Chapter Eleven
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The Legions of Valyria, it is probably the most powerful known in the known world and that is without dragon support. Pale white and silver in armor, they are well-equipped and well-trained, ready to fight whatever it is that the Freehold deems as a threat. They are the ones responsible for bringing down different cities and towns that dare rebel against the might of the Freehold. Short of the dragonlords themselves, they form the military arm of Valyria.
Paranz Gastille is the captain of his regiment as he right now boards one of the boats that would take them to the shores of the town called Sunspear here at Westeros. After almost a few months of sailing at the thousand strong fleet, Paranz finds it quite a good change of pace that they finally here at their destination. Say what you will, but a few months at sea have many of his fellow compatriots puking their guts out at the waters.
Far ahead the sandy dunes of the desert awaits alongside the tall tower that seems to pierce the sun. Word among his compatriots are that a rogue dragonlord has defeated one of the Lords of the Black Tower after trying to bring him in. The purpose of him and his fellow legionnaires here is to serve as a reminder to these savages of Westeros that witnessed the event, that Valyria is strong and would not tolerate someone bearing witness to such a weakness.
In other words, they are here to kill and pillage and burn. All in a day's work off for a legionnaire.
Hundreds of smaller boats can be seen leaving the main fleet moored in deeper waters carrying with them men and supplies heading towards the beach outside Sunspear. Above he could see the fourteen dragons accompanying them circling the ships all in greyish brown colors. The High Council wanted conformity among the colors of the Dragonlords accompanying this expedition and have sent Dragonlords with the same color code to provide air cover.
"Thirty seconds!" he can hear the head of the rowers call out as their small boat containing at least twenty men nears the shore. Far ahead he can see the tall cliffs at the edge of Sunspear looming over the landing site. It's beaches is the only safe place to land with sharp rocks and stones found at the other areas that would smash a landing party quite easily.
Somehow for some reason, Paranz has this bad feeling that has been creeping up his spine the entire time that they head down under the shadow of those cliffs.
He is proven right the next few seconds.
A powerful explosion followed by the pained dying screams of a boat near him can be heard as without warning it explodes in a debris of wood, iron and bits of blood and flesh. Arrows suddenly appear without warning like rain landing all over them prompting Paranz to hide beneath his buckler shield as the slow ones inside his boat gets an arrow for their trouble.
"Row faster!" he calls out to the rowers as pained screeches from his men all over can be heard as the dead and the dying are thrown off from the boats. Arrows like hail continue to fall, followed what seems to be trebuchet fire, landing with powerful explosions all over either taking a boat here or there with lucky direct fire or sending enough waves to capsize one or two in the process, sending its riders in the waters below.
"Ten seconds!" he can hear the head of the rowers call out and Paranz steels himself. This is it, the moment he is waiting for before disembarking. He takes a peek through the cover of his shield and he almost groans at what he sees. It seems that the entire cliff wall has come alive. Trebuchets and catapults now fill the entirety of what seems to be caves on the edge of the cliff with fucking flaming arrows falling down like hail to the boats coming to the shore. He can see the fourteen dragons trying to make strafing rounds on the defenders but what seems to be giant ballistas makes the dragonlords arrow shy despite them doing strafing runs of fire at some of the catapults and archers sending Dornish screaming in agony as they are burned alive.
"Get up! Get up! Out of the boat!" shouts the rowers and Paranz nearly face planted as someone shoved him off the boat and to the sandy shore. Now in dry ground, it is absolute hell as more and more boats seem to make landfall disembarking their small crews to the sandy beach. The problem is as more Valyrians make it, out in the open, they become prime juicy targets for archers on the cliffs who sends hail upon hail of arrows that takes dozens upon dozens dead by the second. Some ballistas and trebuchets even rearranged their fire to aim at the troops milling on the beaches sending explosions here and there throwing Valyrian ground troops off their feet and sprawling.
"Get off the beach! Go or you'll die here!" one of the other captains are shouting as he urges his men to press forward to the cliffs even as more and more fell victim to the arrows that are currently landing all over them.
It is hell as Paranz tries to regain his bearings through the shouting, dying and the moaning of the dead and dying. Add the acrid smell of burnt flesh, tangy taste of blood and the smoke caused by dragonfire, it is almost unbearable. He can see more and more boats unloading their retinues with some dying immediately upon disembarkation as they are riddled with arrows or an unlucky trebuchet lands among them, turning them to paste or setting them aflame.
"Move! Move! Move!" he can feel himself going with the survivors pushing forward even through the hail of arrows and catapult fire.
Twice his shield thunks as an arrow lodges on it. It takes only one to hit him through the soft flesh of his neck and Paranz, captain of the Valyrian Legions knows no more. Yet still the Landing of Sunspear continues.
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"Kill the Valyrian dogs!" roars Erin Netstitcher as her friends tend to call her due to her family being net stitchers for generations at Sunspear. It is a craft of her family taught from mother to daughter. It might have continued on to Erin to continue the family's legacy if not for this sudden invasion of Valyrians.
"Hurry up and get those catapults loaded up!" their overseer whips them forward making Erin hurry to help in loading the giant pot, bustling with hot tar and oil unto the mechanism even as it scalded her hands. Immediately another of the smallfolk like her lights it up with a torch, making it burn.
"Everybody clear!" with a shout, the ones in charge cut the ropes making the catapult clang forward, sending the pot of oil into the air alongside dozens upon dozens of others to the beach below where the Valyrians are massing. She can see it explode in the beach setting afire a couple of landers , their eerie screeches almost being missed by how far they are from the cliffs.
"Dragon!" a shout goes through and in instinct, Erin falls flat on her face as a cascade of fire whips over her head singing the ends of her hair as it passes through. Not all are as lucky as her as five men are reduced to ashes, to late to evade the fire. The cave might protect them from the worst, but the fire tends to cut through still.
"Get up and get loading, more Valyrians are making shoreline, more Valyrians for us to kill!" shouts their overseer again.
With scrambling hands, Erin hurries over to help the loading of the catapult mechanism once more as they load it up at the catapult. It is tiring and heavy work, but she does it gladly. These foreigners come to invade her name, they will pay the blood price for it.
"For Dorne! Release!" she can see the archers appointed to other cave systems continuing their hail of fire and arrows to the Valyrians below, she smiles as she sees many starts to fall at the volley. Above she can see the dragons milling uncertainly with the occasional one or two daring to dive down for a strafe in the caves. Giant ballistas immediately meet them and the dragons swerve this and that way with a couple hitting the scaly hides. It does not penetrate but it does force the dragons to bail out in fear and pain, roaring their displeasure at the ones firing.
"Release!" her overseer calls again and the catapult releases its clamp sending the flying pot over the sky to land in a boat among many sending it ablaze and sending its riders flailing in the water.
Erin cannot help but smile once more.
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"You beautiful bitch, you are right, again," murmurs Nymeria to herself as she witnesses the devastation that is currently going on. It is not even a battle, but a massacre as the Valyrians try their best to maintain their landing into the beach.
Six months of preparation and work, finally comes to bear fruit. The Lhisan-Al-Ghaib has spoken it, she tells of the arrival of the Valyrians and about how the overproud dragonlords would make landfall here, exactly right in this place. She is right. Instead of scattering the gathered forces of Sunspear and Dorne all over the shoreline, Nymeria had taken a leapt of faith and believed in what the Lady of Jerusalem had prophecied to happen.
She had been right. Scouts and smaller, faster ships a few weeks before had reported to her that an armada from Valyria is arriving heading straight for here, the cliffs outside Sunspear. Just right smack dab where the Lhisan-Al-Ghaib had said so. Thus when the Valyrians arrived at their shores, they did not arrive to a surprised and uncoordinated, scattered Dorne but a united kingdom with almost thirty thousand men gathered here at the cliffs raining down hell at them in the safety of the hewn caves at the cliffs.
That is another thing that she has to be thankful for the Lhisan-Al-Ghaib.
The past six months, the main army of Dorne has not been simply twiddling their thumbs in anticipation of the upcoming fight, no. They have been training like madmen with the new tools that the Lhisan-Al-Ghaib introduced to them. From the repeating crossbow which was so easy to use that even newly recruited levies can use, to the massive trebuchets that supercedes the traditional catapult in size and weight making them extremely useful against wooden and large targets. They have also been chiseling caves that would protect them from dragonfire that the enemy also has in abundance.
Right now, it is showing results since almost a dozen of the Valyrian ships are burning, courtesy of the trebuchets that lobbed their powerful array of fire against them.
Still, everything it seems is going according to everything that Ari told her will happen. Despite the ungodly amount of arrow fire and catapult fire that the defenders at the cliff are throwing at the Valyrians, they are already massing in large numbers, sheltering with whatever they can find or using their impromptu boats and shields as defenses. Already a few thousand or so have made it despite their dead turning the beach red.
"Time for the second phase," thinks Nymeria to herself as she raises the horn blowing it with a clear ringing note.
Immediately the Dornish in the cliffs starts to make an entire ruckus in a loud clamor as if one that is afraid as they abandoned their posts and throwing their weapons down, makes a run for it through a large open space at the middle of the cliff where they ran in an organized mass.
The Valyrians immediately cheered at the sight even as the Dragonlords makes strafing fires into the rearguard of the running Dornish turning many to ash. With no more opposition, more boats can be seen disgorging more and more Valyrians to the beaches increasing their numbers as they organize themselves before marching in good order after the escaping Dornish in eagerness, the Dragonlords flying above them confidently.
"The ball is in your park now Lady Atreides. May the goddess be with you," thought Nymeria as she runs with her people away. They have done their part, now it is the Fedaykin's turn to strike the lethal blow.
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"They sure are an impressive lot," mutters Ari to herself as she watches the Valyrian legions slowly drizzle down in their thousands through the gap of the cliff. Dressed in white and silver livery, they are an awesome sight. It seems that despite the bloody nose that Nymeria and the Dornish have given them, she estimates that they are still at least fifty thousand strong.
"Zeyma, this doesn't warrant you able to ride me," grumbles an annoyed Alduin earning him a growl from the other Dovah.
"Now, now Alduin,"you know I need to make a spectacular entrance. "What better way than standing here at your back," purrs Ari, patting the side of the dragon's neck.
"Hrrmf, but you promised me death Zeyma, I would expect blood,"
"Give it time," intones Ari looking at the Valyrian legions gathering below finally starting to march forward. "And you will have all the blood you can desire oh dearest dragon,"
Angry roars can be seen as the fourteen representatives of the Valyrians appear atop their legions, their dragon's wings batting as they fly in slow motion as the Valyrians march through the dusty dunes that stand between them and the City of Sunspear.
"It is time, Avis!" with a powerful whish sound, a silver light appears from Ari's fingertips hitting the runes prepared beforehand at the dunes just at the border of Sunspear. Immediately it lights up before exploding in consecutive manners. One…two…three…Runes explode in a horizontal line at the side of the city of Dorne kicking up a powerful shockwave creating a sandstorm. The Valyrian Legions themselves barely has time to squawk in alarm before the powerful winds buffet them sending many a legionnaire flying off his feet. Many at the back have the sense to fall flat on their faces but the entire vanguard is thrown off like marionettes as more than one looses his footing.
It lasts for only a few seconds and the miniature sandstorm slowly start to dissipate. The ranks of the Valyrians however have been scattered and many unhappy groans can be heard as everyone picks their feet up, fallen spears and banners being once more lifted up. They look at the slowly disappearing desert sandstorm wall slowly disappearing from their front and more than one gives off a small laugh at the sudden stroke of bad luck.
"If only they knew,"
Mighty roars that deafen ears from one part of the army to the other can be heard as there suddenly in front of them, emerging from the disappearing storm emerges three very angry, and very pissed off Sandworms, each the size of a skyscraper, their giant bulbous heads spinning like razor wires as they crash into the sand before charging straight at the Valyrian legions.
The result is immediate.
Full blown panic grips the Valyrians seeing that it is their first time seeing a Sandworm, not to mention said Sandworm is as big as a building and heading straight for them very fast. They are like roaches running this way and that as they try to pick the best way to avoid the behemoths. Pained screams can also be heard as without warning arrows are raining all over the running away Valyrians.
The Sandworms are not their only concern. There, at the top of each Sandworm crouching with their crossbows are the Fedaykin, the flag of the City of Jerusalem, flying proud and true as the Sandworms blulldoze through the ranks of the legionnaires snatching all but a few in their massive jaws.
Dragons descend from above in a torrent of fire and flames but their attack vector is cut off as they are set upon by the Dovah leading the dragons of Jerusalem. They are so caught up with the Sandworms that they forget the most basic rules in dragon combat.
Never be the one below a dragon's talons.
Now descending from the sun above, the Dovah rips the fourteen to pieces with claw, teeth and fire sending them scattering in all directions with Alduin being particularly brutal murdering two of the Valyrian dragons in seconds. Ari herself has not been idle. An AK hits an unprepared Valyrian rider throwing her off from her saddle lifeless before she can even defend herself.
The fight below is also as intense as the battle at the air. With the Valyrians panicking, they are all but crushing themselves back to the narrow valley entrance where they came from before. With the Sandworms wreaking havoc upfront. The East and the West is also under heavy attack.
From the sands in relation to their names, the Desert Scorpions of the Fedaykin appear without warning in explosions of sand by the thousands charging straight at the West at the broken ranks of the Valyrian Legionnaires. With their ranks broken and uncoordinated, this makes them close…close enough for a knife fight which the Desert Scorpions excel at.
Like a battering ram, the Fedaykin slams through the scattered Valyrians staining the desert red with blood. The Valyrians with their heavyset armor and large spears, pikes and longswords found themselves in the wrong foot against the faster and more nimble Fedaykin who takes a bloody toll on their number. They are unable to muster and unable to form cohesive defenses and one by one they are taken down, clumsy, clunky and slow.
At the East, the roar of angry voices can be heard as a vengeful Nymeria leads Dorne's hosts against the Valyrians. Composed mostly of levies and men-at-arms, the spearmen of Dorne are more brawlers than fighters. They stab wildly and fighting without abandon. Against the legionnaires normally, they would be crushed. But with the Valyrians too focused on the giant worms, the Dornish hosts fair well.
It takes another three hours before the Battle of the Red Sands are over. It is another three hours before the cheers of victory of the Dornish and the Fedaykin can be heard along with the roaring of the dragons of Jerusalem.
For the first time in history and the last, Valyria lost with zero survivors.
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Author's Note:
Hello, sorry for the long wait. Another chapter done. Hopefully you will all like this. One more chapter before the Valyrian Arc would end. Trust me, you will all going to love it and Ari would end it Harry Potter style.
As usual please review for your reviews are the song to this writer's heart.
