Island of the Lost

Part 3

Hiccup sat in front of the fire in the Great Hall, clutching a cup of yak milk in his bandaged hands. The heat of the fire washed over his face, quickly drying his clothes and hair. Gobber had been able to quickly straighten out Hiccup's prosthetic, while Gothi, the village healer, took care of his injuries. The other teens were scattered around him, listening, as he told his story.

"... after Astrid and Fishlegs found me, Astrid rode Toothless back while I took Stormfly. The storm more mild the farther we got away from the awful island, until suddenly, it was sunny again."

"You got stuck in a flooding cave and almost died," Ruff breathed, leaning back on the palms of her hands. "Woah."

Hiccup nodded, and rubbed at the bandage wrapped around his forehead. "I try not to think about what could have happened. Astrid, Fishlegs, me and Toothless owe you are lives."

"Well, what did you think I'd do, stay here and do nothing?" Astrid snorted.

Fishlegs, who had been quiet up during the whole story, suddenly asked softly, "The tree had black apples, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Hiccup said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"It, um, reminds me of a story I once was told, about that very island."

"Does it have tons of explosions in it?" Tuff asked eagerly.

"Just be quiet and listen for once in your life," Astrid snorted.

The Great Hall seemed to fall eerily silent as he began speaking. The snapping and crackling of flames, the grumbling of other Vikings; all faded away, replaced by images spun by Fishleg's words.

"A long time ago, a group of people were traveling when they found an island. It was beautiful back then; streams crisscrossed the land, trees bore luscious fruit, and grass grew plentifully.

"Well, naturally, the people decided to settle down and live on the island. They dwelt in comfort, everything they wanted at their fingertips. Their homes they carved out of the rock, where they would be sheltered from any storm."

"Almost any," Hiccup muttered, shivering.

"There was, however, one condition. Not long after the people had arrived, they had received a message saying they were not to eat of a certain tree. You see, this plant was sacred, a descendant of the great Yggdrasil itself, and anyone who disturbed it would be punished.

"One day, a young boy discovered the tree. He had been warned of the punishment that would befall, but he took no heed. He thought those who had warned him were keeping the tree for themselves, for the tree was very beautiful, bearing such apples that made all the other things of the island dull in comparison. The boy climbed the tree and stole fruit from its branches, thinking that nothing would come of his deeds. He was wrong.

"That night, a violent storm blew up, striking the trees and turning the grass to ash. The only tree left standing was the one the boy had stolen from. But its bark had turned as black as night, its apples as dark and deadly as poison.

"After that day, the people scattered. Arguments broke out as food became scarce, for everything was demolished. Men took their families and sailed away, never to be seen again. The island itself faded into myth and legend, but there are some that say whoever trespasses on that island will be struck down by lighting."

Astrid had been staring into the fire while Fishlegs was talking, but her gaze flickered to Hiccup, her brow furrowing. Hiccup felt a chill run through him at her next words.

"I remember this story. They say... they say that there is always a price for those who journey to the Island of the Lost."