A Fistful of Dragons

Part 17: Fugitive

Seventeen: Fugitive

The battered fugitive and the escaped Night Fury had barely vanished through the gates into the hostel yard when Dagur and his men erupted from the Berserker compound, lightly singed and very sooty, the flames of the burning stable-and adjacent storeroom-lighting the plaza. Dagur was almost foaming at the mouth in his rage.

"FIND HIM!" he roared. "I want him back alive. Search every stable and storehouse! Search the Archives and the Library! Look in every house! If anyone is shielding him, shoot them and burn their house to the ground!" His men scattered as he led his brothers and half a dozen men into the hostel...

Ryder had managed to haul himself to his knees on the Night Fury's shoulders, clawing his way up the wall until he could squint through the half-light at the side of the saloon. He angled his head slightly so the eye that wasn't closed by swelling could see inside the saloon and spy...

...Gobber being punched and thrown from brother to brother, his face battered and dazed while Stoick was restrained by three other men at gunpoint.

"WHERE IS HE?" Dagur screamed as Gobber stumbled and was hauled up by Savage and Vorg and slammed against the bar.

"I dinnae know whut ye mean?" Gobber gasped as the barrel of a Winchester rifle was pressed hard across his throat.

"Ryder!" Dagur sneered, his eyes furious. "That snide bastard helped Astrid escape and won't tell me where she is!"

"Good fer the laddie," Gobber mumbled, remembering how the young gunslinger had abruptly come into the saloon, grabbed Gustav and left. How he had chastised them for doing nothing and warned he would do it all himself...which he clearly had...

"And now he's escaped. I want him back! Where is he?" Dagur screamed. Gobber chuckled.

"Not here," he muttered. "Laddie's too smart tae come here!"

"Look, we know he comes here all the time," Savage pointed out coldly. "You are his only friend. In fact you, the Dragon Master and the Sheriff are the only people he has spoken to. Just tell us where he is!"

"I don't know!" Gobber sneered as Hakon raced down the stairs from the first floor.

"He's not here!" he reported.

"What...what did I tell ye?" Gobber asked smugly, earning himself another punch.

"You're the right friend for that stinking traitor!" Vorg snapped, punching the old blacksmith.

"Get out of here...!" Stoick growled, wincing at his friend's grunt of pain.

"Or what?" Dagur taunted him, turning on the big man. "No one actually cares what you think, Stoick!" Suddenly, the Sheriff moved, slamming the men holding him aside and grabbing Dagur by the throat.

"Do you care now?" he growled as the Berserker turned purple and choked. Gobber threw himself on Savage and the older brother fell to the floor as Vorg grabbed a chair and smashed it over the Sheriff's head, stunning him. Dagur scrabbled away, furious but he satisfied himself with a hefty kick to the man's head, rendering him unconscious then beckoned his men away. "If I find him here, you are all dead!" he snarled and stormed out, leaving the two men on the floor. Bruised and breathless, Gobber crawled to his unconscious friend and checked he was still alive...and found, in fact, that he was already stirring, though he would have one mother of a headache. Stoick always had a thick skull, he thought wryly. Then he stared at the wreckage of his bar and the smashed chair.

"They would have to ruin me best chair," he sighed. "Laddie, where'er ye are-ne'er come back here! Dagur will ne'er give up!"

oOo