Chapter 21: Old Valyria

Summer moved rapidly across the warm water of the Bay of Dragons. Technically, Jake insisted they had left the bay the day before, but no one paid him any mind. Before it lay the Smoking Sea and Old Valyria. Summer was alone. The other ships had been sent ahead. After Asha had forced the surrender of Tolos and Elyria, Arya had told her to take the fleet and deal with the corsairs of the Basilisk Isles. This was a task Asha jumped at with relish, being finally freed of Arya's leash. She had left six ships with Arya to guard Summer, but Arya had judged them unnecessary and sent them on.

Now they were approaching the most dangerous part of their journey in Arya's reckoning. Dangerous and unnecessary according to Brienne. Brienne followed her queen on deck, talking non-stop. "This is reckless!"

"I heard you the last time."

"Then why won't you listen? Nothing good can come from this."

"I disagree."

"I don't see the point," Sandor interjected. He was standing with the rest of the Queensguards by the rail. A group of Ironborn had manhandled the long boat to the side, but it was obvious looking at them that none of them wanted to use it.

"I did not ask you. Any of you."

Lyanna's pinched expression was sour. "We should tie you up and keep you locked in your cabin for a tenday."

"And I should spill your guts out!"

Normally Lyanna would be scared. She knew Arya better than most, including her sisters of the Queensguard. Not this time. She had the Mormont look on her face, as Bienne called it. Arms crossed belligerently over her chest, she stepped toward Arya. "We may be sworn to you. But that does not mean we can stand aside and allow you to harm yourself."

The others were all prepared to back her up. Arya realized they really meant it. Yimi, who was normally the most timid, said, "We stood aside before during your crazed wanderings. Not this time."

Yūko wandered over to Arya, who turned to address her. "Can you keep these people off me?"

The Westerosi were offended that their queen would turn to a foreigner for support even in jest. This time though Arya had misjudged the gaeshi's mood.

"You should listen to them, my queen." They were all startled. "There is a foul odor in the air."

Arya took a large sniff and found out she was right. Arya had an excellent sense of smell and was surprised that anyone had detected it before her.

"It is called sulfur," said Jake. None of them had noticed that he had joined them.

That boy is damn quiet, Brienne thought. "Does that mean something?"

"The maesters use it to make smokepowder. It is a rock that burns. It also makes acid."

The Hound asked, "As in something that scores metal?"

"Among other things."

"You still want to go?"

Arya wasn't easily intimidated. "You think I'm scared of some rock?"

Jake once again interjected. "You should be. Breathe too much and you won't breathe anything again."

That made Arya pause. "It makes poison?"

"My queen knows poisons better than I. You already know the answer."

She didn't need reminding. Now that she was aware of it, she remembered smells she'd encountered in the House of Black and White. "Then it is better I go alone."

"I knew it!" Brienne exploded. "You always do this." She pushed herself right next to Arya, bending down to put her face in the queen's. "Your recklessness will be the death of you."

Arya had always had a temper, and this ignited it. Her hand reached for her blade. But Brienne was expecting it and grabbed her hand before she could draw it. "Let go of me!"

"Not this time."

The Hound backed her up. "We are sworn to protect you. Even from yourself."

A dragon's roar made them all jump. Except Arya. The Ironborn had even dropped the boat. The roar came from just off the prow. The humans had been so engrossed in the drama that none had noticed the approach of Snowflake. Except Arya.

The humans backed away from the angry beast, who was all too close for comfort. Arya spoke without looking at any of them. "I chose my path. No one choses for me!" Jon couldn't leash her. She'd be damned if she'd let her own Queenguard. She marched through the now dispersed crowd. With a jump, she leapt upon her dragon's back. Snowflake launched herself, drenching the people on Summer to the skin. Dragon and rider rapidly vanished into the west.

Sandor, saltwater dribbling from his hair, spoke under his breath. "There are times I really hate that woman." No one felt the need to disagree.

'Thumbless' Pete Land, who had taken command of Summer when both Asha and Crackjaw had sailed off south, tumbled up to them. He was noticeably dry. "What do we do?"

Brienne could hear the amusement in his voice, and it annoyed her. "Follow her!" Her voice exhibited her frustration.

"How?"

They all looked in the direction Arya had flow off in and saw that it was directly over dry land. Sandor sighed. "Keep following the coast. We'll anchor in the first bay we come to."

Arya was not as confident as she pretended. Now that she was away from her defenders, she allowed her fears rise to the surface. Jake's identifying the smell bothered her. She knew nothing of sulfur beyond the fact that it was a common ingredient in poisons. He could have told her much. And she realized she needed his knowledge.

The smell reminded her all too much of the Shadow Lands. Brimestone. That was what commoners called it. Though the smell here wasn't nearly as bad, she knew it meant trouble. She did ask herself why Marwyn hadn't mentioned sulfur. She guessed it was because his curiosity overwhelmed his caution.

She had never seen land like this. The Shadow Lands matched it for desolation. But there was dark, invisible. Here there was light all over. And not a good light. Fires burned everywhere she looked, from cracks in the ground. Maester Samwell had told her about volcanoes, but she really didn't understand them. How can the earth be on fire?

It didn't matter. She was sure there were mysteries to be solved. Only exploring Valyria could they be solved.

Snowflake did not have the reservations of her Queensguards. She flew without hesitation over the burning ground. Cannibal soon joined them. Appearing from nowhere as was his want, he was suddenly to their right. Arya hoped that he would have some memory of this place. If so, he gave no sign.

Before them lay the ruins of a great city. The term great didn't do it justice. Even leagues away and in ruins she could see it clearly. It put Asshai to shame. Big as it was, Asshai could not compare to this place. Arya had heard tales of great Valyria her whole life, but no one had ever mentioned how big it was.

It was enormous. A million people could have lived in it with room to spare. Old Town, Volantis, Asshai; all of them could have fit comfortably inside and it still would have fit in Kings Landing. Canals or rivers crisscrossed the city, subdividing it into dozens of quadrants. Towers, broken into pieces, that would have rivaled the High Tower or the Red Keep lay scattered everywhere. Great bridges, many grander than the aqueduct she'd spotted on Ulos ran in all directions, their spans shattered.

She stopped for the night near the outskirts. Even flying it would likely take a couple of days to reach the center. She had no clue as to what may still live in this place. But she wanted to see it in daylight.

Summer was rightfully inside the Smoking Sea according to Jake. Nobody else cared. No Thumb had piloted the ship between two islands in an effort to keep on Arya's trail. None of them knew what to call the islands. Jake said they had not been given proper names. All any of them knew was that it was all once a part of Valyria.

Before them was the largest island of the group. The one Arya had flow over. Thump picked what looked to him like a good, sheltered spot in a crook between two the rocks and dropped anchor.

Brienne desperately wanted to see what was happening with Arya. But setting aside the fact the Arya was certainly leagues away by now, Summer was surrounded by sheer cliffs. There was no way any of them were going to climb those.

Lyanna, sounding more sour than usual, asked, "What are we going to do now?"

"Wait," Brienne answered.

Asha watched as the corsair fleet approached. She felt no fear despite the fact the other was more than three times the size of her own. She could easily sink them all with just her three biggest. But she wasn't going to spoil the fun for her men.

The ships approaching were as polyglot a bunch as she had ever seen. All sorts from river craft to Summer Islander Swan Ships, they had every conceivable origin.

Asha smiled as she turned to Crackjaw. "Prepare for battle."

The ships spread out in a crescent to either side of Sea Drake, her chosen flagship. Her ships flew only partial canvas, having no need to race ahead. Asha knew when the time would come for speed. Ports were opened and the ballistae loaded.

Asha's jaw dropped as all the corsair ships stopped, lowering all their canvas. Asha looked at Crackjaw and saw her own disappointment on his face. She called back, "Drop sail. Stand down." The grumbling could be heard throughout the ship.

Sometime later a small skiff was rowed up to the side of Sea Drake. They had watched its slow progress the entire way from the corsair fleet and its glacial pace did not help their tempers.

The man who stood proudly at the back of the boat was a tall, black skinned man. A Summer Islander without doubt. He had large, well-shaped muscles; the body of a man well used to physical labor. Though Asha did notice he was developing the beginning of a paunch. He was dressed flamboyantly too. Much as his people favored.

The corsair prince didn't wait for his men before climbing the boarding ladder. The corsair grandiosely raised his arms as he cried out, "Welcome to my islands!" His enthusiasm was unforced, and Asha found herself smiling.

His eyes went straight to Asha. "Welcome Dragon Queen!" He had perfect, white teeth, which he shared with her. He moved to take her hands in his.

Crackjaw interposed himself. "No need to get closer friend."

The corsair laughed good naturedly. "No worries, friend. Fond of your queen, yes?"

Asha was not going to let herself be put off by his cheer. "I'm no queen." The words hurt even after all these years. "I'm Princess Asha Grayjoy of the Iron Islands. I am here as a representative of his majesty, King Jaehaerys Zaldizes Zokla, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Roynar, and the First Men."

The man toned down his cheer, though not his good humor. "I am Hombar Jho, King of the Corsairs of the Basilisk Isles. What caused the great princess of the Ironmen to come halfway across the world?"

"Ironborn," Crackjaw muttered irritably.

Asha ignored him. "The corsairs have become very active recently."

Jho grinned, showing no sign of dissembling or shame. "Business is good. Lot of fat sheep to shear."

"Hardly fat. The Long Night has devastated the world."

"That is why there are more corsairs."

"People are suffering. Don't you think they need to rebuild their lives before you try to destroy them?"

"Why are you asking that question Ironborn? Your people are not known for mercy either."

"We are loyal, and we are sworn to the Iron Throne."

"Not willingly. When were you declared a princess?"

She guessed he knew full well. "I was named princess as a reward for the Ironborn's service to the Iron Throne."

"And to keep you so you would not break away."

"I am not here to play games with you, Hombar Jho. I will make my intentions plain. The corsairs are causing a lot of damage to Westeros' trade. Something we cannot allow. If you do not stop, I was sent to make you."

"Why should you care? We target mostly ships from Essos."

"Not all of them. That is beside the point. What you are doing is harming Westeros. And our king doesn't like it."

"From what I've heard, your king has got his plate full."

"What do you mean?" Asha tried and failed to keep a worried expression from her face. She didn't want this man to know just how little she knew of events back home.

He laughed. "Your faith is attacking him!" There was the hint of triumph in his voice.

"Not my faith!" She knew he was trying to get under her skin and was angry that he was succeeding. "If you know that you also know our king has dragons. Real ones. Don't think mindless fanatics will keep him from visiting you if you make yourself a nuisance."

That cut short his joviality. "I think he has his hands full. These fanatics of yours are not eager to be ruled again by dragons. Nor the inbreds who ride them."

This last was spoken quietly, almost as an aside. "That's dangerous talk, even for High Born. You think he can't leave Westeros? You think the septums and their beggars can keep him hostage?"

"Your words, not mine." He looked around, at the ships, at his men. "Perhaps we should speak in confidence."

She hesitated for a long breath. Finally, she waved for him to follow. She led the way toward her cabin.

Smoke filled the sky. It made seeing to any distance difficult. Even high up the smell was bad and the heat worse. Snowflake landed well outside the heart of the city. The dragons wouldn't go any closer. Arya didn't blame them. Dragons might like heat, but they were hardly immune to fire. She had seen from the air huge rivers of molten rock that flowed through the ruins like water. Maester Samwell had warned her to avoid such things.

Arya was bathed in sweat even before she dismounted. She felt strange, as if she were bundled up in a blanket. She assumed it was just the heat because Valyria was easily the hottest place she had ever been. But unconsciously she gripped the hilt of Visenya's Dagger, not noticing the gem was glowing with a red light. She felt immediately better.

Leaving the two dragons, who showed no sign of wanting to move closer, she made her way toward the ruins. The dragons had landed in what was once a town square. The buildings that made it up had all collapsed, but their walls were intact enough to give the impression of being in a giant box. The only exit headed toward the center of Valyria was a road underneath an arch that towered over her. Although she could see marks or symbols, they were illegible. Nothing was left to indicate what the buildings used to be. Arya cursed herself for forgetting to bring paper and ink.

Sickly and twisted vines were everywhere. They looked unnatural, like none she had ever seen before. On many of them were huge seed pods as big as her fist. They didn't look ripe, but she kept her distance from them anyway.

She stepped through the archway and proceeded down the road. Like the square, the walls to either side had no intact entrances. She had no choice but to keep moving forward. The road led into another square. This one was open. And huge. The palace in Yin would have fit with room to spare. Many open-faced buildings faced the square, but all were collapsed.

In the center was what had once been a park of some kind. She saw the ruins of many statues within the rubble. In their days of glory, they likely would have topped the Titan of Bravos, but now only their bases remained.

Arya chose to remain on the more easily traveled road. Picking left more or less at random, she headed down the westward side of the square. A sense she was being watched grew on her. She looked around, feeling more alarmed than she had since her days in Harrenhal. No animal life of any kind was visible.

After several minutes she reached the end of the square and found a staircase leading up alongside one of the buildings. Seeing nowhere else to go, she headed up. The stairs were broad and more or less intact. She was shocked to realize they were made of marble. Time had discolored them a sickly green.

As she ascended, she noticed that the architecture was more sophisticated that it had first appeared. Age and destruction had ruined them. But hints of their once magnificence could still be seen.

The stairs continued far longer than she'd expected. Arya was in good condition, yet she was almost panting by the time she reached the top. The weight of her armor was making itself felt. A great bridge arched over a former road. As she approached the end, she saw that she was much higher up than she'd realized. Though not nearly as large, this span could rival the Great Bridge of Volantis in engineering. She had never heard of a bridge that was so high off the ground.

Despite the altitude there was no relief from the heat. The air barely moved, and she prayed to every god she knew for a fresh breeze.

If it had once had guard rails, they were long since lost. With a nervousness that surprised her, for the bridge was easily wide enough for a wain to cross comfortably, she stepped onto the span. It showed no sign of giving way. Increasingly confident, she strode across, the bridge being as sturdy as the day it had been built. She stopped halfway to study the surface. What she found was that the structure was made of the same black stone as the fortress of Dragonstone. Stone molded by dragon fire. A coat of marble had been laid on top, but most of this had been burned off.

Continuing to the other side she found herself on top of another building, this one larger than the last. The smell of sulfur was stronger here. Almost overpowering. A low wall covered in the green vines was on the opposite side from her. The wall looked to be only waist high, so she made her way over to it and hunkered down.

She'd had no idea what she would see, but what met her eyes sent her heart racing. Never in her life, not when she had faced the Others at the Heartree, not even when she had gazed through the gate of Stygai, had she imagined such a thing.

A plain of fire. Its dimensions were too great to be measured. It stretched almost to the horizon. A lake, no, a sea of liquid rock. None of the stories of the Seven Hells could compare. This was as horrid a sight as Carcosa.

But what truly left her trembling in terror was the things inside it. Worms. Giant, black worms. The largest made the Cannibal look like a hatchling. She had never imagined anything could grow so large. Even Euron's Kraken could have been swallowed in one gulp.

How could the world hold such creatures? she thought.

The only saving grace she could see was that they showed no sign of wanting to leave their fiery bath. Nor did they take any interest in her. Assuming they could see her at all. She saw nothing that looked like eyes on any of them.

She slipped away.

Moving to the side furthest from the bridge and the lava sea, she came to another low wall. Vines were thick along it. Looking down, she saw a narrow ally. The buildings on this side were much lower, but no less decrepit. Unconsciously, she switched Visenya's Dagger to her off hand, not even noticing how she instinctively kept the hilt touching her bare skin. With that, she was over the wall and climbing down the vines.

It was a very unpleasant climb. The vines were strong, even resisting the touch of the Dagger. But they left a slimy film all over her. It smelled like rot, and it made her want to vomit.

She reached the ground without incident. The alley was even tighter than it appeared from above. She noted that it was paved with slate and not the black stone like so much of the rest of the city. The end nearest her had collapsed.

Mixed in with the rubble she noticed what appeared to be leathery black eggs. Each was as long as her hand and they were oddly shaped. More round than ovoid. With a quick flick, she used the Dagger to split one open. She almost puked.

Things fell out. No bird or lizard. They were whitish colored worms covered in slime. All were about as long as her finger. And they had faces. She didn't know what else to call them. Almost human like, they bit at the air as if with a desperate hunger. They had no necks, but just below the faces they had arms tipped with tiny hands. Not claws, hands. These horrors recalled all too clearly the remembrances of Septum Barth. The things wriggled on the ground, desperate to find, what? She didn't want to know.

Arya made her way down the ally and swiftly came to the end of it.

She found herself in another square, this one far smaller. It was obvious, even with the typical Valyrian architecture, that this place had been part of one of the poorer parts of the city. All the buildings were smaller, and the avenues were too. She guessed that these buildings had been shops or merchants of some kind, for all the buildings had open fronts. Unfortunately, whatever had been inside them was now covered in rubble.

Something attracted her notice to the left and she walked in that direction. A short distance away she found what looked to be a table. Or an altar. It was a single block of black stone, its four corners were carved into slithering dragons. More writing, this much more visible but no less incomprehensible, covered the side she could see.

But it was what lay on top that truly drew her attention. A body, looking more desiccated than decomposed. Almost mummified. Approaching, she saw whisps of golden hair still clinging to the skull. The tattered remains of silken garments were all the clothes it had left. What color remained was done in red and gold. Golden rings covered its fingers. Golden flecks still stuck to a leather belt that looked so brittle it was a wonder it was still intact.

Arya noticed all this in passing. What attracted her most was the sword the skeleton grasped. The blade was swirls of black and red. Valyrian steel. And she knew that sword, though she had only heard tales of it. The hilt was embossed all in gold with a golden lion's head as its pommel. And inlaid at the base of the blade, where blade met hilt, was the rearing lion of Lannister.

"Brightroar," she breathed.

She gently pulled the hilt from the dead hand and raised the sword high. It was every bit as light as her own Dark Sister. She looked down with pity at the man, for man it had been. She knew his name, though how he had come to be here was a mystery she could never solve.

"You found what you were looking for," she said.

If only you had not gone on this foolish quest, she thought. Would events have been different, she asked herself. Could he have controlled his brother, kept Tywin from destroying her family? Or would he have been the loyal brother, fighting for the glory of House Lannister? Would she be a queen now? Would she have even been able to marry the man whom she loved and given birth to his children? Or would she have been married off to some man her father chose, maybe even the Imp himself? The thought disgusted her. What price mortals pay to be the playthings of the gods. She got exactly what she wanted, but the cost had been everything else she held dear. The cost to Westeros had been even greater. What god is there that would tell me it was a fair exchange?

There was a tingling at the back of her neck. She looked around. Nothing was visible, and yet she still felt certain that something was looking at her. Arya studied the square. It was much more accessible than the previous ones, but this was not necessarily a good thing. She could easily make her way over any of the collapsed buildings. But then, so could anything else.

She decided to stay on the road. There was one leading, more or less, in the direction from which she'd come, and she wanted to get back to the dragons as swiftly as possible. Suddenly, she needed to get away from here as fast as she could.

What made me come here? Was it the sword that called out to me? She had no answers. It didn't matter.

Figures, vaguely man-shaped, appeared on all the rubble piles around her. She stopped and stared at them. They looked the same as the wights she had fought during the Long Night with one exception. Their eyes burned red, not blue. She did not know from where these wretched people came. They were no Valyrians. Their clothes, or rather rags, were more in keeping with styles of a more modern kind. Arya guessed these men were akin to Gerion Lannister, come seeking some treasure. Whatever their individual quests may have been, they were of no consequence now.

Arya knew not even she could withstand so great a horde. She ran for the exit to the square, not knowing where she might escape them. But the wights came at her from all directions. With Brightroar in one hand and Visenya's Dagger in the other, she charged the ones blocking her way. Valyrian steel could kill wights, as she well knew. But it was Visenya's Dagger that was the true death dealer. Just the smallest tough of the blade was enough to make one explode. Unlike the ice wights of the Others, these burst into fine ash, as if they'd been burned.

Arya could never keep fighting so many. Not normally. Strangely enough, she felt no fatigue. To the contrary, she had never felt fuller of life. With each wight the Dagger touched Arya felt more invigorated. It was similar to what happened when she'd killed the ice wights or the Others with it.

Nonetheless, she was not willing to risk her life that this condition would continue. Especially as the wights showed no sign of running out. As soon as she'd cleared a path, she ran for all she was worth. No wight could outrun a man at full speed. But wights never tire. Men did.

Ayra saw another building directly ahead. This one was as tall as the one with the bridge, though not as wide. The ubiquitous vines covered it as they did every other structure. Wights could climb, but they were even slower than they were at running. One thing they could not do, at least she had never seen them do, was jump. She hoped she would find a gap to leap.

She slipped Brightroar into her belt as carefully as possible. It wouldn't do to have it slice through her belt which would cause her to lose both Valyrian swords. She was not as good at climbing as Bran had been, but she was fast. The vines made it easy. She suddenly remembered Jon's description of climbing the Wall, and she wondered what it would have felt like.

She reached the top and was presented with another surprise in this surprising place. The building she was on had been split in half. Despite being made of black stone like the rest of the city, it had been cleaved in half. Not a clean cut but split just like a log of wood. The other half had been pulled away by some yards, too far for her to jump. Deep below she could see the glow of molten rock flowing between the two.

None of that mattered, though. This building had once had an awning made of stone over it. The covering roof was long gone, but several of the pillars that held it up were still there. Most were cracked and broken. Some were fallen. What Arya focused on was the one that had fallen across the gap, bridging the two sides.

She raced over the impromptu bridge as quickly as if it had been a path. She then kicked the pillar to knock it off the building and hurt her toe. For a second, she thought she had broken it. The pillar was far heavier than it looked. She heard the approach of the wights. She had managed to gain some distance during her climb. That separation was rapidly diminishing. She put all her strength and weight on the end, pushing for all she was worth. Slowly, the pillar slid off the edge and fell into the abyss.

For a moment she was tempted to wait for the wights to appear on the other side. Caution, and the beginnings of fatigue won out. She vanished over the edge as the first of the undead were climbing onto the roof.

Evening was well advanced, yet Brienne remained at the railing. She wouldn't leave it, not even to go to the privy. The Queensguard sat around the deck behind her. They were eating bread and cheese that Steel Pans had brought them. Yimi walked up to Brienne and tried to hand her some. The taller woman ignored her.

"You have to eat something." Yimi was seriously worried about her. "You must not neglect yourself."

"I'm not hungry," Brienne answered. And she wasn't. she could never forget what happened the last time Arya had run off on her own. Brienne felt sick thinking of what condition she might be in if she ever got back this time.

The Hound and Pete Land came up to the railing next to them and stared down at the water. "What do you think?" the Hound asked.

It was only now that Brienne looked down to see what they were staring at. The water below the ship was bubbling, like a pot boiling.

Land shrugged. "Means nothing to me."

"You're not alarmed by that?" asked Brienne, who was very alarmed by it.

He shrugged again. "Never seen anything like it."

"Is there any way we can get away from this water?"

He pointed off toward the open ocean. "Out there."

"Then take us there."

"We won't be sheltered out there. Storms can come real sudden."

"I don't care. Get us away from this water."

Land sniffed but walked off to give the orders. It made no difference to him. The Hound asked, "Something wrong?"

"I don't know. I don't like it. Best to be safe."

The Hound shrugged.

For the rest of her life neither Brienne, nor anybody else, ever learned just how close they came to death.

Dusk was descending. Arya's feet flagged. A combination of heat and lack of sustenance threatened to drop her in her steps. For once she had forgotten to take either food or water with her on an expedition. Her head ached and she guessed it was the heat. There was no shade or breeze. None of the buildings had an intact roof. Besides, smoke and steam mostly hid the sun.

She made her way as best she could toward the square where she had left the dragons. Fortunately, the road was mostly clear of debris or obstructions and was easy to travel. On the negative side, it wasn't headed directly to where she wanted to go. She kept looking for an avenue or boulevard headed in the right direction. All the roads on both sides were blocked with stone.

She sat to rest on a boulder that looked like it might once have been a foundation stone. "Dany would probably love this heat." Her sister-queen loved her scalding baths. Dany had often invited her spouses to join her in the tub, but only Jon would accept. Arya burned easily.

She seriously didn't want to continue, but she knew she had to. If she didn't get back to the dragons she might never leave. She forced herself to her feet and kept on walking. She had to struggle to resist the urge to strip off her armor. It wasn't that she opposed losing the dragon scale. It was because Maester Samwell had warned her that being uncovered would only make her body lose more water.

A distant sound reached her ears. She stopped. Roars. From dragons. Forgetting her fatigue, Arya took off at a run. The noise got louder. She ran until the sound was to her right. Looking closely, she spotted a low mound of gravel. She climbed up it. On the other wise was a track leading away from the road toward a complex of buildings. She pushed herself.

The increasing darkness did nothing to lower the temperature.

Before her was a low arch. This was a doorway, not a road. Racing through it she was witness to a titanic battle.

Both dragons were in combat with the most insane thing she had ever seen. A dragon wight. Or a wight dragon. She didn't know what to call it. All she knew was that it was dead, yet not dead. Bones were visible through desiccated flesh. The ruins of its wings would not have lifted a sparrow. Its eyes glowed red, just like the fire wights she'd fought before. And it was big. Not the size of Cannibal, but easily outweighing Snowflake.

The three beasts were throwing each other around. All sported wounds, but only the living dripped blood. She could see that each was trying to get a death grip on their opponent's neck. Each always managed to slip away before it could. The undead horror used its tail to toss Snowflake against a wall, only to be slammed backward by Cannibal.

Why don't they burn it? As soon as the thought crossed her mind the Cannibal unleased his black breath. The flame washed over the thing. To her shock, the flame which she had seen vaporize ships and men, did nothing to the dead thing. In fact, it looked like it healed the fiend's wounds.

The fiend hissed and charged, knocking over the Cannibal. It leaped onto his belly. Snowflake, though drove her own body into it and knocked it off.

Arya suddenly remembered Visenya's Dagger. At the Heartree that dagger had slain the Ice Dragon of the Others. She had thrown it into the thing's eye, but that was really because of Bran. With whatever power he had obtained as a spirit he had made it fly far beyond any distance she could throw. And likely also ensured it hit its target. Still, there was a chance.

It was as if the undead monstrosity could read her thoughts. Its eyes focused on her and it roared. Then it charged. For the only time in her life Arya was frozen with fear. All thought fled. She stared opened mouthed as the dead thing raced straight at her.

The paralysis was broken when the Cannibal landed fully upon its back. His massive weight drove it to the ground. He locked his jaws on its neck at the base of its skull. He then worried it back and forth, just as he'd done to the Mother under Leng. Arya found herself gripped by Snowflake's teeth. Her dragon carried her away from the danger zone. The dead dragon struggled to escape, but the Cannibal would not be denied. He ripped its head off and the thing finally fell limp. The Cannibal tossed the head away and roared.

"The Iron Throne does not want to rule the Basilisk Isles." Asha repeated for the umpteenth time. She knew Hombar was trying to distract her from her course. He thought she was a tyro, that being Ironborn meant she didn't know a thing about negotiation. How little he knew.

"Yet you set conditions for our sailing," he similarly repeated. He was taking the negotiations round and round again, just he'd done before. Looking out the porthole she saw darkness. Her stomach rumbled.

Finally, she'd had enough. Jumping to her feet, she whipped her dirk from its scabbard and jammed its point into the table, directly between his two hands.

"Enough!" she yelled. "There will be no further discussion." She had decided to pull out her trump card. She had been determined not to, for it made her feel helpless. She did not want to admit to needed Arya. But she had lost all patience.

He was staring up at her in surprise.

She bent down toward him. "Queen Arya Stark, and her dragons, will be joining us shortly. Do you wish me to tell her that you are determined not to come to an agreement?"

For the first time she saw fear in his eyes. "The Valonqar?"

She hid her relief. "Yes." She put real pleasure in her voice. "The Valonqar."

It never ceased to amaze Asha that so many people had heard of Arya's moniker. She had been known by that name for only a half dozen moons. Yet it had made her infamous.

"If you want to argue with her, go right ahead. But I should warn you, she is not as patient as I am." That was not strictly speaking true, but it got the point across.

He licked his lips and looked around the cabin. Finally, he said, "I need to give some reason to my men for why they are to stop raiding."

"You can tell them you don't want to meet the dragon that's going to be here tomorrow. Of course, my men might not give them the chance. They've been eager for a fight this entire voyage."

He licked his lips again. "I will think of something."

"You will."

This time he displayed no joy. Standing, he gave a slight bow, and left.

Crackjaw had a smirk on his face as he handed her some wine. "Well done. So like a princess."

"Shut up." She gulped it down.

It was near mid of night before Arya finally returned to Summer. The Queensguards had refused sleep waiting. The giant shape of the Cannibal was visible first. It was a new moon, so the only light was from the stars. But even the dimness could not hide that huge shape. He circled the ship once before flying off.

Snowflake's arrival was more dignified. She gently touched down in the water before swimming up to the ship. Arya lightly hopped onto the deck before the dragon swam away. This time she made sure she was well clear before launching herself.

The Queenguards were eager to learn of her adventures. Brienne was relieved to see her worst fears were unfounded. Arya looked haggard, not lost. They could smell her a mile away. The two swords were obvious to everyone.

Arya though wasn't interested in talking. Not yet. Instead, she clawed at her armor. "Get this stuff off me!" They helped pull off her scale coat. Her linen undershirt was pasted to her skin. She tore it off, uncaring about the men who were on deck. "Burn that."

"What happened to you?" Brienne finally asked.

"Later. I need food. And wine."

"No wine," Jake suddenly shouted. "Water. Cold water."

They looked at him in surprise, but nobody argued. Lyanna rushed to get a cup. It wasn't as cold as Arya would have preferred, yet she grabbed for it as if it were the finest Arbor Gold.

Jake grabbed the cup before Arya could get it to her mouth. "Wait!"

"How dare you!" Her voice almost croaked.

"Slowly! Or you might kill yourself." That brought them all up short. He produced a small cup, one used more for liquor than water and proceeded to pour a mouthful into it. "Remember, slow sips."

Keeping the cup in his hand he brought it to her mouth. She longed to gulp it down all at once, but she found she couldn't. As soon as moisture hit her mouth her throat sized up. She wanted to cough. She found she had to work the water around her mouth before the tightness would abate. First one sip, then another. It gradually became easier until she was able to take swallows.

Obella grinned. "You could be a Dornishman."

Jake looked at her in shock. "I am a Dornishman."

They all stared at him as if he'd grown wings. He neither looked nor sounded Dornish. "Where are you from?" Joella asked.

"Starfall."

"You look more Andal than Dornish."

"You forget, there is plenty of Andal blood in Dorn. They were there long before the Targaryens."

"Nice," Arya said, sounding peevish. "This doesn't fill my belly."

Brienne pushed Arya toward the door. "We'll get the cook to prepare something. In the meantime, you need to bathe."

Arya didn't argue. Even before she reached her cabin, she was stripping off the rest of her clothes. Maesters delivering her babies made her less than modest. They were in the main room when Yimi gasped.

"Yimi, you've seen her naked before," Obella said playfully.

"Look at her!" Yimi answered.

They all did, including Arya herself, and saw nothing. Lyanna said, "She looks like the queen."

"No. Look!" Yimi waved her hand at Arya.

They stared back as if she'd said Arya had become a wolf. It was Yūko who gasped and exclaimed something in her own language. Her eyes were wide as saucers, her fingers over her mouth.

The group stared at her before returning their attention to Arya. Brienne finally noticed. "Your scars are gone."

It was true. Lighting the room as much as they could, Jake gave her a thorough examination. In her life Arya had acquired an impressive array of scars. All of them, the ones on her belly from the Waif, the one over her heart she had taken from Lady Stoneheart, even her stretchmarks, all gone. She had the complexion of a newborn babe.

"How is this possible?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. All I felt was immense heat from all the volcanoes there."

"There were many volcanoes?"

"The city was practically made of them."

"Can this wait until later?" Brienne asked. "The queen needs to bathe and eat."

In that they all agreed. Departing for her cabin she was joined by Yūko. With a thorough cleansing and fresh clothes, she sat down to eat. Cook had managed to throw together a comforting meal. Nothing fancy. But Arya wolfed it down like a starving man.

Unlike Stygai or Carcosa, she showed no reluctance to tell them of her adventures. Sandor had taken charge of the two blades when she boarded and now, they all looked over Brightroar.

"It's incredible," Jake said. "Gerion Lannister. How'd he manage to get there?"

"I couldn't tell you. But it must have taken a great will to have found the sword with all he'd had to face."

"What killed him, these fire wights you found or the heat?"

"No idea. Could be either. It doesn't matter. All I know is that is an evil place. We are well away from it."

Brienne was quick to voice her thoughts. "We shouldn't have gone in the first place."

"But then she wouldn't have found the sword," Alys pointed out.

"You think a sword is worth the queen's life?"

"She doesn't seem to have suffered for it. In fact, you might say she benefited from it."

"But how?"

They all looked to Jake. He was as lost as they were. He shrugged. "The Valyrians used a great deal of magic. No doubt much of it still lingers about the place."

"But why did it affect her like this?"

"I couldn't tell you. Maybe Marwyn would know."

"I doubt it," Arya said. "I never heard any tale like this. Maybe we should just accept it."

"Maybe we should."

"What do you intend to do with the sword?" Sandor.

"Return it to whom it belongs," she answered.

END CHAPTER 21