How To Train Your Dragon: How to Betray a Dragon's Hero

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How To Train Your Dragon: How to Betray a Dragon's Hero Page 17

by Cressida Cowell


  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.

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  ‘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

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  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

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  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.

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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

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  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.

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  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 onsla
ught – 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

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  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,

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  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

 

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