"Commander?" Aboard the Iron Victory, Nute the Barber watched the body of "Kraken" Victarion Greyjoy slowly sink into the black water.
"What in the hell is happening?" Nute the Barber found it beyond belief. He had just watched the commander of the Iron Fleet throw himself into the sea to escape his suffering.
Victarion had once been a bull of a man. Now, there was almost no flesh left on his naked bones. His whole body had withered and shriveled.
Then there were those twisted, wriggling little things, worms with faces, snakes with hands.
They brought fire and death, but feared ice and water, feared the cold.
Because of the torrential rain and the sea waves, the waters of Oldtown were bitterly cold. The human-faced worms thrashed and twisted in the icy water until they died, as if they had never been alive at all.
"It's the curse of the Dragon Horn!" someone aboard the Iron Victory shouted in terror.
Everyone backed away from the Dragon Horn. Not one man dared blow it again.
"Kill the dark-skinned woman. Avenge the commander," Nute the Barber said. "She was always with him. The commander poured his heart out to her. She has poison in her too."
"She was a gift from His Grace Euron," the Lame One said hesitantly.
Red Ralf nodded. "I remember the commander saying he didn't want his brother's leftovers. He'd made up his mind to slit her throat and throw her into the sea as a blood sacrifice to the Drowned God. But in the end, he never did it."
"She was only a gift. Now that her master is dead, the gift has no right to live on," Nute the Barber ordered. "His Grace won't ask questions."
So the sailors dragged the calm, mute woman from the cabin. Victarion had treated her as the hollow of a tree, a place to bury his secrets.
The dark-skinned woman was beautiful, with brown skin.
She was quiet, docile, and obedient, but she also meant danger. The commander's death could not be separated from her.
The woman did not cry or struggle. She did not hiss back like a venomous snake. That only made the sailors fear her more.
"Kill her."
The sailors cut the dark-skinned woman's throat with daggers, then threw her straight into the sea.
The brown-skinned woman's blood spread through the seawater, sent to accompany the commander of the Iron Fleet in death.
"Now Victarion feasts in the Water Palace of the Drowned God, where mermaids will satisfy his every need. We remain in these Green lands to carry on his great cause," Nute the Barber said.
"He was a great man. May he find joy in the Water Palace."
"What do we do now? The Iron Fleet has no commander. It is like a horse with no rider."
"I say we report to King Crow's Eye."
"There's no time." Nute the Barber made his decision at once, then took something out and raised the Crow's Eye sigil in his hand.
"His Grace once gave me authority to handle sudden emergencies."
The Barber had been Victarion's best man, and he had been made a lord, though his Shield Islands lands were already lost. With Crow's Eye's sigil as well, everyone could only accept it.
They all felt this matter had something to do with Crow's Eye, but now was not the time to look into it.
"Pick out two more thralls and keep blowing. If it still has no effect, return the horn to King Euron. As for the Iron Fleet, we keep advancing," Nute the Barber ordered.
"What do you mean?" the Lame One asked him. "You want to become commander of the Iron Fleet?"
"What do I mean? To the Stag, the Iron Islands have rebelled three times in ten years, and our enemy has three Dragons. All I know is that if we lose, the Ironborn will be crushed to dust, with nowhere even to be buried," Nute the Barber roared.
"Lame" Ralf, Red Ralf Stonehouse, and Nute the Barber were of one mind. They would keep fighting.
The Iron Fleet continued to hold the formation Victarion had arranged.
With the death of the brown woman, Crow's Eye Euron Greyjoy felt a faint stab of pain in his head aboard the Silence.
Even a skinchanger would feel pain when the body that held him was destroyed.
Crow's Eye's soul was simply strong enough that he did not suffer like an ordinary skinchanger.
"How is this possible?" Crow's Eye wondered. "When the Dragon Horn sounds, Dragons should fly to it. Whether they hate the sound or revere it, they fly toward the horn. But this time, why are the Dragons showing no reaction at all?"
"Could it be the mage by Gendry's side? I heard Great Lord Stannis fell under the red priestess's spell long ago. Perhaps a red priestess has that kind of power," Malora Hightower said.
"Unlikely." Crow's Eye shook his head, though a smile still hung at the corner of his mouth. "I've killed many red priests. Their powers do not reach that far."
"One plan has failed, but that only makes this war more interesting."
Crow's Eye ordered the battle horn blown. Boarding combat. More blood. Did that wild stag think Crow's Eye had only these tricks?
"I see the crown of victory," the madwoman said.
"That crown belongs to me," Crow's Eye said confidently.
"Blood. I need more blood." Crow's Eye was still irritated. The Dragon Horn was meant to sound, the Dragon was meant to come, and then Victarion was meant to die.
Had he known the Dragon Horn would fail, binding not even a single Dragon, Crow's Eye would never have had the brown-skinned woman act, feeding "poison" to Victarion, commander of the Iron Fleet.
The eggs of firewyrms from the ruins of Valyria were priceless. Only the heat and force stirred by the Dragon Horn could make them hatch early, aboard the Iron Victory.
A long, terrible cry rang out across Oldtown again.
The Dragon Horn cut through the air, its sound sharp as a blade.
High above, the three Dragons danced wildly after defeating the stone beast and the Sphinxes.
The black Dragon Balerion led the green Dragon Vhagar and the white Dragon Viserion in ravaging the battlefield, firing spears of flame in many colors at the Ironborn.
The Dragon Horn tried to crush the Dragons' wills, its sound waves spreading like ripples, but pale-gray "Stubborn Stone" runes from Storm's End rose with power over the Dragons' scales.
The horn's sound struck the brief flicker of pale-gray runes and did nothing.
"How many times has the horn sounded now?" Woodcock asked Alleras from atop the Citadel wall.
"The fifth time, Woodcock," Alleras said.
"This is a real horn, not the disposable rubbish from the Citadel and Hightower, but for some reason it isn't working."
"Yes. A horn that chills the blood, yet the Dragons are still dancing, still breathing fire." Woodcock looked up at the sky. The battle was growing bloodier and bloodier.
"Will it never end?" Gendry thought as the Dragon Horn sounded again, still to no effect.
"The Dragonlords of Old Valyria used binding spells and magic horns to control their mounts. We have words and whips," Daenerys said.
"But that horn is terrifying. Why doesn't it work on the Dragons?"
"It is a gift from Storm's End."
"Yes, Your Grace. Why aren't your Dragons afraid of the Dragon Horn?" Marwyn asked, still shaken. "No wonder Crow's Eye came to fight us. Besides the stone beasts and the Sphinxes, he had the Dragon Horn too."
The red priestess watched Gendry with interest. She guessed that Gendry perhaps understood some magic, but it was certainly not the ritual path of sorcerers and priests. It was more like the ancient Dragonlords' path of the self.
Gendry smiled faintly. "Crow's Eye has hidden cards, but so do I."
"Your Grace is protected by the gods. You are not someone a monster like Crow's Eye can harm." On a small longship, Rodrik Harlaw, half frozen after swimming through the water, had changed into a golden quartered robe and knelt before Gendry.
It had to be said that Rodrik the Reader had a remarkable life. He had managed to swim over alive and surrender, though his longship fleet had already been destroyed.
"This monster is your king, the one you chose yourselves," Gendry said, looking at Rodrik.
Rodrik was a dove among the Ironborn, and the first great lord of the Iron Islands to surrender to the Iron Throne.
He was unwilling to follow the Old Way, but his words had carried no weight.
Harlaw was not the largest of the Iron Islands, but it was the richest and most densely populated, and Lord Rodrik's strength could not be underestimated.
"Yes, Your Grace." Rodrik lowered his head. "The Old Way once suited the Iron Islands, because we were one of many small kingdoms then. But Aegon's Conquest ended that age of division. Why do the Ironborn refuse to see it?"
"It seems 'Harren the Black' and his sons were not enough," Gendry said.
With more Fire and Blood, perhaps the Ironborn would become a little wiser.
Rodrik knelt fully on the ground. "I am willing to trade my life and my wealth for the lives of Asha and Theon Greyjoy. They did not take part in Crow's Eye's rebellion."
"Rise, Rodrik. I know you are a good man. But words are wind. Both of them took part in Balon's rebellion. I need to see their loyalty."
"Where are the two of them?" Ser Barristan Selmy asked curiously.
"Asha fled the moment she heard Crow's Eye had become king. Theon may still be in The North. No one knows whether he is alive or dead."
Though both were failures, Balon's children still had some value.
"Victarion may be dead soon," Rodrik continued.
"What?" Everyone was still shaken by the news.
"Crow's Eye's gifts are always poisoned. He sent his brother to blow the Dragon Horn and never meant to let him live. Just as he sent my men to take the Citadel, only for them to be nearly wiped out by Dragons."
The sharp howl of trebuchets began beyond Oldtown's northern wall, hurling stones at the Iron Fleet on the Honeywine.
The rose heralds on the wall raised their spyglasses, then lifted flags to signal.
Trebuchet stones as large as heads smashed into men, pulping flesh and shattering skulls.
The sight was just like the Battle of the Blackwater, except the Reachmen's "Three Ladies of The Reach" were not as terrifying as the "Three Whores of King's Landing."
"Long live the Storm!"
"Ours Is the Fury!"
"Long live King Gendry!"
"Long live King Gendry!"
Beneath the golden battle banners, brutal hand-to-hand fighting began.
The Dragons climbed high, then plunged, their surging dragonfire striking the longships again and again. The Iron Fleet tried to attack the Dragons with ballistae and scorpions.
But these young Dragons were also the most agile Dragons, moving like unmoored boats.
"Damn it. Watch the trebuchets, and use grapnels, ballistae, and throwing spears. Don't let the Dragons rampage any longer," Nute the Barber shouted, growing frantic as he watched the Dragons show their might. "These Green lands people are truly cunning."
The main fighting took place in the built-up districts along both banks of the Honeywine. After the flood left a layer of water behind, only longships could move easily through them.
Randyll Tarly and Garlan Tyrell led the Reachmen in battle on the west bank, while Gendry fought alongside Lord Jason on the east bank.
The longships drew little water, and the flood here was not deep. Many soldiers simply jumped straight into the water.
Anguy and the Fletcher led longbowmen aboard the longships. They drew their bows, and arrows became a net that blotted the air, falling over the Ironborn.
The knights dismounted as well and began butchering the enemy hand to hand.
This battle was like the muddy melee of The Dance of the Dragons, except now it was fought in stinking water.
Gendry stood in the black water, "Kraken's Wail" in his hand.
"Kill the gold cloak! He's the king!"
"He's the king!"
There truly were Ironborn unafraid of death rushing at him.
Gendry gripped his battleaxe. He swung the Valyrian steel axe, and it became a dance of death.
Gendry's long axe first took off the head of one Ironborn, then cut the second in half at the waist.
A third Ironborn tried to block with his shield, but shield, armor, and man were all hacked away together.
Steel split armor, flesh, and shield. Blood flew everywhere.
Gendry wore black scale armor, with white knights and elite soldiers behind him like sharp blades. They swept forward like sickles through wheat, unstoppable.
Gendry's battleaxe howled as he carved out a bloody path.
The sea turned slick, heavy with the smell of death and blood.
All the blood slowly soaked into the water, then seemed to sink into the depths, consumed by the sea.
The seawater began to bubble again, as if it were about to boil.
"All ships, fall back!" Lord Jason shouted at once. This was an ill omen.
The seawater seemed stained with a layer of blood. A great beast would appear again.
A blood-red shadow seemed to flash beneath the sea. Then came a terrifying colossus, a Kraken spreading its mighty arms.
"Back! Fall back!"
The seawater bubbled and gurgled. Seeing the battle ahead turning against him, Crow's Eye brought the Silence and the main reserve fleet onto the water as well.
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