Chapter 31: The Trapper in the Trap

The Dreadlacians had nowhere to run. Outcasts and Berkians thundered down onto their left flank, and the combined Uncouth Goth infantry charged down with the Skodians and Nest Guardians on their right. Hiccup and Toothless led a rocket-diving wing of Berkian dragon riders toward the off-loading Dreadlacian artillery, while swarms of wild dragons assaulted the masses of packed soldiers in the valley below.

The ground and air assaults were perfectly timed- as the Raiders and Huscarls formed up to meet the charging Vikings, their deadly formations were blasted apart with streams of fire, utterly scattering the enemy soldiers just in time for the Vikings' impact. And the effect was indescribable. The hulking Viking warriors steamrolled over the scattered outer ranks of the swarming enemy troops, and smashed deep into the Dreadlacians, cutting great swaths through the intimidating black mass that was Dreadlac's army. The Outcasts and Berkians were proving the most destructive of the 'pincher' arms, finding this type of chaotic, confusing, hack-and-slash fighting right up their alley.

But it was the wild dragons, without a doubt, who inflicted the most casualties the first part of the battle. Their assault was directed on the center of the black horde, where there was no escape from the sheets of flame spewed down upon them. Entire Huscarl phalanxes went up in torrents of fire as Monstrous Nightmares sent out blankets of sticky heat into the mass, and Zipplebacks rolled through the screaming conscripts and Raiders around them. Hundreds of flaming soldiers hurled themselves desperately toward the water, inadvertently setting aflame many of their comrades who were in their way.

The wild dragon's effect on the massive fleet crowded in front of the island was no less devastating. The dragon's fire caught on the aged ship's timber quickly, sending many transports and warships to the bottom well before the Berserker, Scarhead, and Shivering Shores fleets smashed into the flanks of the armada. Formations of Timberjacks sped through the outer rings of ships, their razor-sharp wings slashing through the forests of masts below them, effectively immobilizing dozens of crafts and trapping hundreds more from escaping the wrath of the Viking fleets.

Hiccup and his Dragon riders used the chaos as the perfect cover to carry out precision strikes on any archer formations or anti-dragon artillery they could find, using their decades of combined experience to good use. A torrent of plasma bolts, Nadder spines, lava boulders, and acid destroyed every war machine they could find on the beach.

/

Astrid's aerial view from high above the battle was peaceful and pristine, quite the difference from the chaos and destruction far below. Her sharp eyes could see that the Viking ground forces where making wonderful inroads into the outer rings of the Dreadlacian army, but it appeared that the center was regrouping surprisingly fast. She'd have to do something about that.

The superior Viking fleets where also doing well, and it appeared that the cackling Dagur was close to breaking through to the transports. Astrid grinned. Ol' Dagur was probably having an absolute blast with Sleuther. As she began her dive toward Hiccup (so she could have someone direct fire on the men reforming in the center of the enemy army) she could see the unmistakable shape of Gunnar's TitanWing Nadder and Freya's Nightlight dive from the cliffs and onto the battlefield. It looked like they decided it was time to find and kill Dreadlac himself. She sent a small prayer after the two of them as they disappeared into the pandemonium of the battle.

Gunnar and Shock, with Freya and Flash close on their 6, where weaving through the aerial storm of fire, flame, and arrows. All eyes of the duo were glued to the ground, searching for the unmistakable mass of Dreadlac and his Housecarl Guard. Ducking and diving through the storm of arrows, boulders, and fire, Gunnar's sharp eyes spotted a knot of evil looking heavily-armed masked men in defensive positions near the primary unloading point in the bay.

And near them stood a massive man dressed in all in black. He was ugly- from his chain mail to his massive twin axes to the black horns on his helmet. With an excited snarl Gunnar turned Shock's head toward the cluster of men and bored in for the kill.

/

Dreadlac stared at the thousands of dragons suddenly hovering above his army, with their infamous black King floating in front. He started shoving his way back toward his ships, yelling to send forward the reserve anti-air artillery, when he was stopped by the deep sound of a huge mass of Vikings yelling their great war cry. It was at this moment that he realized his mistake, and how big of a fight he was in. Victory was no longer a matter of time- now he had a fight on his hands.

But not all of his cards where on the field yet, and he did have a contingency plan for just this situation. He'd just have to hope that it would work fast enough. As the utter destruction of his advanced units began, he rushed to the shore line and shouted for Uldrig, his chief sorcerer. The shadowy man appeared at once.

"Send a message to the 13th fleet to attack the enemy refuge at once! Do it now!" The crooked, slithery man nodded. "They already have." He quickly disappeared within the depths of the flagship. Dreadlac turned and began doing his best to rally as many of the men from the forward units as he possibly could. He wasn't having much of an effect though- no matter how frightening a man can be he can't beat a pack of pissed off Whispering Deaths.

Dreadlac quickly formulated a plan. He yelled for Hackett and was instantly answered. "Hackett, listen carefully! I want every conscript and Raider you can get your hands on sent to the front to slow the Viking infantry as much as possible. The Huscarls will be going in later, we can't afford to lose any more of them to those damn reptiles." The veteran warrior nodded and ran off to complete his orders.

Dreadlac turned to another one of his Huscarl officers. "Get every man with a bow, net, javelin, anything, I don't care, just get men shooting at those dragons, NOW!" A quick response and that man was off as well. He was about to give another order about the artillery when a warning cry came from a nearby Huscarl.

He turned just in time to spot a huge red and black Nadder smash into his bodyguard.

Now, during the months preceding the battle, Gunnar had perfected a suit of armor for Shock. It was a well-designed suit consisting of dozens of thin Gronckle Iron plates covered in hardened leather. The suit had a dual purpose- to not only protect the massive dragon without effecting maneuverability, but also to increase Shock's offensive effect.

In order to accomplish this goal, Gunnar had attached sharp spikes to the Nadder's forehead plate, and well-honed spines to the small plates protecting the leading edge of his wings. But the deadliest addition was the razor-sharp miniscule blades that were embedded into the TitanWing's shinguards. Shock's favorite attack was to bulldoze into a tightly-packed group of men, swinging his horned head, sharp tail, and massive legs to and fro within the formation, wreaking devastation among his enemies. All the while saving his all-to-precious magnesium fire for when he really needed it. The increased visual intimidation factor was a side plus.

Now both Gunnar and Dreadlac were seeing the true effect of those upgrades. The veteran TitanWing's impact into the Huscarls was devastating. Men went flying in every direction, most in more than one piece. The ones who weren't immediately sent flying had a span of about five seconds before they were struck by either a spiked tail, an armored dragon forehead, or a mace of a foot with aforementioned bladed shin guards.

Within seconds most of Dreadlac's bodyguards where destroyed, while the few that were left clustered around their leader. A circle of space cleared around the two archnemesis' as Raiders, conscripts, and sailors put plenty of space between them and the ferocious dragon and his rider. Gunnar's eyes locked with Dreadlac's. It was the first time either of them had seen the other up close before. Both knew only one of them would be leaving the clearing.

Gunnar slid off of a snarling Shock and brandished Dragonfang. He slowly twirled the blade through the air and started approaching Dreadlac. The monstrous man grinned evilly. "oh hohoho! You want to go toe-to-toe do ya? Not gonna just let your dragon toast me or something, eh?!"

Gunnar's eyebrow popped up and he flicked his shoulder forward. In response Shock blasted the knot of men with a humungous blast of magnesium fire. All but Dreadlac where immediately incinerated, their ashes further disintegrating in the torrent of tremendous heat that was magnesium fire. When the sparks cleared both men had smirks on. "Haha! See? I am impervious to-"

"Oh, I already knew that. I just decided to skip the warm up your guards offered." Dreadlac's superior smirk degenerated into an evil scowl. "Then you'll find me a tough target to defeat, Butcher."

Gunnar stopped walking and smoothly entered a fighting stance, his gleaming blade forward. "Butcher? That's funny. You're more deserving of that title yourself, animal."

Dreadlac slowly picked up his tremendous ax and the two started circling. Both were evaluating each other, looking for any apparent weaknesses. Neither found any to start- but Gunnar already knew one.

He grinned. This was his favorite part. "So, you're more normal looking than I thought."

Dreadlac scoffed. "I have a hard time figuring out why such a small worm like you has survived the cold this long, let alone my warriors."

Gunnar rolled his shoulders. "Oh the entire Archipelago knows about that failure. Everyone also knows that you've been in what, 7 months into your campaign and you've yet to win a single battle against us?"

Dreadlac growled. Gunnar grinned again. His meaner side had dearly missed playing with prey. "You know something, ugly? I've been fighting you for 7 years. 7 years. And you've yet to catch me. I've been spitting in your face ever since you got to Ireland, and there hasn't been a thing you've been able to do to stop me. And here we are." A savage grin lit his concealed face, his eagerness clearly showing in his eyes as he gripped Dragonfang. "I'll be able to finally spit in your face for real this time."

With a horrifying roar, Dreadlac hurled himself at the small warrior in front of him. Like a maddened troll with a club, his ax whistled downward with tremendous force toward the charging Irishman, only to meet dirt. Gunnar had side-stepped at the last possible moment, bringing his own blade whirring across Dreadlac's faceplate, severing the leather cheek guard but unable to pierce the chainmail underneath.

Before the Irishman could strike again, the monster had ripped his ax out of the ground and directly toward the masked warrior near him. Gunnar caught the ax with his reinforced gauntlet, pushing his elbow up and sending the majority of the blow flying over his head. With the speed of a Triple Stryke he was back in close to the massive man, stabbing forward with as much strength as he could muster. But to his surprise, Dragonfang refused to bite, the blade stopping cold and hard on what felt like an iron plate hidden underneath of the overlying chainmail.

Dreadlac's response was immediate, delivering a powerful backhand swing that sent Gunnar flying at least ten feet away. The tough solider was on his feet before Dreadlac could recover, eyeing his opponent as his practiced brain came up with new assaults to try. This was going to more fun than he thought.

Dreadlac picked up another ax and began to swing the two deadly weapons around in powerful arcs. Leisurely at first, but growing in speed and ferocity. "I'm going to enjoy ripping your head from your shoulders, you miserable ANT. Why would you even face me on a one-to-one fight? Is it an ego I smell? Bragging rights?"

Gunnar snarled. "Because I made a promise." He stood up and drew his long knife from the back of his belt. "To cut off your head with my own two hands and deliver it personally to my family you slaughtered, and my village you destroyed." He snapped into another fighting stance, ripping his blade across his knife to create a shower of blue sparks. "And I'm a man of my word."

Gunnar lept at the flurry of axes, somehow evading every swing- deflecting or dodging each blow with practiced precision. He slashed his knife toward Dreadlac's throat, but the blow was foiled by a lightning-fast reaction as Dreadlac whipped his head back and countered, smashing both of his axes together in a scissor-like motion. Gunnar ducked and stepped backward, his eyes blazing.

Dreadlac growled. "Your 'village' huh? That's what is causing all of this? I call bullshit." He swung wildly. Gunnar dodged the haymaker easily. "You couldn't care less about that dejected circle of rotting huts in the middle of nowhere! You've never had a home. And even if you did, that place definitely wasn't it."

He brought both axes down in quick succession, which just earned him another slash across the face. It didn't draw blood, but still made him grunt. He stepped forward and swung again. "And 'family', eh? Heh, you really cared about them! You've already moved on and got all lovey-dovey with a famous chieftain's daughter just to get rank with your new hosts, didn't you?" His next blow landed once again on dirt, as Gunnar backflipped and landed easily, his smirk hidden by his helmet's mask.

Dreadlac turned to the insufferable gnat in front of him and pulled out his special card as he wound up for another blow: "And you think I believe that you're really fighting for your old family? I happen to have it on good authority that your first marriage was arranged. You never loved that weakling of a girl in the first place." Gunnar's instincts were the only thing that helped him avoid Dreadlac's next blow.

He was shocked. How on earth did Dreadlac find that out?! There was only one person alive that knew that detail- and Freya definitely wasn't a spy. He ripped his head backward to avoid a potentially decapitating blow and rolled to put some distance between him and his opponent. Stay focused, Gunnar thought. He's trying to get inside of your head and get you to act prematurely. Just like you were doing to him. Finish him first and worry about that later.

He stood up and stared at Dreadlac, who looked quite pleased with himself. Gunnar tighten his grip on Dragonfang. "Well well well, you smelly hedge pig. Congratulations. You did some research before showing up to the party. But obviously not enough." He lept forward and swung at Dreadlac's head, which the big guy promptly blocked. "You found out one thing about me but missed the rest." Another swing, another clash of steel on steel. "And anyways, why should I care about that? You obviously have no intelligence in that weaselly little brain of yours. You let your entire army get absolutely played by some lowly Irish militiaman."

There was a pause in their duel. A flaming Zippleback cartwheeled nearby, hurling screaming men to and fro. And from the sea came the sound of men being broiled alive as a Scaldron unleashed havoc upon their boat. Gunner tilted his head cockily. "And look at what's happening to them." Dreadlac growled. "Don't think you have me trapped just yet, boy." The vehemence of that last word betrayed Dreadlac's diminishing patience. "I'm not the only one who's underestimated his opponent. You'll realize that soon."

Their blades clashed together again, their duel continuing. Meanwhile, Freya (after making sure Gunnar was safe on the ground) had gone on to find her parents to make sure they were ok. She quickly located her father- the whistling black streak of death was hard to miss- and she found her mother after a minute of searching. She nudged Flashbang toward the hovering Nadder. "Mom! You need help with anything?" Astrid launched a Terrible Terror and turned to her daughter. "Not yet! We do have a problem developing in the center, though. Our ground troops haven't engaged most of the remaining Huscarl phalanxes. We need to hit them quickly before they launch a counter attack."

Freya nodded. "I'll grab some Monstrous Nightmares and any Whispering deaths I can find to hit them." Astrid nodded. "Good. We'll have to—Whoah Stormfly!" Both dragons began flying erratically, trying to head out to sea. "Hold up girl! What's wrong?!" They were soon stopped by their riders, but something else was happening. Wild dragons from all over the battlefield where suddenly lifting up and flying North-Eastward as fast as they could. Freya was absolutely baffled.

"Where are they going?! Wait… what, is that Toothless?! What is dad doing?!" Flying toward them was Toothless, and on top of him rode a very disordered Viking Chieftain. Astrid yelled at him as he passed by his very confused wife and daughter. "Hiccup? Where are you going!?"

All they got back was a faint "I have absolutely no ideaaaaaa!" as he zipped past them and disappeared out to sea with roughly 80% of the wild dragons that they started with. Both armies watched them go with either elation and relief, or foreboding sense of dread.

Gunnar watched the exodus in absolute disbelief. Why in the world where they (Shock included) leaving in such a hurry? Evil laughing snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned around to see that Dreadlac had cast off his cloak and stood there, ready for real battle. "What did I tell you, Outlaw? I wasn't the only one who got outmaneuvered."

Gunnar tilted his head skeptically. "This is your doing?"

Dreadlac rolled his shoulders and brandished his twin axes. "Oh, you better believe it. I knew you missed one of my fleets when we first came here. Miscounted or something, I don't know. So I kept it hidden, until now. That fleet is currently assaulting Dragon's Edge and all of your precious non-combatants. Your dragon king heard about it and is rushing off to help… leaving you and all of your warriors…" He grinned and his eyes flashed with evil satisfaction.

"…to me. Again."