The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Forty: Fire and Blood

Forty: Fire and Blood

It was absolutely freezing on Thor's Beach, the icy northerly breeze sucking the warmth out of a man's very bones. The sky was brilliant with stars, smeared all over the vault of the heavens, the tiny sliver of moon low in the west on the brink of setting as the Outcast guards on the fleet huddled closer to the braziers and counted down the minutes until their shifts ended.

Alvin had been very coy about moving his fleet from the isolated mooring, never trusting his Berserker allies and wanting his back door still open to withdraw if something unexpected happened. His men grumbled and moaned because it was a long walk between the ships and the village when there was a perfectly good harbour and moorings just down the cliffs from Berk...but no one ever argued with Alvin. Well, the occasional idiot did-but they ended up at the bottom of the harbour or in a shallow grave.

The Hooligans had been truculent, argumentative and disobedient and Alvin had been forced to arrest several of the Council of Elders, which had quietened them down a little. Shortages of food and removal of wood for fires had increased the hardship for the subjugated Vikings and two of the men who had tried to kill a guard had been executed in the village Plaza, demonstrating that Alvin had no qualms about enforcing his rule of the island. He had his own people he could ferry across and he could afford to dispose of any Hooligan surplus to requirements. The Outcasts of course would prefer to have more slaves to make their lives easier but none of them were willing to chance their prisoners breaking their shackles and they were treating the Berkians very badly.

The guard on the deck of the first ship looked over towards the other six ships, seeing the little lanterns hanging from the dragon's-head prows and the shadowy shapes of his counterparts doing the same freezing and miserable duty. If anything, it was getting colder and skeins of mist were beginning the waft around the cluster of Outcast ships. The guard stamped his feet and shivered: he still couldn't work out why the ships couldn't be pulled up onto the beach so only one man had to watch over them...with a nice large fire.

He coughed. The air was prickling his throat as the mist thickened a little, billowing in banks around the ships and enfolding them. Freezing fog was a hazard of the hostile northern Archipelago, something less of a problem in Outcast and the guard huddled up further. He just wished his shift would soon be over.

It was almost impossible to see the other ships now and he coughed again, starting to feel dizzy. Another wave of coughing wracked him and he peered into the foggy gloom. His vision was blurring as well and he barely responded as he heard voices overhead.

"Is that enough, dear sister?"

"Well, Barf and Puff are pretty much out of gas so it had better be..."

"Can we...?"

"Okay, tiny twins...we'll do it together."

The guard frowned and tightened his hand around his spear. He had to be hallucinating from the cold because there was no way someone could be speaking in the sky...unless the Gods themselves were angry at their invasion. But Gods never bothered with Outcasts anyway...at least, that was what Alvin always sneered.

The fog was so thick he could no longer see the sky or even his hand in front of his face. All he could hear was a sudden crackling noise that sounded once...and then again...

...before the massive explosion that blew the entire Outcast fleet apart.

oOo

There was a long moment of silence before Hiccup lifted his chin and managed a small smile.

"Mildew! Still listening at doors! Always a pleasure to hear you slither into the room," he said amiably. The old man sneered.