Chapter 73
The path up the uneven and winding steps was long and difficult. Several times, they were forced to stop to let the women rest. Eventually, Harry grew bored with waiting for their muscles to stop burning and wrapped his arms around their waists. Kinvara squeaked as they levitated a few feet off the ground and began floating. Harry's impatience and his growing concern for the women's well-being led him to use his powers to ease their journey. Up the mountain they traversed, floating along until they reached the first structure. The higher they climbed, the more bitter the chill was, and when they finally landed, both women were rubbing their arms to help fight off the cold. Foggy mist escaped their mouths and noses with every breath of air, and Kinvara shivered. "Are you cold?" Harry asked them.
"A little, My Lord," Kinvara confessed, shivering slightly. Usually, Melisandre and he assumed Kinvara, as well, could handle the cold better than others since they were so aligned with R'hllor, but Stygai was plagued with an unnatural chill that penetrated the flesh down to the bone. Harry could see the goosebumps on her otherwise flawless skin and snapped his fingers. Warm, pleasant air encircled the two women, fanning their long hair out behind them. Both of them shuddered from the sudden warmth. Melisandre smiled beautifully at him while Kinvara closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, my love," Melisandre lovingly said, looking at him with worshipful eyes. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and sweetly kissed his lips. Harry took a short break to enjoy the curves of her body. He moved his hands down from the sides of her bountiful breasts and over her slender waist. He explored the flare of her wide hips and the bulge of her jutting backside. Harry then broke the kiss and gave her bottom a soft smack. Melisandre stepped back with flushed cheeks, looking pleased with herself. Harry chuckled and shook his head before examining the area.
Despite being the smallest building in the dark, ancient city, it still managed to dwarf any structure found in Asshai. Like every other structure in the Shadowlands, it was crafted from a greasy, black stone that seemed to swallow what little light there was, casting an ominous aura over its surroundings. The corpse city of Stygai was situated within a steep valley and received only the barest amount of sunlight for a brief period at midday, and even less so when the sky was overcast, which it usually was. The structure's size was imposing, and its unremarkable box shape was accentuated by dozens of pillars that lined each side, reaching the highest point of the oily black walls. The archway around the entrance was intricately carved into the forms of humans with the heads of various animals. There was a man with the head of a goat, a woman with the head of a vulture, and another man with the head of a lion, whose maw was open, baring its fierce teeth. More figures adorned the arch, though many of their finer details had fallen into disrepair from years of neglect or had been chipped away from countless battles.
The smell of decay hung heavy in the chilly air, and the faint sounds of leathery, flapping wings echoed through the valley. No doubt more of those giant bats were hiding in the highest recesses of the city. Harry walked up to the old structure and placed his hand on the rotted wood door. The double door was twice as tall as he was, and once, it must have been at least six inches thick. He could tell that iron bands had once crossed the thick wooden planks, lashing them together, but those bands had long since rusted away. The only thing holding these planks together was thousands of years of filthy grime. Harry pushed the rotted door in, and it instantly fell apart. It cracked horizontally down the middle, and the top half tipped forward toward Harry. He easily stepped aside and let it fall to the stone ground. It hit with a loud bang, breaking into a dozen large pieces and dozens of smaller ones.
"SHHHH!" Kinvara panicked, wildly looking around and expecting to see some horrible creature waking up from the shadows.
"Calm yourself, Kinvara," Harry calmly told her. "Whatever beast or apparition that calls this place home already knows we're here. There's no point in hiding our presence," he said, kneeling down and picking up a piece of the broken wood. The wood was very light and broke apart when subjected to the slightest pressure.
"Perhaps," Kinvara relented while still looking over her shoulder. "But must we make it easier for them?" Harry chuckled and stood up. He walked over to her and kissed her forehead. Kinvara closed her eyes and luxuriated in the sensation of his soft lips against her skin. She then tilted her head up and was rewarded with a soft kiss on her full lips. "Mmm," she hummed in delight and tried to deepen the kiss. Unfortunately, Harry pulled away before she could.
"Fear is their greatest weapon," Harry wisely explained with a soft smile. "Panic leads to mistakes, and mistakes to death. Keep a level head and all will be well," he assured her. He then walked back to the half-broken door and kicked the rest in. The bottom half fractured into several chunks and flew into the building. "Stay behind me," Harry ordered, and both women quickly followed. They scampered to him and remained behind his broad, muscular back.
Harry strode into the structure and held his palm out, facing upward. A large ball of light blinked into existence and hovered above his palm. The swirling light then split into two, and one ball drifted over to the open entrance and remained on guard. The other ball of light floated higher into the air and hovered over their heads. Though the light was nearly blinding, it somehow barely lit the room. The black stone suddenly appeared even oilier than before, and it almost seemed as though the grease was moving and crawling along the walls. They were thankful there was still enough light to see.
The ground level was a tremendously large open room with a massive staircase against the left wall that led to the next floor. The staircase was also made of the same black stone and was wide enough to allow ten men to walk up it, side by side. Piles of rubble were scattered throughout the lower level, and Harry walked over to one and kicked it. "More rotten wood," Harry said. He kicked the pile again and heard metal scrape across the ground. He kicked away some of the rotted wood, revealing an old sword. He picked it up and held it closer to the light.
"It's not steel," Harry concluded. "It would have rusted away long ago. It's not Dragonsteel either." The sword was heavily tarnished, and based on the color of it, he guessed that it was some kind of silver alloy. There was nothing spectacular about the sword. It didn't appear to be anywhere near high quality. Harry checked a few more piles of rubble and found several other swords and daggers.
"Was this an armory?" Melisandre guessed. Harry tossed the sword away and nodded.
"Most likely. These are the weapons of common soldiers," Harry explained, nudging one of the swords with the tip of his boot.
"OVER THERE!" Kinvara practically shouted, her voice echoing through the dimly lit hall. Harry turned to look at her, hearing the urgency in her voice and the intensity in her gaze. She was pointing frantically at the top of the massive staircase, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "I saw something," she insisted, her voice trembling slightly. "It was leaning down from the floor above, peering at us!" Her words sent a shiver down Melisandre's spine, and Kinvara moved closer to Harry for reassurance. The shadows seemed to deepen, the hovering ball of light flickered, and the air grew more frigid, heightening the sense of unease that enveloped the priestesses.
"What was it?" Melisandre asked, staring at the spot she was pointing to. She, too, moved a little closer to Harry for safety's sake. She had heard many tales of this haunted city throughout the centuries, and she wasn't eager to see if they were true.
"I'm not certain," Kinvara stated, her breath sounding a bit ragged. "It was hiding amongst the shadows, but its eyes …" Her voice trembled as she tried to catch her breath. "They were milky white."
"Hmm," Harry murmured thoughtfully before unsheathing his dark sword. The sound of the Valyrian Steel scraping against the edge of his scabbard hung menacingly in the air. He took a step toward the shadowy staircase, intent on exploring the space above, but was suddenly halted as Kinvara's delicate hand clasped his armored bicep. The cold metal was a stark contrast to her warm touch, making her shiver. Her magical hands could almost feel the power surging through the icy metal of his armor. Pausing, Harry turned his gaze to the captivating woman, her eyes filled with concern.
"You're going up there?" she asked in disbelief. It seemed ludicrous that anyone with a functional brain would decide to go up there when some wicked creature was on the loose. Harry could certainly understand her thought process, but thankfully, he was no ordinary man.
"I am," Harry confirmed. "Remember to stay close," he reminded them. Kinvara did her best to remain brave, though she was certain she didn't look it. She could feel her hands trembling, and it filled her with shame. She was the High Priestess of the Red Temple, and she had faced many dangers over her extraordinarily long life. Her cowardice was an insult to the Lord of Light, and she mentally reprimanded herself. R'hllor himself requested that she give herself, mind, body, and soul to the man leading her up the darkened staircase. The Heart of Flame would not have done so on a whim. The Lord of Light trusted Harold to protect and provide for her, so it was only right for Kinvara to trust him in return. She exhaled loudly and clenched her free hand into a fist, gathering her courage.
Kinvara swallowed the lump in her throat, which sounded abnormally loud in the deathly quiet room, and nodded before releasing his arm. Harry reached the base of the grand staircase and began his ascent with a determined look in his eyes. Behind him, the women winced with every step they took, their expressions strained as they watched him climb. Their legs still ached from the long, grueling journey up the mountain, each muscle screaming in protest with every slow swing of their shapely legs. Harry heard a loud thump from the floor above, and he turned to the women. "Be on your guard," he warned them.
Harry climbed the last step and entered the pitch black second floor. The orb above his head cast light that couldn't fully penetrate the supernatural darkness, though he could see that there was a long, straight corridor traveling the full length of the building. On either side were several dozen rooms whose doors were in various states of disrepair. Harry held his sword out and ignited the blade, casting a flickering, orange light that easily cut through the heavy gloom. He heard Melisandre and Kinvara let out shaky breaths now that they could properly see. "We'll go from room to room, clearing each one out," he told them. Both women nodded. Harry walked to the first door on his left and kicked it down.
The door exploded inward in a shower of rotted wood. He held his sword up and looked inside. His nose wrinkled from the musty smell. It smelled like the room hadn't been aired out in centuries, which was probably true. There was nothing inside except a thick layer of crud on the ground. He then turned to the door on the right and did the same. Again, there was nothing inside except a thick layer of rot covering the ground. The next door on the left was already falling apart, and he could easily see inside. Harry continued down the corridor, going from room to room. When he reached the fifth door on the left, he placed his hand on it to push it in, when a hand burst through and wrapped around his wrist. The women behind him yelped, and the hand squeezed his wrist tightly.
The hand appeared old and withered, its oily skin shriveled and marred with blackened scabs that loosely clung to its rotting surface. Each sickly yellow fingernail extended nearly an inch, their edges chipped and ragged. An overpowering stench of decay wafted from the hand, assaulting Harry's nostrils and causing him to groan with disgust. He was very glad that the putrid hand was clenched around his armor and not his bare skin. With a phlegmy, wheezing growl rumbling from the depths of the room, the hand yanked at him with surprising force, but Harry didn't budge an inch. Without a second thought, he clamped his own hand around the creature's wrist with a bone-crushing force and yanked it through the doorway, shattering the ancient wood and sending splinters flying through the air. Melisandre and Kinvara leaped back, eyes wide as the door exploded outward in a shower of musty-smelling debris. Harry's pull was so powerful that the creature hurtled past him and crashed into the wall behind them with a meaty, bone-jarring thud. Pinned against the wall by Harry's godly strength, the humanoid creature screeched out a high-pitched squeal, like a pig being slaughtered. Frantically and violently, it thrashed, raking its vicious, claw-like fingernails across his armored forearm in a desperate attempt to break free. The sound of its razor-sharp nails scraping across the metal wasn't pleasant to hear.
Harry held his sword up, and the creature was suddenly bathed in the orange glow of his fiery blade. It shrieked in obvious discomfort and averted its gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Melisandre and Kinvara slowly backing up, trying to keep as much distance between themselves and the creature as humanly possible. Harry couldn't say he blamed them. The stench of putrefaction was so pungent that his eyes were beginning to water. He heard both women gag from the grotesque smell.
The thing looked to have been human at one point, but was somehow twisted and corrupted into the wretched creature before him. Its head was mostly bald except for a few patches of silvery gray hair dotted around its flaking scalp. The areas not covered with grimy hair were pockmarked or crusted over with dried warts. The loose skin on its forehead sagged, nearly covering its deeply sunken eyes. The eyes themselves were a fishy pale color like those belonging to a fresh corpse. Its nose was completely missing, and only two slitted holes remained. The upper lip was shrunken and pulled back, exposing a row of crooked, rotting teeth, several of which were missing. His chin was bony and pointed, and the lumpy, beaded skin under the jaw drooped down like a turkey's. The ears were almost non-existent, with two wadded lumps of crumpled flesh indicating where they should be.
Its body was completely bare of clothing and was almost as thin as a skeleton, stripped of its flesh. What little skin and flesh there was hung loosely and flapped disgustingly as the creature struggled to break free. Having seen enough, Harry drove his sword right through its chest, pinning it to the stone wall. The flames immediately engulfed its body, and an ungodly screech pierced the hallway. It thrashed so hard that the bones in its chest snapped, and it broke free. It wailed pitifully as it ran away from him, sprinting down the corridor. When it reached the end, it turned left and crashed through the door of the last room. Suddenly, dozens more began to yowl and hiss, and many more doors exploded outward.
"So many!" Kinvara gasped as the corpses lumbered out of their rooms. Some of them were wielding swords of their own. He could hear the nervousness in her voice. They began charging down the corridor, and Harry flicked his wrist and sent them all tumbling backward. They landed on top of each other in a pile of tangled limbs. The corpses instantly began trying to get back to their feet.
"Go ahead … Test your skills, my dear," Harry calmly told her with a smile. Kinvara looked at him questioningly. When she realized what he meant, she slowly nodded and exhaled deeply.
Kinvara began chanting in a language Harry didn't know. She held out her hands, palms facing outward. The flame on his sword flickered, and the orb of light above them slightly dimmed. The corridor suddenly became darker, as though she was absorbing the light with her palms. For a split second, the corridor went completely black, and when the light returned, a beast crafted from pure shadow stood in front of them. From what he could see, most of the creature was made of shadow, but the core of it seemed to be solid. In fact, the core appeared to be made of the same oily grease that covered the black stones surrounding them.
The shadow construct wasn't very large and only reached the middle of Kinvara's chest. It was humanoid in shape with short, deformed legs and long, spindly arms. Its fingers looked twice as long as Harry's, and its claws were long, curved, and extremely pointy, similar to those of an eagle. Harry couldn't see its face, only the back of its head, and it almost perfectly blended into the darkness. It growled menacingly and sprang into action. It charged forward with surprising speed and lunged at the pile of corpses. Harry actually winced in pain when the corpses all began screeching at once. It was difficult to see what was going on, but one thing was clear. Kinvara's shadow beast was tearing them to shreds, but not without taking damage. The corpses piled onto the shadow man, reaching through the shadows and tearing at the pulsating core of black goo at the center. The shadow creature threw its head back and roared loud enough to make both women stumble back and cover their ears. It thrashed its long, slender arms left and right, slamming corpses into the walls on both sides. At one point, Harry even saw one of the corpses' arms getting ripped off. Still, there were many corpses against a single opponent. When it became clear Kinvara's creation wouldn't be enough to take out all the corpses, Melisandre stepped in.
The sexy Red Priestess stepped up next to Kinvara and held her palm up. She also started chanting, but this time, the corridor didn't grow darker. Instead, little by little, it grew brighter. Melisandre's palm began smoking, and a tiny flicker of fire appeared hovering above her upturned hand. Slowly, the fire grew, consuming the darkness around it. Her long, red hair began fluttering, and Harry could see beads of sweat forming on her brow. The flames condensed into a ball of fire the size of a marble. A few seconds later, it was the size of a golf ball. When it reached the size of a grapefruit, the perfectly round shape of the ball began warping, and it was clear Melisandre was about to lose control. She cried out and flung the ball into the nearby battle. Melisandre and Kinvara turned away, covering their faces. They knew what was about to happen. This time, it was Harry who stepped in. He grabbed his women around their waists and pulled them back. He flung out his hand just as the fiery ball reached the mass of twisted creatures.
There was a flash of blinding light as a semi-transparent shield of magic flickered to life. The shield covered them from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Following the flash was a concussive explosion that nearly blinded them and deafened their ears. The stone floor beneath them trembled, and centuries of dust rained down on them from the ceiling. Dozens of the living corpses scattered in all directions from the mighty blast. Arms, legs, and even heads were blown clean off their bodies, and everything else was set ablaze. Agonized squeals could be heard from deep within the inferno, and Harry could only see vague shapes flailing around behind the wall of fire. The heat radiating from the blaze was intense, and within seconds, Harry could feel sweat dripping down his chest and back. Slowly, the squeals and screeches died out, and Harry couldn't see anything moving within the fire. He gave it another minute before speaking with the girls.
"Stand back," he ordered. "When I lower the shield, the heat will come rushing at me." They nodded and scooted back. "Further," Harry told them. They did as he said and moved even further back. When they were far enough away to satisfy him, Harry quickly lowered the shield and held out his hand.
Harry hissed as a wave of heat washed over him, singeing his skin. The sweat on his face and forehead instantly turned to steam, and before the heat could reach the girls, Harry held up his hands. Frosty wind erupted from his palms, instantly cooling the scorching heat. Harry swung his arms all around him, cooling the area nearest to him. Once he was certain the girls weren't going to get roasted, he turned his attention to the burning mass of bodies piled up further down the corridor. Harry walked over, spraying the floor, walls, and ceiling with icy wind, frosting them over, and when he reached the bonfire, he sprayed that as well. The flames flattened out as the magical wind hit them, and he groaned from the smell of cooked, rotting bodies. After a few seconds, the fire died out, leaving a tangled mess of charred remains.
"That is truly revolting," Melisandre said as the girls came up from behind. They both had their hands over their noses and mouths, and he couldn't blame them. The stench was overpowering.
"Indeed," Kinvara agreed. Both of them were breathing heavily, and when Harry turned to look at them, he could see how exhausted they were.
"Perhaps we should take a break and make camp," Harry suggested, wanting to give them some time to recover.
"That's a good idea, My Lord," Kinvara said, sounding relieved. Melisandre readily agreed as well.
Harry led them back outside and found Daemon perched high on a cliff, watching over the area. He roared loudly when he saw Harry. Kinvara looked around and sighed. "I do not believe we will find much firewood. Trees are scarce in this part of the world, and the wood inside was all rotted."
He hadn't really thought of that, but he had an easy solution. With barely a thought, he fixed their problem. He smiled at Kinvara and stated, "I believe the answer to our problem will arrive shortly."
No sooner than he said the words, someone blew a horn from downriver. Harry led the girls to the bank of the river and watched as a dozen or so small boats sailed toward them, their sails snapping in the harsh mountain wind. They waited until all boats had grounded themselves, and several dozen of his drones began unloading supplies. The girls spotted plenty of firewood, stocks of delicious food, water, and wines, cushy chairs, and even a large bed. They looked at him with wide eyes, clearly pleased that they wouldn't have to sleep on the hard ground. The drones quickly unloaded everything and stacked it further away from the foul-smelling river.
"Finish going through the building," Harry told the drones while pointing at the armory. They silently nodded, pulling out their swords. He then turned to the girls. "Once they finish, we can turn the lower floor of the building into our temporary base. They'll keep watch while we rest," he told them. That was music to their ears. They would have been most vulnerable while sleeping, so it was quite reassuring to them. Harry placed three chairs side by side and sat down in the middle one. As he sat down, his armor disappeared from his body, and he sighed when he butt hit the thick, fluffy cushion. Kinvara joined him on his right, but Melisandre had a different idea. She plopped down right in his lap and giggled when he immediately went for her neck. Kinvara saw this and sighed in resignation.
'Why didn't I think of that?' she mentally kicked herself. All she could do was jealously watch as Harry kissed his way up her neck while his hand caressed her thigh. One thing was for certain, when their day ended and it came time for bed, she wouldn't be sitting on the sidelines.
Chapter 74
Further up the side of the steep, unforgiving canyon, they reached an ancient courtyard. The courtyard was vast and surrounded by dark, eerie structures that menacingly loomed over them. Below their feet, broken and upturned cobbles slowed their ascent. All around them, statues hewn from greasy, black stone lay in dust-covered ruins. Some had been shattered into hundreds of pieces, while others were simply broken in half. "The air is colder here," Melisandre commented as she looked around. Clouds of mist blew from her sweet lips with every spoken word. Her pale, porcelain skin was pink and goosebumped from the cold.
"And the light wanes," Kinvara nervously added as she kept close to Harry. "I can hardly see what's ahead of us." Shadows stretched across the ground from every direction, and the only light was provided by a crescent moon partially hidden by a layer of gray clouds.
It was eerily quiet, and only the faint sound of the river could be heard far below. Harry held up his palm and conjured three orbs of light. Each one drifted up and hovered above each of their heads, providing enough light to ensure they didn't accidentally fall and break their necks on the tough terrain. The women became slightly less nervous now that they could see further than a few feet ahead of them.
The closer they got to the hulking main castle of the abandoned city, the more he felt a suffocating presence. The sensation did nothing to him. The mortal shell he wore was beyond anything the false gods of this world could inflict. The girls, however, were a different story. Melisandre and Kinvara were clearly nervous and uneasy, and he didn't blame them. Whatever was hiding in the castle didn't want him here, and the feeling was significantly more potent than what he had faced in the jungles of Leng. Harry could feel tendrils of its presence creeping through every worn crack and hiding among every shadow. He suddenly heard a rattling breath behind the broken statue of a woman in a dress that bared one of her breasts.
"What was that?" Melisandre asked, sounding slightly panicked. Both girls edged closer to him and searched for the source of the disturbing noise. The unsettling rattling sound seemed to be coming from all around them. Their hearts began pounding even faster than they already were. Melisandre harshly swallowed the lump in her throat while Kinvara's clammy hands trembled. Melisandre then gasped and jumped, pointing to a massive statue ahead of them. "Did you see that?" she quietly asked them. "Something moved within the shadow."
Harry had seen it, too, so he pulled out his sword, and the black metal of the blade glowed orange. Within the Valyrian steel, swirls of orange, red, and white churned like a pit of magma waiting to burst free of the planet's crust. He pointed the tip of his sword to the overcast sky and held it high over his head. He focused within and pushed all his power and might into it. The area surrounding the blade grew gray and colorless before darkening to pitch black. The orange glowing blade suddenly erupted into a blinding white radiance that sliced through the unnatural darkness and illuminated the entire area. Screeches of agony assaulted their ears from every direction. Just ahead of them, a humanoid, shadowy shape, standing roughly twelve feet in height, stumbled into the light. As it did, the translucency became solid, and its unfocused edges became crisp. The spectre before them was something he recognized and knew well. He had faced the wraiths as a human child and knew it to be amongst the most foul dark creatures in existence. It hovered above the ground, writhing and twisting as its bony, skeletal hands desperately tried to shield it from the pure light of his sword. Its tattered, black robe fluttered and snapped in the stiff wind of the canyon, and the air carried the scent of a rotting corpse. Desperation set in, and the creature charged. Hovering above the ground, it rocketed toward the group, its death rattle sending shivers down the girls' spines. Mere feet away, it lowered its hood. Two empty eye sockets stared back at them, and Kinvara squealed in disgust when a fat, deformed cockroach crawled out of one of the sockets and skittered across its face. Its slimy, gray skin was stretched thin across a misshapen skull, like that of a decomposing corpse, and when it rattled again, a foul glob of greasy sludge dripped from its chin. Where the mouth should have been was a gaping hole … an endless, black void used to devour the soul. It screeched in pain and anger, stretching its long, thin arms toward him. The flesh covering the bones of its hands was also covered in gray, scabby skin that was stretched way too thin. The horrific stink grew much stronger as it neared. Harry returned the favor and lifted his hand.
He stretched out his arm, and out of his palm burst a bright, silvery light. The light nearly blinded them all, but none more so than the Dementor itself. It let out a dreadful wail and turned its head, desperately trying to avoid looking directly into the silvery light. The radiant light formed into a charging, translucent stag, standing equal in height to the Dementor, and after three long strides, it lowered its head and attacked. The sharp rack of antlers pierced the wraith in the chest and hoisted it high into the air. The rattling scream cracked across the canyon and echoed off the many stone walls. It was so loud and unsettling that the girls had to cover their ears. Writhing in the air, the Dementor clawed and kicked at the Patronus, but its decaying hands seemed to pass right through. It violently thrashed as the stag swung its head back and forth, driving its antlers deep into its chest and gut.
Behind them, he heard another furious screech. Harry turned and swung his sword just as another Dementor reached for his neck. Harry's glowing white sword cleaved it in half from shoulder to hip. The top half tumbled forward and came to rest on top of his boots, smoking from within the dark robe. Harry kicked it away right before he heard the girls scream.
On their other side, a Dementor had grabbed Kinvara by the hair and was pulling her back. Its hood was lowered, and it was twisting her body around to administer its evil kiss. Harry flung his sword, and it whizzed by Kinvara's head with no room to spare. The tip of his blade entered the rotting, circular mouth and exploded out the back. A disgusting gurgling noise emanated from the creature, and its head began rapidly vibrating. Melisandre and Kinvara squealed and quickly moved away when acrid, foul-smelling smoke poured from the dark depths beneath its hood.
A hand grabbed Harry from behind, and he grabbed the bony wrist and ducked under it while moving aside, twisting it in the process. The Dementor cried out as the bones in its shoulder loudly popped. Harry's sword appeared in his hand, and with a powerful swipe, he cleaved the arm clean off. As the severed arm dropped to the ground, the Dementor threw its head back and howled at the sky, leaving its chest unprotected. Harry responded by driving his sword straight through. Like a hot knife through butter, it effortlessly pierced its flesh and sliced through bone. A spartan kick from Harry sent the Dementor tumbling backward, where it hit a statue with bone-breaking force. More Dementors swooped down, and the girls huddled together, shivering from the numbing cold.
As they dove down on them, Harry hacked and slashed at them, cutting limbs and slicing heads, sending them rolling across the ground. He saw Melisandre trying to fight through the mental effects of the Dementors as she raised her hand. Unfortunately, she couldn't focus, and the small ball of fire in her hand quickly disappeared. Luckily for them, Harry didn't need their help. He was having the time of his life, twirling his blade and separating limb from body.
Suddenly, from the castle above, a thick, gray mist began creeping down toward them, and the air became bone-chilling. The crippling and overwhelming feeling of despair and emptiness settled over them, though he was unable to feel it. Harry's Patronus finished goring the Dementor and faded away, letting the dead creature drop to the ground. Beside him, the Dementors had taken their toll on the women. Both were shivering and trembling, their eyes wide with shock and fear. A swarm of hundreds of Dementors flooded from the castle, intent on avenging their fallen brethren. Then, from the top of the canyon, Daemon dove down. Its mighty maw opened wide, and a spark of fire ignited in the back of his massive throat.
Out of the impenetrable darkness, a lance of swirling fire, as thick as a Sothoryosian oak, erupted. It descended upon the wraith swarm, setting their tattered hooded cloaks ablaze. The sudden burst of orange light and intense heat in the pitch-black sky could be felt by them below. High above them, hundreds of agonized screeches filled the otherwise silent air, but even that was drowned by the booming roar of a furious dragon. The blazing Dementors scattered as Daemon swooped by, raking them with his sword-length claws and knocking some out of the sky, but even the monstrous dragon couldn't keep all from charging them.
Harry turned his hand over, and in the middle of his palm, the tiniest of sparks quickly grew into an undulating ball of fury. He flung it toward the charging Dementors and watched the ball of fire swell and twist into a flaming bird almost as large as Daemon. Fiendfyre was notoriously difficult to control, and a fiery creature of that size would have instantly turned on any normal human. Luckily, Harry had a will stronger than Valyrian Steel.
The giant bird roared with unbridled rage, and the ground beneath their feet trembled. It soared through the sky, scorching anything in its path. The Dementors nearest the Fiendfyre scattered, trying to avoid the cursed flames, but not all could get out of its way. Its two massive wings beat down on dozens of them, instantly turning them to ash while its flaming beak opened and swallowed many whole. Daemon wasn't done yet either. He continued to circle overhead, breathing fire on the swarm and sending them into a panicked frenzy. The panic made it easy for the Fiendfyre to feast. Dozens of burning Dementors dropped from the sky, while the swooping firebird completely devoured others. At some point, the Dementors had finally had enough and changed direction. They flew away from Harry and his group and tried to retreat back into the castle, but the Fiendfyre blocked their path. They screeched in panic and drifted up and over the wall of the canyon while Daemon continued to breathe a jet of dragonfire at them. The rock wall of the canyon glowed orange from the constant torrent of fire, and several massive chunks of rock broke free and knocked some blazing Dementors out of the sky. It was quite the sight, Harry had to admit.
As they got further and further away, their panicked screeches eventually quieted, and Daemon flew a circle above them, making sure they didn't return. The Fiendfyre dove down, consuming the fallen Dementors in its flames, and when there was nothing left, it turned on Harry.
The firebird roared at him, its fury palpable. It shot through the sky and turned its wrath on him. In striking distance, it opened its beak, and just before it could swallow them, Harry waved his hand. "Begone!" he ordered with authority, and the bird screeched in rage as the cursed flames were snuffed.
All around them were the charred remnants of hundreds of wraiths, their cloaks smoking and their burnt skin sizzling. The stench was unbearable, and Harry wrinkled his nose. Beside him, both girls retched from the nauseating smell. Not a single Dementor could be seen flying around. He was unsure where the rest had gone, but he was certain they wouldn't return any time soon. With the Dementors gone, the unnatural chill quickly dissipated, and the rocks and stone walls that were glowing red with heat actually made the area feel relatively warm. The stifling feeling of despair also left with them, and when he turned to the girls, he saw that they were no longer trembling. However, they were still in shock, and he knew it wouldn't be smart to continue until they had time to rest and regroup. He whistled loudly, which snapped them out of their shock. They looked at him, waiting for his orders. He smiled handsomely at them and wrapped an arm around each of their waists while Daemon flew down and landed in the middle of the courtyard, crushing several statues as he did. Melisandre and Kinvara pressed tightly against him, and he lovingly rubbed their backs. "Let's go to camp," he told them. They both nodded and let go of him. He helped them onto the back of Daemon, and they flew down to the bank of the Ash.
The Dread Lord of Essos
"What were those things?" Kinvara asked as she sipped her cup of tea. They were sitting close to a blazing campfire to keep warm. When she set her teacup back onto the saucer, Harry heard the ceramic rattling as her hand shook.
"Cursed wraiths," Harry told them, sipping his own cup of tea. His hands were as steady as they ever were. "As a child, I knew them as Dementors. They can be … unpleasant to deal with," he said, trying to find the right word.
"I felt such hopelessness in their presence," Melisandre shivered as she clutched her hot cup between her palms. Harry placed his hand on her knee and rubbed her thigh.
"They feed on human happiness. It's almost as though they suck it from the air," he explained. "Remaining in their presence for too long can lead to madness."
"I can believe it," Melisandre replied, shuddering when she remembered the horrid feeling when they were near. "Will there be more of them?" she asked, fearing the answer. Thankfully, Harry shook his head.
"No. Most were killed, and the few that survived have fled. You won't need to worry about them," he said, and the girls breathed a sigh of relief. Kinvara's unsteady hand was still slightly trembling as she brought the rim of the cup to her soft lips. Eventually, she grew annoyed with the state of her shaking and put the cup down. Harry smiled amusedly at her and chuckled.
"Don't fret, my dear. When I first met a Dementor as a child, I fainted. Your reaction to them is nothing to be ashamed of," he assured them. His kind words didn't make either of them feel better. They had both been next to worthless during the fight, and that was something neither of them could tolerate. Seeing this, Harry stood up and took Kinvara by the hand. "Come along. A warm bed is what you need right now," he told her. Kinvara smiled prettily and silently nodded as she rose to her feet. Melisandre stood as well and followed them into the large, luxurious tent.
They entered the warm, inviting interior and found a large tub in the middle of the floor. Melisandre walked over and brushed her delicate fingers along the water's surface. "It's warm."
Kinvara began stripping as soon as she heard the word warm. "A bath is just what I need right now," she told them. Melisandre nodded and began removing her clothes as well. She removed her top and bared her breasts to him. Harry helped them out by adding bubbly soap to the tub.
"Will you join us, My Lord?" Melisandre asked while bouncing her hips from side to side while trying to push her tight trousers down over her wide hips. Kinvara looked at him with a hopeful expression as she pushed her pants down her thighs.
"Do you even have to ask?" he jested as his amor disappeared from his body. Harry removed his clothes, and all three stepped into the large tub of hot water, hand in hand. Harry sat down with a groan, and his women sat on either side of him. They snuggled into his sides, and Melisandre rested her head on his shoulder while Kinvara caressed his chest with her wet hand. Harry placed a hand on each of their thighs and began slowly moving it up and down. The incredibly delicate skin of their inner thighs was slick and soapy, and both women shuddered when the sides of his hands rubbed against their pussies. They instantly opened their legs to him, tempting him to go further. Harry didn't disappoint. He dragged his fingers up the length of their slits and quickly found their hard clits. He pressed down on them, moving his fingers in a circular pattern. Melisandre and Kinvara began squirming and rubbing against him, cutely mewling from the pleasure. The pleasure he was providing was greatly needed after dealing with those wretched creatures, the ladies thought to themselves.
Melisandre lightly nipped at his shoulder with her teeth, and her hand sank beneath the water. Her hand lowered between his legs, and her fingers firmly wrapped around his girth. Slowly, she began to move her hand up and down, stroking his length. Kinvara leaned in and pressed her naked, soapy breasts against his skin. Her lips edged closer to his, and Harry threaded his fingers through her thick, dark hair and passionately kissed her. Kinvara moaned deeply and opened her mouth. Her tongue slipped into his mouth while her hand joined Melisandre's. His impressive length provided more than enough room for both of their hands. Both of them squealed when Harry lightly pinched their clits and rolled them between his fingers. Kinvara broke the kiss and breathed heavily against his cheek while her hand worked in tandem with Melisandre's.
It wasn't long before all the negative emotions they had been feeling had completely left their bodies, and the only thing going through their minds was that they wanted more of what Harry was offering. Melisandre pushed her hips forward, pressing herself against his fingers. Harry knew exactly what she was hoping for, and he was happy to provide it. Two of his thick fingers slipped between her plump lips, and her silky folds immediately clamped down on them, contracting and fluttering the deeper he went. Melisandre let out a sexy moan, and her gorgeous eyes fluttered. It seemed that Kinvara knew what was going on below the bubbles, and she wanted some of that for herself. She grabbed Harry's hand and moved his fingers to her opening. Harry happily accommodated her and buried his fingers deep within. Like Melisandre, her pussy instantly hugged his digits, and it repeatedly squeezed and tugged on them. "You're insatiable," Harry teased the High Priestess. All Kinvara could do was moan like a whore and shudder while she bucked her hips and attempted to fuck herself on his fingers.
It only took a few minutes before both women squealed and squeezed his hands between their thighs. Harry pulled his hands from them and began soaping up their naked bodies while they squirmed and cooed in delight.
"Let's go to bed," Melisandre sultrily suggested while laying soft kisses down his neck and shoulder.
"A splendid idea," Kinvara quickly agreed while her hand continued to pump his shaft. Harry wasn't about to say no to that.
"Let's go," he told them, and they both squealed happily and stood up. Soapy water cascaded down their curvy bodies, making their smooth skin glisten in the soft candlelight. As they stepped out of the tub, Harry snapped his fingers and dried their bodies. He watched them crawl onto the bed, their naked backsides tantalizingly swaying from side to side. Harry smiled. He was ready for his reward after a night of bravery and eagerly crawled after them.
Chapter 75
The air around them suddenly turned bitter … almost paralyzing. Every inhalation stabbed their lungs with icy barbs, and every step made Harry's boots stick to the frozen ground. Even the shadows had gone still, as if watching their progress toward the fortress with murderous intent. Melisandre's teeth rattled with each breath, and every exposed inch of her skin erupted in goosebumps. Kinvara's hands had gone white at the knuckles from clutching her sides, and her lips were already blue.
Harry felt the predatory chill as well. It sank into his skin, froze his bones, and kept the blood from moving, but he was not like the others. When Melisandre stumbled, he caught her arm and drew heat from the world around them. The warmth billowed out from his skin and wrapped his companions in a cushion of summery air. The effect was instantaneous. Melisandre gasped and nearly collapsed again, this time from relief. Kinvara closed her eyes and tilted her face toward his hand, basking in the heat.
"Thank you, My Lord," Melisandre whispered, voice weak but steady. The chill had exhausted her body.
"Yes, thank you," Kinvara echoed. She looked up at the fortress, and her voice was uneven. "This chill is unnatural."
She wasn't wrong. Even through the thick sensation of maleficence, Harry could sense the origin of the cold. The castle above them was a tangle of greasy black stone and spiked towers, all of it perched on the edge of a cliff that rose vertically into the gray sky. Its windows were empty dark holes. The doors were each carved from a single slab of petrified wood and stood three times the height of a man, and twice as wide. It was a perfectly placed fortress, and yet, it was nothing when faced by a man like Harry.
Harry squinted, studying the weathered battlements and ancient ironwork. "Whatever's inside doesn't want us here," he said. His own voice carried further than it should have in the emptiness, echoing back to him with an unnatural quality.
The wind increased to a shrieking gust that hurled debris at their faces. Melisandre flinched, and Kinvara shielded her eyes with a sleeve. Harry flicked his wrist. A bubble of magic sprang up, and the wind parted around them like moving water around a stone. Kinvara gave him a sidelong look. "Then, perhaps, we should heed its warning and …" she began, but was cut off by Harry's calm chuckling.
Harry grinned at her, and she immediately looked away, blushing. She was slightly embarrassed by her cowardice. It wasn't entirely her fault. She had heard many stories of this haunted, cursed city, and none of them were pleasant. "I'm not about to be scared off by a little wind," he smirked.
Kinvara blushed harder and nodded her head. She then drew herself up, found her dignity, and squared her shoulders. Melisandre placed her hand on Kinvara's arm, and the two women walked in step beside Harry as they approached the doors.
The city was silent now, save for their footsteps and the women's labored breathing. The fortress loomed closer, towering high above them. Its presence gnawed on their minds, and every instinct was telling them to flee. Harry easily ignored this feeling as he continued to trek forward. The old stories were at the forefront of both women's minds. Kinvara had told them herself, often to scare younger acolytes, and Melisandre had listened as a child. None of the tales involved walking away from Stygai in one piece.
The fortress was close enough now to blot out most of the sky. Harry stopped at the threshold, and for a moment, all three of them stared up in awe. The doors were carved with runes, ancient Valyrian and something older. The runes pulsed with power. It was barely perceptible, but Harry could easily feel it. Melisandre pressed her fingers to the markings, and her eyes flashed red.
"There's power in these walls," she said. "A warning, maybe. Perhaps a curse."
Harry traced a symbol with his fingertip. The stone throbbed under his touch. "It won't hold us for long," he said with the confidence that few men could muster.
He placed his palm flat against the center of the door, and the surface chilled instantly, frosting over. He pushed, and the door didn't budge. Harry called on his godly powers and forced it open with his full strength. The door groaned in protest, but slowly, it began to swing open. The sound it made was horrid. The squeal of seized hinges and the shuddering hiss of trapped air wasn't pleasant to hear. From within, a second rush of wind blasted out, carrying the stench of what lay further. It was foul and rotten, and it made Melisandre's stomach turn and Kinvara gag. The mist within the fortress was dense, rolling across the flagstones in a tumbling cloud. For a moment, it looked as though the mist itself would rise up and attack.
Then, just as the mist rolled over their feet, a howl split the air. The sound wasn't canine, at least not entirely, but it was close enough to trigger the women's fear. Melisandre went rigid, and Kinvara's mouth dropped open in horror. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. More howls joined the first in a chorus of rage and hunger.
Kinvara spun around, pointing. Down the slope, moving with impossible speed, came a pack of wolves. Their bodies were unnaturally stretched, and their bones showed through fur that fell away in clumps. Their eyes glowed with a sickly green light. Some of them ran on three legs, dragging the fourth like a club. Others had their jaws fused open, strings of black saliva dangling from ruined teeth. They moved with purpose, and they were headed straight for the three of them.
Harry acted first. He flung his hand outward, sending the first wave of the undead wolves rocketing through the air until they collided with the side of an old guard house. Their bones snapped, and matted fur burst into a disgusting cloud. Melisandre gathered her wits and hurled a ball of fire, which struck one wolf in the chest and sent it spinning. The fur ignited, but the wolf kept coming, shrieking and trailing embers.
Kinvara also sent a wave of fire, but it was relatively weak and didn't do much damage. Harry shot a look at her, then shifted sideways and put himself between the women and the oncoming monsters. Harry closed his hand into a fist and concentrated. A thick, magical shield radiated out in every direction. The wolves hit the shield with a force that rattled Harry's teeth. The closest one, a massive beast with a jaw that hung by a strip of muscle, slammed itself against the magical barrier again and again, shattering bone and spraying rot across the transparent surface. Melisandre, who was heavily sweating, tried to attack from within the shield, but her flames barely dented the undead mass. The cursed chill had sapped most of their strength.
Harry looked at the two women. Kinvara seemed to think that they were all doomed. Melisandre looked exhausted, but she stared back at him. He could see nothing but confidence in her gorgeous eyes. She knew her lord would keep them safe. Harry couldn't help but smile at the beautiful priestess. He would reward her loyalty later.
Harry locked his jaw and narrowed his eyes as the undead wolves slammed again and again against the magical shield. The air vibrated with their shrieks. Each impact spattered the barrier with rotten flesh and black mucus. The sound was horrendous, and the stench wormed through the magical barrier. Melisandre covered her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit, while Kinvara just stared in horror.
He knew there was no time to hesitate. The wolves were mutating as they attacked the sphere, becoming more grotesque by the second. One massive beast that was bigger than the rest grew additional legs right in front of them, the new appendages sprouting from bloody holes with sickening pops. Its skull lengthened, and the jaw unhinged even farther until the mouth was one endless maw filled with splintered teeth. The others followed suit. Some of them swelled to twice their size while others split into smaller, more agile horrors that battered the shield in relentless droves.
Harry closed his emerald green eyes and fed more magic into the protective shell. The shimmering magic thickened, then burst into a solid orange glow. Melisandre and Kinvara both fell to their knees at the sudden heat, perhaps thinking that R'hllor himself had come to save them. For a moment, their entire world was fire. Harry's shield was no longer just a spherical wall. It was an all-consuming inferno that ignited the air around it. The necrotic wolves threw themselves at the flames without hesitation. Their fur caught instantly, their skin melted off in sheets, and their howls turned to warped, agonized wails.
Harry's magic warped the shield, ballooning it outward in a violent, expanding sphere. The stone at their feet cracked from the sudden heat, and nearby buildings exploded in a rain of glowing embers. The blast flung burning wolves in every direction. Some hit the far walls with bone-snapping cracks, and others were launched over the edge of the cliff entirely. The city, silent before, was now filled with the roaring of fire and the tortured screams of the unnatural pack.
He kept the pressure up, refusing to let a single wolf escape. A few managed to leap free of the pack, their bodies already blackened and crisping, but they lasted less than a step before collapsing. Melisandre watched as one wolf flailed on the ground, its limbs burning down to stumps. It crawled toward her, jaws snapping, then dissolved into ash inches from her boots. Harry ignored the bizarre spectacle. He was busy with the largest of the beasts, which had taken the brunt of the blast and somehow survived.
The alpha stood in the center of the devastation, flames licking its sides and one eye drooping from the heat. It was a monster … part wolf, part nightmare. Its spine jutted through the back in razor-sharp ridges, and the front paws had become claws, each talon as long as a dagger. Its face was a ruined, blistered mask, but the eyes still burned with that sickly green light.
Harry dropped the fire shield and drew his sword, the Valyrian steel gleaming in the chaos. The wolf charged, ignoring the fact that most of its body was already ruined. Its jaws snapped, and it let loose a roar that shook the stones beneath them. Harry sidestepped, but the thing was faster than he expected. It clipped his armored leg with a claw and sent sparks shooting out. Before he could react, it twisted and barreled into him, its jaws seeking his throat.
They hit the ground hard. Harry rolled with it, holding its neck with one hand to keep it from biting down on his face. The animal thrashed wildly. Its claws sliced the air, and its tail lashed with enough force to crack the flagstones. Harry grunted as it pummeled his midsection with its hind legs, but he held on, forcing the wolf's head away from his neck. He felt its breath on his cheek. It was hot with the stench of death.
Kinvara screamed. Melisandre tried to hurl a fireball, but her hands shook so badly that it fizzled out before leaving her fingers. Harry had no time for theatrics. He twisted, forcing the wolf's head down and exposing the soft underside of its jaw. With a grunt, he brought the sword up in a vicious arc. The blade punched through the bottom of the wolf's jaw and came out the top of its skull in a spray of bone shards and blackened brain matter.
The wolf went limp instantly. Harry shoved the corpse off him, but not before it managed a final, desperate snap of its jaws. They clamped down on the vambrace of his left arm. The teeth, some of them as long as a dagger, shattered against the Valyrian steel and scraped against metal with a hideous screech. Harry drove his boot into the wolf's ruined face, breaking the grip, then stood and sheathed his sword. He looked down at his arm. The vambrace was disgusting and slimy, but otherwise undamaged. He exhaled, then cleaned himself with his magic. He then flexed his fingers to make sure nothing was broken. Kinvara stared at him, her face pale as the ash covering the ground. Melisandre had collapsed to all fours, panting, her eyes wild. Harry just smiled at them both.
"Are you alright?" he said, as if he'd just finished a brisk morning jog.
Kinvara nodded dumbly. Melisandre slowly pushed herself upright, face flushed with exhaustion and arousal. It always turned her on when she saw him flex his might. "That was … impressive, My Lord," she managed, bowing her head.
They looked around at the aftermath. The courtyard was demolished. Piles of charred bone and melted wolf flesh littered the stones, and the smell of burned hair and rotten meat hung heavy in the cold air. The mist had been blown away by the heat, revealing the full height of the fortress. The doors, which had been opened moments before, now hung crooked on broken hinges. Harry rolled his shoulders, the adrenaline already fading. He kicked the smoking wolf corpse away from him, sending its limp body tumbling across the ruined ground. Harry looked at the broken door and chuckled. "Is that the best you can do?" he asked the presence within.
A roar suddenly cut through the air. It was as if a mountain had split in half. Even Harry felt the shock of it in his chest. The girls flinched, bracing themselves against the shockwave of the sound. The air vibrated, and the stones under their feet trembled. Melisandre was the first to recover. She raised her eyes skyward, her red hair whipping about her face. "By the Lord of Light," she gasped.
Kinvara's jaw went slack. "That can't be …"
Above them was a dragon unlike anything they had ever seen. It was colossal, its wingspan dwarfing the ruined fortress beneath. Its scales were not the gunpowder black of Harry's dragon, nor the deep red of the Targaryen beasts. They were the milky white color of fresh ghost grass. The weak sunlight caught each scale and made them shimmer like the surface of the Jade Sea. Beneath that spectral hide ran a network of black veins, pulsing with foul, greasy magic. The dragon's head was a nightmare. Three horns jutted from its brow, twisted and stained. Its eyes glowed with a dead blue fire. When it opened its mouth to roar again, the sound alone was enough to send flocks of crows streaming from the walls.
Harry stared up at it, a slow smile spreading across his face. There was a challenge in that roar, and he'd never met a challenge he didn't like. He looked back at the girls. "I guess I spoke too soon," he said, almost gleeful.
The white dragon drew a vast circle over the fortress, then folded its wings and dropped into a dive. It was coming straight for them. The girls ducked instinctively, shielding themselves behind Harry. He planted his feet and waited, as if daring the beast to come nearer, but before the white dragon could close the distance, a shadow arrowed through the sky, moving far faster than any living thing should.
Daemon hit the white dragon in midair. The resulting shockwave blasted the city below with hurricane winds. Every loose stone, every fragment of rotten bone, and every single strand of Melisandre's silky hair was whipped horizontal in a split second. The sound was like two mountains colliding. Melisandre and Kinvara both screamed, then clung to each other as the two dragons tumbled through the sky.
Daemon was every bit the white dragon's equal, but he had the benefit of being hatched with Harry's godlike power. He raked the white dragon's side with his claws, tearing long, glistening gouges from scale and flesh. The white dragon retaliated, lashing out with a spiked tail. The blow caught Daemon's wing, tearing the leathery membrane and sending a spray of dark blood into the air. The two dragons locked together, jaws and claws entangled, and spiraled downward. As they fell, their roars and bellows shook the fortress to its core.
Harry watched them tumble. To anyone else, it looked like the end of the world was near, but to Harry, it was the greatest thing he had ever seen. He grinned excitedly, then turned to the women. "You two wait here," he told them.
Kinvara blinked at him, dazed by the chaos above. "Where are you going?" she said, her voice muffled by the hand she'd thrown over her mouth. Melisandre just stared, her lips moving in silent prayer.
"Up there," Harry calmly said, like he was about to go on a nice Sunday stroll through the garden. He snapped his fingers, and a protective bubble expanded around the girls. It kept them safe and secure but still allowed them to watch every second.
Without hesitation, Harry bent his knees and poured every ounce of magic into his muscles. He launched himself from the shattered courtyard. The pressure cratered the stones where he had stood. He shot upward like a cannonball, and the girls cried out again, but this time in awe.
Harry met the falling dragons at the apex of their spiral. The white dragon had locked its jaws on Daemon's throat and was trying to wring the life out of him. Thankfully, Daemon's hide was infused with Harry's magic and thus was as hard as Valyrian steel. Harry didn't hesitate. He reached out with his left hand and seized the nearest of the white dragon's horns, digging his fingers into the bone with supernatural strength. The dragon jerked in surprise, releasing Daemon just long enough for Harry to vault onto the back of its neck. He landed just behind the bony ridge of its skull, wedging his knees tight to stay in position. The dragon twisted and bucked, but Harry was immovable..
"Let's see who's got the stronger will," Harry said through clenched teeth.
He placed his palm against the back of the dragon's skull and sent a torrent of magic into its mind. The world around him vanished, and suddenly, he was inside the dragon's head. It was pure chaos. The mind of the beast was a frothing storm of pain, hunger, and hate. Harry could feel the curse that had bred it. It was something ancient, twisted, and deliberate. The curse fought back, raking at his soul with claws of darkness and teeth of ice. Harry laughed, because this was the part he liked best. He waded into the storm and met the curse head-on.
He saw flashes … images of the Shadowlands, of sorcerers in black-and-gold robes, of rituals performed in the lightless depths beneath the city. He saw the dragon as an egg, bathed in rivers of poison. As a hatchling, it was fed the flesh of the dead. He saw the curse take hold, worming into its mind and twisting it to serve only destruction.
Harry fought it, hammering at the curse with raw, unfiltered power. The curse tried to worm into his own mind and drag him down into madness. He saw the girls below, their faces twisted in terror. He saw Melisandre on her knees, praying. He saw Kinvara, too stunned to even scream. He ground his teeth, focused, and tore the curse out by its roots. The curse screamed out a soundless wail that echoed in Harry's mind, then shattered into nothing. Harry cleared away the last tendrils, sweeping the dragon's mind clean. He left only what was essential … the animalistic instincts, the will to live, and a loyalty to himself.
Suddenly, the beast's body went limp, and the wings steadied. Harry opened his eyes and saw the world as it was. The wind whipped his long hair in all directions. The clouds dampened his face, and the sun beamed its warm light on his skin. They were miles above the ground, but now the dragon responded to him as if he had been its master from birth.
"Down," Harry ordered, and the dragon obeyed.
They dove from the sky. The wind roared in Harry's ears, but he relished the speed. He could see the fortress below, the corpse city beyond, and the two women huddled in his shimmering cocoon of magic. As he drew closer, Harry could see Daemon circling below, recovering from his wounds. He let out a roar of triumph, then banked aside to let them land. Harry reached out with his magic and healed his dragon's injuries. He then did the same for the white dragon. He sent a mental ping to his drones to provide both dragons with plenty of fresh meat.
The white dragon hit the ground with thunderous force. The impact shattered the stones of the courtyard and set the walls trembling. Harry guided the beast to a halt, then leapt lightly from its neck. He landed with a thud and walked over to where Melisandre and Kinvara were huddled together. He snapped his fingers and released their shield. The girls stared at him, eyes wide as dinner plates. Harry just smiled like an idiot.
He looked at his new dragon and patted its side. Its scales were cold and rough, and under his touch, the black veins seemed to fade a little. The dragon blinked at him, then dropped its head in submission.
Harry glanced at the two women. "See?" he said, "Nothing to worry about."
Kinvara's knees finally gave out, and she plopped down on her shapely bottom. Harry couldn't help but chuckle. He could see that they had finally reached their limit. "Why don't we go rest for a while?" Harry suggested. Both women gratefully nodded.
"I believe that's a good idea, My Lord," Melisandre said. Her nipples were rock-hard, and it was obvious that only one thing was on her mind. Harry opened his arms, and both women rushed into his embrace. All three disappeared from the spot.