Author's Note: All right everyone, I have no excuses. Just that life is busy and this hasn't been my main priority. I'm sorry for the long wait! But I'm determined to finish this story so it will stop banging around in my head. There is only this chapter and the epilogue to go, but I now know better than to make promises of when the epilogue will be uploaded. Thanks to all who have favorited/followed/reviewed- you're all awesome! ~Bkw3rm
It never ceased to impress Hiccup how quickly Vikings could prepare for battle. Hooligans, Outcasts, and Beserkers quickly created a fortification of pointed stakes, making the beach fully defendable. The dragons would be forced to fire from farther above, lessening their accuracy. Any dragon attempting to land would expose its softer underbelly to the sharp wooden points that lined the gravelly beach.
It was strange, he reflected. The dragons knew that the Vikings had arrived, yet they remained silent inside their caves. 'Why aren't they attacking?' he wondered. In the past few months, he had learned that dragons tended to be very territorial- about food, resting spots, even grooming areas. To not be defending their home was very peculiar, and it made Hiccup nervous. He felt an impending sense of doom, a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that warned him he was missing something huge. Hiccup looked around the beach. What was it that was bothering him? He turned slowly, surveying. Ignoring the black shadow flitting in the corners of his vision, his gaze slowly settled on the Gronckle. The beast was visibly afraid, but not of the Vikings around it. It's terrified stare was locked firmly on the mountain, and it struggled unceasingly to escape its bonds. It threw its weight back and forth, trying to break free. Hiccup turned to the mountain, then back again to the dragon. Whatever was agitating the creature was hidden deep inside that mountain. Suddenly the answer came to Hiccup, dawning with horrible clarity. The dragons were afraid of what was inside the mountain. Whatever was controlling them had to be awful if it was able to cow such vicious animals. And his father was about to give the order to crack the mountain open. Hiccup raced toward his father, full of awful certainty. Even as he ran, though, he knew he was too late. His father ordered the catapults to break the mountain open.
For a moment, all was silent. Then, with one accord, dragons came fleeing out of the mountains' caves. The air was filled with the sound of their leathery wings as they beat a hasty retreat. Vikings stared, openmouthed, as the beasts swarmed once around the island, and then headed out to sea. The Gronckle on the lead ship finally burst through its restraints and joined its brethren in flight.
"Is that it?" Gobber wondered aloud. The Vikings cheered loudly.
Hiccup's instincts said no. "Dad," he croaked, "I think there's something else on this island." At that, a loud, rumbling roar bellowed out of the depths of the mountain.
"Form your ranks!" Stoick shouted. "This isn't over yet!" Cracks zigzagged down the mountain as something enormous and ancient began to emerge. The dragon was gigantic, scarred with the scores of a thousand battles. It's eyes, perhaps the only small thing about the creature, glared hot hatred at the Vikings gathered below. It inhaled deeply, momentarily sucking away all of the oxygen on beach. Hiccup's mind worked frantically, trying to come to grips with the size of the dragon, trying to come up with a way to beat it. Weeks of dragon observations flashed through his mind, offering plenty of scenarios, but nothing that would help defeat the monster in front of him.
Unbidden, a thought flitted through his mind. "Forget the Night Fury; if I kill that dragon, I'll go down in history!" He banished the idea. Now was not the time for glory, it was time for survival, if that was even possible. While he stood, frozen in thought, the people around him ran for the ships. It shook him out of his contemplation. As one, he and Stoick yelled, "NO!"
It was too late. The fleeing Vikings had attracted the beast's attention. Its eyes narrowed, and it shot out a jet of intense flame at the ships. Almost the entire armada was set ablaze. Dimly, Hiccup could see burning Vikings plunging into the sea. He swung his attention back to the dragon. Stoick called for the men to take refuge on the far side of the island. Before they could take action, the dragon uttered a low call. Its range was almost below human hearing, but they could feel the force of it rattling their bones. Even the fortifications not destroyed by the beast's appearance quivered and fell. The call echoed through the beach. The remaining Vikings froze. There was an answering call from the direction of the open water. Filled with dread, Hiccup turned. The dragons were returning to the nest. At the head of the charge was the Gronckle, pupils narrowed to almost invisible slits.
Vikings formed ranks on the beach, gripping their weapons with a sense of finality. There was no place to go. Most of the boats were burning wrecks in the ocean like some bizarre funeral send off for the men still alive on the beach. The dragons swarmed the beach, surveying the surrounded Vikings. The turbulence from their wings was staggering. Of course, no one quailed in the face of the attack. They were Vikings! Death by dragon attack was an occupational hazard. Some even seemed to relish the battle, goading the beasts into a frenzy.
"Dad!" Hiccup shouted over deafening cacophony. "Whatever that thing is, it's controlling the dragons, making them attack! We have to break that link!"
"I'm open to suggestions!" Stoick bellowed back. Hiccup grimaced in frustration. He had no ideas at the moment. "I need you to get away from the thick of this, see if you can get a new perspective." Hiccup nodded resolutely and slipped through the crowd, aiming for the cliffs behind them. Maybe some altitude would help him see the battle differently. "All right!" Stoick roared. "Two groups: I need volunteers to stay here and fight the beasts, and others to take on the big one!" The warriors immediately mobilized into two groups according to Stoick's orders. Now that there was a smaller target to focus on, the dragons started to attack more ferociously. The only thing that saved the Vikings from being slaughtered was that the largest dragon's control over the others was crude and inept. They fired ineffective shots, and snapped too late at men around their legs and feet. The result was almost a draw- the Vikings were even gaining an edge on the reptiles.
The rest of the warriors took up positions around the massive dragon, scurrying to the side whenever the beast shifted its weight. Due to its small eyes, they were able to stay in its blind spots with coaching from Gobber. Miraculously, one catapult had escaped destruction. They fired repeatedly into its underbelly, causing it to bellow in pain. Other Vikings simply pelted it with the biggest boulders they could find. Although these efforts turned out to be minor irritations, they had the effect of distracting its focus, setting some dragons free from its thrall. The freed dragons would wheel sharply, disappearing into the winter sky.
Hiccup had scaled one of the cliffs and was watching the battle unfold beneath him. Although the Vikings were surviving, it was clear they would lose due to sheer lack of numbers. The dragons would continue to fight long after the warriors tired of swinging battle axes and swords. This had to come to an end quickly, before the peoples' strength waned. But how? He turned to the dragon beside him. "Well. What do you think?" he asked the Fuguelgrasp Night Fury. The dragon turned its scarred and blood-crusted eye towards him. Then it ever so slightly inclined its head at the massive beast before him. Hiccup laughed hollowly. "Great. Thanks bud. How am I going to get up there?" In the back of his mind, he realized he had lost his grasp on reality, asking his delusions for advice and considering applying it. He couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was killing the queen dragon before it destroyed them all. He still had his crossbow, specially designed to shoot with hundreds of pounds of more force that he could hope to do on his own. If he could get up to its head, he might be able to imbed an arrow deep into its brain. Great. So now he had an insane plan, and no way to carry it out. Beside him, the ink-black dragon rustled its wings and looked at him expectantly. Hiccup shook his head in disbelief. "Uh-uh. I draw the line at riding delusions into battle." The dragon huffed and rolled its good eye. "You're dead, you know." Hiccup informed it. "And no one can ride dragons anyway." He grew angry. "Go on, get out of here! Stop HAUNTING me!" He flapped his arms in the dragon's face, till it turned and vanished into the cave behind them.
Hiccup started to slump against the cave mouth, but straightened suddenly. His antics had attracted the attention of the Gronckle. It was headed straight for him.
The Gronckle barreled into Hiccup, knocking the skinny teen into the side of the cave wall. Disoriented, he shook his head, trying to convince his scrambled limbs to MOVE before the Gronckle fired. The dragon was also confused, snorting and shaking it's massive head as if trying to break free from the queen's hold. Its efforts proved futile though-its eyes narrowed in hate as it charged into Hiccup again, this time effectively plastering the teen to its face as it flew out to rejoin the battle. Hiccup panicked, his breathing heavy and heart racing as the dragon arced into the air. It was a rare fighting move practiced by the dragons when they felt particularly threatened; they would pick up a Viking, bring him high into the air, and let them fall. Most in the tribe were hearty enough to survive such a fall, but Hiccup would not be as fortunate. There had to be a way to get out of this. His father was counting on him to come up with a way to save them all.
Miraculously, he still had his crossbow. Hiccup grabbed an arrow with his right hand, clinging desperately to the Gronckle's maw with his left. The beast was nearing the apex of its flight. With seconds left, Hiccup jabbed an arrow into the dragon's neck. He wasn't strong enough to penetrate its skin, but that wasn't the plan. Like the stones it ingested, the Gronckle dropped from the sky. Hiccup scrambled up higher on the dragon's head. The Gronckle's body would likely take the brunt of the impact, but it would undoubtedly be a painful landing on the unforgiving beach below. He was so focused on the dragon in front of him that he neglected to realized the massive dragon beneath him. Both boy and Gronckle hit the behemoth and flew apart. The Gronckle rolled off the side of the dragon's neck and plummeted to the pebbly shore below. Stunned, Hiccup tried to scramble further back on the creature to prevent such a fate from happening to him.
His crossbow was about to fall off the creature though, so he had to effectively pounce on it to keep it from sliding off. The arrows clattered to the ground below, leaving him with only the one loaded in to the crossbow. The beast beneath his feet moved like the rolling of a ship, throwing him off balance. There had to be a way to end this conflict before the dragons finished off the Vikings for good. There was an idea, niggling in the back of his mind. Something Mildew once said. "It's all about distraction." What better way to distract an angry, mind-controlling queen than by shoving an arrow into its eye? At this range, he couldn't miss. And it would certainly divert its attention long enough to free the other dragons and send them wheeling away. It was just the little matter of such an act being suicide. The Night Fury had thrashed around for several minutes before finally settling into stillness. The death throes of this dragon would certainly be lethal to anyone near it. But there really wasn't a choice, was there? He set off, climbing the gigantic frilled head and making his way to the vulnerable eyes.
The dragon barely registered his presence. Its skin twitched, the way a sheep would when trying to get rid of a fly. Even so, the motion was enough to make Hiccup stumble. He landed on his stomach, the wind knocked out of him. As he painfully got to his feet, he saw the battle unfolding below. His father was leading the charge, leveling any dragons that came within striking range. But that's not what had caught his attention. Alvin was slicing through the battle as well, cutting down dragons left and right. But his attack was calculated, precise. He was slowly but surely cutting a path through the carnage to Stoick. What was it he had told Hiccup? "Myself, I prefer to use my fists and a sword to finish the job." In a flash of blinding insight, Hiccup realized that Alvin was going to use the confusion of the battle to end Stoick's life. In the clamor and battle, no one would ever know what Alvin had done. His mind raced. It was an impossible choice! End the massive dragon's control of the others and end the war a hero, and let his father die without trying to stop it? Or save his father's life and risk losing the rest of the tribe to this bloody battle? Was it even possible to save his father from this distance? He most likely wouldn't survive the fall to the ground, much less be able to reach Stoick in time. But if he slid down the dragon's leg, he might just make it.
Time slowed down around Hiccup, much the way it did in the glade where he killed the Night Fury. He faced a choice then- become a Viking and gain glory, or choose life and compassion. He had made the Viking choice, and it had benefitted him for a while, but now he was forced to make it again, literally on a larger scale. He had gained glory, but not in the traditional Berk sense of the word. A true Viking would know what to do, but Hiccup was quickly realizing he wasn't a true Viking. Not the way his father wanted him to be at first. But as the last few nights had shown, that was okay. Using his strengths to his advantage instead of working against them made him better, stronger as a person. Someone his father was proud of. If he made the wrong choice now, he'd be a shadow for the rest of his life. Shadow! Something about that struck, making him think he'd missed some vital aspect of the situation. But there was no time to examine that angle. The rest of his life was bound to be very short either way, but he needed to act now. The urgency of the situation demanded it. Hiccup made his choice. He looked again toward the dragon's looming crown- and jumped, sliding down its left foreleg.
Hiccup stumbled to his feet, scrambling to get clear of the claws of the enormous dragon. He quickly set off on a parallel course to Alvin, keeping a low profile so as not to attract any dragons flying overhead. He wanted to call out to his father, but dared not distract him from the battle he was facing. He was suddenly terrified that all of this would be for nothing, that he had sacrificed the chance to end this war for a futile attempt to save Stoick. He quickly banished that thought from his mind. He would get there in time, and Stoick would be safe. Anything after that, they would figure out together. Hiccup gritted his teeth and fought harder to get through the battle lines. Above him a few more dragons, released from their spell, fled the island and the creature's reach. This lessened some of the gale-force winds that battered the teen, making his progress easier. Suddenly, a gap opened up in front of him, displaying a terrible panorama: Stoick was grappling with a Monstrous Nightmare, the beast setting them both ablaze. The chief didn't yet seem hurt; his cloak had taken the brunt of the blast. But due to the smoke enveloping him, he didn't see Alvin charging up behind him, his face set in a terrifying smile of fiendish glee.
Everything slowed down. Hiccup screamed for all he was worth, "DAD!" and ran. Stoick started to turn, but he was too late. Alvin had swung for the kill, and there was nothing that could be done. The chief's eyes widened, watering in shock as the pain hit him. He had known that the other Viking chief might seize an opportunity, but with the battle raging, he'd focused only on getting his men out alive. Now, he had paid the price. He sank to his knees before his foe, staring sightlessly at the slender form bleeding out on the beach.
Hiccup had closed his eyes as Alvin's sword slid home into his chest. He could just barely make out Stoick's voice, pleading, "Come back to me, son. Come back to me." It made him sad, to hear the grief and worry in his father's voice. He wanted to comfort him, to let Stoick know that he wasn't in pain. He always had thought dying would hurt, but strangely, he felt nothing. He could still make out the faintest touch of sun on his face, of his father stroking his hair, but even that was fading. Hiccup exhaled one last time as the world spiraled into darkness.