22 Hero's End At The Eleventh Hour

22. HERO'S END AT THE ELEVENTH HOUR Camicazi and Fishlegs had followed the Alvinsmen to the Singing Sands of the Ferryman's Gift, invisibly tracking them on the back of the Deadly Shadow. They had hidden on the sandbanks directly above the beach, and, protected by the over-arching wings of the great camouflaged dragon, they watched this whole scene being played out from the safety of their hiding-place. They knew the significance of Hiccup's helmet being recovered by the Bullguards. Fishlegs and Camicazi did not need to hide any more. They could join up with the other Dragonmarkers now. Red-eyed, wiping his nose against his sleeve, Fishlegs was about to join the sad procession of boats crossing Hero's Gap towards the isle of Tomorrow when Camicazi stopped him. 'What on earth are you doing, Fishlegs?' she said briskly. 'Um…' said Fishlegs, hopelessly, 'I'm following the others… there's no point doing anything else, is there, now that we know Hiccup is dead.' 'The more I think about it,' said Camicazi, 'the less I think Hiccup is dead.'

'But… but… the helmet… that was Hiccup's helmet…' protested Fishlegs. 'And they brought it up from the sea… There isn't really any other explanation.' 'Oh for Thor's sake,' said Camicazi in exasperation. 'Have you not hung around with him for long enough to know that you never give up hope until you are presented with an actual Hiccup skeleton, solemnly registered and verified by the Valkyrie Death Committee as completely authentic?' 'Yes, but…' 'We thought you were dead back there in the Slavelands, remember, and look! You turned up again large as life– or rather, skinny and asthmatic and eczema-covered as life! What would have happened if we stopped looking for you?' 'But… but… but…' spluttered Fishlegs. 'But sometimes people really ARE dead, Camicazi! And it's Doomsday Eve… We only have twenty-four hours before the King gets crowned, and Alvin has all the Things…

We haven't got a hope...' 'It's a tight deadline,' admitted Camicazi. 'But then again Hiccup always works best under tight deadlines…' 'I want to believe you,' said Fishlegs longingly. 'I really, really want to believe you, but where IS he, Camicazi?' 'OH DO HURRY UP!' shouted Camicazi, already on board the Deadly Shadow. 'We'll just have to go and find him…' 'Don't you think you should at least tell your mother we're OK?' asked Fishlegs, as he climbed up after her. 'I saw Bertha among that Dragonmarker crowd… she might at least want to know you are still alive. And maybe she might not give you permission to go and look for Hiccup?' 'I think,' said Camicazi thoughtfully, 'it might be better not to ask. You're right though, it would be nice to let her know that we're alive, so she doesn't worry…' Two minutes later, Great Chief Bertha of the

Bog-Burglars, solemnly steering The Big Momma, looked up as a great shadow passed above her. She saw the underside of an enormous three-headed dragon, briefly turning itself visible as it sailed south in slow, graceful flaps. On the dragon's back were the two small figures of Fishlegs and Camicazi, and Bertha just caught the words of her daughter, shouted down from the back of the dragon, before the words were tossed away on the wind. 'JUST OFF TO FIND HICCUP, MOTHER… See you later… Don't worry about me! Bog-Burglars Fight forever!' 'CAMICAZI!' yelled Bertha of the Bog-Burglars.

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'HICCUP IS DEAD! CAMICAZI, WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU GOING? I'VE ONLY JUST FOUND YOU AGAIN! YOU COME RIGHT BACK DOWN THIS MINUTE OR YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE, YOUNG LADY! 'CAMICAAAAAAAZZZIIIIIIIIIII!' But it was too late. The beautiful three-headed Shadow Dragon had already slowly faded into invisibility, like breath into the wind.