Chapter 1
Silence reigned in the small Viking village. Built of sturdy oak and thatch, houses dotted the slope, all of them new, among them the burnt out homes of battles past. Four great beacon-towers stood, spaced throughout the town, tall and proud, the some of the oldest and sturdiest constructs in the entire village. Scaffolding was built throughout the village, serving both as paths and battlements. Catapults lined the cliffs and ledges spread throughout the village. On top of the hill sat the chiefs house, stately and clean.
A great pillar of rock, towering into the sky, taller than anything in the village, sat next to the Kill Ring. The spire was nearly hollow, with wooden faces and balconies dotting the side. The Kill Ring, a morbid colosseum made for duels and dragon training, sat like a giant ring of stone on the edge of the village, heavy chain netting covering the top. Out in the bay, two stone statues, impressions of viking, marked the entrance to the port, fires burning in their open maws. The air was cold and biting, nipping at any exposed flesh. The streets lay were empty, everyone having gone inside to avoid of the cold.
The peace and quiet of the night was shattered by an ear splitting roar. The dark, cloudless sky was soon filled with dark shadows, blotting out the moon and the stars. The shadows were like boiling water, shifting and writhing in the sky.
"Dragons!"
Horns rang out across the sleepy hamlet, and many dozens of vikings soon flooded out of their home, weapons at the ready, many with armor half on. Battle-cries and sounds of steel clashing on steel rang out as the vikings bashed their shields with their weapons, filling the town with a cacophony of harsh, grating noise. The great beacons lit up, bathing the village and sky in a dull orange glow. Within seconds, the dragons began to dive. Dragon upon dragon screamed down from the sky, headed straight for the village, maws open and filled with flickering flame. Fire poured out in front of them, lighting the thatch as if it was soaked in oil. The dragons collided with the vikings, and the battle began in earnest. Screaming. Shrieks, and roars soon mingled with the battle cries.
In the chaos and fire and fighting, no one noticed the skinny, hunched boy flitting in between houses, scrambling to avoid dragon fire and viking bola alike. Blood filled the streets, and it took all of his effort not to slip, and end up a dragons dinner.
I need to get to the forge thought the young boy.
The boy dashed between two houses, one burning and one burnt to the ground, and made his way down the street towards the sounded of clanging steel and hissing oil. Finally, as he rounded a corner, the forge came into view, windows open and piles of weapons stacked outside. Looking up from his anvil, the smith sighted the young boy and shouted over the clanging steel,
"HICCUP! Wha' are ya doin' outside yer house? Ne'ermind, get your-" HISS, and he quenched a weapon "in here! Thar is plen'y ta do!"
Sighing, Hiccup dashed forward, ducking into the forge and pulling his small brown apron of a nail in the wall. Moving to the stack of twisted and broken weapons, he picked up as many as he could, and moved over to Gobber, dropping them by his feet. Next, he grabbed the stack of repaired weapons on Gobber's other side, and lugged them over to the grindstone. Throwing all his weight against a particularly dull sword, he put it to the stone, and pumped the foot pedal. Sparks flew in his face and on his arms, but he carried on, heedless of the burns.
"Now tell me, wha' were ya thinkin', goin' out during a raid, at nigh'? You coulda been killed!"
Hiccup snorted, checked the blade, was satisfied, and flipped it around, grinding the other edge. He replied dryly,
"Oh, you know. Getting here. No trouble, really. Next time I'll stay in the house and let you sharpen up all these swords."
He checked the blade again, and seeing it was sharp enough to skewer a dragon, swapped it out with another, kicking the fresh blade out the door where it was scooped up by a viking. The broad man jumped towards a Nadder harassing a group of younger vikings, fresh out of training, and plunged his sword in its back. The wound spurted blood as the Nadder squawked and turned sharply to get away from the wound, instead tearing the sword free. Through itself.
Hiccup winced and turned away as the creatures insides spilled on the ground and it fell to the ground. Gobber spoke up, drawing Hiccup's attention to him.
"Don' sass me boy. Yer lucky I took you on as my apprentice. Those burns on your back are cursed, I'm telling you. Not good to have 'em around the forge."
"Yeah, I know you think the gaping flesh wound on my back is cursed Gobber. You only bring it up like, every single day you see me. It's a great pep talk after a sleepless night on my stomach, because, oh yeah! I cant sleep on my back, or side, or other side." Hiccup sullenly replied.
Gobber stopped hammering for a moment to look over his shoulder and sigh.
"Yer right lad. Ahm sorry, must be habit by now. Listen, you man the forge, it looks like they need me out there."
Grabbing his axe hand off the rotating rack, Gobber charged outside, bellowing something about stolen undies, axe hand above his head.
Making sure that Gobber was a good distance away, Hiccup scurried to the back of the forge and disappeared into his little workshop. A moment later, he ran back out, almost completely hidden by the large wooden contraption he was wheeling in front of him. Pausing for a moment, he closed the forge shutters, then ran out of the forge, pushing his machine in front of him.
As he ran through the streets, he could not hide from the vikings or dragons with his bulky machine. Vikings glared, but held their tongues, turning back to fight the equally distracted, albeit more curious, dragons. Hiccup ran up a scalfolding ramp, and positioned himself on an abandoned cliff. Punching a small button on the top of his contraption, it popped open, four arms and numerous cords and ropes extending to the sides, and a sight springing up in front him. Muttering to himself, he scanned the sky, looking for a dragon not dead, downed, or gone.
"C'mon, c'mon... Gimme something to shoot at..."
As he waited he scanned the village, having a perfect view from his vantage point. He saw the Chief standing on a watchtower, shouting orders and throwing bolas. As he watched, he heard a low whistle, growing louder and higher in pitch. Hiccup saw the chief yell at the others on the tower, and leap off as a blue bolt of lighting-fire exploded into the side of it.
Night Fury. I'd be a hero if I bagged that... Hiccup thought to himself.
As he scanned the skies, he heard the tell tale shriek start up again. Swiveling quickly towards the source, Hiccup pulled the trigger before he even looked, but when his eyes caught up, he saw a dark shape falling from the sky. Grinning to himself, Hiccup whispered a quiet victory cheer. He moved forward, and pushed "The Mangler" off the cliff.
I still have the blueprints, and I don't want anyone else taking credit, Hiccup thought to himself when he heard the crash. Hiccup glanced around for a weapon, and seeing a short sword, he took it up, and ran in the direction of the woods. In the direction of the Night Fury.