Chapter 12 The feast and the escape

Two days after the Headless fleet came back to their island with the captive Berserker tribe, ships after ships came back, each one filled with myriad jars and barrels. Many went into the forests and came back with young boars hunched over their shoulder, meanwhile, most of the women present on the island, mostly consisted of wives, sisters, or daughters of the warriors from each subjugated tribe collected all kinds of wild grasses and mushrooms, slaughtered chicken and sheep, whereas others were busy cleaning the carcasses of two, rather young's yaks. Ribs were expertly separated, fillet cut out and all the different meat were brought as quickly as possible into the canteen, where another group of men and women, assisted by the kids and teens, placed them a variety of brines or spices, each tribe having a designated work station, where locals were preparing the traditional food of their islands, under the watchful eyes of Eir. Satisfied that even with their newest addition, everything was still running smoothly, the Headless appointed a couple of hunters to set up the canteen for tonight, whereas he traveled across the catwalks towards the Berserker prison.

Prison was a broad word, as they didn't build one on the island. It was just a group of huts, enough to house the whole tribe, guarded by a couple of guards, especially relieved from their "feast" duty. Knocking on the door and meeting one grumpy Berserker after the other, Eir inquired who was the best cook in their tribe. Many times, he was met with ignorance, sometimes a slur. But of course, his intense Headless training and mindset allowed him to keep his cool and still remain polite. Finally, even the guards had enough of seeing their commander being treated with such disrespect and started to draw weapons to teach those "Berserker. Even Viking doesn't get that low in lacking manners, and as conquered, the Headless had the right of life and death," Eir promptly ordered them to sheet their sword back stating that there was no need. Inwardly, Eir secretly rejoiced by this act, as it was a sign that the plan of his tribe is working, that the civilization of Viking was achieving a higher plane, but, remembering his point of differentiation, quickly suppressed the emotions.

Raising his knuckles again, this time an older woman, age ranging the sixty winters, opened. Again, Eir asked the same question. The elder Berserker, squinted her eyes, trying to read what the Headless was trying to do. Of course, all of her actions were clear as the sky in Eir's eyes, and immediately he read that she knew the answer. Waiting patiently as the Berserker debated inwardly if she should mention Heather to the conqueror of their tribe, but he explicitly asked for a cook, and it was a strange request if they really wanted to harm the siblings. Sighting, the older woman said: "That should be Heather, the sister of our chief."

"My genuine thanks for your help," Eir replied courtly and vanished. After briefly asking the guard where the Berserk chief was residing, he went up to their hut and knocked on the door. The door opened on the angry and bitter face of Dagur.

"What do you want?" The carrot-headed man said.

"I have come to know that your respected tribe's most excellent chef is the young woman under the name of Heather, and here I stand to invite and accompany her to our kitchen," Eir Answered.

"No," Dagur stated.

"I believe she can voice the objection on her own," Eir replied calmly.

At this moment, Heather emerged from Dagur's back and walked out of the door. "I'll go. But you have to promise that no harm will be done to my brother or my people." She warned.

"Your worries are unnecessary," Eir assured, and turned heels, Heather whispered to Dagur that she will try to find out more about this tribe before speeding up to catch up with the Headless.

The walk towards the kitchen was baked in a light silence, Heather's eyes darted around, trying to memorize the island. Viking, they passed by respectfully stepped out of their way, and young Berserker studied them closely. They all look battle-hardened, but the way their attitude towards Eir showcased respect, as one will give to his chief, not fear, nor hatred. Strange she thought.

Arrived in front of the kitchen, Heather finally broke the silence.

"All right, what should I do, and what's happening." She said gesturing the busy lines of Vikings delivering food towards the kitchen.

"This is where we prepared tonight's feast. Every once in a while, we feast to celebrate new tribes joining our lines. And in order for such celebrations, each tribe will present their own culinary traditions." Eir answered while pushing the door, revealing the busy kitchen and the open backyards where pieces of meat were already starting to be smoke.

The Headless lead to her an empty corner filled with every necessary utensil before disappearing in the crowd. Heather looked around at her station and manipulated a couple of tools at her disposal. Even though her current situation was being a captive, she genuinely enjoyed cooking and nodded in satisfaction: she could work with what she had.

Eir appeared again with five teens, all wearing different outfits. "They will assist you in the preparation. We have also taken the liberty to gather all the ingredients on your home island. They know where they are stored. I'll leave you to it."

Heather watched Eir walk away, politely dodging the advances of some of the women's, before taking a glance at the whole kitchen. To her surprise, many of them were laughing while preparing their meals and younger Vikings of all tribe are running around, delivering jars of spices or freshly cut meats to the cooks. Sighting, she turned around to the teens. The oldest one, a girl that looked no longer than fourteen winters spoke up. "What do you need us for?"

Thinking about what dishes she should prepare, she finally opted for something simple: the berserker chicken.

"All right, I need someone to grab me the spices from Berserker and wild mushroom. I also need enough chicken to feed the whole island and a big piece of fat, yak, or anything else. Also, I need some soft clay and some large leaf."

"I got the spices." One of the boys said, and left, quickly followed by another teen.

"I'll get the chicken." The first girl spoke again, and grabbed her sister by the hand, and made their way to the backyard.

"Euh? What is clay?" The last one, a young little Viking that looked around ten winters, asked in a shy voice.

Seeing the embarrassment of the young boy, Heather kneeled down and spoke softly. "It like mud that you use to make the pot, but you can also use it to cook food in it."

"I'll try and find it." He said and wandered off, carefully dodging the bulkier Vikings. Trailing him her look, she sighed when a cook nodded at his request and lead him away.

During this time, the first two returned, each one carrying two full jars of spices. Picking some out, she sniffed, and the delicate fragrance brought a pent of nostalgia in her. She never thought, in her berserker pride, she will be cooking a feast on the island of their victor.

The sisters came back, carrying over their shoulder not less than fifty freshly butchered and featherless chicken.

The younger boy came back proudly with a bash of large leave and a pile of clay, delivered by an adult Viking. The other women nodded curtly at Heather before leaving.

Heather looked back at the teens, deciding that if they were to work together, some introduction where necessary.

"I'm Heather" she presented herself," What are your names."

"I'm Gustav and this is Hoark." The oldest boy spoke

"I'm Tora and this is my sister Tori."

"And I'm Snug." The youngest little boy added.

"All right" Heather clapped her hand. "We are going to make Berserker chicken." She quickly distributed the role. The two oldest, Tori and Gustav were assigned to finely dice the mushroom and mixed them with the spice, as well as the heart and liver of the chicken that Tori and Hoark, under the help of Heather herself. Snug got the play around with the clay, with the order to cut out pieces and rolled it out flatly.

After all of the chicken was cleaned, Heather, sighed in relief. The hardest part was over and she rubbed her arms to ease out the numbness. She went to check out the diced-out fungus and after giving it some taste, complimented the two young Viking. After, she gathered everyone around and started giving out more instruction. The chicken breast skin needs to be loose in order to slide a piece of fat underneath, after, a generous handful of stuffing was put into the cavity. The chicken was then heavily patted with the spices again before being wrapped around in the leaves before coated with the thin layer of clay.

After everything was done, Heather checked the sky. The sun was nearing the horizon, but no one was cooking yet, she decided that the chicken could wait a bit.

Instead, she sat down and gestured the kids to gather around.

"So…" She started a bit hesitant, "I'm new here, is there anything particular about this island I should know?"

The kids awkwardly looked at each other and finally, Tora opened her mouth, explaining the whole situation about how this island gathers the best warriors of different tribe and their chief, and there isn't a big hierarchy system, just a minimal amount of respect of the two Headless commanders, Eir and Magnus, and the third, much more mysterious, Tyrad.

Processing the whole information, Heather asked again.

"But, are you happy here, do they make you do anything against your will?"

"No, Tora answered, even my father is pretty happy to be here. Life is easy, with enough brawling and traveling to be boring. He is marveled at how much he improved since he got here. He thinks that the treaty they signed is the best thing our chief ever did."

"Wait, your tribe signed a treaty?" Heather asked shocked. She expected that everyone here was just conquered by the Headless, and had got numb of the life. The answer she received completely crushed her prejudice.

"Yeah, two winters back," Tora added.

"And your tribe isn't vulnerable after?" Heather pressed.

"Well, Tora sighed, and Heather mentally hit herself from seeing the hurt in her eyes. "My tribe was attacked a couple of moons by our long-time enemies, that we couldn't do much about before, shortly after our people left with them. We were brought back to their island, and I had been marked as a slave as soon as we got there. But a couple of days later, an entire armada boarded their island, and leading the assault was, this entire island, with all the different tribes and a handful of more Headless, I guess." She took a big pause and spoke again, hands tightening. "When I was rescued, the rest of the enemy tribe had barricaded themselves in their great hall. We could have left the island, but when my father saw I had been branded, he wanted to murder them all so no one could claim me. But their great hall was built around a cave, and we couldn't break down their door. So, he asked the Headless if they could do something."

"Then what happened?" Heather pressed on. This could be an occasion to understand how much manpower the Headless tribe has.

"They took out some leaves, and crushed them, before lighting them up and. A thick smoke almost immediately rose out and went under the door of the great hall. It was intelligent, to smoke them out, but we would have never thought of this. They shouted at us to stand back, and as soon as they heard the door being unlocked. They barging in. An enclosed space filled with roughly fifty desperate warriors, and they weren't more than ten. We didn't see anything but the screams were enough. A little while after, they dragged out the chief and kneeled him in front of my father."

Heather placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"But when we were going to leave, I went back into the great hall to see if there was anything that could be scavenged."

"What was in there?" Gustav asked, now entranced by the story."

"Bodies" Tora answered, "All killed in the cleanest way possible, many sported only one wound, the fatal one."

"And after, what about your island?" Heather asked to cover her shock. Astrid wasn't wrong, they are lethal.

"They sent us every couple of days a supply ship to rebuilt our island. And when my father asked them if he could bring his family, they agreed, and now, here I am."

"What about the other Headless that you saw? Are they still there?" Heather asked

"No, they left, only Eir, Magnus and Tyrad remained."

The group was left in an uncomfortable silence after Tora finished her story. But Heather's mind was racing furiously.

How? Astrid portrayed them as conquerors, mindless Viking drunken on war. Why are they this much caring about a girl that basically has no more value? Is she wrong. No Heather hit herself, She's Astrid someone capable of reasoning under the direst situation.

At this moment, Gustav asked

"Heather, your island didn't sign a treaty?"

Taken aback, Heather had little time to formulate a plausible answer. She couldn't say they were conquered, because of pride and the fact that she doesn't know who they will react to that. Berserkers didn't share the same reputation in the whole archipelago.

"Euuh, actually yes. We did" Heather answered, averting her gaze.

"Then why is your whole island here? Berserker isn't a harsh land and far away from trade route." Gustav added.

"Because, because, our lands were hit with a disease, and the Headless is currently finding a cure for it, but they said it will take time. So, it is easier for us to come here." Heather lied.

Gustav wanted to press more but Heather was ironically saved when Magnus arrived.

"We will be lightening the fire very soon, how long is your meal going to take?"

"It will need some time "Heather answered coldly.

"Then I suggest starting to bring your meals there."

The sun went down whereas the fragrance of cooked meats filled up the air. Heather carefully opened each clay shell, revealing the tender meat inside. She was still shocked by what Tora told her, and what she saw at the fire only tipped the reality in favor of the young Viking's tale: She saw man and women of all different tribes playfully talking together, it was an atmosphere more cheerful than what she had on Berserker. Even Berk came shy, on its worst day, of such a relaxed environment. What was worst in her eyes, is that she found Eir and Magnus near the fire, carefully brushing a thick past onto the roasting boar while speaking live with the other Viking nearby.

But now, it was time to eat. The whole island gathered around to help out the cook. When the last place settled down, every table in the hall was filled with all kinds of dishes. She was informed that there were no seating rules, so she chose a seat near Mala, and stood near her chair, as everyone did.

"Where's Dagur." She whispered.

"In the center, at the table of chiefs," Mala whispered back.

Just like any other, The table was chief was simply four long tables pieced together to form a square. The only distinction was the red cloth that was draped over it. Heather found her brother standing beside his chair. Next to him, on the same line was Hiccup in his mask, the three Headless, another man with an iron mask embedded on the left half of his face, a small hole where the eyes should be and leaving his mouth fully exposed, then two others chief.

"Viking from all tribe." Magnus's voice boomed into the hall, crushing the whisper. "We've come a long way, and thank you all for joining us for the next part of our quest. Tonight, we celebrate three new tribes that have recently joined.

Chief Tremor and the Thorndalar tribe" Said the chief raised his cup as a salute to the crowd.

"Chief Burtee and the Darkrock Island.

And Dagur, and his Berserkers."

The hall cheered again. After the shouts calm down. Magnus raised his cup and said loudly. "Let's show them that they are welcomed. Let's Feast!" On these words, he raised his cup full of mead, followed by the rest of the hall, and emptied it. Reluctantly, Heather and all of Berserk mimicked the motion. The mead was heavily laced with honey, and from the experience, she acquired during her and as someone well endorsed into culinary art, Heather knew that this mead was of quality. But somehow, it couldn't overcome the bitterness lingering in her mouth. Then, sounds of chairs ratting against the stone ground followed the cups smacking down the table. In laughter and joy not shared by everyone, Vikings dug in.

Hiccup eyes opened in shook as he tasted the honey on his tone. Slamming down his cup with fury, he gritted his teeth to Tyrad, sitting right next to him.

"This is Berkian mead."

"Exactly, Hiccup."

"How did you get it?"

"Well, Half-face over there." Tyrad gestured towards the masked Viking that was actively gulping down pieces of chicken. "managed to get his hand on a handful of barrels. Thanks for your contribution about using Terrible Terror for messages, much faster than our own method, I should say, he got back in time to deliver this delicious mead."

"You had a spy on my island? I thought the oath said that you will leave my island alone."

"I did, and putting an eye on each island is the standard method to make sure we can send supplies or rescue in due time," Tyrad said back. Before lowering his voice. "Consider this a warning Hiccup, I am not exactly satisfied with your action. Remember that your only value is now the oath and your Night fury, but I will not tolerate any lose element." On these words, the Headless went back to the meal.

Defeated, Hiccup looked down at his plate and started to eat without appetite. He needed an escape plan, but a helping hand is more needed.

But the most conflicted mind at this table isn't his. Half-face's mind was racing so loudly that he could feel it in his teeth. On one side is his loyalty towards the Headless tribe, a place that offered him shelter and skills, on the other was life-debt from his past catching up, a debt that he owed to the city of Night Furies.

The rest of the feast drowned out in the cheerful laughing of Vikings, cut out by the sound of mugs colliding together. As the mead flowed, Vikings after Vikings started to fall drunks on their table. The three Headless retreated swiftly after the great majority of Vikings wouldn't notice them missing. Dagur left too, shortly after them. Eyes trailing the carrot-headed Viking, Hiccup started to form a plan. From what he could see, none of the berserkers had been heavy on the mead, meaning this night was the perfect night to escape, only that he needed to find the copy of the oath he swore. It wasn't really legal, but at least Tyrad wouldn't have physical proof of his claim over him. Silently, he pushed back his chair and went on the trail of the Berserker Chief.

The trip was quiet, but inwardly, Hiccup was screaming to find adequate apologies to Dagur, known for his impulsive behavior. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a roll of parchment hit him in his chest, stopping Hiccup on his trap. Before his brain could process, his body acted. His right hand grabbed the wrist, while himself twisted around and readied his left palm to slammed it down in the elbow. The other man reacted quickly as well, raising his elbow to dodge the hit, he transferred the parchment to his other hand, reverse gripped Hiccup's arm, and twisted, freeing himself from his grasp, before delivering a solid elbow, that Hiccup promptly blocked.

"I see they trained you well." He spoke.

"Who are you?" Hiccup answered.

The figure stepped out into the torchlight, revealing a dark, glistening metal on which flames danced. Half-face.

"You're Berk chief one who managed to capture the Night Fury, right?"

"Yes."

"Then I believe this will help you." He replied as he handed over the parchment

Hiccup opened it. His eyes widen in shock at the sight of the familiar dark red handprint at the bottom.

"This is my oath, where did you get it?" Hiccup asked, voice shaking

"Guess?"

"Wait, why are you doing this?" Hiccup asked again, wondering if this is another deception woven by Tyrad.

"I have a debt towards the Night Furies that preceded the Headless tribe."

"There are other Night Furies?"

But this time, Half-face remained silent. Sighing, Hiccup spoke again

"How much are you willing to help me?"

"Until you are safe back to Berk."

Looking at this unexpected ally, another plan formed in Hiccup's mind. If he could get into Tyrad's private space, then he can also get into the storage.

"Do you know where the Nightmare gel is stored?"

Half-face frowned, knowing and not liking where it will be going, but, he had already given his word. Reluctantly, he nodded.

"Good, opened it up, I'll meet you there shortly." Hiccup said before turning heels and running towards the Berserker's huts.

Unguarded, Hiccup easily managed to located where Dagur is sleeping. Knocking carefully at the door, and in a last desperate action, he removed his mask before the door could open.

Behind appeared Dagur with a murderous look on his face, who only got worse when he realized who had disturbed him.

Grunting, he delivered a straight punch straight to Hiccup's face, but this Hiccup is now stronger and faster. The berkian chief grabbed the massive fist heading straight towards his face,

"Wait Dagur, I have a plan to get us both off this Helheim island."

"What?" Dagur answered.

At this moment, Heather emerged behind

"What are you saying?" She whispered, but her eyes did the yelling for her.

"I have an escape plan that will both rendered the Headless tribe crippled and get your dragons back." Hiccup said in a hurry. "Get out and gather your men. Ask all of them to steal enough ship to get you guys back to Berserker island. I need a handful of the fastest and capable for riding a dragon to come with me in the storage."

Running out, Dagur managed to catch up with the lanky Viking.

"I trust you one more time brother, but what's in the storage?" he asked.

"Enough to blow this place up to Helheim." Hiccup answered.

The small group of Hiccup, the Berserker siblings, Mala, and a couple of Dagur's most trusted warriors ran through the whole island, heading towards the stable. Opening the door, Hiccup cut short the reconciliation of rider-dragons. Mounting up, the group ran towards the storage.

Meanwhile, up on the watchtower, Tyrad and Magnus were looking at the whole mascaraed with spy glasses.

"What is trying to do?" Magnus asked, "They just got the Triple-strike out, as well as the razorwhips. Oh looks, here comes the Night Fury."

At the words of his friends, Tyrad slammed opened his drawer, and of course, as he expected, the parchment was gone.

"Yak dung." He muttered. "Where are they heading?"

"Towards the main storage."

"Sound the alarm" Tyrad immediately ordered.

A loud horn awoke the Viking from their drunken stupor.

"What is happening?" A voice said. "Don't know, but that's the evacuation alarm, another answered. "Quick everyone takes shelters."

Back in the storage, Half-face was found standing near the Nightmare gel barrels.

"Are you surer about what are you doing to do?" He said

"Yes." Hiccup answered. "We blow this place up, and it will cripple the Headless tribe enough to buy us enough time to reunite the whole archipelago against them. Also, it will free the captive tribe. And if the explosion can kill Tyrad, the Headless will be without a chief."

But Half-face only shook his head, at both ignorances of Hiccup.

"You think Tyrad is the Headless chief? Their home island is days from here, and I pray that you won't cross paths with the best of them."

"The best of them?" Hiccup cut in

"Usually, all of the Headless is roughly the same skill level, preventing someone to take control. but this time, an anomaly happened, he best all of them but doesn't want to take control over the tribe, instead, under his actions, they are much closer to their goal. This childhood friend of Tyrad... If you kill Tyrad, let's hope he's not as vindictive as your father. So, forget your dream about crippling the Headless tribe, they have winters of supplies. Do you still want to do this? Do you even though through the consequences."

"We're even." Was Hiccup's only reply.

Sighing deeply, Half-face nodded and bowed slightly to Toothless before fleeing the storage.

"What's the plan now?" Heather asked.

"Follow my lead." Hiccup answered in a steel tone.

Raising his hand, he ordered all the present dragon the blast open the ceiling of the storage room. When the night sky replaced the wooden structure, Hiccup took off with Toothless, but not before grabbing a barrel of the highly explosive gel. The other riders did the same.

Grouping up in the air, Hiccup smiled coldly, "Happy destruction." he said before controlling Toothless to throw the barrel, and just before it hit the group, blasting it with a precise plasma shot, the explosion shook the whole island.

"Call them bud," Hiccup asked and Toothless roared into the night, and soon, all of the captives dragons are doing the same, picking up barrels after barrels of Nightmare gels and dropping them on the island.

"Take care of the remaining ships." He tasked berserkers before riding out in a screech.

He had one target, and that was the watchtower.

Underneath them, the Vikings are panicking as chaos dropped upon them.

"We need to head towards the cave" Tyrad ordered. The message was quickly passed through, but the path was a dance with flaming, explosive barrels plummeting from the sky. Screams of pain, of burn, and of crushed members resonated on the precedent peaceful island.

CRASSSHHH, as the warships sunk into the water. On top of all the sounds, the scream of Night Fury filled the night. On top of the dragon, Hiccup scanned the field, searching for the Headless. Spotting them escorting a small group of Vikings, he dived bomb down, waiting for the perfect moment to fire. Hesitating, as he didn't want to hurt the others, he saw his opportunity. Climbing up, as Toothless charged up his blasts. Confident in his shots, he turned Toothless towards other targets.

Tyrad and Eir both reacted quickly, even before the rock dislocated by the blast started falling. But, Eir suddenly looked back and saw a couple of other Vikings still well beneath. Without hesitating, he ran back and pushed out a couple of Vikings to safety. But in the turmoil, a small young girl was frozen in place. The Headless dashed towards her and dived out of the impact zone after grabbing her.

Tyrad rushed towards where the fallen piece of rock. A scream directing him. When the dust cleared, what he saw challenged the worst thing he saw in his life. Eir only his upper body clear of the impact: With his last effort, he brought the little girl to safety. Looking over, Tyrad saw the remains of an arm protruding out of the rock, probably the mother. Giving the young Viking to someone of her tribe, Tyrad kneeled down near his dying friend.

"Looks like I'm going first." Eir rasped out of her throat. "My point of differentiation was pure apathy."

"May it guide those who come after to the differentiation," Tyrad answered.

On the obscure phrases, Eir died. Tyrad blinked slowly, before running back towards the cave. Looking back at the Night Fury raining rampage on what remained of the island, Tyrad whispered to himself

"You changed Hiccup, you forged this past that will come and haunt you when you will realize how much you are different from what you see in yourself"

•—0—•

Winds on his face, Hiccup flew in the direction of Berk, only, instead of a gentle brush, the air was like blades, peeling his exterior. Landing Toothless in the grove, he fell to his knee. I'm not free, I still broke an oath. I'm a scourge now and will only bring sour luck to the island. Astrid, I failed you, I hurt you, you bleed and cried because of me. You deserve much better than this useless Viking that I am.

Please, I begged you to take care of Toothless, because I failed him too.

The simple message was stained with tears, that Hiccup quickly attached to Toothless saddles.

"I'm sorry, bud. I, have to go." Hiccup said while holding the dragon's head. "I can no longer… no I no longer deserve to be here."

The young Viking then removed his armor, and asked Toothless to burn, only living the mask and sword behind.

He then circled the dragon and disabled its tails. He quickly wrote down some instructions about reassembling it. Fishleg would understand it.

Climbing the walls of the cloves, he gave one last look to his first friend, and cowardly diverted his gaze when the green came to cross each other.


Thanks to all of you who dropped a favorite or a follow.

Nothing much, the next one will be more interesting (i hope), but still necessary to assure a continuity in the story. Till next time - Forget.