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

  by dragons’ talons, body coated in sea salt. He had

  been bitten on the hand by a Vampire Spydragon the

  other day, so his left arm had swollen up, and his

  whole left-hand side was a strange purple colour.

  An odd sort of Hero, for the worst crisis humanity

  has ever faced.

  But he was alive, at least… just.

  On Hiccup’s chest there perched a very ancient

  hunting-dragon called the Wodensfang, over a

  thousand years old, and as wrinkled and tattered as a

  crumbling brown leaf.

  The Wodensfang had tried to haul Hiccup up the

  beach, gripping on to Hiccup’s torn collar, and pulling

  as hard as he could, with his little old tired legs, but the

  Wodensfang was only the size of a small skinny rabbit,

  so the sad bedraggled body of the unconscious boy did

  not move so much as an inch.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ moaned the Wodensfang

  desperately, warming Hiccup’s heart with the heat of

  his own body and gently trying to wake him by blowing

  warm air into his face. ‘This really couldn’t be worse…

  they’re going to find us if we don’t get a move on…

  32

  and I’m worried the tide might come in and drown

  you, just to add to our problems… Wake up, Hiccup,

  wake up! You must wake up!’

  The boy’s eyelids fluttered. In desperation, the

  Wodensfang spat a little seawater into his face. The boy

  spluttered, coughed.

  ‘Oh thank the great Wings in the Sky!’

  exclaimed the Wodensfang, so agitated he hopped

  from foot to foot, rubbing his wings together like a

  grasshopper. ‘He’s alive and he’s waking up!’

  The boy’s eyes opened. Or rather, one of them

  did. The other was so swollen and bruised, he could

  barely open it at all.

  ‘Oh Hiccup,’ crooned the Wodensfang, ‘I

  am so sorry, boy, but you must get out of the sea

  immediately… the tide is coming in…’

  Hiccup sat up with a groan, coughing, and

  put a hand to his forehead which ached as if Thor

  the blacksmith was bringing down his hammer on

  it repeatedly from the inside and the

  outside with such ringing

  blows that Hiccup’s ears

  sang with the pain.

  ‘Where am

  I?’ whispered

  Hiccup, coughing

  up sea-water and

  struggling for

  breath.

  ‘You’re on

  the little Isle

  of Hero’s End,’

  explained the

  Wodensfang.

  ‘Your ship sank,

  with all the Lost Things on it, I’m afraid, so Alvin

  retrieved them and he has them now, which means

  we’re in a bit of a hurry, actually—’

  ‘Why was I on a ship?’ interrupted Hiccup.

  ‘Who is Alvin? What are the Lost Things? Who are

  you? And, more importantly…

  ‘… who am I?’

  The Wodensfang blinked at him.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Who am I?’ repeated Hiccup.

  ‘You don’t know who you are?’ squeaked the

  Wodensfang. ‘Are you really telling me you don’t know

  who you are?’

  Hiccup shook his head.

  ‘Oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear!’ moaned the

  Wodensfang. ‘However bad things seem to be, they

  can always get worse! The boy has lost his memory!’

  I’m afraid that the Wodensfang was right. Hiccup

  had been hit on the head by the mast of the ship as it

  sank, and he had indeed lost his memory.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ shivered Hiccup miserably. ‘I can’t

  remember who I am, or why I am here, or anything at

  all.’

  He struggled to think, but it was as if the choking

  smoke and fog that was all around them had crept

  through his ears and into his aching head and turned

  everything upside down and into confusion.

  All he knew was that he was cold, and sore, and

  something terrible had just happened, and he was in

  the middle of doing something very important.

  ‘Oh this is a disaster! Not to mention a very

  long story,’ said the Wodensfang, jumping anxiously

  from foot to foot. ‘And I cannot emphasise more how

  pushed we are for time. I am the Wodensfang, you are

  Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, and you’re a

  very great Hero!’

  ‘Am I?’ said Hiccup, in surprise, looking down

  at his ragged, skinny little frame. ‘But that seems so

  unlikely!’

  ‘Trust me,’ said the Wodensfang. ‘It’s unlikely,

  but you are. You’re not the normal sort of Viking

  Hero, admittedly, but you’re very clever and you can

  speak Dragonese, and you’re one of the only people

  in the world who can do that. How extraordinary

  that you don’t know who you are, but you can still

  36

  remember your Dragonese…’

  ‘So I can!’ said Hiccup in surprise, replying to the

  Wodensfang, indeed, in Dragonese.

  ‘You’re going to have to concentrate very hard

  here,’ fretted the Wodensfang, trying, unsuccessfully,

  not to panic, ‘because we’re in a bit of a dire

  situation. Look over there!’

  The Wodensfang, thoroughly agitated, pointed a

  shaking dragon wing to the north-east. Hiccup couldn’t

  see out of one of his eyes, which was too swollen to

  open, but if he tilted his head slightly to the left, and

  slo-o-o-wly and painfully cracked open the bruised

  eyelid of his right eye he could just about see out of

  that one.

  ‘I can’t see anything over there,’ said Hiccup.

  The fog was indeed so dense that you couldn’t really

  see anything at all.

  ‘OK, you’re going to have to trust me on this,’

  squeaked the Wodensfang. ‘OVER THERE, on the

  Murderous Island, the Dragon Furious has gathered

  together a multitude of dragons so enormous, so

  ferocious, that the world has never seen anything like

  it before. He has drawn them together, these wild and

  lawless creatures, with a single aim…

  ‘And the aim of the Dragon Furious… is the

  37

  extinction of the entire human race.’

  There was a nasty silence.

  Hiccup swallowed hard as all around him the

  smoke swirled, getting up and into his nose, and

  making him cough, and the cold sea seemed to

  have seeped into his very bones, so that he shivered

  uncontrollably, and he could hear his heart beating:

  thump… thump… thump…

  ‘Doomsday…’ whispered Hiccup in slow horror,

  a single dim memory coming back to him, like a

  Sharkworm fin surfacing in the water, and disappearing

  again as suddenly as it had returned. ‘Doomsday… The

  last battle between the dragons and the humans…

  ‘Are you quite sure about this?’ said Hiccup,

  peering uncertainly into that smog.

  ‘I’m absolutely sure,’ gabbled the Wodensfang

  in a quiver of anxiety. ‘And you, Hiccup Horrendous

&
nbsp; Haddock the Third, are the Hero who is the humans’

  and the dragons’ last and only hope.’

  ‘I am?’ spluttered Hiccup. ‘Me?’

  He gave a strangled, disbelieving laugh and

  looked down at his battered body. He had legs like

  pieces of seaweed, and arms like chicken wings, and

  his left forearm seemed to have been attacked by

  something, because it had swollen up to twice the size

  38

  of a normal forearm. It was also purple, along with the

  entire left side of his body.

  ‘Heroes have to swordfight and throw axes and

  spears and stuff. What can I do against a dragon

  army like that?’ Hiccup said in some desperation.

  ‘Actually, you’re a surprisingly good

  swordfighter—’

  Hiccup flapped his floppy forearm at the

  Wodensfang. ‘Not right now I’m not! I can’t hold a

  sword. What am I going to do, flap my opponents to

  death? Maybe I could dribble on them, that would be

  scary…’

  The Wodensfang ignored this interruption.

  ‘We need to get off this island as soon as

  possible. I’ve been watching the Dragon Rebellion

  sending out search parties hunting for you all night

  and— oh! Oh dear!’

  The little brown dragon gave a short sharp

  exclamation, his big eyes opened wide, and he looked

  down at a small brown dart protruding from one of his

  little skinny shoulder-blades.

  ‘Oh! Oh my goodness, I’ve been hit!’ squeaked

  the Wodensfang. Many species of dragons shot little

  darts containing a mild poison that sent their prey

  to sleep. Wodensfang pointed a wing up towards the

  39

  grasses at the back of the beach. ‘Mayday! Mayday!

  Dragon Rebellion search party!’

  Hiccup whirled around. There was nothing to

  be seen in any direction on the beach, only that thick

  black smoke and the wind and the cry of seagulls.

  Z-I-N-G!

  Another little dart flew past Hiccup’s nose,

  missing him by inches. It seemed to be coming from

  the bluff of the beach behind them. There wasn’t time

  to think, Hiccup had to react automatically.

  Hiccup leaped to his feet and made the

  unwelcome discovery that not only was the whole

  left-hand side of his body an unusual colour, his left leg

  was as numb as his arm and as floppy as a jellyfish.

  He staggered forward, wobbling like a drunken

  sailor, fell over at exactly the right moment for another

  dart to miss him and go sailing over his head, skidded

  up to the Wodensfang, removed the dart from the little

  dragon’s shoulder-blade, and stuffed him in the ragged

  remains of his waistcoat.

  ‘Are you all right?’ stuttered Hiccup.

  ‘I’m fine!’ squeaked the Wodensfang. ‘A bit of a

  numbing effect but otherwise fine…’

  Z-I-N-G! Z-I-N-G! Z-I-N-G!

  Hiccup rolled behind a large nearby rock. The

  40

  little darts were coming from up on the grassy edge

  of the beach, thought Hiccup to himself, his heart

  thumping with horror. He tilted his head and tried to

  peer over the edge of the rock through his one good

  eye, through the smoke and the fog…

  And then he saw them.

  Eyes.

  Dragon eyes gleaming in the darkness.

  Oh, for Thor’s sake.

  He was being hunted.

  2. YOU SEE, IT JUST GOT

  WORSE AGAIN LESS THAN

  FIVE MINUTES INTO THE

  STORY

  ‘What’s going on?’ whispered Hiccup to the

  Wodensfang. ‘Who are these dragons? Why do they

  want to kill me?’

  The Wodensfang’s eyelids were drooping in a

  worrying way, as if he was about to lose consciousness.

  ‘I told you…’ he squeaked. ‘Those are Dragon

  Rebellion dragons and they want to stop you from

  becoming King because you are the Hero who finds

  the Lost Things…’

  ‘What?’ yelled Hiccup, as…

  Z-Z-I-I-ING!!!

  … many more darts shot briskly past the rock

  they were hiding behind.

  ‘Oh dear,’ gabbled the Wodensfang, very, very

  quickly, for he could feel himself falling asleep. ‘It’s a

  very long story, Hiccup, but it’s so important that

  you understand everything… Where shall I start?

  A long time ago, on the island of Tomorrow, King

  Grimbeard the Ghastly killed his son Hiccup the

  43

  Second, because

  he thought that his son

  was leading a Rebellion against

  him, and imprisoned his son’s

  dragon, the Dragon Furious, in a

  forest prison—’

  ‘We haven’t got time for the

  WHOLE story!’ shouted Hiccup, as

  darts sang Z-Z-ZING Z-ING ZING over

  their heads. ‘Just tell me the important

  bits!’

  ‘ALL of the bits are important!’

  squealed the Wodensfang in a total panic.

  ‘I’m going to have to find somewhere

  a bit safer for us to hide,’ said Hiccup. ‘This

  rock isn’t big enough—’

  At that point, so completely out of the

  blue that Hiccup nearly had a heart attack,

  something wriggled at the back of his neck and

  something said in a deep little voice:

  ‘Where’s the biscuit?’

  ‘AAARGGHHH!’ yelped Hiccup,

  flapping desperately at the back of his head,

  under the understandable impression that

  something was attacking him from behind,

  44

  and had got him by the neck.

  ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry,’ said the Wodensfang

  soothingly, ‘that’s just another little dragon, you must

  have put him in your backpack to protect him when

  the boat sank, but don’t worry, he’s no danger, he’s

  on our side… He must have just woken up…’

  Sure enough, Hiccup was wearing a small, very

  bashed-about backpack, and out of the backpack

  buzzed a small, circular lapdragon that bore a

  remarkable resemblance to a happy little pig.

  It was a Hogfly.

  Hogflys are the stupidest, most good-natured

  dragons in the Archipelago, far more likely to lick

  your enemies than to bite them, and much more of a

  hindrance than a help.

  ‘Woof, woof!’ barked the happy little Hogfly

  enthusiastically. (The Hogfly was under the impression

  that it was a dog.) ‘Hello, Mother! Is it teatime? I can

  help! I can be tremendously helpful!’

  ‘Oh dear… yes, I’m sure you can,’ said

  Hiccup, feeling a little hysterical, ‘but

  in the meantime just stay

  here with us behind this

  rock and try not to

  get SHOT.’

  ‘Back to

  the story,’ said

  the Wodensfang.

  ‘Grimbeard the Ghastly

  repented, and declared there

  would never be a King of the

  Wilderwest again, unless the King

  could be a better King than he was. He

  created an
Impossible Task, by hiding ten

  Lost Things. Only a true Hero can gather the

  Things together and become the next King of the

  Wilderwest…’

  Hiccup wasn’t really listening to the story. He

  was peering over the rock to look up at the bluff of the

  beach.

  Dark shapes were beginning to slink over the

  bluff and down on to the sandy beach. They dug into

  the sand until only the fins on the top of their heads

  were showing, and then the shark-like fins moved

  through the sand, as easily as if it were water.

  Every now and then the creatures would

  thrust their heads above the sand to fire

  their drugged darts…

  This is ridiculous! thought

  Hiccup.

  Here he was, with that

  funny little brown dragon

  saying he was this great

  Hero, and Hiccup could

  feel how weak he was,

  how defenceless. He could barely move, let alone fight

  off a pack of shark-like dragons.

  At this point, a memory popped up at him out of

  nowhere, like an uncontrollable jack-in-a-box.

  Sand-Sharks.

  He knew what these dragons were, they were

  Sand-Sharks.

  He didn’t know how he knew; he just knew.

  And, as it turned out, he didn’t just know a little

  bit about Sand-Sharks.

  He knew everything about them.

  He knew that they were pack-animals about

  the size of a dog or wolf. They could hunt prey much

  larger than themselves by using their darts to send their

  victims to sleep. Once they’d shot a number of darts

  into their target, it would fall unconscious, and they

  could swarm all over it, and kill their prey without it

  putting up a fight.

  ‘Most unfortunately,’ squeaked the Wodensfang,

  desperately carrying on with the story, even though

  no one was listening, ‘although you of course found

  all the Lost Things, Hiccup, Alvin the Treacherous

  has stolen the Things from you, and he is about to

  be crowned King, and once he is crowned, he will

  be told the secret of the Dragon Jewel, which has

  the power to destroy all dragons forever… Are you

  concentrating on this story, Hiccup?’