How to be a Pirate's Dragon (Hiccup) (9 page)

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head with the other, this Attacking-While-Defending Skill can only be carried out by the most brilliant and coordinated of Vikings.

Skullion after Skullion fell down dead around Stoick as he walked slowly forwards. But a continuous shining wave of the Creatures had poured onto the beach and were cutting off his route to the boats. It seemed impossible that he could make it through the sheer mass of them all, and Newtsbreath, though flying as hard as he could, was still too far away to be any help.

And then, to the complete astonishment of the watching Hooligans, their corpulent, creaky old Leader leapt onto the BACK of the nearest Skullion. The creature madly twisted and bucked, trying to throw him off, but Stoick held on grimly, gripping with his powerful thighs alone, so that he could reach down to right and left, dispatching Skullions with sword and axe.

He cut his way through the mob, riding the maddened beast right into the sea, for all the world as if he were astride an ancient old broken-in Dragon Steed. When the Creature finally bucked him off in the shallows, he turned the fall into a belly flop

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forwards, checked for a moment to stow away the sword and the axe, and swam like fury for the boat.

The whole wide bay, and the immediate horizon, was now filled with thousands and thousands of these beasts from hell. It was like a vision out of your worst nightmare.

But the Skullions stopped at the water's edge, and stayed there howling and shrieking furiously. So angry were they that they started turning on the weaker members of their pack, and a few of the creatures were ripped to pieces in front of Hiccup's eyes.

The Hooligans cheered and cheered and cheered.

Stoick was very pleased with himself.

He acknowledged the frantic applause, wiped the blood off the Stormblade onto his shirt, and kissed the clean blade.

And then he threw back his hairy head and ROARED like an animal, and so wild did he look with the sword in his hand and the blood on his shirt that Hiccup barely recognized his own father.

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13. THE TREASURE

The graze on Hiccup's chest was actually deeper than he had realized in the terror of the moment. It would leave a scar that would stay with him for the rest of his life as a reminder of a morning spent on the Isle of the Skullions.

And his right arm was dislocated from the strain of hanging from the talons of Newtsbreath. Gobber put it back in its socket (a very painful process, as Gobber was not the most tender of nurses) and tore a strip off his shirt to make Hiccup a sling for it.

The Hooligans gave themselves a couple of minutes to pat each other on the back and celebrate, before grabbing the oars again. They were eager to leave the spooky Isle of the Skullions far, far behind them. It wasn't until they were within sight of the friendly cliffs of Berk that they felt safe enough to ship their oars, and let the
Lucky Thirteen
drift for a while in calm but misty seas while they investigated their prize.

When Stoick lifted the lid of the box again, the smell had nearly gone. But underneath the

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treasure there was a scattering of greenish-yellow crystals which appeared to be smoking slightly, and they still gave off that rotten-egg stench. These were J what Grimbeard had used to booby-trap the box -- as soon as they came into contact with the air they let off their smell, which then alerted the Skullions.

A very effective and deadly defense of his treasure.

And WHAT a treasure it was ... Alvin could not I speak for at least three minutes. He just stood there, eyes popping, picking up object after object and stroking it, letting his hands run lovingly through the coins.

"Of course, ten percent of this treasure shall ¡be yours, Alvin," boomed Stoick the Vast, sticking his belly out in pride at his own generosity.

"You are
tooooo
kind, dearest Stoick," murmured Alvin, when he could say anything at all.

"Hang on an oyster-catching minute," interrupted Baggybum the Beerbelly. "Firstly, I want it acknowledged that SNOTLOUT found this treasure."

"Acknowledged," said Stoick the Vast reluctantly.

Hiccup knew he should be thankful to be alive, but he was unspeakably miserable. He knew what all this was going to mean. Hiccup, although the

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son of the Chief, was not the True Heir to the Hairy Hooligans. The True Heir was Snotlout, who had always been bigger, faster and more brilliant than Hiccup at everything.

"Secondly," continued Baggybum, "as the FINDER OF THE TREASURE, technically it belongs to MY SON Snotlout, and I don't know whether Snotlout feels like giving away any of it to some stranger. ..."

"He definitely doesn't," grinned Snotlout.

Stoick the Vast banged shut the treasure chest. He lifted Baggybum the Beerbelly clear off the ground by the front of his shirt, which was quite some feat considering Baggybum the Beerbelly was about the size of a killer whale who hadn't had much exercise recently.

"I AM THE CHIEF OF THIS TRIBE!" roared Stoick the Vast. "I LAUNCHED THIS EXPEDITION TO FIND THE TREASURE OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY AND THIS TREASURE BELONGS TO ME AND ME ALONE!"

Baggybum the Beerbelly gave Stoick a quick jab in the kidney, which made Stoick drop him, sharpish. He yelled right back in Stoick's face:

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"WELL, MAYBE YOU'VE BEEN CHIEF OF THIS TRIBE A LITTLE TOO LONG, BIG BROTHER! MAYBE THIS IS A SIGN FROM THE GODS THAT IT'S TIME YOU RETIRED, WHAT DID THAT PROPHECY SAY ABOUT THE HEIR FINDING THE TREASURE? IF MY SON IS THE HEIR, MAYBE THAT JUST MAKES ME THE CHIEF OF THE TRIBE INSTEAD OF YOU!!!"

[Image: Men.]

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"NO!" yelled Stoick, stamping his foot.

"I'M THE CHIEF!"

"ARE NOT!"

"AM TOO!"

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

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

"No, YOU neff off," replied Baggybum.

"No, YOU neff off."

"YOU!"

"YOU!" etc. etc. etc.

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

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

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

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

He then interrupted the fight between Stoick and Baggybum.

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

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

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

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

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

INVINCI --"

[Image: A ship.]

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14. THE DAY TAKES A TURN FOR THE WORSE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But nobody had heard him.

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

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

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

For a whole minute, nobody said a word.

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

[Image: A pirate.]

There was no knife at Alvin's throat.

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

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

Stoick gargled inarticulately.

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

Stoick gargled again.

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

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

"An OUTCAST?" gasped the Hooligans.

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

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"MINE, I think," said Alvin.

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

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

"I have NOT!" protested Stoick indignantly.

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