The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Forty One: Protects His Own

Forty One: Protects his own

Toothless roared, the sound echoing up and down the Plaza and the advancing Outcasts paused as the furious Night Fury shrugged off the remaining bola ropes and whipped round to face the approaching enemies, his back arched and mouth filled with purple plasma. Hiccup stared at his father, concern in his eyes.

"Where are the Tribe?" he asked, a sick feeling filling his gut. Stoick's bushy brows creased as he hefted the war hammer in one hand, idly twirling an axe in the other.

"They'll be hostages," he growled. "They haven't had the time to ferry them back to Outcast Island-and they wanted Berk anyway. And why not have it with slaves?" Toothless was growling more loudly, fidgeting his back half and tensing for battle as the Outcasts closed in. Hiccup hefted his sword in his hand and took a deep breath.

"Call 'em, bud!" he said more firmly and the Night Fury roared. Roars answered from overhead as the Outcasts slowed, hearing dragons approach. They didn't know that the Red Death had been defeated and suspected it was another raid...but Hiccup knew better. "Fire, bud!" he yelled as a phalanx of dragons swooped over, led by Astrid on Stormfly. A surge of pride swelled in Hiccup's chest as he saw his wife direct the Riders and lead the attack. Nadder spines seared down and drove the men back, impaling a couple who got too close to the forge. Nightmare fire scorched down and threw the Outcasts back-but Hiccup could see men heading for the catapults to try to shoot down the dragons. Yet a familiar Zippleback whizzed past and Ruff and Tuff chased away the Outcasts, joyfully blowing up the catapult.

"Hilde-left flank!" Astrid shouted and the serious girl circled round, Hookfang raking the left side of the Plaza with flames and driving the Outcasts back. Gustav swooped round and blasted a ten yards wide gap between the forge and the Outcasts, whooping all the way around. But Hiccup, who was looking up the village, saw a handful of lightly smoking shapes lumbering towards them. Alvin's hair and beard was definitely singed and any trace of whimsy had vanished from his scarred face.

"STOICK!" he roared as the Chief reddened with fury.

"ALVIN!" he bellowed back. The Outcast Chief descended the long stair to the upper Plaza and walked through the Outcast throng, his men parting as he headed directly for the small group of defenders.

"I bet yer wonderin' where yer people are," Alvin said in a more calm voice, scratching his singed beard.

"Great Hall," Stoick realised. "It's the only space big enough to hold them and you don't have enough men to hold them in multiple locations." Dark eyes widened in surprise.

"Well, it is only basic tactics," Alvin admitted grudgingly. "Though me men will kill 'em if yer don't surrender right now..." Stoick's face creased in rage.

"NEVER!" he yelled, knowing the man wasn't called 'the Treacherous' for nothing.

"Okay-Savage..." Alvin began snidely but Hiccup stared into his face and took a very limping step forward.

"He's bluffing," he said very clearly. "Dad-he wants to defeat the Hooligans and have them as slaves. He isn't going to slaughter them all." Alvin stared at him-and started laughing.

"I see yer ain't learned any sense," he scoffed. "Yer outnumbered, boy! The best yer can do is surrender so yer save yer people..." Hiccup made a small show of considering, watching the Outcasts hanging back from the growing Toothless.

"How many people are dragons worth?" has asked directly. "Because my Riders can cut down a dozen...a hundred of your men...each. So maybe you are outnumbered, Al. Had you thought about that?" Lars, Dogsbreath and Snotlout swaggered up to stand by Alvin and all looked menacingly at the skinny one-legged Viking.