A/N – Sorry about the long wait between updates. We talked about it, remember? Work and homework and life. I didn't work on my novel much this weekend. I helped plan a surprise party and it was an exhausting couple of days. But enough of my whining – onward!
X
Chapter 6: Learn Them Right
Astrid woke to a delicious smell wafting upstairs. Her eyes opened to the ceiling above her bed, the knot twisted in the beam, and the stale stench of smoke and burnt Berk reminded her of the day before. She wanted to pull the blanket up over her head and sleep until winter was gone. She didn't.
She scooted to the edge of the bed and hoisted herself to her feet. She wrapped her hand around her trusted axe and squeezed the well-worn leather handed. The familiar weight eased her like a good friend, and old ally. Anymore, she was beginning to think that her axe might be the only one on her side. Always had been, of course.
She strapped it to her back just in case her mother had forgotten her words the night before. Astrid planned on going to training that day regardless of whatever nonsense argument her father made. When she made it to the bottom of the stairs, amid sizzling eggs and seasoned chicken, the air changed.
Her mother held her father's gaze. His knitted brow told Astrid she had walked straight into a conversation that he didn't want to continue in his daughter's presence. Her mother's glare told her that she disagreed. Astrid held her tongue. She took a seat at the table. She planned to slice through the thick tension as if it weren't there.
"How was the meeting last night, Dad?" Astrid asked casually. She accepted a plate from her mother and a mug of warm tea.
"Fine, Astrid," Harald said. His tone matched his brow; he was tense. He held his hands under the table, presumably in fists. He cleared his throat, but not in the clogged-throat way, in the listen-to-me way.
Astrid paused her fork over an egg. Her eyes found her father's. He held her gaze and she refused to look away. After a long moment, he looked back at her mother.
"In light of last night's events, the council has renewed its hunt for the witches," Harald said sternly.
"Oh?" Astrid feigned interest. That renewal no doubt came at her father's encouragement.
"I kept my mouth shut about you," Harald said through gritted teeth, as though he'd been accused. At once he shut his eyes and rubbed his temples, sighing heavily. "I am sorry. It has been a long night. I haven't slept."
"I could have helped with the village," Astrid said. She would have, too.
"I know," Harald said wearily. "But with your…illness you need your rest. But, renewing the hunt will undoubtedly increase the danger. That is the risk. Stoick agreed. This last dragon attack was among the worst we've had. It's either us or those damn beasts."
"How will they hunt them?" Astrid asked. She wouldn't tell him her curiosity wasn't purely educational.
"The same they always do," Harald scowled. "Scour the woods. Claim it for ourselves. Push the witches back until there's nowhere left to hide. We'll burn the forest down if we have to."
Astrid wanted to tell him that burning it all down felt extreme. She thought, for a horrifying moment, of her green eyed stranger lost in a forest cage of fire and gnarled blood trees. Her gut wrenched and her breakfast looked less appealing that it had before.
"There is good news from last night," Ingrid chirped, forcibly cheerful through the thick gloom. She pointed her spatula at her husband. "Tell her, dear."
Harald nodded. "We managed to capture a few of the beasts last night. Gobber wants to use them in training."
"Really?" Astrid gapped, higher pitched that she would have liked. She'd never fought an actually dragon before, only seen them from the sky. The thought of standing in the arena with one was both terrifying and exhilarating.
Harald nodded. He looked at his daughter with an unreadable expression of pity, confusion, and something that twanged Astrid's gut like fear. She devoured the rest of her breakfast and tried her best to ignore him. She'd prove to him that she wasn't cursed or whatever he thought still. She would prove her worth to him, to Stoick, to the village.
"I can't wait to see them," Astrid said. Her parents did not argue with her. Her empty plate hadn't hit the surface of the wash-water before she was to the door and out into the snowy village.
X
Astrid walked with the other teens toward the training arena with a new excitement in the air. Snotlout talked big, threatened nonexistent dragons with tough air-punches and snorts. He thrust his blunt-headed hammer in his fist. Fishlegs, although giggling-happy, nervously rattled off facts about common dragons that he'd memorized from the Book of Dragons. Astrid had read it several times, too, but she hadn't taken it word for word in her head. Right now, she didn't have to. Fishlegs had enough memorized for all of them.
The twins had a blast making up dragon facts, and dragons, and watching Fishlegs cower with every new imaginative invention. Ruff stood on one side while Tuff stood on the other, inching their way closer to him, whispering while he shrank into himself.
"Stop it!" Fishlegs finally exclaimed, throwing his pudgy hands into the air and running several steps ahead of the twins.
Fishlegs almost ran into the arena's door trying to get away. Astrid paused when she heard it – a great dragon roar, then another, more guttural than the first. She swallowed and held her chin high as Snotlout's bravery diminished into fear and he took a step closer to Fishlegs. She held her face still.
Gobber's cheerful laughter broke through the air. He limped toward them, his wooden peg leg thumping on the stone. He wore his all-purpose hook. He smiled wickedly, "You've heard about the newest members of the class?"
"There's already there?" Snotlout asked.
Gobber pointed his hook at Snotlout. "You betcha there's already there! It's high time you lot got some field experience. Let's go."
Gobber led the way down into the arena much like he did every training session. He hoisted the iron gate up as if it weight nothing and it clicked into its holding place as they walked underneath it's point edges. The heavy, reinforced doors that lined the arena's curved walls banged and creaked. Muffled roars and muted fire-blasts came from behind them.
Astrid felt the trembled in her chest but refused to let it show. Fearless. She watched Snotlout's knees buckle as he walked. Pathetic. She wouldn't show that same ugly emotion. She was a Hofferson, after all. Time to starting acting like it.
"Today will you learn about the dragons that we face," Gobber said as he paced in front of the gates, hand and hook behind his back, watching them all in turn. "These are just a few of the many species out there. The Deadly Nadder." The door behind him shook and the beast behind it chirped and squawked. "The Terrible Terror. The Monstrous Nightmare. The Hideous Zippleback. And…" Gobber paused in front of a door and poised his hand over the door's release lever. "The Gronkle."
"Whoa, whoa!" Snotlout jumped back a step with his hands outstretched and nearly dropped his hammer. "You're not going to teach us first?"
Gobber smiled his lopsided grin. "I believe in learning on the job."
He opened the gate and the Gronkle burst through with a flaming puddle of lava, throwing red-hot droplets in every direction. The teens scattered as the dragon came toward them. Astrid dove out of the way and rolled back to her feet as the dragon went after a screaming Fishlegs.
The Gronkle looked like rocks that had melted together, slow but tough. Its small wings flapped rapidly, but the dragon moved slowly. Fishlegs zigzagged and the dragon couldn't follow. Fishlegs turned sharp and the stubby dragon flew head-first into the stone wall of the arena, but seemed to be only a little distubred.
"What's the first thing you need?" Gobber shouted above the chaos.
"Plus five speed?" Fishlegs gasped as the Gronkle rounded on him again.
No, idiot. Astrid scoffed to herself. "A shield."
"A shield!" Gobber pointed to Astrid with his hook-hand. "A shield is your most important ally. If you have to choose between a sword and shield, take the shield."
The Gronkle grew tired of Fishlegs and decided to dive-bomb the twins, who then ran in opposite directions and led the dragon into another wall. Its body collided sideways with the stone and thudded against it, rattling an angry dragon-door, and the dragon behind it.
"A dragon has a limited number of shots," Gobber said. He walked around the arena calmly, as if there weren't a raging dragon bouncing around. His composition was admirable and Astrid intended to copy it. It made her panicked classmates look like complete fools. "How many shots does a Gronkle have?"
Astrid wasn't sure. She didn't have time to think much about it as the Gronkle came at her.
"Five?" Snotlout said, taking the dragon's immediate attention. It scooted along the ground as it turned toward Snotlout, waving its short legs as if swimming.
"No, six!" Fishlegs thrust his shield into the air as she shouted, drawing the dragon's attention. The dragon opened its wide mouth and a dangerous glow began behind its tongue. Astrid rolled out quickly away from the blast range.
"Right," Gobber said, just as the Gronkle's nose lifted into the air and the glow intensified.
The dragon spat and the lava hit Fishleg's shield with enough force to knock it from his grasp. Fishlegs was lucky it hadn't had the sense to aim lower. He shouted and dashed away from the dragon's sight. It opened its mouth again and before it could fire at Fishlegs, Astrid kicked up a spare shield and thrust it at the dragon. It spun and hit the dragon's jaw. The dragon swallowed its fire and shook his head.
Gobber nodded, hand on his chin.
Yes, that's right, Astrid said to herself. Show them who's not afraid. Show them who's not cursed by witches.
The dragon came at her, but she quickly dodged it. Another lava blast oozed from its mouth, leaving traces of glowing heat down its wide jaw. Snotlout gained its attention and yelped, making it out of the way just in time. A small spatter landed on his arm and he yelped again, higher this time, and used his shield to flick away the lava. A nasty, albeit small, burn had been left behind.
"That's enough out of you," Gobber said as he interrupted. He grabbed the Gronkle like a fish with his hook and stirred it back toward its cage. It gave little fight as Gobber swung it back inside and slammed the doors before it could get back out. The ruckus has earned a new wave of shouts from the other dragons.
The teens came toward the middle of the arena, Fishlegs quivering and Snotlout cradling his burn, as Gobber limped toward them with a large smile. His proud stare lingered on Astrid and her pride swelled. He'd be telling Stoick about this new training, no doubt, and her success. Stoick would in turn tell her father.
Snotlout panted and cried over his arm, much to the humor of the twins. She inhaled and held the mild fatigue she felt inside.
"That's all of that for today," Gobber said. "Tomorrow we'll face another dragon, slowly but surely making our way up to the Monstrous Nightmare." Gobber lowered his tone, much like he did when he told the Viking children ghost stories.
The rest of the training passed much the same, with dummies and fighting and advice. Astrid made sure she topped all the others, flying past them in every way possible. She would be the best. She would prove it to them. She would.
X
A week of training with dragons and Astrid saw the result of her efforts in the arena. Every day more Vikings came out to watch the training, booing, laughing, and cheering. Astrid didn't try to find her father in the crowd; she acted as though he were there. By the week's end she was clearly the favorite. Her cheers were the loudest.
"Aye, you've done well in the ring," Harald said that night. His tone had lost its harshness.
"Thank you," Astrid said calmly, as though she didn't expect it. Truthfully, her limbs ached. Exhaustion pounded on her mind and she fought to stay sharp. Her legs threatened to betray her commands.
"I can't believe Gobber thought fighting dragons was a good idea," Ingrid sighed as she plopped dishes into steaming, soapy water. "He's lucky no one's been seriously injured."
"Give it another week," Harald grinned. "Those Gronkles aren't near the worst. These kids need to know what they're up against. It's better than just waiting until those beasts attack and throwing them into the streets."
"I suppose," Ingrid sighed.
"I'm going to bed," Astrid said as she stood. Accepting her father's nod as a goodnight, she pushed her legs to jog up the stairs. Only when her bedroom door had closed behind her did she let her exhaustion show. She slumped and slouched against the door.
"How is the hunt going?" Ingrid asked from downstairs, her voice calm and quiet.
"Not very well," Harald said, barely a whisper through the bedroom door. Astrid turned around and pressed her ear against the door's seam in time to her father say, "Nothing out there. Just damn trees. We'll see a dragon now and then but it scurries off before we can attack."
"They aren't attacking you?" Ingrid asked.
"No," Harald said. "Stoick says it's likely that we're finding them off guard. Those witches aren't telling them what to do so they just run from us."
"What does that mean?" Ingrid asked quickly. "Do you think…" Her voice dropped too low for Astrid to hear.
"I don't know," Harald said. "But it might mean that if we get rid of those witches their pets will go away. Or at least not attack."
"Is that the plan?"
"It is now," Harald said. "But we've searched the woods for a week now and haven't seen a damn thing. No sign that anyone is even out there."
"I'm sure you'll find something. It's a big forest."
"That's the problem," Harald said bitterly. "There's too much space out there for us to look, even if everyone in the village went at once. It's too big. Those witches could slip right through and we wouldn't see them."
Ingrid hummed humorously, "Well, you could always just burn it down and see what's left."
"Don't laugh," Harald said shortly. "Spitelout wants do to just that."
"You can't be serious?"
"Stoick thinks he's mad, of course, and he'd only consider burning it as a last result. He's got more reason that anyone to hate those woods. I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to." Harald's voice dropped. "I know if something happened to you, or to Astrid, I'd want to do the same."
Astrid released a breath she hadn't known she held.
Ingrid said something too low.
"I know," Harald said. "But she's alive, which is more than Stoick can say for his Valka or Hiccup. If we hadn't found her that night…I don't know what I would have done. Speaking of Astrid, isn't her…uh, she due?"
"Yes, any day now," Ingrid said quickly.
Astrid stepped away from the door. No one talked about Valka or Hiccup. She rarely heard their names spoken. Astrid had been too little to understand at the time, barely old enough to remember anything. One day the two of them were just gone. It left a terrible pit in her stomach that wouldn't go away. Of course, that feeling could just be the blood proof her father waited for. A part of her wanted to throw the rags at him for his suspicion, but she knew it would do no good.
She dipped her hands into the water basin. The water was long cold, but she didn't want to ask her mother for warmer. Right now, the cold water sounded more appealing.
Washed and dry with sleep on the brain, Astrid passed by the window. She looked at nothing in particular, however distant movement caught her eye. Her stare snapped to the edge of the forest. Shadows moved, playing just beyond the flickering firelight of Berk. Something, no, someone moved.
Astrid stepped forward, tripping over her discarded boots and falling into the windowsill. That someone stayed at the edge, never stepping into the village, barely visible standing still among the trees. The cloak they wore blended in with the dark trunks. Her heart thumped in her ribcage, hard enough to hurt.
The witch.
Her heart stopped. She stuffed her feet back into her boots and her hand was on the door handle before she stopped. She couldn't go out this way. Her parents were still awake. They would never let her out. No. Astrid turned around and tiptoed to the window. She glanced for onlookers and when she saw none, she climbed down and to the snowy ground.
By the time she got to the forest's edge where the witch had stood, he was gone. A sentry's torchlight approached and she didn't have time to go to the trail. She dashed into the forest. The winter-dead thickets tugs at her leggings and picked at her shirt. A low hanging branch scratched her cheek.
She paused as the sentry's light hesitated. Hiding behind a thick tree, she held her breath, waiting for the light to either find her or move on. Before her, the light illuminated the shadowy forest floor. Roots and brambles waited for unsuspecting feet to grab, clothes to snare and hair to pull. At long last, the light moved on. Astrid let out a low sign.
Slowly she made her way through the forest in the dark.
"Hello?" Astrid whispered, not wanting any stray Berkians to hear her. "Are you there?"
No one answered.
She tricked and caught herself on a tree. Underneath her fingers the bark had been hacked away, marked. Berk's witch hunters, no doubt. They were marking their way. By the pointed wound Astrid guessed it had been made by an axe. She had thrown hers at enough trees to know the mark left behind.
A small snap beside her snapped her attention away from the tree. She spun around, snagging on the small bramble as before, and fell backward into the wounded tree. Standing there in the shadow before her was the witch. The gloom-light hid his eyes in that ghastly mask of his and left them black holes. Like this he could pass as a fireside story monster.
"Hello," Astrid said.
He said nothing, but his shoulders twitched upward ever the slightest. Astrid waited for him to run, to fade into the forest, to do something. Was this the same witch that took a woman and her child?
"I'm sorry for the mess," Astrid said, surprised at the timid tone. A sudden, strange sense of guilt and fear panged her. "I'm sorry for the mess I'm sure they'll make. I think it's been because of me." Astrid swallowed. "My father's protective."
The masked head cocked to the side.
"They renewed the witch hunts," Astrid explained, but she knew as soon as she said it that it wouldn't mean much to him. "That's why they were out here. They were looking for you. He thinks that…you might have done something to me." He moved backward and she reached out to him, not wanting him to go, but immediately drew her hand back. "I don't think you're bad. You helped me, didn't you?"
He nodded.
She hesitated, words stuck in her throat. Now was the time for answers, the truth. "My father things that…while I was here, with you…that you might have done something to me. Cursed me. He locked me in my room until I could prove to him that I wasn't harboring some…witch child."
He shuffled his leather-bound feet and shook his hooded, masked head. Pale fingertips peeked from his long sleeves.
"You didn't do anything like that, did you?" Astrid asked, fearing the answer and desperately waiting for it.
He shook his head vigorously and held up two very human hands in front of him. He stretched his long fingers outward.
"I believe you," Astrid said. She took a step forward, one at a time, until she had closed the space between them. She lifted her own hands and took one of his in hers. His hand was bigger than hers, but just as cold. She ran her fingers along the lines on his pale palms. Calluses hardened his fingertips and freckles dotted the arm that vanished into the sleeve.
She flattened her palm against his. His hands were just like hers.
Astrid's eyes drifted to the eyeholes of the mask. The darkness clouded, but she could just see the green orbs gleam through. Astrid released on of her hands from his and reached for the mask, but his other caught her with graceful speed. She gasped, but he gently folded his long fingers around hers and shook his head.
A light, high-pitched dragon-call echoed through the trees. He jumped and dropped her hands. He took several steps back, effortlessly navigating the brambles, and with one last look at her he vanished into the shadows. Astrid stood there with her hands stretched out in front of her for a long moment. She could still feel his rough skin against hers.
