Chapter 59 – September 11th 2019

As night gave way to a still pre-dawn Westerosi twilight, a distant rumble echoed across the hills around the Maidenring. It gradually increased in volume. Exactly an hour before dawn, the first vehicle passed over the remains of the barrier erected by the Faith Militant.

The M1A1 Abrams Tank thundered up the slope, churning up the rocks and dust, noticeably flattening the structure under its seventy-ton bulk. The handful of Moonbrothers that had remained to watch over the Ring rubbed the sleep out of their eyes. They staggered out of their shelters, built in a little ring around the faint embers of their campfire. They rushed over to stand on the edge of the treeline, gaping openly. None dared to interfere as the metal monster came down the far slope. A pair of red kangaroos were painted on its sides, with the words Please Explain stenciled on its barrel. The tip nearly scraped the ground before it righted itself, continuing down the dirt road beyond.

Moments later it was followed by its fellows Absolute Unit, Rule 34, Irwin's Revenge and the rest of the forty Abrams tanks that made up the 1st Armored Regiment. These were followed in turn by lines of ASVLAVS, Bushmasters and M113 armored personal carriers, all proudly baring the union jack, southern cross and seven-pointed federation star. By this point, what remained of the central section of the barrier had been flattened enough to admit the first clusters of firetrucks, their lights flashing, sirens blasting intermittently.

Before the leading Abrams had reached the Rosby Road, lines of M2 Bradleys, ICV Strykers and other vehicles were following, each one baring the American's own banner. The vast convoy kept going, the two thousand vehicles stretching back for miles. As the sun rose, the lead vehicles were many miles to the south, tearing up the Rosby Road almost beyond recognition.

Through the Ring then came swarms of aircraft, Apaches and Black Hawks, Taipans and Chinooks. The constant flow of waterbombing aircraft continued, having never ceased. Higher up in the Ring came smaller numbers of fixed-wing machines, F-16 Fighting Falcons, RAAF Boeing P-8 Poseidons and USAF E-3 Sentry AWACS. At the rear came the real airshow – a trio of enormous B-52 Stratofortress bombers, near two hundred feet from wingtip to wingtip, there for no other reason other than to look cool.

The convoy headed south. It was an hour's drive to King's Landing.

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The 1st day of February, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest

Ser Davos awoke to shouting, and the now familiar clash of steel on steel.

He blinked back sleep, heavy with fatigue after the last few nights. Around him other men were rising, pulling on their boots or buckling on sword belts where needed. He heard Lord Errol shouting commands, or it might have been lord Chyttering. The situation had been chaotic since the first night of the Lannister attack.

He had been on the far side of the city then, at the Gate of the Gods with his lord. He had been present when riders had brought news to Lord Stannis of the Lannister breach at the Dragon Gate. There had been talk of treachery – Massey, Morrigen, Tarth, Bar Emmon…no one quite knew at first. By then the fires had started on Rhaeny's Hill. A panic might have ensued, but Stannis swiftly began issuing new orders. What reserves had gathered in the central square were to be thrown back against the Dragon Gate. Davos had ridden to find Lord Renly to deliver the command himself. The young lord of Storm's End had been dumbfounded when he'd learned the truth – that it had been the Morrigens, his own bannermen, whom had betrayed them.

For a night and a day and a night again the fighting had raged. It was not some grand battle as Davos had imagined, like the Trident or the Redgrass Field. There were no neat lines on a map. Instead soldiers had gone at it all over the city, in groups of ten or twenty or fifty, from the Street of Silk down to the alleys of Flea Bottom he had known so intimately as a child.

Davos had continued riding about, a trusted face to deliver his lord's important commands. Sometimes he rode with others, even his own Devan at one point. He had crossed King's Landing four or five times in the last two days. He couldn't say who was winning or losing. All he knew right now was that Lord Lefford was having another go at taking the Iron Gate from the rear.

He had been lying on an old carpet in a house that leant right up against the city wall. He exited the door behind a column of Errol men into a greyish pre-dawn light. The wind continued to whip overhead. At times it howled so loud as to drown out the sounds of battle. Men had been muttering about it all night. Calling it unnatural. But if so, who had sent it? Lord Tywin? The Flying men? The ghost of the Mad King? Rumors were flying everywhere. Davos had his own private theory but had dared not mention it to another soul.

He saw that a press of men had formed around the barricades at the end of the street. There was Lannister red, but it was meeting a wall of Baratheon black. Men were shouting and cursing. Davos went forward cautiously. He saw some mounted men as well. One held a great white banner, with a ring of seven-pointed stars on white. Faith Militant perhaps?

For a time the tide of red surged forward. A few bold figures reached the top of the waist-high wall of crates and tables and other detritus they had gathered the previous night, but more Stormlands men were waking and emerging from the surrounding buildings. After some minutes the red began to recede. Davos heard men calling a retreat. Maybe a score of men had been left dead in the road.

Davos shuffled back towards the gate, his bones aching. I'm getting too old for this he thought, not for the first time. He had slept only a few hours. At that moment he could think of nothing better than going back to lie on the rug for a while longer. He stopped however, at another sound.

It was so deep in pitch he almost felt it rather than heard it. Could it have been thunder? For a moment he looked back up at the sky, now all reds and pinks in the dawn light, but it was quite clear, only a smattering of high wispy clouds. Other men were stopping and turning towards the gate. Atop the walls, Davos heard renewed shouting.

Cursing faintly under his breath, he found the energy to head over to the gatehouse. Men were rushing up and down the stone steps. Davos joined the stream heading up. A minute later he was atop the wall. He found a free spot on the far side where he could look over. His jaw dropped.

The sky was full of flying machines.

There might have been three or fourscore in view at that time. They looked like a swarm of angry black bees, though glinting red in the dawn. They would have been easier to count if they hadn't been darting every which way. Davos stood and stared. Most of the men around him seemed to have been similarly stunned into silence. Davos took a moment to realize what must have been generating the thunder - the collective beat of their wings, or whatever apparatus they used to stay aloft. It took him a while longer also to realize they weren't the only apparitions visible. On the Rosby Road beneath them, an even longer line of objects was moving, like a great black snake slowly crawling its way towards them.

"By the Gods" a voice was saying nearby. Davos looked over and was startled to recognize Lord Chyttering, the gate's commander. He was clutching at his neck and seemed to be fighting the urge to run.

"My lord" Davos said urgently. "My lord!" He had to repeated himself a few times before he was noticed. "The flying men" Davos said, trying to sound calm. "Lord Renly said."

"Yes, Lord Renly…The flying men…They are coming then?" he replied weakly.

"To put out the fires, yes."

"Yes, I see."

"Lord Renly said we should open the gate to them."

"Yes, quite."

Davos watched as the line of vehicles came closer. The thunder swelled in volume at their approach. Indeed, the very ground seemed to be shaking after a while. He noticed tiny pebbles falling off the edge of the merlon in front of him. That gave Davos pause. They can shake the Earth he thought worriedly. Could they also be shaking the air? Atop the wall the wind was whipping at them something fierce.

It took some minutes for the column to approach. Half a mile from the wall Davos looked with interest as they approach a mass of red and gold tents that made up Lord Rykker's camp. The previous day he had hammered at the gate with a ram for some hours. He had eventually given up the endeavor, but the Dragon Gate had already fallen by then. He would have sent many of his men to exploit that breakthrough, though a few thousand were still camped outside the Iron Gate, continuing the siege outside even as they fought inside.

The thunderous sounds had roused the Lannister men as well. Men were rushing out of tents, clutching spears and bows. Some had gathered near the road, but they paused at the approach of the…Davos struggled to find the right words. He had heard the talk of great machines of steel and fire. Were they the carriages he was now seeing?

The lead carriage was a big boxy square. It was hard to tell in the light, but it looked a brownish-yellow color, also showing the glint of metal. Atop it was a long spear-like protrusion, reminding Davos of the prowl of a war galley. Was it some sort of ram? To smash down a gate? It slowed as it passed through the Lannister camp, but no one made to block it. The sun had just about risen by the time it approached the gate itself. By now it was close enough to see the figure of a man, or his head and torso at least, popping out of an opening in its top. A hundred feet from the gate it came to a stop, its bellyrumbling. Others slowed to a stop behind it, spaced another fifty or a hundred feet apart. The man was dressed in green, wearing a helmet and holding an object in his hand Davos couldn't identify. He was looking up at them. Five hundred Baratheon men looked back. He said something, but over the wind and the thunder of the machines the words were lost. Davos turned to Lord Chyttering.

"Now, my lord. We should grant them entry."

The lord of Greenwater Brook had gone quite white. "Yes, yes we should" he said weakly. He looked around at his underlings. "Open the gate" he commanded, with less authority than Davos would have liked.

Men obeyed however. The order was quickly relayed to those below. Davos faintly heard the sound of bolts being loosened and debris being cleared. A minute later the gate swung open. Davos was looking at the green man in the carriage. He seemed to nod. He looked back up at them, giving a small gesture that might have been a sort of salute. The rumble of the carriage increased in volume again, and it began to surge forward. In moments it was passing through the city wall. The entrance was just large enough to admit it.

Davos hurried over to the other side of the wall. Men in the courtyard beyond were backing away from the metal monstrosity. Its passage was making the ground shake noticeably. Davos looked down at it in fascination. It was colored in an odd mix of greens and browns, as if half-coated in a thick sheen of dust and mud, yet it looked perfectly clean. Along either side were a number of what could have been wheels, though how exactly it propelled itself absent horse or other beast he could not fathom. The ram at its front had a lethal sort of look to it, even to the casual eye.

The carriage crept across the courtyard at a walking pace. Men moved aside, though the barricades they had put in place couldn't comply in the same way. Two hundred feet up the road the carriage paused. A few men, anticipating the problem, had begun clearing away the debris. As they did however Davos noticed something else. From atop the wall he could see some way into the city, the road into its centre curving only gently out of sight. Around a corner a line of mounted men had just appeared. He saw the gold stars banner again.

There were cries of alarm from atop the wall, though Davos was already racing for the stairs. In another minute he was down them. He arrived at the bottom at the same time as another metal carriage thundered through, all but having to leap out of the way at its passage. He raced down the street, other men joining him. A minute more and he was approaching the barricade. The carriage still sat before it. The rumble emanating from its belly was deafening now, like the hungriest beast in all the land.

All around it there was confusion. Half the men were still trying to clear the barricade, while the other half were taking up positions with spear and shield again. The line of mounted men were trotting closer. Half a score of riders proceeded a greater mass of infantry. Davos was cursing again. He could hear the cries of the riders now. The banner was the same circle of seven-pointed stars on white. Only closeup did the realize the lead figure looked familiar. He couldn't see his face, but the armor was unmistakable. Lord Guncer Sunglass. He had met the lord of Sweetport Sound three or four times over the years, while in service at Stannis' court.

The fool Davos thought. What did he hope to achieve by this?

"Stand aside!" Davos was shouting. "Stand aside! Clear the barricade!"

Hesitantly, men obeyed. The center section at least was soon clear. Davos scrambled atop a crate at one end. Gold cloaks were shoving their way past him, hastening to get out of the path of the metal monster. It started crawling forward again. To Davos' surprise it crossed over the barrier with barely any hesitation, like it was just another a bump in the Rosby Road. Wooden construction crunched beneath its steel wheels. It left behind only a flattened and splintered gap. Fifty feet ahead it stopped again.

Lord Sunglass was fifty yards away by now. "For the Seven! For the Father! For the King!" he was shouting, echoed by his riders. The line had come to a stop, spears raised, blocking the street. The carriage sat in front of him, impassive. Davos looked over at the man at its top. He was saying something, talking as if to the device in his hand. For a minute no one moved. The wind was howling down the street. Davos watched, his unease quickly mounting.

Lord Sunglass might have been feeling the same way. After a short while he broke ahead of his formation, cantering forward. He stopped twenty feet in front of the carriage. His destrier was shuffling back and forth uneasily, unnerved either by the wind or the rumbles it brought with it. Regardless, his own courage didn't seem to have left him.

"Go back!" he shouted, just loud enough for Davos to hear. "Go back to the Stranger's Domain! You are not wanted here."

The green man was looking back at him, unperturbed. He shouted something and made a gesture with his hand, trying to wave the lord aside. Lord Sunglass ignored him. After a moment there was another rumble. Davos saw the wheels of the carriage move in some complicated fashion. It began to turn to the side, trying to get past the defiant lord. Lord Sunglass tugged at his reins however and moved to block the path of the carriage. The green man said some more words. The carriage tried to turn the other way, but Lord Sunglass matched it again. The man was looking rather frustrated now. He was shouting something about the fires, about needing to pass down this road. Lord Sunglass again ignored his pleas.

"Go back!" he repeated. "The Seven compel you! By the Father's judgement! By the Mother's mercy! You are not wanted here! You shall not pass!"

There was another pause. Davos might have been holding his breath. The Baratheon men were silent. Up ahead, Lord Sunglass' own entourage were shouting and jeering in apparent triumph. Davos found himself wondering. Was some magic at work here? Had their calls truly stopped the machine in its tracks? At that moment however Davos heard the green man say something else into the device in his hand. It sounded oddly like "Driver advance."

With only a moment's hesitation, the carriage gave a renewed growl. It surged forward, inexorably, like a great steel boulder rolling down a hill. Lord Sunglass again refused to move. Instead he let out a cry of rage. He lowered his spear and kicked the flanks of his horse. He barely had time to pick up any speed, but it was a sort of charge.

Davos watched with five hundred others as the steel tip connected with the front of the carriage. There was an anti-climatic sort of clunk as it bounced off. The carriage paid it no notice. At the last moment the horse reared, its front legs flying high into the air. The horseshoes connected with an audible tapping noise, another clink of steel on steel. The carriage did not stop however.

Almost immediately the destrier was flung over. It fell onto its side in the path of the carriage, with Lord Sunglass still holding the reins. For a moment things seemed to be happening in slow motion. Davos saw what was coming. At the last moment some instinct told him to close his eyes. He jammed them shut, but he could not close off his ears as well.

What followed was a sound Davos would never forget. A sound that would haunt his nightmares for the next twenty years. A sound that existed in some very unpleasant place between a crunch and a squelch.

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Hi everyone - sorry for the delay on this chapter.

Been busier with work lately (got two jobs now actually) so writing pace will probably continue to slow.

Still have a great deal of enthusiasm for this story however and lots of ideas to take it forward. Appreciate your patience (and lets face it, my writing pace still quicker than GRRM).