The door was slammed open and he discovered, in horror, that they were in a cramped long room that contained the right side of the oars and their oarsmen, little more than a dozen.
They were all chained, he noticed, much like they had been as prisoners, but they were too close to them to run away without being held back.
They were grabbed and led to the middle of the room. He clutched the egg closer to his body.
Once they were in the middle of them, though, no one touched them.
The man that had opened the cabinet door looked at one his companions and started to move his hands, making fast and complicated hand signs, underlined by sharp clacking noises.
The other responded, pointing at them, then at the outside, then made some other signs.
This is how they communicate to each other, he realised.
They were graceful movements, he thought, like a dance, and yet those strange, beast-like noises made it a creepy sight.
The dialogue soon became an argument, while other oarsmen started to gesture frantically, touching the others to catch their attention. He imagined it was their version of raising their voices.
They all looked worn, exhausted and very, very old.
Most of them had greyish hair and heavily-lined faces. At first glance, they all looked like each other, although, observing closer, he could see that they had different skins, eyes, shapes, and they probably came from all Westeros and Essos. Their clothes wore little more than rags, torn on their backs where he could see whipping marks and crusted blood.
These are not sailors, he realised, they are slaves. And they all had their tongues ripped out.
He exchanged a glance with Alleras, who looked as confused as he was.
The man that had opened the door gestured the others to stop, then looked at him.
He pointed at the fetters at his feet, then at the others, then at something above them.
He could see in his eyes the eagerness to communicate, and how the lack of tongue frustrated him.
-Are you Ironmen?- he asked.
Every man in the room made a clear, outraged denial sign.
Good.
-Were you caught as prisoners, too?-
Other confused signs.
The man in front of him raised a hand to calm them, then nodded.
He had a maniac eyes, feverish and desperate, but it seemed to him that they were deep and intelligent too.
-Do you want to escape?- Alleras asked bluntly.
This caused mixed reactions: some of them eagerly nodded, others objected.
Perhaps they thought it was too dangerous, or that he was pointless because they risked to be caught again (and he imagined it would have been even worse), he couldn't understand.
They started to discuss more and more violently.
The man in front of him grabbed him by the shoulders and nodded vigorously.
I don't care what the others are doing, he's trying to say, I want to get out of here.
-Give me the keys.- Alleras said.
She unlocked the man's fetters, then raised the keys over her head.
-Those who want to stay, stay. For those who want to escape, here are the keys. If you want to take your revenge against Greyjoy, there's a battle out there, and we can still win!-.
Then she tossed the keys to them. The men started to argue and tried to steal the keys from one another.
-Let's go.- she said.
They ran away from the oarsmen, while the silent man followed them.
The dragon egg was heavy on his arms, yet he still wanted to carry it himself.
-We have to go on the deck.- he said –There's no point in wandering in this ship. We must go outside and try to jump out.-
-But there are hundreds of people on the deck! They will see us!- Alleras objected.
The silent man gestured something that they couldn't understand.
-What? What are you trying to say?-
He sighed, frustrated, then gestured them to follow him.
He led them to a cabinet, and when he opened it, they saw there were helms, breastplates, hard-boiled leather jerkins. All of them were rusty, broken, or partially discarded.
The man quickly wore a half helm with a big hole on one side, and covered his rags with a jerkin, then gestured them to do the same.
Anyone who looked at them twice could understand that they were not Ironmen, he thought, but in the confusion of the battle they could hope not to drive attention to themselves and make it for the shore.
-You know- he said, as he reached for a huge full helm whose visor didn't close properly–perhaps bringing you with us wasn't a half bad idea.-
The man shrugged. The gesture reminded him of someone, but he couldn't tell of whom.
They went outside on the deck, where the battle was raging.
The "Feathered Kiss" had rammed the "Silence" and the sailors were trying, so far unsuccessfully, to board it.
They tried to walk towards the closest rail. They were almost there, when one of the Ironmen grabbed Alleras by the collar of her tunic.
The silent man tried to punch him, but the man only pushed him on the floor as if he was a weightless rag doll.
He took off his helm and smashed it with all his might against the man's stomach. The Ironman doubled up with pain, but at that point the others had become aware of their presence.
Soon, they were surrounded.
A man reached out for Alleras, but in the moment he touched her, an arrow went through his skull.
He fell onwards: behind him he could see Khalaya with the bow still in her hands.
The Summer Islanders had managed to break through the first line of defence of the Ironmen and to board the ship.
Khalaya offered a hand to Alleras to help her rise.
-I thought you wouldn't want to risk to go into battle.- Alleras said. -You said you couldn't risk to lose your ship.-
-You know -Khalaya replied -My ship is not the only thing I wouldn't risk losing.-
Alleras smiled:-Thank you Mother.-
They hugged each other.
-She's your mother?- he exclaimed, incredulous.
-You should go ashore.- Khalaya urged him when she and Alleras parted.-Greyjoy would kidnap you and ask for a ransom.-
-Why?- he asked -Who would pay for my ransom?-
She and Alleras exchanged glances.
-I'll explain you later.- the latter said -There's no time now.-
He picked up the dragon egg from the ground and walked to the plank. The silent man followed him.
When he reached the shore, he found himself in the middle of another battle.
There were bodies on the ground, half covered in blood and sand.
The islanders were still fighting against the Ironmen.
We're winning, he realised.
The arrival of the Summer Islanders had turned the tables of the battle.
He couldn't feel the rush of adrenaline as he had felt earlier leading the first charge, though.
He looked around, searching for familiar faces.
Finally, he saw Mara: she and Sam were fighting against an Ironman, knee deep into the water. The man's back was turned to him, so he picked up a sword from the ground and stuck it through his back. The sailor collapsed with an inarticulate groan.
-You're alive!- Mara exclaimed, and embraced him tightly. She was half-covered in blood and dirt, but it didn't really matter.
-Are you hurt?- he asked, noticing bruises and scratches on her face and on her arms.
She shook her head:-I'm fine. Sam was amazing. He saved my life half a hundred times.-
Sam laughed:-Not really.- he said, but looked quite proud nonetheless -Mara went warning Khalaya when they took Alleras.-
-Did you know that Alleras is a girl?- he asked.
Mara smiled:-I could tell.-
-How?-
She shrugged:-Her hands. And her neck. What happened to you?-
-I was taken prisoner, but I escaped.- he noticed the silent man approaching them.-Oh there he is. I don't know his name, his tongue was ripped off. But he helped us and...-
He stopped talking, noticing that Mara had gone very pale and looked at the silent man as if she had just seen a ghost.
-Evan?!- she said, incredulously, stepping closer to him.
He didn't have time to answer.
A hand grabbed Mara from her hair, and suddenly a blade was pressed against her neck.
She tried to jerk away, but a strong arm was holding her.
-Drop you sword, Imp.- said the rasping voice of Euron Greyjoy -Or your wench dies.-
He let the sword fall at once. He gestured towards Sam and the silent man to be quiet.
-Leave her alone. It's me you want. She's naught to you.- he reminded him, trying to sound as calm as possible.
-Aye, she's naught. Might as well kill her. How would you like that, Imp?-
His blue lips were curled into a maniacal grin.
He has just lost everything, he realised, he's desperate.
-Leave her be, and I'll yield.- he proposed.
His blade pressed harder against her neck, opening a thin cut in her skin.
Mara was as still as a stone.
-You yield!- the Ironman laughed bitterly -And what about the Summer Islanders?-
-We'll negotiate the peace- he said, stepping towards him.
-I don't negotiate peace with an army of women, crones and freaks.- Greyjoy spat out -I need blood. A sacrifice. And I'll have it now.-
The muscle in his arm contracted to sink the dagger.
-No!- Sam exclaimed, and the silent man let out an inarticulate moan.
They heard a shrill cry, and Greyjoy let go of Mara at once.
A boy had jumped on him and bitten his hand.
-Ceryl!- Mara cried desperately.
Greyjoy tossed the boy on the ground and raised his hand to hit him.
He moved instinctively, grabbing Ceryl and shielding him.
He almost didn't feel the blow on his head: he only saw the water, closer and closer, and then only dark.
He dreamed about going underwater, and trying to breathe, and he felt the water filling his lungs.
He saw a stone bridge, and men of stone reaching for him and pulling him under again; he saw a fire, erupting from a fanged mouth, melting the creatures around him and turning him into fire too, but he felt no pain. He dreamed of flying over the Seven Kingdoms, breathing fire, water evaporating under his touch. And when the dream was over, and he felt the world coming back to life around him, Tyrion Lannister opened his eyes.
So, we're at the end.
The next will be the last chapter!
Thanks so much to The Mad Reader and Maya Serena for leaving comments! *hugs*