Cressida Cowell_How to Train Your Dragon_04 (2 page)

"We all know what we're supposed to be doing here ...," Hiccup continued.

"We know what WE'RE going to be doing," sneered the Driver, closing his one eye and settling himself comfortably. "We're going to have a nice long sleep right here while you sweat it up the largest mountain in the Inner Isles ..."

"Oh for Thor's sake!" exploded Snotface Snotlout. "That girly 'speaking Dragonese' stuff isn't going to work with these brutes!"

Snotlout grabbed the black whip from Gobber's relaxed hand, and cracked it.

Snnnnnnaaaap!

The Driver Dragons blinked open their eyes.

Snotlout cracked the whip again, this time letting the end of it lash the face of the Saber-Tooth with the One Eye. The Driver sprang to his feet with a yowl of pain and the rest of the pack followed him, furious but respectful. The boys cheered.

"That's the way to do it!" grinned Snotlout, whipping another of the dragons for the pure pleasure of it. The animal howled and Snotlout laughed. "Disobey ME, would you, you SNIVELING CRAWLING PIECES OF FORKED-TONGUE RUBBISH!
This'll
learn you!"

"Don't do that, Snotlout," said Hiccup quietly. Hiccup didn't normally stand up to Snotlout, but he couldn't bear to see an animal as proud and dignified as a Saber-Toothed Driver made to dance about like a monkey.

Snotlout stopped what he was doing to turn on Hiccup.

"What's this?" sneered Snotlout. "Is Hiccup the Useless trying to tell Snotlout the HERO what to do? Face it, Hiccup, the snow will turn as blue as Gobber the Belch's nose before YOU become the Chief of the Hooligan Tribe."

Snotlout snapped the whip, and it curled cruelly forward at Hiccup, hitting him on the chest.

It would have been a very painful lash, if it hadn't been for the fact that sleeping down Hiccup's waistcoat was Hiccup's small, disobedient hunting dragon, Toothless.

The cutting edge of the whip hit Toothless on the hard, horny skin of his behind, and woke him out of his hibernation sleep.

Toothless climbed up out of Hiccup's collar, sat on his shoulder, and puffed out his neck in fury. "S-something hit T-t-toothless on the b-b-bottom! H-h-how can T-t-toothless s-s-sleep with thing hitting him on the b-b-bottom!"

"Why isn't your ridiculous pinprick of a hunting dragon hibernating like all the others?" blustered Snotlout.

"I was worried he was getting too cold," replied Hiccup, soothing Toothless by scratching him softly in between the horns. "He didn't dig himself a deep enough Hibernation Hole, and if a dragon gets too cold he can stay asleep for centuries. So I dug him up and I've been carrying him around with me to keep him warm."

"And now T-t-toothless woken up too EARLY!" raged Toothless. "Issa f-f-freezing!"

"What," scoffed Snotlout, "what is your pathetic pinprick of a dragon" (for Toothless was the smallest hunting dragon anybody has ever seen, before or since),
"what
is your ridiculous frogspawn of a reptile
wearing?"

Toothless was wearing a fur coat.

Hiccup had made it in a desperate attempt to keep the little dragon warm.

"Oh this is too good--hold me up, 
Dogsbreath!" snorted Snotlout. "Hiccup has made his ickle teeny dwagon an ickle teeny furry DRESS!"

"Issa c-c-coat!" hissed Toothless. "Issa C-C-COAT!"

"A dragon in a dress!" squealed Snotlout.

"HA HA HA HA!" roared the boys. "A dragon in a dress!"

Even the Saber-Toothed Driver Dragons joined in.

"Oh my claws and Jaws," Drawled One Eye. "I do believe that is the smallest hunting dragon I have EVER seen dressed up in HUMAN WAPPINGS! Has it no shame?"

Poor Toothless stood up very straight and stiff on Hiccup's shoulder. Beginning with his horns and spreading slowly downward, he turned a delicate shade of pink. He closed his jaws tightly and smoke rings blew out of his ears.

"Issa v-v-very stylish winter COAT," he said gruffly. Yer all j-j-jealous."

Snotlout started barking out orders. "OK, we've wasted enough time here.... Everybody get themselves into pairs and grab on to the harness of one of these Saber-Toothed Brutes.... You two LOSERS."

He pointed at Hiccup and Fishlegs. "Can have the half-blind one."

"You don't like us humans much, do you One Eye?"

said Hiccup as he and Fishlegs shuffled themselves into position behind the enormous Saber-Tooth.

One Eye spat a great burst of fire into the snow. "Don't
like you? he hissed. "I LOATHE you with every drop of my pure green blood....You Humans are treacherous, ignorant, greedy, and violent. I have been Leader of my Pack for forty years through good times and hard. What does Snothlout know about TRUE Leadership? He's just a pig with a whip in his hand.

My fangs ACHE with my hatred....My claws ITCH to scratch out every single Two-Legged, Mud-Bound, Jaw-Flapping human on this entire planet..."

"Oh great," said Fishlegs nervously. "We have a Driver Dragon who HATES us. This morning just gets better and better..."

By the time they got going, with One Eye dragging them VERY SLOWLY up the gorge, and through a thick pine forest, there was no sign of the other boys.

The forest ended as suddenly as it had begun, and 
on the final sheer climb to the top of Mount Villainy they did not pass a single tree. One Eye halted at the peak of Mount Villainy. A lone boulder marked the Highest Point. Hanging on firmly to this rock to prevent the wind, or the sheer dizzying pull of the abyss, from carrying him over the edge, Hiccup peered down the other side of the mountain into the Wrath of Thor. Normally, the sea and the Doomfang roared and raged through that spiteful slit, whirl pooling and spiraling and crashing into each other. Now the crack was still and frozen as Death itself, and the only sign of the Doomfang was a dreadful moaning that drummed in the ears like a headache, and a dark shadow moving slowly under the ice, like a gigantic cloud building up before a thunderstorm.

"Let's get out of here as quickly as we can," shivered Fishlegs. "There are a lot of grim, creepy places in the Barbaric Archipelago, but THIS has got to be the GRIMMEST and the CREEPIEST."

I don't know whether YOU have ever tried Hunting-with-Bows-and-Arrows-on-Skis, but it is really quite a complicated skill. Skiing downhill itself is difficult enough, and then you have to concentrate on actually HITTING the pesky little Semi-Spotted Snow peckers, not too easy because they flit about like hummingbirds.

On top of the basic difficulties of the sport, Fishlegs was the most appalling skier and a terrible shot. His bow whirled around like a windmill as he tried to keep his balance, and even if his hands had been as steady as a rock, a dreadful squint meant that his eyes were as crossed as his skis, and frankly, any chance of him hitting ANYTHING AT ALL would be a matter of pure fluke. He wobbled forward, knees bent as if sitting on the toilet, skis pointing inward in the snowplow position, and at the first hint of a little bump in the snow he fell over and his skis fell off.

Hiccup wasn't as bad as Fishlegs, but any sport is not just about skill, it is also about HEART. And Hiccup's heart wasn't really in this. He was secretly on 
the side of the Semi-Spotted Snow peckers, charming little birds that Hiccup often watched from his window. They built themselves interesting little nests like tiny igloos.

So after an hour and a half, despite the fact that Semi-Spotted Snow peckers were jumping all around them like fleas on a cow's back, Hiccup and Fishlegs had shot not a single bird.

"Bother, bother, bother!" exclaimed Hiccup as he missed yet another one.

One Eye seemed hugely amused by the whole thing.

"You ARE interesting Humans," he drawled. "I've never met Vikings like this before....You're tiny and not very tough. You can't ski. You can't hunt. You can't yell for toffee."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Hiccup crossly.

Fishlegs had fallen over exactly fifty-four times. He was now covered with snow and wet through, and his aim was not improved by a violent shivering. On top of all this, he seemed to be catching a nasty cold.

'"Oh this is HOPELESS!" he exclaimed. "Absolutely HOPELESS! A-A-ACHOOO!

Snotlout and Dogsbreath will have probably murdered half the bird population in the Archipelago by now and
we
can't even get ourselves
one
measly Snow pecker corpse! Why won't the wretched little birds stay still for just a MILLISECOND?"

As Hiccup helped Fishlegs to his feet for the fifty-fifth time, he thought he heard something almost like deep human laughter. It seemed to be coming from some distance below them, from behind a snowdrift.

Leaving Fishlegs leaning on one of his poles, warning Toothless to be quiet, Hiccup peered cautiously over the top of the snowdrift.

And there, a hundred meters down the side of yet another slope, was a sight that sent a nasty trickle of fear down Hiccup's spine.

HYSTERICS

Behind Hiccup's left shoulder, One Eye the Saber-Tooth growled grimly. The spines on his muscly back all stood up; his eyes narrowed. His tail with the spiky point swayed dangerously from side to side. "Now THOSE Humans," he hissed, "THOSE Humans really ARE Badder than most
..."

"What's going on?" asked Fishlegs, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve, and rubbing his bottom, sore from falling over so often.

"Hysterics ..." whispered Hiccup. "Get down ..."

There were six Hysterics dressed in black sitting on the slopes below them. Five enormous stags lay dead on the ground beside them, their blood very red against the white snow. The Hysterics had clearly stopped for breakfast before the long ski back to the Hysterical Village on the other side of the Wrath of Thor. They had built a small fire, and were eating bits of deer in their fingers.

Their skis and their bows and arrows were jammed in the snow behind them.

"Thank Thor they haven't seen us," breathed Hiccup to Fishlegs. "Come on, we'll just ski quietly back the way we came."

This would have been an excellent plan.

But something weird was happening to Fishlegs.

He was already looking terrible, his eyes streaming and his nose running with snot. He was shaking a little with fever, and now as he watched the Hysterics, his face turned first pink, and then a brilliant red. He snorted furiously. "The Big Brainless Muscle-Bound Idiots!" he muttered.

"Yes, yes," whispered Hiccup, "but come on ..."

"The murderers.... They've only gone and killed those poor deer in broad daylight... the great Stinking Gormless
Brutes
..."

"This is all true," said Hiccup, "but we need to get out of here before they kill
us ...
"

But before Hiccup could stop him, Fishlegs had staggered to his feet and drawn his sword, crying out "COWARDS!" at the top of his lungs.

The Hysterics stopped eating. They looked up in astonishment.

They couldn't have been more flabbergasted than Hiccup, as Fishlegs set off down the hill straight at the band of fearsome Warriors, in his lunatic uncontrolled slowplow. His ski poles flailed around frantically; his arrows flew out of their quiver like a hedgehog shedding needles; he was gaining speed every second, and shouting at the top of his voice:

"YOU MISERABLE MOLLUSKS! YOU WHIMPERING WINKLES.' I COULD TAKE YOU FRITTERING FAIRY FOLK WITH ONE HAND BEHIND MY BACK! STAND AND FIGHT LIKE MEN, YOU COWARDLY COWERING CUTTLEFISH!"

3. THE HUNTERS BECOME THE HUNTED

Open-mouthed, almost in a trance, Hiccup watched the furious, frantic progress of his friend down the mountainside.

"YOU HORRIBLE HALITOSIS HADDOCK!" shrieked Fishlegs in a frenzy. "YOU PATHETIC PIECES OF PLANKTON! I CAN SEE YOU -- YOU'RE BLUBBERING LIKE BABIES AT THE THOUGHT OF FIGHTING A REAL VIKING!"

One Eye, the Saber-Toothed Driver Dragon, was watching Fishlegs with something approaching awe. "You know, I underestimated your friend," he grunted respectfully. "I thought he was a complete weed, but I have to admit, that is BRAVE...Suicidal, of course, but definitely brave..."

The Hysterics were so completely amazed to find themselves being attacked out of the blue by a single, undersized, underage member of another Tribe that for a moment they just froze, jaws hanging open, hands filled with deer halfway to their mouths.

Fishlegs skied straight at the Hysterics, swinging 
his sword furiously when he got amongst them, but missing of course, and skiing straight over their campfire and on down the hill. For a moment his furs caught on fire, but the wind blew them out again.

The Hysterics paused for one second in their astonishment as they watched the small shrieking figure careening down the mountainside. They then looked at one another, and you didn't need to see their faces to know that it was a grim, Let's-Murder-Him-Now sort of look. They fastened on their skis in a businesslike, unhurried fashion, hoisted their bows on to their enormous hairy shoulders, and set off after him.

"Oh, by the Bouncing Buttocks of Beaming Baldur," panicked Hiccup, setting off down the slope after Fishlegs, "they're going to kill him, aren't they? What am I going to do?"

"Do?" asked One Eye, bounding beside Hiccup in long easy strides. "There's nothing you can do....Your friend is as good as dead...He's what we in the Saber-Tooth Pack would call a Walking Corpse...or a SKIING Corpse in his case. There's nothing you can do, and if you ski in this direction YOU may end up dead too ..."

It looked like the dragon was right. Hiccup was 
working hard to keep up with the Hysterics. Hysterics are enormous and very strong skiers indeed.

And Fishlegs was traveling at a very fast speed himself, on account of not doing anything fancy like TURNING, admittedly totally out of control, and it was amazing he hadn't fallen over already. Hiccup could see him twisting his head every now and again to shout more insults over his shoulder.