Blood and Fire and Ice
Chapter 1
Aego
"We should not go there," Najaho said, shifting nervously on his golden haired stallion; the beast trembled under the weight of his uncertainty, but like a true master rider, he quelled its fears with a simple squeeze of his thighs. His own fears could not be so easily assuaged. "The dead Valyrian cities are to be avoided; the Valyrians were destroyed by their own magic. We will find nothing but sand, ghosts and bones!"
Aego, riding just ahead of his faithful rider, allowed himself an amused smirk. "Vaes Tolorro," he said, naming the abandoned city in the distance in their harsh tongue and mocking Najaho's cowardice.
Asavva, riding beside Najaho and Kovarro, spat into the red sands. The day had been unforgivingly hot; the sun had stood over them like the eye of angry god, baking the sands of the Red Waste and making the hundred riders that followed Aego regret their decision to follow him. Of course, none dared to utter a word of disagreement. His arakh was much sharper than his tongue, and his tongue was sharp enough. "Najaho, you're a coward! Aego is strongest. We follow him where he goes."
Najaho growled at her. "Shut up, woman. Aego fears nothing; he is descended from the Valyrians themselves. He has nothing to fear. The ghosts will follow us back to the khalasar and reek havoc on us."
Aego tensed; his black stallion, Shierak, stopped on a dime and turned him to face Najaho. Najaho was a giant, almost a full head larger than Aego, but he flinched. For it could not be denied that Aego was a son of the Valyrians. His features were sharp, as if chiseled from stone. His eyes were a stunning purple that glowed, like molten magic. His hair was like spun silver, and it was tied into a tight braid that tickled his upper buttocks.
"Enough you coward," Aego spat. "If you don't want to come, leave your horse and arakh and make your way back."
Najaho grumbled under his breath and looked away. Aego continued on. The Dothraki were a simple people; to them, the strongest man would always rule. Many a man in the khalasar, even those in his own little kha of one hundred riders, hated the sight of him. They said often that he was cursed. As a child, his father, a Valyrian who claimed to descend from the Westerosi kings, had kept him alive. Since his father's passing, many had tried their hand at taking his life. All had failed; his braid had grown longer with each victory.
Kovarro, who was smaller and thinner than Najaho with hawk-eyes and cruel beard, doubted him next. "Najaho does have a point. Why venture there? We will find nothing worth taking and risk the wrath of the Valyrian gods."
Aego repressed a growl; Kovarro was not so easily cowed. "The Qaathi caravan will pass through here. It is the chance we've been looking for to ambush them."
The three of them perked up suddenly; even Najaho stopped his sulking at the thought of that possible plunder. They had been roaming the waste for nearly a week now, looking for a target. It had come in the form of a massive caravan from Qarth, numbering almost five hundred. It had been too well guarded for their mere one hundred to take it in open combat. So they had stalked it quietly.
Aego did not know what had drawn him to the waste; the Lhazar was not much farther from where they had started, and it was much more fertile with cities to take. His instincts had proven him right. The caravan had ten massive closed carriages, no doubt filled with treasures from the far east. It would be a haul that their khalasar of one thousand had not seen since earlier days, when they had been feared on the plains.
The city was just as Najaho had imagined it. A city of bones. The walls that the Valyrians had built were still standing, even after hundreds of years of desolation. This must have been one of their farthest east outposts. The white walls were stained the color of blood by constant beating from the red sands. The wind hollowed angrily and, just for a moment, Aego imagined that he had indeed awakened the sleeping ghosts of Old Valryia. He crushed that thought quickly beneath his heel; his father would have beaten him for thinking such craven thoughts. We are descended from dragons, he would say, the sheep and horses alike fear us.
"Kovarro, come with me. We'll inspect it."
They left Asavva and Najaho in charge of the kha and slipped into the coffin city. Unlike the bare trails that could be sparsely found in the waste and the Lhazar and the Dothraki plains, the roads were made of some stone and very easy to pass through. The city itself seemed to be built like some kind of grid, all stemming from a square at the center. They followed the roads to the center and once there, they gasped in unison.
Sitting like a monument to days long passed was a dragon's skull. The beast must have terrorized men its day, for the grinning jaws were large enough to swallow a horse with a draw cart whole. Underneath the gaze of the beating sun, above the sands of the waste and with the wind blowing hot in his face, Aego thought that the beast might have been breathing fire on him for daring to stop on its grave. He could not resist a grin.
"I hope this is worth it," Kovarro said to him.
Aego grunted. Kovarro was a man of reason, not superstition as many of the riders were. Once he saw how easily they would plunder, his doubts would vanish. After a long while, they drew up a proper ambush. They placed them men carefully, using the walls of the dead city to hide their trace. They had a few light footed men run about the area, making sure to clear the hoof prints left by the horses, lest they be noticed before their trap was sprung.
As they waited, Aego could not help but stare at the sky; it was a deep blue today, with not a cloud in sight as if the Great Stallion was trying to cool the harsh red of the waste. He took it for a sign, the Great Stallion was going to offer him an easy victory and an unspeakable treasure. His father had taught him about the religion of the Westerosi; the one god with seven faces. He had come to know many other gods in his time, for the slaves of the Dothraki were allowed to worship as they pleased. He held them all in great regard, but none could be a match for the Great Stallion. The Stallion did not demand worship or sacrifice; only that one take everything made for them, everything beneath the blue sky.
They waited there until the sun began to slide away from its pedestal in the heavens. The sky was canvas of golden, red and orange. As night drew nearer, the ghosts of the dead city grew bolder. Every breath of wind was suddenly the groan of the damned. Aego seethed; he despised superstition, but he would not subject his riders to an entire night in this damnable place. But, just as he prepared to call a retreat, one of the many gods of the universe answered his prayers for blood and fire.
They heard the sound of hooves, and the sound of rich, fat men. The men spoke in Qaathi, which made Aego frown. He could understand High Valyrian, for his father had spoken it, and had hoped he would be privy to their plans in that manner. They were jolly enough it seemed. None of the guards moved to check the city for raiders, just as Aego had hoped. The Qaathi were well aware that the Dothraki feared dead Valryain cities, and had taken this route in hopes that the ghosts of Old Valyria would scare away would be raiders. Aego marveled at his own cleverness.
When the last of the caravan had marched past his position, Aego stood from his hiding place and raised Shierak. They stalked out into the open, following the caravan like a shadow. Ten riders emerged from the shadows to stalk with him, Asavva one of them. All of their fears were suddenly gone. They were the ghosts now, they were the terror lurking in the hearts of men. If the Valyrian ghosts dared to interfere in their hunt, they too would feel the sting of Dothraki steel. Aego gave Asavva a signal and she let loose a flaming arrow into the air.
His war cry was thunderous; the battle madness took him then. He could not hear his own cries, only the cries of his surprised enemies. Everything was half a breath slower. He came upon the first soldier before the man had time to turn; the man paid for his slow reflexes with his head. The next men turned, trying to dig his spear into Sheriak, but lost both weapon and arm before he could prove dangerous. The other Dothraki crashed into the rear of the formation. The front of the group, smelling the blood, fled in panic. Aego and his men took care to cull the souls of those who were lost in the panic.
Kovarro and a group of forty erupted from behind the white-red buildings. They forced the caravan to change direction very suddenly, leading them further into the trap. The panic doubled. Many of the guard suddenly realized that coin was not worth their lives, and they took off running, preferring to face the desert than the Dothraki. Najaho came with the final wave, and they funneled the remaining caravan to the square.
The Dothraki made a death circle, closing of all exits from the square and taking the soul of any man who strayed from the center. But, they hesitated to move forward. The Dragon's skull stood large and terrible, keeping them at bay. The caravan took the time to regroup. The important people were placed at the center, the remaining guards became a shell of pointed spears. Aego growled; the time for planning was over, he could no longer fight from the rear. It was time for blood. He leaped from his horse in one movement and clashed blades with the nearest man. His men took heart of his example and followed eagerly into the fray. The battle madness was stronger now. He did not know how he was moving, or why, yet he dodged swing after swing. His blade sank into a tiny man's side; the creature went flying away in spray of blood and bone and guts. Another died when Aego's arakh sank through his helmet, tasting his brains and eating his memories from his grasp. Who were these insects to think that they could stand before him; to think that they had earned even a drop of his glorious blood?
His rage took him to the center of the formation, near the dragon's head. Now it was not soldiers, but merchants. They did not fight for their lives, they begged. Yet, they met the same fate. At the very center was a short man dressed in fine robes, and a woman in red; tall and beautiful. Aego grinned at the sight of her. His first prize amongst many. The man was screaming at the woman in their language; his anger quickly turned to pleading as he saw Aego. Before the fool could cry, Aego split him from shoulder to hip and painted the dragon's maw red; it was grinning now, having tasted blood for the first time in hundreds of years. Its fires made him more eager.
Aego grabbed the woman by the neck and pushed her against the dragon's teeth. He smashed his lips into her; she did not resist, to his displeasure. Instead she returned it, deep and passionate. He pulled away quickly and squeezed her throat. He wanted fear. "Don't you understand, bitch?" he raised his arakh closer to her face. "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk, and then the men will fuck you, and then the horses! You're my prize!"
She looked at him with deep, almond eyes that shined with such fire that they almost seemed as bright as her copperish, red hair. There was a ruby on her neck, and it shined brightly. "The first prize of many, I'm sure, Khal Aego."
Aego's breath hitched; the battle madness left him and he came spiraling quickly back to the world of mortals. Her eyes stared unflinchingly into his own. Her red lips were bleeding slightly from the force of his attack on them, but yet she smiled knowingly. He quickly withdrew his hand and placed his blade on the side of her neck; she did not flinch, she merely continued to gaze into his eyes.
"How do you know my name? Are you a witch?"
Her eyes filled with mirth and she chuckled; she spoke next as if telling a child something that was painfully obvious to an adult. "I am no witch, great Khal. I am Melisandre. I am merely a humble servant of the Lord of Light, R'hllor, the one true God."
Aego eased slightly; he knew of the religion of the Red God. A few slaves in their khalasar practiced it faithfully. That did not, however, explain howthis strange woman knew his name. For that matter, it was strange that she could even speak Dothraki. Her accent was extremely strange, but her tongue was true. "Answer the questions or die slowly. How did you know my name? Where did you learn to speak my tongue so clearly?"
"I trained for many years to speak this language, and many others, Khal Aego," the Red Woman said calmly, though she eased her neck away from the edge of the blade. "I knew this tongue would be useful for me on my journey to find you. As for your name, I have always known it. Maybe even before you did. I have seen you in R'hllor's fires. You will ride at the head of the khalasar of khalasars. I have come to help you along the way."
The mystic of her character both intrigued and angered him. He had no faith in her Red God, so her ramblings about it were annoying at best. However, the last of her words piqued his interest. Still, he found it irritating that he could see no fear in her eyes; he had ridden down all her companions, yet she acted as if she had planned it. He would break this mystic of hers; she would grovel at his feet.
A hand touched his shoulder and he nearly cut it off, but it was merely Kovarro. "Aego, all the Qaathi are dead. We lost seven riders."
"Leave their corpses here to rot," Aego said. "Most of the guards fled, if they regroup and return, we will lose many more. Take all the horses that are strong enough to come, and do not open the wagons until we are far from here."
The men regrouped quickly and happily made their way from the ruins of city. It was late night now. Aego had Melisandre ride on her own horse.
"The foreign bitch dares ride with us?" Najaho had asked, but went quickly silent went Kovarro shot him a knowing look. It was best not to interrupt Aego when he was playing at his cruel little games.
Aego had hoped to break the woman immediately; Dothraki did not ride hard like other men did, they rode much harder. Their steeds were trained from birth to run faster for longer. A normal man would immediately fall behind when riding with them. He had hoped the grueling journey would break her spirit, but she disappointed him. She rode alongside his forward group with little trouble, never falling more than five strides behind them.
The Red Waste was unforgivingly cold in the night, so they rode until they reached the southern edges of the Lhazar. Aego kept riding until he found a very noticeable hill, with flat land on all sides of it. He set his guard diligently; the Lhazar was teeming with other raider groups, and he would not be caught unawares in the night. The wagons were placed at the top of the hill, and the men who were getting the first chance to rest, the older and more experienced riders, sat in a circle around the wagons and a small fire.
Aego had Najaho keep the men at bay while he, Asavva and Kovarro checked the wagons. Most of the wagons were filled with fine silks from far far to the east. For Dothraki, the world to the east may well have ended at Qarth and the Bone Mountains that jutted from their to the northern sea like the spine of Essos; what lay beyond the mountains was beyond their ability to pillage, so may as well not have exited. Aside from silks, there were jewels and scrolls. One carriage was filled with strange eastern armors and weapons, which he would fully inspect later. The last two carriages made him grin, for as he stared inside, something stared back at him. There were some thirty slaves, mostly women, huddle inside. They were very foreign to his eyes. They had skin the color of milk, hair that was thick and shiny and narrow eyes.
"Exotic women," Kovarro said. "I'm sure the merchants would have made a fortune for these in Slaver's Bay. We could too ..."
Selling slaves was forbidden amongst the Dothraki, but Aego and Kovarro were men of practicality. Aego thought hard on it, but decided against it. Slaver's Bay was too far, especially considering they were already two days late returning to camp. The khalasar would move on without them, no doubt. It would not do well to lose the khalasar, even if they were not his yet. "Let's reward the men for their good work."
Aego reached in and grabbed one of the women by the hair; she screamed and fought but was no match for him. The men watched eagerly, hungry to have their prize. He chucked her beside the fire and stared out into the group.
"Who of you doubted me?" Aego demanded. They were silent. So eager. So loyal. "I heard your whispers in the wind. A ghost city. A demon city. Only a demon would lead us there. Who doubts me still? I have brought you more in this week than you have known since Khal Ohollo was smashed by Drogo at the river crossing. Bury your doubts! Bury them under fine silk and fine women! Doubt me no more and I will give you everything beneath this great blue sky!" He tossed her into the fray and they fought until the strongest man had her.
The women fought hard, but all were eventually in loving embrace. There were two men and one boy amongst the group. The men were not spared, but Aego took the boy for himself; he needed someone to explain the weapons to him. The boy, probably three and ten in age, cowered, but followed him silently. Kovarro and Asavva slipped away into the night and Aego went a ways off to join Melisandre. She was seated by a fire of her own and she had a hand on Sheriak's sleeping belly.
Aego saw one of the men keeping vigil, barely more than a boy with the hint of a mustache on his lip, staring at the Red Woman. Aego hissed at him and the boy quickly returned to his duty. Aego sat and beckoned the milk skinned boy to sit. He did, on the other side of the fire. He stared longingly into the grass, relief clear in his face.
"Red Woman, do you know the language of these people?"
Melisandre took her eyes from the fire and met his gaze. "Yes, my Khal. They are from a land beyond the Bone Mountains called Yi Ti … it is far, but closer still than my home."
Aego resisted a growl; the bitch wanted to speak about herself. "Where are you from, Red Woman?"
Her eyes flickered dangerously. "I hail from the Land Beneath the Shadow, Khal Aego. You may know it as Asshai."
Aego resisted a flinch at the sound of it; Asshai was as close to hell as Dothraki could imagine in their culture. It was said that necromancers and witches practiced their dark arts openly in that land. Ghost Grass was found in Asshai, and it was common knowledge that the world would end when the ghost grass of Asshai consumed the entire world. But, he refused to show her fear. He did not fear her, magic or no. "You are a long way from home, Red Woman."
"And I will go a longer way still in your service, Khal Aego."
Aego laughed heartily at that. "I am no Khal. And you're brave to assume you'll be serving me … but maybe you aren't wrong; you are a beautiful thing." He was not lying; her face was shaped like a heart and her body looked supremely thick and curvy beneath her thin, red robes.
"You may take me as you wish, Khal Aego," she said without batting an eye. "But, I know that you're a different breed of man than those who follow you. You're young, but plunder and rape are not all you seek. You want a Kingdom. You want a Kingdom of everything beneath the blue sky; the journey will begin soon. In less than one week, one thousand riders will call you Khal as I do now."
She had spoken Aego's deepest wishes into existence. "Khal Ohollo lives," he said bitterly. "I cannot seek to become Khal as long as he lives."
Melisandre eyed him inquisitively; she was searching for weakness in him, he realized. "The Dothraki follow the strongest, do they not? If am right in assuming you're the strongest of your khalasar, why haven't you killed him and taken what is yours."
"It is not so simple, bitch," Aego said with a sneer. "He has given me no reason to kill him; if I kill him without cause, the riders will split up and go their own ways." She continued to stare, prying until he relented and added. "After my father died, Khal Ohollo kept me alive long enough so that I could defend myself. I won't kill him unless he gives me a reason to."
"And what if he lives forever?" Melisandre asked. "Will you you deny yourself your birthright forever?" He gave her a measured look, unwilling to succumb to her questioning. She was his prisoner, not the other way around. She smiled. "It matters not, my Khal. For upon our return, the Khal will give you every reason you need to end his life."
Aego thought of asking how she knew it, but he knew she would say she had seen it in her flames. He decided to leave the point. He would let her ramble on for now; if her visions proved true, he would keep her at his side. But, if he was not a khal by the end of the weak, he would make her know pain unlike anything she had ever known. He spent the rest of his time questioning the boy through the Red Woman.
The boy told a tale of hardship and forced migration. There was a civil war happening in the land of Yi Ti; his father and his household had been captured and sold. Only his father and sister remained; they were among those being beaten or raped, or whatever the men were doing with him. Aego thanked his luck; a former soldier would definitely know of the armor and weapons they brought with them. The boy's name was Yao, his father was called Fa and his sister was called Mei.
"You'll serve me boy," Aego said. "Whatever I say, you will do. Your father will serve me too. If I find you worthy, I'll give you blade and a horse to ride. Serve me well and one day you'll have a woman to ride, and the horrors of slavery that awaited for you will never come to pass. After tonight, I'll make sure no one hurts your father or sister."
The boy nodded eagerly when Melisandre told him; his eyes lit up and he began to cry. Aego said nothing else the rest of the night. Melisandre began chanting at some point into the fire. It was soft and she changed languages every minute or so. When she graced his ears with Dothraki or Valyrian, he knew that she was praying for the dawn and he resisted a snort; the dawn was promised.
Whether by Melisandre's chants or simply the way of the world, the dawn did come that morning. They rode hard for the entire day, stopping only for food and water. During the breaks, the women were pulled from the wagons. After they ate, they were turned over to the riders. Aego was a man of his word, however. Yao pointed out his father and sister and Aego gave the orders to leave them be; there were no words in Dothraki or in High Valyrian that Aego could think of to describe posture of relief that enveloped the small family.
The man who had claimed Mei was a brave soul and demanded to fight for his prize. They left his body for the crows when they drove on.
It was three days hard riding before they reached the camp where they has last seen the khalasar. The khalasar was long gone, leaving only the usual proof of a town on the move. They were not perturbed. They followed the a trail of horse shit and prints for two days until they finally came upon the khalasar. The first thing that gave it away was the smell of the horses, then the sounds of the playing children and training men.
The khalasar paid them no mind as they entered. Aego gave his orders quickly. The majority of the captives were given to the Slave Mothers, who would inculcate them to their new roles in the khalasar. He only allowed Najaho to keep one from himself. A portion of the spoils were sent to the khal, the rest were placed in the center of the camp with five riders to guard them. The other riders watched jealously; it seemed that the other khas had returned with very little to show for their ranging.
Aego found his tent, which had been set up by his Norvoshi slave girl, Iya. She nodded upon seeing his return, though she watched the other four occupants warily. The man, Fa, stood like a shadow over his son and daughter. He was sullen and defeated, tired from his journey and devastated by his inability to protect his children. Melisandre, on the other hand, looked radiant. She always did, Aego realized. Even after five days hard ride with little rest and no water to wash with, she looked radiant.
Iya prepared them a meal of lamb, and Fa wept and spoke in his eastern language. Aego looked to Melisandre. "He is very thankful," she said.
Aego only nodded; the man had been helpful. His knowledge of the weapons and armors had been extensive; apparently his primary function in whatever conflict he had been involved in was smithing, on top of his duties as a soldier. He said, given the right materials, he could reproduce everything. Aego had told him that he would find him a place amongst the Dothraki smiths; they were limited in their knowledge to simply making arakhs and composite bows. Once he was Khal, he would be sure that they could form the curved spears and light armor he had seen in the cache.
He interrogated the man more as they ate. The armor apparently was made of a hardened leather and iron; instead of being a single solid plate, as warriors of the Free Cities and in Westeros wore, it was made of several plates, strung together with clothe; this allowed for great maneuverability. The sleeves could be added or removed easily for archers. Aego smiled at this; the Great Stallion had blessed his boldness.
The Red Woman seemed to read his thoughts. "Do you see now, Aego, the power of R'hllor? He has brought you more than you could have imagined."
Aego frowned and said nothing. They were in the midst of their meal when Kovarro slipped into the room, looking fraught and excited. "Aego … the Khal is in a fit of rage. He's walking through the khalasar, looking for you."
Aego caught the Red Woman's eye and she smiled; he resisted a shiver. "Stay here with them. I will meet him."
The air was absolutely electric; the whole khalasar was watching from a distance. Blades had been drawn, and Aego realized suddenly he had left his in the tent. His fears were assuaged when Najaho walked up beside him, carrying his arakh readily at the hip. They found the Khal with his two Bloodriders, yelling loudly in the faces of the five young riders Aego had left to protect his spoils. They cowered, they but held their ground.
"What is the meaning of this?" Aego demanded. "I sent you your share of my spoils."
Khal Ohollo was a hulking man; in the entire khalasar, only Najaho was larger. He was covered in angry, red scars that had never fully healed and his braid was short as a reminder of when Khal Drogo had crushed him on the banks of a river. His khalasar had numbered ten thousand then and he had had six bloodriders. He only had two now; Chakko and Argo, who were tall and thin twins with beaks for mouths.
"What of the slaves?" Ohollo demanded, fire in his eyes.
Argo was taken aback. "All but one were sent to the Mothers," he said, genuinely confused. "I allowed Najaho to keep one, as is my right. He only has one tent slave and he is allowed two."
"And what of the four you snuck into your tent, you little whelp? You think me blind? You took three of the milk men and some red whore."
Aego steeled his stomach; he had not expected this argument to come so quickly. The Khal's anger over it was also surprising; he had kept more than one slave to himself before, and the man's rage was usually lukewarm. Was this the work of the Red Woman? "They're useful to me. The three milk men have knowledge that the other's don't about some of the treasures I took. The Red Woman is for my own purposes." He saw that reason was falling on deaf ears to the Khal and his belly grew hot with rage. "Who are you to demand me this? I took those lives with steel and blood; you should thank me for giving you a piece of it."
Chakko stepped forward, hissing, but Ohollo stopped him with a hand on his chest. His anger was visible now. Common riders and women were cowering; the Kos, who hid very well in the shadows, watched intently. "I am your Khal whelp! When your father died, it was I who kept you alive until you could fend for yourself."
"Then your debt to him is paid! Did you forget that my father died to save you from Drogo? You have no right to what's mine!"
"Fucking pup!" Ohollo spat. "You'll regret your words. My debt is paid? Fine; then I tire of the curse you place on my khalasar! Your father may have saved my life from Drogo, but it was him who brought the doom upon me in the first place. When the sun rises in the morning, I will kill you on the grass. I will not have you burned; you will be a feast for the crows as your father should have been, you Valyrian mutt!"
Khal Ohollo was suddenly beyond redemption. "After I kill you, I'll fuck your wife and have a horse fuck your son's corpse!"
Without another word, he strode away. The fear was tense in the air, but it was simmering down. Even in his blind, unnatural rage, Khal Ohollo was a man who took care of his khalasar. The people had feared that the argument would lead to open warfare between the two groups, which would have seen the khalasar destroyed. The Khal had been gracious enough to challenge him in the morning, on the grass and away from the women and children.
Kovarro and the others were waiting expectantly in the tent. "He challenged me; we fight in the morning," Aego said.
"To single combat?"
"He didn't dare," Aego said, realizing it only now that his rage had subsided. The Khal had not challenged him to single combat. "Which can only mean that he has allies and they plan to kill us all in the morning. Stupid fuck, I have allies as well. It must have been Bhobo who spoke this poison in his ear. I will have that bastard's head one day."
There were nine Kos, including Aego. Bhobo, Ozo, Kaffo, Hrazzo, Sajo, Carro, Assilo and Thabo. Bhobo and Ozo were brothers, and they stood together in their absolute hatred of him and his deceased father and mother. They had tried time and again to have him killed. Hrazzo and Sajo were his allies, though the Khal had failed to see it; he had approached them long ago on this matter and they were men nearly as ambitious as he was. Thabo was the problem, for Assilo and Carro would follow him without question. He was a traditional man, who believed strongly that the strongest should rule.
"Go and have words with Hrazzo and Sajo," Aego told Kovarro. "Tell them that tomorrow might bring bloodshed and they should be ready if they wish for this khalasar to be great again. Have a man spread a rumor that the khal is a coward and he won't fight me in single combat. That may sway Thabo. Najaho, make sure the men don't drink tonight. They'll need their wits for tomorrow."
The two vanished silently into the night. Aego turned his gaze sternly to Melisandre. "Is this the work of some sorcery? The Khal has never been driven to such rage!"
"I assure you it is not," Melisandre said, cool as a breeze. "No doubt the Khal has been festering resentment for you for a long time; it is hard to be a leader when everyone knows that there is a better man in their midst. But if it was sorcery, would it matter? The Dothraki have taught you to fear a power that they do not understand. I know many dark arts, my Khal; arts that will one day help to make you the khal of all Dothraki."
Aego did not broach the subject again; he realized starkly that he did not care. His mother had been the one to teach him to fear sorcery. She had died when he was but five years and he hardly remembered her. His father, until his death just five years ago, had held the Dothraki superstitions in contempt. He dwelled on it only for a moment, for the excitement had made him tired. He fell asleep quickly.
Kovarro roused him the next morning, just as the night sky began to take on some color. The air was tense enough to cut. All the riders of the khalasar gathered just a few hundred meters from the tents. No one brought a horse, for there was no greater sin amongst the Dothraki than killing a horse of your own khalasar. Aego got a glimpse of the Khal's young wife, barely younger than him, and her three year old son; no doubt she had heard his proclamation before the khalasar, for her eyes were red from a lack of sleep and she was shaking with fear.
The Kos stood before their Khas; no one had drawn a blade yet. Khal Ohollo waited for only a moment after Thabo and his men arrived to spit in Aego's direction. "This whelp has denied me my right, and I will kill for the curse he's placed on this khalasar."
"Those lambs are mine," Aego said simply. "You are a coward to try and take them! I lost seven riders on the sands of the Waste to get them, while you sat here with your one hundred riders and cowered at the memory of Drogo." Aego spit into the ground for emphasis. "I have heard of your cowardice! You've plotted with Bhobo and Ozo to kill me, instead of facing me like a man in single combat on the plains!"
There was a hiss as many drew in air; Aego had laid the bait. The Khal's face was suddenly perturbed and he was at a loss for words. Bhobo quickly came to his own defense; his voice was high and pitched like a mouse or squealing whore, Aego thought.
"Plot?" Bhobo said. "Is it plotting to defend one's Khal and Khalasar? You and your lot have cursed this place. You have visited dead Valyrian cities, as your wretched father did before you! He bragged of how he visited the heart of the Doom of Valyria just days before we met Drogo at the river." Bhobo turned to the other Kos. "We should kill them now before the curse spreads further!"
"Where I get my spoils is my business," Aego said quickly. "You should fear my arakh more than you fear the dead Bhobo. If you want to involve yourself in something that has nothing to do with you, you're welcome to! And you as well, Ozo! The Great Stallion should have given me six arms and three arakhs so I could kill all three of you cowards at once."
There was a ripple of laughter. Aego scanned the crowd, though he dared not look at his allies, lest he give them away. He laid eyes instead on Thabo, who was thin and gaunt and so stone faced that he may as well have been a statue. "Will you all stand for this cowardice?" Thabo's silence and stare was deafening. Aego did not break eye contact with him.
Sajo, a short and bald Dothraki, came to Aego's defense. "I must agree with Aego. This is a small khalasar; it would not due to get even smaller. Aego has done nothing worth the slaughter of him and his riders. Let them handle the dispute on their own."
Hzarro nodded in agreement. They were at an impasse. Aego did not break eye contact with Thabo; they were having a battle of wills. Aego swore at that moment if Thabo sided with the Khal, he would kill him. If he failed, Aego promised he would haunt Thabo till the end of time. Carro and Assilo looked at each other and then looked to Thabo, waiting for him to state his piece before throwing in their lot.
Thabo's face softened and he sighed. "I am no ally to the Valyrian boy … but the Khal has plotted alongside others to kill him. I have followed you for many years, Khal Ohollo, and it seems that if you would resort to such measures, you have grown weak. This should be a simple matter." Thabo looked his Khal boldly in the eye. "You should have slain him last night when he refused you, instead of drawing us all here and trying to get us to kill him for you."
Aego refused to let the victory rush to his face. Ohollo made an angry sound and stepped forward. "No man dares call me weak! Fine then! I will end this simply; step forward and die you whelp!"
Aego drew his blade eagerly, letting it sing for blood in the crisp morning air. He eyed Chakko, Argo and Bhobo, wondering if they would ignore the Khal's wishes and try to move against him. Bhobo slinked back into his men, and the other two grudgingly held to their Khal's words. Aego allowed himself a grin.
They met in the center in a clash of steel. Ohollo was stronger than Aego was and used his strength to push the younger warrior back. Aego barely resisted, letting Ohollo muscle him backward; he took a step to the side, the Khal lost balance for a second and Aego smashed his fist into Ohollo's temple. The beast of a man stumbled, but swung on his blade on a back hand. Aego leaped back, taking a only small cut to the belly.
The battle madness took him then. He rained blows on the Khal; the blow to the temple had dulled Ohollo's senses and he could barely move his blade to parry. Aego planted his foot in Ohollo's chest. The Khal fell on his back, but rolled quickly to his feet to avoid being impaled. Ohollo parried a strike and slid his blade up, nicking Aego across the left arm before the younger fighter made some distance.
Aego took a breath. He launched forward. The Khal took a wide, flat swing. Aego, with the nimbleness and flexibility of youth, ducked. The blade took strands of his silver hair as penance for his bravery. Aego sunk his arakh into the Khal's belly. The tip found Ohollo's intestines and Aego jerked before pulling away. There was a spray of blood and the Khal's guts burst into the open air. The Khal fell to his knees, using his blade to stop from falling well into the grass.
Khal Ohollo looked up pleadingly. Blood flowed freely from his mouth and he had but moments left. "M-m-my son?" he managed to utter. Aego did not say a word to him. The Khal closed his eyes, realizing his folly. He feared not death, Aego could tell, but he loved his son. "A-a at least have us burned together!"
Khal Ohollo's head came off too easily, Aego thought. He had always believed that the Khal was made of sturdier stuff. Little blood spurted from the neck, for most of it had already escaped through his belly. The Khal's bloodriders did not wait for a second before screaming and charging down on Aego; custom demanded that they avenge their Khal or die trying. They never made it to him. Najaho and Kovarro were in the way in less than a moment's notice.
Chakko fell first; he had the unfortunate luck of coming in Najaho's way. Najaho split his head like splitting a melon and smiled throughout the process. Argo fought longer, but Kovarro spun away from a poor swing and split his back open so deep that some of the bones of his spine flew right out. The morning was suddenly quiet.
Aego turned to Ohollo's one hundred, personal riders. They held him in contempt, but he was their master now. He grabbed his braid and held it high like a bill of ownership. "Once again my braid grows longer!" he spat. "I proclaim myself as Khal of this Khalasar; any man who would challenge me for it can step forward and die!"
Aego scanned the Khas; he paid particular attention to Thabo, but the man looked indifferent at best. Finally, his eyes landed on Bhobo. "By all the custom of our people, I am the Khal now. Am I still cursed, Bhobo? You can end it now! Come and end the curse I've brought upon you." Bhobo did not move. "If no man will challenge me, get back to your women and children. Tonight we will burn Ohollo and send him to the Stallion. We ride for Vaes Dothrak in the morning."
They dispersed quickly, and he knew at that moment he was Khal. Slaves came to grab Ohollo's body. Aego quickly turned to Kovarro; their victory was tenuous for now so he would not celebrate. "Place five riders at my tent until I return to it; I'll not have the lambs I killed the khal for killed in revenge."
His own men were ecstatic, for they were now royalty. He gave Najaho orders to keep them orderly and calm. Aego moved quickly towards Ohollo's massive tent, which would be his from that day forward. Ohollo's young wife, one cycle younger than him, was standing guard alone. Her son was asleep in his father's furs. Her eyes were bloodshot and she held a knife in her hand. At the sight of him, a pathetic sob left her lips. He stepped over to her slowly; she held the knife dangerously for just a moment but the trembling of her hands caused it to fall loose.
Aego grabbed her by the chin, she resisted and closed her eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. He rethought his comment. "I'm not going to kill your son. I'm going to take him to Vaes Dothrak; he can live there forever, free from my wrath. This is my gift to Khal Ohollo." She had opened her eyes, and she was looking at him pleadingly now. He could see the joy in her gaze, the disbelief.
"Your name is Verri?" she nodded dumbly. "I am letting your son live for the Khal's sake. He begged me, in his final moment … but he said nothing of you. What do you have for me? I promised I would fuck you bloody after I killed him."
The tears that had left her eyes returned anew; Aego relished the power. He had no plans on killing her. She was worth much more to him than the boy, but she had to be broken. She had to truly become his. "I'll spare you," he said to her finally, but he grabbed her waist and pulled her close, letting her feel Khal Ohollo's still warm blood and hardness of his loins. "Tonight, after we burn Ohollo, you will show me your gratitude. I could take it from you … right here, in front of your son. But, I am merciful. You'll embrace me with open arms after the pyre."
Rumors spread quickly across the camp about how young Verri had managed to spare herself and her son the wrath of the new Khal; Aego found them amusing. One he heard from the men was something along the lines of she had shown him the best couple minutes of his life. Another was that they secretly had always been lovers, and that was what had thrown Ohollo into a mad rage. But, he knew, underlying the rumors was the simple truth that everyone would think in the back of their minds; he was merciful. It would go along way to tether Thabo and his lot. Thabo would have no respect for a man who killed a babe.
The tension was thick throughout the day. Aego did not allow anyone to ride away, and had his men keep a tight watch on Bhobo and his group. They were quiet, however. By the time the night had finally come, Ohollo had been set on his massive pyre before the open stars. It was a great honor to be burned, for then one could go and ride with the Great Stallion in the sky. Ohollo had promised he would not give Aego the same honor, but Aego knew better than to leave the Khal for the crows; even Kovarro and Najaho would have resented him for that.
Melisandre followed Aego like a shadow, insistent that she would see the fire. Aego let Verri light the pyre, as was custom. She did not meet his gaze, but as soon as Ohollo's body was alight, she slid past him and into the tent. Aego could not help but smirk at his victory. His gloating was quickly transformed into reverence for the wide open sky and the man flying up to meet his god.
Melisandre was chanting quietly beneath her breath. Her words entranced him, though he understood little of it. The shadows of the khalasar began to dance to the rhythm of her sonorous voice. He was lost in that trance for hours it seemed. As the fire licked away at the Khal, she begged for the dawn and he found himself begging with her. The dawn, the dawn, the dawn. Light to break the dark. Fire to burn away the evils.
He snapped from his trance. Melisandre was starting into his eyes; her brown eyes had turned red!
"My Khal. The Night is long and full of terrors, but the Fire will burn them all away."
