Chapter 76: Fire and Ice
The walls of Asshai were oozing with a black slime, that was the first thing he noticed as they got closer to them. It was unnerving, for nobody else in their party seemed that concerned. They chattered and rode onward. Tyrion glanced at the Queen, she was chatting animatedly with Quaithe, the older woman was smiling serenely. Whatever he had thought about the woman, his mind was racing now.
He knew she had once come from Asshai, or that she had known Stannis' red witch, but he had not expected her to be the one to greet them outside the city's walls. Clearly she was more powerful than he'd first thought. That required a new adjustment. If she was as powerful as he was beginning to think she was, perhaps then that meant that her desire to guide the Queen was not as pure as he had first thought.
They came to a sudden stop before a towering gate, this was wrought in crimson. A giant figure stood before them. The figure's eyes were blazing pits of fire. "Who comes?" The figure asked, its voice deep.
"Her Grace, Daenerys, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Queen of Yunkai, Astapor and Meereen. Stormborn and Mother of Dragons." Quaithe said.
"And who vouches for her?" The figure asked.
"I do." Quaithe said, her voice deepening.
The figure looked at Quaithe and then at their party, for a moment Tyrion felt as though the figure was staring right at him. He had to resist the urge to shiver. After what felt an age the figure raised its hands and said. "Welcome, Daenerys Stormborn." The gate swung to one side and they filed through.
The first thing that Tyrion noticed was that the streets of Asshai were filled with ash. It was as if the great fire of the world had settled here. Ash coated the cobblestones and the houses, and the people. They were far darker than he expected. They were silent as the party rode past, but they all bowed their heads and touched their eyes and mouth. He frowned. He wanted to ask why they were doing that, but he was so far down the line that his question wouldn't reach Quaithe.
They carried on down the street, before turning a corner. Here, Tyrion saw that there were seven statues. One was of a man whose eyes were gone. Another was of a man whose hands were gone. A third was of another man whose ears were gone. A fourth was of a man whose mouth was gone. The fifth had no hair. The sixth had no legs and the seventh, the seventh had nothing. As they rode deeper into the street, he noticed that the seven figures were centred around a figure, the figure had a dragon's head, a human's body, and the claws of a lion. It was holding onto chains and these chains were fastened onto the seven statues.
They stopped just past this scene. Tyrion noticed that there were figures standing near a large palace-he supposed that was the right word for it-and they were all moving forward to greet the Queen.
Seated on his horse as he was, he could not hear what was said, but he could read their body language. The figure at the front of the crowd was clearly the leader. He was a tall dark-skinned man with fierce sideburns. He was speaking frenetically and gesturing as well. Behind him stood two women, one was as pale as snow and the other was as dark as midnight.
They continued speaking, Tyrion glanced up and saw the dragons circling them. They had flown as they'd travelled from Meereen back to where there were ships for them to take. And from there they'd travelled by sea, before reaching a port near Asshai. The port was on no known map of the area, but the captain of the ship they had been on had known it.
A cheer brought his attention back to his present circumstances. He had to raise himself in the saddle to get a proper look, but it seemed as though the three figures were prostrating themselves before the Queen.
That was something. Either it was very good. Or it was going to be very bad.
The snow lay on the ground as if it were a blanket. Wendel could see his breath if he breathed out. He was wearing all sorts of thick clothes to keep warm. The brothers of the Watch were making do with their simple cloaks and furs. It was what it was, but that didn't mean he couldn't complain about it.
Still, they were waiting. Their scouts had reported that the Wildling enemy was close at hand. Perhaps a day's march away, or maybe less. The great host that Mance Rayder the pretender King had gathered was large. But much of it was likely to be women and children. Those who could not fight.
The stories had predicted that this day would come. That Rayder would try and break the wall. Wendel doubted that the man had the tools he needed to do that. The Horn of Joramun had been lost for millennia. Most likely destroyed by one of the Starks, perhaps even as later as the Andal invasion.
The man who commanded at Eastwatch-where Wendel and his men had been sent-was one Denys Mallister. An old man who seemed to just be about up to the challenge. He had archers on the walls, their bows trained on the ground beyond the wall. He had men manning the pitches of oil, and he had made waiting at the gates in case the enemy breached through.
Wendel was sat in the man's solar, waiting. Mallister was waiting as well. Neither of them were saying anything to one another. When it came to war, it was better to sit in silence. A man who spoke when certain death and destruction was approaching was a fool.
As if the Gods had read his mind, a horn sounded. Mallister opened his eyes and got up. The man opened the door of his solar and then walked out. Wendel waited a beat, then followed him. They walked down the hallway, down a flight of stairs and then they were out in the open.
Men were moving about in a frenzy. Mallister stopped one of the men and asked him what it was. "A hurricane of men and women, Ser. I think there might even be giants."
Giants, just as the stories foretold.
Wendel walked past the two men and found his own commander, Ser Brandon Manderly- a cousin-and said. "You have heard what is approaching."
"Aye, Ser Wendel." The other man replied.
"Let us take our positions." Wendel commanded. Ser Brandon nodded then barked out commands, the men of White Harbour sprang into action. Some of them took their position near the gates. Others accompanied Wendel as he took the cage up to the top of the wall. From there he could see everything.
A moment passed, then another, then he saw them. A mass of bodies moving like a snake, shifting and turning. Pressing through the fog and the snow, determined to wreak havoc. Wendel knew exactly what would happen if they were allowed to get anywhere near the actual wall. He had read the stories since childhood. He knew that they needed to be dealt with now.
"Make sure nobody comes here." He ordered Ser Brandon. The man acknowledged the command. Wendel closed his eyes.
Great Merman, I know you are powerful in the water, but now I need the power you have on land. The great threat that you warned my ancestors of is approaching. I must delay them for as long as I can. Please, I submit myself to your judgement.
Silence. Wendel wondered if he'd made a mistake, if he'd pushed too hard for too long. As he was about to open his eyes and give up, he got a response.
You have it, but you know what will happen at this battle's end.
I do.
He shivered as a chill ran through him, then he opened his eyes. He took his bow from Ser Brandon and took an arrow from the quiver that Ser Brandon held. He knocked the arrow. He focused. The enemy were coming at great speed now. He could make out a giant in the distance. He targeted the giant, then he let loose.
The arrowed soared into the air, it travelled and then it split into different pieces, as it came arcing down, Wendel was sure he heard the cries of the Wildlings. He watched as the arrows came down and buried themselves into the Wildlings and the giant.
He drew another arrow and knocked it and released it. The same happened. As he drew a third arrow, he heard a caw. He looked up and saw a raven, one with three-eyes. He smiled. He drew his bow and fired at the raven. The arrow struck true. The raven squawked but came crashing down to the ground.
That was when he heard the roar, and the ground began to shake.
The chamber they were in-for that was the only appropriate name that Tyrion could think for it-was black as night, and little puddles of black goo were forming at the base of the walls. He glanced around, but no one, not the Queen, not Ser Jorah and not Daario Naharis seemed to mind.
"They can't see them." A voice said behind him. Tyrion turned around. Quaithe was stood there. Her skin was less worn, indeed, she seemed to be much younger than she had ever been before. Her hair was a darker colour now as well.
"Why?" he asked.
"The oozing of the walls is designed so that only those with a keen eye can see it." Quaithe replied.
"Why?" He asked.
"That is the way the dragonlords wanted it." Quaithe said.
"This place was designed by the Valyrians?" Tyrion asked. That surprised him. He had always thought that Asshai had been developed after the Doom.
"Not the Valyrians. The ones who came before." Quaithe answered.
"There were dragonlords before the Valyrians?" Tyrion asked shocked. He had always thought the Valyrians were the first ones to discover the beasts of fire.
"Yes. We do not know what they called themselves, only that they existed. When the world was young, they formed an Empire, one that was built on the promise of fire. The Valyrians were their children, and she," here Quaithe nodded to the Queen who was listening to one of the dark-skinned men intently. "is their heir."
"Why did you bring us to Asshai?" Tyrion asked then. That had been a thought that had been in his head for some time. He wanted answers, but he wasn't entirely sure how to get them.
Quaithe smiled at him, in a way that seemed oddly familiar, almost maternal. "Because there are things here that the Queen needs to learn before she can travel to Westeros to claim what is rightfully hers."
"Such as?" Tyrion asked.
Quaithe didn't answer that question, instead she asked one of her own. "What do you know of Asshai, Tyrion?"
It was the first time she had just used his first name, and that was enough for him to forget his suspicions and simply say. "Not enough."
The woman smiled again, this time it seemed almost predatory. "Then you will enjoy the visit to the Great House of Fire. Both you and the Queen shall be going there on the morrow, to learn more about the city and your fates."
Tyrion frowned, he wanted to ask how he would learn about his fate in a house of fire, but at that moment the Queen called for Quaithe, and the woman glided forward. Tyrion watched as she spoke with the Queen, and he wondered for a moment if there was a shadow lurking over her. He blinked and it was gone.
The ground shook and a roar rang out from the air. The wind picked up and turned the entire area in front of him into a blur. Wendel suspected he knew what was coming. The enemy had their own magic and they were going to use it.
Wendel knocked another arrow. He knew that this would be the moment that would change things. If he could get this arrow to hit one of their magicians in this darkness, then they would win. If not, then he suspected that the Wildlings would start breaking through.
That could not be allowed. If the Wildlings came through, everything was done. He said a prayer, then fixed his sight into the darkness, he counted down, when he got to one, he released the arrow. He heard the cracking that signified that it had split into multiple arrows, and when he heard what sounded like a scream, he knew the arrows had found their mark.
He could not rest though. He needed to take out as many of those fools as possible. He drew another arrow, knocked it and released. He heard a scream and the ground shook. A roar sounded in the darkness.
Wendel turned to Ser Brandon. "Leave that quiver here and go."
"My lord?" the man asked sounding confused.
"Go. Get going now." Wendel commanded. His cousin looked as if he wanted to protest, but instead, he bowed and hurried down. The moment he heard the cage whir into life, Wendel drew another arrow. He glanced into the quiver before he knocked and fired. There were two arrows left. Enough to do the right amount of damage.
He released the arrow, it hit something for there was another roar and another shake of the ground. He smiled. Death would be welcome when it came. As he went to grab another arrow, the ground shook once more, and the quiver fell. He didn't bother picking it up. Instead, he stood firm, his back straight and waited.
He had a dagger on his belt. That would have to suffice.
"You!" a figure appeared in the darkness. A figure with barely anything human about it.
Wendel grabbed the dagger and as the figure grabbed him, he slashed at it. The figure dropped him and howled. Wendel dropped the dagger and grabbed his bow and an arrow. The figure was roaring and desperately scrambling to get to him. Wendel knocked the arrow, when the figure's eyes came into view, he fired. The arrow hit one eye. Wendel picked up another arrow and fired. The other eye got hit. The figure roared and staggered, it leaned back and fell.
He slumped back against the ice and laughed. He had survived for now. He had one arrow left. That would have to do for now.