A Fistful of Dragons

Part 21: Showdown

Twenty-One: Showdown

They dragged him out of the Berserker Compound and across the Plaza towards the hostel. The sun was up, the wind was gritty and he felt eyes on him as he was thrown to the ground, biting back a groan. Dagur walked past him, circling like a cat round a particularly stupid mouse. Then he kicked him, an unconscious yelp escaping as he buried his head in the crook of his arm.

"Well, old man, you're as stubborn as Ryder but you'll come to the same end. You're just right as a friend for that treacherous bastard!"

"Hooray for me," Leo mumbled thickly through bloody lips.

"You can make this easy," Savage suggested, motioning to two of his men, who grabbed the slumped and battered shape. "Just tell us where he is. It's stupid to put yourself through so much pain for a stranger."

But he's not: he's my nephew, my only surviving blood kin, Leo thought and shook his head slightly. The men dragged him to the front of the hostel and stared up at the sign, hanging from a pole sticking out from the side of the rackety building. They swiftly shot off the sign, then threw ropes over the pole and stung the man up by his wrists, the ropes tight as they hauled the lanky shape up, head bowed forward and legs-real and prosthetic-hanging limp. Dagur grinned and fisted the grey-streaked and blood-streaked auburn hair, hauling the battered face up. He stared into the scarred features and sneered...for a moment. On a whim, he pressed his hand over the left side of Leo's face and frowned.

"You know, from this angle, you like like him," the Berserker commented then grinned, pulling away, grabbing a rifle and hammering the barrels across Leo's middle. "That just pisses me off even more!" Groaning and twitching, Leo screwed his eyes shut and waited for the next blow. Vorg's laughter echoed across the Plaza as Dagur landed another hefty clout across his body with the rifle.

It had been a long night and a longer morning for Leo because the Berserkers hadn't let up. They had been brutal and determined but also measured...and they had been careful not to beat him senseless. There had been a lot of torments they had tried on their prisoner and Dagur had been astonishingly patient...but he was now showing signs that his patience was almost exhausted. And that meant Leo would probably end up being maimed or killed in the very near future...notwithstanding the fact Dagur had already broken most of his remaining fingers and beaten him to a bloody mess.

"I'd hate to ruin this rifle-I'd never get another one like it," Dagur murmured, gazing fondly at the weapon, the purplish barrel etched beautifully with a flock of Skrills in flight.

"Stop hitting me with the damned thing," Leo mumbled. Savage punched him in the back and he hissed in pain, arching his back as Dagur absently wiped a smear of blood from the metal and caressed it gently, ignoring the battered man hanging by him. "Okay, brothers...your turn to have some fun..."

Stoick and Fishlegs walked out onto the Plaza as Dagur walked to lean against the fence, his pale green eyes narrowing as he saw the people of Berk slowly emerge to watch the show. And it was a show, a demonstration of his complete mastery of the town and disempowerment of every other authority. The twins peered over the gate and saw the shape hanging-and they ducked down in shock as Savage ground his cigar out on the man's neck. His gasp was barely audible.

"Odin! It's Uncle Hopalong!" Ruff exclaimed.

"What in Loki's name is he doing here?" Tuff asked her, hearing the man grunt in pain after the sound of a blow. "He always meets by his sister's grave and never comes into town. How did Dagur get him?" Ruff peered over her shoulder and saw Vorg shake out a whip.

"Doesn't matter," she murmured, "because we gotta help him." They heard the Berserker scream for the location of Ryder and shared an alarmed look. "Crap. Get the dragon-I'll get our guns, Mutton-Head. If no one else is gonna stop this, then the Thorstons are!"