he had failed to keep Astrid from taking his mother's notebook, but Toothless paused, and listened. Then the Terror positioned himself on Hiccup's head and fired a steady flame on the chains.
It was not a painless procedure; his skin burned, and sparks from the metal showered down Hiccup's hair and neck. No matter how he tried to turn his head or shake off the sparks, they would land, singe and smolder. Hiccup bit his lips as he saw white-hot metal, praying, praying-
SNAP.
Hiccup's arms were free; Toothless's fire had managed to weaken the chain in the middle, so that he was able to bring his wrists down. He tumbled forward, and would have flopped over if not for the Whispering Death spines pinning his trouser legs to the wall; Hiccup moved to steady his feet and pull the spines off his trousers. The manacles were still around his wrists, heated to an angry red and leaving welts on his skin, but they no longer bound him.
Meanwhile, the Whispering Death had thrown off the Scauldron and sent the Changewing scurrying, when a large black blur tackled the spiny dragon. They broke from each other and circled. The Scauldron, slashed in the side with a spine, had trouble moving out of the way.
"Should I give you a chance to leave, or should I simply finish you off?" Windwalker snarled.
"So you do care about the hatchling," the Whispering Death retorted. "I was hoping to skewer him before you arrived, Night Fury."
"Hiccup, get to the floor!" Windwalker shouted, but the boy had already thrown himself flat to avoid the new wave of spines, nearly squishing Toothless.
The Night Fury released plasma blasts on the Whispering Death. Hiccup, rolling out of the way, pocketing some of the smaller spines, watched in horror as the other dragon buried itself into the ground. The Night Fury whirled around with mild confusion. The Whispering Death emerged behind him. When he fired, the black dragon had to twist in the air to dodge more spines. That lapse gave the Whispering Death time to burrow again and pop out of the ground right under the Night Fury. There was a heavy thud as the Whispering Death head-butted Windwalker into the ceiling. Dust spilled from the cracked rock, covering the ground.
"He needs help," Hiccup said, making an effort to stand. The problem was that he had no support for his wobbly legs except Toothless, for the injured Scauldron and the wall seemed miles away. His limbs seemed to have turned into fish jelly.
"Stay out of this!" Windwalker roared. Blood dripped onto the ground from his pointed snout.
The Whispering Death then made a mistake. After lashing its tail so that spines hit a dazed Windwalker and pinned him to the crumbling ceiling, it turned to face the boy on the ground. Toothless flew in front of Hiccup.
"This will be easier than I thought," it said with amusement. Its tail whipped back slowly.
Hiccup's hand moved faster than his thoughts; the stray spine in his left hand sailed over Toothless and through the air. It hit the Whispering Death in the right eye, causing it to reel back and shoot spines spasmodically. Before it could recover, Windwalker had torn himself from the ceiling and leaped on the spiny dragon, biting it in the neck. Blood gushed onto the floor.
"I told you not to get involved," Windwalker snarled in pain. His long tongue snaked around the cut on his snout, licking it. Night Fury saliva had extremely high healing properties, so the blood stopped flowing.
"Oh, so I should've let him skewer me," Hiccup retorted. "Let's go, Windwalker; the tunnel's not stable."
"Y-Yes!" Toothless squeaked. "B-bad place! But h-help the S-Scauldron!"
The water dragon was still lying on its side. Windwalker saw, and his eyes melted into compassion. He bit the Whispering Death one last time before going to the Scauldron and licking its wound. The slash started to knit itself together.
"Follow me slowly, till we get to the open sea. I can imagine that we're going to have a welcoming party when escaping," Windwalker said. "Hiccup, can you climb onto my back?"
Seeing how weak his boy was, he flew to the boy on the floor, lifted him with his claws and tossed him in the air. Hiccup found himself on the Night Fury's warm back, and he clung to the dragon.
Another fire blast came from the end of the tunnel. Two dragons and their riders, soaring in a hurry and looking scorched, bewildered and bothered.
"Hiccup!" Astrid called, and paused, eyes wide with horror. Fishlegs gasped on seeing how bedraggled and burnt the smaller boy looked. Hiccup knew the Slavemark had caught their attention, as well as the neck collar and broken chains. The black ice from the truth serum resurged inside him.
"I'm okay," Hiccup said, switching from Dragonese to converse with them. His voice was still raspy. "We need to find my dad and get out of here. We're outnumbered at the moment, and on unfamiliar territory."
That nonplussed them more.
"Hiccup, you just spoke a complete sentence," Fishlegs said. "Several sentences, actually. Without stammering."
He didn't want to focus on that, or on their pained expressions. Worry shouldn't keep them tethered to Outcast Island. It wasn't the riders' destiny to die in enemy territory.
"Escape first, talk later," he said, and coughed. "Do you have water?"
Fishlegs had a canteen, and he landed so that Hiccup could gulp the cool, refreshing liquid. Astrid's shocked face twisted with pity as she saw the marks that had congealed into purple bruises, and the large brand. Hiccup wanted to snap at her not to pity him, it was own fault for going off in the woods alone, but when he tried his vision had started to blur at the edges.
The Scauldron had recovered enough to slide behind them, though Toothless took up the rear to make sure that the water dragon didn't lag behind. The Changewing crawled along the walls parallel to them.
From what the Terrible Terror and panting Scauldron screeched at him through the tunnel, Hiccup learned how Toothless had played dead after seeing Alvin bargain with the Whispering Death, so that the Outcast guards had taken the Terror out of his cage and removed the leather muzzle, planning to force-feed him fish. Toothless had proceeded to fly in one's face, and into the Scauldron's jail cell, slipping between the bars. The Outcasts had been stupid enough to unlock the cell door; the Scauldron had only needed a few minutes to knock out the guards, grab the keys, and free the Changewing. After freeing the other locked dragons, who had taken to the skies, they had all followed Hiccup's scent.
"Good Toothless," Hiccup said, leaning against Windwalker's neck and closing his eyes. "That was clever."
"T-toothless is c-c-clever!" The Terror crowed. The other dragons rolled their eyes.
"Someone's experience has not improved his ego," Stormfly commented.
"Go easy on him," Meatlug said. "It's never fun to have smelly men capture you."
The dragons fell silent at the thought of their days in captivity, though their jailer had been kinder than the men that they had faced on this island.
"Hiccup," Astrid said suddenly. "Are you all right?"
Hiccup heard her, but he felt himself fading. His eyes refused to open, and his grip began to loosen. Of all the times to be riding bareback; if he got out of this alive and received access to the smithy, he would make a proper saddle with safety straps.
"Keep talking," he told her, an odd note in his voice. "All of you. Please. Keep me awake."
Fishlegs tended to ramble when he was nervous, and he listed off all that had happened the morning before, as well as the fascination that Windwalker had managed to wipe out entire platoons of Outcasts. Astrid's voice grew quieter when she talked, but she kept her words neutral. She described how Windwalker had found the helmet, what they had discovered in the cove. The dragons also provided their accounts of what had happened.
Even with these words, Hiccup felt himself slipping. If he fainted, he'd fall off Windwalker, and at the speed that the Night Fury was undertaking, the crash to the ground would crack his bones.
And why shouldn't I let myself slip away? He thought. Toothless is safe. The other dragons are safe. Even if I get off, I'm no longer an Heir. I count as a mere slave, and my future lies in exile. Maybe it's better for them to let me drift off, so that I don't wake up, so that my father can grieve for my death rather than for wasted life.
'Don't you dare talk like that,' a deeper voice said from within Hiccup's thoughts. 'You are not permitted to think of giving up.'
'You are not a mere slave because of a silly burn,' the deeper voice went on. 'You are still the resourceful boy who ended a three hundred-year war. Even when captive, you managed to find a way to save your dragon. If you had wanted to save yourself, you could have. It's selfish to think that death would be the best option, for your wits can keep so many others alive. Not that I'm against selfishness, since I have done many selfish things, but you clearly are a selfless, clever boy.'
"Who are you?" Hiccup murmured, his words a mere buzz. Astrid looked at him in alarm. Perhaps she thought he was feverish, and he felt himself burning up.
'I may be someone special, or I may be the enemy of the Gods. You drank the essence of my tree, the Loki tree. It freed your tongue for good and bad purposes. My tree also poisoned you, so that you could not think, but I admire cleverness in the little ones, for I was once small and clever.'
"I'm hallucinating," Hiccup moaned.
'You're hallucinating, yes, but even the greatest fantasies have large grains of truth. Lifelong stammering does not go away in one night.' The deep voice had a dry edge to it. 'That's my gift to you, as payback for the chief that misused my tree so. You will not have trouble speaking in the future, so you better not let yourself die on me. By gods' blood, stay awake.'
"Thank you, Loki." This was a whisper, but Astrid heard it.
"We need to get you to Gobber," she said. "You're worse than we thought. Windwalker, bring him here."
Hiccup tried to protest, but the Night Fury flew alongside Stormfly, and Astrid dragged him onto her saddle. He struggled, remembering the last time Astrid had manhandled him. She ignored his panic and sat him down in front of her.
'Good. Keep fighting,' Loki said from inside Hiccup. 'It's keeping you alert.'
"Hiccup, I'm not going to hurt you," she said with impatience, tightening her grip on his wrists. Her fingers pressed against the thick manacles with their dangling chains.
"Well, you are!" he snapped at her. "I've already been tied up for most of the morning-"
"I'm not tying you up! This rope is just to keep you from falling."
"But I'm not an invalid-" he told her.
"You are for the moment; I thought you'd be used to this kind treatment after getting that broken ankle."
Raw, surprised hurt passed over his face. Astrid, who was tightening the knots on his tether, saw the expression. He explored the neck collar and its mass, while the manacles weighed down every gesture, trying not to remember that Astrid had given him the sprain that had led to the broken ankle.
"Hiccup." Her free hand went to his, gently tugging them off his neck. "I didn't mean that-"
"Just secure the rope and fly." He pulled away from her. "We need to find my dad, and make sure the caged dragons are free."
"Guys? We're approaching daylight," Fishlegs called.
Astrid, distracted from the broken face in front of her, focused her attention on the blinding glare that approached; Hiccup shielded his eyes and savored the fresh air. Despite having mere inches of space between them, a wall of anger sprung up between him and Astrid. It was uncomfortable, but Hiccup found himself preferring that wall to her words.
The sunlight helped keep him awake, as did the old anger and frustration about his helplessness. The Scauldron, as soon as it saw the open water, asked permission to leave; so did the Changewing. Hiccup allowed them and held onto his anger, hoping that Astrid would fly north. He watched the two dragons splash into the midday, the Scauldron's gash holding against the saltwater. They had volunteered for violent battle, all because a Terrible Terror had thought to free them.
Stoick the Vast never wore his heart on his armor; losing control often meant losing a battle. While he would have liked to surrender his wits to the anger and fear that coursed around his thoughts, Alvin would likely use that mind frame to goad him. The Outcast was on the ground, having formed a defensive battalion of catapults and archers.
"What a sight for the gods!" Alvin called, cupping his fists. "The great chief of Berk, entering battle alone!"
"The chief's not alone!" Snotlout leaned off his dragon. "We're here to fight!"
This would have been more heroic had not the twins started giggling madly, hanging upside down from their Zippleback. Snotlout shot them an annoyed look.
"Where is Hiccup?" Stoick shouted at his enemy, sounding angrier than he felt.
"What, that little speck of a Haddock?" Alvin spread his hands to indicate their emptiness. "The little embarrassment who somehow survived past his first winter? Why should I care where he is?"
Thornado hissed a Dragonese phrase that Stoick had heard too often that morning: "Liar".
"I made a mistake by exiling you," Stoick growled. "I should've run my sword through you when I had the chance."
"Oh don't feel bad, Stoick," Alvin replied. "All chiefs make mistakes. Especially those who believe in second chances."
The mocking grin never left his face. Stoick hovered, eyes darting at the opening in the rock. Still no sign of Hiccup. He sensed why Alvin was goading him, urging him to fly lower and let Thornado's shockwaves loose.
"Fly higher!" he ordered the riders next to him. "Get out of range! He wants us to lose the high ground!"
"Not man enough to fight me on equal terms, eh?" Alvin laughed. "And here I was thinking that I was the treacherous one!"
Stoick didn't respond. Loud clatters had entered his ears. As he had expected, Outcasts swarmed out from every cave and tunnel on the ground, firing nets and catapults. The twins had flown their Zippleback out of the way, but a net trapped Snotlout and Hookfang, bringing them to the ground. Fortunately, Monstrous Nightmares had a reputation for setting themselves on fire, and Snotlout was trying out Gobber's fireproof iron underwear.
Stoick the Vast would not be easily toppled, however, and neither would Thornado. When the Outcasts shot Viking-sized boulders, he caught them and returned them to the owners. Thornado sent ground-shaking vibrations in return. Wooden catapults splintered; bones shattered below. The twins cheered from above. They couldn't use their cover fire with Snotlout on the ground, but they were ready when the coast was clear.
Alvin had not been expecting this, and he didn't expect the boulders' increased impact when Thornado's shockwaves bolstered their flight to the ground. Snotlout increased the surprise by jumping off Hookfang with a sword, so that he defended his dragon from the approaching archers. His sword shone like a beam of sunlight, and he danced from man to man, ending their waltzes with swift, bloody strokes.
Stoick shook his head in admiration, but he had to keep his head in the battle. The twins had already launched an explosive offensive, diving in to blast gas at the cave and tunnel openings; must have been a tactic from the Dragon Academy. Alvin looked worried now, as Snotlout knocked out a third of the Outcasts while Hookfang set fire to the remaining two-thirds. The archers' arrows didn't penetrate Thornado's hide, and the Thunderdrum craved blood. Slowly, but surely, they reduced the amount of Outcast firepower, but they were still outnumbered. And there was still the bigger question.
"Where is Hiccup?" Stoick repeated. "What have you done with my boy?"
Alvin scratched his beard.
"That is a good question," he said. "I could have done a lot of things with him. But I haven't had much time, since you found his helmet and cut into our head start. Would you prefer it if I lied and made your dragons angry, since apparently dragons hate liars, or if I told the truth?"
Stoick leaned back. It was worse than he thought, because not many outsiders to Berk knew that dragons could detect lies. Hiccup wouldn't have betrayed Berk, which meant-
"Oh, it was easy to get him to talk. The boy does like sharing his knowledge," Alvin went on, seeing how Stoick's beard twitched with anger. "You know he makes almost no sound when he's hit? It's like punching a ghost, or a draugr-"
"Dad! DAD!"
It was like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on Alvin. He stopped, and Stoick turned. Hope made his heart pound. Hiccup had never screamed at him, especially not in the middle of battle.
"Dad, get out of there! I'm fine!"
Hiccup was lashed to Astrid's dragon Stormfly, breathing hard and looking worse for wear. Windwalker circled around boy, girl and Nadder, as did Toothless. The dragons looked unharmed, Hiccup had bruises, chains on his small body, and a large burn on his left cheek. No, Alvin wouldn't have-
Stoick regained his senses. He urged Thornado to hover away and whistled the "retreat" signal to Snotlout. Hookfang immediately scooped up the boy as the twins dove in.
"Cover fire!" Astrid ordered. Belch immediately covered the entire battle field with green gas.
"Wait for it . . ." Tuffnut said, before his sister encouraged Barf to spark the gas. There had never been such a large explosion that rattled the ground and Loki trees so. Stoick felt the vibrations, as did the dragons.
"You're too late, Stoick!" Alvin shouted after the retreating dragons. "Your boy won't be safe. Every tribe on the Archipelago will have rights to him, and Berk no longer has an heir!"
Stoick showed no reaction to the fact until the dragon riders had left Outcast Island far behind, and they were over the open sea. Only then did he let fear cloud the fierceness showing on his face, and he urged Astrid to fly alongside him.
"Dad, I said I'm fine," Hiccup said in an oddly strained voice. "Stop it."
His father ignored him, and brought him close to examine the injuries. Gobber would have to tend to the lump on Hiccup's head, and Night Fury saliva had an interesting way of combatting burns. But the mark that had been burned onto Hiccup's cheek . . .
Stoick's breath rattled. No. Alvin had broken the Barbaric Code. Even the most insane Vikings adhered to the Code: don't make your Viking enemies your slaves. Alvin had even lacked the compassion to place the Slavemark on Hiccup's forehead or arm, where a helmet or long sleeve could have hidden it. No, he had branded Berk's heir on the cheek, an obvious place, so that Hiccup could never cover the Slavemark.
Hiccup held himself in a stiff, rigid posture, refusing to lean against Astrid or Stoick. The chief could see his son's eyes go bleary.
"Dad-"
"Don't say it," Stoick said.
"But Dad, you can't ignore-"
"You need to see Gobber. You're not well. You shouldn't even be talking." Stoick's voice turned stern. "No conversation, until you get Gobber medicine. That's an order."
The riders fortunately didn't visit much in the two days that Gobber treated Hiccup, though Fishlegs and Astrid looked guiltier than usual every time they looked at the smaller boy's face. Gobber tried to make light of Hiccup's injuries, however extensive they were; he made a tally on a sheet of paper after Stoick deposited his son at the smithy. Even so, Hiccup could see the shock hidden in the hook-handed smith's gleeful tones, and the dangerous hope that the Slavemark could be removed with Gobber medicine.
"Let's see . . . one terrible lump to the head, three large bruises and one burn, along with multiple little ones, and red marks all over from the shackles and neck collar. You're a hardy lad, aren't you?"
Hiccup hadn't responded. Once Stoick had explained what had happened and ordered his son to the smithy to receive treatment, Gobber had removed the shackles and neck collar by forging skeleton keys, a trick that he had claimed to learn from the Bog Burglars. Toothless and Windwalker licked the red marks that remained, till Hiccup's skin was pale again. They weren't able to lick away the Slavemark, however, just reduce it to a small snake on the boy's cheek. Gobber continued to call the black mark a burn, ignoring its significance. The other dragon riders did the same, though Astrid had trouble keeping Snotlout and the twins in line about not blurting out "Slavemark."
There's a hairy troll sitting in the middle of the room, Hiccup thought. No one wants to mention it, because the minute they do, I have to leave. Berk doesn't keep slaves.
When he thought this, his head would droop, and quiet resignation would hang over him. Toothless would attempt to cheer him up by telling terrible jokes. Windwalker had taken to guarding the smithy entrance, and then the front door to the chief's hut when Gobber deemed Hiccup healthy enough to return to his house. Stoick the Vast still had to spend day and night being chief, leaving before Hiccup woke and arriving to collapse in bed.
By the third day, Hiccup had enough of this commiseration. He went to his father's bedside and waited until Stoick woke.
"Why are you risking Berk's safety for me?"
Stoick the Vast saw the small satchel that Hiccup cradled in his lap, and a new vest buttoned around his son's clean tunic. That made him shoot out of bed and grab for his Hiccup's right arm.
"Hiccup, what-"
"Dad, I know you mean well, but I can't let you do this." Hiccup heard the self-loathing and anger in his weary voice. "You know what the other chiefs are like; they'll accuse Berk of not housing proper Vikings and declare war. Even with the Berserkers on our side because of the treaty, we'd be outnumbered. They'd call you a traitor to the Barbaric code, and cast you out."
He barely felt the heavy grip on his arm, as Stoick lowered him. The satchel slipped to the floor. His father rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as best as he could, before sitting up on his bed.
"For Thor's sake, you've been injured and needed time to heal." Stoick sounded frustrated. "You could barely stay conscious, and Gobber had a hard time healing you."
"Windwalker and Toothless would be with me; they haven't let me out of their sight since what happened. We could go to Frigga's Promise first, the island of treaties. They don't take slaves off the island if the slaves are unwilling." Hiccup kept his voice level. The red marks and rope burns hadn't faded from his arms and neck, and he could feel the bags under his eyes. He looked like a war prisoner, not at all like a glorious Viking.
But then, I've never looked glorious. I'm just a stupid, scared boy.
"You're not going anywhere, son." Stoick drew him closer. It was as if Hiccup were a small child again, from the days when Old Wrinkly had cared for him.
"Alvin has dragons now, cruel ones that will obey his orders," Hiccup whispered. "Because I told him what he needed to know. I betrayed Berk and the dragons, Dad."
"You were drugged with Loki tree essence and betrayed by a Berkian who had no business doing so." Stoick sounded as if he had pondered the same dilemma. "Mildew committed felonious treason, but you're the only eyewitness and evidence. If he ever returns to Berk, he can't be trusted again, and he must be tried."
"Mildew knows that," Hiccup protested. "That's why he vacated to Outcast Island. What are the odds he-"
"Regardless. Even if you were a stranger, the treason happened on Berk, and by the law of hospitality, which extends to residents and guests, I cannot let you leave."
Hiccup could accept that; he relaxed a bit. Then he indicated the burn on his cheek. His resigned look returned.
"Then what about this?" he asked. "What tribe in the Archipelago would treat a chief with this mark as an equal? Who on Berk would accept me as a leader now, if they wouldn't accept me before?"
Stoick turned from Hiccup, his brow knitted in thought.
"They don't listen to me, the other riders, because they're older," Hiccup went on. "Despite all I've done, I'm still the village runt. That's why I went into the woods that day, at night, because otherwise I would have lost my temper with them. It's my fault the Outcasts were able to . . ."
Stoick swiveled back and knelt so that they were at eye level. His large hands grasped Hiccup's tiny, shaking shoulders.
"Hiccup, regardless of what happened, you shouldn't have gotten this," he said, stroking Hiccup's marked cheek. It didn't burn anymore, in part thanks to the Night Fury saliva.
"But I have it, and it can't be removed. We tried everything." Hiccup said this in a whisper.
"Not everything," Stoick said grimly. "Can you promise me that you will stay until the evening, to try our last solution?"
"Dad, what-"
"Can you trust me, son?"
Hiccup nodded, slowly. Of course he would, because Hiccup always kept his promises, and his dad seemed so sure of having an answer.
All day, Hiccup waited. He paced back and forth in the house, not daring to leave and face the temptation of flying away on Windwalker. Windwalker would do it, because he had less attachment to Berk than Toothless did, and he knew the cruelties that other humans would inflict on his boy. Toothless and Windwalker started arguing about whether or not to stay or go despite the chief's orders, since Toothless liked Berk's cod and the dragons there. Hiccup didn't intervene because the dragons didn't come to blows.
Towards evening, Astrid strode in without knocking. She had been looking tired for the past few days, and uncomfortable every time she had to talk to Hiccup. The fact that she came without Fishlegs spoke volumes to Hiccup, who was tending the fire. He straightened up and tried to hide his emotions.
"Hiccup," she started, and then stopped. She was biting her lip in a nervous way, as if about to deliver bad news.
"Is it my dad?" He asked. Without waiting for an answer, he strode past her. It felt good to have recovered legs, after being immobile for several hours on Outcast Island, but worry rather than relief occupied his mind. Astrid followed. So did Windwalker and Toothless.
Outside, the setting sun cast long shadows on Berk. Sheep farmers rounded up their flocks for the evening, and Gobber closed up his shop for an evening round of mead. Today, however, activity had halted. The sheep huddled in their pastures, as did the yaks.
Hiccup saw the boats leaving Berk in the distance. He counted four of them. His pace quickened. The village came closer, because his house was on a hill and he only had to walk downhill. Smoke blazed from the smithy and the mead hall; Hiccup went to the smithy first.
Inside, Hiccup coughed. Gobber hadn't let the coals die down; they glowed red. Next to the coals, a long rod stood up in a bucket of water. Steam came from the bucket, signifying that someone had recently hammered the rod into shape.
Dad must have asked Gobber to do a rush job. But it had to be related to him not wanting me to leave-
Hiccup's fingers grabbed one end of the rod. He pulled it out, shaking. The other end held a curved S, a refined Slavemark with smooth edges.
"No," he said. He heard Astrid's boots stop behind him.
"Hiccup, I just saw-"
"No," he repeated. "Dad, NO!"
Before Astrid could speak again, both feet spurred him to the Great Hall. Berkians were leaving, staring at him as he shoved between them, calling for his father. He took in the fact that many of them had S-shaped burns on their hands and faces, or wet cloths pressed to their faces and his panic increased. Windwalker's attempts at comfort did not soothe him.
"Hiccup, I'm over here," Stoick replied. "With Gobber."
"And all thanks to Gobber," The smith added.
Too late, Hiccup thought. Of course Dad would try something like this. Why did I listen to him?
After that brief panic sprint, the walk through the mead hall stripped Hiccup of feeling. He saw a Slavemark adorn his father's cheek, just above the beard and braids. Its twin occupied Gobber's face, and the smith was smiling. Then they winced and slapped blocks of ice to each brand.
Lead seemed to fill both Hiccup's feet. He only moved forward when Windwalker nudged him.
"Hiccup," Stoick was still smiling even as he took in his son's shock. "It's going to be all right. Trust me."
"No," he shook his head, "no, I didn't want this. Not this, Dad!"
"I know what I'm doing. You taught me that with dragons it didn't have to be 'fight or die'. How could I be a father if I thought that a Slavemark meant 'leave or be enslaved'? How could I do that to you"
"Your father held a great meeting here," Gobber said. "Roused the village, and reminded them how you saved us from the dragon queen, and from the scum Outcasts that would've murdered us in our beds. He asked me to make the brand this morning, and marked himself. You should've seen it. Of course, people paid more attention when I placed the brand to my handsome face, and they started to get in line."
Stoick punched Gobber on the shoulder. There was affection in his eyes, however, and apprehension.
"Then, those boats," Hiccup whispered. "Those were Berkians-"
"Who refused to take the Mark, and who refused to stand by my decision." Stoick looked stern. "Of course, not everyone is wearing a Slavemark. Not the children and elderly, since . . ."
He looked awkward as he remembered that Hiccup was technically a child and wore the Mark. Gobber handed him more ice.
"It hurts. A lot," Hiccup provided. "And it marks you for life, for the worse."
"Precisely." Stoick looked relieved. "Only it's not going to be for the worse this time. Not as long as I'm chief."
"But the Mark-"
"Is only a symbol. But it doesn't have to define you for the rest of your life. By the gods, Hiccup, you're saved this village several times over! You think everyone forgot that?"
"A few did," Hiccup pointed out.
"Not even a quarter of the village. People remember, Hiccup, and they're ready to return the favor. They're willing to fight for you, the Heir and Last Hope to the tribe."
Hiccup heard murmurs of agreement. He turned and saw many Berkians with the Mark, with nods and fierce looks. They seemed determined to fight if enemies landed on their shores. He had never remembered having this much support when proposing a plan to fight the dragon queen on her home turf, or when he had tried to prove that wild dragons and Vikings could live together.
"I know what the consequences are," Stoick said. "I've seen the chiefs cast out their fellow leaders at Things. I've seen slavers tear families apart at Murderous tribe auctions. But even if that happens, it's not going to happen without a fight. You're worth that fight, son. Always."
"You're forgetting one thing, Chief," Astrid said. "We have dragons."
This last phrase was directed at Hiccup. He turned his gaze to her unmarked face.
"We're not afraid, but the chief won't let us get marked, just in case" Astrid said, though she did look shaken. "We can handle the Mark, all the dragon riders. And we're just as responsible for what happened, because we didn't protect you, and you're the one who got us all riding."
"You can get marked when you're old enough for warpaint," Stoick said irritably. "But you're right; we have dragons. Even if Alvin is building an army, we know how to bond with dragons. We know how to ally with them without threats or violence. More importantly, we can fight off any geniuses who think an entire tribe will enter slavehood quietly."
Hiccup considered this. He thought of the wild dragons who had respected him but thought him too young to attempt to mediate between winged beasts and humans. He thought of the mysterious King that they sought, one rumored to have compassion within his authority.
"I don't have a choice in this, do I?" He asked, with dread and resignation. "Either I let you fight for me, or you'll have marked yourselves for nothing."
"That's right," Gobber said cheerfully. "The chief's cornered you."
I am never walking alone in the woods again, Hiccup thought. He observed the warriors in the room gearing up, his father watching for a reaction. Windwalker and Toothless leaped over the other Vikings to reach their human.
Hiccup nodded. He was surprised his opinion meant this much.
"I'm cornered," he said. "We're going to need more dragons then; we have to prepare for Alvin coming back with his army, and for more violent tribes that keep slaves, like the Hysterics and Murderous peoples. I'll need to contact the wild dragons again, so that we have their support, as well as the support of their king. If we ally with them, then we'll be guaranteed a victory."
For the first time that he could remember, Hiccup's voice rang through the hall. People listened, and they offered rebuttal that he could address. He didn't stammer, or panic. Astrid smiled, letting him speak for himself. He had to speak honestly, for learning Dragonese had made him a terrible liar, but the truth rallied the Berkians together.
Catastrophes had hit Berk in the head, and they had culminated in the entire tribe receiving the Slavemark, willingly, for the heir who had to wear the brand on his cheek. Stoick the Vast and his Thunderdrum were still stubborn, and Mildew had betrayed Berk one last time and endangered its heir, but the island still stood for its chief that had broken tradition. As the few defectors rowed to neighboring tribes to spread the word that the young Dragon Whisperer was a slave, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock plotted to find the Dragon King, and to defend his home. For that's what a future chief does for loyal people and winged reptiles.