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Chapter 3
The Gathering of Chiefs
The first four days of the voyage to Owl Gut Island were uneventful—by which I mean they were boring. Nobody had anything to do except to pull at an oar all day long or sleep. The sky stayed completely blue, so anyone who wasn't rowing couldn't even try to find shapes in the clouds, and after the second day conversation had dropped to a minimum. There was simply nothing to talk about, save the possibility of the weather turning bad, which nobody wanted to risk bringing up, in case the Gods heard it.
Day five, however, turned out to be a very eventful day. It all began when Stoick spotted a Deadly Nadder flying not too far from the boat.
"Good," he said to himself, "this will brighten things up a bit,"
Due to three centuries of war, Berk's ships were always equipped with nets and large crossbows, in the event of a dragon attack. So Stoick turned to the crew and ordered those not rowing to take up battle stations and bring the Nadder down. They did so with a loud shout and within minutes nets were flying through the air at the dragon.
"It's down!" Stoick shouted, "Good shot, Olaf! Make for that spot and haul it in!"
They rowed fast and with effort pulled the unfortunate dragon onto the deck. It screeched loudly and frantically tried to fight back, but the nets were designed to get tighter the more one struggled with them, and one Viking threw a muzzle around its mouth.
"Right!" Stoick said, holding up an axe, "who wants the honor?"
Several of the crew, including Astrid, Olaf, and Spitelout, raised their hands but before Stoick could come to a decision an ear piercing shriek filled the air.
"NIGHT FURY!"
"GET DOWN!"
The front deck and the Nadder were suddenly encircled by a sickly green cloud.
"Zippleback gas," someone muttered,
"All weapons out! And for Thor's sake, nobody light anything!" Stoick ordered. If the Zippleback gas was ignited it would blow the ship into oblivion.
They stood with their weapons at the ready, but could see nothing. Then all of a sudden something heavy landed on the bow of the ship, causing the stern to rise out of the ocean. They could hear a scratching sound coming from where the Nadder was tied up.
"What's going on?" Stoick shouted as he raised his hammer, "Cover me, I'm going in!" With a roar he charged into the cloud. He had hardly gone five steps, however, when he collided with some black shape. The two fell onto the deck and Stoick realized the shape was a person. Stoick seized the stranger's arm, only to have it slip from his grasp. His opponent jumped to his feet, gave a strange cry, leapt onto the back of another black shape, and vanished.
Stoick was on his feet by this point when the stern of the ship suddenly fell into the water and he was thrown off balance again, and judging by the sounds he heard the rest of the crew had been too.
"Start waving your arms, get this gas out of 'ere!" he heard Spitelout order. When the gas was finally dispersed Stoick could see the Nadder was gone. The net was ripped to shreds, and there were many claw marks on the planks. For a while everyone just stood and stared, trying to register what had just happened.
"Well," the Viking manning the rudder said at last, "that was interesting,"
"What do you make of it?" someone asked him,
"It's quite obvious, isn't it?" Spitelout sneered, "That demon called for 'elp, and the Dragon King responded."
"Did you get a good look at him, Chief?"
Stoick shook his head. All that he had seen only confirmed the vague description they already knew. With a sigh and a shrug he ordered the crew back to their oars.
As Astrid pulled at her oar she could hear whispered conversations from all directions.
"Is he going to come back?"
"Why didn't he fight us?"
"Maybe he's gone back for more dragons"
"Or maybe he's a coward,"
"Why would he go back for more dragons? It's only needs one to set a wooden boat on fire."
"Maybe he didn't want to fight us, maybe he just wanted to save the dragon?"
"Oh come on, why wouldn't he want to fight?"
"Maybe he's a pacifist?"
"Do you even know what that word means?"
"Do you?"
"Yes I do, and a man who rides demons can't possibly be a pacifist. To do something so unnatural can only be done by a monster, and monsters aren't peaceful."
As she listened, Astrid began to feel a bit apprehensive as she considered their chances of getting to Owl Gut Island safely. The attack had been brief, less than two minutes probably, yet if the King had decided to fight them, who knew what could have happened? They were on a wooden boat in the middle of the ocean, there were no ships anywhere near them, and the closest land was the bottom of the sea. The one thing preventing them all from drowning right now was a plank of wood only a few inches thick. If the King came back and decided to attack them for real, they were practically sitting ducks.
She shook her head, as if it would dispel her fears. There was no point in worrying about what she couldn't control. The only thing they could do, she decided, was row faster and get to Owl Gut Island before anything else happened. And if the King did come back, well, if worst came to worst, they would all stand a good chance of reaching Valhalla.
Somewhat reassured, she looked up and Stoick on the bow scanning the horizon and talking to her father. Olaf gave a nod and came over to where she was seated.
"How are you holding up?"
She forced a smile, "Fine. So, no more trapping dragons, I'm guessing?"
"No, we don't to give him a reason to come back,"
"Still, if he'd wanted us dead, wouldn't he have done it already?"
"Maybe. The Chief says we have to go faster from now on. Now that we know he's a threat, we need to get to land, and the other chiefs are going to be very interested with this news."
They reached Owl Gut Island in less than two days, and without anything else happening. The day after their arrival the last of the tribes arrived, and the meeting was set for that night. Due to space constraints chiefs were told to only bring themselves and a few prominent villagers, therefore only Stoick, his brother, Olaf, and Astrid would be representing Berk.
Astrid could not help but feel awed and a bit intimidated when she entered the hall that night. She was fully aware she was in the presence of the greatest and most powerful Vikings in the world. These were the men and women who ruled the archipelago, and they hadn't gotten to such a position by being soft or weak. Nearly every chief was very tall, large, and muscular. An exception to this was Dagur the Deranged, the chief of the Berserkers, who looked rather scrawny when compared to someone like Stoick. Still, he was well known for a bad temper, a well earned nickname, and an almost obsessive love for fighting, especially against dragons, so his physique was never mocked to his face.
She turned her gaze on some of the other chiefs. There was Mogadon the Meathead, chief of the Meathead tribe, one of Berk's neighbors. Like most of the other chiefs he looked very intimidating, largely because of his eye patch and fake leg, which made him appear villainous and a bit unnatural. She didn't see his son Thuggory anywhere. Mogadon was busy talking to Big Boobied Bertha, the leader of the Bog-Burglars. She was a powerfully built woman who looked like she could pull a man in two without any effort. Astrid looked around for her daughter, Camicazi, but didn't see her. Maybe that was a good thing. Camicazi was nice and friendly enough, but she could be reckless, mischievous, and even a bit crazy. In fact, it occurred to Astrid that she might be the youngest person there. Most of the chiefs appeared to have come to the meeting alone, which was fortunate, because the hall was already packed full. There were plenty of chiefs that she didn't recognize, but Stoick seemed to know most of them and chatted with many them as if they were old comrades. One exception to this was a man covered in skull tattoos who was standing silently in a corner gazing about the room like a wolf looking at a flock of sheep to choose the one that would be the easiest meal.
Standing opposite this man was Gort, the chief of the Owl Guts and their host. Like Dagur, he looked a bit small by Viking standards, but he had a reputation for being among the more intelligent and level headed chiefs. Beside him sat his pudgy daughter, Marva, whom Astrid hadn't seen in years. She remembered the time when it a marriage between her and Hiccup had been discussed. When Hiccup had first heard the girl nicknamed "Marva the Larva" might become his wife, he'd fainted. Stoick might have gone along with the marriage regardless of Hiccup's feelings towards it, but Marva was very outspoken about her contempt for Hiccup and had shouted at her father when he had brought the subject up. Gort and Stoick later agreed that there were better ways to maintain alliances. Upon reflection, Astrid decided Marva might have vied with Snotlout in being Hiccup's chief tormentor had she lived on Berk.
Finally Gort went to the front of the hall and pounded a hammer on a table for silence.
"I'll skip the formalities and get down to business, if that's all right. You all know why I've called this meeting. There is a man out in there somewhere who can ride dragons. What are we going to do about him?"
"Do we have any proof that this man even exists?" demanded Mogadon,
Stoick looked about ready to respond but Dagur beat him to it.
"Proof? I'll say we've got proof! Do you know what he's done to me? Four times in the past 2 months he's stolen my dragons! Every time I catch one, he comes in the dead of night and releases it! My axe hasn't spilled dragon blood for weeks now!"
"So post more guards," one chief said drily,
"I have! He keeps slipping past them somehow! And it gets worse: he's stealing dragons all over the place! I've gone out dragon hunting many times and not seen a single beast after days of searching! He's taking them all for himself! If we don't act fast, there will be no more dragons to hunt and fight with, and then things will get boring! Why, we'll have peace!"
"I thought that's what everyone wanted," a man dressed entirely in black said.
"Not me! My weapons get lonely if they don't have blood on them." He looked at his axe sympathetically and said to it "don't you worry, little guy, once we find that man you'll be covered in blood again, and all will be well,"
"As for proof," Stoick interrupted loudly, "I've a witness here who's seen this man 3 times now and somethin' which didn't seem important 'til now. You're all aware of what happened to my son? Well, about a week after his…death, well, my blacksmith comes over to tell me that the dragons we had in our ring had escaped. I went to see, and sure enough, they were all gone, but not one cage showed damage. At first we all thought the Thorsten Twins had done it: they've been causing mischief since they were born, but they've never confessed to it, which is odd for them. Now that I've heard Dagur's news, I'm wondering if this man had been the one to let them out."
His news didn't seem to impress the other Vikings.
"Stoick, that's nothing new,"
"That happened to us last spring"
"It happened to me twice in the last year,"
"Does this happen every time you catch dragons?" Gort asked, and the other chiefs nodded,
"When we can catch them,"
"Aye, there haven't been many raids in the past 5 years,"
"We haven't had a serious raid for nearly 10,"
"So," Stoick interrupted, "this man is taking the dragons we catch and preventing us from catching more. Why?"
"I doubt anyone here could tell you, Stoick." Gort said bitterly, "But you said you had a witness, didn't you?"
"Aye, I've got one. Astrid, lass, could you…?"
Astrid told what all of her encounters with the Dragon King. Unlike the news Stoick had shared, everybody listened with great interest. Nobody spoke throughout the duration, but as soon as she had finished they at once began asking so many questions that it was impossible to understand what anyone was saying. Suddenly an all too familiar sound resounded across the room.
"NIGHT FURY!"
"GET DOWN!"
Everybody dove for the ground instinctively, except for one man. He remained standing and started laughing.
"That got your attention, didn't it?"
The other chiefs got up, some sheepishly, others outraged.
"That wasn't funny!" shouted Mogadon,
"Yes it was and you know it. The most powerful Vikings in the world dropping onto the ground like a bunch of possums. All because one person makes a sound to get them to be quiet so we can have a serious discussion."
Astrid eyed the speaker. She knew from his voice that he was the one who had thought peace was what everyone wanted. Now, like everyone else, she took the time to actually observe him. He was tall and slender, but seemed fairly muscular. He was dressed entirely in black, including a mask that covered his whole head, so she couldn't see his face or even his hair. The only part of him that wasn't black was a dull silver prosthetic attached to his left leg just below the knee. Astrid sensed there was something familiar about this man, but couldn't decide if she knew him or not.
Apparently, neither could the other Vikings.
"Is that the way you talk to your betters?"
"What's a 'possums'?"
"We are having a serious discussion!"
"We were until you started making your dragon noises!"
"Who are you, anyway?" Stoick demanded, "What tribe are you from?"
"Why are you wearing a mask?"
It took another Night Fury roar to get the room to be silent again.
"I represent 'The Sanctuary,'" announced the stranger, "my tribe is very new, so it's unlikely you know about us."
There was murmuring as people asked each other if they'd ever heard of such a tribe or if they knew anything about it.
"I didn't send a summons to any such tribe" Gort frowned.
"You didn't, and you wouldn't have. As it is, most of the members of my tribe are not exactly…well, fond of you guys. Some are very bitter in fact. Still, I thought that this meeting that might be an important moment in our history, so I felt I had to come." the stranger was clearly enjoying speaking vaguely and making everyone angrier. Dagur clearly had had enough, for he grabbed his axe and shouted "I'm sick of you already!"
"I'd put that down if I were you Dagur. You don't want to try me."
"Try you!" snorted Dagur as he pushed his way towards the man, "I think I will!"
"That's enough!" Gort shouted, "I summoned us here in the name of peace and common civility, and if anyone here can't behave themselves, I will personally throw them out right now!"
"I'd listen to him, Dagur," the stranger laughed, "you know, Gort, you're about the only Viking here I respect."
"I'm flattered," Gort replied dryly, "but I don't know who you are."
"Yes you do. You've been wondering about me for quite a while now."
"I've been—?"
"All right, I'm done with the games. Hello, assorted Viking Chiefs, I'm sorry for coming uninvited, but I thought it just wouldn't be right to not be present at my own meeting. That's right: I'm the one whom you've named 'The Dragon King.' Now that we've got introductions out of the way, why don't we get down to business?"