WINDS from the DOOM
ESSOS - MEEREEN
Another light died.
Then another.
Another.
Until Meereen's impenetrable wall fell dark. The bells rang, carelessly knocked aside by a black surge that vaulted the wall and spilled into the streets. A lull of silence followed. Daenerys reached for Jorah. He was there, half a step from her. She clutched his arm gently, both of them standing against the smoke.
"We have to leave," he said, lingering a moment more before he turned and growled at the ships' men to cut the ropes. There were still Meereenese running for the docks, hurling their bodies toward fleet but there was no time to wait for them. Jorah walked Daenerys onto the boat himself, standing with her by the rail as the vessel was tugged back from the wharf. The waters absorbed it, dragging its heavy body into the open straight. Not fast enough for Jorah... He leaned over the rail, squinting through the night at the city.
"What do you see?" the queen whispered. She felt his arm around her back and his hand resting on her hip ready to pull her away from the edge at a moment's notice.
"Behind the markets," he replied. "Watch..."
She did, looking past the frightened Meereenese. At the far end of the street Dany noticed the darkness thicken. It was not shadows playing havoc with the street – it was a surge of bodies, blackened and aimless, stumbling toward the docks where several ships were freeing themselves. The screaming started all at once. The few civilians trying to run were caught, turning as cold hands threw them to the dirt. Unsullied guards advanced, unsheathing knives and spears. Jorah called out to them in alarm.
"The ship!" his voice cut through the air like ice. "Get to the ships!" They obeyed, fleeing their posts and scampering to the final vessels as the first dead men found the edge of the dock. "They're not going to make it..." Jorah felt their own ship's sails fill and the ship lurch into the wind.
"Do something!" Daenerys commanded in alarm. She leaned over the rail, moving out of his hold.
"I cannot!" he replied. She spun around and grabbed him by both hands, her rage more than her strength pushing him back up against the side of the ship. The wind caught in his hair and he smelled the first hint of fresh salt. "Daenerys..."
The last Unsullied guard in Meereen raced down the dock. It was an enormous construction of wood and rock, reaching out into the tides that waxed and waned ten metres twice a day. Today the water was high, lapping right up at the edge of the ancient planks. Like most slaves from Astapor, he couldn't swim and though Unsullied weren't supposed to feel fear, he'd always eyed the waves with a supernatural awe reminiscent of fear.
He stumbled, turned and glanced over his shoulder.
Immediately behind him was a mad creature, silently pursuing at a run. Half its face was burned. The other side had a sickly green tinge to it, dead with gangrene. Its one good eye was focused on him with sole intent.
The Unsullied stopped, doing as he was taught. He held his ground, bringing his spear around in a brace. A second he waited. Half a minute and then crash. The full momentum of the creature hit the body of his spear. He lunged forward against it, pushing the beast back. Before it could resume its kill, the Unsullied swung his spear and knocked the creature clean off the wharf into the sea where it sank immediately.
He ran again, dropping his spear as he came within metres of the last ship. It was pulling away, its ropes carelessly dragging in the sea.
Without hesitation, the Unsullied flung himself into the whim of the sea. Arms outstretched, they waited for the brush of rope.
Morning broke over Meereen like the bleeding eye of an indifferent god, peeking at the world. Meereen's stone blushed. Fresh blood welled up in furrows on the wall, gradually sinking into the porous stone. The great pyramid lorded above the empty city. It lay silent between the mountains and the sea.
Ser Jorah Mormont watched over the silver queen as she slept. They were on the ship's deck, covered in a faint sheen of dew from the night. While Jorah lounged in the enormous wooden seat built into the starboard section of the boat, she laid across it, her head against his thigh. The queen's attendants had brought them blankets in the night when it became clear the queen would not leave while ever the coast was in sight. So here they waited.
They were homeless once again. Considering they had spent most of their time together on the edge of survival, Jorah found that he did not feel nearly as much concern as he probably should. They still had an army – holdings in Slaver's Bay and more friends than ever. He'd rather be adrift on the ocean than lost, wandering the Red Waste.
"Where are we?" Daenerys stirred, eyes full of sleep.
"Slaver's Bay, your grace," he replied. As far as anyone could see was water. Today it was crystal and perfect. There could not be a more beautiful sight. "We are headed to Yunkaifor suppliers and to warn them. Varys is already sending birds out to suggest the people of Yunkaiand Astaporjoin your army, take to their ships and sail with us to Volantis. We have friends there that will see us across the Summer Sea and onto Dorne. Two of your dragons were spotted last night, following our ships."
"Only two?" she whispered.
"Yes, though it was dark and cloudy – there may have been three."
Her heart warmed at. "If we take the Second Sons from Astapor the city will likely fall back into slavery," Daenerys pointed out.
"Indeed it might," he agreed. "Our offer is to all. If the people of Astapor wish to remain free they can take their chances on the sea with us. Staying with the masters is their own choice, my queen. This part of the world has nothing further to offer."
Dany knew that he was right. Essos rebelled against her ancestors, carving out a future for itself. It was a fruitless cause to linger. She lay her head back down on Jorah's thigh and felt his rough hand gently run through her hair. Daario used to do that as they waited for morning. In reply she'd turn and lay over his smooth chest, kissing him slowly. His kisses were nothing like those of her bear.
ESSOS – OLD GHIS
Daario kept one eye out for the dragon. Every now and then it swooped to a new perch, hiding in the mountains.
Glass littered the sand around the city. Five thousand years had tumbled the shards into smooth, almost aquatic forms. Daario picked up a beautiful specimen. It awed him that such horror and rage could make something divine. He tried to imagine a fully grown dragon bearing down on him, torn wings outstretched, a glow deep in its throat as it roared. He showed the dragon glass to Grizzly but the donkey spat at him and sauntered on.
Old Ghiswas a pirate strong hold. The scourge of the sea had resurrected the ruins from ash. Like spiders, they draped cloth over the hollowed out buildings and transformed them into a second rate sea village. Even the jetties had been rebuilt with black stone. Swords and mangled armour jutted out from the awkward construction. Every now and then a human bone glistened in the sun. The stories told of fields of skulls and sulphur but all Daario saw was sand and ash. Fire and Blood, he reminded himself. Those were the words of the queen he served and this is what became of those that stood their ground before a dragon.
"You – stand here." A dothraki guard nudged Daario roughly to one side with the other slaves. They were being lined up for inspection along the street. They weren't far from the water. He could see it to his right, packed with ships. The promise of freedom.
Three female pirates, at least two foot taller than him, were the first to come by. Any notion Daario had of escape was silenced by the presence of these creatures. Their naked breasts were adorned with metal and bone piercings while jewels threaded through golden chains hung down their backs like scales on their dark skin. Warriors from Bayasabhad. He'd fought them once and run.
Daario was insulted that they paid only five coins for him. Grizzly fetched three.
The Bayasabhad ships were held together by fear alone, of that Daario was certain. As he was loaded onto one he felt the plank sway with his weight then groan as he stepped off of it and onto the ship. It smelled wretched. Rancid blood stained every piece of it, darkening the wood while fresh sword marks littered the railing from a recent tussle.
"Common tongue?" One of the warrior pirates hissed at him. The words were clear but accented as she spoke. Like all that lived on trade, she had many languages, none of them particularly fluent.
"Yes, my lady-" Daario started to reply. He was halted by a slap across his face that sent him to his knees.
"There are no ladies here, Second Son filth. Can you man sails?"
"Yes."
"You will join the others. That man with one eye," she pointed to a burly creature smoking to the side, "will show you where sleep. Now go."
"Aye cap..." Daario whispered very carefully. He liked his teeth where they were.
ESSOS - VALYRIA 102 BC
Valyria's red sky bled in equal measure for the sun and stars. A travesty of volcanic mountains forged a path through the innards of the peninsula or as some called it, the black backbone of Valyria. Their violent depths rumbled, shaking the foundations of Valyria, Tyria and Alyrias in the north. Dark rock clawed out of the forest, twisting in hideous, fire-born structures at odds with the beauty surrounding them. Many had trails of acrid smoke wafting casually from their peaks, some even flickered with the occasional surge of molten rock. Legend had it that dragons bred with the fire, laying stone eggs on these impassable cliffs.
The city of Valyria nestled at the heart of the burning mountains, deep in the heat and fire. Palaces, sculpted into the likeness of dragons, rose above permanent streams of lava which flowed in place of rivers. Magic held the inferno down, preventing it from tearing the city apart. Priests chanted their prayers continuously to keep the dream of Valyria above the molten waves. Their voices poisoned the air, mingling with the smoke and salt where these fire-rivers met the sea.
Daenerys emerged on an impossible shelf of rock, barefoot on the warm stone. Her silver hair was whipped up by a restless wind that rushed from the mines dotted along the flanks of every mountain. She felt the ground quiver underfoot and hushed voices from below. The cliff shed stone as though it were ice, tumbling around her. A dream, she realised, but not her own.
Dragons.
She held her hand to her chest at the sight. Dozens of them circled the city, casually rising with the warm air currents. Silver, green, red, black... Their beauty was tempered only by their fearsome silhouettes. Some were immense, turning gently toward the light. Now they were gold.
The mountain beneath creaked like a boat, swaying awkwardly. Rocks fell. Dust tore at her eyes. Then the ground snapped.
Daenerys stumbled, falling to her knees.
A roar, so unholy and consuming that no god or devil could birth it, erupted. It overwhelmed the land, shaking the air with such force that several buildings in Valyria tumbled casually into the fire. The sound alone stole the very life from Daenerys, pushing her down against the ground. Her heart vibrated in sync until she screamed.
Before her eyes, the largest volcano in the known world did the unthinkable.
Two thirds of its peak vaporised. A rage of smoke seethed uncontrollably, rushing up into the freezing sky. The friction immediately splintered in spectacular fingers of lightning, striking out at the surrounding land. The sound reached the city first. She saw it level buildings. Like a stone thrown into a pond, it subdued the world in concentric circles, sheering off the taller castle turrets, fragile bridges and the ancient forests that surrounded the mountains. Daenerys couldn't tear her eyes from the eruption.
A rush of wind.
A gasp of silence.
Darkness fell.
The ash cloud was lit from beneath by the glow of lava rushing unchecked through the city. Magic wavered. Hundreds of priests abandoned their posts, fleeing into the open where they were caught in the collapsing city. Even the dragons fled – or died. Daenerys woke to watch one plucked from the sky by a flaming rock and smashed into the mountains.
Valyria's destruction was absolute.
SLAVER'S BAY
300 AC
"Daenerys?" Jorah knocked on the cabin door again. The queen had not returned. At first he'd thought she'd been engrossed in the array of raven's notes Varys had left out for her interest but that was many hours ago. He knocked again. "Daenerys?"
The lazy, golden curve of Yunkai peaked over the waves.
