Seven: Hope and Fear

The Hunter vessel was carving through the grey waters of the Sullen Sea, the scudding clouds overhead driven by cold northerlies and redolent with the smell of rain. The spray was getting up and the watch was squinting against the unpleasant weather. It was a poor time to be searching for dragons but they had a quota and Krogan had made it unpleasantly clear what he wanted: the Spearer was on its third Captain, the previous two having failed to meet quotas and the current incumbent was less than willing to go the same way as his predecessors. But they were behind and hence,they were sailing into the teeth of a storm in search of some dragons to fill their hold.

The clouds up ahead were flashing with incipient lightning and the watchman scowled. Dragons rarely flew in lightning storms-except Skrills-and it was highly likely their prey would be hunkered down on cliffs and in caves, seeking shelter from the deluge and as the rain began to fell, he wondered if he could suggest they pulled into a safe harbour rather than brave the increasingly choppy seas.

A screech alerted him and his head snapped up, the sound not repeated and he wondered if it was just a sound of the wind. And then he saw something, blinking as he caught the edge of something moving just at the bottom of the cloud layer, flicking in and out of view. He swiped salt water out of his eyes and saw the bottom half of a dragon. Instantly, he bellowed to the crew, his arm stabbing at the fleeting glimpse of the prey.

"DRAGON!" he yelled and the Hunters swing they catapults round, unleashing a wide spread of DragonRoot arrows, hoping to bring down the creature without any fuss. There was a screech and the Hunters readied the nets, to catch the falling dragon. They waited...and waited...and then looked at one another.

"Curse Loki," Captain Hardrar snapped. "The damned dragon got away. "That's the last we'll see of it..."

And then there was a roar and blinding flames scorched down, searing through the sails and mast. The blue and gold dragon was arrowing down, wings tightly folded against her body, her gold frill raised in fury. And the watchman blinked as he saw white thick scales of another dragon fitted to her vulnerable underbelly. And there was a black shape leaning forward over her neck, a hood shielding the Rider's face. The nets flew but the Nadder effortlessly flipped and raked its Magnesium-hot flames along the hull, the flame that could melt rock making short work of the toughened wood. The ship lurched as the hull breached and the water flooded in.

"KILL THAT NADDER!" the Captain roared. Armoured chains flew at the dragon but again, she dodged and this time the dragon halted, hovering over the ship, the Rider pushing back her hood and revealing a beautiful young blonde woman, her sea blue eyes blazing with fury.

"All you and your kind can do is ambush innocent creatures and kill," she said coldly. "Well, you are no innocent creatures-but consider yourself ambushed. Make your peace with the Gods!" The Captain stared at her.

"But we just capture dragons," he protested as his men readied a ballista. The Rider patted her dragon's shoulder and the tail jerked. His men fell, all lethally impaled by Nadder spines.

"And then you sell them to be killed or worked or fought to death," she said. "You are vermin."

"You're a Rider," the Captain protested, backing away and reaching for his sword. He knew it would be little use against this woman but he was a warrior and he was determined not to go down without a fight. "You just free the dragons and go. Your leader always lets us live..."

The woman growled.

"That was until Viggo poisoned him," she said and her voice was now deadly, her eyes locked on the Captain's face. "Viggo killed him. So I kill you. All of you." The Captain raised his sword.

"Killing us won't make a difference," he argued, crouching ready to defend himself. The deck was listing and his remaining men were trying to abandon ship. The Rider leaned forward.

"You misunderstand," she said condescendingly. "I am going to kill the entire Hunter Tribe."

And in that moment, the Captain knew there was no hope. He saw her hand reach forward, gently patting the back of the Nadder's skull and saw the blur of its tail moving before the impossibly fast spine buried in his heart. He collapsed backwards, dead before he even hit the deck as the Nadder backwinged. Astrid leaned forward.

"Finish it, girl," she said and the Nadder gave a furious roar and then slammed a blinding blast of flame into the deck, punching through the wood and through to the sea below. The ship snapped in two and cast the remaining Hunters into the increasingly furious sea, the rumble of thunder sounding behind them. White lightning bleached the scene and highlighted the few remaining heads bobbing and struggling in the storm. The waves were swamping them and it was certain they would all die. And if Hiccup had been there, Astrid would have helped him save these men, even though they were enemies, because that was who he was.

But Hiccup was dying, all hope now gone and all Astrid could do was salve her grief with the blood of his enemies. So she flipped her hood up against the sheeting rain and turned away, driving Stormfly up through the raging clouds and off in search of the next ship.

oOo

Fishlegs was astonished to find himself safely down the rocky and pretty desolate surroundings of Vanaheim, the greyish rocks towering over the little valley where he had landed. The Sentinels had heard Meatlug approaching and had attacked them ferociously, trying to drive away the healthy dragon and her rider. But Fishlegs was more focussed and brave than he had ever been and accelerated between the Sentinels, feeling the powerful impact of their wing blasts-but they only slowed them as they broke through and impacted into the only bush in the shallow valley. They were on the other side of the island from where they had arrived previously, where the twins had settled in a valley of the Sentinel fruit...which Fishlegs now realised were the 'Bruise Fruit' that could save Hiccup's life.

So, lightly bruised, stiff and exhausted, they began to walk across the uneven land, heading past a mountain that almost looked like a giant dragon skull before rounding a rockfall and heading on. Meatlug was very tired and when Fishlegs finally found the bushes, she settled down, munched a couple of lumps of sandstone tiredly and then fell asleep. Sighing, the husky man rubbed his face. It had been a very busy day and he had pushed himself and his dragon to the limit. And as night fell, he knew there was no chance that he could make it back to Berk tonight. So he carefully found a safe place to sleep, made a fire and collected the fruit he needed securely in his saddle bags.

"I'll head out as soon as we get a rest, Meatlug," he murmured, munching the dried fish he had left off from his rations and then curling up against her. "We need to be up at dawn..."

He jerked awake with the sun high in the sky and Meatlug licking his face. He gave a low chuckle.

"Daddy's awake," he managed, trying to swipe the drool off his skin. He tried to sit up-and became aware of four figures standing around him.

"Glad to hear it," Snotlout commented sarcastically. "Now would you mind...oh, I don't know...getting back to Berk so we can save Hiccup?"

Fishlegs sat up so swiftly he hit his head against the stone beside him as Meatlug gave a happy wag of her whole body.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asked, wincing and pressing his hand against his sore head.

"Astrid sent us," Tuff reported. "H is pretty bad now and he needs us to get his antidote back kind of now."

"Preferably a few hours ago-but we had to find you," Ruff added. Fishlegs winced and then glanced over at his saddlebag, inspecting the fruit. They were beginning to turn to mush and he growled and put his hand into the soft mass.

"We need more," he protested. "And we need it urgently. This fruit doesn't last that well..." Heather looked at him and nodded.

"We need to send the fruit back with the fastest possible dragon-because that is Hiccup's best chance," she realised and then she looked to her right. "Snotlout-you're up. You need to get three pounds of the fruit back, intact and suitable for Gothi to do whatever she needs to." The stocky rider looked over to her and for once, he didn't say anything stupid. He looked thoughtful and then he pointed skywards.

"How are we going to get out of here?" he asked. "I mean, I can't waste the fruit on me..."

"You could use the spoiled fruit..." Fishlegs suggested.

"Once we've made sure there is enough to replace them," Heather reminded him and he nodded.

"How is he?" he asked quietly. Ruff shrugged.

"They said he was unrousable...but Astrid's face was...sad..." she admitted quietly. "I think she's not convinced he'll ever wake..."

"He must," Tuff said with conviction. "Look...he's done everything for us. He gave himself up for us. He can't leave us now..." Fishlegs marched towards the bushes.

"Let's get this fruit and get back home," he said. "And hope Snotlout makes it in time..."

oOo

Stock the Vast stood on the cliff overlooking the harbour and stared into the misty horizon. Hiccup remained totally unresponsive and Gothi had been dripping willow tea into his mouth to try to bring the fever down while Gobber and Stoick had sponged down his hot body. Toothless wouldn't leave his side, the dragon's expressive eyes eloquently conveying his utter devastation at his beloved Rider's condition. Stoick couldn't understand how it happened, how his son and the last Night Fury had a bond closer than most brothers but it had happened. And with his dragon-brother, his self-conscious and awkward son had become the most amazing and inventive tactician, leader and Chief of his small Tribe of Dragon Riders.

"Seven generations," Stoick murmured to himself softly, his heart aching. He had lost his beloved wife Valka when Hiccup was only a baby and now his only son, his only Heir was dying. And there was nothing that Stoick the Vast, the huge and feared Chief of the Hooligan Tribe could do. This was a battle that his son had to fight alone, with the help of his friends and Gothi. "Son, I know you can't hear me," Stoick murmured to the breeze, his eyes misting. "And I wonder if you are already travelling with the Valkyrie." He blinked: he couldn't believe that his son would be consigned to Helheim, felled by a poison, not dying gloriously in battle. "But Astrid is already out there, unable to stay still and do nothing. And maybe, because your death will be over the corpses of many Hunters, Lord Odin will admit you to Valhalla."

He blinked again.

"I don't know what I'll do if I lose you, son," he murmured. "I..."

And then he paused. There was a speck on the horizon, flying low and fast and heading directly for the village and as he watched, there was a brief flare of flame.

"Snotlout?" Stoick murmured, his eyes squinting to pick out the details and recognising the red and brown Monstrous Nightmare, flying as fast as he could home. As the Chief watched, holding his breath, he saw the dragon rise and the familiar shape of his nephew rise over and shoot over the village, the scream of "HOOKFANG!" very familiar. The dragon gave a huge roar and flamed once more, then landed outside the Chief's house. Stoick was already sprinting up the village and Gothi emerged from the house, her eyes filled with relief. She almost snatched the saddlebag and hobbled at top speed into the Chief's House, urgently beginning to make the potion that was the cure for the Wine of Hela.

"How is he?" the stocky Rider asked, walking stiffly into the hut and stealing a worried glance over at Hiccup. The leader of the Riders remained motionless, his face slack and body limp, his breaths shallow and his pulse bounding in his neck. He was almost colourless and Toothless was laying his head alongside his chest. Gobber shrugged.

"Gothi said that the antidote was too late if it arrived after dawn," he explained, staring at the setting sun. "The damage would be too great."

"My son is alive," Stoick said gruffly, breathing heavily from the sprint up the precipitous village. "And while he lives, he fights. One thing I know about Hiccup is that he is far too stubborn to give up. He wants to be back with Toothless, with Astrid and with me. He wants to fly again with his friends and tinker in the forge. He wants to be free...and he wants to save the dragons from Viggo. He will fight to his last breath."

Gothi rolled her eyes and turned back to tearing up the Goat Grass then mashing up the Bruise Fruit. Snotlout pointed in outrage.

"Hey! How come she can mush them up when we went to all that effort to bring them back unmushed?" he protested. Gothi whacked him with her wooden spoon and he yelped.

"Son-where are the others?" Stoick asked him, frowning Sighing, Snotlout shrugged.

"They're still on Vanaheim," he admitted. "There are stone dragons there-Sentinels-that are blind but stop healthy dragons getting in and any dragons getting out. They distracted the Sentinels to let is go because Hookie is the fastest one there so that I could get the fruit to you the soonest we could..." His eyes drifted over to the supine shape of his cousin and sighed again. "I just hope it works."

Gothi paused and grabbed her staff, scratching furiously on the floorboards.

"He may never wake," she explained and Gobber read in a toneless voice. "He may still die. He may not regain his sight or any motion and remain paralysed and blinded. Or he may gradually regain some or all of what he has lost. There is no predicting: no one has ever tried the cure and the effectiveness is only a supposition..."

Walking forward and removing his helmet, Stoick knelt by his son's bedside.

"I understand," he said softly. "And no one will blame you if this is unsuccessful. You at least tried and did more than anyone could have imagined...and more than Viggo would have dreamed. You have given my son a chance...and that is all I ask." Toothless gave a croon and lifted his head, sniffing at the warm mushy liquid, leaning forward and drooling a little into the bowl before drawing his head back and giving what sounded like an approving croon. Gothi and Stoick helped carefully thin the mixture with water and trickle it into his mouth, massaging his throat to make him swallow. It took a long time and the mixture had gone cold by the time they managed to get the whole bowlful down him. Toothless nuzzled a little from the cauldron and smeared it over the brand, growling when anyone tried to wipe it away. Shaking his head, Stoick sat heavily in the chair.

"How long does it take?" Snotlout asked. Gothi shrugged as Gobber found a stool and the Elder took the large chair. Quietly, Snotlout perched on a bench.

"Shouldn't you be going home?" Gobber asked but Snotlout shook his head.

"Nah-I think I'll stay," he said. "He would stay for me. He came for me, more than once. And he's family. I'll be here for him."

"Now we wait," Stoick said. "And pray."

oOo

She had trailed the next ship back to a dragon market and as she stared at the huge numbers of Hunters and purchasers, she knew she was seriously outmatched. What she needed were allies. And then she smiled and turned away, diverting to an island that wasn't that far away and very carefully gathering barrels of water. And then she returned.

The sales for the day had ended but there were many, many dragons still caged and more arriving for the big auction the next day. But it was dark and moonless and as soon as the late watch was on, she and Stormfly began, flying silently in and carefully dumping the water over the cages. Using the stars, they went back to the island and refilled the containers, making sure she got back before dawn and ensured every dragon had been dowsed. Then she rested for an hour outside the little port and waited for the traders and purchasers to arrive and ready for the markets of the day.

The first inkling that there was trouble was when the Hunters checked on their dragons. Every dragon was angry, drooling fire and completely the opposite of the cowed, scared creatures they had left in the cages at sundown. The handlers walked around their wares, prodding the creatures cruelly and being met by roars. Nevertheless, they continued and prepared for the auction.

Walking by, swathed in a cloak and chewing some roasted yak that was being sold at a stall for very reasonable prices, Astrid glanced at the cages and a small smile lifted her lips. Her plan was going perfectly and as she watched, the dealers and purchasers slowly began to coalesce around the cages, ready to sell. Ducking behind, she quietly sneaked round the back until she was able to approach a couple of the cages and flip the catches open. Standing carefully behind the cage door as she swung it back, the Hooligan watched as the Gronckle unhesitatingly flew out, eyes slitted and fire dripping from its mouth. She then released a Monstrous Nightmare and a couple of very angry looking Changewings.

There was a pause and she sneaked back and saw the first dragons being sold-but as the auctioneer waved at the dragons, the nearest one snapped and took off his hand.

There was a shocked silence as the man screamed in pain and then the Hunters raised their weapons, preparing to slay the ferocious dragon-as the first screams started to sound. There were roars and people began to run as the freed dragons hunted and attacked the vendors and buyers. Quietly, Astrid took the opportunity to free a couple more and flipped up the door catches on a dozen more cages as she passed, watching the dragons break free. Some of the more powerful dragons were so enraged that they were slamming themselves against the bars and the supposedly dragon-proof metal was starting to bend...and finally give. Freed, they attacked the auctioneers and Hunter guards as well.

Astrid watched the market descend into chaos, the dragons far more aggressive and furious than they had been, uncaring of weapons and hunting the humans determinedly. Ducking back, Astrid made her cautious way through, freeing the last few dragons and then ducking back...the find herself facing a furious Zippleback. Both heads weaved from side to side, drooling green fire and the girl knew that there was no chance she could train this dragon. But then a hiss sounded and Stormfly leapt between the raging Zippleback and her Rider, barging it back. Bouncing from side to side and constantly blocking the furious aggressor, she finally succeeded in driving the angry dragon away. It was with relief that she saw the Zippleback head to her left, seeing other, better options as Astrid rested her hand on the Nadder's neck in gratitude.

"Thanks, girl," she murmured. "Now let's get out of here..." She leapt into the saddle and they shot up into the air, seeing the ships all sunk or on fire and the remaining humans on the remote port being hunted to death. And while she should feel dismay at the death she was witnessing, a large part of her reminded her that these were people who sold dragons as mere goods, who had captured and sold their own dragons in the past and who worked with the people who had captured and tortured Hiccup. As the last few purchasers and Hunters fell, she nodded and dived straight into the harbour, the cold water taking her breath but rewarding her with the high pitched shriek as the unseen Grimora they had picked up from the encounter with the Zippleback desperately separated from the Nadder and drowned. Finally, they broke the surface and Astrid glanced over her shoulder at the port: the place was in flames, the ships were all destroyed and the people slain. Above, the dragons circled and she paused and then turned away. After talking to Fishlegs and Hiccup, she knew the Grimoras would eventually need to return to fresh water and would leave the dragons but until then, there would be no more auctions.

Hands tightening on the saddle, Astrid Hofferson urged her dragon on in search of her next target.