Stoick stood in the shadow of Helheim's gate. Ahead of him lay fifty yards of bare ash and gravel, then the walls of the nest thrust upwards into an imposing bulwark of grey-black stone. The sea breeze kept the air breathable, but a faint sulphurous odour hung over the island.
Behind him was the largest host of warriors the Hooligan tribe had ever assembled.
He turned to Gobber, standing beside him. "Go find Spitelout and Phlegma. I want to go over the plan one more time." The smith nodded and hobbled off to the fetch the other two - who would be his lieutenants in the battle.
Stoick's gaze drifted back towards the mountain as he waited. He had battled the dragons a hundred times before, but he felt his heart fluttering in his chest, and a cold sweat gathering on the back of his neck. So far, everything had gone to plan - they'd deployed off the boats without incident - but that just made his anxiety worse.
They hadn't seen a single dragon since they'd landed.
Makes sense, the tactician in him whispered. They have a defensible position; no reason to give it up without a fight.
He eyed the crags lining the mountain side, feeling exposed on the barren shore. Were there reptilian eyes, hidden in the shadows, watching their every move?
That was the trouble; his people may have literally written the book on fighting dragons, but Bork's treatises all started from the premise of defending an established position from a dragon attack. Nobody knew how to fight them on their own ground.
"Ahem," Gobber coughed. "Any time today, chief."
Stoick looked up; they were waiting for him. "Right." He took a sword from Plegma and drew a line in the dirt, then a wide rectangle behind it.
"When we crack this mountain open, all Hel is going to break loose."
"In my undies. Good thing I brought extras."
Stoick sighed. "Thank you, Gobber.
"If we're going to win this, we need to control where the battle is fought." He added a line of circles behind the rectangle. "So we'll use the catapults to make a breach." He drew an 'x' on the other side of the line. "The dragons will swarm out of the hole, straight into our archers' fire."
About a third of Stoick's forces were equipped with bows. Few of them were properly trained, but if there were as many dragons in the nest as he feared, accuracy wouldn't be a problem.
Gobber nodded. "Aye, as soon as we've made the breach, the catapults will switch to scatter-shot and support them."
"Just make sure you leave some for the rest of us," Spitelout growled.
"Don't worry," Phlegma shot back. "There'll be enough left to gut you."
"She's right," Stoick said. "The archers will thin their numbers, but most of the fighting will still be on the ground." He drew three more rectangles, between the 'x' and the initial line.
"Spitelout, you'll take the right." He drew an arrow from the right-hand block, curling around towards the 'x'. "Plegma, you're on the left." He did the same for her. "And I'll hold the centre." he drew a final arrow straight forwards.
"Push them hard," he said, "We need to trap them in the breach as long as possible, but be careful you don't end up in the archers' line of fire. Understood?"
The three of them nodded.
"What about this 'Queen' the lassie warned us of?"
Spitelout guffawed.
Stoick silenced him with a glare. "If she shows up...we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Any more questions?
"Right. Good luck, and may we meet again in Valhalla."
"Aye."
"Yes, chief!"
"Aye, Stoick." Gobber lingered a moment. "I'll save a seat for you, old friend."
"Me too, old friend." Stoick replied, not meeting the smith's eyes.
The chief clambered atop a nearby boulder and watched as Gobber made his way back through the lines, past the wooden palisade protecting the archers, to his position with the catapult crews.
"Ready!" His voice echoed in the sudden hush.
Stoick turned to face the mountain. He raised an open hand.
"No matter how this ends, this ends today!"
He clenched his fist.
A series of thunks echoed behind him as the counterweights were released. Then a creak as the catapults ponderously began their arcs. Finally, they accelerated with a whoosh. A half-dozen boulders flew through the air, sailing over the heads of the army and striking the nest with the force of Mjolnir.
The mountainside shattered.
Stoick ducked behind his shield as a cloud of dust rushed outwards, engulfing him and the first ranks. Shards of rock ricocheted off the wood, one pinged off his helmet.
As the wave of debris passed, he peeked over his shield. A section of the nest larger than the mead hall doors had collapsed, creating an opening into a yawning black cavern. Stoick tensed, waiting for the dragons to come rushing out.
Nothing moved, save for the swirling dust and a trickle of pebbles from the edge of the breach. Half-deafened by the rockfall, the beach seemed eerily silent.
Keeping his shield up, Stoick dropped down from the boulder and approached the gap. Attenuated by clouds and dust, the weak sunlight illuminated a haphazard mound of rubble in the mouth of the breach, but left the interior shrouded in darkness.
Switching his spear to his other hand, he drew his warhammer and held it to the side, then rotated it forwards. Behind him a catapult fired and a moment later, a blazing ball of oil-soaked rope roared overhead and into the breach. The light from the burning projectile shone on a cacophony of dragons in every size and colour, packed so densely he couldn't see the walls of the cavern.
Stoick's blood went cold. The light vanished from sight. A steady murmuring built within the nest.
He raised his spear high and roared.
The Hooligans of Berk screamed their battle cries and charged.
The Flock took wing.
Stoick braced his shield as a Nightmare launched itself towards him. The dragon flew straight over his head. He blinked, missing a strike on a Zippleback that rushed past, buffeting him with its wings. Recovering, he thrust at a Gronckle as it buzzed him. He caught the beast on the leg, but it ignored him, flying headlong out of the nest.
Gobber shouted over the din, and the archers loosed a belated volley. Arrows whistled through the air as Stoick roared another battle cry, rushing forwards to meet the oncoming horde.
He jabbed his spear towards the exposed underbelly of a Nightmare. The creature jerked upwards, avoiding the point by mere inches. He spun, thrusting at the thigh of a passing Nadder. Blood sprayed him, but the creature continued on, charging through the breach. He swiped the spear in a wide arc - letting his hand slide down the haft for greater reach. A dull green Gronckle slipped sideways in mid-air, avoiding the attack. He brought the weapon back to his side to meet his next opponent-
And found himself standing in the mouth of an empty cave.
Heart pounding, Stoick turned to survey the beach behind him. A dozen dragons lay dead on the ground, arrows protruding from their chests. The rest had soared upwards, quickly escaping bowshot. Now, they were steadily winging their way away from the nest, joined by lines of dragons emerging from other cracks in the mountain.
"Is that it?!" Somebody shouted.
Stoick tightened his grip on his spear. Something was wrong.
"We've done it!" Another voice announced.
A cheer spread through the men. A knot of fleeing dragons turned sharply and dove back towards them. Terror clutched at Stoick's heart.
"No!" he yelled. "It's not over!" The dragons were too close. They couldn't reorganise in time. He shouted the orders anyway. "Form your ranks! Hold Together!"
Stoick the Vast could do nothing but watch as the dragons hit his formation from the side. They swept along the beach, following the palisade. Fire blossomed in their wake, followed by the agonised screams of burning men.
Around him, Warriors rushed to help their friends in the rear.
"No!" Stoick bellowed. "Keep your formation!"
It was too late; the already disorganised lines were thrown into chaos as men rushed forwards to help, while those near the fighting recoiled from the flames.
The reverberating sound of wings met Stoick's ears.
He spun. Lights were visible in the darkness of the breach. It took him a moment to realise what they were; a dozen Nightmares, their scales lit with blazing fire.
Stoick sprinted for where the first rank had stood. "The nest!" He roared. "Form a wall!"
He grabbed the first person he saw and physically spun them to face the breach. He jerked their shield into position, overlapping with his own. "Wall!"
The warrior's training finally kicked in. "Incoming!" she shouted. "Shield wall!"
More men rushed to their sides, joining on to the ends of the line. A wall of spears and shields slowly grew along the beach; too slow. Stoick watched helplessly as a man ran for the safety of their formation, only for a Nadder to drop onto his back - the creature's claws punching almost completely through his torso.
A Nightmare swooped down towards them, mouth agape. "Brace!" Stoick shouted, ducking behind his shield. Behind him, a man raised his own shield to protect their heads.
A wave of liquid fire broke against the wall. He hissed through gritted teeth as a droplet flew through a gap between the shields and splashed on his shoulder. The ground shook as the Nightmare landed. The beast roared, then lowered its head and charged. Stoick, and the men around him, thrust their spears at it, bloodying its muzzle and forcing it back.
Stoick stood up to his full height - thankful that he towered over most men. Beyond the edges of his formation, all semblance of order had vanished. To the right of the line, dragons flew back and forth, chasing fleeing men.
He felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. His plan had relied on the force of their assault to break the dragons; they didn't have the men for a long, bloody battle.
Stoick pushed the thoughts away; he had lead his people into this, it was his duty to get them out. To their left lay thirty yards of open ground, then another group of warriors trying to hold their own line. He turned to the man behind him - he was surprised to recognize him as Balder Hofferson. "Take my place."
Balder nodded.
"On three. One... two... now!"
Stoick turned his body sideways and raised his shield above his head as Balder slipped past him, slotting seamlessly into the wall.
As soon as he broke free from the rear of the line, Stoick sprinted towards the second group of warriors. Above, a Gronckle dropped out of the air, using its bulk as a battering ram to shatter their line.
Stoick roared, pounding across the ash and gravel even faster. He charged headlong into the Gronckle, using his momentum to drive his spear deep into its flank. He let go of the haft and spun, whipping out his hammer in time to shatter the jawbone of a Nadder as it lunged for him. Before it could recover, another warrior stepped forwards and drove a sword through its neck. "Thanks chief," she gasped.
A groan sounded at his feet. Stoick looked down to see a man lying in the grey dirt, knocked prone by the Gronckle's impact. He held up a hand and Stoick clasped it, hauling him to his feet. "Are you hurt, man?"
The warrior clutched at his side for a moment, then straightened up. "I'll live," he croaked, turning to retrieve his weapons.
Stoick gestured back the way he came. "Get to the line," he told the survivors. "We need to hold the front."
He turned and yanked his spear out of the Gronckle. Blood spurted out of the wound, but the beast didn't rise. He looked over his shoulder; the warriors lingered, staring at the chaos surrounding them with glazed expressions. Stoick felt for them; they'd all seen too many friends taken by claw and fire in recent days, but they couldn't stop. Not here. Not now.
"Move!" He bellowed. "Go! I'll follow you!"
The warriors snapped to attention and ran for the relative safety of the line. Stoick jogged behind them, one eye on the sky.
A shadow passed overhead. Stoick ducked, but the dragon hadn't been targeting him. The zippleback swooped in front of the line exhaling a cloud of gas. It turned sharply and backwinged, dropping to the ground, and blowing the cloud through the wall.
Stoick ducked behind his shield at the last moment, but he still felt the percussive blast and heard the shouts of alarm become cries of agony.
"Retreat!" Someone screamed. "To the ships!"
Images of them trying to board the boats and push off in the midst of a storm of dragonfire flashed through Stoick's mind.
"No!" He bellowed, stepping into the sudden gap. "NO! Hold your ground!"
As if in answer to his shout, a chorus of roars rang out behind him.
Horror gripping him, Stoick turned. A fresh wave of dragons dove out of the clouds and fell on the unprotected fleet, raking the boats with their fires. Flames blossomed on the horizon.
Gods help us, he thought. He'd been outplayed.
Astrid had tried to warn him. She'd seen the Queen, she'd seen ...this. He'd ignored her for... What? Revenge?
Now Berk stood, surrounded by enemies on all sides, watching their only hope of escape go up in flames.
Gods help us all, I've been a fool.
The mood had soured when Helheim's gate first appeared on the horizon. After leaving Berk, the Twins, Fishlegs, and Orvar had whooped with the sheer exhilaration of flight. Despite the seriousness of their mission, Astrid didn't begrudge their enjoyment - how could she, when she felt the same urge; to forget everything, and lose herself in the rush of the wind and the surge of Stormfly's muscles beneath her?
Now though, as they plunged into the fog, the dragons drew into a tight formation behind Stormfly, flying steadily and silently.
Astrid shuddered, remembering her last time entering these mists; her Nadder stiff and unresponsive beneath her. She glanced at the other dragons; as far as she could tell, they were still themselves. Stormfly had broken free of the Queen's control once, could she do it again? And what of the other dragons?
Had she made a terrible mistake bringing them here?
Stormfly looked back at her and crooned softly.
"Thanks," Astrid murmured, leaning forwards to rest a hand on her neck.
Then they heard the screams.
It was the sound that had haunted Astrid's dreams since the raid; the cries of men and women in agony;
The sound of people dying.
Stormfly and the others picked up speed without prompting. A chill that had nothing to do with the sea wind seeped into Astrid. She knew the chances had dwindled as Helheim's gate approached, but she'd held out hope that they would be able to stop Stoick before he reached the nest.
But they were too late. They would have to fight. Six dragons against the multitudes of the Flock.
She listened to the screams in grim silence as they crossed the final distance to the nest.
Astrid's first impression was of fire. For a single, terrifying moment, she thought the mountain had erupted. She couldn't stop the horrified gasp that escaped her. The fleet was ablaze, the air thick with smoke. Dragons danced between the towering flames, spitting fire at any who dared approach the water.
Stormfly backwinged and rose quickly, circling above the smoke.
More dragons swarmed around the base of the nest. Pinned between the two groups, in a chaotic mass, were Berk's warriors.
"Astrid!" her brother shouted. "What do we do?!"
She opened her mouth several times, but no words came out. "I..." What did they do? She doubted even the valour of Týr himself would carry the day below. What could she - not even a Viking any more - hope to do?
"Sis!"
She mentally slapped herself. She was a Hofferson; they did not freeze in battle. She scanned the fires below. There! A glimpse of black between the flames.
She looked back to the trapped warriors, a Nightmare swooped low over their heads, raining liquid fire on the men below.
"'Nuts, 'Legs, Orvar, cover them; stop the Flock attacking from above. I'll free the Night Furies."
The riders nodded.
She crouched low as her Nadder dove towards the inferno.
Flames encircled Hiccup. They prowled around him like a pack of wolves, roaring and growling in low, crackling tones. The sail of his longship had caught in the Flock's first pass, but, the rest of the vessel had escaped the lick of flame. However, the railings in front of him were already smouldering; the relentless blaze ever hungry.
He could feel the heat even through his scales; if he was still human it would have been unbearably hot. Smoke stung in his nostrils. He tried not to think about whether he would suffocate on it before the ship sank and dragged him down with it.
He heard the rushing of wings over the roaring flames. A Nadder burst through the black wall of smoke, trailing a column of daylight behind her. She backwinged hard - whirlwinds of soot and ember spiralling off her wings.
"Alpha!" Stormfly squawked, dropping onto the deck.
Astrid leapt off the Nadder's back. "Hiccup!" she gasped, then immediately threw her arm across her mouth, coughing. "Is that you?" She wheezed, rushing over to him.
Hiccup nodded rapidly, resisting the urge to take a sudden gasp of air as she pulled off his muzzle.
"We need to get you out of here!" She cast around the burning deck, looking for a way to free him.
Hiccup looked up at Stormfly. "What are you doing?!"
"Fighting for the future of both our peoples," she replied. "Astrid freed the other dragons from your arena, but we are only four; we need an Alpha.
"We need a Night Fury."
But I'm not a Night Fury! Hiccup wanted to scream back. I'm a failure of a Viking, trapped in the wrong body! All I've done my entire life is get people hurt!
Astrid hissed through her teeth as she snatched up an abandoned sword. Hiccup winced, thinking of how hot the metal must be. She jammed it into the crack between the two halves of his yoke and heaved.
Hiccup thought of his childhood. Those long, miserable years; attempt after attempt, and public failure after public failure. He hadn't built those inventions just to win fame and glory - sure, those would have been nice - but deep down, he shared the desire of every child to live up to their father. This whole mess had started because he'd tried to help the village the only way he could.
The lock gave way. The wooden collar fell at Hiccup's feet. He stepped out of the cart and spread his wings, slowly flapping to ease the stiffness.
"Hiccup..." Stormfly began.
He felt the omnipresent spark of Auric power within him. Now the gods - be they his father's Ӕsir and Vanir or Stormfly's Trinity - had granted him the ability to help. Who would he be if he gave up now?
He looked back at Stormfly. "Well, you have two Night Furies." He plunged himself into that well of power. Energy flooded through him.
Astrid gasped. Blue-green light reflected in her face.
He gestured from Astrid to Stormfly. "Go!" He told the Nadder. "Get her out of here! I'll free Muninn!"
"Yes, Alpha!"
Hiccup looked across the blazing fleet. Between the curtains of smoke he could just make out the other longship, run aground on the far side of the beach. Fixing his eyes on his destination, he crouched and launched himself into the air, spreading his wings wide.
That was a mistake.
Driven by the fires, the air beneath his left wing surged upwards, nearly flipping him out of control. He pulled in his wings and dove for the first patch of free deck he saw.
He landed heavily, the ship rocking beneath him. Water splashed into the air, sizzling as it came down on the scorched deck. Hiccup cast his gaze around. The air above the fires was chaotic and treacherous, and he couldn't risk flying above the smoke until he'd freed Muninn. He spotted a mostly unburnt ship just along the shore. If he angled things just right...
Hiccup jumped. Rather than launching himself upwards, he threw himself forwards, opening his wings just enough to extend his leap. He touched down and scanned the fleet around him for his next target. He located a suitable boat, and jumped again. The air clawed at his wings and fins, trying everything it could to throw him off, but he held his course.
Three bounds later, Hiccup came to an abrupt halt. His destination was less than fifty yards away, but every vessel between him and the longship was half-sunk, on fire, or both. He eyed the tall mast of a nearby ship, an idea occurring to him. He crouched down and leapt towards it.
Wait for it... Now!
He pushed his tail upwards, swinging his nose towards the sky. The mast smashed into his underside, forcing the air from his lungs. He grabbed hold with all four limbs, driving his claws into the wood. He scrambled upwards, spreading his wings to balance with all four paws on the narrow tip of the mast.
From his vantage point, Hiccup could see Muninn's cart, still secured in place on the longship's deck. She was slumped on the planks, unmoving. For a terrible moment, he thought he was too late. No, he realised, her eyes were open, and her ear-fins twitched in response to the popping of flames and the crashes of falling timbers.
Hiccup tensed and pushed off from the mast. Hot updrafts buffeted against him. He landed ungracefully, nearly staggering into the far railing. "Muninn!" He gasped.
The Night Fury didn't react.
He rushed over to her. He hooked a claw beneath the leather band around her muzzle and tore it off.
"Muninn! Are you okay?!"
Her lips twitched. He had to strain to make out her words.
"No! Please! I'll do anything for you, just don't make me kill them!"
Her pupils were narrow slits. Whatever she was seeing, Hiccup thought, it wasn't what was in front of her.
"Please, not again! Just let them go, they're no threat to you!"
"Muninn! It's me, Hiccup!"
For the first time, she looked up at him. Her pupils widened with momentary recognition. "Hic... Hiccup?" She jerked away from him. Her pupils snapped back to feral slits. "No! Get away! Before She makes me kill you!"
Hiccup leaned in close, the tip of his muzzle inches away from hers. "That's over, Muninn. I'm Hiccup, you transformed me, remember?" She blinked, seeming to recognise him again. "Then, I freed you. You're not her puppet any more."
"No," she whispered. "No more death."
"Muninn?"
She pushed herself up onto her paws. "I'm fine." She was anything but, Hiccup thought, but he didn't press it. "How did you...?"
"Astrid and Stormfly freed me." He looked to where the beach lay, obscured by a wall of smoke. "They're out there somewhere, fighting. We have to help them."
Munin shrank back, her collar knocking against the bars of her cart. "Hiccup! The whole Flock's out there! We can't fight them!" Her eyes were wide, almost frantic. "I won't go back to her! I can't!"
"Muninn." He looked her in the eye. "I'm terrified. I have no idea how to fight that many dragons, let alone the Queen. Of course I'd rather be flying the Hel away from here. But I'm not going to. Why?
"Because I have to try.
"Stormfly watched her mother - as far as she knew, the only survivor of the Queen's conquest - starve before her eyes. She spent years under the Queen's control, only to regain her mind and be captured by my people in the same moment. Most of the dragons around her were going to be slaughtered, but still she sang her songs to everyone who would listen. Why?
"Because she had to try.
"I spent most of my life as a laughing stock; a weakling in a village where killing dragons is everything. When I built the weapon that shot you down, did I think it was going to bring down the elusive Night Fury? Of course not. Why did I build it?
"Because I had to try.
"And you, when you had me beneath your claws, did you know that I would learn to fly? To use the Aür? That I would free you? Did you even know if I would survive the gods-damned night?!"
"N-no." Muninn whimpered.
Hiccup took a deep breath. His heart pounded like he'd just flown a mile with the flock snapping at his tail. He tried to moderate his tone; insistent, but not unkind. "Why did you do it?"
"I..."
"Why, Muninn?"
"I came into my power a few seasons after t-th... She..." She shuddered. "I knew I'd only get one chance. So many times, I nearly used it, but I doubted myself, told myself that a better opportunity would come along. Then, gradually, the opportunities came further and further apart. You were the first chance in... Trinity, I can't remember how long."
"So..." he prompted.
"I didn't know how much longer I could last! I had to do something!"
"Thank you." Hiccup gazed across the longship's prow. "My people, my father, are out there, fighting for their lives. I have to try and help them. Stormfly brought the other dragons from Berk with her; she believes in what the Night Furies stood for, she believes in us, she believes..." He recalled a hazy memory of Stormfly standing defiantly between him and a Nightmare twice her size. "... An Alpha protects them all.
"I promised I'd free her people. I have to try." He looked back at Muninn. "Will you join me?"
"An Alpha protects them all," she repeated. "I like the sound of that." She stood as tall as her cart allowed. "We will try."
Hiccup spun to face her, his eyes darting over the frame of her cart. "I'll have you out of there in a moment..."
"No need." She blinked, and when her eyes opened, they burned with Auric light. The spines along her back shone the same shade as her irises; a brilliant, emerald green.
Muninn closed her eyes. Her light flared, and a wave of energy radiated out from her, into her collar. Hiccup watched, awestruck as the wood crumbled to dust in its wake.
She stepped out of her cart, rolling her shoulders to shake off the remains of her yoke.
I have got to learn how to do that. Hiccup thought.
"Here they come again!" Stoick bellowed. "Hold the line!"
A gronckle fell from the sky. Stoick raised his shield to meet it. The dragon struck with the force of a boulder. Wood splintered beneath the impact. He would have been knocked flat, if not for the weight of men behind him.
The chief roared like a wounded bear and shoved back the dragon, thrusting blindly with his spear. He felt the point sink into flesh and then the haft was ripped from his hand. The Gronckle laboured into the air, revealing the two-headed dragon behind it.
"Zippleback! Scatter!"
Stoick yanked out his hammer and charged, his hoarse cry echoing off the mountainside. The front line joined him, rushing the flock, while the rear retreated, effectively splitting the line.
As soon as they got within ten paces the Zippleback took wing. The ground shook as something huge landed behind him. Stoick skidded to stop and spun around. The biggest Nightmare he'd ever seen - a massive purple titan-wing - had come down in the middle of the scattered formation. It roared, shaking the pebbles on the beach, then reared up. Stoick saw it sides tense as it prepared to douse his men in liquid fire.
"NO!" He yelled.
His hammer spun through the air, striking the Nightmare's muzzle, forcing its head to the side.
The Nightmare turned faster than he thought possible. It's tail whistled through the air, striking him in the side. The blow lifted him off his feet and sent him sprawling in the ash several feet down the beach.
Dazed, Stoick fumbled for his knife. Distantly, he realised he was going to die. He gritted his teeth, focusing his whole being on forcing his unresponsive limbs to move. He would go out with weapon in hand, protecting his people. He owed them that much, at least.
Screeching furiously, a blue blur struck the Nightmare in the side. The ground shook as the beast fell. Pebbles flew left and right as it thrashed furiously. Stoick felt a flash of heat as white-hot fire erupted. The Nightmare's bellows became screeches as flames tore through its hide.
And then, silence. The Nightmare's head dropped to the ground.
Stoick staggered to his feet. A blue and yellow Nadder was perched atop the Nightmare's body, talons embedded deep in its flesh. He looked up and met the eyes of the fierce blonde Viking on the Nadder's back.
"Chief!" She shouted. "Are you hurt?!"
"Astrid! What-"
"You're too exposed out here," she cut him off. "There's more cover on the west side of the island. Get the men moving! We'll cover you from above!"
Stoick blinked. She'd just spoken with more natural authority than most Viking chiefs he'd met; it didn't even register for him to be annoyed that she was giving him orders. His eyes drifted back down to the Nadder she rode. The dragon stared back at him with eyes every bit as ferocious and intelligent as the Viking on her back.
The Nadder's pupils narrowed; she squawked in alarm as Astrid shouted "duck!".
Stoick dropped. A volley of spines whistled over his head. He heard two dragons fall to earth behind him.
He straightened up, looking over his shoulder. A pair of Nadders lay in the ash, spines protruding from their chests. He looked back at Astrid.
Her Nadder was crouched slightly, her wings half-open, tail raised high, spines bristling. Astrid was pressed tight against her back, muscles tense. Together, they were the picture of restrained action.
"I'm sorry," Stoick blurted out.
Astrid blinked, straightening up. "What?"
"You were right. We couldn't do this alone. I should have listened."
"I..." She faltered, seeming to suddenly realise she was speaking to her chief.
The Nadder chirped, drawing her attention seawards. Something shot upwards from the burning fleet, dragging a line of black smoke behind it.
"What the-?"
"Watch."
High above the battlefield the thing split into two dark specks. They roared, then pulled into parallel stoops. Stoick felt a chill go down his spine as he heard that singular note echoed in harmony.
"Night Fury!" the cry went up.
He met Astrid's eyes. I hope you know what you're doing.
"Get d-"
"NO!" Stoick roared. "They're with us!"
A flash of blue caught his eye. He looked up in time to see a bolt of light fall from the heavens and strike a Nightmare mid-flight, blasting the dragon out of the air.
He turned back to the pair in front of him. The Nadder was tensed, wings outstretched, ready to leap, she looked back at her rider.
"Stoick..." Astrid began.
He nodded. "West side of the island. You'll cover us."
Astrid crouched down low to her mount. In the same motion the Nadder raised her wings. Then, with a great woosh of air they were gone.
A familiar battle cry broke the lull. A group of warriors split from the line, rushing forwards to encircle him. Bringing up the rear, Gobber hobbled towards him.
"Every bit the boar-headed, stubborn Viking Finn ever was," the smith muttered, watching Astrid soar into the air.
Stoick could only nod silently in agreement. In his youth he'd had the privilege of watching a Norwegian cavalry drill; those professional soldiers hadn't moved with half the grace and synchronicity with their mounts that Astrid displayed; her movements were so in time with her Nadder's flaps that they almost looked like a single body.
A shadow fell over them. A green Zippleback rushed overhead, smashing into a Gronckle, sending it spinning away before it could drop onto the line. He squinted. Was that the Thorston twins sat astride its necks?
"Look at us!" Tuffnut shouted. "We're on a dragon! We're on dragons! All of us!"
Behind the Zippleback came a Nightmare ridden by the younger Hofferson child, and finally a Gronckle bearing the Ingerman boy.
Stoick dragged his eyes down to the ground. There was still a battle going on. "Back to the line!" he called, setting off at a jog.
Stoick slowed his pace, dropping to the rear of their group, alongside Gobber. "We're too exposed out here." he told his friend. "There's more cover on the west side of the island. Get the men moving, the Dragons will cover us from above."
"I think I'll stay," the smith shot back. "Just in case you're thinking of doing something crazy."
"I can buy them a few minutes if I give them-" he jerked his head towards the nest "-something to hunt." He skidded to a stop, turning back the way he came.
Gobber caught him by the wrist. "Then I can double that time."
Stoick met his old friend's eyes. It would be good to fight side-by-side again, like they had back when they'd had fewer responsibilities... and more limbs. He opened his fist. They clasped hands.
Stoick scanned the men with them. If they survived this, they would be stepping into a world where all the old rules were gone. "Balder!" he called.
"Aye chief!"
Stoick met his eyes. If any man could be trusted to lead Berk into Astrid's new world where Vikings rode on the backs of dragons, it was her father. "Lead the men! Go!"
"With me!" Balder shouted, raising his spear and leading the charge back to the line.
Stoick stood, only Gobber left at his side. He turned to face the nest. "One last brawl, old friend."
"Aye, let's make it a good one!"
Stoick roared, rushing forwards and snatching up a six-foot spear from where it had fallen, sticking in the ash. He threw it like a javelin. The weapon arced high in the air, before burying itself in the side of a Gronckle.
"Oh no!" Gobber laughed, brandishing his axe-hand. "Come on!" he bellowed. "Fight me!"
Hiccup dove. The world sped past, an indistinct blur, while his target - an orange female Nightmare - stayed in perfect focus. Fire raged in his chest. He released his shot and opened his wings in the same instant.
The flock was all around him.
A Nadder screeched, stalling as her claws rose to intercept him. He rolled, missing her talons by inches, only to nearly fly head-first into a Gronckle. He pulled in his wings, darting under the dragon, then snapped them open again, moments before crashing into the Vikings beneath.
He dodged left - weaving around the raised heads of a Zippleback, then swerved right as a Nadder leapt up from the forest of spears. Another Gronckle tried to block him. He turned his bank into a barrel roll, passing over the dragon upside-down. He flipped back upright.
And he was free.
He focused his Auric light into his wings, and pointed his nose skywards. He sped upwards like a shot from a bow, leaving the dragons pursuing him hundreds of yards below. A heartbeat later, he finished his climb, level with the peak of the nest.
A bitter taste settled at the back of his throat. Before, when he'd fled the nest, he'd fought back against the flock almost instinctively, fearing for his life. Now, though, the dragons below were no threat to him; he was a Night Fury - even if they heard his dive, it was too late to avoid his fire.
You don't have a choice, he told himself. He knew that holding back his fire would doom both the Vikings and the dragons. But that didn't stop him imagining every dragon below as himself in the battle over Dökkhöfn.
A shout drifted up to him, dragging his attention back to the present.
"Retreat! Push to the western shore!"
Hiccup scanned the beach. The carefully organised formations had collapsed into a single, beleaguered mass, pressed on all sides by the Flock. Gouts of fire erupted over the Vikings; four dragons darting back and forth, scrambling to keep the air over their heads clear.
Two figures stood defiantly before the vanguard, the flock closing in around them.
Dad?! What in Odin's name did he think he was doing?
A maroon Nadder swung about, closing in on the pair from behind.
Hiccup knew what he had to do. He folded his wings.
Instinctively his eyes locked onto his target. The world around him faded away. He opened his jaws, igniting his fires, as his wings began to buzz, sounding that familiar shriek.
Something smashed into him from the side. A constellation of pain exploded across his torso as teeth and claws dug into his flesh. His shot went wide, striking the earth and throwing up a cloud of ash and stone. He lashed out, sinking his claws into the dragon attached to him. He shoved with all his might, roaring in agony as the dragon's teeth and claws tore their way free.
He instinctively reached for his power as he fought to arrest his fall. Energy surged through him, deadening his pain. He heard a second whistle, and the Nadder he'd originally targeted vanished in a flash of blue light.
Two more Nadders swooped towards him. He'd lost too much speed.
Hiccup dropped.
He hit the ground running, his paws throwing up small clouds of ash. Above him, the Nadders slowed, backwinging hard to avoid a collision. Hiccup snapped his wings open and leapt back into the air. A Gronckle fireball burst where he'd stood a moment previously. Shards of half-melted rock flew upwards. One of them struck his underside, just to left of his breastbone, embedding itself in the flight muscle.
Hiccup cried out. The light within him surged, dulling the pain. Not fast enough. Every stroke of his wings felt like driving a knife into his flesh. He grit his teeth against the agony and flapped with all his might, out-climbing a Zippleback that barreled towards him.
"Leave us!" Stoick shouted. Hiccup barely heard him over the pounding of his heart. "Protect the others!"
Hiccup glided above the chaos, wings trembling as he gasped for breath.
His flight muscles twitched, and something moved inside him. A jagged fragment of rock fell from his chest. It tumbled towards the beach below, where the warriors of Berk fought their way westward, step by painstaking step.
His ear-fins twitched, picking out a Nadder's screech from the dreadful symphony of screams and roars. Hiccup dove towards the sound before he'd even realised it came from Stormfly.
The Nadder flew at breakneck speed over the heads of the Vikings, a young blue Nightmare snapping at her. A faint light shimmered beneath Stormfly's scales. In the time it took Hiccup to ready his fires, she crossed the mass of warriors and was flying away from the battle.
Hiccup fired.
The Nightmare crashed onto the beach, somersaulting several times before coming to rest.
Hiccup pulled out of the dive, zipping over the beach alongside Stormfly. He looked back. A dozen dragons peeled off from the battle, pursuing them.
"Up!" He shouted.
He angled his tail and shot towards the clouds. Stormfly followed a heartbeat later, nearly keeping pace with him, despite his Aür-assisted wings.
Astrid loosened her grip on the Nadder's neck as they leveled out, the Queen's dragons left far below. "Thanks!" she called over the roaring wind.
Hiccup looked over at Stormfly. "You're using the Aür!" he exclaimed. "How?"
"The Alphas weren't the only ones to inherit the Trinity's power," Stormfly panted. On the far side of the beach, Muninn dove, intercepting a Nadder headed for a Nightmare ridden by Astrid's brother. "If we survive this, I'll explain everything."
"Zippleback!" Someone screamed below.
Hiccup didn't have time to feel guilty. He snapped in his wings, plummeting towards the cry.
A green cloud billowed from one of the dragon's mouths, consuming the first few ranks. Hiccup cracked open his jaws. As soon as he felt warmth blossom in his chest, he fired. A blue star streaked ahead of him.
It was too slow.
The Zippleback's other head snapped its jaws. The cloud detonated in a flash of yellow-white light, leaving behind a tangled mess of half-burnt bodies. Hiccup's shot landed a moment too late, striking the base of the Zipplebacks necks, severing its heads instantly.
"NO!" Hiccup roared. He forced his wings open and pulled a tight half-loop. As soon as he flipped right-side up he breathed in as much air as he could and spat three fireballs at dragons that swarmed into the gap.
He whipped around in a tight circle. In the fraction of a second it took him to come about, a group of Gronckles had replaced the dragons scattered by his shots. He fired again.
Sudden, intense heat pressed against his scales. Three Nightmares converged on him, scales ablaze, spraying flames before them. With nowhere else to go, Hiccup snarled in frustration and shot up, out of reach.
Orvar and the Twins swooped underneath him, their Zippleback and Nightmare snatching two Gronckles out of the air. Fishlegs buzzed behind them on a Gronckle of his own, launching lava-balls at any dragons who tried to land. The air vibrated with Muninn's diving whistle as the Vikings stepped forwards, over the bodies of their friends, reforming the wall.
Hiccup forced his wings to beat faster, he needed to get back down there before-
A dozen Gronckles stilled their wings, dropping onto the line. The wall shattered completely. Muninn cried out as a Gronckle-ball burst beneath her, glowing shards of rock perforating her wings.
At last, Hiccup reached altitude and flipped back over into another dive. He barely managed to get off his first shot before flames erupted beneath him, forcing him up, away from the battle; away from those he fought to protect. Muninn laboured up beside him, her wings dappled with spots of green light as the holes in her membranes knit closed.
The precursive clap of a second Zippleback blast echoed off the nest. A sense of despair welled up in him, but he dove towards the sound anyway.
It's hopeless, Hiccup thought as the world blurred around him. He dispatched the Zippleback in a flash of blue, but the damage was already done. The line was broken and the flock spilled into the gap, lashing out with claw and fire. More dragons swooped towards him, forcing him away.
Hiccup flipped over, targeting another Zippleback. As he fell, he watched, helpless as a Nightmare battered its way through the remains of the wall, spraying liquid fire into the breach. There's too many of them; we can't be everywhere at once.
The Zippleback exploded. Hiccup fired again in quick succession, blasting a Nadder that flew across his path - its claws stained red with Viking blood.
A wave of numbness washed over Hiccup. He let his wings carry him up, away from the battle. Below him, thinking, feeling creatures screamed and died in agony. The cries of men and dragons blurred together in his mind. He couldn't do this. He wasn't a warrior. He didn't enjoy this chaos and destruction.
All this wasted life, for what?
Burning anger bubbled up from deep within. He hated, truly hated, the Queen for what she made him do - even now, when he was free from her will, she forced him to kill innocent dragons to protect his people.
All because of one. One who dares to call themselves 'Alpha'. One who claims to protect her flock.
Like ice meeting lava and flashing to steam, his desperation collided with his fury and erupted in the form of a single word.
"Stop!"
For a moment, the battlefield stilled.