Toothless's eyes reflect in the faint glow of the moonlight as he lies in his bed, protecting me from the night. He's snuggled close, and the cinders give off a warm orange glow. My Dragon Conqueror uniform lays draped over the back of my desk chair. The sheath of lethal arrows leans against the leg of my desk, the bow above my head on metal hooks. I stare at it. It's beauty, its purpose. It's lethal purpose. How many people it could possibly kill.
After tossing and turning for hours, my eyelids refuse to get heavy. I finally accept that it will be a wakeful night. And I need sleep desperately because out on the battlefield every moment I give into fatigue will be an invitation to death. The more anxious I am to find sleep, the more it eludes me. Finally I'm too restless to even stay in bed. Under Toothless's watchful eye, I tiptoe across the wooden floor. I begin to pace the floor, heart beating too fast, breathing too short. If I don't get air soon, I think I might collapse. But with my dad downstairs, I'll be forced back into this stuffy cage of a room.
I decide to sit on the roof, getting there through the skylight above my bed. The night's air is so sweet. I take in the scent of the sea, the trees, the grass, even the smell of a dragon's fire after it burns out. I don't want to call this a final goodbye. I would say my chances of living are pretty high, but I guess better now than after I'm lying unconscious on the grass. My arm bumps forward, and I find green orbs staring at me. Toothless slips out of the skylight in such a graceful motion, and then snuggles down next to me.
"What am my going to do?" I ask him, he perks his head up and just wrinkles his nose.
All of what's about to happen tomorrow rushes into me. My mind, my body, my veins. The thoughts become so severe and even scary I begin to shake. I try to go through several reason on why I should be fine. I've beaten Alvin before. I have my dad. I have Gobber. I've had training. I have Toothless.
I don't know what's making me shake, but I do stop a little. I would blame the weather, but tonight's actually the most beautiful summer night in Berk. Toothless nudges my hand and licks my face.
"It's okay bud. I'm fine." I lie.
I climb back into my room, and spend the rest of the night snuggled close to Toothless with my blanket, slipping in and out of a daze. Toothless gives a flick of his tail, and as I go to bed, I feel him lick my cheek after I say goodnight.
My dad comes to me before dawn, gives me a simple shirt and pants to wear, as we head to the seamstresses' shop for some final and rather last minute alterations. They simply attached a long flowing cape to my shoulders and that can be attached to my hood with a couple buttons to mimic a cloak. The material's fireproof so I can use it in case we meet any rogue dragons.
Once that's done, I suit up and strap the sheath to my back; which still surprisingly fits just fine with the added cape. Gobber shows up to escort me down to the docks and I find Toothless all saddled up and ready to go. Just as the boat arrives, Astrid and the others appear in a state of agitation. "Hiccup, they won't let us go! I told them they should let us go with you, but they won't even let us ride the boat!"
This genuinely surprises me. I had expected them to ride with me to the island, but I wonder as to why they were denied the trip. I go to my dad and tell him about the misunderstanding, but apparently, the boat's too small for most of us. I didn't think there were that many people coming, but as I'm figuring it out, Toothless suddenly begins to snarl, and I get a cold chill up my spine. I turn and find Mildew walking to the boat.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, not even trying to hide my rudeness.
"Well you'll be happy to know that Stoick had asked me to come along the trip so that I could share a war strategy." It takes everything I have not to face palm my forehead. I won't deny the reason of my father needing him for war advice, but the last thing I need is Mildew causing trouble while on the boat, even though I won't be riding on the boat at all.
So I ignore him and just walk straight to my dad to solve the issue with Astrid and the others. They're been in battle before and are more than capable of defending themselves. It's when I compromise with my dad to let Skullette ride with me as well as the others riding their dragons as well. Dad agrees and even results to riding Tornado with us. I can hear the Thunderdrum bellow out a low hum.
It takes some hard convincing to get Skullette to hop on Toothless, especially since she hasn't even rode him since the day she got here weeks ago. I think I was supposed to take her, but my training, after becoming a soldier consumed most of the time. I assure her everything's fine, and with a purr and nudge from Toothless, Skullette seams to trust him wholeheartedly.
As we saddle up, I struggle to keep my breakfast down. I'm not sick because of flying sickness, but because of nerves. Suddenly they're all rushing to me. All at once we leap off the pier, then with a few flaps, we rise up and become wrapped in clouds.
Skullette doesn't scream, but instead she squeezes my torso like a vise. Once she feels that we've leveled out, she loosens, but doesn't open her eyes. She keeps her head buried in my shoulder, and pulled close to me.
"It's okay Skullette. Everything's fine." I coo in an attempt to help her release her iron grip.
She lets out a few nervous whimpers, and as she opens her eyes, they're temporally blinded by the sunlight, but once wide open, she slowly lifts her head and peers all around. She stares in aw, just as Astrid did the day she rode with Toothless and I. she looks to me, and we fly higher so she can just run her hands through the clouds. Her face breaks into a smile. Her grip loosens to a relaxed hold. Finally after about five minutes, she rests her head on my shoulder with her arms wrapped around my torso.
After about ten minutes of flying, I ask my dad, "So what are we supposed to do when we get there?"
"Well, for today, you're not doing anything, but paying a visit to the wounded." My father says.
"What?!" I shout. I'm so shocked I accidently jerk Toothless to the side, causing Skullette to grip me tightly again. "Sorry. Dad what do you mean just visiting the wounded? I thought I was being involved in the war!"
"You will, Hiccup. We just need to get you started. We want to show you to a couple soldiers before we put you in official combat. I'll explain when we get there."
Great, now I can't wait to get there. The ride lasts at least half the day. When we arrive, it's around late afternoon, the sun beginning to set. The boats dock, and the dragons make a quick spiral decent to the ground since there's no official dock. I immediately jump off and confront my dad and Gobber about my assignment. They postpone the conversation until we've reached the secret hideout where we'll be camping until we're ready to invade. Dad hustles us off the road toward a row of wooden warehouses as a second fleet of boats reaches the shore.
Chief Boggs comes in with the next fleet of ships. This one brings a crate of medical supplies and a crew of six medics. I can tell by their faded white uniforms. Once the supplies are ready, I pull my dad and Gobber aside to talk to them.
"Why aren't I participating?! I thought all my training was to help you win the war!" I say.
"You will get the chance Hiccup, but we've suffered a loss after an ambush attack with flaming catapults and arrows. Several soldiers have been in refuge here for days. And now the only thing they need is to see you here, alive and well, and supporting them." he explains.
Hope.
That's what he's hoping I can give to them. Almost as if my face and just my being here will give them the strength they need to keep enduring this cruel battle. It's understanding, so I agree. But I still keep up with my dad to let me in on the action if and when it comes. The sacrifices I made will not go in vain.
"We'll take it one step at a time, Hiccup." Gobber says. "We'll start you out in the least dangerous situation that can evoke some spontaneity in you. The raid this morning seems to have run its course."
"And I want you armed with a squad of bodyguards, also." My dad orders. He places a hand on my shoulder. "Just let them see you. That will do more than any doctor in the world."
We all follow my dad down an alley that runs between two dull muddy-brown warehouses. Only the occasional access ladder to the roof interrupts the scarred wooden walls. When we emerge to the street, it's like we've entered another world.
The wounded from this morning's raid are being brought in. On homemade stretchers, in wheelbarrows, and carts, slung across shoulders, and clenched tight in arms. Bleeding, limbless, unconscious. Propelled by desperate people to a warehouse with a sloppy painted red cross above the doorway. I had expected bombed-out buildings and instead I find myself confronted with broken bodies.
While my dad directs the Vikings where to go, I can't seem to get my eyes off of the warehouse with the painted red cross on it. I begin to move forward, and when I feel a hand on my wrist, I turn and find Skullette.
I peer around and whisper to her, "I don't know if I can do this."
She must see the panic in my eyes because, she stops a moment and pulls me aside, "Look Hiccup, you'll be fine. The harsh reality is that this is what your dad and other Vikings see in the world. And you do too." She gestures to my prostatic leg. "You're one of them Hiccup. You know what it's like to be wounded."
"But that's different. I've never had to see all the, blood and guts, and euh!" I shudder at the mention of the gory things.
"Look Hiccup, this is the chance to prove yourself, by facing those things, you'll have conquered yet another mound in your life."
"But you don't understand. Those people, those images are going to haunt me. For the rest of my life. And I just know that they've all messed up the people in our village, somehow." I say.
Skullette stays quiet. This is how I know I'm right. I think back to when I was listening to Gobber, as he was extracting the poison of a Scauldron from Mildew in order to heal our sick dragons. I've seen a Nadder's spine slice through a man's eyeball like a grape. I watched my own arm get devoured by a Monstrous Nightmare. Then I suddenly begin to think of what my dad said back when I was fighting dragons. Just wait until you spill a Nadder's guts for the first time. And mount your first Gronckle head on a spear.
All of those images, even if I've never seen them myself, have always made me cringe. I don't know what Gobber was like before he became a Viking, but I know he's not the same man, whoever that man was, and he's long gone.
A man directing the incoming patients catches sight of us, does a sort of double take, and then strides over. His dark brown eyes are puffy with fatigue and he smells of metal and sweat. A bandage around his throat needed changing about three days ago. The strap of the scabbard slung across his back digs into his neck and he shifts his shoulder to reposition it. With a jerk of his thumb, he orders the medics into the warehouse. They comply without question.
"This is Commander Caesar," says Chief Boggs. "Commander, Soldier Hiccup."
He looks young to be a commander. Early thirties. But there's an authoritative tone to his voice that makes you feel his appointment wasn't arbitrary. Beside him, in my sparkling new outfit, scrubbed and shiny, I feel like a recently hatched baby dragon, untested and only just learning how to navigate the world.
"Yeah, I know who he is," says Caesar. "You're alive, then. We weren't sure." Am I wrong or is there a note of accusation in his voice? This must mean the word of my defeating the Green Death has spread, but apparently people must think I'm dead instead of wounded but alive.
"I'm still not sure myself," I answer.
"Been in recovery." Chief Boggs says. He gestures to my leg. "Lost his foot in battle, but he insisted on coming by to see your wounded." I decide to like Chief Boggs.
"Well, we've got plenty of those," says Caesar.
"And you think this is a good idea?" says Astrid, frowning at the hospital. "Assembling your wounded like this?"
I don't. Any sort of contagious disease would spread through this place like wildfire.
"I think it's slightly better than leaving them to die," says Caesar. And suddenly Astrid and I both know she did something wrong.
"That's not what I meant," Astrid tells her.
"Well, currently that's my other option. But if you come up with a third and get Stoick to back it, I'm all ears." Astrid then stays quiet and lowers her head. Caesar waves me toward the door. "Come on in, Conqueror. And by all means, bring your friends."
I glance back at the mob that is my crew, steel myself, and follow her into the hospital. Some sort of heavy industrial curtain hangs the length of the building, forming a sizable corridor. Corpses lay side by side, curtain brushing their heads, white cloths concealing their faces. "We've got a mass grave started a few blocks west of here, but I can't spare the manpower to move them yet," says Caesar. He finds a slit in the curtain and opens it wide.
My wrist can feel fingers coil around it. I know it's my dad. This simple gesture whispers, I'm right here. For a moment, I allow myself to feel young again. I'm suddenly a young boy, gripping his father for protection and aide. Toothless walks up and cocks his head to me.
I step through the curtain and my senses are assaulted. My first impulse is to over my nose to block out the stench of soiled linen, putrefying flesh, and vomit, all ripening in the heat of the warehouse. They've propped open a few boards to mimic a skylight, but any air that's managing to get in can't make a dent in the fog below. The thin shafts of sunlight provide the only illumination, and as my eyes adjust, I can make out row upon row of wounded, in cots, on pallets, on the floor because there are so many to claim the space. The drone of black flies, the moaning of the people in pain, and the sobs of their attending loved ones have combined into a wrenching chorus.
We have no real hospitals on Berk. If anyone was sick, we either went to see Goathy – whose home is pretty much like an infirmary - or we just died at home. Which now seems a far desirable alternative to what lies in front of me. Then I remember that many of these people probably lost their homes in the bombings.
Sweat begins to run down my back, fill my palms. I breathe through my mouth in an attempt to diminish the smell. Black spots swim across my field of vision, and I think there's a god chance I could faint. But then I catch sight of Caesar, who's watching me so closely, waiting to see what I'm made of, and if any of them have been right to think they can count on me. So I let go of my dad and force myself to walk into the narrow strip between the two rows of beds.
"Hiccup?" a voice croaks out from my left, breaking from the general din. "Hiccup?" a hand reaches for me out of the haze. I cling to it for support. Attached to the hand is a young woman with an injured leg. Blood has seeped through the heavy bandages, which are crawling with flies. He face reflects the pain, but something else, too, something that seems completely incongruous with her situation. "Is it really you?"
"Yeah, it's me." I get out.
Joy. That's the expression on her face. At the sound of my voice, it brightens, erases the suffering momentarily.
"You're alive! We didn't know. People said you were, but we didn't know!" she says excitedly.
"I got pretty banged up. But I got better," I say. "Just like you will."
"I've got to tell Gunnar! He's my friend!" The woman struggles to sit up and calls to someone a few beds down. "Gunnar! Gunnar! He's here! It's Hiccup!"
A young man, probably a few years older than me, turns to us. Bandages obscure half of his face. The side of his mouth I can see opens as if to utter an exclamation. I go to him, exchange a good handshake. Murmur a greeting. He can't speak, but his one good eye fixes on me with such intensity, as if he's trying to memorize every detail of my face.
I hear my name ripple through the hot air, spreading out into the hospital. "Hiccup! Hiccup!" The sounds of pain and grief begin to recede, to be replaced by words of anticipation. From all sides, voices beckon me. I begin to move, clasping the hands extended to me, touching the sound parts of those unable to move their limbs, saying hello, how are you, good to meet you.
Apparently, these people have been off the island for a while. It seems like the last time they remember me was when I was still knocked out after I had defeated the Green Death. Dad said I was knocked out for a few weeks. I say nothing of importance, no word of inspiration. But it doesn't matter. Dad was right. It's the sight of me, alive, that is the inspiration.
Hungry fingers devour me, wanting to feel my flesh. As a stricken woman clutches my face between her hands, I resist the impulse to push them off. It's when I see a young man, my age with a left hand missing, that I truly see, these are my people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me, why I belong to them.
I begin to fully understand the lengths to which people and my dad have gone to protect me. What I mean to the people of Berk. I have thousands upon thousands of people from Berk at my side. I was their Conqueror long before I accepted the role. A new sensation begins to germinate inside me. But it takes until I am standing on a table, waving my final goodbyes to the hoarse chanting of my name, to define it. Power. I have a kind of power I never knew I possessed. It appeared when I spared Toothless's life, Astrid knew it when I showed her I could ride Toothless, and now Dad knows too.
When we're outside again, I lean against the warehouse, catching my breath, accepting a canteen of water from Fishlegs. "That was amazing." He says.
Well, I didn't faint, or throw up, or run out screaming. Mostly I just rode the wave of emotion rolling through the place.
"I didn't do much, really." I say.
"You have to give yourself some credit for what you've done in the past," says Gobber.
What I've done in the past? I think of the trail of destruction in my wake – my knees weaken and I slide down to a sitting position. "That's a mixed bag."
"Well, you're not perfect by a long shot. But times being what they are, you'll have to do." Gobber says.
Astrid squats down beside me, with a crooked smile on her face. "I can't believe you let all those people touch you. I kept expecting you to make a break for the door."
"I know. So did I." I say with a laugh. Toothless sits down and purrs. "Not bad for a hiccup, huh?" I ask him. He nuzzles my face in reply.
"You did great son. Handled that better than I expected." He says. Better than anyone expected I think to myself.
"Is it like this all over the island?" I ask.
"Yes. Most are under attack. We're trying to get in aid wherever we can, but it's not enough." He stops a minute, distracted by a Viking that came up to him and is now whispering something in his ear. "We're to get to the boats. Immediately." Dad says lifting me to my feet with one hand. "There's a problem."
"What kind of problem?" Astrid asks.
"Incoming raid," dad says. He reaches behind my neck and yanks Skullette's helmet up onto my head. "Let's move!"