III.
Toothless' wing shielded Hiccup from the worst of the crash. Still, his shoulder jolted up against his armor, banging against the floor of a plateau of ice. He tried to ignore the pain, immediately launching himself onto his foot and peg leg to fight whatever attackers had brought Toothless down. As he did so, he reached for his sword on his right side, pushing a switch to extend the blade and light it on fire. He could hear Toothless growling menacingly at the same time some men shouted in astonishment. Quickly he cut Toothless's bonds before he turned around to face them.
"Stay back!" he called out even as he saw his assailants for the first time. They appeared like rather ordinary Viking men, sporting beards, fur coats, fuzzy boots, and an assortment of large-buckled belts. Many of them backed away in shock as Hiccup slashed the air with his flaming sword. Only one, in fact, appeared truly unintimidated by Hiccup's display, a young, clean-shaved man maybe four or five years Hiccup's senior, garbed in furs, who wore his shoulder-length near-black hair back in a loose ponytail. Dark eyes, either mottled hazel or brown in coloration, intently stared at Hiccup beneath a set of thick eyebrows. He stayed his distance from Hiccup as he spoke. "Step away from the dragon," he commanded in a resonant voice, "and surrender now."
His companions, drawing themselves up, notched crossbows and aimed them all at Toothless and Hiccup. Hiccup could not precisely count their numbers – there were probably about a dozen of them, maybe more hidden amongst crags in the ice – but it was more than enough to assure he and Toothless could not fly off and escape.
"Step away from – uh – what are you doing?" Hiccup asked, baffled. Of course he remained his ground right next to Toothless. "Surrender? I – I – I'm not a threat, I assure you, I'm –"
Before Hiccup could explain his purpose, the young man cut him off and stated, "You might have an ice-spitting dragon and more on your side, but believe me, you're not getting away." The man trod forward with a swagger and a smirk to his face. His long tattooed chin sported five vertical stripes which only emphasized his cocky grin. "Where is that ice-spitter now, by the way?"
"An ice-spitting dragon? What? Is that what caused all this?" Hiccup gestured with his right hand toward the broken mounds of wood and stone embedded in the ice. A few men around him glanced nervously up to the glacier's frozen peaks. Since some areas still smoldered from fire, and other places shuddered from the impact of ice, likely as not their attacker, or quite potentially attackers plural, had left not too long ago.
And apparently these men believed that their assailants had never left at all. Not in how they tightly gripped their weapons, knuckles whitening over halberds and swords, fingers stroking bows and arrows, eyes never leaving their intended target did they choose to loose a shaft. Not in how their leader spoke. "Quit pretending you know nothing. Drago's had enough of all this mischief."
Hiccup frowned. "What? Drago? Mischief? Does anything you say make sense?" He glanced at Toothless, as if the dragon might supply him a few answers since his ambushers were clearly talking nonsense. Toothless provided a noncommittal groan from his throat.
One of the other men, standing right beside their leader, leaned in and whispered, "I don't think he's the dragon rider. The Vigilante."
"Maybe. You really don't know?" The young man with the chin tattoos furrowed his thick eyebrows, clearly quite surprised, but at least now this meant he clearly doubted Hiccup's role in the ice attack. He waved to his men to sheath their weapons. Some – but not all – complied. "There are other dragon riders besides the Vigilante?"
"A whole island-full," Hiccup answered.
That caused everyone to pause.
"Do you happen to know," the man voiced slowly, "if one those dragon riders on your island has been attacking our ships and forts?"
"No, I – I have never heard anything like this. I don't even think anyone on our island knows you exist… uh… strange hostile person I never met."
"Oh, excuse me for my poor manners." The man bowed down low, perhaps cockily, perhaps mockingly, or maybe a fair combination of both. The two traits needed not be mutually exclusive. "I am Eret, son of Eret. The finest dragon trapper around."
"So that's why you want to find this… other rider… is it?" Hiccup asked, still trying to comprehend the fact that more than just the Hairy Hooligans of Berk had managed to fly on dragons. Despite the clear antagonistic nature of this Vigilante, Hiccup almost wanted to meet him. "You want to find him to trap his dragon?"
"This dragon rider, whom we've started calling 'the Vigilante'," Eret said, beginning to pace in front of Hiccup as he narrated, "is the reason we started trapping dragons in the first place. Or, at least, trapping them more regularly. I suppose we've always captured and killed a few dragons – those which invaded and attacked our homes, of course – but once the Vigilante appeared leading his army of wild dragons, Chief Drago decided we had no choice but to defend ourselves."
"So this rider just started – well, attacking you? For no reason at all?"
"None that we know of. No one has ever been successful speaking to him, and nor has anyone been able to stop or capture him. The last time I tried, I received this." Eret pulled down his shirt to bare the left side of his chest, displaying a mottled red and pink calloused mark that likely as not still chafed when it rubbed against his shirt. Hiccup cringed at the sight. "That burn mark was from one of the dragons who attacked us several months back."
"And the attacks are only worsening," Eret continued. He pointed at Hiccup with his sword, but this time it seemed only an idle gesture, nothing unfriendly. "You should watch yourself. You and all your… dragon-riding… people. I don't know what the Vigilante's game is, but if his aggression gets any worse and spreads any further, your people could be in danger, too."
"Good to know, I think," Hiccup said, green eyes wide as he tried to process all the information. He only now just realized his sword was still lit, and hastily snapped it off and placed it back in its straps along his right hip. "Now," he said, gesturing to several clusters of notched bows and arrows and trying to smile amelioratively, "would you mind putting those away? I think we've all established we're friends, right?"
"I'll believe you have nothing to do with the attack on this fort," Eret answered, apparently not so fully committed to the idea of being 'friends' as Hiccup was. "But if you return and we see any sign you're in league with the Vigilante, well, you won't be so lucky next time."
"I assure you I will never do that. And if this 'Vigilante' is so much of a threat to you, and, well, all of us, maybe it's time for our two peoples to work out an alliance."
The dark-haired young man's jaw dropped.
"Well, that said," Hiccup said, swinging his two arms awkwardly, "it's been… interesting… meeting you, and I have best be off."
"Yes, I suppose so." And Eret, with a strange unreadable expression in his eyes, watched Hiccup climb into the saddle and shout to his Night Fury to take them to the skies. The animal launched into the air with ease, powerfully beating its wings and gaining altitude quickly. Only when the rider and his dragon disappeared into the smoke did Eret turn around, pursing his lips contemplatively and wrinkling some of the marks on his chin, and ask the two Vikings nearest to him, "Think I did the right thing? Or does he know I'm lying?"
The smoke continued to billow before their eyes. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."