The feeling of riding feels different than riding a dragon. Apart from the obvious reasons, it's a little rockier than when I ride with Toothless. All of those extreme turns and flips and twirls and loops and still I feel awkward on a horse. We ride full gallop toward Tower 10. The ride lasts at least fifty minutes. A few hours on foot.
I peer ahead and try to see as best I can through the dense fog. The pounding of the horses' hooves echoes in my head. I periodically find myself peering from side to side, as if expecting Toothless and Gobber to materialize from the fog, running alongside us. I scan the rest of the group, and Dad and Skullette match my pace while Mulch and Bucket ride behind us, and Hunter and Lucas take over the sides.
Suddenly I'm flashing back to when I was in the arena. And we had paired off in pairs, prowling through the fog of a Zippleback's gas, learning what head we need to douse with water so it couldn't light its fire. Snotlout and Tuffnut had tossed their buckets at Astrid and Ruffnut thinking they were the dragon. Smoke, fog, mist. Things that can be good and bad. Shadows you from the enemy. But on wrong move, and you've just killed you ally.
Soon the shadow of an iron gate forms in the fog. I'm the first to slow to a trot. The others follow and I pull my hood up over my head as Dad rides ahead to consult to the guards. We all stop and I try to conceal my prostatic leg, which I just realize is a major giveaway. I watch as Dad talks with a different tone to his voice. After a few glances are exchanged with the guards, they nod their heads and open the gates.
We snap our reins and the horses trot in. As I pass a guard, I sneak a peek at the guard to my left. His eyes do a double take before he realizes I'm staring. But before he gets the chance to get a closer look, the gates close behind us, sealing them to the outside. We keep the horses at a walk as we stroll through the marketplace. Which is fairly similar to The Plaza back on Berk. We ride for a couple minutes until we reach a fork in the road.
One extends to the left, the other to the right. It seems like either choice will lead us back to the original spot. But the left side looks fairly more ruff than the other. While I normally oppose, they're ruff and tuff (Oh hey, I just figured it out) for reasons. If they're more feared, then they must have better weapons. I tell Dad my theory, and he agrees. We turn the left and immediately the horses' nay in caution.
As we're walking, they continue, and I try to keep mine calm. Skullette asks a local Outcast where we are. He tells us we're in the Lower Market of the marketplace. Another Outcast says to us s we pass his booth, "You newcomers are awfully brave coming through here with those fancy horses." He says with a snaggleteeth smile.
I shudder, and then I lean over to glimpse in his booth. I see several chickens hanging on a clothing line, tied by the neck. All skinned and bare. A co-worker behind him disengages one from the line, and after he sharpens a knife, I turn away just in time as I hear the man chop off the head of the dead chicken. Then there's the sickening sound as he starts to gut it clean.
Feeling sudden nausea, I snap my reins and the horse trots further down the market. Once I finally stop and breathe as best I can without gagging from the smell of unwashed bodies, stale urine and infection. Needing to walk it off, I hop down from my horse, and guide her through clenching the reins in my hand. I wrap my cloak around myself and push into the sparse crowds still drifting stall to stall in the Lower Market, haggling over produce, rubbing linens between their fingers to check for quality.
Flicking the hood of my cloak over my head, I make sure it hides every strand of my brown hair, and my prostatic leg that makes me so easily recognizable. Dad and the rest of my group come up by me, and my muscles slightly relax. If my cloak can't hide me, their bulk bodies will. I wrap my cloak in my fists along with the reins, so that it conceals my uniform.
Now that I think about, the Lower Market's main road leads straight to the Tower. Which our main destination. And as much as I want to just burn it and go, we need to stock up on supplies before we set fire. My heart pounds a little faster as I continue walking. I must be increasing my pace since I feel my father's hand on my shoulder and give me a small squeeze o say, "Slow down."
The first stall I reach is a trestle table laden with a few remaining crates of juicy pears and apples. Off to the side is a small gathering of thick-skinned melons. An old man with a long thin, gray beard squeezes the fruit between his fingers before loading it on a scale to weigh it. Ignoring him, I move on.
Mud puddles gouge the gritty road, courtesy of an early-afternoon rain shower. It's weird to think that while our campsite didn't receive any rain, further down south, they had a complete downpour. On Berk, being a small island, everyone experiences the same weather at the same time.
I pass a butcher, already cleaning his knives and packing away the last of his mutton, and wrinkle my nose as eh rusty scent of drying sheep's blood lies heavy on the air, mingling with the smell of mud. As I begin to move on, I hear Skullette barging with the butcher. I spin around and see she's brought one of her hauls. At least three fish. I'm about to protest until I see the butcher bring forward a leg of a sheep and trade it for the fish.
I would be impressed on her trading in enemy market, but I remind myself she's dressed as a peasant. It's possible he felt pity. And I need to remind myself that we should buy something before e go. But nothing really catches my attention.
Two more stalls down, I reach a candle maker's and next to it a bakery. Close enough. I trade some coins for four candles sticks. The yeasty aroma of braided raisin loaves pierced by the sharp sweetness of cinnamon buns wraps around me and my stomach beckons for the sweet delicacy.
A middle-aged man stands alone behind amid wooden tables draped in crumb-coated white cotton and covered with trays of his baked goods. I can't help but lick my lips at the layout. The sweets were on the far left end of the table while plain and raisin loaves are to the right end.
"See anything you like?" he asks. I jerk my head up and after processing he was talking to me, I order three plain loaves, three raisin, and five cinnamon buns. He readies the order and I notice his arms are adorned in flour, stopping just below the elbow. Enemy or not, I decide to respect him for his work. I can tell he takes passion in it. Like I do with my saddle designs for Toothless.
Once he finishes gathering everything together, he wraps them in a single checkered cloth, double-knotting it at the top. The smell of the mixed bread collides together to make a glorious smell that reminds me of home. And about my mother's home cooking. While I was too young when she passed, I could never forget how her food tasted, especially her sweet desserts. This is on way to be a little close to her in these dark times. Ironic I'm remembering my mother with enemy goods.
He hands me the order and naturally I say thank you. His face shows surprise, and for a second I'm afraid I've blown my cover. My hand flinches to my knife hidden in my cloak, but the man genuinely smiles a wide smile and says, "You're welcome."
His grim could be mistaken for a grimace, but I feel like it's the nicest thing he's ever heard. Ever. Probably and enormous kindness that never shows since it's always devoured by cruelty and greed her on Outcast Island. So I return his smile and even tell him to have a nice day. This makes him laugh and he tells me too.
After walking a few paces, I find Fishlegs is at my side, and this is the first time I notice his disguise. His hair has gone from blonde to mud brown and his clothes are a simple shirt and trousers. Not much off a difference. I feel a tap and Astrid's on my right. Her hair is down instead of it being in her normal Viking braid, and it stretches down her back and stops just as to where her spine ends.
I tuck my head down, hiding both my hair and my face beneath my hood. A man on my left is hawking a collection of hunting knives with leather sheaths. Giving his wares a cursory glance, I slide my hand beneath my cloak and run my fingers along the sheath I wear strapped to my waist. His knives are nice.
Mine is better.
Leaving my knife alone, I keep walking. The squeaking of my leg gets to me, and I keep looking from side to side, thinking everyone's staring at me. Feeling their glances through my cloak. While walking, I hear my Dad call me by 'son'. My name obviously not being an option. I hustle over to the booth he's posted at, and notice something about the caretaker. I notice the way his beard is braided, the style he wears his clothes. Similar to Gobber. Then I realize.
He's one of our undercover Vikings.
"Son, this is Oliver." Dad says. And we exchange a handshake. "Oliver, this is my son."
"So nice to meet you." He says, but I can tell he wants to scream my name to the heavens.
While they exchange words back and forth, I glance at his inventory of weapons. I find maces, swords, bows and arrows, knives, spears, axes, metallic objects I have no name for, even a couple tridents. Weapons, nothing but weapons.
"See anything you like?" the question repeats as Oliver discovers me staring at his inventory. Normally I only prefer to trade with Trader Johan, but he never has a variety quite like this.
"Sure." I say. And after spending a few minutes picking out what I want, I end up with an extra bow and a second sheath of arrows, to long knives I slide into my belt, and even an awl. Well you never know.
I'm suddenly feeling uneasy, and I can feel glances from the ongoing people. I nudge my dad and I guess from a look on my face, he says goodbye to Oliver and we continue on. But the sensation doesn't go away. I know we're being followed. Whether it's because we've been found out, because of the horses or our weapons, or because we're new in the town. I know we're being followed, and if we don't lose them the mission will be ruined.
My hands drift to my bow, and my fingers trace along the string. Wanting to have an advantage, I hop on my horse and break into a trot. The moon's begun to rise, and most of the shops begin to close. We try our best to ride through the market without causing suspicion. There's a small gathering of trees by the tower. As we're riding, some noise behind me forces me to turn.
"Hey, you new around here?" a male voice asks.
"Yes." A female voice responds. And my heart drops. I turn and find Skullette's horse has been stopped and there's a lean-muscled boy propped up against it. I immediately turn my horse. And while dad says she'll be fine, and even though I know she will be, I can't turn away.
"So how about I show you around town?" he asks.
"Wow, he's good." Snotlout comments. And when I turn to shoot him a glare, he shuts up. That's a first.
"I think I'll pass." Skullettte says. But as she's mounting her horse, the guy pulls her down. I notice Skullette's wearing skin tight pants. This must be what drew him in. Fury overtakes my panic and fuels me. If any boy saw her dressed like that, he won't hesitate to take what he thinks she's freely offering, and then I'll have to kill him.
"Aw, c'mon. One tour. A lovely lady like you shouldn't be walking the streets alone." He says with a sly smile.
I know his kind all too well. Womanizer. Player. Pig. Unlike Snotlout, who knows when there's a line he shouldn't step over. But this one doesn't. No manners, and doesn't know when to take 'no' for an answer.
"No. Stop." Skullette orders. But he just slides his hands down her back.
They had just reached her waist when my arrow braises his cheek and slicing off the ends of his cheek-length hair. He releases Skullette who runs over to me after I dismount my horse. I load another arrow in my bow as the boy removes his hand from his cheek, fresh blood soiling his hands.
"Leave her alone!" I shout with fury.
"And just who are you?" he asks.
I draw back the string, "Her boyfriend. And your worst nightmare. No one messes with her!" I say.
"Oh, and I suppose you're going to teach me a lesson?" he mocks, egging me on.
"Don't temp me." I darkly say, fighting the urge to release my string.
The boy draws forward a small knife, and I almost laugh at the sight of it. He's going to fight a knife with a bow. But then again, he probably won't even need to fully arm himself, if he's so confident with a simple knife, he must have backup somewhere. It doesn't matter, I can and will take them all on. Especially with my new weapons. I appear to them as if I have no fear, and no conscience.
My fingers are turning white, and since I see no one materialize from anywhere, I shoot an arrow, just missing his foot by a few centimeters. His reaction earns him a sucker punch right to the face. He crashes into the table which collapses underneath him and a crowd gathers around him. I use that cover to signal to the others, and the next thing everyone knows, I'm riding off with my group toward the tower.
No one seems to be in pursuit of us, and we leave our horses hidden well in some foliage. Fishlegs volunteers to stay behind and guard the horses while we scope the tower. I finally pull back my hood for the first time since we've arrived. It feels so good, and it takes a cold breeze to help me realize my cheeks are warm and my forehead sweaty. As I'm gathering my sheath, Skullette walks up to me, "You didn't have to do that, Hiccup." She says.
"Yes, I did. That guy was harassing you. And I'm your boyfriend I couldn't just stand by and let him talk to you and . . . touch you like that."
Skullette's quiet, and while I know she's grateful, something feels off, "What is it?" I ask.
She shifts her feet before she talks, "Well . . . I could've defended myself." She says, and I sigh.
"Well then why didn't you?" I ask.
"Well I was about to until you shot that arrow." She says.
"I was merely trying to help." I counter.
"I know." She says
"Then why are you mad?" I ask.
"Because, because you made me look helpless." She says.
"That's it?" I ask in disbelief. Is this really why she's mad? I was only trying to help.
"You made me look helpless, like I need help." She says.
"Skullette, no one thinks of you that way. And we both know you're far from it." I state.
"But they do." She says.
"No. They think you're a peasant girl. They have no idea who you really are, and if they did, then I would've let you handle yourself." I say.
"So if I wasn't a peasant, you would've let me handle it myself." She asks.
I sigh in frustration. Fighting with a woman is like getting arrested. Everything you say can and will be used against you. "Look Skullette, I hate to sound so sexist, but if you were to take than man on instead of me, that would've aroused suspicion." I say.
"What?!" she says like I've just insulted her. And maybe I just did.
"Look around Skullette. There's almost no female Outcasts here. Things are very old-fashioned here. And if you started a fight, we'd have people eyeing us nonstop."
She's quiet again and I'm hoping she see's my point. I'm hoping by admitting I'm sounding sexist, she'll go easy on me. As if on cue, my Dad steps in and adds, "He's right Skullette. It's a hard truth, but on Outcast Island, women have no rights to fight, and if you were to strike at that boy, then we would've spotted and possibly reported."
She huffs, but then relaxes her shoulders. To make things lighter, I say, "All the more reason why Berk is the best." This manages to crack a smile.
There's a snap of a twig, and when I turn, Gobber materializes from the foliage with our dragons. I greet Toothless and he gives me several licks. Once the reunions over, Dad assigns a handful of us to secure the tower. Me, Hunter and Lucas, Astrid and Skullette. Hunter and Lucas will create a diversion, like a small fire or something, and then they'll signal to me and Skullette to climb the staircase to the top. If we encounter any guards, which we're not going to, but if we do, then we have to make sure we're not seen.
Skullette and I sneak over to the edge of the tower, then once Skullette's done checking the perimeter, we wait for Lucas and Hunter to give the signal. Although the tower seems fairly empty since the fight in the market place must've stirred up some of the guards. It's a good thirty minutes, and I'm the first to see the smoke in the horizon. An Outcast runs up to the two guards posted outside and tells them about a fire that broke out in the marketplace. The call of a mockingbird signals.
Once the guards leave, Skullette and I round up to the entrance and slip inside. We climb the first flight of stairs easily on hunter's feet, not making a sound. When we reach the second, we hear footsteps. We both climb into separate corners, and using our legs we wedge ourselves in.
An Outcast guard casually walks down from the third floor carrying a spear. He sneezes and I guess the torch light must've casted Skullette's shadow, because as he slowly comes up since he bent over, his eyes wander to the corner where Skullette's hiding. Before he even reaches the top, I jump and slam my knees into his head knocking off his helmet and knocking him out cold.
She gives me a smile and we place the Outcast like he just fell asleep on the job. To add to the effect, Skullette lazily puts his helmet back on. We run up the next few flights not encountering anyone, but when we reach a floor with an extra room, we realize some of the information about the Outcasts is in there. We sneak to the doorway and I peek inside. There's another Outcast updating a map of the area.
I pull out a small pebble and aim it at the ink holder. Just as the Outcast was pulling out the feather pen, the pebble lands and tips the holder over, as if he had knocked it over himself. His hand is now covered in ink, and when he leaves to wash his hands, I sneak in while Skullette stands guard.
Since I'm the one with the photographic memory, I'm the best one for the job. I've just about scoured through haft the archives when Skulette whispers to me, signaling the man was coming back. I gather a few scrolls and books before leaving, including a book on Alvin's warfare, a few scrolls about the Outcast's weapons, and an older version of the map of the island, but I quickly scan the updated one so I know what to add later.
Before I leave, I ruffle some scroll on a few cubby holes so they'll look normal. Then I slip out and Skullette follows me up the next few flights just as the Outcast comes back to the room. We climb the next few flights of stairs and don't encounter any other rooms or guards. The tower's at least twelve flights high. We're about halfway up when we come to a window. We see dawn fast approaching. The horses and dragons will be spotted soon. So Skullete and I rush up the next few flight.
When we reach the eleventh level, there's a wooden floor door that locks from the inside. I unlatch the lock and burst it open. The guard turns and goes over to the board expecting to see one of the colleges, but Skullette and I have already slipped out before he even turned around. He scratches his head as I slowly crawl down from the corner on the ceiling.
He sneezes and I say, "Oh, hay fever?" with my classic rhetorical tone.
"Yeah." he responds. He gasps when he sees me, but the minute he turns, an arrow sinks into his chest.
Skullette drops down and gives me a thumbs up I walk to the railing of the optic section of the tower. I signal to Dad and Gobber and that's when Toothless soars to the top and we take off once Gobber is at the top of the tower, and Skullette's safe on the ground.
Astrid, Snotlout, the twins, and Fishlegs join me as we soar over the marketplace Toothless unleashes his high-pitched scream that you always here right before he strikes. The villagers scream and run in all directions. Unlike Alvin, I don't shoot, but instead, I do a full roundabout and head back to the tower, and after Gobber gives me the signal, the optic section of the tower is set ablaze.
Villagers scream and the Outcast soldiers try to shoot us down but the dragons easily swipe their weapons. And some of our undercover Vikings break through the crowd and take out the Outcasts.
Toothless lands on the railing of a balcony outside of the tower's optic section. The flames highlight my face and give me warm feeling since late autumn has sprung up. I was given orders to say an oath or a string of words to the Outcasts after we had conqueror their tower. Everyone, villagers or Outcast soldiers are rounded up in the market square and the Outcasts soldiers are cuffed and dragged up front to see me.
They cower in fear, remembering me when my cape was on fire. When the flames of a dragon were practically at my command. Scared to see a Night Fury at my command, able to devour them with a simple snap of my fingers. I can't hear what they're saying over the cracking of the flames but I can tell they're begging for mercy.
The rest of the world recedes. There's only me staring into the fearful and pained eyes of people who want nothing more than for me to show them mercy. Although I should feel empowered, I merely feel pity on people. I don't want them to think they're in for death or unimaginable torture. I want them to think that we're here to help them. To drag them away from this poor dark palace, and give them a newer, happier life, full of light and warmth.
It's now, that I realize what they see me as. A ruthless killer who has no intention but to ruin their lives and dictate their future. Seeing to it that they have the worst possible life there ever is.
Wanting to show them my true purpose, I hop on Toothless to fly down so I'm on the ground with them. Once I'm off, I approach them.
"Hiccup! What are you doing?" Dad asks.
"Showing them who we truly are." I say.
I take one mere step and the all lean back in unison. I take a step back and raise my hands in the air
"I mean you no harm." I say.
"Yeah right. You blew up our tower! Seems like you are meaning us harm!" and Outcast soldier says.
"Hush!" Gobber orders.
"No! No their right." I say.
"What?" everyone says simultaneously.
Before I can explain, suddenly an Outcast drags forward a crossbow and aims it at my head. My Dad steps in front of me, but I push him aside.
"No! I'm not going to hide behind anyone or anything anymore! I want the people to see me for me. Not some boy who causes chaos and destruction." I say.
"Hiccup," Dad starts.
"No! Listen," I turn to the crowd. "I know I blew up your tower, and I know I'm not your favorite person, but . . ."
As I near the crowd, the man aims his crossbow at my head. I instinctively step back and raise my hands. Freeze I tell myself. Not another word or move.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you." He says.
I try to search for reasons, but the one thing I say catches everyone off guard. "I can't."
Naturally, the next thing that should happen is the Outcast shoots me and then there's a giant riot. But he's perplexed, trying to make sense of what I said. "I can't. That's the thing."
Suddenly I'm forming my own plan. Instead of conquering the Outcasts and leaving them homeless, we turn them against Alvin and form an alliance. Join together and take down Alvin. It really shouldn't be that hard since Alvin naturally doesn't give anyone any form of respect.
I focus my attention back onto the man. "I mean, we blew up your tower, you attacked our people. You killed us, we killed you. And we now have every reason to kill each other."
Now I'm flashing back to when I was in the arena, getting ready to battle a Monstrous Nightmare. I had dropped all my weapons and tossed my helmet to the side. Showing the dragon I'm not one of them. Not a man who wants to kill you for domination or sport.
I'm not one of them I remember.
"I'm not one of them." I say out loud.
"What?" the man says.
"I'm not one of them." I repeat. And just like before in the arena, I throw my bow in the dirt and kick it to the man with my boot. It slides across the charcoal black dirt and comes to rest at his knees.
"Hiccup!" my dad says,
"No, Dad! No!"I say, and then I turn to the man. "I'm not the one who's going to destroy everything you love and own, and give you something so much less. I don't want you to think of me like that. I want you, all of you, to join us. Become our allies in this war. Fight against Alvin!" My voice is growing.
"You want us to betray our leader? You stupid!" the man mocks me.
"No, you're the one who's stupid." I say and this makes him aim his crossbow. I can feel the team shift behind me, but I hold up a hand to stop them. "I'm sorry. But it's true. Why do you stay with him? Why are you so loyal to him?"
The man lowers the crossbow, "Um, well I, uh. . . ."
"I mean, he doesn't respect you. He simply uses you to get what he wants. And what do you get out of it? A bad broken home, no food, and no reward."
The man is left speechless, and is now hanging on my every word. As well as the other villagers and Outcast soldiers.
"I mean, things just go around and around in a circle. You attack us, we attack you. You kill us, we kill you. But who does it benefit? Definitely not us. We care about our people enough to know when to stay out of a fight. But you're forced to fight every day. How does that make you happy?"
"You don't understand! Alvin's given those of us who have never been welcomed in society. He gave those of us who're contently shunned a home!" The man's shouts, but his voice is shaky. My words speak nothing but the truth.
"Maybe I don't understand what's happened to you, or any of you in the past," I approach the man and crouch down so our eyes are level. "But I know that this is not the way a man should treat his loyal soldiers."
The man stares at me uncomprehendingly. My voice is low and urgent. "And you and I have no fight except for the one Alvin gives you. We've never invaded you before. You've always invaded us. The only reason we're here now is so that we could, yes conqueror your towers, but also to give a new chance at life. If you haven't noticed, we've only burned down on thing out of your entire matketplace. And while it pains me to say that I've killed a man or two on this mission, I need to ask," I stare at the man, "What would Alvin have made you do?"
"He would've made us b-burn the entire village down." He utters.
"Regardless of women and children?"
"Regardless of women and children. The man repeats. Eyes watering, lip quivering.
I rise to my feet, "On Berk, we don't do that! We only defend if we have to. We spare lives! Why are we fighting each other?! With people who could've possibly been out neighbors, our friends?!"
I slowly rotate in a circle, my voice rising above the roar of the flames, "We are warriors! We are brothers! Whether you're an Outcast or Viking! We are warriors! We were made to fight, but not each other! Since when do warriors, brothers, condemn other brothers to certain death, then just stand by to kill the remains of those who manage to survive?!"
"In fact, just before we even attacked the tower, I went and shopped and bought something from your marketplace! I met the nicest man, and when I thanked him for his service, he smiled at me. I always thought that Outcasts could never smile, and only knew how to kill and attack. But I was dead wrong. And that man, his smile was genuine, he actually appreciated my thanks. And he showed me how Outcasts are people too. And I showed him how we are raised, and how we treat each other. He made it seem like it was the most beautiful thing that anyone had ever given him! I'll never forget that face. And I even got some weapons from another man! But I never used them on anyone. I used my own weapons, made by my own people. I would never use an enemy's weapon against him."
I turn to my dad and Gobber, "But these people – I indicate to the wounded bodies of the men and the charred gathering of villagers n the square – "are not our enemy!" I whip around to the crowd. "The Vikings are not your enemy! We all have one enemy, and that's Alvin! This is our chance to put an end to this man and his power! But we need your help." My voice rings across the square, and at the end of my sentence, my voice softens so suddenly, it takes the man by surprise.
Everyone's eyes are tight on me as I reach out to the Outcast, the wounded, the villagers. "Please! Join us! My brothers!"
My words hang in the air. I look to the crowd of people. Hoping they can feel the wave of emotion and determination I feel. I'm hoping that I'll feel their spirits rise with mine.
But instead, I feel an arrow penetrate my suit, and shoot me in the chest.