Chapter 34

"Toothless, call the dragons again," I said to him as we hovered above the forest. It took a bit of gesturing to get my point across, but then Toothless roared that low roar again, and the dragons seemed all too eager to abandon the battle and jump to his summons. They emerged from the trees in a stream. I did my best not to look too hard at them, and to block the scent of blood from my nose.

"Follow me," I squawked.

We flew back in the direction of Berk. I knew we had some time; the Berserkers would be regrouping and celebrating their perceived victory. Maybe they were even rethinking their ambush now that the element of surprise was gone . . . who was I kidding? These were the Berserkers. A setback like this wouldn't stop them.

When we were about a couple of miles ahead of the Berserkers, I stopped. I stared down at the forest, then at the circling, curious dragons.

"Alright, here's the plan," I whispered to myself. Toothless crooned and inched closer.

"Burn everything."

I swooped down. This time, I didn't use my plasma blast, but my softer, regular flame. It wasn't big enough to light anything more than a bundle of leaves, but they began to smoulder. The other dragons were confused; they didn't understand why I was flaming something that wasn't alive. But Toothless trusted me, and though he was hesitant, he flamed a tree himself.

That got them going. We lit every tree in front of us, making a barrier at least a mile long. By the end, we couldn't even fly over the line because the smoke was so thick. The noise was deafening, like standing next to a roaring dragon. Huge trees, older than even the village itself, toppled. The impact tossed black rubble and embers into the air. One landed on my head, but my scales protected me from the burn.

We roosted a safe distance away. It looked like storm clouds were rolling towards us. I couldn't even see the light of the flames anymore, but I knew the wind would catch them, and take them downwind. Straight to the Berserkers. They wouldn't attack us now. Not even the Lava Louts could wade their way through this much fire.

We watched for a while. This firestorm was fuelled by the fury of the gods themselves. Although the wind led away from us, it appeared that the sky in that direction wasn't enough to contain all the smoke. Some came back our way, shrouding the sun, and making it seem like dusk had fallen early. The sun did its best to shine through, and painted the smoke-clouds a grim orange.

"We need to head back," I said. It had occurred to my subdued brain that the Louts were still a threat. "There's nothing more we can do."

The battle in Berk was still ongoing, but thankfully between two tribes, not three. Even if Dad's chase-everyone-into-the-water plan had been a bust, he'd still scattered the Louts and that worked in our favour. A few of the invader's ships had been left standing. Many of ruined ones were wrecked on shore, having been set on fire accidentally during the brawl. Another had stuck on a reef, and its flaming sail looked like it would light the protruding figurehead at any moment.

None of the Louts had gotten close to the village walls. They had grouped together, covering each other with the water at their backs, waiting for the Berserkers to help them. They must have been wearing metal under the dragon skin, because a few of them had their dragon-skin armour frayed from blades, but were still healthy enough to fight. Still, our fire was mostly useless against them. The dragon riders knew this, and had either switched to projectiles (such as Stormfly's spikes), or were directing their dragons to dive at the Louts and attack with their weight. It was messy work because the Louts and the defending Berkians were entangled so tightly.

I looked back at the forest. The smoke was easily visible from here, but it was hard from this angle to tell that it was an inferno, and not just a bunch of very heavy, very low storm clouds. The Louts wouldn't clue in any time soon.

"Okay, so I know you guys like shiny things . . . which one of you stole a Berserker helmet?"

I turned. Most of the dragons immediately quailed under my scrutinizing gaze.

Scent led me to a Gronckle near the back. It was gnawing on a helmet that I knew had to belong to the Berserk tribe. Their helmets tended to look thin and plain, with spiralled, goat-like horns that reached higher than the ones me and Dad wore.

"Perfect. Give it to me!"

I grabbed one horn, and pulled. The Gronckle resisted, and tried to suck the helmet into his mouth, until Toothless cuffed him. The helmet popped out with a smack.

"You guys can stay," I told Toothless. "If this works, the battle will be ending pretty soon."

Now . . . where was Chief Ranvir?

I spied him on one of the intact ships. With one foot on the gunwale, he was at the bow, chin in his hand, elbow on his knee as he watched the battle. His dragon skin cloak had parted in the front, revealing his chest plate armour, and the golden snake emblem engraved upon it. His braided beard hid the snake's head, but I could still catch a glint of red from its ruby eye.

I took off. Sneaking up on the chief was easy. Dropping the helmet so that it clattered to the deck behind him was almost easier. The noise instantly grabbed the attention of the Lout Chief, and he whirled around, drawing a dagger that had been hidden under his cloak.

He picked up the helmet. He studied it for a long moment, then looked to see me circling.

His face paled with realization.

"Retreat!" His first shout wasn't loud enough. Ranvir cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, "I said retreat!"

It was as much a surprise to the Berkians as it was to the Louts. Like the ground underneath them had fallen away, the Louts suddenly surged back towards their ships. They leapt onboard, grabbed oars and planks, and began to push off from shore even before all of them made it on. The Louts were no fool; if the Chief was calling for a retreat, they knew something had gone terribly wrong.

"Stoick, what now?" Gobber asked. "You want us to go after them?"

From atop his hulking dragon, Dad watched the Louts escape. I saw what he saw; if we wanted to, we could chase them. The dragons weren't spent yet. And although their ships had been equipped to fight dragons, so many Vikings were packed on so few ships that there was no way they could manoeuver those weapons properly. Just running around too much might have been enough to capsize a couple of those top-heavy ships. The Lava Louts were like sitting ducks; kindling near an open flame. Prey.

But Dad wasn't that kind of person. He wasn't like Dagur the Deranged; he never enjoyed the kill. Not even being face-to-face with Berk's worst enemy was enough to change that part of him.

"Let them go," Dad said. "Our people live; it wouldn't be worth it."

A couple of villagers groaned, but most sheathed their weapons without complaint. The Lava Lout's battered fleet sailed away, becoming more speck-like with every passing second.

Dad turned Skullcrusher towards the village. He called out, "Take care of our wounded, dragons included. Gobber, I want a list of all the damages. We start repairs first thing tomorrow morning."

Toothless greeted him as he approached the walls. Skullcrusher stopped short, responding to his master's unspoken command. Dad was staring; I knew what he was thinking . . .

I landed on the Rumblehorn's back, and tapped him.

When he saw me, Dad exhaled a quick, shuddering breath. "You should know better than to do that to me, Hiccup. Wait with Toothless next time."

I smiled toothily.

But the smile slipped quickly from my face. I looked back at our warriors, many of whom kept watch on the retreating enemy.

"There are injuries," Dad said. "Some serious. No deaths that I've heard of, however."

I relaxed. Good.

"Quite a white-knuckled battle though." Dad said that with a chuckle that suggested he didn't actually think it was at all funny. "I can still taste the smoke."

Me too . . . only I don't think memory was responsible. It did still smell and taste like smoke everywhere, and I wasn't convinced all of it was from the burning Berserk ships.

I wound around Dad so I was in front of him. Then I grabbed his chin and turned it towards the forest. Well, I tried to. But he happened to be a little stronger than me.

"What is that?" Dad asked. He slapped Skullcrusher's side, and the Rumblehorn rose into the air. We didn't go over, or in the forest, thank goodness. We circled instead over the village, high enough that everyone could see orange light brightening up the smoky curls from underneath.

"Is that fire?" Dad leaned forward so much that he was barely sitting on Skullcrusher anymore. "That's too much for any stray dragon."

I know, I know. I rubbed against him, and spoke with squawks and warbles.

"Hiccup . . ." Of course, he didn't know what had happened, or why, but he could tell I was responsible.

I sighed. "Let's land."

Explaining turned out to be fairly simple. Berserkers in woods. Chased them away with fire, was all I had to write. The implications hit him immediately. He looked over his shoulder, as if afraid some stray Berserker was coming up behind him. "I knew there was more behind this," he said. "The Louts never tried to breach the village. That also would explain the flags."

What did they want? I wrote next.

"My guess is it was about the dragons," Dad said without emotion. "After the incident with Dagur, the Louts made it clear they didn't trust the beasts. We're just lucky the Bog Burglars didn't get involved in this. Yet."

Swallowing, I glanced at Toothless. I think I understood. Say I hadn't realized what was happening. Say the Berserkers did sneak up on Berk and get into the village. They wouldn't have found Vikings there, none worth fighting anyways, and I don't think even the Berserkers were vicious enough to do more than terrorize them (especially without Dagur breathing down their backs). So what would they have found? Dragons. Rider-less dragons waiting for their human friends to return from battle. And the Berserkers were experts in fighting dragons . . .

They had aimed for a slaughter.

"I will have to speak with Mogadon and see if we can draft up some sort of alliance," Dad said. "At least we can even the numbers."

He trudged off, going straight through my dirt-letters. They had been pretty while they lasted.

Toothless trotted behind me as I followed my nose. The first familiar scent I caught was Gothi, but I was 99.99% certain she hadn't been fighting. I checked in the forge, but Gobber wasn't there. I had seen him earlier though, and he seemed okay. Astrid's father nursed a deep cut that spanned the length of his upper arm, but his daughter was nowhere to be seen.

I tracked Fishlegs and the twins to the Great Hall. Fishlegs sat at a table with a mug in front of him, and Meatlug under the table. I could hear the twins nearby, although I didn't see them. I hopped onto the table. Toothless discreetly began chewing on a corner.

"Oh, hey, Hiccup."

He had one hand on the mug's handle, and I sniffed that and his connected wrist. Sweaty, as expected. Tired, too. I saw no sign he was injured, however.

Fishlegs pulled his hand away. "I'm fine. Meatlug's dizzy, though. She took some hard hits, and Tuff got knocked on the head."

I gave him a look.

"Astrid and Stormfly were okay when I saw them."

I released a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

It was both weird not seeing Astrid here, and not weird. Weird because these were her friends, and not weird because she had taken up my mantle in my absence. Maybe that was related to why Fishlegs was so down. Even though we had won, he slumped in his seat and drank as if he had come back from a funeral.

When I poked him, he said, "It's weird. Every time I look over there, I expect to see Snotlout hitting on Ruffnut. I guess it really hasn't sunk in yet that he's gone. We didn't get along all the time, but he was still my friend."

We jumped when Tuffnut spoke behind us. "I can't believe Astrid did that to him! If you ask me, I think power's made her a little crazy."

My growl wasn't complete, and sounded more like I was hungry. My instincts had thrummed and demanded that I defend Astrid's honour, but I wasn't sure if I could.

"It wasn't Astrid's fault," Fishlegs said. "Gothi made the judgement."

"She started it," Tuffnut said dismissively.

"I thought Astrid was supposed to be his friend." Ruffnut sank into the seat next to Fishlegs. She stole a mouthful of his drink. "Guess you can't tell who some people really are."

I didn't answer. Fishlegs gave her a long look before asking, "Are you talking about Astrid, or Snotlout?"

"Both, I guess." She shrugged. "I didn't expect either of them to turn on us like that. I always thought that if someone was going to muck up, it would be me or Tuff."

"It's not Astrid's fault," I said, giving in to my instincts. "If Snotlout hadn't made that deal with Eret, everything would have been fine."

"Yeah, yeah." Tuffnut yawned in an exaggerated fashion. "Let me guess: Astrid is perfect. Astrid didn't do anything wrong."

"Technically, she didn't," Fishlegs admitted. "All she did was tell the truth."

"She could have warned us!" Tuffnut said. "She could have at least told us she had proof at the beginning! We looked like a bunch of idiots trying to defend him."

"She didn't have to drag it out in front of the entire village, either," Ruffnut said.

A pause. Fishlegs quietly looked around the Great Hall. Most of the seats were empty. My guess was that people were at home resting or recovering. There would probably be a feast tonight, though. I could already see some villagers at the other end of the hall preparing for that. But the important thing was that no one was listening to us.

"I think . . ." Fishlegs cleared his throat, and lowered his voice. "I think Astrid knew what she was doing. If everyone knew, then Snotlout had to leave."

"That's –"

Tuffnut stopped mid-sentence. He stared at me. Yes, I know. Astrid's boyfriend was here. But Astrid's boyfriend wasn't entirely pleased with her either.

It's fine. I waved him off. Honestly, there was a grain of truth of what Fishlegs was saying. I had no doubt that Astrid had wanted the entire village to know, but not for those reasons. I don't think it was about making sure Snotlout received a due punishment, but making sure that everyone knew of the possible (in her mind) threat lurking around our people. That's just what Astrid did. If she saw a fire, Astrid wasn't the type of person to throw a wet blanket over it, cross her fingers and pray for the best. She would throw the blanket, but she'd do it while shouting and ordering people to bring her a dozen barrels filled with water.

They still didn't seem very comfortable talking with me around. It didn't bother me too much. I understood. So, I gave them a break and hopped back onto the floor.

On my way out, Fishlegs ran after me. "Hey, Hiccup. You never got dinner because of that fight. I'll go make you something now."

"Uh, thanks," I said, confused. What he said was true, but it seemed to come out of nowhere.

Turns out there was an ulterior motive. I could sense it from the sounds of his nervous footsteps. When we were less than a metre away from his house, he turned and looked at me.

"Uh, Hiccup," he stammered, fiddling with his hands, "I know Snotlout was your cousin, and I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, but did you ask Astrid to do that for you?"

That stung. I shook my head.

"Oh, okay. I didn't think you did. I was just curious. You get it, right? . . . I'll go make you dinner now!"

I stuck my very small leg in front of him, stopping him. He acted like he had been about to run shin-first into an iron bar.

I wrote in the dirt. Fishlegs read my words, silently mouthing them to himself.

Color drained from his face.

"Hiccup, you want to . . . are you serious? I don't think your Dad would approve."

Oh, yes. I most certainly was serious, and I didn't expect Dad to understand what I wanted to do. But I had been on a roll with my plans today, so I didn't plan to tell him about this excursion.

"If you're sure, I'll get the others," Fishlegs said.

I stopped him again. Once more, I wrote in the dirt.

After a moment, Fishlegs said, "Okay, I won't tell Astrid."

Review Response:

Guestgirl: Thank you! Toothless's scream was actually an alpha rallying call. Hiccup recognized what it was on a instinctual level, and it unnerved him because no matter how benign or trustworthy Toothless is, dragon mind-control is still pretty scary.

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Jazz: Valka and Snotlout would probably have an epic war of passive-aggressiveness.

The Lava Louts are a tribe mentioned in the books, but I don't believe any of them are ever seen. In other words, I'm borrowing the name but taking lots of liberties with who they actually are. (I do believe the dragon-skin suits are canon, however)

Lol obviously the Berserkers weren't the ones to think of that plan!

Hiccup was basically speaking to them there as an actual dragon would have, so it's easy for them to understand what he was telling them. Not to mention, he's a Night Fury and so technically an alpha species ... (Most of the dragons also know Hiccup's not an ordinary dragon).