Author's Note: I had a nice vacation involving caves and coastlines and still managed to get in some writing. So much so that I will be releasing the next chapter on Friday (6/24/11) as well.

Onwards.

Chapter Eight: Full Disclosure

Except on rare occasions that usually involved near-death experiences, Toothless wasn't typically allowed in the house. The black dragon was a little too big to maneuver inside the home without knocking over a piece of Viking bric-a-brac, crushing a stool or chair, or causing a fire when his fireproof tail dragged a hot coal out of the fire pit. Like most Vikings who had taken a dragon into their families, Stoic and Hiccup had built a "dragon house" next to their own house. It had three walls and a roof and a small trough to eat from that was usually filled with the catch of the day. The ground was sufficiently burnt for the dragon's comfort and Toothless was more than happy to sleep in it most of the time.

Now it was his recovery room, the poor dragon looking more bored than pained while he leaned on his uninjured side and stared off at the dawning skyline. Hiccup had to suppress his urge to ignore the healer's instructions and give Toothless a little flight time, so glum his friend looked. Toothless could still fly with no problems, but the landings were problematic with his leg bandaged around the foreleg and joint.

"Mostly cod today," Hiccup reported as he dumped some fish into the trough from the woven basket in his hands. "Not your favorite, but they're what's biting."

Toothless sniffed the trough and took one of the offered fish in his teeth, swallowing it without much enthusiasm. He was evidently planning on making Hiccup feel guilty for every day he was grounded, but Hiccup wasn't going to jeopardize his pal's health any further than necessary.

"Hiccup!"

The gruff voice belonging to Hiccup's father rang out from behind him. Hiccup called out his location and his father poked his head out a nearby window, still working on one of his beard braids before starting the day.

"Tell me again where you're going to be," said Stoic.

"I'll be here for a few hours, then I'm off to the blacksmith," recited Hiccup. "Only place I can go now with everyone grounded."

"It's not forever, Hiccup," Stoic replied. "Just until I've determined it's safe to resume flying."

"How long are we talking about?"

"Let's get to the end of the summit without anyone dying, then we'll see."

His braid nice and twisted again, Stoic disappeared back inside. He'd be gone in a few minutes, but Hiccup couldn't wait that long. The timing would be cutting it close as is.

He leaned down to Toothless's head and whispered in his ear, "You're really okay with me taking off?"

Toothless nodded his approval, though he didn't appear to be thrilled about it. Hiccup wasn't thrilled either. He wanted to be doing this with Toothless at his side, but the window of opportunity for getting out of Berk by air was closing fast. His dad's order to ground all nonessential dragon flights meant everyone had to secure their dragons and/or their equipment before noonday. That meant he had to perform this little sojourn now.

Sure as clockwork, Hiccup heard the front door open and shut, his father leaving the house for the day. Hiccup relaxed as he checked Toothless's bandage one final time. His leg was healing nicely and the dragon could walk upon it if he had to, though not without reopening the wound. The bandages wouldn't need changing for some time.

The approach of heavy footfalls from around the house was Hiccup's signal to get moving. Hiccup rose and met Fishlegs as he walked toward the dragon house, the giant-of-a-boy carrying several scrolls and pencils in his beefy arms and wearing an enthusiastic grin.

"Thanks for doing this, Fishlegs," said Hiccup. "I didn't want to leave Toothless alone by himself all day."

"I should be thanking you," replied Fishlegs as he dumped his writing supplies on a dry patch of dirt near Toothless. "Now I can finally compile some stats on Night Furies for the book."

Until now, Hiccup had insisted on covering the Night Fury section of the Dragon Manuel, not only because he was the one real expert on them but also because he didn't want Fishlegs harassing Toothless about his wingspan size and average claw length. But desperate times and all that. Fishlegs had agreed to not ask questions about Hiccup's secret destination in exchange for "stats," an easy favor to fulfill.

"Just remember he needs rest, okay?" said Hiccup. "And if my dad comes by, tell him I went to get some fresh bandages."

As Hiccup jogged off toward his rendezvous point, he overheard Fishlegs telling Toothless how they were first going to measure his jaw size with his teeth retracted, then with his teeth exposed. Hiccup sighed – he'd better bring an extra-large helping of cod back tonight for Toothless's supper.

During the few minutes Hiccup had to wait on the top of the nearby ridge before his blue-scaled ride came to pick him, Hiccup tried to not over-think the coming meeting too much. Over-thinking using bred panic and there were too many genuine worries in his life already to fit in false ones. He didn't want to be drawn further into Nestor and Arc's affairs, not with the Gunnarr summit three days off, but yesterday had shown him that he was already well involved. If Nestor's word was true, he needed to know more to protect himself. Then again, if Nestor's word was true, knowing more would get him drawn in even further. Vicious circles were friendlier than where he was now.

His ride appeared from between some nearby evergreens rather than gliding over them. Astrid parked Beatrix for the time it took Hiccup to climb onboard behind her. Then they were sailing into the trees once more, taking a slow and carefully threaded route below the tree line to avoid detection.

"Feels weird to be the passenger for a change," commented Hiccup as they skimmed between a pair of brushy pines.

"My dragon, my driving," replied Astrid, rather enjoying the role reversal. "Also, two rules: no backseat flying… and watch where you put your hands."

Despite the plethora of dry duff surrounding his cave, Nestor's morning routine began with standing in a patch of sloppy mud, his eyes closed and his body relaxed. The mud was deliberate – Shrouding is disorienting initially and it was good to have a way to check your body's whereabouts. Mud held footprints better than duff.

He was trying to follow Arc's advice about Shrouding – how he had to modulate his thoughts to a certain pattern. He had absolutely no idea what that meant other than he had to get his barrier field to glow a certain way. Barrier field manipulation wasn't anything new to Nestor, but it still took a lot of concentration and practice to use it at the right time in the right way. Changing the field's "pattern" was something entirely foreign to him.

He tried his right arm first, shunting some of his field to that limb until his nerves began to tingle and then trying to shift the field as he'd been instructed. He opened his eyes and saw that his arm glowed slightly but remained fully visible. No results, as usual… until he looked down and saw that his left leg had vanished up to his kneecap. That was the most amount of his body he'd managed to Shroud since… ever.

Buoyed by his success, he released the field on his arm and sent it to his left leg, thinking that he might cause his right arm to disappear. Perhaps the problem was that he'd been working on opposite assumptions, so maybe…

No luck. His left leg reappeared and began to glow, but his right arm stayed visible. He then reversed course and tried to duplicate his earlier results. This time, his right arm glowed as part of his stomach suddenly vanished, making him look like he'd been the victim of a bloodless skewering.

It was still better results than he'd been getting since he'd actively began practicing Shrouding a year ago, so he kept trying different combinations of power shunting. To anyone watching, his body underwent a bizarre series of amputations and restorations over the next several minutes, culminating in one maddening moment when several parts of Nestor's torso disappeared all at once in an oddly orderly pattern, making him look like a human chessboard.

Nestor groaned and released his field entirely, too distracted to hear the distant sounds of wing beats approaching. This wasn't going to do him any good unless he could make his entire body become see-through all at once. But he was making progress. Maybe it was his mental state – he was still fuming at Arc and anger was good at disrupting one's concentration. Perhaps relaxing his mind further was the trick.

He took several long, deep breaths, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and closed his eyes again. He imagined his body disappearing all at once and repeated that thought over and over, letting the external world fade into the background as he sought to attain a better awareness of his body…

Then he heard someone's throat clear.

Nestor half-expected to see an army of Vikings standing before him as his eyes opened. After yesterday's incident he honestly didn't know how Hiccup would react. Even without Shrouding, Nestor could have hid himself. Arc had taught him well about the art of evasion and camouflage, a necessary skill in Nestor's line of work. But Nestor had told Hiccup to come see him when Hiccup was ready, and so here he was out in the open. If you were going to rebuild trust, you had to be willing to take a risk or two.

Much to his relief, Hiccup hadn't brought his village with him as he approached Nestor's campsite on foot. Much to his regret, Hiccup had brought someone. She was walking next to Hiccup with a battleaxe held in one hand, giving Nestor a distrustful glare. The girl called Astrid – he recognized her from the battle with the Guardian.

Nestor's life was already plenty complicated. This was not going to help.

"Sorry to interrupt your… whatever you're doing," said Hiccup as he and Astrid closed the distance to Nestor, who had appeared to be sleeping on his feet. "You said when I'm ready, and I'm as ready as I'm going to be."

"I did say that," replied Nestor. "Don't think I said to bring a friend."

"I figured out he was lying," Astrid said.

"She does that," added Hiccup. "She's also my ride with Toothless out of commission."

"Right," said Nestor, some guilt creeping onto his face. "How is he?"

"He's going to hate me after spending time with Fishlegs, but he's mending." Hiccup noticed Astrid was prowling around the bushes and the cave entrance as he talked, probably trying to seek out any invisible dragons or metal monsters or anything else that might try to end the conversation prematurely.

"He's not here," said Nestor toward Astrid, "if you're looking for Arc. I assume Hiccup told you about him. He won't be back for some time."

Hiccup believed Nestor on this point, though Astrid clearly didn't as she continued poking around the camp. He had concluded from Nestor's whispered instructions after yesterday's battle that whatever Nestor was about to share was not something that could be shared in Arc's presence. He had no choice but to trust Nestor when he said that Arc was gone, since Nestor was going against Arc's wishes on this occasion.

"You mean the talking invisible dragon that's been spying on us and doing who knows what else?" shot back Astrid, coming toward Nestor with a fire in her eyes. "That Arc?"

"Ease down, Astrid," said Hiccup. "We're here to talk, not to bite off his head."

"It's not his head I'm worried about getting bitten off," she replied. She scanned the area once more, not trusting Nestor's word about the lack of invisible reptiles, and then fixed Nestor in her gaze when she didn't spot anything unusual. "You strike me as a nice guy, Nestor, but ever since you've shown up Hiccup's life has been in danger every few days."

"To be fair, the grapple launcher incident was my own fault," chimed in Hiccup. Then he spotted something half-covered in brush near the entrance and recognized it almost immediately. "Speaking of which, is that my grapple launcher over there?"

"Ah, yeah, that," said Nestor, moving to the device and uncovering it. "I didn't think you'd mind if I retrieved it for you. I needed a diversion… and some firewood." He waved at a pile of torn-up logs off to the side, the uneven breaks suggesting that no axe was used in chopping the wood.

"I take it the tree didn't survive," said Hiccup as he went over to inspect his device. The saddle was still attached to the launcher and the grapple rope was coiled neatly on the ground. He'd have to get inside it to diagnose the misfire problem, but he was happy to see the launcher had survived intact outside of some sap stains and a few dents in the woodwork. He had dreaded the prospects of retrieving it.

"I didn't climb back up the tree, if that answers the question," answered Nestor.

"Are you two done?" scolded Astrid. "We have a bigger priority here. Hiccup and I only have so long before someone back in Berk sees through our little web of excuses and figures out we're gone. We have an hour to talk, and if I don't like what I hear after that, I'm personally hauling your butt before the village chief so you can explain yourself to him!"

Nestor opened his mouth, thought better of whatever he was about to say, and then said to Hiccup out of the corner of his mouth, "She's scary."

Hiccup adamantly nodded in agreement. "She made me promise before she agreed to stay silent. After what happened yesterday, either we get a good reason for keeping your secrets, or it's full disclosure to my dad."

"Your dad? As in the chief?" said Nestor, surprised by the revelation.

"See?" said Hiccup. "Not much fun being kept in the dark about important stuff, is it?"

"Touché. Salo krebit, this just gets better and better." Nestor then turned to Astrid and adopted a conciliatory tone. "Firstly… nice to see you again, Astrid. Secondly, if I can't convince you both to maintain secrecy, then I'll personally walk myself up to your chief and give him a formal introduction."

Nestor motioned to a pair of newly cut logs that he'd positioned near the cave entrance, Hiccup and Astrid taking seats on one and Nestor taking the opposite. There was a palpable silence as Nestor gathered his thoughts, Hiccup anticipating and dreading what the man had to divulge.

"Arc is the expert storyteller," began Nestor. "But you have me instead. I imagine the best way to do this is to start at the beginning and work my way to current events.

"The village of my birth is far to the south of here, toward the other end of the continent. We were landlocked, with no real problems from dragons or Vikings or even tax collectors. We did have a reoccurring plague problem, though, which might explain why no one ever invaded it. Ever few years it swept through and claimed a few people. We weren't like your people – our greatest enemy wasn't something you could fight off and we lived life in quiet despair of the future. My parents died early in my life during one of those plague sweeps and I was living with some relatives when I first ran into Arc… literally.

"There I was, an eleven-year-old boy by myself, exploring a clearing several miles outside the village, running smack into a see-through dragon who was sleeping off a long flight from the east. I woke him up and surprised him, with little petrified me too amazed and scared to run for it. But he wasn't threatening – he was mostly amused at seeing this dumb kid chance upon him. He could've left, could've chased me off with some warning about eating my head if I ever told anyone about him, but instead he looked at me very curiously and said that he'd make me a deal. If I came to him once a week and brought a few interesting tales with me, whether village gossip or exotic legends, he would tell me something interesting as well. He promised me he had much to tell.

"That's the first deal I made with him – conversation. No power, no soul-selling, nothing like that. He'd found a peaceful place to hide for a time, but he needed a little intelligent interaction to keep his mind from stagnating. And for almost four years after that, we exchanged stories. I never felt like it was a fair trade, considering the meager stories I could come up with. I'd come see Arc with my Uncle Terry's oft-told tale about getting lost in the woods for four days and having to eat a butterfly, and he'd tell me about the Artisans."

"And they're important?" asked Hiccup.

"Extremely," said Nestor. "The most important thing you've never heard of. Keep in mind, I have only Arc's perspective to go on, but I've seen enough supporting evidence over the last few years to believe every word.

"Tens of thousands of years before the Egyptians and the Greeks and the Romans had their time in the sun, the Artisans had their empire. It wasn't all that big, mostly contained to a string of islands in some lost section of the ocean, but the Artisan presence could be felt all over the world. It helps when your empire relies heavily on dragon power. You get around quicker."

"Dragons? Were they like us, then?" asked Astrid.

"Hard to say," said Nestor. "It was the only empire in history that actually coexisted with dragons. There was even a super-intelligent species of dragon that worked with the humans to develop some very impressive technology; things that make your catapults look more like slingshots. Arc called them the Ancestors, and they were the ones that worked a bit of magic into the mix. The biggest thing they accomplished was merging mystical energy into metal, not just to forge it and make it stronger but to give it a certain amount of life."

"Life?" said Hiccup. "As in motion? As in the skele-bull thing we fought back on the Mainland?"

Nestor nodded. "It's called a Guardian. They come in various flavors, but they all do the same thing – they guard something. According to Arc, the Artisans had far more powerful things than that at their disposal."

"If they were so powerful," said Astrid, "then why aren't we all speaking… uh, Artisan?"

"Artisanie," clarified Nestor. "What happened was what happens to any empire over time – divisions form, governments get weaker, hostilities break out. The Artisan Empire lasted a few centuries, which is pretty good for your average empire, but some schism occurred between the Artisans and the Ancestors and… they blew themselves up."

"They blew themselves up?" said Hiccup, mortified by the idea. "How?"

"Imagine a form of magic powerful enough to drop an active volcano on your lap," said Nestor. "Then imagine someone using it. At the height of the End War – that's what Arc calls it – someone triggered such a huge explosion that it obliterated the Artisans' island chain. The Artisans and the Ancestors were utterly annihilated. Humanity itself survived the ordeal… barely, but the Ancestor race went extinct afterwards, which is why the dragons you know aren't big on civilization."

Hiccup didn't want to imagine it. He had had more than enough nightmares about his village burning down around him thanks to careless dragon fire and angry Gunnarr invaders. He'd seen Red Death turn a dozen longboats into floating rubble within seconds. And here was Nestor telling him that there were worse things than that. He might never have a peaceful dream again after today.

"That's… pretty disturbing," said Astrid, as perturbed by the history lesson as Hiccup. "But if the Ancestors all died out, what exactly is Arc?"

"Ah, yeah, Arc," said Nestor. "Turns out that both the Ancestors and the Artisans had some inkling that the war might not end well for either side. The Artisans created a few hidden locations across the world called Shadow Halls, places that they could store secrets for their posterity's sake. Those locations are lost to the ages… mostly. But the Ancestors went a different route. They created an essence, a powerful energy form that contained all of their collected knowledge and a fair amount of their mystical power. To ensure that at least some of their legacy survived, they split the essence into eleven parts and instilled each part into a lesser… uh, a dragon species not known for writing poetry. They called these eleven dragons the Hyperion, and they scattered across the planet when the Artisan Empire fell. They were supposed to guard their secrets until such a time the human and draconian races were ready for them again. Obviously, that hasn't happened yet.

"Apparently, Hyperions can live a long time – the essence inside them makes them heal quicker and age a lot slower. But they don't live forever. The first Hyperions eventually had to transfer their essences to other dragons they deemed worthy of the honor, passing down their power and knowledge when they got too old to continue. This has been going on for a very long time."

"How old is Arc?' asked Hiccup.

"According to him, eleven centuries," said Nestor. "And he's not the oldest Hyperion alive right now. He tells me that there's a Hyperion on the other side of Asia that just turned the big three-oh-oh-oh."

Hiccup whistled. "No wonder I feel like an ant when he looks at me."

"He has that effect on people," said Nestor. "Keep in mind, Arc is very full of himself, so he sometimes makes the Hyperion out to be the last great hope for the planet. But a Hyperion is an amazing creature. No matter what dragon species you use, the essence makes them smarter. Put a Hyperion essence in a Terrible Terror and your little dragon is suddenly discussing the philosophical differences between Plato and Socrates."

"Who and who?" asked Astrid. Hiccup had an equally confused expression.

"You guys need to get off your island more," remarked Nestor. "Anyway, there were eleven Hyperions after the Artisan Empire fell, but over the eons that number has fallen to six. If a Hyperion dies before transferring his or her essence to another dragon, the essence dissipates as well. Each Hyperion has only part of the Ancestors' knowledge base, so there are whole swaths of ancient knowledge forever lost to the world. The Hyperions take their caretaker roles seriously, avoiding civilization for the most part, but they sometimes help out fledgling cultures from behind the scenes. They also come together once every century to compare notes and talk shop... and to see who is still alive and who isn't.

"The stuff I'm telling you right now is what kept me coming back to Arc each week. A new story, a new history lesson, a new piece of trivia about the world – I loved it all. I even picked up a few languages from him – Norse, Latin, a bit of Gothic. It all seemed harmless at the time. I knew the village wouldn't have approved if the secret got out, but my relatives weren't too concerned about my hobbies and never asked. They had their own children to worry about – I was an extra.

"I mentioned my village's plague problem, right? Well, one day I started hacking and coughing and couldn't stop. Early symptoms of the plague. I knew what was expected and I obediently took myself over to the designated Rest House outside of the village. That's where anyone with the plague goes to… you know, wait. You go in and you never come back out. No one survives the plague.

"I don't remember much about being sick. I was running a high fever and I'm pretty sure I was hallucinating through the rare moments I was actually awake on my deathbed. But one memory remains crystal clear. My vision was blurred up at the time but I do recall something large and green leaning over me, whispering alien words in my ear. I felt something flow into me, every nerve in my body tingling at once as if an ant colony was running around inside me. I think I passed out after that, because I don't remember much else.

"Then the unthinkable occurred – I got better. The plague up and left me after a few days, and my village rewarded my miraculous recovery by accusing me of witchcraft. It didn't help my case when one of the local brats threw a rock at me during the witch trial and this orangey glow around me deflected it. I pretty much ran for it after that." Nestor lowered his eyes, the hurt behind the memory still lingering.

"I am sorry," said Hiccup, very sincerely. He'd been perilously close to banishment from Berk after Toothless's existence was exposed, so he could relate to some degree.

Nestor waved the sympathy away. "I'm not real torn up about it. The village was a pretty bitter place, more worried about staving off death than actually living. They were my blood, but not my home. Still, it's why I warned you, Hiccup. The more you get involved in my kind of life, the less likely your old life is going to want you around."

"Yeah, I get that," replied Hiccup.

Astrid saw the somber look on Hiccup and got defensive all of a sudden. "I am sorry for how your village treated you, Nestor, but our people aren't the same as yours."

"Really, Astrid?" said Hiccup disbelievingly. "I seem to recall only one person coming to my defense after Toothless tore apart the Arena."

Astrid's defensiveness fell away as she remembered that ugly time as well. "Okay, so it took us a little while to come around. But we did come around, Hiccup. Your dad's not going to disown you over this, not if we come to him early enough."

"I wasn't thinking about me, Astrid," said Hiccup, "and I get the feeling the problem isn't just social ostracism, is it, Nestor?"

"I'm getting there," said Nestor. "You see, Arc was waiting for me outside of the village as I was fleeing the stoning. He'd known what was going to happen. He'd seen how other villages like mine reacted to magic and the supernatural. He told me that it was his doing that I had survived the plague, that he had come to my Rest House and had squeezed inside. He had no healing powers, but he did have one trick up his scaly sleeves. Just like how the original Hyperion essence was splintered, he could split his own essence as well. He gave me a very tiny part of himself, enough to fight off the sickness. It's very tiny – I won't be living longer or anything, but I haven't even caught a cold since he did it. His purported reasoning for saving my life was that he thought it'd be a waste to just let me die. But then he tells me that he… goofed."

"Goofed?" said Hiccup.

"One of his abilities got transferred over to me during the process," explained Nestor. "One of his favorites – barrier field. You've seen it action. It's essentially a solid barrier of mystical energy. It blocks anything coming at me with enough force to hurt me. It weakens if it takes too much punishment and it only stops about ninety-five percent of the impact, but let me tell you, I'd probably be dead a hundred times over if I didn't have it."

"That I can believe," said Hiccup. "So when your arms and legs start glowing, that's the barrier-field too?"

Nestor nodded. "The barrier works instinctively as protection, but Arc is teaching me how to control the field. I can shunt the power around to different parts of my body and make those limbs stronger. The downside is that the field weakens elsewhere, so I'm not as well protected. It takes a lot of practice – timing is everything in the middle of a battle. So I'm Arc's apprentice until I master it."

"This doesn't sound like a bad thing," said Astrid. "I'd love to have something like that."

"I thought the same thing as well, in the beginning," said Nestor, "but let me run something by you. Pretend that you're an outsider visiting a village that's friendly but not that friendly. You're walking down the village path, minding your own business, and the local brat spots you and throws a rock. Trust me, there's one in every village, he always likes to throw rocks at strangers, and he's always a good shot. The rock hits and your whole body starts to glow like a bonfire. Several villagers observe this occurring. Observations become questions. Questions become accusations. Accusations become pitchforks. You get the idea."

"I take it you can't turn it off," concluded Hiccup.

"Correct. Arc couldn't turn it off, either, but then he doesn't go waltzing through villages," said Nestor. "Arc knew how much trouble I was going to have with it, so he decided to make me another deal – he'd teach me how to make use of it in exchange for my assistance in his affairs. I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I agreed. So here I am, four years later, knee deep in Guardians and abominations and other things that will remain nameless for now. We move around a lot, sticking to the wilderness except on rare occasions."

"At least you get to see the world while you're on the job," said Hiccup, attempting to inject a positive perspective into the discussion.

"I have seen a lot of Europe, true, but I could stand to stick around somewhere for longer than a week," said Nestor. "Alas, all you have to do is make one or two powerful enemies and you'll forever be putting the people around you in jeopardy. Unless we can resolve things with Cervantes, Hiccup, that's going to be your problem as well."

"Nice to know I have something to look forward to," said Hiccup unhappily. "So how does Cervantes fit into this story?"

"He was in the story long before I came along," replied Nestor. "According to Arc, a few centuries ago, there was a young man who did a favor for a Hyperion named Latimar, and as payment Latimar gave him a fragment of essence that contained a specific piece of ancient knowledge that the man desired. What it was, we don't know, but it's safe to say that it was something he shouldn't have learned. From that knowledge he discovered how to animate and empower the bones of the dead, to make them into his private servants and soldiers. He took the name Cervantes and gave birth to the thankfully seldom-used art of necromancy. Over the years the man became more knowledgeable and powerful, but his greatest achievement, or crime, was that he found Latimar again many decades later and used his power to drain almost all of the Hyperion essence out of Latimar and into himself.

"Humans aren't made for that kind of power, or so Arc says, but Cervantes was apparently able to handle it. Latimar, on the other hand, reverted back to his old pre-Hyperion self, his personality basically wiped clean. Everything that had made Latimar… well, Latimar, was dead. I don't know if the dragon still lives or not, but as far as Arc is concerned, Cervantes murdered Latimar that day. Arc swore vengeance on Cervantes."

"Oh, great, blood feud," said Hiccup. "And here I thought my life was in danger for a more noble reason."

"There's more to it than that, but for Arc it's personal," said Nestor, anger over his dragon friend's actions leaking into his tone. "He's been pursuing Cervantes off and on for centuries now, and I watch how it blinds him to all else at times. I won't make excuses for him or how he used you to get at Cervantes, Hiccup, but I do understand his frustrations. Hyperions are a close-knit group, even though they can go decades without seeing one another, and Arc was especially close to Latimar. Cervantes has always managed to stay one step ahead of Arc. He has a Hyperion's knowledge pool to draw upon, and he knows things that no one else on the planet knows, including Arc. Everything Latimar knew, Cervantes knows, and Hyperions keep lots of secrets."

Nestor's brow creased as he continued speaking. "It's one of those secrets that we're worried about. Arc has always believed that Cervantes has an agenda, but recently that agenda has been gaining traction. A year ago, Cervantes resurfaced at the site of a Shadow Hall that had fallen into ruin but still held an active Guardian. Arc was certain Cervantes took something from the location because the necromancer had gone to the effort of destroying the Guardian. It took us a while to find his trail again, but we tracked Cervantes to a second Shadow Hall several months later, though there was no way to gain entrance as an entire side of a mountain had buried the secret door. Cervantes had never shown any interest in Artisan secrets before, even though he had to have known about those Shadow Halls for a very long time. Exactly what Cervantes does in his free time is unknown… and honestly, I'm happy to keep it that way. But he's always been low-key, always keeping to himself. He's never come off as a megalomaniac with world-domination plans before, but still waters do run deep.

"Arc decided that we had to know what Cervantes was after, so we spent a week digging into the second Shadow Hall. We had to destroy a badly damaged Guardian halfway through the dig and I was spitting up dirt for days afterwards, but we did come up with a fragment of a stone tablet picturing a map of the area. It pointed to two other Shadow Halls, one that we'd already visited and one yet to be discovered. Arc believed Cervantes would eventually find it as well, so we were going to get there ahead of him, take or destroy whatever he was after, and then lay a trap for him.

"Well, it didn't quite work out that way. We got there, found our way into the Shadow Hall, and were greeted by a very angry Guardian protecting, of all things, a scribe's desk built from petrified wood. Arc distracted the Guardian while I explored the desk, where I found…"

Nestor trailed off as a thought occurred to him. He told Hiccup and Astrid to hold on as he ran off into the cave. It didn't take long for Nestor to reappear with the skele-bull's head in one hand, the blanket-covered oval object in the other, and the leather satchel around his right shoulder.

"Visual aids," said Nestor. He placed the items down at his feet and took the satchel in both hands. With a slight pause for suspense, he pulled open the satchel and removed a hefty tome that was bound with leather but had an odd shine to its pages, as if the paper was made of steel.

Then Nestor handed the tome to Hiccup, and it only took one quick page flip to realize that the pages were made of steel. More precisely, it was the same metal that the skele-bull had been composed of, though paper-thin and surprisingly flexible. It was covered in a foreign scrawl embedded into the metal that Hiccup couldn't make heads or tails of, though it was formatted and ordered like a proper written language.

"This is it?" said Hiccup, handing the tome over to Astrid, who was equally intrigued by the book's shiny insides.

"It's what the Guardian was trying to kill me over," said Nestor. "I can even read some of it. Arc's been teaching me Ancient Artisanie and I've been translating the tome while Arc is off searching for Cervantes. It's slow going – I'm about a fourth of the way through it, and so far it appears to be a diary of a very bored siege engineer who likes to talk about turtles and how they like to talk to him when he sleeps. I hope it gets better soon, because I hate to think this is an eons-old Artisan practical joke."

"How do you make something like this?" said Astrid, running her fingers over the indecipherable words. "And why metal?"

"Metal keeps longer than paper, I'd imagine," said Nestor. "But the real prize is this thing." He picked up the covered object and immediately dropped the blanket, revealing an oval-shaped turquoise-colored crystal about the size of Nestor's fist. As the sunlight hit it, the crystal's surface began to shift colors to a more brilliant blue, then shift again to a transparent emerald shade that leaked small streams of purple and gold across its surface. Hiccup and Astrid watched as the crystal switched from one color palate to another, never settling on one scheme for longer than it took to breathe. Hiccup didn't even realize he was mesmerized by the thing until Nestor covered it up again.

"Hypnotic, isn't it?" said Nestor, placing the object on the ground once more. "You just kind of want to stare at it all day. That's why we keep it covered. It's an official Artisan powercore, what literally gives a Guardian its life. Normally you have to destroy the powercore first to destroy a Guardian, but this one seems to be built different. The metal around the housing isn't the same as the rest of the Guardian – it's stronger, in fact. That's unusual, or so I'm told."

Nestor grabbed the macabre-looking skele-bull skull and pointed at a set of markings on the top of the skull. Hiccup saw that they were similar to the words in the metallic tome.

"It reads key," explained Nestor. "Arc noticed it while he was distracting the Guardian. Considering that the word is right over the powercore housing, he thought the powercore itself might be a key to something else, some other Artisan secret. It makes sense to a degree – the Guardian is both the guard and the treasure. Arc ordered me to recover the powercore, since my barrier field allows me to get in close. But then things got a little crazy and that's how you two ultimately crossed paths with me."

"That's when Cervantes showed up to ruin the party, right?" said Hiccup.

"I think he was already there," said Nestor. "He had to have been hiding near the entrance to the Shadow Hall, the villain. This is a necromancer who has lasted centuries with an irate Hyperion on his tail, so he's no idiot. He waited for us to engage the Guardian and then unleashed a gigantic bone abomination. He probably would have succeeded in killing us all, Guardian included, had you two and Toothless not intervened.

"So that's where we stand, more or less. Arc is right now hunting down Cervantes before Cervantes can hunt us down and take the items in our possession. With any luck, Arc will deal with him before he causes you and your people any further trouble. But I can't make any promises to that effect. If Cervantes gets desperate, he might stoop to using you and your village to get at us."

"Just like how you two used Hiccup?" said Astrid, eliciting a guilty look from Nestor and a worried look from Hiccup. "Is that how you protect your friends?"

Nestor hesitated before speaking, fearing that what he said next would determine his fate. "As I've said, I have no excuses. Arc betrayed your trust, Hiccup, and by extension so did I. If I'd known about Arc's plan earlier, I would have warned you, but I still went along with it in the end. Whatever you decide now, I will go along with that, too."

Hiccup's brain felt like it had eaten too much and gotten bloated. It was quite the tale to absorb, so many reality-changing revelations to chew on. It was a tale he'd have dismissed as complete insanity if he hadn't just seen the shimmering powercore, if he hadn't been attacked by skele-bulls and skele-dragons, if he hadn't had a conversation with a dragon over eleven centuries old…

He stopped listing the insanity. It was only making his brain hurt more.

Hiccup tried to read Astrid's face as she bit her lip and digested the story, but she was keeping her expression nice and neutral. Hiccup wanted to speak out and tell Nestor that he wasn't going to turn him in to his dad, that he didn't blame him for the actions of Arc or Cervantes. He feared what his dad would decide about Nestor, what Arc might do as retaliation, what Cervantes might do to all of them, if he came forward and told his father everything.

But he didn't want to speak over Astrid, especially since she wasn't looking all that willing to give Nestor another chance, not with Hiccup nearly getting killed the previous day. Astrid had told Hiccup earlier that her first priority was to keep him safe, and nothing that Nestor had said had been helpful in that regard.

Then he thought of a question that might tip the scales in Astrid's mind, one he hadn't gotten an answer to yet.

"Before we make a decision," said Hiccup, "answer me this: do you have any idea about what Cervantes is after?" He furtively nodded his head toward Astrid, his face strongly conveying the notion that Nestor better have a convincing answer in mind.

Nestor caught Hiccup's subtle hint and said, "All I can say for certain is that it's something we don't want him to find. Arc thinks there's a leftover artifact or weapon from the Artisan Empire hidden out there in the Artic Circle. Hopefully when I finish translating the tome we'll have a better idea, but it has to be pretty powerful to get Cervantes' attention."

That seemed to help shift Astrid's opinion, her face softening as she considered other ramifications besides Hiccup's safety. It was the same line of reasoning that had kept Hiccup's mouth shut as well – that having Nestor and Arc around was better than not having them around, especially if Cervantes, or something worse, showed up again.

It wasn't a done deal yet, but Hiccup was pretty sure she wasn't going to be turning Nestor over to his dad… for now, at least.

Beatrix had her head in a leafy bush, chasing after something small and squeaky, as Hiccup and Astrid approached the distracted dragon. Judging from the ragged and sorry condition of the other brush around her, Beatrix had been chasing squeaky things the whole hour they'd been talking with Nestor.

"We made the right decision, Astrid," said Hiccup, seeing that the consternation on her face hadn't faded in the five-minute walk between Nestor's hideout and Beatrix's landing spot. The talk had ended with Nestor telling them a few tips on how to detect Cervantes's creations, as well as some general advice such as steering clear of garbage piles full on bones or dirt patches with lots of loose earth. Now they were heading home, hopefully in time to escape any suspicions from the rest of the village.

"I know, Hiccup," she replied. "I agreed to it, didn't I?"

"So why are you disturbed?"

She suddenly stopped in her tracks and faced him, her consternated expression intensifying rather than lessening. "The real question is why aren't you disturbed."

Hiccup halted next to her and said, "Should I be?"

"Should you be? Really? Are you telling me that you're fine with all… that?" She waved her hands back in Nestor's direction, though the curve of the hill and the thickness of the trees obscured Nestor's camp from view.

"Can't see what you're gesturing at," said Hiccup, "but to answer your question – no, I'm not fine with the situation. But it is what it is. Hopefully Nestor and Arc will take care of their business and then… they'll leave and our lives will go back to…"

"There!" Astrid pointed an accusing finger at Hiccup. "Right there!"

"Right where?" Hiccup honestly didn't know what she was fixated on. Did he just grow an extra arm or something?

"That pause in your voice," she explained. "That was disappointment."

"No, it wasn't," he replied. "Really, Astrid, I'll be relieved when this is over."

"Yeah, relieved," said Astrid. "I believe that. But don't tell me that some part of you isn't enjoying this."

"I'm… not enjoying this, Astrid."

"Another pause."

"Stop that. No, I'm not enjoying this. But… I mean, this stuff about ancient empires and Hyperions and magic metal, it's fascinating. I could do without the necromancy and the timing of all this is pretty inconvenient…"

"Hiccup, when people warn you about something, do those warnings just not get through? Are you mentally incapable of leaving well enough alone?"

"Astrid, I hear you, and I'm taking all this very seriously. But I'm not turning my back on Nestor. I owe him that much."

"Hiccup, I never said that you should turn your back on Nestor. If I thought that, we'd already be back at Berk and in front of your father."

"Okay, so why exactly are you so disturbed by all… that?" He mimicked Astrid's waving gesture for emphasis.

Astrid was about ready to knock Hiccup unconscious, drag him back to his house, and lock him up until Nestor and Arc had vanished from the island. She could lose Hiccup over this – she felt it in her heart. Maybe it was an irrational feeling, but it hung onto her spirit like a hungry tick. Hiccup was the last person who should be mixed up in Nestor's affairs – he was the most vulnerable to it.

But instead of cold cocking him, instead of admitting the depth of her concern, she sighed and said, "The world's changed on me once already. I don't think I can handle the world changing on me again."

Hiccup gave her a reassuring smile. "It changed for the better, didn't it?"

"Yeah, that time. But can you think of anything positive coming out of all this? Nestor's talking about empires that blow themselves up and man-made monsters. And you're getting too close to it. You don't see the way you hang out with him. You two would've started playing with that oversized toy of yours if I hadn't said something."

"The launcher's not a toy."

"Missing the point."

"No, I'm not. Let me reassure you, again, that I'm taking this seriously. I wish you would believe me."

"I want to believe you," Astrid said softly, "but I'm going to be watching you just the same, Hiccup. If it starts to look like you're getting in over your head, I'm going to your dad." She ended the discussion by running over to Beatrix and attempting to coerce the spiked dragon to abandon its pursuit of the helpless rodent.

Hiccup stood there and thought about Astrid's words, wondering if there was any legitimacy to her concern and not seeing any. Hiccup was confident that his interest in Nestor's affairs was just that: interest. He has zero desire to go on crusades against necromancers and the like. He liked his life in Berk, and the thought of losing it made him queasy. Losing Toothless or Astrid or his father or his friends – no, there was no way he would give them up.

He was going to be careful, but he wasn't going to abandon Nestor, either. The man had saved his life… twice. Nestor had even trusted him enough to tell him some serious secrets about a bygone era. The least Hiccup could do was to be a friend for a little while, until they parted ways once more.