How to Train a Dragon Rider

Chapter 9

Welcome Home


"Why do we even bother doin' this?" One of the vikings in the fishing boat asked. "After the last raid, we've got more than enough food to feed the village."

"What the chief says goes." Another man retorted, "Winter's just around the corner, and if he wants to use the months we have to gather food, then I agree with him."

Yoseph looked over at the ship he had been paddling towards, annoyed by the fact that they hadn't noticed him yet. He had been drifting nearby them for almost a minute now, but the man who was supposed to be on watch was busy talking to his friends in the boat. He began yelling, trying to get their attention.

"Humph." The first man said to himself. "Winter's always 'just around the corner.' That's the first thing that's always said as soon as the last one blows over."

"Hey!" Yoseph screamed.

"And I always get stuck on the ship with mister–"

"Hey!"

What was that annoying echo?

"Thor's hammer, isn't that a boy?" Another viking exclaimed, breaking his line of thought.

He looked over to the right side of the ship, and realized that, in fact, there was a boy floating on the water. He was yelling to them, but could only be heard now that the men were listening.

They turned the boat towards him, and eventually, picked him up in the fishing net. The lead viking immediately moved forward, and inspected the boy and his raft; a flimsy little thing that hardly seemed seaworthy.

"Who are you?" The captain asked, "And what are you doing here?"

"My name is Yoseph." The boy replied. "I was taken from Demean years ago."

The boy certainly looked the part – his clothes seemed to have endured more hardship than just the high seas, and there was a shiner, easily a few days old, over his left eye. The viking also noticed some pink skin over both wrists, the telltale sign of manacles. He was proud of his thorough observation, and mentally reserved himself a few extra cups of mead for tonight.

"Yoseph? Wasn't that Obur's boy?"


Carmine watched the episode from above. This was the part where Yoseph was really needed – the beginning. No one else could get so close without ringing alarm bells in the Demen's head. He could gain their trust from this point, and eventually, discover a weakness. Carmine still didn't know what Kleave expected them to find.

Stupid Yoseph, running from the Demen all those years ago. He always got to do all the delicate missions, despite – or in this case because of – his youth on Demean. She was supposed to do the next solo mission, Kleave had promised her himself. She could understand why he had broken his promise for this mission, and that Yoseph had no say in the matter, but that didn't make her any less mad at either of them. Stupid Yoseph.

She continued glaring at the boat, her dragon circling high above.


"And, in thanks to the brave sailors who brought this boy home, we shall have a feast tonight!" The Demen's chief shouted. The vikings cheered, and began to eat, drink, and partake in vikingly conversation

"Son, we're glad to have you have you back." The chief said to Yoseph, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders. Then, the man left, to join his tribe in consuming as many of their recently stolen resources as he could without vomiting.

Yoseph slowly walked over to his father. He hadn't seen him in years, since he had left – and even then, his father hadn't been all too proud of him. He wished his mother was here – but that was a story in itself, one that didn't need repeating right now.

Yoseph reached the figure standing out of the way, near the back of the meeting hall. "I . . ." The man stammered, "I'm glad you're back, Yoseph. I missed you." He said, none too convincingly. "You should . . . Get some rest. It's late. You can go to training tomorrow, unless you don't–"

"No, dad, it's fine. I can go tomorrow." Yoseph replied.

"Excellent." His father said. "Well. . . Goodnight."

Yoseph walked away. They had never been that close anyway.


The next day, Yoseph woke up early and ate his breakfast, avoiding his father. He was out the door before the (undoubtedly hungover) man was even up.

He began walking to the arena he had trained in three – almost four – years ago. Though he had few fond memories of the place, he would have to go there eventually, like all the Demen children. Somehow he didn't think his experience with deadly, flying, fire-breathing creatures would make it go any easier. Might as well get the first day over with.

While he was walking, he looked up to the sky, almost painfully empty. Even on the few days since he had first flown on a dragon that Ceara wasn't there, there had always been the comfort of the other dragons in the great blue expanse. Now, it was just a huge, blank canvas.

He didn't notice a girl step out of a side street in his way, and ran into her. She dropped a pot she was carrying, and a large chunk broke out of the top.

"Sorry. . ." Yoseph said, and quickly bent down, putting the fractured pieces into the largely intact portion of the jar.

"It's – it's fine. It was cracked anyway." He heard her say.

He stood up, and handed the pot back to her. He looked at her face, and tried to remember her name.

He recognized the girl. What was her name . . . "Ana. Sorry Ana"

"Don't worry." She said, looking down at the remnants of the pottery.

Nice move. I really don't need this right now. . . Yoseph opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. He closed his mouth, and quickly walked away.

"Wait. . . Yoseph–?" The girl looked up, but he had already left. She looked over her shoulder, and saw that he was already far down the street.

The arena at Demean was similar to the one at Soare. Not needing to enclose dragons like the one at Berk, the roof was totally open, the bleachers beginning after a high wall. The sides were decorated with weapons and shields.

A burly viking stood at the far end of the arena. The Demen didn't have a specified training instructor; instead, men were rotated through every day. In Yoseph's experience, they wouldn't do much except give you the weapon, tell you how to use it, and make sure no one got killed. Wounded was fine.

Yoseph waited for a few minutes for the other children to show up. They eventually came, in small groups, until the last ones arrived.

"Well, well, well. Look what the fish dragged in." One of the boys said.

Yoseph turned, and instantly recognized the voice. "Hello, Cass."

The Demean boy walked forward. "How's it goin', buddy!" Cass punched Yoseph in the shoulder, harder than was necessary, and Yoseph staggered back. "We've missed you all these years. Don't worry, we'll get you all caught up in no time."

Yoseph didn't respond. He could have done any number of things after, or before, he had been hit, but he ignored the urge to fight back. In his experience, if Cass didn't hit you the first time, he would keep trying until he did, and then he would do it twice as hard. Better to just let him do what he wanted and think that he'd won.

The viking in charge finally spoke up, and pointed to a rack of weapons. "Everyone! Go get a spear and a shield, and start sparring. Move it!"

So, the good old teaching mentality hadn't changed. Oh joy.

Cass, unsurprisingly, partnered up with him. He had always been the torturer of the boy, since he had learned that he was better with a weapon than Yoseph. Four years, and he hadn't forgotten.

Cass poked and prodded with the spear, incredibly narrow-minded with its usefulness. Even Astrid, without being prompted, had swung the shaft when opportunity presented itself. The Demen would only thrust, and the instructor wasn't all that interested with his teenage charges, even if he knew better.

Cass spoke as he attacked, and Yoseph blocked, not trying to get an attack of his own in. "How was it, being captured by another tribe? I'll bet you're escape was daring. Did the guard fall asleep on you?"

Well, Yoseph's most recent guard had fallen asleep. But he wasn't about to mention that.

He moved his shield at a fraction of the speed he could have, not wanting to show his skills to Cass. He would react slowly when he saw him preparing to thrust low or to the side, and got hit many times. When he saw that he was about to be struck, he tried to prepare himself for the pain from the hard impacts of the blunt wood.

weight to the right, arm bent slightly. Yoseph stepped to the left and angled the shield for a clean deflection, succeeding.

"What were you doing in all that time there?" Cass went on. "Were you in charge of emptying the toilets? Maybe you knocked the guard out with your brush."

"Shut up, Cass." Yoseph finally said.

"Oo, you did clean the toilets! Don't worry, you can continue your trade here. Maybe even take on an apprentice." The other boy taunted.

While fighting, Yoseph had taken notice of some of the other boys breaking out of their pairs to attack other groups. The viking in charge didn't seem to care, and did nothing about it.

He thought he could hear the footsteps of someone behind him, and quickly turned his head around for a glance back. His suspicions were correct; there was a boy behind him, trying to hit him in the back with his spear.

Yoseph dipped to the right, and brought his shield up to whack the boy in the face. He stepped back and, behind him, swung his own spear and swept the boy off his feet.

"Maybe I will." Yoseph replied to Cass. "Are you offering your services?"

It had been painfully easy, one of the few tricks he had mastered with the spear, even with his lack of skill. He wondered at how the Demean vikings could be so aggressive, and yet have children so bad at combat. Well, maybe not bad – disorganized was the word. Even the simple combination he had just used – step, shield, sweep – seemed beyond these trainees.

They made up for this with the ferocity of their attacks. The dragon rider never got a chance to use another combination; he was too busy blocking Cass' more forceful strikes.


The viking who had been put in charge of training was obviously eager to end his boring day watching the children, and called practice out early. While the other children left immediately, Yoseph decided to stay behind for a little while.

The viking looked at him as if he was crazy, but didn't have the interest to stop him. He left as well.

When he was alone, Yoseph inspected the arena. It couldn't hurt to know as much as he could about the place he would be tortured in for the next few months.

The walls were high and made of stone, impossible to climb. However, most of the weapons were in reach, and he grabbed an axe off the wall. He gave it a practice swing. The axe wasn't his favorite weapon, but he could tell this one was not a fake, or an old, damaged one. He put it back, and grabbed a shield. It was solid as well. It would be nice to know he could grab these weapons off the walls and actually use them it he needed to.

He looked around the dirt floor of the space. It was totally flat, so no one would have to worry about tripping. The only way out was by one of the two gates on either side, both of them kept open.

He left the arena, and thought about his mission. He had absolutely no idea where to start, or where to look for a weakness in the tribe.

As he was walking, he noticed a large crowd in the center of the street. He walked up to it, and through gaps in the throng, he could see Cass wrestling with another boy his age.

From beside him, he heard, "Yoseph!"

He turned to the direction of the noise, and saw Ana standing next to him.

"Ana! I. . . Sorry about the pot." He said. She was pretty – prettier than the last time he saw her. Or maybe just prettier than he remembered.

"It's fine." She said. "It was broken anyway."

Just shut up, you're stammering like an idiot. No, speak, you have to speak.

"What's Cass doing?" Yoseph asked.

"Fighting over some stupid thing." Ana answered. "He's a bully. I wish someone would teach him a lesson."

"I remember." Yoseph replied. "Cass hasn't changed."

Ana looked at him, and said, "Where have you been all these years? What happened? They say you where captured one night when we were attacked. . ."

"Yup." Yoseph answered. "I just got away. They threw a party for the sailors who found me."

She scrutinized his face. "How did you get that black eye?"

Yoseph's hand went up to the bruise Rauge had given him. "Escaping," he said.

"I know, but how did you get it?" Ana replied.

"Uh–" Yoseph though for a moment. He had had a detailed story, but the Demen had remembered him, and had not investigated closely. He struggled to remember.

"I. . . I fell. It hit a rock." Not what he had planned in his original story, but it would do.

"Hm." She said, and turned back to the fight. Cass was trying to get the crowd to cheer him on, and unfortunately, some people were playing along with him.

Yoseph took the opportunity to slip away from the uncomfortable situation.

Ana turned back to where he had been standing. "How exactly did you–"

She stopped when she realized that he had left her. Why was he always leaving?


Author's Note:

like Yoseph said, his mother is a story in and of itself. I'm not going to go into that for a while, but rest assured, you will eventually hear about her again.