Author's Note: What can I say? This chapter is eight days late. But the part that's probably confusing most of you is that it went up on time for a few hours last week before being taken down again. The reason for that is complicated, but in essence I wrote the latter half of this chapter, posted, and then had second thoughts that the first few reviews reinforced. So, I took it down and rewrote it again. Quality is more important than being on time, though my entire method for writing is supposed to ensure both.

The real chapter 26 is here now, though. The original version will go up in deleted scenes for those who didn't get to see it.

Also, a bit of good news. The beta for this story has returned!

Now, on to what everyone actually cares about. For those who've read this chapter once already... I'd suggest reading it again. Things go very differently this time around.

Time was running short. Maour had a feeling that there must be some small thing he and Toothless could be doing to tip the scales a little bit more in their favor, but he didn't know what that could be. What they were doing now, sitting on a sea stack and staring out into the distance, certainly wasn't it.

Not to say they were not doing something useful. Einfari, Nóttreiði, and Heather were all out fishing in the distance. Maour and Toothless were watching them and the Berserker ships still slowly circling the meeting island. It was important that nobody be caught off-guard.

'How long will we have been gone?' Toothless suddenly asked.

"You mean since we left on this trip?" Maour was pretty sure that was what his brother meant, so he wasn't surprised when Toothless nodded in confirmation. "Well," he began, thinking aloud, "two weeks to get to Berserker island, a day to set up and meet with Dagur, another day after that, then three days to Berk, another day there, four days to get here, then a week until the meeting started. Three days here so far, and tonight is the last important event. So another two weeks home. Altogether, about seven weeks, give or take a day. Almost two months."

Toothless whined softly. 'Eggs take anywhere from one to four months to hatch. We might have missed it. They'll need us when the eggs do hatch.'

Maour winced. "If we end up at war anyway, they might have to make do for a while. We can't skip out on that either." He hated the idea, but it was a possibility.

'I know. Besides, we need to protect them. I'll tear Astrid apart if she takes one step towards our family.' Toothless began kneading the rock with his claws, marring the smooth surface.

"Agreed." Maour was as serious as his brother was about that. If enemies set foot on the Isle, no mercy could be shown. If he had his way, Astrid would never even see his home or family. "But hopefully, we can warn her off. Well, warn Snotlout off anyway. I don't think Astrid will stop for anything, but Snotlout might not want to get into a war with all of us, and he can refuse to let her go. He knows what she's capable of, so he would have to imprison her, for his own safety." That was what Maour was betting on. Snotlout might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but that course of action was obvious, and taking it would mean they only had to face the Berserkers.

'Well, we'll know soon enough. All our moves have been made. Now we just have to wait and see.'

Heather didn't like the looks of the island. "There's no way this isn't a trap," she muttered. Einfari would know what she meant.

'They can fire on the island,' Einfari agreed. 'We know this. So ships circling mean that they intend to make use of that. We should not land there at all.'

"But we have to." They needed to be present for the last night of announcements and negotiation. Skipping out wasn't acceptable, however frustrating that was. "Maour and Toothless have to, anyway."

'Maybe not,' Einfari mused. 'It would be much smarter to drop Maour off and, if needed, fly down and pick him up. Toothless cannot do that, but nothing says Toothless has to be the one doing that.'

'We will be flying into danger if that is the plan,' Nóttreiði interrupted, reminding both of them that he was flying right behind them. 'The current plan keeps us safe while risking Maour and Toothless.'

'What would you suggest?' Einfari asked curiously. 'Do you think it is better to risk ourselves a little or to let our friends take a much bigger risk?'

Nóttreiði growled unhappily. 'It depends on who is being risked. Let Toothless take the risk; he is the one choosing to go down there with Maour. I would sacrifice him a thousand times over to protect you.'

Heather wasn't sure whether Nóttreiði meant he would sacrifice Maour or Toothless, but she thought he probably meant it either way.

'That is extremely selfish,' Einfari growled. 'Like saying you would rather Toothless lose a wing than I suffer a minor cut on my own wing.'

'I would,' Nóttreiði agreed solemnly.

'Fine then,' Einfari snorted. 'You may feel however you like. I am not willing to make those unbalanced trades. If I can get Maour and Toothless to agree to it, I will drop Maour off and be responsible for picking him up myself.'

"What will the rest of us be doing in this plan?" Heather asked, hoping to draw her friend away from what looked to be a growing argument.

'Nóttreiði will be with me because I cannot dissuade him from constantly shadowing me,' Einfari answered quickly. 'You and Toothless will wait on a distant sea stack, and Maour will have shown you enough of how the tail works to get the both of you home if something goes wrong.'

Heather didn't react immediately, holding her initial response back in favor of actually thinking it over. In the event of something going wrong, she and Toothless could go toward the fight and help just as easily as they could flee, even if that wasn't Einfari's intention.

"You really think Toothless and Maour will go for that?" she asked, deciding to entirely avoid giving her own opinion on the plan. She didn't like it, but it was a good idea for minimizing risk, and if things went bad, she could still join the fight.

'They will if they are smart,' Einfari asserted confidently.

'You want me to do what?' Toothless asked incredulously. He looked over at Maour. 'Tell me you are not considering this.'

"Without me, you're stuck on that island," Maour said slowly, tapping his foot against the stone of the sea stack. "It makes sense."

'If this goes badly, I am stuck watching!' Toothless exclaimed. 'It is smarter to have three Night Furies and two riders in the air, not two and one.'

'If we were fighting a battle, maybe,' Einfari agreed. 'But this will not be a battle, it will be an attack on us, one we can simply flee from. We only need as many people as maximizes our chances of escaping an attack. Sorry, but your tail means you are not as efficient as I would be.'

Toothless growled angrily, clearly denying that assessment, though Heather thought it fair enough. 'Maour and I can outfly you any day of the week, and you know it.'

'That means nothing here, when you cannot fly at all,' Einfari replied, her tail lashing aimlessly. You would also be stuck on the ground down there, a large, obvious target from afar.'

'It is a hilltop, they-'

'Can shoot that far, and will see any dragon walking around up there.' Einfari flicked her ears at the island. 'Those ships are circling. You would have to be covered by humans on all sides. No dragon can walk around up there tonight.'

'Up there, maybe. It will be dark; I can just wait somewhere on the hillside.' Toothless rumbled smugly. 'So there.'

'You could,' Einfari granted, 'but the fact remains that with you on the island, Maour has to get to you. With just him down there, I have to get to him from the air. One is easier, faster, and safer than the other.'

'So you would not be down there either, meaning Maour would be alone, with nobody to watch his back,' Toothless snarled. 'No. I would rather take the risk.'

Heather was struck by the parallel. Toothless and Nóttreiði might not have much in common, but they did both want to protect their siblings however possible.

'There is a simple solution,' Nóttreiði growled. 'Send down both humans. They can watch each other's backs and will provide no obvious target.'

To go down onto the island one more time? To maybe face Dagur again?

Heather didn't want to die fighting Dagur, but that wasn't likely, and if she didn't go down, Toothless might. A small risk to prevent someone else taking a larger risk. "I can do that."

'You can, but my brother is not thinking it through,' Einfari replied. 'Nóttreiði, tell me, how many dragons would we need to safely retrieve two humans?'

'One?' Nóttreiði guessed tentatively, seeming to understand that he was missing something. 'They are not heavy, or at least these two are not.'

'More than one; the idea is that I will swoop down and grab Maour by the shoulders, airlifting him in an instant without the delay associated with landing, letting him get on, and then taking off.'

"So you would need two dragons," Maour added, looking over at Nóttreiði.

'I had come to that conclusion on my own,' Nóttreiði snarled. 'No need to make sure I understand. I can be the second dragon.'

'I do not trust you to safely retrieve my brother,' Toothless growled, stalking over to face Nóttreiði. 'Or Heather.'

'I am trying to adjust my ways,' Nóttreiði replied. 'I can do this if it means my sister does not need to make two passes or land to let both on, which are the alternatives. Trust that I want my sister to be safe and that I want her to trust me.'
He spoke with a vehement frustration that Heather reluctantly recognized. She knew that frustration; She felt it when considering Nóttreiði's own distrust of her. He was very, very good at pretending he was trying to change.

Or he wasn't pretending anymore. She couldn't let herself believe that, no matter how much she wanted to. But his reasoning was sound here, and she did know he wanted his sister's trust. It was another calculated risk. "He can pick me up." If he was faking to gain her trust in order to lower her guard, she could fake trusting him and lowering her guard in turn.

Did Nótts often plot against each other? Heather thought not, because while she was not a Nótt, this was already way too layered and complex. It would be easier for everyone if Nótts didn't work against each other… which, from what she had seen, was how things usually worked between them. It was only her presence that upset their allegiance to one another.

"If Heather thinks she can trust Nóttreiði to retrieve her, then I think we have a plan," Maour announced. "Brother?"

'She watches your back.' Toothless growled unhappily. 'She gets her ax back for this, just in case. And the instant things go bad, Einfari grabs you and gets out of there.'

"Definitely, but I'll call for her," Maour clarified. "Okay?"

'We both know I do not like it, and we both know I will agree to this because it is smart,' Toothless muttered. 'I cannot wait to leave here. This place is one of frustration and needlessly complicated plans.'

Maour leaned over and scratched his brother behind the ears. "Believe me, I agree. It's better than fighting every Viking in the archipelago, but sometimes I almost think that would be less frustrating. At least that's straightforward."

'I don't know what you're complaining about,' Einfari quipped lightly. 'This is a Nótt's optimal environment. Plenty to manipulate, and a constant stream of problems to work on.'

'If a wrong answer did not put you in danger, maybe, but this is not a paradise for me,' Nóttreiði said. 'I will be glad to go home.'

"Agreed," Heather said. It would be good to go… home? Was she thinking of the Isle of Night as home, now? She certainly wasn't thinking of the island she had grown up on; as far as she knew, that place was still a lifeless ruin, thanks to Dagur.

Maour was rummaging around in Toothless's saddlebags, looking for something. Heather remembered that Toothless had requested she be armed for this. Maour was probably looking for her ax.

"Get the old one," she requested. "Not the good one you made for me. I don't have time to get used to that." The same logic applied to why she wasn't telling him not to bother. She didn't have time to train with the bow, either. Besides, they would be far too close for a ranged weapon if fighting broke out.

All precautions. The flight plans, substituting Einfari for Toothless as transportation, planning to grab them in case of something going wrong, bringing weapons. They were planning for failure while hoping for success.

Heather took the plain ax Maour offered her and tossed it from hand to hand. She was okay with an ax, nothing more. Hopefully, it wouldn't be needed tonight.

Maour hated leaving Toothless behind for this last meeting, but he understood that bringing Toothless was just asking for things to go wrong. The danger of improved net-launchers striking even the top of the hill from Berserker ships made having his brother with him just too risky.

That didn't make it any easier. They didn't like leaving each other to face danger alone, and this was the second time in recent memory that Toothless was having to sit something out.

'Stay safe,' Toothless whined, nuzzling Maour's chest. The sun was sinking below the horizon as they spoke. The others were already up in the air. 'I can't come for you if you get into trouble.'

"Don't you dare try swimming to the island," Maour warned seriously. "I know it looks close enough from here, but the currents will drag you down, and you can't save anyone if you're dead." He worried Toothless would do something desperate if fighting broke out.

'If you are killed, I will prove myself a hypocrite to Heather,' Toothless rumbled unhappily. 'I told her not to get herself killed by seeking revenge.'

"So don't get killed," Maour replied. "Go home, get help, and make sure nobody else dies because of them." He didn't specify who; almost anyone on the island would probably try to kill him if they thought they could get away with it. Possibly even some of his allies.

'Don't get killed or captured in the first place,' Toothless replied. 'And Maour…'

"Yes?" He needed to go soon; Einfari was circling back around, and Heather looked distinctly uncomfortable dangling from Nóttreiði's front paws, though Maour and Einfari had made sure Nóttreiði was holding her in a safe and secure way.

'If it comes down to fighting, don't hold back,' Toothless said sternly. 'Kill. You don't kill in cold blood, but that won't be cold blood, and I'm not going to be there to help you. Don't leave anything to chance.'

Maour shook his head. "If it comes to fighting-"

'You'll be the match of any of them, but you won't win if the enemies you defeat come back to stab you from behind,' Toothless cut in with a snarl.

Maour nodded, not liking the advice but knowing where his brother was coming from. "I'll do what I can. But there won't be any fighting."

'If I believed there would be, I would suggest we strike first,' Toothless admitted. 'There should not be any fighting. Astrid and Dagur have held themselves in check so far, but assuming a pair of lunatics will be consistent isn't a good idea.'

"I'll be fine," Maour repeated, knowing it was the only comfort he could give. He embraced Toothless, hugging his stout neck for a long moment, and then stepped away to wave at Einfari. It was time. Hopefully, everything would go as it should.

"All you have to do is join in once Dagur gives you the opportunity," Astrid said in a low voice, hating how close she had to be to Snotlout to ensure nobody overheard, but bearing it anyway. All for the end goal, the hunt. No matter how far from that goal this particular annoyance was, it was still connected.

"You've told me that already, and it makes as little sense as it did the last time you said it," Snotlout complained, pulling away from her. There was only so far he could go, given they were both sitting on the same segment of rotting log, but he took full advantage of what space there was.

Astrid didn't care if Snotlout was annoyed she was telling him the same thing again. She didn't have anything else to do. Dagur and Savage sat on the log next to her, but she couldn't risk talking to him, and there was nothing to talk about. He knew his part in this plan, and she knew hers. The ships circling the island proved that Dagur was ready to act.

Everyone else atop the hill was unimportant. Astrid eyed the empty log across the unlit bonfire, anticipating the man and dragon who would soon be there, neatly penned in. Tonight's ploy would entrap the both of them.

Hiccup and his Night Fury were not the only ones absent, though sunset had come and gone a few minutes ago. The Order-keeper was missing, which was odd, but a few of his men were present.

Maybe she did have something to talk to Dagur about. "Where is the Order-keeper?" she loudly demanded, glaring directly at Dagur for a brief moment. He probably wouldn't know, but this was a complication, and their ploy didn't need-

"We should just start without him," Dagur replied, grinning crazily. "Maybe he got bored and left."

So Dagur did know what was up with that. Astrid felt a rush of anger. He was changing the plan without her approval. She wanted to kill him for that-

No, she shouldn't kill him. He was far too useful to her hunt. She just had to trust, however much she hated doing so. He wanted this to work as much as she did. Tonight would bring their goals together in more ways than one.

"Finally," Bertha remarked the moment Maour set both feet on the ground. "Something is wrong here."

"Not the welcome I was hoping for," Maour muttered, looking up. His enhanced night vision meant he could see Einfari and Nóttreiði disappearing up into the inky black sky. There seemed to be a cloudfront moving in from the East, judging by the lack of stars in that part of the sky. Perfect for Night Furies.

"What's wrong?" Heather asked, getting to the point. She didn't know Bertha at all, but that didn't seem to matter to her.

"The Order-keeper hasn't shown up yet," Camicazi replied flippantly. "Also, who in Odin's curly beard are you?"

"I ride a Night Fury and want Dagur dead; that's all you need to know," Heather said in response. "The Order-keeper is missing?"

"Or just late," Maour added. It was a possibility, albeit an unlikely one. Someone so important in enforcing the peace just happening to be late on the final, most important night was too coincidental.

'And so it begins,' Toothless remarked, reminding Maour that his brother was with him in mind, if not body. 'Be careful.'

"Thank you for the extremely innovative advice," Maour quipped nervously, sitting on the log. After a moment, he decided to be proactive, and took his scythe off of his back, laying the haft across his lap. Heather sat beside him, one hand on her ax at all times.

"Guess we should jus' get all o' this started," Mogadon grunted. "Tonight is the night for announcements and big things, right?"

"Alliances, war declarations, merging of tribes," Dagur called out merrily, smiling broadly. "New world orders, all of that. Anyone got anything boring and small before I start with my list?"

There was a general shuffle around the unlit bonfire as Chiefs and their seconds looked at each other uncertainly. Of everyone who could take over in the Order-keeper's absence, Dagur the Deranged was probably the least likely to want to or try.

"I think we're all wonderin' wha' the crazy man has got to announce," Alvin grunted. "Get on wit' it."

"Someone has to light the bonfire," an extremely welcome voice interjected. The Order-keeper walked out of the darkness from the Southern side of the island, flanked by three of his men, each of whom held a torch, the only real source of light on the hilltop, as none of the Chiefs had anticipated needing their own light with the bonfire being present. "I apologize for being late."

Two of the Peaceable Vikings who had escorted their leader threw their torches onto the pile. It caught, gradually growing and illuminating the entire hilltop.

'Maour, his knife,' Toothless mentally growled. Maour looked at the Order-keeper and saw that he was holding the ceremonial knife in his left hand and that the blade was literally dripping blood.

As if he had heard Toothless, the Order-keeper brandished the bloody weapon. "I was held up. Those doing the holding have been dealt with."

"Who'd be stupid enough to try and stop you?" Bertha asked curiously.

"And did they actually attack you?" Dagur called out. He sounded put out.

'By my guess, Dagur's men tried to kidnap the Order-keeper,' Toothless said worriedly. 'They are definitely planning something.'

"The rules are mine to enforce, boy," the Order-keeper gritted angrily, glaring at Dagur from across the growing fire. "Stopping me from doing so is not tolerated."

"I don't remember that being a part of any of this," Dagur complained. "Show me where the peace says that."

"I have the entire thing written down," the Order-keeper retorted, "and keep it on me for insolent brats like you."

'Since when?' Toothless asked indignantly. 'Why didn't we get to look at that, if he had it all this time?'

Maour didn't have an answer for that. He definitely would have asked to see the entire thing written out if he knew it existed. Too late now.

The Order-keeper stuck a hand inside his metallic suit of armor, jostling plates around to reach something within, something stored at about the belt level.

"Not that great as armor if it can be shifted so easily," Heather murmured to Maour. Maour had to agree. The plates were all individually strong, but the Order-keeper wasn't really wearing them right if they could be moved. They should be strapped down, not loose.

The Order-keeper pulled a crumpled piece of parchment out into the open and held it out victoriously. "Here. Come read it if you do not trust my words." His tone was confrontational. "Your men died because they broke the peace, Dagur."

"Maybe, but I want to see it for myself," Dagur complained. He stood, leaving his ax behind on the log, and circled the bonfire to take the paper from the Order-keeper's outstretched hand. "Yes, I see a bunch of runes."

'Can he read?' Toothless asked curiously.

"I would assume so," Maour replied. There had to be more to all of this.

"I see a bunch of runes from the past that any honorable Viking would be ashamed to agree with," Dagur continued, throwing the parchment into the fire. "Since when do we need to make peace with our enemies and talk?"

Around the fire, Vikings put hands to weapons, some leaning forward and others standing entirely, though nobody moved. Dagur was questioning the peace. The same peace that held a dozen rivalries and ambitions in check, not just Dagur. Maour noticed Duncar of the Visithugs looking around consideringly, and Alvin was eyeing several different Chiefs covetously. If the peace broke, things could go bad fast.

The Order-keeper alone among those at the top of the hill did not seem the least bit impressed by Dagur's words. "You all signed in blood. Even you, Dagur. Feel free to not come next time, but for now, you are held by your word and the wrath of the gods."

"Am I?" Dagur giggled maniacally. "Well then, that's that. And you hold me to it?"

"I, my tribe, and the gods," the Order-keeper confirmed. "Now sit down." He gestured back at the log Savage still sat on. "I enforce order as well as peace, and we are wasting time."

Incredibly, Dagur didn't explode at being ordered around like a child. He also didn't try to kill the Order-keeper with his bare hands, which was what Maour was half expecting after Dagur's ominous words and laugh. Instead, he shrugged and headed back to his seat, saying nothing.

'He is not sitting,' Toothless noted suspiciously. 'He is standing.'

Maour thought he understood that; Dagur wasn't challenging the peace, not directly, but he also wasn't letting the Order-keeper be seen to order him around. He had been told to sit down, so he would stand. It was a simple act of defiance, one Maour would have expected from any Chief who knew they had to back down while saving face.

"Now, are there any announcements?" the Order-keeper asked. Once again, everybody looked to Dagur. They all wanted to know what he had up his sleeve.

"I've got a few," Dagur offered nonchalantly.

"Speak, then," was the annoyed response.

"Assorted Vikings and traitors!" Dagur began, looking directly at Maour. "You know who you are. Today is a day of glory and the Viking way!"

'Astrid is looking at you,' Toothless warned.

"Well, get on wi' it! We're waitin'." Alvin was clearly impatient to get to the actually important part of the meeting.

Dagur scowled at him. "Don't ruin the moment, Al. First, I am happy to announce that I am no longer single! The lovely Astrid Hofferson and I have gotten engaged!" He smiled at Astrid. Her eyes were cold, and she spared a long glance over at Maour.

'You've got to be kidding.' Toothless was extremely dismayed by that particular announcement.

Maour shared the sentiment, but he couldn't say anything. He put a few things together at that moment. Dagur liked Astrid because she was like him. Dagur had wanted a second-in-command for his armada. Astrid wanted to hunt dragons to extinction. Dagur had a grudge against the dragon rider Astrid hated above all else. And Astrid would do anything to further her goals. He should have seen this coming a mile away. It fit both of their motives perfectly. Dagur got a perfectly crazy wife and ally, and Astrid got a massive armada perfect for hunting dragons. Which, unbeknownst to her, was already extremely close to his home. This had gone from bad to catastrophic.

Alvin smirked condescendingly, his voice carrying just a hint of anger that didn't make much sense to Maour. "A fitting match. But aren't the 'offersons supposed to approve tha'?"

Dagur laughed mockingly. "Usually, yes. But chief Snotty here has negotiated all of the details in their stead. He gets to break the news, too." He grinned at Snotlout. "Have fun with that. And try to avoid the axes they throw at you for marrying off their daughter for them."

"I officially offer Astrid Hofferson to the Chief of the Berserkers in her family's stead, if she wills it," Snotlout announced hurriedly, looking positively giddy.

"Which I am," Astrid said, walking over to stand by Dagur's side.

"And I, of course, accept, and all of that," Dagur said mockingly. "There, it is official. Now, on to the second thing. Who wants to be a Berserker?"

Silence, a dangerous and ominous lack of any sort of reply. Everyone present knew what that meant, what Dagur was leading into, but it was not out in the open yet. He could still stop.

"Boy," Alvin growled, "even you're not crazy enough for that."

"Oh, I'm plenty crazy," Dagur flippantly replied, "and I'm giving you all a nice, peaceful chance to join my tribe here and now. That's what you all like, right? Peace?" The scorn in his voice was obvious now. "Why else are you here? Real Vikings fight each other, they don't talk. Yet here you all are, weak and afraid. Talking. Making alliances, tolerating enemies, worrying about the future. You've all forgotten what makes us Vikings."

Many of the Chieftains shifted uneasily. Some seemed bothered by his words, others angered.

"Some of us value our people more than our pride," Bertha lazily retorted, apparently unaffected by Dagur's condemnation. "And most of us have a bigger reputation for bloodshed than you do, crazy boy." The scorn in her tone was unmistakable. "Make your speech once you have a few years under your belt."

"I'm young and bloodthirsty!" Dagur yelled petulantly, his mood swinging in an instant. "You've all lost that same thirst! You're all weak!"

"The Visithugs raid and plunder regularly," Duncar the Dilapidator growled, pointing a meaty finger at Dagur. "Call us weak and find out what our enemies think."

"Oh, not you," Dagur casually replied. "You're fine, and so is Berk. Maybe the Outcasts. The rest of you, on the other hand, should take my offer while it stands and while you stand."

"What offer?" Trott, Chief of the Lava Louts, asked warily.

"Simple. Surrender to me now, and I'll let you live," Dagur explained, flipping his asymmetrical ax from hand to hand, looking at both sides of the blade in turn. "You'll all be Berserkers under me, and I'll show you what being a Viking means. I'll show you either way, but you get to choose which side you'll be on."

"The archipelago isn't going to become the Berserker empire, Dagur," Mogadon said scornfully. "We'll fight you to the last man."

"To the last woman too," Bertha added, looking over at Mogadon. "Some of us care more for our people than the words of mad little boys."

Mogadon nodded at her, and then glared at Dagur. "I don't think you're getting any takers on that offer, boy."

'Why are they all calling him that now?' Toothless asked quietly, only heard by Maour.

Maour knew the answer, though he wasn't going to reply to Toothless right now. The Chieftains were all older than Dagur by several decades, and calling him 'boy' reinforced their seniority. It was a deliberate sign of disrespect.

"Then I'll wipe your puny tribes off of the map and take whatever remains to make into proper Vikings," Dagur threatened. "All will either be allied with my tribe… or destroyed by us. The Berserkers are the ones best suited to lead the Vikings against our mutual enemy."

"What enemy?" Camicazi asked, voicing the question Maour was worried he knew the answer to.

Sure enough, Dagur pointed right at him. "Him and what he does for fun. The dragons. Have you all forgotten them?"

Maour was suddenly the subject of quite a bit of attention, and Heather got some eyes as well. Dagur had brought up something all of the Chieftains had an opinion on, few of which were good.

But Maour wasn't going to take that lying down. This was not about him or his people. "It's hard to make a peaceful group the bad guys, Dagur. I don't think anyone is going to be gullible and stupid enough to buy that."

"The dragons have always been the enemy," Astrid said coldly, speaking up for the first time since Dagur had begun unravelling his ambitions. "And always will be, until none exist."

"Until then!" Dagur loudly agreed. "But we're going to get to that glorious day. Together, all of us, under the glorious Berserker banner!" The maniacal grin on his face said it all. That was what he wanted, more than anything.

"Together," Astrid agreed, standing beside Dagur. She drew her ax, pointing it at Maour. "Starting with this traitor to his own people."

"The peace holds," the Order-keeper said sternly. "Speak all you want, but take your disputes off this island."

"Sure, sure," Dagur agreed, waving his ax at the Order-keeper. "Off-island. Got it, old man." He seemed to lose interest, turning to poke at the fire with the blade of his ax.

'Doing that will damage his weapon,' Toothless chortled.

Maour had to agree with that. Even if the fire was not hot enough to melt or even scorch the metal, the smoke would tint the blade and dirty the entire weapon, and there was-

Dagur laughed triumphantly and stuck his other hand close to the fire, grabbing a partially burning branch that he had maneuvered out with his ax. Heedless of the very likely agonizing pain, he lifted the branch out, swung the burning tip around, and then threw it as high as he could into the air. The fiery piece of wood traced a lopsided arc in the air, landing well down the hillside, where it burned for a few moments before dying away, luckily not catching anything else alight.

"Try not to burn the island down around us," the Order-keeper said dryly. "Are you finished?"

"For now," Dagur murmured sinisterly, looking around with fey, calculating eyes. He didn't move back to his tribe's log, instead crouching so close to the fire that Maour wondered whether his hair would spontaneously combust.

"Well…" Aldir cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention away from Dagur. "I would like to announce a new trade deal between my tribe and the Waxears."

That announcement was met with silent apathy. Nobody really cared.

"That's about what I thought would be the reaction," Aldir admitted. "Does anyone have anything better?"

"I've got one," Alvin grunted, not even bothering to stand. "The-"

An angered yell of surprise rang out from behind Alvin, down on the shore, cutting him off. Maour kept his attention on Dagur and Astrid; it would be just like either of them to take advantage of a distraction to do something.

The Order-keeper, on the other hand, turned immediately. "Aldir, your men are squabbling down there."

"Are they?" Aldir rose to go stand at the edge of the hill's summit, looking down. "Not just arguing, our tents are on fire!" He left without another word, hastily running out into the dark, the nondescript Waxear who had come with him to the meeting following behind.

Alvin laughed roughly. "Wha' sorta Chief brings tents that aren' fireproof?"

The Order-keeper looked over to the right, further down the beach. "The Visithugs. Their tents are burning."

"What?!" Duncar the Dilapidator yelled. "I'll see heads roll for this!" He left just as quickly as Aldir had.

"Two different tribes havin' accidents at the same time?" Bertha said suspiciously, eyeing Dagur. "I think the rest of us had better go make sure there are no other accidents."

"Einfari says there are more fires breaking out," Heather hissed to Maour, keeping her voice low. "All over the place."

"What's going on?" someone yelled angrily. Everybody was either leaving the hilltop or looking down at the rest of the island. Even Astrid and Dagur were looking out at their own campsites, lingering on the edges of the summit. Maour didn't feel safe enough to turn his back on them even now, but he didn't mind Heather turning around to get a look at what was happening.

"Men, spread out and find the culprits," the Order-keeper was saying in a dark voice, addressing the Peaceable Vikings who accompanied him everywhere. "Stop fights that break out; Chieftains slaughtering each other over this would be a disaster."

Then he raised his voice, addressing the now extremely preoccupied Chieftains that remained. "Everyone is free to go, but the peace holds on this island!" He shot a very pointed glare at Dagur, who wasn't even paying attention, staring out at the island below. "My men are going to find out what is going on."

"I say it's dragons," Lewin announced spitefully. He pointed a crooked, spindly finger at Maour and sneered. "Setting fire to everything seems like the work of a dragon, and we don't see his around right now, do we?"

'He's just mad you outed his Chief's intentions last night,' Toothless grumbled.

"What would I have to gain? The fire targeted people who don't particularly hate me," Maour retorted.

"Don't fight; I'm leaving to deal with this," the Order-keeper concluded, descending down into the darkness beyond the range of the bonfire.

'He's just going to leave?'

Maour shrugged. "I guess so." Dagur and Astrid weren't doing anything at the moment, staring down at the rest of the island, and half of the Chieftains had already left to go put out their own individual fires. Men ran in the darkness between the hilltop and the shore's multiple blazes, indistinct at any great distance. It was chaos down there.

A distinctly unsettling feeling dropped onto Maour like a physical thing. Attentions were being scattered, the Order-keeper was distracted, his allies mostly gone to handle their own tribes and protect against what he suspected was a move by Dagur.

"We need to go now," Maour murmured, beginning to back away, slowly moving around the log as he did. "I don't like this."

"Agreed. Einfari and Nóttreiði are circling around; we just need a place they won't be obviously visible grabbing us from." Heather gestured behind her with her ax. "Down in the dark."

A few dozen steps down the slope would do it. Maour saw her point, and carefully began to sidle over to her. It was best they disappeared without anyone noticing they had left.

Anyone being Dagur, Astrid, or maybe Snotlout. Actually, Snotlout was gone, presumably to deal with the-

Wait, the Berkian tents had been set ablaze? Maour stared at Dagur's back, not understanding what was going on. Why would he do that to the Berkians, if this was his work? Astrid was gone too. Maybe he planned on stabbing her in the back too.

"Astrid left with Snotlout," Heather said, surprising him with how accurately she had guessed his thoughts. They were near the edge of the bonfire's circle of light, now, and steadily moving down. "If this is a plan it's a mad one. The fire is spreading to the grass."

'It will not burn the whole island; that grass is bad fuel,' Toothless said confidently. He would know, being a natural expert on the subject.

"We won't be here to find out. Our allies can leave on their own." Heather dropped all pretense of secrecy and began to walk down the dark hillside, becoming a silhouette the moment she was far enough down, even to Maour's eyes. He followed, more than willing to call all of that a success and get out. All of their precautions might have been for nothing, but-

He never saw them coming. The moment both he and Heather were entirely out of sight of the summit, what had looked like nothing more than lumps on the grassy slope rose and grabbed them both by the legs. Maour tumbled forward, entirely caught off guard, and yelled for half a second.

Then his face was being pushed into the grass, and his arms pinned. A weight pressed down on the small of his back, threatening to break something if it didn't let up.

'Maour!' Toothless shrieked in his head. 'Einfari, where is Einfari?!' He sounded beside himself in anger and helpless fear. Helpless, because he was stranded on a sea stack and unable to do anything.

Maour was regretting the decision to leave Toothless behind now, with his face pressed into the ground and his back feeling as if it was about to be snapped by whoever was kneeling on it.

"Perfect," a maddeningly smug voice Maour knew all too well said happily, though in a quiet, hushed tone. "Now, sister, I invited you to my ship politely, and you said no. And you, Hiccup…"

"He's mine," Astrid hissed dangerously from somewhere nearby, and Maour's heart sank even further. Where was Einfari? She could be mentally roaring at him; he would hear that. Heather was in communication with her no matter the distance, though she might not be able to say anything to Einfari if her face was also pressed into the ground like his.

In any case, Einfari and Nóttreiði were close. They had been flying in, so they should be around. They should be doing something.

No, they shouldn't. Einfari was intelligent and her brother was cautious about her getting hurt. Einfari could hear through Heather's ears if she wanted too, so she probably knew Heather was in no immediate danger.

'Fight back if you can,' Toothless snarled. 'But not at first. Let them get you up; pretend to be dazed by the fall.'

That wasn't a bad idea, and as Maour had absolutely nothing of his own planned, he was fine with trying it.

"Get them up," Astrid continued. "We want them on the ship and deep in the brig before anyone goes looking. Keep Hiccup alive."

"Not coming with me?" Dagur asked petulantly. The Berserker pinning Maour shifted, grabbing him by the forearms instead of just pinning them, and with a quick, practiced movement, hauled him up and wrapped a meaty forearm around his face, gagging him more effectively.

"There's a Night Fury somewhere on this island; Hiccup goes nowhere without his guardian demon," Astrid said enthusiastically. "It will come and attack you. I will kill it when it does."

"And my men will shoot it out of the sky if it comes from that direction," Dagur agreed giddily, stifling his maniacal laughter with a hand to his own mouth. "Quietly, of course."

'They'll never hit anyone in the dark,' Toothless said stubbornly. 'I wish I could talk to her somehow!' He knew Maour could only hear him because their link transcended distance. It did not mean Toothless could be heard from any great distance by anyone he was not linked to.

'Maour!' It was a faint, distant cry, and one that came on an entirely mental level. Einfari was finally making contact. 'You have to break loose on your own! Nóttreiði will not let me get close to them.' She sounded angry and frustrated.

'Nóttreiði…' Toothless snarled. 'He is putting you in danger. She could easily get to you both. Why does she obey him? He has no power over her.'

Maour was glad he couldn't respond; he didn't want to be the one to remind Toothless that he was currently helpless because he had listened to his brother, but somehow he knew he would have said that were he able to speak.

"Come on," Dagur insisted, walking into Maour's limited line of sight. The Berserkers who had apparently been lying in wait, four by Maour's best guess, followed along, skulking in the dark. This involved half-carrying and half-dragging Maour, who hung limp, playing to Toothless's plan, as he had absolutely nothing better to try. He couldn't even see Heather, who was off to the side somewhere, or Astrid, who was lurking in the darkness nearby, waiting for an attack that wasn't going to come.

"Fool."

The Berserker carrying Maour stopped dead in his tracks, as did Dagur and presumably the rest of the group. Dagur shrugged his shoulders unhappily. "I am having bad luck tonight."

"I saw right through that pathetic excuse for a diversion," the Order-keeper revealed, stepping into the edge of Maour's view. He had his blood-soaked dagger out, but nothing else, and looked far more confident than Maour thought he had any right to be given he seemed to be alone.

"I'll pay you to look the other way," Dagur offered. "I'm not even hurting them. Hiccup here actually did trip; my men had orders not to strike." He sounded surprisingly calm and reasonable.

"I'd be more inclined to follow the letter of the law and not the spirit if you had not tried and failed to abduct me earlier," the Order-keeper replied scornfully. "Now, I want-"

The Order-keeper was cut off, both literally and figuratively, by something jabbing into his side, up through the place his armor had been loose, something that looked like a makeshift spear, though it was too thick to be that.

Astrid stepped out from behind the Order-keeper, twisting the stake she had driven through his side before yanking it out and watching him fall to the ground, out of Maour's line of sight. His pained, incredulous gasping could be heard, watery and getting weaker.

"Nice stab; you got him right up into the lungs," Dagur said nonchalantly, smiling at Astrid. "Have fun facing the gods sooner or later."

"As long as they judge me after I'm done hunting, I don't care," Astrid asserted vehemently. "Now get moving. I wanted to do that to a Night Fury, not a human idiot."

Just like that, they were moving again. Things had gone from terrible to downright horrific in seconds. The peace had not held Astrid.

Maour was, for a brief moment, grateful that Toothless had been talked into staying behind. If he was on this island, he would be in immense danger, especially now that at least one homicidal woman with an ax had stopped following the peace that had afforded some small measure of protection.

"Boss," the Berserker carrying him grunted, "I didn' hit 'im, bu' he's not movin'."

"Lucky," another said angrily. "Mine bit me."

"Poor, fragile Hiccup," Dagur sighed, not even looking back. They were only a few minutes away from his anchored ship, and once they were below deck, they were in serious trouble. Something had to happen, and soon, but all Maour could think of was to keep playing dead until the Berserker carrying him dropped his guard. From there, he could…

What? He still had his scythe, but it was on his back where he had put it in anticipation of being picked up by Einfari and not wanting it to hit her. The peace no longer really held, and if it had, Dagur had broken it already, so he could fight, but would he be able to get Heather back with Dagur, his men, and Astrid all ready to stop him?

Conversely, would he be able to leave her? No, of course not, and Einfari wouldn't either. There wasn't any good way out of this that didn't involve Heather freeing herself. If they were both free, they could just run for it, because the moment they were far enough away from the Berserkers, Einfari and Nóttreiði could swoop down and grab them as planned.

He would have to go for the Berserker who had Heather, take him out, and hope they could both get away quickly enough. There was no other choice, not when Einfari couldn't come down to help, thanks to whatever it was her brother was doing to hold her back.

Maour knew in a distant corner of his mind that once he and Heather were safe, that was going to be a problem. Toothless was not going to let Nóttreiði's actions go unanswered. But at least facing that issue would mean they were not facing this one any longer.

"Stay away from the fires," Astrid hissed from somewhere apart from the group. Dagur was heading directly toward a smoldering ruin of tents. Those would be the tents set up by the Meatheads, if Maour had to guess, given their position. There didn't seem to be anyone there.

"They've all starting hunting for the ones who burned their precious stuff," Dagur giggled. "Maybe they'll all kill each other."

"There are people moving in the dark," Astrid countered quietly, barely loud enough for Maour to hear. "Stop risking this. I want that Night Fury and I want Hiccup, not mistakes that lose me both."

"Touchy," was the only reply she got for a long, tense moment. They were nearing the beach now, and Maour could tell that the Berserker carrying him was beginning to tire. Small for a Viking or not, he was not light to any human, not when carried as dead, limp weight. The Berserker began to shift his limp form around, trying to transport him in a less difficult way. Maour had a very hard time remaining limp when he was tossed over the large man's shoulder like a sack of grain.

'This is your chance!' Toothless said excitedly. He was tapping into all five of Maour's senses now, something neither of them ever really did, as it meant one was totally senseless in one's own body. He could feel Maour's arms hanging loosely, could see them dangling by the Berserker's belt and weapon hilts. A knife and a bludgeon. One was worthless and the other priceless.

Maour could also see Heather now, and the Berserker escorting her. She was walking on her own two feet, her hair and arms all gathered up behind her by the Berserker holding her. His other hand was over her mouth, though he had apparently learned his lesson and had removed one of his pauldrons to keep between his fingers and her teeth.

She could see him. The guard escorting her could see him just as clearly. He had to keep playing at being unconscious until he was entirely ready to make his move, but that would not be long-

Heather's eyes widened as both her guard and Maour's stopped once more. She was looking at something behind him, something exciting, not scary.

"Out of my way, Meathead," Dagur blustered. "This doesn't concern you."

'Mogadon? Maour, go now!' Toothless urged. 'They are distracted!'

Maour hesitated. He had a feeling he knew how a typical Viking would react to the situation Mogadon found himself in, and he was expecting a much better distraction in a few seconds.

"Oh, I think it does," Mogadon replied. "So hand them over, nice and slowly. My son and I might just forget what you were doing."

"My armada could raze your fleet without breaking a sweat," Dagur said confidently.

"Maybe, maybe not, but they're not here now."

"It's two on five."

"A Meathead in a fight is worth three Berserkers running away," Thuggory said rudely. It was no surprise he was here; Mogadon had just said as much. Maour wished he could see what was going on.

"Let's fight, then!" Dagur crowed. There was a surge of movement, a clashing of weapons, and the booming laugh of Mogadon.

"And I'll not even have to answer to the gods for this!" Mogadon was exclaiming triumphantly. "You will!"

Maour felt himself being swung around as his guard, true to Thuggory's scornful prediction, tried to turn and run. But this was the moment Maour had been waiting for. He seized the hilt of the dagger on his captor's belt, pulled it out, and stabbed downward. Killing wasn't his style, but his captor was going to have a hard time sitting for a few months, and it did the trick. Maour was flung to the side almost immediately.

He hit the ground with a thud, unwilling to roll lest he stab himself with the dagger he had managed to hold onto, and got to his feet just in time to leap to the side again, dodging a bludgeon that was definitely aimed to kill. Who knew that stabbing a Viking in the rear end would make him mad enough to forget the peace? Aside from everyone who had ever met a Viking, that was.

'We are coming, get clear!' Einfari mentally roared. Whatever reason Nóttreiði had for blocking her from mounting a rescue before apparently did not apply now, for the little good it did.

Maour turned to where he had last seen Heather's captor and ran forward, narrowly avoiding another slow, obvious swing of the bludgeon. A few feet away, Mogadon, Dagur, two Berserkers, and Thuggory were fighting in a loud, frantic clashing of metal on metal and occasionally metal on flesh, loud clangs and sickeningly muted thumps accompanied by screams and yells.

Maour had turned to free Heather. What he saw, however, implied he shouldn't have worried. She was standing from the fallen body of her captor, ax in hand, and pointing behind him with a frantic look on her face-

He knew what that meant and was entirely aware the guard was still after him. A quick step to the side bought him another second, and if he had been in the mindset to kill, he could have ended it there.

He should have ended it there. That was what Toothless would have done, what he had advised time and time again. But Maour didn't see any reason to kill. Heather turned and ran as the Berserker spun and lunged for Maour again, so she was away safely.

'Get clear!' Toothless roared.

"I know!" Maour yelled back, easily side-stepping yet another swing of the bludgeon, and then less easily dodging a faster punch from the man's other arm. "Give me a second to work with!" He didn't have time to get his scythe out, and a dagger was not going to hold up against a bludgeon unless he got in close and went for the kill, which was the opposite of what he wanted to do.

The laughing and screaming coming from behind certainly wasn't helping him concentrate, either. It sounded like Dagur was having fun, and Thuggory was yelling something incoherent, while Mogadon couldn't be heard at all.

Maour waited for a brief moment as the Berserker facing him visibly tried to decide what to do next. If he turned and ran, the man would just lean forward and grab him, so he needed to let his opponent commit to something first.

Something like swinging another wide, poorly aimed jab at his face. Maour smirked despite the seriousness of the situation, stepped back, and ran. Heather was already gone-

'Arms out, keep running, don't stop!' Einfari mentally roared, still holding back on any audible sound. She wouldn't give herself away. Maour did as told, though running with his arms out to either side made him feel like a small child trying to convince himself he could fly.

Then two sets of strong claws gripped his shoulders, a force yanked him forward, and he felt like his neck and lower back were going to break, bent backward by the force of Einfari's grab. The horrible pressure didn't relent for several long, torturous seconds as Einfari pulled up and sped up, moving out of reach of those on the ground.

Once she leveled out, the pressure on Maour's body eased up, and he found himself breathing again, though he did not remember stopping. "Gotta… work on… that part. Hurt." he panted. His neck and back were going to be very, very sore.

'Will you live?'

"Yeah," he replied honestly. "But... much faster and... I might not… be able to say" Breaking one's neck was pretty much guaranteed to be fatal, and he felt like he had come pretty close just now.

'I will be more gentle next time,' Einfari whined. 'Nóttreiði, what of Heather?'

'I did not hurt her,' Nóttreiði replied sullenly, pulling up beside Einfari. 'She was already injured when I grabbed her.'

"I ran right into Astrid," Heather explained, her voice tight with pain. "She got me in the leg before I could get away."

Maour craned his aching neck to the side to try and see Heather. There were no marks visible on her in the dark, but he could only see her left side. "With her ax?" he called out worriedly.

"With that stupid stick," Heather replied. "I'm fine." She didn't sound like she was fine at all.

Maour noticed lights passing beneath him, and looked down. They were circling back around over the island, gaining height and angling in the direction of Toothless's sea stack.

He had a great view of the entire island for a few seconds. Small fires littered the entire surface of the island, most dying out even as Maour watched, dimming and shrinking like individual embers. Some of the ships formerly anchored in the shallows were weighing anchor, shoving off, while others lay dormant. Tiny sparks of light moved around in some places, Vikings carrying torches. The sparks were never alone, always travelling in groups of three or more.

Maour noted each of his allies as Einfari passed over. The Bog Burglars and Waxears were already out at sea, sailing through the gaps in the circling formation Dagur had created out of six of his seven ships. They didn't seem to be meeting any resistance, and they weren't the only ones leaving. The Visithugs and Outcasts were also already on their way out.

Maour realized with a wave of relief that the Berserkers on the outer ships had no way of telling friend from foe for sure, not in the dark. They wouldn't attack anybody leaving by ship tonight.

That didn't mean he thought his allies were safe. War had just begun, and Dagur had almost struck a crippling first blow, one that could have gotten Maour, Heather, and possibly even Toothless captured or killed before the fighting even started. Only luck, interference from friends, and planning had gotten them out of it, and he still didn't understand how some parts of Dagur and Astrid's plan had been accomplished.

There would be time to think that over later. Right now, Maour was more worried about Heather's injury, Toothless's reaction to all that had gone on, and making sure their allies got out of this safely, not to mention coordinating what came next. War, for sure, but in what form?

The meeting might be over, and from the looks of things there might never be another, but Maour knew none of his own troubles was anywhere near as finished with.

Author's Note: Next chapter will continue directly from here, so a lot of your questions have an imminent answer incoming. I'm not even going to bother making a prediction as to when next chapter is coming; I do still want to stick to the 'weekly on Thursday' schedule for this story, but life seems to have a way of throwing every possible complication at me, not to mention the normal complexity of my schedule. My other stories are only proceeding on time because they're already written and don't need rewriting. But I am going to try to keep to this story's schedule.