Dark Valkyrie

Four: Frost and Fire

Four: Frost and Fire

Dawn on Frost Isle almost wasn't worth the effort, a weak orange glow on the horizon amid the few snowflakes swirling around in the ceaseless winds. It was almost as cold as it had been at night and the Riders were thankful for the the fire they had maintained and the warmth of their dragons. Heather took charge, cooking a swift warming breakfast and helping the others try to wake Snotlout. In the end, Gothi had jabbed the stocky rider with her staff until he sat up, furious and in pain.

"I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled. "How dare you wake me and..." And then he looked up into the faces of all the other Riders, less than impressed that he was holding up the mission with his laziness while their friend and leader was dying. "And...is that the time?"

"Get dressed!" Heather growled. "It's another dawn. Hiccup only has five days and we have to find that antidote today or we may not have enough time to collect the ingredients to make the cure!" Stumbling to his feet, Snotlout grumbled as he rolled up his blanket, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like 'stupid Hiccup' which no one believed he actually meant.

The settlement was unlike most normal Viking settlements and in the weak morning light, the stone buildings were half-buried, each solid house blocky and uniform. There were no dragon's-head decorations, no curved roofs or protective runes. As the Riders walked through the streets, Fishlegs was wide-eyed and intent on finding the Archives while the twins were wondering where the Armoury was. Heather paused, her green eyes scanning the settlement and saw one roof rising above the others.

"There!" she said as Fishlegs turned to see her. He glanced down at the map in his hand.

"That looks like it!" he admitted and headed out in the direction. They tramped through the snowdrifts, up the shallow slope to the sturdy and impressive grey stone hall that was the former AllThing of the Vikings of the Archipelago and the Archives of Frost Isle. Snotlout folded his arms under his black wolf fur cloak.

"Now that's more like it," he commented. "I could just about live in a house like this..." Heather peered at the door.

"Someone's been in-fairly recently," she noted and everyone was instantly on alert. There were the scrapes and clangs of various weapons being drawn but she rolled her eyes. "Not that recently, muttonheads," she sighed. "The snow is deep and the doors are iced closed."

"Makes sense," Fishlegs commented. "Because Viggo must have come here to find the recipe for the Wine of Hela." Gothic shrugged and scraped a few symbols in the snow. "Oh. Gothi says...she hopes that he's left the document behind with the cure."

"Only one way to find out," Heather commented and pushed the door open. A huge waft of must rolled over them and they peered into the clammy darkness, seeing vague shapes outline by the weak light filtering through the clouds that had rolled in.

"Bleugh! Smells like it would suit Snotlout," Ruff commented. Tuff nodded.

"Definitely not suitable for a chicken," he added.

"Good thing you left her on the Edge then," Ruff shot back. He sighed.

"She's be a frozen chicken anyway if she was here," he admitted. Heather growled in her throat and pushed past, grabbing a torch from the sconce. She glanced at Windshear and the Razorwhip lit the torch, the flames warming her grim face. Fearlessly, she waked into the gloom, followed by Gothi and Fishlegs. There was a pause as Snotlout peered into the gloom.

"Aren't you going in?" Ruff asked him and he gave a false little laugh.

"Someone needs to guard the entrance," he said quickly. "Right, Hookie?" There was a less than enthusiastic grumble from he Monstrous Nightmare. "I mean, what if those Fliers come back?" The twins shrugged.