Seventy-Eight: Circling Vultures
We went shopping. Attending a gala Summit which specified that we did not come in uniform posed a real issue for Stoick and Gobber who didn't have anything else to wear except their dress uniform and surprise, surprise-Hiccup didn't have anything either. Nor did I-but I knew how to get some so we took a trip into Edinburgh to buy me a stunning azure gown, Hiccup a Dinner Jacket and suitable accessories and of course, some stunning shoes. Of course, whatever we bought had to look spectacular and Hiccup was easy to dress up. His lean shape was flattered by a black DJ and he was very patient as I ensured he had a dress shirt and some trousers that were manageable with his leg. And when we went shoe shopping to some amazing store on Prince's Street, he bought me the amazing shoes that I had been eyeballing and practically drooling over.
But the highlight of our shopping/recon trip was walking along the Royal Mile hand in hand with Hiccup, the weak sun gleaming off my engagement wing and appearing for all the world that we were just a young couple in love. And we were-are-but we were also spying out the lie of the land and picking up a selection of shortbread and tartan-swathed tourist presents for the others who were incredibly sulky at not being allowed to come. Sensibly, the Generals realised that sending the entire team mob-handed into the old town would probably lay waste to the city before Drago even arrived while we had a legitimate reason for shopping. I know Stoick and Gobber had contacted a very expensive and bespoke tailor and had some seriously oversized evening wear being made as we spoke...but Hiccup and I were off-the-peg candidates.
We paused halfway down, just by St Giles' Cathedral, and he glanced back up the road to the dark shape of the castle, silhouetted against the sky which was clouding over. An international tide of tourists, shoppers and locals swirled around us as he frowned at the familiar shape.
"You know Edinburgh sits on an extinct volcano," he murmured.
"But Drago wouldn't want to tip his hand too soon," I reassured him. He nodded.
"We'll be coming in at night and that is a real good place to hide a dragon," he murmured.
"I think you must be mistaking it with Wales," I teased him as his eyebrows shot up in consternation. "The Welsh symbol is the dragon, not Scotland's..." He nodded.
"Ah," he said, emerald eyes trailing over the battlements. "And you know we're less than two miles from the sea as the dragon flies..."
"You have really messed up all my sayings," I huffed as his arms wrapped around me.
"Shellfire Dragons can fire plasma blasts over four miles," he told me quietly. "They could sit at the Ocean Terminal in the Firth of Forth and vaporise the conference venue..."
"Only if Drago wasn't there," I told him as we resumed our walk down the Mile. "I can't see him committing suicide when his victory is within sight."
"But he must know that no one will agree to his terms," Hiccup mused, his warm fingers gently squeezing my own. "Denmark won't give up on Greenland-or the Faroes..."
"And what happens when he demands the rest?" I asked. "The Shetlands-British Sovereign Territory, if I'm not mistaken-Norway, Sweden, Finland, Denmark, the northern half of the United Kingdom, Ireland, even part of Canada? He wants it all-and he isn't looking to back down. He's killed and maimed and destroyed too much to surrender now..."
"Precisely. So why is he coming at all?" Hiccup asked. "Why did he specify who came?"
"To get us all in the same place?" I suggested as we swung past a pub. "Good thing we didn't bring the twins."
"We may need them," Hiccup commented.
"And Drago insisted no Dragons..." I reminded him. He cast me a wry smile.
"Yeah...about that..." he murmured. "Not happening. I am not coming here unarmed and unprotected."
"Hey!" I pouted and elbowed him very gently, knowing he was still bruised. He gave me his goofy grin. "I'll be protecting you."
"And I will be protecting you, Milady-though obviously with less violence..."
"It's not violence, it's communication," I teased him.
"Of course," he said. "But we will need Stormfly and Toothless, at least, to protect us." We stopped outside the Scottish Parliament, that steel and glass modern building that contrasted rather jarringly with the traditional stone and architecture of the Royal Mile and Hollywood Palace that stood beyond it.
"And where do we hide them?" I asked as his eyes slid up, past the buildings to the hill that rose behind it, the familiar shape of Arthur's Seat jutting against the greying skies.
"There," he said calmly. "I've upgraded Toothless's Prosthetic Tail and he should now be pretty much independent. He can fly in at night and watch over us..."
"Provided Drago's men haven't had the same thought..." I pointed out.
"Which is where the team comes in," he told with triumphantly. "They find his Fliers sneaking around and they warn us. We get the VIPs out and take Drago down..."
"Before his Shellfire can vaporise us..." I added in. "You know, maybe I'm paranoid or maybe this is just the worst idea ever in the history of failed attempts to talk our way out of war." Hiccup turned to face me and his face was devastatingly resigned.
"There is no talking our way out of this, Astrid," he told me. "The only way to stop Drago is to put him down for good."
oOo
The Summit was in the Palace of Holyroodhouse at the end of the Royal Mile, a magnificent sandy stone construction that really did look properly like a Palace. Set back from the end of the Royal Mile, security was watertight and Stoick, Gobber, Hiccup and I were thoroughly checked, scanned and patted down. Hiccup's prosthetic leg was viewed with enormous suspicion so he was forced to sit down and remove it to allow the over-zealous security personnel to inspect it. Our coms were similarly looked at but I stuffed my ID into the guy's face and snarled that if he wanted us to turn round and leave, then we would but that would end the Summit before it even started.
They let us in. Well, there wasn't much more they could do, what with leaders from all over the Northern Hemisphere coming to try to parley with Bludvist. The man had negotiated some serious concessions to permit him to travel with his own security and not be arrested by the simple expediency of threatening to execute the remaining Icelanders and any and all Greenlanders that remained in his grasp. None of the politicians wanted to be responsible for the deaths of over a quarter of a million people so they granted the concessions he demanded and word was that he was on his way.
My Com beeped and I drifted to one side, then raised my wrist to my mouth. Our Coms looked like rather chunky watches-ideal for the men-but mine had been modified to mimic a rather ornate bracelet, gold to match my earrings and precious Jimmy Choos.
"Hofferson," I murmured.
"Hey Lieutenant-just reporting in that we're in position and ready to go." God help me-it was Gustav, relishing his promotion as acting almost-Corporal and sounding ridiculously keen and excited. I could never recall being that enthusiastic. "The twins said I could report in because Tuff..."
"Is having problems controlling Smigvarg again," I guessed. There was a guilty silence.
"How did you know?" Gustav asked in surprise.
"Because Tuff brings Smidvarg everywhere-even when we're trying not to show the world and his dog that we possess dragons," I said in an exasperated voice.
"Oh. But doesn't everyone there know that we have dragons?" the youngest rider asked and I sighed.
"Officially yes-though that doesn't mean we have to let Tuff show everyone all of our dragons," I sighed. "Has anyone frisked him for chocolate?"
"Tuff?" Gustav gave a nervous laugh. "No one said that was in the job description!"
"Get Eret to do it," I commanded him.
"Gustav-did Snotlout and Cami do as I instructed?" Hiccup asked, joining me and leaning close.
"Hey Hiccup-I mean Commander," Gustav greeted him. "Yeah. They radioed to say they were on their way over. They have everything you asked for."
"Be alert and wait for my instructions," Hiccup told him. "Out!" I looked up into his face: he was taut and anxious, his eyes pensive. "How come we were talking to Gustav?" He asked. I shrugged.
"Because everyone else is a muttonhead?" I suggested.
"Oh. OH! You wound me, Milady," he teased me, resting his hand flat against his heart. "Such a low blow. I..."
"Not you, doofus!" I reassured him, giggling. "You are the smartest-and hottest-guy I know!" He leaned forward and kissed me.
"And you are my beautiful, fierce, smart fiancée," he murmured, smiling.
"I am glad you are enjoying the reception," a familiar voice commented snidely as we turned to see Director Johann Handler approaching, a flute of champagne expertly grasped in his hand. His eyes were hard. "You should recall however that this is no vacation but a serious last ditch attempt to prevent war."
"Oh, we are fully aware of what's at stake," Hiccup told him, his tone guarded. "After all, Astrid and I faced his Fliers in the Faroes and fought them off. We know exactly what the deal is." The Director's eyebrows raised.
"I was unaware of your recent heroism," he commented sarcastically.
"I suspect there has been a communication glitch," Hiccup told him glibly. "The system has been a bit in and out since it was hacked by Drago's people." Nodding, Director Handler turned away.
"He's due in five minutes," he told us coldly. "Be ready."
"Is it me or has he become seriously creepy and weird since we last saw him?" I asked. Eyes trailing after him, Hiccup slowly shook his head.
"It's almost as if he's no longer trying," he murmured. "After all, his man is in the ascendant and we're being outmanoeuvred. It all suggests that Drago wants us here. That this is what he planned..." And then his eyes widened. "This is what he planned," he repeated as the sounds of a helicopter approached. "It's a trap."
"How can it be?" I called as he took off, weaving through the thronging diplomats, their wives and army personnel who were acting as security in search of two solid shapes neither of whom looked comfortable. Magnificent in Black Dinner suits, black bow ties and white dress shirts, the General and Gobber were both large, imposing presences-and both stared mournfully at the pathetic measures of whiskey they had been served in what were clearly magnificent Caithness Crystal tumblers. Stoick shook his head.
"It's a crime to do that to an Islay Malt," he murmured.
"Dad!" Both men looked round as Hiccup panted up. I was slower because my heels were not built for running.
"Son?"
"It's a trap," Hiccup told them breathlessly. "He wanted us all here because he plans to eliminate us."
"But he's coming here himself," Stoick commented.
"Diversion," Hiccup told him. "Misdirection. What he's done all along. He knows we'll bring dragons here. So what does he want?"
"Toothless," I guessed.
"And BERK out of the way," he continued. "With you two and us gone, General Zakhysnyk won't disobey orders and she'll hand them over. The Riders may complain but..."
"They aren't Hiccup," I continued.
"How did you reach this conclusion?" Stoick asked urgently, necking his whiskey and resting the tumbler on a priceless Seventeenth Century table, almost certainly leaving a ring on the priceless veneer.
"Director Handler has stopped pretending," he said. "He knows there will be no one to complain to. Look, the BERK Council are here, aren't they?" Gobber nodded and gestured with his prosthetic hand towards the far side of the room and a knot of exceptionally well-dressed politicians and their partners. Stoick winced as he knocked over the flower arrangement.
"Aye-they're hobnobbing with the leaders of the fourteen countries involved in the negotiations," he said brashly. "Never seen such an awkward gathering in meh life!"
"Good," Hiccup said. "Get them to the exits-at the back, onto the park. I've got the other Riders up on Arthur's Seat and they can swoop down and get them away if necessary..."
"Son...you better be sure of this because..." Stoick murmured as the doors opened and Drago walked in. The man was as impressive in real life as he looked on television-powerful, as tall as Stoick almost and exuding an air of menace and violence. He was dressed in black: black mandarin-necked shirt, black Dinner Jacket, black pants, black shoes-and a black cape made of what appeared to be reptile skin that reached the ground and trailed behind him like a royal cloak. His cruel face was framed by long black dreadlocks and I had never seen such soulless eyes. At his side, the shape of Krogan walked, giving no sign that Stormfly had tagged him over Torshavn. He was garbed in a deep red uniform that looked suspiciously like a flight suit. And on his other side was a tall thin man with cropped white-grey hair, cold blue eyes and a long, sneering face: Dr Grimmel Gausig, the man who had created the venom that drugged me.
Drago walked into the centre of the room and looked at the shocked faces.
"You expected me not to come?" he sneered. Director Handler walked forward before anyone else could.
"Of course not, my Lord Bludvist," he said obsequiously. "We all respect your willingness to engage with the other leaders in this meeting…" Drago glanced around, undisguised scorn in his eyes.
"And yet you treat this like some cocktail reception!" he sneered, gesturing to the partners sipping champagne and nibbling canapés. "I was invited to a serious and desperate attempt to avoid the storm that is coming. I was begged to attend because you are all so scared that war will break out."
Stoick and Gobber were inching towards the dignitaries, both tense. Neither trusted Drago an inch and both were beginning to see what Hiccup meant. The man wasn't here to negotiate. One of the Prime Ministers-Denmark, I think-walked forward, her face calm but stern.
"You were requested to attend because you have invaded sovereign Danish territory and have our citizens as your prisoners," she said calmly, her English very clear and precisely enunciated. Drago inspected her like a nasty insect.
"They are mine," he sneered. "You think I came here to meekly hand over what I have won? You were defeated, your forces inadequate and your preparedness pathetic! Why should I hand over my gains for no return?"
"And what would you want in return?" another woman-the Norwegian Prime Minister asked. There was a pause.
"I want BERK," Drago said calmly. "I want the dragons, the personnel and all of the information they have gained. I want it all."
"And what then?" Stoick asked gruffly, his eyes glittering with hatred. "What would you do with that knowledge, with dragons that we would have no counter to?" There was a chuckle.
"One person with a glimmer of intelligence," Grimmel commented, his voice mildly amused. His enunciation was precise and clear but there was scorn in his cold blue eyes."Except you are wrong. You already have no counter to Lord Drago's forces. This merely regularises the situation so he is the sole Master of Dragons."
"No," Stoick said quietly. "We are not handing you more weapons. We are not helping you consolidate your power when you offer nothing in return." Drago chuckled.
"I am offering something," he said gruffly. "I am offering not to crush the remainder of the European Continent under my heel. All I want is what I am due-all former Viking lands."
"Impossible!" the Swedish Prime Minister snapped. "You are asking four sovereign nations to surrender themselves to you without a fight. No one wishes to be under the heel of a vicious dictator and murderer."
"I am disappointed," Drago sneered. "But it seems you are unwilling to see reason. All you want is war." A bluff man in a DJ walked forward, his upper class British accent proud.
"If it's war you want, you'll find that we are more than capable to defending our people and our possessions-and in crushing dictators and terrorists," he said. I frowned, my ears picking up sounds outside that were unfamiliar. Quietly, I walked to the window, peering into the darkness and seeing shapes moving outside. I craned my neck up and saw dragons flapping just above the range of the lights, half-seen shapes swallowed by the blackness and then almost appearing again. And they were definitely not ours.
"Eret-can you see anything?" I hissed through my Com. There was a pause.
"Lieutenant-you're under attack!" Eret shouted down the com. "Phalanx swooping in. Unknown species!"
"Get out of here!" I shouted, springing back from the window as the wall melted under an assault of lime-green thick ooze that dissolved whatever it touched…and then ignited. Stoick and Gobber hauled the politicos back as Hiccup danced out of reach of Krogan, who lunged for him. I grabbed the nearest missile-a huge Ming vase-and crashed it over his head as Grimmel backed away, fiddling with a device like a smart phone. Hiccup raised his Com to his mouth.
"Now!" he breathed and Toothless's roar echoed through the Palace. Drago's head snapped up and his thin lips pulled back over his teeth in a death's head leer.
"Now…I have it all!" he announced as another brace of roars sounded and more of the lime-green hot ooze hit the wall, dissolving it and bursting into flames. Drago raised his long black cape-clearly made from flame-proof skin which could only be actual dragon skin-and spun to head back through the door. "You know what to do!" he added.
"ASTRID!" Stoick's voice was loud over the screams and my head snapped round. The politicos and BERK Council were pushing and shoving through the exit but the General wasn't about to leave me exposed. He threw something and I kicked my shoes off, launching to catch the pistol and fired. Krogan-who was pulling his own weapon-spun back and slapped a hand to his neck where I had clipped him. Grimmel was typing instructions into the smart device in his hand so I shot at him, causing him to duck away. Then Hiccup came flying in, punching him and rolling, getting the device off of him. I fired again at Krogan but he was ducking back behind Drago's retreating shape, firing inaccurately. I glanced at Hiccup and saw Grimmel pin him-so I shot him in the side.
He gave a yell of pain and rolled away as the front wall of the room collapsed, showing a quartet of the most hideous black and red dragons flapping around, their tusks like those of an elephant and the pupils in their mad eyes simply thin slits. They seemed to be wearing complicated harnesses and I could see radio antennae protruding, reflecting the violent flames. I coughed and saw Grimmel had run for it. I scrambled to Hiccup and saw him grinning, the smart device in his hand. He slipped it into his pocket.
"TOOTHLESS!" he shouted and the answering roar was simultaneous with the familiar black shape diving through the flames to land in front of us. I checked: the politicians were away and so were the security and serving staff. We were the only ones left. Growling, I grabbed by shoes and purse as we jumped on board the Night Fury.
"You were absolutely right," I said, shoving them in Toothless's saddlebag.
"You know I hate being being right," Hiccup said, leaning low. "Sorry, Milady-this is gonna get rough…" I could hear the roars outside.
"We need to make sure they got away!" I murmured as Toothless launched. There was a moment of searing heat as Toothless launched, the swift and immensely powerful flap of his wings shooting us through the fire and out into the cold black night before we could be scorched. I hung on tight, savouring the chance to fly with Hiccup as I only did very occasionally, feeling the play of his lean muscles and the instinctive way he leaned with his dragon. It really was as if they were as one as we swooped round, seeing the others engaging the ugly black and red dragons that were spitting the lime green fluid that ignited on contact with air.
"Interesting," Hiccup murmured, the flames reflecting in his eyes as he soared up and saw Stoick and Gobber getting the politicians away. I peered closely and couldn't see Director Handler. But what I could see was the familiar red shape of Krogan's Singetail-with the assassin on his back, closing on the civilians.
"BABE! Incoming!" I shouted. He nodded as I gave my best Nadder roar. There was a pause and then a screech as Stormfly rose from Arthur's Seat, swooping out of the darkness. Toothless roared and accelerated, blasting a shot at Krogan's dragon that threw him sideways. Roaring defiance, it and another green Singetail banked round and began another attack run on the civilians. I looked in horror-but Stormfly rocketed in, flaming straight at the nearest and catching the hapless rider in the face. Screaming, the man fell and the green Singetail broke off its attack, heading south. Krogan just drove his dragon on and fired at the helpless politicians.
"This is gonna hurt," he murmured as we swooped down. Toothless rolled, presenting the shield of his wings to the fireball, deflecting it. We both ducked and I felt the heat sear the hairs on my right arm. Stormfly screeched and deflected the next shot.
"Any chance of a hand?" Hiccup asked, leaning forward to speak into his com.
"Little busy up here!" Eret complained and I craned my neck, to see explosions and flashes to the south.
"These Singetails are not playing the game!" Fish complained. "And the new dragons…"
"Do you recognise them?" Hiccup interrupted, swinging round and urging Toothless to fire at Krogan once more.
"I…not sure…" Fish murmured and then there was a pause…and an explosion. Krogan was soaring up as Stormfly attacked again and Toothless add his plasma blast to the assault. Shockingly, the Singetail broke away and soaring up into the dark.
"Fish?" Hiccup called urgently over his com, the tension in his muscles hardening. I glanced down to see the dignitaries loaded onto three minibuses and speeding away from the inferno that Holyroodhouse had become.
"That was too easy," I murmured and swatted Hiccup's shoulder. "Hiccup…"
"I know," he murmured in a low voice. "There's something else…they're planning something…"
And then we heard it…a high pitched whine that sounded a lot like Toothless. The Night Fury gave a quizzical warble and his ears flicked then pricked up. Then there was a familiar sound, the rising scream of plasma-and then a pale shape whipped past…
…instants before a plasma blast hit us.
