Broken

by Athenaeum

Six months after defeating the Red Death, Hiccup feels there are still many problems between Vikings and dragons as well as many unanswered questions. Some answers will bring far bigger problems.

32. Conclave

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AN

I never put author notes at the beginning of a chapter so this alone should tell you something is up. First I want to apologize for keeping you guys waiting so long for an update. Between everyday life and a heavy workload at the plant it's been extremely difficult to find time or energy to write. With several large projects now behind me and work slowing down a bit things should move faster. Not fast, mind, but faster. I don't expect this kind of delay to happen again.

Second, to bring you up to speed without having to go back and read the previous 2 chapters to remember where things stand, a brief summery:

Kettlecrack went back to Red Death Island to figure out how to secure his advantage with the new Red Death dragon, whom he's named Alrekr. That huge dragon, a Gatherer named Smoketail, charged Kettle's mount (a Nightmare called Crush Claw) with bringing more preytooths to the island for him to see. Jaspin, riding his Nadder named Bitequick, arrived at the island to look for the missing dragons and stumbled across Kettlecrack. Their discussion turned to confrontation after Smoketail appeared and frightened Jaspin. Bitequick, seeing her partner in trouble, attacked Smoketail and was killed. This prompted Jaspin to go after Kettlecrack and their sword fight ended with his death.

Shortly after this, Stoick, Gobber and Hiccup learned that Hogknee's ship, Rorik, has been sunk by a dragon and that Jaspin was missing. A search the next day turned up no sign of Jaspin. Hiccup and Toothless discussed this and Hiccup realized that Bitequick may have been vulnerable to the effects of the new Red Death's control. After an emotional discussion between the two, they headed to Red Death Island to continue the search for Jaspin and his dragon. They landed at the beach where the Vikings of Berk fought the first Death and found a hidden weakness in the eye sockets of the dragon's skull. Heading to the top of the nest they found Bitequick, crushed to death. Hiccup retrieved her saddle but there was no sign of Jaspin. When the new Death started coming up the shaft of the nest Toothless grabbed Hiccup in his mouth and jumped off the top of the mountain to head for home and safety. Thus we come to:

---

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Broken

Chapter 32: Conclave

The saddle lay on the table, looking too much like a dead thing. Perhaps it was the way the ends of the cut straps curled back on themselves that reminded Hiccup of a dead bird's legs. Maybe it was the way the saddle laid upside down, its normally hidden belly exposed and vulnerable. It might have been nothing more than the memory of removing it from Bitequick's horribly loose and lifeless body. Whatever the cause, staring at the Nadder's saddle filled him with the same feeling of loss he'd felt upon discovering Jaspin's dead dragon.

Stoick seemed as deeply affected by the presence of the saddle as Hiccup. He'd been gazing at the leather device for several silent minutes, his face darkened with anger. The expected questions had been asked and answered, the desired knowledge as unavailable to the father as the son.

Only Toothless ignored the device. He had stretched himself along one wall, dropped his head to his forepaws and stared as silently as Stoick. His large eyes were firmly locked on Hiccup, however. Their experience on Red Death Island had left the Night Fury greatly subdued. Hiccup had tried to speak to his friend only to be rebuffed with a gentle shake of the head and a quietly grunted 'no'. The young man was as troubled by recent events as the dragon and so gave him space.

Berk's chief eventually reached out and touched the saddle, his thick fingers curling around a fleece-lined stirrup. He drew a long breath and said, "I'll have to take this to Hogknee."

Hiccup felt a rush of conflicting desires. He knew Stoick would need to tell Jaspin's father what they had discovered. The notion of explaining what they believed had happened to the boy was, at best, an uncomfortable one. It was possible that Hogknee's reaction to such news might require someone as large, powerful and commanding as Stoick to handle. Vikings were not known for taking bad news well.

On the other hand Hiccup wanted to be there to explain how the suspected fate of Jaspin was not the fault of Bitequick or any of the other known dragons who inhabited Berk. During their return flight he had time to consider how the boy's disappearance might be viewed by those who no longer trusted the island's reptilian inhabitants.

He'd also had time to wonder what his father would do next.

Stoick's low voice almost slipped past him unnoticed. "I thought I wouldn't have to do this anymore."

There was no question in Hiccup's mind as to what his father meant. As hard as reckoning the losses after a raid could be, there was one thing that could make it worse: a ship coming back from a fishing voyage or a hunting expedition to find one of the crew had lost family during their absence. Stoick took it as his duty to inform those who were unaware they'd lost kin and he'd remarked more than once that it bothered him as much as the actual raids. The only consolation was the likelihood that the departed would thereafter be residing in Odin's shining halls, awaiting the arrival of those left behind.

Hiccup opened his mouth to speak and hovered several heartbeats in indecision. He believed it was important for him to be there when Hogknee was told. He also knew he would rather have been flung off a mountain in a dragon's jaws a dozen times over instead. He glanced at Toothless. That calm, steady gaze reassured him.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

The age-old force of habit raised Stoick's hand in dismissal. He shook his head and began with, "No, there's no need..." Looking up at his son, he too found his attention drawn to the large yellow-green eyes watching them silently. His lips pressed firmly closed, his eyes narrowed. New thoughts and old contested within him. The battle was brief but intense and plainly obvious in the corners of his mouth, the creases tightly contained between his eyes.

Berk's leader was forced to change his mind, alter his plans and reconsider his views and priorities. He'd done it more times than he'd care to count in the last half year yet he feared he would never get used to it.

"Aye. Best you come." He nodded to the Night Fury. He hesitated only slightly before he added, "You, too."

---

Svala Vapnfjord met them at the door. In actuality, she was sitting on the front steps of the Vapnfjord house. The brightly painted carving of a Nadder's head that decorated the peak of the roof hovered over her like the ghost of her son's dragon. Beyond her, inside the house, they could see Hogknee sitting at their central table. He was slowly drilling the point of his best dagger into the surface while his eyes focused on something beyond anyone else's sight. Jaspin's mother stood slowly as they approached. She took in their appearance, her eyes widening at the sight of Hiccup and his large companion. Her hands absently set aside the torn tunic she'd been mending.

Her quiet but urgent call alerted Hogknee. The fisherman raised his head. The hopeful look on his face turned to dismay as he took notice of their visitors. The dismay turned to something harder when he saw the leather object in Hiccup's grip. He also stood and strode forward until he'd passed his wife and intercepted his guests at the bottom of the steps.

"Hogknee," was all the greeting Stoick gave the man, his voice even and reserved. The chief looked at Jaspin's mother where she still stood on the steps. "Svala." The two of them only stared, waiting to learn the purpose of their visit. Svala's gaze centered on Stoick but Hogknee was focused entirely on the saddle in Hiccup's grip. "I've some bad news."

Hogknee shifted his eyes to the chief. He didn't want bad news. He only wanted to know one thing. "Where's my boy, Stoick?"

Stoick took no offense at the fisherman's tone. He could too easily imagine asking the same question if he were in Hogknee's position. "We don't know yet," he said, allowing the truth of their ignorance to keep some slim hope alive. "But we have found his dragon."

"Bitequick?" Svala raised a hand to her mouth, fearing the worst.

"So where is it?" Hogknee pointed to the saddle, anger starting to simmer beneath his words.

Hiccup understood his role in this conversation. He held the saddle up slightly. "We found her on Red Death Island." He paused and the implication was clear. Svala shook her head slightly, wanting to deny the terrible possibilities that were filling her mind. "I'm sorry. She's... she's dead."

"Dead?" Jaspin's father seemed confused. "What... how could..." He shook his head and balled up his fists. His right hand still held his dagger. "Where's my boy? What was he doing on that island? Who killed his dragon?"

Hiccup suddenly realized that whatever the saddle represented to Hogknee, it wasn't the same as what it represented to him, or to any dragon rider. Wanting to steer the blame away from Berk's dragons, Hiccup spoke without thinking. "The new Red Death." With a frustrated grimace, his father turned on him.

"Hiccup!"

The young man cringed slightly, recalling too late his father's desire to keep that information secret for the time being. "Sorry."

Hogknee was baffled and Svala seemed lost. "The what? What are you talking about?"

Figuring it was too late to backtrack, Hiccup plowed ahead. "Jaspin and Bitequick went to Red Death Island to look for the missing dragons. It turns out the dragons are missing because there's a new Red Death on that island." He heard Stoick's sharp inhale and knew he was only making things worse in his father's estimation. But he was determined to make Hogknee understand where the blame for his son's disappearance lay. "We found Bitequick at the top of the nest. She was dead and..." Images flickered in his mind; the piles of new bones, the Nadder's body, the Fury's tears of fire. "She'd been... she'd been crushed."

The confusion in Hogknee's eyes didn't diminish. He stared intently at the junior Haddock, obviously expecting more. "Crushed?"

"Yes. We both know there's only one thing big enough to crush a dragon the size of a Deadly Nadder."

Still the fisherman stared. If anything, his anger seemed to darken and smolder. When he spoke, his voice was rough and full of menace. "My son was killed by a dragon?"

"Now hold on-" Stoick objected.

"What? No!" Hiccup leaned back slightly, unable to understand how Hogknee had made the leap.

"We don't know that he's dead," Stoick insisted. "He's still missing."

"With his bloody pet smashed to bits!?" Hogknee stabbed his clenched dagger at either Hiccup or the saddle he held, no one was certain. "You really believe that!?"

"Until we find him," Stoick stated firmly, "he is lost. We won't know how he is until we find him."

"Then let's go look for him," Hogknee retorted. "We know where to look. My son is waiting for us."

"We will. But there are other considerations. This new threat-" Stoick paused to glare at his son, " must be dealt with or we're all in danger."

"I don't care about that. I know how to handle raiding dragons. I have to find him." He took a step back, his idea seeming to solidify into action before their eyes.

Stoick held up a forbidding hand and shook his head. "I don't want anyone going there until we're prepared for it."

Hogknee's eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't stop me. I'll take Rorik and..." It was hard to watch, witnessing his belated recall of the inexplicable attack on his ship that left it at the bottom of the harbor. For an instant, the two losses worked to tear his heart into pieces. Then he frowned, his resolve welling up until he could speak through clenched teeth. "I'll find a ship. I'll go alone."

It was Svala's soft voice that cooled his anger and arrested his impulsive motion. "If he's alive and you kill yourself, what good have you done?" She was just as anxious as her husband but held firmly to reason.

Hiccup watched them, seeing for the first time where Jaspin's balance of impetus and patience originated. He felt a sudden and powerful empathy for them. To not know the fate of their son was a stress he could easily imagine, having just experienced it with Toothless' prolonged absence. He could entirely understand Hogknee's desire for action, to address the problem directly and energetically until it had been resolved. But he'd spent most of his life using Svala's approach; calm resolution, knowing that if enough time passed perhaps the solution would eventually be found.

His own thoughts were jarred as the notion came to him: if Jaspin were in fact dead, neither approach would ultimately benefit them. His desire to ease their suffering caused him to draw a breath, open his mouth. His father astounded him by speaking the very words he'd intended to voice.

"Give us some time. I promise we will look for him. He will not be forgotten."

Hogknee stared at him, trying to deal with the idea of setting aside the desire to act on his own behalf. Several tense seconds passed. Finally, he lifted his chin and thrust back his shoulders. Determination put steel in his voice that he seldom bore against a fellow villager and never against his chief. "Aye. And I'll be with you when you go."

Stoick, a veteran of countless potentially violent squabbles between neighbors, didn't react. He held that unwavering gaze, neither flinching nor reprimanding. Then he answered steel with steel.

"We'll see."

A short but courteous nod followed before they turned and left. Hiccup, somewhat unnerved by the encounter, belatedly remembered the object in his grip. He turned back and approached, holding the saddle out.

"Here. This is his."

The look on Hogknee's face shocked him as nothing in their previous conversation had. The anger flashed back to life, centered on the leather seat. When the man's eyes lifted to Hiccup's face he felt an instant's irrational fear for his well being.

"What use is that to me? To him?" The words lashed out, razor sharp and full of venom. "Burn it for all I care." Hogknee turned and strode with quick steps into his house. The door was slammed behind him. Struck to his core and feeling defenseless he could only stand there, the damaged saddle held tightly to his chest. He swallowed, his left hand clenched around the lambskin covered stirrup.

Svala laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave him a sad, understanding look. No words were said, but Hiccup felt marginally better for it. They both turned away, she to her home and he to the two who had watched silently.

Stoick was impassive while Toothless seemed to mirror Svala's quiet dismay. Hiccup stood before them, holding the saddle and feeling slightly bruised by the encounter. He wanted to lean against Toothless, touch his neck or his brow. Somehow he felt that, at that moment, seeking such comfort would be immature. He struggled with himself and his wants.

What would he do with Jaspin's saddle?

Stoick turned to Toothless. "This is the passion of Vikings. We care deeply for our own and we act swiftly and surely when they are threatened." He was still using his mediator's voice, calm and measured. "Do you understand this?"

Had Hiccup not been feeling confused and somewhat wounded he would have been pleased at the progress his father had made; conversing with the black dragon as one equal to another. However, when Toothless uttered a quietly grunted "Yes" and nodded in response, he perceived a serious imbalance in Stoick's statement. Did he still not fully understand what Hiccup had been telling him?

His own voice was loud and almost demanding yet it trembled slightly. "Do all dragons understand this?" He couldn't look at his father. Toothless was the only safe place to set his gaze at that raw moment. From the corner of his eye he saw Stoick shift his head and consider his son. Larger eyes met his, the expressive face in which they were set as calm as they'd been since they arrived.

"Yes." Toothless nodded again.

His point made, Hiccup could only stand there and wait for one of them to initiate their next move. Stoick provided by heading toward the edge of the village with measured strides. He and Toothless followed. It was a short walk but it gave the young man time to consider what had happened. He found himself wondering if his father would have something to say about telling Hogknee something Stoick hadn't wanted known. He bit slightly at his bottom lip, trying to think where that information might go and what it could change.

They reached the tree line, mostly out of sight of Berk's many houses. Stoick stopped, Toothless sat and Hiccup held his breath.

His father gazed out across the parts of the village they could see from their vantage. He had tensed up again, Hiccup could see. With the exception of Toothless' presence, being hauled off from the scene of a minor disaster had been a common occurrence throughout his young life. But this time Stoick did not begin berating him as he would a boy. He stood silently, thinking, perhaps searching for better words to express himself to a son who was so close to being seen as an adult by the rest of the tribe. A respected one, at that.

"That... was not a good idea," he finally said. "That knowledge could cause all kinds of problems among the wrong people."

Hiccup was caught between realizing his father was addressing him differently, with respect balancing the disappointment, and wanting to defend what he felt was important. He took a moment, just as Stoick had, to compose himself and be certain he spoke with calm reason. "I'm sorry dad. Really I am. I just didn't want him thinking that Bitequick-"

Stoick had closed his eyes and lowered his head, arresting his son's defense. "What she did or didn't do means nothing against what we need to do now." He raised his head again, stared out at the houses of Berk. "Finding a way to stop that thing is more important than one man's opinion about dragons. If they turn against us again, then no one's opinion is going to matter. We'll lose everything we've gained so far."

"Hiccup."

Father and son turned as one to the Night Fury. Stoick was perplexed to see the black dragon holding its metal pencil up instead of scratching in the dirt with it. The rounded tip was being held against his narrow cheek, just under the eye. He was further puzzled by Hiccup's breathy exclamation of "Oh, yeah!"

"What?"

Hiccup let Jaspin's saddle drop gently to the ground and turned to his father. "Toothless and I may have found something that will help us with that."

With the memory of what his son used to consider 'helpful' balanced against what Hiccup had actually done for the tribe, Stoick kept his voice cool but hopeful. "Oh?"

"We saw the old one, on the beach. The skull is mostly intact. There's a weakness in it we couldn't see when it was alive."

A shiver of excitement flickered up and down Stoick's spine. This could be exactly what they needed!

"The third eye, the one closest to the top of its head, doesn't have a socket. It's just a slightly thicker ring of bone and a hole that opens up to the inside of its head."

The chief paused, considering this. Between the skills needed for hunting game and the skills needed for fighting dragons, the head of a creature was seldom a useful place to target. Skulls were usually too good at protecting the brains within and too small a target besides. Only slaughter of domesticated animals and close quarters combat with dragons ever let one consider the head as a weak spot.

A Red Death, however, was in a class all its own. And as such, an open hole like Hiccup had described was about as close to a weakness as they might ever find. It would have to be seriously considered.

"Good." He nodded, turning the idea over in his mind. "That's good. Well done." He smiled with genuine pride. "Maybe we have a chance after all. I'll need to speak to Einarr, get his opinion. Mord, too. We may even need a new weapon designed. You and Gobber should be in on this."

Toothless made a noise. Hiccup supposed it might have been a word but it wasn't one he recognized. When the dragon had the attention of both his rider and the chief, he flamed a small spot on the ground and brushed away the burnt grass and leaves. In the bare spot he made he scratched three symbols: an oval with six dots, a winged body with a long tail and a wide bodied Viking with a horned helmet. He then drew a circle around the dragon and Viking symbols. Looking up briefly to be certain they were paying attention, he tapped the paired symbols, hesitated and then stepped firmly on the Red Death.

"Of course, Toothless," Stoick assured him, remembering the accord he'd struck with the Fury only days before. "You'll be with us when we go after it."

Hiccup was chagrined to realize he hadn't seen it before. He'd known each side's weaknesses as well as his father did, but he hadn't truly considered where their real strength lay. "No, dad." He and Toothless met eyes, and a clear understanding passed between them in an instant. He could see the Fury's intentions as if they had been his own. "He means we all have to be in this together. Every dragon and every Viking. Neither of us can take it on alone. Right buddy?"

Toothless nodded emphatically.

Stoick held on to his patience as best he could. "I told you, we don't need the whole village involved at this point. Things are too... complicated just now." He waved a hand at the sky. "And besides, the dragons are raiding us again, in case you forgot."

"No, dad, not those dragons," Hiccup insisted. "He means the young ones."

"Young... what does..."

"Toothless explained it to me," he said in a rush. "Baby dragons and injured dragons both give off a smell that makes other dragons want to protect and feed them. That's how the Red Death controls other dragons. It makes the same smell. The dragons don't think about it, they just react." He pointed to Toothless. "But the young dragons that aren't old enough to breed are immune to the smell. Those are the dragons we need to help us." He turned to Toothless, offering his idea directly to him. "Those dragons probably want to help us."

"Yes! Yes!" There was no doubting the Fury's answer, not when he stood and stretched his wings and clenched the turf with his claws.

Stoick was taken slightly aback by the black dragon's energetic display, but it was another detail that gave him pause. "Smell?"

Hiccup nodded. "Yeah, that's what he told me." When his father didn't say anything for a moment, he stressed, "We need their help. We have to do this together."

Holding up a hand to forestall further entreaties, Stoick answered, "Alright, alright." But it still took him a moment to deal with what that meant to his plans.

Plans? With a grunt of frustration, Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose, hard. Old thoughts kept trying to fit themselves into their new situation. As much as he wanted to fall back on familiar ways, the memory of the first Red Death exploding from the side of a mountain would remind him of all that had changed. "Look," he said as he raised his head. "This..." Questions came to him, one after another. How would they get there? Who could he trust? How would they attack? How would they defend? He felt overwhelmed as never before. "I need... I need to think this through."

Think it through? Now he sounded like Hiccup! Vikings knew pummeling, not pondering!

"You need another council," Hiccup said plainly. Then he stepped to his dragon, laid a hand on its neck and added, "Of both sides."

A faded ghost of anger rose up. That was insane! A meeting of Vikings and dragons? As if they were equals?

Stoick was not the thinker his son was. He could plan, but it wasn't his greatest skill. He could foresee some things as events shaped themselves. But in that instant Stoick suddenly saw, with startling clarity, the future of Berk. Hiccup and Toothless would be a force to reckon with, once they came into their own. His son's suggestion that both sides meet to discuss the battle against the new Red Death was a thought no other Viking on Berk could have had. And it came to him so easily.

Hiccup had been made for this time in Berk's history.

"Aye," he whispered, struck by the revelation. "A council." Vikings and dragons, conferring, planning, fighting side by side. It was- "No." Thinking may not have been his greatest strength but dealing with his tribesmen was. "Not a council. A conclave, to ensure our secrecy." He immediately began making a mental list of those he could trust to bring, those who could handle the truth about dragons. It was not a long one.

Stoick turned to Toothless, his mind moving to its proven strengths. "You say there are dragons here that aren't affected by that thing? The Red Death?"

Toothless nodded.

The chief paused a moment before asking, "Can we trust them? If we all meet, face to face, will they behave themselves?"

The Night Fury considered this a moment. He looked down at his charred bit of ground, reaching with his drawing spike as if to scratch out a reply. Then he seemed to change his mind. Instead of drawing, he moved closer to the chief, who held his ground calmly. When the dragon slowly lifted his rounded spike and touched its tip to Stoick's throat, Hiccup's breath caught. He had no idea what his friend was up to. He was further confounded when Stoick nodded, withdrew his own dagger and placed the flat of the blade against Toothless' neck, the Fury having lifted his head slightly to accommodate him.

"Uhhh..."

Stoick sheathed his blade, put a hand on the dragon's shoulder and said, "Find all those you can trust. Bring them to..." He drew a blank for a moment. He turned to Hiccup. "We need a meeting place, close by but out of sight."

Hiccup blinked. The answer was obvious to him. "The cove."

"Yes. The cove, just before sundown."

Toothless nodded his agreement. He sheathed his drawing spike, grasped his controllers and leapt into the air. Father and son were left to watch his form shrink against the afternoon sky.

Stoick placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "I hope we're ready for this. It could go very badly if we're not careful." Hiccup said nothing, still watching Toothless' quickly shrinking silhouette. He gazed at him, pride blooming in his chest. "You've done well. You may have found the answer to our survival against this thing."

Hiccup looked uncomfortable. As his best friend finally disappeared from sight, he glanced down and muttered, "Yeah."

"What?"

He shook his head slightly. "We're going back," he said darkly.

Stoick nodded. "It'll be alright." He patted the young man's shoulder. "We've done this before."

Hiccup looked up, dismay tugging at his features. "That's the whole problem! We're going right back to 'kill on sight!' Dragons are causing problems so dragons have to die!"

"We're not going after the dragons. We're going after their leader."

"It's not their leader! It's a... a parasite. It tricks them into serving it!"

"Aye," Stoick agreed, not understanding his son's distress. "So we kill it."

"But it's still a dragon, dad! Why can't we-"

"It's not a dragon, Hiccup. It's a monster. A parasite, as you say. It's harming us by using them. We all need it gone."

"But what if we're missing a chance to reason with it? What if we tried talking to it? Maybe it would listen if-"

"When a mosquito bites you, do you reason with it?"

Hiccup stared, uncertain.

"A mosquito is tiny, insignificant. It bites you, bothers you, you swat it. You kill it without thought."

Hiccup blinked.

"What do you think we are to a Red Death? Do you think it gives a moment's thought to something as tiny as us? We invade its nest, disturb its home. We bite at it with our swords and axes. What do you think it's going to do? Talk to us?"

Hiccup lowered his gaze, unable to argue the point.

When Stoick spoke again, his voice became heavy and tinged with regret. "Believe me, Hiccup. I've had some time to think about what happened on that beach. We call it 'the battle' but it was no battle. It was a slaughter." He took a deep breath, settled himself. "Until you showed up." He tilted Hiccup's head up with a finger. "We're Vikings. Fierce warriors. Untamable and unstoppable against any foe, even dragons. But compared to that thing, we were mosquitoes. And if the mosquitoes want to live another day, they have to kill the monster that's swatting them."

He looked away. "I... I guess."

Stoick glanced up at the empty sky. "How does Toothless feel about it?"

Hiccup closed his eyes, drew a quiet breath. "The same way you do."

"So. That leaves us with the next step." Now the chief stared out across his village. "Convincing a handful of mosquitoes that their leader isn't stark raving mad."

As his father headed back toward the village, Hiccup picked up Jaspin's saddle and glumly followed. They were missing an opportunity, he was certain. It was the most important opportunity they would ever have and after the first blow was struck it would vanish.

He found himself wishing once again he could speak the language of the dragons. It was the only way he could see to try reasoning with the enormous creature. Assuming both Toothless and his father were wrong about it.

If they weren't, if it really didn't see Vikings as anything other than annoying pests then it would have to die. Or be driven off.

He couldn't believe he might have to advocate killing another dragon to solve Berk's problems.

---

It was a short flight for Two Hearts to locate the first of his new nest mates. Yet in that brief span he still had time to think.

Two Hearts often found himself comparing his new life with Featherstone to his past. As he circled the preytooth nest looking for Kin he felt a strong flare of memory. He remembered the end of his hatchling days, looking over the edge of his egg nest. Fear and excitement had both bitten his liver hard and were tugging it in opposite directions. The short, gliding flights he'd taken among the nests with other hatchlings were soon to be behind him. His legs and wings had quivered as he hesitated, ready to launch himself for his first fledgling flight. New freedoms and new falls had awaited him.

He felt that same quivering in his liver now as he prepared for a flight no Kin had ever contemplated. Kin and preytooths were about to take on a Gatherer together and he was to be First Hunter of the fight. He felt strongly they could succeed where his sire had failed. They had the advantage of the preytooths and the new knowledge unwillingly given by the Great Eel.

There was much to lose, however; things as precious to him now as his own life. His sire's story could still be his own if they weren't careful. Such thoughts served to quench the building fire in his liver.

Yellowbreath was the first of his new nest mates to be found. She was in her customary place outside 'Legs of fish's woodcave. She was deep in thought, her eyes slitted against the bright mid-day light. When his shadow passed over her she raised herself enough to call an inviting "Soft tailwinds!" He landed carefully, still not willing to risk embarrassing himself or injuring others with a badly done slide-stop or poorly aimed diving drop.

"Swift hunting," he growled, putting urgency in his voice. Yellowbreath's eyes widened and he suspected she already had some idea of the intent of his visit. "I must call the nest. All Kin who call this place their nest must be present before sunfall."

"Where?"

"The hollow where I became Two Hearts."

The stonebelly rolled her short legs beneath her. "I will carry the call to the far shore."

"No," Two Hearts shook his head, unaware his habit with the preytooths had grown so strong. "We can only call those who have not reached breeding age."

Yellowbreath stilled, turning that knowledge over in her mind. "So few. To what purpose?"

"We have seen a soft spot, hidden in the Gatherer's head. The preytooths are coming as well. This is to be a new kind of fight. We must speak about it before teeth and claws are bared."

The weight of such knowledge struck his nest mate hard. Her thoughts ranged far ahead of her, seeing the importance of what her nest's watcher was telling her. Then she huffed in distress.

"What of Swimmer?"

Two Hearts' wings twitched. "What of her?"

Yellowbreath groaned sadly. "You have not seen her," she stated. "She's hiding in a cave, near the big shore-pool on the sunrise side." She stepped closer, nosed him gently. She was one of the more affectionate Kin in the nest. "I fear her fire dims. She has built no nest this season."

He desired no distractions at such an important time and his impatience rumbled quietly below his words. "She's safer there, nest or no nest. I have no wish to disturb her."

She blinked slowly, digesting his words. When she spoke it was with the faintest thrumming. He doubted preytooths would have been able to hear it. "Two Hearts, go to her. See her. Scent her. Then you will understand."

The ghostwing wanted to resist but Yellowbreath's words pinned him down. He cared much for Swimmer. He'd feared she had been drawn to Fire Nest and enthralled so hearing she was safe felt good. Yet the stonebelly's urging could not be ignored, especially when she added, "I will carry your words to all unbred Kin. We shall all be there."

Two Hearts dipped his head to acknowledge her. "Thank you Yellowbreath. I value your words."

"And Swimmer will doubtless value yours as well."

Pushing aside his uncertainty he gripped his sticks and took to the air, not realizing he'd done so without looking or thinking about it.

The large shore-pool to which Yellowbreath referred was an easy landmark to find. The preytooths sometimes brought their woodfish there when they traveled on the waters. There was no evidence of either preytooths or their clumsy wooden fish today. The cave the stonebelly spoke of was harder to find. He'd not known there was such a place near the shore-pool. He would have to find Swimmer by scent.

That turned out to be far easier than he'd expected, though he immediately wished it hadn't. The scent was disturbing and would have otherwise served as a warning to keep away. The message on the winds spoke strongly of a brightscale searching for a mate yet there was a sour, forbidding taint to it. Something was certainly wrong with Swimmer if she was sending such confusing signals.

The cave was in fact an enlarged prey burrow, long ago dug out to suit Kin who wished a temporary place to sleep safely. Over many and more seasons it had been enlarged until Kin as large as a firescale could rest within. It faced the waters nearby and it was from this direction that Two Hearts approached. He called loudly but with every tone of deference he could manage, "Soft tailwinds!"

Bright sparking fire erupted from the cave and blazed past him. A wordless roar followed, heavy with forbidding but deeply scored with pain. Two Hearts considered a moment before landing a respectful distance from the cave's opening. He was going against his instincts but Yellowbreath's words pushed him forward. With cautious steps he approached, mindful he was trespassing. He was inviting scorn and perhaps conflict. If Swimmer lashed out at him, he would leave. Her scent and the concern it raised in him would not let him leave without at least seeing her.

He saw movement within, heard the faint rustle of wings and talons against stone. A single eye abruptly reflected the day's light, deep within the sleeping nest.

"I am Two Hearts, Kin and kin to Swimmer. I wish to see her, scent her. I am worried for her. So are others. May I approach?"

A low, pained moan crept out, barely reaching his ear canals. "You are too late. You are the wrong breed. They are lost to me." A sharp screech raked the air. "Lost!"

Despite the fact that Swimmer hadn't signaled any kind of invitation, Two Hearts moved closer to the cave. "They are not lost, not truly. They are only enthralled. We are going to free them soon."

The brightscale erupted again, more forcefully. Her fire slammed into the ground a mere length from his forelegs, throwing debris and scorching plants. He briefly raised a wing to cover his head. "They are lost!" She was silent a moment as the air cleared. "I can feel them fading," she added mournfully.

Two Hearts realized they were not catching the same wind in their wings. "Who is fading? Who is lost?"

More distressed chittering answered him, empty of words but full of misery. He waited patiently. Eventually she spoke. "I found no mate in the last season of green. Nor the one before. It was hard but many have flown those winds. I waited."

He was starting to understand what her scent had been trying to tell him.

"I thought this season would be different. No Gatherer, clear air for the whole nest. But I found no one. The Great Eel returned from death. It called and I nearly went back."

"It is not the Great Eel, it is a new Gatherer."

She did not seem to hear him. "I felt them inside me. My eggs. My hatchlings to be. I was ready to bring them forth in freedom. But I found no mate. Now it is too late. They are fading." The light reflecting in her eye lowered as she sank to the cave floor. "They are lost to me."

Two Hearts had heard of this. Most any female Kin would, at some point in their flight, go through this loss. As young as Swimmer was, this was probably the first clutch of eggs she could not bring forth.

"Swimmer," he grunted softly. "I have known loss. Terrible, wing snapping loss." He moved closer and was encouraged by her stillness. "It was the Great Eel that caused our pain, our loss. We are rid of it."

"No, it has returned."

"It is a new Gatherer. Its flight name is Smoketail." Closer still he came, slowly and carefully. "It means to replace the Great Eel and has already begun to enthrall all of Fire Nest." At the entrance he stopped, knowing better than to block a Kin's means of escape from a confined place. He folded his wings tightly and sank to the ground, his eyes locked on the brightscale smothered in shadows. "I am calling my Kin to join the preytooths. Together we will ground it. Fire Nest will live in clean air again."

His words reached her, as he'd hoped they would.

"Join the preytooths?" She shifted slightly, turning her other eye to him. "Bonding?"

Two Hearts hesitated, seeing a possibility that could benefit more than just the poor brightscale hiding from enthrallment and lamenting her lost offspring. "A bonding of necessity. Kin and preytooths must come together for this fight. I have one preytooth in mind as a match for you."

Swimmer twitched. "A preytooth partner?" Her legs moved beneath her. "For me?"

"As I said, we must come together for this fight. We will likely draw blood against enthralled Kin." He paused again, considering the risk he was taking in bringing her into their plans. "We must return to Fire Nest soon. The call will be strong." He drew in a deep breath, trying to judge her state. "You may be able to resist, as you are freshly beyond... that point."

Now he could smell the tension coming from her, the barest hints of agitation as she sank her teeth into the problem he brought her. Would she help him carry it? Or would she let it go and slide back into her safe hole in the ground?

It did not take long for her to decide. Swimmer rose up and took a step forward. He stood as well, taking a step back.

"I will join your hunt, Two Hearts." Deep breaths steadied her against the weight of her decision. "I will do it for the memory of the faded ones."

---

Hiccup had a hard time setting aside his discomfort. There were too many people in his cove. His and Toothless' cove. And the scorched ground was still covered in the Night Fury's first self-taught pictographs. Granted, it had been slightly amusing to watch Snotlout and the twins stare in bewilderment at all the strange drawings in the dirt. Fishlegs had been confused at first, too. As the plump teen walked around, examining the pictures he became more and more agitated, muttering to himself. Finally he had raised his head and stared at Hiccup with a worrisome and almost accusatory expression. He said nothing but words were hardly necessary. Hiccup could plainly read 'I know what these are' and 'why didn't you tell me' in his friends eyes.

Asgeirr had left Snotlout and moved to drink from the spring. Getting his fill, he'd settled half in and half out of the water. Folkvardr and Thunderguts had settled close by to rumble quietly to each other. Hiccup would almost have given his other leg to be able to know what they were saying.

Strangely, the members of the dragon training class he'd worried about the most had so far been the quietest. Like Fishlegs, Ruffnut and Tuffnut had been walking around the area, looking at all the pictures scratched in the dirt. Even stranger, Bjalki and Bjarki were imitating their riders, each of the Zippleback's heads scrutinizing the pictures around them.

Astrid and Snotlout were similarly quiet. Hiccup suspected they were a little intimidated at being asked to participate in only the third conclave Stoick the Vast had ever called.

As yet none of the other villagers called to come had arrived. To allay suspicions there was anything unusual going on, each person Stoick had approached was coming separately in their own time. Gobber had volunteered to go with Freygerd as her age made it harder for her to walk the distance easily.

Even though he felt like a cherished place of safety had been violated by the presence of the others, Hiccup knew the evening was going to get more difficult. At least for him. It was finally settling in his mind how important this meeting would be. There would only be eleven Vikings present, not counting himself or his father. He felt fairly confident his class mates would take the news relatively well. The rest were much harder to guess.

Spitelout arrived next, hesitating briefly at the sight of the teen dragon riders. He gave his brother an inquisitive look to which Stoick declined to respond. Sweeping his gaze across the scorched ground and the strange figures drawn in the exposed dirt, his eyes landed on Hiccup. He gave the young man a look as well, but Hiccup had no luck interpreting it.

Two dragons called from beyond the rim of the cove. The three lounging by the water raised their heads and Thunderguts gave voice in answer. Another Gronckle came buzzing over the lip of the high wall. It was followed almost immediately by a Nadder with an unusual purple cast to its scales. Hiccup remembered seeing the Nadder around the village during his convalescence and wondering if anyone would be attracted to the rarity of its coloring enough to befriend it. No one was.

Stoick watched the two new dragons with cool interest as they landed near the others. Both Astrid and Snotlout seemed to get a bit tense with 'feral' dragons near their own. There was a great deal of grumbling and chattering between the five beasts. Stoick's eyes narrowed slightly as the purple Nadder moved to stand before Asgeirr and lowered its spiked head until the tip of its snout touched the ground. The Monstrous Nightmare stood long enough to touch his own long muzzle to the top of the Nadders head. He made a gruff coughing sound before he lay back down and the purple dragon raised its head. The Nadder seemed oddly energized by the interaction, as it now bounced slightly on its heavy legs.

Spitelout came to sit near Stoick on a large boulder. "What do you make of that?"

In a completely neutral tone the chief replied, "I'm sure I don't know." His brother and lieutenant gave him a puzzled look but said nothing more.

Astrid, who knew of the true status of dragon intellect and certainly knew the source of the artwork littering the floor of the cove, had apparently kept her knowledge to herself as she continued to learn to interact with Folkvardr. Since arriving she had been silent yet her expression betrayed a mind awhirl in thought. After the two 'feral' dragons arrived without causing any disruptions, she sought Hiccup's eyes. When he finally noticed her stare she approached him. Snotlout, seeing this and probably assuming one of the two knew what was going on, followed her without asking.

Quietly and with one eye on Stoick who sat just out of earshot, she asked, "Is this what I think it is?"

Hiccup glanced at a completely attentive Snotlout. His cousin must have figured some parts out for himself. Despite being honored with the invitation to the conclave he had not bragged nor swaggered once since dismounting his Nightmare. Ordinarily it would have been inconceivable for Snotlout to pass up a chance to strut under such circumstances. Over the past half year, however, Hiccup had noticed a small amount of maturation in the boy who had once been his personal bully and tormentor. He couldn't help but wonder if the trend would perhaps continue and Snot might become a decent guy after all. At least as far as dragons were concerned.

"Partially," Hiccup answered her. "But there's more to this than telling secrets."

"Secrets?" Snotlout once again signaled a distinct change in attitude from Berk's dragon fighting days. He also kept his voice low and considerate. There was no disdain in his tone, only genuine confusion. Hiccup sensed the young man was truly grasping to understand what those around him seemed to already know. An urge struck him to reach out to his cousin, to help them move away from their personal history. He felt certain it would benefit them both.

With a quick glance at his father, Hiccup said softly, "Snotlout, there's a lot going on that no one knows about. Yet. But it has to be handled carefully. And it's going to take... a new... a new way of thinking."

Snotlout's brows knit as he considered those words. Despite the unspoken understanding that thinking was not his strong point, the wide-shouldered lad seemed to understand that larger concerns were at hand. "What do you mean," he asked with plain concern.

Hiccup focused entirely on Snotlout, wanting to reinforce the seriousness of his words. "We had to stop thinking of dragons as our enemies. We did that, and now they're our friends. But there's something else about them that's even more important. And everyone needs to know it because there's a new threat to Berk." He stopped there, letting Snotlout take in two different problems at once. Just as the frown started to form on the Jorgenson's wide face, Hiccup added, "Dragons are smarter than we thought. In fact they're as smart as we are."

"Oy, Ingifast!" Spitelout shouted as the shipwright appeared at the cove's entrance, Mord at his side. The two men waved as they approached.

Turning his attention back to Hiccup from the momentary distraction, Snotlout seemed slightly distressed at the news. "Smarter?"

'Smarter' had always been the one thing everyone knew Hiccup held over Snotlout. Snot was the epitome of Viking offspring and essentially the opposite of everything Hiccup was. Back when the heir to the chief had started apprenticing to the master blacksmith and getting praise for his creativity, Snotlout had tried to overtake his cousin in that aspect and failed miserably. It didn't take him long to decide smarts weren't important if he had all the other qualities Vikings valued.

Now Berk's chances of survival and success were hugely improved as a result of Hiccup's mental abilities. And that put Snotlout's sense of self-worth a notch lower than he wanted. To have Hiccup tell him that dragons, beasts they had learned to tame and use for their own benefits, were smarter than they thought didn't sound terribly appealing. In fact, it implied that Asgeirr was potentially as smart (or smarter) than Snotlout.

How could that be a good thing?

Hiccup sensed the shift in Snotlout's attitude and leaned forward slightly, his expression as serious as it ever got. "This is important. The dragons are our friends. They want to help us. But we have to understand their true nature. We have to meet them as equals, as partners."

The reassurances he heard didn't quell Snotlout's misgivings. He looked at Asgeirr, lounging at the edge of the pond and muttering to the other dragons. Smarter? How could he ride a dragon if it was smarter than him?

"Snotlout." The strangely imperative tone Hiccup used was so out of place that it managed to drag his attention back. The dark look on that freckled face was out of place, the hardness in his eyes a bit disconcerting. When had Hiccup learned to get so serious? "Asgeirr knows you. He chose you as his partner. He's your friend now and that's not going to change, you understand?" Snotlout stared, still trying to fit the whole of this exchange into what he knew of dragons, of his cousin. When he didn't respond Hiccup asked more intensely, "Do you understand? Nothing about how Asgeirr feels about you is going to change. But you need-" Hiccup broke off and corrected himself. "We all need to understand that Asgeirr and the other dragons are our equals. They are people. They have language and culture. They have names and history."

Language. Names. Those two words worked their way into Snotlout's head, turned to stones and settled heavily into his gut.

Somehow, on some level he'd never admitted to or acknowledged, he'd had an inkling of what Hiccup was saying. His dragon had learned so quickly, come to anticipate his rider in so many things. It was as if they were of one mind. 'Smarter' never surfaced as an explanation because he'd never sought one. Things simply were as they were. Why look for causes when the effects were beneficial?

The tremor that had found its way to his hands the first time Hiccup had placed his over the snout of a Monstrous Nightmare came back to him. The unnerving tingle of real fear lit across the muscles of his chest and made breath harder to come by. Hiccup was changing the world again.

He managed to say the only thing he could. "OK."

Hiccup smiled reassuringly, going so far as to put a hand on his shoulder and say, "Just so you're not taken by complete surprise."

Snotlout nodded. This conclave thing was going to be a lot harder than he'd thought. "Yeah."

Ingifast and Mord preceded a few more dragons. Whether by instinct or some mutual understanding that simple precautions were wise, each race chose to gather with its own. While the master weapons trainer and the shipwright joined Stoick in low conversation, one of the reptilian newcomers gave a most unusual display. Bjarki and Bjalki became quite attentive when a second Hideous Zippleback landed near the pond. All the other dragons ceased noise and motion as the two double-headed dragons squared off. They approached until each pair of heads nearly touched.

A soft gurgling growl could be heard as the two large creatures regarded each other. Then they slowly closed the distance between the two bodies. As they came together each head and neck gently twined around its opposite. The growling became louder as the paired necks and heads began to sway slightly, the base of the necks pressed against each other until the two dragons could not get any closer. Soon all four necks and heads had curled and looped around and around until it looked like they would become permanently entangled. Every Viking that witnessed the spectacle bore the same stunned expression. Except Hiccup, who looked more bemused than confused.

Slowly and carefully the two dragons eventually separated, choosing to pay more attention to each other than either the nearby Vikings or their fellow dragons. Fishlegs seemed to shake free of the spell drawn over the humans and marched directly to Hiccup. The junior Haddock smiled slightly at his approach until he saw the look on his friend's face. Fishlegs poked him with a thick finger and said with unusual force, "You've been holding out on us."

"Only recently," was the sheepish reply.

The cooper dug something from under his belt. "Thunderguts made me a carving. A carving, Hiccup!" He pressed the small wooden form into his friend's outstretched hand. "I've been trying to figure out what it means ever since and now I see this!" He waved at the two Zipplebacks. "There's something major going on with the dragons, I'm sure of it."

Hiccup scowled at the chewed fragment of a stave, turning it until he could see the form of a Red Death. He handed it back to Fishlegs. "This isn't a carving, Legs. It's a warning."

"Warning?" Tuffnut's voice came from just behind Hiccup. "Let me see that." Apparently the male twin had seen all he wanted of the drawings around the cove and had quietly moved up behind him. His hand reached out and plucked up the bit of wood from Hiccup's grip. Hiccup let it go and looked up at the sky. It would be dusk soon. He moved closer to where his father sat. Stoick was deferring Mord's questions and the weapon's trainer was getting frustrated with having to wait.

"Dad, you figure we'll need a fire?"

Stoick nodded once. "Aye. Once we're all here there's to be a good bit of discussion. Might take a while."

Snotlout and Astrid, who had both watched Hiccup closely, helped him take up the task of collecting deadwood while Fishlegs described Thundergut's strange behavior to Tuffnut. Ruffnut, he had noticed, was still staring at the two Zipplebacks as though nothing else was worth her attention.

Einarr the master huntsman appeared while they were preparing the firewood. He was one of the few on the island who came close to Stoick's width and height without having nearly as much muscle. While trim and hearty of body, his appetite could only be surpassed by the largest of Vikings. Or, perhaps, a dragon. Hiccup had once thought him a better example of what a True Viking should be. He took his craft of hunting to heights no one before had known. Stalking a deer was an art, downing a dragon was almost poetry. His intensely serious demeanor could sometimes put off his fellow villagers but generally he was looked up to as an excellent example of how Vikings should carry themselves.

Unlike the rest of his fellow villagers, who'd brought only their own small personal weapons of daggers or other small blades, he'd come armed with his short sword sheathed across his back. When he saw the dragons assembled by the water's edge he froze. His arm jerked upward toward the grip of his weapon until he noticed the other Vikings peacefully gathered nearby. With a mistrustful eye on the lounging beasts, he walked to where the other folks had settled.

As the light started to age in the east, a few more dragons came to land with the others. Hiccup noticed there were no other breeds among them beyond the most common ones, those that had carried out the majority of the raids. He had only a moment to consider this before Spitelout shouted, "Gobber!"

The master smith, with his peg leg hindering his movements on rough ground, had taken longer to make the brief journey. With him was Freygerd, whose age similarly slowed her progress to the cove. Gobber helped her over some of the more difficult spots on the rock fall that allowed access to the enormous hole.

As the smith and the village elder approached, Stoick called to his son. Hiccup came to him, his nervousness obvious. "Hiccup," he said quietly, "I need you to follow my lead. I will call on you to speak but I want you to keep quiet otherwise. I will be explaining everything to them, everything you insisted they be told. But I will bring them to the knowledge the way I think best. Understand?"

"What about Toothless?"

Stoick regarded his son patiently. Thoughts of the unerring loyalty to the Fury convinced him the boy would someday be an excellent father.

"I doubt we'll need to worry about his part in this. I suspect he will handle it as well as you will."

Hiccup had to pause a moment to take in the compliment his father had so casually given. Before he could speak, two more dragons dropped down into the cove. It was Toothless and another Nadder. The Nadder looked a bit worn, as though it had been having a rough time lately; its scales weren't as bright and clean as they would normally be for such a meticulous breed. It also seemed quite nervous once it landed.

"Alright then," Stoick breathed to himself as he stood. He raised his hands silently and the villagers gathered closer to him. Before he spoke he turned his eyes once more to the Night Fury, watching as the black dragon mingled briefly with the others by the pond. He cast a quick glance at Hiccup, seeing his son watch his friend closely yet staying by his chief's side. Hiccup fidgeted slightly, still nervous about how this meeting would go. Stoick couldn't fault him for it. He had concerns of his own.

Toothless walked briskly around the pond toward the villagers, followed by all the other dragons. When they were relatively close, but not too close, he sat. The rest of his troop did the same, each taking its ease and making itself comfortable. Only the last Nadder that had flown in with him remained standing. Toothless growled softly to it and it finally sank to the scorched ground. The Fury turned his large luminous eyes to Stoick and nodded once. He nodded back. That was the conclave's first warning of what was to come.

Most missed it, however. Einarr was obviously not happy with whatever was going on, Ingifast was confused and Mord was looking thoughtful. Gobber, he noticed, seemed to highly anticipate the events to come this evening. And Freygerd had a thoroughly satisfied smile on her face. As her eyes left the black dragon's sleek form and met her chief's she nodded and smiled wider.

Having worked out where to aim his arguments and what support he could expect, Stoick spoke.

"You know the threat we face," he began simply. "We weren't able to come to an agreement on how to deal with it. Since then Hiccup has learned something new about our enemy, something that may help us. He has found a weakness..." He paused to glance at his son. "... and a strength."

He paced away from his rocky seat and around the small gathering. "The weakness is the easier issue to pursue. It's a physical flaw in its skull that we couldn't see when it was alive." He nodded to Hiccup. "How did you describe it to me?"

The young man started slightly at being addressed. "Oh. Uh, it's the eyes. The last eye, the, eh, last... the one furthest from it's, uh... nose. There's no socket behind it. No bone or anything. Just a hole."

Several faces became thoughtful, though Einarr seemed doubtful. "A difficult weakness to use. Taking advantage will be almost impossible. The angle is bad, the target is still defended and I cannot think of a single weapon that would penetrate enough to be worth the effort. Except a spear, maybe."

"A spear's too light," Gobber responded. "To get through scales with a blade you need a heavy weapon powered by large muscles."

Spitelout spoke up next. "We've never bothered going for the eyes on a dragon. Not when you need quick, killing blows." He turned to Mord. "Several archers, all aiming for a single eye that's almost as big as I am... that would be workable."

Einarr shook his head. "Come now, you know the first strike will enrage the beast. Unless they all hit at once, the first touch of pain it feels will have it moving after us. We'd only get one chance and it would be nearly impossible to get that close with enough archers to begin with."

With a raised hand, Stoick halted the brief exchange. "That's only the first problem." He hesitated, closed his eyes for a moment. Hiccup saw his jaw clench briefly before he gave a heavy sigh and pushed forward. "The biggest problem is what we argued about before. If we go there and try to attack this thing, we'll be committing the same... folly we did last time."

Ingifast quietly objected with, "But if we know about this weakness, can't we-"

"I beat on those eyes with a war hammer," Snotlout interrupted, surprising everyone. Including himself, it seemed. His old mannerisms surfaced for a moment in a wide grin. "It was glorious. I stood right there and beat on them." The grin faded. "It didn't care. It shook me off like a flea."

Stoick nodded, seeing his nephew understood the situation even if he couldn't quite express it clearly. "Snotlout's right. What we did last time won't work this time. We were lucky, that's all."

"Then why call this conclave, Stoick," Einarr asked plainly. "What use is this knowledge?"

The chief faced him squarely. "Because, as I said, Hiccup has found more than this weakness. He's found a strength."

Freygerd's first words of the conclave were light, almost teasing. She sounded like she knew what he would say next and delighted in leading him to speak the words. "What strength, Stoick? How shall we win this fight?"

He glanced her way for an instant, seeing her expression and remembering where he figured his support would be. He didn't smile but he did feel an easing of his burden. There were those besides his son and the Fury who would embrace this strange new idea. It helped to give him the will to speak the truth against centuries of belief.

"Our new allies." He said nothing more, knowing the notion of 'allies' would need a moment to take hold. Berk had been on its own for so long, without any contact from other tribes or traders. The entire notion had been slowly erased from the village's thoughts. Indeed, all those present stared at him in silence, trying to work out his meaning. Except for a notable few, that is. It was his brother, Spitelout who finally found his voice.

"What allies?"

"Them." And with a raised hand he set Berk upon her new course. He pointed at the dragons, sitting together and staring at the Vikings with uncanny patience.

The reactions told him much. Astrid gasped slightly, realizing the importance of the knowledge she'd recently gained from his son. The other young folk, riders themselves and thus disposed toward reliance upon their former enemies, reacted mildly. The rest split themselves into two camps: those willing to hear more and those unwilling. Einarr did exactly as he expected and objected first.

"What use are they?"

Stoick had prepared. He had thought hard about how he would explain what he'd been shown. His words were as thoroughly planned as he could make them. He gave the master huntsman a faint smile. "They're dragons. They fly, their bodies are armored and they breathe fire." Einarr didn't understand. Neither did several others. He took the next step. "But they are more than dragons. They are companions." He pointed to Snotlout. "They are guardians." He gestured to Astrid, who seemed slightly dazed at what she was hearing from her chief, from Hiccup's father. "They are protectors." He pointed to his son, the person he suspected was paying the closest attention to his words. "And they have agreed to be our allies." He turned deliberately toward the Night Fury. "Haven't you, Toothless?"

Whispers quickly turned to mutters and confused grunts. The sleek black dragon nodded at him and strode forward. He sat himself next to Stoick, facing Berk's council. The large Viking turned back to stare at his closest advisors. He raised his voice and spoke with the authority that his own father had instilled in him as a boy. "Toothless is the leader of the dragons here on Berk. He and I have an accord. We are now allies and we will defeat the Red Death together."

He waited for the backlash. It was inevitable and he would face it with all the determination he could claim. The stunned silence that followed his announcement took a bit longer to break than he expected. He watched Einarr closely but noticed that Hiccup had been confused by his statement of Toothless being the leader of the dragons. He briefly wondered if his son hadn't known or if he hadn't expected Stoick to learn of it. Finally, with a glance at the dragon in question, Spitelout spoke up again.

"What... what are you saying?"

Freygerd's eyes glittered, Gobber looked somewhat surprised and Ingifast was simply bewildered. But Spitelout was clearly worried and Einarr was slipping into some darker state of mind. Mord only shook his head slightly.

The master huntsman finally protested his leader's statement. "You cannot have an accord with a... a beast!" He stabbed an accusing finger at the dragon by his side.

"AYE!" Stoick boomed, gaining a startled blink from the man. "That would be foolishness! And that is the strength that Hiccup discovered. Dragons can and will be our allies because they are not beasts." He drew a great breath and said the words he'd not yet said aloud despite his own new belief. "They are people, like us." He glanced at Hiccup. "Just... shaped different." He was inordinately pleased to see the sudden, surprised smile light his son's face at using his words to help sway the discussion.

"What bedevilment is this?" Fear touched Einarr's words and widened his eyes. He pointed again to the Fury, his hand shaking slightly. "What has that creature done to you?"

Stoick took a single step forward and snarled. The idea that he was under some malevolent control was too great an insult to bear. "He's done nothing to me!" he roared. "My mind is my own!" The huntsman's eyes widened further just as a soft growl from the dragon came to his ears. He straightened, getting a grip on his temper.

A silent moment slid by as he collected himself. A slight movement to his left told him the Fury had matched his step and continued to stand by his side. He pointed to the dragon. "He's the one who told me of the new Red Death. He's the reason we've been forewarned."

Another moment passed. A single word had lodged in each mind, one that went against all reason.

"Told?" The dismay in Spitelout's voice would have bothered Stoick under any other circumstances.

"Yes." He kept his eyes focused exclusively on Einarr. "Told."

"Toothless spoke to you?" Gobber's voice was filled with wonderment and for an instant he felt a smile try to pull at his lips. He fought it, knowing how out of place it would be.

"No, he can't speak as we do." Stoick pointed down at the pictographs covering the ground. "He writes."

"Writes?" Freygerd practically gasped the word, looking down at the ground and seeming to understand what she was seeing.

"Yes." A memory came to him, perfect and whole. He addressed the elder, pulling her attention back to him. "What was the name of that girl back when I was a lad, the one we lost to the winter sickness when she was nine? She was born deaf but learned to talk with her hands and with writing."

Freygerd tilted her head slowly. "Amena." She smiled. "One of the brightest children I ever knew."

Stoick turned to Einarr. "Do you remember Amena? How she talked with writing?"

The huntsman nodded slowly. "Yes. I do."

Turning to his counterpart, Stoick asked, "Toothless, would you please show these folks how you spoke to me that day?"

The Fury looked at the assembled Vikings and stepped forward. He slowly grasped his metal pencil, withdrew it from its pocket and held it up. Murmurs could be heard but were too low to identify a voice. He lowered the pencil and began drawing Berk, Red Death Island and the Red Death itself hovering over its home.

By the time Toothless was done with his demonstration the lines between those present had shifted noticeably. As he had expected the young dragon riders responded positively, though Snotlout seemed to be putting on a brave face in light of the news. Freygerd beamed, her hands held together before her and her eyes shifting constantly between the dragon and his work.

Mord, he noticed, was staring at the Fury as though reassessing everything he thought he knew about the creatures. Of the rest, Einarr seemed most perturbed. Spitelout, however, disappointed him. His brother said only, "Stoick." His voice was low and thick, tinged with alarm. He turned calmly to his second, staring at him resolutely. Spitelout's mouth worked a moment but the words he wanted escaped him. The younger man could only shake his head slightly, obviously disturbed by what he'd seen.

Einarr was more outspoken but just as unsettled. "Chief, you can't..." He hesitated as their leader turned his attention back to the huntsman. "This..." He pointed to the drawing. "This... trickery... you can't be serious. How can you trust such unnatural... they're dragons! They're probably in league with the foul beast!"

Hiccup piped up, interjecting, "No, they hate it! It's taken over their nest and they want it gone!"

Still keeping his eyes on Einarr, Stoick held up his hand to his son and was grateful when the young man settled down. He continued to hold his peace as Einarr spat back at Hiccup, "I don't care! You and your pet may have killed the last one but that don't mean this thing can bloody well talk!" He pointed once more at Toothless, his arm trembling in outrage.

"Yes they can!" Astrid's words were filled with a thinly disguised contempt. "Folkvardr already knows some Norse words and Toothless and I are teaching him more! If you spent any time getting to know them you'd see it for yourself!"

Stoick was a bit startled at the heat of the young woman's words but said nothing against them. He had expected tempers to flare on this subject. As long as no one started swinging steel to win their argument he would not intervene.

"I don't know," Ingifast mumbled. "It sounds crazy. It sounds like something your boy..." He didn't seem inclined to finish the statement.

Spitelout spoke again, still being quiet but just as intense as before. "I think what he's trying to say is it's too much to believe. We've never seen them act like anything other than animals. Dangerous animals at that. Tamable, maybe, but-"

"It sounds like you're going mad!" Einarr snapped.

"Hold yer tongue!" Spitelout may have had serious reservations but he would not tolerate disrespect of any kind aimed at Berk's leader.

"We've been fighting them for our whole lives! Why should we start acting like they're suddenly something different?"

"WE DIDN'T LISTEN!"

Stoick had to marvel at the volume Freygerd's small body could produce when she wanted. He also felt a shameful amount of relief that the thunderous expression on her face was not aimed at him. The village elder stepped closer to the master huntsman, gripping her staff tightly with both hands. Einarr seemed to have no better idea how to respond to her outburst than anyone else. He could only do his best to withstand her baleful glare.

Freygerd took a deep breath, keeping her eyes firmly on Einarr.

"Hiccup warned us about the first Red Death. We didn't listen. How many died?"

"Freygerd-" Einarr's attempt to placate her was ignored.

"HOW MANY?"

He shook his head slightly, his dismay at being unable to answer her question obvious in his tone. "I... I don't remember."

"I do." Her voice was low and rough, reflecting a mixture of anger and anguish for the lives they'd pointlessly thrown away. "I'll never forget how many we lost because we didn't listen."

Faced with the statements his chief had made and now the anger of the village elder, Einarr's conviction faltered. "This isn't right! They killed so many of us, destroyed so much. How can we ignore that?"

"They did, yes," Freygerd agreed quietly. "Until the Red Death was gone. Then they changed, didn't they?"

Frustration reddened Einarr's tanned face, lit his dark eyes. "We can't trust them, they're animals!"

The diminutive woman took a step forward, sweeping the carved end of her staff around until it pointed to the junior Haddock. "Hiccup told us, all of us, that the dragons weren't what we thought they were. He was right and he proved it." Her staff shifted until it pointed to the elder Haddock. "Hiccup told his father we couldn't win against the Red Death. He was right and Stoick proved it." Winces and uncomfortable looks spread across most faces but the silence held. "Now Hiccup's come to us with new knowledge and tells us that dragons are people." Her staff moved once again until it pointed to the Night Fury. "And Toothless proved it."

Einarr was losing ground but still not convinced. "He's just a boy! How can he know anything!"

To everyone's surprise, Freygerd's expression slowly became pained. She gradually settled her staff before her once more and seemed to lean on it for support. "He wasn't the first to see." She frowned but her eyes had dropped to where her hands clutched her aspen pole. "As a girl, a young woman, I saw some of these things as well." She shook her head minutely. "But I said nothing. I didn't dare risk speaking out against tradition, against belief." She raised her face to Einarr, her expression so intent he actually leaned back a bit. "But I knew I couldn't be the first to watch them, either! There had to be folk before me who saw the same! But none before me challenged our way of life." She frowned deeply. "Too stubborn, too cowardly." A pause let the crickets voice their opinion. "And so was I."

Stoick was amazed to hear such things come from the wise woman. He'd have argued against, even lashed out against such words from anyone else concerning Freygerd. To hear them come from her mouth...

Freygerd lifted her staff again, pointing it toward Hiccup. "Only he dared. Only he questioned, used his mind instead of his muscles." She pointedly ignored the muted cough Gobber used to cover a short chuckle. With her free hand she pointed to the newly made drawing in the dirt. "Now the proof is before you and the truth is out. Each of us must make a choice." With a surprisingly agile move for one her age she drove the end of her staff to the ground and spun halfway around. The long curved line left behind roughly separated her and the other Vikings from the dragons. She looked up at Einarr, making certain he was paying close attention. "Do we stay where we are, in ignorance? Or do we get closer, face the truth and save ourselves by embracing it?"

Everyone watched her in silence as she turned and marched directly to Toothless. The Fury lowered his head as she approached. Standing before him she ran aged fingers along his sleek jaw. She lowered her brow until it touched his nose and murmured to him. Then she straightened, turned and defiantly planted her staff before her.

"I've made my choice."

Stoick wasn't at all surprised when Hiccup was the first to move across Freygerd's line. He was a bit confused, however, when his son moved directly to his friend and spoke to him in soft yet urgent tones. The dragon grunted in reply, nodding once. Hiccup stepped away from him but stayed on his side of the 'dividing line.'

"These dragons are young," Hiccup said in his best approximation of Stoick's public address voice. "Their age protects them from the Red Death's control. They've already agreed to help us get rid of the new one. The first thing they will have to do is take us there." Stoick felt a surge of pride as Hiccup targeted Einarr just as Freygerd had. The young man met the huntsman's eyes and said, "Anyone who's a part of this is going to have to ride one of these dragons to get there. That means training and it means trust. Anyone who can't handle that will have to stay behind."

Stoick bit his lip, hard. He had no idea if Hiccup truly understood what he'd just done or if he'd issued his challenge without realizing it. But it made him want to roar with laughter to see the indignant shock on Einarr's face as first he was told by a young man that he had to measure up to the slim Haddock's standards, then watch incredulously as nearly everyone, including Mord and Gobber, calmly crossed over the line and approached the dragons. Spitelout hesitated, then squared his shoulders and crossed the line. Ingifast looked worried, yet even he followed Spite's example after a glance at Einarr. Stoick roughly thumped the master huntsman on the shoulder and nodded knowingly at him as he followed Gobber and Spitelout toward their new allies.

The chief smiled as he stood before the Night Fury and extended his hand. The black dragon raised his forepaw and clasped it with care. From the corner of his vision he saw his brother Spitelout gawp at the display while Freygerd gave a sharp "Ha!" of satisfied laughter. The young folks who already had dragon partners all approached their counterparts with varying degrees of reservation. Snotlout seemed the most uncertain while Astrid stroked Folkvardr's jowls and smiled broadly at him.

Stoick looked around in satisfaction at the gathering. The purple Nadder had approached Mord and the grizzled man was soon gratefully accepting Astrid's assistance in getting acquainted with the dragon that had chosen him. Hiccup stepped close to him, a tempered smile on his face. He expected his son still had reservations about the 'leader' comment. He glanced behind him, figuring Einarr had to have made up his mind by now. He was disturbed to see the huntsman staring at them as if they had all gone insane.

Freygerd noticed as well. She stepped past Stoick and beckoned to him. "Come along Einarr. Your pride can withstand getting help in the battle to come, I'm sure."

With her words came the attention of all those gathered. Vikings and dragons watched him as he raised a hand and gripped the handle of the sword he wore across his back. Stoick jerked and stepped forward, one hand on the handle of his dagger.

Everyone froze, Einarr's face a dreadful mask and Toothless' lips lifting in a silent snarl. With a slow steady move the huntsman unsheathed his weapon, handily switched his grip so the point was aimed at the ground and stabbed the blade into the dirt. He released it and took a step back.

"I'll not ride a dragon." His words were soft but full of determination; his eyes glittered in the sun's last rays of light. "I'll not trust one, ever. They're beasts, no matter what you say."

"You deny the evidence before your eyes?" Freygerd's gentle chiding had no effect.

"You would turn your back on Berk when it needs you most?" Stoick's accusation had a much harder edge.

Einarr raised an accusing finger toward the Fury. "I know what they are. They killed Kadlin. Burned her arm off. She bit her lip to bloody rags trying not to scream. For three... for three days she tried not to scream."

This was an argument that had helped perpetuate the war. Stoick knew this and tipped his head back, looking down at the shorter man. "They killed my wife. They killed my father, my mother. And they saved my son."

Rage burst from Einarr, too great to be contained. "A dragon's a dragon! They can't be trusted!"

"And a Viking with his eyes closed is no better than a child!" Stoick shot back.

Unable to convince anyone, the huntsman shook his head slightly. "You do what you want, all of you." He spat on the ground between them. "I'll have no part of it." With that he turned and walked toward the rock fall to leave the cove.

"This is still a conclave and you'll abide by it."

Einarr stopped a moment, looked at them over his shoulder with disgust. "I care nothing about your conclave. Keep your secrets. I still know the truth."

An unsettling lull held those who remained frozen for a time. As the huntsman climbed up and out of the cove it was once again Spitelout who broke the silence. "Should we keep an eye on him?"

Shifting between anger and disappointment with each breath, Stoick finally said, "No. He has enough honor to be trusted in this for now." He shook his head and glowered at the blade the man had left behind. "Though we will doubtless miss his skills. He's the best archer in the village."

Ingifast approached his chief with clear apprehension. "I'm with you, chief. I don't know about this 'people' business but I have eyes. But I'm an old man. I don't know what use I'll be clinging to a dragon's back in a battle against a Red Death."

Stoick clasped the shipwright's arm and smile warmly at him. "That's fine Ingifast. We haven't worked out any details yet. Perhaps you'll get to beat on its eyes with a hammer this time, eh?"

The older man stared at him as though that idea was just slightly crazier than offering the new Red Death a handful of mackerel and meadow grass. "I'll leave that to the younger warriors, thank you." He pointed vaguely in the direction of Snotlout, who was getting Asgeirr to light their bonfire to ward off the approaching shade of night.

As he gazed around in the blossoming of warm, rosy light Stoick saw that the younger folks who were already acclimated to being around dragons were trying to help their elders in meeting and socializing with their reptilian companions. The sight was disturbing at first glance, with the writhing shadows behind them all countered by the energetic dancing light of the large fire. It looked like some supernatural meeting of large and small horned monsters.

He heard the now familiar grumbling of the Night Fury off to one side mixed with the soft chittering of a Nadder. When he turned to look he saw Hiccup nodding first to his friend then to the bird-like dragon that had followed the Fury into the cove. Hiccup approached, looking somewhat uneasy. "Dad, you do realize, of course, that when I said we'd all be riding dragons to get to the island, that meant you too."

"Ehh, yes. Yes, I know." Truthfully he'd not let that thought take hold. He'd allowed himself to set it aside as a problem to deal with 'later.' 'Later', he realized, had finally become 'now.' "I, uhh, I just think we need to work on..."

Hiccup set his fists on his hips and shook his head. "No, dad. That's what this whole 'secret' meeting is about."

Stoick couldn't help but bristle.

"The only way this will work is if we work together as teams. Everyone who goes will ride a dragon they've trained with."

The image Hiccup unintentionally conjured for him left him somewhat startled. "By Odin. Anvindr was right."

"Huh?"

He shook his head, dismissing the thought as quickly as it had come. "Nothing." He focused again on his son and noticed the three of them were staring at him, but the tall, leggy Nadder was behaving a bit strange. Its wings were pulled close to its body, its legs crouching to keep it lower to the ground. It had one eye turned toward him but the great horned head was also tucked close in to the chest. This Nadder, he saw, was displaying signs seldom seen in a dragon and usually an injured one at that. It was very nervous.

"Dad," he heard Hiccup say, "There's someone Toothless would like you to meet."

For an instant he was confused by the 'someone'. Then the Fury rumbled to the Nadder, nosing it gently on the jowl. The Nadder, a female, raised her head slightly. She shuffled forward a few steps. The fading rays of the sun and the dancing light of the fire muted the colors of her hide but collected in her large, wary eye, a ghostly spark writhing within. She studied him as closely as he did her.

Stoick had never seen this day coming. Riding dragons, interacting with them, trusting one's life to them; these were things he watched his son do. He hadn't imagined himself in such a position and now that it was necessary for him to do so he found himself wanting to hesitate.

There was something else within him, though. Something he could not have foreseen. It had started with his use of the word 'allies' minutes ago. Berk had been on the brink not long ago. He'd seen his time of leadership become the period that would start an inevitable decline, one his village might not ultimately survive. Facing the Red Death on the shores of its island had convinced him he had foolishly exchanged a slow decline for immediate decimation. Living with tamed dragons afterward had given him hope for his village.

Facing the idea of another Red Death had, without him being aware of it, opened his mind to accepting help from any quarter. At first he'd thought the trading mission might be the solution, contacting other tribes to see if they would be allies or perhaps offer some other answer.

Facing the Night Fury in his own house, with a declaration made in ashes of support from their former enemies, had given him the resolution he'd desired: one brought about by Berk's own devices and strengths. Who could have seen those strengths as residing in the frail, clumsy boy born of the Haddock house?

This was their salvation. This was his moment to, as Freygerd had just declared, face the truth and save himself. He had a moment to wonder at it all, at the changes within his mind and heart. Then he moved toward her, his hand rising of its own accord. There was a strange tingle that lit along his skin as he laid his palm against the warm, pliant scales of her lower jaw. It was magnified by the rough, throaty purr that started at his touch. The feeling seemed to cascade, to race along his arm into his chest and set his heart alight. His breath hitched and he swallowed against a sudden dryness in his mouth.

He looked helplessly at his grinning son, at the pleased looking Fury. He cleared his throat, swallowed again. Meeting the nervous Nadder's eye he nodded and said quietly, "He-hello. My... my name is Stoick."

---

(c)Wirewolf 2014

"How to train your dragon" and all attendant characters are copyright

Dreamworks Animation and used without permission

AN continued

You were probably expecting more from the conclave. One of the main reasons they needed it was to figure out what to do about their new enemy, Smoketail. To be honest this chapter is already pretty long and I didn't want to wait any longer to post it. So the ideas that come from and get discussed during this secret meeting will come to light in coming chapters. I think this chapter has got enough dialogue as it is, no point in burdening it with more. So chapter 33 will be more action and planning than yakity yakking. Hooray!

I've also noticed that several stories I've followed have changed the wording to alter the name of Hiccup's mother from Valhallarama (as it is in the books) to Valka (used in the new movie). Personally, I like 'Valka' much better and am considering doing the same. But I don't know when I might get to it. Just so you know.

A special note to Anhedral: You will be hearing from me very soon. I haven't forgotten our 'little project.'