A Wing of Midgard. That was what Snotlout was now, yet the lad found it hard to believe. If he was a Wing of Midgard all of this time, why did his powers awaken now, after almost certain death?
Snotlout narrowed his eyes down, gazing first at his hands and then back up at the others who were all dismounted and gathered around him.
"Why now?" asked Snotlout. "Why would my magic awaken right when I'm on the verge of death? It doesn't make any sense."
"Sure it does," replied Astrid with her arms crossed. "Maybe it was not yet your time, which I'd say to us, is something we can agree with."
Hiccup nodded his head in agreement. "If we had lost you there and then, this whole campaign would've become harder than it already is, and that giant probably would have gone into the nest and butcher every storm dragon it could find."
"But you prevented that."
"Uh, not to be a bummer, H, but couldn't those dragons easily take him down?" asked Tuffnut. "I mean, all they'd need to do is electrocute the Hel out of it and-"
"And then get killed?" responded Arn. "Tuffnut, that giant took on almost everything we had to throw at him. Our dragons only left burns on him, and the most they did was knock it down on its back. After that, the giant ignored their attacks completely and made their fire useless against him."
"So you think the same goes for the storm dragons?" asked Fishlegs.
Arn shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly. Perhaps most likely. Whatever the case, the only reason Snotlout buried that giant into the dirt was because of how powerful his spells were. He managed to weaken the Thor out of him so that he could climb up to his head and finish him."
"That to me is a Wing of Midgard." he smirked.
"You should all be proud of what you have accomplished!"
The conversation came to a halt as the familiar voice of a dragon caught their attention. As they all turned their heads to the side, they spotted Velthora flying towards them - weakened, but somewhat recovered.
The great alpha storm dragon landed before them with a light bow, and looked down at them with an expression that told them that she was impressed and proud of them.
"Glad to see you back on your feet, Velthora. Are you alright?" asked Astrid.
"I'm fine, young one," she replied softly. "But I must say, after watching what you all did, I can only say that I barely have any words. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever imagined mortals wielding the very power of fire and storm itself against a giant - one of the strongest races in all the Nine Worlds.
"Uh... You saw the whole fight?" asked Ruffnut.
"Indeed I did," she answered to Ruffnut. "And by slaying our nest's predator, you have gained my full trust, as well as the trust of my flight."
"So… does that mean you'll help us against the orcs?" asked Fishlegs.
"I will," nodded the dragon. "But before I can make an announcement to the flight, you must answer one question that I have. Clearly you vikings know how to cast magic, and without that much of an effort…"
"So I must ask. Who exactly are you?"
It was then that everyone's eyes fell onto Hiccup. The young chieftain, realizing he would be the one doing the talking, gave a nod and stepped forward closer to the alpha storm dragon, to which he would begin to explain who they really were, aside from just being the normal young vikings that they often were.
"...We're the Wings of Midgard," began Hiccup. "The only reason why we can cast magic is because of our ancestors, who defeated the Dark Master a thousand years ago after he tried to take over our world... and now he's returning. We're going to finish what they started, and save Midgard from him."
Velthora's eyes widened as she looked down at the young vikings with a surprised look. For nearly a whole minute she spoke no words, but once her mouth opened, she responded with, "...So it's true."
"Huh?" asked Hiccup.
"The prophecy of which many speak of is true," repeated Velthora. "If you really are who you say you are, then that means you are the ones who will bring the fight to the Dark Master, and battle him for the fate of Midgard.
"Pfft, obviously," laughed Tuffnut. "I mean, who else would? We're the best warriors in the world! We can-"
"Tuff, don't brag," interrupted Fishlegs, casting a disapproving glance at the lad. "Sorry about that, Velthora… now- what did you say about a prophecy? About us being the ones to fight the Dark Master?"
"It's an ancient telling," began Velthora. "The prophecy tells of seven warriors that will lead the armies of Midgard against the darkness and their master, and when the final battle begins, He will come to their aid, and the Wings of Midgard will battle the great enemy."
"He?" asked Hiccup. "Uh… who is He?"
Velthora gently shook her head. "Unfortunately that's all that is known," she replied. "The prophecy doesn't explain anything else except that, but I can say that I know now for certain you are the Wings of Midgard. After all, there are seven of you."
"...Six, actually," spoke Arn, catching Velthora's attention. "I am not a Wing of Midgard. I'm only part of their company, their guide across Valnr; and besides, I don't know any magic, nor any ancestor of mine who used magic. I couldn't cast it even if I wanted to."
"I see…" she sighed. "So then who is your seventh Wing?"
Hiccup lightly shrugged. "That, we have yet to find out," he answered. "I'm hoping however that over the course of our journey, we'll be able to discover clues leading to last Wing of Midgard. Until then, we can only guess where they-"
...There was a pause. Hiccup's words came to an immediate stop. From the west they heard the sudden roar of a dragon coming their way, and upon looking up, they saw a storm dragon flying towards them, though oddly enough, it looked quite smaller than most of the other storm dragons. Still, where was it coming from?
"Velthora, who's that dragon?" asked Astrid.
"That's one of our scouts," she replied. "We sent him out early this morning to survey the west… what is he doing back so early?"
The question rang through Velthora's head as the dragon scout landed before his alpha with a low bow, to which she then bowed her head in response.
"Report," she said, now speaking in Dragonese.
"Queen Velthora," began the scout, looking up at her. "I've done as you asked and scouted out the east. At first, everything seemed quiet and normal. There was no new activity and all seemed as it usually was. But when I approached the camp where the orcs were based… I saw it burning!"
"...The votun, they- they attacked the orcs! They fought with rage and fury - cutting through them like they were nothing, and after surveying an hour of fighting, they set fire to their camp. Hundreds of orcs lay dead, my queen. They've all been wiped out."
Hiccup and Arn in that very moment were jaw-dropped. They stood there with looks of shock and hope resonating on their faces, for if what they just heard was true, then that meant that Ragnar had successfully wiped out the orcs in the west, liberating the rest of Votunheim.
" ...How many votun were in that battle?" asked Hiccup, speaking in entirely Dragonese, much to the surprise of Velthora and the storm dragon.
"At least two hundred," the scout replied. "The orcs outnumbered them three to one, but they still stood no chance. Even while flying back, I could still see the fire burning as the smoke rose half a mile high… but, why do you ask?"
Hiccup and Arn glanced at each other with gladdening looks, nodding, before turning their attention back towards the rest of the group, who were wondering what was going on.
"Hiccup, is everything okay? What did he say?" asked Astrid, questioning their conversation in Dragonese.
"It's more than okay Astrid," replied Hiccup. "Ragnar and the votun have managed to wipe out all of the orcs in the east of Votunheim, meaning that we can now focus on the orcs from the west that Bjornar's leading."
"You serious?" asked Snotlout. "And it took him only a day to do all of that? I mean- don't get me wrong, that's good and all, but still, that was unexpected."
"Ragnar's timing couldn't have been any better," said Arn. "And it's good that he was able to free the east. But still, we need to make preparations for the fight to come. Bjornar will soon march his army through the pass leading into Votunheim, and we need to be there when it happens. I say we should rally with Ragnar as soon as possible."
"Agreed. The sooner we get this done, the better," nodded Hiccup, to which Velthora bowed her head in agreement.
"I'll rally up my flight's best dragons and tell them to prepare for war," she stated. "The orcs will have nowhere to run once the real fight begins…"
...
"So that's your story?" asked Dagur. "Stoick sacrificed himself to save you and your tribe, and these orcs you mentioned really do have what it takes to kill us all?"
Valka gave a nod. "Aye. And it'll only be a matter of time until they move against the rest of Midgard."
"Eh… but not without moving against us first," stated Gobber.
...Time had passed by. For many hours, Valka and the others remained on Dragon Island as she told Dagur and Alvin everything that had happened; from the coming of the orcs and their chaotic legions, to the death of Stoick at the hands of Drago. And of course, the creation of the Alliance of Midgard.
In the end, Valka's words had managed to sway both Alvin and Dagur. The two chieftains were finally convinced.
"Hmm... at this point, I don't see any reason in turning down this story of yours," replied Alvin, leaning against a boulder with his arms crossed. "You've told us everything we needed to know, and even your elf and dwarf friends show that what you're saying is true... and with that, I believe you."
"Same with me," Dagur added. "Looks like there's no point in arguing over resources anymore, even while there are orcs out there that need a good axe to the face."
"...And I think I'll be the first Berserker to give 'em one! Hah!"
"Hold yer gob fer a moment, Berserker!" replied Morgrim, taking a few steps forward. "Before ye can even swing an axe tae the face of an orc, ye must pledge yerselves tae our alliance!"
"Indeed," nodded Lornduil. "The Alliance of Midgard is the only force in this world that can stand against this enemy. If you think you can take on the orcs and the Dark Legions by yourself with just your tribes alone, you are truly mistaken. But if you stand by us, endless glory will await you."
"So. What do you say? Will you join us?"
A moment of silence followed as Alvin and Dagur stood in ponder. They knew that if they joined the Alliance, they would have no choice but to be involved in a conflict bigger than anything they had been in before. Yet at the same time, the endless glory that awaited them was too good to let down, for if they fought alone, then their efforts would be nothing but futile.
The two chieftains glanced at each other, nodding in approval before turning their attention back towards Valka who stood patiently, waiting for an answer.
"...We accept," replied Dagur. "But if you really want us to swear our allegiance the proper way, then fine. By the power of Odin, we-"
"Save it, Dagur," interrupted Valka. "If you say you accept, then you accept. What matters is that you're now with us."
"Aye. The more help, the better," added on Eret. "But we can't stay here for too long and keep up with this talk. We still have much work to do."
"Now then, what's the plan?" asked Alvin.
"Well, before we can even set out, both you and Dagur will need to rally up as many vikings as you can," stated Valka, crossing her arms. "How many soldiers can you each muster?"
"I reckon I can gather three thousand men from the Outcasts," answered Alvin. "And I can assure you that my warriors won't go down so easily without a fight."
"That'll be good enough," replied Valka. "And what about you, Dagur?"
"What about me? Hahahaha!" laughed Dagur, almost maniacally. "The Berserkers are the largest tribe in the Archipelago. I can easily rally up six thousand men, but that's all you'll get from me. Before you know it, they'll be ready."
"Very well," Valka nodded. "Then it's settled. Make sure your tribes are ready within three days. When the third day comes, the fleet will start to sail north... Gobber, I'm leaving you in command of Berk's warriors. Do you think you're capable of leading them until you meet up with Hiccup?"
"Eh… I'm not exactly the commander type," sighed Gobber. "But I'll do my best."
"Good," said Valka. "...And remember, everyone; three days. After that, the north awaits."