This is where I belong ||httyd fanfic||

64. War is called..

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Goosebumps tinged the skins of the young riders as they flew in formation above the clouds. Their dragons' muscles tensed and theirs did as well. Movements were bumpy as they wobbled on the wind currents and some flew ahead of others. It was all they could manage by telling themselves it had been just like the Sky Parade, but potentially with a lot more fire and blood.

Sven threw up in his mouth at the prospect.

Along the thin mists, they caught sight of the fleet, a perfect platoon of warships in comparison. It struck them how Berk, among the larger tribes, still had enough influence to rally other smaller tribes in its weakened state. Each ship had a crew of about ten to fifteen men, and no doubt armed to the teeth with the weapons of Berk's glory days that could rip dragons' bodies in tow.

"Alright, Dragon riders, let's show these blowhards what happens when they decide war against dragon riders is a good idea!" Raoul shouted signaling. "On my mark, full-on assault!"

"Okay, there's only one person here's who's the Idiot among us. Spoiler alert, it's the guy who thinks taking that army head on is a good idea!" Leif called back.

"You got a better idea, dung-brain!?"

"Actually, yes. Take out the head ship; Berk's the one who rallied them together. If they're gone, the others go!"

"Um, guys?" Juliane called atop Violet pointing down. "While we're up here playing 'follow the leader', they're loading up on weapons!"

Per Juliane's warning, the clanks and thuds of twisting rusted metal came from below. At the bows of the ships were harpoons with bloodied tips and catapults armed with massive boulders. The dragons growled as one, no doubt some having remembered the like from years ago.

"Actually, can I suggest a Plan C?" Arne offered flying between Raoul and Leif, who seemed ready to start a war of their own. "In the interest of time since there's going to be a hundred-plus weapons staring us down in a matter of moments, how about we engage in a little subterfuge?"

"Meaning?" Raoul demanded turning red.

"Sneak attack, genius. We go around the ships, avoid enemy fire, and take 'em out from below."

"And who's to say while we're taking one ship down, the other 99 won't just blast us instead?" Leif asked.

"Um, guys?" Sven piped in. "I think the leader's coming out."

Just as the timid rider had said, a man stepped atop the mast of the head ship. Rugged and brawny like any other Viking but with a near savage tone over it all. From his sheath his sword was drawn, pointed at the riders airborne above.

"Happy to see the runt sent a reception for us." The Viking cackled. "Dragon-riding heathens! I am Spitelout Jorgenson, hear my name and shudder! The events of weeks past have taken as much toll on you as the years have on my isle of Hooligans! Surrender the traitor Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, his Night Fury, and all dragons in your custody to us, and this war can end before it begins!"

The riders all exchanged a look to one another as they glared at Spitelout. 'What fun would that be?', he must think.

Leif flew forward on Quaker's undulating body. "Vikings of Berk! You have no dominion here, and we will not cow to the demands of an invader. Turn your ships around now and we will let you escape with your lives!"