Ragnar angrily threw his mug across the campfire in frustration. He could not believe what he was hearing. After nearly an hour of flight from Lakestead, Hiccup and the rest of the group finally managed to arrive back at the votun camp where they told the chieftain everything, and he was not pleased at all.
The dragons who were observing the half-giant's tantrum sat there with their eyes widened, shocked as they quietly conversed in Dragonese.
"Whoa, he's going all out," gargled Barf, to which Belch nodded in agreement. "I wonder what else he'll throw? A chair? His boot? Maybe even his-"
"Barf, as much as how we love a good joke, now's not a good time," replied Toothless with a huff as he shook his head. "Especially for me."
All the meanwhile as the dragons spoke with one another in mumbled croons and warbles, Ragnar's anger just continued to rise as his mind continued flooding with raging thoughts about Bjornar.
"THAT SON OF A TROLL!" the chieftain roared. "He has the audacity to say that what I gave him was not enough, and then he BETRAYS ME AND JOINS THE ENEMY!? I can't believe he was the one responsible for not just Lakestead's problems, but my people's problems! He will pay when I get my hands on him!"
"Trust us chief, we were as shocked as you were when Bjornar revealed his betrayal to us," replied Astrid. "But unfortunately, that's not all we learned."
"Odin's sake…" sighed Ragnar, still shaking in anger. "How much worse can it get?"
"...Very much worse," Hiccup replied, almost disappointingly. "Bjornar may be Drago's lieutenant, but that doesn't change the fact that the orcs are marching an army on Votunheim."
Ragnar's eyes almost immediately widened. His anger became replaced with shock. "What?"
"Aye. It's true," nodded Arn. "Before Drago helped Bjornar escape us, he told us that he was preparing to send thousands of orcs towards the pass leading into Votunheim. We don't know exactly how many they number, but what we do know is that Bjornar is leading them."
The Dragonskarn chieftain was unsure of what to say. The orcs based in the east still posed a threat to them, but now an entire legion of them were preparing to march on his home - with the traitor leading him. How could he fight the coming battle against a foe with greater numbers, and hope to win, even with his viking allies? Surely they would just slowly be overrunned...
...However, something then occurred to him. As he looked to the north, a questioning look appeared on his face, and he started to nod.
"Hmm... Yes… it could work."
"What? What could?" asked Hiccup intriguingly. "Did you figure something out? Do you have an idea of how to-"
"The storm dragons," Ragnar immediately replied as he turned to look back at the others. "To the north near the Dragonskarn capital is a small mountain that nests multiple breeds of storm dragons, including Skrills, of which you probably know of. Some say that the dragon guardian Voltraxion was born there, but that's besides the point. The storm dragons have an alpha named Velthora, who in the past has aided us with defending our valley against-"
"Let me guess, you want us to convince her to help us?" rudely interrupted Snotlout, to which Astrid casted him a glare.
"Snotlout…" she grunted.
"Well, despite his rude manner, he's right," nodded Ragnar. "We need all of the help that we can get in this next battle, so I ask that you do whatever it takes to convince her to join us. However, that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, you lads and lasses deserve a rest."
"Thank you, Ragnar," Hiccup replied in gratitude. "Though we wish we could have done more in Lakestead. All we did was help with the town's farms and-"
"Don't worry about it, lad," smiled the chieftain. "You did all you could. If anything, I feel as if Bjornar was responsible for everything that my tribe has suffered through. He must pay for his crimes... but first, I have business I need to deal with."
"What do you mean?" asked Fishlegs.
"I must prepare to leave with my men. I need to get to the capital and muster as many warriors as I can. I will lead them to the east in full force to deal with the orcs based there, and destroy them. I am done hiding. For now, the camp is all yours, but don't go looking through anyone else's belongings, all right?"
Hiccup gave a nod. "I'll make sure of it. You have my word..."
…
Hours had passed since the chieftain of the Dragonskarn left the camp along with his men, and Hiccup and the group took the opportunity to spend what time they could use freely to themselves… for the most part.
Out in the fields near the camp, Astrid oversaw training with Ruffnut and Tuffnut, teaching them how to better utilize their magics. However, their progression was quite slow. There she stood, shaking her head as she watched them attempt to cast a fireball into the air, but with very little succession.
"No no no, that's not how you do it," she sighed. "You two need to be more accurate than that when aiming. Again!"
Once more, the Twins aimed their hands up towards the cloudy sky, sticking their hands out as they again attempted to cast a spell, channeling their literal anger into their arms... but to no avail.
The only thing that came out of their hands were flashes of fire that extinguished almost immediately. Simultaneously however, Tuffnut managed to burn his palm as a result of his miscast.
"OUCH! Screw you stupid magic!" he screamed, to which his sister laughed.
Astrid sighed, landing a palm against her forehead. "This is going to take forever."
Meanwhile from afar, Hiccup, Fishlegs, Snotlout, and Arn sat atop a fallen log with their dragons around them, their eyes fixated upon the Twins' 'training session.'
"Wow," spoke Arn. "Even though they learned how to light their spears on fire, they still can't learn how to cast a simple fireball."
Fishlegs merely sighed. "Well, as you know, the Twins aren't exactly the sharpest in our group," he stated. "That's just how they are... well, in most cases."
"Hm. And what if they never even learn how to use magic the right way?" asked Snotlout with his arms. "What if they accidentally blow something up and-"
"Snotlout, what are they going to blow up? A tree?" chuckled Hiccup, to which Snotlout shrugged. "Just relax. It's going to take time for them to learn. I'm sure they'll manage."
"You do know Tuffnut set his foot on fire three times during our trip to Valnr; each time when he tried to get a campfire going," responded Toothless, giving off a warbling laugh.
Hiccup and Arn turned to face the Night Fury, and the two vikings, being the ones able to understand Dragonese, responded with light chuckles. Snotlout and Fishlegs however merely shrugged.
"True," nodded Arn. "But I still think that they'll get it eventually. They just need to memorize how to use it the right way, and then they'll be set… in fact, you five should be lucky you even know magic. Snotlout and I couldn't even light a spark if we wanted to."
"Hmph. I too would wanna know magic... but eh, I still have Hookfang to back me up," replied Snotlout as he slightly leaned back and looked over at his dragon. "Five thousand pounds of flaming muscles, remember?"
Arn let out a sigh, and what followed was a brief moment of silence. Though he doubted that he himself, like Snotlout, could ever learn magic, Hiccup still believed that he mayhaps had potential. And yet at the same time, the blonde lad was unsure. The use and mastery of magic required one to be intelligent and cunning. The ability to think creatively whilst controlling emotions was the foundation upon which magic could be manifested.
"...Maybe you'll learn someday," he smiled at the lad. "Astrid, Fishlegs, the Twins, and I were only lucky because our ancestors were the Wings of Midgard. Their powers were passed on to us, and thus, it all came to this... Though maybe one of your ancestors were-?"
"Eh, it doesn't matter," Arn quickly said, immediately shrugging it off. "Right now, all I want is something to eat. I haven't had anything since this morning, and I'm starving."
"I could use some food as well," nodded Fishlegs as he stood. "Ragnar left us with plenty of supplies, so we should be good... But if you guys want, I can cook up a stew for us, as well as maybe some boar ribs."
"You know how to cook?" asked Arn intriguingly.
"My friend Heather taught me a few things back in the days when she used to be in our group," the Ingerman happily stated. "I will admit, those were better times, but if you guys want, I can-"
"We'll help you out," said Hiccup as he stood to his feet. "Snotlout, tell Astrid and the Twins to head back. It's about time that we had a good meal."
…
...To the west, outside the pass leading into Votunheim, they stood waiting there. Two lone figures gazed down from atop a rocky cliff whilst their backs faced the mountains of Votunheim, staring over them like towering peaks that reached up into the darkening skies above them.
Bjornar crossed his arms, looking back at Drago impatiently who was now with him in person. "When will they arrive, Drago? You promised me that an army would come. I want to start the attack already…"
Drago shook his head with a smirk. "Patience, Bjornar. The legion I sent out will arrive soon, but the attack on Votunheim won't happen until the right time is nigh."
"And when will that time be?" asked the half-giant as he began to pace back and forth. "Ragnar and his Dragonskarn must be crushed if I have any chance of forcing the votun into submission; into serving me and the Dark Legions…"
"Hmph, they will in time," Drago lightly chuckled. "I know for certain that they would serve the Dark Master well, for their strength is as great as their cunning and intellect."
At the mentioning of his master from his own lips, the warlord took a deep breath as his green glowing eyes looked out into the distance, imagining there and then what the world of Midgard would be like beneath his lord's reign. A reign of chaos for men, elves, dwarves, and many others… if any of them were lucky to survive.
"Though I must say," began Drago. "By abandoning your old beliefs to Odin and the rest of the gods, and submitting to the Dark Master, you have made heresy to them. What do you think your people will make of you?"
"I couldn't care less," spat Bjornar. "Despite what you may say about the votun, after all that I've seen of them, I now see them as nothing but an impractical people. Naive, simple, and stupid; unable to do the most basic of things properly... But once they see who their true god is, they will kneel as I have... And if not, then I will force them into it. They can't-"
...His words came to a halt. A loud noise from the distance caught his attention as he turned his head to face out towards the rolling plains. At first he questioned it, but then it became obvious... It was a horn. A horn from hel that bellowed with a darkening sound that could force anything pure to turn the other way and run… but Bjornar merely smiled at it. He welcomed it.
From the horizon, they came. An army of thousands approached with ranks upon ranks of orcs pounding the cold ground beneath their feet. Their black banners flew, and they all marched to the sound of the drums; thundering and booming, yet the view struck Bjornar as fascinating and craving to him.
This was his army. A legion he would lead in the name of his Dark Master.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" Drago chuckled. "Our armies don't tend to stay in a single place for too long, yet as impressive as it is, this force is but a mere whisper of our true power, like a blade of grass from a vast field..."
"...As promised, these orcs are yours to lead… but you are not to-"
"Yes, yes," interrupted Bjornar with a smug look. "I am not to attack until the time comes."
"Good," nodded the warlord. "You will wait several days, and once I give you the signal, you shall prepare your forces for a full attack on this pitiful valley. If you fail, do not expect a second chance. Is that understood?"
The commander bowed his head, smirking as turned to face Drago. "Several days then?"
"Several days," he said assuringly. "With that being said however, I think it is only appropriate for me to grant you a small... blessing. As my new lieutenant, you shall carry forth my wrath, terrible and great, so that when you face your foes on the field, they will understand what a mere taste of chaos can do to them..."
"...Now, kneel."