I neither own nor claim any rights to How To Train Your Dragon...

Jarin and the Legacy of Nartara
Chapter 21: Really Bloody Really Fast

Nartara's mead hall was near, and Gelbrun, Toram, Stoick and the other members of the rescue party kept to he shadows. They had not run into anyone on the way from the dungeons, the brief dragon raid led by Hiccup having obviously done its job in drawing attention to the docks. Gelbrun was no fool, however. He and Toram had their heads together for a few moments, nodding occasionally at each other's whispered words. "Alright," said Gelbrun. "We've had it easy up til now, Dagur and most of his thugs may have gone to the docks, but he is not so stupid as to leave his prisoners unguarded. There won't likely be enough of them to overcome us, but there will be enough that it will be hard to keep them from raising the alarm."

Stoick nodded. "Perhaps we should handle this with finesse."

Gelbrun grinned. "finesse? You? Word has it that when you were a babe you knocked the head off a dragon. I don't call that finesse."

Stoick chuckled. "Having Hiccup for a son has taught me a great deal since the Dragon Wars ended. Trust me. I am perfectly capable of finesse when the occasion calls for it."

Gelbrun nodded. "Right. Let us see what we are up against. Remember: the enemies we see outside will not indicate how many are on the inside."

They crept forward and looked around the corner of the building they were hiding behind. There were only two Berserker guards at the entrance to the mead hall. Stoick stroked his beard for a moment. "Alright," he whispered. "Here's what we need to do..."

O O O

The Berserker guard on the left sighed. This was boring. He wanted to be part of the action at the docks. Instead he was left with guard duty, partnered with a guard who smelled like warmed-over death. For the fifteenth time tonight, he wondered if the man had ever bathed in his life. His musings were cut short when he heard a sound off to the other guard, right. "did you hear that?" he asked.

"Yes," the stinky guard answered. "I'll go check it out."

"Right," left-hand guard replied. He waited as Stinky went to investigate. And he waited... And waited... Presently, Stinky returned.

"Nothin," he said, and left-hand guard nodded. They stood there for a moment, and then Gelbrun stepped out of the shadows. "What in the name of Odin," left-hand guard said, drawing his sword. Stinky hefted his club and brought it down on left-hand guard's head, dropping him to the floor. He then turned and walked into the mead hall.

Inside, there were ten more berserkers guarding the Nartaran and Berkian prisoners. "Lord Dagur sends word," Stinky said, "Gelbrun the Mad and Stoick the Vast are in Nartara now. They may be trying to free the prisoners. Be on the lookout" With that, he turned and walked out.

? leaned over to the Berkian warrior sitting next to him. "That was captain Toram. I am certain of it. We need to get out of here."

"Shut up!" shouted one of the guards. "No talking at all!"

It had been less than half an hour since the ceiling exploded in the great hall, clearly the work of a Night Fury's plasma fire. Dagur had been in there at the time, gloating over his prisoners, but when the hole was blasted in the roof, he took half of his soldiers with him and commanded the other ten to remain.

Now the prisoners and the remaining guards waited for whatever would happen next. ? was positive that the man in Berserker attire was indeed Captain Toram, and that the message he delivered was meant more for the prisoners than for the Berserker guards. He wanted them to know that a rescue mission was indeed under way. What confused him was that it suggested that Gelbrun and Stoick were on the same side. Something very interesting must have happened since Stoick and Tarina went into the fortress to negotiate.

"pick the closest guard to you and wait for my lead," ? whispered. "Pass it."

"I said no talking at all!" the Berserker guard said again.

Tynimon chuckled.

"Is something funny Nartaran?" the guard demanded.

Tynamon shrugged. "If there's to be no talking at all, then why are you talking?"

the guard gritted his teeth. "I'm not talking, I'm issuing orders."

"With your mouth, yes?" asked Tynamon.

"So?" asked the guard.

"That's called talking, good sir." replied Tynamon.

"Whatever!" the guard shouted. "Open your mouth again, and I'm going to shut it permanently."

"As if you could." Tynamon mumbled loud enough that the guard could hear him.

"That's IT!" the guard shouted, and he charged towards Tynamon.

Tynamon waited until the guard was almost on top of him, then he leapt head-first at the man, planting his head firmly in the guard's stomach. The banter he had engaged in was to give his message enough time to get passed around by the others, and the rest of the Berserker guards were watching the exchange with amusement. But when Tynamon leaped, many of the other prisoners followed suit, catching the guards completely off-guard.

The sound of the ensuing scuffle was the cue that Toram, Gelbrun and Stoick were waiting for, and they charged into the great hall surrounded by the warriors who accompanied them to the dungeon earlier. Between the prisoners and the rescuers, the Berserker guards were quickly subdued. It all went so well, except for one thing.

Tynamon was kneeling down on the floor, next to the body of the guard he was bantering with. Toram approached him. "Good job, Tynamon," he said. "Now get up and let's get out of here."

Tynamon was shaking his head. Toram moved around so he could see the man's face. That wasn't all he saw. There was a knife embedded in his chest, blade sunk in all the way down to the hilt. The man's heart was clearly pierced. Toram cursed under his breath and caught the former baker as he began to fall to the side. It wouldn't be long.

Tynamon looked up and met Toram's gaze. "Tell my wife and son that I died for them. Tell them I love them. Tell them..." his eyes went blank and he didn't speak again.

Toram gently lay the baker's body down and closed the man's eyes. "When this is over, my friend, I will see to it that a ship will carry you home." That was an honor accorded to a warrior, not a baker. But this man had proven himself as the former in spite of being the latter. Toram would see him honored. He stood up and turned to the others.

"Right!," he said. "Let's not render his sacrifice in vain. We need to get out of here, now." And that is exactly what they did. They made their way quietly back through the darkened streets, back through the secret gate in the outer wall, into the woods, and back to the resistance camp.

Tarina met them as they entered the camp, wanting to make it clear that the safety of her people was of greatest importance to her. "Is that everyone?" she asked Toram.

"All but one, my Chief," he said. "Tynamon the baker, the man most responsible for the resistance effort, gave his life to save us." He expressed his intent to honor the man with a funeral ship, and Tarina agreed.

O O O

Admiral Jorgan stood at the bow of his flagship, surveying the damage to the Berserker fleet as the light of dawn bathed everything a reddish-orange. He couldn't help but smile as he lowered his spyglass and turned to Jarin and Bar as they stood behind him. "It looks like dragons took out the outermost ships in the blockade. That just makes our job that much easier."

Jarin turned to Barr. "Okay, Lieutenant. Here's what we do... We're going to fly straight at them, split off and burn the sails of one enemy ship. Once we are clear, head away from Nartara and once out of range, head towards the camp."

"Why just one ship, sir?" Barr asked.

Jarin nodded. Barr was new to dragon riding and had yet to fly a combat mission. "Shot limits. When we get back to camp and rally with the other riders, we don't want Shadowhorn and Brokenclaw to have exhausted their fire."

"I see," said Barr, nodding thoughtfully.

"Admiral Jorgan," Jarin addressed the older man. "Thank you for your hospitality on this ship. I look forward to seeing you again when this is all over to welcome you and your captains home."

Admiral Jorgan classped Jarin's hand in a firm grip. "I shall look forward to that, sir."

with that, Barr and Jarin made their way to their respective Dragons and took to the air. Their little attack run was successful and they broke off in opposite directions. Jarin enjoyed a few moments of peaceful flight on the way back to the camp. He patted Shadowhorn's neck affectionately. "You've done wonderful, my friend. We've got more to do, but for now, let's just fly."

O O O

Dagur stood on the docks, surveying the damage to the outer-most ships of his fleet. It was too dark when Hiccup and his stupid dragon riders had made their air raid against him, so it was only by the light of dawn that he saw how bad it was. Something on the horizon caught his attention. He counted no less than thirty dots that were slowly taking the shape of ships. He cursed, the spyglass shattering as he threw it on the ground.

"Something vexes you, Lord Dagur?" Alvin asked.

"There's a fleet of ships on their way here. Who do they belong to?" Dagur demanded.

Alvin shrugged. "I'm sure I don't know, lord Dagur," he said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. He had the distinct impression that everything was about to fall apart, and all he cared about was finding a way to get away with his hide intact.

Dagur shrugged him off. "Our prisoners escape, clearly with help. Our fleet is stuck here. The dragons can hit us from the air at any time, and there's a fleet of ships baring down on us." He sighed, pacing back and forth. "They leave me no choice," he said. "Begin Operation Slaughter!" he shouted as he turned to Alvin.

"Stoick, Hiccup and the others can have the victory they think they have," he said with a look that could curdle new milk." While they celebrate, the women and children of Nartara will be dying."

O O O

Jarin's peaceful ride ended much sooner than he expected. From the air he could see a large contingent of Berserker soldiers moving towards the refugee camp, where the women and children of Nartara had retreated to when all this started to go down. "We need to warn them, Shadowhorn. There are too many soldiers and they are too spread out for us to be effective attacking on our own. Fly fast and hard!"

Shadowhorn didn't disappoint. A burst of speed put them over the refugee camp in a matter of minutes, and as soon as Shadowhorn touched down, he leaped out of the saddle. "Listen UP!" he shouted.

The women and children stopped their early morning activities to listen to their Chief's right-hand man.

"The Berserkers are coming here. They are no more than an hour away on foot. Get to your designated shelter areas. Those of you who can fight be ready to defend those who cannot. I will alert the others, and we will get here as quickly as possible. Any questions?"

There were none. He climbed back on Shadowhorn and they sped off towards the resistance camp. They needed to hurry, or things were going to turn really bloody really fast.

Okay, everyone... I know that it's been a while since my last posting. I'll be wrapping this story up in just a few more chapters. Thank you for your patience.