The Dragon King: The Eye and the Alpha

by Threni

It has been one year since the events of "The Dragon King" and life on Berk is a good as can be expected. And then one day they receive a message from a mysterious tribe ordering Hiccup to return to them something he swears he never stole. What follows is series of adventures and discoveries that will forever change their lives...and could also destroy them.

36. Chapter 36

I Own Nothing

All Rights Reserved

My heart and prayers go out to the islands in the Caribbean. No place deserves to endure the disasters that have occurred there.

Chapter 36

Viggo's Riches

Hiccup decided that few things in a town or city were worse than the hospitals. Like everywhere else, they were filthy, smelly, breeding grounds for rats and beetles, sooty and grungy in appearance from years of tallow and torches burning, and then to add to all of that was the sight of humans in their last painful moments of life. Men, women, and children gazed at him, hollow unnatural yellow eyes peering out from underfed, gaunt, cheerless, and gasping faces. Others lay on thin piles of straw writing with agony and muttering or crying insensibly. A pile of ragged bodies had been placed in a corner for the dead collectors. The place smelled like an outhouse with the scent of dead and rotting bodies included for good measure.

And perhaps even worse was that knowledge that there were infectious diseases all over the place and there was a good chance he might catch something himself and spread it to others. He had a mask on over his face, but that hardly guaranteed anything.

Ingrid and Fishlegs were with Snotlout, who was lying on a straw pile, staring up at the sooty black ceiling. Hiccup carefully hung up his lantern and asked how he was.

"It's getting worse. Father wouldn't let him stay at the Red Unicorn," Ingrid said bitterly, "he said sick people are bad for business. I told him 'so is contaminated water' but he ignored me. The doctors told me there's little hope."

Hiccup groaned and dropped his head into a hand. "Are the Gods suddenly determined to wipe out my entire family?"

"What are we going to do?" Fishlegs cried, "Cholera's fatal for nearly 7 out of every 10 people! Hiccup, is there any dragon trick that can cure him?"

Hiccup sighed heavily. "None that I know of."

"C'mon, think!"

"I don't know, all right! Dragons don't get cholera!"

"Dad…" Snotlout murmured. His eyes were unfocused and his tone sounded incoherent.

"They gave him something for the pain," Ingrid explained. "It seems to be working,"

"I hope they know what they're doing," Fishlegs muttered.

Hiccup nodded, but in agreement with his friend, not to indicate that the doctors knew their business. They stood in silence for a few moments. Then he gestured to them to come with him.

Fishlegs looked confused. "Is the plan still on?"

"We can't do anything for him now, Fish, and he wouldn't want this to stop us. Parts of the plan are already in motion. I can't call it off now. He's just going to have to sit this one out. He's got a battle of his own to fight."

"I'll sit this one out too, if that's alright," Ingrid said timidly, "I'll stay with him,"

"You sure?"

"He got sick in my families tavern—from our water. We owe him."

Hiccup nodded, but did not look reassured. "Just keep him alive, alright? When we return, I want to see him back on his feet and his usual self absorbed, obnoxious self."

"Don't you want to talk to him before we go?" Fishlegs suggested.

Hiccup looked at his pitiful cousin. He had never in all his life seen Snotlout in such bad shape, not even when they had been locked in a Berserker prison together. "Snotlout…you get better, all right? Yeah, so I'll see you when we get back and…I'm so sorry. For everything."

Snotlout farted loudly. They might have laughed at one time, and he might have laughed hardest, and then blamed it on someone else, but there was nothing funny about it now. The stench was horrible and he groaned and clenched his stomach. Hiccup and Fishlegs turned away, leaving Ingrid to try and tend to him as best as she could.

"You and I have to take a very thorough bath somewhere with clean water," Hiccup said, "And once we're done, we're off."

"Odin have mercy,"

"Now's as good a time as any for him to start," Hiccup sullenly agreed.

Viggo smiled with satisfaction at the amount of information they had gotten from the Dragon Eye today. Among other things he now knew about what kinds of fish Nightmares preferred the most, what time of year Nightmares and their related species laid eggs, and he was now considering if dragon eggs could be used for a delicacy, and he knew more about how Nightmares set themselves on fire. Hiccup's fire sword had impressed Viggo and he wanted to find a way to duplicate it and go further.

"What a fool Hiccup was," he said, his voice almost dripping with smugness, "he had such brains and let them go to waste. He focused on trivial matters and when he had a worthy idea he only advanced partially. I will go further. And to think, Father always favored Ryker."

He paused and wondered why on earth he had said that. He did not often think of his father, or anyone else in his family for that matter. He had hardly thought of Draccus even when he was alive and now that he was dead he thought of him even less. As for Ryker, he was useful as a thug but he was not refined enough. Viggo could rely on him for muscle and a few simple plans but little else.

Viggo sat back in his chair and thought about Hiccup. The Dragon King, as his men often called that man. What was Hiccup going to do next?

"He'll come here, of course, but when? He'll want to save his people, of course, but how? Who can he turn to?"

The Bog Burglars and those Defenders of the Wing were the obvious choices. He did not know where the Defenders were currently hiding but he decided it was time to remove the Bog Burglars from the picture. He would give them the same treatment he gave Berk. And then he remembered that most of his ships were still out delivering their live cargo from Berk. He did not have enough for another such undertaking at the moment.

He glanced at one of his notes. It contained a list of names of people who were being sold into slavery, possible at that very moment. These were people of no value and no worth except in servitude. The world would not miss them. He put the page down.

And then something compelled him to pick it up again. He looked at it a second time and read some of the names. A few of the last names were the same. Obviously they were from the same family. For some reason this made him feel uneasy. It made him wonder how he would like it if he had been sold with his own family into slavery. For a brief instant he saw himself chained up in a cargo hold with a hundred other wailing prisoners, waiting for a life of endless backbreaking work and floggings.

But then he snorted. "Everything I've done was right. Right for only me, perhaps, but everyone must act in their own interests! That's the way of the world! So, a few people got in my way and I had to take extreme measures—they were threats to my success! So what if I had some people killed? They were all going to die sooner or later anyway! They're all probably in happy Valhalla now, so they should be thanking me for sending them there! So what if I turned others into slaves? That's not my affair now."

He stood up and went to a large looking glass on the wall and looked at his reflection intently. "I am a man of business, and business cannot afford to be hindered by the insignificant. It's unfortunate and regrettable, but it's true. When people get in the way, they get hurt. I didn't ask them to interfere! If they had just kept out they'd be alive and thriving today! It's their own fault! And it's Hiccup's fault! And I have waited long enough—my cells can hold more people. I'll move on the Bog Burglars within the week and—"

There was a knock on the door from the adjoining room. He locked up everything, went to that room and opened the door. Dagur and Ryker were there.

"Well?"

"First of all, I just wanna say it wasn't my fault!" Dagur wailed. He was nursing a black eye.

"What's he going on about?" Viggo asked Ryker impatiently.

"From what I can gather, he ran into the Dragon King just now."

Viggo's eyes lit up. "Where did this happen? Where is he now?"

"Gone!" Dagur bawled, "I was taking a stroll and he came and left! But it wasn't my fault! I begged him to stay! I promised him all kinds of treats in his prison cells if he would just let me take him prisoner, but he punched me in the face and ran off!" He threw himself at Viggo's feet. "Oh please don't hurt me, Griggo Vimborn! It's not my fault my brother's so rude to his family! And this black stuff he put on my face won't rub off! I keep rubbing it but it stays there! Oh please don't sir me hurt!"

But Viggo was not at all interested in hurting Dagur. On the contrary, this was wonderful news! Now Hiccup was back and was obviously up to something. If they moved fast they might just be able to catch him. He turned to Ryker.

"Where's Heather's Razorwhip?"

"With Heather, I imagine."

"Get on that Razorwhip and go after him!"

"But my sister will be tired!" Dagur whined.

"I don't care! I want him found!"

"You didn't even ask if poor Ryker and his big throat are feeling better now!"

"I am perfectly fine!" Ryker growled, "But there's more. One of our ships just returned, and they say they saw a huge flock of dragons to the north. There's a Stormcutter nearby too."

Viggo smiled. So the Dragon King was bringing a dragon army against him, was he? "You go after Hiccup and I will attend to this flock. Dagur, go find Mogadon and the other Chiefs, I want to speak with them here at once. And will you please stop kissing my boots!"

Far away and far out at sea, in a much warmer climate, a ship bobbed up and down through the waves. For the crewmen, who were all in Viggo's employment, it was just another day at sea. There was some occasional noise from the cargo hold, but that was to be expected. Prisoners and captured dragons often made noises, so pleas for decent food (or any food at all), a doctor, or anything else were summarily ignored.

And then, without any noticeable warning, the grate covering the cargo hold was blown opened and dragons and prisoners burst out of it.

"Get 'em!" Gustav Larsen roared, swinging his chains at the nearest sailor's head. The sailors had no chance. The surprise had been total and the Dragons were in no mood to be merciful. Nor were the humans who were climbing out of the hold.

"Get in there and go for a swim!" Gustav yelled at one sailor he was pushing towards the side of the ship.

"But I can't swim!"

"Then this is the perfect time to learn!" and with that he threw the man overboard. And as soon as he did so he froze. Had he just left a man to die? He knew killing people in combat was one thing, but leaving someone to drown…

Gobber had finally climbed out of the hold, with some assistance. He saw Gustav's expression and shook his head. "Lad, think a' this: would they 'ave cried watchin' ya git dragged inta slavery?

"No," Gustav said, "But Hiccup told me having compassion was what separated us from them," he could hear shouts of the men in the water. With effort and a heavy heart he turned away.

Others had no conscience troubles, and they were laughing at their newly found freedom, thanking Gobber for carrying a picklock in his peg-leg, and criticizing him for not using it sooner.

"Well, ah didn't spend all that time wid 'Iccup fer nothin', ya know!" he laughed in response to the praise, "An' ah had ta wait and bide me time or else the sailors might've caught us!" At that moment a Hotburple licked Gobber right in the face. "AUGH! Git away from me, ya overgrown heap of rocks!"

The dragon snorted in offense and sat down in a sulk.

"'E's a real grump, that one," Gobber muttered.

Gustav assumed his best imitation of Hiccup's authority posture. "Right, turn this ship around and let's go home!"

"Yeah! Ah'll be able tag it a new pair of undies! Ah've bin wearin' these ones ever since—"

A woman threatened to throw Gobber overboard if he said one more word.

Far away from this, where it was considerably colder, on an island about half a day's flight from Grimmige Festung, Windshear went in for a landing. Ryker slid off the Razorwhip with a groan. "Thank the Gods, I was starting to cramp up! See the Dragon King anywhere?"

"Nope," Heather said. She unstrapped her axe, which was in its folded position so it looked like any other axe, took a deep breath, and moved towards him.

"What are you doing?"

"The idea is to cripple you badly and leave you here, but if you insist upon fighting to the death, I'll oblige you."

Ryker face turned ugly and he quickly pulled out his sword. "So its treason then, is it?"

"Treason means switching sides. I was never on your side to begin with."

Ryker smirked. "That's what Viggo thought. And I'm gonna have your spine for a belt!" He charged swinging his sword. Heather ducked and swung at his legs. Ryker leapt over the axe, but Heather had expected that and grabbed his foot, causing him to fall flat on his stomach. Despite the pain, Ryker rolled away just before he was sliced in half. He got to his feet and raised his sword. Heather swung her axe and knocked it right out of his hand.

She expected Ryker to jump for his weapon, but instead he jumped towards her and started punching, and he turned out to be better with his fists than with a blade. He punched her in the eye, then seized her by the collar and threw her to the ground. She slashed his leg with her axe, but he was so angry he ignored it and kicked her in the chest. Then he picked her up and shoved her to the ground again. As she landed on her hands, Heather swung her legs up, as if about to do a handstand, and kicked him in the face. Ryker fell backwards and she spun around and pummeled him in the stomach. She stopped to pick her axe up from the ground, only to find Ryker had used the time to grab his own weapon.

"Now you're gonna get it!"

"You took the words right out of my mouth," she swung her axe to the left and he blocked it. She swung to the right and he blocked it. She did left again and he blocked it. Then she swung right again and he blocked it, picking up on the pattern. She swung to the right and he blocked it.

"A typical move!" he laughed.

"Was it?" Thus far she had only been fighting with her axe as though it was merely a standard axe. But now she pressed a button to release the other blade. It swung out instantly, and she threw all her weight against it. He blocked it, but in doing so had removed his attention from the first blade, and he had no time to stop it as it sliced into his ribs.

"The Dragon King says 'hello,' by the way,"

Mogadon's ships were in the lead of the fleet. His warriors were armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. They were following a Stormcutter, because it was the only dragon they had seen and they assumed that where the dragon was they would also find the Dragon King.

"I smell a trap," a Meat Head said, "I think they want us to find them,"

"Of course they do!" Mogadon snapped, "They can't fight us if we stay away from them! I know what's going on here. They've chosen a place they think is ideal for them and they plan to let us come there and then blast us to pieces. Only they won't, because we know more tricks than they think we do!" Every warrior had an eel wrapped around their arm and Dragon Nip fastened to their clothes. It felt disgusting and silly but Mogadon was convinced that with these assets alone he could triumph over every dragon in existence.

"I wonder if Thuggory will be there,"

Mogadon at once seized the man and threw him into some crates. "I said nobody was to ever mention that traitor! Do I have to hammer it into that thick skull of yours, you idiot?"

"No sir!"

"Good! Now pick up the pace! We've got a fight to get to and I don't want another tribe arriving first!"

Up in the sky Cloudjumper looked down at his pursuers scornfully.

"Everlasting Ice, they are denser than I thought,"

Valka chuckled grimly. "It's not that, old friend. They can't fight us if they don't know where we are, so they won't pass up the chance to find us. And we're not going to come to them when we've got such a good position, so we've got to bring them to our position! They know that and we know that! Both sides are playing the other and whoever plays the best game wins."

"It is still pretty dense,"

"Yes, but only for the side that loses. The winners will be praised for their 'ingenious' tactics."

"I just hope that's us this time. I do not have much faith in your offspring's abilities, especially since he is not going to be present for this himself. I cannot help but sense he does not want to be around if we fail,"

"I already explained this. Hiccup's not here because he's got his own job to do. Now fly a bit higher. Let's keep out of range of their archers, just in case."

"Quite right. I have no intention of getting hit by a projectile again. So are we truly going to fight them or is there another plan?"

"My own hope is to scare them so badly they'll never want to get on Hiccup's bad side again, but I suspect this is going to end in violence,"

After disposing of Ryker's body and cleaning her weapons, Heather and Windshear flew to Barren Island. It certainly appeared to live up to its name. It was little more than a large island of rocks, with no trees or grasses or soil. The remains of miserable shack stood in the center of the island, further creating the impression of its desolation. But apparently below this small, uninhabitable, and unassuming landscape was Viggo's money vault.

Heather guessed Viggo had named it 'Barren Island' to deliberately mislead everyone. She knew he had a small vault in the very bottom of Grimmige Festung, but she imagined that was mostly for show or for money needed on short notice. She wondered who else knew about this place. Ryker had, for that was how they had learned about it, and if there were guards they obviously had to know, but she doubted anybody else knew. Certainly Dagur and Eret had never known. She had heard Eret remark he had often wondered where Viggo had kept all his money and how he still had so much if the profits were so low these days.

"I can't answer for everything," Hiccup had told him, "But I do know Drago paid him a fortune to construct that iron ship of his in secret. I wouldn't be surprised if after Drago's death Viggo quietly scooped up the rest of his wealth."

Night was falling early, as usual, which suited the plan fine as they did not want to be seen. Hiccup had been very explicit about that, which was probably why Fishlegs did not arrive until after sundown. In addition to a handful of Hotburples he was flying with a group of dragons Heather had never seen before. They looked like Gronkles only they were thinner and their skin color was metallic bronze, as opposed to the dull brown of Meatlug.

"What are those?" she whispered to Fishlegs after he landed.

"What happened to your eye?" he exclaimed. "It's black!"

"It is?" she gingerly touched it and felt the bruising. "Ryker punches pretty hard."

"Did you have any trouble with him?"

Heather drew herself up stiffly, "Me? Have any trouble? Why I'm offended by your lack of faith!" Her jesting was a mask to cover up the fact that she had just killed someone and had initiated the fight.

"Oh right, I forgot who I was talking to! You're Heather the Defender—Fearless and Peerless!"

"You sound like a peddler. 'Fearless and Peerless'," she repeated under her breath.

"On sale at 99% off and a lifetime guaranteed!" In truth Fishlegs had no idea what he was talking about or what the joke was. He was just glad Heather was alright.

"Very funny—I think. Now, if you're finished, can we get on with this? What are those dragons?"

"Do you remember when we were testing the dragon eye and found the lens which had a list of favorite foods of certain dragons? One of the species mentioned was a Flugarum."

"Floo-ga-room?" she repeated with bemusement.

"Right! They're a boulder class dragon and their favorite foods are metals, especially gold and silver."

Heather laughed. "Yeah, right!"

"No, it's true! Gronkles can consume rocks and Eruptodons eat lava, remember? Flugarums have been a real problem for miners for centuries—they often sneak into mines and eat the ore. Hiccup's got long ears, and he'd heard a while back there was a nest of Flugarums at Rammelsberg. It's a mine in the Harz."

"So what are they doing here? Unless—" Her eyes widened and she smiled broadly. "You mean to tell me they're going to eat Viggo's savings?"

Fishlegs grinned. "Exactly!"

"I hope this was worth the journey!" one of the Flugarums grumbled, "I'm hungry!"

"Yeah, this had better be worth it!"

"I haven't flown so far in my whole life!"

"The very image of cordiality, aren't they?" Heather whispered to Windshear, who snorted in agreement.

They approached the shack, because there was nothing else around to approach. Heather went in first and found the sides of the walls were held up by iron bars.

"So this is supposed to look like it's ready to fall over?"

"Clever," Fishlegs said. He signaled for the dragons to wait as he looked about the floor. "Heather, help me move this crate."

Underneath the heavy crate was a trapdoor. Twitchy with excitement they raised the door and nearly gagged. The air was incredibly foul.

"Good grief! Do they lock this up to let guards suffocate down there?"

Fishlegs put a finger to his lips. From below they could hear the sound of feet stomping on rock. The two humans slipped out of the shack and let Windshear slide over to the door.

"Someone's here alright," they heard a guard say, "the door's opened and it's not a supply day."

"You two search the island and I'll watch from here,"

"Yeah, that's right, stay inside where it's nice and warm," a third grumbled.

"You think it's warm in this wreck of a house? If you're so cold, get moving!"

The two men left the shack, got two steps and found themselves face to face with Windshear.

"Hello there,"

"RAZORWHIP ATTACK!"

The dragons leapt into action. Meatlug pounced upon one guard while Windshear pinned another to the ground with her spines. The third man had come running out of the shack and ran right into Heather, who winded him and threw him to the ground. Fishlegs at once pulled out long strands of rope and they bound them.

The three guards were incredibly pale and very dirty and smelly. They had muscular arms but the skin looked tight and stretched, and their frames were thin and scrawny in other places. Their eyes burned feverishly as they looked at their captors. Fishlegs was reminded of the people he had seen in the hospital.

"Are you gonna kill us?" one asked. He sounded hopeful, not helpless.

"That depends on how you answer my questions," Heather said coldly, "Are there any more of you?"

"No,"

"Yes, hundreds of us!"

"A few,"

Heather pointed her axe at the one who had said 'a few', as she imagined he was telling the truth. "How many exactly?"

"Five others. They stay below to guard the vault."

"Traitor!"

"They're going to find out anyway!" he yelled back at his fellow guard, "It's not like we can exactly stop them! Telling them there's a few hundred will only make them stall for a while!"

"And in that time the supply ship will come here and kill them!"

"No it won't," Fishlegs whispered smugly. No supply ship would be coming this way again if they had their way.

The more honest guard did not hear him. "Sure, and then we'll all go back down below for a few more decades, assuming Viggo doesn't have us killed for getting caught!"

"Fishlegs, bring them inside the shack and leave someone to guard them." Heather ordered. "Then we'll descend into this vault. How much is in it, anyway?"

"We don't know," the three guards said simultaneously.

"We've never counted,"

"We've never been told,"

"We've never been in the vault. We just guard the passage to it. Only Viggo has the key to the door."

"I actually pity them," Meatlug said as they climbed down the trapdoor. She almost could not fit, and had to rub her thick hide repeatedly against the stone walls to widen the passage. "They're essentially prisoners here. Didn't you see how unhealthy they looked?"

"Yes I did." Windshear replied, "It's all because of that monster Viggo and his greed. I just hope we pay him back for it."

They descended down a tunnel, the two humans holding lanterns. On the left they could see a kind of dwelling area for the guards. It was a place of total filthiness. It smelled horrible, abandoned supply bags were thrown about all over the place, along with bits of half-eaten food, and the lights from torches had turned the walls to a smudgy black. They could see a few holes in the ceiling for air and perhaps to allow rainwater to be captured, but these did nothing to improve the air quality or the overall appearance of the place. Why anyone would want to live here was beyond them, but it was likely the guards had not known what they were getting themselves into until it was too late to change their minds.

The passage beyond became too narrow for the Boulder Class Dragons, so they set to work widening it while the humans went on ahead with Windshear.

"I wonder how much gold Viggo's got here?" Heather said, "It must be a lot if he takes such precautions."

With no warning, an axe swung in front of her.

"What the—!" She leapt backwards just in time. If she had not had such reflexes she would have been sliced in half. Fishlegs had been walking so close behind her she ran into him and he nearly fell over.

"How did that happen?" he exclaimed when they had gotten their balance back.

He held the lantern out and they looked around nervously. Upon close examination of the floor Fishlegs realized certain slabs were a slightly different color from the rest. Laying on his belly he carefully stretched out his hand and pressed down on this part of the ground. The axe came swinging again, but it was too high up to cut through his hand.

"So that's it," he said, "step on this part of the floor and the axe swings. Interesting contraption."

"Sounds like something Hiccup would make,"

"This section of floor must be a different color so the guards don't step on it by mistake."

"I wonder how many have," Heather said darkly.

Windshear passed the warning back to their companions. From then on they stepped a lot more cautiously.

The fleet of Viking ships had followed Cloudjumper to an island they could swear was not on their charts. At least they assumed it was an island, though it was so large it was hard to tell. It really looked as if part of the ocean had frozen over. The island was literally one huge sheet of ice, and when the men walked on it they had no idea if there was solid earth underneath them. And this made them antsy, because they could not imagine how this could have happened. It was winter, yes, and parts of the sea did freeze over and chunks of ice were frequent dangers in these parts, but never to this extent. And because they could not imagine how this could have happened, they started to come up with their own theories. Some went so far as to speculate the Dragon King had powers over the weather, or perhaps the Gods had taken his side in this little conflict.

Mogadon knew the man behind the Dragon King's façade and did not put stock in such theories, but he decided they had played this game long enough. With the agreement of the other leaders, the men were ordered to start digging trenches and prepare a defense for a dragon attack.

"Now they're going to have to come to us," he grinned, "the fight will be on ground of our choosing, not theirs."

Up in the air Cloudjumper turned his head around almost 180 degrees to look behind him. "They have stopped."

"That was expected,"

Heather and Fishlegs were stopped as well. Stopped by an iron portcullis, five armed guards in front of them, and another portcullis that had dropped behind them. They were trapped and cut off from Windshear.

One of the guards raised a crossbow and fired a warning shot. "Don't make any sudden moves! Put your hands up slowly!"

They casually put their hands in the air and jumped to opposite sides of the passage. They were far enough apart for Windshear to stick her mouth through one gap in the iron barrier and shoot a ball of fire at the guards. The guards flung themselves on the floor to escape the blast, and before they could get up Heather swung her axe and neatly knocked their crossbows against the wall.

"Don't make any sudden moves!" she said smugly, "Put your hands up slowly!"

As she spoke Windshear swung her tail and bit by bit hacked through the portcullis as if it was a very thick piece of rope.

Then men slowly got to their feet and in unison pulled out swords. Three went for Heather and the others went for Fishlegs. Fishlegs swung his hammer and disarmed one man, only for the other to grab him around the neck and bite him in the shoulder. On Heather's end, two guards slammed their swords against her axe and held them there while the third tried to cut her head off. She ducked, then jumped and kicked one in the chest, sending him sprawling on the floor.

The guard was behind Fishlegs and trying to strangle him, so Fishlegs drove himself backwards into the wall. For the guard it was like being the metal hammered on an anvil. Heather struck another of her attackers in the mouth with her fist and he fell to his knees spitting out blood. Moments later the portcullis was thrown to the ground and Windshear joined the fight. Fishlegs grabbed Heather by the wrist and pulled her against the wall and the Razorwhip blasted the guards.

On the icecap the Vikings had already prepared a trench and were digging a second one when a cylinder container fell from the sky. One man nervously picked it up and delivered it to the Chiefs, who were preparing plans for battle at their headquarters tent in the rear.

The cylinder contained a letter. It read thus:

"You cannot hope to win. You've all fought with dragons before, so you know something of what to expect, but you have no idea of what you're truly up against. Save yourselves and your tribes. Return to your homes at once and we shall say no more about this. For those who stay and fight, expect no mercy.

You've been warned.

The Dragon King,

Scolder noticed there was writing on the back as well. This read:

Oh, and duplicate letters are being distributed amongst your people at this very moment, so don't think you can hide this warning from everyone else. You might be content to fight, but I wonder if the rest of your people feel the same way.

Kindest regards,

The Dragon King,"

Mogadon rushed out of the tent and, sure enough, he saw Vikings nervously clenching sheets of parchment and looking around uncertainly. More parchment was dropping from the sky.

He knew he had to act at once so he roared "Now here this, all of you! This is just a bluff! Hiccup the Useless is trying to scare us away because he knows he's outmatched! We've all fought with dragons before and we've got tricks of our own which he had no idea about! We're Vikings! We don't not turn around and run because of a few letters! And I will personally behead anyone who attempts to flee now, so get back to work and forget about this!" he grabbed a letter and tore it to shreds. Then he looked up at the sky and yelled, "Bring it on, Dragon King! Attack us if you dare!"

The Vikings quickly went back to their preparations, but Mogadon's words hardly reassured anybody, including himself. He had to wonder, was this fight going to be worth it? Were they truly ignorant of the power Hiccup had at his disposal?

He was not a deeply devout man, but he prayed to every God he ever respected that they were not in over their heads.

Fishlegs and Heather walked a little ways further down the passage—away from the smell of charred flesh, and came to a stone wall. Try as they might they could not find a way to get through this stone blockage, and Windshear's spines made no impact on it. They decided to wait for the Boulder Class Dragons to arrive and hopefully eat through it. They could faintly hear them widening the tunnel but could see almost nothing in the blackness.

Fishlegs sat down and took some deep breaths.

"Hiccup warned me there might be casualties. Even so, I don't like this. It seems so senseless to me. Those men did nothing but what they were ordered to do—and hardly even that."

"That's what happens in war, Fishlegs. People who had nothing to do with it get hurt first and worst. You don't have to like it, but it's what happens."

"And this whole place—it must be a nightmare to live here. It's almost as bad as the hospital we left Snotlout at."

"How is he, by the way?"

"Who knows?" Fishlegs asked hopelessly, "He could be the same, on the mend, or dead for all I know. Oh, Heather, I just want this to be over. I just want things back the way they used to be."

"So do I,"

"And then you'll go back to the Defenders and doing who knows what again, I suppose?"

Heather eyed him sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He frowned. "Look, I know you've got your own life to live but…well, I get tired of saying goodbye! Every time we have some kind of adventure, in the back of my head there's always a nagging reminder that when it's all over you're going to go somewhere else and I may never see you again and…well, I'm tired of it!"

"What do you want me to say? I don't live on Berk! I have a place of my own and a tribe of my own, and I can't just leave them behind because I—because I—"

"What?"

"Nothing,"

Fishlegs picked up a rock and tossed it away moodily.

"Do you think it was worth it?" Heather suddenly asked, "Us going after the Dragon Eye? Do you think that thing was really worth all this trouble?"

"Yes,"

She was not expecting that answer. "Really?"

"Yes, because if we hadn't gone after the Dragon Eye…I would never have met you, and…and I think that's worth the price,"

Heather discovered she was sweating. "Fishlegs—"

The arrival of Meatlug ended the conversation. "Here we are! Whew! Those Flugarums are quite the eaters!"

Fishlegs adopted a calmer tone. "That's good to know, Princess. Can you get us through this door?"

She examined the blockage before them and slammed her club-like tail into it. She did it again and again, and the arriving Flugarums began gobbling up the chunks. At last she made a large enough hole for Fishlegs to climb through with difficulty. He held a lantern in front of him and Heather heard him gasp.

"Well? Can you see anything?"

He had some trouble speaking. "Yes. I can see something alright."

Heather climbed through the opening and gasped as well. Before them was a vast cavern filled with great piles of money. Fishlegs had seen the treasury at the Sanctuary ruins, but this far surpassed it in every way. Everywhere was the hint of gold and silver. There were giant piles of coins, bars, jewels, ornaments, and anything else a valuable metal could be shaped into. There were numerous piles of precious stones and rare gems, some the size of sand, some the size of apples. There were piles of gold dust and gold flakes, and there were ebony and ivory statues, vases of milky white alabaster, beryl encrusted crowns, and in one corner were candelabras with giant rubies for candle holders on their arms. There were even clothes: fine fabrics, made namely of silk or golden threads, with gems of all kinds sewn into them. Everything was thriftily organized by type and value.

For all they knew, they were looking at the greatest accumulation of wealth in the entire world. They had both heard stories about the legendary wealth of Ancient Egypt and her Pharaohs, but they felt such riches were surely a mere shadow compared to what this great vault contained. How much wealth was actually in there was incalculable, even for someone like Fishlegs.

The two humans just stood dumbstruck with awe and amazement. "Whoa,"

"Yeah, whoa,"

"No wonder Viggo has been able to endure even after all of our efforts. He must've started stocking this place before he was an adult!"

Fishlegs suddenly exploded. "All this and Viggo complains about losing money! That money grubbing skinflint! I'll bet he's got more wealth in here than any ten Viking tribes put together! Think of all the good that could be done with it—that hospital would be a million times more wholesome if just a pile of this added to their finances! Think of all the misery he's caused us, and for what? For his pride and something he's already got plenty of!" he kicked a pile of gold. The pile did not budge and he grabbed his foot as he cried out in pain. "OW! Stupid bunch of gold! Cold and hard pieces of metal. It just suits a man like Viggo!" He turned to the Flugarums, who had yet to enter the vault. "All right, boys, come on in and eat up!"

"Eat up?" one poked his head in and his mouth fell opened. "Oh my tasty earth and pounds of produce! It's the feast of a lifetime!" He leapt into the room and started gobbling down the contents of the nearest pile. The others followed him in at once and joined in the feast.

"I don't think they'll be leaving anytime soon," Heather remarked, "Still…kinda a waste of money, don't you think?"

Fishlegs took some bags from Meatlug's saddle. "That's what these are for. Start filling them. We're taking all the treasure we can possibly carry out and the rest is for the Flugarums." He took a piece of parchment from his pocket and attached it to the wall with a nail and small hammer. "Hiccup told me to leave this behind, just in case Viggo ever returns here."

The parchment read thus:

"Flugarums do so love the taste of good business!"

Author's Note:

There are now only 5 chapters left in this story. I have gotten a slight impression over the past months that readers do not really like cliffhanger endings, especially during the exciting moments, so to soften this somewhat, Chapters 37 and 38 will be posted together and Chapters 39 and 40 will be posted together. Chapter 41, which is unfinished and serves as an epilogue, shall be posted by itself. The posting dates have yet to be determined.