Chapter Text
They had him.
Finally, they had him.
Stoick the Vast crossed the deck of the hunters ship. Walking with purpose and fury in his booming steps as he made his way to the brig.
Finally he would have his answers.
He had been hunting the rider for years at this point. Ever since he had tasted proof of his existence. Heard the whispers and rumors of the man who flew on a living shadow. Seen the charcoal black scales that littered the forest by Ravens Point. Felt the stabbing pain of his only son’s disappearance.
The rough sea churned under the deck of the boat. The biting cold of winter had hit the archipelago hard this year. And every Viking held their breath as they felt chunks of ice break apart underneath them.
Stoick didn’t care, too warmed by his own rage and hope.
Finally he would have his answers.
Why had the rider taken his son?
When Stoick had first noticed that Hiccup was missing, he had sent men all over the island searching for the boy.
Hiccup always had a way of disappearing and losing track of time. But it was the day of his dragon training graduation. No Viking in their right mind would be late to the event.
The only thing the search parties found was a trail of black scales.
It had been Stoick’s worse nightmare.
His only son, carried away by the same beast that had taken his wife.
For years after, Stoick had raged. Sending crew after crew into the impregnable wall of fog that was Helhiems Gate. Willing to die to find the nest.
He had refused to believe that Hiccup was dead. No one was dead until the body was confirmed.
He must have been close.
Not long after his renewed attack in the wall of fog, the raids stopped.
And then the rumors began.
Rumors of a man on the back of a dragon.
Stoick had originally written them off as the ravings of half-dead sailors. Those who had been found adrift on what remained of their wrecked ships. Or whatever made-up adventure Johann had come up with during his time trading outside the archipelago.
There was no man, hero, or demon could tame those monsters. And even if someone dared, they would have to be the biggest and most insane creature to ever exist.
That was before Johann had delivered proof in the form of black scales and some small knives.
Stoick recognized those scales.
Stoick had recognized those knives. Or the handiwork of the one who made them.
The Chief knew right then and there what had happened to his child.
Hiccup hadn’t been carried away by dragons to be made their dinner. Hadn’t been taken to the nest.
Hiccup had been stolen by a demon. And forced to make his weaponry. Stashed away outside the archipelago. Where no one from Berk had been in the last fifty years. Where his family couldn’t find him.
It was a surprisingly easy decision to make. To stop all expeditions in search of the nest. To begin the search outside the well traversed waves of the archipelago.
The hunt would be dangerous. But Stoick the Vast lived for danger. He lived for his family.
Long ago he had made a vow to his wife. To swim and sail of savage seas with ner or fear of drowning. If she would promise him her heart. And love him for eternity.
Now the only thing Stoick had left of his beloved Valka was their child. And he would burn the world to have Hiccup back.
While they still had to traverse through the wall of fog, Johann had helped in every possible way. The man was a bumbling idiot, but he was honest to a fault. Stoick was thankful for his every visit, any bit of news he had on the rider and any weapon salvage from the demons many attacks of trading ships outside the archipelago. The trader had promised that his he were to hear any news on Hiccup’s whereabouts, that Stoick would be the first one he told.
It was Johann’s many helpful tips that had placed Stoick in the northern market. A place where cutthroats fought tooth and nail for a chance to get their hands on the discarded weapons of the rider. Hiccup Haddock originals, they had begun to call them.
Clearly his son’s abduction was well known outside the archipelago.
Without Johann, the Chief would have never met Ryker and Viggo Grimborn.
Ryker was a brash man, straight to the point. Stoick liked that in a Viking.
All action and none of the confusing riddles that his younger brother Viggo spoke in.
It took three years of hunting the rider before Stoick had met the brothers. They were Hunters themselves, dragon hunters.
And each of them had their own score to settle with the rider.
At first the meetings had only been with Riker, short and simple. Asking questions and getting no answers from his crew. But slowly the Hooligan chief had earned the Dragon hunters trust.
Stoick remembered their first real meeting with Viggo clearly. Being invited into the head tent of the dragon hunters, meeting their elusive leader. While still a grown man, Viggo was young, but he spoke with a wisdom beyond his years. Making it clear that he was in charge of the whole operation. “They say there are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true. The other is to refuse to believe what is.”
There was something about the way the businessman spoke that spiked Stoick’s anger. Like he knew something that Stoick and was mocking him.
But Stoick didn’t say a thing at the time. He knew that these hunters would be his best chance of finding his son.
They had been hunting the rider for longer than Stoick had.
Instead he had hired Viggo and his crew. All the gold in Berk’s treasury to get back his son. It would be hard on his people. The next few winters would be rough. It had been years so Berk had a surplus of food, but with the lack or raid, they would survive.
Stoick still didn’t know how or why the raids ended. Why the dragons stopped attacking his people night after night. In the back of his mind he thought it might have something to do with the sudden appearance of the rider. But any time he thought about the rider his blood boiled and he wanted to hurl someone by their throat.
At least now he would have the chance.
The steps down into the hull of the ship creaked under his weight as Stoick the Vast descended into the dark. The scents of pine tar, beeswax, dragons, and blood enveloped him as he passed by the oxidized cages that held Viggo’s deadly cargo.
Speedstingers threw themselves at the bars, thrashing and lashing as their tied tails struck out. The chains cutting into their flesh as the writhed in rabid fury.
The ones with their stingers cut off were the maddest in the lot.
Stoick didn’t pay them any mind as he walked further into the brig. Or any mind to the other cage occupants. There in the very back of the ship was his target. To his left, the legendary Nightfury. The embodiment of shadow itself was hog tied in its own cage, kept separated from its master.
Good.
Stoick had met dragon masters before. He knew what kind of damage they could do with their beasts.
To Stoick’s right hung the rider.
Chains suspended the man from the beams in the ceiling and ran long pulley system to a wench on the outside of the brig. Below him was an open hatch, the icy black water of the sea leapt through the hole, with the same ferocity of the Speedstingers behind the chief, with every chuck of ice the ship overtook.
He had never seen the rider up close. The demon had always been too fast. Diving in to damage Hooligan ships anytime his men had gotten close before. Knowing exactly where to strike to temporarily incapacitate his ships before jetting off again.
From the stories, the rider hardly ever left ships intact. So this confused Stoick at first, he has since come to realize that this was the riders way of mocking him. Playing with the chief like a cat would a mouse. Like kidnapping his heir wasn’t enough of an insult to hurl at a chief.
The rider wasn’t particularly big, not at all like Stoick had imagined him. Shoulder pads artificially inflated his frame, but he kept the rest of his body generally unpadded in its black scaled armor.
At the end of one of his gangly legs was an artificial foot. Stoick recognized by who hand it was made. All the pomp and mechanical trickiness of a what had been dubbed a Hiccup Haddock original.
Not for the first time, Stoick wondered if that is how Hiccup had survived the past five years. Making himself useful to a madman and his beast. Making himself a small as possible, which in Hiccup’s case was very small, to become a useful slave to the riders every whim.
The rider’s head hung limply, as if he had been knocked out in his capture. His helmet was still firmly on his head. Black scales covering the demons face. No living soul from Berk had seen it yet.
Some people claim it was because he was badly scared by dragon fire, or that he had a slew of lovers that he had abandoned on multiple islands, or even that he was slowly turning into a dragon himself. Stoick knew the mask for exactly what it was. Something for the coward to hide behind. No Viking worth his mail would have his face covered in a battle, clearly he refused to look his enemy’s in the eye in fights. That’s also the reason he must rely on those damn beasts of his. Too scared to fight like a real man.
The only other things in the cell was Ryker Grimborn, standing guard for when the demon woke up, and a small table that held the items they could pull from the rider’s body and tools of torture. The latter of which, Stoick would like to use on the man to draw out the location of his son.
Standing outside with cell was Viggo Grimborn and Gobber the Belch. Viggo, because he was the leader of the dragon hunters and responsible for the riders capture. And Gobber because he came with Stoick on every trip to try and find Hiccup. The blacksmith was Stoick’s closest friend and Hiccup’s godfather. He has been just was worried about the boy as Stoick has.
The two stood stoically outside the cell as if waiting for the Hooligan chief. One looking very pleased with himself, the other looking conflicted about what they were about to do.
“Thank you for finally joining us Stoick. Out there celebrating this stupendous occasion?” Viggo’s brow lifted with an unknown amusement as he asked the rhetorical question. “You should be. After all, we would have never achieved this without your financial support.”
“Aye? Is that so?” Asked Gobber. Suspicion laced his normally sarcastic voice in a way that made Stoick pause. Gobber had never liked these hunters. He had said that something didn’t seem right about the lot since their first meeting. But, they were the ones with the most information about the rider. The hunters were their best shot at getting Hiccup back.
Viggo clearly didn’t miss that near antagonistic tone. Putting his fist to his mouth as if he was to clear his throat, he responded. “It is. The both of you will have to forgive me, for I haven’t been completely honest.”
Stoick bristled at that. He had the feeling that Viggo had been keeping things from him. He was a businessman and a lover of games. Stoick knew that no wise man would reveal all their cards until they had thought they had won.
“I had told you that the rider has been a thorn in my side since long before our first meeting. But I never told you why. See, the rider has been cutting into my profits. Razing my auctions, breaking up my fighting rings, and ambushing trade deals. This you know or probably suspected. What I haven’t told you is that recently he found my treasury. All the gold that I have collected over my long career, my legacy, all stolen by our friend in black.”
“I wouldn’t call, ‘painting your gold to look like rocks and leaving it unattended on an island in the middle of nowhere,’ hiding it. If anything it was like you were asking for it to be stolen.”
Gobber jumped and the dragon hunter brothers both stiffened as the rider spoke up. Clearly, everyone had assumed he was still unconscious. Stoick’s only reaction was to harden his own glare at the man chained above the open hatch.
Adapting quickly, Viggo shifted all his attention to the rider, “ah finally awake, old friend?”
“I wouldn’t use the word, ‘friend,’ to describe our relationship. In fact if I never saw you again Viggo; it would be too soon.”
Viggo tsked and wagged his finger in time with the noise, as if he was scolding a child. “You say that but who would you play games with. Admit it, I’m the best maces and talons opponent you’ve ever had.”
“See that’s the difference between you and me. You treat lives like they are just pieces in a game. But, soon you’ll have no one left who wants to play with you. You’ve never learned that if you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.”
“Your threats are emptier now than they have ever been. And no one likes a sore loser.” Viggo let out a large, theatrical, yawn before continuing, “I tire of our banter, so let’s get down to the brass tax. Where is my gold?”
Before he could stop himself, Stoick blurted out, “WHERE IS MY SON?”
Ryker smiled grimly behind the rider. Taking pleasure in what they were about to do to him if he did not cooperate.
Viggo held up his fist, as if to signal Stoick to be silent. “Now, now Stoick.” The hunter interjected, “we can’t just talk to the rider like just any civilized Viking. He’s been living with dragons for so long that he won’t give us a straight answer. That’s why he was so tricky to catch. We have to think like him.”
Viggo moved to open the cage door as he motioned the Hooligans inside.
“You see dragons like to play with their food. And I have no doubt that the rider still thinks he has the upper hand. If we can get him to truthfully answer some less pressing questions; I have no doubt we can get him to break and answer the big questions, but first we have to heat things up.”
Stoick hated the condescending tone of Viggo’s voice. Hated the way the hunter talked down to him like a parent would a child. If he hadn’t been the chief’s only hope to finding his son, Stoick was sure that he would have tried to gut him before now.
The rider groaned from where he hung above the open trap door. “You really love hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”
Gobber raised his brow as he ignored the rider’s rhetorical question. The blacksmith leaned against the bars of the cage, away from the sharp edges of the torture tools. “Is that so? He seems like he is plenty willing to talk to me. Especially after being chained up an entire day.”
Stoick did not miss the sarcastic tones in Gobber’s questioning statement. The blacksmith had made it clear, from the start, that he did not like the hunters.
“Oh, you of all people here should have guessed what I have planned to get our answers.” Stated Viggo with a slinky smile on his face.
Ryker shook his head at his brother, “I don’t like this. We should just kill the wyrm while we have him in our grasp. I’ve been dealing with him personally for longer than you have. And I will tell you again that the brat has a way of surviving.”
“Oh shut it you big oaf. This is politics. If we don’t break him now, I’m sure his allies will rise up against us in the future.” Turning back to the rider, Viggo continued. “ this is the last chance I’m going to give you. Tell us what we want to know, or else. I will drop you into this freezing water and leave you down there until you see sense; or you drown. Whatever comes first.”
Stoick looked down into the open maw of the trap door. He felt the chill that permeated the air around the opening. Heard the crack of ice against the ships hull.
The icey waters of the archipelago had claimed many lives throughout the years. The cold had a way of seeping into your bones as the near blackness on the water grabbed on with both hands and refused to let go.
There was a reason the intertribal swimming contest was an endurance race. The longer one could withstand the plunge, the stronger they were. But, there was a reason that race was held at the height of summer.
No one survived the seas in the winter.
From behind them, the Nightfury began to struggle against its bindings as the rider in front of the stiffened. Both sets of chains harmonized as the riders helmeted head finally moved. No longer staring at a fixed point of the floor, the black scaled mask pointed down at the pitch black hole beneath him, before looking up at the four men before him.
For a brief moment, Stoick thought the coward would cave.
Instead, the rider steadied his gaze on Viggo before saying. “I will never tell you where it is.” There was a passion in that statement that almost had Stoick believing it.
Instead of calling his bluff, the hunter raised the stakes. His large hand gripped the rider by his chin as he forcefully directed the man in blacks sight back to the water below him.
“You see the churning. The glimpses of silver scales that have been catching on the torch light. There is a whole shoal of Winterfleshers down there. And you know just how fast the a pack can strip a deer of its skin and muscles.”
Viggo forcefully released the rider’s head before walking to his brother’s side. The man in black swung back and forth above the hole as the leader of the hunters continued, “you and I both know that never is a long word. And I am a man of my word. Not some tyrant, but a businessman. If you tell us what we want to know I will gladly set you free. After I reclaim what’s mine and Stoick’s. However, if you keep acting childish,” Viggo gestured to Ryker. And the larger man put his hand on the winch.
Gobber made a sound of protest before sputtering out. “Shame on you Hunters. You do realize that if the rider dies, we will never know where Hiccup is being held. And that means you won’t get paid.”
Ryker grunted out his own discontent at the situation at the same moment. “What if he gets away. I’ve told you that slimy runt has a way for slipping through traps like this. I say we just gut him now and save ourselves the time and effort it will take to get him back in chains after his upcoming escape attempt.”
The conflict rumblings of disapproval, threaten to give Stoick a headache as his own conflicting feelings about the situation came to a boil inside him.
Stoick wanted to hurt the rider. Wanted him and his beast dead for how he had broken apart his family.
But without him, Stoick had absolutely no chance of finding Hiccup on his own.
With just a raising the of his fist. Viggo, once again took control of the room. “It’s not like the boy is some supernatural thing. He’s not even a hero. He is barely more than a chained up child, that the swarm of small dragons below us will have no qualms with taking a few bites out of. He has no chance of getting out of here by himself.”
Turning back to the Rider, Viggo asked again. “What will it be? Your pride, or your life?”
The Rider remained silent for the time it took Stoick to blink.
That was all the answer Viggo needed.
“Lower him for one minute.” The leader commanded.
Ryker obeyed.
Using the full force of his body to pull the release, the bald man dropped the dragon rider into the dark below.
There was a larger splash than Stoick expected from the mans slight frame. Water rushed over the sides of the hole and quickly soaked into the leather of his boots. Giving chief a taste of the soul-crushing cold that could steal a stronger man’s will to live in the matter of seconds.
A shiver raced up Stoick’s spine as he imagined what it would feel like to be submerged in the icy ocean. How the water would burn at first, before feeling the cold quickly begin to numb the mind and body.
How his lungs would struggle to keep in air as the fingers of a frost giant contracted around his torso. Struggling in vain to throw off the swarm of piranha-like dragons as they took cookie cutter sized bites out of your flesh. And the pitch black waters filled with the taste of blood.
The Nightfury struggled and growled in its bindings as it did its best to throw itself at the metal bars that kept them separated from the devil.
The other dragons were getting agitated as well. The angry clicks and snarls echoed off the wooden planks of the ship. Sounding almost like the angry cry’s of his people that he heard at every council meeting.
Gobber looked nervous at the dragon. Keeping it in his sight as Stoick kept his full attention on the water that splashed violently onto the deck
The minute passed quickly, and the rider was being hoisted back up into the ship. Drops of ice staining the wood as the boy sputtered to regain his breath.
The boy was frost cold. And limp as a doll with all the stuffing taken out of it. But there wasn’t a mark on him.
For a brief moment, everyone held their breath as stared at the man in black. Not quite believing that he came out of the water unharmed.
Gobber shook his head as he asked. “What about the Winterfleshers?”
Without give the question any time to settle in the air, Ryker snapped back. “Maybe there aren’t any down there.”
But everyone with a working eye could see how the sea practically boiled in the confines of the trapdoor. The torch light reflecting gold and silver on the occasional glimpse of scales.
“There seems to be plenty.” Shot back Gobber.
Viggo held up his fist to silence their bickering, before stalking back to the rider. The hunter grabbed his chin with more force than he had before. Forcing the rider to look him in the eye. “Now, are you more willing to answer our questions? Where is my gold?”
Tired of waiting, Stoick didn’t ask for permission to talk before blurting out. “What do you have to say about the Hooligans you killed? The five teens that I had tasked to stand with the hunters.”
Viggo turned to Stoick and the larger man could tell that he was getting angry. He did not like to be interrupted. But Stoick is the one that hired them.
He will not be denied his answers.
Shaking his head, the rider let out a shaky breath as he uttered his first words to the Chief of the Hooligan tribe.
“I haven’t killed anyone from Berk.”
His voice was ragged and muffled under his mask, and it was hard to make out the words between his chattering teeth and the cracking of the chains.
Doing his best to regain his composure, Viggo turned back to his brother. “I don’t think our guest is quite ready to speak yet. Drop him for another two minutes.”
A cacophony of outraged beastly roars sounded as the chains ran off the winch. Ryker had dropped the rider in back into the frozen sea without hesitation. And Stoick could have sworn he had heard the angry cries of people in the brig as the man in black splashed back into the water.
More water coated the floor as the rider thrashed. Being weighed down by his armor and unable to swim with the chains. Chunks of ice splashed up and peppered the Vikings faces as he stayed down in the dark coldness of the sea.
Stoick could feel the man’s struggle to hold his breath. The pain of that he won’t be able to hold on long enough and it wouldn’t be sweet air that filled his lungs.
Gobber muttered something so quietly under his breath, that Stoick almost missed it.
“This is a testing of metal. It could either make him or break him.”
“He will never tell us,” repeated Ryker, “I still vote we just kill him and be done with it.”
“Patience brother, he will tell us. One more dunking will do it. I can see it in his eyes. Not even a full adult can withstand that cold for long. And the rider is still just a child.
The rider thrashed in the waves. One minute, then two.
Finally, Ryker pulled him from the sea.
The rider looked even more pathetic than the last time.
Still there was not a mark on him.
Without even giving him time to catch his breath, Viggo spun the limp noodle of a boy toward a him before commanding. “Talk.”
The boy shivered as if he had a fever and Stoick had no doubt the freezing temperatures and lack of air were making him woozy. From how his legs hung limp below him and his refusal to meet anyone’s eye; the Chief knew the rider was warring with himself. Knew a part of the rider was shouting in his head ‘not back down there, please, anything but that.’
Stoick was so close to getting back his son he could almost feel Hiccup’s slight weight on his shoulders. He decided right there that that was how Hiccup would be welcomed back to the island. Stoick would hoist him on his shoulders in triumph as they landed their ships at Berk.
Somehow, the rider rallied up enough strength to sputter out a defiant, “NO!”
As roaring mad as he was at the riders arrogance, Stoick was slightly impressed at his endurance.
The rider had been hanging from his wrists for a full day. Had been captured, starved, and dropped into a frozen sea for ravenous dragons. And yet the boy still did not have a mark on him.
“What are you doing you horrible boy?” Viggo asked as he once again took the riders face in his hand. “Some sort of fancy foreign breathing technique?”
All around the brig, people and dragons alike gathered to get a closer look at the scene. And for the first time Stoick noticed the men and women that were also held in cages like the beast their allies hunted. Every single one of them were beginning to chant, “RIDER! RIDER! RIDER!”
He could even hear the men the cage next to him muttering, “he’s very brave isn’t he? He’s small and skinny but still very brave.”
For there was nothing more that a Viking admired more than bravery. Even in boys with arms like matchsticks.
And the fact that the Winterfleshers weren’t touching him, gave the rider a supernatural quality that Stoick could tell was getting under Viggo’s skin.
Stoick could make out Ryker saying his brother, “maybe there aren’t any dragons down there.”
But at that moment, sea was so ruff with the dragons that one managed to jump up through the trap door. And was beginning to flap on the wooden deck before Viggo gave it a hard kick back down the hatch into the water.
“I think your plan might’ve backfired,” interjected Gobber as he raised his voice to be heard above the crowd, “you’re turning him into even more of a hero than he was before.”
Viggo’s eye twitched at the comment, but he hid his anger well. Switching tactics, the hunter softened his words. “Now now, isn’t this exhausting? Aren’t you tired? All this fighting isn’t what you are made for. It’s not engrained in those bird like bones of yours. You aren’t made for pain like the rest of us.”
Viggo addressed the rider as if he was a small child. And he was doing his best to mitigate an oncoming tantrum.
“I can make all of this go away. All this suffering. All your struggles. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know. When have you even known me to be dishonest? If you give in, and tell me what I want to know, will even let you go. You and the Nightfury can fly off and you can live happily on The Edge with all your little friends. Just give me what I want, and I promise you will never have to deal with me or my hunters ever again. I promise to let you and your dragon go. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Viggo held out his hands in a symbol of peace. Making a big production of selecting knife from one’s laid out on the torture table. Slicing a shallow line on his palm, the hunter let the droplets of red splatter to the wooden planks. “After all, a promise is a promise if made in blood.”
Stoick couldn’t believe what Viggo was offering the boy. He was going back on his word to Stoick. The rider was his. That was the whole reason the chief had hired the hunters in the first place.
Whirling on the man, Stoick hoisted Viggo up by his collar before saying. “That wasn’t the deal Grimborn. I can’t let him-“
“Relax Stoick,” Viggo interrupted, twisting his body in away that broke Stoick’s grasp, “you can catch more nano-dragons with honey than with vinegar. Let’s see where bargaining gets us, if brute strength hasn’t done yet.”
The rider still hung suspended and his shivering rattled the chain so loudly that Stoick wasn’t sure he had even heard the conversation. Especially with his ragged breathing.
It took another minute for the man in black to gather up the energy to speak. “What about the dragons? What will happen to everyone and everything to have trapped down here? Will you let them go as well?”
Something about the question’s earnestness surprised Stoick. More than anything else that had that night.
“It’s too late for them. I’ve already lined up buyers and not even reclaiming my gold would affect that bottoms line. But enough about that, this isn’t about them. It’s about you and your own selfishness. You still have the chance to walk free. And besides; when have you ever cared about anything other than yourself and your dragon?”
The rider reacted as if Viggo had just slapped him. Jerking backwards on the chain he began to swing like a pendulum, his feet slapping the door of the trap door as he went silent got a good long while. Considering his options, regretting his actions, or even planning what he would do if set free.
As if taking on his destiny, the rider lifted his drooping head. Staring down the hunter with a dragon like ferocity that had won him his reputation, the rider declared. “I will never give up fighting you. Even if it’s too late. Even though all is lost. Even if it is impossible. Never, never, never. I will fight until all the breath had left my body and I am nothing more than a whisper in the shadows. I will never stop fighting for a better world.”
Viggo had failed again.
“Leave him down there even longer. Leave him down there for eight minutes.” The hunter commanded his brother. And Stoick shuttered at the frozen, angry, tone of the words.
“EIGHT MINUTES IS MURDER!” Cried out the angriest one of Viggo’s prisoners as the rider was dropped back into the freezing water.
That same moment the Nightfury growled out a desperate and mournful sound. The ship shuddered as the beast struggled with its bonds.
The prisoner was right, no one could survive being held under water for that long. The Vikings had held diving competitions in the summer so Stoick knew it was impossible.
But then again. The rider has already survived the impossible. Stoick had know men three times the riders size that had succumbed to the winter seas in less time that the rider had been held in.
He needed to do something now. Before his last hope of finding his son was snuffed out like a candle. It didn’t matter that the rider was harder to kill than a cockroach.
Stoick looked to Gobber. That’s all it took for his friend to understand what they needed to do.
Both Hooligans drew their swords.
The sword was not Stoick’s favorite weapon. It didn’t have the same lethal simplicity as the hammer or the utilitarian nature of the axe. Without proper training and discipline, you are more likely to hurt yourself with it than your opponent.
But Stoick was a chief. He had been in many battles before. He had spent his childhood and adult years fist fighting Monstrous Nightmares. When he was baby he had popped a Gronkle’s head clean off its shoulders.
These two hunters wouldn’t be an issue.
If it hadn’t been such tight quarters, he could have wiped the floor with them. If Viggo hadn’t anticipated his next play. If Viggo hadn’t memorized Stoick’s tells.
The Maces and Talons player made his move before the fight could truly begin.
Drawing the short sword from his back, Viggo pointed the hilt at the Hooligans just as a trail of green vapor released from the weapon.
Stoick knew the acrid smell at once as the Zippleback gas filled brig.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you Stoick. One wrong move and I blow us all up. This is still my ship, my interrogation, and my reputation on the line. And trust me when I say that my feud with the rider is deeper than yours. He stays down there as long as I say.”
Neither Stoick nor Gobber moved. Not wanting to disturb the torch’s nearby that could set the gas, and them all, ablaze. And for the first time, Stoick wondered if working with this man had been a good idea.
The rider stayed under the water for two minutes.
Five minutes.
Eight minutes.
Stoick feared he must be dead. Feared that his last chance at reuniting with his son had just been snatched from his hands. And that it was his own fault for trusting a man with his own agenda.
The drooping body of the rider was reeled back in the frozen sea. The man in black was sodden and spent, but he still moved in his chains. His black scaled chest plate rose and feel with shallow breath as the rider did everything in his power to hold onto consciousness.
He was still alive.
There was silence of wonder and awed respect in the brig that lasted long enough for the boys breathing to deepen as he rallied the last dregs on of his strength.
Once Viggo had snapped out of his own bewilderment at the miraculous survival, he spun the rider to face him. Holding the thick blade of his long sword to the riders throat, the leader of the dragon hunters lifted up the visor of the man in blacks helmet.
This had changed from a trial of the rider, and was now trial for Viggo Grimborn. A battle of the two men’s will; and the rider was winning.
Ryker had put himself between the Hooligans and his brother, blocking anyone else from seeing the face of the mysterious man. That made Stoick want to strangle the hunters even more.
But the acid green gas still hung in the air, and Riker held a torch. One wrong move and everyone would go up in flame.
Anger quivered in Viggo’s voice as he hissed, “Now you horrible brat, will you tell me where my gold is, or will I be forced to leave you down there forever. I am trying not to kill. If I do then I will have no one to place a fair game of wits with.”
Through chattering teeth, Stoick could just barely make out the riders reply.
“There is nothing you could do to me that could make me change my mind.”
That made Viggo Grimborn smile as he reached towards the torture table.