Chapter Twenty- Eight

In the days following Byron's revelations, and departure, the werecat and his news had become one of the main topics of conversation: Lutharian, Hiccup's mother; It was everywhere.
Hiccup was just glad to have something else to focus on; something productive he could do... Every morning, he and the other Riders would clamber onto their dragon's backs, and they would set off for Dragonstone Island.
He, Astrid, Fishlegs, and their dragons were growing more accustomed to their new role as teachers; and their students were eager to learn, and making visible progress.

During their 'down time', they had even founded Berks' first full- contact, dragon- riding sport; The Dragon Races.
To everyone's surprise, The Twins had come up with the original idea; crude, and unrefined though it was. Snotlout had built the 'sheep- launcher' – to prove that he "could invent stuff, too", in the hopes of "winning Astrid back" from Hiccup.

Days passed like this, than weeks, than months.

Part One – News from the North

Five months after the Werecats' departure…

It was evening, of the last day of the fourth month since Byron gathered the other Werecats that had been on Berk, and the lot of them had left in search of the Alpha's Sanctuary – and to spread the word of their latest discovery to the other Werecats in the Archipelagos.

Everyone had gathered in the Great Hall for what was expected to be a supper like any other. That changed when, thirty minutes into the meal, the doors to the hall were nudged inwards. A moment later, a 'voice' said, 'Knock- knock.'
All conversation in the hall came to an abrupt halt; several people jumped, but interest in what the new arrival might have to say quickly overwhelmed the ripple of surprise that moved through the Great Hall.

When Hiccup heard the voice, and saw the creature padding down the length of the hall, his eyes widened. "Byron?"

'Hiccup,' the werecat inclined his head. He glanced around the hall, than returned his attention to Hiccup. 'Before you ask, no… We have yet to find any sign of the Alpha's Sanctuary, though our search has taken an … 'interesting' turn: As we made our way north, we began to encounter groups of men, claiming to be dragon- trappers, roaming the seas. My sister, Brianne, and I have been travelling together, and, between us, we've been able to eavesdrop on many of their conversations; what we've learned was both informative, and … troubling: Apparently their 'employer', someone by name of 'Drago', is building a 'dragon- army'...'
The werecat paused, apparently having noticed the look that passed between Stoick and Gobber; 'I take it you've heard the name 'Drago' before?'

Stoick sighed, and nodded, "Years ago – Long before we made our peace with the dragons, there was a great gathering of Chieftains; to discuss ways to end the wars… Into our midst there came a stranger, from a strange land... He claimed that he, Drago Bludvist, had devoted his life to freeing mankind from what he called 'the tyranny of dragons'… He said that he, alone, could control the dragons; he alone could keep us safe … if we chose to bow down, and follow him." He was silent for a moment, than continued; "The idea was so ridiculous we … we laughed; until he wrapped himself in his cloak and cried 'then see how well you do without me!' … The rooftop suddenly burst into flames, and a swarm of armoured dragons descended upon us… I … I was the only survivor."

When Stoick stopped speaking, the silence that followed lasted for several minutes; humans and dragons both seemed equally affected by the news.

Finally Byron, who had changed into human form and dressed without anyone noticing, said, "I see… The news is not all bad, however: On one occasion, I personally overheard a few of these 'trappers' complaining about an entire 'shipment' of dragons being freed by a 'mysterious dragon- rider'..." Byron glanced around the hall, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "Would anyone like to guess what kind of dragon this… 'Individual' was riding?"

Part Two: Dragon- Magic

"It's her … Valka!" Stoick's eyes widened. "We should send boats; to help with the search, to free the dragons and…"

Byron raised an eyebrow, "I would advise against sending ships north, Chief Stoick… for the time being, at least." Before anyone could ask why, the werecat continued, "There are already boats, and trappers, scouring the north; to scatter friends among foes would be a bad idea… Besides: the more of this region I see, the more it fits the Legend of Lutharian… If he's anywhere, he's there; in the north- of- the- north."

Stoick frowned, "Then Hiccup and the more- experienced Riders can come as well; Lutharian wouldn't attack other dragons without first hearing them out… Right?"

Byron turned to face Hiccup, "I believe Eragon told you about the Thirteen Riders who betrayed the First Order, and joined forced with Galbatorix; correct?"

Hiccup nodded, "He called them 'The Forsworn'…"

Byron inclined his head, and turned back to Stoick, "Just because they are Dragons, and Riders, doesn't mean that Lutharian will accept that they are friends; He may know of your war, but not of the peace… It would be best that we, the werecats, bridge the gap: If one of us chances upon him, he would recognize us as werecats, and his own curiosity would demand that he hear us out; anyone else … if Lutharian even suspects that you're trying to deceive him…"
He hesitated, than turned to Hiccup, "You said that Eragon told you something of The Forsworn; did he ever tell you what the dragons did when they learned that thirteen of their own had betrayed them? … Did he tell you of 'Du Namar Aurboda'?"

Hiccup thought for a moment, translating the words, "'Du Namar Aurboda'…" He frowned, "'The Banishing of The Names?"

"I guess that's a 'no'," Byron said. He thought for a moment, and then continued. "As you would already know, dragons can use magic – though not as humans would: Only when the need is immediate, and the dragon has sufficient inspiration, will the gift come to them… When the dragons of the day learned that thirteen of their own had turned against them, and were actively aiding Galbatorix, their anger was beyond description… Every dragon not of The Forsworn combined their strength, and cast a spell: together, they stripped the Thirteen of their Names."

Hiccup had a feeling this was a lot worse than it sounded, "What does that mean, exactly; to 'strip them of their names'?"

Byron's shoulders sagged, "Birth-names, nicknames, titles… This spell tore all of that away from The Thirteen's Dragons; everything that allowed them to function as intelligent, thinking creatures. It was said that at least four of these dragons, and as many Riders, went mad as a result … Even today, you might look at a list of their names, and – whether you try to read the names letter by letter, or all together, they are as gibberish; they have been permanently erased from history… 'Du Namar Aurboda'; The Banishing of The Names."
"Lutharian is not that powerful, on his own, but even so…"

The silence that followed seemed to have no end; how long it actually lasted, no one could say. Finally, someone at one of the tables asked "If dragons are so powerful, why didn't they used their magic during the war? They could've…" The speaker let the question fade to silence; he didn't need to.

It was Toothless who answered, 'I cannot speak for all dragons, but I didn't know we had the means to work such changes; not until Saphira began to instruct us… Even if a northern- dragon cast a spell, I doubt they would have realized what they'd done; I didn't…'
All eyes in the hall immediately fixed on Toothless. Before anyone could ask, Toothless turned to Hiccup, 'During the Battle of The Red Death; when you were knocked out of my saddle, and were falling towards the firestorm… By the time I righted myself, from the impact, you were halfway towards the flames… I didn't know how – what – I did; there was this rush of energy; I willed your fall to slow, long enough to catch up, and… it worked.' The Night- Fury shook his head; 'I thought it was luck, but…'

"I have seen many things, in many places, but 'luck'; 'Luck' is the sauce the vain pour on failure to hide the taste; while the modest use it to downplay their skill, so as not to discourage those with less experience." He considered the black dragon and his rider for a moment, then snatched up an empty goblet, said "Hiccup, catch!" and threw the heavy, clay mug!

"Wha–" Hiccup began, his hand already moving… He caught the mug right-handed before he finished the word. " –at?"

The entire hall had gone silent, everyone staring at the mug in Hiccup's hand… Even Hiccup appeared momentarily surprised.
Byron, however, smiled, "When was the last time you checked the tips of your ears, Rider?"

To be continued…