12 That Treasonous Traitor of Traitors

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

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

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

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.