It was a massacre on Dragon Island.
The Vikings’ flaming stones struck their target—but the blazing boulders merely bounced off the Red Death’s armored hide like pebbles against iron.
With a deafening bellow, the colossal beast turned its fury on the catapults. One swipe of its monstrous foreleg crushed the nearest machine—splintering wood and bone alike—its weight rattling the earth beneath the Vikings’ feet. Stoick was already sprinting toward the second catapult. He launched himself forward, tackling a young warrior out of harm’s way just as the dragon’s forepaw came crashing down where the Viking had stood.
Then the Red Death unleashed hell. A torrent of flame roared across the beach like a mile-long furnace blast. Ships ignited in an instant—sails vaporized, masts toppled. Men dove overboard as burning timber rained into the sea.
The Vikings scattered among the rocks like ants fleeing a storm. When the last ship was reduced to a floating pyre, the dragon paused. Its massive head swept across the battlefield. The Vikings had vanished from sight.
It sniffed the air, searching.
Hidden among the crags, Stoick watched in grim silence. Guilt weighed heavy on him.
“I was a fool,” he muttered, jaw tight. “Gobber, go with the men.”
Gobber snorted. “No, ah think ah’ll staey. In case yeh think o’ doin’ somethin’ craezie…”
Stoick grabbed his shoulder. “If I give that thing something to hunt, I can buy them time.” Gobber gave him a look—half exasperation, half admiration. Without a word, he removed Stoick's hand, replacing it with a firm grip on his forearm with his full limbed arm.
“Then ah’ll double that time,” he said. For a moment, they grinned—battle brothers to the bitter end. Then they charged from cover, splitting apart to draw the dragon’s attention. Stoick ripped a sharpened post from the earth and hurled it like a spear into the Red Death’s face. The beast reared back, enraged—
KABLAM! A blast struck the back of its skull. The dragon whipped around.
Out of the smoke burst a blazing-blue Nadder, wings slicing through the fire. A Monstrous Nightmare with Snotlout on it followed in a streak of flame, then a Zippleback with the twins on it and a Gronckle, with Fishlegs on it—rolling in formation as their riders came into view. Recruits. Children.
{{user}} flew at the lead, Astrid clinging to his waist. Stoick and Gobber froze, staring skyward, slack-jawed. Gobber let out a stunned laugh. “Every bit the boar-headed, stubborn Viking you ever were.”
Stoick remained nonplussed.