How to Be a Dragon Star 1

Chapter Four - The Dragon Book

By the time Hiccup walked home, showered off, and went to the Great Hall for dinner, the other recruits were already there, and discussing their first day of dragon training with Gobber. They were pretty much alone.

"Where did Astrid go wrong in the ring today?" Gobber continued as Hiccup grabbed a plate and attempted to sit down with them. However, Snotlout and Fishlegs kept pointedly sliding from side to side, closing all gaps. Too tired to fight this battle today, Hiccup slinked to the nearest, empty, table.

"I messed up on my reverse jump," Astrid admitted fiercely. "It was sloppy. I nearly whiffed it completely. It threw off my cartwheel."

"No, no, you were great!" Snotlout said eagerly. "That was so... Astrid."

"Naw, she's right," Gobber said. "You have to be hard on yourselves. Anyway. Where did Hiccup go wrong in the ring today?"

Hiccup glanced back at the other table, but before he could respond, the others cut in to answer their own way.

"He showed up," Ruffnut said.

"He didn't get eaten." That was Tuffnut.

"He's never where he should be," Astrid finished coldly.

"Thank you, Astrid," Gobber sighed. "Anyway, to improve...." He fished out a book, from his pocket, probably, and swept a perfectly good meal off the table onto the floor with a clatter to make room for the dusty, plain, brown book. "You need to live and breathe this stuff. The dragon manual. Everything we know about every dragon we know of." He tapped the book, then seemed to get distracted, listening to the thunder outside. "Hmm. No attacks tonight. Study up." And he got up to leave.

Tuffnut, who had been listlessly trying to balance a dagger on its tip, suddenly jumped up, letting the dagger fall as he realized what Gobber had just told them to do. "Wait— you mean read?"

"While we're still alive?" his sister complained.

"Why read words when you can just kill the stuff words tell you stuff about?" Snotlout chimed in, slamming his fist down on the table and rattling more than a few chicken breasts.

Fishlegs recognized an opportunity. The problem was, he had been waiting for it for so long that his excitement made him stutter. "Oh—! Oh—! I've read it, like, seven times," he told them. "There's this one dragon that sprays boiling water, at, at your face! And— And there's this other one—"

"Yeah, yeah, sounds great," Tuffnut interrupted his recital. "There was a chance I was going to read that—"

"But... now...." His sister sighed.

"You guys read books, I'll go kill stuff," Snotlout suggested.

Jumbled murmurs of offerings to come with him mixed with sounds of benches being pushed back as all the teens but Astrid and Hiccup followed Snotlout out of the already nearly-deserted room.

"Oh," Hiccup said. "So, I guess we'll share—?"

"Read it," she interrupted, setting down her cup, standing up, pushing the book toward him, and following the others.

"Oh, all mine, then! OK, I guess I will see you, uh—"

The door slammed shut.

"—tomorrow." Hiccup sighed, but he didn't spend much time brooding on Astrid's coldness. He was curious.

He waited until Spitelout Jorgenson left the room and until he had gotten himself a lantern for the darkened room before moving the book. It was heavy, flat, and thick, with nothing but the classic dragon symbol on the leather, washed-out brown cover. Hiccup sat down where Tuffnut had been sitting and gingerly opened the cover. The pages inside were yellow with age and wavy and crinkled at the corners, as if liquid had been spilled on it multiple times before.

Hiccup took a deep breath, and began to read. Dragon classifications, it said. Strike class, Fear class, Mystery class. He turned the page. Thunderdrum: This reclusive dragon inhabits sea caves and dark tide pools. When startled, the Thunderdrum produces a concussive sound that can kill a man at close range. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight.

Timberjack: This gigantic creature has razor-sharp wings that can slice through full-grown trees. Extremely dangerous; kill on sight.

Hiccup shivered, almost hearing the sharp cutting sound in his mind. He turned the page again. Come on, where is it? He began moving faster, muttering under his breath. "'Scauldron.... Sprays scalding water at its victim.'" He scanned the rest of the page. Nothing. He turned a few more pages. "'Extremely dangerous, kill on sight....'" He shook his head, blinking at the pictures. They were almost beginning to move, reel upward angrily. "'Changewing. Even newly hatched dragonets can spray acid.'" He began flipping faster. "'Gronckles.... Zipplebacks.... The Skrill.'" He shuddered involuntarily as the lightning-shooting dragon seemed to move and writhe before his eyes. He knew it was only his imagination. "'Boneknapper. Whispering Death.'" He averted his eyes from the snake-like dragon in the book. "'Burns its victims, buries its victims, turns its victims inside out....'" He grimaced. "'Extremely dangerous, extremely dangerous.... Kill on sight, kill on sight, kill on sight.'" Then he turned the page onto a nearly blank sheet. It had no picture, no diagram. Only a label at the top and a few sentences of warning at the bottom. His heart thumped as he turned his attention to the words. "'Night Fury.'" He paused for a moment, hearing the syllables of danger seem to echo in the room. "'Speed: unknown. Size: unknown. This monster is the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. Never engage this dragon. Your only chance: run, hide, and pray it does not find you.'" He gazed at the nearly blank page, a cold sweat breaking over him as he really admitted to himself, for the first time, what he had done.

To prove it to himself, he reached inside his waistcoat for his note- book. He flipped through it to the right page and dropped it onto the blank sheet in the dragon manual below him.

It was the dragon in the pit.

About a dozen ships floated through the water, far away from Berk. Vikings steered them, all pretending to be at ease, but no one hadn't noticed the forest of thick fog that marked the beginnings of Helheim's Gate. No ships had ever returned from this forest of fog, which was believed to house the Dragon's Nest.

Stoick glared forward at the plumes of gray in the white forest of fog. They weren't dragons; just part of the fog itself. He could turn back— but absolutely not. He was going in. He swallowed and growled, "I can almost smell them. They're close." He glanced back at the other ships. "Turn. Steady.... Steady...." He turned back to the fog, shoved confidence into his voice and gave the command "Hard to port... for Helheim's Gate."

The thick, battle-ready ships floated into the fog, which seemed to swallow them up in an ominous way.

For a moment, nothing happened. If someone were still out there, not in the fog, then they would have seen the fog seem to catch on fire, as the silhouette of a gigantic dragon, wings flapping full power, gave a screech of anger at the intruding vikings.

Then, all was silent.

A/N: Ominous, I know. What do you think happened to the ships? Let me know in the comments!

Onto the next chapter!

-Pepper9990