Chapter Seventy-Four: Hiding
"What did you find out?" Alvin growled at the shaking old man. He was impatient. "N…no…nothing." The old man stammered.
"I've heard nothing. And…and when I asked…they only told me….he…he was gone…" the man whimpered.
Having enough of his incompetence Alvin grabbed him by the throat and squeezed so long until the man's weak struggles died down.
He tossed him aside like a broken toy.
Savage winced and said: "Sir, this is the second spy you killed this week. We don't have so many…" "Shut up or you join them." Alvin grunted. Savage shut up.
Alvin played with the dagger. Pocket knife, whatever.
"There's more. The boy was hiding something." "You think so?" "I know so."
Alvin starred ahead.
They were on the outskirts of the Archipelago. Berk was a long distance away but that didn't matter.
"What are you hiding Hiccup, what are you hiding, what are you…"
He interrupted himself as a cold wind blew around him a familiar voice echoed in his mind. His face went blank for a second before he grinned.
"Hiccup, Hiccup, Hiccup, you sly little dog."
He turned around and shouted: "Savage, get me paper and an idiot to over bring the 'happy' news for Stoick. His son's alive and he doesn't know it!"
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On a remote and heavily guarded island far away Illiona woke from her light sleep.
"Oh-o." she muttered as she stumbled out of bed.
She ran as far as the chains allowed her to the entrance of her prison…sorry, home, and looked outside.
Black clouds gathered overhead.
"Oh no. Alvin, what are you doing? This is throwing everything out of balance!" she whispered.
She closed her eyes and concentrated.
She started to glow.
"Oh you gods above, hear my prayer. Hear your oracle. Danger is overwhelming. Answer my prayers. There is no time left." She whispered fiercely.
But she knew. Nothing could stop this from happening. It was a desperate wish. So all she could do was watch and hope.
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On Berk:
"Why did you call me at this god-forsaken hour Gobber?" Stoick growled as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His beard was a mess, more than usual and his belt was crooked.
"I'm sorry Stoick. I wouldn't have if it wasn't so urgent."
"I know I know. So, what's the matter?"
"This just came for you from a passing trader. He said it was for you. Someone gave it to him for you."
"Did he say who?" "No. And he seemed to be in hurry." "Strange. Well, they are strange people anyway those traders."
Gobber nodded and handed him a small chest. It was made from wood and had iron locks.
"Any idea what it could be?" "Naw. But it seems important. Maybe there is a note with it." "Yeah maybe." Stoick said and sat down in his chair, putting the box on the table in front of him.
"Well, let's see what we got here." He mumbled and opened the box.
Silence.
Stoick felt his hear beat in his chest. It beat so fast it hurt.
Inside the box, on a small bed of velvet laid a knife.
Nothing more than a pocket knife, really.
Stoick would have used it to clean his teeth.
Not this one though.
He knew this knife.
He knew that the blade was made from steel that had been folded fife times. He knew the wood of the handle was from a beech. He knew there was a fine crack on the downside of the handle. He knew which letters had been burned into the wood. He knew exactly how long it was.
He knew this, because he had helped his son together with Gobber make his first weapon when the boy was fife years old.
Hiccup had always carried this knife with him, proud of what he had made. Ever since then Hiccup had helped Gobber in the forge.
And they had started drifting apart.
And Stoick had forgotten about the knife.
Until he saw it lying in the chest, on velvet as red as blood.
Then it all came back to him.
"Stoick? What is it?" Gobber asked.
The chief slowly reached in inside the chest and took the small knife out. It looked so small in his giant hand.
Gobbers face softened when he saw the blade.
"Is that…" he asked.
"It's his knife."
"But…how…how…"
"I don't know Gobber…"
Seven Months. Half a year and more.
That was how long Hiccup had been gone. Dead. Lost. Whatever you called it, he wasn't here anymore.
Since the discovery of the cove and his sons' helmet all tracks had cooled down. There were no leads. No one knew what happened. Only the result.
Stoick moved the knife in his hands.
It was cold and smooth.
When he held it close to his face he caught the smell of faraway lands.
How had this knife left the island and more important, how had it found its way back? How had it gotten away from its master in first place?
"Stoick…look…there…is a note."
Gobber had lifted the velvet and revealed a small piece of paper, neatly folded two times.
Stoick took it, opened it, read it and paled.
"And? What does it say?"
With a shaking voice he read:
"Greetings my dear Stoick. It's me, your old friend Alvin the Treacherous, chief of the Outcast. Be assured, this is no declaration of war. Not yet anyway. No. While sailing the seven seas I found something rather interesting and thought you might want it back. The knife is just part of it. You should keep track of your spawn. It's a dangerous world.
With best greetings,
Alvin the Treacherous."
Gobber looked like he was about to faint.
"Your…spawn? But…but your only…"
"…child is dead." Stoick mumbled.
There it was again.
This feeling in his chest.
This feeling of wrongness that had come with Hiccups 'death'.
"He's alive. He's been…all this time." He mumbled as realization hit him.
"Stoick. Don't talk like that. He's gone."
Stoick jumped to his feet.
"No, he is alive. I know it. I've always known it."
"Stoick, this is one of Alvins tricks."
Stoick shoved the knife over to his oldest and best friend.
"If so, how did he get this?" he shouted.
"I don't know Stoick. You sure it is his?"
"How else should Alvin of all people know what it looks like? They never met; I've made sure of that!"
"But if Hiccup is alive, where is he?"
"Alvin must have kidnapped him that day!" Stoick shouted.
Gobber shook his head.
"Stoick, Alvin would never dare anchor near Berk without his armada, which he doesn't have. Don't you think we would have seen his boat? And even if, why wait seven month to message you? I don't say Alvin is smart or honest or anything good but it's not his style."
"What are you saying Gobber?" Stoick asked silently.
"Hiccup is dead. And if he's not then he…"
"He what?"
"Ran away."
AN: As always, leave a review if you have the time or have something to say! Thanks, Kate.
PS: No, I didn't name Story-Kate after me. I only realized it myself a short time ago