Author's Notes: Geez, these chapters just keep getting longer. Good thing there's only five or six chapters left (still ironing out how I'm handling the ending), or my hands might fall off.

Onwards.

Chapter Fourteen: A Wonderful And Terrible Point To Reach

Stoick arrived on the scene shortly after Nestor disappeared onto a distant longboat, Gobber and his men hanging back as he approached Stonefist. The Gunnarr's attention was diverted for now, which suited Stoick just fine. He was afraid of where his fist might end up if Stonefist decided to gloat about the Trial's conclusion.

Nestor had fought well, far better than he figured a man of such small stature could have done. Sparing the Seer's life – noble, though not practical. It might not technically be a loss for Berk, since Nestor wasn't Berkian stock, but Stoick couldn't help but feel dismay at seeing the young man carted off to his doom.

Hiccup… Gods, Hiccup was not going to take this well.

Two more Gunnarr longboats were landing on the beach, bringing the current total to three. Another two boats were minutes away, their oars slapping the water rhythmically. Stoick's brow furrowed; the boats weren't disembarking any more warriors. In fact, they were preparing to cast off again. They didn't need so many boats to transport Stonefist and his people back to Berk. Why were they here, exactly?

One of the warriors on the deck of the closest boat was waving to Stonefist, a wicker basket underneath one arm. This act elicited a grunt of approval from Stonefist, though it only served to confuse Stoick further. Finally acknowledging Stoick's presence, Stonefist faced him and said, "That was quite the Trial. Who says justice can't be exciting?"

"Justice?" spat Stoick. "That had nothing to do with justice."

"Regardless, I consider the matter settled." Stonefist snapped a finger at a subordinate, who brought a scroll bound with a leather strap to the chieftain. "The Outlander will be delivered to our settlement for judgment. Take comfort that it will be swift and fair."

"What's going on, Stonefist?" said Stoick, demanding an answer.

"We cannot stay any longer," Stonefist explained. "We've had an ongoing territorial dispute with the Kingfisher Clan for some time now, and my people need their chief back."

"The summit isn't finished!" declared Stoick.

"It might as well be." Stonefist took the bound scroll from his subordinate and handed it directly to Stoick. "A signed copy of your current proposals. I find it… acceptable."

Stoick couldn't believe his ears. He took the scroll and read it. Sure enough, it was signed and sealed. Nothing but reasonable demands involving trade and patrol routes for both sides. On paper, peace would continue.

Stoick glanced at Stonefist skeptically, unwilling to believe it was this easy. "And you agree to abide by this new treaty?"

"I wouldn't have signed it otherwise. The remainder of my men will leave Berk shortly, as there are needed elsewhere. Congratulations, Stoick – you have peace. We should plan for the next summit at my home, where we can put the hospitality of the Gunnarr on display for a change."

Stonefist offered his hand. Stoick took it, though in no way did he trust the intentions behind it. Something important that he was unaware of had just transpired, and it bothered him immensely.

The Gunnarr on the cliffside had gotten the word and were filing down the beach to the boats, leaving the Berkians bewildered at the sudden end to the proceedings. The Gunnarr warriors previously in charge of guarding Nestor were now escorting Cragfist and the Seer past Stoick and Stonefist, two men propping up Stonefist's limping son between them. The Seer carried her cloak in her hands, her eyes averted to the ground.

As Cragfist passed his father, the chief shook his head disapprovingly. "You won't be living down this disgrace for a long time, my son." Cragfist moaned his sad response as he was helped along.

Then it was the Seer's turn, the chieftain and the young woman exchanging unhappy stares in silence. Stoick wondered if they were reading each other's minds, so intense their gazes were toward each other. But the Seer eventually gave up the contest and moved on, the Chief shaking his head once again.

Right after Stonefist gave one last farewell and left for the ships, Gobber came up beside Stoick and said, "That's it? No more summit? No Dragon Demonstration? They sign a treaty, they take the young man as a consolation prize, and they up and leave? This smells worse than my dirty linen."

"No, Gobber," replied Stoick, "this smells worse than my outhouse."

Astrid took her time navigating the slope up to the supportive crowd of Berkians, her axe slung over her shoulder and the tide of Gunnarr on their way down to the boats ignoring her. When she reached the crowd of well-wishers, she gave people polite nods and thank-yous despite not feeling it. They loved watching her handily trounce the Gunnarr Chief's son, not caring that the real reason for the Trial had been lost.

She managed to break through the throng and found her friends waiting for her. Hiccup stood to one side, briefly looking out at the boat sailing away with Nestor before giving her a slight smile of welcome. It broke her heart to see his face like that, struggling to be happy to see her while knowing that his new friend was off to be executed.

Toothless sat by him with his head on his paws, acting as sullen as Hiccup must be feeling. Unlike everyone else, the dragon knew a bad outcome when he saw it.

"You were too awesome, Astrid," said Snotlout, the others nodding his sentiment though not as enthusiastically. "I swear, Cragfist didn't even know his own name after you were done with him."

"Seemed like an okay guy," said Ruffnut softly, picking up on Astrid's mood. "Nestor, I mean. Just don't blame yourself over what happened."

"Why should she?" said Tuffnut. "He had her. What kind of warrior…?"

"Why don't you guys go ahead?" Astrid said, interrupting Tuffnut as she glanced at Hiccup, who was watching the departing ship once again. "We'll see you back in the village." They agreed and left for their dragons, leaving Astrid alone with Hiccup and Toothless.

"You were amazing, you know," said Hiccup quietly, his eyes back on her.

"Please don't say that," she replied, dropping her polite attitude at last. "Of all people, you shouldn't be saying that. I blew it, Hiccup. I should have…"

"Should have what? Gotten yourself killed?" Hiccup sadly shook his head. "Outside of locking me in my outhouse, I can't think of any mistakes you made. You owe me a door, by the way."

Her fists clenched in frustration, Astrid sat down on the stump Ruff and Tuff had used to spectate from. "I still failed. I failed him… I failed you."

Hiccup managed to squeeze next to Astrid on the stump and put a hand on her shoulder. "Nestor couldn't have had a better ally out there today. You didn't fail anyone. Take it from a guy who knows failure."

Astrid looked at him sadly, refusing to take any comfort from his words. "Why are you cheering me up? You the one who…" She let out an exasperated cry and stood back up, fuming. "He didn't finish her off! Why? He knew what was at stake! The Seer wouldn't have done the same for him!"

"Why didn't you finish off Cragfist, Astrid?"

"Because I…" she started, then realized she really didn't know the answer and calmed down. "I don't know. Maybe you're rubbing off on me, Hiccup."

"If so, I'll take it as a compliment," he replied, standing up. "But right now… I just need to be somewhere else." He patted Toothless to get his attention and mounted his saddle as the dragon stood up. "If my dad asks, tell him I'm running an errand."

"The artifacts, right?" Astrid kept her voice low even though they were practically by themselves on the cliffs. "Nestor said…"

"I know, Astrid. I'll deal with it." He tried to give her one last unconvincing smile, then gave up on it altogether as Toothless took to the air. Astrid watched him leave, anger and sadness gripping her heart. This wasn't one of those occasions where a pep talk or a crazy plan would make everything better, not unless they wanted to start a war over a man that her people didn't care about.

They lost this one. No other way to put it.

In no rush to get to Nestor's cave, yet feeling the need to get his final task for Nestor over with, Hiccup tried not to think too much during the flight. He failed almost immediately.

"It's wrong, Toothless," he said, his voice muffled by the wind as Toothless found an updraft and used it to gain some altitude. His friend's ears perked up as he spoke. "Why am I the only one that cares that it's wrong? He shouldn't be punished for showing mercy."

No argument from Toothless. Not surprising.

"It was a stupid law. It was a stupid situation. It's might-makes-right all over again, and the worst part is that I'm the one who talked Nestor into it. I try to find a way out for everyone, and it backfires. But we have peace now, right? All it took was serving up Nestor on a platter."

Toothless twisted his head toward Hiccup and growled sympathetically. Hiccup gave him a gentle squeeze around the neck. "I know, bud. Maybe I'm being too negative. Maybe Arc is fine and about to swoop in and save Nestor, probably at the last minute." He sighed. "Too bad I don't believe it."

His heart felt too heavy now. He told himself to worry about what's in front of him: getting those artifacts away from the island and dumping them in the deepest part of the ocean. It was something tangible he could do, one last act for Nestor before forcing himself to accept the injustices of life. Nestor wouldn't die in vain. Cervantes wouldn't win. Some good will rise out of all this turmoil.

It burned him worse than the hottest dragon fire when he arrived at the cave-camp and found it in complete disarray, Nestor's possessions thrown about or ripped apart.

He searched through the wreckage of the camp for some clue to the vandal's identity. The clue came in the form of a smell – an eye-watering, sweat-thick odor. Hiccup could detect it on one of Nestor's vandalized shirts, which didn't make any sense as Nestor was a bit of a clean freak. Then he recognized it, Toothless confirming Hiccup's suspicions by growling at the ruined fabric. It was the smell that originated from Vikings who ranked bathing as Number Twelve on their list of The Top Fifty Unacceptable Human Weaknesses.

They had been separate problems – the Gunnarr and Cervantes. He hadn't seen any connection, any reason to suspect otherwise. The Seer had ultimately doomed Nestor, but that still didn't raise any suspicions. There was no way a group of Gunnarr could have stumbled onto the artifacts in Nestor's cave by accident. They were too well hidden, shoved into a dark hole that a torch's light couldn't illuminate. Yet when Hiccup uncovered the hidden alcove in the cave, he found it completely empty, his anger morphing into stark terror.

Either the Gunnarr vandals had exceptional luck… or a little mystical assistance. And if the Gunnarr were such deviltry-hating hotheads, why would they take the artifacts and not present them as further proof of Nestor's inherent guilt? They wouldn't even know what they were… unless someone had given them the heads-up already.

If they were working together, the Gunnarr and Cervantes, then Gods help them all.

For the second time is less than a day, Stoick had the dubious privilege of listening to his son explain how things were actually far, far worse than previously imagined.

He was trekking back on foot with the other dragon-less Berkians when Hiccup found him and asked to speak to him in private. They found a secluded spot on a forested ridge, with only rustling birds in the boughs as spectators, and then Hiccup told him the bad news. Stoick took it pretty well, snapping one five-foot sapling into kindling in a fit of anger but otherwise leaving the rest of the island unbroken.

"I knew Stonefist was too accommodating," said Stoick, grinding another twig under his boot into sawdust. "This Outlander garbage must have been a diversion so they could search for the whatamacallit…"

"Powercore," said Hiccup.

"Whatever. I bet it was on that ship that came to pick up Stonefist. He did this right under our noses, the backstabber. At least it makes sense now, why he left so quickly."

"Why would he do this?" said Hiccup. "Does he fear us that much?"

Stoick stopped punishing the forest for a second and faced Hiccup. "Yes, son. Stonefist fears our dragons that much. He was adamant about reducing their numbers. That point alone almost sank our negotiations, but it wasn't in the treaty he signed. I suspect he's as afraid of going to war as we are. But that fear may have driven him to extreme lengths."

"Like Cervantes?"

Stoick waved his hands in a gesture of exasperated ignorance. "Yes, or like your bola launcher design, or like this summit. Like this Monolith you've mentioned. I wouldn't put anything past him."

"Glad you agree," said Hiccup eagerly, his previously depleted reservoir of hope filling up again. "So should I go ahead and round up some dragon riders or do you want to make an official order first before I…?" He stopped getting ahead of himself upon seeing his dad's sour expression, which was not a supportive one. "And now you have that face you make when you're about to tell me something bad."

"Hiccup, we have no evidence," Stoick explained. "A few smelly rags aren't going to convince our people."

"Dad, you're the chief," replied Hiccup. "You say jump and we'll say, "Over which cliff?'"

"That was in the past, when our enemies weren't our own brethren," rebutted Stoick. "If we attack those ships, we'll start a war that may bring ruin on us all. Not to mention that we may still be wrong about the Gunnarr. It's too big a gamble."

Hiccup's hope reservoir had just sprung a leak. "But if I'm right, then the bigger gamble is doing nothing. If Cervantes awakens the Monolith, whom do you think he'll use it on first? I know Stonefist will have a few suggestions for him."

"I'm sorry, Hiccup," Stoick said somberly. "Rash judgment nearly destroyed our people against Red Death. My rash judgment. History will not repeat itself on my watch."

"You made a mistake, Dad. It happens," Hiccup replied desperately. "Don't start second-guessing yourself."

"I'm sorry, Hiccup." Stoick faced away from his son and looked out over the treetops to the vast, sparkling sea. It offered him no solace, no piece of mind. "Never again will I lead our people to their doom."

Hiccup couldn't believe it. The proud Viking who used to consider dragons raids a recreational sport, who happily roused the village fleet to invade an deserted island if he found a single dragon scale buried in the dirt, was balking from a fight. The battle with Red Death had shaken him more than anyone knew, more than even Hiccup had realized. Some caution was reasonable, but his father had taken it to the other extreme.

"That's it, then," said Hiccup, throwing up his hands in defeat as his spirit returned to its previous state of depression. "Nestor's going to die, and for nothing. We'll just stay here and wait for the end of the world or something along those lines."

"I can't be held responsible for the actions of all my people."

Hiccup was about to leave when he heard his father speak that sentence, his tone oddly positive. Hiccup stopped in his tracks. "What?"

"Something Stonefist told me," elaborated Stoick, still keeping his eyes on the vast horizon. "He was weaseling out of taking responsibility for his men. But it's true. A leader cannot control his people all the time. If someone decides to take matters into their own hands, that's all there is to it. You can warn them, you can threaten punishment, you can tell them that if they get caught they will be on their own and at the Gunnarr's mercy – which is lacking – but in the end you can't control what they decide to do."

Hiccup didn't know what his dad was going on about. Was this a general discussion about leadership or did it have something to do with their present circumstances?

Stoick finally turned back to his son, his expression very conflicted. "Even a leader's family can defy him on occasion… or many occasions. He can only hope that they'll do it for the right reasons. He has to trust that they know what they may be getting into and that they can handle it, as they've handled other problems in the past."

Slow on the uptake for once, Hiccup finally caught the subtle meaning in his dad's words, and it blew him away. His dad was giving him permission to do what he needed to do, warning him about the consequences. It wasn't the same as a wing of dragon riders, but it was something.

It was a long time coming, but they'd finally reached it. They were at the point where his dad truly trusted him, not as a boy but as a man-to-be. Whether it was organizing a dragon squad for mock battle or volunteering for a trial of combat, his dad trusted him with the dangerous work now. It was a wonderful and terrible point to reach, but it was finally here.

"I understand, Dad," Hiccup said, smiling to show his true comprehension. Stoick didn't return the smile, but acknowledged his son with a nod and turned away to stare at the sea some more. His face fell as he thought about what he'd done, but he didn't revoke his words or cast doubt on the situation. He was a Viking and his son was a Viking, and the time had come to let Hiccup be the Viking he needed to be.

As Hiccup made to leave again, he called back to his son one last time and said, "If someone does choose to set out on his own… may he return as soon and as safe as possible."

Standing motionless for his friend, Toothless nonetheless kept giving Hiccup the stink-eye as he tightened the final straps and secured the grapple launcher to the dragon's underside. Despite numerous reassurances from Hiccup that the device would no longer misfire, Toothless was almost as thrilled about wearing the launcher again as he might have been thrilled about wearing a wreath woven from smoked eels. But he understood the need for it and allowed Hiccup to finish attaching the device.

Sanctuary was already deep in shadow, the sun descending past the cliff walls and with less than an hour of light remaining. Time was not his ally here, but he needed the dark to pull this plan off. He just hoped Gobber's map depicting the most likely course between Berk and the Gunnarr homeland to the east was accurate, as Hiccup remained weak on celestial navigation.

"Anything digging in?" asked Hiccup. Toothless shook his head. "I promise, bud, after this you won't have to wear it ever again if you don't want to. But we're going to need it." Toothless didn't seem convinced, but he finally dropped the stink-eye and sat back on his haunches while Hiccup double-checked everything. The attachments fastened to the side of the launchers, the saddle pedals, the special two-seat arrangement – all in order. He gave every strap and every connection an extra yank or twist for good measure. If he could have fashioned a suit of myssteel plating for Toothless, that would have been stellar. He didn't have the time for it, though. Besides, he needed stealth tonight. He'd even smeared the shiny parts of the saddle with mud and dirt to help conceal Toothless.

Gone was Hiccup's usual attire of green-on-green. He found a black outfit in his wardrobe suitable for more formal occasions, as rare as those were in Berk. Perfect for blending in with the night sky.

"All ready?" said the approaching voice at his back.

"Sure," said Hiccup. "Last chance to…"

"Don't even start," said Astrid, clad in her own harness and carrying her myssteel axe. The axe head had an ebony cloth covering to hide the shine, and she wore a blacker version of her usual attire, complete with a Seer-like cloak and hood that covered her radiant hair. She took subterfuge seriously.

Telling Astrid about his plan was a no-brainer – she would have sussed him out anyway. Naturally, she demanded to come. After watching her take down Cragfist, he no longer feared putting her in danger. No, not true. He always worried. He just didn't have a good reason to say no. She knew the risks, knew that this could be a one-way trip and that things could go very badly for the three of them. It didn't matter to her. He loved her for that.

Yeah, loved.

"Did you tell anyone else?" he asked.

Astrid shook her head. "The fewer people, the better, right?"

"Anyone follow you?"

"Don't think so. Why?"

"Call it a hunch, but I think your wardrobe change caught someone's attention." Astrid realized Hiccup was looking behind her and swiveled, seeing the four other young Vikings that were just now squeezing through the natural entrance to Sanctuary, Fishlegs holding his breath and struggling out of the narrow crack.

"Seriously?" said Snotlout. "You two were going to take off without us? Not cool."

"This is what we trained for, isn't it?" said Tuffnut. "Can't let the deadliest thing in the air go to waste." He pointed a finger at his sister. "Don't even think it, Ruff."

"Guys, it's nothing personal," said Hiccup. "You know you're the first ones I'd pick as my wingmen."

"So you're leaving us behind… why?" asked Ruffnut.

"This isn't about firepower," said Astrid. "We're saving Nestor, not starting a war."

Tuffnut looked disappointed. "Really? Can't we do both?" Ruffnut knocked him on the helmet on general principles.

"No, thanks, I don't need any help," complained Fishlegs, still struggling through the opening. Ruff and Tuff rolled their eyes as they went to help their oversized friend.

Snotlout watched them leave, and then, as if worried about his public image, his voice lowered as he spoke to Hiccup. "Look, I know that you and I… well, I can't say we've been all that friendly to each other."

"That's the understated way of putting it," remarked Hiccup, the snark thick in his voice.

"Okay, I was a troll to you in the past," admitted Snotlout. "But really, whatever you're up to, I can't stand the idea of letting you three go out there alone. A team's a team, right?"

Hiccup nodded. "Right. So what you can do for us is be in charge while we're gone."

Snotlout rocked back on his heels. "Me? In charge? Even I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"You'll be fine," reassured Astrid. "You're the Viking, you know."

"I know," agreed Snotlout, "but I never wanted any actual responsibility."

"I could always make Fishlegs…" began Hiccup.

"I'll do it! I'll do it!" interrupted Snotlout, taking his glory and running with it.

Fishlegs finally cleared the passage and came up to Hiccup carrying a small knapsack, which he promptly handed over to Hiccup. When Hiccup asked what was in it, Fishlegs told him it was a supply of paper and pencils, his private stash for his work on the Dragon Manual Revision Project.

"If you run into Green Lightning again," he explained, "I want stats."

The iciness of the night air failed to match the iciness of the warriors glaring at Nestor as the small fleet of longboats sailed across the silent sea. A crescent moon flitted amidst the scattered clouds, but the longboats had their torches lit for navigational purposes and Nestor could see his captors' sour mugs just fine. Half a dozen guards sat with their weapons on their knees, ready to spring on him at a moment's notice.

The guards were overkill, really. They already had his arms twisted behind his back, manacled and shackled to the boat's central mast at the base. Nestor had tested their give and found none. With his field at full strength, he might be able to bust out of them, but it would take too long to do and the guards would be bashing him over the head the whole time. Not that it mattered if he did escape. The waters of the Atlantic were beyond freezing this far up north. If he escaped and managed to subdue the crew of the vessel, one of the other boats could just up and sink the boat he was on. His barrier was useless against frigid temperatures.

And then there was the Seer. Without a doubt, she'd slice him in two if he tried anything. She sat facing him near the bow of the ship, glaring at him with either suspicion or disdain. She hadn't donned her cloak again, which netted her surprised looks from the rest of the crew. They weren't used to seeing the Seer as a person, it seemed.

Nothing to do but sit cross-legged and brood about the future, brood about how he failed Arc, how he may have doomed untold lives by not taking down the Seer. How he was probably destined to die on an executioner's chopping block (assuming that's how the Gunnarr did it), all because of an act of mercy that would not be reciprocated.

Did he regret it? Hard to say. Arc had told him once that like most virtues, mercy was something you did for yourself and not for your enemy. The trick was not to be stupid about it. Arc would probably say that this instance didn't qualify.

Arc… he was never going to see him again. That by itself made everything so much worse. His only consolation was that Hiccup was finally free and clear of this disaster… he hoped. The Fates certainly muddled such conclusions with their randomness.

"You showed mercy today, Outlander."

He didn't realize the Seer was right in front of him until… well, she was right in front of him. The thin torchlight glimmered in her harsh stare, her mouth drawn up in a distasteful frown.

"Mercy is impractical," she said, slowly walking around her captive audience. "You never leave an enemy capable of returning to the fight. A true warrior would not reward your kindness."

"I'll keep that it mind next time," he commented.

"Next time?" She knelt down behind his back suddenly and grabbed a fistful of Nestor's hair, yanking his head back painfully. Nestor gritted his teeth and cried out reflexively as he was forced to stare up at the Seer's hatful eyes. "You shamed me, Outlander. You dishonored me in front of my people, and that is something I cannot forgive. I was willing to give you a quick death before, but now you've lost that privilege. The only 'next time' in your future will be the mercy you beg for when we put you to judgment… and you will find none."

She threw his head forward as she let go and rose to her feet, chuckles and snide remarks from the other Gunnarr around Nestor. He glared after her as she walked back to the bow, but she did not acknowledge him any further. If he was on the fence about his earlier act of mercy, that little act of sadism firmly pushed him into the…

Something wasn't right.

He shifted his hands slightly and felt the sudden looseness in his manacles. They were barely holding onto his wrists – a quick jerk would make them fall off, he wagered. He looked around to see if any of his guards had noticed, careful to keep the surprise off his face, but the guards were too busy discussing the myriad ways Nestor would suffer under the Seer's care to have picked up on the change.

The Seer had resumed her seating position and continued to give him the same ol' frosty stare, but there was a slight difference this time. There was a knowing glint in her eyes, a secret she now shared with Nestor. Wisely, he kept his frown in place and went back to staring unhappily at the deck.

He didn't know the Seer's game, but he was willing to play it. She'd used that tirade to unlock his bindings, to give him an opening. Living with Arc had taught him much about learning patience; he could wait for an opportunity to come. Nothing else had changed, but perhaps the Fates' Luck would return to him… or perhaps the Seer would soon supply some of her own.

Another romantic night and another long trip in the air wasted on practical matters. A few hours of breathtaking ocean beauty above a star-strewn sky couldn't compete with the stomach-churning reality of what Hiccup planned on pulling off.

Yet there was something pleasant about it. With his dragon buddy and his best girl… friend… whatever-they-were-at-the-moment at his back, the odds seemed reasonable. At least their mutual body heat kept them from freezing in the increasingly chilly breeze.

Hiccup had to thank the Gunnarr for putting up some torchlight. While the darkness obscured Toothless and his riders as they glided through the murky sky, it also made finding the fleet like trying to find a minnow in a basket of cod. As the Gunnarr had no reason to fear an attack from anyone, they were sailing with full torches and little regard for formation. But as Toothless closed in on the fleet, Hiccup noticed something was off.

"How many ships were in the fleet that came to Berk?" he said to Astrid, parked right at his back.

"Ten, I think," she replied, gripping her axe tighter in anticipation.

"That's what I thought." He counted the torchlights again, still coming up with the same disconcerting number. "I only see four ships."

Astrid counted them herself and was baffled by the discovery. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would they split up?"

"Beats me. Let's just make sure Nestor is in this fleet."

"You know, we still don't have a plan for what comes after," Astrid remarked. "Don't we need to get those artifacts back, too?"

"One problem at a time." Hiccup really didn't have an answer. He was hoping that Nestor knew something or that they might spot the powercore as they surveyed the fleet. Otherwise, he was well and truly winging it. Right now he had to concentrate the one plan he had thought out.

Toothless took them low, soundlessly flowing past the fleet like a dark cloud above the sea. He softly growled up at Hiccup and motioned with his head at the nearest longboat, his keen nightvision spotting something of interest. Hiccup strained to see the moving figures on the poorly lit deck, lucking upon one man at the base of the mast who looked to be the center of attention on the boat.

"He's on that one," Hiccup whispered to Astrid. He looked again, scrutinizing the scene for important details. He found a big one. "I think he's secured to the mast. We won't be able to rescue him like that."

"First things first," said Astrid. "We'll need a distraction if this plan is going to work. Let's put the hurt on one of the other ships."

"We can't use dragon fire, Astrid," cautioned Hiccup. "It'll light us up like a bonfire. Besides, we don't want to burn one of their boats and…"

"I know, I know, zero body count," she interrupted, pulling the cloth cover off her axe. "I have a better idea in mind, anyway." The mischievous smile on her face said it all, really.

The first sign that a certain opportunity had come around happened right before Nestor's disbelieving eyes. He looked up upon hearing a strange whirling noise, distant and yet striking, muck up the calm muteness of the night. There was a burst of disorganized activity on the lead ship in the fleet as Vikings ran around its deck trying to uncover the source of the sound. Following that was a creak and a groan and a splintering cascade of wood grinding against wood as the top half of the boat's mast plummeted into the sea, rocking the boat as it splashed its occupants with freezing droplets.

The chaos that followed was delicious. Frantic yells resounded from the wounded ship, prompting the Vikings on Nestor's boat to flock to the port side, causing the boat to list slightly. The helmsmen maneuvered near the stricken vessel in an effort to bring aid, hurried voices asking lots of unanswerable questions. The guards on Nestor had their attention diverted for now, though one attentive Gunnarr kept right on glaring at Nestor as if he'd somehow caused this.

The Seer held her position, staring at Nestor. Wondering what hand she had in the accident, he stared back. That was how he saw her nod her head upward ever so slightly, drawing his attention to the heavens. He looked up and caught the wispy outline of a winged creature flying above the boat, barreling past without a single flutter or flap.

Toothless, he thought, not bothering to question the hows or whys of the situation. Window of opportunity, here I come.

Rolling the dice, he pulled his hands free of the unlocked manacles and regained his feet. Predictably, the one vigilant guard saw him and yelled out a warning while he raised his club and brought it down on Nestor. His cry joined the myriad others and was ignored, his club crashing down on Nestor's shielded right arm, his barrier bouncing it off. Nestor's left fist found the Viking's chest and knocked him hard into the railing, keeling over and clutching his chest in pain.

That got the rest of the crew's attention. They turned toward him, their faces a sorry mix of panic, surprise, and mounting rage. With the stern empty of Gunnarr due to the commotion, Nestor backed off in that direction, his arms glowing threateningly. The Seer led the pack, her hands on her weapons but not drawing them out of their hilts. In no rush to take him on after today's display of melee savvy, the pack of surly Vikings bunched up behind the Seer as she slowly advanced. Nestor was sure she was delaying them, keeping them from rushing him as a group.

Always one step ahead of disaster, he thought. Hiccup, you better do something now.

Exposed on the rear of the narrow ship, he had nowhere to go but into the sea. His only other choice was to start pounding on the Vikings, which wouldn't do him much good in the long run. The Seer stopped a few feet from him, corralling the other warriors behind her. They wanted her to make the first move. They had yet to deduce her real intentions, but once they did…

A swooping mechanical sound erupted from behind Nestor, a noise he didn't have time to identify before something heavy and ropey wrapped around him at chest level, his barrier firing to protect him as the impact bowled him forward briefly. His arms now pinned to his sides, his first thought was that a bola launcher had ambushed him from one of the other ships. Then he saw the tethering rope rapidly flying past him and tightening, and he then knew what had ensnared him.

Just before he was jerked into the air by the imprisoning rope, the Seer rushed him right as he felt the rope go taut. She grabbed him at the knees, hugging them for dear life as she, too, was lifted into the sky.

He felt yet another jarring impact as the rope rewound all the way and shoved him against the launcher, his barrier mitigating the force of the collision. Then he was whisked away with the Seer dangling beneath him, astonished eyes from the boats watching him and the Seer depart, the frigid wind numbing his skin as the longboats shrank into the distance.

Hiccup laughed despite himself as Toothless climbed back into the clouds. It was quite the steal, considering that this marked the first successful use of his grapple launcher, the target had been man-sized, and it was pretty dark. Nestor's glowing barrier helped light up the target, though, and Toothless had apparently learned how to assist Hiccup with the aiming. As well, Nestor getting loose of his chains at the right moment was no small achievement.

The Gunnarr had expected a dragon attack to involve fireballs and flames, not a whirling axe that boomeranged back to its thrower or mechanized net launchers. The Gunnarr might eventually figure out who had been involved, but they wouldn't come to that conclusion quickly.

"That worked out great," said Hiccup, patting Toothless for a job well done. "I can't think of how it might have gone better."

"I can," said Astrid, leaning over and gazing down below them with an incredulous stare. "We're plus two, Hiccup."

Hiccup leaned over to see what she was getting at. Nestor was wrapped up in netting and tethered to the launcher, safe for the moment, but the Seer was dangling from Nestor's knees in a not-so-safe fashion.

Hiccup looked back at Astrid, shaking his head in disbelief. "How does she do that?" he remarked.

Nestor was thinking the same thing as he regarded the Seer with perplexed eyes, unable to do anything while he remained tangled up and reeled in. She had her eyes shut and gripped his legs so tight that he was losing circulation.

"Did you know that was going to happen?" he yelled to her. Her response was to hug his legs even tighter.

"Not a fan of heights, huh?" he added.

"Not a fan of falling," she clarified.

"Mind explaining yourself?"

"I will explain myself… if we can find a safer place to do so than hundreds of feet in the air," she insisted.

"Toothless?" yelled Nestor, the dragon ducking his head down and giving him a quizzical look. "Tell Hiccup we need a place to land, and soon."

After putting some distance between themselves and the Gunnarr fleet, Toothless happened upon a tiny island that was little more than a few dozen square feet of pebbly sand struggling to stay above the oppressive tide. The Seer gratefully released Nestor and walked away to rest her cramped arms as Toothless touched down gently so not to crush Nestor under his bulk. It took time to get Nestor free of the netting, but soon Nestor was shaking Hiccup and Astrid's hands and giving the dragon a scratch on the chin.

"I honestly thought that was it for me," he told them. "I owe you."

"No, I think you're still up one," said Hiccup.

"Wouldn't try that on anyone else, though," said Nestor. "Even with just the net, that thing packs a wallop."

"Yeah, but I figured you could take it," said Hiccup. "Beats taking on an army of Gunnarr, doesn't it?"

Nestor nodded, but then frowned as he considered the ramifications of what just happened. "How much trouble are you guys in for doing this?"

"We'll worry about that later," said Astrid. "Right now, we need some answers." She gestured at the Seer, who had her attention on the clouded northern horizon. She didn't face them when they came up behind her, the horizon either more interesting or less intimidating.

"What do you wish to know?" she said.

"Where to start?" said Hiccup. "Calling you erratic is an insult to erratic people. What gives?"

"What he said," said Nestor.

The Seer sighed and turned, displaying a weary and yet serene expression. She was in no way troubled by her tenuous circumstances, despite the fact that they could easily maroon her on the island if they wished to.

"I did see your rescue attempt ahead of time, but only after we boarded for our homeland," she began. She pointed off to a fog-like cloudbank to the north. "My visions of the future are like looking through that cloudbank – they start off murky, then become clearer as the future approaches. Many of my visions show possibilities that never come to be because of actions taken or not taken. Thus, I am not as reliable as many believe."

"What's that got to do with anything?" said Astrid.

"Plenty, I fear. Two months ago, a man walked into our settlement wearing nothing but bones and rags." She looked directly at Nestor. "You know of this man, I believe." Nestor nodded and prompted the Seer to continue. "This man, if he is such a thing, asked to see Chief Stonefist. Normally the Chief sees no outsider, but for some reason Stonefist agreed to the meeting. I was present at the time, so I know what was said. This man, the Necromancer, offered Stonefist a deal. He knew that Stonefist feared the rising power of Berk and its dragons, so the Necromancer claimed he would remove the threat of Berk and allow our people to flourish as before. In exchange, we were to work for him in any capacity he needed - as warriors, as workers, as scouts. He wanted the Isle of Frost guarded in particular."

"Isle of Frost?" asked Nestor.

"It's a giant iceberg many miles north of here," explained Hiccup. "Never been there, not even sure where it is. Nothing but ice and frostbite, from what I hear."

"For us, it has more significance," countered the Seer. "Our people use it as a training ground. It hardens us, teaches us to embrace hardship and ignore discomfort. The Necromancer knew of our sacred ties to that place. He knew a lot about us, it seemed. He gave us few assurances that he could achieve what he promised, but he gave Stonefist only a day to contemplate his decision. Otherwise, he'd move on to more willing clans that would benefit from his protection.

"That night, I dreamt of many lands on fire. My land, your land, lands I have never seen and may never see… all aflame, as if the world itself had caught fire. The destruction was vast and complete, but what stayed with me was the color of the flames that scorched all lands. They were black, as black as the space between the stars."

Hiccup groaned anew. "Why is always death and destruction? Are there never any visions of lambs frolicking or a spontaneous outbreak of poppies?"

"May I continue?" scolded the Seer, silencing Hiccup. "I told Stonefist this, told him of my fear that to make a deal with the Necromancer was to invite this destruction. But he didn't listen. My dreams are sometimes… metaphorical, composed of imagery and symbol instead of reality. As such, he dismissed my warning and instead took the opposite meaning from them. Dragon fire was the source of this destruction, he told me. What else could cause such a conflagration? Thus, the dragons of Berk had to be stopped. Berk had to be stopped. He agreed to the Necromancer's deal the next day."

"He's actually working with Cervantes?" said Nestor, who hadn't worked out the connection until now. "That's insanity!"

"So I thought, too," said the Seer. "Such blatant deviltry. It was so obvious that many of our people threatened Stonefist with open defiance. But he appealed to their loyalty, told them that the greater threat was the dragons that were poised to one day strike at our people. He used that fear to sway their opinion. I went along with it for the sake of clan unity, but I was never okay with it. The visions of the Great Black Fire returned to me on several occasions, though never with any further illumination. I could not dissuade my people from their course, not without more certainty."

"But we don't have any reason to attack the Gunnarr," defended Hiccup. "Why would Stonefist think that?"

"We're warriors, Dragon Rider," she said. "Assuming the worst in those around you is what keeps you alive, prepared. But it can also blind you to your own actions. So it is with my people. Many of us set up camp on the Isle of Frost, guarding it for some unknown reason. The rest of us were free to do as we pleased, though some decided to test the resolve of Berk by picking fights with your ships."

"What about the summit?" asked Astrid. "Was that even a serious attempt at peace?"

"I wish I could say yes," the Seer said, "but it was mostly a delaying tactic. Stonefist didn't want to start a war before the Necromancer had found what he was after, but he believed a war was inevitable. Our people see compromise and retreat as failures. Opponents are defeated, not parlayed with."

"So you decided to play along by trying to kill me?" asked Nestor, narrowing his eyes. "How does that work?"

"I do not 'play along,' Outlander," she corrected, staring back at him. "Just before I came to Berk, I had another vision of the Great Black Fire, but this time two names came to me at the end. The emotion behind these two names was different than the rest of the vision. I saw those names… and I felt hope. I knew that the people who wore these names were the ones who might stop the disaster from occurring, but I had to find them first." The Seer gave Hiccup a knowing look, as if she knew some deep secret about him that Hiccup didn't even know. "You were obvious, Dragon Rider. I had to be sure you were still motivated to do what must be done and not content to sit back and enjoy your laurels, but you were never much of a mystery."

"I guess that's a good thing," Hiccup said. "Also, what are laurels and how do you enjoy them?"

She ignored him and stared at Nestor once more. "You… were a different matter, Outlander. A stranger with power, that's all I knew of you. It didn't exactly make you easy to find. Thankfully, I received a later vision that helped my search, though the timing of it was not welcome."

"It was that vision you had during our sparring, wasn't it?" said Astrid.

"Yes, and it told me what I needed to know. The Outlander, the one I needed to find, would be the one who could defeat me… but who could not kill me."

An ah-ha moment sang through Nestor's head. "That's why you forced me to fight you… to try to kill you. That's… a bit crazy, don't you think?"

"Crazy?" she said. "Perhaps it was. But I had to be certain. Too much is at stake for doubt to exist. To be honest, I didn't think it was possible. For my clan, defeat and death is the same thing. I didn't believe that any warrior that could best me would let me live, but I trusted my vision not to lead me astray."

"And if you were wrong and I had killed you?" said Nestor.

She shrugged. "Then I would have been wrong."

Nestor shrugged as well. "I honestly can't fight the logic."

"So the whole disaster-follows-in-his-wake part of the vision…" started Hiccup.

"An exaggeration," the Seer admitted.

"You lied," stated Astrid.

"As you wish. It was the only way to convince my people, and yours, to help me locate the Outlander."

"I do have a name," said Nestor. "I don't go by Outlander."

"Don't bother arguing," said Hiccup. "Trust me, she only does titles."

"Salo krebit, fine," conceded Nestor. "So we're all here with you. Now what?"

She went back to somberly staring out at the horizon, as if she was witnessing a dark future in progress. "Now I will take you to the Isle of Frost. Now I will help you against the Necromancer… and my own people."

"You're helping us?" asked Astrid, amazed. So were Hiccup and Nestor. "Are you serious?"

"As serious as is humanely possible," said the Seer. "The objects that the Necromancer desires are in Stonefist's ship, and it is headed for the Isle of Frost. That is where the Necromancer makes his home. The boat is several hours ahead of us, but your dragon can fly far faster. We may still get there ahead of him."

"So you're okay with fighting your own people?" said Astrid.

"In order to save them, yes," affirmed the Seer. "I ask that you do your best not to harm them, though. They are my people… even though I doubt they will forgive me when this is over." She could no longer hide the fear in her eyes, her Seer mask all but gone and leaving behind the face of someone who seemed almost human.

"Minor detail," said Hiccup, "but how many Gunnarr are we talking about?"

"One full raiding party," she answered. "About one hundred and twenty warriors." She said it very matter-of-factly, and she was surprised by the panicked stares she got in response. "Not including the warriors arriving with Stonefist."

"The five of us against how many again?" said Astrid. "Hiccup, I like tough fights but that's a little much. We should go back and get help."

"It took us hours to get out here, Astrid," said Hiccup. "We don't have the time."

"We don't," said Nestor. "Cervantes will have the powercore by then."

"My people are scattered across the island," said the Seer. "It is doubtful that we will face them all at once. I may be able to talk some of them into cooperating, though we should not gamble our future on that hope."

The others exchanged worried and wary glances. None of them had expected anything like this, heading off into a battle against overwhelming odds. But not a single one of them voiced a word of refusal. Even Toothless showed his resolve by standing next to Hiccup, poised to fly off to the north.

"If Cervantes is there, Arc might be there too," said Nestor, his tone hopeful. "I say we do what she says."

"Not trying to bring up a sore point, but she did try to kill you," said Hiccup. "You okay with that?"

"It… is a sore point," said Nestor, "but if she can be pragmatic, so can I."

"I agree," said Astrid. "I just hope you know what you're doing, Seer."

"You and me both," said the Seer. It was not a comforting statement.

"So we fly to a frost-covered island, rescue Arc, retrieve the powercore, all the while fighting some of the meanest Vikings in existence and the world's worst death mage," stated Hiccup unhappily. Then he shrugged with an oh-well half-smile on his lips. "Let's get it over with."

Hiccup needed to make a few adjustments to the grapple launcher first before they left. While Nestor assisted him, Astrid and the Seer stood quietly next to each other. The Seer preferred to gaze out on the still waters and might have gone on doing so had Astrid not decided to speak up and get something off her chest.

"So where do I fit into all this?" she asked.

"You're asking if you were part of my plans?" said the Seer, looking at Astrid. "I had no vision concerning you, if that matters."

"So our sparring was just, what, exercise? I was just a convenient tool while you went about pulling everyone's strings?" Her tone was hostile, the anger unmistakable.

The Seer seemed to expect such a response, but it was hard to miss the remorse in her expression. "I understand your anger, Astrid. For what it's worth, I did enjoy our sparring. It's rare for me to find someone I can be friends with."

"Friendship requires trust, Seer," replied Astrid. "We don't have that."

"I suppose not." The Seer looked away again, thinking the conversation was over. Astrid thought so as well. She couldn't really trust her; what else could be said? She did believe the Seer about her willingness to oppose her people, but how far she would take it remained to be seen. Someone as guarded and erratic as the Seer was not someone to turn your back on.

Astrid decided right then to stick by the Seer's side for now, to make sure the Seer was earnest in her desire to do what was necessary… and to punish her if she had another betrayal in store for them.