Chapter 23
Hello!
Glad to see you here! I really don't have that much to say before you start, for once, so I'm gonna keep it short and simple; I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and be sure to follow for updates and leave reviews! I treasure any and all feedback you have to offer!
I don't own How to Train Your Dragon.
Several Days Later.
Syl frowned. "Why am I here, again?"
Hiccup sighed, flatly reiterating what they had gone over countless times on the flight over. He had hoped she was listening; but, of course, she had chosen to reveal that she hadn't heard a word he'd said only once they had landed.
"My Dad thought it would be a good idea to start having more than one rider go on this trip, to show that dragons really are living with Vikings on Berk — that it isn't just 'me and a deadly Night Fury,' as I believe he put it. Fishlegs doesn't do well with crowds, Snotlout is Snotlout, and the twins… Well, they'd probably have set half the village on fire before I could even get a word in edgewise with anybody. Besides, with your new role in the village… I guess it just came together too well," he finished, only to realize that she still didn't appear to be listening, taking the time to scrutinize their surroundings instead.
"So, let me get this straight," she began. "I'm on an island I've never been to, so I can prove something I don't believe in, in order to rally Vikings against my own people to eventually launch an attack with creatures I absolutely loathe. Does that sound right?"
Hiccup looked away. "Uh, I mean, it's not really… if you look at it that way... y-yeah, that's it, I guess..."
"Right," she sighed. "Let's get started."
They had landed in the bay of the Clouded Valley tribe, aptly named; a low fog hung densely around the island and sea surrounding, making it impossible to see beyond the harbor, which stretched half a mile in each direction, a low dock surrounding the water's edge before curving off toward the ocean, out of sight. The masts, beams, and sails of ships poked through the smog in strange ways, and more than once he mistook some for the heads of Monstrous Nightmares, or Deadly Nadders.
There didn't seem to be any dragons lounging about the docks at all, making Toothless and Stormfly stand out more than a little as they padded up onto the shoreline. This wasn't all too uncommon — very few dragons seemed to enjoy staying too close to the water on Berk, as the spray or sudden waves would sweep up and soak their heads, rendering their fire useless, and leaving them sneezing for hours after, much to any nearby Vikings' annoyance. Still, he took note of it, as the few fisherman returning from the day's sail stared at them from their ships in awe, eyeing their saddles and Toothless's intricate tail mechanism with raised brows.
Syl tried to hide a shiver as they continued up the hill into the main village. Hiccup had to smirk as he thought back to her midnight visit only a few days before, and her impassive claim that she 'didn't feel the cold.' Similar to Astrid in that sense, though she may have tried her best to convince others of the fact, she wasn't invincible…
His smile fell as his eyes moved down at Toothless, observing his slower-than-usual pace, and almost unbalanced footfalls.
… No one is. He looked away.
If Toothless could speak — which he technically could, now — he knew he would just tell him it was the long flight, that he needed to lie down, or more likely, have some fish for dinner, if he admitted his weariness at all. Still, they both knew the truth — Astrid wasn't the only one with a newfound plight, nor a secret one. Toothless hadn't seemed to have had any 'attacks' lately, but he doubted they had stopped; he had grown even more distant and sensitive of late, and Hiccup had glanced what appeared to be scars lining his head in the past few days, though the dragon flinched away whenever he tried to get a closer look. If he was still having them... He was hiding them, and well. Maybe too well for his own good, Hiccup thought, reluctantly tearing his eyes off the dragon. They would eventually need to talk about this, he knew… But not just then. There was something in the air, that gave him the feeling all of his attention would be needed that day, that there was something about this island that would set it apart from the rest. He had no idea what that may have been; apart from the mist and perpetually cloudy skies, there was nothing notably different from the others, even if it was a bit smaller than most. Yet still...
Since they'd landed on the island, Hiccup had felt something off about it, and he could tell Syl felt it, too. The island was strange enough to begin with, sure — the thick layer of fog perpetually surrounding it could almost be other-worldly, but compared to the weather patterns on the rest of the archipelago, it was a clear and sunny day. But it only took their walking into the village to realize it.
There wasn't just a lack of dragons — there were none at all. The town as a whole was quiet — much quieter than Berk had ever been, even in the peaceful days before the raids had ended. The bustling livelihood simply wasn't there, and only a few Vikings silently carried out their daily tasks around their homes, a few glancing up to stare as the fisherman had on the peer. It wasn't creepy or unnerving, although Hiccup knew it should have been. Just… Calm.
Syl seemed to notice, as well, and punched him lightly in the arm as they walked up the road. "This… This is weird, right? I thought the letters said they had been 'very successful,' with your whole dragon-training scheme."
Something in the back of his mind told him this meant she had been listening on the flight over, at least, though he was too distracted to notice.
"Yeah… They did," he nodded, still looking around at the odd village. His eyes traced the hills on either side of the valley, which eventually disappeared into the fog, as well.
No caves or hollows for dragons, either, he thought. There could always be some in the clouds, though most dragons tended to prefer having as much of a view of their surroundings from their homes as they could, he had learned. It was one of the main reasons he had built the sliding door in his house for Toothless, aside from ease of entrance.
Glancing around, neither of them had noticed two dots that had materialized on the other side of town, each of which were rapidly drawing closer to them, until Toothless let loose a low growl. Spinning back around, Syl's hand was already halfway to her axe as she positioned herself in a poor mimic of Astrid's initial fighting stance. Stormfly's wings flared out around all of them, protectively.
Hiccup smiled, however, and once Toothless had taken a whiff of the air, he relaxed, as well. Stormfly and Syl eyed the two of them like they were crazy, but slowly lowered their weapons and wings, as well.
As they got closer, the two shapes became a boy and girl, about their age, if not a little older. He was wearing a strange mismatch of armor and fine clothes, with shaggy blond-brown hair and a tall build. His weathered face and soft eyes held a welcome exuberance in the dreary, emotionless town. The girl, a bit shorter, in commoner's clothes, with brown hair so dark it looked almost black, seemed happy, but reluctantly so. As soon as he made eye contact with her, she looked away.
"This," he gestured to Syl as they reached them, each panting heavily and "Is Langley, and—" It was then that he noticed another detail about the two that he had somehow missed, before; the two were holding hands.
"... Iona," he finished, swallowing hard. Langley was still grinning at the two of them, and Iona brushed a strand of hair from her face as he shook his hand.
"I don't believe we've met before. Who would you be, exactly?" Langley held a hand out to Syl. "Hiccup's—?"
"Astrid," Syl finished, returning the smile coldly and taking it. "Friend, acquaintance, whatever. But I don't belong to anyone."
Toothless, for whatever reason, chose that moment to give a low, almost bemused purr, and Hiccup thought he saw her free hand clench into a fist for a moment, before dropping.
"Ah," he said, his smile dropping a little, but still as strong as ever. All of them somewhat eager to be rid of the awkwardness, Langley was the first, moving over to kneel down and meet Toothless at eye level.
"Hey, bud," he said, ruffling his ears a bit, much to the dragon's delight. "How ya' been? Keeping Hiccup safe?" Toothless cooed, and Langley chuckled, moving his hand down to rub under his chin. Stormfly, more than a little envious, walked up to Iona, who luckily got the message and began petting her nose, a small smile forming on her lips.
"Langley is the nephew of the Chief," Hiccup whispered to Syl, as the dragons each revelled in the attention. "Iona's mother is the Head of Trade, I think. Anyway, their families are probably two of the most important on this island, and they were just friends last time we were here, but…"
"Don't worry about whispering, Hiccup," Syl replied, nodding at them. "I doubt either of them could hear us yelling, anyway."
She had a point. The way they looked at each other, as though nothing else in the world existed, and seemed reluctant to be more than a foot away from one another at any time... Hiccup smiled to himself. It was the sort of thing that would make Astrid want to puke.
"Come on," Langley said, smile even brighter than before as he stood back up. "I'll take you to my Uncle."
The village was much wider than it was long. The hills in the rear of the valley were untouched, and a waterfall cut clear through them like a knife, creating a small river — more of a stream, really — that ran straight through the town, splitting it in two, until it dumped into the bay.
"You just missed them," Langley said, as they walked across a bridge spanning the river. "Iona's Terror was here only a few hours ago."
"Wait, you don't even have names for them, yet?" Hiccup asked, taking yet another glance around the dragon-less village. "And what do you mean, 'we missed them'? Aren't they around here, somewhere?"
For the first time since they'd been there, Langley's smile dropped.
"Well… We haven't really been with them or seen them enough to justify giving them names, because—"
"They don't stay." Both Syl and Hiccup jumped as Iona, who had been almost completely silent since they landed, interrupted him, with what sounded almost like contempt seeping from her words.
Langley frowned, and Hiccup was about to ask more, until his expression brightened again, and he jabbed a finger out in front of them. "We're here."
Due to the shape of the island, as well as the lack of the resources, the Clouded Valley Tribe did not have a stone-built Great Hall. Instead, a Longhouse had been constructed at the Northernmost point, with the retaining hill at its back, as was the smartest defensive position, and easily accessible by most of the town.
While it may not have rivaled Berk's Great Hall in all its sheer immensity, it was an impressively large building nonetheless; four stories high, and about as wide as three Nightmares' wingspans, it was easily one of the largest wooden structures Hiccup had ever seen. Two torches were blazing on either side of the front door, despite the humid blanket that laid over the town.
Toothless purred as they opened the doors, and made a sudden, mad dash to run inside ahead of them, with Stormfly making to follow him. Langley's and Hiccup's simultaneous yell at the last moment was the only thing that stopped him.
"No! No," Langley relaxed as Toothless paused and turned back to him, paw raised in the air. Stormfly nearly ran into him, but recovered just in time.
"They can't go inside," he continued, glancing at the girl beside him first. "Iona and would be fine with it, but… There are some people in here that haven't exactly been… Persuaded one way or another on dragons, yet."
Syl and Hiccup shot a glance at one another.
"Well, that's fine, we can't have dragons in our Great Hall, either," Hiccup waved a hand. "But in the letters, you said—"
"I know what we said, and I promise, everything will be answered once we're inside, but for the moment…" He gestured at the two dragons.
With a frown, Hiccup bent down to look at Toothless. "Sorry, bud… You've gotta stay out here for a little while, okay? I'll be fine." The dragon grumbled, but laid down just next to the door, keeping an eye on him throughout. A quick glance over revealed that Syl was doing the same with Stormfly, though to a less-cordial degree.
The inside of the Keep was darker than out, but it held a warmth which made Hiccup truly realize how cold it was outside. Syl must have noticed this too, as she shuffled over to the nearest sconce to rub her hands together once the door had closed behind them.
A doorway out of the entry hall led into a large, almost cavernous room, with a few chairs scattered about, but most noticeably, a table near the back with five stone seats and one larger, raised throne, easily recognizable as the Chief's Meeting Room, and probably the main meeting place for the whole town, as well.
The seats themselves, however, were empty, along with the rest of the room. Langley and Iona hurried through it, leading them to a small side chamber, one of the two major wings of the building, contributing to its width.
Contrary to the dark, large and empty hall they had left, the side room was crowded with Vikings, most of them positioned around a table he couldn't see. Hiccup was able to count six heads before Langley spoke up.
"Father, Uncle, members of the Council," he boomed, making a few of them flinch, and move to the other side of the table to see. "You remember Hiccup."
All eyes in the room turned to him, with a few nods and grunts. It took Hiccup a moment to realize they expected an introduction from himself, anyway.
"Oh! I'm, uh… Hiccup Haddock. My Dad's Stoick… the, uh, Vast — from Berk. We came here a few months ago to talk about… Dragons?"
"We remember you, Hiccup," one of the burlier Vikings said, emotionless. The Chief, something registered in his mind, as he tried to recall his name.
"Aye," spat another short, beardless man, dressed in gray robes. "We do."
Glancing down, if only to distract himself from the many eyes boring into him, Hiccup got his first look at what had captured their interest — and still seemed to — since they had stepped into the room. A giant map of the whole Archipellago was sprawled over the table, paper curling over the edges and underneath the wood. Small, carved statuettes marked some spots around a particular island, some in the shapes of small boats, while others were "X"s, each scattered about in a seemingly random pattern, surrounding the island. He could recognize Berk far to the East, though no markers came close to the island, nor any of its neighbors.
"We got your letter a few days ago," the Chief continued, ignoring the man in robes. "Though we must admit, it was rather vague in its intentions. So, Hiccup. You have our attention — Why are you here?"
He swallowed. This was certainly a step away from the norm; he had fully expected them to be sitting in their chairs in the Council room, hear what he had to say, then make a decision there so he could go back to Berk and continue doing research for Astrid. It was how it had gone for the past few weeks, at least. Still, if he had his audience…
"I, Hiccup Haddock, Heir to the Isle of Berk," he started, rolling out a copy of the scroll which he had practiced reciting time and time again, by then. "Have been sent as a representative of our Chief, and my father, Stoick the Vast, to speak with you. In a time we had hoped would bring peace to the Archipelago, it has come to our attention that several tribes may be preparing for an assault on Berk. As an old ally and friend of Berk's in both trade and commerce, we would ask for your allegiance to our cause, should the day ever come when we must call upon you for aid."
He paused, as a wave of muttering broke throughout the group, voices and whispers filling the small, gloomy space. The Chief, in particular, glanced back at him several times, as did a wiry old man who had kept close to the man in gray robes since they had stepped in, a deep scowl emphasizing the wrinkles on his face.
Taking a shaky breath once they had quieted down some, Hiccup continued,
"This is what Berk asks of you. Should you refuse this request—"
"We understand, Hiccup," the Chief — Chief Halvar, he suddenly remembered — interrupted him. "You've said your part, now. Unfortunately, we're rather busy, at the moment. So if you would give us some time…" It wasn't a question. Hiccup's mouth opened and closed, and Chief Halvar began to turn back to the table along with a few of the others, until a voice spoke out from behind him.
"If I could be so bold — which I will be," Syl stepped forward. "We received a letter from you a few months ago, stating that you'd seen great success with, uh, training dragons, after Hiccup came here. So… What happened? If the Veiklaðar Tribe defeats Berk, they'll come here, next. And you don't exactly have the forces to defend against them, crippled or not. Believe me — I know. So... Don't you want to defend your dragons, or your people, at least? Because that won't be accomplished by just staying here. Not ever."
"And who would you be?" Iona's mother asked, though her tone seemed more curious than threatening.
"My name's Astrid," Syl took another step forward, if a bit more hesitantly. "I'm with Hiccup."
"Uh, Astrid, it's okay, really—" Hiccup started, shooting her a look. But the Chief held up a hand, and he froze.
"No… She makes a valid point," He said, stroking his beard. "It is not our custom to so rudely dismiss our guests, not in this tribe, and not without at least letting them know why, first."
"Chief," the gray-robed man spoke up nervously, "I do not believe it would be in our best interests to reveal our current struggles and actions—"
"And when was the last time ye' agreed with anything anyone else had to say, ye' old worm?" Demanded Langley's father, from across the table. The room quickly churned up into argument as others took the opportunity, and Hiccup leaned closer to Syl.
"Uh… thanks for... helping me out, back there," he whispered.
She shrugged. "Whatever. I just want to get this all over with. Something's wrong, here, on this whole rock. It's like everyone's just... Waiting, for something to happen. I can feel it."
He decided she was right, though didn't tell her that. With whatever the council hadn't told them, paired with the odd serenity and calm over the island, it didn't seem as peaceful as it had when they landed. Half the town was tense, on edge. Perhaps it was due to their arrival? Even so, he hadn't remembered the town being this way when he had come with his father.
The Chief's patience was obviously wearing thin as the arguments escalated, and he slammed his hands down on the table, making one of the small, crudely carved ships capsize onto the map.
"Enough of this!" He yelled. "I don't believe two children are plotting against us, nor that this information will give them or Berk and leverage over our problems. Though I am starting to believe these two and ours aren't the only children in this room!"
That shut everyone up. A few shuffled back, as he shot each of them with a stare that could make even the bravest Viking quake.
"Before we explain, I believe an introduction is necessary, especially considering your new… friend," the Chief grumbled with a glance at Syl, before gesturing down to the end of the table.
"My Brother and first-hand, Haldor," the stocky man Hiccup had recognized as Langley's father nodded.
"Our Head of Defense, Geir, and Head of Trade, Thyra," A taller man with a dark beard and a helm tightly fastened on his head nodded. Iona's Mother bowed, smiling slyly at them.
"And finally, our Heads of Currency and Foreign Matters, Fiske and Egil."
The gray-robed man turned his nose up with a "hmph," while the man beside him remained silent.
"Alas, these titles are just that — titles, and nothing more. We have each been forced to take up the mantles of leadership in these times. The village needs a sense of organization amidst all this madness…"
"Madness…?" Syl spoke out again, shooting a glance back at Langley and Iona, neither of which had spoken since introducing them when they first walked in. Hiccup noticed something else he hadn't before, as well; a sword was strapped around Langley's belt.
"You did say you'd had success with dragon training," Hiccup said slowly. "And the last time I was here…"
"Aye, Langley and Iona do quite well with them — a Nadder and a Terror, if I recall correctly — as have the other children here, as well as a few of us," he gestured around the room, pausing to frown at the two to his left. Fiske bristled, but didn't meet his eyes. "Though we're older, and more for tradition, as it stands.
"Nonetheless, I believe we can all agree that we've benefitted from the end of the raids, and are happy ye' came to teach us to change, or at the very least, show us how we could. But as to yer' training and bonding with them—"
"They're a nuisance!" Fiske suddenly squeaked, shrinking a bit at the Chief's glare, but continuing anyway. "The few that still arrive unexpectedly take whatever they can from us and leave. In my eyes, the raids never stopped — it's only we who are choosing to let them get away with it, and I believe it's time we all—"
"All shut up for a moment," Geir finished for him, with a growl, "and let our Chief speak."
Chief Halvar sighed and looked around, obviously wary of letting the situation getting out of hand, again. Hiccup frowned. He hadn't remembered the Chief, nor any of the townsfolk being this way the last time they were here. Most had been happy to sit, watch and listen, the Chief and families curious and eager to see the skinny boy from Berk 'make' a Night Fury docile. In truth, Toothless and he had practiced the whole bit many times over before they began the voyages and in between, until it had become a bit of a performance for each of them, laughing and teasing each other as they exaggerated their expressions and movements in their rehearsals.
"The truth is Hiccup, Astrid," his shoulders fell, the room seemingly darkening as he did. "We can barely keep our own people alive on this island. Our food supplies are limited at best, at worst… Devastatingly low. The dragons come from time to time to visit, mainly those the children have grown attached to. But they can't stay for long, and I can't blame them. It seems as though the fogs that once brought security for so many now bring only misfortune, here. The dragons know that, too, and so they leave. Perhaps they're smarter than we are."
"But…" Hiccup's brows furrowed. "You're one of the most prosperous tribes in the archipelago, in fishing at least. What—?" Hiccup cut off quickly, realizing he was starting to let his tongue run loose.
"What happened?" The Chief snorted bitterly. "That's what we're trying to figure out, just now."
He gestured down at the map, and pointed at the "X"s, which Hiccup realized only then far outnumbered the ships. His heart sunk down to his stomach as he counted them out, suddenly seeing the lines etched onto not only the Chief's, but all the council members' faces once he looked back up. In fact, smiles absent, even Langley and Iona appeared to have aged years in the few months since they had last met. And all of them were thin. Too thin.
"It started simple," He began, his tone somehow becoming even graver than before. "A ship went missing. Here," —he pointed to an "X" on the map, which Hiccup figured was at least a few dozen miles out to sea, directly south of the island— "was where they split off from the other fishing boats that morning. The last place they were spotted. We never found that ship. We mourned the loss when the last of the search parties came up with nothing… little did we know…
"Another went missing, just two weeks later. This time, we found the ship, charred and burnt, barely afloat, here," He gestured again to another X, this time far Southwest of the island, away from many of the others.
"And The bodies…" He sighed. "Aye, our first thought was dragons. Ye' can't blame us, Hiccup. If you'd seen what we saw on that ship…" He shook his head again. "Anyway, that was when the trouble started. We recalled the boats, had them move closer to shore. Still, they went missing, one after the other. Rarely found, and if they were, torched. We suffered three more of these… Until someone caught sight of one of these 'dragon attacks,' and survived to tell about it.
"It was a massacre," The Chief cursed. "But the foes did not come by air. No, they were of our own kind, assuming the man who saw speaks the truth. Ambushes, by bandits or Vikings of an unknown tribe, we still aren't sure. Since we heard the man's report, however, they've made their intentions clear. We move fishing spots, and they find them, somehow. Scouts report nothing for miles around, mere hours before our ships are set upon…"
"We may be Vikings, Hiccup," Thyra cut in, after it was clear the Chief had faded into his own contemplative silence. "But we're a peaceful tribe, at heart. The raids weren't as bad for us in the war, as you'll remember. Not like Berk, or the Stone Spears or the Veiklaðars or any of the others had it. But we're only just holding our own out here, what with the end of the season coming up. We have our own village to take care of, remember, and winter will be here soon. If these raids don't stop…"
Fury seemed to replace the Chief's previous confusion as he slammed his fists down onto the table, heightening the tension already hanging over the room. "It makes no sense! Empty fishing vessels and rafts, nothing worth looting or attacking, with few people aboard. Either these Vikings are mad, or they have some purpose we're not seeing! Someone must be controlling them out there, paying them, or else wise to do these things. Not to mention the low catches we've been getting for the past few months… Perhaps they're stealing our fish, as well…"
He shook his head, and blinked, as if suddenly realizing he wasn't alone with his thoughts. "The point is, Hiccup, a war is simply not practical for us right now. It's not possible, in fact — not when we're fighting one of our own."
"I just hoped that…" Hiccup frowned again. "Why didn't you send for help? We're one of your oldest allies. My father would want to help you—"
"Aye," he nodded. "But these attacks have only begun of late. And as you can imagine, it's been hard to get anything in or out of the island for weeks, making trade near impossible, never mind letters. We're trapped here on our own island, it would seem. I'd recommend you get out of here on your dragons as soon as you can."
"And besides," Langley suddenly spoke up from behind him, managing a smile in the gloominess of the room. "As I once heard a certain someone say, we're Vikings. We have 'stubbornness issues.'"
Hiccup offered a half-smirk back, but it fell as soon as he looked at Syl. Her mouth was slightly agape, brows furrowed in an expression that could be placed somewhere between annoyed and outraged.
"You really don't see it?" She asked, glancing around to each of them. They each stared at her, and she shook her head in disbelief. "You have a rat."
Thyra leaned forward. "That's a very serious accusation to be making, young lady."
"It's hard not to," she shot back. "It doesn't add up to you either, does it? Ships going missing, then ambushes and bandit raids when you don't expect them. After you move, they can still find you — impressive, in the mist that hangs around here. A little too impressive, I think. You've lived here for generations, haven't you? You would know this area better than anyone, then. It should take months for them to even catch sight of a rock."
There were a few murmurs of agreement from one side of the table. The Chief only stared, his brow furrowing even further down towards his nose.
"But somehow, they're able to pinpoint your exact locations before you can even react, no matter where you move. They're always one step ahead of you. Not only that, but they only kept them secret until there was a witness, meaning someone must have known there even was a witness. And that's strange, too — it's like they were trying to keep them a secret, before… Or frame something else. Doesn't that seem more than a little suspicious for some 'wild bandit raids'?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Hiccup noticed Iona and Langley's hands clasped firmly together, as they stood side-by-side and watched on in disbelief. He couldn't blame them — Syl only seemed to know how to raise tensions in a situation, in his experience, and she was proving that now, for better or worse.
Most of the council members glared down at her, now. He had to admit, she had a knack for it — much better than he had ever been, at least.
Most of her valor and bravery beginning to fail her as common sense took over again, she finished, "It… It would have to be someone who knew your plans, your fishing locations, the experience of your men… Would have to be somebody in…"
Somebody in this room. Syl left the question open, however, choosing wisely to clear her throat and step back into the shadows. Langley and Iona stared at Syl, as did Hiccup, expressions equal parts horror and wonder at just what had come over her to suggest that.
The entire room was silent for a moment. Nobody moved, nor made a sound. The torches flickered, and for a second it seemed as though time might have stayed still in that moment forever, each waiting for the delicate tranquility to snap, none wanting to be the one to do it.
Then Haldor moved his eyes ever-so-slightly in Fiske's direction. The gesture did not go unnoticed.
SNAP, Hiccup thought with a wince.
Fiske bolted up, chair crashing down behind him. "Me?! What madness has overtaken you? A young girl no one has ever met comes rushing in here, throwing wild claims about, and you betray me at your first opportunity? With all that I've done for this tribe—"
"I never so much as spoke your name, Fiske," Haldor growled. "I must say, you seemed awfully quick to deny it, though! Anyway, it could very well be anyone in this room."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Geir growled, standing up himself. The room exploded into argument once again, loud and angry shouts filling the room, making it seem as though there were twice the people present.
Hiccup and Syl took the opportunity to shuffle back from the crowd, to Langley and Iona.
"You know… You've got a lot of guts," The young man told Syl as they whispered to one another. By that point, they could probably yell at each other and it would be ignored, with all the noise, threats and nigh-on brawling coming from the table.
"Sure," she replied. "All their squabbling was starting to get on my nerves, anyway."
"I'm not sure this has helped," he said, nodding at the table. "We never used to have meetings like this… Or meetings at all. Not this often, anyway, and never this… Violent. Do you have meetings like this on Berk a lot, Hiccup?"
But he wasn't paying attention. Something else had caught his eye, in the room, something he had somehow managed to miss.
"There were… ten people in this room, right?" He asked, doing a recount as he swiveled on his heel. Syl followed his gaze, and nodded.
"I… Think so," Langley said. "But I'm not—"
All four of them froze as a low tremor suddenly ran through the room, under their feet. They stared at each other, the same question etched across each of their faces. Iona was the first to speak it, after a moment had passed.
"Did you feel that?" The other three nodded. The bickering of the council members continued on behind them, oblivious. Someone slammed a fist on the table.
Another low rumble shook the floor beneath their feet. This time, the Chief seemed to take notice, and paused to stare at the four children, suspicious. Still, the arguments continued.
But yet again, there came a low rumble, this time twice as rough as each time before it. Hiccup nearly fell over, before Langley caught his hand. The Chief stood up.
"Everyone QUIET!" He yelled. "Listen!"
One by one, the council members fell silent, as yet another tremor shook the foundations of the building, then another. The second time, however, it was followed by a loud bang from the main hall. Hiccup was out the doorway before anyone could protest.
As he suspected, the door was the source of the last noise, and had undergone a bit of remodelling since they had come in. It bent inward as it was bashed against again, but the lock still held. He heard Toothless screech angrily from outside, and grimaced.
Before he was able to break it down, however, Syl walked up and flipped up the latch, opening the door. Toothless nearly fell over himself trying to get in, and Syl stepped away just in time. The dragon's eyes softened when he saw Hiccup — but only a little.
"Toothless… Bud, what's—!" Something from outside caught his eye, as the cool air seeped in through the door — a bright speck hurling across the village, like the sun had been hoisted out of the sky and thrown across the river, before another rumble shook the ground beneath them. Toothless growled and fanned his wings.
"An attack," Syl said, following its arc as far as she could.
"That's impossible!" Fiske's squeaked from behind them. "This village is impenetrable. Only fools would attack it, madmen!"
Hiccup felt obligated to agree — they had nearly gotten lost in the fog a few times before they walked in, and that was from Toothless's back in the air. To even find the island by sea had to be impossible without guidance — even the last time he had been there, a scout had been a few miles out from the island to guide them in, and avoid the various rocks and jetties on the island. The whole place was as bad as Helheim's Gate, if not even worse.
"We can't jump to conclusions," Hiccup told both her and the other council members, as they filed in worriedly through the doorway. "With that said… I think we need to find out."
As he and Syl stepped outside, he heard Fiske say in almost a whisper, "Has anyone seen Egil?"
Before anyone could reply, however, the next rumble shook the ground, and Toothless and Stormfly took off before they could be thrown off balance, riders on their backs.
"Attack or not, this place isn't safe!" Syl yelled to him over the wind as they rose above the village. Hiccup took a moment to survey the island from the air — though they couldn't rise too far, thanks to the fog and low clouds — only to grow even more confused. Though no battle appeared to be taking place, several houses were set aflame, large holes in their roofs. Vikings were shouting and children screaming, forming hasty, unpracticed bucket lines, to no avail; most of the water had spilled by the time it reached the houses. True pandemonium hadn't quite swept over the village, not yet. But the silent, strange tranquility of the island had been broken, and madness was only a hair's breadth away. He had felt it before, and he could feel it, then.
Syl seemed to have been lost in her thoughts, as well, but wasn't alert enough to notice yet another large, bright mass soaring over the village. This time, at least, Hiccup got a clear view of what it was — a fireball flew through the air in an arc, spanning most of the village before falling into the unfortunate home or building in its path. It appeared to be coming from the direction of the bay, though it was hard to tell. And, of course, the only reason he could see it so closely was because—
"Stormfly!" He yelled. Toothless managed to spin out of the way a few seconds before it struck, but the Nadder appeared to be just as absent as her rider, and was barely able to dodge it as they flew past. The fireball easily would have left a burn if her scales weren't already fireproof.
Syl recovered and shook her head, while Hiccup grimaced down at the soon-to-be-maelstrom below, and pointed down at the docks. Syl nodded.
The yells of Vikings and howls of children became clearer as they reached the ground, their homes crumbling to ashes behind them. The docks were as empty as they had been before, empty boats and ships the only presence. Two were aflame, though nobody worked to put them out — the homes and safety of their families was far more important, regardless of what it meant for their livelihoods or source of food and so Hiccup, Syl and the dragons watched on as they each sunk the few feet into sea, water flooding the top decks and travelling a few feet up the mast, until they settled onto the ocean floor, fires quenched.
Over the ensuing flames and menacing WHOOSH of fireballs suddenly flying out of the now-treacherous fog, he heard something else. A deep, steady booming, a strange and ominous contrast to the seemingly random pauses between projectiles hurtling out of the fog, came from somewhere out in the bay, blocked by the mist. Faint, but discernible — and getting closer.
Langley and Iona arrived a few moments after they had dismounted, each with empty buckets in their hands. Hiccup didn't stop to think about how they had gotten to the docks so quickly — he was just glad they were there.
"What is it? What's going on?" Langley asked. His smile had long since disappeared, and his tone was now that of a Viking Chief in a crisis — cold and alert. It reminded him of why he was there in the first place, something he had all but forgotten once the Chief tried to explain what had happened to them.
"We're not sure…" He admitted, realizing that flying ahead and putting themselves and their dragons at risk had been completely in vain. "But if you listen, you can hear—"
"Look, listen," Iona said, pointing and surprising them all once again.
"What? What is it?" He asked, following her finger into the sky, and seeing nothing. "I don't see anything."
"Exactly," she said, facing them all with stormy, blue eyes. "It's quiet. They've stopped."
She was right. The fireballs had stopped, as well as the drumming. The only sounds were of the roaring fires behind them and Vikings' shouting that followed. Still… Each of their eyes was pasted on the bay. Langley drew his sword, Iona a small dagger from her hip. Syl glanced at her with a grimace, obviously wishing she had her own, before drawing Astrid's axe and stepping into the same inaccurate battle stance as before. Frowning, Hiccup stepped back toward Toothless, who bared his teeth at the crashing waves.
For a few seconds, the silence was suffocating. What followed was something out of a nightmare.
Dragons' heads emerged from the mist, at the prows of ships — but they were all wrong. Red paint — he hoped — had been smeared across the heads, the ornately carved eyes, teeth, noses and other details destroyed and ravaged, torn apart. The masts followed, drifting out of the fog like rotting trees pushed forward by ghosts. They increased in number as they approached, two, then three, then half a dozen, then a dozen, until they filled the relatively small cove from one end to another. Several had trebuchets mounted on their decks, the source of the fireballs. Then they began firing again.
"Hiccup," Syl said, in almost a whisper. "We need to—"
"Go back to the Chief," he finished, glancing at Iona and Langley, each of which still had their eyes glued on the ships, horror etched across their faces. This seemed to break them out of their trance, and they each turned to him.
"Help your Village," Syl ordered. "Get them armed, and ready. I don't care how peaceful this island is. You're Vikings. And for the time being, you have an advantage on the shores. The first line of defense will be on the docks. That's where they'll have to land."
"No, no," Hiccup said, before they could run off. "It may not have to be that way — we don't know what they want, yet."
Syl narrowed her eyes at him. "Get. Them. Ready."
Hiccup had to admit, he had been impressed by her sudden burst of authority, until he remembered her recent lessons with his father. And as the two natives ran off into the village, her eyes betrayed the truth; she was afraid. Terrified.
"We need to get out of here, Hiccup. We don't stand a chance against them, here." "And neither do they, if we don't help them!" He shot back.
"Those," she pointed out into the harbor. "Are my mother's ships."
There was a moment of silence, until he followed her stare, eyes running over the mangled figureheads, seeing them in an entirely new light. "You're sure—"
"The decorations are new, I'll admit," she cut him off. "But the patched-up sails? Rebuilt masts? I'd recognize those anywhere. Not to mention their cowardice… We need to get out of here."
"No!" He said, steadfast. "With no dragons on their side, they're practically defenseless. And this could still be resolved peacefully if—"
A hail of arrows rained down from above, falling onto the docks just short of their position. The two stepped back as Toothless snarled, and Stormfly raised her tail.
"We need to get further inland, at least. We need to— Hiccup!" Syl's eyes widened as he climbed on Toothless's back, and he leapt into the air. Grudgingly, she followed after him, Stormfly more than happy to leave the docks, herself.
He led her back to the Longhouse, where all of the council members — except Egil, of course — were close by. Some rushed around with their families and fellow Vikings, yelling and passing buckets, handing out axes and swords to deal with a threat they hadn't even seen, yet. A few others, like Fiske, simply stared at the carnage around them in disbelief, mouths hanging open. The Chief stood in the center of it all, a strange combination of the two, helping where he could and growling at nothing in particular. But when he thought no one was looking, he would glance at the burning buildings around him and shake his head.
By some miracle, the Longhouse hadn't caught fire. Most of the shots had struck closer to the bay, he realized — their range must not have reached that far inland, not while they were still at sea. It was one of the reasons it had been built that far back into the valley, Hiccup knew, though he doubted they ever thought it would be necessary.
Toothless swept down in front of the Chief, followed shortly by the Nadder, with a very anxious-looking Syl on her back. If Halvar was relieved at all to see them, though, he didn't show it.
"An ambush," Syl snarled. "My m—Veiklaðars, the cowards. They've got 10 ships, maybe more, with catapults mounted on at least half. Not sure how many men, they were still too far out to tell. It seems as though you've figured out who your rat is as well?"
"Aye," he replied. "It seems we have. A few have said Egil's made some strange disappearances lately, and he hasn't been the most supportive in our tribe, not since the war ended... Though Fiske says otherwise. It is hard to believe, that he would starve and kill our people — his people — just to…" The Chief trailed off, before straightening himself. "But that's not important right now, and he's gone off to Odin-knows-where. What did you see?"
"They'll make landfall in minutes, if not less," Hiccup said, before continuing with some hesitation. "There… May still be a peaceful way out of this, without any bloodshed. Or… Any more, that is. We don't know what they want yet—"
The Chief cut him off with a snort. "I once told your father you could've been raised here for all your kindness, Hiccup… But I'm afraid it's too late for that. Just as it's too late to try and reason with them."
He stood tall. "They've made their intentions clear. They intend to make an example of us, here. To send a message to you. This was planned — by Egil, assuming he is your rat, girl. If we live through this, he'll stand trial for treason. Until then… Hiccup, Astrid," he nodded at the two of them, before calling for the council members still in earshot. Every second counted, so he filled them in quickly.
"They want to make an example of us," he finished, his voice turning into a yell for all around to hear. "I say we make an example of them! Show 'em what happens when you try to take down our tribe!"
With a few battle cries and shouts of agreement, they each ran off ahead of the Chief, either to round up the villagers to meet the tribe on the docks, or defend their own families. Fiske slunk away back into the longhouse, a mix of confusion and conflicted hatred on his face. He probably wished he had been a spy for the Veiklaðar just then — if Egil was their rat, he had probably negotiated safe passage off the island during the attack, or was elsewise hidden.
"They've made their choice, as have we. Dragons or no, it's obvious they're willing to take this beyond that," The Chief said, drawing an axe he must have retrieved while they were at the docks.
Hiccup's shoulders fell, but he mustered the rest of his strength to his words. "Fine… We can help, then. They may have numbers, but two dragons and their riders could—"
"No." Chief Halvar said, narrowing his eyes into a stony glare Hiccup was starting to think every Village Chief possessed. "You see that ridge?"
He pointed to the steep hill that lay just beyond the longhouse, forming the back wall of the valley. Hiccup nodded.
"Fly over it, and keep going straight. You'll be out of the mist in a few minute's time, as long as you keep straight. Turn East, that will take you back to Berk." He paused to rest a hand on his shoulder. "Tell them what happened here, Hiccup. Tell your father what happened. If any of us are left alive at the end of this... We'll be at his side when the day comes."
"N-no," he said, his resolve beginning to crumble. It was too late — The Chief was running into the Village after the rest of them, axe above his head and calling warriors and craftsmen alike out of their homes, to his side.
The village burned around them. At least half of the homes were aflame by that point, he figured. Children wailed, and some parents ran past them out of the smoke — which had long since replaced the fog — to the longhouse, perhaps the only refuge left at that point. It would be boarded up from the inside soon enough, he knew, all those unable to fight left inside to await their fate, learning only of the outcome when the door was burst down several hours or minutes later. Another fireball crashed into a nearby house, just as its inhabitants rushed outside, much further inland than any of the shots from the boats thus far. One had a toddler swaddled in her arms, and nearly ran into Toothless as they made for the longhouse. The mother's eyes widened, seeing only a threat in what even Hiccup had to admit must have appeared as a dark monster — the smoke was so thick, it was hard to see more than twenty feet ahead in each direction, and the whole scene seemed a living nightmare. Toothless only moved aside to let them past, though, and the parents rushed inside, mouthing "thanks" to no one in particular. Hiccup clenched his teeth.
"We need to do something."
"No," Syl said. "Listen to the Chief, Hiccup. We need to go."
"We can't leave them!" He cried. "They're practically defenseless! They were taken by surprise, ambushed! They aren't ready or equipped for a fight, never mind a full-on assault!"
"I know!" She screeched, suddenly sounding so desperate that all of his anger instantly melted away.
"Listen to me, Hiccup," she pointed toward the docks. "Those are my mother's ships out there. Maybe the Chief's right, and they do just want to send a message. But do you really think it's just a coincidence that they chose to attack on the same day the emissary from Berk — their own heir and his Night Fury — arrived to negotiate a treaty with them? That Egil-guy must have tipped them off."
He frowned, but as he opened his mouth, she continued, "My point is, if they knew that you were going to be here, if they knew that you would fight them, then I'm sure they have some very specific instructions on who exactly to target. For all we know, this whole attack could be a diversion. For all we know, you're their primary target."
"You're saying this is a trap?" He challenged. "Maybe it is. But we've gotten out of them before, and if getting caught in it means the people on this island get to live… So be it. Leave if you want. But I can't just let them all die here."
"You don't get it," she clenched her fists, before shoving a finger in his face. "They will not take prisoners, here. Believe me, I should know. This isn't a trap to bring you back. I tried to kill you because they want you dead. The man — or men, or women — who take you and Toothless down — and they will, if you go out there — will be celebrated as heroes back home. If I thought it was the only way I could ever hope to impress her…"
She paused. Another fireball touched down, not more than fifty feet away from them. They would need to get out of there, soon. When Hiccup only stared back at her, she continued.
"Do you really want to risk your dragon's life on this, Hiccup? You and Toothless are the head of the snake to them, and the pieces that hold these alliances up to everyone else, whether you like it or not. Your life may be expendable to yourself, but before you go out there… You need to know what it means. Even if you were only captured, think about what it would mean for Berk. What it would mean for Astrid. And especially given your dragon's condition... You're as unprepared and unequipped for a battle right now as everyone on this island."
One of Toothless's ears flew up, and he shot a glare at Syl. When Hiccup met his eyes, though, he looked away.
"We need to leave," she added after a beat, more quietly than before. Hiccup coughed, as the smoke clogged up the air around them.
"So… Maybe we can't fly," Hiccup admitted. Toothless purred, and stepped up beside him. "Toothless and I, anyway. But we can still bring Vikings water, help where we can. We don't have to be on the front lines. We could—"
Toothless's screech came just too late. Something large exploded in front of them, and both he and Syl were thrown backward, flying several feet through the air before the cocoon of the Night Fury's wings closed in around him.
"Syl...", he managed to croak out as the wind was knocked out of him.
A ringing filled his ears and head, threatening to overpower his senses before it subsided. He knew he must have blacked out, if only for a few seconds, though it was impossible to tell in the sheer darkness surrounding him. As soon as he was able, he began rapping and beating his hands weakly on the inside of Toothless's wings, rasping his name in the almost trancelike state his mind had been thrust into. For a moment he began to fear the dragon had fallen unconscious, as well, but Toothless's wings slowly unfurled just before he became truly frantic, and he saw in his upside-down eyes that the Night Fury was only worried for him. His small moment of relief with the dragon vanished, though, when he looked away.
The fire was bright, and his vision had not yet completely cleared when he stepped out, making the buildings and landscape around him seem to blur together, and loom over him as the fires licked and danced up into the sky. Once he could see, though, his suspicions were confirmed. A fireball had landed nearly on top of them, carving a charred crater into the ground. A few feet more and the two of them would have been dead — in fact, he might have been, had Toothless not dove in when he had.
Syl had not been so fortunate.
Though Stormfly had tried, her body was simply not built for the same roll-and-cover tactic that Toothless could pull off, and so the girl hadn't been as protected as he. She was lying on the ground, limp and motionless as a doll, left hand twisted in a way that definitely didn't look natural. Burns and pockmarks blemished and marked the exposed parts of her skin, a few fresh scars ripped open on her arms, one small gash on the upturned side of her cheek. Stormfly, too, had wounds of her own; incredibly, the dragon's scaly hide had been pierced, and a small trickle of red ran down her leg, and the Nadder alternated between poking the lifeless girl and licking her own scars.
Feeling sick, Hiccup stumbled over to her, legs not protesting as he fell to his knees beside her. He mouthed a silent thanks to the gods as he saw her chest slowly rise and fall, weak and rapid at first, but stabilizing with every breath.
He looked around, but saw no one nearby. The Village still burned, and one way or another, the ground, he decided, was no longer safe.
"Damnit… Come on… Toothless," he said as he tried to lift Syl's body on his own, nearly collapsing under the sudden weight, cutting his palm as a hand slipped and caught on one of the spikes on her skirt. He had suffered a few injuries of his own — a scrape or cut here, a bruise there — but they were little more than paper cuts, and as far as he could tell, he hadn't broken anything, though most of his body ached from the impact against the Night Fury.
The Night Fury quickly rushed to his side, pushing his head under Syl to help prop her up. She groaned, and nearly fell again, but Toothless quickly adjusted, and she stayed.
Stormfly seemed to take note, and folded her wings to assist, as well. Still, the Nadder limped as she walked, leaning most of her weight onto her left foot, and Hiccup heard her hold back a small cry as she bent down into a crouch.
Somehow, the three of them managed to wrestle the girl up onto her back, until she was slumped in Stormfly's saddle, slowly beginning to regain consciousness. It was never a good idea for a rider to be out cold in the air, Hiccup knew — but Stormfly was experienced, and cared for Syl, whether the girl liked it or not. She wouldn't let her fall, and would do everything in her power to protect her from harm, just as she would Astrid.
As soon as Hiccup had thrown himself onto his own saddle, Toothless launched into the air, equally eager to be out of the village himself.
The constant barrage from the ships, as well as the fires from burning houses had managed to clear away much of the mist over the village, though the smoke and ash had replaced it in many places. Though he knew Toothless would be grateful for the added vision, the sight that met him made his stomach fall to his feet.
Chaos had finally erupted.
The ships were making landfall, Vikings jumping to shore as they did, throwing torches on whatever they could burn nearby, spears into barrels of fresh fish stacked carefully near huts. Equally, the small group of Vikings charged forward through the village, weapons raised and war cries echoing off their tongues and through the streets. The Chief was at the head of them all — that was clear. Hiccup thought he could make out a few of the council members behind him, as well, but they were all too close together, and he had already forgotten their names.
Toward the back of the group, however, he could make out two shapes running with the rest of them, so close together, so paired with one another it seemed almost unnatural, like they were one in the same. They were instantly recognizable.
Langley had his sword drawn, he saw. If Iona had a weapon of some kind, though, he couldn't see it. But he doubted either would leave the other behind for something as simple as not being able to fight.
He clenched his teeth down, hard, and only half-heard Toothless give a low purr in front of him as he stopped them all in midair.
"We… We have to do something…" He muttered to himself. We have to...
He went to click Toothless tailfin, and was about to instruct him to dive down to the ships, when Syl wheezed, suddenly.
"Hiccup…" She said, and he whipped around to look at her. She set him with a hard stare despite her obvious fatigue. The message was as clear as day. She wasn't going to stop him — she couldn't. But even if she could… She wouldn't.
He sighed, and looked away from the village, just before the two groups clashed.
"Come on, bud," he whispered into the dragon's ear, setting his tailfin for high-altitude flight. "Let's go home."