Eight: The Bringer of Death

The firelight was illuminating the small cave, the fire banked and gilding the edge of Stormfly's wings and Astrid's hair. Outside, the freezing night was wrapped around the little mountain, the sounds of the wind echoing through the cave, above the crackle of the fire and the deep breaths of the sleeping Deadly Nadder. Curled at her side, Astrid was awake, her eyes fixed on the small entrance and the darkness beyond. To her eye, the blackness was just a little lighter and as she closed her eyes, she imagined herself back on the Edge, back before the whole disaster befell them...

...Hiccup was there, not as she had last seen him but vibrant, alive. His hair was its usual tousled mess atop his smiling face, his eyes sparkling with humour and enthusiasm. The two little braids moved as he turned his head to smile at her, the slightly toothy grin that always set her heart fluttering-though she had foolishly hidden it, denied it for so long. And he was bounding with energy as he jumped towards her, grasping her arms and swinging her around. Then he stilled and the look in his eyes changed, from humour to love and he smiled, then leaned close, his lips pressing gently but passionately against hers. And he deepened the kiss, making sure she knew that he loved her, that he was always hers. And he was so warm, to vital as she hugged him, his arms winding around her and pulling her against him, their bodies perfectly moulded. He was her other half, the only man for her...

She opened her eyes and saw the horizon brightening, the faint cold pinkish blushing against the clouds. Wrapping her blanket around herself, she sat up and then rose, walking slowly to the mouth of the cave. It was cold outside, the rocks rimed with frost and the ground dropping away into the predawn gloom. Leaning against the cold rock, she watched as the sky lightened from a pink blush to a warm rose-and then a sliver of orange peeked over the sea, the brilliance of the rising sun causing her to blink and tears to shine in her eyes.

Gothi had said he had seven days, that he would not see this day. She was watching the first dawn in a world without Hiccup in.

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered.

oOo

Stoick opened his eyes from where he had been dozing in the chair by his son's bed. Toothless was awake, his big green eyes locked on the pallid face and a mournful expression on his draconic face. The loud sawing sound of Gobber snoring was filling the room and to one side, Snotlout was also asleep, having refused to leave his cousin. The other Riders hadn't returned yet and Stoick knew that at some time he would need to send Snotlout and probably the A Team out to retrieve them. Though a small part of his mind reminded him that Heather, Fishlegs and the twins could probably get out of anything, given enough time.

Sitting bolt upright, Stoick leaned worriedly towards his son and inspected the pale face, the few freckles his only colour. Even his lips were pale-but his chest was rising and falling shallowly, the pulse still bounding in his neck. Tenderly, the Chief rested his huge hand on the young man's hot forehead, feeling the fever lower than previously. Recalling what Gothi had instructed, he grasped the flask of water and the cloth and carefully dribbled water over Hiccup's cracked lips and saw the throat work slightly as he swallowed. Repeating the process until he had managed to get half a cup down his son's throat, he stood up and looked around, trailing a gentle hand over the dragon's head.

"Watch him, Toothless," he murmured. A small, sad warble sounded in reply, the dragon never moving from his station. Then, slowly, Stoick got to his feet and trailed to the door, automatically grabbing his helmet and cramming it onto his head. He stole a look back at his son before taking a deep breath and walking out onto the grass in front of his house, staring down the slope over the village which was just beginning to rouse amid the pinkish mists of the dawn. The sun was just peeking above the horizon and he gave a big yawn and stretched-and then he stilled.

One week ago, Gothi had rendered her verdict on his son, his poor tortured, beaten, branded Hiccup.

He has been poisoned.

The poison will take his life within seven moons.

If the Riders are not back by the sunrise, it is unlikely he will respond to the antidote. The damage will be too great.

"He should be dead," the Chief murmured, staring as the sun inched higher into the cold pink sky. "He should have died yesterday. The antidote was too late."

So stay and wait for me, my love, my Hiccup...

"But he's still alive..."

He turned back to the house and raced back in, his eyes wide as he stared at the limp shape. He tenderly pressed his hand against the bruised forehead, leaning forward and peering into the familiar features.

"You're my son, alright," he murmured. "Stubborn like me...and your Mom...and that lass of yours...Thor help Berk if you have a child..."

"What? Where? Who's having a child?" Gobber said suddenly, sitting bolt upright and blinking, staring at his friend. "Stoick...is he...?"

"Alive," the Chief said, half-laughing and half-amazed. "He's still alive. And I think his fever is a little lower..." Gobber leaned forward, using his flesh hand to feel the young man's cheek and then his face cracked with a grin.

"I never doubted the ornery old bag for an instant!" he proclaimed, earning himself a whack on the shoulder by Gothi. The old woman scuttled forward, her squinting gaze locked on the pale face, her hands surely feeling Hiccup's forehead and exploring his pulse. She listened to his chest, smelled his hair and licked his hand. And then she pulled a face and wiped her tongue with a scowl at Toothless, who gave an apologetic warble. During the long hours of the night, the Night Fury had been intermittently licking Hiccup's hand out of anxiety and Night Fury saliva tasted foul. Then she turned back to Hiccup and lifted his eyelids slightly, seeing his eyes still rolled back in his head: he was still deeply unconscious. With a shrug, she began to scratch on the floor.

"He is alive and seems a little stronger," Gobber read and stole a glance at the still body. "But he remains deeply within the prison of his mind and I do not know whether he will ever wake: only time will tell." Stoick gently stroked the hair from his son's forehead and sighed.

"Then all we can do is pray and hope my son returns to us," he said.

oOo

Hiccup's eyes snapped open and he stared around. He was back in the fortress, back in the prison where they had tortured him and as the realisation hit him, he curled in on himself. His throat worked, his shoulders hunched and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to be here. Terrifyingly, he could recall every word, every act Krogan and Viggo had done to him and as he did, his hand trailed up to press against the fresh scar where they had branded him. Of all the things that they could do, that was pretty much the worst, because it took everything from him-his name, his Tribe, his position as Heir, his very freedom.

For the first time, the absolute gravity of what he was doing hit him. He had fought the Hunters because they had attacked Astrid and taken Stormfly, because they were harming dragons and because they had tried to harm the Riders. The War had escalated, involving Dagur and Heather and the Defenders of the Wing and hurting Berk. And when Viggo had used them to defeat his treacherous brother Ryker and then had threatened to kill Astrid for the DragonEye. When it came to the decision, Hiccup had willingly and unhesitatingly destroyed the instrument rather than hand it to Viggo. And he could still see the man vanish over the collapsing lip of the volcano of the Edge and had felt relief and regret that he had gone.

But Viggo had survived, allied to the vicious Krogan who rode a Singetail and led his Fliers ruthlessly. And the man had no soul, no compassion, no desire to play or spar: Krogan was only fixated on results and would do anything to achieve that end...including breaking the skinny young Viking who had crossed him one time too many. Krogan had wielded the brand, his dark eyes glittering with enjoyment as he had pressed the red-hot iron against Hiccup's skin, his thin lips curling up at the younger man's screams and the sickening sizzle of his flesh searing. Krogan had used the whip and poured the poison down Hiccup's throat. He had threatened so much, done worse and all Hiccup had done was hold onto his courage, refusing to speak, refusing to help him find 'the King of Dragons', refusing to do anything he wanted. His leg twitched and he winced, for the man had cut and burnt and cauterised the sensitive scarred skin. And he had cast Hiccup into this pit...

He uncurled and looked up, eyes widening with horror as he saw the familiar and beloved face of Astrid, her features framed by her golden hair as Krogan jerked her against his body.

"You know she's mine now...just as you belong to Viggo..." he said coldly. "What fun I am going to have with her. Do you think she will submit to me? Do you think she could become a Flier?"

"Never!" Astrid spat. Hiccup winced as Krogan fisted her hair and wrenched her head back, pulling her obscenely close against his body.

"You are the correct friend for Hiccup Haddock," he condemned her. "Just as stubborn...but there are things that we can do to a woman to loosen her tongue that you will not like, Hiccup." He stared down into the pit. "Maybe you want to save her, to spare her from the degradation?" Astrid was shaking her head and Hiccup felt his heart crack at her determination.

"Don't do it," she murmured, the same words she had said when Viggo had threatened her. "Don't..." Krogan smiled.

"A shame," he murmured. "But more amusement for me..." And he pulled her back and vanished from view.

"ASTRID!" Hiccup's voice echoed up the pit but all he could hear was silence. Uncurling, his battered body aching with every movement, he crawled to the uneven walls of the pit and then stretched his hands up, finding the tiniest of handholds and grips. Slowly, he began to climb.

oOo

"How many?" Krogan's voice was cold and disbelieving.

"Seven," Viggo replied, equally coolly. Krogan's head snapped round and his face twisted into an unfamiliar sneer.

"And when were you going to tell me that seven of my ships are missing?" he asked sarcastically.

"Now," Viggo replied calmly. "And I believe that they are my Hunters, not yours."

You work for me, Grimborn-and so do your men. Ergo-they are ALL mine-you, them, the ships!" Krogan sneered. "And unlike you-who specialises in failure and defeat, I demand to know when unexplained incidents occur." Viggo's face twitched, his eye hardening and he dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword.

"I shall make sure you are informed of everything," he said shortly. "So in that spirit, the latrines are overflowing, Sven Two has gotten stuck up a tree again and the cook put pears instead of apple in the apple pie for lunch." Krogan growled.

"I mean matters of actual significance, not the antics Sven Two-who I am aware is your cousin and any legitimate General would have executed for incompetence years ago," he scorned. "Have you sent search parties for the ships?"

"I can cease our efforts in dragon hunting to go and look for them-or perhaps you could deploy your Fliers who travel quicker and may cover a larger area from a superior viewpoint for a search and rescue operation?" Viggo snapped. Krogan glared at him: he disliked Viggo intensely but he had to admit that the man had been a successful Dragon Hunter and was still a cunning strategist. His only flaw, in Krogan's eyes, was that he had played with Hiccup Haddock, instead of exterminating the boy like the vermin he was. Krogan's solution had been successful first time out.

"I will deploy the second flight under Fehar forthwith," Krogan said smoothly. "They will locate your missing ships."

"Maybe they want to check to auction site of Bare Rock Island," Viggo added. "I know you claim you are supposed to be the leader but when were you planning on telling me that the ships sent there never returned-or that we had not received the gold from the sale of the dragons?" Krogan's eyes narrowed: he hadn't intended Viggo to learn of the anomaly until he had investigated it himself and already resolved the situation.

"I shall lead the flight to investigate myself," Krogan said. "The weather has been unusually inclement and I am sure that it will only be a delay due to mooring to avoid the storms." Viggo walked to the desk and poured himself a cup of mead as Krogan turned away.

"You keep telling yourself that," he murmured as the man marched from the tent, yelling for his Fliers. "It has all the hallmarks of a Dragon Rider attack. And that would be a problem...because if Hiccup is still alive, then he will be a deadlier foe than ever."

oOo

Astrid leaned low over Stormfly's neck, her eyes fixed on the distant island ahead. It hadn't taken much effort to locate the home of the Dragon Hunter Tribe and once she knew where they came from, she had hatched the only plan that she could. But she was approaching from the north, coming in under the cover of the low clouds, her hood up and a scarf over his lower fare to keep off the icy spikules that were driven on the incessant wind. Stormfly adjusted her attitude and took a couple of extra flaps as they accelerated and the Rider pushed aside any qualms she had. Ahead was a settlement about twice or three times the size of Berk, the harbour lined with four Hunter vessels, the crews home visiting their families. The island was far enough from Dragon Island not to have suffered any raids during the dragon war and these people had exploited the dragons to their own ends, while offering no assistance to those who had actually suffered. And when the war had been ended-again by those who had suffered the most-these people had taken advantage of the peace and threatened the dragons who had been befriended by the Hooligans.

Her hands tightened on the edge of her saddle. Viggo had targeted Berk, stealing their gold and then blockading the island using a Submaripper. He had led to hardship and starvation, to cold and hunger and illness. Several old folks had died during the hunger and though maybe a couple would have died due to old age and other illnesses, Astrid knew in her heart that their ends had been caused by Viggo's actions. And now the leader of the Hunters had taken the most precious thing from Berk, her Heir-and Astrid's betrothed. So now it was her turn.

They crossed the coastline and she felt the surge of adrenaline rush through her-and then the village came into sight. She glanced over her shoulder at the phalanx of Deadly Nadders she had collected from the Edge and raised her arm.

"ATTACK!" she commanded and dived down towards the village.

With a variety of screams and roars, the Nadders burst from the clouds and raked the houses with flames. Unprecedented and completely unexpected, the villagers were taken unawares and after the first dozen houses burst into flames. there were people running in panic, mothers trying to find children, men looking for weapons and the Hunters heading for the ballistas...

...to find themselves facing Stormfly and Astrid. Zipping round. she launched flasks filled with greenish Zippleback gas that smashed and billowed the greenish gas around the weapons, before the Nadder fired accurately and ignited it. The blasts shattered the strategic weapons, leaving the Hunters with only debris to throw at the attacking dragons. Glancing at the carnage, Astrid flipped round and signalled to a pair of purple and amber Nadders, who flanked Stormfly as the trio strafed the moored Hunter ships. Timbers shattered and sails flamed as the dragons methodically and mercilessly sank the ships, incinerating anyone left aboard. Then Astrid flipped round and turned her attentions back to the village.

She had trained Nadders for years, working with wild Nadders for displays for Bork week and in driving off the Screaming Death when it attacked Dragon Island. Stormfly had a knack of befriending wild Nadders and her rider had found herself skilled in training the species. Even as a sixteen year old, she could get a phalanx to fly perfectly in synchronisation, every dragon flapping his wings in perfect unison. And she knew all the Nadders on Dragon Island well: it hadn't been much effort to call them in and raid the armoury on the Edge to help the attack. So it was little effort to direct them to annihilate the village. She swooped round, watching the defenders cut down by flames and spines and claws and directly taking out the larger groups until every building was an inferno, all defences were matchwood and the ships all sunk. And finally, as the place was swathed in smoke and smog and the remaining villagers-mainly some old and women and children-were huddled in what remained of their town plaza, Astrid hovered lower and glared down upon them, her axe in her hand.

"WHO IS IN CHARGE?" she shouted and there was a pause. She nodded and Stormfly sprayed a fan of spines mere inches in front of the huddled group. There were screams and babies crying. "WHO IS IN CHARGE?" she repeated in an impatient voice. Finally, a man with a full salt and pepper beard and good quality dark blue long tunic and leggings stepped forward. There was a gold chain around his neck and a gold boss on his cloak.

"I am the Chief," he said in a deep voice. "Ulric Grimborn is my name."

"LIAR!" Astrid snapped. "Viggo is your Chief." There was an intake of breath,

"Chief Viggo is dead," Ulric said. "My nephew died fighting those damned dragon riders..."

"He looked well enough when he was running away from me ten days ago," Astrid snapped. "His face was burned from where he fell into the volcano after he betrayed his word and tried to kill me. We helped him when his brother betrayed him-and he broke his oath. He is alive..." Her blazing gaze swept the crowd. "You know it. The Hunters know it."

There was a pause, the sounds of the crackling flames filling the pause. Slowly, Ulric nodded.

"He is no longer our Chief," he repeated. "The Council voted to replace him because he neglected his duties in favour of the war with the Dragon Riders..."

"You mean my friends and I?" Astrid asked pointedly.

"He was right to fight you!" a woman shouted from the crowd. "Look at you! Attacking a village..."

"Be silent!" Astroid roared. "The fight was between us and the Hunters-but Viggo could not win so he began to show his cowardice, his treachery. He sent bounty hunters after our leader. When that failed, he blockaded our village and starved our people. Old women and children died for want of food and medicines because he could not beat us in a fair fight. So do not speak of what you do not know!"

There were mutters in the crowd.

"And now-Viggo and his new ally, Krogan, captured our leader," Astrid announced harshly. "They tortured him and broke him and poisoned him. He never surrendered and he died because they gave him a vicious poison so that even when he was rescued, he would die before his despairing friends and family. And he would never have done this because, despite Viggo's treachery and viciousness, Hiccup never sought war: he always looked to save life, to achieve the peaceful solution. All he wanted was Viggo to stop hunting dragons and destroying innocent, intelligent, gentle creatures. Viggo refused and destroyed him instead."

"As he deserved," a voice from the crowd said. Astrid waved her hand and a spine arrowed down. The voice was abruptly cut off.

"And this is why your village has been burnt to the bare rock," she told them, her eyes narrowed with rage. "I am not Hiccup, the Dragon Master. He would not do this. But I am his Betrothed, now a Shield Maiden. I will avenge him and make sure that Lord Odin grants him admission to Valhalla, even though he died in bed of a cowardly poison, because he will be buried on mountains of the bodies of his enemies. And the Hunter Tribe are his enemies: so you must all die!" She gestured and the Nadders all lined up beside her, screeching and flying unconsciously in synchronicity with Stormfly, the effect very frightening as they all raised their tails, the spines raised and ready to fire.

"WAIT!" Ulric shouted, his voice begging. "Please...there are women and children here! These are innocents. They never harmed your Hiccup! Please...have mercy..."

"And leave enemies who may come back and seek vengeance, who may continue your Godless ways?" Astrid hissed. "The Dragon Hunter Tribe must die!" Ulric glanced around. The Hunters in port had been slain and any men had been cut down as well. There were only women and children and nothing here to eat at all. All they could do would be to take the few small fishing skiffs and leave the island.

"There will be no more Dragon Hunter Tribe!" he promised wildly. "I will renounce the name of our Tribe, the Tribal symbol and all possessions and history. I will say that the Tribe has been destroyed and any survivors are to integrate into other Tribes. That anyone claiming the name is a liar and a plunderer. That any possessions of the Tribe are No Man's possession. That we are not your enemies. That we will will never hunt dragons or help those who hunt dragons!"

Astrid threw parchment and charcoal down.

"Write it now!" she commanded. "I will deliver it to the Council of Chiefs in person. And if I hear of one transgression against this, if I hear any one claims to be in the Hunter Tribe, I will hunt down and kill every single one, every man, woman and child. And I will never give up. You killed my betrothed-so I will destroy every one of you." She flapped lower, seeing him writing furiously and copying the words he had declared. "And I am only allowing this in memory of Hiccup. Because if it were down to me, you would already all be dead."

The dragons roared and the refugees cowered. For moments, the eerie synchronous flap of wings was the only sound above the crackle and roar of flames. Finally, the man stood up and held the parchment aloft.

"It is done," he said. "Come down and fetch it..."

Suddenly it was snatched from his hand and he stared at the blue Terrible Terror that calmly delivered it to the Rider's hand. She scanned the runes and nodded, then rolled it up and beckoned.

"Your ring," she snapped. "As a sign that this is real-and so no one can claim it as your 'Chief'. NOW!" Ulric glared and threw up the heavy gold ring up into the air, inscribed with the hated symbol of the Dragon Hunters. Astrid caught it one-handed and nodded, then hovered higher up.

"Please...let us leave..." Ulric begged and slowly, Astrid nodded.

"I will watch you depart," she said, "while my dragons destroy anything left here. Anyone returns, they will only find bare rock." There was a long moment as the Chief looked up at her, wondering how she had read his mind and then she gestured. Every alternate dragon peeled away and began to rake the village with lines of flame, as if ploughing a field. Then they switched direction and repeated the run as the red and white hot timbers melted into ashes. The cowering remnants of the Tribe backed away, following their Chief and walking down to the beach, where a couple of small fishing boats were pulled up. The couple of old men and adolescent lads managed to push them into the water along with a few of the younger women and they were swiftly loaded up. Finally, they pushed away, unfurling the sails and heading out to sea.

Checking that the village was reduced to nothing, that there was no shelter, no food, no sign that the Hunter Tribe had ever lived here, Astrid gestured and she and her Nadders swooped up, shadowing the little boats until they were caught in the ferocious currents and carried irrevocably away from the island. She stared at the gold ring and nodded.

"The Hunter Tribe is gone," she murmured. "Now I just need to finish Krogan and Viggo."