Chapter 21: Checkmate
Uninhabited Isle, 2 miles North of Bog Burglar Island, Day 13 since Hiccup's Departure
"YEEEAAAARRRRGGGHHH!"
"Hold still, Astrid!" Fishlegs commanded. Taking his thin knife and taking a firm hold on Astrid's waist, he probed the arrow embedded in Astrid's side gently with his knife. Astrid screamed in agony, writhing on the dirt next to Stormfly.
"All right," Fishlegs muttered, taking a cloth handed him by Heather and wrapping it around the arrow to stop the bleeding. He touched Astrid's shoulder. "Can you hear me, Astrid?"
"Yeah," Astrid grunted. Her face was white with pain, and her hands were clenched into round, hard fists. Lying on her side, her head up against Stormfly, she tried to ignore the arrow sticking out of her side and focus on what Fishlegs was saying.
"Listen to me," Fishlegs said. "You were shot by a standard Viking bow, with the usual 24 inch arrow. I measured 22.5 inches from the entry point to the feathers, so that arrow, including the tip, is over two inches deep in your side."
Astrid nodded. No wonder it hurt so much.
"And it couldn't have picked a better – or worse – spot," Fishlegs went on, wiping his brow, which was slick with sweat. "It missed your lungs and liver and all the vital organs, but because of that, it hit your hipbone." Fishlegs tapped Astrid's hip. "Basically what I'm saying is the arrow was shot at an angle where the barb of the tip got stuck behind your hipbone. It will be – umm, difficult to remove." Fishlegs twisted his hands. "So what I'm going to have to ask you to do is swing your right leg up as high as you can so that the arrow has the clearest way for me to remove it, and uhh, yeah -"
"What do you mean?!" Astrid snapped.
"It's going to hurt!" Fishlegs, blurted, a little forcefully. "A LOT," he then added.
Astrid nodded and gritted her teeth, bracing herself. Heather pulled off her leather finger guard and handed it to Astrid.
"Bite on that," she ordered. "You'll want it." Reaching forward, she stuffed the leather between Astrid's teeth, and the blonde Viking, nodding a terse thanks, bit down on it. Fishlegs, receiving a nod from Heather, reached for the arrow and took a firm grip on the shaft. Heather reached forward and clasped Astrid's hand.
"All right, Astrid, I need you to move your leg now," Fishlegs commanded, his eyes fixed on the wound.
Steeling herself, Astrid gripped Heather's hand hard and swung her leg to the right. She yelled in pain as the arrow shifted inside her, and in the same moment Fishlegs grabbed it and, with one quick tug, yanked the barbed bolt from her side.
Astrid screamed, and for a second she almost blacked out from the pain. Gasping, she felt Stormfly twitch in discomfort at seeing her in such agony. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and saw Fishlegs toss a bloody arrow to the ground.
"Get me that ale, Heather," Fishlegs said, reaching out his hand. Heather, one hand still grasping Astrid's, handed Fishlegs a sealskin which contained hard alcohol. Taking off the cap, Fishlegs poured it into Astrid's wound.
Astrid gritted her teeth against the leather as her injury burned like lava. Then she felt a soft, smooth cloth placed over the wound and carefully cinched tight. She opened her eyes once more and looked down at her side. It was cleanly bandaged, and Fishlegs was wiping her blood off his hands with a rag.
"You should be fine for now, Astrid," he said. "It'll still hurt like crazy, but I think it'll be fully healed in just a few weeks. You should be able to fight with it in the next few days. Have Gothi look at it when we get back to Berk, all right?"
Astrid nodded, spitting out Heather's leather finger guard to gasp for air. Her bite marks were clearly visible in the cowhide.
Heather helped Astrid sit up.
"You OK?" Heather asked concernedly.
Astrid nodded, groaning. "Yeah, I'm good. Just - that was rough."
Looking up, she saw the rest of the gang sitting around the fire, all looking at her with grim looks on their faces.
"Well, that was a very good lesson for me," Tuffnut said slowly. "NEVER get shot with an arrow. That was tough to watch."
Ruffnut nodded. "Geez, Astrid, that must have been freakin' painful. Oww."
"Thank you - SO much, Ruff, for that – spot-on analysis," Astrid growled, swinging her legs around and leaning against Stormfly. Her dragon, although recuperating herself, crooned and nuzzled Astrid with her snout.
"Hey, at least it wasn't one of Heather's arrows," Tuffnut grinned. "Holy Thor, Heather, I saw what those things did to your opponents. What in the name of the Gods did you put on those arrows that made the Boggies flop around like fish?"
Heather looked down, but Fishlegs nodded in agreement, looking at Heather.
"Yes. Those were deadly and brutal, Heather. I didn't like it at all. What was that stuff?"
Heather looked up.
"It's called Juton Oil," she said quietly. "I was told that there's only three bottles of it in the world. Two are lost, and I have the third." She patted the satchel next to her. "I got it from a trader back on my island, who says it was made by a distant people that have utterly no mercy for their enemies. I didn't believe him, but bought it nonetheless – for a steep price. I didn't know what exactly it did until today. I certainly believe that trader now."
Fishlegs looked curious for a second, and opened his mouth as if to ask a question, but then appeared to change his mind.
"All right, listen, everyone," he said, wiping the final drops of Astrid's blood off his hands. "I have several issues to discuss, but first of all, let me start the congratulations. That raid was a HUGE success."
The Vikings began to nod, but Astrid made a noise.
"No it wasn't," Astrid whispered. "Hiccup wasn't there."
The gang looked at her, and Fishlegs spoke again.
"Come on, Astrid, we all knew he wasn't going to be there. He's DEAD, no question about it. But I am quite confused now, as to the reason why they killed him. Did any of you see their dragon-training ring?"
Tuffnut nodded. "Yeah, me and Ruff attacked the Eastern defenses and saw it. They had dragons in there. Lots of em."
"That's normal," Fishlegs said. "But there was something that didn't make any sense about the dragons. What was different about the cages, Tuff?"
The whole gang was now listening attentively. Tuffnut squinted, trying to remember.
"Uhh, geez, I don't know," he grimaced. "But wait! Yeah, they had nice straw beds and carved water trays and stuff, like we do back on Berk. The cages were nice. They looked like they were made to make the dragons – happy."
Astrid sat up, grunting as her side ached in protest.
"What?!" She demanded in shock.
"That's right," Fishlegs said grimly, leaning back against Meatlug. "The Bog Burglars are capturing dragons, but NOT to fight them for training. They are trying to RIDE them. They're trying to TRAIN them."
Heather stared, blinking her cat-like eyes.
"That doesn't make any sense," she argued, pushing a lock of black hair behind her ear. "That's why they killed Hiccup, right? Because they thought riding dragons was evil. They can't be doing it themselves, can they?"
"That's what I mean," Fishlegs replied. "It doesn't make sense, Heather. Why would they kill a guy like Hiccup for riding a dragon if they were just going to turn around and try to do it as well?"
There was silence. The flames of the fire crackled as each Viking pondered the strange occurrence. Fishlegs continued.
"There must have been another motive. Another reason that the Bog Burglars decided to kill Hiccup, not the fact that he was a dragon rider."
"Wait, hold on a second!" It was Tuffnut. He took off his helmet and scratched his head in a rare show of actual thoughtfulness. "So, if they are really trying to train the dragons themselves, how do they expect to get help from the other tribes? I mean, all their allies will come and will only fight for them if they share the same viewpoints, right? It's the common hatred for us, the tribe of Berk, will be the only thing that holds our enemy together. How do the Boggies expect to win when they are doing what their allies would find un-Vikingly?"
Fishlegs frowned, stroking his chin. "That's actually a really good point, Tuff," he muttered. "I don't know. I'll have to think on it."
"Bah!" Snotlout snorted. "We don't need to THINK, dummy. We just need to fly all our dragons in there and blaze away until they're all dead. We killed DOZENS tonight, and that was only with five dragons! Who cares what they're doing with the dragons if we're just going to kill all the Boggies anyway?"
"Maybe – we might not be justified in killing them," Fishlegs said.
"What?" Tuffnut laughed. "What are you saying, Fishlegs? They killed Hiccup. They all deserve to die slow and agonizing deaths."
"I mean this," Fishlegs replied. "This whole training dragon's thing doesn't make sense. What if – they DIDN'T kill Hiccup?"
There was a long silence, and then Astrid spoke.
"Not possible," she said firmly. "I dueled Camicazi tonight, and she told me to my face that she had killed Hiccup."
"She did?!" Tuffnut sat up, his eyes narrowing to slits. "Holy Thor! She ADMITTED IT? I'll – I'll gut her! I'll go and spill her brains out, that blonde haired scheming bitch! She killed Hiccup! She's a cutthroat! A savage! I'll – I'll -" Tuffnut leapt to his feet and demonstrated what he would do to Camicazi. It involved great hacks and punches at thin air.
Fishlegs, ignoring Tuffnut, stared at Astrid.
"Camicazi told you that she killed Hiccup, Astrid?" he asked, disbelievingly.
Astrid nodded, all eyes on her, except for Tuffnut, who was still raging.
"Yes, she did," Astrid said quietly. "She said she cut his throat and – and burned the body. To get rid of - evidence. She didn't say anything about Toothless, though."
Fishlegs frowned. "Are you sure she wasn't just trying to rile you up?" He queried. "That's what she does, that's what they all do. They LIE. Are you sure she wasn't just taunting you?"
Astrid swallowed. "She might have been," she whispered. "But I doubt it. She had – details. Details that - couldn't easily be lied about. She said – that she and Hiccup did -" Astrid blinked back tears.
"She did WHAT with Hiccup?" Ruffnut asked.
"Shut up, Ruff," Heather snapped, seeing Astrid on the verge of tears. "I think I get it." She glanced meaningfully at Fishlegs.
"I see." Fishlegs bit his lip. "OK. Camicazi got Hiccup in bed. I get it." He took a deep breath. "Damn!"
It was the first time Astrid had ever heard Fishlegs curse like that in his life. It got her attention off of what Camicazi had told her and back on the chubby boy. Fishlegs was scowling.
"What is it, Legs?" Heather was curious.
Fishlegs grimaced. "I'm a – a loser, you know. I like doing silly math and calculations and all that. It's not Viking-like, but I have a gift that way. A gift of wanting to know stuff. And I LIKE understanding stuff. But this – I don't understand."
He sighed, leaning back against Meatlug. "It's crazy. All of it. I don't GET it. I need to think."
He closed his eyes and was silent. Heather cleared her throat.
"Hey Legs," she said. "If you're going to space out for a little bit, can we all go to sleep? Or did you want to talk to us about anything else?"
"Nothing that can't wait," Fishlegs muttered. Then his eyes snapped open. "Actually, hold on!" he said. "I have another question, for YOU, Snotlout."
Snotlout looked surprised. "Umm, for me? OK, go ahead." He folded his beefy arms across his chest.
"All right, Snotlout, what in the name of Thor were you doing in the Great Hall on that island?" Fishlegs asked. "I mean, you landed and actually went IN there? Why, for the love of the Gods? It was stupid and dangerous."
Snotlout was taken aback.
"Umm, yeah," he said. "Look, I'm the heir now, and, well, I thought I should go in there to fight Bertha face to face, like a real Viking." He shrugged. "I felt like a loser attacking them in the dark and all that. So I wanted to fight like a Viking. But Bertha wasn't around, only Heather was. So I ran out and got away."
Fishlegs snorted. "You should be lucky Bertha wasn't there. You would have had your head cut off in two seconds."
"No." Tuffnut was grinning. "She would have crushed your skull with her boobs!"
Heather stared. "What, Tuff?"
"No, I'm serious!" Tuffnut said, seeing Heather's look of astonishment. "She's killed grown men with those things."
Heather was still in shock. "No way," she said.
"I regret to inform you that Tuffnut is right," Fishlegs said, chuckling slightly. "And Snotlout, allow me to point out that you were a moron to storm the Great Hall. The chances of you actually killing Bertha in there was like, 3.54 percent."
Snotlout spat. "Oh, bah! I killed three Boggies in there. Snotlout RULES." He flexed his bicep.
"It was just luck, you turdface," Ruffnut muttered.
"OK look, Ruffnut!" Snotlout said, turning ugly. "The first thing I'll do when I'm chief is to make sure you stop that disrespectful crap! The first thing!" Then Snotlout turned and looked at Astrid, grinning. "Well, thesecondthing. First, I need to get some marriage contacts going."
Astrid snarled and reached for her axe in a rage.
"Hey, whoa!" Heather grabbed Astrid and held her down. "Take it easy, Astrid! You're hurt."
"He'll be hurt in a minute!" Astrid screamed. "Who does he think he is, coming and trying to pull a Thor-damned marriage contract with my parents?! I'll carve him open! I'll rip him apart! I'll put Juton Oil in your food, you Snot face! You slimy piece of -"
"Whoa!" Fishlegs got up to help restrain Astrid, who, despite her injury, was struggling to jump across the fire at Snotlout. Together with Heather, Fishlegs eased her back down against Stormfly.
Snotlout laughed. "Oh, what's the matter, Astrid?" he mocked. "Your precious Hiccup ditched you, you know it. That's what Camicazi told you, wasn't it? Hiccup was a loser, he dumped you right in the scrap bin when he saw Cami. I bet she fucked Hiccup, right?"
Astrid roared and sprang up once again. Heather and Fishlegs had to forcibly restrain her from chopping Snotlout to shreds. She yelled and struggled to get loose. However, her side spasmed, and she fell back with a cry of pain, dropping her axe. Snotlout chuckled.
"Not so tough now, are you, babe?"
"HEY!" It was Tuffnut, and he was mad. "Listen, Snotface, you SHUT it! I'm sick of this! Can't you just leave Astrid alone! Can't you see she's upset? For the love of Thor, Snotlout, just stop being a yakshit!"
Snotlout stood up and grabbed Tuffnut by the collar.
"You watch it, you skinny slime," Snotlout hissed. "Or I'll stuff your head right into the ground." The two boys glowered at each other, and Tuffnut reached for his spear.
"NO!" Fishlegs, ignoring Astrid, leapt to his feet. "No." He commanded icily. "This will NOT happen. We are NOT going to do this right now. Squabbling like Terrible Terrors over a meat scrap! WE can't fight among ourselves while we're only a few miles away from the Bog! Come on! Sit down and get a grip on the situation! NOW!"
No one had ever heard Fishlegs snap like that before, and the arguing instantly stopped. Astrid ceased her shouting and shoving, and Tuffnut and Snotlout both sat down sullenly.
"Calm down." Fishlegs was firm. "No more whining, arguing, or implications of marriage, Snotlout!"
Snotlout looked up from his seat, and was about to speak, but changed his mind. But he did turn and look at Astrid, who looked like she was about to cry.
"I can't take this right now," Astrid whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and rage. "Not now!" She got to her feet, wincing with pain, and ran off the edge of the island. There, alone, she flung herself on the ground and cried, tears flowing like rain from her eyes.
Bog Burglar Island, Day 13 since Hiccup's Departure
"Get sand on those fires!"
Camicazi, her face black with sweat and soot, wiped her face and sighed. Blinking wearily, she trudged up the short wooden steps to the Great Hall of the Bog, which was still smoking from a big hole in the roof, made by a dragon. Turning around, she looked grimly at her home village from her vantage point.
The entire island was in shambles. Fires still burned in some places, and weary, seared Bog Burglars were trying to extinguish them, even in their state of exhaustion. Arrows from the chaotic shooting that had occurred littered the area, and damaged bola launchers were everywhere. What was worse, both the forge and the armory had been burned to the ground, cutting their supply of weapons completely off. The raid had been an utter disaster for the Bog Burglars.
Camicazi breathed in and out slowly, trying to regain her mind. Glancing to the eastern side of the village, she recalled that the dragons had not escaped during the course of the attack. That had been pretty much the only thing that went well. The rest had been utterly worthless.
Wincing, Camicazi felt her left side. It was raw and blistered, and her favorite black outfit had been singed and burned. She needed to get it taken care of. Nadder blasts were as hot as smith's forges. That blonde haired Astrid's dragon had gotten her good.
Turning around, she strode into the Great Hall, where her mother and chief of the Bog Burglars, Big Boobied Bertha, was standing, supervising the repairs of the roof. As her daughter entered, she turned and smiled grimly. Camicazi walked over as quickly as she could with the pain in her side.
"Still alive, darling?" Big Boobied Bertha asked, noticing that Camicazi was injured.
Camicazi nodded. "Yeah, mom. Still alive and kicking. Got a good fireball to the side, but other than that I'm still good."
Big Boobied Bertha pointed to a nearby table.
"Let's talk," she said. "I need to discuss several things with you."
Camicazi nodded, and the two female warriors sat down at a wooden table, across from each other.
"So." Big Boobied Bertha said, exhaling. "That raid was rough."
Camicazi nodded, stretching out her legs underneath the table.
"They hamstrung us, Mom," she said. "They broke our back with one single, pathetic raid. Five dragons was all I counted, too. Five! We didn't get a single one. 'Rough' is a severe understatement, I'm afraid."
Bertha sighed. "Right. But we might have done better if they weren't all black dragons. I don't understand. I thought only the Night Fury was black, and all other dragons were of different colors. How, then, were these beasts blending in with the night sky so well tonight?"
Camicazi shook her head. "They were painted, Mom. Painted black with tar, I assume. Freyja, I should have guessed they would think of that. I mean, do you know how hard it was to see those things when they're in the sky?"
Bertha frowned. "That attack was not just invisible," she stated. "It was led by a skillful leader. Who was it? I thought Hiccup was the only smart Viking on the entire island of Berk, and apparently I was wrong. I don't like being wrong. The leader certainly wasn't that young Jorgenson fool, it was a competent strategist. So who was it?"
Camicazi nodded. "It was that fat boy who talked to us last week," she said confidently. "I saw him here today, directing the assault. And no one else would have the brains to pull it off except him, not even that blonde girlfriend of Hiccup's. Fishy-legs, wasn't it? Well, Fishy-legs is a deadly threat to us. I'm a great tactician, Mom, and I was proud of the organization I had out there this evening. But he beat me. I mean, he crushed me. I couldn't do a thing right today, not even kill that blondie. Damn, I almost had her in the dungeons before her cursed dragon showed up and blasted me."
Bertha looked interested. "What on Midgard was that 'Astrid' girl doing in the dungeons?" she asked.
"Looking for Hiccup." Camicazi stated the fact blandly. "They thought we might have captured him. But now their fears have been fully confirmed, now that they saw the prisons were empty. They think we really killed him."
Bertha moaned. "I know," she spluttered, throwing her hands up. "Sweet Freyja, Cami, this is a calamity! It needs to be controlled. Peace! We needed peace! Peace, once and for all, between all the tribes, dragons included. That is all I desired! All I wanted! And then, from the last possible place, Hiccup, the bright young star of Berk, is taken against our will and war is upon us once more. Why! Why are the Gods so cruel to us? We wanted to reconcile with the dragons and live in harmony, and then THIS happened. For once we truly did the RIGHT thing! We were totally honest with the Berkians, but it was pointless. We should have lied and told them that Hiccup had flown off on his own. That would have at least bought us some more time."
Camicazi agreed silently. "Well, at least none of the dragons escaped during the attack tonight," she said. "We still have them to try and train."
"For what purpose, Cami?" Bertha was aggrieved. "We cannot train the beasts. Hiccup never was able to teach us how. And even if we were, then our allies would never fight alongside us when we flew the dragons. As soon as they turn up, we will have to release the beasts or kill them, for our own safety. Keeping them was pointless from the beginning."
"You saw what the dragons did to us today!" Camicazi said. "Let's be honest, Mom, the Berkians stripped us naked tonight. The dragons didn't just beat us, they ROUTED us. We were defenseless against a well-organized dragon attack. Even IF all our allies come, which it doesn't look like they will, we will get beaten. Not even Hysteria can help."
Bertha smiled. "Not so. Have you ever been to Hysteria, Cami?"
"No."
"Then let me tell you this. Hysteria is a VAST tribe, who are far ahead of their times. They have marvelous weapons, intelligent smiths, and fast ships. They are a true fighting army, for they have been at the center of dragon attacks for years. Even so, they were advanced enough to sail for other lands. Apparently, the current chief is Norbert the Nutjob, a fool, but smart for a man. His grandfather sailed for an unknown land which he dubbed 'America' and returned with proof. I do not know the validity of this claim, but my point is that Hysteria has a taste for adventure and WILL come, and when they do, Norbert the Nutjob's arrows will blot out the sun. He has thousands upon thousands of well-trained troops at his disposal. With Hysteria at our side, the Berkians and the dragon riders will fall."
"Are you sure of that, Mom?" Camicazi asked.
Bertha smiled. "You will believe me when they arrive," she said.
"But what if they don't show up in time?" Camicazi asked. "That is a HUGE advantage that the Berkians have over us, they can travel like lightning with their dragons! They could attack again tomorrow, in full force! We would be butchered like animals. The question isn't whether or not our allies WILL arrive, the question is WHEN. Time is crucial here, and we are RAPIDLY running out of it, mom."
Bertha nodded. "We are. But they will come, Cami. They must. However, let us cast those thoughts aside for now. Let us get that burn on your side taken care of."
"Aww, Mom, it's nothing," Camicazi protested.
"Don't give me that runaround, Cami," Bertha said sternly. "You're my daughter; I can tell when you're trying to hide something. You're hurt. Come, let's get it taken care of."
Camicazi knew it was futile to argue with her mother. Swinging her supple legs off the bench, she rose. As she did so, her glance strayed to the thrones which sat on the dais at the end of the great hall.
"Mom!" Camicazi pointed. "What's that in your throne?"
Bertha looked at where Camicazi's finger was pointed, and both of the Bog Burglars froze. Buried in the wood of the large chair was a bloody knife, which was stabbed through a scroll of paper.
"What in the name of -"
Bertha, staring in astonishment, walked up to her throne with Camicazi behind her. Climbing the two steps to the dais, Bertha grabbed the bloody knife and pulled it from the paper and the throne. She held the scroll in her hand.
"What is this, Cami?" she asked.
Camicazi stared. "The Berkians," she said. "They must have left us a little note. What does it say?"
Bertha broke the seal, which was the Berkian crest, and opened the message. Her eyes narrowing to slits, she scanned the message.
"What is it?" Camicazi demanded.
Big Boobied Bertha looked up, a gleam in her eye.
"This may be a decisive point here," she said. She handed the scroll to Camicazi. "Read it out loud to me. I want to make sure I read it correctly. This is just too good to be true."
Camicazi, staring, took the paper from her mother and looked down at it. It was written in ink, not dragon blood, and it was undated and unsigned. And the contents were very interesting. She read aloud;
'To Chief Bertha of the Bog Burglars, and to her daughter and heir Camicazi, I bid thee heartiest greetings.
I sympathize with your predicament in the war we are currently engaged in. As you have no doubt witnessed today, our firepower and skill far exceeds your own. Without proper numbers and guidance you have no chance to win this war. Numbers come to you, but information you lack.
I therefore give you, the current ruler of the Bog, my anonymous services as a spy for your cause. I am well-known and have good connections among the Berkian tribe. In such a position I am privy to plans, official business, and, above all, battle attacks.
In order that you may trust me as a faithful informant, I give you this firsthand knowledge. The next attack from Berk on you island shall be in precisely four days. In ninety-six hours, you can expect to be attacked with the greatest force of dragons ever seen. Be prepared.
And you ask, here, why do I do this for you? Do I desire money, lands, or titles in exchange for this information? My answer, surprising as it may sound, demands nothing of you or your tribe. I only ask that at the first possible opportunity, Chief Stoick the Vast of Berk be killed.
At your service,
The Spy."
Camicazi stopped reading and looked up.
"No WAY," she laughed. "No WAY! Someone is literally giving Berk's plans away! A spy! One of the riders her tonight was a SPY!"
Bertha stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Maybe not," she said. "Maybe the so-called spy is only doing this to fool us, and that attack the writer of that message mentioned is coming at a different time."
"But why?" Camicazi was jubilant. "Surely anyone would guess that we would mistrust this letter, as we do. They need to gain our trust. So I think this is true." She held the paper aloft. "This could be the break we need! If know the Berkian's plans, then we can shut them down!"
Bertha frowned. "Hold on, Cami. If this spy is real, then why does he ask for nothing?"
"He asked that Chief Stoick be killed," Camicazi answered. "That's certainly something."
"So this spy has a reason to want Chief Stoick dead." Bertha was smiling. "I think I know who it is."
"Who would want that to happen?" Camicazi asked. "Who could it be?"
Bertha smiled. "The successor, of course."
High Asgard, Day 13 since Hiccup's Departure
Hiccup was shaken slowly, and he woke up with a deep sigh. Blinking away his sleep, he stared at the ceiling. He was back in his old room at Asgard. With a sigh, Hiccup turned to look person who had woken him, hoping to see Aiah or Alaedlar. But no. It was Asgeirr.
"Good morning, Riddari," the man said.
Hiccup yawned and sat up, throwing off his blankets. Astrid's Nadder scale, which he had returned to its spot around his neck, clinked on his bare chest, and Hicca, his trusty sword, clinked against his back. Those were the two items that he insisted on wearing all the time.
"Come over here and eat, and then I need to explain something to you." Asgeirr was terse and seemed apprehensive as he himself sat down at the table.
Hiccup obliged, swinging his now-muscled legs off the bed and walking over to where his usual tray of food sat on the table. Asgeirr, as expected, sat across from Hiccup.
Hiccup tore into the meat that was on his tray, leaving no time for grace or manners.
"How do you feel, Riddari?" Asgeirr asked, even as Hiccup wolfed down the food.
His mouth full, Hiccup looked up. "You know what, Asgeirr," he mumbled through the meat, "I don't actually feel too bad."
Asgeirr smiled. "Good. Let's change that."
Hiccup stopped chewing. "What?" he demanded, swallowing.
"I have a little - gift for you," Asgeirr said, with a grin playing around his lips. Reaching down, he picked up a piece of wood about two feet square and placed it so that it faced Hiccup. Then, with a quick jerk of his hand, he knocked the wood away, leaving only a panel of glass – a mirror.
Hiccup saw himself, and his tray clattered to the ground as he jumped to his feet, his food spilling all over the floor. He didn't care. Once more, he was stunned and horrified by what he saw.
He saw himself, but yet not himself. His eyes were still sunken, and, despite his cheerfulness, looked foreboding and bleak. His face was muscled but gaunt. And his teeth were yellowed, his lips cracked. The reflection seemed to leer at him. Hiccup began to gasp for air as his mind became a sea of raging voices. He searched for Astrid, but couldn't find her. He seemed to be fading into a black vacuum, the only thing that remained being the mirror and his reflection. Now this image was definitely fading. Hiccup's shaggy brown hair shortened and grew down to his eyebrows. His eyes narrowed to slits. His lips raised in a snarl, revealing bared, sharp fangs.
He was The Wolf.
Hiccup yelled. With a scream of utter terror, he raised his fist and slammed it into his reflection.
The glass shattered, clattering to the floor and mixing with his food. The darkness in Hiccup's mind faded, and the voices, still clamoring angrily, receded. Hiccup lost his strength, and fell forward, clutching the table with both hands. His right hand, which he had used to punch the mirror, was cut and bleeding, and his chest was heaving. Looking up, he saw Asgeirr, his face solemn. Leaning forward, his trainer grabbed Hiccup's collar, pulling him closer.
"How?" Hiccup whispered, blood trickling down his hand. "How did I see that creature?! I killed The Wolf. I mastered my mind. I WON! How did I see him?"
Asgeirr scowled.
"You beat The Wolf, yes," he answered fiercely. "But that Wolf, as real as he was, was only a representation of what you fear. Your fears, as you saw, are still there in your mind. You mastered them. You smashed the mirror. You passed. But you were not in full control. Your fears, your terrors, they still converge on you from within. The Wolf is gone, but they, The Wolf in their own form, are not. They will always be there. They will never disappear. Remember that. No matter how long you live, no matter how many dangers you face, your fears will ALWAYS torment you. All you can do is slowly work at defeating them, a little each day. But they will never go. Let that be a lesson for you."
Hiccup slumped in his chair.
"No more mirrors, Asgeirr," he whispered hoarsely. "Do you hear!? NO MORE MIRRORS! If you bring one in again, I swear to Odin I will kill you on the spot."
Asgeirr grinned. "It is good to know that you think Alaedlar has been teaching you well. But I say pshaw to your absurd threat. Even with a sword, foolish Riddari, you cannot ever hope to kill me. You know I am a Warlock, right?"
Hiccup gritted his teeth. "A Warlock, are you? That means nothing. You aren't even fully immortal. Can you swing a sword, Asgeirr? Are you a soldier? Can you fight like a man? You seem to think I cannot beat you, but where is your sword? If I drew Hicca now, you would die."
Asgeirr laughed. "Odin does not assign the momentous task of training a Captain to a weak, incompetent fool." He stated, a grin on his face. "If you were to try to kill me, then YOU, not I, would be the first to die. There will be a time when you can BEGIN to DREAM of beating me, but that hour is years in the future. Now, you are as useless as the day you were born."
"Don't call me Useless again." Hiccup was threatening, his bloody hands gripping the table. "The last person to call me that was The Wolf. I killed him for it. You could be next."
Asgeirr laughed again, and as he did so, he grabbed Hiccup's metal cup and threw it, faster than the eye could see. Yelping, Hiccup tried to catch it, but missed. It thudded into his face with a crunch, the milk it had been holding splashing everywhere. Hiccup groaned, cupping his face with his palms. Blood oozed from a cut inflicted by the cup and trickled out his fingers, mixed with the white of milk.
Asgeirr spoke again, his voice harsh as a whip.
"You have grown arrogant and coddled throughout the recent events of your training, my dear Riddari," he snapped. "You got lucky when you killed The Wolf, and your unearned praise and concession with Eir and Alaedlar has boosted your ego past the point of my tolerance. You need to remember, Riddari, that you are nothing but scum. You mean less to me and Odin than a day-old yakshit. Keep that in mind, and also keep in mind that arrogance was the downfall of Loki and Zyon, both good men gone astray." He paused, and Hiccup, wiping the blood off his face, sat down once more, silent. Asgeirr continued.
"However, although you are scum now, and scum you shall be until you pass this training, I have to, in fact, make you happy AGAIN and inform you of recent developments in your course assignments."
Hiccup looked up, using a towel to wipe the blood from his hands and face. This was news.
Asgeirr went on. "Although you do not in any way deserve this allowance, it was decided for reasons above my control that your training be - cut short."
Hiccup's eyes widened. "Wait, it's being shortened?" He gasped, excitement edging into his voice. "Shortened? By how much time? And does this mean I get to see Toothless sooner?"
Asgeirr sighed. "It is being shortened, to an extent. We are eliminating the preparatory training with only the rider, and will soon be shifting to a more compatible education with Toothless. It will take two days to get the Night Fury back from Alfheim, so you will have two more days of Level 1, if you pass the necessary tests. If you do NOT pass them," Asgeirr sneered, "then I will be MORE than happy to restrict your access to Toothless until you do. But, if you pass them, only then," Asgeirr sighed, as if he hated to say it, "You shall be allowed to be reunited with your dragon, in a mere two days' time."
"YYEEEEEEEHHAAAA!" Hiccup leapt to his feet. "YEA YEA YEA! WOOOOHOOO! Ha HA!" He pumped his arms and danced around the room. "Yes! I don't even care what happens for the rest of the day now!"
"Oh, SHUT UP!" Asgeirr snapped. "And listen, you slimy worm that doesn't in any way deserve what he just got. We are ONLY shortening this because Hel is making quick progress in her quest to free the dead onto the realm of Midgard, and you are needed faster. This is NOT being done because you are simply too good for us, Odin forbid the idea! Regardless, today consists of a completely unusual training exercise. First, you shall see Loki, and second, you shall have to prove that you have a brain on your shoulders. This is the first of the qualifying diagnostic tests that we perform on you. I will explain the details when the time comes. But right now, you have three minutes to eat, get garbed in your armor, and go down to the dungeons to see the Father of Lies. And no taunting the damn guards. Step on it!"
Hiccup raised his arm in the Asgardian salute.
"Yes sir," he grinned.
Uninhabited Isle, 2 miles North of Bog Burglar Island, Day 13 since Hiccup's Departure
Astrid's tears had dried on her cheeks. She had spent a good thirty minutes in sheer and utter despair, letting her emotions control her. Not even Stormfly could comfort her, for the dragon was sleeping to recover from the arrow wounds she had received. Astrid had wept alone. Now she was silent, sitting on a fallen log and staring into the early sunrise, watching as the stars faded. Waves lapped on the shore, imposing a calm that Astrid did not feel. Her heart was in turmoil over what she had seen and heard in the last few hours. Camicazi had slept with Hiccup, of this she was certain. Bog Burglars were known for lying, but Cami seemed to know stuff. Had Hiccup's last act been an abandonment of his love to her? His last act before he died?
Soft footsteps came from behind her, and Astrid whirled. She winced as her aching side protested the movement.
It was Heather.
"Hi, Astrid," Heather said quietly, slipping over the log and sitting next to Astrid. She slid her arm over Astrid's shoulders and squeezed gently. "How do you feel?"
"Heartbroken," Astrid replied softly. "Utterly devastated. I can't even begin to talk about what I'm feeling, both in mind and body. The damn arrow, the whole thing with Hiccup, I -"
"Hiccup – it must have been hard," Heather said comfortingly. "He was the best. I'll never forget what he did for me and my family. Such a great guy. It's – too bad."
Astrid blinked back tears. "If you came here to try and cheer me up," she said sadly, "then you're doing a really bad job."
"I'm sorry." Heather was apologetic. "Let me try to talk to you about something else. Come on, ask me a question and I'll try to help out."
Astrid looked at Heather, her blue eyes still wet.
"Tell me aboutyou, Heather."
"Me?" Heather was surprised.
"Yeah, you," Astrid said. "Who are you, Heather? I saw you today. You weren't the same devious, tricky girl back when we gave you a hand. You're a soldier. You're a fighter. A damn good one. Utterly ruthless. You've killed before. Many times. I could tell. Where did all that experience come from in just a year, after we last saw you?"
"Well," Heather smiled. "I wouldn't say I'm utterly ruthless. But I do know war. After my parents went through all that mess with the Outcasts, I swore that would never happen again. I met a guy, and he trained me to fight like a cat. He took me to war-ridden islands as a mercenary. Naturally, I got experienced."
Astrid's eyebrows went up, and her sadness vanished to form curiosity.
"A mercenary?" She asked, impressed.
"Aye." Heather was embarrassed. "I got paid for my work, but not much. Enough to live on for a year, and after that I quit. It was too much work and not enough play. I was a good fighter, and that's all I had wanted to begin with. I came back to help my family out on my island, and then that silly note came for Hiccup. Now here I am," Heather gestured to the water, "Out fighting again. Luckily I have my trusty weapons with me."
Astrid nodded. "That sword you have, Heather. I've never seen any blade like it. It was well made, I could see that. Can I look at it?"
Heather seemed about to refuse for a minute, but then relaxed.
"Sure," she said. "But do NOT damage it. That sword means a lot to me."
Reaching to her waist, she slid the sword from its black sheath with a quiet ring, and handed it to Astrid. Astrid took it, marveling.
The sword was a beauty. Its handle was pure black except for a blue and gold stone set in the pommel. The crossgaurd was silver, and it had an intricate pattern etched on it, in a style that surpassed even Hiccup's skill as a smith. Then there was the blade. It was thin, sleek, and strong, beautiful and yet menacing. It was sharper than anything Astrid had ever touched.
"Where did this come from?" Astrid was astounded.
Heather chuckled quietly. "Would you believe me if I told you I simply found it?"
Astrid stared. "Are you serious?"
Heather nodded. "It was actually right after I got back from my first trip to Berk. It was really strange. I was walking up in the mountains, and it was snowing, not hard, mind you, but that beautiful snow that makes you laugh and throw balls and have fun. Anyway, in the middle of this snowy landscape there were two flowers growing in the hill. They were WAY out of place, and the snow wouldn't stick to them. I walked up, and they were the strangest flowers I had ever seen. One had black petals, and a green center. The other was blue with a gold center. They each grew on either side of this sword, which was embedded in the snow."
Astrid was listening with rapt attention. The story amazed her. Heather, smiling, continued.
"I couldn't resist. It was just lying there, and the snow seemed unable to touch either the flowers or the sword. The snow had just stopped anyway. So I picked up the weapon. It was SO perfect. The weight was exact, the length superb. The handle felt like it was made for me. I laughed in the snow, just holding this, and I was so excited."
She paused.
"Then I looked down," Heather said. "I saw something strange happening with the flowers. I seemed to have cut the blue one as I drew the sword from the ground. It instantly withered and died. Then, almost immediately after, the black flower also died. So suddenly. It was as if the sword had given them life, and when I drew it out, it took that life away."
Heather stopped again and looked thoughtful.
"I always thought that that instance had some kind of meaning," she said. "But I talked to two village elders about it, and they interpreted it in two ways, both interesting. The first was that perhaps the sword was there as a defense for the flowers. When it was removed, the flowers had to die, for they were unarmed. The moral was never to leave yourself unsafe. To keep a sword handy, for if you do not, you shall perish."
Heather paused. "And the second," she said, "was that the sword was there not to kill, but to maintain peace. When I drew it, it symbolized the start of a war. When war begins, all fades, and death follows. So the flowers died. So," Heather smiled, "That is how I came by that sword, and it means a lot to me. So does the mystery with the flowers."
Astrid had been listening with undivided attention. When Heather finished, she blinked and nodded.
"It was a good story," she said. "I liked it." Then Astrid pointed to runes that were carved on the blade. "What do these say? It's not our language."
"Ahh, the runes," Heather smiled. "Those were an even bigger mystery than the flowers. I asked about them, and learned that the runes on one side are written in Old Norse, the ancient language of the Gods. The other side is in a language that no one knows, but I think it says the same thing as the first side, which I was able to have translated. It has a name on it, perhaps the original owner of the sword."
"What does it say?" Astrid asked.
"It reads, 'Captain K-A-L-D-R,'" Heather replied.
"Kaldr," Astrid said. "If that's a name, it sure is an odd one."
"It is," Heather said. "I was never able to find anyone with that name. I looked for quite a while. It's never been used, ever."
"The sword's so sharp," Astrid marveled, running her finger down the edge of the blade. "How do you ever get it to be like that, Heather? What kind of hone?"
"Well, I don't use any sharpening tool," Heather answered. "In fact, I've never needed to sharpen that blade. No matter what I do to it, it can't dull."
"No way." Astrid was disbelieving.
"It's a type of metal I've never seen before," Heather answered. "No smith around here knows what it's called. It's similar to Gronkle Iron, I think, but that's just my opinion. Everyone I showed it to wanted it and even offered to pay SO much for it. I never let them. Regardless, it never dulls."
"I don't blame you for not selling it, then," Astrid said, impressed. "That sword is gifted."
Heather grinned. "Yeah. Anyway, I actually wanted to talk to you. Look, now that I'm going to be fighting with your tribe, I need to fit in. I need – a dragon of my own."
Astrid raised an eyebrow.
"Sure," she said. "I'm sure Chief Stoick wouldn't mind you getting a Berkian dragon, especially after your performance in the battle today – or was it yesterday, now? Doesn't matter, you kicked ass. You're a wildcat, Heather."
Heather looked down, embarrassed.
"Oh, it was nothing," she chuckled. "A year of being a mercenary will do that for you."
"I bet," Astrid grinned. "But you want a dragon, huh? Come on, you already know how to train a dragon, right? Just get its trust, you know, like what you did with Stormfly all that time ago. Use chicken." Astrid managed a laugh.
Heather laughed with her. "Right. That was a good one. Do you still feed her that?"
"Sometimes." Astrid grew sober again. "And speaking of Stormfly, I need to go look at her. We pulled all the arrows that hit her, and they weren't very serious, but I should go check them out anyway. She's asleep back at camp."
Astrid started to rise, but Heather grabbed her shoulder and held her down.
"No, Astrid." She was firm. "You stay here and rest up. Don't even go back and be around that clown Snotlout. You'll kill him someday. I'll go look at Stormfly for you, OK?"
Astrid bit her lip and nodded. "Fine. Just do a good job, all right?"
"I always do," Heather answered. With a final pat of Astrid's shoulder, she rose and headed back through the trees to the camp. Astrid, left lone once more, sighed. However, Heather had cheered her up a little bit.
Footsteps sounded behind Astrid, and she grunted. "Yea, Heather, what else?"
"Nope."
A voice came, and Astrid whirled to see who it was. She was half-expecting the visitor to be Snotlout, coming to rub something in her face, but it wasn't. It was Tuffnut.
"Nope," Tuffnut repeated, walking up to the log. "Not Heather. I'm not that attractive. Wish I was, but I'm not."
He vaulted the log and sat down next to Astrid. Astrid gazed at him with annoyed interest. His old war paint was still smeared on his face, and he had an uncleaned cut on his forehead that was covered in dried blood.
"What are you doing here, Tuff?" Astrid asked.
"Well, I guess you could call it getting away from a crazy sister," Tuffnut grinned. He adjusted his helmet and leaned back. "And here's usually the part where I ask you whatyou'redoing, but that's – off the table."
"Yeah, THANK you for bringing that up, Tuff," Astrid growled.
Tuffnut looked stricken. "Hey, I didn't mean to make you think about it again, Astrid," he apologized. "I thought maybe I could come and see if I could make you feel – better – oh, geez, I just made a fool of myself, as usual. I'll just go. See you, Astrid."
He started to get up.
"Hey, wait, Tuff," Astrid sighed.
Tuffnut froze. "Umm, OK, yeah. Sure."
He sat back down again and looked at Astrid with expectant curiosity.
"Umm, actually," Astrid said, "I kinda wanted to say thank you for standing up for me back at the camp. With Snotlout, you know. How you took my side. I – appreciated that."
"Oh, it was a pleasure to cuss out that jerk," Tuffnut growled. "Seriously, I don't know what's gotten into him. He was an OK guy – well, not OK, but at least BEARABLE before Hiccup hit the Valhalla trail. Now that Hiccup's gone, Snotlout's turned into an ugly yakshit. But seriously, it was nothing, standing up for you, Astrid. I just – I was trying to do what Hiccup would have done."
Astrid, flinching at the mention of Hiccup, was still surprised enough not to cry again.
"Do what Hiccup would have done?" She asked.
Tuffnut looked sheepish. "Well, yeah, I guess," he muttered. "Hiccup was a real badass, you know, and now that he's gone, I figured maybe I could be a badass in his place. But of course, I'm just me. Tuffnut Thorston, master of chaos, the chicken destroyer. How could I ever match Hiccup in awesomeness? So yeah. But I do try, believe me."
"Is that why you came out here to try to cheer me up?" Astrid demanded. "Because you're trying to be like Hiccup?"
Tuffnut grinned. "Well, yeah, I guess you could say so," he said. His smile was big. "But if I was REALLY going to be like Hiccup, I would be making out with you right now."
"Hey!" Astrid punched Tuffnut's helmet. He yelped and tried to keep himself from falling off the log. He failed, and crashed to the ground. Astrid chuckled but then winced as her wound pained her at the movement.
"That was – violent, Astrid," Tuffnut grumbled, rubbing his head. "Geez, it's not like I was actually going to kiss you. Give a fellow a break." He clambered back on the log, looking at Astrid. His face grew sober as he saw the look of agony on her face.
"Hey, are you hurt?" He asked.
"Only – in here," Astrid gasped, patting her chest.
Tuffnut was still for a minute, and then adjusted his helmet, brushing off dirt from his clothing. He looked up.
"Look, 'Strid," he said. "I understand, Hiccup's dead and all, but you're sad about what Cami told you, right?" Tuffnut laughed. "Come on, 'Strid. You don't think for one second that Camicazi fucked Hiccup, do you?"
Astrid turned her head and looked at Tuffnut.
"What?"
Tuffnut laughed. "Hiccup NEVER would have fallen for her. I know. Here, let me tell you a story. Do you remember when Hiccup went to the Meathead Island to teach them about dragons?"
"Yeah." Astrid was quizzical. "I do. You went with him, right?"
"That's right," Tuffnut grinned. "The only reason it was allowed was so that I would be out of the village for a few weeks. Anyway, while we were there, Hiccup and I, we were getting a feast held in our honor, and this smoking hot girl comes up to Hiccup and flat-out kisses him, right there in front of everyone. She wanted him, bad. Hiccup could have walked off upstairs with her easy. But you know what? He told her to stuff it."
"He did?" Astrid was smiling.
"You bet he did," Tuffnut asserted. "Hiccup told her, 'I've got a girl back home that makes you look like a pig. Get away from me.'"
Astrid smiled, and Tuffnut, still grinning, rubbed his chin.
"I'm not lying, Astrid. Hiccup told me to keep it a secret, he didn't want it to get out. I promised, because he said he would sick Toothless on me if I didn't. But what's the harm now. Toothless is a monster, but he can't get to me from Valhalla."
Astrid blinked back tears again. "So Hiccup would never have fallen for Camicazi, you say."
"No way. I saw her tonight. That blonde from the Meatheads was WAY prettier than she was." Tuffnut chuckled. "A lot prettier. And I should know. That blonde just wanted a hero. When Hiccup shut her down, she walked over to me. And yeah." Tuffnut grinned.
Astrid shook her head. "Wow. OK. Thanks, Tuff. You actually made me feel better. I never would have believed you could."
"No problemo." Tuffnut got off the log and gave a mock salute. "Hope you kill Snotlout, though, or I'll have to do it."
Astrid twisted her lip upward in a grin.
"You may get your wish, Tuff."
Low Asgard, Day 13 since Hiccup's Departure
"Welcome back, Vaskar."
Hiccup, twisting around, closed the door of Loki's prison cell and faced the God. He was as regal and stately as before, yet still with golden bands of energy wrapped around his wrists and other limbs.
"That's right," Hiccup grinned. "You named me Vaskar. I forgot."
"Don't forget." Loki was serious. "Forgetting is the business of a fool. A strong, intelligent mind imbibes information and holds on to it, treasures it. Forgetting things is for useless morons."
"Well, thank you, Loki," Hiccup grinned, striding over to the table where Loki sat, upright in his chair. "You inspire me daily with your great encouragement."
"Your sarcasm is overused," Loki answered, returning Hiccup's grin and extending his hand. "It is good to have you back, Vaskar."
Hiccup did not hesitate this time, but gripped Loki's hand firmly. God and man shook, and then Loki gestured to a table, which was new. On it rested a few books and a cup of tea. Loki gestured to the chair across from the one which he had risen from.
"Sit, Vaskar," He invited.
Hiccup sat, feeling the comfort of the red velvet seat of the chair. Hicca pressed against his backbone. Loki, a smile still on his face, leaned back.
"You are in a pleasant mood today, Vaskar," Loki commented. "Despite your injured hand and bruised face, you are remarkably cheerful. I must be allowed to ask why."
"Well, that's to be expected," Hiccup grinned. "But in answer, I was told today that Level 1 of the training is to be cut short; drastically. Basically what it means is I get to see Toothless soon."
"Ahh." Loki nodded. "I was aware that the training was being abbreviated; Asgeirr saw fit to inform me of that, but I was unaware that you would be reunited with Toothless so soon. I am pleased for you. The bond between rider and dragon was something I always envied. A treasure, I call it, that only very few can possess."
"Yeah, I guess." Hiccup plowed a hand through his hair. "But I am counting my chickens a little soon. I first have to pass a few so-called tests before I can see Bud again. From what Asgeirr said, they will be difficult."
Loki snorted. "And since when did you take what Asgeirr told you with face value?"
The two men both shared a laugh, and then Loki went on.
"Alas, Asgeirr and the truth are actually quite compatible, when he is not training someone. He is doing his job as your primary educator, which means being a heartless bastard, which in reality, he is not. Once you get to know him as something other than a ruthless, savage teacher, then you shall begin to appreciate his true character, I think. But come, it is time to practice with me. It is time to lie."
"Wait," Hiccup said. "I'm a little confused about something."
Loki cocked his head to one side.
"Yes?"
"Well, I'm being tested today," Hiccup told him. "In intelligence. That's pretty much it, I think, except for this training, with you. Why do skills like sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat get discarded while lying and voice manipulation, your training, remain?"
"Ah," Loki answered. "A good question. To answer briefly, I would say that it is because I insisted that it not be put aside, that it must be practiced daily without fail. It is a true fact, and Asgeirr knows it. The other skills are slightly different than this. They can wait until you pass Level 1. This cannot, or else," Loki grinned, "You might FORGET."
Hiccup and Loki laughed again.
"So," Hiccup said. "Here's a deal. If I learn to lie early today, will you fulfil your promise from yesterday and tell me about Zyon? And actually, I'd like to know about Kaldr, too."
"Deal," Loki smiled. "Maybe you didn't forget EVERYTHING about yesterday after all."
"OK," Hiccup chuckled. "So let's get to lying practice. First, though, were you aware that I often forget stuff? Like how I had five girlfriends back on Midgard, and kissed each one?"
Loki laughed. "No. I wasn't aware of that at all, Vaskar. Five is pretty impressive. Still about 38 behind Thor, but still, not bad. If you…"
Loki trailed off, staring at Hiccup. Hiccup was sitting with a smug grin on his face.
"No." Loki said, disbelievingly. "Did you just lie to me, Vaskar?"
Hiccup's grin got wider. "Yes, Father of Lies, I did. I only had one girlfriend. So yes, I lied. And you didn't notice."
Loki clapped his hands, slowly, three times.
"Congratulations, Vaskar," he laughed. "You are a true liar at heart. Well done, my boy, well done. Perfect form. You lied casually and with no emotion whatever, in your face, tone, or actions. They eyes still lied, of course, they always do, but that was absolutely perfect. You have earned the right to hear tales already."
"Oh yeah. So tell me about Zyon." Hiccup was grinning. "And also his dragon, Krelvin."
"Very well." Loki leaned back. "We have time. I will begin at the beginning – his birth."
Hiccup, smiling, leaned back to listen. Loki continued.
"Zyon was born exactly 342 years ago, on the world of Asgard. At this time, our kingdom was torn with war, and terror, blood, and chaos were rampant. These were the days when my relationship with my father was deteriorating. Anyway, as a result of the violence and bloodshed, Zyon never met his father. His father was a leader of Asgard, a general. He was killed – tortured to death, I believe. His mother, then pregnant with Zyon, fell into mourning. She refused to leave her home, and that was a poor decision, for her home was near the war zone. As she gave birth to Zyon a few months later, raiders struck the house and killed her, as Zyon was born. The small boy never should have lived, but at the very moment that they were about to crush Zyon's skull, an Aesir force, led by my brother Thor, arrived. They saved the child, and was said that Thor himself lifted the crying child from the ruined house. Zyon was brought to Asgard, and there it was seen that he was gifted with a balance between life and death, since his mother, a wicked woman, had gone to Helheim.
"Zyon spent his first twenty years alone, being taught, and fighting in the wars. Then he met his future dragon, Krelvin. Krelvin was the second Asgardian Alpha dragon. The first was killed long ago. Zyon and Krelvin bonded at once, bringing joy to Asgard, who had grown hopeful in the progression of the horrific war, which I was then being pressed to join, as a rebel. It was decided that Asgeirr, the last Warlock, should train Zyon. Odin offered Asgeirr a deal, which was harsh but its reward was unspeakable. Yes, Vaskar?"
Hiccup had opened his mouth to speak, and now he did.
"What was the reward, Father of Lies?" he asked.
Loki smiled thinly. "I suppose there is no harm in telling you. Asgeirr was given the contract of training three riders for whatever purpose, whenever Odin commanded it. After Asgeirr had successfully trained all three, he would be granted, by the Asgardian Council, a FULL immortal life, and, most importantly, godlike powers, giving him status as a God."
"Wow." Hiccup breathed. "And I am the third rider Asgeirr has trained, right? So after he trains me, supposing he does it successfully, he will become a GOD?"
"That is correct," Loki grinned. "A God he will become, unless he should perish before he can do so."
"How could Asgeirr die?" Hiccup demanded. "He's a Warlock, they live for a thousand years. He's only five hundred or something. How could Asgeirr die before I pass, or fail?"
Loki opened his mouth and closed it again.
"THAT I cannot tell you, Vaskar," he replied. "But I will say that the training is almost as dangerous for Asgeirr as it is for you. He has to do it perfectly. In fact, if he does his task TOO well, then he will certainly die."
"Wait, what?" Hiccup asked, staring. "How does that make sense?! If he trains me TOO well, he DIES? What in the name of the Gods does that mean? That's not fair."
"Fairness is hosh-posh," Loki grinned. "And the answer to your question is too revealing. Skip it."
"Oh, come on, Father of Lies," Hiccup muttered. "I will be itching to know why for the rest of my time here."
"It is good to see you like gaining knowledge," Loki commented with a smile. "But I will not tell you. It would give you information that you could use to cheat, essentially, on your tests."
"Fine." Hiccup gestured with his hand. "Keep on going. About Zyon, I mean. We're WAY off topic now."
"Right." Loki reached over to the side of the table and sipped some tea, which was held in a cup he had. He put it down with a dull thud. "To go on, Zyon and his Skrill Krelvin were trained just as you are now. Like your training, it was done by the best of the best, such as Asgeirr, myself, and others."
"Were Alaedlar and Vulcan around then?" Hiccup asked curiously. "I don't really know how old they are."
Loki hesitated.
"Yes," he said slowly. "You could say so, yes. They were around."
"Ambiguous answer, Loki," Hiccup grinned.
"And it shall stay that way," Loki said. "Irrelevant, anyway. So, for the first year, as was scheduled for you, Zyon was trained by Asgeirr, and Krelvin was trained separately by the Giant Riders."
"Who are the Giant Riders?" Hiccup interrupted.
"Ahh, the Giant Riders," Loki smiled. "There were two of them, and two only. They were masters of the dragon arts and fighting skill, and especially other trades like poison-making. I know from experience. While I was fighting Odin I asked for some new kind of toxic substance, and offered a handsome price. The Giant Riders accepted. Three bottles of so-called Jotun Oil they made, a horrific, deadly poison that causes almost instant death with mere contact of the skin. I used up two of them in the Asgardian war, but Zyon had the third and it disappeared when he fled to Midgard. It was called Juton oil because the Giant Riders were from Jotunheim, the land of Giants. The riders themselves were Giants, and their dragons were a size to match their riders. By the Gods, it was a majestic sight to see them thundering through the sky. The air would literally SHAKE, they were so enormous."
"You speak of them in the past tense," Hiccup observed. "Are they dead?"
"Yes, Vaskar, they are," Loki stated. "Killed by the elf Kaldr, in fact. But that is Kaldr's story, which I will tell you tomorrow, should you perform well."
"Fine. Go on, please," Hiccup said.
"So Zyon got trained. Well. Very well. Asgeirr was a gifted teacher. In the scheduled three years, Zyon and Krelvin emerged as a beacon of hope for Asgard. The war was thought to be already won by the Aesir. Zyon's final test was the glorious finish, and Odin was so proud. Little did he know," Loki chuckled evilly, "That I had already showed him the true path. Zyon, as he received the blessings of the five Council Gods, drew his sword. In a SINGLE swipe he beheaded five of the smartest and wisest Gods on the realm. I was there. I saw it. What a shock it was. Before their heads even clattered to the ground, Zyon threw Asgeirr's spear at Odin. It would have impaled him if it was not for that blasted girl, the little seer. It was cursed, but brave nonetheless. That small girl threw herself in front of the spear. She was gored right through, from her hip to her shoulder. But she stopped the spear and saved Odin's life."
"Little Aiah!" Hiccup was stunned. "She saved the ALLFATHER!?"
"Alas, she did," Loki replied with regret in his tone. "And she was saved as well. She was dying, of course, but Eir brought her back on Odin's demand. A brave little wench she was. However, Eir had not mustered her full powers at the moment; usually she needs days to prepare for a full healing like she gave you and Toothless. She had a few minutes with 'Aiah' as you call her. So the little girl still has a massive scar from the encounter."
"Wow." Hiccup breathed. "Aiah's even more awesome than I thought. But what about the spear? You said it was Asgeirr's spear that Zyon threw. What on earth was Zyon doing with Asgeirr's spear?"
"Well, it was stuck in Zyon's shield," Loki replied.
"And why was THAT?" Hiccup was shocked. "Asgeirr was fighting Zyon? How the hell did that spear get there?"
Loki waved it off. "It's a long story, Vaskar, and I will not tell you. Anyway, Zyon was SO close to killing Odin. He hates your 'Aiah' for saving the Allfather."
"Aiah's brave," Hiccup said admiringly.
"Brave, yes," Loki snorted. "But curse her, she SAVED Odin! Nothing would have given me more pleasure than to see that crabbed old geezer DIE, skewered by the spear of one of his own subjects."
Hiccup stiffened. "He's your father," he reproved.
"He certainly didn't act like it," Loki spat. "Odin didn't treat me like a son. He treated me like dirt. WORSE than dirt."
Hiccup shook his head. "I do not know what happened between you," he said. "But I am too interested in Zyon to argue the point with you now. Go on, please."
"Yes." Loki took a deep breath and went on. "So, after that wonderful treachery, Zyon came to me, a real God, and we fought with the rebellion, leading it on. Zyon won many battles with me. Great victories. I was the brains and he, with Krelvin, was the brawn. Death and destruction followed him wherever he went. Utterly ruthless was he. And we were so close to achieving our goal – the overthrow of Asgard. We were camped right outside the gates, ready to strike. We was SO close. And then the earthquake, more powerful that any ever seen, destroyed my army. I was captured and my army was eradicated, but Zyon and Krelvin escaped. Now they fight for Hel, wreaking havoc and death across Midgard. But if I were ever to escape this cell and call for them, they would fight for me again, I know it. We have mutual respect for one another. Anyway, that is Zyon's story – the story of a ruthless killer with a dragon to match."
"You speak of Zyon as if you admire him," Hiccup frowned.
Loki shrugged.
"I do. I do admire him. He rides an awesome dragon and, while he is not very smart, has a strong arm and a strong will."
"But he's a traitor, a selfish, bloodthirsty, rotten piece of scum." Hiccup was sneering.
"What makes you say that?"
"He is a master of duplicity," Hiccup shook his head. "And he's a cutthroat. He was tricking the Gods and betrayed them, and killed innocents."
Loki grinned. "He killed worthless lives."
"For crying out loud, Loki, the lives were NOT worthless!" Hiccup exploded, hitting the table with his palm. "How can you NOT understand that?!"
"Because it does not make sense," Loki answered calmly, spreading his hands. "Some lives are worth more than others. In fact, I meant to show you what I mean by that. Come, let us play the Godly game of Chess."
"Chess? What is Chess?" Hiccup asked, his frustration vanishing to curiosity.
"On Midgard I believe you call this game King's Table*" Loki answered. He reached beneath the table and pulled out a board. "It is named Chess up here in Asgard, but it is essentially the same game. This is the board. Have you played King's Table before, Vaskar?"
"Yeah, I played it every week with Fishlegs, a friend of mine back on Berk," Hiccup answered, becoming immediately fascinated. "Fishlegs always won, but I'm the only one who could come close to his brains, so we played often, every weekend. Good games. It was fun."
"And how would you describe King's Table?" Loki questioned. He began to set up the pieces on the board, each one in its square. "What is the purpose of the contest?"
"It is a game of strategy," Hiccup replied. "The smarter person wins the game."
"Then is it safe to say that when two war Captains play Chess, the winner is the better Captain?" Loki queried.
Hiccup shrugged. "Not necessarily. Real war is slightly different than a simple game, where each piece is predictable and controllable," he argued. "In real combat, each man in the army has their own feelings, their own motives, and can be united by force of will. Some of the best leaders are not smart – instead, they are more like your brother Thor, who rallies the troops by inspiring them. Encouraging each man to fight for the LIFE which he has."
"Aha." Loki grinned. "There you harp on the value of life again. Whatever. However, I see your point, Vaskar. I'll rephrase. Chess determines who thesmarterperson is. Correct?"
"I suppose," Hiccup admitted.
"Then I draw on that." Loki smiled, and arranged the last few pieces on the board. "We shall see if your mind can match that of mine. Who is smarter, the 'evil' God or the rising hero? Let us compete in a game of intelligence. You versus me."
Hiccup looked up. "God versus man," he grinned. "Loki, the master of strategy, intelligence, and trickery has challenged me to a game of King's Table. What an honor." Hiccup grinned. "And I accept."
Loki smiled. "Very well, Vaskar. But before we begin, I want you to look at the board. Look at each piece on the board. What do you have to fight with?"
Hiccup looked at the pieces.
"I have my Pawns," he said. "I have my Watchmen. I have my Seers. I have my Soldiers. I have my Chief, and I have my Chieftess."
Loki grinned. "Is that what you say on Midgard? Up here we call them Pawns, Rooks, Knights, Bishops, and King and Queen. But it matters not. However, this is important."
"Yes?" Hiccup asked.
"I want to look at each of these pieces not as tools, but as REAL soldiers in a REAL battle, each with varying talents and abilities related to their status." Loki said. "Think of these pieces as real men, real soldiers, and you are the commander. Act accordingly, and treat this not as a game, but a genuine war."
Hiccup nodded slowly. "I can do that."
"Then let us begin." Loki's eyes narrowed and looked down at the board. "As the challenger, I go first. The battle begins."
And he opened the game by moving a Pawn into a position where he could extract his Bishop from the rear.
Hiccup carefully countered the move, swinging a Knight from this own back row into an attacking position to the right. Loki, after a moment's thought, moved another Pawn and created a wall from which he could strike at Hiccup's Knight with one of his Bishops. Seeing Loki's process, Hiccup moved a Pawn from the corner to support his Knight, at the same time allowing one of his Rooks to be free and establishing a second attack line.
The game began in earnest now. Hiccup was hugely thankful that he had played Fishlegs often, for it was clear that Loki was incredibly intelligent. Pieces were traded, minds ravished for ideas, and the two pairs of green eyes hovered over the checkered board, oblivious to all else as the game progressed. No words were spoken, and the only sounds were the scraping of pieces on the board and the tap-tap of Loki's fingers as he thought. For fifteen long minutes the pieces danced across the board in a raging battle.
Then Hiccup began to see Loki's final strategy, his last attack. The black-haired God had slyly moved three Pawns into an aggressive triangle, in which he placed both his Bishops, which were still alive. It was an impenetrable defense without a loss, and Hiccup realized he needed to destroy it to save his King. So his slid a Pawn over to the formation, in a place where the Pawn would have to be taken, but the formation would be broken in the process.
"Stop!" Loki commanded. Hiccup froze, looking up at the God. There had been no words spoke for a quarter of an hour, and to hear Loki abruptly halt the flow of the game surprised him. He stared at the God. Loki's eyes were glinting with interest.
"What is it, Loki?" Hiccup demanded, straightening his back.
"Why did you do that?" Loki asked. He pointed at the board. "Why did you move that Pawn just now?"
"Because your formation had to be destroyed," Hiccup answered, as if the question was obvious.
"But that Pawn will get massacred," Loki commented. "You sent that Pawn to get killed. Remember, those were REAL men you sent in there. You just sent them all to die. They were alive, they had all-precious LIVES, and you killed them. Why?"
Hiccup hesitated. "I needed to," he said slowly. "The enemy had to be stopped, and as the commander I have to sacrifice the lives of some of my men."
"But look here." Loki pointed to one of Hiccup's knights, which was in a position where it could have broken Loki's wall also. "You could have sent this Knight to break the defense. But no. You sent a Pawn. Why?"
"Because – the loss of a Pawn is less than the loss of a Knight," Hiccup said slowly.
"So you value the lives of some people over others?" Loki asked.
Hiccup opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. But he said nothing. Loki smiled.
"Some lives are above others, just like the Knight is above the Pawn. Pawns are exactly what they are – Knights are soldiers. One is far better than the other. You must learn that life is exactly the same. What is life worth to the ones who control it? The lives of those soldiers are in YOUR hands. You must make the decision which life is worth more than the other, for indeed, some are better than others, like Gods and mere men."
"It – I killed the Pawn because it was for - the good," Hiccup stammered.
"You sent innocent men to get slaughtered!" Loki barked. "You called this vile and evil when I killed innocents. But is it evil? Life must be valued, Hiccup, it's worth analyzed, and you must ACT accordingly! You did so, just now. You measured the value of life and executed. I applaud you. Now you must understand WHY."
Hiccup was still staring at the Chess board. Loki rose.
"It was a pleasure teaching you today, Vaskar," he said. "That is all. I will see you again tomorrow."
Hiccup rose from his seat, still mute. Without a final look at Loki, he turned and left, the game unfinished and Hicca clanging against his back.
The door closed, and Hiccup's footsteps faded in the dungeons. Loki, the Father of Lies, sat down at the table and looked at the Chess board with a smile. He took a sip of his tea, which was now cold. Then he put the cup down and stared at the board, and each piece, for a long time. Then, with a smooth, slow movement, he reached for one of his Bishops.
With a quick slide, he passed the Bishop through the hole Hiccup had left by moving his Pawn, and positioned the Bishop in a square. It was now pointed at Hiccup's King.
"Checkmate." Loki whispered.
And he knocked over Hiccup's King.