The next day, Maester Qyburn found Gendry another new ally.
Marwyn the Mage.
Marwyn stood at the edge of Castle Caswell's dragon courtyard, confidence on his face as he watched Gendry Breaker among the Dragons.
Marwyn looked more like a dockside thug than a Maester, except for the chain of countless metals hanging around his bull-like neck.
He was short and thickset, but his chest and shoulders were very broad.
His head was too large for his body, thrust forward between his shoulders, and with his slab-like jaw, he looked as if he were ready to twist someone's head off.
"This is Marwyn, the Mage from the Citadel," Maester Qyburn introduced. Behind him stood the undying guard, John Strong.
Gendry looked at Marwyn. "I have long heard your name, Maester Marwyn."
"A small name, hardly worth mentioning." Marwyn wore no robes. The straps of his leather jerkin were pulled tight by a round belly hard as stone. He also carried a pack on his back.
Marwyn studied Gendry. "Worthy of being the Stag of this age, the Dragon King Storm, a knight of legend. People say Your Grace has received the blessings of the Warrior and the Smith.
"You have brought House Storm to a new height, surpassing your father King Robert Baratheon and every Stormlord before you. You command Dragons, have united the Stormlands and the Crownlands, and hold Tyrosh, Myr, the Stepstones, and the Disputed Lands.
"King Robert killed Rhaegar with his hammer at The Trident. You have fought for years and knocked at least a dozen crowns to the ground. Even if one searched through all the great men of past and present, few heroes could compare with you."
Gendry laughed. "A Maester truly does have honey on his tongue. Welcome to our side."
Aside from his bloodline and natural gifts, Gendry's life had mainly been helped along by cheats.
"Marwyn is at your command, Your Grace," Marwyn said, kneeling.
"Rise, Maester. You have come at just the right time."
"Why did you appear here?" Gendry asked.
"I originally thought Your Grace would remain in King's Landing. I did not expect you to go to Dragonstone, Storm's End, and Tarth, moving so unpredictably. I could not see Your Grace in the glass candle. Perhaps you truly are a man whose fate is undecided."
Marwyn opened his pack and took out his obsidian candle.
The candle was three feet tall, thin as a sword, its spiraling edges sharp as blades, faintly gleaming black.
"A glass candle?" It was Gendry's first time seeing one.
"Yes, Your Grace. A relic of ancient Valyria."
Marwyn removed the cover from the glass candle.
The candle's flame did not flicker. Its color was strange, white as fresh snow, yellow as molten gold, red as blazing fire, yet the shadows it cast were so black that they seemed like holes in the mortal world.
"How far can you see?" Gendry asked Marwyn.
"About the distance to Oldtown. A Dragon King's magic comes from blood and fire, but I am not so wondrous," Marwyn answered awkwardly. "With glass candles, Valyrian Sorcerers could send their sight across mountains, seas, and deserts. Sitting before such candles, they could enter other men's dreams and show them visions, or exchange messages across half the world."
"I see."
"But if Your Grace marches south to aid The Reach, Bitterbridge must be one of the passes."
"You know military strategy too?" Gendry asked curiously.
"In truth, I know a little of strategy and fighting both. Otherwise, I could never have traveled the eastern continent, nor survived in that closed, filthy Citadel."
"I greatly need men like you."
"That is my honor as well. I am also glad to work together with my old friend."
"It is good to see you, Maester," Qyburn said as well.
Just then, the coiled Dragons opened their eyes and stared at Marwyn, who had entered their sight.
Balerion shook himself, changing from something like a great serpent back into the shape of a dragon.
Balerion was the largest of the Dragons. Even without counting his leathery wings, his body was bigger than a warhorse.
Marwyn opened his mouth, staring at the vigorous Dragons. "They have grown so fast. True Dragons indeed, full of life, not at all like the last dragons."
Marwyn's eyes were filled with curiosity. Living Dragons, the ultimate magical beasts, the pride of a Dragon King.
Stiff white hairs sprouted from his ears and nostrils. His brow jutted forward, his nose had been broken more than once, and his teeth were stained mottled red by sourleaf. He had huge hands.
"I had heard the stories about them, but I never imagined they would be so large."
"They have always grown quickly. Dragonstone is a Dragon's nest."
There was one other thing Gendry did not say aloud: his runes were also extremely effective.
"Unless it were necessary, I would still prefer to raise them on Dragonstone. But the threats are too great now, especially those from the north and the Iron Islands."
"Then I am even more willing to help you, Your Grace. Your eyes are on the future of the Seven Kingdoms, not personal pleasure. I will teach you everything I know. Old friend, how far have you taught him?"
Marwyn asked Qyburn.
Qyburn smiled. "His Grace is gifted and quick of mind. I have nothing left to teach. Besides, I am now entangled in too many worldly affairs, so I can only place my hopes in you, old friend."
Yet Qyburn was still very proud. His most accomplished student, King Gendry, Gendry the "Warrior of the Gods," had already achieved great things.
Marwyn nodded. "Qyburn, your research into bloodlines and warriors has borne some fruit. I hope what I know of Dragons and magic will also benefit Your Grace.
"Knowledge of Dragons and magic now survives only in fragments. The Citadel sealed knowledge away. Baelor burned knowledge. Even Asshai by the Shadow and the many Sorcerers of the eastern continent know only scraps. Hidden knowledge, false knowledge, broken knowledge.
"But I have done all I can and gathered many truths."
"You came from Oldtown. What can you teach me?" Gendry asked Marwyn directly.
"Crow's Eye has many methods, and he must also be skilled in magic. There is no problem with Your Grace attacking the Shield Islands. Crow's Eye's main strength should be on the islands and reefs near Oldtown.
"He has left the Shield Islands out as bait to lure you to Oldtown for the decisive battle. If Crow's Eye uses blood sacrifice or similar means, you will be extremely passive. Dragonfire is strong, but the Dragons are still young."
"That is why I will not enter Oldtown," Gendry said.
"Magic is mysterious. It hungers for blood and fire, and the Drowned God is an even crueler god. You must be careful, then careful again."
"We have considered the same, Marwyn," Maester Qyburn said. "Crow's Eye seems to be trying to complete some sort of ritual. He has also been to the ruins of Valyria."
"Then for Your Grace to drive straight to Oldtown and meet him there would be a trap." Marwyn sounded somewhat surprised. "House Hightower cannot be trusted."
"Fire."
Gendry raised his palm, and a cluster of flame appeared in his hand. Golden chain links, a bronze shield, a blue sword, and a pale gray stone began to shift and change.
"I see. I see." Marwyn the Mage suddenly understood.
Crow's Eye thought he had trapped Gendry, but in truth, Gendry was setting his own trap for Crow's Eye.
"Now you can tell me some of Oldtown's secrets."
War was destined to be cruel, and Oldtown, as the battlefield, would be crueler still.
With House Hightower not exactly loyal, Gendry would not enter Oldtown directly until Crow's Eye played his hand.
"Oldtown's origins are no ordinary matter. It is said that House Hightower appeared suddenly, and that there were once Dragons on Battle Island before it was conquered.
"The black stone that fell from the sky makes me think again of the secrets of the Church of Starry Wisdom. House Hightower's roots run deep, and Leyton has stayed high in his deep tower all this time. Your Grace need only watch how things change."
The Church of Starry Wisdom originated in the eastern Great Empire of the Dawn, and was now a notorious evil religion. What sane person would pray for the Long Night?
It was said that the Bloodstone Emperor, jealous that his elder sister, the Amethyst Empress, had inherited the throne, overthrew and killed her.
He abandoned the true gods of Yi Ti, the Maiden-Made-of-Light and the Lion of Night, and worshipped a black stone that had fallen from the sky. Thus the Lion of Night brought down the Long Night to punish mankind.
...
Drums beat in a dense rhythm, and the longships and warships of The Reach, the Riverlands, and Tarth launched a dawn attack on the Shield Islands.
After Lord Jason's fleet from Seagard arrived, the longships entered the sea from Bitterbridge, gathering more longships along the way until they reached Highgarden. Then, without pause, they organized this counterattack.
Wooooo.
Horns began sounding again.
The longships of The Reach, the Riverlands, and the Stormlands spread across the sea, their banners like a forest: the King's golden quartered banner, Tyrell's golden rose on green, Seagard's eagle, and House Tarth's quartered banner.
Ships crashed together. Hulls shattered and splinters flew. The Ironborn blew low, sobbing warhorns, while the horns of the Green lands answered with dense, heated drumbeats.
"The King has come!"
"The King has come!"
"Kill the Kraken! Kill the Kraken!"
Amid the clamor, Ironborn longships that showed themselves were rammed.
Bloody boarding battles began.
Ser Talbert Serry shouted as he stepped onto the enemy's gunwale. The humiliation of losing his castle had filled him with a thirst for revenge. The soldiers of Southshield were just as deeply caught up in it.
Ser Serry's chest bore his arms: a white rose within a red shield. His shield carried the same device, a white rose set on red, ringed by white battlements in the shape of a shield.
"Die."
Serry's steel sword was of excellent make, and it moved with fierce force.
Ser Serry slammed his shield into an Ironborn, then suddenly slashed with his sword, opening the man's belly. His entrails spilled across the deck like eels.
The other reinforcements were just as brave: Garlan the Rose, Lord Jason of Seagard, and the fishermen of Tarth.
"It's time!"
Gendry took hold of Just Maid, its blue edge as gentle as seawater.
On his great warship were the red priest, the red priestesses, Marwyn the Mage, and the three Dragons.
"Go on, lads!" Gendry shouted.
The Dragons beat their wings on the ship, rose into the air, circled, and began spitting flame after flame.
"Dragons! Those are Dragons!"
"This is a fucking one-year-old Dragon? Didn't you say they were only the size of puppies and ponies?" Some of the Ironborn were losing their minds.
Three Dragons of different colors began circling above the bay, banking and turning from time to time, while longships and sailing ships collided and burned beneath them.
"Kill! Kill the Ironborn!"
The reinforcements erupted in cheers.