29

She nodded back. Her row of archers dipped the fat coated arrows in the open flame coming from the brazier that was brought to the deck. They quickly knocked the arrows and pulled them back. She screamed in her language, "Tahk nah!" and the sky filled with flying fire.

Many of the arrows failed to even reach their foe. As for the ones that did, many fizzed out and were extinguished in the air or upon impact. Aegon commanded NeeNee to aim for the sails. Hers found one of them. The cloth caught fire and began to spread. Their archers repeated the attack three more times, each round of arrows causing a bit more of their attackers' boat to catch fire, before they were in range for the next step to his plan. The most crucial part.

Aegon took a deep breath in, then nodded to Ootrahk's man at the base of the mast. The warrior then followed orders, cutting a non-essential rope, freeing it to swing. The foes ship was far enough away to avoid them potentially boarding still, but it was now close enough for Aegon to attempt his swing onto it.

He gripped the rope and walked back on one of the cross beams of the mast, standing high above the much shorter long ship. He darted forward, gaining momentum, squeezed the rope as hard as he could and launched himself into the air. For seconds, he flew, a true dragon, circling the mast, gaining momentum and distance as he gently slid down the rope, his weight carrying the rope further as his body sped up in the air.

The long ship below was burning, the main sail all but engulfed, the deck and lesser sails starting to catch as well. The crew aboard the ship scurried in panic, as some archers, most likely the more experienced among them, gathered in formation to return fire.

As he swung in the air, NeeNee's archers let another round of flaming arrows go, but NeeNee fired something else. The momentum of the swinging rope propelled him through the air, and just as the rope had reached its apex and was about to swing back, he reached for another rope. That rope was attached to the hooked arrow NeeNee shot around one of the crossbeams of the mast. She fired it while others behind her waited ready to catch the long line, holding it taught for Aegon to catch in mid-air. The hooked arrow reached the beam, wrapped around, and caught, anchoring for another swing. He released the first rope to swing on the other, now careening to the burning ship with even more momentum. In a heartbeat, he was over the boat, the rope twisted around the mast, and he dropped down to the burning deck with a roll.

As he landed, so too did the arrows from NeeNee's archers, the last round they would send. The deck vibrated as they hit it, and he heard a few thuds and muted yelps mixed in with the chaos all around, as he rolled to his feet. The familiar orange glow from the flames swirled in with the light from the sun, and the blinding glare off the water. The blaze from the sail above him crackled, spreading quickly to the wood all around him, and them.

He was aboard the boat, covered in enemies darting in all directions in the mad scramble to put out the flames they could. Ghiscari was shouted in every direction, some orders, more panic, and as he readied himself, the dirk in his hand, most of the men on board barely noticed his dramatic arrival. The two immediately in front of him did however.

The first charged him with a spear. Aegon darted left of it, with a circular parry to its bronze tip. Then he stepped straight toward his foe, sank to his knee, and exploded upward into the thin leather tunic of his attacker's midsection in one motion. With the next, he pulled the dirk out, shoved the dying slaver into the next's spear. The impaled foe coughed out a grunt of agony as the spear sank into him. Aegon spun around the dead man's back and swung clean threw the second attacker's neck with the dirk. It didn't cut his head clean off, but the blade bit deep enough for his head to collapse into his neck and dangle before he fell with his spear skewered through the first. A piece of burning timber fell just in front of him as he stepped away from the first two. It sent the rest of the surrounding slavers that hadn't yet noticed him into another panic, running away from more and more burning wood that continually dropped from the engulfed mast and sail, seemingly cutting them off from Aegon. The men who were putting out the fires abandoned their attempts. Some jumped overboard so close to shore. More, seemingly following the orders of a booming voice through the haze, were hurriedly forming into a formation toward the bow of the boat. All this happened within an instant of his landing. The killing. The timber. The yelling. Time all around him sped up to a breakneck pace. Yet, the growing flames seemed to slow down time for him.

More were around who had yet to fully notice. Three turned their heads from the now fleeing ship of Brindled Men long enough to see their killer strike, but not quickly enough to stop him. Cutting through and moving, Aegon was now at the starboard stern of the deck. Now he'd work his way back up the starboard rail to the front, killing them all if he had to. A group of three men noticed the killings, and reacted in kind, stepping to Aegon, their long swords drawn, still stupidly staggering the timing of their attacks. The first, as always, came with a right over hand swing. Aegon caught the swords blade with the dirk, grabbed his wrist with his left hand, jumped, wrapping his legs around the right arm, crossed his feet, holding the limb firmly between them locked at the elbow. Aegon fell, spinning the arm bones till they snapped, as the man fell to the ground, and Aegon gained a longsword. With two more coming he rolled on the ground away from a swing from the second attacker to the ground were he and the first slaver fell. The slash caught his own compatriot, lodging itself in the broken arm's shoulder long enough for Aegon to bounce to his feet and throw the dirk into his neck. He gripped the longsword with both hands and parried the third attackers thrust, then another, then a backhand swipe. A forehand swipe. He's quick.

He back stepped with every parry, losing ground toward the back rail of the boat. Another thrust from his attacker was pushed away, then Aegon launched a left kick to his attacker's side. He winced. Aegon launched a fore hand swing, switching his feet and striking down hard. It was blocked. Aegon followed by sliding the sword deftly down the blade, steel screeching as it slid and thrust toward his attacker's face. The attacker bobbed his head away, but the edge of the sword still sliced through skin, a red line opened beneath his foe's left eye.

He spit at Aegon, and shoved him back with both hands. Aegon stumbled back, then bounced even further back to avoid the slash from his attacker. His swing was so strong, he fell off balance, just long enough for Aegon to step in with a thrust of the sword. It found his chest and slid into him, but the man fought back with a back handed swipe of the sword. Aegon abandoned his sword and fell back to his left, avoiding the sword, but the man, sword still stuck inside, stumbled on top of him, off balance from the last effort leaving his body, and crashed into him on the ground. His grip on his own sword failed as he tried to catch his falling body, but he climbed onto Aegon, pulling himself toward him and grabbed Aegon by the neck, his weight on top of the Valyrian. Blood dripped down the slaver's mouth, as Aegon reached to remove his squeezing hands, his breath escaping him. But Aegon was a sailor, and he could hold his breath. Long enough at least to reach for the sword still sticking out from his foe and slide it out. His attacker's grip around his throat compromised as he did, and Aegon stick it back in, further up, into his armpit, with as much of a thrust as he could lying down. It was enough to stop him and he collapsed. Aegon pushed the body off of him, and got back to his feet.

The scene had worsened, for the slavers anyway. Now most of the deck was roaring and most of the crew was jumping over board. He couldn't see very far to the bow, much of his view blocked from tall flames licking into the sky. With seemingly no one in front of him, he made his way up the starboard rail, only slightly impeded by the falling wood and the bodies of the kills he had just claimed. He stopped to recover the dirk, but paused for nothing else.

Flares of the fire soothed his skin. Beads of sweat sizzled, but the heat had more of a calming effect. He trudged through the gore, his world in slow motion, his head drunk in a blood lust, looking for his next opponent. He hadn't slept in over a day, but he had energy, or enough to finish, and the rush in his body made him feel he needed to kill.

The mast had burnt down like the wick of an enormous candle that had been burning for two days too long. With a heart wrenching crack and a blood curdling roar, it collapsed on itself, falling to boulder sized cinders spreading the blaze even more. By now the sun was blocked out by the clouds of smoke and the orange waves of the heat rippling the air around him. A shard the size of an ox cart from the mast careened down toward him. He ran toward the bow and dove out of the way of the burning lumber into a roaring flame spreading onto the rail. He landed in a pile of ash, his skin cool, his leather slaver's garb melting to his skin. His hair began to burn as well, though he couldn't feel the heat. He gathered himself and rose again to his feet and began to look through the flames.

He saw a group of archers lined in formation, firing arrows at will over the port railing. They were all on a raised deck above him and toward the port side. It was hard to see through the pulsing haze, but he thought he saw one man on a raised platform shouting orders; the voice he had heard before.

Aegon stepped out of the flames and his view became clearer. None of the remaining twenty were any the wiser to his presence, but they were all together in formation, with a commander to take away the hesitation of thought. He couldn't fight them all at once, and worse, the fucking Brindled navigator failed to get their boat far enough away after he swung aboard. They were supposed to be away by now, but the wind was fighting their course, it seemed, and inexperienced as he was, he didn't know how to adjust. The boat looked like it had lingered in the same place since he jumped. If it was to going be this close anyway, his entrance, though no less glorious, was pointless now. In fact, from what he could see, the Ghiscari were successfully reaching the boat with each arrow. Aegon hoped the losses weren't heavy, but for whatever reason, the flames left this part of the ship alone, and their commander intended to deal as heavy losses as he could before the boat sank. Aegon had to act, and quickly.

He looked around, hoping a solution would come to him. He scanned and thought. One did.

He approached the boulder sized chunk of burning wood from the mast collapse and sized it up. It was still burning, and wide. He'd have to hug it tightly to his chest to get enough leverage to even attempt lifting it, but as the flames swirled around him, he felt a confidence inside him he couldn't explain. He crouched, wrapped his arms around the burning boulder and lifted. He raised it up from his legs, arching his back as far back as he could, holding the immense weight against his chest. But the flames helped lighten the load. Not only was the chunk mostly burnt and almost ash, he felt a strength from the flames. An illogical strength coming from something unexplainable. The thing in his grasp was too big to lift. Too big for two men, ten even. But for whatever reason, Aegon was able to summon enough to get it in the air, and as his legs struggled with each step, he still found enough strength to march up to the platform. Covered by the haze and smoke, the slavers were still ignorant to his presence as he trudged closer and closer with the burning boulder of mast the weight of a horse against his chest.

One of the archers noticed as he let out a grunt at full volume, holding it longer for emphasis, and tossed the huge ball of flame and weight to the center of their formation. Only a few scattered, most of the slavers aiming and loosing their bows, crushed by the weight and burnt by the flames of the thick rolling fire log. The commander screamed and scurried away toward the bow, leaving only five or six of the archers totally unscathed.

He charged them with the longsword in his right and the dirk in his left. Three of the men were wide eyed in shock, staring blankly at the Valyrian as he charged, frozen in fear. Aegon's head was aflame, his hair all but burnt away. His body was pitch black, covered in ash and soot, the leather Ghiscari garb mostly melted or tattered away. The other three archers had more guts though, as they raced to their quills, knocked their arrows, and aimed for him. He anticipated their shots, and dove into a forward roll. The arrows flew over his head and he popped back up. He swung the longsword back and forth with little for the slavers to block with. One tried with his wooden bow, but drunk on blood and enhanced from the flames, Aegon crushed clean through the wooden weapon, and the slavers collarbone, ribs and flank. The following left-handed thrust from the dirk crunched through the next's sternum. He spun, bringing the longsword in circular backhand swing to the third archer who bounced back and away, crashing into the rail. Aegon stepped and kicked him straight to his chest, impacting hard and pushing the archer overboard. To his right, two of the remaining archers had already jumped, and one stood frozen, the burning boat around him and the burning man before him forcing a spreading puddle underneath his shivering knees and ankles, all but buckling in fear.

"Jump." Aegon grunted, his voice as deep and guttural as Ootrahk's, commanding the craven as much with his eyes as his voice. He obeyed as quickly as he could, dropping the bow and plunging into the sea with most of his brethren. The commander seemed the only one left. Aegon looked across to his crew's stolen ship. The men and women were gathered now to witness more of his victories, cheering at the edge of their boat as he raised both his hands in celebration. They quieted and then grew louder again, though now seemingly in a panic, frantically yelling something. Not chanting.

He heard it but didn't feel it. The air whistled to him, something ripping through it toward him. He looked down. An arrow hit just above his hip. He clutched it and yanked it out, flesh ripping from the wide tips of the arrow head, as his eyes found the commander. He scrambled the deck to find another arrow as Aegon bolted toward him. He was running away from the flames, and felt the enhanced strength leave his veins. He didn't need anything extra though. I'm all I need to finish this one.

He sheathed his dirk, and drew his longsword, his hands and feet positioned properly, as if he were in a castle yard. "You have a sword. Raise it. I will kill you either way. Die brave enough to try and live."

The commander said nothing, crawling with the bow in his hands toward the starboard rail. The fire roared and crackled around Aegon as he crept toward the man on the ground. He retreated as far as he could away from Aegon and looked up at him whimpering. He spoke in Ghiscari saying something Aegon did not understand.

"Talk is done. Raise your sword or die on the ground," Aegon replied in Valyrian.

"It shouldn't be long now," the slaver replied in Valyrian.

Aegon reached him and swung the longsword through the upper half of his body. He managed to cut through an arm, but the blade bit deep into the slaver's rib cage and stopped, lodged in bone, muscle, and spine. Aegon dropped the sword, pulled the dirk and finished off his neck, opening it to spill on the floor. He turned away, back toward the flame, to heal the wound on his hip.

The deck was fully engulfed from where the mast had fell toward the stern, and the flames were only spreading further toward him. He stepped in the heat, the burn soothing on the wound. He found a burning splinter and brought it up to his hip, pushing the wound closed as it seemingly fused together and shrunk slowly smaller. It itched as it healed, so he applied hard pressure with the splinter. He wasn't sure if it helped speed up the process, but it relieved the building itch better than a scratch, so he did it anyway.

Suddenly, the back of the boat exploded with the loudest burst of sound he'd ever heard. Shards of wood spread violently apart like an apple breaking and spreading under a sledge hammer. Fire followed as more booms sounded in succession, their originating points growing closer to him with each one. The boat shot burning shards everywhere, as it crumbled and expanded all at once, all together with each booming burst. Aegon couldn't figure out what was happening, and in less than a heartbeat, the boom was close enough to send him airborne and flying into the ocean. A flash of heat and light bathed over him in an instant, then he was flying.

He saw some of the Brindle People who cheered him, die, and the boat he had taken command of catch fire. He landed flat on the water, smacking into the surface harder than a cobblestone street from a tall tower. His mind went black just after he hit.