CHAPTER 58: Invasion of Caldera Cay

The invasion of Caldera Cay was delayed by a full week, it was supposed to commence within the early hours of the morning following the false flag operation conducted by the Ancients. The delay was down to a couple of things, but most importantly, it was down to a hidden clause within the Ancient-Warlord pact that only Herald and Yurlin knew about.

Specifically, the clause in it that agreed that Caldera Cay would be split into half, one half controlled by the Warlords and the other by the Ancients. It was Yurlin's initiative to offer this clause when he was negotiating the pact, both for pragmatic reasons and also logistics. In order to successfully pull this off, Yurlin felt like he needed to give the Warlords something, that something being the other half of Caldera Cay - the pact was his get out of jail card in avoiding having to face outnumbered odds from the outside tribes.

Allowing the Warlords to share one half of the 'earnings' meant that they'd be satisfied to keep their end of the bargain with the pact. Although Yurlin had wanted the invasion to take place the morning following the day of the false flag operation, the delay made him think it'd work to his advantage - the Defenders of the Wing tribe would've expected the invasion to take place a LOT earlier.

And although Dagur had dispatched some Berserker vikings onto Caldera Cay, not that Yurlin knew that, Caldera Cay in of itself faced extremely difficult circumstances. A tsunami was heading its way and Caldera Cay was like a small plastic boat bracing for the tsunami.

Hiccup was at this moment in time taking part in a gathering of his tribe involving Gothi where she was to cement him from Odin's own words as the savior of the free viking world. Yurlin also didn't know this was happening on New Berk. The more he thought about it, the more he thought it was an accidental genius to have delayed the invasion for a full week.

Yurlin, surrounded by his entourage of guards on the wooden ducks as the scent of seaweed rushed through their nostrils, kept his arm saluted as he watched the vast armada sail past the docks, the very armada set for Caldera Cay. The soldiers on the numerous wooden boats turned to the side as their respective boats gently flowed past the docks and they saluted back at their leader.

Thousands of regular Ancient vikings back in the distance, on the grassy plains which led to the wooden docks, also watched on as their boats made the crucial flowing moves across the seas for the island of Caldera Cay.

The wind caused Yurlin's leather jacket to gently wave its way around as he maintained his salute. The sound of the boats gently rocking the seas, almost like roars as the vast collections of seawater bounced left and right from the collection of boats, gave the Ancient Chieftan a sense of dignity. The armada housing roughly 5,000 Ancient soldiers on course to Caldera Cay was to be possibly his most significant overseas move...yet.

Flanked by both Herald and a top council viking, Yurlin continued reviewing and inspecting the many boats passing besides the wooden ducks as the row of them started heading off into the vast distance of the seas on route.

"Hiccup Haddock dare not declare war on me, he hasn't got the guts. He'll soon realize the outstanding feature of this tribe we're about to liberate is that of oppression, aggression against the Ancient vikings, and cruelty. He'll come around to my perspective soon enough. The Defenders of the Wing, led by a woman no less which classifies them as a fraud tribe, are a group of assassinating barbarians in work with the unvikings."

Herald nodded at Yurlin's words, the two of them having to speak up due to roaring waves of wind passing by their ears, struggling to hear their voices.

"Agree wholeheartedly. This has been a long time coming and we will soon reap the benefits, when all the outside tribes thank us for our efforts."

Having both reviewed and observed the invading armada sail off to the seas on route for Caldera Cay, Alfa Yurlin was neither nervous or hesitant - he was ready for this, as was his tribe. He was ready to enact all that he's worked towards ever since becoming Chieftan, to take this archipelago back to where it should've been. Nobody was going to stop him, nobody. Surrender was something he'd never ever countenance.


A couple of hours had passed since the armada set sail towards Caldera Cay, and the volcanic island was within viewing distance. Inside the many boats of the Ancient armada were battle hungry vikings, sat inside the interiors of the boats, geared up like bulls with their enhanced tunics, helmets and weaponry. Shoulder pads with spikes poking out of all areas, maces and battleaxes with the most sturdy pieces of steel crafted into them - they were battle hardened to undertake this invasion.

The thousands of Ancients scattered within the approaching boats to Caldera Cay were all young men, in their mid to late 20s - they were told that this 'liberation' was to be conducted in the upmost ruthlessness. They were under orders to show mercy to nobody, to pillage upon anyone in this 'unviking' infested island in the concentrated effort to 'save' the archipelago and bring it back to a period in which no conflicts ever broke out akin to the ones between the Hooligans and Drago, then Grimmel respectively.

Alongside that, the young Ancient men knew this was also for their own benefit - for living space, to give their fellow vikings living space and to expand at the expense of the unvikings. This expansion evidently had no limits and the dark shadows of Northern Markets and Wingmaiden Island practically remained put on the wooden walls of the bases of the boats. The unification of the archipelago under Alfa Yurlin was coming to fruition.

Many of the young men conscripted to carry out this invasion continuously slammed their battleaxes into the wooden floor, scraping the harsh steel of their weapons across the base as they sharpened up the brutal weapons. They didn't speak a single word to each other but instead glared and groaned like animals - they were firmly in the belief that this action was for the benefit of all vikings, and under orders from Yurlin, they were to carry it out with no mercy as a result.

A successful invasion had wide ranging consequences for the archipelago - the Ancients on board were firmly aware of that, which only enhanced their desires to carry it out with the upmost determination. As their Chieftan has repeatedly said - victory at all costs, surrender was treason and was simply not an option.

On Caldera Cay, the Defenders of the Wing, what remained left of them on the island, were all firmly in position. Many of them took refuge on top of the dormant volcano where they recognized the advantage of high height. As well as scouting the waters, to which they'd firmly spotted a big armada heading their way like an asteroid to earth.

They were determined to fight on and, unlike the other tribes who fell to Alfa Yurlin, stand up to the Ancients with their own medicine. There were only two choices as far as Throk, who by his own accord remained put on the island alongside the assisting Berserker vikings, was concerned. Surrender to the Ancients and allow their expansion to go beyond their island, which meant tyranny, oppression and discriminatory slaughter to succeed, or to preserve the archipelago as it was with its proud history of dragon peace, cooperation, and freedom.

For Throk, there was only one option amid those two, and he wasn't going to go down without a fight. Both sides had stakes in the game and as the looming shadow of war grew over the archipelago like a storm, the brutality of the imminent invasion was to be great and unseen before in viking history, even during the battle between the Hooligans and Drago on Old Berk when the Bewilderbeasts fought it out.

The Defenders of the Wing kept their bodies hidden within the huts across their island, a good chunk of their archers were positioned on the top of the dormant volcano, eyes eagerly aimed at the direction of the incoming armada sent by Alfa Yurlin.

"In case we don't prevail against these thugs," Throk said, belted up with numerous steel daggers, holding a crossbow as he kept himself intertwined within a bush near the shores of the island next to a Berserker, "tell Mala that I wish her and Dagur all the best in the world."

"We WILL prevail, second in command. Numbers do not, after all, win a battle."

"They don't...but all the eyes of the archipelago rest upon us. Queen Mala has rightfully remained put on your island whilst we fend off these oppressive creatures. How, after ten years since the dragons left...we've ended up having to fight a backwards-facing tribe of systematic murderers is incredibly shocking and actually upsetting...but we're duty bound to protect OUR island, OUR legacy, and the legacy of the Erupton. I love that Queen Mala has sought refuge in alliance with Hiccup Haddock, meaning our tribe will fight on his behalf to stop this wicked upcoming invasion. A good man, a very good man - just let Queen Mala know I never died in vain."

Throk openly confessing that he knew he had a good chance of being killed in the upcoming attack sent shivers down the spine of the Berserker next to him. The stakes were incredibly high and only encouraged the Berserker to send these guys packing back onto their boat to stop them from turning the archipelago & most likely the world into a twisted oppressive state.

The many stone structures on the island were poised to make great camouflaging posts for the vikings due to their black hooded tunics and gear matching closely enough with the dark grey colours of those structures. A majority of them on the lower level of the island remained put directly besides the structures, ducked down onto their knees.

They remained in position, with shivers from the nerves creeping down their bodies as if the freezing cold was an everlasting sensation. The realization that falling to the Ancients would prelude the horrifying transformation of the archipelago into a cruel, merciless dictatorship concentrated around one man was one that precisely fueled those shivers.

Throk noticed as he looked down the dry mud around him, a bunch of insects seemingly fighting one another. One of them seemed to be a small ant, and the other an insect Throk himself hadn't ever seen before. Just as the ant seemed to be successfully avoiding the bigger insect, another insect of the same variant suddenly landed behind the ant and grabbed it from behind - the ant clearly hadn't expected it and as a result both the insects feasted upon its doomed body.

Rounded boulders suddenly crashed upon the terrain of Caldera Cay like asteroids, the sound of their collision thumping the eardrums like an explosion to the vikings who had the misfortune of being close to the descending boulders. More boulders continued raining down across the island.

"WHERE ARE THEY COMING FROM?!" demanded Throk as the boulders crashed through the huts like fire through wood.

"THEY'VE GOT CATAPULTS! OPEN YOUR ARROWS TO THEM!" yelled one of the Berserkers, his throat stretched out as he gave the order.

The many vikings on Caldera Cay sprinted out from their positions and charged directly towards the shores. The eight boulders projected from catapults by the Ancient boats gave them the starting shot they needed to defend their territory, yelling like animals, in their dark tunic gear.

"OPEN YOUR ARCH BOWS AND FIRE!" yelled the leading Defender of the Wing viking who was with the fellow defenders upon the mountain.

The pace at which the Ancients fired their catapults, and the accuracy, was scarily enhancing the dark environment that was gradually clouding the island as the invasion commenced. In the distance, hundreds of Ancients were braving the shallow waters as they shoved and tripped one another to get to dry land, as hundreds of arrows meanwhile flew all over the place, some already making contact with their enemies and vice versa.

The charging Ancients continued unloading from the armada of boats, and their numbers only crept up and up. If there was such a thing as a human tsunami, this would've been the prime example of it, as many geared up vikings rushed with passion and determination whilst simultaneously firing their crossbows into the direction of those they considered to be 'subvikings' and worthy of death as a result.

A couple of Ancient bodies collapsed into the water as the arrows successfully struck them - but the Ancients were returning the favour to a much heavier extent. Roars of pain broke out among a bunch of the Defenders as arrows seemed to be striking them not from the front - but from behind.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Throk yelled.

"WE'VE GOT COMPANY BEHIND US, WE'RE BEING OUTFLANKED!"

The Warlords had already made their own landing on the island. They, returning to combat for the first time in ten years, unleashed their arrows from their long bows and sent them flinging in the air right into the backs of the Defenders - they'd been outflanked and they hadn't expected the Warlords to be here so early.

The Defenders on top of the volcano were now being played at their own game - the Warlords had already inflicted their arrows into the backs of many of them, rendering their advantage of having an overview of the island null and void.

The Ancients were suddenly given a complete break, and were no longer facing the prime concentration of the Defenders. They all, dripping in seawater, burst onto the island and many of them split up into the small groups as Throk quickly rolled across to another bush.

One Ancient viking slid his chest directly across a patch of dry mud and remained belly first on the ground, firing his crossbow towards Throk's direction. Screams and cries of pain overwhelmed the environment as all birds took off amid the fierce battle. Hundreds more Ancients quickly piled onto the island, as they too split up and quickly rushed for various areas of the island.

The Defenders were struggling. The battle was entirely one-sided as the odds shrunk ever more. On one side they were facing the Ancients, who had no scruples about being merciless and brutal in their killings, and on the other side vengeful Warlords working with the Ancients, to whom the Defenders did not expect to be here, so much so that they hadn't ever checked their surroundings on the waters on the opposite side of their island.

"YOU GUYS, GO BACK AND SWIM AWAY FROM HERE!" yelled one of the Berserkers to a group of struggling defenders as he imminently planned to rush out towards the incoming flock of Ancients near the shores, "I-"

He never got a chance to finish his sentence. Like barbaric animals in the medieval era, a huge group of Ancients, yelling at the top of their lungs, rushed over to the Berserker and sent their battleaxes colliding off the nose, causing the Berserker to fall to the ground like a boulder hacked off the side of a mountain. The Ancients then continued hacking away at his body with their axes.

The fury in their eyes, the ruthlessness that contrasted the hesitancy of the Defenders due to the overwhelming fear that crept over their otherwise determined instincts to fight and save their island, didn't go unnoticed by Throk, who remained hidden within a bush. There was no scruple felt by these guys given their actions - hundreds of them were turning into thousands of them as they continued flocking onto the island from their armadas.

The Ancients had no hesitancy. That lack of hesitancy was seriously hurting the Defenders, as was the unexpected presence of the Warlords so early on and so sneakily.

Less resistance was facing their way as the Warlords continued distracting the main bulk of the Defenders. Throk, noticing a thick wooden branch on the ground next to him, knew he had to meet fire with fire. The panic that flamed his determination to go ruthless stemmed from the very real reality that his island was about to forcefully surrender to the forces of Alfa Yurlin and Drago Bludvist, cementing the gradual takeover of the archipelago.

He was so furious and determined that he picked up the branch. Spotting a vast group of Ancients as they rushed past the bush he was hiding in, he charged out of the bush and promptly followed them like a hawk. They stopped and had no time to acknowledge the enraged viking heading their way.

"FOR QUEEN MALA, AND FOR FREEDOM OF ALL VIKINGS!" yelled Throk to the bewildered Ancients as he thrust his branch into the air and sent the hard cold wood bouncing off the temples of the Ancients.

Their bodies quickly collapsed to the ground, and Throk wasn't done there. Determined to save his island as the Defenders seemed to be decreasing drastically in numbers, he started rushing his way towards the dormant volcano to give the Warlords a little surprise.

As he did, a stinging outburst of pain rushed through his body, like a lightning bolt suddenly struck his insides. His whole body froze in position as he physically couldn't walk, the pain overwhelming too much for his movements. He dropped the branch and, feeling winded in his chest as the pain took over him, collapsed to his knees, before sliding down slowly to his chest on the ground.

The long arrow that stuck out from his back pummeled his spine and made direct contact with it. The Ancients had got their biggest casualty of the invasion, and one that'd cement what was now an inevitable victory over Caldera Cay.

"I'm sorry..." a tearful, winded and agonized Throk cried into the cold ground face first as he succumbed to the pains of the arrow shot into his back, "I'm sorry Queen Mala."

He heard hundreds of footsteps stop at the side of his body. The Ancients that surrounded his body slammed their axes into his back, clubbing him to death like he was a piece of bark from a damaged tree. They roared and growled as they did this. The desire to end the 'tyranny' of the 'unvikings' and to gain living space for their tribe meant that no mercy was shown to ANY of the vikings who resided on this island.

The Warlords had quickly covered their half of the island as the Ancients, battle hardened and sprinting like they were dead if they didn't get to the middle of the island, whilst holding onto their weapon belts and crossbows at the same time, gradually absorbed their half of the island.

In the end, the Defenders of the Wing stood no chance against the combined forces of two ideologically opposing groups, in the Warlords and the Ancients.