AN: Thank you as always for the reviews, I truly appreciate them. As for the guest reviews...
coldblue: 1) Yes 2) He'll visit some of them 3) People who have never met the Faceless Men have still heard of them 4)No, and the reason will be explained later 5)Yes 6) I said they would see him, not that I would give his POV 7) No 8) Possibly 9) Possible but not probable 10) Harry will retain his anonymity regarding magic for now.
The Free City of Myr sat where the Sea of Myrth met one of the great Valyrian dragonroads. It sprawled across the landscape as ships came into its docks. In its center, stretching into the sky, were the palaces of the powerful and wealthy of the city; the Magisters and merchants who controlled it. Grey walls surrounded it on three sides with the sea to the west. Outside of those high walls, from its main gate to the east and down and along the southern walls, tents could be seen. They were tents of sell-sword companies currently in the service of Myr as they anticipated conflict with Lys. Myr, Tyrosh and Lys always seem to be having some skirmish over the Disputed Lands, but none of them are willing to sacrifice their own citizens
Their ship came into the city's port in the midmorning three weeks and three days after they departed from Starfall. They were fortunate, only facing mild storms while in the Narrow Sea, and two days of relatively calm winds that slowed them through the Stepstones. But overall, we made good time.
Harry, Ashara, and Nesio walked along the dock, pulling at the reins of their horses. Their prisoner lay bound and gagged on the back of Harry's horse.
Looking along the docks of the city, Harry couldn't help but notice the multitude of temples and shrines that sat along the waterfront. Unlike the Seven Kingdoms, where only the Seven and Old God's were widely worshipped or Qohor where they worship only the Black Goat, the Myrish did not have any established religion.
Both Harry and Ashara wore long heavy cloaks with the hoods pulled up to conceal their faces. In truth, he had little concern regarding his own well-being in this place. But Ashara is a great beauty, and young women are known to go missing in slave cities. His eyes fixated on the first bronze slave collar he saw; it was fastened tightly around the neck of one of the dockworkers as he steadily removed cargo from the ship. I don't know what is worse, the collar these slaves are forced to wear or the rags that signified Dobby's enslavement. Harry kept Ashara just in front of him as they pushed through the docks onto the stone streets of the city.
"Harry," Ashara grabbed his attention, as she turned her head back to look at him, "there's an inn just there."
He didn't even need to turn to look to know what sort of building he would find, but he did anyway. The inn Ashara pointed out was a hole-in-the-wall sort of place called the Old Sails, only in bastardized Valyrian, which clearly served a very specific sort of clientele. We'll find nothing their but drunken sailors and the whores who know how to pull every one of their coppers from them.
Perfectly willing to spend more on better accommodations or even use the tent he had packed outside of the walls of the city, Harry responded, "No, definitely not Ash."
"If we stay closer to the docks, where all of the sailors stay, it will be that much easier to find a ship headed for Volantis." She pointed out off-handedly.
"You're right it would," Harry agreed, "but we aren't staying in an inn like that." Arthur would drive Dawn right through my back if he found out we stayed in such a place when it isn't absolutely necessary.
"I know of an inn further in the city," Nesio spoke up, his deep timber carrying through the hustle and bustle of the merchants near the dock, "where ship captains tend to stay. Assuming that you wish to sail to Volantis." In truth, Harry had yet to decide what they would do. While sailing might be faster, the autumn seas could be treacherous and he doubted that the luck they had on their journey to Myr would last should they take another ship. Not to mention the pirates that make a living around the Stepstones But if we travel by horse we risk encountering one of the Dothraki hordes.
Nesio led them as they made their way along that street; they passed homes, shops, and a brothel or two. As the Myrish were famous for their beautiful tapestries and lacework, they saw more than one such shop. But to Harry's mind, the finest of the shops they passed was a producer and purveyor of Myrish eyes, long collapsible brass tubes with lenses at each end designed to allow men to see a far greater distance.
As they drew further away from the docks one particular language became dominant, the Myrish brand of Bastard Valyrian. Harry thanked Larra for the years she spent diligently drilling the words of the Freehold into his head. While he had never taken to it with the same talent as Ashara, he knew enough to understand the language and speak it. Even if my accent is rather atrocious.
At first, Harry found it quite odd that no one even batted an eye, much less questioned him regarding the bound man on the back of his horse but then he watched, genuinely disturbed, as a slave was beaten on the street with a whip by his master for dropping a jug full of wine. I suppose they all must think I'm punishing one of my own slaves. The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.
They came to a place where two roads met within the city. It opened up there to a large market where farmers and butchers, and all other manner of merchant sold their goods. At the corner sat the inn that Nesio knew. Tying off their horses, the trio went inside. Within, every table seemed to be clambering with people. There was music being played and drinks being delivered by a short girl, no more than ten years old. What else can someone expect when they walk into an inn? It doesn't seem to matter where you go, it is always the same thing. Sitting at one of the tables was a man and woman, each of whom appeared to be ship captains playing a knife game. Hopefully they're good enough that it doesn't end bloody.
The proprietor of the establishment stood behind a bar, filling two cups with Arbor gold. He was of middling height some thirty years of age with a soft looking pot-belly. He had dark hair that was just beginning to grey, and olive skin. The Myrish do look quite a bit like the salty Dornishman. He eyed the three of them.
"We're looking for rooms," Harry told him without preamble.
He looked first to Harry and then Nesio, paying close attention to the weapons on their person, before briefly glancing at Ashara. Surprisingly, the innkeep responded in the common tongue, though it had a heavy Myrish accent, "I'm full up."
Looking around the room, Harry found it believable, but he had a feeling the man thought they would be trouble and just didn't want their business, "Perhaps you might be able to direct us somewhere else then?"
The man shrugged, "You'll find your fair share of hovels down by the docks that can put you up for a night or more." Slightly frustrated at the innkeepers blithe responses Harry turned to look at Nesio, but found no help coming.
"We hear you are popular with ship captains," Ashara interjected, pulling her hood down for the first time, "And we are in need of a ship to Volantis. If you can't provide us with lodging at least allow us to speak to your patrons."
Now able to see her face, the man was far more interested in the young woman in front of him. When he noticed the look on Harry's face as he stared unabashedly, he broke from his distraction coughing slightly, "You are free to speak to whomever you please, but start anything and you'll be thrown straight out."
Ashara just nodded and turned away from the man without another word. Nesio and Harry both watched as she went up to the nearest man and started talking to him. His former trainer seemed amused as he told Harry, "I'm going to go water the horses and our… passenger."
Harry nodded as he made his way to sit beside Ashara. The captain she was speaking to was a burly man with a wind burnt face and hands that looked as though they'd worked the rigging before he became a captain. He spoke the common tongue with an accent Harry didn't recognize, "Sorry girl, but I'm headed north to Pentos." The man seemed to be entirely disinterested by her beauty, watching Harry as he sat down beside her.
Looking around at the other gathered men and few women, Harry questioned the captain in front of him, "Do you know of any ship that might be headed to Volantis?"
The burly captain tilted his head looking around to his fellow patrons, "None that I know of," He leaned in closer, speaking more softly, "You'll find few Myrish ships headed that direction given the current situation with Lys. Perhaps you might be lucky and find a Volantene heading home, but I know of no one." He shrugged disinterestedly, "They have always done much of their trade with the cities of Slaver's Bay." He took a deep pull from his mug of ale, and burped rather loudly causing Ashara to wrinkle her nose slightly, "But if you wish to know for certain whether there is any captain headed for Volantis willing to take you on, you would need to ask around for yourselves but as far as this inn goes, it would be in vain."
Ashara turned to look at Harry, a silent question in her eyes. It will be a longer journey by boat, and a few days delay and it would be faster just to ride. He leaned close so that only she would hear him, "I wasn't willing to wait in Starfall for a ship to Volantis, and there is no telling how long we would wait here. We both know that there are dangers on either path, but I say we take the horses and make our way to Selhorys. There will certainly be a river ship bound for Volantis from there."
She bit her bottom lip briefly in thought before smiling slightly at him, "We should depart then." Harry returned the look before making to stand. The captain's voice grabbed his attention though, "When you and your other companion entered, I admit I assumed you were here to sell your swords." He looked to the hilts of Harry's weapons, "The Magisters are always looking for more meat for their hired armies." And he probably thought that Ashara was a bed slave.
"Well you thought wrong captain," Harry replied a little tersely. As they both stood to leave, curiosity got the better of him though, "Which sell-sword companies camp outside of the city?"
"The Myrish managed to hire the Golden Company, the Second Sons, a few of the smaller ones as well." If there is any sellsword company I might belong with, at least on reputation alone, it would be the Golden Company. The laughed loudly then, startling Harry, "The Golden Company alone would be enough to make the Lyseni question any attacks but now they shall simply remain on their little island with their tails between their legs, saying all of the usual tripe that comes out between the three cities but not actually doing anything."
"Right," Ashara said slowly, not the least bit interested in his little rant, "Thank you for what help you were able to offer." The captain grunted his recognition before returning his attention to the drink in front of him.
The pair exited the inn, Harry dropping a single copper in front of the innkeeper as he left.
He could see that Ashara was amused as she pulled her hood back up, "Bit irritated with the innkeeper?"
He chuckled slightly, "Well, he wasn't nearly as helpful as he could have been, but I figured for 'letting' us speak with his patrons', he deserved some sort of recompense."
"Of course," She replied deadpan, before they both laughed slightly. They came to stand by the horses, she reached out a hand and ran it through her mare's mane, "There is plenty of daylight left, we could make a good start on traveling to Selhorys."
Nesio popped up from where he had been kneeling beside his own horse, "No luck finding a ship then?" The former pit fighter sounded deeply relieved by the news. They had learned that he wasn't overly fond of ships. The confined spaces and creaking timbers brought back wretched memories of the times when first he was taken from the Basilisk Isles, or held beneath the stands preparing for death in the great arena of Meereen.
"No ship, at least for now," Harry told him, "Once we reach Selhorys that could very well change though."
He smiled toothily, the vivid white of his teeth contrasting against the darkness of his skin, "The less time spent on a ship the better in my opinion."
"We'll need more provisions if we intend to make our way east to the Rhoyne on horseback though," Harry pointed out. The others agreed and the three of them set about buying the needed goods. Should they have an easy time of it Harry figured the five-hundred mile journey could be made in ten days. But should we need to make detours to avoid any dangerous peoples out in the disputed lands it could take more than two weeks. They bought salted meats and filled a large barrel of water that was then tied to the side of Nesio's big grey packhorse.
In his shopping, Harry found a quiver made from the skin of a basilisk. Well Ashara's name day will probably come and go while we're on the road, and I have nothing for her. The lot of it cost Harry three golden dragons, but certainly didn't do much to lighten the heavy purse that he had won in Lannisport.
It was just after midday as they walked through the city gates along the smooth dragonroad made by the Valyrians centuries before. There was little traffic along the road as they departed, just a few farmers returning with their mostly empty carts back to their homes. The sellsword tents sat along the roadside and against the walls of the city. The sounds of drunken revelry and more sordid affairs emanated from within.
There was one woman among the Company's tents that caught his attention, she wore a deep blue dress, and had the Valyrian appearance to her. She was taller than the average woman, and walked with a confident stride. Harry noticed her as she exited a large tent with heads gilded in gold just outside its flap; the tent of Golden Company's current commanders. She's almost certainly not one of the whores from the city, bought by the men for their pleasure but coming from the commander's tent. Perhaps she is Lyseni and trying to convince them to abandon their current contract.
His attention turned away from the woman as he heard Ashara make a soft noise of surprise. She stared slightly awestruck as one of the Golden Company's many elephants strode across the road, one of their brightly armored men sitting atop its neck. Harry found himself rather unimpressed, and instead focused on the light in Ash's eyes. Then again, compared to the Hungarian Horntail that elephant is rather… well tiny. Noticing that he was looking at her, she turned and smiled at him.
"Nesio," A man's voice called out as they neared the area occupied by the Second Sons, a voice with a distinctly Dornish accent. All three of them turned to see Oberyn Martell, whose eyes widened when he recognized Harry and Ashara underneath their hoods before narrowing as he noticed the body tied on the back of Harry's horse, "I have not seen you in years my friend," He gestured for all three of them to follow, "Come we must share a drink before you are on your way."
Knowing that it would seem odd should they refuse to join him, they followed the Dornish prince through the throng of tents until they reached his own. Given his lineage and the wealth to his name, Oberyn's tent was considerably larger than those around it.
As they entered it was hard not to notice that on a bed within, there were two scantily clad women and one entirely naked man. Well there have always been rumors regarding Oberyn's proclivities, and this is compelling evidence to believe it.
Oberyn poured four cups of Dornish red and began handing them to his guests, paying the other occupants of the room little mind. Nesio refused while Harry and Ashara just took tiny sips from the offered drinks, "So tell me, what brings you to Essos my friends?"
"I have always been fascinated by the Free Cities," Ashara supplied evenly, "and as I am a woman grown, my father agreed to let me travel." She rested a hand on Harry's arm, "provided that I bring some protection to ensure my safety."
"Truly, I would not expect Lord Dayne to be so frivolous with his young, and only, daughter." Oberyn looked far from convinced by Ashara's story but she was unfazed.
"You have been too long away from Dorne, my Lord," She said sweetly, "I am not my father's only daughter any longer. My sister, Allyria, was born just a few short months ago."
"My congratulations to your parents, my Lady," Oberyn said tilting his goblet, "though, it seems strange that your father would disregard your safety simply because he has a second daughter. He has left you in the care of two men, one of whom is a mere squire." Harry could hear the teasing in his friend's voice, even if he was clearly skeptical of Ashara's story.
"Actually," Harry interjected sharply, "Lord Ulric left Ashara in the care of two men, one of whom is a knight." Oberyn raised one quizzical eyebrow, "Arthur anointed me after my victory in the recent tourney at Lannisport."
A brief look of irritation crossed the prince's face as he recalled his last visit to the Westerlands, but it was quickly replaced as that roguish smile graced his lips, "My congratulations to you, Ser Harry. We must celebrate." He cast a backward glance at the other occupants of the room, a lascivious look in his eye, his implications obvious.
"A generous offer," Ashara commented tightly, "but we are bound for Volantis and have plans to leave the city without delay."
Fully aware that he had struck a nerve, Oberyn cast a quick glance between the two of them, "Perhaps another time then," He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Volantis? I have a newborn daughter in Volantis." He commented idly, "It is just as beautiful as it dangerous, particularly for a young woman of your beauty. What business do you have there?"
"No particular business," Harry answered a little too quickly, "as Ashara told you, she simply wishes to visit the Free Cities."
"Yet you are in Myr and have spent barely a day within its fine walls," No doubt he has some informants in the city to tell him of arrivals from the Seven Kingdoms. The smile fell from his lips, "I'll ask again, what business do you have in Volantis?"
Ashara did not take kindly to his demanding demeanor, "It was my desire to begin in the First Daughter. I have left the wonders of Myr until such a time as we return here."
"Hmm, an interesting story, my Lady," He folded his arms across his chest, "Though that does little to explain the man tied to your horses."
"He is my prisoner," Nesio spoke up for the first time, "a man I know to have a bounty on his head."
"And you happened upon him where?" Oberyn asked, slightly caught off guard by the former slave's declaration.
"Luck," Nesio answered succinctly.
Oberyn just snorted, "Of course, how fortunate for you." He looked pensively between them for a long moment, "Fine, keep your secrets whatever they might be, all the gods know that I have my own. I simply do not wish to see my friends come to harm and I can't imagine what could have driven you to venture so far from home." He approached them then, an open and warm smile on his face. He gave Ashara a hug, offered his hand to Harry, and then leant upward and kissed Nesio on the cheek much to his chagrin. Oberyn avoided the smack that was aimed at his head.
"You are not a prince here," Nesio warned which only won him laughter.
Oberyn waved away the prostitutes on the bed, before he sat down at the table, offering the fare there to them, "Apologies for my rather rude welcoming, but I was truly shocked by your presence here. That you are lying about your purpose only made me all the more curious."
"No need for apologies," Harry said cordially, though Ashara seemed to disagree slightly, "but our business is our own, and we really must be on our way."
"You could spare an hour, surely," Oberyn almost pleaded, "We must share stories, and it has been more than a year since last we shared even a raven."
"I believe that would be your fault," Ashara told him lightly, "You have busied yourself with war and whores forgetting to contact your friends… and your family from what Elia tells me." Oberyn paled slightly as he realized the truth of her words. All three of them laughed at his discomfort.
"Yes," Oberyn said after taking a long pull of wine, "I am sure that my sister shall forgive my distractions though." He didn't even sound entirely convinced himself and Ashara just gave him a wicked little smirk that indicated his false hope.
"Where have you been since departing Oldtown?" Harry questioned, pulling Oberyn away from that admittedly frightening thought. Elia can be rather dangerous in her own right, and she knows the best ways to make him suffer.
"It feels like everywhere sometimes," Oberyn said wistfully, "I have gone as far east as Qarth and sat with the Purebloods of the city, spoke with the undying and, learned some things... of an esoteric nature." His eyes darkened as he remembered something but it cleared quickly, "On my journey back east I avoided Slaver's Bay and considered braving Old Valyria. But the Doom still rules there and I wished to see more of the world before I risked such a thing. So, I made my way to Volantis."
"And you met a truly beautiful woman, whom you bedded," Harry interjected knowingly, "And she has provided you with your second child." His first was Obara, a girl he fathered on an Oldtown whore when studying at the Citadel.
"Correct," Oberyn replied unrepentantly, "Nymeria is my daughter's name; her mother is one of the Old Blood of the city." He shook his head slightly, "But I grew bored of simply seeing the sights and heard of a conflict in the Disputed Lands." He chuckled slightly, "Not this one though, about a year ago it was between the Tyroshi and Lyseni. I took up with the Second Sons at that time." His face soured, "I chaffed under their commands though, and have since started my own company."
Harry blinked owlishly at that for a moment, before barking out a laugh, "Why does it not surprise me that you struggled with someone else's command?"
Oberyn just shrugged, "It shouldn't. But all we do now is sit outside of the city, uselessly."
"A ship captain told us that Lys will not attack with the forces Myr has amassed," Ashara supplied.
"It is true," Oberyn said with a huff, "But the Lyseni will try to win over the Second Sons so they might still have their skirmishes."
"If you don't mind my saying," Ashara said hesitantly, "you seem rather disinterested with the whole thing."
He smiled a little sadly, "You are right. While I have seen a great deal of this world now, and I hope to see more of it in time, there comes a time when every man longs for home."
"Will your brother let you return?" She questioned.
"I hope to receive an answer to that very question in the coming days," Oberyn said cheerily, "But I believe he shall. Five years should be enough to appease the Yronwoods."
The friends shared stories for some time before Nesio nudged both of them and gestured with his head toward the tent flap. He is right, we ought to be going.
As they mounted their horses, Oberyn bid them a final farewell, "Whatever your purpose in Volantis, I wish you the best of luck."
As their horses cantered along the dragonroad, Ashara turned to Harry, "Did you consider telling Oberyn the truth?"
"Briefly," Harry admitted as the sun started to fall closer to the horizon, "But he would have brought undue attention to us. And he is known in Volantis." He was uncertain though, "Though he could have been helpful I am sure."
Ashara gave a small smile and reached a hand up to run across the nape of his neck, "He might have, but I think you made a wise decision. Besides, he wishes to travel west not east."
Their little camp sat at the bottom of a stone crag beside a small creek. A clear sky allowed the light of the moon to illuminate the lush, hilly green expanse of the disputed lands to the west while the land further east evened out into dry plains. They'd been traveling for six days and the journey had gone unimpeded as of yet.
Harry woke abruptly to the sight of the tan canvas of his tent above him. Delicate hands shoved forcefully at his shoulder. He looked blurrily to his left to find a mass of dark hair staring back at him. He rubbed at his eyes and his vision cleared to find Ashara looking at him, concern evident in her eyes.
Slightly alarmed, he sat up, "Ash, what's wrong?" That is what he intended to say but nothing came out. Oh bollocks, my silencing charm. He subtly cast the counter charm and asked the question again.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," She said worriedly, "I just finished my watch of the camp for the night and woke Nesio." She leaned forward and looked him closely in the eye, "You were having a restless sleep, and it looked as though you were writhing in pain but you weren't making any noise."
She wiped her hand along a thin sheen of sweat that had formed on his brow, "I tried to wake you but it didn't seem to work at first. Were you having a nightmare?"
Harry didn't truly know what to say, "Um, no it wasn't a nightmare, just an uncomfortable dream." He mumbled the last more to himself but Ashara heard him.
"What was uncomfortable about it?" She sat herself directly beside him and rested her head on his bare shoulder.
Well it was the first time that Potter ever actually experienced apparition. Though, like a distance echo Harrion felt as though his own body had experienced that awful squeezing sensation as before. Mother and Father always suspected that it was my magic that saved us from the flooding of Castamere, perhaps my magic responded with something it already understood. "There was a squeezing, in my chest, in my head, my whole body really." He explained as best he could without telling her the outright truth.
"Sounds like some kind of nightmare," Ashara said thoughtfully, "Almost as though you were drowning."
"Perhaps," Harry said guardedly, "But I only remember darkness and that squeezing."
"Right," Ashara said slowly. She kissed his cheek, just at the corner of his lips before standing and making her way toward the flap of his small tent, "I apologize for waking you." As she glanced back at him before exiting, her eyes seemed to harden with conviction and she squared her shoulder, "You are allowed your secrets, same as I am, but I don't appreciate being blatantly lied to."
Harry made to speak but she raised her hand for silence, "People do not twist and turn without even a rustling of the sheets beneath them. They do not speak without any voice." She looked him in the eye, and continued softly, "If you are reluctant to tell me something for fear of how I might react, don't be."
Before he had the opportunity to speak, she pulled back the flap and left the tent. Perhaps it would be for the best if I simply tell her, she handled my speaking to snakes without any issue or uncomfortable questions, why should this be any different? We are no longer children and she knows how to keep things to herself. It seemed a reasonable thing to do, even if it could have unforeseen consequences. Should things continue as they have, she will find out eventually anyway.
As he silently argued the pros and cons of finally revealing the full extent of the second life he experienced in dreams and the magic that seemed to go with it, Nesio stuck his head into the tent and whispered urgently, "Come, we have a problem." Assuming that perhaps their prisoner had escaped, he rushed out of the tent, not even bothering with a shirt, only to find that the man remained bound and sleeping where he had been at the end of Harry's watch. Ashara stood beside Nesio, her bow in hand looking behind them.
"What is it? He asked a little loudly. Nesio placed his hand over Harry's mouth, silencing him, before pointing up the hill to where seven horsemen sat atop the crest looking east toward the disputed land. As the pair of them watched the seven horsemen were joined by more, and then yet more until they numbered dozens. In the pale moonlight, Harry could just make out their dark hair and leather armor. And their long braids falling down their backs. They were Dothraki, and there was no telling how many of them would follow behind those already on the hill. They must be making for Myr or Tyrosh to demand tribute, which means it is a horde of some size.
"They haven't noticed us yet," Nesio told him softly, "But if they do…" He left the comment hanging. If they find us, there is no way that we will be able to hold off their number and Nesio and I will die painfully. They'll take Ash as a slave and she will be raped and abused… and her family will never know what became of her. There was a chance that they would remain undetected, but should the horses make a noise or one of the Dothraki come to the edge of the stone crag they were sure to come and investigate.
"We must hope that they won't see us," Ashara whispered and he could hear the touch of fear in her voice. She knows what might happen. The very thought made his blood quicken in his veins, and then their prisoner started to stir… very loudly as he noticed the men upon the hill. Not even concerned for the consequences, Harry extended his hand and cast a silencing charm. Their prisoner's screams died in his throat, and Nesio and Ashara just stared at Harry wide-eyed.
Unwilling to leave things to chance, Harry faced the creek beside their encampment and stepped to the very edge of the water. The water extended up and out of its home seemingly, expanding as it did so until the area from around their tents to where their horses sat unworried about their current predicament.
He stared up as the horse lords made their way down the side of the hill and further east, a number of them looked back in the direction of the crag, even as Harry continued to hold his watery shroud. Never having hidden more than his own person before, Harry struggled against the strain of the spell as the thud of thousands of horses galloping along soft ground went on for many minutes. I was right; there is an entire horde on the other side of that hill.
Finally, after what felt a great deal longer to Harry than it really was, there was silence again in their little camp by the crag. For safety, Harry waited a few moments longer before finally returning the water back to its creek. As Harry noticed the bewildered looks on both Ashara and Nesio's face, he felt heady rush that left him staggering. As he sat down beside the water, he felt a dull ache in his bones but nothing any worse than what he experienced after a long day's training. But he was far from weary, there was adrenaline in his veins and despite the ache he was now very much awake and had a feeling he would be for some time.
"Nesio," He said suddenly, causing the dark-skinned man to jump slightly, "I think I can take the watch for a while if you would like."
"Yes," he laughed a little uncertainly, "I think that might be for the best." Before Nesio made for his own tent, he stopped at Harry's side and rested one of his large hands on his shoulder, "I don't know what you just did or how you did it but I am glad for it." Harry gave the tall man a small smile before he left the pair alone.
Ashara was looking at him with a slight tilt of her head, a light of curiosity obvious in her eyes. She stepped closer so that they were less than an arm lengths away, "Well, I would say that was a bit more impressive than speaking to snakes." There was a teasing upturn to her lips.
Harry chuckled, "I suppose it was."
There was a distinctly awkward silence between them then, something that rarely happened. She seemed to by trying to figure out what to say next. Though, if it is between keeping us safe and an awkward silence it will always be the simplest of decisions.
"So," Ashara said hesitantly, looking at their prisoner out of the corner of her eye, "I take it you did to yourself the same thing that you did to him."
Harry nodded stiffly, aware that this conversation could very easily go poorly, "Yes, I silenced him and myself earlier."
"We'll come back to that later," She said firmly, becoming more confident as she wrapped her head around what had just happened, "So I take it that you are capable of magic? Real magic? Like the things they describe the Valyrians or the Rhoynar being capable of?"
"Yes," Harry replied truthfully, knowing full well that there was no use lying at this point, "though I don't actually know any Valyrian magic." Yet.
"That explains why you were obsessed with that book we found all those years ago," She remarked almost gleefully, happy to finally understand exactly what fascinated him about the old tome.
Harry smiled at her enthusiasm, "It does. What I just did now, that was Rhoynar magic."
"So what else can you do?" She asked him expectantly.
Harry considered this for a moment before extending his hand. Ashara lifted off the ground slowly, until she was nearly a foot in the air before he gently returned her to her feet. There was wonder in her eyes as she looked intently at his outstretched hand. He couldn't help the self-satisfied little smirk that spread across his lips, "There are other things as well, spells of significant and varied utility that allow me to do things I otherwise couldn't."
"What's it like?"
"Doing magic?" Ashara nodded, "Well it can be quite painful, particularly when first learning new magic. I have found that there is always some sort of cost involved."
"Cost?" She questioned worriedly, "What sort of cost?"
"As I said, it is pain most often," She did not like the sound of that, "but it manifests in different ways. At the moment, I feel a dull ache in my body though nothing that would leave me incapacitated." He gestured toward her, "Lifting you as I just did is the very first thing I learned. It can be difficult, and draining to move things of any considerable size, but on the whole it costs me very little compared to other magics."
"Alright," She brought her hands up to rest on his cheeks. He had to admit that she was taking this far better than he expected, "Now why do you silence yourself in your sleep?"
Her vivid violet eyes bore into his and kept him transfixed, unable to look away. If I didn't know any better I would think that she is the one who could perform some magic. Resigned, he took a deep breath, "I have always had rather vivid dreams. They are dreams that I do not wake from easily." He ran a hand through his hair, "Dreams that have at times caused me a significant amount of pain and have shown me terrifying things." He brought his hand down to rest on one of Ashara's as she rubbed his cheek, "To keep from being a nuisance, I silence myself with magic learned in those dreams."
She looked less than pleased with this confession but decided to let it go, "You learn magic in these dreams?"
"I see," He considered how to word it, "another life. One lived in a world where magic is not a withering memory, but done by many in secret as a separate part of the world." He grabbed her hands and pulled them down, "I strongly believe that I am seeing a life I have lived before, but I cannot say with certainty."
She hummed seemingly to herself, "So you see another life." She said nonchalantly, not wanting to fixate on that point, "What could you possibly have seen that would cause you to silence yourself?"
"A massive three-headed hound," Harry started before continuing in a rush, "A snake sixty feet in length, creatures that could suck out a person's soul and cause them to relive their worst memories, a dragon, and a hideous, vile man with red serpent's eyes." Ashara's eyebrows crept ever higher toward her hairline as he spoke, "And each of these things was dead set on killing or causing serious harm to… my counterpart." And that isn't even taking into account the giant spiders, witnessing the murder of his parents or the Dursleys.
"Oh Harry," She said softly, "you should have told someone, anyone about this."
Harry smiled sadly, "I felt it was mine to bear. That no one would have understood, let alone accept, what was happening."
Ashara laughed wetly, "Of course you thought it was yours to bear alone, I would expect nothing less." She pulled at a strand of her hair absently, "I will not pretend that I understand what you go through, how these dreams must affect you, or even the magic you can perform, but I can accept it." He grinned widely at that and she beamed up at him, "If you are willing to explain, I would gladly come to understand and perhaps then you'll not suffer it alone."
Without warning he leant forward and captured her lips with his own, lingering there trying to express in actions what he didn't feel could be said in words. It was their first proper kiss since Starfall, and still felt just… right. They lingered together, her hand going to his shoulder to hold him in place.
When they finally pulled apart he kept her close, not wanting to lose the warmth of her body, "I expected I would tell you this someday, someday soon even. But I didn't expect that you would take things this well."
She looked up at him demurely, "Even when we were children I always knew you were different. There were times when I suspected that you might be able to do more than just speak to snakes." She shrugged her slim shoulders, "And when I asked myself what I would do if that were the case, I realized it made no difference. What you are capable of doesn't change who you are in my eyes. I admit to being," she hesitated a moment, "slightly overwhelmed and a little unsettled by this revelation but I believe my acceptance will grow to understanding in time."
He leaned down and gave her one last peck on her lips, "You need to rest." She seemed reluctant but then she yawned loudly. He chuckled, while her cheeks reddened and scowl marred her pretty face. He rubbed her back before releasing her from his embrace, "I promise we shall speak about this again soon." She huffed cutely, but nodded her head and turned to leave. He followed the sway of her hips beneath the material of her shift before she entered her tent.
Pulling his gaze from her departing form, he cast a cushioning charm on the stones beneath his feet. He sat beside the creek and settled in for a few long hours of staring at the dimly lit expanse of land around them.
The city of Volantis sat at one of the four mouths of the Rhoyne, sprawling across both its eastern and western bank. On the eastern bank the Black Walls pulled the eye as they stretched some 200 feet into the air. The massive oval structure could allow for six horses to run abreast across its width and was made from dragonstone, the black fused stone that's secrets had been lost in the Doom. Behind those walls lived only those of the Old Blood; the people who could directly trace their lineage back to Old Valyria. It was said that the gods of the Freehold were still worshiped within those walls.
Jutting up into the sky very near to the Black Wall was the Temple of the Lord of Light. In Valyria's first daughter, R'hllor was the predominant god among the poor and the slaves. To Harry's eye it appeared to be at least three times the height of the Great Sept in King's Landing.
Connecting the eastern and western banks of the two cities was the Long Bridge commissioned by Triarch Vhalaso the Munificent centuries before the fall of Valyia. The road of the bridge itself was made of fused stone while its great weight was held aloft by massive stone pillars. Along its length on each side there were dozens upon dozens of shops, taverns, temples, inns, parlors and brothels. The eastern gate into the affluent, old part of the city was carved with the images of manticores, sphinxes and dragons.
After fifteen days, fortunately without any more unexpected dangers on their way to Selhorys, the trio and their baggage arrived in the city around sundown. Like most foreigners, Harry and Ashara were restricted to the western half of the city. They walked among the throng of people, going entirely unnoticed in the crowd, toward the Fishmonger's Square.
When they reached the square they paid twenty stags to a man with a horsehead tattooed on his cheek to have their horses watered, fed and held in stables near the Merchant's House. The building in question was the finest inn in all of Volantis, a monstrosity that squatted amongst the warehouses, brothels, and taverns of the waterside.
The heavy cloak on Harry's shoulder made him sweat profusely in the dense humidity and heat of the city, made all the worse from the inordinate number of people. I've lived in Dorne for more than half my life and even to me this place seems oppressively hot .Ashara seemed similarly discomforted, while Nesio seemed entirely accustomed to the appalling heat. Harry reached a hand over to Ashara and cast a cooling charm; she noticed it immediately and smiled over in his direction. Harry and Nesio pulled their captive from the saddle and pushed him along toward the door of the inn.
In the center of the Fishmonger's Square, there was a priest of R'hllor. All across his cheeks, chin and forehead there were flame tattoos while the two soldiers at his side had a single flame on one cheek, marking them as servants of the Fiery Hand. It seems like there are ten slaves for every freeman in this city. The priest called out in High Valyrian in praise of his lord.
The three of them entered the inn's common room, a cavernous place larger in size than the great hall of Starfall. It had many dark and hidden alcoves in which the voices speaking out in a hundred different tongues could be heard as they bartered with one another. In one of the corners, guarded by two men on each side there was a woman sitting shrouded in darkness as many captains and traders waited patiently for their opportunity to speak with her. I wonder what power she holds that so many are willing to wait for an audience with her.
Everywhere Harry looked there were more slaves, some at the beck and call of the patrons while others walked about offering wine. Having spent much of his youth under the yoke of a fickle master, Nesio stiffened as they walked through the crowd of people. They found the inns owner and purchased two rooms on the top floor of the inn, even the cheapest rooms cost Harry a dragon for the week. Though hopefully my business will be settled by tomorrow.
They settled their things in the low-ceiling room and tied their prisoner to one of the rings upon the wall of the room. Ashara sniffed at the stale odor of the place but she did not complain of it. They say the locks here are better than any jail, and that alone makes it worth the price and the odor.
Harry approached their prisoner and removed the gag from his mouth. The man took a deep, almost desperate breath. He coughed loudly, hoarsely before turning to glare up at Harry, "I am no use to you dead, you bastard." His voice was hoarse from disuse.
"You weren't in any danger of dying," Harry clouted him on the side of the head, hard causing him to cry out in pain, "Now I believe that it is time that we have a little talk." He tipped a glass of water into the murderer's mouth.
"Talk, right," He said irritably, "At the end of all of this, I am only going to end up dead anyway. Why should I tell you a thing?"
"Because you killed my father you piece of shit," Harry said heatedly, "And there is very little I wouldn't be willing to do to ensure your cooperation." He leaned over their captive menacingly, "So I suppose the question is whether you would like this process to be painless or if you want to beg for my mercy before the end. And who knows, perhaps if you are good I will spare your life."
There was genuine fear in the man's eyes, with a hint of hope, "What do you want to know then?"
"The persons who hired you, where are you supposed to meet them?" Harry asked.
"At a brothel on the Long Bridge at noon," he explained readily, "I am to provide a man there with a specific phrase before they will take me to see their boss."
"Right," Harry said dispassionately as he looked to Nesio and Ashara, "What do you think?"
"I think that it would be easy for him to tip off his contractor's man, and instead of being here anonymously we will have a gang after us in a city where we have no friends," Ashara told him, her lips a thin irritated line.
"Were you told to come alone?" Nesio questioned the killer. He shook his head almost frantically, though all three of them looked skeptical.
"What would be worse, we let him go alone and he betrays us or one of us goes with…" Harry paused and looked to the man questioningly, "What is your name anyway?"
"Hezza," His father's killer responded automatically.
"One of us goes with Hezza and at the very least we find out where the man who hired him resides?" Harry finished the question.
"And what if, seeing two people, the thug Hezza is meant to meet tries to kill one of us anyway?" Nesio tried to poke holes in Harry's reasoning.
Harry shrugged, "Then we kill the contact, and find ourselves in the same predicament that we're in now."
"Namely searching one of the largest and most populous cities in the world for a single man," Ashara pointed out unhelpfully. Harry glared in her direction but she only stuck her tongue out. He resisted the urge to laugh given the situation. Now is definitely not the time to be laughing.
"Seems to me that makes the decision that much easier," Harry replied, forcefully.
"Agreed," Nesio interjected before Ashara had the chance to speak, "I have no desire to search all of Volantis for months on end."
Ashara nodded from where she sat reclined on the sunken featherbed, "I agree that this is the best course of action." Her words belayed her evident worry though.
"All there is to determine then is who shall accompany Hezza here," Nesio thumped him on the shoulder rather harder than was perfectly necessary.
"I think it only right that I should do it," Harry told his former teacher, "It is only because of me that both of you are here, and it is only right that I face the brunt of the risk."
"Harry," Ashara started heatedly, "Nesio and I made our decisions as well, and while it never would have been an option had you not discovered the unsavory nature of your father's death, we are still here by our choice. Let us continue to have that choice."
Regardless of Ashara's words, Harry had no intention of allowing her to accompany Hezza to the meeting, "All the same, I feel it would be best should I be the one to do it." Nesio had no argument, so Ashara was forced to reluctantly give her agreement. As they broke up, she gave him a brief hug before hurriedly making her way out and into the adjacent room.
Harry and Nesio shared a brief look, before the former slave laid his head down on the bed, throwing a pillow at Harry to rest on, "Don't do any of your magic to me while I sleep." He quipped before quickly falling into a restful sleep. Harry barked a laugh, glad that the man had taken the revelation well even if there had been a bit of healthy fear in him after that night at the edge of the Disputed Lands.
Laying his head down on the pillow, the cushioning charm proved useful yet again on the hard floor. That night it took Harry a long while to find sleep, and even then it was far from restful. But the dreams that consumed him were not of another life, but instead of his father's swollen body. Tomorrow, he thought into the darkness, tomorrow I will find you the justice you deserve.
The next day the sun shone clear above the city, beating down and causing a heat haze in the streets. Harry stood just beside Hezza as they made their way down the Long Bridge on foot, avoiding the palanquins and hathays of those natives and few foreigners who believed the city's custom that claimed anyone of quality didn't travel by foot. Something tells me the dragonlords of Valyria, who they pride themselves on being descended from, didn't worry themselves over such things.
Their captive was now properly bathed and shaved, and changed out of the rags that had been forced upon him in the months since his capture at Starfall. He looked much more himself and despite the knife he knew would be driven into his kidney should he try anything untoward, he had a bit of extra lift to his gait.
"Ser Harry," Hezza whispered, though loudly enough that he may as well have spoken plainly.
"What is it?"
"I would strike a bargain with you," Hezza responded hurriedly.
"And what bargain could you have for me that would be of any interest?" Harry questioned.
Hezza looked back at him, "I could make this very difficult for you, and while the avoidance of pain might be a very good motivator, you made mention of a far better one last night. I have been nothing but agreeable since that time." Harry expected this and admitted he wasn't entirely against the deal, "Promise me my life and I assure you that nothing I do will cause your plans to fail." Whose life do I desire more, the man who struck the blow or the one whose hand actually brought it about? And besides, he can keep his life and suffer all the same.
"Should you manage to deliver what I desire, you shall have your life." Harry agreed as they drew closer to the very center of the bridge. Hezza's shoulders seemed to relax then and Harry expected that he had just made this venture all the more likely to succeed.
A few short moments later and Harry found himself standing outside of one of the brothels along the bridge's length. Standing outside in flimsy silk dresses, dancing enticingly toward anyone who happened to pass too close, were two of the brothels girls; they had tears tattooed beneath one eye. Hezza didn't pay them any mind and entered the pleasure house. Preparing himself for the things he knew he was likely to find within, Harry followed.
The common room smelled of flowers and wine, girls and boys alike wearing little to nothing were being groped by men and women alike. The madam of the house, a slave herself from the tattoo beneath her eye, watched all with a keen eye. Even as Hezza scanned the crowd for his contact, she gestured to two guards near the door to deal with a belligerent drunkard who attempted to harm one of the girls.
Hezza moved abruptly toward a table in a corner wherein there sat a solitary man. He was dark haired with a sickly sort of paleness to his skin that almost glowed in the low light of the brothel. A woman sat on his lap, whispering words that Harry could not hear, but the man paid her little mind, instead focusing on the other patrons.
He noticed them long before they came to stand beside his table. The man stared up at Hezza who cleared his throat nervously, "My dagger found the star's guard."
The man looked between them and smiled toothily, it was slightly disturbing on his thin, gaunt face, "I'm sure the boss will be glad to hear it." He gestured with his head towards Harry, "Who is he?" He was clearly a native Westerosi.
"A member of the Dayne household guard who didn't care for his master-at-arms," Hezza explained quickly, before Harry had the chance to speak for himself, "Not the brightest lad mind you, but he's good with a sword and didn't have any reason to stay in Westeros, so he joined up on the ship with me." Slightly surprised at the rather convincing lie, Harry offered the contact a stupid grunt in recognition of those words.
The man glanced at the two swords at his hip, "Hmm, perhaps the boss might be able to make some use of him then," He stood and suddenly there were two other men standing beside Harry and Hezza each of them carrying a sack, "You know how it is Hezza." They both waited patiently as the men placed those bags over their heads and tied their hands in front of them.
As darkness overtook his vision Harry paid close attention as they were lead out of the brothel and west along the bridge. Hopefully Nesio and Ashara are still close behind. They were forced through the crowds of people with less respect than some of the slaves in the streets. The three thugs all laughed uproariously when Harry fell rather violently on his face as they came to a set of steps. He could feel the blood dripping from his nose because of the impact. I'm going to enjoy killing them.
Time became relative in the darkness, but after what felt like nearly an hour, he knew they were likely drawing near to their destination. They turned from the pathway and the ground beneath his feet changed from the solid stone of the city's streets to uneven mud of the poorest districts. He could hear beggars calling out to them as they passed, asking anyone for a mere pittance.
There was a jangling of keys when they finally came to a stop, and one of the thugs made to take the swords from his hips, "Won't be needing these." He told Harry when he moved to stop him. Knowing it was best to let things play out for a moment, he simply let the thug remove his swords from their sheaths. It was as he heard the lock come open on the door that it happened.
The dull thud of an arrow piercing through the soft tissue of a man's chest emanated from just to his left; thankfully the man didn't cry out or draw any attention. Reacting on instinct alone, Harry grabbed for his dagger still in its sheath, turned it in his hand and brought it straight up into the thug who took his swords. He heard the squelch of blood before feeling the heat of it on his bared hands as it seeped down the length of the blade and down to his hand.
He ripped the bag of his head in time to see Hezza's contact coming at him with a knife of his own, "You little c…" The words died in his throat as he looked down to see an arrow sticking out of his chest, he made to scream but Nesio came up then and cut deep into the gaunt man's neck severing the neck past the spinal cord and nearly taking it off his body.
Ashara walked up with her bow strapped across her back and her Valyrian steel dagger out, "When we saw them taking your swords we thought it would be best to intervene." She pulled her arrows from the two dead men and returned them to the quiver Harry gifted her.
"Understandable, thank you," He said gratefully, "But I wouldn't have been completely helpless without them."
"Yes, I know that," She said rolling her eyes, though there was a slight upturn of her lips, "But we also didn't want you going in there alone."
He hummed his agreement as he finally took in their surroundings. Far from the fine stone buildings in the center of the city, much less the affluence of the eastern bank, they were in a deserted side street, surrounded by wooden warehouses and hovels some of which were dilapidated to the point of collapsing at their foundations.
"Hezza," His voice caused the man to jump nervously, "do you know your way through this warehouse?"
He nodded jerkily, "The first time I came here they took the bag off once we were inside."
"Good," Nesio said as he cut the man's bindings, "You will lead the way then." Hezza didn't look pleased about this declaration but knew better than to argue.
They followed Hezza as he entered the dimly lit confines of the warehouse. It seemed to be a maze of barrels and crates and as they drew further into the building, they could hear the faint murmur of voices from within, "Paenymion paid us a handsome sum to make sure he sits as Triarch after the elections next month, make sure that it happens." Were the first clear words that Harry heard as the building opened up on the other side of a stack of barrels. "And if anybody can deal with Vogarro's whore, I'll pay 'em a hundred golden dragons and buy 'em a pleasure slave from Lys. Her storehouses would be well worth the cost."
"Right Terrence," came the reply, "we'll get it done." Harry didn't know any Terrence and he doubted that his father had either. Who in the seven hells is this and why did he concern himself with my father?
He felt a pull on the sleeve of his shirt and found Ashara gesturing behind them to a set of stairs that led up to the upper portion of the warehouse. Harry shook his head, but she gave him a pointed look before leaning in to whisper in his ear, "I will be a much greater help from above. If something happens it happens but you can't stop me from going up there." Harry scowled but reluctantly nodded his head.
She kissed his cheek before turning and padding up the set of stairs, the barest of creaks coming from her soft footfalls. When she reached the top she turned the corner and was out of sight.
"We have no idea how many might be milling about in there," Nesio pointed out.
"True," Harry agreed, frowning, "But it was either this or letting me come in here alone to try and scout it out, and there is no telling how that might have gone."
"Well," Nesio said smiling that wide, infectious smile that only appeared rarely, "we'll make do. And if we don't, try to die well."
Harry snorted, "I'd rather they die and I really don't care if they do it well."
The three of them straightened then and came around the side of the barrels that hid them from view into the main storeroom of the warehouse. It was roughly fifty feet across and had some fifteen people milling about. Some of them drank while half of them were standing over two others as they played a game of some sorts; one of the men appeared to be taking bets. At the far end, sitting at a table counting gold and silver before letting it fall with a clink through his fingers, who Harry figured to be the boss of this gang.
Terrence was a man of at least half way to forty, shaved bald. He had wide set brown eyes with a hint of gold in his irises. His nose looked as though it had been beaten in one to many times giving it a squashed appearance. He had a wide mouth and loose skin at the jowls. Looks a bit like a toad. He had light skin though not sickly so like the dead man who brought them there. He wore fine silks and clearly thought himself quite the important man. As the toad's eyes snapped to them, Harry noticed movement along the upper floor of the warehouse just across from him. She was right. She does have a good line of sight from up there.
"Hezza!" Terrence called loudly extending his arms in greeting but looking between the three of them suspiciously, "I thought you migh' be dead, so it's good to see ye'?" He came to stand directly in front of them, "You fulfill the task I set you?" He spoke to Hezza but he was looking rather intently at Harry.
"I did," Their prisoner responded with slight stutter.
He turned to look at Hezza then and grinned, though it was almost a leer, "Good, and did the bastard suffer?"
"I had to make it quick," Hezza replied uncomfortably.
"What a shame," Terrence said dully, "Now who the 'ell are these two? And where is Mikkle?"
"These two fine gentlemen assisted me in the task," Hezza said with more confidence than he had before, "And Mikkle left us at the door, said something about getting back to the pleasure house. Seemed to have found himself a whore he fancied."
Terrence turned away from them then, and walked toward the table behind him, "Well if all three of ye' took part in the murder then it's only fair that all three of ye' receive the reward. What was the agreed upon price, 500 dragons?" Nesio and Harry shared a glance as they both felt the same thing, movement from behind them. They both reached for their swords and unsheathed them, the shlick of the metal dragging out of its home ringing out in the high ceiling storeroom.
But they didn't strike yet, instead pivoting to see that the other fifteen men in the room had stopped drinking and gambling and were instead focused on the three of them, though they hadn't spread out. Some carried simple spiked clubs, a few them short daggers, a pair of them had proper swords, and a big one carried a big axe. Apart from the rest, one of them aimed crossbow at Nesio's chest.
Terrence laughed cruelly, "I must say lads, this was a rather piss poor plan." He pulled out his own sword, "You come in here, just the three of you, with your swords on your hips and try to convince me of some bull shite story that Mikkle would just let you roam abou' our humble abode." He gestured toward Harry, "And then there's this'un, who looks very much like the man I sent you to kill." He clicked his tongue disappointedly before cackling, "I was goin' to kill ye' anyway Hezza, but now it will be so much more satisfyin'."
The first arrow came down out of the upper level then, whizzing through the air and into the crossbowmen's head. The other members of Terrence's little gang turned to as their comrade fell limply to the ground, his body twitching slightly.
Using their distraction to his advantage, Harry twitched the sword in his hand sending the largest man near the front, who held the big double-bearded axe, back into three other men. There was a loud snap as at least one of the men heaped together broke something. Let's see what we can do about the others.
"Stop gawkin' you stupid shits," The toad yelled as another arrow came from above and drove into the knee of one of the men on the ground, "Kill 'em."
Before any of them had a chance to respond to the command, Harry and Nesio both lunged forward, not wanting to give their assailants the opportunity to surround them. Harry brought the sword in his left hand down in a tight arc and cut clean through the clavicle of one of the men. He screamed out like a woman, fear etched into his squinty eyes. The wooden floor slickened with his blood as he fell to the ground lifelessly.
Nesio's sword found its way into the stomach of another man, and all of a sudden their plan didn't look nearly as foolish. Only twelve of the thugs remained, not including Terrence himself who seemed too stunned by the events going on in front of him to join the fray, let alone do the wisest thing and turn to run. But more importantly, they are didn't know how to organize themselves.
The big man with the axe freed himself from the tangle of limps that Harry had thrown him into; one of the men beneath him lay dead, his neck turned at an awkward angle. Enraged, he took a horizontal swing at Harry's head, trying to separate it from his body.
But it was clumsy and seeing it coming Harry ducked, allowing the blade of the axe to pass over his head and into the skull of one of the other thugs. Harry brought the sword in his right hand up and into the big man's stomach piercing through flesh and muscle, the angle driving the blade up through the lungs. The strength left him, he dropped the axe, and as Harry wrenched his weapon free blood and intestines started to leak from the wound.
Nesio took a man's hand off at the wrist before pivoting and driving his other sword through another thugs throat. He cried out loudly when a dagger found its way into his side, one of the bastards had pulled away from the bloodshed and snuck up behind the former pit-fighter. With a roar, Nesio turned and drove his assailant in the face, breaking his nose in a spray of blood and knocking out one of his yellowed teeth and pushing him to the ground. He stomped on the man's throat, killing him instantly.
As Harry slashed the throat of another one of their assailants, he saw Terrence turn to run. He started to reach out with his magic, only to stop as he saw Hezza step in the gang-leader's way. Well at least he is doing something. Harry's heart sank in his chest when he heard a distinctly feminine scream come from the upper floor.
Momentarily distracted, Harry took a deep slash to the upper arm. The same man with his dagger tried stabbing him along the collar bone but Harry brought his sword up into the man's armpit and through the man's shoulder and bone, tearing it from its socket. As he pulled away, he found that save for Terrence, there was only one man left, and Harry had little doubt that Nesio could deal with him.
Harry rushed past Hezza, sparing Terrence a moment of attention as he threw him into a heap across the room. The hired knife smiled, a cut across his cheek but otherwise unharmed. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere!" He yelled back to Hezza even as he bounded up the stairs.
He rushed through the narrow hallways of the upper warehouse, bounding over crates and barrels, knowing full well where he ought to find Ashara. As he neared a door, there was noticeable grunting and a gruff voice spoke lecherously, "I like the feisty ones. Keep right on fighting beautiful."
Harry burst through the door, murderous fire in his eye and blood staining his skin to find one of the bastards with his trousers half way down his body, his manhood hanging out as he tried to force Ashara's own trousers down her legs. The bang of the door bursting open distracted the detestable man. He was fat with a balding head and narrow nose too small for his face. His second chin wobbled as he looked up to see Harry standing there, "Figured that the useless shits cou..."
He squealed like a pig before looking down, horrified as Ashara slammed her dagger straight up and through the fat of his neck toward his brain, he made pitiful whimpering noises for a few short seconds before falling over sideways and off of the young woman beneath him. Harry sheathed both of his swords before moving to her side, "Ash, are you alright?"
She looked at him blankly for a short moment before she blinked twice, and seemed to notice the panic in his eyes, "It's alright Harry, I'm alright." He rubbed his thumb gently against her brow, and she smiled up at him, "He didn't think to check me for anything more than my bow," She said a little distantly, "I was going to shove my dagger through his throat at the first opportunity," He helped her stand, "Thank you for providing that opportunity."
Harry swallowed thickly, "There was a reason I didn't want you to come along."
Ashara glared up at him, "I wasn't raped Harry," she told him bluntly, "and while I know that the whole thing will hit me rather hard once all is said and done, I would rather be here with all the risks involved than back at Starfall worrying over your well-being." She reached down to the hilt of her dagger where it still protruded from her assailant's neck and pulled it free, wiping the blood off on his shirt. She took a deep steadying breath before addressing him again, "Now, I take it the others are dead?"
He admired how well she managed to handle not only the assault on her person but also gutting the one responsible. She will break down eventually. I'll just have to be there for her when she does.
Together, they made their way back down to the ground level and found Nesio standing over a bound Terrence leaning heavily on one of his swords while he applied pressure to his wounded side. The cloth there was stained heavily in blood. Ashara rushed to the former slave's side and started to fuss over him but he just waved her away, "It can be dealt with later, let's deal with more pressing concerns." She ignored him and fussed anyway while Harry approached the bound man.
He pulled up a chair across from the gang leader and sat down, "So Terrence, I want you to tell me a story. The one where you decided to have the master-of-arms at Starfall killed and why you did it."
"Fuck you," He spat out. Harry calmly and slowly started to sink the tip of his dagger into his knee, not saying a word. At first the man simply bore the pain, but as it sank deeper he couldn't stop the grunt that escaped his throat.
But when Harry started to twist the knife, Terrence decided that his silence wasn't worth it, he screamed out, "I'll tell you! Seven hells, I'll tell you! Jus' get the dagger out my leg."
Harry pulled it free cleanly and wiped the blood of on Terrence's trousers, "Good, now like I said, tell me a story."
"You must be his son, you look just like him and have the same damned attitude," Terrence started, the dagger drawing closer to his leg again spurred him on, "I'm from the Reach, and more than ten years ago I ran a gang in Highgarden. Your da' brought me and half my men in and had us rottin' in the dungeons of the castle. Have t' admit, I was rather impressed, given he did it alone."
"So you are one of the men my father brought to justice when he worked as one of Highgarden's city guard," Harry wasn't expecting that but he couldn't imagine what would have made him seek out Reynard's life, "It happened years ago, why have him murdered now?"
"I didn't just do this on a whim," Terrence said almost offended, "been tryin' to track him down since I was released from Highgarden's dungeons."
"But why?" Harry almost yelled.
"Because it was the condition of my… let's call it… rushed release," Terrence said with a wicked smile, making his already ugly face look all the more so, "Had it been up to me alone, I would have left 'im be but I always had one of Garth Tyrell's men stickin' to me, keepin' an eye on me. I'll admit I was willin' to at least make a go of it considerin' the fat pouch of gold the fat lord promised me. "
"Garth Tyrell?" Harry asked, acid lacing the name.
"Aye," Terrence responded hesitantly, recognizing the potential danger of his situation, "He came to the cells one night with five of his men. He told me he would let me and three men of my choice free if I promised to find and kill the man who put me there to begin with."
"And once you were free, why concern yourself with the matter? Why not just kill the men Garth sent with you? " Harry asked, trying to wrap his head around this whole scheme.
"I tried a couple of times," He admitted unrepentantly, "but it wasn't worth it in the end, so I figure' why not just put a token effort to keep 'em satisfied. And should I get lucky and find him, I'd have him killed and go claim my reward."
"And you ended up in Volantis how?"
"Traced your da' to Oldtown but couldn't find any word from there." He chuckled, "Then Tyrell's men got a lead about five years ago that your father might have left for the Free Cities after his hasty departure from Oldtown. Ended up here in Volantis, and found nothin'." He looked particularly satisfied with himself as he continued, "Decided I needed more men to really make a go of findin' him, so I got back into business with a new gang. Among other things, I started smugglin' and one of my men, one of the ones that I ran with in Highgarden, stayed outside of Starfall. He got lucky and saw that guard walkin' about with some red-haired beauty outside of the castle" He cackled almost maniacally, "Think I realized why the fat man really hated your dad after I heard that story. Garth's love of serving girls was well known among the lowly of the city, and he never took kindly to those who refused him."
He paused briefly before glaring in Hezza's direction, "I thought Tyrell had the right idea of it so I hired someone unattached to me to do the deed. Came back to bite me in the ass though."
"It certainly did," Harry agreed as he stood, "Anything else you would like to say?"
"I don't feel one bit of remorse for doin' what I did." He said vindictively. Harry pulled one of his swords from its sheath and ran the sharpened steel against the line of Terrence's throat. He leaned in to it, causing a shallow cut to form, "Go on then."
Harry didn't yell as he brought the sword back with a rush of air and slashed it at the gang leader's neck. The blade cut through flesh and bone, and Harry drove through the resistance until it came out cleanly on the other side, the head fell to the ground with a heavy thud and the body went limp in its bindings. There was an oppressive silence in the room as everyone within seemed to stop breathing.
The atmosphere was broken when Hezza spoke up hesitantly, "Well, I am glad you have had your vengeance. I'll just be on my way." He made to leave but Harry stopped him with an outstretched hand and dragged him back with his magic, "I'm sure he has more men in the city who will arrive here at some point, and you did promise me my life."
"You're right, I did promise you your life," Harry said evenly, his voice oddly hollow, "But I didn't promise you would escape without facing justice." Hezza looked terrified. And he should be. He drove the man to the ground and forced him to extend his arms out on the ground, "Be glad I'm allowing you to escape this place with a thief's punishment." His sword came down and severed both of Hezza's hands at the wrist. He wailed even as Harry cauterized the wound with a burst of fire. "And I can't have you telling people what you have seen me do, so…" He extended his hand and performed a spell that he'd only seen on one occasion, performed by an incompetent at that.
When the obliviation was finished, it left Hezza unconscious and Harry dizzy. He plopped his body back into the chair and tried to regain his bearings. It was only when he heard a grunt of pain that he pulled his head from his hands. Ashara held a red hot knife against the wound in Nesio's side before pouring a bit of boiling wine on it.
"There that's all I can do for you," She said softly. Nesio smiled at her before they both looked to him.
Ashara approached him standing just beside his chair; she grabbed his head and pulled it to her stomach gently running her hands through his hair. He hadn't even realized the tears that started to fall down his cheeks, mistaking it instead for the wetness of blood. They remained that way for he knew not how long, but when he finally pulled away he looked up into her violet eye and spoke softly, "I've done some terrible things in the pursuit of justice, and I haven't even found it yet." No, Terrence was just another link in the chain.
Ashara shook her head slightly, "I would do terrible things trying to find justice for my brothers or my parents… or you." He smiled weakly at that, "I won't let you lose yourself as you do this for your father."
Nesio joined them looking slightly pale, his arm still guarding the tender flesh on his side, "Garth Tyrell?"
"So it would seem," Harry said darkly.
"What will you do?" Nesio questioned.
Harry thought that over himself, "With regards to Garth, nothing." This surprised them both, "For now at least. I want him to forget, to feel entirely secure before I come for him." He elaborated.
"So what shall we do?" Ashara's brow was furrowed cutely.
"First, we shall depart this place lest more of his men come here." He stood and looked them both in the eye, "But soon, I am going to visit Valyria." Whatever they expected him to say, that certainly wasn't it. Ashara's eyes widened while Nesio looked downright horrified.