How to be a Pirate's Dragon (Hiccup) Page 7

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  "NO!" yelled Stoick, stamping his foot.

  "I'M THE CHIEF!"

  "ARE NOT!"

  "AM TOO!"

  They had grabbed each other by the shoulders and were carrying out a Staring Contest, the horns on their helmets locked together like a couple of rutting stags.

  "Neff off," said Stoick, with quiet and sinister emphasis.

  "No, YOU neff off," replied Baggybum.

  "No, YOU neff off."

  "YOU!"

  "YOU!" etc. etc. etc.

  While all this was going on, nobody noticed Alvin doing something rather strange.

  When the Lucky Thirteen sailed into easy flying distance of the cliffs of Berk, most of the dragons had flown off back to the Hooligan Village, for food and rest. The only one who had remained on the Lucky Thirteen was Toothless. Toothless, who was a lazy little creature, considered this too far to fly. And he had caught himself a couple of nice plump mackerel on the

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  way. So there he still was, on the deck, watching the fight with interest.

  For some strange reason of his own, Alvin picked up a heavy empty barrel. He placed it over the excited little dragon, trapping him underneath.

  He then interrupted the fight between Stoick and Baggybum.

  "Now, now," said Alvin soothingly, "little clams in their shells agree. This should be a JOYFUL moment, the beginning of a glorious new era for the Hooligan Tribe. There is plenty of treasure for all of you. I propose a toast to celebrate the finding of the treasure."

  The Hooligans cheered, hoping to get over a difficult moment. Gobber and Hugefarts pulled Stoick and Baggybum apart, because otherwise they were clearly prepared to stand there all day. Some of the other Hooligan Warriors handed out black-currant wine for the toast.

  Stoick the Vast drew the Stormblade. He had already decked himself out in some fancy earrings from the treasure chest.

  "Half-wits and HEROES," he shouted. "We,

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  a small band of unbeatable barbarians, are about to become the center of a New Empire, an Empire to rival Rome in her glory days! With this treasure," Stoick lifted his cup of black-currant wine, his eyes glittering, "the Hairy Hooligans shall become

  INVINCI --"

  [Image: A ship.]

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  14. THE DAY TAKES A TURN FOR THE WORSE

  Stoick never finished the word "invincible" because halfway through he was grabbed around the neck by an enormous wild-eyed individual and a not very clean knife was held to his neck. So the word ended up more like "INVINCI-ugh-ugh-ugh/' as Stoick choked and his eyes popped.

  All around the rowing benches every Hooligan aboard had been grabbed from behind and knives were held at every throat.

  The Hooligans' nerves were still jangling from the flight from the Skullions. And they had been so busy arguing that they hadn't spotted a small sleek boat sneaking up through the mist and drawing alongside the Lucky Thirteen. A boat named the Hammerhead with a sail curved like a shark's fin and a red skull and crossbones painted on the side. A boat packed to the brim with OUTCASTS.

  They were not a pretty crew, despite their height, and their handsome red hair, and their gorgeous clothes, and every kind of golden ornament. Many had

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  scars carved into their faces. One or two were without a nose or an ear. Most had filed their teeth into sharp little points, like the teeth of a shark. Even the good-looking ones were disfigured by dark red tattoos, said to be made out of the blood of their enemies. They talked to each other in the

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  most difficult of Viking languages, Outcastese, which sounds very much like the barking of a dog.

  The Outcasts had swarmed over the side and crept up behind the Hooligans as they were admiring the Treasure and themselves. Toothless had smelt them, of course. He knew they were coming and he had been going crazy inside the big heavy barrel, shrieking at the top of his voice, "OUTCASTS! R-R-RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, YOU S-S-S-STUPID H-H-HUMANS!!!"

  But nobody had heard him.

  All in all, this was turning into a very bad day for the Hooligans. Outcasts, like Skullions, are the kind of creature one really hopes one can live a lifetime without bumping into, let alone seeing BOTH of them at close quarters in the space of one morning.

  Hiccup did not realize they were Outcasts. But he knew they were Bad Trouble.

  His heart started jumping in his chest like a mudskipper as he looked into the terrible face of the man who had Stoick the Vast by the throat. His curly horns were quite three feet high. When he opened his mouth he growled like a dog.

  For a whole minute, nobody said a word.

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  Nobody dared move a muscle. There was no noise at all except for that terrible dog-like growling from the Outcast who was holding Stoick ... and the sound of Alvin drinking.

  [Image: A pirate.]

  There was no knife at Alvin's throat.

  Calmly, he finished off the last delicious drops of black-currant wine. Smoothly, he put the cup down.

  "I thought that I would provide a -- ah -- surprise ending to our little journey," said Alvin, with his charming smile. "I DO like surprises, don't you, my dear Stoick?"

  Stoick gargled inarticulately.

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  "Such fun, aren't they?" continued Alvin. "I am so sorry to say, however, that the day of glory for the Hooligan Tribe may be -- ah -- put off for a while. You see, I feel that I ought to have rather more of the treasure then a mere ten percent. And in case you didn't agree I thought I would bring along some of my relatives to -- ah -- persuade you to give it up."

  Stoick gargled again.

  Alvin barked out a few words in Outcastese to Curly Horns, who barked back at him again.

  "I have to admit at this point that I have been guilty of a little innocent deception," said Alvin. "My name is not Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer. I am, in fact, His Most Mighty Murderousness Alvin the Treacherous, Great High Chieftain of the Outcast Tribe. I don't know why, but I felt that if I had told you this from the beginning you might not have given me a very warm welcome."

  "An OUTCAST?" gasped the Hooligans.

  Alvin laughed. "That's right," he said, "an Outcast. Us Outcasts don't always go around on all fours dressed in animal skins, you know. Even we are moving with the times." He went over to Stoick and gently removed the Stormblade from Stoick's hand.

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  "MINE, I think," said Alvin.

  Alvin unscrewed the claw from his right hand, as Hiccup had seen him do once before. He attached his "sword-holder" contraption in its place, into which he carefully twisted the Stormblade. He screwed it very tightly, so that it was completely steady. And while he did all this, he talked.

  "You see, Stoick," said Alvin, "we Barbarian Chieftains are facing a new challenge. We have to fight the creeping forces of Civilization by becoming FIERCER and CRUELER than ever. YOU, Stoick, have GONE SOFT."

  "I have NOT!" protested Stoick indignantly.

  "Grimbeard the Ghastly would be turning in his grave if he could see you now," tut-tutted Alvin. "You Hooligans have become bungling AMATEURS, all noise and show with no real wickedness to you at all. Now, I have worked hard to bring us Outcasts up to date. Outwardly, we now have some of the clothes and the manners of Civilization ... but inwardly we are tougher and more truly Outcast than we have ever been. We are your REAL PROFESSIONAL PIRATES, heartless, murdering, bloodsucking slave-traders. ..." Alvin paused for breath.

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  "Talking of which," he then continued, "take your last look at your rather plain little island. ..." He gestured at the friendly cliffs of Berk. 'All of you Hooligans are about to enter the slave trade yourselves, in the very important role of SLAVES."

  The Hooligans groaned. There was no worse fate for a proud and independent Viking than to be sold into bondage.

  [Image: A pirate.]

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  "I am sure you will all make excellent slaves," said Alvin kindl
y, "because you are all very strong, and, frankly, none too bright. And I do hate to threaten, but anybody who objects will thoroughly regret it."

  An Outcast with no nose stepped forward and uncurled an ugly black whip from around his waist, with a handle shaped like a serpent.

  Alvin clapped his hands and the Outcasts began loading the Hooligans onto the deck of the Hammerhead.

  [Image: Pirates.]

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  "Yup, you shall all be slaves. All that is ...," smiled Alvin, "... except for you, Stoick."

  Curly Horns let Stoick go, and proudly, he stepped forward.

  "To Chieftains and their descendants we pay the ultimate sign of respect," said Alvin with just a tiny hint of menace in his voice, "by EATING them."

  "But that's CANNIBALISM," said Stoick, shocked.

  "I know, I know," sighed Alvin. "It's very old-fashioned of me, but I would lose respect in front of the rest of my Tribe if I dropped ALL the old traditions...."

  "But... but... but... but...." blustered Stoick.

  "I shall not change my mind, whatever you say," said Alvin gently. "The thing about dinner is, it never wants to be eaten. I mean, you eat PORK, don't you, Stoick?"

  "Well, yeees," admitted Stoick.

  "There you are then!" said Alvin. "No pig is ever going to VOLUNTEER to be supper, and, thinking of volunteers ..." Something seemed to be amusing Alvin. He giggled delightedly. "I mentioned that it

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  would not only be Stoick who would receive this, ah ... honor," said Alvin, "but also his descendants. I know there has been some sort of argument about this recently. The question is," continued Alvin, struggling to keep a straight face, "WHO is the Heir to Stoick the Vast? Could they put up their hand please?"

  Strangely enough, Snotlout did not put up his hand at this point.

  Instead, he tried to hide behind Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, staring very hard at his bronze-tipped sandals, as if he hadn't quite heard the question.

  Hiccup sighed.

  He stood right up on the bench so that everyone could see him.

  "I," said Hiccup, "I am the Heir to Stoick the Vast."

  Stoick smiled a big, proud smile.

  For all their manners, the Outcasts whispered a great deal at that. Hiccup didn't have to speak Outcastese to know that they were saying things like: "That skinny prawn is the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans???"

  Two gigantic Outcasts lifted Hiccup from the bench and set him down next to Stoick the Vast.

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  Alvin held up the Stormblade. The sword was now just an extension of his arm, like the horn of a narwhal is an extension of its nose.

  "It looks as if it has always been there, doesn't it?" said Alvin.

  The daylight played across the bolt of lightning motif. Alvin drew a finger across the blade ever so lightly, and blood instantly dropped onto the deck.

  "Nice and sharp. This won't take a second," promised Alvin, stepping towards Hiccup.

  [Image: A pirate.]

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  15. THE BATTLE ON BOARD THE LUCKY THIRTEEN

  Alvin advanced towards Hiccup, with the Stormblade raised above his head.

  Hiccup closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.

  But at that moment Toothless finally managed to overturn the barrel he was trapped underneath.

  [Image: A dragon in the barrel.]

  He had been throwing his entire body weight at one side for the past five minutes. At last he made an extra-strong he-e-e-eave, the barrel tipped over, and rolled at great speed across the deck with Toothless rumbling round and round inside it... and bowled straight into the legs of Alvin the Treacherous ... who lost his footing and fell over....

  Alvin gave an ooohh of surprise, the Outcasts

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  were distracted for one vital second, and Stoick turned round and felled Curly Horns with a good old-fashioned uppercut right under the chin.

  From that moment on, there was chaos aboard the Lucky Thirteen.

  The Hooligans took advantage of their captors' surprise as the swords against their throats were lowered for a moment.

  "THIS IS MORE LIKE IT! I'LL TEACH YOU TO SAY THE HOOLIGANS HAVE

  GONE SOFT!!!!" Stoick let out the Viking War Cry and launched himself on the enemy completely barehanded. He crashed two Outcasts' heads together, jabbed another in the kidney with his foot, and when that one doubled over in pain, leapfrogged over his back to face another couple of the opposition.

  All might not have gone well for him, however, unarmed as he was, if Baggybum the Beerbelly had not come to his aid. The two brothers, who had been fighting each other five minutes earlier, now fought the enemy back-to-back for the rest of the battle.

  The "Battle on Board the Lucky Thirteen" would be a Saga that the Hooligans would tell their children and grandchildren for many, many years

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  to come. The military prowess of the Outcast Tribe was legendary throughout the Viking World. But the Hooligans were desperate and angry. They were battling for their FREEDOM itself, and so fought more wildly, more fiercely, than perhaps they had ever done before or since.

  No fewer than twenty Black Stars* were awarded to Warriors after the battle was over. No wonder, for the Pirate Fighting Skills on display on that occasion were a joy to watch. They were also a tribute to the old soldier, Gobber, who had taught most of the Warriors all that they knew. There, on one corner of the deck, was Nobber Nobrains, performing the highly skilled maneuver known as the Dance of the Axes, in which the pirate rapidly juggles two twirling axes from one hand to the other, hypnotizing and confusing the enemy, before the pirate lunges forward for the fatal blow.

  Up around the mast were the boys from the Pirate Training Program, valiantly tackling Outcasts nearly twice their size, putting into practice all that

  * The "Black Star" was a medal given to Hooligan Warriors for Outstanding Bravery in the Field of Combat.

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  they had learnt during those Swordfighting at Sea lessons.

  The behavior of Fishlegs was particularly surprising. As soon as the battle began, he completely lost control, throwing himself at the enemy, shrieking furiously and whirling his sword around his head like a madman.

  Vikings call this "going Beserk" and Warriors who do this are revered in Viking society.

  You could not imagine a more unlikely candidate for being a Beserk than Fishlegs, but there we are, these things are never predictable.

  The Outcasts stayed out of his way, for a Beserk is always respected, even if he is only four foot ten with a squint and a limp and no swordfighting skills whatsoever.

  It has to be admitted (reluctantly) that Snotlout fought with spectacular brilliance and bravery. His quick wrist made the Flashcut slip neatly in and out, hither and thither, beautifully performing the Destroyer's Defense, Grimbeard's Grapple, the Final Cut, and many, many more of the subtlest swordfighting skills. In the space of five minutes no fewer than three Outcasts lay dead around him,

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  all much larger and heavier than himself. This is a schoolboy record that stands to this day.

  I would love to say that Hiccup fought similarly splendidly. But I can't, because it wouldn't be true. Hiccup had dislocated his arm, remember, and his sword, the Stretchapoint, lay somewhere on the beach at the Isle of the Skullions. But Hiccup did what he could. With his quick left hand he picked a key out of Curly Horns's pocket while he fought Gobber the Belch. He used the key to unlock the chains of four or five Hooligans who had already been bound, ready for slavery, who then joined in the fight with the others.

  Toothless created an extra diversion when he spilled out of the barrel, dizzy and confused, and bit the first hairy leg that he saw. Which happened to belong to a grossly fat Outcast, who promptly dropped the flare he had been carrying right in the open barrel of black-currant wine.

  And Thor only knows what was IN that black-currant wine, but the entire barrel burst
into flames.

  The fire raged out of control.

  The sail burned furiously, and thick black smoke poured over the deck.

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  Everybody started jumping off the Lucky Thirteen in order to escape the flames.

  Stoick belly flopped into the sea, and splashed over to the Outcast boat, the Hammerhead, where the pitched battle was continuing. As he climbed over the side of the Hammerhead, he turned back to his son and shouted, "Come ON, Hiccup!"

  "Your f-f-f-father's right," panted Toothless, "w-w-we should go."

  Hiccup hesitated.

  Fishlegs was still aboard the Lucky Thirteen.

  He was in the grip of the Beserk trance, and was following Alvin, sword in hand, hoping to kill him.

  [Image: The Hammerhead.]

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  Alvin had turned back to fetch the treasure. "FISHLEGS!" yelled Hiccup desperately. "WE'VE GOT TO GET OFF THE BOAT!"

  But Fishlegs couldn't hear him.

  "FISHLEGS!" shouted Hiccup, hesitating some more. "IF WE DON'T GET OFF NOW WE MAY BE TOO LATE!"

  It was already too late.

  There was a mighty C-R-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-A-AA-K!!!!!! from above and the burning mast crashed into the sea.

  Stoick watched in horror from the deck of the Hammerhead as the Lucky Thirteen flipped over onto its back, trapping Hiccup, Fishlegs, Alvin and Toothless underneath it as it did so.

  It then sank before his eyes.

  And Stoick knew that this particular part of the ocean, despite being so close to the cliffs, was very, very deep, too deep even for lobster pots.

  "HIC-CUP!" yelled Stoick in despair.

  He knew that he would never see his son again.