A/N: Why hello there dear readers! How are all of you this fine afternoon? I would like to hope that you're all doing well. Sorry this one took so long. It was difficult to write and *sigh* once again, I am still not happy with my work. I hope it isn't crap, but if it is, please please please lend me some constructive criticism. Just...please don't flame me and say you're helping... Either way, here's the next chapter, sorry for being late, and enjoy the show!
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the How to Train Your Dragon franchise, this is purely for fun and all OCs belong to me. :)
**Also quick warning, this chapter does contain a small fight scene and there is some blood drawn! I told you that this was rated "T" for reasons, and this is likely one of them!**
Chapter 4 - Outcast Attack
It was barely after 2:00 in the morning based on the position of the moon when the Outcasts finally reached Berk, entering the harbor and docking their warships. Fishlegs had been keeping a lookout with Ulric, taking messages to and from the Great Hall and the defenses.
Now Ulric turned to him and nodded, aware that they would need to be quiet in order to surprise the Outcasts. Fishlegs nodded back and ran as fast as his stocky legs could carry him to the Great Hall where the War Council was waiting and the children and women unable to fight were holed away.
Out of breath and panting, he sputtered out his message.
"Th-They're here," he wheezed, bending double from the strenuous activity. Stoick strode around the large firepit and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Stay here and catch you breath, son. I'll take the message to the docks myself," he said, a fire and determination that overrode any of Fishleg's urges to respond with a negative and that he already had his second wind and could deliver the message himself. The younger man nodded and collapsed on a bench, the strain of the day and his job having worn on him.
Stoick exited the Hall and moved with purpose toward the docks. Once he reached the forces there, he whispered to Gobber, who had been there since the afternoon fixing and setting up barriers, Fishleg's message.
"They've arrived," he said quickly, resting a hand on the blond man's shoulder. He turned and nodded, a certain fearful determination in his eyes. Gobber tapped the arm of the next person who turned to see both him and the chief and whispered the message to him.
"Pass it on," he added at the end and the other man nodded.
Soon a buzz was going through the crowd of gathered warriors, though all were silent. Each of them waited, listening closely for any noise.
Then a war cry went up from a long way down the docks and a glow appeared above the nearest blockade. It grew brighter and brighter until finally a massive ball of fire screamed above their heads, landing on a roof and instantly setting it ablaze. More followed its path, hitting the ground and other buildings.
"All members of the fire brigade, get to work!" Stoick shouted, and about 15 men and women, including Astrid, Snotlout, and the Thorston twins darted away to the wells to put the fires out.
Things only got worse when the last part of the dock they were standing on where it connected to the island shook violently and the war cries got closer. Stoick swallowed and looked around. He saw the same fear in every set of eyes, but in every face, every jaw, every stance, he saw fire and determination. His people would not let Berk fall without a fight.
The dock continued to shake even more violently, but the wood was strong. It would not break. Something slammed into the barrier in front of them and everyone backed up to avoid it in the event that it fell.
It did.
Instantly, Outcasts poured through the now open entrance to the village, weapons raised to attack. The Berkian forces raised their own weapons and began to scream their own war cry, led by Stoick deep into the fray.
Meanwhile, the fire brigade had its hands full keeping the flames from licking up every last house in the village. Astrid did her best, trying to ignore her shaking hands and aching arms. She managed to put out a ground fire easily with one bucketful of water. Taking a moment to smile at her accomplishment, she turned around just in time to see the last barrier fall and what appeared to be the entire tribe of Outcasts charge towards her village's warriors. Stoick and the others surged towards them, weapons raised.
Dropping her bucket, she reached to her back and pulled off her war axe, which still had yet to be repaired by Gobber, and rushed to join the battle, glad that most of the fires had been put out.
"THEY'VE BROKEN THROUGH!" She shouted to her friends who all looked up and followed her shortly thereafter. Screaming her battle cry, she began to push back stragglers who had managed to break through the initial scrimmage.
She did her best, but she could only block so many blows at a time, and they were being driven back into the village and scattered by the Outcasts.
Then the rival tribe broke off and began to wreak havoc in the town. Some were pillaging, others were still engaged in the attack, while others looked to cause harm to anyone outside their homes or the Great Hall.
It was then that she noticed a group of three younger children huddling together at the door of a house that's roof was one of the few still ablaze. Her eyes widened when she saw that they were cornered by a large hunched over Outcast with an axe in his hands, fully intending to use it on them.
She charged across the square, dodging attacks and other parties still locked in combat. She skidded to a halt in front of the children, holding her arm out to the side protectively.
"Stay behind me," she told them firmly, eyes never leaving the burly confused warrior in front of her. In her other hand, she shifted her grip on her own battle axe. She could take this man.
Then the Outcast laughed, actually threw his head back and laughed. Guffawed even.
"You actually think you can take me wi' that thing? It ain't got no head!" He chuckled. Astrid's eyes darted to her axe. It was true, the blade had fallen off in the skirmish. She gulped, but continued to hold it up. She had been trained with the staff early on, well, a spear more specifically, but they worked on the same principle. She gritted her teeth and prepared to fight as the man drew closer.
Then, a scream pierced through the night air, silencing everyone. It was unearthly, terrifying and heart-stopping all in one moment. A purple flash ignited below the docks and there was an explosion, followed by more all-too-human shrieks of pain and fear.
It was back.
The Night Fury.
Around midnight, Hiccup had gotten up, moved over to the packs and removed his weaponry, attaching every scabbard, sword, dart, and dagger to his person. Once all was in place, he put his mask back on his visage and then looked to Toothless to see if the dragon was ready. A snort and shake of the head was all the confirmation he needed. Toothless was indeed prepared to do this. Hiccup could count on his help.
The two made their way through the forest again, this time at a more comfortable rate of speed as there were no indications that a battle had started, and reached the same cliff they had watched over the village from the previous night. They remained concealed in the abundant shadows, even though there were very few people in the square, most of them consolidated at the docks or in the Great Hall.
He waited for more than an hour, watching the sturdy figure of Fishlegs run back and forth from the watchtower to the Hall, delivering messages, until he didn't come back out. Moments after what he would have deemed too long not to be suspicious, a different figure exited the building in the side of the mountain.
Hiccup's eyes narrowed. He would recognize that build and frame anywhere. It was his father, no doubt about it. He lumbered over to the docks and disappeared from his son's sight. Hiccup sighed in annoyance, preparing to leave. The attack might not even come that night.
Still, the Outcasts were there. He had seen the remainders of their approach when he had arrived. Frowning beneath his hood, he waited and tried not to fidget.
The last dregs of his patience were rewarded with the sight of a fireball, glowing bright as the sun, careening over the blockade and landing on a nearby roof. His eyes widened in a mix of horror and interest. They planned to attack the city before their men were even there.
Three more followed immediately and began to set the rest of the village on fire. He heard his father shout for the fire brigade to set to work, diminishing about a third of the gathered forces. Hiccup could tell already that it was a fool's move in retrospect, but they didn't have much choice. It was either a strong defense or the town would burn.
Not long after, Hiccup saw what he could only assume was the last of many barriers fall over, unleashing a tide of screaming warriors into the village. Berk's finest met them with the same degree of fervor and a battle began.
The fire brigade, whose number included many of those he knew, had begun to regroup and begin fighting back with the others, leaving a few small but growing fires left to burn. It wouldn't have been altogether too bad if the catapults had stopped their assault.
Every couple minutes a fresh hail of comets would light the sky and set alight even more of the town. Not long after, the Outcasts scattered, abandoning fights and running off into the village to plunder it. A shot of flame from a catapult fell directly in front of them, hitting something below and catching it on fire as well as blinding him.
Hiccup caught sight of Astrid in the middle of the fray, doing her best to cut back as many of the attackers as she could, which wasn't many. She spotted something below the cliff he was situated on and he followed her line of sight to a house, roof ablaze, and a group of three children in front of it, cornered by an Outcast marauder.
He couldn't wait any longer. There were innocent children about to be slain or seriously hurt. He got up and turned to Toothless, who looked at him, pupils slit and a burning readiness evident in his posture, and growled.
"You got it," Hiccup replied, aware of what needed to be done. He raced around to Toothless's tail, checking the now black leather tailfin, the gold Draconian emblem glinting in the firelight. "You find the catapults and take 'em out. I've got the Outcasts," he said, running back up to his friend's side and throwing a switch that gave the Night Fury automatic control. Toothless barked and nodded, shaking his wings out and preparing to take to the night skies.
"Oh, and Tooth?" Hiccup called, stopping him just short of take-off. The dragon grunted. "Try to make them as terrified as possible," he smirked. The dragon returned the look with one that assured him it would be his pleasure, then shot upwards and away.
Hiccup watched for a moment before walking to the edge of the cliff and dropping down onto the roof below. His clothes were relatively fire resistant, but he was still careful to dodge the hole where the fireball had fallen through.
Then, Toothless's shriek pierced through the air and the sounds of fighting, drawing every ounce of attention. A purple-blue flash lit the sky and the air resounded with screams of pain and terror. The dragon had done his job well.
Hiccup took the opportunity to make himself known. He stepped carefully to the peak of the house, the flames behind him casting a shadow to conceal details of his form.
Apparently someone in the village was paying attention, as someone shouted, "ASTRID, ABOVE YOU!" And everyone looked up at him. He swore once more before launching himself off the roof and into action, pulling his swords from his back and winding an arm back to drive it into the nearest opponent.
"ASTRID, ABOVE YOU!" Came a frantic shout from somewhere among her fellow people. She craned her neck back so fast she feared she would snap it to see a figure standing on the edge of the roof above. She turned better to see it, but the movement was unnecessary as it had already leapt from its perch to the ground.
Or the closest thing to the ground, as it landed squarely on the Outcast warrior's chest. There was a sickening noise as the man fell to the ground and the figure withdrew a pair of dull yet shiney objects - swords - from his chest cavity with a sickening snickt. He spun them once in his hands as another warrior charged him.
Watching his back, Astrid recognized the figure. The Vættr!
The figure dodged and fought back, their weapons clanging against one another as the rest of the battle raged around them. Astrid lost sight of him in the heat of the fight, most of the Outcast warriors having swarmed him so as to aid their comrade.
Before long, most were either dead or had fled in terror, affording Astrid with a closer look at their savior. He was tall, breathing hard, and still stood ready to withstand another attack. Astrid hesitated. She wasn't certain whether or not she should engage him or not. He had just made short work of about forty Outcast soldiers, giving her the impression that approaching him with her axe raised would end badly for her and anyone else who attempted it.
The entire sword glittered in the moonlight, the metal almost luminescent. It didn't even have the usual wrappings of leather around the hilt for grip, rather his hold was assured by the dark coverings over his hands. He twirled the swords in a somewhat showy arc, almost smugly, as though he were asking for his next opponent.
Astrid heard faint yet awed murmurings from the children behind her. She turned to the eldest of them. "Gustave, I won't ask what the four of you are doing out during a raid, but get those three back to the Great Hall NOW!" She ordered. The 14 year old nodded and gave her a brief salute before ushering the trio of toddlers, whispering exclamations about their rescuer, back to the warmed haven that was the Hall.
Astrid turned her head back to the man to see that he had disappeared. Unfamiliar shouts of terror suggested to her that he had simply moved to a different part of the village. She flinched and ducked reflexively at the sound of another higher pitched shriek above the chaos. The Night Fury was still diving and firing upon the catapults.
She was unsure whether or not she ought to be grateful. It hadn't attacked any of their towers or catapults as of yet, so she could presume that, at the moment at least, the unseen dragon was not their enemy. She could only hope it would stay that way.
She was preparing to engage another Outcast as best as she could when an almighty roar erupted from the docks.
"WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS OUTRAGE?" A voice that Astrid knew belonged to Alvin the Treacherous shouted. She snorted. He made it sound as though Berk was his island and her tribe was the one intruding. The unearthly screams and flashes of purple-blue light had stopped, so she could assume that the dragon had finished its work, again at least for the moment.
She turned back to face him, readily raising her war axe in preparation to charge. She would take him on. He had been a menace to her village since before she was born, causing pain and destruction ever since she could remember, nearly as bad as the dragons.
However, just before she had the chance, something dropped out of the sky above the village in a blur of shadow and silver. Alvin looked shocked at the sight awaiting him in the square.
"YOU!" He shouted, "YOU'RE THE ONE THAT COMMANDS THAT DEMON, AREN'T YOU?! YOU'VE KILLED MY MEN, NOW I WILL KILL YOU!" Astrid almost wanted to stop him, knowing what fate was waiting for him.
The tall shadow-enshrouded figure again twirled the twin swords, baiting the larger Viking. Alvin lifted his own sword, a traditional broadsword, from his back and ran at the smaller-by-comparison figure.
Astrid watched Alvin's screaming figure bear down on the other calm one. Then, with the same inhuman speed that he had evaded her, the shadow slipped deftly to the side, avoiding Alvin's charge without a scratch.
His dodge, however, angered Alvin even further. The Outcast chief growled and then howled as he again lunged for his opponent. Unfortunately, his rage blinded him and he quickly found himself on the receiving end of the other man's blade.
It had sliced easily through the skin at his elbow, causing a small arc of blood as Alvin cried out and dropped his sword.
Still, the figure was not finished. He spun gracefully, remaining in motion even after his opponent's weapon had been dropped. Not wasting the moment of weakness, he completed the motion with another swing of his right sword, slashing at the backs of Alvin's knees.
Another scream of pain and the larger figure's legs buckled and he dropped to the ground. The hooded figure stepped in front of Alvin, holding both his blades at the fallen Viking's chest. He stood there, as though debating what to do, then he spoke something quietly to Alvin, before straightening his back even more.
Alvin laughed, despite his situation, he laughed! Astrid's eyes were wide at the sight and she oddly felt an unsettling feeling grip her chest. She took a step closer to hear Alvin spout, "You!" And then the figure drove his swords forward with all the speed of a viper and crouched down. Astrid was close enough to hear the words spoken.
"Lotesse lle utua seere e' oira kaima," the figure whispered before withdrawing the swords and stepping out of the way as Alvin's body went limp and he fell forward. Astrid watched, disbelief and shock on her face. Only Stoick and a few others had been able to ever best Alvin in single combat before, and even then it took time. As one could have easily surmised, none had ever managed to finish him until now.
Astrid could only stare, her body frozen in place, broken axe in hand, feet locked in position to run but not moving. The figure returned his blades back to their place on his back and lifted his hand to where she supposed his mouth would be, the facial feature concealed by darkness.
He gave a long reverberating call, mimicking the hoarse cry of the Night Fury. A reply sounded not far off, and the character lowered his hand and stood alone, waiting. It was then that his gaze lit on Astrid. His head turned to see her full on, giving her another glimpse at him. She couldn't see much under the shadows cast by the hood, but the remaining firelight revealed a forehead and two sparkling eyes.
Even though he stood there, so still and tranquil, belying the ferocity of the scene that had unfolded in front of her moments ago, she could sense that the embers burning in his gaze were not reflections of the world in front of him. She saw the wildness behind them, and the dangerousness caused by that wildness.
She no longer saw a spirit or creature. He was indeed only a man, but a deadly man all the same. Warily, she tightened her hold on the hilt of her axe, grateful for any protection it could grant her, which wasn't very much.
The moment was over as soon as it started as the figure seemed to lose interest in her and his head snapped away in a different direction as Vikings began to surround the square. In the course of moments, Outcast warriors had swept through, snatched up their leader's corpse and fled to the docks, realizing their defeat. Meanwhile, Berkian vikings were attempting to surround the stranger, though they merely succeeded in cornering him at the edge of a cliff, weapons drawn but not poised to strike.
Astrid pushed her way to the front of the crowd, watching the still-calm outsider back up the few remaining steps until his heels rocked on the edge. She looked to the side as a haggard looking Stoick likewise shoved his way to the front of the crowd and met eyes with the stranger himself. Astrid noted that the embers turned to flames at the sight of the chief, the man's eyes blazing. Stoick took another step forward, separating from the gathered crowd.
"Who are you?" He inquired, much like Astrid had earlier, "and why did you attack our enemy?" The man slid his foot back in tandem with the chief's movements, prompting the wider man to stop and hold his hands up in a placating gesture.
"Amin caela n'uma essa e' lle elee," the man hissed through his mask, the words indiscernible, having been spoken in a completely different language than Norse. Stoick began to take another step forward, but the tall stranger straightened out of the fighting hunch he had been in and spread his arms out to his sides. Astrid's eyes widened as his closed and he dropped backwards off the cliff.
She and the chief both darted forward, watching as the body twisted in midair and then disappeared in another blur of shadow, evaporating into the night as quickly as it had come.
Translations:
Lotesse lle utua seere e' oira kaima: May you find peace in eternal sleep
Amin caela n'uma essa e' lle elee: I have no name in your eyes
A/N: Aaaaaaand to top it all off, the language of Draconia is elvish apparently. As I said, this story is way beyond true Earth canon, we have delved deep into the fanon-verse that is my brain. Please follow me, stay close to the candles (ze stairway can be treacherous), and try not to get lost. *coughs* welp. If any of you got that little reference and can tell me where it's from, it'll be free internet imagine cookies for everyone! Hope the fight scene wasn't too blaugh... lemme know whatcha thought there! Also, in case my absence didn't give it away, I'm not certain that I'll be able to maintain the fast updates, but I will do the best I can not to leave this story behind! Thank you all so much for reading and for your kind reviews on past chapters, they really do mean a lot to me!
-IMSP, out!