You don’t have to read the Hiccup books in order.
But if you want to, this is the right order:

ABOUT HICCUP
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was
an awesome sword fighter, a dragon-whisperer,
and the greatest Viking Hero that ever lived.
But Hiccup’s memoirs look back to when
he was a very ordinary boy, and finding
it hard to be a Hero.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is
coincidental.

Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Cressida Cowell
Cover art © 2013 by Red Hansen
Cover design by Kristina Iulo
Cover © 2013 Hachette Book Group, Inc.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and
electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy
and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use materials from the book (other
than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at
permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Little, Brown and Company

Hachette Book Group
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The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

First ebook edition: December 2013

eISBN 978-0-316-33373-3

We have not yet seen Tomorrow. We have not yet
dared go there.
There was once a thriving city on the island of
Tomorrow. The flags of the Wilderwest flew bravely
from the towers of its hundred splendid castles. It was
a city built on the enslavement of men and of dragons
but, like many a city before and after it, it was a
handsome and glorious city nonetheless.
But a century ago, Grimbeard the Ghastly, the
Last King of the Wilderwest, did a truly dreadful thing.
Grimbeard’s son Hiccup Horrendous Haddock
the Second, with his dragon the Dragon Furious, was
leading a peaceful Dragon Petition to plead with his
father to end the misery of slavery. Grimbeard mistook
the Petition for Rebellion. He killed his very own son

11

by his very own sword, the Stormblade, and the blood
of his son was spilt on the seat of his very own Throne.
That was the beginning of the Curse upon the
Throne and the island of Tomorrow. The city was
destroyed by the dragon forces that had come at first
in peaceful protest. The hundred splendid castles
were burnt to the ground, and the Dragon Furious
was captured and bound in inescapable chains, in the
depths of a forest prison.
Grimbeard the Ghastly repented of his terrible
crime. He swore that there would never be a King
of the Wilderwest again, unless that King could be
a better man than he was. So Grimbeard created an
Impossible Task. He scattered ten of the King’s Things
to all the four corners of the distant earth.
Those Things would be guarded by monsters and
dragons most terrible. Only a true Hero could gather
the Things together, and lift the Curse and become the
next King of the Wilderwest.
In the unlikely event that there would ever be a
Hero great enough to gather together those Ten Lost
Things, the Hero could then be crowned, but only on
the twelfth day of Doomsday, known as the Doomsday
of Yule, which comes but once a year, and only on
the island of Tomorrow, on the stumps of the Throne

12

where Grimbeard’s son had died.
In the meantime, Grimbeard appointed human
and dragon Warriors to be Guardians on the ruined
island fortress of Tomorrow, so fearsome and so
terrible that they can barely be imagined. All will kill on
sight anyone illegally entering their territory.
Now the Archipelago needs a King more than
ever before. For the Dragon Furious has escaped from
that forest prison where Grimbeard the Ghastly once
enslaved him, and the Dragon is carrying out his own
Curse on the humans that he now hates. His intention
is to extinguish the entire human race.
And the Dragon Furious is winning. He has
torched the whole north of the Archipelago. The
humans have been forced to live in hiding-places
underground, for fear of the Dragon.
Nothing can stop the Dragon Furious now.
Nothing except for a new King, for a new King will be
told the secret of the Tenth Lost Thing, the Dragon
Jewel, a jewel that has the power to destroy dragons
forever.
There is only one time in the year that a possible
King is allowed to enter the territory of Tomorrow.
It is on one of the twelve mornings of the Twelve
Days of Doomsday.

13

Today it is midwinter, and the morning of the
ninth day of Doomsday.
Here he is now, the extraordinarily tall figure of a
lone Ferryman, rowing across from the dreadful island
of Tomorrow, across the little Causeway of Hero’s
Gap, to the mainland of the Murderous Mountains.
The Ferryman is the Druid Guardian of the island
of Tomorrow. He is blindfolded, and cannot take off
this blindfold until a new King of the Wilderwest is
crowned. The blindfold signifies his role as an impartial
and implacable Judge, and his absolute commitment to
his role as a Druid Guardian. But by some supernatural
agency, he seems able to sense that there is a figure,
with a little band of followers, waiting for him on the
beach. The figure is UG the Uglithug. His hope rises.
At last… in the nick of time… a Hero come to
claim the Kingdom!
For the Druid Guardian fears that the Dragon
Furious is very close to extinguishing the human race.
The Druid Guardian brings the boat to a
sludgy halt on the Singing Sands of the Beach of the
Ferryman’s Gift, and spreads wide his arms, and makes
the declaration, as his father, and his father’s father,
and his father’s father’s father have done every year
before him.

14

‘He-Or-She-Who-Would-Be-King, approach
Tomorrow if you dare! Only the One with the King’s
Lost Things can be crowned the King and live…’
And then he turns to UG the Uglithug, and asks
these solemn words.
‘Are you He-Who-Would-Be-King?’
UG replies, ‘I am.’
‘Are you the chosen representative of all the
Tribes of the Archipelago?’ asked the Druid Guardian.
UG nods.
‘Have you brought a gift for the Ferryman?’ asks
the Druid Guardian.
‘I have,’ replies UG the Uglithug.
The Druid Guardian says solemnly, but with
eager hope, ‘Then show me the Things.’
UG the Uglithug snaps his fingers to his followers,
and one by one they bring forward the Things.
They are: a fang-free dragon, Grimbeard’s
second-best sword, the Roman shield, an
arrow-from-the-land-that-does-not-exist, the heart’s
stone, the ticking-thing, the key, the Throne, the
Crown, the Dragon Jewel.
UG the Uglithug’s followers lay them out on the
beach before the Druid Guardian and retreat. The
Druid Guardian steps forward to examine the Things.

15

A long, long
time he spends,
picking up each Thing
with his long clever
fingers, taking care to
feel each individual
object from all angles, to
check whether it is right.
And then he steps
backwards. A grim note
enters his voice as he
declares: ‘These Things
are FAKES. The replica
of the toothless dragon is
particularly poor, and it
is unkind of you to
do such a thing to a
defenceless creature.

We will give it a
home on Tomorrow.’
(UG the Uglithug has
removed the teeth from a
poor little Trotterdragon in
order to pretend it is the real
toothless dragon from the Prophecy.)
UG the Uglithug turns as white
as a sheep’s fleece. ‘As for YOU, UG
the Uglithug,’ continues the Druid
Guardian, ‘know this. He who dares to
approach Tomorrow with a gift that is
unacceptable, dies a quick and horrible
death along with his followers.
‘ARISE, YOU GUARDIAN
PROTECTORS OF TOMORROW!
ARISE AND DO YOUR WORST!’

All around UG the Uglithug and his
followers on the beach, the sand begins to
bubble. And then the land gives birth to
creatures of unimaginable horror, huge and
terrible, screaming vengeance. There is no
time for reaction, no time for defence. UG
the Uglithug and his followers have no time
to see even what they are, whether they are
dragons or something worse.
These creatures take hold
of UG the Uglithug,
they take

hold of the followers, screaming and
struggling. They shoot upwards and
ever upwards, up into the sky, up and
up and up, into the clouds beyond, into
the choking freeze of ice and fire of the
upper atmosphere, and those people
are then no more. They will return to the
earth only as ash and purple rain.
Such is the vengeance of the
Guardians of Tomorrow on those who try
to approach their shore without the
correct Things.

The Druid Guardian sighs. He gently caresses the
head of the poor toothless Trotterdragon, reassuring it
softly that all will be well. He mutters to himself, ‘Two
more days… Only two more days for a Hero to arrive
and save us all.’
Wearily, he clambers back into his little boat. He
is not really expecting that right Hero to come, you
see. Why would he? This is a ritual that has taken place
every year for ninety-nine years and only the unworthy
have come. Wearily, the old man begins to row back to
Tomorrow.
He will call for a Hero to come and claim the
crown for two more days. If a Hero does not arrive on
the eleventh day, on Doomsday Eve, then it will be
too late. Grimbeard’s rules set down a century ago, are
inviolate. The borders of Tomorrow will close again,
until the following year.
And next year really WILL be too late. By then
the Dragon Furious will have grown too strong. This
year is their only chance.
A Hero must come to claim the Throne, with all
of the Lost Things, by the eleventh day of Doomsday…
… Or all is lost.

22

PROLOGUE BY HICCUP
HORRENDOUS HADDOCK III,
THE LAST OF THE GREAT
VIKING HEROES

These last two books of my memoirs take place over
only forty-eight hours, during the last two days of
Doomsday when I was fourteen years old, and I warn
you that they are the darkest and most terrifying, and
were the most difficult to write. For this was the time in
which I faced both Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Guardian
Protectors of Tomorrow, and the true might and anger
of the Dragon Furious.
This was the time in which the dragons faced
extinction.
At the beginning of this book, war has come to
the Archipelago, the dragons and the humans are trying
to obliterate each other, and I am being hunted down
by both the terrible dragons of the Dragon Rebellion,
and by the witch and Alvin the Treacherous.
I look back at that pale, skinny, fourteen-year-old
Boy-Who-Once-Was-Me, and I feel such anxiety for
him, for he does not yet know what is coming to him.
He is living through this dreadful war, so he has seen

25

death already, but he has not yet lost someone that he
loves. He is beginning to understand what it means to
bear the burden of the guilt and responsibility of being
a leader. But he has not yet accepted that burden as his
fate and his destiny.
Will he be able to save the dragons in the end?
I yearn to help him.
I want to reach out across the chasm of space and
stars and time and hold his hand to help him through
it. But of course he is living in the past, that distant
country, and however hard I shout, he will not hear me.
Now I am an old, old man, looking back on
my life, I can see the pattern and the reason for the
darkness of that time.
Great things are only made out of love and out of
pain.
A great sword must be made out of the very best
steel. But what truly makes the sword great, is what
happens to the sword after it is made.
We call this the ‘testing’ of the sword.
The sword is bashed and hammered and hollered
into shape by the bright hammer. It is thrust into the
fierce heat of the fire, where it softens, and then it is
quickly quenched in water, where it hardens again. The
higher the temperature, the fiercer the fire, the tougher

26

and the greater the sword eventually becomes.

The whole testing process can make a sword, or
break it.

The same could be said for the Making of a Hero.

1. YOUR MOTHER SAID NOT
TO LEAVE THE HIDEOUT

It was a chill and foggy night in the Murderous
Mountains.
A good night for treachery.
Humans should not have been out in the forests
of the Murderous Mountains in those times of war. If
the dragons of the Dragon Rebellion caught even one
hint that there were humans moving in the burnt trees
of those misty mountain passes, they would hunt them
down and kill them.
But somewhere deep in that forest, far away
from any aid, a terrified human voice was shrieking,
‘Help! Help! Help!’ and a little party of brave but
foolish humans and dragons had set out to offer their
assistance.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was
sitting on the back of a Deadly Shadow dragon, flying
so low over the treetops that every now and then the
slow downward beats of the dragon’s wings brushed
the scorched topmost twigs of the trees.
Deadly Shadow dragons are chameleons, and so
this beautiful three-headed dragon was exactly the
colour of the midnight sky, complete with stars slowly
shifting across its shining sides.
Hiccup’s knees were trembling with the effort to
keep a grip on the saddle.
Hiccup was a very
ordinary looking boy,
for one so sought after
by so many people. A
ragged little string-bean
of a teenager, his fire-suit
torn to ribbons, his face
bruised and scratched,
with the wild hair and
scared eyes of one
who had been
hunted by too

many for too long. War and exile hadturned him into a
scarecrow of a boy.
His sword was drawn, his ears ringing from the
piercing coldness of the biting wind – and he was
peering over the Deadly Shadow’s wing as it flew, his
heart beating horribly quick at the blackened wasteland
down below. He was trying to work out where that
piteously shrieking voice was coming from.
‘Help! Help! Help!’ screamed the voice, and
now they could see the little flaring light of a campfire,
burning deep in the woods, flickering
on and off like a firefly, or the
flickering of your curiosity.

No wonder Hiccup was nervous, for this was the
scorched, fire-ravaged territory of the Dragon Furious
and the Dragon Rebellion, and the Dragon Furious was
hunting more than anything for Hiccup, and Hiccup
alone. The Dragon Furious had made a solemn pledge
to turn this world to ashes looking for him.

34

He had sworn that no rock, no island, no cave nor
cliff would be a safe hiding-place for the boy. The
results of the Dragon Furious’s crazed lunatic hunt lay
in the melted, mutilated landscape around them, the
ragged corpses of the trees, the burnt remains of the
smashed-up cliffs.

‘Oh for Thor’s sake,’ whispered Hiccup’s best
friend Fishlegs, who was sitting behind him on the
Deadly Shadow.
Fishlegs was, if anything, even skinnier and more
ragged than Hiccup. His smashed glasses were perched
perilously on the end of his nose. ‘We could be torn
to pieces by the Dragon Rebellion! Your mother said
ON NO ACCOUNT TO LEAVE THE HIDEOUT,’
protested Fishlegs. ‘We just need to stay in hiding for
two more days, until Doomsday Eve, when we meet

the rest of the Dragonmarkers at the Singing Sands
of the Ferryman’s Gift. That’s ALL we need to do.
Your mother said she would take care of everything
else…’
‘But what if it were one of us
all alone out there in that forest?’
Hiccup argued.

‘You’re right,’ said Fishlegs, getting a good
trembling grip on his sword. ‘I know you’re right… It’s
just that it’s so scary…’
Hiccup and his two human friends were as white
as grubs, having not seen daylight for a month. This
was the first time they had been outside in all that time.
Their dragons had taken it in turns to venture out and
collect food and firewood. Now the Ten Companions
of the Dragonmark had crept out of the safety of their
hideout, at the sound of that distant, terrified human
voice.
As they swooped nearer to the little light, the
desperate sound of the human voice came closer and
closer, and it was impossible not to respond to the fear
in that voice. What could be happening to that human
to make them scream like that?
‘Help! Help! Help!’
A human calling out to another human cannot be
ignored.
Hiccup swallowed, looking down at the trees
below him. This was once a living breathing forest.
Now it was as still as death, scorched and burnt and
wasted by the intensity of the Dragon
Furious’s anger.

The third human on the Deadly Shadow’s back
was a small, fierce little Bog-Burglar called Camicazi.
Her hair looked like a family of over-excitable squirrels
had been having an all-night party in the back of it.
‘Oh come on, Fishlegs,’ whispered Camicazi,
whistling happily. ‘You know we have to do this.
Besides, I feel like a bit of exercise, we’ve been cooped
up in that hideout for way too long.’
Frankly, at this point, Camicazi had grown so fed
up that if Hiccup had suggested hang-gliding off the
toe-talons of the Dragon Furious she’d have been up
for it.

‘A bit of exercise?’
blustered Fishlegs. ‘A bit
of exercise? This is not
some kind of Viking
version of Girls Keep
Fit!’
Three little
hunting-dragons and
one riding-dragon
were flying just
above the Deadly
Shadow. Two of
the hunting-dragons
belonged to Hiccup: a
very old one, the Wodensfang,
with wings all tattered and torn, and a very young one,
Toothless, the smallest, naughtiest hunting-dragon
in the Archipelago. The third hunting-dragon was a
golden chameleon Mood-Dragon called Stormfly, and
she belonged to Camicazi.
The riding-dragon, the Windwalker, was a
long-limbed, gentle, raggedy creature. He wagged his
flag of a tail, hopefully waiting for everyone else to
decide what to do.
‘L-l-lets go home…’ wept Toothless, in

40

Dragonese, the language that dragons speak to one
another. Only Hiccup could understand him, for
Hiccup was a dragon-whisperer.
Toothless’s huge greengage eyes were
bulging wide in terror. He didn’t really care about
stranger-humans who didn’t belong to him. He just
wanted to go home, but he didn’t want to admit it in
front of Stormfly. Toothless was rather in love with
Stormfly, so tended to show off in her company.
‘Is too ch-ch-chilly to b-b-be outside…’ wept
Toothless.
Toothless had a stammer, but this was even more
pronounced because he was shivering so hard.
‘Well, I told you to wear your coat, Toothless,
didn’t I?’ Hiccup countered. ‘I told you, and told you!
But you said, oh no, you’d be too hot in your coat…’

‘That c-c-coat is s-s-sissy…’ Toothless objected.
‘And actually T-t-toothless n-n-not cold after all…
T-t-toothless very w-w-warm… but may be a little
t-t-too warm… Toothless needs to go back to the
hideout so he can c-c-cool down...’
The too-warm Toothless was in fact so cold he
had turned almost blue.
‘Is not because T-t-toothless scared of the
Dragon Rebellion dragons,’ huffed Toothless. ‘No
no NO. Toothless can fight Dragon Rebellion
dragons with one wing tied behind his back, yes I
can, Stormfly,’ he bragged. ‘Can’t I, Wodensfang?
And Toothless once b-b-bit the Dragon Furious SO
HARD on the bottom that he cried… But Toothless a
little bit hot and he’s got iffy wings… LOOK…’
Toothless held out his wing and made the end of
it go all floppy.
‘Flippy-floppy, flippy-floppy…’ cooed Toothless,

42

in a tone of tender self-consolation.
‘Yes, I’ve got a kind of tickly feeling in the back
of my throat myself,’ hissed Stormfly, batting her
naughty eyes. Stormfly spoke in Norse, for she was one
of the very rare dragons who could speak the human
tongue. ‘Maybe we should go back and have a little lie
down… maybe I should go back and get Toothless’s
coat… I think you look quite cute in your coat,
Toothless.’
‘Ooh, do you?’ said Toothless, re-thinking the
coat.
‘Nonsense, you’ll feel all the better for some nice
night air,’ scolded Camicazi. ‘It’s probably indigestion
in your case, Stormfly. You’ve got to stop swallowing
those squirrels whole.’
‘INDIGESTION?’ huffed Stormfly, outraged.
Her beautiful serpentine body was currently purple
(the colour she turned when she lied), but as she grew

43

angry, a haze of black mist fanned outwards from her
heart, like a cloud of ink slowly spreading through
water. ‘INDIGESTION? I am an artist, a free spirit…
I go where the wind takes me… Free spirits do not get
indigestion…’
‘I think I should warn you that this might be
a trap, set for you by Alvin and his followers the
Alvinsmen,’ warned the Wodensfang in a wheezy
whisper.
The Wodensfang was a wrinkled brown leaf of a
dragon who looked a little like a decrepit, droopy little
dachshund that had shrivelled like a raisin. His ears
had gone purple and were shivering, which was what
always happened when DANGER was near.
‘Take the advice of my
thousand years, Hiccup,’ said
Wodensfang. ‘That light is
behaving very strangely if it
is a campfire. I’ve never seen
a campfire that moves… not
in a thousand years
I haven’t.’

The Wodensfang was right.
The campfire was moving, slowly, slowly, down
the length of the valley. Sometimes it was extinguished
entirely by the heavy, shifting fog, or snuffed out by the
denseness of the thickets of trees. But then it would
flicker into life again, slow-ly and steadily, just a lit-tle
bit further down.
A campfire that moved?
Surely that was impossible!
The human voice had stopped shouting now.
Somehow that was even more petrifying. Had its owner
been snuffed out and swallowed by whatever terrors
might lurk in this still, scarred landscape?
They were catching up with the light; it was
bigger and brighter and stronger, and Hiccup could
catch that distinctive smell of campfire in his nostrils.
They were now following the river that wound its
way like a sinister sleeping snake through the centre of
the gorge.
The river turned a corner. And there it was…
A campfire, burning on an island of ice that was
moving swiftly in the current in the centre of the river.
Lying on his front on the island of ice was
a human, chained to a sleeping riding-dragon, a
Hurricane, with scars and whip marks all along its side.

45

Hiccup could see immediately why this human
had been screaming. Running along the riverbanks,
flitting through the trees, were the dark shapes of a

gigantic pack of Wolf-fangs. The human must have
been camping on some frozen lake upriver, and the
ice had broken up in the night, and carried him on
his little raft downstream, where his scent was picked
up by Wolf-fangs. Wolf-fangs were neutral dragons,
thank Thor, not part of the Rebellion. They
were wingless, but persistent killers
nonetheless.

Some of them were already in the water, silently
trying to climb on the raft, evil tongues hanging out,
and the human was desperately knocking them back
with his sword.
Well, that explained why the human had been
screaming.
But why had he stopped screaming?
And why were those Wolf-fangs, scrabbling to
get on board that ice-raft, pursuing their prey without
howling, without making a sound?
Oh for Thor’s sake, oh for Thor’s sake…
The human had stopped screaming because
there was Something Else camped out overnight along
the riverbank, a lot of Something Elses that were still
sleeping there, and these Something Elses were much
worse than the Wolf-fangs.
With a sort of horror, Hiccup realised that what
he thought had been fallen tree trunks lying just below
the waterline in the rushes, in the shallows, weren’t tree
trunks at all.
They were Razorwings and Tonguetwisters,
Brainpickers and Savagers, some of the scariest dragon
species of the Dragon Rebellion.
And there weren’t just a few of them, either.
There were Dragon Rebellion dragons submerged all
along the riverbanks as far as the eye could see.

48

All around, in the shallows, were the still,
sleeping, panther-like shapes of the dragons cooling
their furnace-like bodies in the ice-cold currents of the
river. A sickly, sulphurous yellowy-green mist curled its
way up from their bodies as the heat of their scales met
the chill of the water.
One huge Savager was gnawing at the ragged
remains of a gigantic tree in his sleep, a tree torn
violently and entirely out of the ground, its poor
tender roots spilled out like a desecration. Another, a
Brainpicker, was holding the pathetic remnants of a
bloodied human coat that Hiccup sincerely hoped did
not belong to a Dragonmarker.
Their dark sinister shapes oozed with menace and
fear.
Hiccup urged the Deadly Shadow downwards,
trying to catch up with the poor terrified human on the
ice-raft moving swiftly down the river below them.
Three pairs of human eyes and seven pairs of
dragon eyes squinted down through the mist to look
at the human laid out full length on his stomach on
the moving island of ice, bashing away at the noses of
Wolf-fangs trying to climb on board his raft and drag
him under.
It was a man. A young man.

49

A young man who had lost hope that anyone
would rescue him now, and you could see from his
defeated, terrified face that he thought he was about to
die.
Hiccup caught his breath in shock as he
recognised the human.
It was Snotlout.

2. ‘WE WERE JUST
WONDERING WHOSE SIDE
YOU ARE ON?’

Hiccup was as shocked to see Snotlout there as
if someone had hit him suddenly in the stomach.
Snotlout was Hiccup’s cousin, and he had been
Hiccup’s enemy ever since Hiccup had been born.
When they last saw Snotlout on the battlefield
back in the Amber Slavelands, Snotlout was trying to
decide whether to be on on their side, or the side of
Alvin and the witch. So which side had he chosen?
It appeared that Camicazi and Fishlegs thought
they knew the answer to that question already.
‘Let’s get back to the hideout,’ whispered
Camicazi in disgust.
Fishlegs sighed. ‘I’m afraid I agree.’
‘Hang on a second!’ whispered Hiccup. ‘We can’t
just GO HOME and leave Snotlout here!’
Fishlegs looked at Hiccup with the hollow eyes
of someone who has been on the run from the Dragon
Rebellion for too long.
‘Hiccup,’ said Fishlegs, ‘I don’t think that
Snotlout will have chosen to be on the Dragonmarker

51

side. He is a lying, two-faced, treacherous villain who
has betrayed you more times than I can remember, and
he is almost certainly working for the Alvinsmen.’
‘People can change!’ said Hiccup, his eyes lit up
with enthusiasm. ‘You have to believe in people and
then maybe they can change!’
Fishlegs kept count on his fingers. ‘Let’s see.
He tried to kill you back in that Swordfighting at Sea
lesson. He tried to kill you when we were on Hysteria
that time. He threw the stone that revealed you had
the Slavemark back in the School of Swordfighting…
He just keeps betraying you again and again.’
‘This time it’s going to be different,’ whispered
Hiccup optimistically. ‘This time I’m sure he’s
changed… I’m convinced of it.’
‘If you try and save Snotlout,’ warned the
Wodensfang, looking very nervous, ‘you will put us
all in peril. By being kind to Snotlout, you may be
endangering the lives of those who are loyal to you,
who have never betrayed you. Sometimes kindness
can be cruelty. These are the kind of difficult
decisions that a Leader has to make.’
Oh, thank you Wodensfang. Very helpful. I may
have mentioned this before, but: Most of us are lucky
not to be Kings and Heroes, because we do not have to
make the choices that Kings and Heroes have to make.

52

~ STATISTICS ~

FEAR FACTOR: ..................... 9
ATTACK: .............................. 8
SPEED: ................................ 8
SIZE: ................................... 7
DISOBEDIENCE: ................... 7

These are very unpleasant dragons with
wings so razor-sharp they can decapitate
their victims in a heartbeat. Razorwings can
turn themselves as flat as a spinning blade,
and for good measure, they are also armed
with darts that are mildly poisonous.

~ STATISTICS ~

FEAR FACTOR: ..................... 0
ATTACK: .............................. 1
SPEED: ................................ 2
SIZE: ................................... 2
DISOBEDIENCE: ................... 1

Hogflys are very gentle and eager to please,
however they are one of the stupidest
dragon species in the entire dragon world.
They do, however, have an extraordinary
sense of smell, so they can make very good
tracker or scent-dragons, if you can
overcome their profound stupidity.

The ice-raft creaked as one of the Wolf-fangs
tipped it. Was it Hiccup’s imagination, or did the
dragons submerged along the edges of the riverbanks
move too, at the sound of that groaning ice?
At that moment, Hiccup noticed a very small,
very ugly, miniature scent-dragon sleeping innocently
beside Snotlout and the Hurricane on the ice. It looked
like a happy little pig. It was called a Hogfly, and
Hogflys are the stupidest, most good-natured dragons
in the entire world.
Nine pairs of eyes, dragon and human, looked at
Hiccup anxiously. Hiccup loved his friends. It was his
responsibility to keep them safe. But he couldn’t leave
a fellow human being, even if he was on the other side,
let alone a poor scarred riding-dragon and a sweet,
stupid little Hogfly, to a horrible fate at the talons of
the dragons of the Dragon Rebellion.
‘Let’s save him,’ whispered Hiccup. ‘Let’s save
him!’
‘Oh brother,’ moaned Fishlegs. ‘I know you’re
right, but oh brother…’
‘We’ll have to try and rescue him from above,’
said Hiccup. ‘I’ll get the Deadly Shadow flying directly
above the ice-raft, and then Camicazi can let down a
rope for Snotlout to climb up.’

55

‘Let me just say that I completely disagree with
this decision!’ whispered Camicazi fiercely. ‘This is
MADNESS! This is CRAZY!
You’ve really lost the
plot now, Hiccup, you
Hooligan half-wit…’
In one of her
instant, bewildering
turns of mood, she
drew her sword.
‘I’d better
go down there,’
she resolved.

Before anyone could stop her, Camicazi tied
a rope to the Deadly Shadow’s saddle and lowered
herself until she was hovering above the ice-island like
a little black spider.
‘Was that part of the plan?’ Fishlegs asked.
‘Suffering scallops, no… Camicazi!’ Hiccup
hissed. ‘Get back up here!’
But Bog-Burglars can be surprisingly deaf when
they want to be.
‘Ask him whose side he’s on!’ Fishlegs whispered
down helpfully from above.
Camicazi dangled from the rope below the
Deadly Shadow dragon just above Snotlout’s head.
Holding on to the rope with one hand and stringing her
bow with the other, she shot a Wolf-fang one-handed
(one of Camicazi’s more show-offy moves).
‘Hello there,’ she said cheerily to Snotlout.
‘Hiccup thinks we should help you, but what Fishlegs
want to know is, whose side are you on? Because if
you’re on the side of the Alvinsmen, I just want to
leave you to it…’
Snotlout was busy fighting off the Wolf-fangs,
but he whipped round his head in amazement as he
heard this voice coming out of nowhere, and let out a
small, surprised noise of astonishment.

57

Camicazi gave Snotlout a little, soothing wave,
and her biggest, brightest smile. Snotlout goggled at
her, for she appeared to be dangling in mid-air, and for
a second he thought he was seeing things. But then,
pointing a shaking finger at the terrifying sight of the
dragons sleeping in the riverbanks, he mouthed
with dazed relief: ‘HELP ME… but be quiet…’
Camicazi ignored this, talking in
her perfectly normal voice. ‘Yes, that’s
interesting you should ask that, because
we were just wondering whether
to help you or not,’ explained
Camicazi, swaying chattily
above him.

‘For Thor’s sake,
you little Bog-Burglar
madwoman… those are
Dragon Rebellion dragons...
Have you seen what those
dragons have done to this
forest? And if they wake up they
could call the Dragon Furious…’

Camicazi dropped
down from the rope and landed
like a little cat on the ice-raft beside
Snotlout.
‘You haven’t answered the
question,’ said Camicazi. ‘Whose
side are you on?’

Snotlout made a frustrated inarticulate gurgling
noise, as he bashed away at the paw of a grinning
Wolf-fang who had nearly made it on to the raft.
‘OK,’ he rasped, ‘I’m on YOUR side! Most definitely on YOUR
side! Indisputably on YOUR side! I came up here to find you so I could take you
to the witch’s camp so that you can find the rest of the Lost Things…’
‘He says he’s on OUR side!’ Camicazi shouted
up. ‘But I wouldn’t trust him further than I could throw
him.’
‘I told you!’ whispered Hiccup from above. ‘But
keep it down a bit, Camicazi…’
‘Are you quite sure that we should save him?’ said
Camicazi wistfully. ‘He really is not very nice.’
‘Can’t you speak quietly, you horrible little Bog-Burglar…’ hissed
Snotlout. ‘Uh-oh…’
‘Uh-oh…’ said Hiccup.
‘Uh-oh?’ groaned Fishlegs, who had covered his
face with his hands in his horror. ‘What do you mean,
uh-oh? UH-OH is never good. Please take back that
uh-oh, and give me, instead, a hearty, relieved hoorah.
I hardly dare ask, but what’s wrong?’
‘The Hogfly,’ Hiccup explained. ‘I think the
Hogfly is waking up…’
‘Well, what’s wrong with that?’ Fishlegs
whispered back. ‘Hogflys aren’t dangerous.’

60

Too late.
The Hogfly woke up with three wet, splashing
sneezes. It bounced up from the stomach of the
sleeping Hurricane and shot out its wings so it hung
in the air, buzzing like a fat pink bumblebee, its curly
pink tail wagging vigorously as it looked to the left and
right.
‘Woof! Woof! WOOF!’ barked the happy Hogfly.
The Hogfly was so stupid it thought it was a dog.
Was there a stiffening of the Dragon Rebellion

dragons all along the riverbank at the sound of that
last, jolly little bark?
‘Hogfly!’ Hiccup whispered down to the Hogfly.
‘Yoo-hoo!’ the Hogfly called back, waving an
exuberant pink trotter.
‘I can se-e-e-e-ee you! Hello Grandma! Where’s
the toothbrush?’
It buzzed back and forth, its snout snuffling up
and down.
And this time there was a definite quiver from
the Dragon Rebellion dragons all along the riverbank,
limbs moving, eyes on the edge of opening.
‘OOOOOh!’ sang the Hogfly, its little snout
trembling in excitement as it recognised Hiccup’s
scent. ‘I KNOW THAT SMELL! I WAS LOOKING
FOR YOU! I WAS TRACKING YOU!’ shouted the
Hogfly, and to Hiccup’s anxious ears, that shout was
about as quiet and peaceful as the honking bellow
of his old teacher, Gobber the Belch, umpiring a
Bashyball game, or the love-call of a Giant Walrus-bog
calling out to another love-sick Walrus-bog across a
mile or two of ice floes.
‘Me and the Human-with-the-Big-Nose were
playing a game and I was looking for you, tracking

you all the way up the river! Look,
Human-with-the-Big-Nose!’ sang
the Hogfly triumphantly to Snotlout,
pointing at Hiccup with all four of its
trotters. ‘I’VE FOUND HIM! I’VE
FOUND HIM! I’D KNOW THAT
SMELL ANYWHERE!’
‘Can’t you shut that thing up?’ hissed
Snotlout, bug-eyed with terror.
‘Hogfly!’ Hiccup whispered
down from the Deadly Shadow’s
back. ‘Well done, clever you, but we’re
playing a DIFFERENT game now… a
very DIFFERENT game… The new game is the
“Being-as-Quiet-as-Possible” game… It’s a really fun
one. Will you play with us?’
‘OOoh, I’ll play!’ squeaked the Hogfly. ‘Let ME
play! Look at me playing!’
‘Quiet as possible… quiet as possible…’
reminded Hiccup, putting a finger up to his mouth.
‘Ssshhhh…’
The Hogfly concentrated very hard, clamped its
little mouth shut and held its breath, turning purple
until it had swelled to almost three times the size,
before deflating suddenly with a loud POP!
And opening its eyes again in surprise.

63

‘Pardon me… Is it your birthday? I WON!’
squealed the Hogfly.
‘Yes yes yes yes yes…’ whispered Hiccup, looking
nervously at the edge of the river. ‘But remember, quiet
as possible… quiet as possible…’
‘Quiet as possible…’ repeated the Hogfly
good-naturedly. ‘Tee hee hee… this is a very funny
game.’
It concentrated very hard again, holding its
breath, and hovering in the air, and swelling, two, three
times. Hiccup bent down from the back of the Deadly
Shadow, and tried to catch it, for it was floating within
arm’s reach, but just as he made a grab for it…
POP!
The Hogfly deflated again, zooming out of the
reach of Hiccup’s outstretched arm, and tumbling
around in circles in the air, shrieking with giggles.
‘PARDON ME! How’s your father! I WON!
I WON! I WON!’
The revolting
Dragon Rebellion
dragons were moving
restlessly in their sleep.
The Hogfly
fluttered innocently up
to one grisly little group:

64

a Tonguetwister with its giant hairy tongue hanging
out, a Brainpicker with its ‘pick’ fixed into the head
of a poor dead badger and a Razorwing sleeping low
and evil in the shallows like a lurking velociraptor, its
body submerged but its razorsharp wings skimming the
shallows.
Happy and giggly and bustly, the Hogfly ignored
Hiccup’s strangled cries of: ‘Hogfly!
Come back here, Hogfly!’
‘Ooh!’ it squeaked
in delighted confusion,
‘you all look so
lovely! How am I to
choose which one of
you to be my friend?’
It perched on
the sinister swoop of the
Razorwing’s nose.
‘Where’s my biscuit? Are you married? Be my
valentine… ’
‘I can’t bear to watch…’ groaned Fishlegs,
It was like seeing an enthusiastic bunny
rabbit trying to make friends with a heavily armed,
bunny-eating cobra.

65

The Razorwing did not open its eyes.
But slowly, slowly, slowly, its jaws opened a tiny,
tiny crack.
And out of the jagged crook of its mouth, like the
noise from a ventriloquist’s dummy, came a horrible,
screechy little croaking voice, speaking very, very softly:

‘Ooh that’s a nice song,’ said the Hogfly, ever
polite, but suddenly a little nervous and
confused,
for the
song of the
Red-Rage is
not a nice song
at all.

66

And all around the riverbanks, the other Dragon
Rebellion dragons did not open their eyes but their
mouths, and in similar croaky voices they joined in this
disgusting robotic chant.

‘Oh brother… oh brother…’ whispered Fishlegs.
‘Here we go… this is going to be bad…’
The dragons began the chant again, louder this
time.
And…
SNAP!
The eyelid of the Razorwing snapped open, and
the eyeball of the Razorwing fixed on the Hogfly with a
thoughtful gaze just about as kindly and as reasonable
as the stare of a great white shark.

The Tonguetwister dragon opened its eyes
simultaneously, and stretched out its long, repulsively
thick and hairy tongue towards the Hogfly’s frantically
blurring wings, hoping to twist one of them off. I am
sorry, but it’s true.
Slowly, slowly, the cavernous jaws of the
Razorwing opened to their widest extent, to reveal two
little poison darts lurking like little evil gnats in the
fire-holes at the back of its throat.
This time, when the chant got to the part about
‘torching the humans like a wood’, the poor stupid
little Hogfly finally realised what was happening. These
dragons were not friendly or nice dragons at all. In fact
they were quite the opposite.

His expression of
good-natured bewilderment
turned instantly to absurd alarm.
His jaunty little tail uncurled in
drooping dismay as he backed
away, whimpering, ‘Sorry,
uncle… Where’s the exit?
Did someone sneeze?
Bite the bullet!
ABANDON SHIP!’

Swooping
down invisibly
on the back
of the Deadly
Shadow, Hiccup
snatched the Hogfly out
of the air, put him in his
backpack and soared upwards
again immediately.
In the absolute nick of time, for:
ZING! ZING!
Little electric-yellow and ink-black darts
whizzed over their heads as the Razorwing exhaled
swiftly from his fire-holes.

70

The only good thing that happened
then, was that the Wolf-fangs stopped attacking the
ice-raft. At the first sign that the Rebellion had woken
up, the Wolf-fangs sprinted away and melted back
into the darkness of the mutilated forest, while the
ones that were in the river, with their snouts over the
edge of the raft, sank back down into the water and
scattered like fish. They knew trouble when they saw it.
Snotlout was not grateful to see the Wolf-fangs
disappearing. But then again, gratitude had never been
Snotlout’s strong point.
‘What are you doing, you jellyfish-brained
IDIOTS? Is this your idea of rescuing someone? You’ve
woken up the Dragon Rebellion dragons!’ he hissed
in horrified disbelief. ‘And they’re going to fetch the
Dragon Furious!’
The situation spiralled out of control with
terrifying rapidity.
The dragons came out of their frozen sleeping
stillness at the edges of the river into wild, frenzied life.
The hideous chant of the Dragon Rebellion exploded
around the young Vikings as the little ice-raft holding

71

Snotlout, Camicazi and the sleeping Hurricane dragon
sped downstream. The excruciating pitch and loudness
of their battle hymn became in itself, a form of attack.
Screeching like harpies, the dragons screamed at
decibel levels that were painful to the ears.
‘Rapids…’ breathed Hiccup in horror, looking
down at the churning, foaming water, and the sharp
evil-looking rocks ahead of Snotlout and Camicazi
pointing upwards like devil’s incisors.
And even worse, there was a distant booming,
roaring sound, clearly audible in the still night air. What
was that noise, that warning rumble like the beginning
of a thunderstorm?
Oh, for Thor’s sake.
Hiccup suddenly remembered that when this
particular river got to the ocean, it fell off the cliff in a
gigantic waterfall that was the largest in the
Archipelago.
‘The waterfall!’ yelled
Hiccup, because there was no
point trying to be quiet now.
‘YOU HAVE TO GET
OFF THAT ICE-RAFT
BEFORE YOU HIT THE
WATERFALL!’

3. PLAN GOING WRONG

The dragons of the Dragon Rebellion attacked with
full mind-numbing force, their chant at an unbearable
pitch, diving, swooping, shrieking, shooting poison
darts, and terrible fire, and shocking bolts of exploding
lightning.
Camicazi and Snotlout fired arrows at the
swooping horrors as they clung desperately to the tilting
island of ice, bucking and speeding madly down the
river like an out of control sleigh ride. Inexplicably,
Hurricane, the riding-dragon, was still fast asleep.
The roar of the waterfall downstream got louder
and louder, growing into a great watery din of noise,
and even in the night air they could see a billowing mist
of spray swelling up above the forest ahead, like clouds
from a smoking volcano.
The waterfall was very close now. One more bend
and they would be rocketing over the edge.
Hiccup and Fishlegs caused chaos and confusion
by shooting at the attacking dragons from the back of
the all-but-invisible Deadly Shadow. But the dragons
were attacking in such nightmare numbers that it would
be mere minutes before they overwhelmed the raft.
NE-OOOOW! Another Razorwing leapt from the

73

rocky riverbank, and landed with an evil vulture grin
and a scrape of razored wings on the other end of the
ice-island, tipping it downwards so violently that it was
practically submerged.
‘This plan’s going really wrong…’ whispered
Camicazi as the Razorwing prepared to leap and slice
and— BAM!
The bucking, jostling island of ice slammed into a
rock and shattered into pieces…

catapulting Camicazi, Snotlout, the Razorwing and the
Hurricane into the numbing cold of the river.
The freezing shock of the water woke the
Hurricane at last. With a screech of alarm the poor
creature started swimming, trying to disentangle its wet
wings in the chaos of the raging rapids.

Snotlout was still attached to
Hurricane by a long chain, and
so he was dragged behind the
panicking riding-dragon,
buffeted over and over, and
half-drowned by the water.
Like an untidy
scarecrow, Fishlegs
valiantly jumped from the
Deadly Shadow on to
Windwalker’s back so
that he could

help try and catch Camicazi. Hiccup urged the
Deadly Shadow on, and Fishlegs flew Windwalker
down through the hail of Razorwing darts towards the
blonde head of Camicazi bobbing in the river.
‘DOWN, SHADOW! DOWN!’ Hiccup shouted.
The triple-headed Deadly Shadow swooped…
… and missed, as a manic surge of water swept
Camicazi out of the dragon’s reaching talons.
ROOOOOOOARRR!
The sound of thousands and thousands of
tons of gushing river water tumbling into a
waterfall was absolutely terrifying, and it was
just below them now.
The river rushed over the edge in a
flooding, crashing tumult.
Just the second before she was
swept over, Camicazi got one little
monkey hand around the rope
dangling from the Deadly
Shadow above and was lifted
clear of the deluge.
But the Hurricane
went plunging
over, plummeting
downwards, and

Snotlout and Hurricane would have crashed
to their deaths on the rocks below if the
Hurricane had not dragged its wings out of
the water in the nick of time. Screaming, the
Hurricane soared upwards, yanking Snotlout
with him.
Fishlegs steered Windwalker beneath
the dangling Camicazi, and she dropped on
to Windwalker’s back in mid-air. He then flew
Windwalker alongside the Hurricane, and
Camicazi jumped across on to the Hurricane’s
back so that she could heave the dangling
Snotlout up on the chains and into the saddle.
The three dragons now wheeled about,
and the Deadly Shadow shot back upriver
towards the hideout
in the mountains,
closely followed by
Windwalker, and
the terrified snorting
Hurricane, and a pack of
howling, murderous Dragon
Rebellion dragons, driven
mad by the arrow attack and
sensing a meal on the horizon.

They didn’t have long to get back to safety.
And now Hiccup heard a sound that really chilled
his blood.
This was far worse than a mere waterfall. It was a
distant, screaming, baying bawl, the inevitable result of
the awful chant of the Red-Rage.
It was the roar of the Dragon Furious.
One of the Dragon Rebellion dragons must have
flown up to his stronghold in the north, and awoken
him. Even at this distance Hiccup could just make out
the words:
‘HE MUST NEVER GROW UP! I WILL
HUNT HIM DOWN! I WILL SWOOP FROM
THE HEAVENS AND OBLITERATE HIM!’
By ‘him’ the Dragon Furious was referring to
Hiccup.
Far away to the north, out of that ice and that
fire, those volcanic bubbling pools, there rose a dark
shape so unimaginably large that it blotted out the
moon. Each beat of its immense dark wings took it
across a vast extent of territory at astonishing speed
as it headed south, straight towards them in the
Murderous Mountains, its eyeballs leaking fire, and
its great mouth screaming murder and butchery and
everything awful.

79

‘We need to make it back to the hideout, now!’
Hiccup yelled hysterically.
There were so many dragons of the Dragon
Rebellion that they looked like a mass of
thunderclouds, or a plague of locusts, thousands
and thousands and thousands strong.
They were flying so close to one another
that every now and then the Razorwings
accidentally sliced the head off any
dragons flying next to them, and scaly
heads dropped randomly into the
gorge, still screaming and
shooting fire or lightning or
poison arrows.

Hiccup let the Deadly Shadow steer while he
lay backwards on his tummy like a rear-gunner, firing
arrows continuously at the pursuing Dragon Rebellion,
trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally hit Fishlegs
on Windwalker, or Snotlout and Camicazi on the
Hurricane.
The flying conditions were extraordinarily
difficult: the shifting fog, the zig-zagging, twisting
gorge, and spindly needle-like rock-formations looming
up unexpectedly out of the mist. It was a little like
shooting rapids in the air.
Luckily Windwalker, the Deadly Shadow and
the Hurricane were some of the fastest riding-dragons
in the Barbaric World – only a Silver Phantom flies
faster – so they just about kept ahead of the screaming,
spitting, howling horror of the Dragon Rebellion in
pursuit. Hiccup tried not to listen to the deeper, darker
threat in the background, the great winged shape of
the Dragon Furious, whose ferocious bellow was even
louder than the Red-Rage. Furious sailed nearer and
nearer, like a great hunting owl of the night-time,
swooping down on some little mice who have
incautiously left their mousehole for a second.
‘I WILL TEAR THE WORLD APART IN
THE HUNT FOR HIM! I WILL KILL
HIM MYSELF!’

82

Windwalker and the Deadly
Shadow rounded a corner and with
passionate relief, Hiccup saw a
gigantic spur of rock looming out of
the fog, right in front of them.
High up on a pointed pinnacle,
with a breathtaking view over the entire
surrounding landscape, there was a tree
balanced so precariously on a cliff-top
that it was almost in the act of falling
off. And beneath the tangled roots of this
tree, there was the underground treehouse
camp so secret, and so well hidden, there
were barely half a dozen beings alive in the
world that were aware of its existence.
Alvin the Treacherous would have
given his very best hook to know where that
underground treehouse was. The Dragon
Furious, too, had his dragons hunting high and
low for it, day and night.
It had once been the underground hideout
that Fishlegs’s mother, Termagant, had made long
ago when she was a little girl growing up in the
Murderous Mountains. The Deadly Shadow, who
had previously been Termagant’s dragon, had shown

83

it to them, and Hiccup and his friends had
been hiding there waiting to meet up with
the Dragonmarkers on Doomsday Eve.
Hiccup had never been so glad to
see the hideout.
He hauled on the reins and
brought the Deadly Shadow to a
sudden, plunging halt in the air.
‘Take the others to the
underground treehouse and I’ll hold
up the Dragon Rebellion!’ Hiccup
shouted to Fishlegs as he rocketed past on the back
of the Windwalker. Thor knows how much Fishlegs
heard at the speed he was going.
The Hurricane zoomed after Fishlegs on
Windwalker in a maddened stream of terror. Hiccup
braced himself. He had six arrows lined up on the
Deadly Shadow’s back, and he fixed one to his bow
with trembling fingers. Hiccup had the advantage of
the Deadly Shadow’s invisibility, so that the Dragon
Rebellion dragons would not know where his arrows
were coming from.
Timing was everything.
The first Dragon Rebellion dragons plunged
around the corner, and Hiccup let fly one, two, three,

84

four, five, six arrows.
With a shriek of shock, the first dragon, a
Razorwing, was hit. It went spiralling into the pack
behind, and then plummeted down into the gorge.
There was a brief, squalling moment of confusion.
But it was enough. By the time the pack had righted
themselves and recovered their concentration, their
prey had disappeared.
Windwalker, the Hurricane and their riders
had vanished down the entrance to the underground
treehouse, and the Dragon Rebellion, drooling and

enraged, could not see Hiccup hovering only twenty
feet away from them on the back of the Deadly
Shadow, which had reared up to conceal its rider. The
Razorwings swam in the air, barking at each other, and
eventually set off further down the gorge, where they
supposed the prey must have gone.
Hiccup breathed again.
And then it happened.

4. TWO RED EYES,
SUSPENDED IN THE AIR

There were two red eyes, suspended in the air, right in
front of where the Deadly Shadow was hovering.
Red eyes, narrowed to slits, with the pupils
slightly shivering.
Hiccup blinked, his brain unable to comprehend
the sight of two red eyes floating before him.
In the heat of the Dragon Rebellion chase he had
forgotten that the humans – Alvin the Treacherous and
his mother, Excellinor the witch – were also looking for
Hiccup, and the witch was using Vampire Spydragons
to hunt and spy for her.

Hiccup had never seen a Vampire Spydragon before,
but he knew they were chameleons that could turn
every part of themselves invisible – apart from their
glowing red eyes.
Slowly the rest of the Vampire Spydragon
materialised around those two red eyes hovering in
front of Hiccup.

It was a ghastly shrieking creature, with the head
of a vampire bat and the body of an enormous monkey.
For one second Hiccup saw this vision, and then
there was a searing pain in his left arm. He looked
down in confusion, as if it were happening to someone
else, to see the head of the Vampire Spydragon
attached to his arm.
The creature did not have time to latch on
properly with its clamping jaws before the Deadly
Shadow turned its head and tore the Vampire
Spydragon off Hiccup, throwing the bloodsucker into
the air like a dog tearing a rat off its back.

One second the screaming monster was visible
– the next it faded into invisibility again, red eyes
descending into the gorge.
Before Hiccup could move, or think, the flames
of the Dragon Furious reached the forest.
‘I WILL HUNT HIM DOOOOOOOWNNN!’
A great horizontal wall of fire blasted across
the night sky with such white-hot heat that it sheared
off the top of the mountain behind the underground
treehouse. The entire summit, tons and tons of rock
and boulders, plummeted into the gorge below.
The three mouths of the Deadly Shadow

screamed simultaneously as the fire poured on and
on over their heads, and in a few swift flaps it shot
through the ivy-draped entrance to the underground
treehouse.
Just in time.
‘He’s been hit… he’s been hit…’ Hiccup
heard a shaking Fishlegs say as he helped
Hiccup down from the Deadly Shadow's
back, and because Hiccup was nearly
fainting it sounded like Fishlegs
was talking from a long
distance away.

Outside,
the Dragon Furious, full
of vengeful hope, finally
reached the place where the
boy had last been seen. But his prey
had disappeared, and Furious had been
robbed of his victory once again.
The Dragon Furious exploded in an
Armageddon of anger, and as the Dragon
Rebellion’s fires of rage torched the battered
remains of the landscape below, a trembling
Toothless, Stormfly and Hogfly flattened
themselves against the walls of the hideout around
the entrance. Wodensfang popped his little ancient
head above the hole to peer out, and swiftly ducked
down again.
‘He won’t find us in here,’ wheezed
Wodensfang, trying to reassure himself as much as
anyone else. ‘He won’t find us… He’s hunted us
before and he won’t find us now…’

But it was difficult to stay calm as the Red-Rage
Rebellion struck, relentlessly terrible and unremitting.
They could hear the burning and the crackling and the
shrieking as the forest went up in flames again, and
the wood shrivelled up like paper, and the little forest
creatures screamed as they fled the inferno.
‘Camicazi…’ panted Hiccup. ‘Where is
Camicazi?’
‘Hang on, Hiccup, you’re wounded…’ Fishlegs
was winding something around Hiccup’s arm. ‘Hang
on…’
But Hiccup ignored him and staggered into the
underground treehouse’s second room. Camicazi was
not there.
Hiccup limped back through the rooms again
and tried to climb the ladder up to the hole of the
entrance, only to be blown back, almost like he had
been punched in the face by a fist of heat. The wall of
flame was so burning hot that it seared the skin, even a
few feet into the room.
The Wodensfang shook his head gently.
‘You can’t go out there, Hiccup, not at the
moment…’
‘But we have to go after her!’ panted Hiccup.
‘Not now, Hiccup…’
‘Where has she gone?’ asked Fishlegs with round,

95

solemn, horrified eyes.
‘She was taken,’ said a voice from behind them.
There on the floor, still attached to the Hurricane
by a long chain, lay Snotlout, his face hidden in
shadow. He repeated the same words, in the same
dead flat voice. ‘She was taken.’
‘What do you mean, “taken”?’ asked Fishlegs.
Hiccup already knew what Snotlout was going
to say.
A horrible lightning image of the Vampire
Spydragon with the red eyes flashed into Hiccup’s
mind. It seemed to be laughing
at him.
If there was one
Vampire Spydragon in
that gorge, maybe there
were more…
‘She was
taken alive,’ said
Snotlout, ‘by one
of the witch’s
Spydragons.’

5. THE BITE OF A VAMPIRE
SPYDRAGON

‘I saw it,’ said Snotlout, quietly. ‘She showed me
in here, but just before she climbed in after me, a
Vampire Spydragon swooped down out of nothing and
nowhere and it took her.’
‘Windwalker! Is this true?’ Hiccup turned to
the Windwalker, who was lying on the floor, his long
shaggy body riddled with Razorwing stings. Hiccup had
some vague desperate hope that Windwalker might
deny it, but Windwalker gave a miserable nod, and
continued that low, keening whining.
‘No…’ whispered Hiccup. ‘Oh no…’
He put his arms around his thin, white trembling
body, trying to comfort himself. His arm sang
with pain.
ALL MY FAULT.
Camicazi had trusted Hiccup's instinct over
her own. She hadn't agreed with his decision, but
trustingly, loyally, she had followed Hiccup into battle,
and now she had been lost.

What had the
Wodensfang said?
‘If you try and
save Snotlout,’ he
had warned, ‘you will
put us all in peril.
By being kind to
Snotlout, you may be
endangering the lives
of those who are loyal
to you, who never
betrayed you. Sometimes
kindness can be cruelty.
These are the kind of difficult decisions that a
Leader has to take.’
‘Well, what do you expect?’ said the cold, hard
voice of Snotlout contemptuously. ‘You made a
complete birds’ nest of the entire operation. You woke
up the dragons of the Dragon Rebellion. The noise
probably told the witch’s Vampire Spydragons that we
were there. What did you think was going to happen?’
Fishlegs was trembling with heaving anger, and
he turned on Snotlout.
‘We were only out there in the first place to save
your poxy little life! Why didn’t you at least try and go
after her, Snotlout? She risked her life for you, and you

98

couldn’t even be bothered to follow her?’
‘Of course, I was dying to go after the dear little
Bog-Burglar brat,’ drawled Snotlout, ‘and I’d have
jumped on my trusty steed like a shot, you know what
a gentleman I am, Fishlegs, but my own riding-dragon
has most unfortunately been hit by Razorwing stings,
and can hardly move his wings.’
‘How do we know that YOU didn’t hand over
Camicazi to the witch? Maybe this has all been a trick
to betray us to the Alvinsmen!’
Fishlegs’s hot angry words said aloud what
Hiccup was thinking.
‘Why did we listen to your cries for help? You
probably gave her to the witch’s Spydragon! And you,’
shouted Fishlegs, ‘are not worth even a tenth of that
girl!’
Snotlout said nothing. His face was in darkness,
but perhaps there was a quivering
in his fingers when Fishlegs said
he was not worth a tenth of
Camicazi.
But then again,
perhaps not.
‘That little
Bog-Burglar?’ he drawled.

99

‘Come on, she’s only a Bog-Burglar after all…’
It was as if Snotlout was deliberately trying to
provoke them.
That was when Fishlegs really lost his temper.
Snotlout had bullied Fishlegs all his life. Anybody
who has been bullied knows what that is like. Fishlegs
had spent all of his first ten years in pure fear, too
terrified to go out the door of his lonely little hut,
in case he got caught by Snotlout and his bullying
sidekick, Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, who would hit
him, and kick him, and take no notice if he pleaded or
cried.
And now they had saved Snotlout’s life, and
Snotlout had repaid them by betraying Camicazi, who
was one of the only two human friends Fishlegs had
ever had.
Fifteen years of being bullied, of hatred, of anger,
welled up in Fishlegs.
All of Fishlegs’s anxiety about where Camicazi
might be, the fear of what the Dragon Furious would
do if he found them in that hideout, all of his rage at
Snotlout came together in a white-hot rush.
‘We should throw you out of the hideout!’ roared
Fishlegs. ‘You are a LIAR! You are a TRAITOR! You
have betrayed Hiccup and us all, time and time again!’

100

The three heads of the Deadly Shadow let out a
simultaneous scream, and lightning ricocheted around
the inside of the cavern, and the three heads inhaled,
ready to strike, for Fishlegs was their Master now.
BAM! Fishlegs hit Snotlout, plumb on the nose.
Snotlout looked completely and totally
astonished. He had never really thought much about
that weed, Fishlegs, apart from thinking up clever ways
to humiliate him. Fishlegs had never dared so much as
to pinch Snotlout, let alone punch him. Snotlout raised
his arms to hit back, and then paused as the gigantic
Deadly Shadow’s three heads screamed a warning
BAM! Fishlegs hit him again.
Snotlout half laughed, because however hard
Fishlegs tried to hit, his scrawny weedy little arms were
not really going to do any damage. That enormous
three-headed monster of his, though… Well, that
could do Snotlout some real damage. Snotlout eyed it
fearfully.
‘How does it feel,’ said Fishlegs through gritted,
furious teeth, ‘to know you are completely at someone
else’s mercy?’
Not good, as it happened.
Snotlout looked at Fishlegs’s howling,
Berserk-like face, and at the dreadful roaring

101

three-headed nightmare of a Deadly Shadow beside
him. He paled a little. ‘Come on now, Fishlegs,’ he said
uneasily, ‘you can take a joke now, can’t you? I was
always only joking…’
‘Oh, it was a joke was it?’ spat Fishlegs. ‘Well
then I’m just joking too! How does it feel to know that
whatever you do, whatever you say, however you plead,
someone is NEVER… GOING… TO… STOP?’
BAM! BAM! BAM!

Fishlegs hit him again and again and again.
‘Stop!’ said Hiccup, grabbing Fishlegs’s arms.
‘STOP!’
Fishlegs finally stopped. The red rash of anger
disappeared from his face and he dropped his arms.
There is something truly dreadful about this war,
thought Hiccup, in weary horror. It had made even
gentle, un-warlike Fishlegs, who wanted to be a bard,
actually strike Snotlout in anger.
‘Snotlout would kill us, wouldn’t he? He
has tried to kill you, on many
occasions,’ said

Fishlegs flatly.
‘You can’t be
weak, Hiccup.
You can’t give
him so many
second chances.’
‘That is the way
that Alvin and the witch
talk,’ said Hiccup, flushed
because he felt so guilty
about Camicazi, and yet
with a horrible suspicion
that Fishlegs might be right. ‘You have
to give people a chance.’ He was still holding on to
Fishlegs’s arms. ‘You have to keep on giving people a
chance.’
Fishlegs looked at Hiccup, startled.
And then Fishlegs sighed, and pushed his
curly hair out of his eyes. The last peppery speck of
Berserk-anger faded from his cheeks, and he scratched
a little eczema patch inside his left elbow, and
whispered despairingly, ‘You’re right… It’s this war. It
does things to you after a while. ’
Snotlout was absolutely white, stiff with anger
and humiliation because he had been hit by that weed

104

Fishlegs, and the three-headed Deadly Shadow dragon
had actually scared him, and everyone in that cave had
seen that he was scared.
‘Talk about giving a Viking a bad name!’ he
jeered bitterly. ‘Talk about giving people a chance! I
know we’ve been enemies in the past, but I too have
risked my life to come up here to warn you, even to
help you…’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But if you
don’t want to believe me, then don’t, see if I care!’
‘Let’s calm down,’ said Hiccup quietly. ‘We’re
not going anywhere at the moment. We can’t find
Camicazi until the Dragon Furious goes away…’
If the Dragon Furious ever DOES go away, for it is
sounding like he will not rest this time until he has fried us
in our beds…
‘… and lots of us are wounded,’ said Hiccup.
‘Let’s see to that, and then Snotlout can tell us his side
of the story.’
Most of the injuries were Razorwing poison darts,
which had to be removed, leaving a numbing pain that
hurt more than the sting of a bee or a hornet.
But more seriously, a great purple-black bruise,
like a spreading flower, was making its way up Hiccup’s
left arm where the Vampire Spydragon had bitten him.
And when Hiccup took away the rags that Fishlegs had
wrapped around the wound a couple of minutes ago so

105

that he could put some herbs on the injury to heal it, he
started in horror.
The bite was not deep.
But a single tooth from the Vampire Spydragon

was embedded inside his arm.
Hiccup was a dragon-watcher, so he knew a great
deal about the various dragon species, and the way
they hunt.

Vampire Spydragons catch their prey a little like
Komodo dragons. They bite their victim, leaving one of
their teeth in the wound, and let go. The poison in the
bite then slowly paralyses the prey, and the Vampire
Spydragon locates its dying and helpless victim by the
tracking device of its own tooth.
‘Don’t try and get the tooth out!’ warned the
Wodensfang. ‘Your body will work to reject it, and in
time it will fall out naturally. The tooth has serrated
edges, so if you try and dig it out in the meantime you
will just do yourself more damage.
‘There will be a lot of numbness, paralysis even,
for a bit, but it is not a deep bite, so you will not die.
The same applies to the Razorwing stings… the stings
are painful but not fatal…’
But in the meantime, that Vampire Spydragon will
be tracking me, thought Hiccup.
Toothless had no real idea what was going on, but
he understood that his Master was upset, and lovingly
he went and sat on Hiccup’s head. ‘D-d-don’t be sad,
Master, Toothless is here,’ Toothless reminded him,
sliding down to Hiccup’s shoulders, and he put his
wings around Hiccup’s neck with a tenderness that
nearly strangled him.
Toothless searched for something that might
cheer Hiccup up.

‘I’ll wear my c-c-coat if you like?’ said
Toothless. ‘Look! Toothless will wear his coat… That
will make you feel better…’
He fetched his coat, which was half charred
because Toothless had hidden it helpfully in the fire.
‘Does that make you feel better, Master?
Toothless is c-c-cute and he won’t catch cold now…
A-a-a-tishyoo!’
Toothless sneezed a large amount of dragon snot
right in Hiccup’s face.
‘W-w-whoops! Sorry…’
‘Thank you, Toothless,’ lied Hiccup
automatically, wiping his face and putting a hand out to
the little dragon. ‘That makes me feel much better.’
The Hogfly nestled under one
of Hiccup’s arms and squeaked
sympathetically: ‘Tickle my
birthdays… It’s bathtime… Hold
the peanut…’ It didn’t make
much sense, but Hiccup was
touched that both dragons,
in their different ways, were
trying to comfort him.
Snotlout watched
them all moving about,
quiet and sad, wounded

~ STATISTICS ~

FEAR FACTOR: ..................... 8
ATTACK: .............................. 9
SPEED: ................................ 7
SIZE: ................................... 5
DISOBEDIENCE: .................. 7

Vampire Spydragons are chameleons that can
turn invisible apart from their red eyes. They
have bodies of monkeys and heads of gigantic
vampire bats. There is nothing more terrifying
than being surrounded by floating red eyes in
the darkness of a forest – often the last thing
their victims see before they die.

and frightened, as the rage of the Dragon Rebellion
roared on outside. At least they had each other. He
was out of place and out of time, shut out from their
companionship; an interloper, watching them from the
shadows.
Snotlout had a deep cut on his right arm and one
or two on his face, both near misses with a Razorwing’s
wings, but nobody was going to help him clean or dress
his wounds. The hatred in the room towards Snotlout
was so thick and heavy that you could reach out and
touch it. Both dragons and humans avoided looking at
him, as if he had a nasty smell. Snotlout had to tear bits
off his own shirt and wind them round his gashes, and
his pride made him pretend they didn’t hurt too much.
It is only that wimp Hiccup who is giving me a
chance, thought Snotlout resentfully.

‘Does anybody feel like helping me finally unpick
the lock on my chain?’ he drawled. ‘And then I can tell
you my side of the story, and you may just find that I
was on your side all along…’
‘If you are on our side, where is your
Dragonmark?’ demanded Fishlegs, still very hostile.
‘Show it to us, you traitor!’
Snotlout coolly took off his helmet, to show a
forehead entirely free of any tattoos whatsoever.
‘I have no Slavemark,’ said Snotlout. ‘But I am still on
your side.’
‘HA!’ snorted Fishlegs and the dragons joined in
the disbelief with smoky sniggers of derision.
‘GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO EXPLAIN!’
shouted Hiccup.
‘Thank you,’ said Snotlout, bowing to
Hiccup ironically.

Your dragon can feel a little threatened when a new
dragon enters the household. Be patient and he
will get over it. Hopefully…

Toothless: Hogfly ne-ah com sweetie-giggly com
T-T-Toothless.
The Hogfly is NOT as cute as Toothless.

You: Simple ne-ah, Toothless. TOOTHLESS si la Mos
Xcellent Oos. May noos ava be keendlee a di fella.
Of course not, Toothless. TOOTHLESS is the Best One.
But we have to be nice to him.

Toothless: Simply, simply. Toothless willa be B-B-BIG-
TIME keendlee a di stupidissimo lacksmart greenblood.
Of course, of course. Toothless will be VERY nice.

Pause.

Toothless to Hogfly: H-H-Hogfly,
pishyou, yow goggle com un squeal-
munch plus yow est plusdim com un
snot-trailer.
Hogfly, please, you look like a pig, and you
are more stupid than a snail.

You: TOOTHLESS!
TOOTHLESS!

Toothless (whining): May Toothless speekee pishyou!
But Toothless said please!

Another pause.

Toothless: Hogfly, yow wantee a
play Hidey-plus-Looky? Y-y-yow
hide oppsthere wi di keendlee ickle
Wettingsgreenblood, undi Nod-
dle-Scratchers, plus me adda a pon-
der o marvels und cum opps und loc
yow…
Hogfly, do you want to play Hide-
and-Seek? You hide out there and
play with the sweet little Seadragon
and the Brainpickers, and I’ll count
to a hundred million and then I’ll
come out and find you…

Hogfly (tail wagging happily):
Woof! Woof!

6. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE
STORY

‘The Doomsday of Yule is in three days’ time,’ said
Snotlout. ‘And you are running out of time. I am
presuming you have an agreement with Valhallarama
that she will steal the nine Lost Things off Alvin, and
then she will meet you on the Singing Sands of the
Ferryman’s Gift on Doomsday Eve and hand them
over?’
‘That’s a very clever guess of yours, Snotlout,’
said Hiccup quietly. ‘My mother said all we had to do
was stay in hiding, and meet her there on Doomsday
Eve.’
‘Well,’ said Snotlout, ‘Alvin’s underground war
bunker is hidden somewhere so clever, so secret,
that Valhallarama and Stoick will never find it even
if they search for a hundred years. So your mother
Valhallarama and the Dragonmarkers have failed in
their Quest to steal the other nine Lost Things from
Alvin.’
There was a short, depressed silence.
‘Why should we believe you, Snotlout?’ asked
Fishlegs. ‘You could be lying. Valhallarama could
already have the other nine Things, and you could

115

be sent here by the witch. If you joined our side, why
didn’t you get the Dragonmark?’
‘Hiccup isn’t the only one who uses his head, you
know, Fish-eggs,’ replied Snotlout. ‘I thought I might
be more use to the Company of the Dragonmark if I
appeared to be working for the other side.’
Stormfly gave a quick soft hiss of reluctant
approval. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Cunning and Trickery. Good
thinking.’ And then, remembering it was Snotlout
speaking, she frowned again. ‘If it’s true, of course.’
‘So I pretended to be on the witch and Alvin’s
side,’ said Snotlout.
‘I let them take me to their hideout. I found out
where they were keeping the Things, and ran away
to find you guys. I used this ridiculous Hogfly dragon
here to help me track you down. Hogflys may be
unbelievably stupid, but they are the best scent-dragons
in the world. I camped on a frozen lake upriver, the
lake must have unfrozen in the night, the Wolf-fangs
chased me… And that’s when you found me.’
‘If you know where the Lost Things are,’ asked
Fishlegs suspiciously, ‘why didn’t you steal them
yourself, when you escaped from Alvin’s war bunker?’
‘I couldn’t do it on my own,’ explained Snotlout.
‘The Things are guarded, and the Throne is heavy.

116

You lot are useless, of course, but I have to admit,
your camouflaged-so-it-is-invisible and humungously
enormous three-headed Deadly Shadow Dragon will
come in useful in a burglary situation.
‘Together we can steal back the Things,’
continued Snotlout, ‘and even rescue that horrible
little Bog-Burglar Camicazi. We can be at the beach
at Hero’s Gap on Doomsday Eve, with all the Things,
and then the Guardian Protectors of Tomorrow will
make Hiccup the next King of the Wilderwest, and
humanity will be saved.’
‘How do we know we can trust you?’ asked
Hiccup. ‘How do we know you’re not going to betray
us, and deliver us straight into Alvin and the witch’s
hands?’
‘I suppose,’ said Snotlout, ‘you don’t. You’ll just
have to take my word for it. It’s up to you. I don’t really
care what you believe any more. If you want to think
the worst of me, go ahead! I’m going to sleep now, if
you don’t mind. It’s been a long couple of days.’
Snotlout’s clothes had dried entirely now, in
the steamy warmth of that dragon-and-fire-warmed
hideout. He yawned, wrapped himself up in one of
Fishlegs’s mother’s old blankets, closed his eyes and
pretended to go to sleep.

117

But inside the blanket, his eyes were wide open.
‘C-c-can Toothless bite him?’ asked Toothless
hopefully. ‘Or would that be rude? Does it matter
being rude to a rude person? Or does it n-n-not
count?’
‘Yes that would be rude, Toothless, so you can’t
bite him, although I’m feeling a bit tempted myself, I
have to confess,’ admitted Hiccup.
‘Suffering scallops,’ said Fishlegs in disgust.
‘What do we do now? Do we trust Snotlout or not? I
still don’t see why, if he’s on our side, he doesn’t have
the Dragonmark.’
‘The Dragonmark is a symbol of SLAVERY!’
said the muffled voice of Snotlout. ‘I’m on your
side, but I don’t want to be marked with a symbol of
slavery!’
They all lay down to try and sleep, but this was
difficult when they were all so angry, confused and
frightened.
‘Did I make a mistake in rescuing Snotlout?’
Hiccup asked the Wodensfang. ‘Is that why Camicazi
was captured?’
The Wodensfang answered that question with
another question.
‘Can it ever be a mistake,’ replied the
Wodensfang, ‘for a human to answer the cry for help

118

of another human?’
‘Even if Snotlout is lying,’ said Hiccup in Norse,
‘he’s the only one who knows where the witch’s camp
is. So we have to trust him anyway, because he’s the
only one who can lead us to Camicazi. Oh I do hope
she is all right…’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Fishlegs miserably. ‘I’m really
worried about her too. I keep trying to tell myself that
she’s going to be all right… Look how many times she
has escaped from prisons. She is an Escape Artist, after
all…’
‘Yes, but the witch and Alvin are getting worse,’
said Hiccup anxiously. ‘They’ve been killing people.
I’ve seen Dragonmarker helmets hung from the trees
of the forest outside as a warning that they are trying to
claim this territory for the Alvinsmen…’
It was true.
Out in the forest there were long stakes,
driven into the ground, and hanging on the end of
each stake were either the heads of dragon rebels
or Dragonmarker helmets that had been taken as
trophies, and put there to warn other Dragonmarkers
that this land was claimed by Alvinsmen.
Quite apart from all these worries, the sound of
the Dragon Furious and the Rebellion outside wasn’t

119

exactly a lullaby: that noise of the blackened remains
of the forest being torched once again, the flickering
of flames, the roar as they turned from flickers into a
great storming, roaring conflagration, burning so hot
and high that the firelight from down below poured
upwards and inwards, through the window of their
hideout, to dance wickedly on the ceiling.
‘I will HUNT you down, boy!’ thundered the
Dragon Furious. ‘I smell your rotten human blood!
NOWHERE is safe for you! No cave, no rock, no
island. I shall turn this whole world into ashes thrice
over in the hunt for you… You can hide all you like,
you cannot hide forever… All it takes is one mistake
and…
… I SHALL HUNT YOU
DOWN IN THE END!’

Oh yes, it was hard not to remain wakeful while
that destructive roar exploded in your ears like one
of Thor’s worst thunderstorms, and the world burned
outside.
How were they ever going to get out of there, to
find the rest of the Things and Camicazi?
From the sound of it, the Dragon Furious was
never going to give up.

120

After a while of everyone tossing
and turning, the Wodensfang’s wheezy
voice cut through the darkness and the
terrible noise.
‘As no one is sleeping,’ said the
Wodensfang, ‘allow me to tell you a
story about a boy from the past who
reminds me of this boy Snotlout here.’
‘Wodensfang!’ said Hiccup, sitting bolt upright
in surprise. ‘You’re speaking Norse! I didn’t know you
could speak Norse! I thought it was only Stormfly here
who had that gift.’
‘So did I,’ said Stormfly sadly. It was a bad night
for Stormfly. Her mistress had gone missing, and now
there was this revelation that somebody else shared her
unique gift.
‘Why have you never spoken Norse before,
Wodensfang?’ asked Hiccup.
‘Just because you have
a gift, it doesn’t mean you
need to tell everyone about
it,’ replied the Wodensfang
simply. ‘I think the
boy Snotlout might be
interested in this…’

121

And in the darkness, the Wodensfang told the
story of how the Dragonmark became the Slavemark.

‘Once upon a time,’ said the Wodensfang, ‘I was
not the wrinkled little thing that you see before you
now. You see,’ explained the Wodensfang, ‘I am a
Sea Dragon…’
Hiccup gasped. ‘YOU??? A Seadragonus
Giganticus Maximus???’
‘That’s s-s-silly!’ squeaked Toothless.
‘You’re even smaller than T-t-toothless! How can
you possibly be a Sea Dragon?’
‘There are many silly things that turn out to be
true, Toothless,’ said the Wodensfang, smiling.
‘Sea Dragons start out small,’ the Wodensfang
continued in Norse, ‘but they grow to immense
size, like the fat full moon. And then they wane
again…
‘Once upon a time, Hiccup, a thousand or so
years ago, when I was young and about the size of
a Sabre-Tooth Driver Dragon, I met your ancestor,
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the First, and I gave
him the Dragon Jewel and trusted him with the
Jewel’s Secret.’
‘You told me this,’ said Hiccup.
‘I did,’ said the Wodensfang. ‘I told you how
Hiccup the First used the Secret of the Jewel to
gain power over dragons, and train them.

‘But what I did not tell you was that in return
for the Secret, Hiccup the First put a Mark upon
himself.
‘He put a Mark upon himself on the side
of his forehead. It was a Mark in the shape of a
dragon made out of his blood and the blood of
his dragon-brother. My blood. The Mark was
the symbol of a promise, that the two of us were
brothers, that we thought as one, that we would die
for one another.
‘As symbols will, it also became the symbol of
the Kingdom of the Wilderwest. All the Warriors
wore the symbol, blazing on their foreheads, so they
were known as the Dragon-Riders.
‘The Mark was known as the Dragonmark.’
The young humans in the cave gasped in
amazement.
‘So the Mark was originally called the
Dragonmark in the first place!’ exclaimed Fishlegs.
Snotlout was very still, but his eyes were open.
He was listening.
Hiccup touched the Mark, blazing purple on
his forehead.
‘So the first Dragonmark,’ Hiccup whispered,
‘was made out of your blood, Wodensfang?’

The Wodensfang nodded.
‘For over a thousand years, it seemed like I had
made the right decision to entrust the Secret of the
Jewel to the humans. The Kingdom of the Wilderwest
was a place of peace and prosperity, in which dragons
and humans lived in harmony with one another. The
Secret was passed down from generation to generation,
and its power was not abused. I grew huge as a
mountainside, so large and splendid that I had to live
in the ocean for a while.
‘Ah… It was a golden age…’ sighed the
Wodensfang.
‘Even as I began to shrink into my old age, many
hundreds of years ago, I was still content that I had
founded a new dynasty, a dynasty of happiness that
would last forever… and then…’
‘And then?’ Hiccup whispered.
‘And then, it seemed like I might have made a
mistake in entrusting the Secret of the Dragon Jewel
to the humans after all. You see, not all humans are as
good as Hiccup the First.
‘About a century ago, when I had shrunk to the
size of a Viking hunting dog, a new King inherited the
Throne. He was too young really… about your age.
‘His name was Speedfast,’ said the Wodensfang.

‘Speedfast was not a bad character as a boy, but he
was quick of temper and he had a tendency to bully his
inferiors.
‘This is the boy that reminds me so much of
Snotlout here. He even looks like him. Like Snotlout,
this boy refused to take the Dragonmark when he came
of age.
‘ “A King is brother to no man or dragon,” said
the boy, arrogantly. “The dragons shall take the Mark,
to show loyalty to their King, but I shall not take it.”
‘That was all it took.
‘The Mark that had been the symbol of
brotherhood between man and dragon, became a
symbol of enslavement.
‘For where the King went, his followers went too.
The Boy-Warrior, the future of their Tribe, refused
to take the Mark, and in time the older generation
became ashamed of the tattoo that had been a source
of such pride, and wore their helmets low upon their
foreheads.
‘And so it was with everything else. One by one,
all the achievements of Hiccup the First were spoilt
and ruined.
‘And I… well, looking back, I do not think that I
helped matters.

‘For I did judge Speedfast harshly, then and now.
‘I nagged him constantly about what he was
doing. I told him he was betraying the memory of his
ancestors. I scolded him, morning, noon and night.
‘There is one particular time that I remember.
‘Speedfast was sleeping in the King’s bed. No
one was supposed to disturb him. But I did not follow
those rules. Why should I? I was his great-great-great-
great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather’s
blood-brother.

‘I flew in the window, perched on the bedhead,
and waited for him to wake.
‘He opened his eyes, and there I was, stern and
grave.
‘ “Why are you here?” said Speedfast, yawning,
his handsome face instantly resentful.
‘He spoke in Dragonese, the language he had
learnt since babyhood.

‘ “You know why I am here,” I said gravely.
“You refuse to take the Mark. You use the
Secret, entrusted to your father, to enslave my
dragon-brothers. You have just passed a Law
making slavery of humans legal again. You mark
them with the Mark, which you now call the
Slavemark.
‘ “Your ancestors spent their lives building
the Kingdom of the Wilderwest. Are you to
throw that all away? You are betraying the work
of men greater than you are…”
‘The boy’s face was as red as his hair.
‘ “And I shall be a greater man than my
ancestors ever were!” Speedfast shouted back
at me. “How dare you talk to me of betrayal! I
shall make this titchy Kingdom of the Wilderwest
a truly great empire, one that stretches to the
very edges of the Rus to the east, and down to
the borders of Rome in the south. I will re-take
the land that my ancestors lost when that cursed
Hiccup the First was born, the rich farmlands of
the east, rather than these rocky island nothings.
‘ “Even now I am building a great city on
the island of Tomorrow, a city that shall rival
Rome in glory and in power. But for that I need

slave-power, dragon slaves and human slaves. So
do not talk to me of betrayal! Tomorrow shall
prove what a truly great king I shall be.”
‘I scolded him again, too harshly perhaps.
I said that he would never be as great a man as
his ancestors, and a lot of other stern and severe
things.
‘Speedfast put his hands over his ears.
“Silence!” he screamed. “I am banning the
speaking of your devil language, Dragonese! Then
I will not have to hear your forked-tongue nagging
speech ever again!”
‘That was the last time I saw the boy cry.
‘He turned the Secret of the Jewel on me,
told me to be gone or he would destroy all the
dragons, banished me from his kingdom.
‘And he was true to his word.
‘The new Boy-King banned the speaking
of Dragonese. He shut up his ancestors’ library.
He built a great city on the island of Tomorrow, a
city of a hundred castles. The boy who was once
Speedfast became the most feared Viking of all
time, striking terror as far as the edges of the Rus
and the borders of Rome.’

Silence in the underground treehouse, as everyone
realised who this Speedfast must be.
‘The boy who was once Speedfast?’ asked
Hiccup. He knew the answer even as he asked the
question.
‘He changed his name,’ said the dragon. ‘He
changed his name to…’
‘Grimbeard the Ghastly,’ finished Hiccup.
There was a long, long pause.
Hiccup felt slightly sick.
‘Grimbeard the Ghastly. And as is often the way
of these things, the gods set out to punish Grimbeard.
Grimbeard had his own son, who was a runt, and also
called Hiccup, Hiccup the Second. Grimbeard learned
to love this son the best of all his children, but was
tricked into killing his son because he thought he was
stirring up a Dragon Rebellion against him. It was only
then that he realised what a terrible mistake he had
made, how he had betrayed both his own ancestors and
his own son.
‘That was why Grimbeard hid the Things. He
threw them to all quarters of the Archipelago so that
only a true Hero could find them. A new King must
be worthy. He set up a terrible bodyguard of almost
superhuman Warriors and otherworldly dragons, to

133

ensure that only a Hero with the ten Lost Things can
be crowned King, and these dreadful bodyguards are
known as the Guardian Protectors of Tomorrow.’
Hiccup shivered. ‘I have heard bad things about
those Guardians.’
The Wodensfang nodded. ‘Yes, they must be
terrible indeed, to have guarded Tomorrow for so
many years.
‘The Guardian Protectors of Tomorrow pass
the Secret of the Dragon Jewel on from generation
to generation.
‘Only the Hero with the ten Lost Things can
be crowned the King and live. Only he or she can
be told the Secret.
‘But that Hero must be worthy.’
‘Why are you telling us this?’ said Hiccup.
‘It’s just a story,’ said the Wodensfang. ‘So
that Snotlout can realise that the Slavemark was
not always the Slavemark.
‘And how quick good things can be lost.
‘And how a boy can change from being
Speedfast to being Grimbeard the Ghastly…
‘… and also the other way around.’
Silence.

134

‘Can somebody tell that ancient old dragon to
SHUT UP?’ said Snotlout rudely. ‘I’m TRYING to
sleep.’
Silence in the cave again.
One by one, the exhausted humans and dragons
fell asleep, despite the noise from outside, despite their
fears for Camicazi.
But Hiccup remained awake, tossing and turning
and worrying, about Camicazi, about the Rebellion,
about whether Snotlout was a traitor or not…
These were the last thoughts he had before he
drifted off to sleep.
Much, later, Snotlout awoke. He reached into his
ragged breast pocket, behind his armour, and drew out
a Black Star.
Snotlout had won that Star for outstanding
bravery in the Battle of Lucky Thirteen* years
ago, when Snotlout and Hiccup first met Alvin the
Treacherous. Gobber the Belch, his old teacher, had
told Snotlout it was one of the proudest days of his life,
to see a pupil of his win such an honour.
Snotlout’s face was expressionless as he looked
at the star.
The Deadly Shadow, who happened to be awake
at that hour, let out a small warning growl, just to let

* See How to Be a Pirate.

Snotlout know that he was being watched.
Snotlout put the Black Star back in his pocket,
and turned over so that the dragon could not see his
face.
Snotlout was crying.

7. TOOTHLESS’S DREAM

Much, MUCH later that night, Toothless had
a terrifying dream.
It was terrifying because it felt so real.
He dreamed he woke up, and in front of him
was the underground treehouse where they
were sleeping – but at the same time it was
not quite the treehouse. It merged
into somewhere else, in that
way of dreams, and that
somewhere was very cold.

The Wodensfang was awake too, and
staring straight in front of him. His eyes had
turned a very strange sort of purple colour. The
scar on his chest almost seemed to be glowing.
Toothless had a scar too, in almost exactly the
same place, and it suddenly itched and burned
as if he had received it yesterday.
And there, in the treehouse, very loud,
was the sound of a voice Toothless recognised.
It was the voice of the Dragon Furious.
Toothless lay still, trembling.
Toothless could hear the roaring of the
Dragon Rebellion outside, screaming and raging at
full catastrophic force. But, to Toothless’s absolute
terror, it sounded as if the voice of the Dragon
Furious was coming from inside the treehouse. But
how was that possible? The Dragon Furious wasn’t
there, and he was too big to fit inside.

Maybe he had lifted up the
mountaintop, and was looking down at
them from above?
Rigid with anxiety, Toothless slowly,
slowly tipped his head upwards.
No, the ceiling was still there. Phew.
So where on earth was the voice coming from?
It was a mystery.
‘TRAITOR!’ roared the Dragon Furious,
‘TRAITOR!’
For one heartstopping moment Toothless
feared the Dragon Furious was talking to him, and
he gave an unhappy whine and hid his head in his
paws. But no. The Dragon Furious was talking to
the Wodensfang.
‘Why are you letting my thoughts in now,
Wodensfang?’ screamed the Dragon Furious, in
an apocalyptic rage. ‘Have
you changed your mind
about your treacherous
behaviour? Are you
ashamed of betraying
your dragonhood for
the second time?’

The voice of the
Wodensfang replied. Both
Wodensfang and the Dragon Furious
were speaking in Norse, not Dragonese.
But the Wodensfang, though awake, did
not move his lips. How was that possible?
‘Now, now, Furious,’ replied the
Wodensfang. ‘Calm down. This anger is
exhausting you. And do not be so quick to
think I am betraying us.’
The Dragon Furious quietened
his rage for a moment, but his tone
was still bitterly resentful. ‘You are
a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus,
Wodensfang, and a very old one. So you
can see into the future even better than
I can. You know that the boy will be the
end of us all, if we let him live.’
The Wodensfang sighed. He did
not contradict the Dragon Furious.
‘BUT I WILL NOT LET THAT
HAPPEN!’ roared the Dragon
Furious. ‘I have pledged that
Hiccup the Third shall not reach
Tomorrow. And he is near, I

sense it, I smell you both
in my heart, although you are
protecting him. I will not give up, I will
stay here until I hunt you out, however
long that takes.’
The dragon paused in his rage for
a moment, and tried to reason with the
Wodensfang.
‘There is no time any more for the
foolish hopes of a silly old dragon. Do you
think you are the only one who has ever
loved a human? I loved one once myself.
His name was Hiccup the Second. But
in the end, these Hiccup boys, wonderful
as they are, will not be able to defeat
the strength of the evil that runs through
humanity. Look how the kingdom of Hiccup
the First fell into the hands of the boy
who was once Speedfast, and ended up
Grimbeard the Ghastly? And see how
this boy, Hiccup the Third, finds the Lost
Things, and they fall again and again
into the hook of the evil one, Alvin the
Treacherous.’
The Wodensfang sighed. ‘That has

been worrying me, I confess.’
‘Fate is trying to tell you
something, Wodensfang. We have to
learn from the past, as well as the future.’
The Wodensfang sat still, looking into
the Future.
‘You are mistaken if you think this has
not occurred to me,’ said the Wodensfang,
almost as if he were talking to himself. ‘In
part, I am doing this because I want to believe
in the impossible, and young humans are so
touching in their belief in the impossible.’
‘When we are old we must be wise,
and give up what is unrealistic,’ said the
Dragon Furious. ‘You had the chance to kill
the boy in the Fire Cavern. You could not
do it, so bring the boy to someone who CAN
do it. I will kill him for the sake of all of us.
I am the King of the Dragons, and a King
has to act for the greater good.’
‘That is the way the witch talks,’ said
the Wodensfang softly.
‘You may love humans, but you
are, in the end, a dragon. You have to
put your dragonhood first. Bring the

boy to me, as you know you
must,’ said the Dragon Furious.
‘Furthermore, you know you will.’
The Wodensfang sat silent for a long
time. Toothless had the impression that
he was playing some game of chess with
the possibilities in his mind. Eventually
he said, ‘All right, Furious. I will betray
whoever is made King.’
Toothless stiffened in horror.
‘But not yet,’ said the Wodensfang.
‘I want this story to play out to the very
final moment. I want the boy to have the
chance to be the biggest Hero he can be
before the story ends where it
must…’

‘He is so close now, to being a Hero.
I do not want to bring him down before he
makes it there. Once I helped a boy become
a King. Let me do this one more time before
I die, for this one human, even if it ends in
the destruction of a species. I will make you a
bargain. Stop stalking us. Call off your hunt,
take your Dragon Rebellion north to prepare
for the War on Tomorrow…’
‘Why would I do that?’ scorned Furious.
‘I am close to you now, I feel it.’
‘But you are wasting your strength
in these angry attacks,’ the Wodensfang
pointed out, ‘and you need to save it for
the Final Battle. You are frightened of
Tomorrow; you fear it, Furious, do you not?
So go back north and prepare. The twelfth day
of Doomsday is only three days away, and you
need to be at full strength.
‘This way, you get a little breathing
space, and I get some last

precious hours with the boy,’ wheezed
the Wodensfang, with a deep and longing
melancholy.
The Dragon Furious considered this.
‘If I were to give you this time,’ growled
the Dragon Furious, ‘if I were to halt my
Rebellion, only to strike with greater strength on
the day of Doomsday of Yule itself, what would
you offer me in return?’
‘I would swear to you, by the word of a Sea
Dragon,’ said the Wodensfang, that if a King is
crowned on the Doomsday of Yule, on that very
same day, I will bring that King to meet you in
single combat.’
The Dragon Furious grunted. ‘That is no
use to me, if the King is carrying the Jewel.’
‘But before the King rides out to meet
you,’ said the Wodensfang, ‘I shall take the
Dragon Jewel from them, and bring it to you.’
The Dragon Furious growled in
satisfaction.
‘So this puny human King, will be forced
to meet me, the Dragon Furious, in single
combat with no Jewel to protect them?’
‘That is correct,’ said the Wodensfang.

‘I TAKE YOUR BARGAIN!’ cried the
Dragon Furious, and Toothless jumped to hear
the thunderclap of his jubilation.
‘Swear you will bring the Jewel to me, and
then the King,’ said the Dragon Furious sternly.
‘I swear on the word of a Sea Dragon
that I shall bring them both to you,’ said the
Wodensfang, sighing miserably. ‘But it is a bitter
bargain.’
‘No!’ shrieked Toothless in his thoughts.
‘The word of a Sea Dragon cannot be broken.
No! No! No! No! No!’
‘And I swear that I will call off the hunt
in return,’ said the Dragon Furious. ‘You are
right, I confess that this anger is exhausting. It
will be good to rest for the final conflict.
‘Dragons of the Rebellion!’ called the
mighty beast. ‘HALT THE RED-RAGE!’
And Toothless could hear the sound of the
Dragon Rebellion outside quietening down.
Then the Wodensfang smiled. ‘And now
at least you can stop tracking us, Furious,
through the thoughts of the gummy one, and
I can stop blocking you, which will be more
relaxing for both of us…’

The Dragon Furious laughed. ‘Such
thoughts as they are! I can’t believe he’s a
Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus, the little
stammering toothless one! He’s so stupid, and he
seems to think of nothing but food!’
‘He’s just young,’ scolded the Wodensfang,
‘he doesn’t yet know what he is…’
‘Here I s-s-say!’ protested Toothless, and
he was so distressed he spoke aloud. ‘You’re
n-n-not talking about Toothless are you? How
can Toothless be a Seadragon? That’s even
s-s-sillier than the Wodensfang being one!
Toothless doesn’t want d-d-dragons listening
into his thoughts! And Toothless does know
what he is! He’s a Common-or Gar– actually,
no, he’s a Toothless Daydream…
‘Well, whatever he is, Toothless N-N-NOT
a Seadragon, he’s far too small – this is a very
bad dream!’
The Wodensfang
turned his head
towards Toothless.
‘That’s right, it is
a very bad dream,
Toothless,’

said the
voice of the
Wodensfang,
still without
opening his mouth, but
looking straight at Toothless
with his hypnotic eyes. ‘But
you can go back to sleep now,
and when you wake up you will
have forgotten all about it…’
‘A very bad dream,’ said the
fading voice of the Dragon Furious.
Toothless yawned.
Slowly he closed his eyes and
went back to sleep.

When he woke up in the morning, he shivered.
The sound of the Dragon Rebellion outside had
gone.
That was a VERY bad dream he’d had last night.
But what was it about?
He couldn’t remember for the life of him.

8. YOU WOULDN’T FIND
ALVIN’S SECRET CAMP EVEN
IF YOU SEARCHED FOR A
HUNDRED YEARS

The next morning, to Hiccup’s surprise, the dragons
of the Dragon Rebellion had vanished. Outside, the
landscape was a smoking, burning ruin, but there was
no sign of human or dragon life. The rain poured
down relentlessly.
‘They’ve gone…’ breathed Hiccup, unable to
believe their good fortune. ‘Now we can go and

rescue Camicazi.’
‘Do you think that this is a trick?’ whispered
Fishlegs. ‘Surely we will still be ambushed on our way
to Alvin’s camp?’
‘I have a sense that we will be fine,’ wheezed the
Wodensfang, in Norse. ‘Don’t ask me how I know, but
the Dragon Furious will not attack us… for now.’
But even with the Wodensfang’s reassurance,
it was terrifying to venture out of the hideout once
again, with the worry that at any moment they might
be attacked by the Dragon Furious, or by the witch’s
Spydragons.
The tree above the underground treehouse
was still burning when they left it, a blackened,
smouldering stump.

155

Snotlout, on the back of the Hurricane, led
them through the eerie landscape. Hiccup had seen
woods destroyed before, but this was ten times worse.
Everyone was silent, awed by the devastation.
What had once been the half-burnt remains
of a forest now looked like the smoking surface of
the moon. If it hadn’t been for the river, they would
never have found their way, for the landscape was
unrecognisable.
Whole mountains had been demolished, shaken
to rubble as if there had been an earthquake. Whole
forests reduced to little toasted sticks of kindling
and ash.

Every now and then the river itself was blocked,
and dammed, by gigantic torn-up rocks from an
obliterated hillside. Water spurted up and round the
obstructions like blood from a wound, before reverting
to its original course.
The bite in Hiccup’s arm was a constant reminder
of the Vampire Spydragon. It could track him down
through the tooth still buried in his flesh. It could
appear out of nowhere, out of nothing, so Hiccup was
constantly looking over his shoulder, feeling that at any
moment he could be attacked once again.
The bruise had spread so that the whole of the
left side of Hiccup’s body was purple in colour, right
down to his knee.
‘I look like a Mood-Dragon!’ Hiccup joked, but
that was to cover up how frightened he was.
All the discoloured areas were so numb that he
couldn’t feel or use his left arm at all. It was hard

to cling on to the Deadly
Shadow’s back. He told
himself that the Spydragon
had been scared off by the
scale of the Dragon Rebellion
attack last night, along with
everything else. They crept through the devastation,
scurrying, terrified, to hide behind the corpse of one
blasted tree, and then on to another, and even though
they were shaded by the wings of the Deadly Shadow,
they felt painfully visible – the only moving things in a
wasteland of nothing.
This must be what it is like at the end of the world,
thought Hiccup.
‘Wow,’ breathed Snotlout. ‘That Dragon really
does want to get you, doesn’t he, Useless? I wouldn’t
want to be in your shoes if he ever finds you…’
‘But why isn’t the Dragon Furious here?’
muttered Hiccup, the tic in his eye working as he
squinted all around them. ‘Why
isn’t he stalking us? He knows
we are in these mountains,
somewhere. Why is he not
hunting? That isn’t like a
dragon. It doesn’t feel right.

158

When a dragon has something trapped, it goes in for
the kill. Where has he gone?’
The Wodensfang fluttered innocently above
Hiccup’s head.
Out of nowhere, Toothless suddenly bit him.
‘OW! Toothless! That isn’t nice!’ said Hiccup.
‘Not good manners at all…’
‘S-s-sorry,’ whimpered Toothless, thoroughly
bewildered. ‘Not sure why Toothless did that… Is all
a bit scary for poor Toothless…’

159

Rattled and jumpy,
Toothless was indeed not
quite himself.
They made their way down
the river, and dismounted from their
dragons beside the gigantic sea-cliff
waterfall where Camicazi and Snotlout
had nearly fallen to their deaths the previous
night.
‘Alvin’s camp is right here,’ announced Snotlout
proudly. ‘It’s colossal. Hundreds and hundreds of
boats, and a whole floating town.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’ asked Fishlegs,
shielding his eyes and peering out to sea. ‘Is this camp
invisible, like the Vampire Spydragons?’
Fishlegs had a point. In front of them, as far as
the eye could see, was a desolate ocean wasteland,
punctuated by monumental icebergs in fantastical
ghost shapes.
There was no sign at all of an enormous hidden
camp.
‘I mean exactly what I say, Fish-eggs,’ said
Snotlout. ‘Here is Alvin’s camp.’
Hiccup and Fishlegs looked at Snotlout with
open mouths.

160

‘Are you mad? Or just
lying?’ asked Fishlegs. ‘A camp can’t
be invisible!’
‘That’s why you need me,’ said Snotlout
smugly. ‘It’s right underneath us.’
He paused for effect.
‘The camp is behind the waterfall.’
The humans and the dragons looked at him with
round, amazed eyes.
‘Behind this waterfall is a truly immense sea
cavern,’ boasted Snotlout. ‘Inside that cavern, on stilts
over the water, the witch and Alvin have built their war
bunker.’
Hiccup and Fishlegs looked in awe at the
tremendous cascade of water, falling down down down
into the sea below.

161

‘Well, I’ll be hornswoggled,’ breathed
Wodensfang. ‘No wonder Stoick and Valhallarama
haven’t found this camp…’
Hiccup swallowed. ‘So what’s the plan, Snotlout?
You know the territory. How do we get behind this
waterfall? And once we’re there, how do we steal the
Lost Things and rescue Camicazi?’
‘Nice to see you’re putting me in charge for
once, Useless,’ drawled Snotlout. ‘Listen and learn,
Hiccup, and you’ll see how a real leader plans a military
operation…
‘Now,’ he said briskly. ‘Flying behind the
waterfall is quite easy. In the centre of the waterfall,
the water is an impenetrable force that would sweep
you down and smash you on the rocks below. But at
the edges, the fall is quite light, and you can fly right
through it.’
‘Ingenious,’ said Hiccup, impressed at his
enemy’s cleverness in spite of himself.
‘But once we’re actually in the cavern, things get
dangerous.’
‘Oh, no…’ shivered Toothless. ‘Toothless
h-h-hates it when it’s dangerous.’
‘The cavern is patrolled day and night by
Alvinsmen sentries, on foot and on the back of

162

Bullguards. We’ll have to fly inside, in formation, with
the Windwalker and the Hurricane flying low under
the Deadly Shadow so that hopefully the sentries won’t
spot them…’
‘H-h-hopefully…’ groaned Toothless, ‘Toothless
hates “hopefully”…’
‘The underground village is built on wooden
platforms over the water. So we’ll head straight for
those wooden platforms, and fly underneath them.
‘There are hatches along the way, where the
Alvinsmen throw rubbish down and catch fish. I can
take us to the hatch which leads up into the room
where they are keeping the Lost Things. We’ll sneak
in, steal the Things, and load them on to the Deadly
Shadow’s back through the hatch.’
‘This is a ridiculous plan!’ howled Fishlegs. ‘I
can’t believe you’re even thinking about it, Hiccup!’
‘Your fishlegged friend is suspicious, Hiccup…’
said Snotlout, his eyes glinting. ‘The question, is, are
you?’
‘I’m going to trust you,’ said Hiccup.
‘Oh frizzling fuzzy fish-fingers of Loki,’ moaned
Fishlegs, to no one in particular. ‘All I wanted was a
nice quiet life as a bard. A little cottage. A nice lyre. It’s
not much to ask, is it? But what do the gods make me

163

instead? A major contestant in an inter-species WAR. I
mean, I ask you, talk about bad luck…’
Windwalker huddled next to Fishlegs and gave
him an affectionate and understanding lick on the face.
Fishlegs grinned, in spite of himself. ‘Dragon-slobber.
Always makes everything better.’
‘Excellent,’ said Snotlout, climbing astride the
Hurricane. ‘Follow closely behind me.’
Snotlout took off, but before the others could
follow, Hiccup motioned them into a huddle.
‘What are we doing?’ whispered Fishlegs.
‘I want to trust Snotlout,’ said Hiccup. ‘I really,
really want to trust him, but I am not quite sure that we
can. So in case he does happen to betray us after all,
here is Plan B.’
‘Ah,’ murmured the Wodensfang. ‘That is wise.
You are learning, Hiccup. Hope for the best, but at
the same time prepare for the worst. That is kingly
behaviour.’
Fishlegs agreed. ‘Oh phew, I’m so glad there is a
Plan B. I’m not very keen on Plan A.’
As quick as he could, Hiccup outlined Plan B to
everyone, and both dragons and humans nodded to say
they understood.
‘But Plan B is even more dangerous than Plan A!’

164

complained Fishlegs. ‘Well, I’m really hoping we won’t
have to put it into action,’ said Hiccup grimly.
‘Come on!’ Snotlout whispered from where he
was hovering about thirty feet below, at the edges of
the waterfall. ‘We haven’t got all night, scaredy-cats!
I’m the Leader now, and when I say go, GO! Honestly,
Hiccup, you and your sidekicks have no idea of military
obedience, no idea at all…’
‘I like this New Improved Snotlout, with Added
Old-Fashioned Charm,’ said Fishlegs, climbing aboard
the Deadly Shadow. ‘Don’t you?’
Hiccup rode Windwalker, and Fishlegs the
Deadly Shadow. They hovered for a moment or two on
the edge of the waterfall, getting into position.
Looking at the tumultuous cascade in front
of them, it seemed impossible that there could be
anything on the other side.
‘You have to fly through it quite fast, so get a bit
of speed up,’ advised Snotlout. ‘Ready? NOW!’
Fishlegs went first.
He gave a few gentle taps with his heels. The
Deadly Shadow reared upwards in alarm, for it was as
if Fishlegs was driving straight at a wall of water. But
the three heads put their mouths in a determined line,
and the great chameleon dragon turned itself exactly

165

the colour of falling water and flew straight at the
cascade at considerable speed.
It was a peculiar feeling plunging through the
waterfall.
An instant’s soaking, chilling stun of water,
so cold that they nearly screamed – and Toothless,
flying above, did indeed let out an unhappy squeak
– and then they were out the other side, gasping
with the shock of it. Fishlegs braked the Deadly
Shadow sharply, and the dragon reared up to hide the
Windwalker and the Hurricane hurtling in after them.
WHAT a sight greeted their blinking,
drenched eyes.

9. INSIDE ALVIN’S WAR
BUNKER

It was a stupendous underground ice cavern, titanically
huge, and lit with millions and millions of Glow-worms
that sent the ice a-gleaming and a-dazzling as the
Glow-worms moved. There were vast icicles hanging
down from the ceiling, as if something had exploded
from above and frozen into great spikes of turquoise
ice.
The floor of the cavern was sea, and above it,
as Snotlout had said, the witch and Alvin had built
a Viking town on stilts. A crazy maze of wooden
platforms wound nearly from one side of the cavern
to the other, with houses and blacksmith’s forges and
armouries and even a crooked Great Hall standing in
the centre, made out of what looked like the jumbled
remains of ships, with the skull-and-crossbones
Treacherous flag flying from the top.
At the edges of this town there were at least a
hundred black ships, skulking like predatory black
widow spiders, torches and flares glowing along their
sides. And there was a melancholy, familiar sight of
gigantic dragon cages, with that terrible sound of
captured, terrified dragons, and the smell of chains

168

being made out of molten metal, for Alvin and the
witch were using dragons as slaves again.
It was good for Hiccup to see this at this time, for
it was so easy, in the chaos and the horror of war, to
forget what they were fighting for. It reminded Hiccup
that though he had made mistakes – he had released
the Dragon Furious, he had lost Camicazi – he had
made those mistakes for a reason.
This must not happen.
This misery, this slavery, this must not happen in
the future.
A new world HAD to be born.
With a sick feeling in his stomach, Hiccup
recognised Dragonmarker helmets on long poles
sticking triumphantly above the town.
Poor Camicazi was in there somewhere.
Oh please let her be all right…
Ferocious-looking Alvinsmen Warriors hurried
along the wooden walkways, shouting at each other,
and lighting flares, and cooking food, and making
weapons.
Circling above were the Alvinsmen sentries,
riding Bullguard Slavedragons whose goggling eyes
sent out searchlight beams as they patrolled the camp,
guarding against intruders.

169

It was extraordinary to think that such a huge
gathering of houses and ships could have been hidden
from the Dragonmarkers and the Dragon Furious
for so long, but the roar of the waterfall had entirely
muffled the noises and the smells and the lights of this
busy underground town from outside.
Hiccup adjusted his sword.
‘Let’s go,’ he whispered.
The three-headed dragon swooped down
towards the wooden platforms of the bustling village,
Windwalker and the Hurricane flying low under
the Deadly Shadow’s wings, so that they would be
camouflaged as they passed through the circling
Bullguard sentries.
Snotlout’s eyes gleamed admiringly as the
beautiful Deadly Shadow Dragon plunged into a dive.
‘I have to admit, reluctantly, Useless,’ he
whispered, ‘that for a lot of runty little weeds, your
team do travel in style.’
Hiccup’s heart was beating so hard, it felt like
it might leap out of his chest at any moment as they
soared near the Bullguards. One of the Bullguards
whipped its head around, perhaps feeling the passing
wind from the Deadly Shadow’s wings or hearing the
little muffled whispers of the hunting-dragons…

170

Surely they must see us? thought Hiccup, petrified.
They swooped downwards, and Hiccup tipped
his face upwards, expecting at any minute a roar of
discovery, and then the whine of a full aerial pursuit.
But there was nothing, no suspicion in the faces of the
Alvinsmen sentries or the dragons they were riding.
The Bullguards continued their patrol, their eye-beams
flashing around the Bay in steady circles.
Down the Deadly Shadow swooped, and shot
underneath the nearest wooden platform, followed
by the Hurricane and Windwalker, and the Hogfly,
Stormfly, Wodensfang and Toothless.
Hiccup breathed a sigh of relief.
There was barely room for the Deadly Shadow
underneath the maze of wooden platforms. Its wings
dipped into the sea as it flew, swerving through the
stilts that stood in the water like legs.
It was bizarre to be flying underneath the streets
of a city. Looking up, in between the wooden boards,
Hiccup could see the shoes of people walking up and
down the walkways above. A hatch opened ahead of
them, and the Windwalker swerved just in time, for
someone chucked a bucket of fish guts through the
hatch before slamming it shut again.
Below them in the water were the rotting

171

carcasses of sunken ships. Snotlout landed the
Hurricane on the upturned hull of one of these
submerged wrecks and gestured upwards with his
thumb.
‘This is the hatch,’ he whispered. ‘Before the
witch caught us, the Hurricane and I went on loads of
spying operations searching for the Things. Look, I’ve
marked the hatch with an X, to be sure I’d get the right
one when I came back.’
Hiccup and Fishlegs landed their dragons beside
him, and the three dragons sat in a row on the hull of
the sunken ship, like three great cormorants roosting
on a rock.
‘And who is in there guarding them?’
Snotlout’s eyes gleamed.
‘Oh, a couple of dozy Alvinsmen guards. But we
can deal with them, can’t we?’
‘He lies…’ whispered Stormfly in Dragonese.
‘Trust a liar to know a liar…’
‘If all three of us climb up,’ said Snotlout, ‘we can
carry the Throne through the hatch and balance it on
the back of the Deadly Shadow. And then we’ll go on
to the prison and rescue Camicazi.’
Hiccup drew his sword, and swallowed hard.
‘OK,’ said Hiccup. ‘Wodensfang, Hogfly and

172

Stormfly, you stay here with Windwalker and the
Deadly Shadow.’
‘Woof, woof!’ said Hogfly obediently. ‘Keep to
the left! Marry me, sunshine! Where’s the exit?’
‘Toothless,’ said Hiccup, ‘you can come with me,
I don’t want to let you out of my sight…’
‘Because T-t-toothless is the Best Lost Thing?’
Toothless smiled radiantly. ‘See Stormfly… See
W-w-wodensfang… See very very stupid dragon
who looks like a pig… Toothless so important Hiccup
can’t let him out of his sight… Toothless V-V-VERY
VERY important…’
‘The Deadly Shadow can give all three of us a
lift up to the hatch. Windwalker, could you open it
for us please?’
A single breath from Windwalker incinerated the
bolts around the hatch, and it fell open.
Hiccup, sitting on the back of the Deadly Shadow
who was hovering just underneath the hatch, peered up
inside. It was completely dark, and completely quiet.
‘I’ll go in first,’ whispered Snotlout, ‘because I
know my way around…’
Snotlout’s eyes were curiously bright.
Was it excitement?
Or was it something more than that?
Snotlout laughed at Hiccup’s expression, which

173

was a little dubious. ‘You do trust me, don’t you,
Hiccup?’
‘T-t-toothless doesn’t trust him…’ said Toothless’s
deep little voice from down in Hiccup’s waistcoat. ‘Is
like trusting a s-s-snake not to bite you…’
‘I want to trust you,’ said Hiccup steadily. ‘I really
really want to trust you, Snotlout…’
Snotlout dropped his own gaze. Did he look
guilty, just for a fraction of a second?
Then he drew his dagger, and put it between his
teeth.
Snotlout stood up on the Deadly Shadow’s
back and hauled himself on to the ledge of the hatch,
where he swung for a moment before climbing into the
darkness above and disappearing.
‘Is m-m-madness,’ said the muffled voice of
Toothless.
It was madness.
Snotlout hadn’t really given Hiccup cause to trust
him in the past.
But barely had Snotlout’s feet disappeared
through the hatch and into the room, than Hiccup
scrambled up after him.
Hiccup swallowed hard, and got to his feet, and
tried to make out where Snotlout was.

174

‘Snotlout?’ he whispered nervously.
There was no answer.
The darkness was so absolute it muffled the
senses. Hiccup’s eyes peered desperately into the
blackness, but he could see nothing.
‘Snotlout?’ he whispered again, a little louder, but
again there was no reply; just a faint rustling.
Why was Snotlout being so silent? He must be in
the room somewhere… He had only climbed through
the hatch two seconds before Hiccup…
Hiccup automatically edged softly, softly
backwards, as he began to suspect what this silence
might mean. And then a familiar smell reached his
nostrils, a faint stink of rotting eggs…
Hiccup would have recognised that
stench anywhere.
That delicate little aroma was the
foul skunk smell of the Murderous
Tribe, and every single member
of the Murderous Tribe was a
loyal Alvinsman servant of
Alvin and the witch.
He could hear
a shuffling of
immense feet,

and a hoarse breathing of not just one great Warrior,
but many.
It only meant one thing.
BETRAYAL.
TREACHERY AND BETRAYAL.
Snotlout had betrayed him.
Down in the depths of Hiccup’s waistcoat,
Toothless was giving Hiccup gentle, desperate nips on
the tummy.
I should run! thought Hiccup. Drop back through
that hatch and fly away on the back of the Windwalker!
But if Snotlout had betrayed him, it meant that
Snotlout did not really know where the Lost Things
were hidden. So there was only one thing left to do.
It was time to put Plan B into action.
Hiccup thrust his head down through the hatch.
Fishlegs was already standing on the Deadly Shadow’s
back, screwing up his courage to squirm up behind
Hiccup.
‘Plan B!’ whispered Hiccup.
Fishlegs looked back at him with shocked eyes.
‘No… not Plan B… Has Snotlout betrayed us
already?’
‘Plan B!’ Hiccup repeated.
And then Hiccup ignored all those instincts

176

screaming at him to run away, and moved away from
the hatch, from escape and freedom, back into the
unknown of the darkened room.
Two more steps and Hiccup was grabbed by
rough hands.
‘GOT HIM!’ yelled the Alvinsman, and three
more Warriors seized Hiccup as well, punching him,
hitting him, even though Hiccup put up no resistance.
From darkness he was hauled into dazzling light,
into a room full of chattering people. The noise died
away as soon as he was dragged in.
Blinded by the light, Hiccup recognised the
person who spoke next from the sound of their voice.
It was strangely changed, that voice, muffled
and disfigured into a ghastly shrieking rasp. But
nonetheless, it was definitely the voice of Hiccup’s
greatest enemy, Alvin the
Treacherous.
‘Why, HICCUP
HORRENDOUS
HADDOCK THE THIRD,
as I live and breathe!
Thank you so much for
joining us…’

~ STATISTICS ~

FEAR FACTOR: ..................... 6
ATTACK: .............................. 7
SPEED: ................................ 5
SIZE: ................................... 2
DISOBEDIENCE: .................. 7

A Winterflesher is a small dragon and
with its mouth shut looks quite sweet,
but actually they are a little like piranhas.
When they attack in shoals they can strip a
deer down to its skeleton in precisely three
minutes.

10. TREACHERY AND
BETRAYAL

As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, Hiccup
realised he must be in the crooked Great Hall, right
in the centre of the floating town. This assembly room
was crudely fashioned out of the upturned hulls of
three ancient Viking ships that had once been sunk by
the reefs of Wrecker’s Bay.
Around the edges of the room were cages,
containing human and dragon prisoners, stacked on
top of one another, right up to the ceiling.
In the centre of the Hall stood the Alvinsmen.
The Alvinsmen were a grim, tattooed, unsightly
crew of vicious and murderous criminals, who had once
been the more unpleasant members of the Visithug,
Murderous, Outcast, Hysteric and Uglithug Tribes.
The nastier side of the Archipelago had all followed
Alvin and the witch, and had grown ghastlier as a
result. It had brought out the worst in them.
The Alvinsmen dragged Hiccup into the centre of
the Hall and pushed him forwards, in front of a man in
an iron mask.
Snotlout swaggered in afterwards.
It took a few seconds for Hiccup to recognise

179

the man in the iron mask
as Alvin the Treacherous.
Alvin’s mother had
given Alvin a nasty case of
warts. As Alvin had gained
in power, so too had his warts:
multiplying, blossoming, and blooming in
mushrooming abundance. Big warts had given
birth to little warts, and those little warts in
their turn had grown and swelled and had
babies and burst across his face like joyful
volcanoes spewing pus, ripening and
germinating in such rosy profusion
that his face had swelled beyond all
recognition. What had begun as happy
additions, spotty little adornments to his
beauty, had ended finally in disfigurement.
So Alvin was wearing an iron mask, to
hide his swollen face. Beneath the mask,
the warts had swollen up his lips as
if they had been stung by bees.

That, and the grill across his mouth, gave his breathing
and his voice a dreadful rasping quality.
He was wearing none of the Lost Things… not
even the ruby heart’s stone bracelet.
Alvin was now a Man-of-War.
He was a Warrior made almost entirely out
of metal, from his gleaming hook to the spears and
swords and arrows hanging around his person. Even his
ivory leg was capped in steel. Along with many other
dreadful instruments of war suspended around his
waist, he had not only Dragonmarker helmets, but the
sad remnants of their beards.
On recognition of Hiccup, he let out a yell of
delight that was distorted by the grill of the mask into
a rasping animal screech.
The Witch Excellinor
bounded over on
all fours.

She was a long, lean wolf skeleton with a terrible
dead whiteness to her, bleached of all human kindness
and colour. She ought to have been a woman, but her
semi-baldness and her tattoos and the long white hairs
sprouting in a little beard on her jutting chin seemed to
suggest something else.
In one bound she pinned Hiccup to the floor,
a wild animal about to strike, and she opened up her
terrible jaws with those shark-like teeth, ground and
sharpened into points, and screamed so loudly that she
showered poor Hiccup with her horrible witch-spittle:

‘WE’VE GOT HIM! WE’VE GOT HIM, THE
LITTLE WRETCH! VICTORY IS OURS!’

Hiccup shrank away from her, for she was
terrifying, and whatever dead animal she had been
chewing on had stuck between her teeth and made her
breath stink.
Great cheers went up from the Alvinsmen.
Groans from the Dragonmarker prisoners, held
in the cages on the edges of the room.
The witch reared up on her hind legs,
dragging Hiccup to his feet.
‘Oh, well done, Snotlout, well
done!’ she carolled. ‘Well done,
my poisonous boy! Hiccup
believed you!’

‘He believed
every single subtle
word,’ smirked
Snotlout, high-fiving the
Alvinsmen and even Alvin
himself (which was actually
a slightly painful experience,
because Alvin had a hook rather
than a hand).
‘Oh, this is excellent news,’ sang
Alvin. ‘It means I shall be eating Hiccup’s
heart by this evening…’
‘You’re revolting!’ snapped a voice.
It was coming from inside a large box in the
corner of the room.

185

‘Camicazi!’
Oh thank Thor and Woden and pretty
much everybody. Hiccup was quite limp with relief.
‘Are you all right in there, Camicazi?’
‘I’m fine!’ said the voice from the box cheerfully.
‘I could not be finer. Don’t you worry about me,
Hiccup. I am absolutely OK…’
‘Why have you put Camicazi in a box?’ Hiccup
demanded of the witch.
‘I didn’t want the little Escape Artist to escape…’
purred the witch in reply.
The box was neatly wrapped up in heavy chains
and padlocks.

The witch was taking absolutely no chances.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Camicazi?’ Hiccup
shouted at the box. He hadn’t forgotten her for a
moment in all this time, how could he?
‘Oh yes,’ said the box, ‘it’s roomier in here than
it looks, quite comfy really, and there are plenty of
air holes. But “eating his heart” indeed! You should
be ashamed of yourself, Alvin! And you never learn,
Witch! Hiccup will trick you again, just like he always
does, and it’ll be you who is checkmated, just like all
the other times!’
‘Poor little Bog-Burglar,’ cooed the witch. ‘The
winds of war can change, my pretty love, the winds of
war can change. Your boyfriend has a weakness you
see…’
‘Hiccup is NOT my boyfriend!’ protested the box
furiously.
‘He wants to believe the best of people,’
continued the witch, ignoring her. ‘And as a result,
Snotlout seems to have tricked him pretty easily.’
‘That traitor!’ spat the box.
‘I expect you warned Hiccup not to trust
Snotlout, didn’t you, Camicazi?’ purred the witch.
By the silence from the box, the witch knew she
had scored a hit.

187

‘Tut tut,’ soothed the witch. ‘You see, my pretty
one? Kings must not be so easily tricked. Can you not
see that you have backed the wrong side? The boy’s
father has failed to find our hideout, the boy’s mother
has failed to steal the Lost Things. The boy himself is so
weak that he has walked straight into my trap. He isn’t
really the right stuff to be a King, is he?’
‘You are evil!’ shouted the voice of Camicazi from
inside the box.
‘Thank you,’ smiled the witch. ‘As I was saying,
the winds of war can change in a heartbeat. And you,
too, can change sides if you want. Everyone in this
room should know that it’s not too late to change your
loyalties and be on the winning side.’
‘NEVER!’ cried
Camicazi. ‘You can’t
see me, Hiccup, but
inside this box, I am
quite definitely NOT
Turning my Back!’
‘Why would
you want to follow
Hiccup? He’s a fool!’
screamed the witch.
‘The fool! The fool!

The fool! Believed the word of someone who has
betrayed him twice before? How could he be such an
idiot?’
‘Because I know there is good in Snotlout,’ said
Hiccup, stubbornly trying to cross his arms, but failing
to do so because one of his arms was sort of floppy.
‘Oh for Thor’s sake, Hiccup,’ snapped Snotlout.
‘Stop forgiving me. It’s really irritating.’
‘Snotlout, you are a TRAITOR!’ came a bellow
from a cage in the corner of the room.
It was Gobber the Belch, Hiccup’s old teacher,
who must have been
captured by the
Alvinsmen.
His magnificent
golden yellow beard,
a sign of his proud
Warriorhood, had been
hacked off at the roots.
It was hard to look
at his face now it was
edged with that rough,
ragged desecration.
That was the worst
thing you could do to a

189

Viking Warrior. It was like hacking off a
lion’s mane.
Gobber’s ex-beard was now hanging
like a scalp from Alvin’s waist, and Alvin
ran it jeeringly through his fingers, and
shook it at Gobber tauntingly.
‘I have your beard, old man,’ he chanted softly
through his mask. ‘I have your beard.’
But Gobber was alive, at least.
And still fighting.
‘SNOTLOUT!’ bellowed Gobber, ‘I offered you
the chance to change sides back in the Slavelands. I
said then that you would be an asset to the Company
of the Dragonmark. I withdraw that offer. You are a
disgrace to your name and your Tribe!’
Snotlout bit his lip. But he recovered to say
contemptuously: ‘Well, at least I’m not locked up in a

190

cage. Now that really would be a disgrace.’
The Alvinsmen soldiers laughed uproariously at
that.
‘Better a noble slave, than a free dog,’ shouted
Gobber.
Snotlout flushed.
‘You betrayed me,’ said Snotlout fiercely. ‘You
betrayed everything you ever taught me about life.
And look what has happened, look at the result of this
weakness!’ Snotlout gestured to the world outside.
‘The world at war! The dragons on the edge of
destroying us all! And still you are saying that it is I who
am the traitor? You are the traitor! You are all traitors
to the world that I loved!’
‘How dare you call me traitor!’ roared Gobber.
‘Do you think I find it any easier than you, you shrimp,
that the world has changed around me? But that world
has already vanished, and the choice we have to make
now is between Hiccup and Alvin, who even you must
be able to see is the essence of evil!’
‘Thank you very much,’ said Alvin, gratified.
‘We may be prisoners-of-war,’ bellowed Gobber,
‘but we can still Turn Our Backs on you, Snotlout!
Dragonmarkers! I invite you all to Turn Your Backs
on this dog, this turncoat, whose name shall be passed

191

down forever as a byword for treachery and deceit!’
Inside his cage, the old Warrior Turned His Back, and
all around him, the captured Dragonmarkers, Mogadon
the Meathead and his son Thuggory… Grabbit of
Grim… Sporta… Harriettahorse… did the same.
‘You can’t see me in my box,’ said Camicazi. ‘But
I am Turning My Back as well.’
Snotlout’s eyes were feverishly bright. He
pretended, with his usual bravado, that he really did
not care about his old teacher and comrades Turning
Their Backs on him. It didn’t bother him in the least.
‘Well, I would be more upset by you Turning
Your Backs on me,’ sneered Snotlout, ‘if it weren’t for
the fact that you are the same people who have chosen
Hiccup as your Leader. I mean, just look at him…’
The Dragonmarkers who had Turned Their
Backs looked over their shoulders a little thoughtfully
at Hiccup, and some of them were suddenly gripped
by doubt. Hiccup was a particularly pathetic sight at
that moment, half white, half purple, his left hand
side dragging like a bird with a broken wing, his arm
flopping at his side as if it were stuffed with rags, his
helmet loose on his head.
‘And Hiccup is so stupid,’ sneered Snotlout, ‘he
has even brought the Last Lost Thing with him…’

192

Almost unable to believe his luck, Alvin reached
inside Hiccup’s waistcoat with his hook, and drew out
a struggling, furious, wriggling, coatless little Toothless.
Hiccup looked at the floor, not quite able to bear
seeing the gaze of his followers turning from belief to
disappointment.
‘L-L-LET Toothless go!’ squealed Toothless. ‘I
told my mean Master this was a v-v-very bad idea!’
‘Oh,’ gasped the witch, in ecstasy, ‘oh this is too
good to be true. The Last Lost Thing as well…’
Gobber and the Dragonmarkers gasped in
horror.
Their last hope… gone.
‘This time we will keep
good care of the last Lost
Thing,’ grinned the witch,
‘and hide it immediately
with the others. Snotlout,
you have excelled
yourself!’
Snotlout bowed
low before the witch and
Alvin.
‘Will you do
me the honour

of entrusting me to carry the last Lost Thing to the
hiding-place where you keep the other Lost Things?’
said Snotlout.
His voice was light, casual.
The witch’s eyes narrowed.
‘That is a very great secret. Nobody knows where
we have hidden those Things.’
‘I have proved my loyalty to you both by betraying
my former Tribe and kinsmen,’ said Snotlout. ‘I am
now no longer a Hooligan, but Alvin’s loyal subject, an
Alvinsman of the Wilderwest.’
The witch thought a while, regarding the boy
in front of her with her acute serpent eyes, and then
she hissed softly, ‘We are of course full of gratitude to
you for your services to Alvin and to the Wilderwest,
Snotlout, and you shall receive your just reward.
‘However…’
The witch stood in front of Snotlout, her eyes
glittering with malice.
‘I am not sure that I am going to entrust you
with that secret…’ she sneered, and every word
was like the thrust of a thin, sharp, knife. ‘You have
brought me the Hiccup boy, the toothless dragon, sure
enough. But do you think that means that I will trust
you with the location of the Lost Things? You are a

195

turncoat, a weasel. You make a good minion, and you
are irrevocably bound to our side now that you have
betrayed your own forever.
‘They would never take you back. No, you are
ours now, Snotlout, ours forever.’
Snotlout flinched, as if realising for the first time
what being the witch and Alvin’s forever, really meant.
‘And you will have your little place in our new
Kingdom,’ continued the witch. ‘But I do not trust a
weasel, no. For I can see into the weasel’s mind.’
Now the witch’s voice was honey-sweet, and that
was always when she was being the most vicious.
‘You might be planning to steal those Things, in a
bid to become King yourself. You know, in your heart
of hearts, that you are not good enough, but against all
evidence you might have hoped, you poor boy…’
Something in Snotlout’s face, a twitch of his
mouth perhaps, betrayed that the witch might be right.
But proud as he was, Snotlout said nothing.
‘You might have thought to trick us all. But,’
and now the witch’s voice hardened, ‘Fate knows her
business, and she has always only picked two players as
possible Kings: Alvin or Hiccup. You were never good
enough, for all your fine Viking qualities.’ Sarcasm
dripped from her voice, and Snotlout flinched. ‘Fate

196

has shown you what you really are, and what you really
are, is a treacherous worm.’
There was a dreadful solemn silence in the Hall,
as if everyone was witnessing a bloodless death.
If you could kill a person with words, stab them
with the pure shock of your spite, why, that witch was
the person to do it.
Snotlout looked as if he
was about to throw up.
Even the Alvinsmen
were gazing at him with
contempt.
Nobody likes a traitor.
Snotlout opened his
mouth to speak.
No words came out, and
he closed it again.
He bowed his head,
and his shoulders sagged, and
he made himself take up as
little space as possible, as if
he wished for invisibility. He
stepped back into the shadows.
Having thus dispatched
Snotlout, the witch passed the

197

cage containing Toothless to Very Vicious the Visithug,
to whom she whispered the secret hiding place of the
Lost Things. The implication was clear. Very Vicious
was not as clever as Snotlout, but he was a lot more
trustworthy.
Toothless’s wailing cry was unbearable.
Hiccup could not look at him. He felt like he was
the traitor, and he had betrayed Toothless.
ALL MY FAULT, thought Hiccup. ALL MY
FAULT.
Inside the cage, Toothless’s spines were drooping
pathetically.
‘M-m-master! Don’t let them take me! Please
don’t let them take me! Toothless is yours… and I’m
the b-b-best Lost Thing…’
‘Trust me, Toothless! It will be fine… I’ll
rescue you, Toothless! Don’t worry, it’s all part of
Plan B!’ Hiccup called after him in Dragonese, so that
no one else could understand,
But he couldn’t be sure that Toothless heard, as
Very Vicious had already hurried out of the door.
‘Now we have all the Lost Things!’ the witch
cried to the captured Dragonmarkers. ‘Your cause
is hopeless! As soon as we turn up on the beach
tomorrow, Alvin will be accepted as the new King! It is
not too late to repent and turn to Alvin’s side!’

198

‘WE STILL STAND BY HICCUP!’ roared
Gobber the Belch.
The Dragonmarkers yelled their defiance, some
more certain than others.
‘HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP!’
‘HICCUP FOREVER!’
‘That’s very loyal of you,’ purred the witch
between gritted teeth, ‘very loyal indeed to stand by
Hiccup. But the question is, will the boy stand by you?
CHAIN THE BOY UP!’

11. THE TESTING OF
A HERO

Rough hands wound chains around Hiccup until he
was trussed up like a chicken.
‘Mother, what are you doing?’ said Alvin, uneasily
through his mask. ‘What did I tell you last time? I have
been dealing with this kid for quite a while and the
only thing to do with him is to kill him the second we
have him in our hook! We have all the Things now.
We should just kill him, and then we should kill all his
Dragonmarker followers.’

200

‘We can’t go around killing everybody, Alvin
sweetest,’ said the witch piously, ‘for if we did, we’d
have no subjects left. We need to change the minds
of his followers, turn them into Alvinsmen, and
then we won’t have to kill them. It’s politics, Alvin
darling. Leave the politics to me. OPEN UP THE
TRAPDOOR!’
CREEEAKKKKKK!
A huge trapdoor opened in the middle of the
room, directly on to the sea below.
‘Hiccup is going to break the
loyalty of these irritating followers of
his by telling us where Stoick and
Valhallarama and the rest of the
Dragonmarkers are hiding,’ said
the witch.

Stoick and Valhallarama’s secret underground
hideout was at Coral Beach, the other side of
Wrecker’s Bay. But neither the witch nor the Dragon
Furious had discovered this yet.
‘I most certainly am not,’
said Hiccup, as strongly and
as defiantly as he could,
given that he was almost
paralysed with fear.
‘I can assure you,
you most certainly are,’
said the witch.
‘You are going
to tell me where
your mother and
the rest of the
Dragonmarkers
are hiding,
or else I am
going to lower
you down into
this freezing

water, wrapped in chains, and leave you down there
until you see sense, or you drown, whichever is the
sooner.’
‘I will never betray my friends,’ said Hiccup,
really, really hoping that this was true.
‘You heard him, he said NEVER!’ said Alvin.
‘Never is a long word,’ replied the witch. ‘The
Winterfleshers have gathered, so Hiccup will not only
have freezing water to contend with, but the bite of
Winterfleshers. Winterfleshers are small but they are
deadly in packs, and they will certainly attack a chained
child.’
Winterfleshers were small but unpleasant
dragons, a little like piranhas. When they attacked in
shoals they could strip a deer down to its skeleton
in precisely three minutes.
‘SHAME ON YOU!’ cried
Gobber.
The Dragonmarkers howled
their disapproval and horror.
‘But he might get away!’
warned the strangled voice of Alvin
through the mask.

‘Pish posh,’ purred
the witch. ‘You worry
too much, Alvin, my
little lobster-pot. He’s
completely wrapped
in chains! How can he
possibly get away? The boy
is not superhuman! He’s
not even a Hero! He’s
just a perfectly ordinary
small boy. You will realise
this when he betrays his own
people, and you Dragonmarkers
will see that your so-called Leader is not worthy of your
loyalty…
‘LOWER HIM THROUGH THE TRAP DOOR!’
screamed the witch. ‘AND EVERYBODY, FEEL
ABSOLUTELY FREE TO CHANGE SIDES AT
ANY MOMENT!’
The witch’s plan was very simple. To lower
Hiccup down into the icy freezing water of the Bay,
water so mind-numbingly cold that it entered the very
soul and rendered it dead as an iceberg.
She would dip Hiccup in that water, like a sword
smith quenches a sword. Would it make Hiccup, or

204

break Hiccup?
Hiccup did not know.
He looked down into
the grim, soulless water,
and he was shaking already.
He had fallen into the sea in
winter before, and he knew
how it almost burned you
at first, and how quickly you
turned numb, as if you had
ceased to exist.
He also knew what a
surprisingly short time it took to
die in the winter sea – two, three
minutes, perhaps?
Please don’t let me give in…
thought Hiccup to himself. Please
let me be braver than I think I am…
Down.
Down.
Down.
Hiccup was lowered, by two
Alvinsmen Warriors, down, down
into the cold, cold sea.

Oh, it was so
cold.
It was so cold
that as it tightened
round his chest,
squeezing all the breath
out of him, it was as if
he were being crushed
in the fist of a Frost
Giant – or was it a Fire
Giant? At temperatures
that low, they are one
and the same.
The witch left
him under the water a
good minute before she
brought him up again.
It was a truly
terrifying minute for
Hiccup, trying to
hold his breath in the
freezing sea, trying to
deal with the panic, when
it seemed like he couldn’t
hold his breath any longer but

knew that if he opened his mouth he would not breathe
in sweet air but water.
When the witch drew him up, Hiccup was
frost-cold and limp, like a doll with all the stuffing
taken out of it. But there was not a mark on him.
The witch was puzzled.
‘I don’t understand…’ she hissed. ‘What about
the Winterfleshers? Are there none down there?’
‘There seem to be plenty,’ said Alvin. ‘But I told
you, Mother, he’s tricksy… very tricksy…’
The witch lifted up the visor on Hiccup’s helmet.
‘Well?’ said the witch. ‘Are you ready to tell me
where the Dragonmarkers hideout is?’
To Hiccup’s relief, he found that he had the
courage not to tell her, after all. He shook his head.
‘Put him down again! This time for two minutes!’
‘He’ll never betray them,’ said Alvin gloomily.
It seemed that Alvin might be right.
Twice the boy was lowered into the water, and
still he would not betray his friends.
‘Patience,’ purred the witch. ‘One more dunking
will do it. I can see it in the boy’s eyes. Not even a fully
grown adult can take that water more than twice… and

he is just a boy.’
The third time the Alvinsmen drew the boy out
he was a pathetic sight indeed.
The witch lifted the visor. ‘Well? Will you talk?’
Hiccup was a little woozy. The witch was
swimming in front of his eyes, and he was so cold his
brain had turned to ice. Every part of him shivered like
he had the fever.
He looked inside himself.
Although a part of him was shouting, ‘Not back
down there! Please, I never want to go back there!’…
the more important bit of him would never give in.
You find things out about yourself in these rather
extreme circumstances.
Hiccup could barely stand, and he was as
blue-white as if he were already dead… But still
he shook his head, and would not say where the
Dragonmarkers’ hideout was.
And still there was not a mark on him.
‘What are you doing, you horrible little boy?’
snapped the witch, quivering with temper. ‘Are you
using some fancy foreign breathing technique?’
All around the edges of the room, the
Dragonmarkers were crying: ‘HICC-UP! HICC-UP!
HIC-CUP!’

208

The admiration had begun to spread, so that
even the Alvinsmen were beginning to whisper among
themselves: ‘He’s very brave isn’t he? He’s small and
skinny, but he sure is brave…’
For there is nothing that Vikings admire more
than bravery, even in boys with arms like matchsticks.
And the fact that the Winterfleshers were not touching
him was giving Hiccup a supernatural quality that, at
that moment, the witch really could have done without.
‘How is he doing it?’ people whispered quietly
to one another. ‘The Winterfleshers aren’t touching
him… why do you think that is?’
‘Maybe there aren’t any down there!’ howled the
witch.
But the sea was so boiling with Winterfleshers
that, at that very moment, one of them jumped right up
through the trapdoor, and lay flapping, stranded on the
wooden floor, before Alvin angrily kicked it back down
through the hatch again.
‘I think your plan may be backfiring, Mother…
you’re turning him into even more of a Hero than he
was before…’

The exasperated witch ground her teeth. She
changed tactics.
‘In your heart of hearts you do not wish to
become King, Hiccup,’ she cooed. ‘For you know
that whoever does become King will have to make the
terrible decision to extinguish the dragons forever with
the Dragon Jewel… You don’t want to bear that guilt,
do you, Hiccup? For that guilt is the lot of a King…’
Hiccup’s heart nearly failed.
It was his darkest fear that he might have to do
that…
‘Well,’ purred the witch, ‘I can just take the
problem off your hands. We will let you and your
friends off the hook. We will give you and your
Dragonmarkers safe conduct. You can live free in the
Archipelago, anywhere you like. Berk, if you want…
imagine living a nice quiet peaceful life on Berk…’
Hiccup thought longingly of his childhood home.
Of the world before all this happened…
‘And the dragons…’ said Hiccup. ‘What
about the dragons?’

The witch’s voice hardened. ‘It is too late for the
dragons. The dragons will die anyway. But you have it
in your power to save the lives of all those you love…
Don’t let them die all THROUGH YOUR FAULT…’
This was the greatest trial of all.
It was far harder than withstanding the cold, the
lack of oxygen. For what the witch proposed was so
tempting.
Everything had gone very quiet and still. Hiccup
could barely hear the hubbub of stamping and
applauding Vikings in the background any more.
He was alone in the quietness of his own mind.

He did not want to be king. He did not want the
responsibility of it being all his fault when things went
wrong.
But then, his own voice spoke back to him, in
the quietness of his brain. If he was not the King,
Alvin would be the King. And Hiccup knew what that
meant now. That meant the horror of the dragons’
extinction. That meant the tyranny of evil dominating
the Archipelago and ruling over Tomorrow for this
generation and the next. He could not let that happen.
Even though he did not want it, he HAD to be
King now. He had to fight for it, not half-heartedly, but
with everything he had.
That was the moment Hiccup took on his destiny.
He lifted his drooping head.
‘I will NEVER give up fighting you even though it
is too late… Even though all is lost… Even though it is
impossible… Never never never…’

The witch had failed again.

212

‘Leave
him down even
longer!’ yelled the witch,
quivering with temper.
‘Leave him for eight minutes!’
‘Eight minutes is murder!’
bellowed the furious voice of Gobber
the Belch.
But the Alvinsmen lowered Hiccup
down into the sea, and left him down there
for five minutes, six minutes, eight minutes.
Gobber the Belch feared he must be dead.
No ordinary human being could survive

214

underwater for eight whole minutes. The Vikings held
diving competitions in the summertime, so they knew
that it was impossible.
But when the Alvinsmen pulled Hiccup up, and
heaved him out of the water, the boy was absolutely
blue, yet he moved inside his chains. He was still alive.
There was a silence of wonder and awed respect
in the Great Hall.
The witch pulled up Hiccup’s visor with a snap.
This had turned from a trial for Hiccup, to a
trial for herself. It was no longer a testing of a single
individual, but a duel of their two wills. And Hiccup
was winning.
She shook him.
‘Well, you horrible little Hiccup-y brat? Will you

215

tell us where the Dragonmarkers’ hideout is now, or
will I be reluctantly forced to leave you down there
forever?
‘I am trying my best not to kill you, you
ungrateful little so-and-so,’ grated the witch,
‘but if you remain so absurdly stubborn, I
shall have to go ahead and do that…’
‘There is nothing you can do to
me,’ panted Hiccup, ‘that will make
me change my mind.’
At that the witch’s eyes
gleamed. ‘AHA!’ she said
triumphantly. ‘Of course! Why
didn’t I think of this before? I
have been conducting this trial on
the wrong person. We all have
our little weaknesses, don’t
we, Hiccup?’ she gloated. ‘And
yours is soft-heartedness. You
care more about other people
than you do for your runty self.
So how about we throw this
box containing your dear little
Bog-Burglar friend into the
water instead of you?’

At last Alvin felt that his mother was thinking
along the right lines.
‘This is why you will always be weaker than I am,
Hiccup. Camicazi is a very good friend
of yours, isn’t she? And although she
is a great little Escape Artist, even she
will not be able to get out of a box,
wrapped in chains, and thrown into
the sea.
‘She is not a magician, after all.’

Six burly
Alvinsmen threw a
rope around the box, with
Camicazi’s voice shouting, ‘Stay
strong, Hiccup! Don’t worry, I can get out of
this! Don’t betray everyone on account of me!’
SPLASH!
The box went into the water.
‘Think of something clever, Hiccup,’ begged
Gobber.
‘I will haul up this box, Hiccup,’ said the witch,
very, very patiently, ‘the minute you tell me where the
Dragonmarkers’ hideout is. For the last time, will you
tell me where it is?’
Silence, while the Dragonmarkers
strained forward.

Don’t give in, Hiccup… Don’t give in…
Don’t give in….
Please don’t give in…
But Hiccup looked broken.
He nodded. Yes, he would tell her.
Perhaps we all have limits to our
endurance.
There was a groan of despair from the
Dragonmarkers in the cages.
Their Hero had been found wanting
after all.
‘It was too hard a test,’ murmured
Gobber forgivingly to himself. ‘Far too hard a
test for one young boy.’
‘You see…’ smiled the witch, faint with
relief that at last she had triumphed. ‘All it
took was a little bit of light persuasion…
‘YOU SEE!’ she glowed, holding wide
her victorious arms.

‘THE BOY IS HUMAN AFTER ALL! JUST
A POOR SQUIGGLY WORM LIKE THE REST OF
US!
‘Now talk! Talk! Talk!’ yelled the witch.
It appeared that Hiccup was coughing too much
to talk.
‘Show me on the map!’ yelled the witch. ‘Show
me on the map where the Dragonmarkers’ hideout
is…’
Hiccup tried to indicate with his head where the
hideout was on the map.
‘He’s too exhausted to talk… Untie his arms
from the chains so he can point!’ snapped the witch, in
a fever of impatience.
‘No!’ said Alvin.
The witch ignored her son. ‘Leave the chain
round his ankle… bar the doors… he’s only one boy…’
Hiccup’s arms and legs were untied.
He stumbled forward, his left-hand side trailing
behind him, a dead, unconscious weight.

220

And then he sprang.

To the witch’s
astonishment,
Hiccup suddenly
leapt into awkward,
limping life, like a
shaking ghost, and
used his good right
hand to slap the map
up into the witch’s face.
He dodged clumsily past two Alvinsmen,
and hauled himself up the Dragonmarkers’ cages with
one hand, one leg, and a reserve of strength he did not
know he had.
‘I knew it! CATCH HIM!’ bellowed Alvin in
horror as Hiccup climbed.
‘Don’t panic!’ shrieked the witch. ‘He can’t go
anywhere! He’s got a chain around his ankle!’
Hiccup hung off the top-most cage, a lopsided
scarecrow, his right fist clenched and defiant.
‘I will… NEVER… betray my friends, witch!
And the dragons must never be destroyed! NEVER!
NEVER! NEVER!’ shouted Hiccup.
All around the edges of the room, the
Dragonmarkers burst out cheering.
‘NEVER! NEVER! NEVER! HICCUP!

222

HICCUP! HICCUP!’
The witch gave a shriek of fury. ‘But we can
still kill him! Alvin, you were right! Forget about the
politics! Kill them all! Kill everybody! SHOOT! SHOOT
YOUR ARROWS! SHOOT HIM DOWN!’
With a cry of delight, Alvin gave the order, drew
out his own longbow, ready to shoot…
But he was too late.
Hiccup looked down at Snotlout.
‘I did not Turn My Back on you, Snotlout,’ he
said. ‘Remember that.’
And then Hiccup threw himself off the edge of
the cage, down through the trapdoor, and into the icy
sea below.
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ screamed Alvin,
hurling himself at the chain still attached to Hiccup’s
ankle.
Alvin hauled on the chain, desperate to reel
Hiccup in, hand over hook, screaming for help. Three
burly Alvinsmen rushed to assist. The chain was coming
up easily, for after all, there was only one skinny young
boy on the end of it.
Beside them three more Alvinsmen were hauling
up the box that had Camicazi inside it.
‘Two more strong drags and we’ll have him!’

223

panted Alvin in relief.
But Camicazi’s box
came up first – or rather the
remains of Camicazi’s box.
The padlocks and chains were
broken, the dripping wood was
split open wide, smashed to
pieces by some great mystery
force, and there was no
Camicazi inside.
The little blonde Escape
Artist had made her most
daring escape.
‘Nooooooooooo!’
howled the witch. ‘Where has she gone?’
And then the chain that was supposed
to have Hiccup on the end of it jerked once,
twice…
It was as if Alvin and his Alvinsmen
were out in the Open Ocean, fishing for
mackerel, and the line was suddenly taken
by a gigantic shark. The chain was wrenched back with
such ferocity that it heaved all four Warriors off their
feet, and up into the air, and dragged them right to the
edge of the trapdoor.

224

‘Take the strain!’ screamed Alvin hysterically,
leaning so far backwards that he was practically
horizontal to the ground. More and more Alvinsmen
joined the end of the chain, heaving for all they were
worth.
To the onlookers, it seemed like an almost
mystical tug-of-war.
Red, gasping, his masked face bulging, Alvin’s
foot and helplessly scrabbling ivory leg could not get a
grip. He and his Warriors were towed inexorably nearer
and nearer to the open trapdoor.
‘PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT!’ screamed
the demented villain, and the room watched
open-mouthed, unable to believe what they were
seeing. Who was this boy, to drag so many mighty
Warriors across the floor?
‘It’s a miracle…’ breathed an Alvinsman,
mightily impressed despite himself, for one of the
ancient qualities of a Hero in the Viking Sagas was
superhuman strength.
One last colossal heave, and SNAP! The chain
broke. All ten of the Alvinsmen fell flat on their
backs with a suddenness that dragged Alvin’s brand
new cloak into the water, while Alvin screamed,
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOO!’

225

Crazed with disappointment, Alvin drew up what
was left of the chain. The broken remains were as light
as a crabcake. There was nothing on the end.
‘AAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!’
screamed Alvin.
Killing Hiccup had
become his obsession; it
filled every waking and
dreaming moment. And was
the boy to be plucked from
his hook in the nick of time
once more?
It was too cruel.
The witch’s plan had backfired
most spectacularly.
‘He’s escaped! He’s escaped!’
‘HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP!’
‘Alvin, my sweetest… Alvin, my
darling… Alvin, my honeypot,’ said the
witch, trying to soothe herself as much as
her son. ‘He’s dead… he must be dead,
don’t you see? Some large underwater
sea creature must have got him,
that is what will have broken
that chain…’

‘Out! Out to the boats! Search every corner!
Launch the Bullguards!’ howled Alvin, shaking off
the witch’s arm, and leaping to his feet. ‘NO MORE
TALKING! SHOOT THE BOY ON SIGHT!’

The witch was quiet for
a second, crouched down low.
And then she exploded into action,
screaming.
‘WHAT ARE YOU
WAITING FOR, YOU IDIOTS?
SEARCH HIGH, SEARCH LOW,
SEARCH EVERYWHERE!
FIND THE HICCUP BOY!’

229

12. THAT TREASONOUS
TRAITOR OF TRAITORS

Alvin rushed out of the door in a demented frenzy,
followed by the witch and the Alvinsmen with drawn
swords.
Leaving the cages with the captured
Dragonmarkers openly whispering and then shouting
to each other: ‘What happened? They’ve got the last
Lost Thing? But is Hiccup still alive? Or did he die?
That treasonous traitor of traitors Snotface Snotlout
betrayed us all…’
That treasonous traitor of traitors, Snotface
Snotlout, had not left the room with the others. He was
still standing in the shadows. Even if you could have
seen his face, you would not be able to read it.
‘Boo!’
‘BOOOOOOO!’
The room reverberated with the sound of the
shouting, furious Dragonmarkers rattling their cages,
and it was dreadful indeed to hear their condemnation.
‘TURNCOAT! TRAITOR! LOWEST OF THE
LOW! DISGRACE TO YOUR TRIBE!’
There was shame in Snotlout’s flushed face as
all around him his former Companions cursed his

231

name and howled furious
contempt.
He would never
be trusted again. Not
even Alvin and the witch
trusted him. He had
nowhere to go.
It was a far greater
disgrace for a Viking to lose his
honour than to lose his beard.
A single tear rolled down Snotlout’s cheek.
Once upon a lifetime ago, Snotlout had been
Gobber the Belch’s favourite pupil. Now it was
Gobber the Belch’s powerful bellow that reverberated
around the room in rolling echoes, like the honk of an
outraged walrus.
‘YOU HAVE DISHONOURED THE NAME
OF HOOLIGAN! YOU HAVE SHAMED THE
GOOD NAME OF YOUR FATHER AND OF YOUR
FATHER’S FATHER’S FATHER! SAGAS WILL
BE TOLD OF YOUR IGNOMINY FOREVER!’
roared Gobber.
Snotlout stood perfectly still.
And then out loud, he said to himself: ‘Hiccup
knew that I was going to betray him. He knew.’
Only two Alvinsmen were left in the room. They

232

were kneeling around the trapdoor, peering down into
the sea, shivering and with swords drawn, as if that
magical Hero, Hiccup the Outcast, might in some final
act of superhuman sorcery rise up out of the sea and
strike them down.
With a quickness Gobber would have been proud
of in the old days, Snotlout walked up behind them,
removed the keys from their belts and shoved them
into the water.
The bellows from the cages of the Dragonmarkers
died down.
What was the traitor doing?
Why had he attacked
the Alvinsmen?
What in Valhalla was
going on?
Snotlout ran to
Gobber’s cage and put the
key in the lock.
‘What are you
doing, Snotlout, you
villain?’ cried Thuggory
the Meathead in
bewilderment.
‘What does it look

like, O Dumbo-brain Meathead?’ said Snotlout as the
door to Gobber’s cage swung open. ‘I’m helping you to
escape.’
There was a murmur of astonishment along the
cages.
Vikings were strong Warriors, tough soldiers.
But they were not all of them quick on the uptake.
They might have been taught Spying and Treachery in
their Pirate Classes, but most of them, to be honest,
were not very good at it. What they really liked was
to know exactly who their enemies were, preferably
colour-coded, with the same helmets, or a similar style
of furry cloak or something, to avoid confusion in
battle.
So this unexpected move on the part of Snotlout
really flummoxed them.
‘Hang on,’ said Thuggory the Meathead
plaintively, ‘I thought you were on the other side?’
‘Me too,’ complained Grabbit of Grim. ‘The
witch thanked you and everything… Why are you
freeing us? What’s going on?’
‘Look here, Snotlout,’ demanded Boily of
Bashem. ‘Let’s be absolutely clear. Are you on that
rotter Alvin’s side or not?’
‘You won’t believe me, whatever I say,’ replied

234

Snotlout. ‘You already told me I’m a double-crossing
worm.’
Gobber’s cage door was still hanging open. But
the great giant within, with his arms crossed, refused to
move.
‘I don’t accept help from Traitors, or disgraces to
their Tribe!’ roared Gobber furiously.
‘Oh for Thor’s sake, stay if you want to! You
always were a stubborn old warthog,’ muttered
Snotlout. He tossed the keys through the door of the
nearest cage so that the others could free themselves,
and ran out of the room.
The Dragonmarkers did not waste any further
time trying to work out Snotlout’s motivation, and
passed the keys along from cage to cage. Psychology
had never been their strong point.
Fighting, however, was their forte.
With cries of joy, the freed Dragonmarkers armed
themselves with swords, javelins, spears, whatever they
could find in the armoury.
Even Gobber realised it might be better to
swallow his pride and join the fray. He left his cage,
shaking his head in confusion.

235

13. MEANWHILE, UNDER THE
FLOORBOARDS…

How did Camicazi and Hiccup escape from the box
and the rope? Well, it wasn’t quite the miracle that the
watching Dragonmarkers and Alvinsmen thought it
was.
Let us go back to earlier on, under the
floorboards of the floating city, where a terrified
Hiccup had whispered ‘Plan B! Plan B!’ down to
Fishlegs and slammed down the hatch, leaving Fishlegs
sitting on the upturned hull of a boat in the darkness
with six dragons: the Deadly Shadow, Stormfly, the
Hogfly, Windwalker, the Hurricane and Wodensfang.
‘Oh, for Thor’s sake,’ moaned Fishlegs. ‘Plan B!
Plan B means that the Lost Things aren’t there!’
The ears of the Wodensfang were bright purple
and quivering as if electric currents were running
through them, which was always a sign that terrible
peril was near.
‘I told Hiccup,’ wheezed Wodensfang, ‘I’ve seen
the Lost Things in my dreams. They’re underwater
somewhere. But I admire Hiccup’s courage in trusting
Snotlout. It’s just a shame…’

236

Fishlegs swallowed and finished the sentence for
him.
‘It’s just a shame that Snotlout has betrayed him
again?’
As if to confirm this, Snotlout’s Hurricane dragon
took off from the submerged boat and flew off.
‘Where’s he going?’ asked Fishlegs.
And then he answered his own question.
‘He must be joining his treacherous master.
‘This is fine,’ said Fishlegs to himself. ‘I’m on my
own here, but it’s fine.’ He was trying not to panic.
His asthma often got worse in times of stress.
Luckily Deadly Shadows give off a calming
hormone in their smoke when they are in an action
situation, and breathing in the milky clouds of steam
drifting out of the three heads of the gentle giant
beneath him gave Fishlegs the strength to remain calm
and to focus.
Fishlegs pushed his broken glasses more firmly
on to his nose. He did not want to look like a coward
in front of his mother’s dragon. If his mother could be
brave, then so could he.
‘OK,’ said Fishlegs, making himself think
reasonably, ‘according to Plan B, we now have to
surreptitiously rescue Hiccup. But how do we rescue

237

him if we have no idea where he is?’
Two hundred yards away, a hatch opened in
the long platform of the ceiling above them, letting
a brilliant shaft of light down into the dark sea. The
sound of the shouting and the stamping of feet became
so loud, Fishlegs shrank behind the Deadly Shadow’s
back spines, for fear they had been discovered.
‘HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP!’
And then the witch’s voice, clear and loud:
‘LOWER HIM THROUGH THE TRAPDOOR!’
Something was dumped through the trapdoor
and into the sea. With horror, Fishlegs recognised
Hiccup’s helmet.
‘O… K…’ said Fishlegs. ‘There he is… That’s
Hiccup… let’s rescue him…’
Windwalker had left Fishlegs’s side before
Fishlegs had even finished speaking, flying towards
the spot where Hiccup had been dumped. In two flaps
of his wings, Fishlegs could see from the bubbles that
Windwalker had reached Hiccup underwater, closely
followed by Wodensfang, Stormfly and the Hogfly.
Fishlegs hovered near the spot on the back of the
Deadly Shadow.
‘Get him up! What are you guys doing?’ he
whispered desperately from the shadows. ‘Why aren’t

238

you getting him out of there? There are Winterfleshers
down there and everything…’
He could see the quick black silhouettes of the
heavily-fanged Winterfleshers being chased hither and
thither underwater by the hunting dragons.
The Alvinsmen pulled on the chain again. It drew
taut, and UP the blue dripping figure of Hiccup was
hauled, and Fishlegs watched, open-mouthed.
SPLASH!
Up rocketed Wodensfang, out of the water.
‘Why didn’t you rescue him?’ whispered an
agitated Fishlegs.
‘He didn’t want us to,’ replied Wodensfang. ‘He
kept on pointing up towards the Great Hall. I think he
doesn’t want us to rescue him until he can get Camicazi
out too.’
‘Oh thank Thor,’ breathed Fishlegs. ‘So Camicazi
is alive?’
‘We’re just trying to keep him warm and
alive,’ continued Wodensfang, ‘and scare away the
Winterfleshers. Windwalker is blowing air into him so
he doesn’t drown.*’
SPLASH!
Down Hiccup was thrown again, and Fishlegs
could see the large shadow of the Windwalker flying

* Windwalker was acting like a dragon aqualung. Hiccup first describes doing
this with Toothless in How to Be a Pirate when he was stuck in Grimbeard the
Ghastly’s underground cavern. Hiccup and Windwalker had practised this in
happier times and warmer waters, when they went diving together for crabs in
long ago summers in Hooligan Harbour.

underwater like a giant ray, sending the little dark
slivers of the Winterfleshers shooting off in all
directions in alarm. Again and again, Hiccup was
hauled back up through the trapdoor, again and
again he was thrown into the sea – and each time
he was left underwater for longer and longer.
‘Oh what shall I do?’ Fishlegs whimpered to
himself, ‘This can’t be good for him… Plan B was
always over-ambitious… How on earth is Hiccup
going to rescue Camicazi when he’s all tied up in
chains and everything?’
Fishlegs’s question was answered when
SPLASH! The large box crashed into the
water, and this time Windwalker attacked
the box, and to Fishlegs’s passionate relief,
Camicazi came gasping to the surface. He

reached out an arm to pick her out, and she climbed up
behind him on the Deadly Shadow, and sat shivering
on the dragon’s warm back, steaming lightly.
The fourth time, when Hiccup dived through the
trapdoor by himself, the Windwalker changed tactics.
Camicazi was safe, so it was time to rescue Hiccup
now.
Windwalker got a good grip on Hiccup’s collar
under the water, like a cat holding a kitten, and hauled
with all his strength on the chain attached around
Hiccup’s ankle, the one that Alvin and the Alvinsmen
were holding at the other end.
That was the mystical tug of war that had so
impressed the Alvinsmen and Dragonmarkers in the
Great Hall.
With a final HEAVE, the chain broke, and with
smooth powerful strokes of his wings, Windwalker
brought Hiccup, gasping, to the surface and deposited
him on the boat beside Camicazi.
‘Thank you, Camicazi,’ gasped Hiccup.
‘I told you,’ said Camicazi, ‘I would never Turn
My Back on you again.’
Hiccup grinned. ‘Windwalker, Hogfly, Wodensfang
and I will find Toothless and the Things… Fishlegs and
Camicazi and the others, cause a Diversion…’

242

He had barely finished the sentence before
Windwalker flew off, carrying Hiccup like a limp doll in
his mouth, with Wodensfang and the Hogfly anxiously
following.
‘Excellent news!’ said Camicazi joyfully. ‘Apart
from Burgling and escaping from impossible prisons
and possibly surfing on dragonback, DIVERSIONS
are a Bog-Burglar’s favourite thing!’
She sat back on the Deadly Shadow, unpacked
her backpack and put on a large blond moustache.
‘Camicazi,’ said Fishlegs, ‘no one is going to
mistake you for a very small Alvinsman.’
Camicazi ignored him.
‘Now,’ she said, holding up a finger, ‘we’re going
to have to be a little bit careful because I reckon
there must be thousands and thousands
of Bullguards and Alvinsmen up
there…’

‘And there are four of us…’ bleated Fishlegs.
‘Six!’ corrected Camicazi optimistically. ‘Your Deadly
Shadow counts as three. Which is why I need my
super-dangerous secret weapon. Now, where did I put
it?’ Camicazi rummaged away at the bottom of her
Escape Artist backpack, pulling out ropes and keys and
all sorts of extraordinary equipment.
‘You have a super-dangerous secret weapon?’
Fishlegs clutched at the faint hope of what a
‘super-dangerous secret weapon’ offered.
Ideas of battering rams, and spear launchers, and
those gigantic Roman catapults swam into his head,
and made him feel a little braver.
But no, it would have been hard to fit a battering
ram into that teeny weeny little backpack.
Camicazi whooped in triumph as she finally
located the super-dangerous secret weapon, and held it
up so that Fishlegs could see it.
There was a short silence.
‘Camicazi,’ said Fishlegs. ‘The four— no,
sorry, six of us are about to face Alvin’s entire
heavily-armed army, and that is a small glass
jar filled with pebbles.’
It was indeed a small glass jar filled
with pebbles.

244

Small, grey, and very normal-looking pebbles.
‘Ah yes,’ said Camicazi craftily, ‘but these are
no ordinary pebbles. My mother burgled them off a
Chinese ship she raided when she was out east a while
back, and I sort of borrowed them. Trust me, Fishlegs,
these things are quite something.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Fishlegs sarcastically, ‘those little
pebbly souvenirs that your mother got on her holidays
are really going to make the difference…’
‘Now, we are a little outnumbered, I have to
admit,’ said Camicazi, frowning, and pulling out
her lassos and her ropes, and borrowing some of
Fishlegs’s bow and arrows, ‘so we have to seem like
there are more of us. We need to make those rotten,
haddock-stinking, twister-evil Alvinsmen think they’re

245

being attacked by Valhallarama’s whole Dragonmarker
army. Can I borrow your helmet a second, Fishlegs?’
Without waiting for an answer, Camicazi
whipped it off his head.
‘Watch this, Fishlegs, I think you’re going to like
it…
‘Who do you think this is, then?’
Camicazi sang the Hooligan national anthem
into Fishlegs’s helmet, in an uncanny impression of
Valhallarama’s booming, magnificent tones. The helmet
gave her voice the necessary deep, echoing quality:

‘Up with your SWORD and strike at the GALE…
‘RIDE the rough SEAS for those WAVES
are your HOME…’

Fishlegs looked at her with his mouth hanging
open. ‘You sound exactly like Valhallarama…’
‘Good, isn’t it?’ grinned Camicazi, ‘I’ve been
practising for ages…

‘WINTERS may FREEZE but our HEARTS do
not FAIL—’

Yes, it’s great, Camicazi, absolutely spooky, but
this is no time for doing impressions,’ said Fishlegs,
terrified.
Again, Camicazi ignored him. ‘So, Fishlegs, get
out your weapons, put on your hood, and I want you to
imagine you’re an army…’
‘Imagine I’m an army,’ said Fishlegs, getting out
his bow and arrows and pulling up the hood of his
fire-suit. ‘Imagine I’m an army… this is crazy…’
Camicazi kicked her heels, and the Deadly
Shadow swooped out from under the wooden platform
and into the open air of the cavern.
Fishlegs’s eyes were shut, and he was whispering
over and over again to himself, ‘I’m an army… I’m
an army… I’m an entire super-scary Dragonmarker
army…’
Camicazi urged the Deadly Shadow higher and

247

higher, until it was hovering just below the icy ceiling of
the cavern.
Beneath them, the crazy twisted streets of Alvin’s
town were curiously beautiful, with flares lighting up
the edges of that maze of wooden platforms and the
dark shapes of the floating armada.
Little figures were shouting at one another, flares
in their hands, peering over the sides of the wooden
streets beside the Great Hall, looking into the sea.
‘FIND THE HICCUP BOY!’ the witch was
screaming, and the Bullguards shot out random
lightning bolts that formed a hissing, spitting, live maze
of death in the air to match the mazy streets below.
‘Calmly,’ whispered Camicazi, keeping Deadly
Shadow circling. ‘We have to wait for exactly the right
moment…
‘Now dive!’ ordered Camicazi. ‘Dive, Deadly
Shadow, dive!’
‘Hang on!’ panicked Fishlegs, ‘You can’t dive
now! There’s no way you’ll get through those random
lightning bolts! You can’t do it!’
‘ATTACK!’ ordered Camicazi, more
magnificently Valhallarama-ish than ever, shouting
into Fishlegs’s helmet in Valhallarama’s deepest
most commanding voice. Even the moustache had a

248

jaunty Valhallarama effect. ‘DRAGONMARKERS,
ATTACK!’
‘Oh brother,’ whispered Fishlegs, putting his
hands over his eyes.
The Deadly Shadow dived.

14. A LITTLE LESSON FROM
CAMICAZI IN CAUSING
CHAOS AND CONFUSION

A few minutes earlier, the Alvinsmen had run out on to
the platform above the icy sea and scanned the waters
below for any sign of Hiccup.
‘He won’t be able to hold his breath for long!’
shrieked Alvin. ‘Get the Bullguards’ searchlights steady
on the water!’
Hundreds of hovering Bullguards illuminated the
sea around the Great Hall, revealing a heaving mass of
Winterfleshers in a feeding frenzy.
‘Look, Alvin, my darling! They’re eating
something!’ sang the witch happily. ‘It must be the boy!’
‘I want evidence!’ shrieked Alvin. ‘I want a body!
Anyway, that’s not Hiccup, that’s my new cloak, it fell
off earlier…’
Recently freed by Snotlout, Gobber and the
Dragonmarkers peered out the Great Hall door,
uncertain whether to attack or escape. There were
twenty-two of them, which wasn’t really enough to put
up a good fight in a straight battle with thousands and
thousands of Alvinsmen.

250

‘Wait…’ hissed the witch, stiffening as if
something had stung her. ‘What’s that?’
From nowhere at all came the disembodied
sound of somebody singing the Hooligan National
Anthem.

‘Up with your SWORD and strike at the GALE…
‘RIDE the rough SEAS for those WAVES
are your HOME…’

‘I know that voice!’ spat the witch. ‘Surely it can’t
be… Surely it can’t be Valhallarama???’
On the song went, as jolly and as happy and
unconcerned as if the singer were singing round the
campfire on Berk.

‘WINTERS may FREEZE but our HEARTS
do not FAIL…
‘…HOOLIGAN… HEARTS…
FOREVER!’

Alvin, too, had frozen. ‘But… that means the
Dragonmarkers have found our war bunker!’
‘Impossible!’ screeched the witch. ‘Unbelievable!
Inconceivable!’

251

But the next words were shouted, and to
everyone’s ears they were clearly the booming, clear,
distinctive tones of VALHALLARAMA the Mighty,
Valhallarama the Terrible, Valhallarama the Great and
Magnificent Warrior.
‘ATTTACCCCKKKKKKKKK!’ roared the
voice of Valhallarama. ‘DRAGONMARKERS
ATTAACCKKKKKKKK!’
Down swooped the Deadly Shadow in his
invisible dive.
Camicazi must have had the luck of a drunk or
foolish person, for how the Deadly Shadow made it
through that complicated mess of Bullguard lightning
bolts without being struck was an absolute miracle.
The witch went even whiter than normal.
‘Valhallarama’s forces…’ she whispered.
‘Quick… Counter-attack! Man the barricades!’
Pandemonium ensued, with the Alvinsmen
rushing for their weapons and firing randomly in the air
as something enormous and invisible swooped down,
sank a couple of lightning bolts into the Great Hall,
and soared upwards again.
Fishlegs opened his eyes shakily.
‘OK, Camicazi, I have to admit, that was kind
of brilliant.’

252

‘You see,’ grinned Camicazi, ‘we’re an army!
We’re an entire Dragonmarker army…’
She winked at him cheekily.
‘Watch this…’
Camicazi took out a handful of little grey pebbles
and flung them in six different directions. They sailed
through the air, just normal little grey pebbles… but
when they landed… BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The little
pebbles exploded, creating the impression that the
town was being attacked in six different places, by six
different dragons, all at the same time.
BOOOOOOOOOM!
The sixth pebble caused a very large explosion
indeed, as it scored a direct hit on Alvin’s armoury and
hit the blacksmith’s fire burning merrily away in the
middle.
‘HOOOLIGANS FOREVER!’ bellowed Camicazi,
in what was supposed to be an impression of Stoick the
Vast. Even with the help of the helmet, it came out a
bit squeaky.
‘Your Stoick impression isn’t as good as
your Valhallarama,’ advised Fishlegs. ‘It’s about as
convincing as your blond moustache.’
Blind panic came over the Alvinsmen.
‘They’re using Stealth Dragons!’ roared Alvin

253

the Treacherous. ‘Fire randomly in the air because we
won’t be able to see them coming! They’re coming
from the air you fools, the air!’
But it appeared these Dragonmarkers were
attacking from the land as well.
‘ATTTACCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK!’ yelled
Gobber the Belch.
And the Dragonmarkers that Snotlout had
released leapt from the Great Hall and began to fight
the Alvinsmen.
They were massively outnumbered of course, but
fortunately most of the Alvinsmen army had already
launched into the air on dragonback to counter an
entirely imaginary Stealth Dragon assault.
They shot randomly in the air, mostly hitting
Bullguards, who then thought they had been hit by
Dragonmarkers and started shooting back.
So began the Battle Underneath the Waterfall,
which, thanks to Camicazi’s brilliance at causing chaos
and confusion, mostly consisted of Alvinsmen and
Bullguards fighting each other rather than the enemy.

254

15. ‘YOU RANG, MADAM?’

Windwalker swam at immense speed through the
cavern’s inner sea. With intense precision, he broke the
surface for a few moments so that Hiccup could take
huge, coughing, gasping relieved breaths.
In the moment that they surfaced, Hiccup heard
Camicazi’s excellent impression of Valhallarama.
What is happening? thought Hiccup, confused and
disorientated. Surely that can’t be my mother?
And then Windwalker took him underwater
again, and Hiccup nearly passed out with the cold and
the lack of air.
Beside them swam the little pink Hogfly, like an
underwater bumblebee, and the Wodensfang.
When at last Windwalker re-surfaced, the floating
town was some distance away and they were alongside
the Barbarian Armada, quietly rocking in the icy water.
Windwalker gently spat Hiccup on to the nearest ship,
and there he lay like a baby, flat on his front, panting
on the deck, shivering uncontrollably, too cold to
move.
‘Thanks, Windwalker…’ whispered Hiccup,
closing his eyes. He was sleepy… too tired to take this
in, and shivering too much.

255

‘Wake up, Master,’ whispered Windwalker
urgently. ‘Wake up! You can’t sleep now...’
A rush of hot air over Hiccup’s shaking body
made him open his eyes again. Blinking in the warm
breeze, he realised that the Windwalker was blowing
hot air over him to warm him. The steamy breath of
the dragon gradually heated his shaking limbs into
stillness, and he climbed to his feet, horribly lopsided
and as weak as a fawn finding its feet for the first time.
His left side was almost completely numb, and even his
thoughts seemed sluggish.
He looked back at the Great Hall, now a
confused mass of shouting, screaming Alvinsmen
Warriors fighting Dragonmarker Warriors and shooting
randomly into the air.
Excellent. Fishlegs and Camicazi had gone ahead
with their Diversion. And it sounded like Hiccup’s
mother and the Dragonmarker army might have joined
them.
The second part of Plan B was going to be a little
trickier.
Because the success of the second part of Plan B
relied on the Hogfly.
Hiccup looked dubiously at the Hogfly hovering
eagerly before him, spraying Hiccup with water as he

256

shook himself dry.
‘Hogfly?’ said Hiccup.
‘You rang, Madam?’ said the Hogfly.
‘Hogfly, we really need you now. Everything
depends on you.’
‘Woof woof!’ squeaked the amiable little creature,
but he looked anxious. Even the Hogfly seemed to
realise that a Plan that relied on him might be a Plan in
jeopardy.
‘Hogfly, I need you to fetch,’ said Hiccup
solemnly.
He reached into his backpack, and pulled out the
sad remains of Toothless’s torn, burnt, coat. Hiccup
had hidden it for precisely this purpose, so the Hogfly
could follow Toothless’s smell, and find out where the
Alvinsmen had taken him.
‘That,’ said the Wodensfang admiringly, ‘is a
Clever Plan, Hiccup.’
The coat was sopping wet, of course, and Hiccup
had to hope that this wouldn’t affect the scent. ‘Give
it a good sniff, Hogfly. I need you to fetch Toothless.
Fetch Toothless, good Hogfly.’
The Hogfly gave a sigh of relief. His little piglet
tail wagged so fast it was nearly a blur. At last he could
be helpful! This was something he understood! This
was something he could do!

257

The Hogfly snuffled the
coat all over.
‘Hmmm…’ sneezed
the Hogfly in a deep little
voice. ‘Fruity…’
His sniffer nose
sniffed up and down,
taking in great, woofing
breaths, as if it had a life of its own.
A couple of years ago, Hiccup had
taught this particular Hogfly how to ‘fetch’. It had
taken a long time, for Hogflys are not bred for their
intelligence. Their minds hop from subject to subject
like butterflies.
But once they have learnt the skill of ‘fetching’,
they are, quite simply, the best scent and tracker
dragons in the entire world.
The piggy snout of the Hogfly, snuffling away,
could smell smells that you and I cannot even imagine
smelling. He could smell the shoal of Winterfleshers,
currently passing underneath the boat they were

standing on. He could smell the birds sleeping in the
pine trees, way, way in the distance on the faraway
shoreline.
His extraordinary little sniffing nose could sort
out those smells like an experienced gambler sorting
through a deck of cards. And somewhere in among
those smells, in between the smell of a spider scuttling
up the mast of one of the ships one hundred feet away,
and the twenty-four slightly different smells of the
twenty-four slightly different nanodragons currently
hibernating in one of the same ship’s biscuit barrels, he
caught a tiny little whiff of something that smelled a lot
like Toothless.
‘Fetch Toothless!’ trumpeted the Hogfly, and
zoomed after that smell as if he were being dragged
through the air by a Silver Phantom.
The Windwalker and Wodensfang
could barely keep up.
The little speeding
Hogfly, like a jet
propelled piglet, flew
above the boats that
were moored at
the edges of this
floating city.

‘FetchToothless-
fetchToothlessfetch-
ToothlessfetchToothless… Sorry
Grandma!’ This last remark was addressed
to a ship’s mast that the Hogfly dodged in his
single-minded quest. ‘FetchToothlessfetchToothless-
fetchToothlessfetchToothless…’
There must have been at least a hundred of those
Viking war ships, rocking dark and ghostly on the black
water, as lifeless and silent as death boats.
But right at the end, so near to the edge of
the cavern that it was right next to the waterfall…
were there dim signs of life? Were there tiny moving

260

shadows that might have been people, and a
faint flicker of light that could have been the
light of a torch?
The Hogfly was heading straight for
this boat.
OK, thought Hiccup. So that must be
where the Alvinsmen have taken Toothless…
and if Toothless is there… it will also be where
they have hidden the other nine Lost Things…
Hiccup had to stop the Hogfly now. The Hogfly
would not understand about being quiet, and sneaking
up on this boat. He would give them all away.
Hiccup kicked his heels gently on the
Windwalker’s sides. Windwalker leapt forward and
drew alongside the little speeding Hogfly.

261

The Hogfly was muttering ‘FetchToothlessfetch-
ToothlessfetchToothlessfetchToothless…’ to himself
with impressive determination.
Hiccup leaned down, grabbed the Hogfly
under one arm, and put his hand over the Hogfly’s
nose. Hiccup’s hand got in the way of the smell
track the Hogfly was following, and once a Hogfly’s
concentration was broken it could be easily distracted.
After a few squeals of reproach and ‘Woah, that
tickles!’ the Hogfly forgot about Toothless and licked
Hiccup’s hand, nuzzling it affectionately.
‘Bedtime, now, Hogfly,’ said Hiccup.
‘Oooo bedtime! Is it my bedtime?’
‘Yes we’re going to bed now, Hogfly…’
Hiccup took off his backpack, and the Hogfly
hopped in, wedging his fat little bottom inside and
woofing enthusiastically.
‘Night, night, Hogfly…’ whispered Hiccup. ‘And
well done! You were very useful there…’
Hogflys love to be helpful. This Hogfly
was so pleased to be praised, he blew
himself up into a balloon again,
and POP! He burst with pride,
even though he had already
forgotten what Hiccup was

262

thanking him for.
‘Sleep tight!’ yawned the Hogfly. ‘Anchors
aweigh! Happy holidays! Good night, sweet ladies,
good night…’
The instant Hiccup put the lid on the backpack,
deep, snuffling, catarrh-filled snores rumbled from
within.
Quiet as shadows, Hiccup and
Windwalker and Wodensfang flew
towards the moving light. They
landed on a boat nearby, and
leapt like cats from deck to deck,
keeping well in the shadows.
Suddenly there was a sound
of running footsteps. Hiccup and
the two dragons dived behind
a boathouse to hide. The metal
boots of Very Vicious ran past them,
hastening back towards the pitched battle
taking place around and above the Great Hall, which
was now burning as merrily as a gigantic bonfire…
Heart thumping, Hiccup waited until Very
Vicious had disappeared.
A ladder rested against one side of the final boat.
Quiet as a ghost, Hiccup climbed that ladder, and

263

peered over the edge.
There were two Alvinsmen guards on deck,
talking in whispers to each other. They were so
engrossed in their conversation that they did not see
Hiccup and the two dragons slip over the side and hide
behind the tent-house in the middle of the deck.
The first guard was sucking his finger.
‘That wretched little dragon BIT me!’ he
grumbled. He looked thoroughly harassed. ‘For a
dragon with no teeth, it HURT! If I’d known this job
included dragon-sitting I’d never have volunteered…
That horrible little creature blew a rude raspberry right
in my face!’
They could only have been talking about
Toothless.
‘Oh, well done, Toothless,’ breathed Wodensfang,
even though he was
normally so keen
on teaching the little
dragon some manners.
Heart lifting,
Hiccup recognised
the voice of Toothless
singing to himself,
down in the depths of

the ship somewhere.
Toothless, thought Hiccup. Thank goodness you’re
all right.
‘One hundred and thirty-three thousand four
hundred and eighty-nine b-b-bottles hanging on
a wall…’ sang the little dragon sadly, for Toothless
was feeling very sorry for himself. ‘One hundred and
thirty-three thousand four hundred and eighty-nine
bottles hanging on a wall… and if ONE green
bottle should accidentally f-f-fall… there’ll be one
hundred and thirty-three thousand four hundred and
eighty-eight bottles hanging on a wall…’
Toothless had recently learnt to count, and
singing this particular song was his way of keeping his

265

spirits up until Hiccup rescued him. Toothless was
convinced, of course, that Hiccup was going to rescue
him.
The second Alvinsman had his hands over his
ears.
‘SHURRUP you revolting little tone-deaf frog!
BE QUIET!’
For one moment Toothless stopped. And then
he began again, in that same, maddening lugubrious
drone:
‘One hundred and thirty-three thousand four
hundred and eighty-eight bottles h-h-hanging on a
wall… one hundred and thirty-three thousand, four
hundred and eighty-eight bottles h-h-hanging on a
wall…’
‘Go down and get him to stop!’ said the second
Alvinsman.
‘Why me?’ begged the first Alvinsman. ‘He’s
already bitten me, done the rude raspberry, eaten half
my lunch and the end of my favourite scabbard, and
we’ve only had him for five minutes! Why don’t you go
down and get him to stop?’
‘OK, OK… you have to be firm with these little
pests, you’re too soft,’ grumbled the second Alvinsman,
and he climbed down a hatch in the middle of the
deck. ‘It’s all in your tone of voice. Watch me. Now

266

look here, you horrible little reptile, pipe down or—
OW! He bit me too!’
‘Don’t for Thor’s sake spank him!’ begged the
first Alvinsman. ‘The witch said he was the Last Lost
Thing, and it was very important that he was kept in
peak physical condition…’
‘That’s r-r-right, you ignorant Alvinsmen!
Toothless is the Last Lost Thing, and he’s the
B-B-BEST ONE!’ Toothless shouted up from
below. ‘One hundred and thirty three thousand, four
hundred and eighty-SEVEN bottles… h-h-hanging on
a wall…’
‘I’m very tempted to lose him again right now,’
said the second Alvinsman climbing up out of the
hatch. ‘He threw up that lunch of yours down my
waistcoat and he bit me right on the nose…’ The
Second Alvinsman had never been attractive, but he
was even less pretty now with his nose swelling up to
twice its normal size.
Well, you shouldn’t go around kidnapping other
people’s dragons, should you? thought Hiccup with
satisfaction.
BANG! One of Camicazi’s pebbles hit something
explosive in the distance, as the sound of the Hooligan
National Anthem rang around the cavern.
‘Do you think that’s the Dragonmarkers attacking

267

us?’ said the
first Alvinsman.
‘It must
be,’ replied the second
Alvinsman. ‘I’d recognise
Valhallarama’s singing voice anywhere.
Very Vicious better hurry back with reinforcements. If
we get attacked by Dragonmarkers, we can’t defend
the Things all on our own…’
The Things.
So it was just as Hiccup hoped. They had hidden
Toothless with the other Lost Things!
A ship was the obvious place to hide them, so
that if they were attacked they could quickly carry them
to a new hiding place.
The Things must be right here on this ship…
There was a clatter of feet on the platform behind
them, and a third Alvinsman came climbing up the

268

ladder, a burly man with a large yellow
moustache.
‘Message from the witch,’ panted the third
Alvinsman. ‘You need to get the Things ready so that
she can move them to a safer location.’
‘Are you sure we should get them out of the
hiding-place?’ said the first Alvinsman. ‘Was that
exactly what the witch said? You know how cross she
gets if we do things without being told…’
They were terrified of the Witch Excellinor. She
had that effect on people.
Oh please… begged the watching Hiccup in his
mind. Please get the Things out of their hiding-place…
‘Well what the witch said exactly was: “If they
don’t get the Things out of their hiding place quickly,
I will personally remove their backbones with my
fingernails,” ’ said the third Alvinsman.

269

This had the ring of truth to it, and the two
Alvinsmen began to twist the pulley that hauled up the
anchor-rope. It took all their strength to turn the pulley
round in great grunting heaves.
And as they drew the anchor rope in, they also
drew in the Things, one by one.
‘Aah…’ sighed the Wodensfang in Hiccup’s
ear. ‘That was why I kept seeing them floating
underwater in my dreams…’
The witch had attached the Things, you see, to
long ropes tied to the anchor rope. And that was why
Snotlout had never found them. He must have hunted
through these boats so many times, in the secrecy and
darkness of night-time. But he never thought to look
underwater.
She was a very nasty woman, that witch, but you
had to admit that she was rather clever at hiding things.
First the crown came over the side. Then the
Roman shield, the arrow-from-the-land-that-does-not-
exist, the bracelet that contained the heart’s stone, the
key-that-opens-all-locks, the ticking-thing (smashed but
still ticking), the Dragon Jewel, the second-best sword
and, last of all (and this took a great deal of grunting
and straining on the part of the Alvinsmen), the Lost
Throne of the Wilderwest… followed by the anchor.

270

The Throne was covered with seaweed, and
as they heaved it over the side, little jewel-like crabs
scuttled out of its crevices and scattered all over the
deck.
THE THINGS! thought Hiccup exultantly, as a
crab pattered across his foot. We’ve found the
Things! Now all that we have to do is steal
them…
‘OK,’ said the first
Alvinsman nervously, ‘let’s
stash the Things down in
the hold so we’re ready to
move them when the witch
gives the order.’
The three Alvinsmen
hastily untied the Things from the
anchor-rope and carried them down an
open hatch.
‘Ow!’ came the muffled voice of the first
Alvinsman. ‘That horrible little dragon bit me again!’
The three Alvinsmen re-emerged and the first
Alvinsman slammed down the hatch, bolting and
padlocking it.
Hiccup drew a little pouch of hazelnuts out
from his pocket. (He always kept little treats for
Toothless in his pocket.)

271

He threw one of the hazelnuts as far as he could
on to a neighbouring boat, and then ducked behind the
shadows of the tent-house.
CLANG!
‘What was that?’ bleated the first Alvinsman.
‘You two go and investigate, and I’ll look after
the Things…’ panted the third Alvinsman. ‘We’re
obviously under some sort of attack.’
The first and the second Alvinsmen climbed
down the ladder on to the next boat, swords drawn, to
investigate the noise.
The third Alvinsman was leaning way over the
side of the boat, flare held up high, watching them.
Hiccup tiptoed up and gave him a big shove.
The third Alvinsman gave a small, muffled
scream, and with a satisfying
SPLASH!
landed in the water below and…
CREAK!
Hiccup pushed the ladder down so that there was
no way the third Alvinsman could climb back on to the
boat again. Then he grabbed the boathook, and pushed
off.
He had the Things! He had the Things!
Hiccup’s heart was doing a happy little jig.

272

He hadn’t had a great deal of hope for Plan B,
but so far, it was working unexpectedly well.
What Hiccup did not realise, at the time, was that
the third Alvinsman was not, in fact, an Alvinsman at
all.
It was his own mother, Valhallarama.
You see, Camicazi wasn’t the only one who liked
to dress up in big blond moustaches.
Valhallarama had crept into Alvin’s war bunker
dressed as an Alvinsman, intending to steal the Nine
Lost Things in time to meet Hiccup back on the beach
on Doomsday Eve.
And she would have done it too, if her son had
not unfortunately mistaken her for a real Alvinsman
(the blond-moustache disguise in her case was rather
good, much better than Camicazi’s, because she had
the acreage to carry it off) and given her a big shove in
the back that had thrown her into the water.
‘Oh, Hiccup,’ sighed Valhallarama to herself, as
she trod water and ‘accidentally’ let off an arrow in the
direction of the second Alvinsman, who was firing at
the deck of the departing boat. ‘I told you not to leave
the underground hideout. I told you to trust me, and I
would take care of everything…’
Valhallarama shook her head forgivingly.

273

‘But then,’ she mused, ‘maybe I have to learn to
stand back and let the boy do it his way, make his own
mistakes.’ She sighed. ‘It is harder to do that than I
thought.’
But Hiccup knew nothing of this until much,
much later.
He was busy concentrating on the immediate
problem before him.
He had to row the boat out of the cavern before
those Alvinsmen could raise the alarm. Luckily the
boat was very close to the waterfall. You could hear the
roaring of the water, like the bellow of a Seadragonus
Giganticus Maximus…
Once he was out of the cavern, he would be fine,
the wind would take the sails.
… But even though it was such a short distance,
and not a particularly large boat, how was he to row it
all on his own?
Hiccup ran across the deck, towards the oars,
and peered swiftly into the hatch just to check that
Toothless was in there.
‘Toothless?’ he whispered.
‘Master!’ the joyful voice of Toothless
squeaked back.
Oh, thank Thor!

274

‘Don’t worry, Toothless!’ Hiccup yelled through
the hatch. ‘I haven’t got time to unlock this hatch
now but I’m going to save you!’

275

16. ‘MY TOOTH…WHERE IS
MY TOOTH?’

And then Hiccup stiffened.
All the hairs on the back of his neck rose like the
quills on a fretful porcupine. Not two yards in front of
him, hovering in mid-air, floating in the atmosphere as
if they were being dangled by a malevolent god…
… was a pair of evil red eyes.
And out of airy nothing there came a nasty
whining wisp of a whisper: ‘My tooth… Whe-e-e-ere is
my tooth?’
As soon as Hiccup saw those red eyes, he was
conscious that his arm had been singing in agony
around that horrible tooth for the last hour or so. There
had been so much going on, he had ignored the pain.

276

Slowly, slowly, around those evil red eyes with
two little slits for pupils, there materialised the body of
a Vampire Spydragon, crouching on the hatch as if it
was guarding it.
The Vampire Spydragon was a revolting sight,
enough to give you nightmares for years.
Its head was that of a gigantic bat, with one huge
cruel-looking vampire tooth protruding from the side
of its slobbering mouth.
Its horrible little nose was snuffling as the saliva
dripped down its vampire fangs.
That pain in Hiccup’s arm must have been a sign
that the Vampire Spydragon was using the tooth to
track him down.
‘My tooth…’ whined the Vampire Spydragon,
‘Whe-e-ere is my tooth? For I need to eat what I have
bit…Whe-e-ere is my tooth????’
Hiccup said nothing, just backed away in terror,
his left arm hidden behind him.
‘Aha!’ rasped the Vampire Spydragon, its wicked
red eyes lighting up in cruel triumph.
‘You are trying to hide it, you nasty little
burglar, but you cannot conceal it from me… I think
I spy it… I think I have found it… You stole my
tooth, you horrible little thief…’
‘I didn’t mean to…’ stammered the petrified

277

Hiccup, taking a
couple of steps backwards.
‘You can have it back if you
like… I don’t want it…’
‘You stole my tooth,’
spat the Vampire Spydragon
savagely, ‘and now I have
found it, I shall finish the
meal that I began…’
It crouched for a second,
bat wings stretched out. And
then it sprang, and sank its
vampire jaws deep into Hiccup’s
left arm, exactly where it had
bitten him only twenty-four hours
earlier.
Hiccup screamed, and
desperately hit the Vampire
Spydragon around its ghastly head.
Windwalker attacked it too, raking
at its thick hairy hide.
But the Vampire Spydragon
would not let go.

Ironically, Hiccup’s
whole left side – arm,
shoulder, leg and
everything – had just
begun to feel slightly
better. Now he could
feel the paralysis creeping
back, a deadening
numbness, and as he
looked down, he saw the
black-purple stain
flowering again.

Vampire Spydragons don’t let go, thought Hiccup.
They have jaws like bear-traps and they never let go…
Hiccup tried to remember all that he knew about
Vampire Spydragons, whether they had any weak
points, but his mind was so confused by the pain in his
arm he could not remember anything at all.
He desperately punched at the Spydragon’s head
with his right fist, but the Spydragon merely gripped
tighter.
Hiccup was aware that he was screaming, but he
couldn’t really hear the noise he was making.
What could he use that was around him on the
boat?
A confused mess of rope lay on the deck, from
where the Alvinsmen had hauled up the Lost Things
and the anchor.
Trying to ignore the pain, Hiccup pulled the
Spydragon forward so that it stepped into the rope
coils, then wriggled and threw himself around in the
creature’s grip.
Iron jaws still holding tight, the Spydragon
thrashed about, trying to keep hold of him, each
maddened lunge getting its legs more thoroughly
entangled with the rope.
And then came Hiccup’s chance.

280

Windwalker leapt in and attacked the softer
underside of the Spydragon’s stomach, which was the
rather repellent white of a maggot and provided little
defence.
At the same time, Wodensfang, little old limbs
creaking, launched himself at the Vampire Spydragon’s
head.
The double attack worked.
The Vampire Spydragon screamed in agony
and dropped Hiccup for a second, turning to strike
at Windwalker. Windwalker lunged back and the two
dragons locked jaws.
Hiccup limped to the anchor, which was
balancing on the side of the boat.
With all the strength he had left, he h-e-e-e-eaved
it over the side.
SPLASH!
The anchor landed in the sea below, narrowly
missing the head of Valhallarama, still swimming in
the water just beside the boat, and swamping her so
thoroughly that it removed her blond moustache.
There was an intervening pause, where the weight
of the sinking anchor pulled on the rope, which then
whipped around the deck as if it were a live serpent.
The Spydragon shook off Windwalker, and

281

turned again to face Hiccup, jaws wide in an avenging
scream… Its red eyes fixed on Hiccup. It crouched
down to pounce, and this time it would aim for
Hiccup’s heart with its one remaining vampire tooth.
The Death Strike.
But just as it leapt, the whirling, spinning rope
of the anchor pulled tight around the Spydragon’s leg,
and an expression of comical surprise came over the
Spydragon’s face (if anything that terrifying could ever
really look comical) as it was dragged violently across
the deck, and over the side, and into the water, this
time with a really resounding…

SPLASSSHHHH!

Hiccup clasped his hand to his arm, which was
bleeding profusely.
Sticking out of the wound was another Vampire
Spydragon tooth.
Now I have a pair! thought Hiccup, a little
hysterically.
He tried to pull it out, but like the first one, it was
in too deep. So he tore a strip from his shirt to bind up
the wound.
CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

282

There was a slow, derisive clapping of hands
behind him.
Hiccup straightened, and turned around
unsteadily…
And there, leaning against the mast of the ship,
one leg elegantly crossed over another, was Snotlout.

17. THE SWORDFIGHT

‘Well done, Useless, well done,’ drawled Snotlout.
‘Very neat dealing with the Spydragon there. I really
thought you were a goner.’
The Hurricane sloped out from behind the mast,
growling warningly. Windwalker snarled in response,
and the two riding-dragons paced warily around each
other on the deck, their spines pointing upwards as if
they were about to fight.
Hiccup caught his breath.
It was impossible to read the expression on
Snotlout’s face
‘Snotlout…’ he said slowly.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ said Snotlout, waving his hand
dismissively. ‘I know, I’m a villain, and a rogue, and a
Very Naughty Boy and everything, and I betrayed all
you goody-goodies, and aren’t I terrible, tut tut TUT,
but let’s get this ship sailing and out of the cavern first,
and then we can argue to our heart’s content…’
Hiccup and Snotlout took up an oar each, and
rowed towards the waterfall.
Soft as a shadow, and unoticed in that
lightning-lit cavern with the Battle Under the Waterfall
raging at its height, the ship carrying the Lost Things

285

slipped out from under the waterfall and into
Wrecker’s Bay.
Snotlout put away his oar, and took out his
sword.
‘Fight me,’ said Snotlout.
‘But I don’t want to fight you,’ said Hiccup.
‘FIGHT ME!’ roared Snotlout.
‘I haven’t got a sword,’ said Hiccup.
Snotlout always carried two swords, and he threw
Hiccup his second-best one. With the other, he made
furious imaginary passes in the air.
‘Why don’t you want to fight me? Is it because
you are scared?’
‘Not really,’ admitted Hiccup, and that seemed
to enrage Snotlout even further. ‘I’m a little scared, but

mostly I just don’t want to fight you.’
‘You ought to be scared,’ said Snotlout. ‘That bite
from the Vampire Spydragon means you won’t be able
to use your left hand. FIGHT ME! I have betrayed you
yet again… Why won’t you hate me?’
Snotlout was so flushed with anger, in such a
state of emotion, that the words came tumbling out as
if they were beyond his control. ‘HATE ME!’
‘Snotlout, I don’t hate you… and I forgive you
for betraying me again… I understand why you keep
doing it…’
‘Oooh, you are so irritating. You keep being so
heroic all the time. Stop forgiving me. Stop it! You
don’t understand anything! I DON’T WANT TO BE
FORGIVEN!’
‘Snotlout, I don’t want to fight you because I
think we should be trying to get these Lost Things out
of here…’
‘But I’m NOT ON YOUR SIDE!’ howled
Snotlout. ‘IF YOU WON’T FIGHT ME NOW, I
SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!’
Hiccup shrugged off his backpack with the
sleeping Hogfly in it, and put it carefully down in a coil
of rope so the little dragon wouldn’t get hurt. Hiccup’s
eyes never left Snotlout’s face.

287

‘All right, then,’
said Hiccup, ‘if you insist.’
Snotlout lunged at him.
Automatically (and clumsily, for it
was with his right hand), Hiccup parried the
lunge.
‘Oh dear,’ sighed the Wodensfang,
sadly fluttering down to perch on the tiller.

288

‘Some humans… always fighting… if only it didn’t
have to be this way…’
With a cry of horror, Windwalker dived down to
protect his Master… but was attacked in mid-air by the
Hurricane who brought him rolling down into the sea.
Snotlout slashed forward with a Flashburn Fancy
that overwhelmed Hiccup’s guard and gave him a nasty
gash on the shoulder that stung like a viper’s bite.

Hiccup only just managed to throw the larger boy
off, and roll out of the way, before clumsily ducking
behind the masthead. His left side was so numb now it
was like dragging a great dead weight.
‘All right,’ screamed Snotlout, beside himself
with rage, ‘Mr Smarty-Pants, I’m-Such-A-Hero,
I’m-So-Good-at-Putting-Myself-in-Other-People’s-
Shoes, you tell me, Hiccup. You tell me why I keep
betraying you all the time!’
He lunged forward, trying to reach Hiccup with
his sword around the mast.
‘I think it’s because you could have been a King
yourself,’ said Hiccup.
This was like adding another log on to a fire.
‘YOU BET I COULD HAVE!’ screamed
Snotlout, attacking Hiccup with every single sword
thrust he knew. ‘I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE
HERO! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! I have
everything! The physique, the intelligence, the
ruthlessness, the charm. All I ever wanted was to be a
Chief, a leader. IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK? But
it was denied to me, just because I was the son of the
second son, not the first.
‘Is that not unfair?’
‘It is very unfair,’ admitted Hiccup.

290

‘Until I was three years old, I was the Heir to the
Hooligan Tribe!’ roared Snotlout. ‘I still remember
the respect in everyone’s eyes when they looked at
me. Their eyes followed my every movement. And you
know what, Hiccup? I would have made a great Chief,
a grand Chief. Being a Chief would have brought out
the best in me…
‘And then,’ Snotlout’s voice darkened, ‘and then
you were born. A weak little mewling mistake of a
RUNT… and everything changed…’ He spat out each
word as if it were bitter as poison. ‘Suddenly you were
the centre of attention. Suddenly you were going to be
the next Chief… and then you were going to be the
Hero… and then you were going to be the King…’
Snotlout lunged forward, breaking through
Hiccup’s feeble guard, and Hiccup dodged out of the
way in the nick of time.
‘Do you want to know why I call you Useless?’
yelled Snotlout bitterly. ‘Because that is what YOU
made ME, just by being born. However hard I try, I
will only be the spare and not the Heir.
‘You made me useless, not needed any more.
‘Before YOU came along I had never been
jealous of anyone. YOU brought that out of me. You
made me pinch you, hit you when no one else was

291

looking…
and then afterwards,
in secret, I despised myself for
acting in such an un-Heroic
fashion. Look what you brought
me to!’
‘I’m sorry…’ said Hiccup,
nearly losing his footing. ‘I didn’t
mean to…’
‘And then you release
the Dragon Furious from
Berserk…’
‘I didn’t mean to…’
said Hiccup. ‘It was an
accident…’
‘You never mean
to! It’s always an
accident! You
take my whole
world from
me, and it’s

all just an
accident!’ said
Snotlout savagely.
‘There was
absolutely nothing
wrong with the world
that YOU have just
wrecked. I loved that
world and everything
about it. I loved the
danger of riding on a
dragon’s back, the hunting,
the storms and the shipwrecks,
stealing dragons’ eggs from the dragon
hatching-grounds, swordfighting, Bashyball,
my whole lost life on the Isle of Berk, I loved
absolutely everything about it…
‘And then it was gone…’

293

The ache in Snotlout’s voice was unbearable. He
fought in earnest, with wild, plunging lashes, Hiccup
dodging this way and that, handicapped as he was
by the weak awkwardness of his right arm and his
ridiculous numb leg which made him hop around like a
poor broken seabird.
‘ALL… YOUR… FAULT…’
As Snotlout pressed the advantage, Hiccup could
feel himself tiring. The ache in his left shoulder was
becoming unmanageable.
‘And then you keep on saving my life, and
forgiving me for it, and it just makes you look like this
big Hero, and I’m supposed to be grateful…
‘Well I’m NOT grateful!
‘Because you have taken away everything about
my life that is worth living for!’
Snotlout kept ranting between ferocious lunges,
either at the gods above or at himself.
‘Look, gods, see how good I am!’ he shouted.
He plunged forward in a flurry of ferocious
lunges.
He made a Flashburn Flunge (a very fancy lunge
accompanied by a leap through the air), a Baggybum
Balletic (one of his own father’s moves, a jump and
a stamp, followed by an aggressive launch at the

294

opponent, simultaneously running very quickly past in
case you missed them) and five Cunning Remises in a
row, as if he were showing those deaf old gods Woden
and Thor exactly how wrong they were in not choosing
him to be the finder of the Lost Things in the first
place.
Snotlout’s last sword thrust sent Hiccup’s own
sword spinning out of his hand, and Hiccup’s left side
gave way beneath him, and he knelt before his cousin,
with Snotlout’s victorious face right above him.
‘Look!’ panted Snotlout. ‘I AM NOT
USELESS, I AM THE BEST! I AM BETTER
THAN HICCUP IN EVERY WAY!’
His face contorted with emotion. Snotlout stood
there, the sword pointing at Hiccup’s chest, his arm
shaking.
‘I could kill you now,’ said Snotlout.
‘But even if I kill you now,’ he raged, ‘even if I
kill you now, and take the Things for myself, even if I
do that…’
And then he paused, a long time, before he spoke
the truth.
‘No one will follow me.’
‘Yes, I’m sorry, Snotlout…’ said Hiccup, although
the words seemed inadequate.

295

‘HATE ME, for Thor’s sake, you horrible little
cousin!’ Snotlout shouted. ‘Why won’t you hate
me?’
‘I am so sorry, Snotlout,’ said Hiccup, and
he really did mean it. ‘I just genuinely can’t hate
you…’
‘You feel sorry for me, don’t you?’ said
Snotlout fiercely. ‘You PITY me. Don’t you?’
Hiccup said nothing, because they both knew it
was true.
‘How dare you pity me!’ roared Snotlout. ‘How
dare you!
‘STOP FORGIVING ME! STOP IT! Why can’t
you understand? I need to be angry! I have to keep
being angry! Because if I slow down and I stop being
angry, I have to look at where I am now…’
Snotlout’s sword was trembling. Something in his
voice changed, from anger to absolute despair.
‘If I stop being angry, then I have to look back at
what I have been fighting for all these years, and it has
all been for nothing.
‘If I stop being angry it bursts on me, like a kind
of horror, that perhaps my hatred of you has led me to
fight for the wrong side.
‘My hatred of you crept in like a green poison and

296

twisted my judgement, clouded my sight and led me to
follow Alvin, that evil thing, and there I lost my way.
‘Now I have seen what Alvin is, and that devil, his
mother, and I know that he is worse than I ever dreamt
evil could be.
‘My jealousy has made me destroy all the
things that in my heart of hearts I value…’
‘My honour. The respect of
Gobber. The respect of my father.
My whole world, the world of
dragons, dragons that I love.
‘If I stop being angry, I
have to see what I am, and
what I am now is what
the witch said. I am a
treacherous worm. I
am worthless, useless,
nothing of value. I am
not surprised that all
those people Turned
Their Backs on me.

‘I have Turned My Back on me.
‘I have Turned My Back on myself.’
Snotlout dropped his sword to the deck, where
it fell on the wood with an ugly clang. He put his face
in his elbow. His shoulders heaved with uncontainable
sobs.
There was a long and terrible silence.
Hiccup struggled to find the right words, for
it was truly awful and piteous to see a person in the
miserable state of having Turned Their Back on
themselves.
But somehow he found the words of a person
who was meant to be a King.
‘You are being too hard on yourself, Snotlout,’
said Hiccup at last. ‘A weaker person than you would
have killed me just now. You could have done that.
You won the swordfight, you disarmed me. But you
knew that the plight of the world was more important
than your own personal feelings. You put your honour
before your pride, and that is what Heroes do.
‘Do not take this all on yourself. This is not all
your fault. Fate and the stars have put us in a difficult
situation.
‘I know I am not what you wanted in a King,’
said Hiccup. ‘I know that it is hard for you to follow

298

someone who is physically weaker than you are and,
what is more, your younger cousin. And it is not
surprising that it is hard. How can you follow someone
that in your heart you do not respect?
‘I wish I could offer you a King who is greater
than I am. I can’t turn into someone else, I can only be
me. But I have discovered that I too, am stronger than
I thought I was. I think I can do this. I think I can be
this King that the Dragonmarkers want me to be.’
‘What are you saying?’ said Snotlout.
‘I am asking you, once again, whether you will
join the Dragonmarker side,’ said Hiccup.

Another long pause.
Snotlout wasn’t expecting this at all.
It took him completely by surprise.
‘If you put your faith in me, I will try not to
disappoint you,’ added Hiccup.
‘Are you saying,’ said Snotlout, wonderingly
taking his face out of his elbow, ‘that you are still
prepared to take the risk and trust me, after I have
betrayed you again and again and again?’
‘I know in my heart that you are a Hero in the
making,’ said Hiccup. ‘We all make mistakes. We all
need second chances and even third, fourth and fifth
chances. Maybe you just needed to have that one last
fight with me, and then you’d be able to join our side.’
Another long, long pause.
It was like a door had suddenly opened in the
very dark and tiny room which Snotlout’s life had
become, a room in which he had been so trapped and
cramped and contorted, and he had not seen light for
such a very long time that he had almost forgotten light
existed.
At last Snotlout took his face out of his elbow
entirely and wiped it with his waistcoat. His face had
lost its ill, green colour, and he looked better than he
had in ages.

300

‘You,’ said Snotlout, ‘are a very unusual person,
Hiccup.’
Well, it was better than ‘You are a little weirdo,
Hiccup,’ which was what Snotlout normally said.
‘I haven’t really allowed myself to think this until
now…’ Snotlout said awkwardly, and it was obviously
hard for him to get out these words, ‘but maybe you
might not be quite such a disastrous King as I used to
think you’d be. You were quite brave back there in the
witch’s camp, I thought.’
‘Thank you,’ said Hiccup.
‘And perhaps,’ said Snotlout, ‘perhaps Fate does
know her business after all. You aren’t the King that we
wanted, but maybe you are the King that we need.’
He bent down to pick up his sword, slowly, as if
he were beginning to recover from a long, long illness.
‘I guess I could be helpful to you, couldn’t I?’ said
Snotlout thoughtfully. ‘After all, you would only have
one paltry little Thing if it wasn’t for me. Not much
hope of being crowned King with one measly little
Thing. And now, thanks to me, you have all of them.’
‘Yes, it’s brilliant, Snotlout, I have to say, you’ve
done the most magnificent job,’ admitted Hiccup.
‘We’d never have got all the Things without your
help… My parents are going to be so pleased… We’re

301

in with a real chance now.’
Snotlout drew himself up to his full dignified
height.
He turned to Hiccup, and bowed, like a Warrior
of old, following the ancient code of the Kings of the
Wilderwest, when they invited their greatest Heroes to
join them at High Table.
‘My sword is at your service, King,’ said Snotlout
to Hiccup.
Hiccup bowed formally back.
‘I am honoured to accept it,’ said Hiccup, in the
traditional time-honoured fashion.
‘Shake hands?’ said Snotlout, almost shyly.
Hiccup grinned.
Snotlout and Hiccup shook hands.
‘Oh that was well done, Hiccup,’ whispered
Wodensfang admiringly. ‘You could give that witch a
lesson or two in changing hearts and minds.’
‘Are you all r-r-right up there, Master?’ came
poor Toothless’s terrified voice floating up through
the floor-boards of the deck. ‘And wossit he talking
about, the One-With-the-Nose-So-Big-You-could-
Nest-in-There? Doesn’t he know Toothless is the
BEST ONE?’
Hiccup knelt down, and he could actually see
Toothless directly below him, through a crack in the

302

deck. He was locked in a cage, poor Toothless, his
spines drooping, his eyes large and terrified.
‘I’m fine,’ Hiccup reassured him. ‘We haven’t
got time to break into the hold yet, we’re just going
to sail to a safe place and then we’ll get you out of
there, I promise, Toothless.’
‘Toothless not like being t-t-trapped!’ squeaked
poor Toothless.
‘Oh for Thor’s sake,’ said Snotlout wryly, ‘nothing
changes. Stop whispering and blowing kisses to your
cute ickle dragon and help me get this ship out of here.’
In all the drama of their swordfight, they had
forgotten that they were supposed to be running away.
‘Where are we going?’ said Hiccup, scrambling to
his feet again.
‘Across Wrecker’s Bay to the Dragonmarker
hideout,’ said Snotlout. ‘I’m presuming you do actually
know where that is, after the witch spent so much
trouble trying to get the information out of you?’
‘The hideout is in Coral Beach,’ said Hiccup with
a grin. ‘My mother told me that just before we split up
in the Amber Slavelands.’
‘OK,’ said Snotlout. ‘We’ll get there just in time
for you to sail across to Hero’s Gap for Doomsday Eve.
You really like to cut it fine, don’t you, Hiccup?’
Snotlout rubbed his hands together. He was

303

cheering up in front of Hiccup’s very eyes.
‘OPERATION MAKE HICCUP KING is on its
way!’
‘We’ll have to be really lucky for this to work…’
said Hiccup.
‘You got any better Plans, O Brilliant One?’
snorted Snotlout. ‘Why don’t you just concentrate
on sailing this boat, and try not to sink it, eh, like you
always did with The Hopeful Puffin…’
It was as good a plan as any under the
circumstances.

18. A VERY SHORT CHAPTER
IN WHICH IT LOOKS LIKE
EVERYTHING IS ABOUT TO
GO RIGHT FOR FIVE MINUTES

The boys went to work, getting the ship sailing as fast
as possible, expertly handling the ropes like the young
Vikings they were. They had done this a thousand
times in Viking Sailing Practice. But never together.
They worked in surprising unison, for two boys who
had loathed each other all their lives.
Hiccup felt a weird sense of elation, for the first
time in his life to be working side-by-side with Snotlout
for a common aim.
They were not out of danger. No. But,
unbelievably, they had all the Things, every single one,
safely locked in the hold. If they could just get them to
Tomorrow… so close now that they could actually see
it, a dark shadow in the mist, tantalisingly within reach.
They had finally laid to rest their old quarrel, they
had got all the Things, there was a clear wind taking
them across Wrecker’s Bay, and for five whole minutes
it looked like everything was going to be all right.
It would have been even more inspiring if it

305

hadn’t been for the sound of Toothless howling. Still
locked in his cage, Toothless had decided he was going
to die, so he had stopped singing the song about the
thousands of bottles, and he was now singing an even
sadder song, which went something like this:
‘Toothless is dy-y-y-ying… Poor Toothless is
dy-y-ying…’
‘Can’t you shut the gummy one up,’ said Snotlout
through gritted teeth. ‘It’s making me feel like throwing
myself off the ship or giving myself up to the witch.’
As they slipped out of the witch’s harbour, flocks
of dragons and seagulls flew screeching overhead,
screaming cries of warning, swarming in numbers like a
plague of locusts from the direction of the Open Sea.
An extraordinary noise followed them, a noise
unlike anything Hiccup had ever heard before, a deep
and elemental howl. For one second, Hiccup thought it
was the Dragon Furious, before realising that no living
creature could make that noise – not even a mighty Sea
Dragon the size of a mountain.
Only a true apocalyptic power could make that
noise. Like volcanoes and earthquakes and hurricanes,
that noise is one that tells the human being how small
and insignificant a pinprick is mankind, for all his
cleverness and ingenuity, in the face of the awesome

306

power of Nature itself.
‘What is that?’ shouted Snotlout, his face turning
a little green.
‘That,’ said Hiccup swallowing, ‘is the Winter
Wind of Woden.’
Just to make their escape a little more interesting
than it was already, the Winter Wind of Woden was
starting to blow. What were the chances?
Hiccup made some calculations. They might
avoid the Winter Wind of Woden if they were fast –
and lucky.
Doggedly, quietly, the two boys set the ship
in the direction of the Dragonmarkers’ hideout and
moved out of the Harbour, streams of dragons and
birds shrieking above them like shooting stars, and the
clamour and explosions and fireworks of the Battle
going on behind them.

19. EVERYTHING GOES
WRONG AGAIN, VERY
RAPIDLY

While Hiccup and Snotlout were fighting, everything
else had fallen away. They had been so focused on each
other and their ancient quarrel that they had forgotten
about the peril they were in, their flight from the witch
and Alvin.
But now the outside world forced itself on their
attention once again.
Just as they had got the ship on course, sailing
towards the Dragonmarker hideout, Snotlout stared
with an arrested expression at something back at the
waterfall, on the shore they had just left, and nudged
Hiccup.
They were half way across Wrecker’s Bay.
Halfway to Coral Beach and safety.
But a little group of black specks had crawled out
of the calm, distant waterfall like bluebottles creeping
out of a crack in the wall.
Tense with anxiety, Snotlout and Hiccup stared
at the distant land, hoping against hope that they were
mistaken, that the little black specks were just tricks of

309

the light
and the wind.
But as the specks flew nearer,
there was a hollow feeling in Hiccup’s heart.
He knew what they were.
Ravenhunters.
A flock of the witch’s
Ravenhunters, pursuing
them like an inescapable,
unwearying Fate.
Ravenhunters
were too small
for riders,

but they acted as spies for the
witch. On they came, with remorseless flaps.
Flying dragons can easily outpace a ship.
Nearer… nearer… nearer…
‘SHOOT THEM!’ yelled Snotlout, grabbing his
bow.
Windwalker and the Hurricane leapt bravely
from the deck of the ship to confront the Ravenhunters
mid-air as they flew overhead.
Snotlout shot five of them – even
Hiccup, with one dead hand, shot one.

Windwalker and the Hurricane took out even more,
diving after them as the remainder flapped back to the
witch, squawking. But there were too many to catch.
‘They’ll fetch reinforcements,’ shouted Snotlout.
‘And this time they will bring Bullguards with riders.
Those Bullguards are quick. They’ll catch us before we
get to the Dragonmarker hideout, if it’s where you say
it is.’
It was too cruel.
Even half an hour later, and they might have got
to safety.
They were so close, SO close to getting
away with it, sneaking those Things
away from underneath

the very noses of Alvin and the witch…
Hiccup scanned the horizon.
The Winter Wind of Woden, blowing like an
angry god, was closer than the Dragonmarker hideout.
‘Could we steer the ship into the Winter Wind?’
asked Hiccup. ‘They’d never follow us in there.’
‘There’s a reason for that,’ said Snotlout, with
a hollow laugh. ‘It’s a guaranteed death sentence.
Besides, I don’t think there’s time. Look! I can see the
Bullguards coming out already. They’ll reach us before
we get to the Wind.’

The two boys looked at Windwalker and the
Hurricane.
The Things were trapped. They were locked in
the hold.
But the boys themselves did have a choice.
They could climb on to the riding-dragons’ backs
and fly themselves to safety. Both Windwalker and the
Hurricane were faster than Bullguards.
But that would mean abandoning all of the Lost
Things to Alvin and the witch. Including Toothless.
What else could they do? Stay here and die?
‘W-w-wossgoingon?’ came the voice of
Toothless, floating up from the hold of the boat.
‘It’s OK, Toothless,’ Hiccup shouted down.
‘We’ve just hit a little hitch… nothing to worry
about.’
Hurricane gave an unhappy whine, his spines
drooping, his tail between his legs. Automatically,
Snotlout put out a hand and soothed the Hurricane’s
splendid, drooping head.
‘It’ll be all right, boy,’ he said. ‘It’s all going to be
all right.’
Snotlout stared into the distance, thinking.
‘Oh for Thor’s sake,’ he swore, bending down,
picking up his sword and putting it back in his

314

scabbard. ‘I can’t believe I’m doing this…
‘Swap clothes with me, and give me your
helmet!’ Snotlout ordered Hiccup, taking off his own
helmet and shrugging off his waistcoat.
‘Why?’ shouted Hiccup, taking off his own
waistcoat.
‘I don’t believe this… I don’t believe this…’
snorted Snotlout to himself. And then to Hiccup:
‘They’re after YOU, aren’t they?’
‘Yes,’ said Hiccup, slowly.
‘So I’ll dress up as you, O Lightning-Brain,’ said
Snotlout. ‘I’ll put on your helmet, and I’ll get on your
Windwalker, and I’ll ride out to meet those Bullguards
and their riders, and that’ll distract them for a bit…’
‘But that’s crazy!’ spluttered Hiccup. ‘If you go
out there to meet them, all on your own, you’ll get
yourself killed!’
Snotlout grinned. ‘Oh, you think my job is crazy?
While I’m distracting them, you get to steer this ship
into the Winter Wind of Woden, and if that isn’t crazy,
then I don’t know what is…’
Snotlout yanked on Hiccup’s waistcoat and held
out his hand for Hiccup’s fire-suit.
‘Are you sure about this?’ whispered Hiccup,
putting on Snotlout’s helmet.

315

‘Listen,’ said Snotlout, struggling to fit into
Hiccup’s fire-suit and putting his great galumphing foot
through the knee before he got it on, ‘you’re always
hogging the limelight, Hiccup, but you know what? It’s
my turn to be the Hero.’
Snotlout laughed out loud.
‘I’m on your side now, aren’t I? I’m a
Dragonmarker. We’re going to make it out of here
with all of the Lost Things, and we’re going to get you
crowned King.
‘So the next time I see Gobber,’ said Snotlout,
standing up straight and proud, and speaking in
passionate earnest, ‘he will know that I am a Hero
after all. My father will be proud of me. They will all
be proud of me. They will Turn Their Backs round
again and look me in the eye, not with disgust but
admiration. The Sagas will sing my name, and they will
never forget me.’
Hiccup was now wearing Snotlout’s helmet and
body armour.
As a final touch, Snotlout hung his Black Star
around Hiccup’s neck.
‘There,’ Snotlout said, with satisfaction. ‘X marks
the spot. It looks good on you, Hiccup. It’ll give those
Guardian Protectors of Tomorrow something to aim

316

at. You are only borrowing this, mind,’ he warned.
‘Don’t you dare lose it, however scary those Guardians
are. Look after it until we meet again. That Star is very
important to me.’
‘Hang on, Snotlout…’ said Hiccup wildly. ‘You
don’t have to do this. I’ll think of something…’
‘But I’ve thought of something,’ said Snotlout,
‘You’re not the only one who can make plans, Hiccup.
Let me do this!’
Hiccup had an appalling premonition of disaster.
‘Windwalker! Don’t take him!’ cried Hiccup.
Windwalker was an obedient dragon, and in
normal circumstances he would have obeyed Hiccup.
But Windwalker had followed enough of what was
going on to know that this was their only chance. He
gave his master an apologetic, slobbery nuzzle, and
knelt down so that Snotlout could climb on his back.
‘Why you have to have such a mess of a
riding-dragon, Hiccup, I really do not know,’ scolded
Snotlout. ‘You’re the son of a Chief, for Thor’s sake…’
Snotlout reached out and gave Hurricane a last
sweeping pat on one regal, shining side. He rested his
head briefly on the Hurricane’s flank and whispered,
‘You’re a good dragon, Hurricane.’
Before Snotlout climbed on to Windwalker’s

317

back, he remembered something.
‘Give me the Dragonmark before I go,’ he said.
‘What do you mean, give you the Dragonmark?’
asked Hiccup.
‘I don’t want to be like that young Grimbeard the
Ghastly in the Wodensfang’s story,’ said Snotlout. ‘Too
proud to take the Dragonmark. I’m a Dragonmarker.
So give me the Dragonmark.’
‘How can I give you the Dragonmark?’
stammered Hiccup. ‘You have to have the brand…
That long thin thingummy that ends in an S.’
‘Improvise!’ said Snotlout impatiently. ‘You’re a
King, aren’t you? Do your King thing…’
Snotlout knelt in front of his cousin.
Hiccup put his finger in some charred charcoal
from a burnt bit on one of the masts. Solemnly, he
made an S shape on Snotlout’s forehead. Then he
searched for some suitably Kingly thing to say on such
an occasion.
‘You are, now and forever, a Companion of the
Dragonmark,’ he said at last.
Snotlout nodded shortly. ‘Of course, it’s only
temporary. Until I can get the real thing. But it’s
important that people know whose side I am on.’
Snotlout climbed on Windwalker’s back.

318

Hiccup’s far-too-big helmet with the
far-too-big plume fitted Snotlout far better
than it had ever fitted Hiccup.

Snotlout pulled down the front of the helmet.
Suddenly he looked like a stranger.
Very noble.
A Hero of old.
Snotlout urged Windwalker upwards with his
knees, shouting at the top of his voice,
‘HEROES LIVE FOR EEEEEVERRRRRRRRR!’

20. THE LAST SONG OF
GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY

Neighing in terror, the valiant Windwalker leapt
into the sky, carrying his helmeted rider towards the
oncoming army of Alvinsmen.
For each Bullguard with a rider, there were five
more attached to the riders’ wrists by long chains, like
horses pulling racing chariots in the air. The Bullguards
halted, wings humming, not quite sure what to make of
a lone boy attacking them. Were there more invisible
Deadly Shadow dragons backing him up? Surely he
could not be alone? Did this impudent human not
know how terrifying they were?
Hiccup picked up the backpack with the still
sleeping Hogfly in it, and put it on his back.
‘Don’t worry, Toothless!’ he called through the
locked hatch to his little dragon. ‘It’s all perfectly
fine…’
Hiccup turned the ship straight south now, out
of the protection of Wrecker’s Bay, directing its furling
sails towards the screaming hurricane of the Wind.
Further back and invisible to all, Camicazi
and Fishlegs had just left Alvin’s underground war

323

bunker and were urging the Deadly Shadow forward.
They weren’t quite within range of shooting at the
Bullguards yet.
‘Oh for Thor’s sake!’ moaned Fishlegs. ‘That’s
Hiccup! Why is he riding at Alvin’s army?’
The witch herself was seated on a Queen
Bullguard, a dragon rather larger than the rest of its
species. Her white cloak streamed out behind her.
Alvin was on a King Bullguard by her side.
She, too, thought she recognised Hiccup.
‘It’s him…’ she whispered. ‘The Hiccup boy… his
dragon must have saved him… But what is he doing
now? Has he turned mad?’
It was typical of Snotlout, somehow, that even
in a situation of desperate peril, he was still showing
off. For as he flew towards the swarm of hovering
Bullguards, Snotlout threw in an entirely unnecessary
somersault.
It was one of Flashburn’s favourites, a
Loop-de-Loop Special, and highly difficult to carry out
at the best of times. You had to grip very tightly indeed
on to the dragon’s back with your knees in order not to
fall off when the dragon was upside-down.
‘You see!’ Snotlout called over his shoulder for
Hiccup’s benefit, though Hiccup could hardly hear

324

him. ‘I’M THE BEST DRAGON FLYER IN THE
WORLD!’
He then tried to get up on his feet, another
Flashburn trick, but the Windwalker was flying too fast
now for that one, and he hastily re-seated himself.
As Snotlout rode straight at the Bullguards,
Hiccup could hear him singing Grimbeard’s song, the
song that Grimbeard sang once, long ago, when he
sailed into the west on his ship The Endless Journey,
after he had killed his own son and broken up the
kingdom of the Wilderwest.
Here is that song that Snotlout sang:

I sailed so far to be a King but the time was never
right…
I lost my way on a stormy past, got wrecked
in starless night…
But let my heart be wrecked by hurricanes
and my ship by stormy weather
I know I am a Hero… and a Hero is…
FOREVER!

Hiccup could feel the sea beneath the ship
picking up more strongly as he sailed closer and closer,
nearer and nearer, to that howling hurricane din, the
Winter Wind of Woden.
In another time, another place, I could have been a

325

King
But in my castle’s ruined towers the lonely
seabirds sing
I burnt up my Tomorrows, I cannot go
back ever
But I am still a Hero… and a Hero is…
FOREVER!

The Bullguards hovered suspiciously. Their
whiskers were out, feeling the air.
‘What is he doing?’ hissed the witch suspiciously.
‘It could be a trick…’
But Alvin was sensing imminent triumph. He
screwed in his favourite hook.
‘No, he knows he’s trapped,’ Alvin gloated.
‘That’s Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Last Song he is singing
there… He knows he is trapped and he is going down
fighting… He is going down like a Hero, trying to
make us look bad, the little rat.’
For behind their leaders, Alvin was acutely aware
that the Alvinsmen were whispering to one another,
‘Wow, he’s still alive… and he’s singing that song….’
‘ATTACCKKKKKK!’ roared Alvin the
Treacherous.
The Bullguards let out a simultaneous scream,
terrible to hear. And the Bullguard and Alvinsman army

326

shot after Snotlout and the Windwalker like a vast
swarm of hornets, with the witch still shrieking, ‘No…
Wait! It could be a trick! It could be a trick!’
Screaming like a madman, Windwalker beneath
him glazed with terror, Snotlout fled through the sky,
pursued by the Alvinsman army.
‘Oh, for Thor’s sake,’ whispered Hiccup,
petrified, scared to look over his shoulder but looking
nonetheless. ‘Oh for Thor’s sake…’
On Snotlout charged, howling joyful insults
over his shoulder and firing arrows at the pursuing
Bullguards.
‘Come and get me, you buck-toothed, pig-ugly
grandmas! Catch-me-if-you-can, you lickspittle,
worm-wriggling night-creatures!’
Hiccup was too far away to hear what the insults
were, but he almost grinned as he imagined them, for
Snotlout had always been brilliant at insults on the
Pirate Training Programme.
‘Take that, you mangy, hippo-slow
vipers-for-handbags! Can’t catch me, you vile,
rabbit-hearted loser-snakes!’
Hiccup was steering the boat very close to the
Wind now. Snotlout was sailing very close to the wind
himself, for though the Windwalker could fly much

327

faster than the Bullguards, Snotlout was deliberately
flying the dragon slowly to make himself a more
tempting lure to chase.
The maddened swarm converged on Snotlout
so closely that Hiccup thought for one heartstopping
moment that they might have caught him.
And then Snotlout pulled out an impudent Death
Dive, steering Windwalker down, down, like he was a
peregrine falcon diving, at over one hundred and eighty
miles per hour, towards the sea.
The Bullguards followed, plunging after him like
arrows falling from the sky.
At the absolute last minute, Snotlout brought
Windwalker out of the dive, so late that the
Windwalker brushed the tops of the waves with the tips
of his wings.
A large number of Bullguards could not correct
themselves in time, and went plunging into the water.
Many others put the brakes on in the nick of time,
but were put off course, and went spiralling into other
Bullguards. When the swarm righted itself, squawking,
and set off in pursuit once more, they had lost about a
third of their number, who were picking themselves up
out of the sea.
‘Ha ha! You chocolate-coated pig-dragons! You

328

can’t even fly!’ jeered the distant Snotlout.
‘OK, now, Snotlout,’ whispered Hiccup to
himself, watching the tiny figure gesticulating rudely
on the back of the Windwalker. ‘I’m nearly there. You
need to get yourself to safety… Fly to Coral Beach and
the Dragonmarkers can defend you…’
It was almost as if Snotlout could hear him, for
he now crouched down low over Windwalker’s back,
and he whispered a word, and Hiccup could see the
Windwalker leaping forward.
The only dragon that could have beaten the
Windwalker now in a straight speed chase was the
Silver Phantom.
He streaked away in the direction of the Coral
Beach.
Hiccup heaved a sigh of relief.
And then it happened.
Almost leisurely, one of the Alvinsmen shot an
arrow.
It sang through the air…
… and Hiccup saw it clearly. Snotlout was
turning, to shout insults or to see how close his
pursuers were, and the arrow struck Snotlout full in
the chest.

329

Then
a burst
of flame
from one of the
Bullguards hit him,
and burnt through
the safety stirrup, and
Hiccup’s poor raggedy
fire-suit could not hold up
to the onslaught – the fur
underneath caught fire… the
boy went up like a candle… and
fell from Windwalker’s back.
Down he fell, flaming, like a
falling star…
Down into the cool sea
below…
… and Snotlout’s
light was quenched.

‘NOOOOOOOOOO!’
Hiccup shouted. ‘NO! NO! NO!
NO! NO! NO!’
Windwalker gave a shriek of horror.
He was going so fast that by the time he
had wheeled around in a screeching turn and
plunged towards the sea to look for Snotlout, the
entire pack of Bullguards was in his way.
They were no longer pursuing the Windwalker,
for the Boy-They-Thought-Was-Hiccup was the

331

real prey, and they knew they had killed him. Now
they needed the body to prove it to the witch, so the
riderless Bullguards were let off their chains so they
could dive for the body.
‘YEEESSSSSSSS!’ screeched Alvin in victory.
‘Did you see that, Mother? We’ve got Hiccup at last!
We’ve GOT HIM!’
‘Very clever,’ hissed the witch. ‘Well done, my
boy…’
The Bullguards screamed too, gloating cackles of
victory and triumph and glee most dreadful to listen
to. They swarmed, curdling through the sky and diving
into the sea, looking for the body of their impudent boy
enemy.
So many, many times, when all seemed lost,
things had come back from the brink. Hiccup had
almost come to believe that he and his friends were
invulnerable.
But…
Sometimes time cannot tick backwards.
Sometimes you cannot put a dragon back in a
forest, nor a witch back in a tree-trunk, nor the breath
back into a friend when all the breath has gone.
War really does have terrible consequences.
DOWN to the ocean floor, Snotlout sank swiftly,

332

for he was weighed down by his sword and other
weapons.
His limbs spread out like a star, he was flying
through the sea, falling and ever falling, like soft snow
through the air, into another world.
‘Heroes who die in battle go straight to
Valhalla…’ whispered Hiccup.
Snotlout had taken many wrong turns and done
many bad things, for he was a boy who had been born
out of his time, caught in a world that was changing all
around him, and that is always hard.
But it is through our actions that we show who
we really are.
In the end Snotlout died nobly, trying to do the
right thing in difficult circumstances. And in some ways
he would never die, because his name would live on
forever.
Hiccup looked down for a moment at the Black
Star.
There was no time to think about it now.
His tears were blown away
instantly by the wind
hitting him full in
the face. He
struggled to

keep the ship on course.
‘I have to get to Tomorrow at all costs… I have to
get to Tomorrow… I’ll think about it tomorrow.’
A cold desperation settled on Hiccup as he
pointed the ship ever deeper into the storm.
Please don’t let the Alvinsmen remember the ship.
High among jubilant Bullguards and Alvinsmen,
the witch’s white head turned, like the tick of a clock.
‘The Things… the Lost Things…’ she hissed.
Far down in the Bay, unsteered by human hand
(or so the witch thought), the ship carrying the Lost
Things was sailing straight towards the Winter Wind.
‘The Things!’ screeched the witch. ‘The Things!
Fetch the boy’s body later! We need the Things!’
As one, the Bullguard army wheeled round and
made like daggers for the little ship, now
just a whisper away from
the Wind.

‘Stop that boat!’ screamed the witch. ‘Stop that
boat! If the Things go into the Winter Wind, we will
not find them again in time!’
‘Come ON!’ panted Hiccup, drenched to the
skin, a little drowned rat in Snotlout’s too-big clothes,
‘PLEASE let me get there… Don’t let Snotlout have
died for nothing… PLEASE Woden, great god of the
Wild Ride… let me get there… let me get there…’
Ah, you know you are in desperate circumstances
when your measure of success is casting your boat into
the full strength of the Winter Wind.
But as Doomsday Eve loomed, it was the only
hope now that Hiccup had of reaching the shores of
Tomorrow.
The swarm of Bullguards turned, and the
Alvinsmen shot fiery arrows towards the ship. Their
arrows lit the sails, which instantly burst
into flames.

Hiccup slammed the tiller to the left, swerving to
make himself more difficult to catch… the boat shifted
wildly underneath him, and hit a great wave that
slammed her up on her left-hand side.
One of the Alvinsmen generals was riding a
Gorebluffer. Gorebluffers swallow large stones, which
they can then use as projectiles.
The Gorebluffer swooped heavily
above the little

ship, just a whisper away from the Wind, and dropped
three large stones the size of cupboards, right on the
deck.
CRUUNNNNNNCH!
With a sickening sound of breaking wood, the
little ship split in two.

One half, the half containing the Lost Things,
sank instantly.
The other, with Hiccup still at the tiller, drifted
on towards the Wind.
DOWN the Lost Things fell, down to the ocean
floor.
‘We got them!’ shrieked the witch. ‘Dive for the
Lost Things, Bullguards!’
(Do not fear for Toothless, dear reader. Even
though he is inside a cage, Toothless is a dragon, so he
has gills and he can breathe underwater just as easily
as he can on land. And if the witch gets him – and she
may – she will not hurt him, because he is the last Lost
Thing. And he is the Best One.)
Hiccup had been hit by something, and the cut
was bleeding into his eyes so he could not see. He was
barely conscious, and mercifully unaware that he had
already lost the Things.
The half of the boat he was still steering had
almost completely sunk, but he hadn’t even realised.
He was still holding on to the tiller, the lower half of his
body submerged in the water.
He was muttering to himself: ‘Into the Wind…
into the Wind… I have to get into the Wind…
‘Don’t worry, Toothless…’ he said, in his

338

delirium, ‘don’t worry… it’s fine… I’m going to get us
into the Wind… I’ll get us there…’
Way in the distance, Camicazi and Fishlegs,
seated on the back of the Deadly Shadow, had seen
the whole drama unfold, had seen what they thought
was Hiccup hit in the chest and fall to the sea, had seen
the boat with the Lost Things on it holed just before it
went into the Wind, and the witch’s Bullguards diving
in triumph.
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’ screamed
Fishlegs.
One of the Bullguards had already flown up to
give Alvin the key-that-opens-all-locks. It was only a
matter of time before they found the other Things.
‘No…’ wept Fishlegs in horror. ‘It’s not
possible…’
Camicazi was white.
‘No it isn’t possible, Fishlegs,’ muttered
Camicazi. ‘Hiccup is not dead. I would know it if he
were. I KNOW I would know it, if he were… I would
feel it in my soul…’
Hiccup was not dead, although neither his
friends nor his enemies could see him. He was blindly
struggling in the water, hanging on to the sad remnants
of the boat.

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And then Hiccup was swallowed up by the
Winter Wind of Woden. He and his pathetic broken
ship were whirled away on the force and rapidity of the
tempest, like a tiny piece of bark swept up by a tidal
wave.
Hiccup went into the Wind.

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21. DOOMSDAY EVE ON
TOMORROW

During the night, the Winter Wind of Woden wailed
like a banshee across Wrecker’s Bay and all the way
down towards the blasted, cursed island of Tomorrow.
Early the following morning, Doomsday Eve,
the witch and Alvin and all of their Alvinsmen were
gathered on the Singing Sands of the Ferryman’s Gift,
at the bottom of the Murderous Islands.
A light snow was falling.
The witch had also brought along Gobber and
those Dragonmarkers re-captured at the end of the
Battle Under the Waterfall the previous night.*
The witch wanted them to witness Alvin’s
triumph before they were executed, so they were
standing – sad, chained prisoners-of-war – at the back
of the crowd.
The Alvinsmen were excited but extremely
nervous.
Many men and women over the past hundred
years had come to the Singing Sands of the Ferryman’s
Gift carrying false Things, hoping, like poor foolish
UG the Uglithug, that they might trick the Guardian
Protectors into crowning them King of the Wilderwest.

*It was twenty-six Dragonmarkers versus thousands of Alvinsmen, so the
outcome of the battle was not a surprise. Only Camicazi and Fishlegs had
got away, on the back of the invisible Deadly Shadow

All those would-be Kings, along with all of their foolish
followers, had died here on this spot, on this very
beach.
A place where so many unhappy things have
happened in the past seems to retain a memory of that
misery. The Singing Sands may have sung once, long
before the days of Grimbeard the Ghastly.
But now they sang no more.
Instead a Curse seemed to slouch about those
shores, as if it were a live thing looking for prey. An
overpowering sense of evil hung there like some dense
and heavy mist, and even the witch, an evil thing
herself, found the shivering terrors ripple through the
sparse hairs on her half-bald head as they waited where
so many would-be Kings had risked their lives and lost.
‘I can see the Ferryman! Check the Things…’
hissed Alvin, his eyes flicking nervously. ‘We have
got all ten of them, haven’t we?’
The witch checked the Things
once again with a shaking
chicken-bone finger.

Yes, there were still ten of them, just as there had
been when she had looked two minutes earlier.
‘Stop fidgeting, Alvin,’ scolded the witch. ‘And
let’s get your Crown straight.’
She adjusted the Crown so that it sat more
handsomely on Alvin’s head.
They had settled the Throne in the middle of the
empty beach and Alvin was sitting on it, adorned with
all of the other Lost Things, so he looked splendid – or
slightly ridiculous, depending on your point of view.
The witch bit her lip until it bled, for she knew
how crucial it was that they had got this right.
One single mistake meant death for
them all.

She
counted the Things
one more time,
ve-e-e-ery slowly, just to
make absolutely sure.
‘Hmmmff,’ said the sad little
voice of Toothless from his cage, which was
covered with a black cloth to drown out the noise
of his singing. ‘You have t-t-trouble counting to ten.
T-t-toothless can count to one hundred m-m-million.

344

One hundred m-m-million bottles h-h-hanging on a
wall…’ Poor Toothless was just trying to cheer himself
up by being cheeky, for he was frightened, and tired.
‘Shurrup, you horrible little dragon!’ hissed the
witch, balling her clawed hands into fists. She was
absolutely dying to do something dreadful to him, but
of course she needed to keep the little toothless dragon
safe until Alvin was the King.
The Ferryman was approaching. The waiting
Alvinsmen could see a little speck of a boat setting
out from the distant shore of Tomorrow, moving
through the mist, climbing up and dropping down each
white-topped wave towards them, nearer… nearer…
NEARER…
But the Ferryman’s boat was not the only boat in
Hero’s Gap that day.
As the first rays of morning sun began to rise,
they dispersed the mists to reveal the ships of Stoick
and the other Dragonmarkers, sailing out from their
underground hideout in Coral Beach like enchanted
ghosts, and they too were heading towards the Singing
Sands.
The witch looked out to sea, and licked her
wicked gums in glee.

345

‘You’re too late!’ she gloated. ‘Too late, Stoick,
you galumphing idiot. My Alvin will be the King
now…’
Slowly the Ferryman’s boat approached.
‘Faster!’ screamed the witch, casting a nervous
eye towards the approaching Dragonmarker ships.
A superstitious part of her still feared that the
Dragonmarkers might, in some last-minute battle, take
the Things.
The witch gave a shriek of joy as the blindfolded
Ferryman carefully placed his oars inside the boat,
drifted into shore and came to a stop on the sand.
His sixth sense told this Druid Guardian that
he had company on the beach. He climbed out of the
boat and strode towards the Alvinsmen waiting on the

346

Singing Sands.
He stopped directly in front of Alvin cowering on
the Throne, so close that that Alvin had to tip his head
up to stare into the Druid Guardian’s blindfolded face,
which was alarming because of the Guardian’s pitiless
lack of expression.
The witch was desperate to tell the Druid
Guardian to hurry up, for she was worried about those
approaching ships of the Dragonmark. But something
about the Guardian stopped her from interrupting.
It was quite rare for the witch to meet something or
somebody who was more frightening than herself. So
she bit her bloodied lip and kept quiet, though it nearly
killed her to do so.
The Guardian stretched his arms up to the
heavens and cried:
‘He-or-She-Who-Would-Be-King, approach
Tomorrow if you dare!
‘Only the One with the King’s Lost Things can be
crowned the King and live…’
The Guardian slowly tipped his head downward
to Alvin.
‘Are you He-Who-Would-Be-King?’ he asked.
Alvin swallowed convulsively. He was regretting
having come here at all.

347

‘I am,’ replied Alvin in a kingly squeak.
‘Are you the chosen representative of all the
Tribes of the Archipelago?’ asked the Druid Guardian.
‘HE IS!’ yelled the Alvinsmen, drowning out the
Dragonmarker prisoners-of-war, who of course were
shouting: ‘NO!’
‘We have a few little dissenters with us…’
explained the witch nervously.
The Druid Guardian inclined his head. ‘As long
as the candidate is elected by the majority, that is
sufficient.
‘Have you brought a Gift for the Ferryman?’
asked the Druid Guardian.
‘I have,’ gulped Alvin.
‘Then show me the Things,’ said the Guardian.
There was no change in the Guardian’s tone, but
something told Alvin that he had perhaps been a little
presumptuous to arrive wearing the Things, and sitting
on the Throne, when he hadn’t yet been accepted as
the future King.
So with cringing humility and whispered
apologies, Alvin took all the Things off. He laid them
on the beach in front of the Guardian, and backed
away from the Throne, babbling: ‘My mother assures
me that they are the correct Things, Your Worship, and

348

I am taking her word for it, so I hope that if anything
by any chance happens to be wrong, or unacceptable
in any way, Your Honour will have mercy on me on
account of its being an honest mistake, and know that
the blame lies firmly at the feet of my mother who—’
The Guardian turned his blindfolded head
towards Alvin just a tiny bit.
‘If the gifts are unacceptable,’ said the Druid
Guardian, ‘the Guardian Protectors of Tomorrow will
rise and kill you all.’
‘Oh…’ said Alvin.
Alvin shut up.
One by one, the Druid Guardian ran his fingers
over the Things.
He passed his hand reverently over the seat of the
Throne with its bloodstain, Hiccup the Second’s blood,
dark brown now with age but still spreading there like a
flower.
He took up the smashed ticking-thing. He held
it to his ear. It was still ticking: a broken, tiny, valiant
tick.
He took the cover off the cage that contained
Toothless.
He took a struggling, weeping Toothless out of
his cage, and he examined him carefully, even gently

349

putting his finger for a moment into Toothless’s mouth
to feel his gums. He did not jump or pull away when
Toothless bit him hard enough to cause a wound that
bled profusely.
‘T-T-Toothless not belong to Alvin,’ wept
Toothless. ‘Toothless is H-H-Hiccup’s dragon…’
‘It does not matter who you belong to,’ said
the Guardian, and the witch started, for the Druid
Guardian was speaking to the little dragon in
Dragonese. ‘All that matters is who has brought you
here.
‘Sleep now, little dragon,’ said the Druid
Guardian. Poor Toothless had been so upset and
hysterical about being kidnapped that he had not slept
at all that night, but when the Guardian spoke in that
calm, hypnotic tone, he yawned and fell instantly to
sleep, as suggestible as the Hogfly.
The Guardian draped the cloth back over the
cage.
The Druid Guardian took a very long time
examining the rest of the Things.
The witch was so consumed with anxiety that she
accidentally bit one of her own fingernails, which was a
mistake as they were poisoned, and so they gave her a
nasty burn and turned her lips blue.

350

The Guardian inspected the last Thing, the
Dragon Jewel, at painstaking length and with reverent
care, before laying it back down on the Throne.
He raised his arms in the air.
The Vikings on the beach leaned in, eyes wide,
backs stiffened, in dread of the Druid Guardian’s
judgement. Unconsciously Alvin cringed backwards,
with his hook and arm protecting his face as if
expecting to be attacked.
There was a tense pause.
‘The Things are REAL!’ cried the Druid
Guardian.
The Guardian’s impassive face split with
emotion, like a stern stone cliff suddenly struck by an
earthquake.
‘After ninety-nine years of failure, ninety-nine
years of searching, ninety-nine years of guarding the isle
of Tomorrow, the Things are REAL! The Impossible
Task has been completed!’
The Alvinsmen on the beach erupted with
excitement.
The witch burst into tears.
She threw herself into Alvin’s arms, punching
the air with one emaciated skinny fist. ‘I knew it!’ she
screamed, beside herself with triumph. ‘I knew it!

351

‘Twenty years…’ panted the witch, ‘twenty years
imprisoned inside that tree trunk, that little circle of
hell. Twenty years I sang my spells, I mixed my poisons,
I wove my tapestries of destiny out of rat guts and
mice bones. Twenty years of longing, dreaming and
murdering for you to be King… and you will be! MY
ALVIN IS THE KING!’
‘GUARDIAN PROTECTORS OF
TOMORROW!’ called the Guardian in a great
joyful bellow, addressing the Guardians, those
dragons-or-something-else lurking beneath the Singing
Sands.
‘In twenty-four hours, when this King is crowned,

352

we shall be let loose from ninety-nine years of bondage!
We shall be free to roam the skies and seas of the
Archipelago, on airy careless wings and feet, with no
limit, no boundary, no limitation…
‘And I,’ and here the Guardian’s voice really did
crack, ‘I shall be able to take off this bandage that
lies across my eyes at last, and see the shining colours
of this Archipelago, as bright and new as if freshly
painted!’
Something extraordinary happened next.
All around the Guardian’s outstretched arms, the
sand began to sing.
The Alvinsmen were too busy celebrating to
notice, and the Dragonmarker prisoners-of-war too
depressed.
But the Singing Sands of the Ferryman’s Gift
were singing once again.
It was as if each little grain of sand were rubbing
against its neighbour, like a million happy crickets
singing a joyful hymn of praise.
There was an innocent longing to that sound that
brought tears to the eyes.
‘At last the Impossible Task has been
completed…’ cried the Druid Guardian.
‘At last our bondage ends…

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‘At last WE HAVE FOUND OUR HEIR!’
‘It’s going to be me!’ sang Alvin joyfully, as the
witch capered by his side. ‘It’s going to be ME! ME ME
ME ME! And what an excellent choice that is!’
‘He who gathered these Things together must be
a truly great Hero indeed,’ said the Druid Guardian.
‘But wait… I can hear other humans landing on the
beach…’
‘Wait?’ said the witch, instantly terrified. ‘What
do you mean, wait? We have all the Things, don’t we?’
‘HOLD ON THERE, MR DRUID
GUARDIAN!’
The Dragonmarker ships had indeed landed on
the beaches now. Hiccup’s father, Stoick the Vast,
great Chief of the Hooligan Tribe, vaulted over the
edge of his boat, The Blue Whale, and on to the Singing
Sands of the Ferryman’s Gift.
The Guardian turned as Stoick came running
forward, splashing through the shallows. Even in his
late middle age, Stoick was an impressive figure, built
in traditional Viking chieftain mould, with a belly like a
battleship and a beard like a flaming gorse bush.
Stoick was followed by thousands and
thousands of Dragonmarkers, including Bertha of the
Bog-Burglars, Humungously Hotshot the Hero, his
fellow Hero Tantrum O’UGerly and his eleven fiancées,

354

Snotlout’s father Baggybum the Beerbelly, and Old

Wrinkly, Hiccup’s grandfather.

‘WAIT!’ cried Stoick the Vast, out of breath.

Running on sand is hard work, particularly once you

have reached a certain age.

355

‘Who are you?’ asked the Druid Guardian sternly.
‘We are the Dragonmarkers,’ Stoick puffed. ‘We
represent half the Tribes of the Archipelago… and this
man Alvin must never be our King!’
The arriving Dragonmarkers cheered
simultaneously, a great rousing shout from thousands
of throats, to show the Guardian how many of them
there were.
‘It sounds like you have more than a few little
dissenters,’ said the Guardian to Alvin. ‘If these are
half the Tribes of the Archipelago…’
‘But they are the less important half, Your
Honour…’ replied Alvin.
‘We, the Dragonmarkers,’ puffed Stoick, ‘have a
claim to the Throne. We maintain that my son Hiccup
Horrendous Haddock the Third is the true King of the
Wilderwest!’
‘You have a son called Hiccup?’ asked the Druid
Guardian with interest.
‘Don’t read anything into it!’ howled the witch,
forgetting to be polite to the Guardian. ‘Just because
he was called Hiccup, like Grimbeard the Ghastly’s
son, doesn’t mean anything at all!’
‘Hiccup actually found the Things,’ said Stoick,
‘every single one of them, and this thief Alvin here, and

356

that devil his mother, stole them!’
‘Nonsense and cat-nerves!’ screeched the witch,
spitting like a cobra.
‘My wife Valhallarama set out to reclaim the
stolen Things from this horrible pair,’ explained Stoick,
‘and she will meet us here, along with Hiccup, whom
we put into hiding in case these Alvinsmen killed them.
Hiccup should be here any minute, along with the Last
Lost Thing, the toothless dragon…’
Stoick stopped.
He had been so busy explaining, that he had only
just noticed that the Things were already sitting there
on the beach.
‘The Things are already here!’ said Stoick in
astonishment.
‘Yes, they are, Stoick,’ smiled the witch
condescendingly. ‘Well spotted.’
Stoick was not the brightest barbarian in the
business, so it took a while for this to sink in. His brow
furrowed.
‘But where is my wife Valhallarama?’
‘Poor stupid Stoick…’ the witch said
contemptuously. ‘Always late, always slow on the
uptake. We caught your dear wife Valhallarama in the
act of burglary and revolution in the early hours of this

357

morning, and I very kindly brought her along so she
could have the pleasure of witnessing Alvin’s triumph
before we executed her.’
The witch snapped her fingers, and her Alvinsmen
staggered over carrying a box on their shoulders. It was
the same broken box that Camicazi had been kept in
earlier, hastily mended, and wound round untidily with
chains, which one of the Alvinsmen unlocked.
Valhallarama exploded out of the box. She was
a little crumpled, for a middle-aged woman (even one
as fit as Valhallarama) is a little old for being folded up
into boxes, but she still had her Warrior dignity intact.
Stoick whitened. He saw for the first time, the
Dragonmarker prisoners-of-war standing dejectedly in
chains on the edges of the crowd.
‘Gobber… my dear fellow, what has happened
to your beard? Valhallarama… my love, I don’t
understand,’ said Stoick, bewildered. ‘Have you… have
you… failed?’ he asked wonderingly, for it was unlike
Valhallarama, that splendid Hero, to fail at anything.
‘Our son did not stay in the underground
treehouse. He raided the witch and Alvin’s war bunker
to retrieve the Things himself. He did not recognise
me in my Alvinsman disguise and he took the Things
from me just as I was in the act of reclaiming them,’

358

explained Valhallarama.
Stoick beamed. ‘Oh well done, Hiccup! Very
rude and disobedient of him, but after all, if he’s going
to be a King, he can’t have his parents doing everything
for him. I’m proud of the boy—’ He stopped, and his
brow furrowed again, and he said:
‘But then… then why are the Things here? And
where is Hiccup?’
Valhallarama’s face was very, very grim.
She turned her face to the witch.
‘Perhaps the witch will be able to answer both
those questions,’ said Valhallarama, and her gaze was
as cold and as implacable as iron.
Yes,’ smiled the witch, purring with pleasure, ‘I
can answer both those questions. I fear you are a little
behind the times, Stoick. For you see, us Alvinsmen
have ALL the Things now.’
She whipped the black cloth from Toothless’s
cage.
Stoick recoiled as if he had been bitten, and the
Dragonmarker crowd gave a sigh of distress.
The exhausted little dragon was sleeping inside
the cage, a pathetic sight with his wings shivering
and dark circles under his eyes from the trauma of
separation from Hiccup.

359

‘The Druid Guardian here has just examined all
the Things, he has found them to be correct, and he
has declared my Alvin to be Grimbeard the Ghastly’s
Heir. We will be crowning him tomorrow, on the
Doomsday of Yule.’
‘That is true,’ acknowledged the Druid Guardian.
‘NO!’ cried Stoick, eyes round with horror.
Howls and moans from the Dragonmarkers.
‘But, then… my Hiccup?’ said Stoick. ‘Where is
my Hiccup?’
The witch gave an infinitely nasty smile. ‘Your
Hiccup is not coming “any minute”. He will never be
coming back, I am afraid.’
Valhallarama, proud Valhallarama, dropped to
her knees. ‘No! Hiccup! No!’
She had never collapsed before. Stoick leant
down to support her…
… and Old Wrinkly, Hiccup’s grandfather,
looked thoroughly bewildered. ‘I don’t understand it,’
he said.
‘Your soothsaying was always a little suspect,
Wrinkly,’ sneered the witch rudely.
‘It was Snotlout,’ said Gobber flatly, standing
chained at the back of the crowd. ‘Snotlout betrayed
us all.’

360

‘Traitor!’ cried Grabbit of Grim. Boos and
catcalls from the Dragonmarkers. ‘That treasonous
traitor of traitors!’
Baggybum the Beerbelly, Snotlout’s father, put
his head into his hands and whispered, ‘I’m sorry. I’m
so sorry. I’m ashamed to be his father.’
‘So you see how ridiculous it was of you
Dragonmarkers to come here trying to steal Alvin’s
Throne from him!’ sneered the witch. ‘You have
nothing, nothing! And the Hero you are waiting for is
dead.’
Valhallarama of the White Arms was whiter than
a corpse, her hands clasped together.
‘I don’t believe you,’ she said.
‘I saw the arrow hit him full in the chest myself,’
said the witch. ‘But as a precaution we have had our
Bullguards and Ravenhunters diving for his body in the
Bay ever since, so that we can prove that the runt is
finally dead. They have not recovered it yet, but what
they have found is this…’
She produced Hiccup’s helmet, like a conjuror,
from under her cloak.
‘No…’ begged Valhallarama and Stoick, and
Stoick dropped to his knees too.
The two great Warriors knelt together in the

361

sand, as if they were getting married once
again, holding the helmet, silent tears creeping
down their old Warrior cheeks.
Valhallarama then jumped to her feet
and shook her fist fiercely.
‘YOU killed him!’ she roared at the
witch. ‘You fiend!’
‘All’s fair in love and war,
Valhallarama,’ cooed the witch. ‘Did you
not try and kill my own son Alvin with
your very own arrow back in the Amber
Slavelands? Perhaps you should have
given your son triple-depth chest
armour, and maybe he would be
alive today… but then maybe
you are more of a careless
mother than I am myself.
You were never around
much, were you?’
The witch
had much to pay
Valhallarama back
for, and that
particular poison
dart really hit

home. The poor crushed Warrior showed the hurt in
her wounded blue eyes.
Valhallarama whirled around, and in one flowing
movement, she swiped an axe from an Alvinsman
standing behind her.
She raised the axe above her head, and roared:
‘BLOOD FEUD!’
The massed crowds of Dragonmarkers drew their
own axes in sympathy. A battle between the Alvinsmen
and the Dragonmarkers was about to take place.
Until, with surprising agility and extraordinary
strength for one of his age, the Druid Guardian leapt
forward, removing Valhallarama’s axe from her hand
just before she could kill the witch.
He stretched to the height of his full seven feet
and spread wide his arms, bellowing in a voice of
electric command:
‘In the name of Tomorrow, STOP! OR SO
HELP ME THOR, I SHALL CALL UPON THE
GUARDIAN PROTECTORS OF TOMORROW
AND THEY SHALL CARRY YOU UP INTO
THE OUTERMOST REACHES OF OBLIVION
AND YOU SHALL NEVER SET FOOT ON THIS
SWEET EARTH AGAIN!’
A speech which in itself caught the attention,
even without the Guardian’s fingers twitching on the

364

end of his outspread arms, and the sand underneath
the warring humans beginning to bubble and sink
beneath their feet as if something were happening
under there…
Anger turned to fear in an instant.
‘Put down your swords!’ ordered the Guardian.
‘This is sacred land! You are quarrelling on the Singing
Sands of the Ferryman’s Gift, and if you are not careful
I shall give you a gift that you most certainly haven’t
asked for and that you will never be able to return!’
Both sides grew quiet, mute with terror at this
invocation of the supernatural, and as they did, the
sinking sands fell silent and were still and firm beneath
their feet again.
‘That is better,’ said the Guardian.
‘I am in command here on these Sands and on
Tomorrow. Until such time as the King is crowned,
my word is absolute, and if my wishes are disobeyed,
my punishment is total. In my capacity as a private
individual, I can be very reasonable, but unfortunately
my role as Guardian takes me beyond the reach of
reason, and I act only as the Law.’
Everyone stayed very quiet.
‘Madam.’
The Guardian turned to Valhallarama.

365

‘I understand the rage and fury of a mother’s grief,
but you must put this aside now. The Dragon Furious
has grown too strong, and the very existence of the
Archipelago is at stake.’
He did not speak loudly, but he spoke with
such authority that it seemed to come from the gods
themselves.
‘We Vikings are known for our proud
independence and our quarrelsome natures. It is the
very essence of our beings. But now the Dragon has
come, we must give up our personal sorrows, our petty
blood feuds, and stand together against a common
enemy. We can no longer be fighting each other when
the future of humanity itself is in peril.
‘The Dragon Rebellion has come! The Things
have been Found!
‘The gods have spoken!
‘There is a time to submit to Fate and the Will
of the gods, and the time is now. Madam, put your
personal sorrow aside, for the sake of us all.’
Valhallarama stood, like a great tree that has been
most suddenly struck by lightning, staring at her sword.
‘So many years,’ she said, bringing up her great
head, ‘so many, many lonely years I spent Questing
for these Things… giving up the warmth of home and

366

husband and my child. What was it all for? A fruitless
Quest. And then it seemed that it all might have been
worth it. Sometimes you find that the Things you scour
the world for are right under your nose at home.
‘I thought that there might be a time, when this
dreadful War was past, a time for second chances.
That I could re-build my lost relationship with my son,
who would have the Kingdom that once I wanted for
myself…
‘… only for that hope to be taken away from me
again. This man,’ she spat in Alvin’s direction, ‘if this
man is Crowned, you will tell him the secret of the
Dragon Jewel. And he would use that power to destroy
the dragons forever.’
‘But the Dragon Furious would destroy the
whole of humanity,’ replied the Druid Guardian.
‘Sometimes a King has to do terrible things in order
to protect those he has sworn to look after. When
the stakes are so high, dreadful decisions have to be
taken. It is the responsibility of a King to take on that
burden, that guilt, and I know a little about that kind of
responsibility.
‘Forgive my rough words, Madam. I am not used
to speaking with strangers.’
The Druid Guardian spoke gently, for he was

367

aware he was talking to a woman who had lost her son.
‘There is a time when you have to give yourself
up to the will of the gods, and sometimes the will of
the gods is a mystery until we see the final pattern in
the end…’
Valhallarama tried to square her shoulders.
The true sign of a Hero is how they act when all is
against them.

Proudly, she took off her battle glove and gave it
to the Druid Guardian.
‘I will not swear fealty to this man Alvin,’ said
Valhallarama, stiffly. ‘But I will no longer fight him
either. The Company of the Dragonmark will bear
silent witness to the Crowning, if the Guardians of
Tomorrow feel that this is the will of the gods.’
Stoick the Vast, his head bowed like a broken
lion, nodded his head to give his assent.
‘So be it,’ said the Druid Guardian.
‘Hang on a second,’ spluttered the witch, feeling
that the situation, which she thought she had nicely in
hand, was suddenly getting out of control again. ‘This
is going to be a private party! My son is the King and
these people are traitors and uninvited guests! We
don’t want them at the Crowning!’
The Druid Guardian looked at her thoughtfully.
‘Your son is not the King yet,’ he said. ‘And the King
must be crowned in front of the united Tribes of the
Archipelago, as their chosen representative. Grimbeard
was quite clear about that. This lady has given her vow
as a Viking that she will put aside her personal sorrow,
and bear silent witness, and her vow is enough for me.
‘She has given her pledge, and now as a sign
of your good faith, you must set free these prisoners

369

of yours.’
The witch was left with no choice. She gave the
order for Gobber and the other prisoners to
be released.

The Druid Guardian banged his staff on the
beach: once, twice, thrice.
‘You have passed the first test. We will not
kill you… yet. We will proceed now to the Cursed
Lands of Tomorrow, for the coronation of the King.
One moment, please, while I address my fellow
Guardians…’
The Druid Guardian lifted up his head and arms
to the heavens one last time. He spoke with dreadful
finality.
‘It is the eleventh day of Doomsday, the Heir has
been found, and the last chance for any other person to
claim the Throne has passed.
‘COME, GREAT POWERS OF DEATH
AND DARKNESS! Arise, and protect the borders
of Tomorrow once again! Any man, woman, child or
dragon who dares to cross illegally into Tomorrow in
the next twenty-four hours will die by the dreadful
wrath of THE GUARDIAN PROTECTORS!’

All around the Vikings on the beach,
the sand began to bubble, and the land gave
birth again to those same ghastly nightmare
creatures that had carried UG and his
followers to their terrible airy doom seventy-two
hours earlier. This time, they left the Vikings
alone, and went shrieking over their heads like
shooting stars or asteroids, back to the island of
Tomorrow, to guard the borders there.
‘What in the name of Woden were they?’
gulped Alvin, turning to his mother with a green
and sickly face.

‘Death by airy oblivion,’ said the witch grimly.
‘We were lucky we had the Things…’
‘The King must be crowned on the stumps of
Grimbeard’s Throne,’ continued the Guardian, turning
back to the traumatised crowd on the beach as they
gazed after those terrifying apparitions. ‘And the
Throne is in the centre of Tomorrow. Follow me, all of
you, to TOMORROW.
‘You may find it harder there than you think…’
And as the sun rose higher on Doomsday Eve, the
old man in the blindfold rowed his boat, slowly, slowly
across the Hero’s Gap.
He was followed by hundreds and hundreds
of boats with tattered sails and burnt Vikings, weary
and homeless, drained of all hope and energy by this
dreadful war.
Far away in the distance, too afraid of Tomorrow
to approach any closer, the dragons of the Dragon
Rebellion watched them go, and flew to tell their
leader.
The Dragon Furious stretched out, victorious, in
the hot springs and deep snow of his icy stronghold to
the north, two trails of smoke leaking from his mighty
nostrils.
‘They have the Things, my lord, all of them…’

374

said a Razorwing, its eyes dilated with anxiety. ‘The
little gummy toothless dragon, they’ve got that too.
‘And I saw…’ The Razorwing was panting with
horror. ‘I saw the Jewel... the Jewel that has the
power to destroy dragons forever.’
The Dragon Furious did not appear to be
frightened by this news. ‘Ah,’ mused the mighty
Dragon. ‘But you see, I have something greater than
the Jewel. I have the Wodensfang’s promise.’

22. HERO’S END AT THE
ELEVENTH HOUR

Camicazi and Fishlegs had followed the Alvinsmen
to the Singing Sands of the Ferryman’s Gift, invisibly
tracking them on the back of the Deadly Shadow. They
had hidden on the sandbanks directly above the beach,
and, protected by the over-arching wings of the great
camouflaged dragon, they watched this whole scene
being played out from the safety of their hiding-place.
They knew the significance of Hiccup’s helmet
being recovered by the Bullguards. Fishlegs and
Camicazi did not need to hide any more. They could
join up with the other Dragonmarkers now.
Red-eyed, wiping his nose against his sleeve,
Fishlegs was about to join the sad procession of boats
crossing Hero’s Gap towards the isle of Tomorrow
when Camicazi stopped him.
‘What on earth are you doing, Fishlegs?’ she said
briskly.
‘Um…’ said Fishlegs, hopelessly, ‘I’m following
the others… there’s no point doing anything else, is
there, now that we know Hiccup is dead.’
‘The more I think about it,’ said Camicazi, ‘the
less I think Hiccup is dead.’

377

‘But… but… the helmet… that was Hiccup’s
helmet…’ protested Fishlegs. ‘And they brought
it up from the sea… There isn’t really any other
explanation.’
‘Oh for Thor’s sake,’ said Camicazi in
exasperation. ‘Have you not hung around with him
for long enough to know that you never give up hope
until you are presented with an actual Hiccup skeleton,
solemnly registered and verified by the Valkyrie Death
Committee as completely authentic?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘We thought you were dead back there in the
Slavelands, remember, and look! You turned up again
large as life – or rather, skinny and asthmatic and
eczema-covered as life! What would have happened if
we stopped looking for you?’
‘But… but… but…’
spluttered Fishlegs. ‘But
sometimes people really
ARE dead, Camicazi! And
it’s Doomsday Eve… We
only have twenty-four
hours before the King
gets crowned, and Alvin
has all the Things…

We haven’t got a hope...’
‘It’s a tight deadline,’
admitted Camicazi. ‘But
then again Hiccup always
works best under tight
deadlines…’
‘I want to believe
you,’ said Fishlegs
longingly. ‘I really, really
want to believe you, but
where IS he, Camicazi?’
‘OH DO HURRY
UP!’ shouted Camicazi,
already on board the Deadly
Shadow. ‘We’ll just have to go and find him…’
‘Don’t you think you should at least tell your
mother we’re OK?’ asked Fishlegs, as he climbed up
after her. ‘I saw Bertha among that Dragonmarker
crowd… she might at least want to know you are still
alive. And maybe she might not give you permission to
go and look for Hiccup?’
‘I think,’ said Camicazi thoughtfully, ‘it might
be better not to ask. You’re right though, it would be
nice to let her know that we’re alive, so she doesn’t
worry…’
Two minutes later, Great Chief Bertha of the

379

Bog-Burglars, solemnly steering The Big
Momma, looked up as a great shadow passed
above her. She saw the underside of an enormous
three-headed dragon, briefly turning itself visible as it
sailed south in slow, graceful flaps.
On the dragon’s back were the two small figures
of Fishlegs and Camicazi, and Bertha just caught the
words of her daughter, shouted down from the back of
the dragon, before the words were tossed away on the
wind.
‘JUST OFF TO FIND HICCUP, MOTHER…
See you later… Don’t worry about me! Bog-Burglars
Fight forever!’
‘CAMICAZI!’ yelled Bertha of the Bog-Burglars.

380

‘HICCUP IS DEAD! CAMICAZI, WHERE ON
EARTH ARE YOU GOING? I’VE ONLY JUST
FOUND YOU AGAIN! YOU COME RIGHT BACK
DOWN THIS MINUTE OR YOU ARE IN BIG
TROUBLE, YOUNG LADY!
‘CAMICAAAAAAAZZZIIIIIIIIIII!’
But it was too late.
The beautiful three-headed Shadow Dragon had
already slowly faded into invisibility, like breath into
the wind.

382

23. ONE MORE DAY

Far away on the little isle of Hero’s End, a boy lay
stretched out unconscious on a beach.
Camicazi was right.
HICCUP WAS ALIVE.
He only had one day left now.
One day until a King would be crowned on the
Doomsday of Yule.
One day to persuade the Guardians that HE was
the King and not Alvin the Treacherous.
And he had no Things. Not a single one.
How would he ever get to Tomorrow?

384

For the Druid Guardian had closed up the
borders of Tomorrow. He had called up his Guardian
Protectors to defend the island of Tomorrow from any
being, human or dragon, who might dare to try and set
foot on the island now the Heir had been found, and
the Crowning of the King was about to commence.
And we have seen just how scary, just how
terrifying, those Guardian Protectors can be.
But at least Hiccup was ALIVE. Barely alive, but
ALIVE still.
Perched on his chest, his head tucked under
his wing with shame, was the little old dragon, the
Wodensfang, waiting for the boy to wake up.

386

EPILOGUE

I said, at the beginning of this episode of my memoirs,
that the making of a Hero is like the making of a
sword.
How the sword and the Hero must be tested time
and time again, and the more fearsome and dreadful
the test, the stronger the sword and the Hero, in the
end.
That Boy-That-Once-Was-Me who is lying back
there on the beach at Hero’s End, he seems to have
lost everything, doesn’t he?
He risked everything to get the Lost Things, and
then at the last minute, they slipped through his fingers.
He does not know this yet, poor boy, as he lies
there. He is still dreaming that he is driving the ship
with the Lost Things on it, safely through the Wind.
‘Don’t worry, Toothless,’ he is muttering to
himself, slightly delirious. ‘It will be all right…
everything will be all right…’ Little knowing that
poor Toothless has fallen into dark hands, and is not all
right at all.
It is pathetic, is it not, to see the boy’s delusion,
lying on that beach like a crumpled piece of driftwood
thrown up by the careless gods, as if he were nothing.

388

But now I am seventy-six years old, looking back,
I have to say that things are not quite as bleak as they
seem.
At last, for the first time in the boy’s life, he is
finally ready.
It may not look like it, as he lies there, broken
on the beach, having lost the Things, having lost
Toothless, having lost everything. But this was the
moment the Hero was made.
He is ready to take on his destiny now.
I meet him on Hero’s End, hovering over him as
he lies there, and I whisper:
You are ready now.
Know this, when you wake.
You are finally ready to take on Tomorrow.
You may look like a corpse, but you are in fact a
King.
He will need this knowledge when he wakes into
painful reality.
For it will be painful.
He will grieve for the loss of the Things, and
know that it is his fault. He will grieve for Snotlout. He
will feel that this is his fault too, even though Snotlout
chose to take that risk out of his own free will.
But Snotlout has taught him something.
Hiccup believed in Snotlout. He went on trying

389

to believe in Snotlout. And in the end Snotlout
believed in Hiccup, and that was one of the crucial,
final things that gave Hiccup belief in himself.
This was what mattered.
He has carried Snotlout with him ever after.
Snotlout and his Black Star are part of his Kingship.
Remember the Wodensfang’s wheezy voice,
whispering in the darkness of the underground hideout
high in the Murderous Mountains, about how a boy
can change from being Speedfast to being Grimbeard
the Ghastly…
‘… and also the other way around.’
Back on those ships crossing Hero’s Gap on
Doomsday Eve, Snotlout’s father, Baggybum the
Beerbelly, does not yet know that Snotlout has chosen
the right side. Gobber and the Dragonmarkers are
still cursing Snotlout’s name, still believing him to be
the most treacherous Traitor of Traitors, still shaking
their heads and their fists, and calling down dreadful
imprecations on his head.
But they will find out the truth, in the end.
Time will shake out the truth, as it always does.
Gobber and Baggybum will find out the truth,
just as Snotlout knew they would when he hung his
Black Star round my neck.

390

They will know that Snotlout was a Hero after
all…
Gobber and Baggybum will be proud of him at
last.
And long after Kings are forgotten, and their
names have fallen into dust, the good deeds and the
actions of the Heroes live on in glory.
Once I dreamed of castles and a crown upon my
head…
Now the night sky is my only roof and the sea my
rocking bed…
But let my heart be wrecked by hurricanes and
my ship by stormy weather
I know I am a Hero… and a Hero is FOREVER!
As I write, sixty-two years later, I am wearing
Snotlout’s Black Star on a chain around my neck, the
Black Star that in the Hooligan Tribe is the highest
honour that can be given for bravery in battle.
It looks a little incongruous on the chest of such
a very old man as myself, but I wear it with such pride,
and it makes me stand a little straighter, even though
I am bowled into a hoop by age and the Archipelago’s
howling winds, and I am not as steady on my legs as I
once was.
It is the Black Star that Snotlout gave me when

391

he exchanged his clothes for my clothes, and his destiny
for my destiny. A noble gift, do not you think, in the
end, from one cousin to another?
Here is the odd thing though.
Time has rubbed away at the black of the Star.
And underneath the black… there was just a glint
of something, over the years, and then I rubbed at it,
and rubbed at it, until the crusty dark surface crumbled
away from the heart of the star, and the star fell out,
the metal just as bright and brilliant as when it was first
dug from the ground.
Now the star doesn’t look black at all.
Just gold.

A HERO… IS… FOREVER.

Adieu, Snotlout.
I could not have done this without you.
I carry you with me, every step I take, every
decision I make. You are part of my blood, and I would
never have got this far without you.
We shall meet again, in a better world than
this one.

392

Even if Hiccup manages to fight those dreadful dragon
guardians of Tomorrow the Dragon Furious will be
waiting for him.

“The Dragontime is coming
And only a King can save you now.
The King shall be the
Champion of Champions.

You shall know the King
By the King’s Lost Things.
A fang-free dragon, my second-best sword,
My Roman shield,
An arrow-from-the-land-that-does-not-exist,
The heart’s stone, the key-that-opens-all-locks,
The ticking-thing, the Throne, the Crown.

And last and best of all the ten,
The Dragon Jewel will save all men.”

www.cressidacowell.co.uk

This is Cressida, age 9, writing on the island.

SEE WHERE IT ALL BEGAN!

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