"The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him." - G.K. Chesterton – Illustrated London News
The Five Armies
Almost everyone except those keeping watch had gone to sleep earlier than usual. Even the dragons seemed to understand that something was amiss and were more anxious than they usually were. Every sound from the darkness or apparent shape on the moonlit waters at night was a crouching Berserker or the incoming fleet.
Dawn finally came without incident. People were walking about nonchalantly, except for that they were carrying their axes, pikes, and helmets to always be prepared. The forge, Great Hall, and docks were all far busier than normal.
Stoick stood on the cliff's precipice, a silent watcher against the impending doom. His cape billowed out behind him in the wind as he stared out over the sea and toward the horizon. There was nothing yet visible, but he knew that there was an entire armada approaching. Several of the riders had flown patrols over the seas where the Berserkers were gathering and had tried to count the number of ships. They, like his nephew, had lost count at over fifty ships.
It feels like the old times again… back when we still fought dragons. Only now the enemy will be far smarter.
He eventually turned away from the cliff and made his way back to the village. He nodded at those he passed and clasped forearms with those he knew best. It felt eerie to know that anyone he greeted today could be dead tomorrow. Every spare hand was being used to prepare for the defense in some way; from mending leather armor, sharpening axes, preparing sacrifices to the gods, digging ditches, or building the barricade at the village's upper level.
He passed Astrid and the other riders busily sharing ideas for both attack and defense.
Damn good we have her and Ingermanson. They will come up with something. Maybe the Thorstons will find a way to use their mischievous side well too.
He had a quick breakfast amid the quiet tension. Usually, someone would approach to share some complaint, tell a story, or just want to be heard by their Chief. No one did so this morning.
He quickly finished his soup and bread and headed for the forge. Gobber had worked at the forge through the night to sharpen swords and spears and mend bows.
"Stoick, how are you this fine morning?" Gobber seemed unusually chipper.
"Better than you, I imagine."
"Eh, nothing like the threat of imminent death to put everything in perspective again. No reason to be unhappy today. It's almost exciting actually."
Despite the situation, Stoick reluctantly managed a grin at his friend's forced enthusiasm.
"There is the crazy bastard I remember. Though honestly Stoick," Gobber gestured at a pile of weaponry, "I don't know how much this stuff can really help us."
"What?"
They both looked around to make sure they were out of earshot of anyone else.
"How many of us are there Stoick? Two hundred including our fighting women. Dagur will have thousands if he has all the different Berserkers behind him, and they are better fighters than we ever were."
He frowned and clasped Gobber's shoulder.
"I know they are. Man to man it would be a terrible fight for us. But we cannot let it come to that. We'll have to use our advantages."
"Let me guess, the beasties?"
Stoick nodded and gestured at the rugged, steep cliffs.
"And the coastline. They cannot bring their full number against us at once."
Gobber also frowned, clearly not convinced.
"That seems too easy though. You'd think Dagur would have planned for that."
"Not if he is as deranged as he seems."
"I guess. Do you really think that our dragons will fight for us? It's not like we ever trained them for war."
"Astrid seems to think so. I bet they will know to defend us though. And the other tribes said they will help us. I just hope they come in time. Until then, we will hold. We must."
"I tell you it will work!" Theron insisted.
"Why don't we just burn their ships?" Sifa asked.
"Because we can't get close enough without being in danger from their bows," Thorvald answered.
"Since when have you been the cautious one?" Sifa teased him.
"I don't have a problem risking myself, but I don't want to get Hookedfang killed."
"Which is why we should do what I said. The dragons can sink their boats from above, beyond the reach of bows or spears," Theron repeated.
"How do we know that they can carry the extra weight?" Sifa wondered.
"If Meatlug can carry Skald, then anything is possible," Theron answered his sister.
"Hey, I've lost twenty stones, thank you very much," Skald proudly replied.
"This is not the time for that everyone," Astrid interrupted, "I think it can work. But how do you know where to aim? It is not something we practice. And how are we going to drop the rocks? Have the dragons carry them?"
Theron clarified his plan.
"It's hard, but here is what I was thinking. We get our dragons to dive toward the boats and then we drop the rocks ourselves. They don't even need to be super big rocks, maybe thirty stones heavy. Those will break through the ships' hulls for sure. And then the Berserkers better hope they can swim."
Everyone thought it over.
"What he said," Sifa offered.
"Thanks for the support, sis."
"Anytime. When you have a good idea of course."
"Guys, I've never tried to drop rocks on anything before. We should practice out in a field or something," Skald proposed.
"Agreed," Astrid nodded, "we should practice today. I'll let the Chief know our plan."
"And what about me?" Gustav asked.
"What about you?" Thorvald wondered.
"Can I join you all? Flame and I want to help."
"To fight for your tribe, I don't see a problem with that," Astrid answered.
She dismissed the others and set out to find Stoick. It was a crazy plan, but it was the best one any of them had come up with. As she contemplated the idea of actual battle, the terrible reality of it started to draw nearer. Death was approaching Berk's peaceful shores.
Stoick gathered everyone inside the Hall except for the watchers on duty at the cliffs and shores. There was an old tradition which had to be fulfilled prior to battle. He raised his hands and the murmuring quieted down until there was dead silence.
"Brothers, sisters, there is a darkness approaching. But do not fear. We will prevail. We will stand strong! We implore the favor of the gods, that they may give us their protection and give our arms their strength!"
He stepped aside and everyone respectfully stood as the sacrifice, a goat, was led up to the Elder standing before the statues of Odin and Thor. Vuulthir took the animal, spoke the ceremonial words of favor, and slit the animal's throat. The blood dripped into a bowl which the Elder placed at the foot of the statue. One by one, those gathered in the Hall came forward before the statue, knelt or bowed their heads, and spoke different prayers. All of them though anointed themselves on the forehead with a dab of the goat's sacrificial blood.
Then the feasting began. Meats and fish were brought out alongside lots of bread. The conversations started back up, but understandably were more subdued than they usually were. There was more talk of weapons and glory compared to normal.
Stoick had no great appetite at the moment, though he casually munched on some food to keep his strength. He was too concerned about the welfare of his people and of trying to plan for the inevitable battle.
Her plan will help us. Every ship they can sink is at least twenty Berserkers.
He glanced at his side where Hiccup was casually sitting and looking out over the gathering. Hiccup was the only dragon in the Hall this time. Dagur's parting words gripped him and he tried very hard to not picture what would happen to Hiccup if he was captured.
I can't have him here during the battle. It's too dangerous for him or Toothless. I can send them off with the younglings into hiding. That will keep them safe and out of the way.
He called Hiccup over as soon as they got home and explained his plan. It was not what Hiccup hoped to hear.
"What!" Hiccup exclaimed.
Why do I have to hide?
"Because it will be too dangerous down here, and I don't want you getting hurt."
I will be fine
"Dagur said he was going to kill my dragons in front of me, and that he wanted to wear a Night Fury coat."
That mental image greatly disturbed both of them.
I will stay out of the way
"No, you... and Toothless will go with the children and the women who cannot fight. Stay out of the way. If we win the battle, then you can come back here afterwards. If not... then you can escape..."
Hiccup reluctantly admitted to himself that there was some sense in his father's thinking. But it still wasn't what he wanted to do.
But I want...
"No. You have to do this for me. It would... make me feel better knowing that you are safe, whatever else may happen. Do you understand?"
Hiccup reluctantly nodded.
I will tell Toothless
"Good."
Stoick watched as Hiccup sullenly walked down to his room and presumably began to explain the demand to Toothless.
As long as he is safe. I don't want him to see how terrible war can be. He doesn't need to see that.
The dawn came all too quickly, again without any change. This dawn the sky was very red, perhaps a sign from the fates.
Red sky in morning, Nord take warning.
With the old proverb in mind, Stoick left just after sunrise to inspect the village's preparedness. The wall and ditches were all finished and the caches of weapons were prepared. Everything continued as the last few days had until one of the scouts flew in at midday. The Nadder landed in the clearing next to him and a man hopped off and hastily sought him out.
"Chief!"
"Finnbjorn, what is it?"
"They are coming."
Stoick took a deep breath to steady himself.
"How long do we have?"
Finnbjorn thought for a moment.
"I would give us this sundown at the latest."
"So the doom of Berk will be decided today. So be it."
"What should we do now?"
"I will tell Astrid to get the other riders ready for their attack. We will also get the women and children to safety. Your wife, Katrina, she is with child?"
"Yes."
"She will go with the rest of them then. They will be hidden and safe in the caves of Mount Thor."
Finnbjorn visibly relaxed at the reassurance.
Stoick immediately sought out Astrid and the other riders as they trained with their dragons. The field that they had been dropping rocks onto was riddled with impacts rather closely dispersed. It was rather impressive.
He waved her over from where she stood overseeing the practice.
"Astrid, why aren't you up there practicing too?"
"Stormfly's mate is out with Finnbjorn on patrol, and she wasn't going to leave her babies alone."
"I see..."
"I can actually see things from here that I wouldn't see in the air too."
"Hopefully you all have gotten enough practice. It is time."
Her expression became grim with that declaration.
"Ok, we will do what we have to do."
She left to take Blueback to the barn so that Stormfly would be willing to follow her. Upon her return with her dragon in tow, all the other riders gathered for training crowded closer to her from atop their beasts.
"They are coming. There are a lot of ships out there, but no one be afraid. Our job is to sink as many boats as we can before they get here. Let's do this!"
Everyone gave a cheer and dismounted to pick up their choice of boulder. The small flock of dragons, nine strong, turned out to sea.
Back on the island, Stoick managed the transfer of all the women who could not fight and the children to the chosen cave partly up Mount Thor. It was a rather hidden cave tucked into a nook. Outside the cave was a ledge which overlooked the entire forested plain and from which one could see all the way down to the village.
It was also where a particularly sullen-looking Night Fury was lounging.
"Get those supplies inside!"
"Yes, sir!"
Then he walked over to Hiccup, who didn't bother looking up at him. It wasn't hard to imagine why. But this was for his own good.
"Remember, stay here. Got it?"
Yes.
"Good, and make sure Toothless stays here too. I don't want him being made into a coat either."
He ignored Hiccup's glum look and checked on everyone inside the cave. The children started playing games with each other like it was a normal day, and the women were clearly worried but were putting on a brave appearance to keep everyone calm. They had enough food and supplies.
He then returned to the village and was let inside through the main gate. A wall of armed men, women, and strong lads met him.
"That's what I like to see! Dagur doesn't know what he is walking into!"
"What do we do now?"
"We wait and practice. Are the ships moved to the far side of the island?"
"Yes, the other captains are with them."
"And the docks?"
"Empty. We brought everything of value up here. We also broke the stairs." Gobber answered.
That last part sent groans around the whole party. Losing the stairs meant a very long walk every time one wanted to get from the docks to the main level.
"It had to be done. I want us all to spar and practice with the pikes."
"Where are the riders and our dragons?"
"They are going to sink as many of the Berserker ships as they can."
He left the crowd as they began to practice and as old timers began instructing the younger soldiers. He took up his place on the cliff and stared out toward the horizon.
What is going on out there?
The fleet was awe-inspiring. Sloop after sloop in many rows.
They got into formation themselves, everyone following Astrid's hand signals. Then they all spread out and urged their dragons higher.
She could barely control her racing heart as they moved into position above the fleet.
Ok, this is really crazy!
"Let's do this, girl!"
Stormfly dove for the nearest boat. Astrid felt that same giddy feeling of weightlessness that always took her in a dive. She held out the boulder, now weightless during the dive, aimed it, and hurled it. Then she tugged on the reins to urge Stormfly out of the dive. They pulled up and regained height.
First, she looked around at the other dragons and let out a sigh of relief that they all appeared unharmed. Then she looked down at her target.
It was hard to make out from a distance whether the shot had struck, but it did look like there was a flurry of activity on the ship. Possibly a breached hull.
No point waiting around.
She turned Stormfly back for Berk and urged her on. The agreed plan was that the faster dragons, the Nadders and Nightmares, would try to make two runs on the ships, whereas the Zipplebacks and Gronkles did not have the endurance for another attack.
Stormfly turned her head to look around at her and warbled questioningly.
"It's ok girl. We will be fine."
Stoick, and nearly a hundred others as well now, watched from the cliff late in the afternoon. The Berserker fleet had come into clear relief on the horizon. Adding to the ominous feeling other than the number of ships though was the giant thunderhead cloud rolling in over the ocean.
Damn, they will arrive before the storm. That would have been ironic if Dagur had lost his whole fleet to a storm.
They all watched as Berk's fighting dragons flew back across the waters and, one by one, landed in the village square. The riders got off and gave their dragons much needed attention and removed the riding gear before sending their dragons off to their nests. Astrid marched straight through the crowd and up to Stoick.
"So? What is the word? How many did you get?"
"I think we hit ten ships."
"Ten... ten ships... that's good," Stoick fumbled.
They looked at each other and didn't need to say what they were both thinking. Ten ships out of that armada, while helpful, wouldn't change the outcome of the battle.
"That's two hundred Berserkers! Three cheers for the riders and our dragons!" Gobber shouted.
Everyone cheered three times except for Stoick. He stayed right where he was and stared at the approaching fleet and storm.
He was still there at dusk when the Berserker ships began to pull up onto Berk's shores and filled the port. He watched as men poured onto land by the hundreds. There was a lot of murmuring behind him, but he refused to show any fear or weakness, despite the cold gripping his heart. It was the duty of the leader to stand up tall with his shoulders straight to inspire his people to bravery.
He eventually left the cliff and sought out his brother. Neither of them said anything when they met. They just clasped forearms and embraced each other.
"Victory or death," Spitelout offered.
"Victory or death indeed."
Then he found Astrid spending time with her parents.
"Astrid, I need to speak to you."
She got up and joined him.
"Sir?"
"There is something special I need you to do when the Berserkers reach the wall."
"What is it?"
"I'm going to have a barrel left outside the gates, right where the Berserkers will gather. I need you to shoot the barrel and set it on fire. I soaked it in lantern oil."
She let her confusion show at the strangeness of the order.
"Set a barrel on fire? Why?"
"Because it is filled with... something that will burn very hot and kill a lot of Berserkers."
"I don't think I understand, sir."
"You don't have to... even I don't really understand it, just do it. And when you do light it on fire, get everyone down from the wall."
"I will."
He clasped her shoulder, a proud look in his eyes.
"I know you will. You are the best shot of us all."
She kept wondering at his instructions even after he left.
What are you playing at Stoick? How will a burning barrel help?
Several men ran out from the forest and dashed for the wall. Recognized as fellow Berkians, they were given hands and pulled up to safety.
"What is it? The fighting hasn't even started yet. What were you doing out there anyway?"
Everyone nervously chuckled in amusement.
"There are more of them!" Sador breathlessly shouted.
"More what?" Stoick came forward.
"Ships. They found our boats and took them. Everyone else is gone."
A wave of angry muttering went through everyone.
"So the Berserkers are too scared to attack us that they think they have to attack our fishermen!"
"No Chief, they were not Berserkers!"
Stoick froze, terrified by this news.
If it isn't the Berserkers then who? Who betrayed me!
"Who are they?"
"They looked like the Cenhelm!"
Stoick stepped back, a grim and cold expression on his face.
So Esmond is helping Dagur. He must really hate dragons. Damn.
"It is no matter. So we cannot flee now. We were never going to flee! We will remain here within these walls and we will outlast the Berserkers and the Cenhelm! We have the dragons and the gods' favor!"
Everyone took a torch and assumed their positions on at the top of the wall or behind the gate. People fiddled with their shields and shifted their grips on their pikes and axes. They all watched as the distant lights of the approaching army grew nearer.
The thunder rolled overhead as the storm drew nearer.
Eventually, a line of men appeared and advanced through the trees. The line seemed to extend endlessly behind the first wave, so great was the number.
Out from the mass stepped a single figure who held out his arms almost in greeting.
"Well, Stoick, you have been very busy," Dagur teased.
Stoick stood tall on the wall and stared him down. He found it slightly odd how lightly Dagur was garbed, with no chain mail or anything other than leather armor. All the Berserkers were similarly attired.
"You can still surrender, and we will let your people leave alive," Stoick shouted.
"That's funny. I was about to say the same to you, only without the leaving alive part."
"How do you think you can take us? We have dragons!"
Hookedfang and Stormfly added a burst of their fires to the cheer that went up from the defenders.
Dagur didn't react to the display except to give a signal to his army. No one moved, but a drum started pounding from somewhere in the forest. The lightning flashed overhead.
"So do I," Dagur laughed before he stepped back to his battle line.
Several moments passed with nothing happening. Stoick realized what was going to happen a few seconds before it became apparent.
A glow appeared in the skies and descended toward them.
A Skrill!
The dragon, crackling with lightning, hovered over the village.
Then it screamed. The sound was physically painful and sent men on both sides of the battlefield to the ground covering their ears.
More significant was the effect on the dragons. They reared up and began roaring at the new creature. Then two of them, the twin's Zippleback and a Nadder, rose to challenge the arrival. They chased it further into the sky for a moment until it suddenly turned and dove past them. There was a blinding flash of light and both the Nadder and the Zippleback went limp and fell to the earth with crashes audible even over the storm.
Both clearly dead.
The rest of the dragons were sent into hysterics and took to the sky as well, but kept their distance from the Skrill, having just seen two of their nest fall to it.
Dagur screamed for the attack, and the line advanced with a battle-cry.
Astrid recovered from the arrival of the Skrill and its terrible display of power. It was only the threat of death and necessity that kept her from grieving over the two dead dragons. She had obviously known the twins' dragon and she felt a special fondness for every Nadder because of her Stormfly.
But she had a task to do, something that Stoick had seemed certain would help. She dipped the arrow's tip in the nearest torch and fitted the flaming arrow to her bow.
Ok, easy shot. Can't miss this one.
She ignored the screams and yells of the Berserkers and took a deep breath, feeling the rushing beat of her heart and the sweat on her palms. All sound died away as she remembered her training and focused on the barrel over fifty paces away. She popped up from hiding, took aim, and loosed the flaming arrow. The oil soaked barrel quickly went up in flames.
"Alright! Everyone down!" she screamed.
She took a final glance back at the burgeoning fire and at the clearly confused Berserker fighters gathered around the fire. Then she took cover behind the wall. All the other defenders gathered on the ramparts also crouched down as the command filtered down the line.
A few seconds passed with nothing happening. With no one actively opposing their advance, the Berserkers began to erect ladders, their maniacal battle-cries drawing louder.
Then there was a blinding flash of green light and a crash that melted into a constant buzzing sound in her head. The air felt choked with heat and a strange wind was whipped up out of nothing. She lay in hiding behind the wall, her hands firmly planted over her ears.
Her senses slowly returned as the world stopped spinning and the buzzing sound gradually faded.
All around her, fellow Berkians were slowly scrambling to their feet in various states of disarray and confusion.
Sound returned to the world. The first thing she could distinctly make out was a terrible, almost feral screaming from beyond the wall.
Even knowing that the sight could not be anything but horrific, she scrambled up the wall and looked over toward the forest.
Bodies. Parts of bodies. Green fires. Uprooted trees. And in the middle of it all a crater deep enough for a man to stand in.
She felt her limbs go weak and almost lost her grip on her bow.
What... I... I did this...
Berserkers began to recover themselves and staggered to their feet around the blast area. Many of them had their hands clutched to their ears. Easily a hundred of them did not move to get up.
She backed away from the ramparts and climbed down, feeling sick to her stomach at what had happened.
Her musings on the unnaturalness of what happened and the fact that she had fired the shot were interrupted by another terrible sound.
The Skrill's menacing and ethereal call as it too returned for another strike.
Toothless sat on the rocks and stared off into the night toward the nest. A flash of sky-light far above distracted him for a moment before he looked back at the many small-fire-lights set around the two-leg-nest.
It felt completely wrong to be sitting up here and not doing anything to defend the nest. He glanced back at the two-leg females and younglings hidden in the cave.
The two-leg hatchlings and females should be hidden, but not me!
His wings itched to be used, and he stared longingly down the mountainside.
Why am I sitting here?
"Toothless..." Hiccup mumbled as he padded over and lay down next to him.
"This is not good. I want to fight for my nest," he flexed his foreclaws and growled in frustration.
"Alpha-sire say we be here. Much danger there."
"And much more danger for them. We are not nestlings! We strong!"
"What Alpha-sire say is what we do."
Toothless was about to respond when he saw what looked like sky-lights down near where the fighting was happening. He looked more closely for a few moments to confirm what he thought he saw.
The sky-cloud is not down there. What? Is there a sky-light-eater-kin there?
"Hiccup, did you see that?"
Hiccup rumbled as he stared down the mountain, clearly intrigued by the odd lights.
"Do you know if..."
They both looked away from a blinding flash of green light. The intensity was unbearable for a few moments until it died down and they were able to open their eyes again. A column of green fire had erupted from the forest and spread out like a pillar above the trees. The tallest tendrils of fire stretched several times higher than the tallest trees.
Both of them stood transfixed with their mouths agape in shock. Neither of them had ever seen such destruction as it happened. There was no sound except for the soft whisper of the wind and the occasional rumble of thunder for the longest time until...
...the loudest boom that either of them had ever heard followed several seconds later. The otherworldly crash morphed into a growling thunder that seemed to roll underfoot. They both felt a faint tremor in the rock itself. Many of the women and children in hiding started to wail in fear.
Toothless recovered himself first. He spread his wings and sprinted for the cliff, determined to involve himself in the fight. The Alpha-sire's wishes could rot.
By my yolked egg... me sitting up here with the hatchlings while the adults fight for the nest...
He thought he heard Hiccup calling out for him, but he didn't stop to check.
The devastation from the green blast and the other fighting became clear as he approached. Too many bodies of two-legs for him to count from above were laying motionless on the ground outside the made-tree-cliffs. More importantly for him though was the sky-light-eater-kin darting over the nest. It was a kind of kin that he had never seen up close.
What is it doing? And where are the other nest kin?
His question was answered when he saw the kin loose its sky-light-breath at his nest's two-leg fighters. He growled in anger and shock at the realization that this kin was helping the bad other-nest two-legs attack his own nest.
That is why the other kin are not fighting. They are afraid of it. They know they cannot fight it.
He angled his flight to take himself above the attacking kin.
Stoick recovered himself from the shock of the blast and the ringing in his ears. The eerie green fires and unnatural light from beyond the wall tortured his soul. For an instant, he wondered at the bargain he had made, that man should not be able to harness such power.
Then the Skrill screamed its haunting and bone-tingling cry as it dove past a Monstrous Nightmare. The Skrill's lightning arced through the air and danced through the red dragon's flaming body. The Nightmare seized up and fell limp from the sky, tumbling head over tail until it crashed onto a house, which then collapsed in a blaze of fire.
The surviving Berserkers recovered from the shock of the arcane blast and staggered to their feet. They looked around at their fallen and burned companions and at the still-burning green fires all around them. Whether they all shared a group madness and thirst for blood and violence, had unshakable bravery, or all the above, they recovered themselves and started to form outside the wall. Dagur, having survived the explosion, gave his maniacal battlecry, and the Berserkers took heart again. They renewed their charge, and then everything became chaos.
Arrows whizzed overhead and the defenders lunged with spears. The attackers re-erected ladders against the barricade. They also set fires to the base of the wall.
The defenders shoved with pikes at those ascending the ladders and covered themselves against arrows from above.
"Hold the line!" Stoick's voice roared out over the din.
The defense continued to hold as the Berserkers could not gain a foothold on the wall. The attackers had not brought much in the way of advanced weaponry to help scale the wall.
All the metal spears, axes, and armor began to spark with purple energy as the Skrill came around for another pass.
"Drop everything," Stoick yelled.
All the combatants had to drop their axes and swords. Only the long wooden spears were still safe to hold. Everyone on the ramparts tried to take cover as the Skrill flew by overhead.
Theron, his heart still heavy with grief at seeing his and his twin sister's dragon killed, watched as the glowing dragon approached, the deadly lights dancing all around it. He no longer cared about the danger. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as he knelt, picked up a sparking spear, and hurled it toward the beast. It was a good throw and should have buried itself in the beast's breast, but instead the spear seemed to be pushed off-target mid-flight and turned into a glancing blow.
Just as a massive bolt of light swept his direction and everything went dark.
Astrid watched in dismay as a handful of her tribes fell on the ramparts to the fiendish storm that dragon could summon. Then everyone, defender and attacker alike, covered their ears as the Skrill howled out in pain. It beat its wings to gain height and struggled to glide over the village. None of the other dragons dared engage it directly after seeing another of their nest fall to it. It howled and trembled as it glided, its wreath of deathly light temporarily lost.
A dark shape became illuminated above the Skrill from the flashes of lightning in the clouds. She instantly knew what it was and she had a guess at who it had to be.
Toothless, what are you doing?
She watched with baited breath as the Night Fury dove and struck the Skrill from above, quickly cracking one of its wings and kicking off from it before it could light itself again. The Skrill tumbled from the sky with a howl and crushed a barn before vanishing in the central square.
She recovered her bow and dashed through the village after blindly grabbing a handful of arrows from the cache. Something told her that there was going to be a confrontation that she had to be present for. She arrived at the square just in time to see Toothless land near the dazed Skrill. The Fury's visage reminded her of how his kind got its name, what with his glistening fangs showing and his massive wings extended at his sides.
The Skrill rolled itself upright with a whimper and turned to regard the Fury. The Skrill was the larger of the two dragons. The two dragons stared each other down with shared snarls while she cautiously crept closer. Even knowing as little of how dragon speech worked as she did, it was clear that these two were not sharing words. The Skrill made the first move, slowly and painfully dragging itself towards Toothless with its body once again wreathed in lightning. Its broken wing hung out partially at its side.
No Toothless! You can't fight it!
Toothless backpedaled several steps, unable to let the creature get close. Then he growled, reared up, and hurled a ball of glowing purple fire which struck the Skrill on the shoulder. The Skrill recoiled in pain and surprise. Even Toothless seemed surprised at himself for an instant, and then he leapt towards his enemy while breathing a steady stream of flame. The Skrill cowered and howled. She watched in morbid fascination as the arcs of lightning wove around and through the current of fire. All the while, she crept closer until she felt that she could take a reliable shot.
Then Toothless screamed aloud and lost his flaming stream. The Skrill continued to cower and hid its head while drawing several slow and pained breaths. Toothless shook his head and yelped in tortured pain.
The battle seemed paused.
Then the Skrill growled in pure menace. She reached behind her back, grabbed an arrow, and fitted it. In that final moment before she committed to this action, it finally struck her that she was about to become a dragon killer.
A very faint shimmer seemed to grow around the Skrill just as she raised the bow and tried to aim it. The arrow started to quiver and resist on her drawn bow, and her knife started pulling against its sheath.
What in the name of...
The shimmering erupted into a sphere that spread outward in all directions. Everything made of metal was hurled backwards, everything from swords to pails and parts of houses were affected. Her knife flew away into the night. Even the arrows in her quiver were carried away by an unseen, intangible force. Several glowing balls of light appeared all around the square, and everything they touched was set alight. Lightning arced out at random, starting fires on the surrounding buildings. Her hair even billowed as through it was being blown by winds, but there wasn't even the faintest zephyr in the air.
She ducked behind a barrel as an arc of death swept through the air and set alight the barn behind her. This was completely beyond her or anyone's comprehension. Every instinct told her to turn away to flee, that she was helpless against such unnatural forces.
Then she felt something shift in her quiver. Without thinking, she reached back and grabbed an arrow that had not betrayed her. It was one of the ancient arrows tipped with dragonscale instead of metal. She fitted the arrow, took a deep breath, and, knowing that she could easily be running to her death, dashed out from behind the barrel. She strode through the unearthly environment as nails, shields, and swords rolled and quivered on the ground like leaves on water. As she drew closer to the dragon, spots of light began to fill her vision, blocking her view. She could feel her muscles start to weaken and seize up, almost making her stumble and making it impossible to aim.
Toothless's eyes gleamed with the strange lights as he stood his ground. He must have somehow caught sight of her because he lunged forward, disregarding the danger of the lightning, and flamed one more short burst of fire in the Skrill's face. The Skrill shook its head and closed its eyes to protect them from the blast.
The strange force that had been blinding and weakening her on approach vanished. She caught her breath and froze for an instant when she saw the Skrill's hideously charred and melted forehead.
And then it happened just as she had practiced thousands of times before. A distance of ten paces. Her sight was perfect. Her fingers released the taught string without conscious thought. The arrow flew true as if it were guided by the hand of fate.
The Skrill recoiled with a scream and rolled onto its side, its body rolling over several times and being wracked with tremors for a minute. Its death scream faded into oblivion. Then the Skrill went completely still with the feather of an arrow protruding from its visible eye.
The scraps of metal stopped moving, the arcane balls of dancing lights vanished, and her hair fell back to her shoulders.
The sky continued to rumble far above and it began to rain. There were no sounds except for the storm clouds, the gathering rainfall, and the crackle of the fires burning in the main square. The battles at the barricade were too far away to make out over the sounds of nature.
Astrid fell to her knees and let her bow drop to the ground. She stared in shock at her trembling hands as everything washed over her at once. She had killed an unknown number of people with the strange emerald fire and she killed a dragon.
The dragon that had killed several dragons she knew and surely several of her fellows as well. The dragon that had an impossible control over unnatural forces. The dragon that could possibly have killed everyone on the island.
She cried freely.
Something large and breathing heavily advanced on her and brought her back to herself. A pair of green eyes, still alert but no longer enraged, on a very familiar face. The Fury knelt before her, and they silently regarded each other. After a few seconds, Toothless leaned forward and nuzzled her cheek with a relieved purr. She didn't even scowl when he affectionately licked her cheek.
She gasped when she saw new, strange markings snaking down his neck and onto his shoulders. They could only be burn marks from the Skrill's attack.
"Toothless, you're hurt."
He followed her gaze and grimaced, though he didn't seem too concerned. He only gave the burn marks a quick lick and then turned his attention back to her.
"Not bad, many of us would be jealous of those scars."
She tried to get up, but her legs were cramped and didn't seem to obey her well. Even her arms were unusually weak and frail. Something about just being near the Skrill had drained much of her strength.
Add that to the list of impossible things.
Toothless noticed her plight and bent down to let her brace herself against his neck. He helped her to her feet and supported her as they shuffled out of the square.
"Thanks Toothless," she whispered, to which he softly rumbled back.
She glanced back to where the Skrill's dark bulk lay motionless on the ground, and she shivered despite it being a warm night. The rain began falling in earnest, not that she cared.
I'm never telling anyone what it could do. They can't know. It's too terrible.
Hiccup remained on the mountain for a few minutes after Toothless disappeared into the night sky. Gradually though, his concern for Toothless and everyone else grew strong enough that he was willing to disobey his father's command.
He jumped from the mountain and set out for the village. Even before he arrived, the sounds of battle, the screams of the wounded and burning, the roaring of the combatants, and the clash of weapons, assailed him all the more potently than they ever had before. He stared in horror when he passed over the broken bodies of a Nadder and a Nightmare, the first on the open ground and the other visible in the burning wreckage of a building.
No, no, no...
He glided in and awkwardly landed on a straw-thatched house inside the sanctum wall but close enough to the main battle to see the slaughter. There was no sign of Toothless anywhere, and the front lines were too chaotic to clearly make anything out.
The smells of charred wood and flesh and the tang of blood were very strong on the air and made him gag. In all the battles he had been in before, he had never seen this level of savagery. Everywhere he looked, there were piles of the dead, dying, and injured.
And he became terrified for the first time he could remember in years. Not for himself, but for everyone else. For his father, Gobber, and Astrid somewhere down in the battle. For the other men and women of Berk whom he knew by name but had never been close to. For the dragons that had come back to the island out of trust.
He cowered on the roof with his eyes shut, trying to resist the horror that squeezed at his heart. But the cacophony and the paralyzing terror were too great. He could not fight.
Shivering and whimpering, he reluctantly opened his eyes and looked away from the battle. An old man was helping a younger fighter set a bandage on the fighter's arm. A wise-woman was treating a man's puncture where he had been shot with an arrow. Several people lay on the ground in pain, having been dragged from the main front with surely terrible wounds.
I... I can help...
He struggled to his feet, finding some strength from seeing even the elderly of Berk helping in what ways they could, and leapt down from the roof. Directly fighting was something he knew he would not do, but saving life and easing pain was certainly within his power.
He walked over to the nearest wounded person, an unconscious man with a deep gash in his side.
Ok, this is disgusting...
He dripped his saliva into the grizzly wound. Then he moved on to the next person, a man clutching his arm which had been hacked down to the bone. He blanched at the sight, but stepped up to the man anyway. The man's eyes, already watered in pain, went wide in fear at his approach.
Gods, I can imagine how this must look to him.
It took a lot of coaxing before he was able to convince the panicked man that he did not intend him any harm. He very reluctantly licked the forearm directly, almost immediately gagging at the taste of blood.
But the man stopped whimpering in pain only moments later. And he continued on helping the others he could help who were in need of treatment. More than once he found only a corpse, and he was sure he would have nightmares about those for a long time.
I can't let this ever happen again. Never again. So much death and reckless hate.
He was so engrossed in his grizzly task that he didn't pay any heed to when the storm clouds broke overhead and it started to rain.
Both attackers and defenders watched as the Skrill whirled about through the air, howling its pain to the skies. Then a living shadow dove from the heavens and knocked the lightning dragon to the ground.
The Berserkers seemed unsure of themselves. They shuffled about, glancing at each other in confusion. Even Dagur seemed shocked that something had apparently downed the Skrill. Then he roared for the attack, and the Berkserkers renewed their offensive. A large portion of the wall was weakened by the burning fires. The Berserkers piled against the weakened wall with their shields and pushed, their combined weight fracturing the weakened wood and collapsing the ramparts.
The Berserkers stormed through the gaping hole in the barricade and met a charging wall of Berk defenders lead by Stoick the Vast himself. He swung his hammer overhead with a massive roar and brought it crashing down on a Berserker's helmet. The man's skull was audibly shattered, and he collapsed dead. All along the line men on both sides fell to the ground in the savage fighting.
Thorvald leapt up onto the ramparts and hurled a torch out into the mass of charging Berserkers. No one who was watching knew what to make of it for a moment, and then a Monstrous Nightmare raised its serpentine neck up over him from behind the wall and rained liquid fire onto the attackers. The Berserkers partially covered themselves with their shields, but many were set alight regardless.
The battle seemed to have settled into a stalemate with the Berserkers struggling to crawl over the bodies of the fallen and the defenders aligned in formation. The rain stirred up the blood and dirt into a sloppy mud.
But then the battle was joined by new entrants just as it started to rain.
The skies were suddenly filled with a dozen new dragons with riders on their backs. Stoick backed away from the front lines for a brief moment to investigate this change in the battle from a lookout tower.
The newly arrived dragons were not from Berk. They immediately set upon the Berserker horde, raining fire down on the mass from above.
The Vaina! They came!
He glanced toward Berk's northern waters. There were flashes of fire and illuminated wings in the night. Several of the Cenhelm ships were already burning. It looked almost exactly like the old raids. He was just barely able to catch a glimpse of a Volsung flag. On a hunch, he glanced toward the docks where the Berserker ships lay moored. Sure enough, a new fleet had arrived and was raining burning arrows on the defenders and was boarding ships one by one.
They all came.
One of the new Nadders landed in the clearing behind the defenders and its rider hopped off.
"Where is your Chief?" the young man shouted.
Stoick got down and ran up to him.
"Chief Svana sends her regards. We tried to get here sooner."
"Odin bless you all," Stoick replied while giving the young man an embrace.
"Talk later. Let's end this!" the Vainian shouted as he returned to his dragon.
Stoick returned to his lookout to survey the battlefield one more time. The Berserkers had broken apart into two groups, the group inside the barricade and the group outside being flamed from above. Those outside retreated for the cover of the forests under the unrelenting aerial attack.
He grinned in smug satisfaction that they would find only ruin at the hands of the other tribes if they fled for the docks.
The Berserkers that had breached the wall were still about a hundred in number and were putting up a fight under Dagur's direction.
He hopped down and, bloody axe in hand, strode back to the front lines, pushing aside his own men in his haste.
"Dagur!" his enraged voice thundered out, almost making himself heard over the clash of shields and steel.
Then a far more powerful voice roared out from the abandoned wall next to the battlefield. Berk fighters and Berserkers alike briefly paused and glanced over at the source of the noise. A Night Fury was perched on the nearest house, its wings held out in menace and its teeth gleaming white. Seeing that it got everyone's attention, it lifted its head and roared to the skies in clear triumph. The effect on the attackers and defenders was immediate.
The Berk fighters cheered and beat their shields with their weapons while the Berserkers cowered, their spirits broken by the sight. Only Dagur stood defiant and unmoved. Stoick passed through the front line, stepping over several bodies, and faced Dagur.
Neither said anything for a long time.
"You have nowhere to run," he eventually said.
"Why do you think I want to run?" Dagur spat at him.
"I don't. I just want to know why."
Dagur took out one of his wet knives and licked the blood from it.
"Every leader must make a name for himself. And as long as there are dragons, there will need to be dragon-killers. I didn't think you would be able to get the others to join you."
"You are crazy."
"Yes," Dagur grinned, "everyone must play a role in the game. I know my people, war is part of who and what they are."
"You could have changed them."
"People do not change Stoick. I know that and you know that. This would have happened eventually. I put my life in the hands of the Fates."
Dagur gained a fanatical look in his eyes to match his breathless rambling as he looked up at the Night Fury.
"Death and glory!" Dagur shouted.
Dagur drew another long knife and lunged at Stoick. Stoick swung his padded forearm and knocked Dagur aside. He swung his axe and buried its head in the ground where Dagur had been before rolling to the side. Dagur kicked Stoick in the shin and got a kick in the ribs in return.
Wrought with pain in his leg, Stoick wrenched the axe from the mud and stumbled over to Dagur. Dagur somehow managed to stand while cradling his side and his likely broken ribs. Stoick swung his axe again, and Dagur barely managed to dodge the blow by stepping back. With speed almost impossible for a wounded man, Dagur slashed with his knife a strike that would have opened up Stoick's belly except for his thick leather armor. Stoick sidestepped the next strike and swung his axe down into one of Dagur's legs, sending the Berserker to the ground with a scream.
Stoick turned and raised the axe high.
"They will... remember me," Dagur choked out.
He buried the axe in Dagur's chest.
All the Berk fighters and even the Night Fury roared in triumph. Stoick stepped back, his front covered in blood and his leg throbbing. His attention turned to the remaining Berserkers who were dropping their weapons and trying to back away only to be blocked by several menacing dragons sitting outside the breach in the wall.
"Where is Spitelout?" he shouted to his people.
Everyone shuffled about and looked around, waiting for their commander to step forward. The crowd parted from the back, but it was not Spitelout who came forward.
It was Thorvald.
The young man had a pained and hardened look that he had seen too many times. Thorvald slowly shook his head at his Chief without saying a word. Nothing more needed to be said.
Dead... my brother is...
Stoick turned around, his wrath rekindled. He wrenched the axe from Dagur's body and took out his grief on the corpse until nothing was left but a mass of bone and meat. Then he turned toward the surviving Berserkers.
"Drive them to the cliff!" he shouted.
His men picked up their weapons and surrounded the defeated fighters. The Berserkers started jostling and pushing at each other, but they had no choice against the dozen dragons and Berk fighters wielding pikes. Several of the men fell to their knees.
"Please! We had no choice. We were only following orders!"
"Orders? You could have disobeyed them!"
"He would have killed us."
"Then you would have died with honor!"
He hewed the man who had been groveling at his feet. The wall of pikes advanced at Stoick's command, slowly driving the mass of Berserkers up to and off the cliff. One by one the men fell into the darkness, their screams swallowed up by the distant crashing of waves.
Then they were all gone and the Berk fighters all stepped back from the cliff, save for Stoick. He stood at the cliff's edge and stared over into the darkness where he knew dozens of bodies lay broken on the sharp, jagged rocks.
He remembered to breathe again and turned around to face his people. He could see it in their eyes. The same look that had been terribly common years ago. Exhaustion, pain, resignation, fear, and also relief.
He lifted his axe high and roared in triumph. They all did.
Astrid slowly stepped down from the lookout post and wandered back into the square where Hiccup was helping tend to the wounded. Try as she might, she could not get the sight of Stoick's mutilating Dagur's body or her own tribesmen driving prisoners off the cliff out of her head.
It is war but still... it feels...wrong.
She paused for a moment as she observed Hiccup among the injured. It was an odd sight indeed, a dragon sitting among a large group of bloodied and wounded people who were clearly grateful to have him there.
I guess we now know that Night Fury saliva does help with pain and injuries after all. Who would have thought?
She walked up to Hiccup and threw her arms around his head after he looked up at her. His green eyes were filled with exhaustion and solemnity. She didn't doubt that they would both be changed by everything that had happened and that they had seen.
"It's over. We won."
Dawn finally broke over the horizon, not that many people got much sleep. Almost everyone worked through the night. Fires were extinguished. Spoils were collected. The wounded were bandaged and cared for. Berk's fallen were gathered together to be claimed by their families for burial. The Berserker fallen were stripped of all valuables and clothing and were unceremoniously thrown off the same cliff to be food for the fish and birds.
The hundreds of Berserkers who had departed the battle had been allowed to flee. None among the Berserkers or the other tribes had the heart to continue fighting and dying for no further purpose.
Elder Vuulthir was very busy presiding over the many funeral ceremonies. Berk had lost all its ships during the fighting. None of the few remaining captured sloops could be spared for the traditional departure, so all the dead were to be burned on land.
Astrid's main task was to oversee the disposal of the dragons killed by the Skrill. She got help from the families whose dragons had died and from a few other volunteers to drag the bodies out of the village and push them off the cliff, far from the Berserkers' resting place, and into the sea. Ideally, they could be given a proper resting place like one would give a faithful hound, but the devastation was too great for that right now. While she knew and had interacted with each of the three dragons many times before, seeing the corpse of the twins dragon hurt the most. That Zippleback had been one of the creatures they had trained against and had first come to really know.
Her one task being completed by early afternoon, she walked around the remains of the village, feeling very numb and exhausted. Her parents and house had, by the blessings of the gods, both escaped any harm. Others whom she knew had not survived.
For a while she did not believe or accept that Theron was gone. It felt wrong that someone as carefree as him had fallen. They had trained together and were both in the same class of riders and dragon-friends. She had not seen Sifa at all.
I can't imagine what she must feel. To lose your twin and your dragon on the same day. Gods...
Far more important to the tribe as a whole was Spitelout's death. It directly grieved Stoick and left Thorvald the next heir to become Chief.
She glanced at the Jorgenson residence. Despite her deep frustration with Thorvald's former obsession with her, she couldn't remain bitter toward him considering what had happened.
I didn't know he even could cry. But he did just lose his father.
She wandered over to the stable and stood at the entrance to gaze in at the happy scene inside. Stormfly lay curled up on the ground, watching her three hatchlings as they alternately sniffed at everything and leapt at each other in play. The largest one noticed her and fearlessly scurried over to garner attention.
"Hey there little guy," she mumbled as she carefully lowered her hand, being careful to avoid getting her fingers nibbled on, to its chin to give it a scratch. The blue baby Nadder went drowsy very quickly and collapsed under her hand, much to Stormfly's amusement.
"Time for your nap," she picked up the baby and lay him at Stormfly's side.
She gave Stormfly's proud head a quick nuzzle for good measure and then left the happy nest. She felt far better leaving than she had been when arriving.
I needed that. We all need more of that.
She intended to go to Stoick to find something else to do to stay busy. Staying busy helped to smooth over the pain that everyone was sure to feel for many moons to come. That was when she noticed something strange.
Both Sifa and Thorvald were sitting together outside what was now his house. She had her head on his shoulder, and he had his arm around her side.
Though she wanted to go comfort them, it felt right to let them be alone for now.
Maybe they will help each other get through what happened.
Toothless glanced down at the mass of bad-two-leg bodies broken on the rocks below and at the carrion birds busily feasting. Never had he seen so many dead two-legs. It filled his life-water with fire that his nest had won and shown itself the stronger nest.
He jumped from the cliff and flew for the cliff where Hiccup was perched. His nest-mate lay sullenly on the ground, just staring out over the ocean.
"Why you sad?" he asked.
"Many dead two-legs and kin. Hurts me much."
Toothless weighed his words carefully, knowing how sensitive Hiccup was to the harsher realities of life.
"All things die. Our nest two-legs that are dead fought well."
Hiccup slowly shook his head while giving a sad rumble. Toothless didn't seem to understand or feel much sadness at the loss. He then looked around at him, intending to say something. But he froze and found his eyes drawn to the burns running down Toothless's neck.
"You fought the sky-light-eater-kin."
"Yes. Astrid helped me kill it. She is very good fighter."
"You have hurt-marks on your neck."
"These? Yes, I like them," he stretched his neck proudly.
"What? Why?" Hiccup wasn't sure he heard that correctly.
"Hurt-marks show I am strong. Show I win fight."
Hiccup grumbled while rolling his eyes with a flickering hint of amusement.
"Much like two-leg you are, Toothless."
Hiccup's thoughts then turned to Spitelout and Theron as the two among the fallen he had known best. His uncle and his former classmate. Not that he was especially close to or fond of either of them, but they had still been family regardless.
"Toothless, what you think happens after dying? Where dead go?"
"We talked about this in past. You know that I not know. That is a cloud you can fly into, but never out from."
Hiccup nodded back at the nest.
"Death is bad. Two-legs fighting is bad. The other-nest two-legs wanted hunt kin here. Problem is two-legs and liking-fighting."
Hiccup got to his feet and faced Toothless.
"I will make fighting not happen. I will make change!"
"How?" Toothless asked.
"I help two-legs change by talking and being good. Show them fighting and dying not good."
Toothless said nothing back. It sounded like Hiccup wanted to change life itself, to make conflict not be resolved with fighting. As though all conflict can be talked away.
But I thought that I would never fly again once. Hiccup did the impossible then. If any kin can change all two-legs, it will be him.
Stoick stood down by the shore with a small group of his people to welcome his honored guests and allies. Chief Svana was the first of this party to come ashore, and the massive woman leapt from her rowboat ahead of her companions. She came up and stood a respectful distance from him while looking around at Berk, this being her first time ashore on his island.
"Stoick, I'm glad you survived. My people tell me that you showed your true warrior's spirit."
"I did what I had to do. Your dragons and people helped a lot."
She shrugged.
"It is a dangerous world, we must stick together and protect each other... despite how undesirable that may be at times," she ended by glancing back out to sea.
Several of the Outcast sloops lay rolling in the waves while Alvin and company rowed ashore. That was the part he was most uncomfortable with about this entire arrangement. The idea of having Outcasts on Berk again was thoroughly repugnant, but it would not do to directly offend those who had come to Berk's defense. War makes strange bedfellows indeed.
They stopped most of the other Berserkers from escaping with the whole fleet. Strange that they didn't bring any dragons of their own though.
Alvin hopped ashore and laughed while picking up a handful of sand. Stoick looked past him at the others brought in the raft, and he noticed someone very unwelcome. A shriveled bag of bones leaning on a cane.
"You had to bring that one didn't you?"
"What, old Moldy? What's wrong with him?"
"He is a traitor," Stoick fumed.
"He's always been loyal to me..." Alvin laughed.
"Just keep him out of my sight," Stoick growled.
Alvin made a gesture at Mildew, who scowled but stayed behind.
"All right, let's go. Edgaras is waiting at my Great Hall."
The three Chiefs and a couple dozen from each tribe left the beach together and proceeded to the Hall.
"Ah, this brings back memories," Alvin sighed.
"Alvin..." Stoick warned.
"It feels like just yesterday I was here before I was banished."
"Which you deserved."
"That is the past. What about the future? Still think I am the Treacherous?"
"Don't push your luck. Alvin the Honest, my ass... Where are your dragons by the way?"
That wiped the smug grin from Alvin's face.
"We may have had some problems getting them to obey us."
"With that attitude, I am not surprised," Svana chimed in.
"What I am surprised by though," Alvin continued as though he hadn't heard her, "is that you seem to have so few dragons yourself Stoick. Where are all of Berk's beasts?"
"The ones that are not here are away looking after their nests and broods."
"Ah, that explains it. We had a few leave as well, but we couldn't figure out why," Svana said.
"What about your special dragons, Stoick? I hope they are ok."
Stoick stopped in his tracks and got up in Alvin's face.
"What did you say!"
"Hey, hey Stoick... I'm just asking. I'm concerned about 'em."
"After you almost killed Hiccup?"
That incensed Svana as well.
"What!" she exclaimed.
"Hey, I never meant to hurt him. Only to give myself a bit more leverage over my dear old friend here. Would it help if I say I regret it?"
"Maybe a little," Stoick reluctantly admitted.
Svana punched Alvin in the shoulder.
"Idiot," she grumbled.
"Hmm, feisty."
"Don't even try..."
No one said anything else the rest of the way. They passed through the opened gate and entered the village. Everyone, but Alvin and Svana especially, observed the destruction of the burned wall, shattered homes, and signs of battle.
"Wow, this is different," Alvin said as he looked around at the stables and several visible dragons.
"Things change after fifteen years, Alvin."
"That they do."
The party continued on through the village and noticed the strange dragons lounging around near the Great Hall. They were a mix of Vainian and Volsung dragons, and were distinguishable by how nervous or relaxed they seemed. The heavy chains and armor on the Volsung dragons were another clear indicator.
Stoick and company entered the Great Hall and proceeded up to his table through the large gathering of Berk natives and members of the allied tribes. Everyone had gathered together to celebrate the shared victory and to distribute loot.
Edgaras and several of his captains were already there waiting for them. The new arrivals all took their seats, and several mugs of ale were brought out for all present. The ale supplies had been sorely depleted following the battle, but Stoick always kept some in reserve. They all raised a mug in a salute to each other and the fallen. Stoick wiped the foam from his mustache and put his hands on the table.
"I want to know. Why did you come help us?" Stoick began.
The other three Chiefs glanced at each other.
"Your dragon can be very persuasive," Svana began with a chuckle.
"Speaking of it... him, where is he?" Alvin asked, knowing that it would get under Stoick's skin.
"Not sure, he tends to wander a lot. What about you Edgar?" Stoick quickly changed the topic.
"I didn't like having a debt to another tribe. And it seemed like a good opportunity to get back at the Berserkers for things they did in the past," Edgaras replied.
"Do I want to know what they did?"
"They took prizes that we were going to take ourselves."
"Fair enough. Alvin?" Stoick reluctantly asked.
"Everything they said."
Except he muttered and didn't look up to meet Stoick's gaze.
"Is there something else?"
"Well, we... Outcasts... have not been very good at getting the dragons to obey us. We might need more help," he seemed pained to admit.
"There is no reason why we couldn't give you more help. The problem is certainly in your people though; that they don't treat the beasts right," Stoick replied.
"I figured that already; no need to rub it in. It's also true that I didn't want Berk destroyed," Alvin further grumbled.
"So touching. The little boy sounds like he still wants to go home," Edgaras teased.
Alvin flew to his feet and tried to grab his dagger, forgetting that all weapons were left behind for this meeting. He settled for slamming a fist on the table.
"Say that again you old sheep lover!"
"Sheep lover? From what I hear it is the Outcasts who don't have enough women and need to make do what what you have."
"Why, I'll..."
"Enough of that everyone!" Stoick shouted.
The other Chiefs settled back down much to Svana's amusement.
"You two can go have a pissing contest outside my Hall. I don't need to tell you all how helpful your armies were to Berk's defense."
"Wow, the great Stoick showing some humility? Is this the end times?" Alvin exclaimed.
Stoick rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore Alvin's ongoing antics.
"I know that our tribes have never been the closest to each other. We have all kept to ourselves to please the gods in our own ways. But circumstances have changed for us. We are all on the same side now."
He paused for effect.
"We are the dragon tribes. Yes, even these incompetent Outcasts..."
"Hey..." Alvin weakly protested.
"That makes us different from all the other peoples we know of. It also makes us a target for anyone like Dagur who would want to kill dragons because of grudges or for sport."
"I've thought about that too, Stoick. What are you proposing?" Svana asked.
"We should make an alliance, the four of us. We would all come to each other's aid if any one of us is threatened."
"No one has ever done this before," Edgaras said.
"Has anyone ever fought a war with dragons on their side?. After all, a people getting pet dragons can be scary for other tribes in the area. Who knows what the ones with the dragons could be planning..." Stoick said with a gleam in his eyes.
Svana and Edgaras gave each other a knowing and perhaps slightly ashamed glance.
"It makes people nervous and nervous people do desperate things. Combining all our numbers to protect each other makes sense for all of us. What do you say?"
Svana nodded in eager agreement.
"I'd have to be an idiot to say no to that," Alvin said.
"So what is your answer?" Svana asked him.
He gave her a withering glare to which she laughed.
Stoick turned to Edgaras, the one of the four who was probably in the strongest position at the moment. He had slightly fewer dragons than Berk but far more ships and proper soldiers.
"The Volsung have never been a people to need help. But this is a brave new world we are sailing, or flying, into. I agree to this alliance," Edgaras said after a moment of thought.
Stoick waved over an attendant with fresh mugs of ale which were distributed to the four of them. They each raised their mugs.
"The gods smile on us. To the future!"
Stoick returned to his village after seeing the others Chiefs off. The Vaina, Outcast, and Volsung ships and dragons had all left Berk to begin returning home. He sat down on a barrel and took a moment to collect his thoughts. So much had happened in the last couple days that he had barely had a chance to absorb or think about. His brother's death, dozens of his own tribe fallen, an entire attacking army shattered, and an alliance forged with the other dragon-bearing tribes.
We might finally have peace now. At a heavy price for sure.
He got back to his feet but winced at a soreness in his back.
Thor Almighty, I'm not as young as I once was.
He spent the rest of the day meeting with the wounded and hearing their stories. That was how he was introduced to another bizarre story. They explained how his dragon had come to them during the battle, had licked their wounds, and how that made the injuries stop hurting as much. It confirmed what was written in the Book of Dragons about Night Fury saliva having clear benefits.
But it also meant that Hiccup had disobeyed him. He already knew that of course as both Furies had been there during the battle and Toothless had apparently helped to kill the Skrill.
His thoughts turned to Moirai and her company.
She said that they would be off the island for the battle. I hope they are safe.
The green flash during the battle and the deafening blast that followed forced itself to the forefront of his thoughts. It was as though a gate to the underworld had opened in the combat.
It left him with serious doubts about the nature of their deal. Such power was unhallowed.
He reassured himself of the necessity of the arrangement when he went home and could clearly hear the bellows-like breathing of the dragons in the next room over.
She will be back. I know it.
"Just a while longer Hiccup," he whispered.