Chapter One
The Silent Storm
The angry waters of the sea were a prelude to the oncoming storm racing down to the Edge. Hiccup Haddock sat by the brazier inside the clubhouse, tinkering away at the Dragon Eye, Toothless, who laid beside his feet, perked up at the distant sound of thunder. He growled as the booming thunder sounded closer than before, alerting Hiccup of his growing distress.
"Hey, hey, it's okay, bud," Hiccup soothed, patting the Night Fury's head until he eased down.
After the events concerning the dragon hunters almost capturing the Skrill less than a week ago, Toothless has been uneasy at the sight of a storm and it didn't help that a storm had visited the island almost every day for the past week. Hiccup didn't really know why Toothless had become so skittish even though he made peace with the Skrill when he decided to release it.
"It's just a bit of thunder, don't worry about it, alright?" Hiccup turned back to the Dragon Eye and started to tinker once more, prodding at the same intricate designs on the contraption and pressing the same buttons near the lens."But if you think about it, the bad weather might be a good thing. It means Dagur and Ryker are stuck on an island until the weather clears enough to give them smooth sailing, giving us enough time to plan and free the dragons they've captured. With all the delays they're probably not too far ahead."
Toothless grumbled at his rant, resting his head on his paws and continued to gaze wearily at the dark clouds approaching. Soon the dark clouds pushed away the clear skies and rain poured heavily on the island, like tiny catapults of water trying tirelessly to break through the roof. The rest of the riders arrived shortly after the fourth clap of thunder, soaked to the bone, followed by their dragons.
"These storms must really love this island to come visit by almost every day," said Fishlegs, shivering as he came over to warm himself over the fire.
"Yeah, no kidding, this is like the fifth storm this week, what's up with that?" Tuffnut said, shaking his head furiously like a dog, trying to rid his hair of rain water, droplets of water flying everywhere much to everyone's annoyance.
"Tuff quit it!" Hiccup said, shielding his face with his arms. When the long haired blonde stopped with a sheepish smile, he sighed. "I don't know why either but I'll take it as a good thing, this storm will delay Dagur and the dragon hunters from sailing to the sea, it would be too dangerous anyway and it would give us time to prepare for our next rescue mission."
"But don't you think it's weird that a week long storm comes by out of the blue?" Astrid said, sitting next to him with a plate of yak meat and a loaf of bread.
"Or maybe, that Skrill could still be following us after we tried to trap it in that glacier again…" Fishlegs whimpered, hugging Meatlug close.
"I don't think so, Fishlegs, besides I think we've left on good terms." A thankful bow from the fearsome dragon was not hard to miss when it was standing right in front of them.
"Skrill-shmill! Shouldn't we be more focused on what we're going to do? I mean, what if this storm goes on for a few more weeks? Are we just going to sit here all day and do nothing? I'm bored!" Snotlout said through a mouthful of yak. Fishlegs scrunched his face in disgust as a piece of yak landed near his arm and he subtly tried to scoot away from the messy eater.
"The storm will clear, just don't worry about it and if it doesn't then we'll fly to the hunters as soon as the rain stops, happy?" Hiccup rose his brows as Snotlout looked thoughtful, but a smug smirk was plastered on his lips.
"Hm… So-so," he motioned with his hand, making Hiccup roll his eyes.
His fingers absentmindedly traced the engravings and designs of the Dragon Eye. His thoughts turned to the band of dragon hunters and Dagur. He worried that Ryker and his men have turned impatient and had ridden the seas long ago despite the dangerous weather, leaving them in the dust. His hand unconsciously gripped the Dragon Eye, making his knuckles turn white and Toothless gave a small whimper at the sight of his subtle display of anxiety.
He felt a nudge to his side and he turned to find Astrid staring at him in concern. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I-I'm fine… I'm just- I've got a bad feeling about something."
"About Ryker and Dagur?"
"No, uh, I mean yes! Ugh, I can't explain it," Hiccup rubbed his forehead. "A tiny part of that bad feeling is the dragon hunters and Dagur but the other part is for… something else?"
"What else could it possibly be other than Dagur and the dragon hunters? They're the only things that we've been focusing on right now, duh!" Snotlout said, chugging down his cider.
"So this gut feeling you have," Astrid began. "You think that it's something other than Ryker. Something bigger? Should we be worried?"
"Since when did start trusting a 'gut feeling' huh?" Tuffnut said. "We've had lots of those and yet nobody listens to us." Ruffnut nodded with her brother with arms crossed, staring at them with raised brows.
"Maybe because your gut feelings result to either chaos, a burnt watch tower, and massive explosions," Fishlegs pointed out.
"Hm, fair point."
Hiccup shook his head at their antics and he looked back at the item in his hand. It was then that he managed to place a name on that bad feeling. It was dread.
Dagur watched silently from the entrance of his tent as the dragon hunters hauled in their recently captured dragons. They didn't seem bothered by the rain or the mud that clung to their skin. They had ported on the nearest island as soon as they saw the dark clouds roll in, Ryker and his men didn't waste any time to search the place for dragons. They've been stuck there for four days and he's getting impatient.
Ryker suddenly came into his line of sight, looking completely in rage as he stomped past the muddy earth and towards a group crowding around a caged dragon. The wheel of the carriage it sat on was stuck in the mud and the hunters were having trouble getting it out. The large man roughly pushed aside the nearest hunter, making Dagur giggle madly as he landed in a puddle of mud.
"What's so funny?" A voice said beside him.
He turned to find his sister, Heather, pull back her hood and wipe the droplets of water her cloak had collected. Vivid green eyes stared at him curiously and he shrugged, turning his attention back to the amusing display before him.
"Nothing, nothing at all, sister." He chuckled again as Ryker took a man by his tunic and shoved him to the cage, the Monstrous Nightmare inside nearly grabbing hold of the man with its talons.
Heather followed his line of vision and rose her brow. "Ryker's getting grumpier than usual."
"Well, what do you expect? We've been here for four days, there's nothing to do and the rain could ruin our supplies if it keeps up. I can't blame, Rykie, though, he's supposed to bring the dragons back to the base two days ago," Dagur says nonchalantly, taking his battleax and running a finger on the blade. "He did say something about leaving tomorrow in the early morning if the storm stops and if the sea calmer than it is now. Oh, but those lovely bolts of lightning reminds me of my Skrill," his face suddenly shifted into anger. "Curse you, Hiccup!"
Heather stayed silent as she watched her brother's eye twitch and his snarl deepen. She reminded herself to send Hiccup a message concerning Ryker's plan for tomorrow, she had a feeling that the rest of the riders were feeling restless. She hasn't had a proper flight with Windshear the past four days, the storm always came before she could even hop on the saddle.
"Heather!" A voice snapped her out of her train of thought and she found herself staring at the annoyed face of Dagur. "Hello, are you in there? Did you suddenly turn deaf or something?"
"S-sorry, I was lost in thought, what were you saying?" She cursed herself for being so careless, she didn't want Dagur suspecting anything, he's unpredictable.
Dagur rolled his eyes. "I said that there's something that our dear Ryker is hiding from us."
"What do you mean?"
"Can't you see it? Well, I'm not really surprised with all that day dreaming you've been doing," Dagur let out a laugh at his own joke and Heather had to bite her tongue to keep from shooting back a remark. "Anyway, I overheard him talking about a client and some hefty amount of gold that he said they've been leeching off from the dragon hunters' stash, must be another reason why he's in such a bad mood."
Client? What client? Were Ryker and his men collecting dragons for this 'client' of theirs? Is that why he was making a fuss about being late because every second passed would be a gold coin fee for this so-called client? She thought they held auctions for the dragons. She had to tell Hiccup about this new information.
Heather faked a yawn, catching her brother's attention. "I'm going to retire for the night, see you in the morning."
She pulled her hood up and walked to her tent, hearing Dagur's voice calling to her despite the deluge. "Sleep well, sister. May your dreams be sweeter than honey."
The dark chuckle that followed only promised her nightmares.
Somewhere towards the east, inside a bar full of drunken men, sat a hooded figure sitting at a table in the corner, a plate of cheese and tasteless bread sat before them, untouched. They watched in silence as the drunken men clinked their glasses and sang slurred jigs. The reached out and grabbed hold of the bread, intending to take a chunk out when the plate flew across the room and hit the opposite wall.
The heavily cloaked stranger paused, the loaf of bread in their hand being saved from the same fate as the cheese. Two beefy hands gripped the corners of the table, catching their attention.
"I ain't seen yer face here before..." the deep voice said, but in his drunken state it sounded more like: 'I yai' zee ye faze 'ere b'fur.' The man leaned closer, eyes squinting and sour breath managing to travel under the figure's hood. The leaned back to avoid the smell, tearing a small chunk from the loaf.
"Oi, I'm talkin' to ya, ya lazy, drunk bastard!" Nobody seemed to hear him, his loud insult fell short to the loud singing around them. The stranger merely placed the chunk of bread underneath their hood to eat.
"Deaf are ya? Yer face must be as horrid as a yak if yer hidin it, eh boys?" He shouted over his shoulder to no one in particular. When he saw no reaction from the stranger he leaned forward, almost tipping himself over, to slap the bread off of their hand. "Aye? What's that? Ya wanna fight?"
The man delivered a drunken swipe at the stranger, completely missing as it sailed over their head. He instead lost his grip on the table and planted his face on the wooden floor, his mind dizzy. He tried to get up on his feet and surprise the stranger with another swing but he was forced back down, nose pressing painfully against the wooden floor. He cried out as the boot pressed harder against his head, the jovial and boisterous singing drowning out his cries.
Despite his drunken state, he could hear the warning bells in his head and he had enough strength to turn his head and stare up at the shadow underneath the hood. His eyes caught the glint of a dagger underneath the stranger's fur cloak and it was then he knew that he was staring straight at the face of death.
He suddenly felt the wetness in his pants and smelled the scent of his urine. He began to blubber apologies but they paid no heed, when he began to call for help, the toe of their boot dug on his lips, drawing blood. He watched fearfully as the dagger drew closer and closer.
Nobody in the bar could ever hear the muffled cries of the dying man, too drunk and loud to pay attention to anything else other than their mead. Nobody would take notice of the body lying on the floor, thinking nothing of the drunk man laying on his on waste, not until the early morning when they kick out the other drunken men, a puddle of blood covered his front where a dagger dug deep into his chest.
Nobody will know that his killer was already traveling across the sea to the waters of the Barbaric Archipelago.