CHAPTER 1
Fire rained down from the sky on to the wooden buildings of The Bog, The fortified town on Bog-Burglar Island. A town named by an ancestor chief of the, you guessed it, Bog-Burglar Tribe. Town was even being generous as it consisted of not much more than a stone keep, fifteen or so Viking longhouses, a market and a small blacksmith all tucked nicely behind a crude wooden palisade. Luckily the nearby forest held many strong trees because the longhouses were constantly in need of replacement. Big-Boobied Bertha, the leader of the Bog-Burglars was constantly stealing from others and when it wasn't some other angry tribe catapulting flaming bales of hay over their walls the pests of the north were swooping out of the sky spewing their flames all over the place.
The alarm wasn't long sounding and Hiccup kicked himself out of bed, moving swiftly in trained motion, starting the fires in the forge. Gristle Greybeard bursts in to the door, staggering and cursing loudly as he tries to open the window. The bum must have been up at the keep again savouring the latest flavour of stolen booze. Hiccup had heard that it came from somewhere down south, Havenholme. He had never been there but he heard they were well known for their golden wines.
At least for what he could remember, he had never been there. Hiccup had washed up on the shore of Bog-Burglar Island just over a year ago with no memory of where he came from. Hell he wasn't even sure if Hiccup was his name. The locals called him that due to his size. Bog-Burglars were all massive. What he did have was a natural talent for metal working and once the tribe realized he wasn't a threat and could actually be of use, they welcomed him in and put him to work. The current blacksmith and his "mentor", Gristle, was a pathetic blacksmith. Most of his weapons failed. It was a wonder that the Bog-Burglars could raid anyone before Hiccup had showed up. The man was a walking disaster even by Hiccup's clumsy standards.
"Sword. Now." A weary soldier calls from the open window. Hiccup takes a quick gauge of the man, Bigger muscles but not overly huge. Tallish figure. He reaches for an experimental blade that he had cooked up. He came across the design in a book he had managed to get from Trader Lena on her last visit. Known as a Spatha, Hiccup had taken a liking to the drawing the book contained. A sleak sword with a shimmery silver blade that was much narrower than the traditional sword the Bog-Burglar's used. The crossguard was also narrower and had been made using a piece of iron sandwiched between two pieces of bronze. The handle was crafted from oak and wrapped in leather for grip and to protect the wood from the elements of battle. The pommel was a work of art. A fancy eagle head that was much too nice for a common soldier however Hiccup knew that someone had to test the first one and Kessler was just the man.
Hiccup holds the sword out to him handle first. Kessler takes it with a look that Hiccup knows all too well. He is not impressed with this new sword design. Of course stubborn viking's would hate anything new. Why wouldn't they? "Trust me. It'll work great." Hiccup tried to reassure him.
"Ahhh!" the scream fills the smithy and Hiccup without blinking an eye, grabs a nearby bucket of water and tosses it in Gristle's face, extinguishing his flaming beard.
Sputtering and coughing, he issues no thanks to Hiccup. "Get to work sharpening those axes boy."
Rolling his eyes, Hiccup grabbed a nearby axe and pressed it to the grindstone as he worked the pedal. He tries to focus on his work as the sounds of dragons and humans wage war on each other outside.
"Hiccup!"
"Yes Gristle." Hiccup sighs. This isn't the first time the master smith has bellowed at him.
"Where's my hammer at? How can ye expect me to work without my hammer?" Hiccup is sure that if he shouted any louder the timbers holding up the roof would rattle.
Hiccup reaches on the floor next to the anvil and grabs Gristle's old beat up hammer. It spends more time on the floor than it does in his hand.
"Next time ya borrow my hammer, put it back on the wall where it belongs." Gristle grumbles as he takes a brand new sword and shoves it into the fires of the forge.
Hiccup could have warned him that he was ruining a perfectly good blade but he tried that before and the end result was anything but pretty so he just returns to his own work of sharpening blades.
The rest of the dragon attack went same is always, more fires, more damaged buildings, and a ton of damaged weapons that needed sharpening and fixing. Hiccup joined the entire village at the keep for a feast. Bertha liked to reward her warriors after a successful defense or attack. She claimed it kept morale high.
As Hiccup pushes his way through the doors he notices Kessler on a table holding his spatha over his head like a triumphant warrior. "… and with one swing I hacked a zippleback's head clean off!"
Hiccup takes his seat at the table near the walls and hides himself in the shadows.
"Come on Kessler. Look at that sword. It's so tiny. It doesn't have the strength to severe a head." A young girl shouts from the top of a staircase.
Hiccup glances up. A wild haired blonde girl stands defiantly at the top of stairs. "Camicazi." He says under his breath.
She sits on the railing and slides down landing on her feet with ease. She hops up on the table with Kessler and holds out her hand.
He passes the sword over to her without hesitation. She looks at the shimmery design on the blade and hefts it lightly in her hand. "Fancy design but it's too light."
The crowd laughs at him as she tosses him the blade back.
"I can prove it! Bring me something and I'll cut it." Kessler challenges.
A man grabs a wrought iron candle stand and brings it over to Kessler, who jumps down off the table.
He holds the sword up to the wrought iron, gripping the handle tighter. In one swift movement he swings the sword. Everyone expects a loud clang of metal on metal but what they weren't expecting was for the sword to break its way through the iron, causing the top of the candle stand to topple to the floor. The entire crowd is speechless.
"Impressive."
All eyes go to Big-Boobied Bertha descending the staircase. She takes the sword and checks the blade for damage to find none.
"I want one." Camicazi exclaim to her mother.
"Gristle. What can you tell me of this weapon." Bertha asks the old smithy.
"Ye see. That weapon there is one of our finest. It's made of special metal found only in the eggs of dragons. The terrible terror's eggs to be exact!" Gristle spews out a nonsense story.
"Can you replicate this in another sword?" Bertha questions.
Gristle puffs out his chest. "Of course I can!"
"No you can't."
All eyes turn to Hiccup in the corner who slaps his hands over his mouth. He curses himself silently for his big mouth.
"You calling me a liar runt?" Gristle seethes.
"I meant no disrespect. Just I built that sword." Hiccup's words come out as little more than a whisper.
"You?" Camicazi is astonished.
Hiccup rolls his eyes. "Yes me. I'm not totally useless you know."
"Do you have proof of your claims?" Bertha asks. "And can you make me one?" Camicazi adds.
Hiccup is uncomfortable with all the attention that he's getting and his eyes never leave the floor no more than five feet away. "The design on the blade is known as Damascus." He ignores a lone comment claiming that the word was made up and he pushes forward. "Way down south they developed a way of folding metal on to itself, again and again. It makes it stronger. I wanted to experiment with it. That's the first and only blade I made"
Bertha eyes the waves along the length of the blade. "Come closer boy. Where did you learn of this method?"
"And why is the blade so small?" Camicazi pipes up.
Hiccup steps out of his shadows and closer to the chief. "I traded for a book from Trader Lena. The sword design is a roman design known as a Spatha. It used less metal than our traditional design. I chose it in case I failed. Easier to melt back down for reuse."
"You're going to sit here and believe this… this nonsense?" Gristle growls.
"Of course not Gristle. You've been our smith for years." Bertha replies bringing a smirk to Gristle's face. "I'm going to allow you both to work your magic to create a sword for my daughter." The smile instantly falters.
"Of course milady." Hiccup bows his head.
Gristle snarls as he turns and storms out into the night.
"Tonight we eat! And tomorrow the bladesmiths flaunt their skills." Bertha's announcement brings a cacophony of cheers.
Morning was the worst for Hiccup. Gristle was anything but convenient for him. Hiding the better charcoal. Knocking his metal to the ground. Just being a child. But Hiccup wasn't about to let that bother him.
Gristle is sitting in front of the crowd with a stack of terrible terror eggs. He holds each one up to his ear and taps on it with the other hand. "Ya gotta get the right sound. Otherwise there's no metal in 'em."
Hiccup rolls his eyes at the smith. The guy was clearly deranged and he couldn't believe how many of the villagers were drawn to his nonsense. Hiccup was thankful that the crowd was watching Gristle. He could work in peace. His hammer clangs down on the metal again and again as he pounds his ingot out, making it longer and longer. He knew the design he was aiming for. He wanted to try a new design but he didn't have the time and so it would have to be another Spatha.
Wiping the sweat out of his eyes, Hiccup glances up at the sun. It must be midday by now he guesses. His sword really was taking shape. Gristle's on the other hand was a complete mess. He had cracked open a couple eggs and somehow convinced the crowd that he had gotten an iron ingot out of it. He had started shaping a sword. Traditional Viking sword. Nothing special. No shimmery waves.
Hiccup slowly cut a single fuller down the about two thirds of the blade length and once he was happy with the result, he began to polish it. The only way to make the waves shine brightly was to polish and oil the blade until it looked as bright as silver.
The sun was beginning to set and Gristle was showing off his completed sword. "But where are the shimmery waves?" A spectator asked.
"They're there! It just takes a moment for them to come out. They're shy ya know!" Gristle answers.
Hiccup chuckles to himself as the other smith continues to dig himself into a hole he will never be able to climb out of. Stop getting distracted Hiccup! He reminds himself.
He taps the back of a fine tipped chisel, adding a name to the blade and tosses in a H at the base of the blade. Master bladesmiths always marked their product so people knew it was something of quality.
He picks up the blade and in a flashy show, waves it around and stabs it in to a wooden table. Watching from a distance the entire time, Camicazi finally comes forward to inspect the finished blade.
"It looks different from the other one." She observes.
Hiccup begins clamming up. He's not good at talking to others and he's even worse at talking to girls. "It's more plain. Time constraints."
"It's beautiful." She's mesmerized by the shimmer in the blade as she runs her hand over it. She flinches as the blade cuts her fingertip, drawing a little blood. "I barely touched it." She says in shock.
"It's extremely sharp milady."
She notices the words on it. "What's this? Swiftpoint." She reads the name off the sword.
A new side of Hiccup begins to show itself. The animated side that loves talking about his interests. "That's the name of the sword. All great swords should have a name. Someday that sword could do great or terrible things."
"Swiftpoint." She lets the name slide off her tongue. "I love it."
Two warriors stand facing each other and each are holding one of the swords. Bertha stands on a barrel. "Now the rules are simple. The two blades will receive 5 total hits. Whichever blade receives the least amount of damage will be declared the winner. The loser will take his sword and from this day forth be banished from Bog-Burglar."
The colour instantly fades from Gristle's face.
"Begin!"
The competition was no competition at all. The blades clashed and never made it to a second swing. Swiftpoint's blade dug deep in to Gristle's blade and became wedged there. Upon a quick jerk to remove the blade, Gristle's sword bent awkwardly out of shape.
Eyes bugging out of his head, Gristle's mouth tries to form words but nothing coherent forms.
"So it is done…" Bertha announces. "Master Gristle. I thank you for your services all these years. However, your work could very well cost us all our lives and so from this day forth you are hereby banished from Bog-Burglar. You will be given a light vessel from the docks and enough food for a week. Leave these parts and never return."
Gristle turns on Hiccup, anger in his eyes as his face begins to flare red. "You!"
Kessler and another man step in between the two smiths and they push Gristle back.
Camicazi grabs Swiftpoint and holds it at Gristle's throat. "Make me use it. I dare you. This blade is thirsting to spill its first blood." She snarls.
Gristle stares at her defiantly for a moment before his eyes go back to Hiccup. "I'll get you yet boy. Maybe not today. But I'm coming for you." He skulks away towards the docks.
"Great… Someone else to hate my guts." Hiccup groans under his breath but no one hears it as they're all trying to order a new sword from him.
Hiccup crashes on to his bed. The day couldn't have gotten any busier if it tried. Tomorrow he would begin checking off the new orders he started receiving.
A crash comes from the forge.
"We're closed for the day." Hiccup calls out as he gets up to go see who it is.
He comes face to face with a hooded figure. Hiccup's blood runs cold. Gristle is back to finish him off.
A hand tears back the hood revealing Camicazi. "I…" Hiccup is at a loss of words.
"That's quite the greeting." Camicazi smirks.
"My apologies milady. I was expecting Gristle to enact his wrath on me." Hiccup slightly bows. "What can I do for you?"
Camicazi strolls around Hiccup's room glancing at the drawings on the walls. Different designs. Some of which she doesn't recognize or understand. "That sword you made today was quite impressive Hiccup. Or is it Master Hiccup now that you've been promoted to master smith?"
The garners a chuckle from Hiccup. "Hiccup is fine Miss Camicazi."
"Please. Cami is fine. Camicazi is such a long name." She stops at a drawing of a sword unlike anything she's ever seen. "This one."
Hiccup looks at the drawing that caught her attention. It was one he had no idea how to build. It was something he had drawn up from different designs. "That one?"
"I want that one." Cami confirms. "How much?
"It would be a sword fit for a king." Hiccup starts before she cuts him off.
"Name your price." Cami is adamant in getting what she wants.
Hiccup stares at the rack of swords. Most are useless as they were made during many of Gristle's drunken days. He would have to melt them down and start over but they're giving him an idea.
"I'll make a deal with you." Hiccup manages to stutter out.
Cami cocks an eyebrow. "The master smith is going to make a deal with the daughter of the chief? That's rich. You know I could just have mom force you to build it for me free of charge."
"I want to learn how to handle a sword." Hiccup tells her without moving his eyes from the sword rack.
"Oh." That catches her off guard. "You want to learn to sword fight?"
Hiccup nods. "I want you to teach me."
"And I get the sword in return?" It sounds suspicious to her.
Hiccup makes eye contact with her. It's uncomfortable but he feels that she needs to see that he's serious. "I will make it for you before we start."
"Done." She holds her hand out and Hiccup clasps it.