3 THE FIRETRAP

3. THE FIRETRAP Only Gobber was riding a dragon big enough to fly him over the fire and out of the danger. But there was no question of him abandoning his pupils, who were riding on dragons whose wings were TOO WEAK to take off. They were trying desperately to do so, but only Snotlout's Devilish Dervish could muster up enough strength to carry him any height at all, before it collapsed to the ground again. The Vikings on their dragons galloped down the line of flame, hoping to find a place weak enough to jump through. But the woods were dry as a bone, and the fire burned fierce and quick. On and on the flames ran, and then they began to bend around in a circle, forcing the boys back and herding them up the hill, just as they had herded the reindeer only moments before.

The herders were becoming the herded. Both ends of the circle of fire joined together. They were now trapped on the top of the mountain. All at the same time, the boys removed their swords from their scabbards. Even the stupidest among them realized that they were now under attack. The dragons were not terrified of the FIRE of course, for dragons' skins are fairly fireproof,-* and most dragons play in fire as joyfully as dolphins in water. What the dragons did not like was those black shapes prowling IN the fire. This is what terrified them, and sent them snarling backwards, their hackles rising. The boys dismounted their riding dragons, for if they remained on their backs, there was a real danger the dragons would plunge them straight into the inferno in their fever to get away, for dragons are only obedient up to a certain point, and they will not stay and fight if their lives are in danger. And, indeed, the instant the boys got off, the dragons fled upward, making Hiccup's heart sink even lower, for dragons have a strong instinct for the presence of mortal danger. One by one they fled, all of the riding dragons—

the Devilish Dervish, the Marsh Tiger, the Rocket Ripper, and with a final bad-mood, Shetland-ish snort, the Chickenpoxer. All of the hunting dragons—Fireworm (Snotlout's Monstrous Nightmare), Seaslug, Horrowcow, Forktail, Snakeheart, Bogflyer. Until only Goliath was left. And the Windwalker. Rather surprisingly, for he had been running away all afternoon, now that there really was a reason to flee, the Windwalker stayed by Hiccup's side, its wings trembling and shaking nervously and looking over its shoulder. Toothless, too, remained, hidden under Hiccup's helmet, and his muffled muttering could be heard echoing through the metal. "D-d-don't know why we're here anyway... t-t-too midge-y... Toothless being bitten to death... Toothless thirsty... Toothless hungry... issa way past Toothless's bedtime, but n-n-nobody thinks of p-p-poor thirsty T-t-toothless, oh no, they're all so s-s-selfish, worrying about their own s-s-silly problems..." The Vikings peered into the flames, up into the smoke-filled sky, waiting, waiting, waiting for the first strike. It didn't take long. There was a petrified scream from behind them.

They whipped around, just in time to see a reindeer fall down dead on the spot, from what looked like a long sword wound to the throat. "What was that?" asked Fishlegs, quivering. But no one could answer him, for it was too quick to see what had happened exactly. "I think I saw something," whispered Clueless, "something black, a dragon maybe, came shooting out of the flames, killed the deer, and sprang back out of the circle again..." Silence again, and the boys were rigid with tension, peering from left to right in the circle of smoke to try and guess where the next attack would come from. Hiccup was sweating so hard he had to wipe his left palm on his waistcoat, because his sword was slipping in his hand. And then there was another scream from another reindeer, and again the boys whirled round, and again the reindeer was already dead, this time from sword wounds both to the heart and the head. "OK," said Gobber, "we need to evacuate this area NOW." "How many of us can you take on your back at once, Goliath?" asked Hiccup. "Two, I'd say," grunted the big Bullrougher. "One if it's a fatty like that one," and he pointed a

wing at Dogsbreath the Duhbrain. "He said he could take two," Hiccup told Gobber. Interestingly, Gobber did not tell Hiccup off for speaking Dragonese in this emergency. "Fishlegs and Speedifist," ordered Gobber, "get up on Goliath's back." The two boys scrambled up, and the big riding dragon spread its wings and took off, up over the flame barrier, and out of the firetrap. Now the remaining Vikings had their work cut out trying to avoid being trampled to death by the hooves of the terrified reindeer, or speared by their antlers, as they panicked and stampeded around the circle, rearing up at the flames and squealing in terror. Silence again, and the boys were rigid with tension, peering from left to right of the circle of smoke. Was it Hiccup's imagination, or did the circle of fire appear to be closing in on them? By the time that Goliath returned, the flames were definitely inching forward, making the circle they were standing on ever so slightly smaller. "Snotlout and Wartihog, you go next," yelled Gobber the Belch. Five times, Goliath flew out of the circle, with

two boys on his back each time. The sixth time he could only carry Dogsbreath the Duhbrain. And the flames were burning higher than four tall trees on top of each other, terrible great towers, flaming all around them in a fiery circle so close that Hiccup's eyes watered and his cheeks burned as hot as if they were on fire already. "Me tired," complained Toothless from under Hiccup's helmet, still unaware of what was going on. "W-w-when we going h-h-home?" "I think you should go home now, Toothless, while you still can," said Hiccup, trying to take his helmet off, but Toothless held it down with his gripping little claws and squealed in indignation. "G-g-go away, m-m-mean Master, is too midge-y for poor Toothless out there; Toothless be eaten alive if he go out there!" "Come on, Goliath, come on," muttered Gobber the Belch, "you great SLUG of a reptile, we're going to be Viking hamburgers at this rate, get a move on... ah, here he is, thank Thor." The great beast flew out of the flames up to the scrabbly pinnacle of mountaintop where the boy and his Master were kneeling. The boy's dragon, his Windwalker, was pressed up beside them both, with its wings outstretched, trying to protect them from the