Reforged Alliances: A Broken Prophesy story

Reforged Alliances: A Broken Prophecy Story Chapter 21

This is a fanfic and I make no money from this. Original copyrights belong to Dreamworks and Cresedia Cowell

Chapter 21

Magadon paces in his cabin, the floor worn smooth over the years by his habit. A knock brings him out of his thoughts, "Come!" he shouts.

"Sir?" A young man looks around the corner.

"Any word on our scouts?"

"No sir... We estimate they should have reached the top and come back twice by now. Something must have happened... Maybe they were caught..."

Magadon strokes his beard, his single grey eye gazes out the window and falls upon the Bog Burglar flagship. "That conniving, bilge swilling, whore!" Slamming his fist on his desk, he sweeps his arms across its surface, sending maps, ink pots and every other trinket sailing to the floor in his rage. "She cost us good men! You mark my words, that bitch won't lift a finger to send aid. She'll let our men rot while she has the advantage of numbers, and I played into her hands!"

"I might have an idea, sir." Magadon looks at the young man. His long fiery red hair is tied back into a neat pony tail. His face is marred by severe burns, most likely dragonfire, the old Chief thinks.

"What's yur' idea?"

With a grin, the younger man slips past the cabin door, closing it behind him with a dark chuckle.

***

Bertha stares across the deck of her ship. Wind from the sea blowing against her back, sending a few stray hairs to flail around her face. Glancing to the gathering clouds, she frowns. 'It was six hours ago, that old pirate sent his men up those paths. Surely even those pirates aren't incompetent enough to get lost.' Turning to her first officer, "Are ya' sure, the Meatheads ain't come back yet?"

"No. Sorry Chief. We have four of our best watching the only way up into those paths, and no one has come back down. By our estimates, it should take about an hour and a half to reach the top, and another to come back down."

"So... Either his men are completely inept, or they are filling their pockets of loot before returning... A glint of greed sparkles in her grey eyes. Get the warriors ready! We move to take Berk at dusk!"

"Aye! Chief!!"

With a glance to the Meathead controlled docks, Bertha glares. "Think you are so smart! Get a team to the top and secure it yourselves!"

****

"So let me get this straight... Volcus  'as been catchin', and eatin' the other tribes messenger birds?" Stoick struggles not to chuckle at the news. Seeing his daughter nod, and drop the damaged tube, he finally lets his resolve crumble and laughs. His deep bark makes the nearby dragons and not a few villagers look at the Chief in askance. "Oh, that is good news! That big red dev... er, dragon, has been lettin' his stomach think for him, an' it's worked in our favor!"

Stoick stops chuckling when he feels something tugging at his boot. Glancing down he sees his Terror, helmet and all, blinking up at him. Reaching down, Swift takes the offer and climbs up to Stoick's shoulder and perches comfortably. "Friend Kari! Swift has news!"

"What is it swift?"

Stoick watches as his dragon and dragon-daughter become lost in conversation, only to be taken back by the larger ones throaty warble. When she finally manages to take control of herself again, she quickly relays Swift's report, by scratching in the dirt. Reading, then re-reading, Stoick has a hearty laugh. "So, our little Terrors caught a bunch of scouts! Stripped them nakid, then snuck them down into a bunch of underground tunnels?" Wiping his eyes, "This just keeps gettin' better. They think Berk is gonna' go down without a fight, and already they lost one team of scouts, and because of Volcus' stomach they have no reinforcements coming!" Scratching the dragon on his shoulder, "Let him know he is gettin' somethin' extra in his dinner tonight!"