Fourteen: Four Down...

Ryder stayed away as Hookfang was muzzled and led out of the Berserker compound, trying not to watch the process where his friend was removed but he did note with some satisfaction when the dragon set fire to Snotlout's pants. There was no way during the day that he could visit the Night Fury-which he had ironically named Toothless-in case Dagur realised what he was doing...and besides, he needed to observe the Trappers.

It was probably the hardest task he could have set himself, for every time he saw Eret, he had to consciously remind himself that shooting him dead would only avenge his father and leave others unavenged or at risk. And every time he thought that, the faces of Astrid and the Night Fury warred in his memory. He could understand the dragon-because he had already bonded with Toothless, as he had with Red-but every time he thought of Astrid, he felt a tiny glow of warmth and he had to remind himself that this was for Heather and that he couldn't allow himself to feel anything for the blonde girl. But he found his heart jolted slightly whoever he saw her in the compound and his lips twitched in an unconscious smile when she flashed him a small smile when she passed him on the stairs.

For the Gods sake, get a grip! he reminded himself. If Dagur sees you, he won't hesitate to kill you... And he focussed on watching the trappers and especially Lars Forsberg, the last man from Heather's murder who wasn't already being dealt with. It was easy because Dagur's men didn't like the Trappers: the men were cocky, coarse and foul-mouthed, always bragging about their exploits and the souvenirs they had gathered in the course of their jobs. Eret had an especially fine knife decorated with Deathsong Amber and bound in a Deathsong hide sheath while Lars had a necklace made of Terrible Terror teeth. For a man such as Ryder who had farmed and wrangled dragons, he found the momentos offensive but he quietly watched the men as they helped break in the new Gronckles.

After a while, Eret walked cockily up to the stranger and loomed over him as he leaned calmly against the wall.

"Think you could do better, eh?" he scoffed. Ryder took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Interested in seeing how you guys do it," he forced himself to say. "Always instructive to see an expert at work..." Eret shot him a jaundiced look. He had caught the edge of sarcasm on his voice and had watched Ryder closely himself: he knew the man was more than he seemed. Lars opened a cage and a male Gronckle emerged. Eret backed away as Ryder watched the dragon buzz around, looking for a way out of the training yard, the mesh of chains forming the roof preventing escape. He liked Gronckles for they were generally gentle, biddable and friendly...unless treated poorly. There had been countless times where he wondered what had become of his trio...especially Elmo, who had been very affectionate. Watching Eret wrestle the dragon down and kick it hard as he fastened the chains around its back paws, he turned away, realising how the poor beasts would have been treated. Shaking his head, he walked away...until he heard a loud voice.

"Thinks he knows better," Eret sneered. Ryder's fists clenched and his shoulders stiffened.

"Know different..." he ground out through his teeth. "Not everything has to be pain and fear. Dragons respond to trust."

"And they obey those they fear," Eret scoffed. "They respond to strength! These are stupid beasts. Some are a bit more cunning-but all they are...is animals!"

Ryder lowered his head and tilted his head slightly to peer at the bulky shape through the corner of his eye. "As you say," he muttered tonelessly. Red had saved his life. The Night Fury chose not to take his hand. Mindless? Hardly. But they seemed far more loyal and trustworthy than anyone within the Berserker compound.

"Bet you've never trained a wild dragon!" Eret challenged him. Ryder looked away.

"None of your business," he mouthed, starting to walked back towards the main house.

"That means no," Geir sneered, joining in the fun.

"I think the dragons would scare him," Eret taunted him.

"Would he need his Mommy?" Geir added. "Or his Daddy?" He flinched.

"Are you scared, skinny?" Lars asked him snidely.

"Of you? I doubt it," Ryder said quietly. "Rockfalls, tornados, bubonic plague, raiders, typhoid, Gobber's mead and cooking and taxes-yeah. But you? Not a chance. You're a pile of gutless white meat that isn't even worth feeding to a Terrible Terror!" Lars grabbed at his pistol as Ryder turned to face him, his eyes frozen green chunks of ice. "Are you scared of me?" he added in a low, menacing voice, speaking to the Trapper.

"What's going on here?" Dagur asked from the entrance, his expression suspicious-especially when his gaze alighted on the stranger. "Eret, my friend? Is this man causing a problem?" Eret folded his arms with a smug smile.

"I believe he insulted one of my trappers..." he began but Dagur gave a small smile.

"Why would a man wear a pistol and then let himself be insulted?" he noted, his eyes fixing on the lean stranger, his face set in an implacable expression. He had heard the men insulting the gunslinger. "Or your man for that matter?" he added, earning himself a sharp stare from Eret. Then the Berserker looked around the Trappers, his expression cynical. "Has anyone here seen this man shoot? Anyone?"

Savage and Vorg ambled up, both shaking their heads and Astrid appeared at the door of the house, her eyes concerned. But Ryder's emerald gaze was locked on Lars. Dagur turned grimly back to the two men."No one?" he said with mock surprise. "And to think we are paying so much for his services. Maybe it would be sensible to expect a demonstration..." He turned to his brothers and finally beckoned Astrid over. Reluctantly, she walked forward, her chin up and face neutral. "What do you think, honey? D'you think Red here is as quick on the draw as everyone says?" She stiffened as he wrapped his arm around her waist and her eyes momentarily met his, the warning plain. But Ryder gave the slightest nod and then glared back at Lars and the other Trappers.

"I am sure he can take care of himself," she murmured softly.

"Really? REALLY? And how could you possibly know that?" Dagur suddenly shouted at her. "You know, I wanna see! NOW!" Ryder stiffened and backed up a step, his eyes flicking from man to man. Eret backed up as well, stepping away from Geir and Lars, who both gave nasty grins and dropped their hands by their pistols. "But we have to be fair," Dagur said, tightening his grip on Astrid's waist. "On the count of three..."

Ryder's left hand dropped to hang close to his pistol, his fingers moving slightly to keep loose as the other man faced him. Every sense was on edge, his shoulders back and eyes focussed as Dagur drew Astrid back and his brothers withdrew to the verandah, all of them enjoying the show.

"ONE."

Dagur's voice echoed through the training yard as Ryder tracked the men. Lars was still confident, his hand close to his pistol. Geir was twitchy, nervous and his eyes darted around incessantly.

"TWO."

Eret had backed away but he still had his gun and the three brothers were also armed. Dagur was rumoured to be ferociously fast, a man who killed for the slightest excuse. Ryder's fingers twitched as his emerald gaze locked on Lars. The image on him on Heather, of her screams and pleas ran through him one last horrific time...

"THREE!"

Three hands moved but only one gun fired, two shots echoing round as Lars fell back with a hole in his heart while Geir went down like a felled tree, the hole in his forehead dribbling blood on his shocked features. Ryder swung his gun round to cover Eret.

"Fast enough for you?" he rasped, having to physically force himself to lower the gun. Every fibre of his being was screaming to kill Eret but Dagur would shoot him in the back if he killed his 'friend' without his permission. And, sick as he was, Dagur had only authorised the death of the two trappers, not their leader. And Ryder, of course, he reminded himself. Breathing hard, he reholstered his pistol. Dagur began clapping ironically.

"Okay, Savage-I agree," he said. "You did get a good deal."

"That goes for one of us," Ryder muttered. And then Eret charged him, bearing him to the ground. Taken off-guard, he went down under the bigger, heavier man, almost pinned...but he was brave and determined so he managed to throw Eret off, punching him in the face as the two scrambled to a low couch, ready fro combat. Eret lunged and threw Ryder down and as he rolled, the big trapper was at his throat, hands tightening around his neck viciously. Face growing puce, Ryder slammed his knee up, feeling no shame or sympathy as the man gave a frantic scream and curled away. Coughing and struggling for air, Ryder scrabbled away as well, backing up as Eret reached for his gun...

...to the click as Ryder's gun pointed at his big forehead, the aim steady and distance little more than six inches. "Think...I can miss...from this distance...?" he croaked. Eret dropped his hand...as another click sounded. With a sigh, Ryder looked up-to see, as expected, Dagur's gun pointing at his chest.

"Enough!" the Berserker snapped. "You take the fun out of everything, you know?" With an ironic arch of the brow, he uncocked his gun and slid it back into the holster.

"At least I'm consistent," he muttered.

"You are a thorn in my side!" Dagur sneered. "I have my eye on you..." Ryder folded his arms, his eyes glittering with anger.

"About that," Ryder growled. "You charged me five thousand for losing you the Night Fury...but he's there in a cage in your yard. So how does that work exactly? Does it now belong to me? Or have you cancelled the debt?"

"Neither-because I had to employ Eret to get him back-and that's on your tab as well..." Dagur sneered. Ryder went rigid, his eyes narrowing with hatred.

"I rather thought you got him back, Dagur," he pointed out coldly. "If you'd asked, I would've done it myself."

"You think I'd trust you with my Night Fury any more than I'd trust you with..." Dagur raged and then caught himself, his grip now painful around Astrid's waist. Ryder saw the wince of pain cross her face and he forced himself to smile.

"Wow-if you feel like that, maybe I should offer my services to another employer...maybe Al would be interested..." he suggested.

"Over my dead body!" Savage growled.

"Interesting choice of words," Ryder, said, unfolding his arms and consciously loosening his shoulders.

"You belong to ME!" Dagur shouted, his face puce with rage. "Until you pay me back, you are mine! Now get out of my sight!" Without a word and head down, he walked past and into the house, his hand on his bleeding lip. He flicked a very small, warning glance to Astrid as he strode by and headed up to his assigned room. Eret straightened up.

"Why did you let him kill my men?" he growled. "Why didn't you kill him?"

"Because a man should know his enemy," Dagur growled. "And now I've seen him shoot and fight. That's a big advantage. And I suppose I did make him fight the duel. It would be bad for morale to execute him for something I ordered him to do..."

"...done it before..." Savage muttered.

"But I know he's a treacherous bastard so I want him neutered," Dagur growled menacingly. "I know he's stolen from me and I have some fun planned with that skinny smart-mouthed streak of piss!" He turned to his brother. "How much did he steal from us?" Savage narrowed his eyes.

"Three thousand," he reported grimly. "Vanished when he was reported sneaking around the house. He was spotted in the study." Astrid pulled away from Dagur but he grabbed her arm and jerked her around.

"Where are you going?" he snapped. "I think you need to see this-to be reminded what happens when you cross Dagur the Deranged..." She stared up into the mad green eyes and saw the brothers and Eret head rapidly up after the stranger, hauling her along. And there was only one thought in her mind:

They know.

oOo

As soon as he reached his room, Ryder searched the small space furiously. He really didn't trust Dagur and his suspicions were aroused when he located a small bag of coins stuffed under his bed. Swiftly, he reached his window and dragged the shutters open, checking that no one was around...and then lobbing the pouch as far as he could into the Gronckle cages. He gave a small smile as the bulky dragon nudged the scattered coins then methodically began to eat them. He swiftly pulled the shutters closed as he heard the sounds of footsteps approach and turned slowly as the brothers and Eret burst into his room.

"Wow-couldn't you knock?" he asked. "I could have been changing for a shower..." Eret glowered at him and Dagur advanced on him.

"Where is it?" he growled.

"Um...what?" Ryder asked innocently. Vorg and Savage ripped his bed apart, tossing the blankets and mattress aside, ripping the pillow open and exploring the bed frame...but finding nothing. They poured the entire contents of his pack out and patted him down. "Not that I'm not flattered, really, but if you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can help..."

"He must have an accomplice!" Vorg growled.

"Um...still here..." Ryder commented. "And doubt I have any accomplices-or friends-among your men, to be honest...not the most friendly bunch..." The brothers glared at each other: the money had to be somewhere...so they began searching the other rooms half-heartedly...until they got to Ragnar's Haraldsen's room. Feeling under his bed, Savage frowned and then lifted the soft leather pouch: with a frown, he poured the gold coins into his palm. He looked up to his brother.

"Get Ragnar!" Dagur said in an arctic voice. Vorg sped off as Astrid was pushed back against the wall, Savage restraining her wrist. Ragnar ambled up confidently, catching a glance of Ryder and mouthing an insult.

"What's the twig doing here?" he sneered. Dagur moved forward, his voice soft and calm.

"My friend, what's that on the bed?" he asked mildly. Ragnar looked-and saw the spilled golden coins. His eyes popped wide and he began to sweat profusely.

"D-Dagur..." he stammered, backing away. "I-I don't know what's happened but those aren't mine..."

"No, they're not..." Dagur said calmly. "And they shouldn't be there, should they?" Ragnar shook his head desperately,

"D-Dagur...please...I-I don't know what happened..." he begged. "You know I would never steal from you..."

"But you did..." Dagur said in a dead voice. "But I'm going to be fair and give you a chance..." He backed up a step, his face grim as he motioned to his brother. "Brother...Count..."

"Dagur...please..." Ragnar begged. "Please...I would never ever..."

"ONE."

Ryder pressed back against the wall, his hand resting on his gun. He could see the man whimpering and backing away, pleading and begging...

...just as Heather had begged...just as he had pleaded with them to have mercy, to spare them...

"TWO."

Dagur drew and fired on two, the report of shot after shot echoing round the room. Ragnar slid down the wall, half a dozen ragged holes in his chest and a huge red smear on the wall behind him. Dagur smugly reholstered his gun and stared at him, then turned away. His brothers and Eret followed, escorting Astrid up to her room. Ryder stared up after her...then turned away to his room. He raced up and repacked his bag, hefting his mattress onto the bed and chucking the blanket onto the bed. He threw the shutters open and stared across the yard, peering at the Gronckles and, beyond, to the caged Night Fury. He felt suddenly lost-because they were all dead.

All four remaining men who had raped and murdered Heather, who had battered and beat him within an inch of his life, burnt down their farm and stolen their herd were dead. Admittedly, Lars was a bonus, though Ryder had been prepared to shoot the man down if necessary-and Dagur had helped him unexpectedly. And suddenly his revenge was done...except Eret still lived. He rested his hands agains to window-frame and stared vacantly across the yard. And then he retrieved the knife from his boot that he had stolen when Eret jumped him: the Deathsong-amber knife that was so unique to the man. He peered into the warm resin and smiled: he knew exactly how he could do this...

oOo

Stoick checked for the return telegraph and read the message with a small smile. It was the first good news he had received in...however long...and he knew that this time, he would need back up. So he sent out a message to the State Marshals, requesting back-up in arresting dragon rustlers and a merchant who he had proof was receiving rustled dragons. Knowing how seriously the crime was considered by the state government, Stoick left the office with a spring in his step and headed towards the saloon-when he was intercepted by Dragonmaster Fishlegs. The Sheriff peered at the husky young man, reading concern in his round blue eyes.

"Sir," he said. "I need to speak to you-about Ryder."

Stoick started, turning to inspect the younger man. His own wild suspicions swirled back and he frowned. "Speak," he growled, his voice cold. Fishlegs sighed.

"Please come into the Archive, sir," he murmured. Stoick wordlessly followed as the young man led them to the back and the Haddock family memorabilia...including the portrait of his own family. The Dragonmaster indicated to Valka's brother and Stoick stared at the image of his twenty-years dead brother-in-law. He froze, meeting familiar emerald green eyes and messy auburn hair. Eyes widening at the sight, the Sheriff backed off a pace.

"Impossible," he murmured. Fishlegs nodded.

"And yet he is the image of Leo Gudmundir," he said quietly. "I am not sure how that happened, sir...but..." Stoick stared hard at the young man, his expression softening at his memories of the brave and loyal kinsman who had died doing what Stoick should have. The finest smile twitched his lips.

"I think you are right," he said gruffly. "But you are not to say anything to him-or any of the others. I want to speak to him myself...because, Gods know, I need to know what happened...and why he is a stone-cold killer."

"Sir-I think he is your son," Fishlegs said but Stoick gave a small shake of his head.

"Fishlegs, he was born my son-but he was stolen from me a long time ago," he sighed. "Another man raised him as his son, a man he refers to as his father...one of the men who actually stole him from me. He's now a grown man, filled with anger and bitterness. I can never be his father-another man stole that from me a long time ago. Maybe, if I can speak to him we could be...family..."

"Sir, I..."

"Please, respect my judgement in this, Fishlegs. I know you mean well but what has been lost...can never be restored."

Staring at the huge man, Fishlegs gave a small nod. The man's tone was not as excited as he had expected: it was still the voice of a man who had given up hope of a happy ending to his story. Then he frowned: there was one other person he could talk to.

oOo

Ryder was sent to work in the compound with the Trappers, caring for the dragons while they trained the few remaining unbroken dragons back in the training yard. Dagur, his brothers and most of the other men had flown out to an auction with the consignment of Boulder class dragons they had gathered in the badlands and should be away overnight. Astrid had been locked in her room under the silent guard of Bucket and Eret had left the compound an hour after they had left on an errand for the Berserker. Glancing around, Ryder knew he had a few hours to himself yet.

After gently petting Stormfly, he dropped in and fed and petted the Night Fury which no one-except Dagur-was officially allowed to approach. The Berserker still hadn't realised that Ryder had already bonded with the Night Fury-and Toothless would never accept Dagur now. Toothless crooned gently and warbled softly, nuzzling his hand and licking the fresh scars round his wrist. The dragon seemed genuinely sorry for his wounds and Ryder gave him a good hard rub.

"It's okay, bud," he murmured. "When I leave this place, I'll get you out of here. I won't leave you for Dagur. I'll never let him hurt you."

But he had one other person to free as well-because Astrid was being treated worse than ever and the mute plea in her eyes had reminded him of the promise he had made to her. He glanced across at the couple of remaining Trappers: they had settled down for the afternoon with a couple of jugs of mead and a pack of cards at the back of the yard. He smiled: they were safely out of the way for the moment so at least he could try to speak with her. Checking once more, he scrambled onto the low wall and swarmed up, using the small walls and window sills to clamber up to her window...and he gently pulled the shutters open to peer in...

...to see the room in chaos. The bed was completely disarrayed, the chair and dressing table overturned and Astrid possessions were strewn over the floor. A hank of blonde hair and a few spots of blood were on the floor...but nothing else. The door had been forced open, the locks smashed in and Ryder stared in horror.

Astrid was gone.