The next time I surface, my head feels a little light and I there's the texture of a trap spread across my body. Everything feels fine, there's no soreness or pain. But my body feels a little stiff. I'm still largely unable to move, open my eyes, raise my head. But my right arm has regained a little motion. It flops across my body like a flipper, no something less animated, like a club. I still have no real motor coordination. The drug must've dulled all of my senses.
I tentatively lift my hand above the cover and feel across my head until I've reached a puckered scar on my temple. It's relieving and rather exciting to know Goathy's managed to close the gash and even help heal my skin. Toothless seems to have snuck out to help the others. I drift off again once I lay my head back down.
When I fully, truly awaken, I can raise my hand and my fingers can move at my command. I still feel drowsy, but better than the last time. I push myself to a sitting position and hold on to the blanket until the tent settles into focus. My left arm is bandaged, but I can see small, fresh dots of blood. I swing my arm up and rip off the bandage, and almost gag at the sight of my arm.
Apparently Goathy wasn't thinking about looks while she was patching up the gaping hole – which I was right about. Now I have a lumpy jagged scar that ripples out over a space the size of an apple. My sleeves will cover it, and even in my Dragon Conqueror uniform. Which bring my attention to something else, I'm changed back into my normal clothes. Someone must've done it, and the thought actually creeps me out.
I bend my legs back and forth until I know they have a fluid motion to them. I'm nervous about how they'll bare my weight, but when I push myself up, they're a little wobbly, but after a few minutes of pacing, they feel steady. I'm a little hesitant about stepping outside, but I make myself push aside the tent cover and step outside.
The campground looks ten times better than the last time I saw it. The weapons have been posted on metal rack and most of the singed trees have been watered out. It wasn't until I learn from a Viking that I've been asleep or more precisely knocked out, for at least four days. I walk around the campsite, and everything seems fine.
"Hiccup!" I hear someone call. I turn and immediately find my neck wrapped up in Skullette's arms while Astrid wraps us both in a bear hug.
"Uh, girls I can't breathe." I say with a breathy laugh.
They release me and babble about how worried they were and how much I scared them. Soon I have Fishlegs, the twins, Snotlout and several other Vikings gather around me. My dad and Gobber push through the crowd and give me more hugs. I accidently yelp in pain since my dad's thick hands squeezed the lump scar on my arm too tight. He sets me down and after a hard pat on the back from Gobber, I go back into the tent with Goathy so she can wrap fresh gauze on my scar which still tends to leak some blood. But that'll heal on its own.
After she leaves, Skullette comes in and after I get to my feet, she gives me a long kiss me on the lips. This reminds me of how much I've longed for human closeness. How longed I've wanted to kiss her again. But I feel compelled to talk to Astrid. She was the one most affected while Goathy was treating my wounds. While Skullette was barely able to keep her composure, Astrid just broke down.
Before I can even think of an excuse, Skullette tells me she has to go help Gobber gather a few previsions since most of it was burned in the fire. I don't argue, and with a kiss goodbye, she's gone again. It feels like Skullette and I haven't been spending as much time together as we'd like. Just another catastrophe that the war has unknowingly affected.
I leave to go talk to Astrid, but not before I meet up with Toothless who's been with Gobber working on some new tail designs. We walk together and I manage to catch Astrid walking into a tent posted a few paces away from me. I walk in and find her sitting cross-legged, sharpening her duel-bladed axe with a stone. She looks up to me and gives me a half smile.
"Feeling better? Mr. Dragon Conqueror?" she asks rhetorically, but there's a hint of humor.
"Oh, a little. My head still hurts, and I think Goathy accidentally put an apple in my arm." I say, with a smile. There's an awkward pause, and a pain hits my chest. Ever since out fight, we've kind of held each other at an icy distance. "Uh, listen, you want to take a walk?" I ask.
She looks up to me in surprise, but she agrees. It takes some serious convincing to get my dad to let me leave the campsite again. But knowing I'm with Astrid seems to ease his nerves. We head to the woods after I grab my bow and arrows made my Gobber. The extra protection will be needed. While we walk, surprisingly, Astrid and I seem to keep up a good conversation.
We fly for a couple hours until we need to get back to the campsite. Once we arrive, we're called around the fire pit so dad can give us another briefing about today's mission. I can tell he's very hesitant about letting me join, but he knows now what I'm capable of, and how much I can endure.
The plan is to take the Outcasts from the inside out. We'll be attacking and decreasing their defenses from the outer wall, then storming the fort once they're numbers in men are easy targets. There's at least ten post towers bordering the outer wall of the fort. To make everything easier, we'll be numbering them off. Tower 1 will be the last stop since it's closest to the wall and has the most men all armed to the teeth. It's the tower that's also closest to the armory. Tower 10 is where we'll begin the mission then working our way up.
Debates fly back and forth on what tower I should visit. The debates surrounds around Tower 1. If I don't go, I stay alive. If I don't, I'll miss all the action and just arrive for the alleged surrender of the Outcasts. They were thinking about counting off by odds, so that I'll end up at Tower 1, but they think that I'll be useful in some of the even numbered towers. So even with all that debating, they just say they'll take me where I'm needed and if I'm strong enough. No doubt I'll be in more battles. Receive more injuries.
It'll be at least a week before we go, and I should use the time to brush up on my training. For a few days, in preparation, I fly around on Toothless practicing shooting arrows from the air. We do this twice a day for an hour, then it's off to a small deserted forest trail for running, then more shooting, then going to meetings on any updates about the plan. Every once in a while, I bargain with Gobber at letting me shoot from the ground. But apparently for this mission it's essential I learn to shoot while flying.
The remaining days go by in a whirl. I spend the rest of the week doing a brief workout each morning, then me and my squad are on the shooting range full-time in training. I practice mostly with my bow, but reserve an hour a day for specialty weapons, which means I get to use a sword, axe, spear or hammer of my choosing.
Sometimes we shoot at Outcast dummies to become familiar with the weaknesses in their protective uniforms. Unlike the wooden cutouts, for these, if you hit flesh, you're rewarded with a burst of fake blood. For me and Skullette, ours are soaked in red. It's reassuring to see just how high the overall level of accuracy is in our group.
Along with Skullette and Gobber, the squad includes five other Vikings. There's Bucket and Mulch, who add a little humor here and there. True, a blonde-haired girl around her late teen years, possibly early twenties. She's pretty fit and can hit things the rest of us can't see without a telescope. And there's a pair of twin brothers in their early twenties, named Hunter and Lucas. Hunter has short, brown straight hair, while Lucas has pitch-black hair that swoops over one eye. He constantly has to brush it out of his face, which has a boyish charm to it. Like he could be seventeen or eighteen if you had to guess. And a look closer, I notice that Hunter has one brown eye and one blue. They don't say much, but can soot the dust off your boots at fifty yards.
On the final day before we leave to go to Tower 10, we all settle around the fire pit, roasting fish and a wild boar Skullette shot. Gobber gets into a story about the history of how he and my dad first defeated Alvin and the Outcasts. Apparently a simple teenage rivalry morphed them into what they are now. While my dad turned out fine, Alvin became the horrible Viking we know today. I didn't pay much attention to it, but I start to trace back to when Savage stabbed me in the bicep. My hand moves the apple scar on my arm.
There's a thought that keeps nagging at me. If Alvin wanted me alive, then why would Savage inflict so much damage on me? Surely by keeping me in one piece, Alvin could use the potential of hurting to blackmail my dad. But by cutting and scarring me, something else must be going on. While Savage may have said it was some form of cruel 'initiation', it just seemed weird. Am I more useful to Alvin dead than alive? It's a definite possibility.
By killing the Dragon Conqueror, Alvin will become legend. He'll be seen as unstoppable. And even if he loses against my father, with my murder in his history, he'll be feared by all more than ever. But it still feels like he can't afford to waste my life, at least without prying the information of how to train dragons out of me. But that's never going to happen.
"Why does Alvin suddenly want me dead?" I ask out loud.
"I'm sure he denies that he does," Gobber answers.
"But we know it's true," I say. "And you guys must at least have a theory."
Gobber gives me a long, hard look before my dad answers. "Here's what we assume. Alvin has never liked us. But, it all started back when the villagers were voting for a new chief of the tribe." Dad starts.
"The Village elders organized a duel between the two most eligible men in the tribe. That being you father and Alvin." Gobber interjects. "And when Alvin lost, he didn't take it too well."
The rest is history, I think.
"And it made matters worse when you defeated him twice in the making. But even that can be overlooked in view of how well you connect with dragons." Dad adds.
"Then what is it?" I ask.
"Sometime in the near future, this war will be resolved. A new leader will be chosen," says Dad.
I roll my eyes, "Dad, no one thinks I'm going to be the leader."
"Yes they do. After all you are the chief's son, but luckily for you, the decision is optional." Dad says.
It's true too. Everyone knows that almost no one will probably listen to me if I become chief of the tribe. But knowing this, recently on Berk, we've passed a law stating that if the heir to the thrown is unwilling to lead the village, he or she will pick the next best choice.
For example, say if Dad was my age, and was unwilling or unable to lead the villagers. He would then handpick the next best choice to lead Berk. That would be Gobber.
I've never given much thought as to who I would pick to lead Berk in the future. In fact, I've never really thought about it at all since I can see my Dad as chief for many years to come. And frankly, I'm unsure of what to do at all. I could lead the village, surely. But if I were to die in the war, who would take over in my place? Astrid? Skullette? Women can be chief on Berk, and they're at the top of my list.
But a scary though hits me. If I were to die, along with my father, or even just be captured by Alvin, then he would be the ruler over Berk.
"So, even if he captured me in battle, he'd still kill me just to gain power over Berk?" The minute I say the words, I know they're true.
"He doesn't need you as a rallying point. As he pointed out, he'll take Berk for his own, and if he can't control the dragons, he'll just kill them off along with you. If you won't cooperate. Which we all know you won't." Gobber says.
"There's only one last thing you could do to add fire to the rebellion if you were ever prisoner." Dad says.
"Die," I say quietly.
"Yes. Give us a martyr to fight for," says Dad. "But that a last resort."
I peer down to the pocket where the Oleander berry is secured. It seems like no matter what way the war goes, it seems like me dying will make everything better, and/or will be my only option. If I die, the Vikings will have a reason to keep fighting if Alvin were to ever somehow rule over Berk. If I die, then the lives of those I love will be spared if we were to lose the war. If I die, Alvin will never learn the secrets of how to train dragons.
But if I live, then I will become ruler of Berk. But it's possible I'll be alone. With so many people putting their lives on the line for me, just to secure my future. I never wanted things to come to this. People dying for my safety, my future. If I really think about it, there's only one way to solve all of the problems presented. If I want to keep everyone I love alive, while staying alive myself, I'll have to surrender. But if I do that, and actually cooperate with Alvin, then Berk will still be thrown in chaos.
No matter which way I search for to get out of it, I'm led right back to, possibly my only option, I'll have to die.
My dad must see my staring at my pocket, because I feel his sturdy hand on my shoulder, "That's not going to happen, son. Not under my watch. I'm planning for you to have a long life." He promises.
"Why?" I stupidly ask since it will only bring him trouble.
"Because you're my son. And I will protect you until my last breath." he promises.
I know I should be appreciative since my Dad's willing to go out of lines for me, but really, it pains me in ways I can't explain. I'm trying to keep my dad alive, and he's trying to keep me alive. And we're both willing to die for the other's survival. If we were in battle, and one of us was about to die, one would protect the other, ultimately ending their life if it were down to that. If we mistakenly do this in combat, then the war will be over in a snap, and Alvin will have Berk.
Suddenly I'm faced with another challenge other than defeating Alvin. I need to convince my dad to let me die if the option was to arise during the war. Either that or at least stay as chief.
"They'll need you more than me, Dad." I start. "If we win, then they're more likely to listen to you than, your 'little embarrassment'." I say, trying to add humor by making fun of myself.
"But if we win, then what better way to celebrate then by crowning you as the new chief?" he counters.
"By crowning you as chief of the entire village of Berk and here." I snap back. "Besides, they're more likely to actually listen to you rather than me."
"But you're the Dragon Conqueror. If we win, then there's no way they can't listen to you."
"But I'm not a strategist. I prefer working behind the lines."
"Not if you agreed to be the Dragon Conqueror. That's a huge responsibility in of its own."
"I only agreed so that I could keep you and everyone else alive!" I shout. Everything's quiet, but I go on. "Look, I'm not fit to be a leader! No one would listen to me, and I only joined so that YOU could lead everyone if or when we win! I don't think I'm ready, and I probably never will be! So if the time comes when you have to save yourself or me, save yourself!"
Then with that, I chuck my fish – which was pretty much burned at this point – into the fire and dive into my tent and so something stupid like cry. No one comes to see me, not even Skullette, because I'm sure my words have left them all scared, speechless and second guessing their reason in even being here. Their main reason in joining the war was not only to drive off Alvin, but to protect me the minute I agreed to become a soldier. Now that I've practically ordered them to save themselves instead of me, the Dragon Conqueror, their starting to rethink of why they're even here if I'm saying they shouldn't save me.
I'm the face of the rebellion against Alvin. And if I die, then the ones I loved will be spared. Dad will be the chief of both the Outcasts and the people of Berk. And there will be eternal peace in the future. The truth I see is hard and excruciatingly painful.
My death will bring joy and happiness for the future of Berk.