How to Train Your Dragon: How to Fight a Dragon's Fury Read online

  ‘OF COURSE it’s a sign…’

  217

  ‘It’s not a sign!’ squealed the Witch. ‘It’s not

  a sign of anything apart from the fact that both

  Grimbeard and Hiccup must have CHEATED!’

  ‘And I have MORE concrete evidence,’ said

  Fishlegs.

  ‘Can’t somebody shut this boy up?’ snapped the

  Witch.

  ‘The Map to find the Jewel is drawn on the back

  of Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Last Will and Testament.

  Hiccup saved that Will and Testament from the

  burning of Prison Darkheart,’ said Fishlegs. ‘And I took

  the precaution of looking after it for Hiccup. I think

  there’s a clue there too…’

  ‘Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Last Will and

  Testament!’ gasped the Druid Guardian. ‘Why didn’t

  you mention this before? Read it to me, boy!’

  Fishlegs held up the paper so that

  all could see it.

  ‘“I leave to this my True Heir, This my favourite

  Sword, Because the Stormblade always lunged a

  little to the left, And the Best is not always the Most

  Obvious…’ read Fishlegs. ‘And over the top of that,

  Grimbeard has written: “Courage: What is within is

  more important than what is without (this is not the

  end I promise). Here is the map. And the map can lead

  you to the Dragon Jewel.”’*

  ‘Ooh, that’s interesting,’ said everybody, for they

  all loved a riddle. ‘The Best is not always the Most

  Obvious… that CLEARLY refers to Hiccup because

  he is obviously not the Best…’

  *The Will first appears in Book 2 as well, but the second message is

  written in invisible ink, and only appears with the application of Vorpent

  Venom in Book 9: How to Steal a Dragon’s Sword.

  ‘And look! Alvin has the Stormblade! Which isn’t

  Grimbeard’s favourite… which means that Alvin is not

  the King…’

  ‘Look!’ said Barbara the Barbarian. ‘My black cat

  has chosen Hiccup! Do you think this could be a sign

  too?’

  And indeed, Barbara’s black cat had jumped off

  Barbara’s head, and was curling around Hiccup’s legs,

  purring.

  ‘The King will not be chosen by a CAT!’ raged

  the Witch. ‘Of course it isn’t a sign!’

  But she was raging against an unstoppable tide.

  This is how legends begin…

  Hiccup’s recalling of how he had found the

  King’s Things had reminded the Vikings of the past,

  and they began to swap tales of when Hiccup had

  saved their lives.

  ‘Hiccup saved my life three times, when I

  was captured by the Romans, the Berserks, and the

  Witch…’ boasted Camicazi.

  ‘He saved mine when we were on that cliff-face

  at the Flashburn School of Swordfighting!’ called out a

  young Hooligan.

  And others called out: ‘Me too! Me too! Me too!’

  ‘And ours when we were about to be fed to the

  220

  Beast of Berserk,’ said the Ten Fiancés.

  ‘Hiccup saved us when the Green Death was

  terrorising the Isle of Berk,’ cried a Meathead.

  ‘And Hiccup saved US when we were trapped

  on the Isle of Hysteria by the Doomfang…’ shouted a

  Hysteric.

  ‘And he saved ALL OF US when that plague of

  Exterminators descended on the Archipelago during

  the long hot summer when the volcano exploded…’

  yelled a Hooligan.

  There is a moment in the affairs of humans that

  is rather like the turning of the tides, or the changing

  of the wind. One minute everything seems to be going

  full-flood and full-blast in one direction. And then

  something happens, a single voice like Fishlegs speaks

  in what sounds like the voice of Destiny, the world

  hangs in the balance, there is a moment of pause…

  and then more voices speak, and more and more and

  more, and suddenly the wind has changed, the tide

  has turned, and everything is moving with tumbling,

  gathering, unstoppable force, absolutely the other way.

  These poor people had been brought through

  despair and hunger, to the brink of following the

  unspeakable Alvin. But Grimbeard’s letter, the Last

  Will and Testament, Hiccup’s survival – suddenly these

  221

  had given them hope once more.

  And it has to be said, the Vikings were the kind of

  people who felt things very strongly, very passionately

  one second… but, like the changeable Archipelago

  winds, were perfectly capable of changing their minds

  and thinking the exact opposite the next.

  ‘Quick, Alvin! Think of something good you’ve

  done recently!’ hissed the Witch. ‘Something that

  might make you popular!’

  ‘Well… um… last week I stopped whipping the

  slaves for a bit,’ suggested Alvin. ‘My whip-hand was

  giving me blisters…’

  ‘Haven’t you ever saved anyone’s life?’ raged the

  Witch.

  ‘I’ve been too busy saving my own life, Mother,’

  Alvin pointed out. ‘And in some pretty spectacular

  ways, even if I do say so myself…’

  All around the ruined castle of Grimbeard the

  Ghastly, the Vikings told each other of Hiccup’s good

  deeds, and somewhere along the way, the tales were

  elaborated on by the storytellers, and Hiccup was given

  super-human and super-hero qualities, as is the way of

  storytelling and storytellers since the beginning of time.

  Very-Vicious the Visithug had been one of Alvin’s

  most faithful followers, but even he jumped up on a

  222

  ruined pillar, and bellowed at the crowd, holding up

  his panting Hogfly in his cupped hands, like it was a

  precious relic:

  ‘HICCUP WENT TO VALHALLA TO BRING

  ME BACK MY HOGFLY!’

  Which wasn’t strictly true, but it struck a chord

  with the public mood. A boy of Destiny who could go

  to Valhalla and bring back a Hogfly? Why, that might

  be a boy that could pull off a miracle and finish this

  War without ending the dragons!

  ‘If Hiccup really is a boy of Destiny,’ they said

  to each other, ‘if he really is the Heir that Grimbeard

  dreamed of, maybe Hiccup can save the dragons for

  us… maybe he can bargain with the Dragon Furious…

  if he can magically come back from the dead, like he

  just did, perhaps he can do anything?’

  ‘Hiccup was dead…’ said a loyal Alvinsman,

  shaking his head, in disbelief, ‘I saw the arrow go right

  into his chest myself.’

  It wasn’t the truth, but the storytellers only heard

  what they wanted to hear, and the story was more

  important than the truth, so they went right on telling

  what they wanted to believe.

  ‘Hiccup has been to Valhalla, and come back to

  walk among us, and anyone who can do that, well… I

  223

  will follow him to the ends of the earth. HICCUP FOR

  KING!’

  ‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP
FOR KING!

  HICCUP FOR KING!’

  ‘NO!’ shrieked the Witch, beside herself with fury

  as she howled and bit and raged at the stampeding,

  applauding, clamouring crowd. ‘This isn’t REALISTIC!

  YOU do not decide, you rabble! Where do you

  think you are, the REPUBLIC OF ROME? This is a

  dictatorship! This is Destiny! The scary old man with

  the blindfold gets to decide who the King is, not YOU!

  Not ANY OF YOU!’

  ‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP FOR KING!

  HICCUP FOR KING!’

  ‘Silence! For if you offend the scary old man

  with the blindfold, he shall call up his dreadful Dragon

  Guardians of Tomorrow and they shall take you all

  into oblivion and grind your bones to dust!’ swore the

  infuriated Witch.

  ‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP FOR KING!

  HICCUP FOR KING!’

  ‘Well, Druid Guardian,’ cried Valhallarama of the

  White Arms. ‘What is the will of the people? I told the

  people of the Archipelago when they gathered, once

  before, in Prison Darkheart, that they do have a choice

  224

  of Kings, and I ask them the question once again.

  Should it be Alvin the Treacherous, who offers slavery

  and the destruction of dragons forever? Or should it

  be my son, Hiccup, who offers the hope of a new and

  better world?’

  ‘This isn’t ABOUT the will of the people now!’

  screeched the Witch. ‘You can’t sway this court of

  opinion, Valhallarama, by putting on some silly little

  Slavemark and claiming it is the Dragonmark!’

  ‘Does Hiccup have the Dragonmark?’ asked the

  Druid Guardian eagerly. ‘Did you know that Grimbeard

  took the Dragonmark at the end of his life as a sign of

  his repentance?’

  ‘Oh stop it with these silly little signs!’ snapped

  the Witch, absolutely purple with irritation. ‘You

  should know better than to look for black cats and

  superstitions! This is Fate! This is the future of the

  humans! It’s about the will of the GODS!’

  ‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP FOR KING!

  HICCUP FOR KING!’

  The Druid Guardian held up his arms. ‘The

  Witch is right,’ he said. ‘This IS about the will of the

  gods… SILENCE!’

  The peoples of the Archipelago stood silent in

  the Castle.

  225

  The Druid Guardian held up the Crown, offering

  it up to the gods above as if it were a sacrifice.

  Alvin stood on the Druid Guardian’s left and

  Hiccup on his right.

  ‘COME GREAT POWERS OF DESTINY

  AND DARKNESS!’ called the Druid Guardian

  up to the stormy heavens. ‘COMETH THE MAN,

  COMETH THE HOUR. BUT HERE I HAVE

  TWO HEROES, AND I CANNOT CROWN

  TWO KINGS. TELL ME, SWEET GHOST OF

  GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY: WHO IS THE

  TRUE KING OF THE WILDERWEST? WHAT IS

  THE WILL OF THE GODS? GIVE ME SOME SIGN

  OF YOUR INTENTIONS!’

  There was a long, long pause, while the

  stormclouds above raged and crackled. The humans

  in the ruined Castle held their breaths, and out in the

  circle of Wrecker’s Bay, it seemed as if the dragons did

  too, a great quiet descending on the world as all leaned

  in to listen to the Druid Guardian’s verdict. The Druid

  Guardian swayed as he stood there in that silence,

  swayed and trembled as if he were receiving some

  message from the gods and the ghost of Grimbeard

  the Ghastly through the crackle and flash of the storm.

  The Dragon Guardians were speaking to him. All the

  226

  dragons around Hiccup had buried their heads in their

  chests, and had their paws over their ears, suggesting

  an extraordinarily high frequency that only the dragons

  and the Druid Guardian could hear.

  The Druid Guardian muttered to himself, in

  reply to the Dragon Guardians: ‘Really? Well, bless my

  soul… How interesting… Your eyes are better than

  mine… I bow to your superior judgement…’

  Alvin stood on the Druid Guardian’s left and

  Hiccup on his right.

  It seemed an age before the Druid spoke.

  But before he did, something happened, and who

  knows whether this was the final thing that tipped the

  balance? It certainly LOOKED spectacular.

  The crowd had their concrete evidence. Now they

  just needed a sign from the gods that they were making

  the right choice.

  And they got one.

  There was the Druid Guardian, standing with one

  hand on Alvin and one hand on Hiccup, like an ancient

  pair of scales. And then Hiccup slowly, slowly rose up,

  and levitated in the air, magically, with no visible means

  of support, as if he were being picked up by the hand

  of a giant invisible god…

  A miracle!

  227

  Hiccup flying upwards without wings!

  The gods had spoken!

  That wasn’t what was really happening, of course.

  Thousands and thousands of tiny little

  nanodragons had flown out of their secret hiding

  places in the bracken and the grasses and the heather

  all round about the Castle, and descended upon the

  tattered fire-suit of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the

  Third.

  They clung on to that fire-suit with their

  thousands and thousands of tiny little legs, and then

  they rose up into the air, carrying Hiccup with them.

  ‘Ziggerastica…’ whispered Hiccup to himself,

  in astonishment, as he looked at his Firesuit, suddenly

  alive with minuscule, humming little

  nanodragons. Ziggerastica was the

  King of the nanodragons, and as

  it happens, Hiccup had saved

  Ziggerastica’s life once. But

  Hiccup had not seen the little

  King for a number of years,

  so it was a little spooky that

  his numberless minions were

  appearing out of nowhere

  at this critical

  moment, apparently to assist him.

  ‘You pay no attention to us, but

  we pay attention to you,’ buzzed

  the nanodragon swarm

  all together in tiny little

  malevolent voices, as if

  they were answering

  Hiccup’s unspoken

  question, and

  somehow even when

  they were helping

  him, they managed

  to do it with an

  air of menace.

  To the watching crowds, who could not see the

  humming nanodragons carrying Hiccup upward, it

  looked like a miracle, a sign from the gods, and it was

  the final evidence they needed.

  ‘A MIRACLE! A MIRACLE!’

  ‘I CAN SEE THE HAIRY KNUCKLES

  AND FINGERS OF THOR HIMSELF ACTUALLY

  HOLDING HIM!’ screamed an imaginative

  Bashem-oik, and once he had SAID it, of course,

  what was pure fantasy springing from the mind of the

  Bashem-Oik become at once absolute truth in the

  minds of the others.

  The crowd gasped with excitement. ‘
HICCUP!

  HICCUP! HICCUP IS THE KING!’ as gently the

  little nanodragons dangled Hiccup about a foot or so in

  the air, and the Druid Guardian whispered, ‘The Final

  Sign…’ with a sigh as the little nanodragons gently put

  Hiccup down again.

  So Destiny and Fate were decided, at the last,

  by the mighty great Dragon Guardians speaking down

  ominously from the sky, and the tiny little nanodragons

  speaking up sneakily from the grasses.

  Which seems appropriate somehow.

  At last, the Druid Guardian spoke the fateful

  words in a strange ethereal voice, as if receiving

  instructions from another world.

  ‘HE WHO WEARS THIS CROWN SHALL

  BE THE KING FOREVER…

  ‘HE WHO WEARS THIS CROWN SHALL

  LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR HIS PEOPLE…

  ‘HE WHO WEARS THIS CROWN SHALL

  231

  RULE ABSOLUTELY…

  ‘THE NEW KING OF THE WILDERWEST

  SHALL BE…

  The Druid Guardian trembled, and then he

  turned to face Hiccup.

  ‘Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.

  ‘Because what is within is more important than

  what is without… The Best is not always the most

  obvious…

  ‘… and sometimes the Will of Grimbeard the

  Ghastly, and the will of the gods, and the will of the

  people are the very same thing.

  ‘We have found ourselves a King,’ said the

  Guardian quietly.

  Alvin staggered as if somebody had shot him.

  The Witch screamed, ‘NOOOOOOOOO!’

  232

  12. THE CROWNING OF THE

  KING OF THE WILDERWEST

  Rustling by Hiccup’s earhole was the unmistakeable

  red-and-black spotted form of Ziggerastica, King of the

  nanodragons, looking rather older than when Hiccup

  saw him last, but every bit as self-important.

  ‘The Dragon Furious seemed to think that his great size meant that

  he could tell ME what to do, O Boy-With-No-Muscles-at-All!’ snorted

  Ziggerastica. ‘I, Ziggerastica, Great High Despot of the Northern Grasses,

  Terror of the Bracken, Scourge of the Heather and Kingmaker Extraordinaire!

  How DARE he presume to tell ME to revolt!’

  ‘That was unwise,’ Hiccup whispered back.