PinkSnake - Storm of the Stag - 433/434

Chapter 433: The Dragonrider Gendry

In the courtyard of Deep Den, the air was thick with sulfur and the acrid smell of charred meat.

The Dragons had gathered in the courtyard. Gendry looked at the three of them. Today, he would ride a Dragon and rise with the wind.

Balerion was covered in black scales, while his eyes, horns, and the spines along his back were blood-red.

Balerion had always been the largest of the three Dragons, and life in the wild had made him more imposing still.

His wingspan was roughly twenty-seven or twenty-eight feet, and his body was about nine feet long. He was taller and stronger than the other two Dragons.

Vhagar had two bronze eyes, brighter than polished shields.

His scales were dark green, the green of moss deep in a forest at dusk, in the moment before the last ray of sunlight faded.

Viserion’s scales were mostly cream-yellow, almost white, while his horns, wing bones, and spine were golden. His fangs were two rows of shining black blades, and his eyes were like twin pools of molten gold. People often called him the White Dragon.

The soldiers of Deep Den once again pushed over bull carcasses cut into great chunks. The beef had been loaded onto carts, then unloaded in the square.

“Dracarys!” Gendry shouted to Balerion and Viserion.

“Dracarys!” Daenerys called to Vhagar. Beside her stood her companions, Margaery, Sansa, Dacey, and Brienne.

The girls had overcome the dangers of the mountains and followed behind the warriors all this way. Margaery had a sharp mind, and Sansa, unwilling to be left behind, had come with them as well.

The soldiers had no objections. Victory was all that mattered. Besides, King Gendry now had a Queen who could ride a Dragon too.

“They’re so alive,” Margaery Tyrell said, gazing at the Dragons in the square. The sight of Dragons stirred delight in anyone. No one could ignore the greatest war beasts in the world.

After all, it had been Dragons that destroyed House Gardener, allowing House Tyrell to rise overnight.

The three Dragons tore into the bull meat, breathing fire as they ripped at it with black teeth sharp as swords.

The outer skin of the beef still burned faintly, and the scent of fire grew heavier in the air: scorched meat, searing heat, and sulfur.

Then a herd of lively goats was dragged over. But the moment the goats saw the Dragons’ shapes and heard their roars echo through the empty mountains, their legs began to tremble. Foam spilled from their mouths, and in the end, the Dragons devoured them bite by bite.

“Your Grace is truly a god among men,” Lord Lydden said obsequiously.

“Isn’t your heir still being held hostage in Casterly Rock?” Gendry asked. This father did not seem worried in the slightest.

“That was all Tywin’s coercion. He gave the order as soon as he retreated to the Westerlands, and we dared not resist... To be honest, Your Grace, I do have a few bastards,” Lord Lydden said pitifully. He had clearly already prepared for the worst.

Although the lords of the Summerlands had truly given up the right of first night, with their advantages in rank and wealth, fathering a few bastards was still easy enough.

“Put down this rebellion and return a clear tomorrow to the Seven Kingdoms.”

Gendry found that the lords of the Westerlands were now extremely cooperative. It was not only because of Dragonfire, but also because of Gendry’s fearsome reputation as the “Warrior Descended from the Heavens,” “Westeros’s Greatest General,” and “The Seven Kingdoms’ Foremost Knight.”

A defeated general had no courage worth boasting of. Tywin’s aura had long since been smashed apart by Gendry.

The Lannister battle reports were all black tidings. Their lines kept retreating, and every chance slipped away.

The Ironborn and Renly, who had stirred up trouble alongside them, had all been crushed. Even the slave army that had come from afar had collapsed. This was a dead end.

Gendry had crushed the Lion more than once. The first time was in the Whispering Wood, where he beat the Kingslayer badly enough to leave him maimed. The second was at the Blackwater Rush, where he smashed the slave coalition and Tywin’s army.

Although Tywin had briefly won the Battle of the Ford and defeated two thousand Winter Wolves, that victory had cost more than it was worth.

Then Gendry had crossed the Bloody Gate in return and won the support of the Vale.

As military leaders, they were not even on the same level. Comparisons were cruel that way.

No matter how loyal the lords of the Westerlands were, after seeing Tywin’s golden image of shrewd competence broken again and again, they could not help having thoughts of their own.

“Your Grace is wise,” Lord Lydden said.

He and Ser Gerold Serrett exchanged a look. The sooner they surrendered, the sooner they could preserve their houses. If the Dragons bathed the castle in fire, the whole place would be finished.

“My son will simply have to suffer a little,” Lord Lydden decided, hardening his heart. These were necessary sacrifices. Everything was for the house.

Ser Gerold Serrett felt the same. He had already begun imagining his future as a Lord.

Now that this day had come, he suddenly felt much closer to becoming a Lord.

Balerion and the other Dragons folded their leathery wings in the courtyard, and their bodies seemed to shrink by a great deal.

Dragons were entirely different from horses. Gendry had once studied the differences in their structures.

A Dragon’s build was closer to a bird’s, and a Dragon’s flesh and blood were made of Fire and Blood.

Its vast wings, neck, and tail made up most of its body. Light yet hard Dragonbone and a streamlined form meant a Dragon was far lighter than an animal of similar size.

Gendry had even tested it before. When Balerion’s wingspan was twenty feet, he still could not lift the carcass of a full-grown horse into the air.

Of course, a horse carcass was simply too heavy.

An ordinary desert thoroughbred, an Arabian horse, stood around 144 to 152 centimeters tall and was a little longer in body, but a horse could weigh four to five hundred kilograms.

When Balerion’s wingspan reached twenty feet, he could already carry Daenerys.

Gendry was tall and broad, and men were heavier. So he had waited until Balerion grew a little larger before choosing, with confidence, to become a Dragonrider.

“It’s time, good friend.” Gendry stroked Balerion’s muzzle.

Balerion bumped his black snout against the soot-colored Valyrian steel breastplate over Gendry’s chest.

“I have paid far too much for this day,” Gendry thought.

Bloody battlefields, the fires of Dragonstone, all manner of runes, and the flesh and blood of the Bleeding Sea Kraken had allowed these Dragons to grow so quickly, without delaying the coming War of the Long Night.

The onlookers watched in excitement. A Dragonrider. A Dragonrider had returned.

Gendry took up the black saddle he had prepared and placed it first at Balerion’s neck. Four short iron chains hung from the saddle, meant to fasten the belt to it.

Gendry had studied the dragon battle accounts and illustrations in books such as Fire and Blood. The Targaryens had ridden Dragons in much the same way one rode warhorses.

They relied on saddles, steel-tipped whips, and of course the bond of the Dragonlord’s Bloodline.

More advanced binding spells had not appeared since the fall of Valyria. As for the Dragon Horn, its side effects were severe, and it pressed upon the Dragon’s nerves besides.

Gendry would ride the Dragon by the simplest, least refined method.

“Be careful, Your Grace,” Daenerys said softly.

If they could fly, how beautiful the heights must be. Still, riding a Dragon into the sky carried real danger.

For more than a hundred years, no Dragons had appeared, and neither had any Dragonriders.

“Don’t worry, my love.”

Gendry helped Daenerys fasten the black saddle onto Vhagar.

“And now, Balerion, we fly!”

Gendry walked toward the black Dragon, and Balerion nuzzled him with his snout.

Then Gendry slowly climbed into the saddle on the Dragon’s back, fastened the short chains, and took the black steel-tipped whip in his hand.

Balerion let out a piercing roar. The sound filled the entire square, and furnace-hot wind swept over them.

Everyone watched, hardly daring to breathe. A Dragon, and the Dragonlord knight who would rule the world.

“I understand you, my friend. You are the lord of the sky. You are the fiery death god of war.” Gendry looked into Balerion’s eyes, which burned like a hell of molten lava. The strong. Only we are the strong ones of this world.

The whip cracked softly through the air. Gendry did not strike his companion hard. Balerion obeyed him well enough.

Besides, the Dragon was covered in scales. The whip was probably little more than a signal.

Balerion raised himself up, his wings blotting out the sun.

His black wings unfurled like thunder, and the stone square suddenly dropped away beneath them.

The long whip was in Gendry’s hand. He did not lash his companion, only commanded, “Rise!”

The Dragon beat his great leathery wings, and Gendry could even feel the scorching heat beneath his scales, Fire and Blood.

Balerion carried Gendry into the sky. Up, higher, and higher still, until Deep Den suddenly became a black speck on the ground.

The sky was high and the clouds were thin. The gray-brown mountains were nothing more than ridgelines, and galloping horses looked like ants.

Endless mountains, silver-bright streams. Everything lay clear before his eyes.

“Good friend, Balerion!” Gendry shouted joyfully.

They soared above the clouds and roamed the sky.

Balerion, a winged black shadow, was like an eagle threading through distant clouds, leaving the far mountains behind in a song of flight and freedom.

Gendry coaxed Balerion onward, beginning to grasp the Dragon’s sense of direction.

“To the right!”

A Dragon was not a horse. When Gendry’s whip fell on Balerion’s right side, the Dragon turned right, because a Dragon’s nature was to attack.

The whip could only bother him, not truly harm him, for Dragon scales were harder than horn.

Of course, if Gendry swung with all his strength, he could certainly split Balerion’s hide and flesh, but that would be far too great a waste.

Balerion was his companion, and he obeyed only Gendry’s commands.

Gendry guided Balerion’s direction through the signals of the whip and his calls.

“The world. The world is beneath my feet.”

And now, let me fly.

...

Chapter 434: The Dragon Roars over The Goldroad, and Stag Banners Are Sewn Overnight

As the Dragon raced through the high sky, the vastness of heaven and earth felt even clearer.

“That’s it. Fly.” Gendry guided Balerion. As the Dragon swept through the air, the world seemed to grow larger, while Deep Den grew smaller beneath them.

A clear sky. A blue sky.

For the first time in more than a hundred years, Dragon and Dragonrider danced together again.

Balerion beat his black leathery wings, stirring up a thunderous wind.

“To the left.”

“To the right.”

Balerion truly seemed like the Black Dread reborn. He had a strong will and would not be handled easily.

Dragons were never known for good tempers, and Balerion was the most unruly of the three. He obeyed only Gendry’s commands, and even Daenerys could barely control him.

“Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.”

The black Dragon pierced through the clouds, shrinking into a tiny black speck as the wind cut past like needles.

When the Dragon circled downward, his form grew larger and larger.

“Descend!”

Circling and diving was also a Dragon’s favorite way to attack.

Under the sun, the Dragon folded his wings, hid his shape, and began his bombing descent.

“I still need a pilot’s helmet,” Gendry thought. A traditional helm blocked too much of his vision.

“And a few Valyrian steel daggers too. It’s not as though we lack steel.” Gendry thought that a base of Valyrian steel, paired with some Myrish lenses, might make a good model.

The higher a person flew, the lower the oxygen, temperature, and air pressure became.

Yet these Dragonlords were all still full of life, and Gendry had to admire them. Perhaps they really had been remade by magic.

Gendry saw the broad road beside Deep Den, stretching like a belt below him. The Goldroad, reaching out from King’s Landing toward the Westerlands.

All roads led to King’s Landing.

The Goldroad began at the Lion Gate of King’s Landing in the Crownlands, extended west along the Blackwater Rush, passed through the northern Reach, crossed the hills of the Westerlands near Deep Den, and ended at House Lannister’s seat: Casterly Rock and Lannisport.

Roadwork in Westeros was a mess. They called them royal roads, but their quality varied wildly.

The main stretch of the Kingsroad to The North lay between King’s Landing and The Neck, with many inns and villages along the way. At first, it had been little more than two wheel ruts winding through weeds.

The more remote the place, the narrower, rockier, and more overgrown the road became.

The Goldroad was relatively wide because the Westerlands were wealthy, but even then it was only a dirt road fit for carts. Compared with the Valyrian roads, the difference was like heaven and earth.

Gendry rode Balerion onward, looking down from the sky at the Westerlands camp below.

Tywin had built a checkpoint of stone and logs on The Goldroad east of Deep Den. The soldiers moving back and forth looked like ants.

Gendry had meant to teach Daenerys to fly a little more, but the war was urgent now.

After they destroyed the checkpoint on The Goldroad, there would still be time to train Dragonriders.

Besides, aerial combat carried danger. Not everyone had an advantage like Gendry.

“Let’s look for the heavy cavalry.”

Gendry swept easily through the sky, searching The Goldroad for the right army’s heavy-armored knights. That force should be almost here, led by Lord Yohn Royce and Lord Bryce Caron.

On The Goldroad, golden battle banners snapped in the wind as the charging knights hurried along the road.

Warhorses neighed, and the knights’ silver-plated armor gleamed in the rising sun.

“Westward. Across the Westerlands, then on to Casterly Rock.”

“The army marches west.”

Everything felt so thrilling. Everything felt alive.

The knights were eager for battle, unwilling to miss the fruits of this victory.

At the front of the orderly ranks flew the banner of King Gendry the Breaker. The royal golden quartered banner rose highest of all, as large as a whole ox.

Behind it came House Royce’s banner of runes on pebbles, House Caron’s nightingale banner, and House Rowan’s golden tree on white.

The Vale knights formed the center, commanded by Lord Yohn. On the left and right wings rode the knights of the Stormlands and House Rowan.

“Forward, boys! We need to join King Gendry beneath the checkpoint,” said “Bronze” Yohn Royce, waving his hand. At his waist hung Lamentation, the ancestral sword House Royce had lost and regained.

Though Lord Bronze was no longer young, he remained a tall, powerful warrior.

Lyn Corbray, with his rust-colored hair, and Mychel, the youngest son of Redfort, followed close behind their commander.

“Knights of the Stormlands, don’t fall behind the knights of the Vale,” Lord Bryce Caron laughed.

Then Ser Garth Rowan waved his hand. How could the knights of The Reach lag behind others?

The knights of House Rowan wore silver-plated armor, and on their white cloaks was a golden tree with lush branches.

Relying on the broad, fertile fields of the northern Reach, House Rowan had a considerable population and military strength.

“Roar!”

The black Dragon’s roar rang out like thunder. The vanguard scouts galloping ahead were startled, struggling with all their strength to control their panicked horses.

The horses were nearly scared out of their wits. Even fine warhorses could not stand against a Dragon’s roar.

If the Dragon roared again, these horses would throw caution aside and flee for their lives.

“The Black Dread. It’s Balerion.”

“It’s Balerion.”

The soldiers were all very familiar with the king’s black Dragon.

“A Dragon! There’s someone on its back. Your Grace has arrived,” Bronze Yohn announced at once.

The black Dragon roared as he slowly descended from the air. From the Dragon’s back, Gendry looked down at “Bronze” Yohn, Bryce Caron, Garth Rowan, and the others.

“Greetings, Your Grace,” Yohn Royce said, bending the knee. He had not expected that after so short a time apart, the king would already be able to ride a Dragon so well.

“Lord Yohn, I have led my men and taken Deep Den. Advance at full speed. In half an hour, I will use the Dragon to help you open The Goldroad.”

“As you command!” Lord Yohn, Ser Garth, and the others answered respectfully.

“Long live Your Grace!”

“Long live King Gendry!”

The knights cheered. They had followed the king through too many miracles no one had ever seen before, so much so that they had developed a blind trust in him.

This was the bearing of a king.

For more than a hundred years, people had forgotten the sound of Dragons roaring, let alone Dragonriders.

The Dragon took flight once more, and Gendry turned back toward Deep Den.

Balerion descended into the square of Deep Den, and the people watched the Dragon land with both fear and excitement.

Gendry climbed down from Balerion and removed his helm.

“Dragonlord Storm!”

“Dragonlord Storm!”

When the people saw Gendry’s warm, smiling eyes and the king’s bright, handsome face, they could not help cheering in unison.

Daenerys, the girl with violet eyes, slipped into his arms, while Margaery and Sansa watched thoughtfully.

“He’s handsome and dashing, with the bearing of a king, like a stag. Brave and fearless.” Sansa Stark’s weakness for handsome faces had won out.

“A Dragon. A true Dragon. A true Dragonrider.” Margaery Tyrell took a deep breath.

As the daughter of a Great Lord, she had long understood that she would inevitably marry power.

A woman’s inheritance rights stood beneath a man’s, but nobles did not shy away from the existence of female Lords.

Noble girls also had to understand the flow of power, and the Little Rose had the Old Rose’s mind guiding her besides.

For example, when Catelyn Tully’s mother kept miscarrying, Catelyn had been raised as the heir for quite some time.

“Only the Storm,” the Little Rose thought.

If one sought strength and power, only the Dragonlord Storm possessed authority and might far above everyone else.

“Long live!”

“Long live!”

“Dragonlord Storm!”

Everyone was swept up in cheers.

“Ser Barristan,” Gendry ordered. “The fortress on The Goldroad will soon be broken. Send word to every city in the West. I have arrived. Those who repent their treason may yet be spared death. Otherwise, their old lands and privileges will be taken from them.”

“As you command, Your Grace.”

Lord Lydden and Ser Gerold Serrett’s faces twitched. It seemed the hostages from their houses were very likely doomed.

But there was nothing to be done. This was war.

“They must be sewing your banners through the night at home, Your Grace. Stag banners,” Lord Lydden said flatteringly.

...

On The Goldroad, at the checkpoint set up by Tywin Lannister, the red roaring lion banner flew from the highest point.

The temporary checkpoint did not yet have a proper name. The soldiers casually called it the Golden Gate.

This checkpoint had been cleverly placed between two mountain passes, somewhat like an imitation of the Bloody Gate. But the Bloody Gate had a steeper rise, while the Golden Gate’s change in elevation was smaller.

Even so, it was an excellent design and could be considered a strong fortress. But it still could not withstand Dragons.

Gendry saw that the Golden Gate had two watchtowers clinging to the rock walls, with stone foundations and walls below connecting them.

The road had been blocked until only four riders could barely pass abreast, and the silent knights stood ready.

But when the Westerlands soldiers heard the enemy’s roar, they still felt afraid.

“Long live the Storm!”

“Long live the Storm!”

From the distant horizon came a roar, and knights in all colors appeared before the Westerlanders’ eyes like a rolling tide.

Golden banners stood like a forest, one stretch after another.

“Gods, weren’t they supposed to appear at Golden Tooth or the Ocean Road?”

“Arrows! Ready! Loose!” the Westerlands commander shouted at once.

The walls immediately burst into motion. Scorpions, ballistae, burning oil, and archers were made ready, and there were even small catapults.

Then a shadow swept over the Golden Gate.

The noise and shouting stopped.

Ten thousand voices fell silent. Every pair of eyes turned to the sky.

“Dracarys!”

A wave of heat like Death’s scythe descended from above, followed by black-red flame pouring down from the sky.

“It’s a Dragon.”

“Aaaaaah!”

The Dragon breathed black-red fire, sweeping it across the walls of the Golden Gate.