FORTY-FIVE: Losses
"The King of Dragons?" Fishlegs gasped as the twins stared up, jaws dropping.
"That..." Ruff began.
"...is..." Tuff continued, eyes like saucers.
"AWESOME!" they finished together. Snotlout cocked an eyebrow.
"I'd like to see you train that," he commented. Hiccup blinked as Heather grinned.
"Dad was here!" she repeated. "We're close. I can feel it! This time, we'll definitely find him..." Dagur stared at her and then suddenly looked shocked...and then self-conscious. He backed away, giving a fake laugh.
"Ah...I hadn't thought of that...I hadn't thought of that at all..." he mumbled as Hiccup walked past him towards the gaping mouth of the skull.
"Come on," he said with his usual fearlessness. "You wanna help us out, bud?" Toothless opened his mouth and gave his 'special' sonic roar, the sound bouncing back and forth from the walls. Listening carefully, Hiccup peers into the darkness and nods. "Sounds stable enough," he commented and threw himself into the saddle. "Let's go!" And he launched into the cave formed by the dead dragon's mouth, the others scrambling to follow their leader. Every few second, Toothless would unleash his special sonic roar, outlining the unseen way ahead so they could fly deep into the fossilised corpse of the dragon, following the tunnel beneath the creature's spine. Hiccup felt his heart flying with the thrill of adventure, of discovery, of uncovering a new dragon and, surprisingly, Fishlegs on Meatlug were speeding along at his side, as excited as he was. Heather was next, no less thrilled at the prospect of finding her scarcely-remembered father. Following the twins and Snotlout, Dagur was hanging back and bringing up the rear, suddenly far less than enthusiastic—but more than made up for by the others, who were all really excited.
"Whatever this dragon was, it was bigger than the Red Death!" Hiccup said in an awed voice. Toothless gave a small concurring warble.
"And its been here for a very, very long time..." Fishlegs added thoughtfully as Meatlug bravely followed the Night Fury. Snotlout was already grumbling as Dagur just glared around suspiciously, his senses on edge...and then they burst out into the open, into a pretty and secluded wooded valley-just as a sleek purple shape whisked past them through the trees. Fishlegs was jittery with excitement and Heather reached over and briefly patted his shoulder to calm him.
"We're close...I can feel it!' he exclaimed as they landed and dismounted...but they immediately found their way blocked by an agitated Toothless, who wouldn't leave the cover of the trees, refusing and growling, obviously on edge. Suddenly tense, Hiccup leaned close to his dragon: all his experiences had taught him to listen to the Night Fury and he didn't want to put anyone in danger now they seemed to be so close.
"What is it, bud?" Hiccup asked in a low voice. Ears flattened back, the Night Fury gives a small growl and his head snaps round, glaring at the little copse.
...and then half a dozen unknown ugly purple dragon swooped out of the trees and roared, then dived down at them. Instantly Toothless blasted at one while Sleuther and Meatlug backed away and Windshear aimed a volley of spines at them, roaring in anger. The purple dragons landed and instantly spat a handful of teeth at them. Just in time, Meatlug spun, tipping Fishlegs to the ground, safe-but as he glanced at the tree by his head-his eyes growing round in recognition. Barf'n'Belch bounded backwards and Hookfang roared and flamed on as Snotlout glanced up from behind the rock he had been thrown behind.
"Hiccup! these are the same teeth we found earlier! These dragons aren't sick!" the husky rider said in a shocked voice. There was a pause.
"No-they're hunting..." Hiccup said in a grim voice.
"What-these things attack poor old dragons who just come here to spend their last days in peace?" Snotlout asked, his face folding into a frown. "That's despicable! Right, Hookie?" The Monstrous Nightmare roared and slewed fire at the strange dragons. Immediately, two more blasted at Dagur, who was thrown back by Sleuther to save him. Toothless and Hookfang blasted at the strange dragons but they shielded themselves from the blasts with their wings and then took off, harried by lava blasts and flames from the others. Filled with disquiet, Hiccup watched them fly away-but as he turned around, though the trees, he glimpsed a wooden hut that had been built hard against the cliff.
"Er...guys?" he called and pointed. The whole party fell quiet as the Berserker siblings shared a glance and then walked forward. Quietly, Hiccup followed them, though the others hung back, for once respecting the privacy of the moment...though Hiccup could hear Tuffnut chasing his sister and throwing shed teeth at her.
Once they had climbed down to the hut, they peered at the wooden door-sturdy and well-made and for a second, Hiccup reached out and touched the wood, seeing the symbol burnt into the timber.
"This wood has been salvaged from a Berserker galleon," he realised as Dagur looked around, a sudden surge of guilt crossing his scarred face.
"He was shipwrecked!" he murmured, eyes fixed on the door as he walked forward. Heather paused, deferring to her older brother who knew their father much better.
"So...do we knock?" she asked as Dagur looked at the door once more, took a deep breath and then gave a false laugh.
"Maybe we should take a snack break first? I don't know about you but I'm feeling bit peckish..." he gabbled backing away. Heather gaped but Hiccup wasn't fooled for a second. He reaches out to reassure the buff red-head and Dagur visibly took control of himself. "I'm kidding," Dagur said, walking forward confidently, before resting his hand on the wood. Then he bowed his head and then turned back to the auburn haired viking. "I mean, someone had to do it-right, Hiccup? The Berserkers needed a leader!"
'Dagur-are you alright?' Hiccup asked, his tone concerned. He could see his friend was really troubled. Suddenly, Dagur lunged forward and grabbed his shoulders, his eyes darting everywhere.
"Er...sure...I mean, it was a bit of a power-grab, taking over the tribe the moment Oswald went missing...I mean, it's crazy but I never really regretted it until just now..." And then Hiccup grabbed his shoulder and forced the older viking to look at him.
"Dagur! Open the door!" he yelled, seeing all the uncertainty, the guilt, the completely-un-Dagur-like emotions crossing his friend's face. "NOW!" There was a pause as the words died away and the Berserker snapped out of his sudden crisis. Taking a deep breath, he finally turned back to the door. Heather walked to his side and quietly, she took his hand.
"I can do this, I can do this..." Dagur whispered to himself, as he walked forward.
"Together," she assures him. "I'm here for you...brother."
Slowly the pair opened the door. Musty, stale air met them, motes of dust swirling in the sudden influx of fresh air. Blinking, Dagur and Heather peered into the gloomy space. Dagur took a pace forward.
"Er...Daddy?"
And then his eyes trailed to the floor and his face fell, telling the watching Hiccup and his sister that he was far too late to express his regrets and speak to his father ever again. Heather's breath hitched as she buried her face in his shoulder.
"Daddy," she whispered.
oOo
Astrid allowed Gobber, Spitelout and Gothi to visit Stoick once a day to keep the Chief abreast of events in the village. Stoick was still weak and recovering from his wounds, but he was as sharp as ever, never allowing his half-brother to get away with anything that would endanger the village or the Tribe. Astrid reported back from the patrols, which were more efficient and more comprehensive than they had been-because she was concerned that the Fliers may realise that the village was vulnerable.
Stoick spoke to her as well, confiding his delight that she was with his son and that he knew she would be a great Chieftess. He shared his belief that they were warriors, born and bred and thought the same...but Hiccup was different, a man who looked for the peaceful solution and saw the positive in every situation. A man with an inventive, brilliant mind and a forgiving heart who needed a hard-edged warrior to help him when he assumed Chiefship of the Tribe. And above all, he thanked Astrid for forgiving him for his stupidity when he tried to enforce a contract for marriage that almost lost her the man she loved.
She had smiled then and simply explained that she knew Hiccup. And no matter how much he loved Stoick and wanted to do his duty, Hiccup would always follow his heart...even if it meant sacrificing his home. She had known in the deepest reaches of her heart-no matter what she told herself-that she would see him again because they believed one thing:
There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid. Always.
And quietly, privately, Stoick had spoken to Astrid-as he never had to his son-about his wife, about Valka, the woman he loved and still did love. His soulmate. The mother of his child. The only person who completed Stoick the Vast. And how he saw a similar bond between his son and Astrid.
"He needs you, lass. More than he needs me or anyone but Toothless," he said. "Be there for him when he has to make the hard calls. Support him when he loses-because he will lose sometimes. And love him because he's a man who needs to be loved."
"I know that," she smiled.
"I won't last for ever, Astrid," Chief Stoick the Vast reminded her. "I am over fifty winters old. I should have retired...but Hiccup was born late and small and for a long time, I thought he would never be fit to be Chief. But now, I can see there will be no one better for the Tribe...especially when he has you at his side."
"A place I never intend to leave," she told him. "I am not running again, sir. My place is here...with my family and my Tribe."
"Even though you're a Chief?" he asked her with a twinkle in his eye.
"I think...even with that...being Hiccup's Chieftess would be far better," she smiled.
Then the door of the Chief's hut burst open and Gustav ran in, breathing hard. He looked over at Stoick the Vast and gulped.
"Sorry, Chief..." he gasped and then turned to Astrid. "Fliers!"
oOo
Night had fallen on Vanaheim as the Riders completed the burial cairn for Oswald the Agreeable, former Chief of the Berserker Tribe and then they stood back as his children faced the mound. Silently, they walked forward to allow Dagur to rest his father's helmet and Heather his shield on the simple grave. There are no boats to honour him with a proper funeral worthy of a Chief so the siblings accepted that here Oswald would lie, on the island of Vanaheim until the world ended.
Hiccup stood forward, his voice clear and steady as he said the words he had been taught to honour a fallen Chief, always thinking the only time he would say them would be at the funeral of his father.
"May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your name with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you've taken your rightful place at the table of kings. For a great man has fallen: A warrior. A chieftain. A father. A friend."
All the riders had removed their helmets and were standing, heads bowed, as the powerful words died away. Heather covered her eyes and Dagur slowly dropped to his knees, his eyes filled with guilt.
"This is all my fault," he breathed. "He was stranded, Hiccup. He died here. Alone." And he closed his eyes in pain, self-loathing and guilt wracking him as never before. If he had not been so focussed on conquest, on destroying Hiccup and owning the Night Fury, he could have been doing his duty as a son and searching for his missing father.
"You had no way of knowing where he was," Hiccup said softly, his tone absolving his friend of any culpability.
"But I-I never sent a search party," Dagur moaned. "I had a lot going on back then-being evil and all-but I should have tried..."
"You feel guilty," Hiccup told him gently. "That's totally normal..."
"I was a villain!" Dagur said with self loathing but Hiccup immediately walked forward, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"No," he said with compassion. "You were a kid. A misunderstood, diabolical, maniacal..." He paused realising this probably wasn't helping. "Yeah, okay...fine!" he said hurriedly. "You were a bad kid. None of that makes a difference." He gestured at the grave. "He was your Dad. He loved you no matter what." Dagur stared at the grave and sighed.
"I guess we'll never know," he said in a low voice, glancing up to Heather. She swallowed and shrugged.
"Er guys! You might want to see this!" Fishlegs' voice floated through the night from the hut and the young Vikings turned and headed in his direction, away from the sad and inadequate monument to a great man. But as they entered the hut, Fishlegs turned back to them, his face grim. "You were right, Hiccup. They are hunters," he said. "Oswald named then Grim Gnashers..." Interested despite the solemnity of the hour, Hiccup walked forward, his emerald eyes locked on the drawing of the same dragons that attacked them earlier. His frowned.
"They prey on the sick dragons," he realised, his heart breaking at the thought that those who came to Vanaheim for a restful remainder of their lives...only to be slaughtered by the merciless beasts.
"Oswald would help the Sentinels drive them off," Fishlegs explained. "He was a hero." Dagger's eyes widened in shock...and then he smiled, folding his arms.
"Of course he was," he says with certainty. "He was a Berserker..." But then Toothless, who was quartering the hut for danger, began to sniff before bouncing up onto the table and retrieving a concealed box from up among the rafters. As if bounced to the floor, it burst open, spilling two scrolls onto the floor. Crouching down, Dagur read the runes on them.
"Hmm...one for Heather...and this one's...for me?" he said in a shocked voice as Hiccup and Fishlegs shared a look. Quietly, the Berserker Chief handed the scroll to his sister and she ran from the hut, already unscrolling it and scanning the words. Dagur sighed. "I ought to go after her," he said an walked from the hut.
But it was at dawn when Dagur clambered up onto a lookout platform that Oswald had clearly built three quarters of the way up the cliff to be alone and as he sat, looking into the rising sun, he took a deep breath-and then rolled the scroll open.
Dagur,
If you're reading this, it's likely too late. I will certainly have perished in search of the answers to questions which might never be revealed...but I assure you, I rest peacefully. I want you to know I have loved and missed you, every day. You did what I would have done-you took care of our people. I am proud of you for that.
"Proud. He said proud," Dagur murmured, a happy smile lighting his face.
I can only hope you've outgrown your crazy, destructive phase...
That brought a wry and slightly embarrassed look onto the Berserker Chief's face as his eyes scanned the words again.
As for me-this island has become my home. My only regret is that I didn't get to see you and Heather grow up together. But I am confident you took good care of her and protected her from the evils that lurk in the Archipelago.
"Ohhh...he got that one wrong," Dagur sighed with a roll of the eyes.
Always remember-you are Berserkes. It's in your blood. I only hope you and Heather can find the same peace that I have here in Vanaheim. And perhaps in Valhalla.
Smiling, Dagur looked up, breathing deeply. "Wow, that was heavy," he admitted as he glimpsed the grey shapes of the Sentinels flying in the opposite direction...and then heard a roar of distress. There were other roars as well, echoing from further across the island and in a second, he made his choice, snapping to his feet and peering into the brilliant morning light. Standing, he could see an old, grey Gronckle roaring desperately as the Grim Gnashers surrounded it. Filled with determination, he whistled and Sleuther looked up, launching as Dagur raced across the platform, leaping into the yawning gap-to land perfectly on his speeding dragon.
"This is for you, Daddy!" Dagur yelled as they blasted away at the dragons, driving them back from the old Gronckle. One was batted into the sea but the others quickly regrouped and spat their deadly teeth at him-only to be hit broadside by a plasma blast as Toothless, Windshear, Barf'n'Belch, Hookfang and Meatlug charged in, with Hiccup immediately taking charge. His quick eyes easily picked out the largest dragon, red instead of purple.
"Dagur-you go for the leader!" he ordered and the Berserker immediately obeyed, a grin stretching his scarred face. "Fishlegs and Heather-you cover the Gronckle! The rest of you-hold back until we see how they fight!"
"On it!" the husky man replied firmly. "Let's go, girl!"
"With you!" Heather snapped. "Come on, Windshear-let's show these bullies!"
Dagur dodged and chased the leader away while Fishlegs and Heather drove the Grim Gnashers away from the old Gronckle. Hiccup and Toothless flew point...but every time they thought they were getting the upper hand, the evil dragons regrouped and they ended back at the start.
"We need more dragon power," Hiccup realised as eight dragons face them-and then he looks at his reserves. "Twins-give me a fire line all the way to the King of Dragons skull. Snotlout-I want to you to wing blast the first and then do that flip-fire manoeuvre on the second in line. Can you do that?" The stocky rider gave a huge grin.
"Prepare for awesomeness!" he promised, leaning forward. "Okay, Fangster-let's show these dragons that this place is meant to be peaceful. To battle!"
The Grim Gnashers accelerated forward-straight into Hookfang's wing blast and as the first pinwheeled away, the Monstrous Nightmare flipped and fired with astonishing accuracy, slamming two of the attacking dragons to the ground, wounding them badly. A wall of flame suddenly cut off the Gnashers from the old Gronckle as all of the dragons blasted the Grim Gnashers. Faced with such a ferocious attack from dragons they assumed were weak and unable to defend themselves, the Gnashers had had enough. With a variety of roars, they arrowed down and sped out to sea, flying hard and fast away from Vanaheim, their tails between their legs. Whooping, Dagur and Sleuther raced upwards and blast the final-and leading-Gnasher back.
"Yeah-you run!" he yells. "This is OSWALD'S island! You shifty sky-vermin!"
Toothless blasted the leader again and as it roared in pain, the last of the Grim Gnashers finally fled. Whooping, Dagur waved his arms in the air.
"Whoo! You know, for a battle with no fatalities, that was actually pretty fun!" Dagur shouted to the others, smiling down on the little old Gronckle he had saved. Glancing up, Hiccup frowned, wondering where the Sentinels were. He would have thought the noise, at the very least, would have drawn them in, let alone an attack by healthy dragons on one of the old residents of Vanaheim. Dagur, meanwhile, was nodding to the old dragon, smiling as he thought of Shattermaster, his first dragon, living a pampered life on Berserk, too injured even to fly to spend his last years in Vanaheim and a lump formed in his throat. In helping Dagur attack the Hunters and save Heather's-and Hiccup's-life, his dragon had sacrificed his place on Vanaheim. But at least saving the old Gronckle was in some way making up for all the harm he had done.
"Hey guys-it feels like it's probably time to go," Hiccup shouted as he and Fishlegs turned away. But Dagur hovered for a bit longer, his eyes fixing the little hut in his memory, with the little cairn that marked the grave of his father. Heather pulled alongside as the Berserker Chief looked into her face.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe we would find him," he said as she stared at the hut.
"He was dead long before we ever found his diary," she sighed. "But at least we did find him...and now we know. And his letter..." She smiled.
"Good, huh?" Dagur guessed and she smiled.
"He told me he loved me and that he had every confidence your craziness and derangedness was a phase you would eventually grow out of," she revealed.
"Hmm? Oh...well...took a lot of growing out of, I can tell you," he muttered. And then he smiled. "And in the end, it was you that was the key. I had to make a choice between being evil and helping Viggo...or saving your life. And as soon as I made the choice, it felt righter than anything I have ever done. So thank you."
"He wanted us to be together helping each other," she said. Dagur nodded.
"He said the same to me as well," he admitted. "I'm sorry you didn't get to know him better, Heather. But he would have been very proud of you. You're much more like him than I am. But...I can tell you what he was like on the flight back, if you like..."
"Thanks," she smiled. "That would be wonderful..."
"Er...Dagur?" Hiccup asked, waiting and Dagur gave a genuine smile.
"Yes, Hiccup-I believe it is time to go home," he said, his voice at peace and finally, he turned away.
But as the Riders circled round the giant remains of the King of Dragons, they suddenly stopped and stared. For strewn across the beach, motionless, were the rocky shapes of the Sentinels, motionless. Toothless gave a furious roar and backwinged as they stared down. Fishlegs landed and ran to the nearest Sentinel.
But to was motionless and when the husky rider leaned against the cold stone body, there was only silence.
"Er...Hiccup? I think they're all dead!" he said, his voice shaking with emotion. The auburn-haired Viking stared at the scorch marks on the dragons and the ground and his eyes narrowed in hatred.
"Fliers!"
oOo
The attack was vicious, the Fliers pounding the village mercilessly and two of Johann's vessels had managed to dock as well, sneaking in among the seastacks using the former Trader's knowledge of the topography to their advantage...almost certainly coupled with a sloppy patrol by Spitelout, who had been on duty earlier that morning.
Astrid took point, allowing the A Team to perform to their best, though she barked orders to them when she felt areas were being left exposed. Skullcrusher refused to move from the Chief's House, protecting his stricken rider and attacking any dragon foolish enough to come close. As per village instructions for a raid or an attack, the women, children and non-combatants were sent to the Great Hall for safety and the Rider watched Hjordis carry her daughter with apprehension. Valkana was the most vulnerable member of the tribe-as well as, to Astrid, the most precious.
And then Johann's men-a mixture of Hunters and other scum-came racing up the village with a roar, meeting determined resistance from the men, led by Gobber with Grump, his rather lazy Hotburple, ambling along and lazily slamming men aside with his bludgeon of a tail. Peripherally, Astrid saw a couple of men fall and hoped they were only injured, not dead-but her eyes were scanning the skies for the familiar and lethal shape of Krogan, standing proud on his red Singetail, directing the attack. He found her, the blast almost taking her out and only Stormfly's reflexes saved her. She cursed and flipped the Nadder, lancing a spread of spines that grazed the larger dragon.
"Surely you must see that surrender is the only course!" Krogan sneered but Astrid rolled away.
"Surely you must see you can never defeat us!" she retorted. "NOW!" The A Team attacked, a co-ordinated attacked from all sides that unseated all but Krogan and freed the Singetails. "Running out of dragons, are you?' she taunted him.
"AGH!" he shouted in rage and directed a huge blast past Astrid-at the fleeing women and children. And all she could do was watch as the little group separated, desperately seeking shelter...but Hjordis was lagging back because she wasn't sure where to go. But in the last moment, a familiar shape leapt forward and shoved the stranger and the baby aside-as the blast slammed into the ground hard by her side.
"NO!" Astrid screamed, diving down and looking amid the smoke. There were screams and houses were on fire, but the Fliers were retreating. "Mom! Hjordis! VAL!"
"Are you looking for this...Miss Astrid?" The familiar sneering and hated voice of Johan came from the smoke and, as it cleared, she saw the treacherous former Trader holding the squirming bundle in his arms, two of his men holding a stunned Hjordis in their grasp. Breathing hard, her hand hovered over the point at the back of Stormfly's head that triggered her single spine shot.
"Let them go!" she shouted, emphasising every word.
"And yet...I think I'll be keeping them...at least for a while," Johann said coldly. "The rumours were true. You and 'Master Hiccup' have been blessed by a very pretty and no doubt much-loved child. And if you wish to see her again, you will do as you are told."
"The moment you harm her, you are dead...and there is no place on Midgard that will spare you my vengeance if you hurt my child..." Astrid promised in a voice that would freeze lava.
"Then I would be foolish to let her go," Johann mocked her. "I presume this crone is her nurse?" Astrid just glared daggers at him, not deigning to answer. "Your job, woman, is to keep the child alive. If you fail...well, I will kill you by inches and make sure you learn just how disappointed I am. And that's not even before Miss Hofferson gets her hands on you."
"Haddock," Astrid told him. "This is your last chance..."
A dagger appeared from his sleeve-clearly a concealed sheath or two there, she thought absently-and pressed against the baby's milky-pale throat.
"I think you're going to watch us walk away-and deliver Hiccup's lenses within three moons if you ever want to see your daughter again," Johann said. "My Fliers seem to have failed-again-so we'll call this a stalemate. And if I see you or any of your riders on the way...well, I wonder how many pieces can you cut a baby into? I suspect I can surprise you..."
"No..."Astrid breathed. "You can leave. But you do not harm the baby...otherwise you can hide in the furthest end of the world and I will find you, Johann. I swear that on Odin and Freya."
"We will meet again...Mrs Haddock..." Johann sneered. "Hopefully in more productive circumstances. Remember-three moons!"
Astrid landed Stormfly and motioned the A Team to hover and watch them go. Krogan had already withdrawn and she knew the man would wait to see if his gambit had succeeded. But she only had eyes for the shape, lying limp and motionless by the crater from the Singetail blast. Shielding Hjordis and Val with her body, Ilsa Hofferson had repaid her daughter for her failure to speak for her at the start of her pregnancy. And as Astrid cradled the still body in her arms, tears starting to fall, she knew her daughter would never get to see her grandmother or feel her hug her ever again.
No matter how this ends, you are mine, Krogan, she thought. You have taken my mother and my daughter from me. You've lived too long.