Dragons: Adventures On The Edge

Losing It

The piercing, shrill roar reverberated across the entire island. It finally reached Dagur, who was busy blasting ships with his skrill.

His mind clicked- he remembered that roar. Two years earlier, during the harshest winter in recent memory, his island was overrun by speed stingers. The only reason the Berserkers were still alive was the cold; the speed stingers froze to death. If they were in Berk during an invasion, there would be no survivors.

Dagur's mind raced, and he realized he had only one choice.

He called to Death Killer, "Put me down on the island and keep attacking the boats without me. I'll be back... Maybe." He reached into his saddlebags, pulled out a wolfskin cloak, and draped himself in it.

The dragon did as his rider requested, dropping him off in the woods behind Berk. As Death Killer returned to the fight, Dagur sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him. He tore through vegetation, leaping over fallen trees and dodging thorn bushes as he made his way to the center of the island.

No more than a minute later, he sighted the pack of Speed Stingers. It was now or never.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, releasing his attachment to sanity that prevented him from completely losing it. When is eyes reopened, they were no longer his. He had just relinquished any and all control over himself; raw, pure, and unstoppable insanity took over. He had gone fully berserk.

***

Viggo knew he had won. The plan was perfect; every possible scenario was included. The deceiver fleet released two hungry packs of Speed Stingers at the far end of Berk, while the Hooligan armies fought his fleet. He ventured out of his protected captain's quarters and rested his hand on Ryker's shoulder.

"We've done it, brother! The archipelago is ours!"

***

Tuffnut fought next to Astrid and Snotlout, desperately swinging his replacement mace at any Dragon Hunter that came within striking distance.

He had been seriously injured; a hit to the face from a warhammer, a cut on his left arm. Being Tuffnut, however, the pain didn't really affect him. Much more problematic was the lack of hope.

Since the first speed stinger roar, he knew the fight was over. Berk was done for. The enemy could retreat to their ships, but not him. All of Berk would be helpless as catapults and speed stingers simultaneously ravaged their island. Their dragons were exhausted and out of fire, and the strength of the riders was waning fast. Sure, Death Killer still had lightning; but Tuffnut knew one dragon could not stand up to The massive Hunter armada for much longer.

"Come on, Tuff!" Snotlout exhorted. "We have to keep fighting!" Although he knew it was no use, the blond Viking continued to fight.

Soon he was back to back with a pair of Berserkers. They seemed inexplicably less tired than he was; likely because they didn't need to sleep. As he exchanged blows with a heavily armored dragon hunter, a series of spine-chillin howls emanated from the woods.

"What IS that?" Tuffnut wondered aloud. He glanced at the nearby Berserkers, who had gone completely pale.

"Do you guys know?"

One of them, a formidable-looking teenage girl, responded, "Dagur has entered berserksgangr."

Berserksgangr. He remembered the word, but from where? "What exactly is that?"

The other Berserker, a leanly built boy about the same age as his companion, turned to Tuffnut. "Berserkers tread a fine line between sanity and psychopathy. But deeper down, there's a primal state of complete insanity. If we abandon all sanity, this instinct takes over."