Land of the King

Chapter 62: The Sorrows

The Black Walls of Volantis were certainly a sight to see, Garin decided. An ominous sight, casting a dark shadow over the Rhoynar upstream, and yet an impressive sight nonetheless. Even from the safe distance his army had taken, he could see the dark splendour of the walls.

Even from where he stood, they seemed well and truly massive. Supposedly, they were two hundred feet high and were so wide that no less than six four-horse chariots could race atop the battlements abreast. No siege tower could scale them, nor could any siege engine breach or damage them in any way. They were, for all intents and purposes, impregnable.

Had he been almost any other man, Garin would have despaired at thinking he could possibly breach the Black Walls, but he was Garin the Great, Dragonslayer and victor of countless battles. He had won at Selhorys, at Valysar, and at Volon Therys. Not even the three dragons and their riders who had destroyed Sarhoy could stop him, they had all fallen against his army. Not even the Black Walls of Volantis would daunt him.

However, he didn't need to take them, he just needed to wait. The largest city of the Freehold outside the Valyrian Peninsula could not hope to feed itself. He just needed to wait, until either the city staved, the Valyrians sent dragons against him for a proper battle, or Arnor finally came to their aid, even if he doubted whether or not they were truly needed.

The Grand Army of the Rhoynar was the pride of their people. All the fighting men of the Rhoynar, a significant part of their populace, had all come together to help bring an end to their old enemy. At long last, they would have their revenge, revenge for Sarhoy, revenge for centuries of injustices, misdeeds, and atrocities committed against their people by the Valyrians, and revenge for the conquest and enslavement of the Rhoynar so many centuries ago, a destructive conquest that only now had they truly recovered from.

Said recovery could be seen in the numbers of his massive army, three hundred thousand strong. More important some would say, were the hundreds if not thousands of water mages they possessed. Enough to drown this city, if they wished. However, he held off. While drowning Volantis was perfectly possible, it would not be a good idea for now. They needed the Valyrians to fight them on the Rhoyne, if they fought him inland or at sea their magic would not work as well.

So instead they waited outside Volantis for the Valyrian relief force to arrive. He knew the Valyrians could not afford to lose Volantis. Of all their colonies it was their crown jewel, the capital of the Valyrian holdings on the Rhoyne. It was the eldest and proudest daughter of Valyria, loyal and true. They could not afford to lose it, Garin knew, and that would be where their defeat would be.

So he waited patiently. Vaguely, he thought of the possibility of the Valyrians not arriving. No matter, if they did not, the Arnorians would, and then Valyria's defeat would be certain. So all he had to do was wait.

His wait however, proved to be a short one, as the afternoon came around, several thunderous roars were heard in the sky, and to the distant east, he could see a great darkness in the sky like a cloud of death.

Looking through the far-eye, he tried to determine the number, and yet he couldn't. The number was too great to count, hundreds at least. 'No matter,' he told himself. 'Three or thirty or three hundred, we shall drown them regardless.'

"Sound the horn!" he shouted for the men. "Get the water shields up!" he ordered as the dark cloud of death came ever closer at a speed that did not seem possible. And yet, they were not fast enough to catch them unawares, as the horns of the Rhoynar were sounded, and the mages started lifting the water from the Rhoyne, bringing it around the army like a shield, while some of the other mages prepared to shoot water at the incoming dragons like throwing spears.

With a great roar, four hundred massive dragons came bearing down upon them and fast. But not fast enough. In an instant, hundreds of dragons unleashed their fires upon the Rhoynar host simultaneously.

Thousands were reduced to charred ash and bone by the flames in seconds. However, tens of thousands more were shielded by the water that covered them, instantly boiling away but protecting those beneath it. To the credit of the Rhoynar, they did not buckle or break before the fury of the dragons, and now their turn had come.

Our turn, now.

Immediately, Garin gave orders for his army to counterattack. The artillery shifted towards the dragons, and the archers quickly drew their bows in support, pinning the dragons. Throughout it all, the armies of the Rhoynar spread out into their trained formations, assembling into groups huddling close to the river as the water mages pulled more from Mother Rhoyne to both defend her sons and strike down her enemies and pull them from the skies.

With a roar of their own, the host of the Rhoynar fought back. Scorpion and windlance bolts were unleashed, arrows loosed and boulders flung from their trebuchets. Great spouts of water were shaped into spears and whips and shields and walls. Like the shell of a turtle, the water walls and shields formed an armour around the Rhoynar, only opening to allow their army to shoot back.

'We can do this! We can fight back! The sons and daughters of the Rhoyne will be free at last from the tyranny of the dragons!'' thought Garin as their tactics felled and injured over a dozen dragons in a single moment. Garin did his best to ignore the screams of the men that had burned where the dragon flames broke through the water walls at times, their sacrifice would be remembered when the battle was won.

Yet the dragons were not daunted, as they rose higher and higher into the sky, until the water mages could no longer touch them. Then with a savage roar that they could hear even with the dragons being but specks in the sky, the dragons turned and dived towards them.

The plunge was so fast, their mages barely had anytime to concentrate the water upwards. So fast were they forced to do it, that the Rhoyne could be seen losing its water level from all the water being sent upwards. Here and there, some gaps were created and the dragons blasted through them with dragonfire, killing thousands. And yes, many dragons did not pull up in time from the dive, helped along by the water whips pulling them down.

'We can hold,' Garin thought. And yet as the dragons pulled away again, another horn was heard, and the gates of Volantis opened, and the garrison came pouring out. Out first came the Valyrian cavalry. They had always mocked them as cheap copies of the Arnorian knights, and yet in that moment, as the force came out and formed in front of the walls, the kataphractii had never looked more menacing.

And yet, before they could react to that threat, the dragons came down again, targeting the front of their formation, closest to the forming Volantenes.

"Intensify forward shields!" he screamed, before the mages did as such, to protect the targeted front. They were barely able to do it, so powerful was the might of the dragons, concentrated in one place, and countless burned before the shields were reinforced. The dragons paid a price for it, but their losses were less and less while the Rhoynar's accumulated, and just like before, the dragons quickly pulled back out of range.

With another horn blow, the enemy cavalry started its charge. Even from the distance, and even compared to the dragons' roar and the movement of the water, few things with a cavalry charge, as the ground shook even from where Garin stood, as what must have been over ten thousand horses charged their forward positions.

"Artillery! Archers! Loose at the enemy!" he ordered as the trumpets were sounded conveying his orders. "Mages, let your whips fly at the cavalry."

And yet, before that order could be conveyed, with a great roar, the dragons attacked their forward position again. Yet again, their mages had to focus all their might at repelling their dragons, yet this time they did it with fewer losses. 'Thank Mother Rhoyne for small blessings,' he thought before the enemy charge came into contact with their lines. Unprepared, and with their mages all focused on defending against the dragons, all his soldiers had were spears and swords against the onslaught.

It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough, as the enemy kataphractii went through them like a sickle through wheat, cutting their forward lines to shreds. The screams could be heard even across the great distance between Garin and the fighting.

It took only a few seconds before the front begun to rout and with them, the mages. In that moment, the dragons fell upon them again, and this time the water shields did not hold, as the dragonfire turned many of their fleeing forces into ash. And yet even more were still alive, having lost all cohesion and fleeing towards the centre were Garin was, the Valyrian cavalry hot on their tails.

"Give the order for all mages not maintaining the water shields to bring the water of the Rhoyne down upon the enemy cavalry."

"But, my Prince, our troops are among them…"

"Just do it!" he snapped at the man. Garin knew what he was ordering, the death of his men, and yet he knew it was a sacrifice he would have to make. How many were about to die? Thirty thousand? Forty thousand? He didn't know, and yet it had to be done. 'The dragons alone we can wear down, but combined with the cavalry, they can break us,' he thought, cursing his hubris for not having drowned Volantis before.

Suddenly, with a great chant, the waters of the Rhoyne rose in one great column, sapping the surrounding river of most of its water, before it crashed down upon the charging Volantenes.

The screaming of men and horses and even a few dragons could be heard as the water dragged all those caught with it down into the Rhoyne and to their deaths. 'It had to be done,' he reminded himself as the dragons came at them again, only this time they weren't able to do any damage. Instead several more dragons were caught and dragged to their doom. 'We must have killed forty already', he thought. 'Now let's kill the others.'

And yet, it seemed as though the mounting casualties were seen by the Valyrians as well, as at the next attack most of the larger dragons pulled away, leaving only a few dozen smaller dragons, fast and nimble. They were so fast that as they attacked this time, none were caught or slain by the Rhoynar, dodging everything they threw at them, and yet they did not have the power to do much damage to the Rhoynar either.

The cowards, they did their bit of damage and now they were disengaging. No matter, he would make them pay. No more hubris, no more blunders, today Volantis would drown.

"Have the mages not needed to keep the shields against these smaller dragons prepare to drown Volantis."

"But, my Prince, it will take them a quarter of an hour at least to gather all that water."

"No problem, we're not going anywhere, and neither are they," he ordered, and soon enough a massive column of water begun to rise in the middle of the Rhoyne. At long last Volantis, your time is at an end, now is the season of our vengeance.

And yet, as the column rose more and more, the death of Volantis growing taller and taller, a great roar was heard, way in the back. Turning alongside his army, he saw where the other dragons had gone. Upstream, just out of range from them, hundreds of dragons had descended down. And yet they weren't moving for them. No, they were going for the water.

Hundreds upon hundreds of dragons were releasing their flames into the river, as plumes of steam higher than anything he had ever seen rose in the air. More and more the steam rose, and he watched with growing horror as the river became more and more shallow. The Rhoyne was boiling.

"Mother Rhoyne, what are they doing to Mother Rhoyne!?" Garin could barely choke out.

"My Prince, the mages are reporting they no longer have enough water to sustain the column needed to flood Volantis."

"So be it," he said, realizing the danger they were in. "Have them use that water to maintain our shields. Sound the order for the army to advance towards the Valyrians."

However, before the man could respond, suddenly, it started to rain. But it wasn't normal rain, it was hot, so hot it hurt the skin whenever the drops fell on them. How? What is happening? He asked himself, before he realized. The boiling water, it's coming back to the ground, he realized in horror.

"Have the mages protect us from this rain," he ordered.

"But my prince, we don't have enough water to protect us from both that and the dragons," a mage replied.

However, before he could answer, a roar was heard, and he saw in horror that only around a hundred dragons were still boiling the river while the others were instead all falling on the rear of his army.

And this time, the shields were too weak to hold, and the men below burned. As the flames reached the ground, the shields disappeared, and the fire poured through, incinerating all in it's path.

"Hold! Redirect the shields!" he tried to order, but it was too late.

Panic had gripped the army as the men broke and fled, and the water shields completely disintegrated with no one maintaining them. And as the army routed, the flames fell upon them, consuming all before the gates of Volantis opened again and the infantry of the garrison sallied forth.


"Now, what a prize my loyal soldiers have brought before me. Garin the Great," a Valyrian dragonrider mockingly said as he was brought forth in chains in front of the man. "Tell me Garin, how great do you feel now?"

Garin spat at his feet, mustering all his defiance, and not wanting to show the horror in his heart at all the men he had led to their deaths.

"Do not mock me dragonspawn. I might have been defeated here, but so long as a single Rhoynar lives by the shores of Mother Rhoyne, we will never stop fighting you, and when the Arnorians come, they will drive you back to the Fourteen Flames and then to hell where you belong!

"Yes you are right. Well right about the first point, I'm not so sure about the second but irregardless, rest assured my dear Garin, that we have plans in mind for your people and for the new… management so to speak, of the Rhoyneland. Now we just need to figure out what to do with you."

"Go ahead and torture and kill me all you like. If you think the threat of death will make me bend to you, you are mistaken," Garin said with determined resolve. Death was no less than what he deserved for his failure. He still wondered why it had been that he had lived while most everyone else had died.

"Kill you and make you into a martyr? That won't do my dear Garin." A sickening smirk grew on the dragonlord's face, "I have something better in mind. Throw him in the golden cage, and hang him by his arms from the grills! Our dear Grand Prince will be my personal guest for the duration of this campaign."

At that Garin lunged for the Valyrian, restrained from choking the life out of his smug face only by the chains holding him back. Screaming at him, he shouted, "Kill me! Kill me you bastard! Are you too much of a coward to do it? Go back to the abyss Valyrian! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your people!""

The dragonlord grew wroth then and his fake politeness dissipated, "Do you not know death when you see it, mongrel? This is my hour!" he shouted as he drew his sword into the air. Flames burst into existence, running along the length of the blade and drawing in all the air around them, making it hard for Garin to breath before the Valyrian brought the blade down onto the ground in front of him, the flames extinguished.

Walking forward menacingly, he kicked Garin in the crotch making him crumple to the ground in pain before the dragonlord pulled his chin up to look him in the eye.

"You will find Garin, that I am the very antithesis of cowardice and soon, very soon, you will rue the day you crossed Valyria. You do not get to die so easily." Getting up, he gestured to his soldiers. "Take him away," he barked.


As he hung from the golden cage, unable to use even water magic and half starved, Garin had been little aware of what was occurring, having been blindfolded. The man holding him hostage, Rhaekar Rollareon, a Triarch of Valyria by his own word, had told him almost nothing. From eavesdropping on his guards, he had been able to determine only little snippets of the wider war, that Sar Mell had fallen to the Valyrians but that the Arnorians had also landed in Sarhoy and were threatening to defeat the Valyrians before they could march further north.

Not for the first time, Garin cursed himself for his pride. If only he had listened to Nymeria, if only he had waited, then perhaps he would have succeeded, or perhaps without the momentum of an offensive he would have failed nevertheless and the Valyrians would have defeated them before Arnor arrived.

There was little use in dwelling on the past now, but Garin clung tightly to old memories of happier times to keep himself sane. 'Nymeria' he thought, he would never see Nymeria again and Garin bitterly regretted that he had foolishly broken their friendship out of anger and spite all those years ago. If he hadn't, perhaps he could have spent more time with the woman he loved.

Now, he knew that no matter what the Triarch had said, his days were numbered. He could only hope that Nymeria could escape the onslaught and build a better future for herself and their people. A future without him.

It was days after that when Garin realised the truth of the torture the Valyrians had put upon him. They opened his blindfold and for the first time in his life, he despaired to see his beloved Chroyane. He told himself he wouldn't beg, but all too soon he would break that promise.

"Please I beg you, kill me and spare them. They've done you no wrong! Surely with my example, they would know not to defy you again. Burn me, flay me, have me thrown to your dragons to be devoured alive, I care not, but please, please, spare my people!" Garin begged, his pride utterly forgotten.

The Triarch ignored him before giving the orders and Chroyane was sacked before his eyes, the buildings set afire, the men slaughtered, the women raped, and the children enslaved. It was a horrible sight, yet Garin could not turn away, not because the Valyrians had ensured that he couldn't, but because his own guilt compelled him to watch.

This is my fault… I did this.

In the day, in his mind's eye, he saw Nymeria and all his family and their people judging him. As the sun set, visions changed and he was back at Volantis looking at the accusing faces of his men, as they drowned under the Rhoyne, as they burned, bathing in dragonfire. Yet even as the guilt swelled, so too did the hatred. He started screaming, cursing the Valyrians and the Triarch with every insult and swear word he knew while in the back of his mind his guilt and self-loathing made him apply them to himself as well.

Finally, he had screamed his voice hoarse, but the smoke remained, as did the smell of the burnt flesh and the sobbing of the enslaved and tortured remnants of his people. It was then that Triarch Rhaekar turned back to him and spoke.

"I warned you that the day would come that you would rue ever crossing Valyria."

Garin only glared back, too tired to do anything more than stare, and look.

As he hung there, he knew then in the depths of his heart that he regretted making the wrong decisions, but he would never regret standing up to and fighting Valyria. Unable to use water magic with his arms bound and hanging, Garin could only pray, pray that Mother Rhoyne would answer his call as he cursed the Valyrians.

"Mother… if you are listening, if you are real, I beseech you, avenge your children, make the Valyrians know what despair feels like, let them have a taste of the doom they pronounce upon others," he whispered.

No answer came, but Garin continued praying, continued cursing the Valyrians with every breath he took until finally, his prayers were answered. That night, the waters of the Rhoyne rose to drown their defilers. Almost every single Volantene and Valyrian at Chroyane perished with the survivors telling tales of 'Garin's Curse'.

For Garin himself however, he watched the slowly rising water level with glee as it crept upon the Valyrian camp before the waters emerged from the river in a great wave and drowned them all. As he drowned beneath the flooding waters of the river he so loved, Garin felt satisfied that vengeance was his before his lungs filled with water and he suffocated.

Garin the Great was dead, and in his place, the Sorrows had risen.


Author's Note: Thanks once again to my amazing beta GeekyOwl, who basically wrote the Battle of Volantis because I'm bad at battles.