"I still remember every face. You remember your first?"
"Of course, Your Grace."
"Who was it?"
"A Tyroshi. Never learned the name."
"Hmm. How did you do it?"
"Lance through the heart."
"Quick one. Lucky for you. Mine was some Tarly boy at the Battle of Summerhall. My horse took an arrow so I was on foot, slogging through the mud. He came running at me, the dumb high-born lad, thinking he could end the rebellion with a single swing of his sword. I knocked him down with the hammer. Gods, I was strong then. Caved in his breastplate. Probably shattered every rib he had. Stood over him, hammer in the air. Right before I brought it down he shouted, "Wait! Wait." They never tell you how they all shit themselves. They don't put that part in the songs. Stupid boy."
oOoOo
Mopatis' armoury turned out to be the grandest that I had ever laid eyes upon. I guess that shouldn't have been a surprise, given I'd spent my entire 'career' in the services of Tobho Mott. As fantastic an armourer as he was, the facilities he had provided paled in comparison to those laid before me now. Dozens of slaves worked on either side of the large room as the Unsullied guards opened the large doors. The constant banging of hammers and sparks flying from the pounding of freshy forged swords echoed around the place, but the workers barely looked up. I noticed that some had chains around their legs, others appeared to be free workers. Mopatis caught my puzzled expression as he waved the Unsullied away, his throat mere inches from the sharp dagger Euron had held there since we had left the room at the top of the tower.
"The chains were never required before, my boy. Until recently, when word came across from Slavers Bay about the Mother of Dragons choosing to abolish slavery. It inspired revolution in some. You'll understand that I had to put measures in place to ensure that their dreams of freedom and individuality would remain that - dreams, unattainable dreams. Come, I will show you what I have so far."
Euron shuffled inside and motioned us to follow. Looking back at the dozen or so guards who had escorted us, I gave a sheepish grin and closed the large iron doors quickly, making sure to lock the damn thing behind me. I did not plan on dying today, on Euron's terms. If he wanted to make it back onto the ship alive, then so did I. Everything he had done up to this point had been carefully planned, to the point where I had a weird sense of confidence in him, that he would find a way for Wylla and myself to follow him on this quest away from this place and onwards to Braavos. What he hadn't planned on, clearly, were Unsullied guards already hidden inside the armoury.
Euron pushed Mopatis into the armoury, holding his dagger up in a threatening fashion, and motioned for him to continue alone. The Magister obliged, walking to the middle of the large room and motioning for the three slaves at the workstation to fall back as far as their reinforced chains would allow them. Euron pushed past me and his eyes fell on the black and shiny instrument that lay before him. This was clearly what he had come for. It was large, by my reckoning it would take the strength of a large man to carry it alone, and it curved up and down beautiful in an oriental shape. There were golden rings around it, each of them carrying strange words, from what I assumed must have been Old Valyrian. The gold patterns continued into pictures on the side, but it was also hard to distinguish what they were. Euron reached out to touch it, but Mopatis, emboldened suddenly, put his arm out to hold him back.
"Be careful, Greyjoy. It may still be hot to the touch. This is no ordinary horn, you know."
Euron pushed the Magister away and ran his hand over the smooth black surface. He did not recoil at the touch, though there was a slight sizzling sound and I could smell the odd aroma that could only have been burning flesh. When he tore his fingers away, I could see the deep burns singing his flesh, but he did not seem to mind. He looked at Mopatis, deep excitement in his eye. "Here sits the future of Westeros, Mopatis. Once I take it to Braavos and complete it, I shall take control of the three living dragons and burn their mother and her armies to dust. I shall fly them to the Iron Islands and destroy my brother. Then...Kings Landing...and those golden haired cunts that sit there on their fat asses. I just have one question."
"What is it?" Mopatis asked. Euron his his back turned to the man, and I noticed that Illyrio was beginning to slowly back away. Wylla, standing to my left, noticed this too, but before we could speak, Euron was at it again.
"What were you planning on doing with this horn? What allies do you have that would have helped you blow the horn, betray Daenerys and ensure the future of slavery?"
"I wouldn't worry about that," Mopatis laughed slyly. "It does not concern you any longer."
"Look out!" I screamed out of instinct, and it came just in time. The Unsullied soldier, who had cleverly hidden himself behind a large anvil at the very end of the armoury, had sprung up as lithe as a cat and had propelled his spear right towards Euron. The pirate dodged just in time, the spear whizzing past his ear and through the workshop. Euron span in place, tearing out his dagger, and threw it right into the Unsullied's eye, whose head shot back with a spray of blood splashing against the wall behind him. Mopatis, hollering instructions, began to shuffle as quickly as he could towards the front of the shop, where the dozen or so Unsullied waited outside to come in and kill us all. I shaped to chase after him, but a weak voice rang out from my left.
"G...Gendry..."
In the chaos, I had not noticed the final destination of the errant spear from the now deceased Unsullied soldier. Wylla, now laying down in the dirt of the floor, had tears streaming down her face that mixed in with the deep pool of blood washing around on her chest. The spear had found its way into her guts and had embedded deep into her organs. She had already turned a fearfully pale colour and her tongue was rolling out of her mouth, as if now out of her control.
"Help...me..."
Not yet. I'm sorry, not yet. All around the workshop, Unsullied troops were popping out of their hiding places and making their way towards Euron. I counted at least 4, but perhaps more joining them quickly. Unless I wanted this to turn into a bloodbath, with my own insides turning outside, I had to act quickly. Pushing past a slave, terrified out of his mind, I ran towards Mopatis and reached him just before he could reach the door. I tackled him from behind and he fell with a heavy thud, before I span him over and faced him directly, a trickle of blood leaving his nose. "What are you doing, you young fool? I know you are just a pawn for Euron...leave me be, and I shall..."
"We both know I'm dead as soon as those doors open," I shouted, ignoring the sounds of fighting going on in the background.
"I'm a noble man," Mopatis declared desperately. "A man of my word. You can..."
I punched him directly in the mouth, feeling the satisfying crunch of teeth and a spurt of blood gushing down the man's throat. His body went limp immediately underneath me and I recognised the slow, heavy breathing of an unconcious man. I slowly stood up, wiping the nervous sweat off my own forehead. "Fuck nobility."
Shit. Wylla.
If I had turned around a matter of seconds after I did, I would have been toast. Euron continued to fight two Unsullied with a forged sword he had grabbed, with three more bodies already laying around him. But what concerned me more was the Unsullied soldier standing over Wylla's weak form, staring back at me with those dead, cold eyes. His hand reached out and grabbed the spear sticking out of her chest, and I knew already what he was thinking. There was no way I could make it to him before he had thrown the spear directly into my heart, killing me on the spot. In a way, it was a relief. I had been in perilous situations before, almost tortured at killed by the Tickler, as an example; but never before had this sense of calm come over me. I felt ready. Apparently, somebody had other plans for me. The man tugged at the spear but it did not budge. He looked down in surprise to see Wylla, green hair quickly turning red on the ground as blood dripped down, had grabbed the shaft of the spear and was holding on for dear life. I had my moment.
I looked around for a weapon, anything, and something finally caught my gaze. A large hammer resting against the wall; not a hammer used in the forgery, but a larger and heavier version, as though a trainers warhammer that was being designed for the battlefield. I reached out and grabbed it; Gods, it was heavy. But in that moment, with Wylla holding on with all of her remaining strength, I felt as though I could have hurled it a mile. Holding it up high, my muscles straining with effort, I charged towards the man, now with his back turned, straining to get his weapon out of the poor girl on the floor. I reached him just as he span around. I swang the hammer with a roar, the head connecting perfectly with the man's chest. I found hear and feel the impact and the cracking of every single rib in his chest, his mouth exploding open as his lungs burst and all of the air left his body in one fatal moment. He did not even make a sound, but simply fell to the ground, dead before he hit, I suspect; a broken man, his chest no longer a healthy source of life but a broken collection of pieces that could never be put back together. I had a sudden yearning to vomit, but I held it in.
I was grabbed from behind and I moved to swing the hammer back at my new foe, but the steely gaze of the one blue eye met me and stopped me in my tracks. Euron, covered in Unsullied blood, held me close, his breath stale in the musty air. "Time to go, before the rest of these pricks make their way here."
He looked down at the Unsullied man, then back to me with an almost proud grin. "Keep the hammer, it suits you."
A groan from Mopatis stole Euron's attention and he made his way over to the Magister. Exactly what he did to him, I'll never know; I was too preoccupied with the girl at my feet. I leaned down and stroked her hair slowly, before looking into her eyes for one last time. They were open, and were ceasing to move; I looked over her delicate features and noticed that they were all the same. Wylla was dead. I crudely closed her eyes and laid her hands by her side, before changing my mind and placing them back on her mangled wound, her last true triumph which had almost certainly saved my life. I leaned in and kissed her cheek, ignoring the taste of copper blood which dominated her rosy flesh.
Had I expected to react with sadness and devastation, I was to surprise myself. I stood up, hammer in hand, and strode quickly towards the front of the shop, past Mopatis' bloodied body, where Euron stood listening to the Unsullied troops trying to bang the door in. Euron looked at my heaving chest, at the hammer in my hand, and he smiled again. "You loved her, no? You want a good fight to avenge her death?"
I ignored the first question, unsure even myself, but I nodded through furious eyes at the second. Euron grinned, rubbing his eye tirely, before strolling back to the scene of his victims and grabbing the horn with an audible groan. He walked back over to me, struggling with the weight of the thing, placing it down by my feet. "Heavy bastard. I wouldn't concern yourself with them, Gendry. Our help will be coming shortly."
It was as if he was a prophet. A few short minutes later, the Unsullied fell silent outside, and their pushes were replaced by the sounds of fighting and yelling. Euron threw the door open and rushed outside to join the frey. I watched on numbly as members of the Silence worked their way through the Unsullied troops, knifing them and clawing them to death as only pirates could in their disorganised but oddly systematic way. Euron, slicing the throat of the last remaining man, stood proudly and pointed back to the horn with glee. "Take the horn back to the ship, lads; before the rest of his cockless crew find us here. Best fighting men in the world my stinking asshole. They're not even fucking men."
Euron turned and began to make his way towards the shoreline. The horn was grabbed by Cragorn, with a typical snarl towards me, and a brief snigger as he glanced behind to see Wylla's body. I turned and walked to her, glancing down for one last time. I would have loved to have said she looked peaceful in death, but it would have been a lie. And the Unsullied? My first victim? His chest hung open like a God himself had reached down and torn him in two. That had been my doing. No matter what I did from that day forward, I would always be a killer. Swinging around, I left the forgery, grabbing my hammer on the way past. It felt right in my hands, as though designed for me specifically.
Try as I might, as the ship left the port, I could not get the vision of their faces out of my mind. I was starting to suspect that I never would. And, as we sailed away towards Braavos, Wylla's words rang true in my mind. You're running away from something, I can tell. Well...so am I.
Maybe running away from the life she had never desired had gotten her killed. Maybe it would get me killed, too. But something was so sure in my mind, something so positive, that I could not doubt it, not even for a second. I will escape this ship. I will kill you, Euron Greyjoy. I will make something out of the life I have remaining. It is in my blood, damn it. The Red Woman was right - there was power in King's blood, all right. There was definitely power in mine.
