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39: The Water Runs Red 4
… …
I forced my mind to bear the weight of the strain, gazing down upon the twin ports of Rakakz. The third port did not concern me. Jaeronos would handle that. My focus lay on the two before me, and more specifically, the tower between them.
Thoughts came in fragments, rough and jagged, as my mind struggled beneath the pressure. I was not merely in one gull, but four, all soaring above the Redwater. The flood of sensations, the weight of controlling their flight, pressed hard against my skull. Too much to process, too much to sift through. Rian was near, seen by all four gulls. They trembled, wanting to flee. Rian meant death to them. I could feel their panic. But I held them fast. They served me.
Below, the land blurred by in a smear of brown and green, the path between the two ports marked by a line of dirt and rock. Two figures moved along it, coming from the bay, heading toward the tower. My prey. But I waited, biding my time, forcing patience where instinct screamed for haste.
To seize the mind of a man would be easier. Simpler. But far more dangerous. The act of taking over a man's mind was a line I did not wish to cross again. The Whores had been forced upon me. This would not. No, I would suffer the gulls, the strain of their collective minds pulling at mine. Still, the weight…
I forced three of the gulls to close their eyes, granting me a brief respite. The strain eased, if only slightly. With fewer images and fewer sensations to parse, my thoughts cleared. But even now, with their eyes closed, I couldn't afford to strike. This moment was nothing more than a pause in the agony, a chance to gather myself while the waiting continued.
The gulls had no will of their own, not anymore. Rian's presence sparked their instincts, but that was all that remained of them—their shattered minds and broken wills were my tools now. I was their master, even as the effort of controlling four at once gnawed at my reserves. Magic... such a fickle thing these days. Whatever curse lay upon the world twisted its use, made it brittle and unpredictable. Not just for me, but for any who wielded power. But I knew something the others did not. I knew why magic was faltering, and I had a plan—though the solution was far from my reach, still a year and a half away.
The Red Comet had seen the return of dragons, those living engines of magic. Their rebirth had stirred the old forces awake, but the Comet itself held the key to clearing the taint that blocked the ability of those with the gift to wield magic. Yet until that fateful day arrived, I would continue to strain against this limit I despised. What I did today would nearly drain me, leave me hollow, but it was necessary. Rakakz could not know his eastern port was already under siege, not until it was too late—until it was mine.
As the two men reached the tower, I turned my focus to them and their location. The other gulls remained with their eyes closed, instincts allowing them to circle easily on the winds swirling around the island; captured by the range of high hills to the south and the mountains to the north. Those mountains separated Rakakz's territory from Allerion's, while the hills separated Rakakz from Vaegon. I had hopes that both places might have suitable minerals and resources for mining, but that was a project for a later time. Not least only once Southpoint was inhabited and defended as much as Northpoint currently was.
At the tower, two men emerged, greeting their cohorts. Using the gull whose eyes remained open, I swooped down lower. Not low enough that any of the four men might consider loosing an arrow, but so that I might catch movements of their lips. It was hard to make out what was being said – the gull's mind was not trained to process the movements of lips as Ymir could, and as I'd learnt to do while inside the minds of Kaa and Rian – but no codes appeared to be said.
The two men from the tower moved away, heading for the bay port. I had to wait and make sure they were far enough away that the commotion I was about to unleash wouldn't be heard. Once far enough away, and the new men at the tower emerged back out from it, I commanded the other gulls to open their eyes.
The pain returned. Four minds, four visions, all for me to control. The first gull circled low. Two of the other three began to follow. One target climbed the ladder, heading for the platform on the tower. The other went inside. The lowest gull aimed for the watchman.
He saw me but thought little of it. His gaze turned east, toward Essos. With prey marked by me, the gull's instincts took over. Wings were drawn to the body. The beak angled down, cutting the air. Tighter the gull held itself, and faster it fell. Like a massive bolt pulled down by gravity.
The man turned, looking in my direction. His eyes widened as he saw my gull-body. Limbs moved frantically. The prey knew it was in danger. A glint of something came from its middle. The man's pupils widened pathetically. I forced the gull to not slow, not pull back as it should. As gaps in the man's shirt became crystal clear, I snapped from the gull's mind.
I watched from the eyes of the other gulls, my connection to the first gull broken. Its wings moved out, trying to slow itself. The action was too late. I'd timed my departure perfectly. The gull's beak slammed into the man's chest. The pair fell back, the bird limply falling against the man's chest. The beak was embedded; the bird dead. A pained sound came from the man's mouth, along with blood, as he was knocked from the platform.
I snarled inside my mind, enjoying the painful death I'd unleashed. My focus shifted. The other man coming out of the tower. The death cries of his partner had reached him. Coming around, he stopped. Frozen at the sight of the other dead from a gull strike. With his gaze down, the two gulls I was driving with raced toward him.
The man moved; his stupor ended. He turned, one hand going to his middle. A leg dropped, the other hand going to the impaled man. An arm lifted weakly. I saw the dying man mumble something. The alive man turned, a glint of light coming from his hip.
I pulled from the mind of the first of the two gulls targeting him. His weapon had been drawn, intending to strike the gull I'd just left. Steel found flesh, but too late and the gull slammed into the man's side, sending him and the now-dead gull to the ground. The weapon, an axe, was knocked from his grasp.
He fumbled on the ground, trying to recover. The third gull, unsighted by him, dove closer. The man pushed himself over, his eyes widening as he saw the gull. Arms moved, trying to protect him. If the gull I was controlling could smile, the bloodthirsty grin I was projecting would've been the last sight the man had.
Slipped from the gull's mind, I looked down from the last remaining gull, it having slowly circled lower in case I needed to sacrifice it. The third gull had slammed beak-first into the downed pirate's face. Even if an arm had blocked some of the force, the way his head snapped to one side, blood all but exploding from bird and face, it was clear he was down for the count.
Movement of the body suggested the man had survived, but as the remaining gull focused its gaze on the man and his companion, it was clear neither was getting up any time soon. Certainly not before I took the eastern port. Even if they survived this attack, they'd not last long. Not without access to a Maester with supplies only found in the richest of keeps. On a remote location in the Stepstones, the pair were dead; all that remained for them was a very painful last few hours.
The gull's gaze shifted to the path, tracking the pair of pirates heading to the bay port. They'd stopped, the sounds of the attack possibly reaching them. Not wanting them to turn, I swooped lower and had the gull call out. The pair looked up, seeing the gull I controlled.
One man shoulder-tapped the other, the pair sharing a joke before resuming their walk to the bay port. I smirked internally, amused that their desire for a meal and a good bed overrode any thoughts of checking on the tower, and once they'd taken a good fifty steps, the gull turned, heading eastward toward my ships.
With that done, I slipped from the gull's mind; bracing for the pain I was about to experience.
"Aghh." The groan slipped from my throat as I fell to one side. My head clattered against something hard, drawing a hiss as everything spun and hurt. I knew this was going to be bad, but I wasn't sure what was going on, nor where and who I was.
My chest hurt, and recognizing the sensation, I barely managed to turn my head before my mouth opened and I expelled whatever was inside my body. As I wretched and coughed, a stray thought offered a small prayer to the Gods that I'd been smart enough to not eat properly before taking control of the gulls. Otherwise, as much as I might not believe it possible currently, things would've been worse.
I felt several small somethings touch my back and side. ".re…gan…u…al…ht." I turned my head at the fucked-up sounds, unable to process what was beings said. My eyes offered little help to knowing who spoke; only showing me a blurred purple figure; one I knew was far smaller than I should be. The figure had two small unfocused extensions touching my side. Behind it, something orange shifted, and my head snapped to see what it was.
I groaned loudly, my head falling slightly as my body protested against the sudden movement.
"…" my mouth opened, but the words I wanted to get out failed to slip from my throat. Instead, another round of heaving began, though this time at least there was nothing for my body to expel.
The orange figure came closer and dropped down. It brought something of a dark colour to my face. The smell of it was familiar, and, after pushing myself upward away from the vomit on the floor, I reached for the dark object. My hand closed around what I knew as a mug, and I lifted it unsteadily to my lips.
The contents slid slowly into my mouth and then down my throat, washing away the taste of whatever I'd eaten earlier; drowning it in the tart aftertaste of a Dornish Red. The wine came back up slightly as I coughed, having gulped too fast even though I'd tried to slow my drinking. There was an urge to retch once more, but I pushed it down. I didn't know why, but I knew I didn't have time to stay here and act like some newborn babe needing the help of its mother.
I took another sip of the wine, letting it slide down my throat. Stopping, I waited for more coughing, and when none came took a longer sip. Feeling slightly better, I closed my eyes and forced my mind to refocus.
Opening my eyes again, I saw the figures in front of me were my squires, Edric Dayne and Trystane Martell. The colours I'd seen before were the surcoats they wore marking their houses.
"Are you well?"
I grimaced, the quietly asked question hurting my ears. Turning to Edric, and not sure I could speak clearly yet, I nodded and with one hand, patted his arm to let him know I was getting there.
After sipping the rest of the wine in the mug, I held it out – still too unsteadily for my liking – for Trystane. The boy took the cup and, with some help from Edric, I stood. "Y-es. E-d-ric," I managed to get out as the hand that had held the mug was now pressing against the wall, using it for stability. "T-ell, M-en. At-ack."
Edric nodded, and faster than my brain would've liked, he was up and rushing toward the door of my cabin. Trystane came closer, what appeared to be a refilled mug in his hands. I took it gratefully, offering him a nod of thanks, and sipped the entire thing in one long go.
With the mug finished, I licked my lips. "Watch. Tower. Gone." I said, each word coming out clearly but slowly. "Not. Fun."
Trystane nodded, though I knew he didn't understand what I'd endured. Outside of my cousins of House Stark, I wasn't sure any of them could and even then, only Robb might have an inkling as only he had a skinchanging bond. That said, once I returned to Sunspear – whenever that would be – I'd be spending time with Alysanne and Beron to see how their training with the ability was going.
"How. Long." I knew the sun was rising as I'd seen it through the eyes of the gulls, but I didn't know how far my ships were from the port, nor how long it'd taken me to recover from orchestrating the gull attack.
"The sun is rising behind us," Trystane said as he moved through my cabin, heading to where a pitcher of wine rested. I turned my head slowly, taking in the viewports of my cabin, noting that while all were still covered light was leaking in around the edges of the covers. "We should be in range soon."
I nodded. "Good. I need to…" my words stopped as I pushed myself from the wall and almost fell over before using Trystane for support. The room spun as I moved, and the motion of the vessel, along with the gentle pounding of a drum for the rowers to keep pace, did little to help.
"Should you not rest before the attack begins?"
I chuckled and shook my head. "No. While many of the men know I can wield magic; they don't understand how I do so." My eyes drifted to my wrist where a seemingly innocuous necklace was wrapped around my forearm. "If I choose to not take part in the initial assault when I have the best bow for it, then they might question my resolve. The last thing either us or Edric want is to have them change allegiance before Jaeronos and reinforcements can reach us."
"Yes, My Lord," Trystane replied, making me roll my eyes at him falling back to type and calling me Lord. It was a minor issue, but one I continued to stress was incorrect as I was not a Lord.
I pushed Trystane away, feeling better about standing under my power, and as he moved to gather my weapons and armour, I looked down at the necklace, using my other hand to push it under the sleeve of my gambeson.
The necklace was nothing of importance, a simple trinket of no great value. Yet, since my last departure from Sunspear, I had taken to wearing it less and less. However, during any public displays of magic before my men, I ensured it hung around my neck, a subtle show of power. It was Doran's idea, clever in its simplicity—a ruse to disguise the fact that I required no aid to summon fire. Should any of the men grow bold enough to betray me, the necklace would be seen as the supposed source of my magic. And when the time came, if some fool tried to take it from me to steal my power, they would find only ashes for their trouble.
"Fetch my bow first," I called out to Trystane, who stood by the weapons stand. Red Rain and my axe usually hung from my belt, but I had stowed them away before slipping into the minds of the gulls, wary of what might happen when I released control. The last thing I needed was to stumble and impale myself on my own blade. As I stepped gingerly around a jagged edge in the floor, I found myself grateful for that bit of foresight.
"You intend to shoot?" Trystane asked. There was a familiarity in his tone that might have been impertinent from another, but I allowed it. He had served me well enough.
"I will not hit anyone worth a damn," I admitted, "but drawing and loosing a few arrows will be enough. It will look as though I am trying. That way, no one will question my condition, and I will have a bit of peace to recover before the true battle begins." Trystane nodded, bringing the bow, a full quiver of arrows, and my helm. He turned back to fetch my blade, axe, and gauntlets, his movements practised and sure. The gauntlets would only hinder me while shooting, and I had no desire to risk snapping the bowstring. A broken bow would be of no use to me for the remainder of my time on Redwater.
"Once I take up position with the bow," I said, sliding my helm over my head, "I want you and Edric in full armour. You do not have the strength to fire from the distance I will be shooting. And when we land and take the port, I want you both protected. No risks. Not until we hold the port in our hands."
I intended to be the first over the bow, with the pair just behind me. Normally, I'd have Ymir, Bronn, or Jaeronos stay close to them as I didn't want to lose either of them. Especially not on my first campaign with them as my squires. Since I didn't have that option, they had orders to remain close to me, which while I intended to be in the thick of battle, shouldn't be a major problem.
They were well-trained, likely more so than ninety per cent of the pirates in the Stepstones, and their armour was generally superior as well. The surcoats they wore, much like mine, would mark them as men of standing. Theirs, however, bore the sigils of more recognizable families, at least to those familiar with Dornish nobility. Mine, while brighter in design, was unknown, a sigil that would draw more eyes, especially as I led the assault. Having them close by, bearing their familiar coats of arms, was the best option I had for keeping the attention off myself.
My eyes tracked the arrow's flight, and even as I instinctively drew another, I allowed myself a smirk. The shot flew true. The man I had targeted, a pirate with a bow of his own, was struck square in the chest. He toppled backwards, arms flailing, the bolt he had been preparing for the ship's scorpion clattering uselessly to the deck.
His companion at the naval artillery paid him no heed, moving quickly to retrieve the fallen bolt. As he rose, the second arrow I had nocked struck him in the shoulder. It was not a killing blow, but the force of it sent him stumbling, his balance lost. His momentum carried him over the railing, and he disappeared into the sea below.
Either side of me the four scorpions mounted on the Red Kraken's bow opened fire on the port directly. They had targeted the two docked galleys, but I'd ordered them to concentrate on the port as I wanted both ships sea-worthy as soon as the battle was over. The men who had tried to load one of the pirate scorpions had been my targets as we neared, and by the time the dozen other archers on the Kraken were in range to help, I'd taken out most of the pirates I needed to target. The one who'd just gone overboard was the last to remain on the galleys, and already the archers had joined the scorpions in targeting men in the port.
My gaze slid down the galley and along the dock toward the port. There men were readying themselves for battle. Several crates and an upturned cart were the only shelter at the edge of the docks, and the men there were either pinned down by incoming fire or in the case of the cart, forced from cover as that was struck by two of the Kraken's bolts.
I loosed an arrow, striking one of the men forced from cover, the others were soon struck by arrows from my men. The pirates had about twenty men – at least from my quick scan of the port – who were returning fire with bows, but with the scorpions peppering wherever the pirates took cover, they either had withdrawn for better cover or where they hadn't they couldn't fire in sufficient numbers to be much of a threat to me or my men.
Seeing one of the pirate archers further back from the main line, feeling safe in the meagre shelter he had found, I drew my bow and let an arrow fly. Two more followed in quick succession. The first struck true, driving the man from his cover, and the second embedded itself in his gut. As he crumpled forward, a third arrow found a nearby pirate, who froze in place, staring wide-eyed as his companion fell.
The men around them hesitated, fear creeping into their movements. They pulled back from the dock, exactly as I had intended. I shifted my focus, eyes scanning for others who might be closer to the shore—those who would be the first to face me once my boots touched solid ground. I spotted a pair poorly hidden and loosed another small volley.
Two arrows found their mark. The first struck a man in the shoulder, and the second caught another in the throat. I had not aimed for the neck, but as the pirate dropped, clutching at the blood pouring from his wound, I felt no need to complain about the shot.
Before lowering my bow, I fired another half-dozen arrows. Five found their targets. The last missed by a hair's breadth, thudding into the building behind the retreating pirate. With that, I handed the bow to Edric. The squire turned without a word, carrying it back to my cabin. There was no sense in leaving the weapon at the bow when the time came to charge into battle.
I stepped back, away from the prow, and raised my arms, my eyes carefully avoiding the rising sun emblazoned at our bow. Trystane moved forward to secure my gauntlets, his hands quick and sure. Once they were fastened tightly, I slid my arm through the hoop on my shield and grasped the handle. Trystane pulled the strap tight, pressing the shield firmly against my forearm.
With that done, I turned back toward the rapidly approaching port. Trystane, and the now-returning Edric, would have the others help them don their armour soon enough. Movement in the air caught my eye, and I raised my shield just in time. An incoming arrow struck it harmlessly, clattering off the metal surface. It did no damage at this distance, but as we neared, that would change. Still, with our metal shields, it would take more than a pirate's bow to lodge an arrow deep enough to trouble us.
As the dock loomed closer, the path down it becoming clearer, I lowered my head behind my shield and turned to my squires. "Stay close," I ordered, my voice steady. "Both to me and to each other."
"Yes, Ser," they replied in unison, nodding. They understood well enough. Like me, they would be prime targets. Most of the pirates would see only armoured figures, but the clever ones might recognize their surcoats and see the coin behind the steel. Trystane would fetch a higher price in ransom, but both were worth their weight in gold to their families.
There was no trace of nerves in their voices; they believed they had seen battle before. Perhaps they had, but this would be nothing like the taking of Vaegon's ports. During that campaign, I, and by extension my squires, had been on the outskirts of the fighting. Here, things would be different. We would be in the thick of it. I wondered how long their confidence would hold once blood began to spill.
As the Kraken reached the edge of the docks, pulling alongside one of the pirate galleys, I gripped the railing at the bow with my free hand. Peering over, I could see the dock not far from the ship's hull. The planks looked sturdy enough, though weathered by salt and sea. Lifting myself onto the railing, I leapt down, landing with a heavy thud.
The wooden planks groaned under my weight but held firm. Glancing to the side, I saw the water wasn't deep—fortunate enough, as I had no desire to slog through chest-high waves with battle raging around me. I wanted to be where the action was, not floundering in the sea while the fighting passed me by.
I moved swiftly, charging past spots where a pirate might have ambushed me. None appeared. Either they had shown some intelligence by avoiding the exposed dock, or they had been killed aboard the galleys before we arrived. No matter. The real fight lay ahead.
As I neared the port, movement stirred. Pirates began to ready themselves, weapons drawn and eyes scanning for threats. Sensing an opportunity to strike first and craving the reaction it always brought, I swirled my blade in an exaggerated arc. The sunlight caught the ripples in the red Valyrian steel, drawing the attention of many of the pirates. Some faltered, while others froze in place as flames suddenly erupted along the length of my sword, summoned by my magic.
I lunged, the fiery blade cutting through the air. My target's eyes went wide with shock as the steel pierced him. I pulled the blade free and stepped aside, slipping around him as he crumpled to the ground. The flames still danced along Red Rain's edge, and I knew before the sun had fully risen, the blade would live up to its bloody name once more.
… …
… …
As the former pirate – one of the many who'd just bent the knee to me after my taking of the port – opened the door to the building, I considered how the battle had gone.
On the whole, it had been successful as the port and both galleys had been taken relatively intact. Around ninety men in the port had bent the knee, the majority surrendering not long after I killed my fifth pirate. So far the count of the dead stood at nearly eighty, with about three of every four being a pirate in the port. The loss of around two dozen of the men I'd attacked with was less than ideal, but as only one of those who'd died had been a sellsword – one who'd been with me since the taking of Dustspear – it wasn't a huge overall loss.
With the new men under my command, I nominally had crew for the two captured galleys, meaning the option to abandon the port and take everything of value – including the handful of slaves so far discovered – was on the table. That wasn't something I felt I'd have to do, as based on my recon flights over the bay, Rakakz had about the same number of men left as I did in this port. Even if the newest men to bend the knee weren't loyal, Jaeronos was a day at most away with nearly two hundred more men – most more reliable than the rabble here. That would grant me overwhelming numbers to engage Rakakz while not leaving this port and the fleet undefended from any raids by Allerion, The Lotus Prince or another pirate.
I didn't expect either to attack as, from what I'd seen before controlling the gull attack on the watchtower, Allerion had no vessels in range to attack with, while the two galleys baring the green sails of the Lotus Prince were far enough away that by the time they reported back to their lord, I'd have too many ships here to make anything beyond an all-out assault viable.
Regarding the Lotus Prince, he and Salladhor Saan were two of the pirate lords I felt might be reliable enough to ally with. Or at the very least, reach an agreement to not attack each other. Setting that plan into action would have to wait until after Rakakz was at my feet: either dead or on his knees.
"This way, mi'lord," the pirate who'd opened the door said, gesturing for me to enter. "What you asked about is in here." The pirate who had volunteered that this was the port commander's office – well former commander as the man had, amusingly, been struck down by my squires – wasn't one I felt was even remotely trustworthy. Offering up everything he knew within minutes of bending the knee made clear he was nothing more than lickspittle seeking reward. The man had been searched extremely carefully before I'd allowed him to lead me and others to the commander's office.
I glared at the man, my shield still attached to my arm and the other hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed Red Rain. The gesture had the pirate scurrying back, fear raging in his gaze. Secure that he wasn't going to try anything as I crossed the threshold, I entered the building.
Inside was a large room, one that reminded me of my solar in Northpoint though with far less impressive furniture and decoration. Given this office was only for a port commander and not a pirate lord, that made sense. What I was pleased to see, as my eyes adjusted to the limited amount of light entering the room, was that there was a decent-sized desk with a large chair behind it, along with a bookcase that held a handful of tomes. There was a table in one corner with three tables around and on the opposite side of the room from the desk was a bed. However, given the rather rank smell coming from there, I knew I'd sleep on the Kraken and that those sheets would be taken away and either burnt – which might be the best choice – or used to repair the sails of any of my fleet in-port.
I turned back to the door, watching as my squires moved past the pirate. "Get in here," I ordered the man. He glanced at Horden, who along with two of my men was acting as my escort. "Now!" The pirate flinched at the growl I attached to my command and scurried inside the room. "You said there were missives?"
"Yes, mi'lord." The pirate pointed at the desk. "In there." This pirate was one of the few to speak the Common tongue in the port, which might be why he offered up the information about the former commander's office and his contact with Rakakz before others could. His accent meant unless I was badly mistaken, that he'd come from Tyrosh originally.
While my Valyrian – both High and Bastardised – was more than sufficient, forcing the man and the others who'd bent the knee to speak to me in Common made clear, if the recent battle failed to do so, that I was in command. That these men served me and would do as I wished. When combined with my display of Fire Magic in battle, I hoped my actions would ensure that, at least until he was dealt with, these men feared me more than Rakakz. At least until the rather ballsy plan I was quickly formulating in my head was enacted.
Reaching the desk, I pulled open the first drawer and found a pile of papers crammed inside. Getting them out was more of a struggle than I would have liked, thanks to the gauntlets making such tasks a chore. Eventually, I managed to spread the papers across the desk. Most were in poor condition, worn and stained, but two distinct sets of handwriting stood out. I could make out enough to realise these were communications between Rakakz and the commander—information not meant for the average pirate's eyes.
I glanced over at the pirate who had brought me here. "My thanks. Now get out." He blinked, clearly startled by my blunt dismissal.
"Are you deaf as well as dumb?" I asked, my tone sharp as I lifted a hand from the documents, summoning a fireball to hover over my gauntleted palm. "Get out!"
The pirate stumbled back, tripping over himself and landing in a heap on the floor. "F-forgive me," he whimpered, his voice shaking. Horden, standing nearby, rolled his eyes at the pitiful display.
The pirate shifted, scrambling to his knees as if about to start praying.
"If you so much as utter a single word tied to R'hllor, I will personally send you to meet the fool!" I snapped. I had about fifty followers of the Lord of Light among my ranks, though after the bloodshed further south, that number had dwindled. I was not keen on adding any more. Whenever one of them was identified, I threw them into the front lines, hoping they would die before they could infect the rest of my men with their deranged beliefs. The last thing I needed was rumours spreading that I was Azor Ahai, drawing attention from the temples in Essos. The longer those fanatics remained ignorant of who I was and what I could do, the more time I had to enact my plans. The later I had to deal with a fleet from Volantis—or one of the other Free Cities, Braavos aside—the better.
The pirate turned, and while still on his hands and knees, scampered from the building. For a moment, I thought Horden might kick him to help him on his way, but the captain of the Kraken merely moved back, as if disgusted by the man at his feet.
Horden turned to me, his eyes glancing at the fireball I had floating above my palm. He didn't say anything about it, but I knew he, like many, was uncertain about how to regard my magic. At least beyond the fact that it helped me win battles quicker and thus increased their odds of survival. When combined with the fact I'd only lost one battle – the ambush in The Whores and which I'd escaped with the loss of only one ship of the six I'd had when the trap had been sprung – and the fact I paid them better than they'd earned as simple pirates, meaning that for now, I had their support. In time, I planned to turn their support to me through fear and coin into servitude and loyalty, but for now coin, fear, and winning battles would suffice.
Horden pulled the door closed, the men with him already instructed to remain outside as guards while I was inside. "Come closer," I said, waving over my squires.
Trystane moved gingerly, the result of the commander striking him on the shoulder with a hammer. The blow had dented his pauldron, which would make removing it difficult, but since he still had motion in the arm, he seemed otherwise fine. I would keep an eye on him for the next few days to ensure that the lack of pain was not just due to adrenaline, but I believed he would be fine.
"First, well done to both of you. You fought well against men bigger, stronger, and more experienced than you." The pair nodded, their faces still covered by their helms, which offered more protection than the one I wore. "Also, Edric, thank you for protecting Trystane."
The heir to Starfall puffed out his chest at the praise, while Trystane turned to him. When the port commander had dented Trystane's armour and driven him to the dirt, Edric had rushed forward, his blade slipping into the commander's back. The commander had knocked Edric back with an arm, but in doing so, had left his front exposed. Trystane had finished the man off by driving his blade up into the pirate's stomach. The blood and entrails that spilt from the wound had stained Trystane's surcoat, but I had already told him and Edric—who bore the blood of another pirate from the battle on his surcoat—that such marks were signs of their prowess. Once back in Northpoint, I would want the surcoats cleaned, but for now, they could wear their battle marks with honour.
As the pair approached, both having the sense to bring chairs from the table toward the desk, I settled into the chair already there. "How are you feeling?" I asked Trystane, working to remove my gauntlets. I needed my hands free for what I planned to do.
"I... I am well, My Lord," he replied as they reached the other side of the desk.
"What have I said about titles when we are alone?" I gently teased, focusing on getting my right gauntlet off after freeing my left hand.
"Sorry, My... Cregan."
I chuckled at his response. Getting the pair to break from the rules they had spent years learning as nobles was a challenge, but I wanted them to view me less as their knight and more as their friend, and in many ways, their older brother. In formal settings, honorifics were fine, but in private, I had no need to feed my ego by having the heir to Starfall and a Prince of Dorne call me Lord.
"If anything hurts later today or even tomorrow, you will tell me immediately." Trystane nodded. "That goes for you as well, Edric."
"Yes, cousin."
"Good. Now, with the port taken, perhaps you might offer suggestions for what we should do next?" I placed the second gauntlet on the desk and flexed my fingers, rolling my hands and wrists. Though my armour allowed for full movement, it was always a relief to be free of it.
As the pair considered my words I looked down at the missives between Rakakz and his commander, wanting to try and get a read on the pirate lord. I already knew what my next step would be, but knowing more about the Gilded Hand would be useful, and having my squires offer suggestions would help with their education.
There was more to being a knight than simply being good at fighting. Particularly for trueborn sons of old and important Houses. While I was a bastard, Oberyn had taught me – and Daemon as well – as if we were trueborn. At the time, I'd hated the political lessons, finding the intrigues of the Game annoying at best, but I'd known even then that I needed to know about it. Now, before I had to truly draw on those lessons, I could use them to teach the pair before me.
"We need to check the defences of the port and secure them," Edric offered confidently after about half a minute. "The Gilded Hand will soon know of you taking this port. In his place, he will be forced to move to retake it, otherwise, his men might consider him weak."
"An accurate assessment," I replied, pleased with my cousin's words. "Trystane?"
"Edric is right, My… Cregan." I chuckled at Trystane struggling to break from formality. "However, we cannot expect the men who just surrendered to stand and fight against Rakakz. They would have friends amongst his ranks, and would likely turn their cloaks on you in battle. Because of that, I think it wise that we keep the men we arrived with near the galleys. That way, if the new men do turn, we have the greatest chance to escape. And it means once Ser Jaeronos arrives, your forces will be able to face off with the new men."
The last I saw he'd split his forces. Two galleys had stopped at the southern port, no doubt to take anything of value. The Howl and the remaining galley continued onward and provided the weather holds, they should be here by noon tomorrow.
The pair took in my words, considering the extra information. "What are we to do?" Edric asked, leaning forward and placing his gauntlet-wearing hands on the desk. "Fortify the defences, remain near the ships for safety, or both?"
"Both," I replied as I pulled out the quill and inkwell the commander had stored in the bottom drawer. Already a mainly empty sheet of paper had been selected from the pile. "However, there is a path we can take that if it even partially works, lowers the chances of battle before Jaeronos arrives considerably. Which is why I need these." I pointed at the inkwell and sheet of paper I'd pulled from the missives.
My squires looked at the objects, and I knew both were frowning even as I dipped the quill into the ink and used that to score out the short series of messages at the top of the paper.
"You…" I paused just before adding new ink to the quill as Trystane spoke up. "You intend to inform him you have taken the port?"
"Along with taking the southern port, yes that is my intention," I smirked at the pair, dipping the quill into the ink. "The question I want you to answer is why?"
I began writing my missive, the words and tone set after a quick review of Rakakz's missives with this port's former commander. This was a risk, but a calculated one that I felt had good odds to at the very least, weaken Rakakz' forces before we moved to take the bay port.
"You want him to attack. Particularly tomorrow around when Ser Jaeronos arrives."
I shrugged at Edric's reasoning as I continued to write. "Perhaps."
"What if he chooses to fortify his position?" The heir to Starfall continued. "Will that not make taking the final port more troublesome?"
"It would, and that is one outcome of my letter. However, there is perhaps one thing you are forgetting about our opponents." I looked up from the paper, smirking wickedly at my squires. "They are pirates. When faced with overwhelming odds, such men generally take one of two paths. Either they fight in the hope they might escape the battle, or they run and find safe harbour elsewhere. The only place that exists is with Allerion, and given how long the three pirate lords on Redwater have been in conflict, it is unlikely Allerion would take any man from Rakakz into his service. Going any further is folly in longboats, especially for sailors who have spent most of their time only moving around the bay." I brought the quill back to the paper, having reapplied ink to it. "That means the men in the bay port, either with Rakakz's support or without, have one clear choice."
"You expect them to bend the knee?"
Trystane's tone was a little higher, revealing his shock at what I was aiming for. "I do not know if they will," I replied, not lifting my focus from the paper. "Or at least not Rakakz. However, his men are another matter. When word reaches them that not only have I taken both the eastern ports of their lord, but that Vaegon's holdings and men are under my banner, they will want to survive what is coming. The best way to achieve that is to bend the knee."
"What about Rakakz?"
I shrugged again. "There are two ways I can see things going for him. Either he will see which way the wind is blowing and bend the knee to save his skin. In that case, I would accept him into my forces but trust him half as far as your children could throw him..."
"We do not have children!" Edric complained, prompting me to point the quill at him, spilling some ink on the desk.
"Exactly." I dipped the quill in the inkpot once more. "Or, and this, in my opinion, is the more likely outcome, he will have to face a potential mutiny. Either he puts it down, costing him men in the process, or the men take him out for us and then surrender the port to me."
"If they betray their lord, they cannot be trusted!"
"No, Edric, they cannot. However, the same is true of the majority of the men now fighting for me. Those who bend the knee after the Grim Prince fell have, so far, proven capable, but even there I have reservations. In time, I hope to ensure their loyalty—at least those who survive my coming battles—beyond coin, but for now, the promise of better pay than they make as pirates will have to suffice."
In my former life, if I had been told I had to have pirates obey my commands to achieve a goal, I would have questioned the sanity of the men giving those orders. Placing any trust in such scum only resulted in death, and it was why military policy was against using former enemies as cannon fodder in high-risk operations.
In this new life, such ideals—even when espoused by former operators such as myself—were the reserve of high-minded fools with ideas about honour that only existed in fables. Or in men who were among the first to die in war because of their ideals. War was a bloody mess, especially when one had to kill the enemy up close and personal, and the more bodies one had on their side, the more flesh there was to distract those trying to kill them from getting in a lucky strike.
"Why would Rakakz detail your offer to his men?"
I smiled, pleased to see Trystane spot the issue in what I had said. "If the letter was sent directly to him, then I would assume he would not. However, to ensure that my offer is known to the men under Rakakz's command, six of my most recent followers will deliver the letter. All will know the contents and be shown Jaeronos' approaching ships."
"Will they believe you?"
"I have no idea," I replied with another shrug. "However, they will not stay quiet about what happened here, and they have little reason to believe I am lying about taking the south of Redwater. Deciding what to do about both the message and the men delivering it will cost Rakakz time; and the more he wastes dealing with my offer, the less time we have to fear an attack before Jaeronos arrives with reinforcements."
"How will you know what he decides to do?"
"Rian is already flying above the bay port. Once I have prepared new gulls, I will help with that watch. While words will not reach the eyes of the birds, they see everything that happens in the open below, so there is almost no move Rakakz can make that I will not be aware of before it becomes an issue."
Even as I finished the letter, I was not expecting Rakakz to bend the knee. The man had ruled as a lord for nearly a decade on Redwater. He had fought tooth and nail against Vaegon and Allerion to hold that territory or expand it. The idea he would simply give up when faced with a new external overwhelming force and having lost two of his three holdings was slim. However, as I had told the squires, dealing with my offer and the men carrying it would cost him time. That, as much as he might not realise it until the offer was given, was his most precious commodity.
Once Jaeronos was here and my forces were bolstered, I would send a message via gull to Daemon and Bronn. What they would be ordered to do, beyond moving their men and ships to the bay, was not set yet, but already the next stage of my assault on Redwater was forming in my mind. The attacks were not progressing as quickly as with Dustspear or The Whores, but the basic principle of speed and surprise was working remarkably well. Eventually, it would cease to be an option, but as the saying went, no matter how simple or stupid a plan might appear, if it worked, there was no need to change it.
Of course, before Allerion could be targeted for swift strikes, Rakakz and his final port had to fall. All I could hope was that the cost in manpower to achieve that was as low as possible. I would need every man and ship I had to take Allerion out in the manner I was considering.
… …
… …
The day after taking the port, I stood at the edge of the dock, watching as the Coral Howl and its escort galley closed the final distance between us. Jaeronos had made good time as the ships were here not long after I'd had my breakfast, though thankfully the sun was high enough that looking at my approaching ships didn't require me to squint. Those reinforcements would be useful as, via Rian and the gulls, I'd yet to see a response from Rakakz. Or at least one involving leaving his remaining port.
The six men who I'd selected at random had left yesterday escorted part of the way by an equal number of men who had come with me. That group had stopped at the watchtower, taking up the position with orders to remain until a significant force left the bay port. The six I'd sent back to Rakakz had known the contents of my letter, that Jaeronos was arriving with reinforcements – something I'd proven via my Myrish Eye – and that I could ignite my blade.
They'd arrived before sunset, and via Rian, I'd watched as they were led to the central building near the docks, and taken inside. About an hour later they had emerged and been left to move freely around the port. That meant either Rakakz didn't know they knew what my letter said, or he was aware but had made the odd choice to not limit control of information. From above, I'd watched where the men had gone, specifically into which buildings they'd headed before sunset. Those had to be barracks, and along with Rakakz's command post, were priority targets if I had to assault the port.
Before settling down for the evening, I'd had a letter delivered to Dameon via gull detailing my intentions for him, Bronn, and the men at the south of the island. They were to take all but a handful of men to the bay port formerly controlled by Vaegon. The ships would travel around the coast to that port as well, save for the Pride of Saltbrook and one galley.
Those two would take everything bar food and drink from Vaegon's ports, along with the freed slaves, back to Northpoint. Once there, the ships were to return along with either the Windchaser or Ilaerah's Luck and move to the island in Redwater Bay. By the time the transports arrived, I hoped to have taken most, if not all of Allerion's ports and would need the ships to transport my haul of goods and men back to Northpoint.
From the bay port, Daemon would command nine galleys and four longboats, however, I wasn't sure yet if they would move to attack Rakakz's remaining port or move beyond to target Allerion's holdings. That would be detailed in another letter, but only after I was sure of Rakakz's response to my offer. In preparation for whatever I planned, Daemon was to take the entire fleet, and all but a handful of men, to the bay island. They weren't, however, to land there.
According to those formerly loyal to Vaegon and Rakakz, the island was cursed. Normally, I'd not place any importance on such a thing, but given I knew that some of the worst monsters of legends were real, I wasn't going to risk losing my men on the chance there was more to the stories than just the words of former pirates.
From their gathering point at the island, the plan for Daemon would depend on what Rakakz and his men did. I expected a response by the end of today or early tomorrow, but until then, I, and by extension my men spread across the island, were in a holding pattern. However, such things could wait, and I moved down the dock as the first mooring lines were tossed from the Howl.
By the time I reached the ship, the ramp had already been deployed and Jaeronos was marching down it, a wide smile on his face.
"About time you got here," I challenged jovially as we clasped arms.
The large Essosi laughed deeply. "Unlike some, we had to stay and mop up Rakakz's fleet after the ambush, which worked perfectly by the way. Then we needed to slow down and secure the other port. However, I suspect you already know that."
"I saw the battle unfold," I replied as we broke the arm-clasp, "however, I did not hang around or use Ymir to get details. My focus was on this place and Rakakz's movements."
We turned and began moving down the dock as other men on the Howl began to disembark. "For the record, all six galleys were taken. One suffered minor damage to its sails from an errant bolt, and two others needed minor repairs to their hulls after beaching themselves during the attack. All that should be fixed by now, and along with most of the men onboard those galleys bending the knee, await your orders."
"I sent a gull to Daemon last night," I said, drawing another laugh from the Essosi.
"You and your beasts," he said, slapping my back hard enough that my next step was a longer stride than normal. "An unusual ability, but one that has served us well on this campaign. This is what? Half the ports on the island are under our control?"
"Four of nine. On the voyage here I discovered a fifth port under Allerion's control. a minor one, but it does mean some changes to the plans I had for engaging the last pirate lord of Redwater." As we reached the end of the docks, a group of three men – all having joined by force on this island – stopped and bowed. "Fucking R'hllor… That cunt can kiss my arse."
Jaeronos chortled loudly. "That, my friend, I would pay greatly to see. The reaction of the High Priest and his flock would be priceless as you bent their holy flames to your will."
"Ignoring that I suspect they can do what I can with magic, at least where it concerns fire, I would be more concerned about their slave legions."
"Yes, the Fiery Hand are a dangerous lot. More for their devotion to R'hllor than skill I say. The only upside is that there are only ever a thousand of them."
"A mistake, but one I hope they never correct," I muttered as we moved into the port proper. Around us, the men were working on preparing the last of the loot for transport to the Howl. While I hoped we wouldn't be forced to abandon the port before I was ready, until Rakakz was dealt with, I wanted anything of value on my ships.
That included not just coins, gems, and jewellery from across the Narrow Sea, but the nearly two dozen slaves we'd found in the port. Like those found in Vaegon's former ports, these people had been captives for so long that their minds were shattered. While I knew they'd never be capable of living truly free lives again, I intended for them to serve on Northpoint, and be paid accordingly for their service.
"On that, we agree. As for them being able to control the flames of their god, to do that each of them, even the High Priest appeared to need to use chants to carry out their parlour tricks. You need not do that, nor can I recall any of them creating works of art with fire."
"They likely can do what I do, and without the chants. However, they choose not to as it projects the aura that it is their fucked-up deity that is shaping the flames and not them. That helps ensure the fealty of the sheep that follow them, and makes the more deranged elements of their faith acceptable."
Jaeronos sighed deeply and shook his head. "Yes, that. Abhorrent practice, but one the ruling families, including mine, allow. Not because we worship the Lord of Light – I myself place my faith in the Gods of Old Valyria – but because slaves outnumber the freemen by around five to one. Even in the Old Volantis, protected as we are by the Black Walls, around half the slaves bore the mark of R'hllor."
"Shame there be no dragons to teach R'hllor's minions the truth of who controls fire."
Jaeronos laughed at the image and slapped my back again. This time, however, I was ready and didn't stumble forward. "And that is another thing I would pay to see. Just so long as I was nowhere near the dragon's maw." He looked around and leaned closer. "Hells, if any man could bring a dragon back, I suspect my father and the heads of most of the Tigers would offer up every female in their family to such a man."
"I like you Jae, but I do not think I want to call you brother," I retorted, drawing another booming laugh from the man. "Besides, my bed, when I have time to use it, is already full."
"True. Very True. Thankfully for you, the last I heard, all my sisters are married to other nobles, meaning you would have to fight their husbands and fathers for their hands." His expression soured and he snorted as we neared the port commander's office. "Though for a few of them, I may stand at your side in such a fight."
"Good to know, though I hope not to have to face the legions of Volantis for a long arse time. Preferably never." Jaeronos nodded in agreement. "Now come," I continued as I pushed open the door to the office I'd taken over. "While there may be little wine of quality, the former commander has a decent supply of rum."
"Thank the Gods, and your gifts, for that."
I chuckled as we stepped inside the office. My squires opened their eyes, the pair having been meditating on the floor. "Ser Jaeronos," Trystane said as the pair stood, "it is good to see you again."
"You two, young ones. But should you not get back to your studies?"
"Head to my cabin on the Kraken," I offered, knowing it was easier to focus on whatever internal magic one had in a quieter location where they'd not be disturbed. That was why they generally used this office as I'd spent most of the time since taking the port elsewhere, and their studying inside didn't draw too many questions.
The pair nodded and moved toward the door while I headed over to the small stash of rum I'd mentioned as I'd entered. "I understand that the Martells have links to the Rhoynar, but what chance does the Dayne boy have to wield magic?"
I turned to Jaeronos, a bottle in each hand and gestured toward the desk. "While skinchanging came from my father, the rest likely did not. That suggests my mother's house has some capacity for magic. I am not sure if Edric will ever have the control of the elements that I do, but it is worth exploring."
"True," Jaeronos replied, settling into a chair on the other side of the desk from me. "I just wonder how his family and those who serve them will react to him if he unlocks such ability."
"That, my friend, is a bridge Edric will have to cross if he comes to it." Jaeronos nodded as I passed him a bottle, and I considered him.
The Essosi, because of his upbringing, was the most open-minded and accepting of my captains when it came to magic. That said, the ability I had to control the minds of weaker men was something he feared, which was entirely understandable. It was that, and the lies the Septons spoke of about how skinchangers became more animal than men, that turned many in Westeros against magic. The Seven was, of what I knew of the many religions in Essos, the most anti-magic of any on this world, which was why I was fighting in the Stepstones and not Westeros.
After taking a long drink from my bottle, I leaned back in my chair pushing thoughts about magic, R'hllor, and the Faith away. With Jaeronos here I finally had someone to run my ideas for how to finish Rakakz and then engage Allerion past. While I felt what I had laid out made sense, I wasn't foolish enough to think I was some sort of savant with battle plans.
Skinchanging, and in particular aerial recon, granted me insights that few others could ever hope to use. However, it wasn't anything that guaranteed victory, just a way to stack the odds in my favour.
… …
… …
"Ser Cregan!"
The shout from Edric, who was outside the office, had my attention instantly. As he pushed open the door, I was already standing, securing Red Rain to my waist. The documents I'd been looking over scattered chaotically by me leaping to my feet.
"Ser Cregan!"
"What?"
"Scouts are back from the tower. Men approaching the walls!"
I moved forward, picking up my helm, sliding it over my head and then grasped my axe. Normally, I'd wait and get my gauntlets and shield secured, but from the tension in Edric's voice, I doubted there'd be time to secure them properly.
As I stepped outside, I saw men moving around, preparing for battle. "Ready the ships for sail!" I ordered. It was unlikely that we'd be forced to abandon the port, but with everything of value on the ships, the option was there, and I wanted it to remain open until I knew what was going on.
Men snapped too, obeying my orders even as I turned and moved toward the main gates of the port. The ones connecting the path between this port and the one in the bay. As I neared the gates, I cursed the condition of the walls. Since an attack overland was unlikely – given the hills and mountains that lay to the south and north of the port, cutting off easy access from lands held by Vaegon and Allerion, Rakakz hadn't spent time ensuring the land-based defences were up to scratch. A failure that I and my men might now have to endure.
As I neared the gate, I saw Jaeronos slipping out of a building. Like me, he was armoured in a mix of half-plate and mail, though it seemed he'd had time to get his gauntlets on, whereas I had yet to do so.
"Report!" I shouted as I came into sight of the gates.
Horden, who it seemed had reached the gates first and taken command, turned at my call. "Scouts from the tower reported a large group of men moving from the bay port, Mi'lord."
"How many?" I asked, seeing the group of men sent to monitor Rakakz's movements from the tower between the ports nearby. The group were breathing heavier than the rest of my men, but not hard enough that it suggested they'd run all the way back. That, in of itself, was encouraging that this wasn't an all-out attack, but I wasn't going to take any chances.
"We counted close to a hundred before we abandoned the tower, mi'lord." The report came from one of the pirates who'd bent the knee in The Whores. So far, the man had proven himself dependable, but I wasn't trusting him or the others who'd joined during that campaign just yet.
"I see them!" the call came from a man on the wall next to the gate. "Just passing the tower now."
"Close the gates and man the walls!" I ordered before turning and moving toward a building slightly back of the walls. Jaeronos saw me moving, and after I pointed upward, he nodded and stepped forward. "You heard him! Get ready you fuckers!"
While he took command, I slipped away, moving to a quieter section of the port. Edric and Trystane, who'd arrived while I'd been getting the situation report, came with me. Once out of sight of the majority of my men, I turned away, leaned against a wall, and closed my eyes.
A moment later, I took in the port and men approaching it through Rian's gaze. As I'd asked him, he was holding position over the island between the two ports. Below him, I saw the men – which looked to be a hundred as the scout had reported – moving forward slowly. At the head of the force was the gauntleted left arm of Rakakz, meaning this was either an attack or a recon in force. The latter was unlikely, as even if the men he'd formerly commanded before I'd take the port turned their cloaks against me, I still had a clear numerical advantage.
Using the sharpness of Rian's eyes, I scanned the forest on either side of the path, looking for movement. It was hard to make out much, as the canopy on both sides was thick; the forest growing wild and untouched for so long. However, through the small gaps that did exist, neither Rian nor I spotted anything that suggested men moving in the woods.
Turning our attention to the bay port, I quickly counted around forty men moving there along with two longboats at sea. That meant the force coming toward me and my men was all there was. Or at least the overwhelming majority of them, as based on earlier flights, I knew the bay port seemed to hold less than two hundred men.
Turning Rian, I had him look out to sea, wanting to be sure there was no threat coming from that way. While two galleys bearing the sails of the Lotus Prince lay far to the east, there was no hint of ships moving southward down the coast of Redwater. Indeed, it seemed Allerion's north-eastern port had deployed most of its ships, including what appeared to be a war galley if not something slightly larger, toward the sea between Redwater and Misthaven.
There, ahead of the fleet of four, three cogs were moving as quickly as they could trying to outrun the pursuing pirates, and entirely unaware of other galleys, though ones not aligned with Allerion. The fate of those traders was out of my hands, and as I slipped from Rian's mind back to my body, I refocused on my situation.
"Near a hundred men," I whispered to my squires as I shook my head, adjusting to the weaker eyes of my body. "Forest appears clear, but there might be a handful in there." The boys shared a look before Trystane turned and rushed back to the gates. He'd pass the intel to Jaeronos, meaning any changes in the defensive positions would be in effect before I returned.
Finding my balance, I moved toward the gates, my mind playing, readying myself for whatever game Rakakz was about to begin. The fact I knew how many he was coming with, and that there weren't significant men in the forest was a trump card I enjoyed having. Most of my men knew I could wield magic, but the abilities granted to me by Rina, Ymir, and Kaa weren't public knowledge, and I had no intention of revealing them.
Many of the men with me, while pirates and sellswords, had grown up in Westeros and the Faith had done its utmost to demonise the ability linked to the First Men. Being able to ignite my blade was a, to most, parlour trick but the truth of what I could do, and how I did it, was kept hidden or, via the necklace I wore around my wrist, misdirected.
"Send orders to the galleys," I heard Jaeronos call, "stand down and bring the men here."
He was countermanding my earlier orders, but with the intelligence gained via Rian, there was no need to keep half our forces at the docks. Even with the men here, I felt we could take Rakakz and those with him if they attacked, but there was nothing wrong with overwhelming force to either end a battle quickly or convince the enemy to surrender without a fight.
Once at the gates, I joined Jaeronos waiting for Rakakz and his men to arrive. Knowing I had enough time, I turned to Edric. I gave him a look over, making sure his armour was on and then, as my hands were uncovered, securing his shield.
As I was securing his shield, Trystane returned, along with three dozen men, and my gauntlets. Edric had, in our haste to reach the gate, forgotten them. Something that he would be punished for later as such a mistake was unacceptable of a squire. My shield wasn't with Trystane, but as I had my axe I could allow that mistake to slide.
Turning back to the gates, I pulled Red Rain and my axe from their sheath and my belt. "Wait for my signal," I ordered firmly but without shouting. Rakakz would know we'd know he was approaching, but there was no reason to tip my hand about the number of men awaiting him.
"Oi!" A gruff voice called out from the other side of the gates. "You so-called Bloody Wolf! Get your arse out here!" The man spoke in bastardised Valyrian, though there was no hint as to where on Essos he originally came from.
"Thanks for the invite, but I never swallow swords," I shouted back in Valyrian. Those around me who knew the tongue chuckled at my dismissal. "Besides, I do not even know who is propositioning me."
"I am Rakakz, the Gilded Hand of Redwater! Scourge of the Stepstones, and Lord of Redwater!" His voice boomed like thunder, cutting through the salty air, the bravado of a man who had long sought to carve his name into the annals of infamy.
"I wonder if there is more to the Gilded Hand title than just the gauntlet," Jaeronos remarked, a smirk dancing across his lips. The jest ignited laughter among my squires and a few of our men, the camaraderie infectious. I turned my gaze to Jaeronos, unable to suppress a grin. "What?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "We both remember the suggestions from Bronn and Cayde."
"Yes," I replied, the smile turning wry. "But I was trying my hardest to forget them." I raised my voice, directing it at Rakakz, cutting off any retort from Jaeronos. "Lord of Redwater?" I scoffed. "Even before my arrival, you were not the most powerful of the pirates here, let alone worthy of the title you claim."
"Allerion and Vaegon are false lords!" Rakakz shot back, ire flickering in his dark eyes, either oblivious to or choosing to ignore my slight on his claim. I had used the term merely to denote the power players among the swarming piratical rabble, for I held no pretence of nobility. "Only Rakakz can rule Redwater."
"Funny," I retorted. "I think Vaegon thought the same, at least until one of my men removed his head!"
The air hung thick with tension before Rakakz's raucous laughter broke the silence, echoing off the craggy cliffs. "Vaegon's dead?"
"If you seek proof, I can send you to meet him," I snapped, impatience gnawing at my gut. The chatter was a distraction, a delay of the violence I craved.
"Based on his voice, you would be doing us a favour," Jaeronos muttered, prompting more laughter from the gathered men.
"Shame," Rakakz said, amusement flickering across his features. "I would have preferred to send him to Hell myself. Still, you saved me the effort, along with the bounty I had offered my men for dealing with that fucking cunt. Unless your man wishes to change his loyalty."
"That is about as likely as a fucking dragon sucking your cock!" I spat, unable to contain the disdain in my tone.
Again, Rakakz barked an irritating laugh. "Now that is some image there. You certainly have a mouth on you, Wolf."
"What the fuck do you want, Rakakz? If it is death, my men and I will be more than happy to oblige."
"Oh, I know that one day I shall die. As will you. All men must die." He paused, savouring the weight of his words. "But today, I came to talk."
"Last I checked, you did not need a hundred men with you to talk."
"Look, just open the fucking gate!" Rakakz snapped, his irritation bubbling beneath the surface as if he were a cauldron on the brink of boiling over. He seemed vexed by my unwillingness to meet him eye-to-eye. "As you just said, I do not have the men to take your port."
"Or so you claim," I shot back, my suspicion thickening the air between us. While I knew there were not significant numbers of men lurking in the forest, it would only take a few dozen slipping through the gaps in the wall elsewhere to sow chaos in our rear, turning my numerical advantage into a precarious weakness.
"For fuck's sake, you paranoid fucker!" I heard something clatter to the ground—his weapon unless my ears deceived me. "There! Your men can see I have dropped my blade. Now open the fucking gate so we can talk like men!"
I glanced at the men manning the wall to my left. Several nodded, confirming Rakakz had indeed tossed down his blade, but I was not foolish enough to believe that was his only weapon.
My mind churned over the myriad reasons Rakakz had come in force to speak with me. While a suicidal battle was a possibility, this man, as annoying as he was, did not strike me as a fool. If he had wanted a fight, he would have brought more men and committed to battle rather than walking directly along an exposed path toward the walls of the port.
"Open it."
"What?!" Jaeronos snapped, spinning to face me. "This is a fucking trap!"
"If it is, it is the dumbest one I have ever heard of or seen," I shot back. "Even if the men who surrendered to me turn on us, we have the numbers." Looking around at many of those who had, until a few days ago, served Rakakz, I saw a mix of shame and defiance; a few scowled at me for questioning their honour, but given their past as pirates, they had little enough to begin with. "Besides, I half want him to attack," I added, flicking my wrist to summon flames that danced along my blade. "Better than listening to him keep talking."
Jaeronos shrugged. "Fair point." He nodded to the men at the gates. "You heard your lord. Open the gates."
As the men moved to remove the plank from the back of the gates, I stepped forward, holding Red Rain to my side. The flames along the blade flickered and leapt, granting the weapon an almost demonic quality.
As those outside came into view, I tensed, expecting a surge forward. However, no such thing happened. The eyes of many flickered to my blade, a good portion of Rakakz's men taking a step back. I hoped their retreat stemmed from fear of the flames rather than any fervent devotion to the Lord of Light. My focus remained on the man at the front of the group.
Rakakz stood out, the gauntlet he wore on his left hand and forearm drawing the eye. Crafted from dark steel that gleamed with an unnatural lustre, it was adorned with intricate engravings that twisted like the roots of ancient trees. The fingertips were elongated, tapering to sharp points, designed not merely for grasping but for inflicting pain. A band of gold encircled the wrist, glinting in the torchlight, a stark contrast to the grim metal and hinting at the wealth he had amassed through his piratical ventures.
"Ah, so you are the fuck that has taken my ports and killed Vaegon?" Rakakz asked as he took a step forward. Behind me, I sensed my men readying themselves while Rakakz's did likewise. Both of us held out an arm, stopping our men from acting rashly.
"Yes to the first. The honour, if one might call it that, for the second went to the man who holds Vaegon's ports in my name."
I held my ground as Rakakz continued to advance, now a good five metres from his men and exposed to my archers along the walls. "Eh, I shall meet him soon enough," Rakakz stated, making me ready myself for battle. I could feel my muscles demanding the chance to surge, to strike at the challenger before me. However, I stayed my hand. Rakakz, who had now stopped about three metres from me, had dropped his main weapon before we had spoken. While the man had little honour, I would not strike him down without cause—not just yet. "Still, you are not what I expected of someone called the Bloody Wolf."
"Why are you here?" I asked, my eyes glaring at the pirate as I fought back the urge to see if I could command my magic to burn him alive where he stood.
Rakakz held my gaze before throwing his arms up in exasperation and sighing loudly. "Gods, you are not the trusting type, are you?"
"Trusting a pirate is a good way to end up dead or in chains," I replied, my voice steady.
Rakakz chuckled, the sound low and sardonic. "True enough. However, as you can see, I am far from an average pirate." He extended his arms and turned slowly as if posing before an imagined suitor. "Nor, it seems, are you," he continued once he had completed his twirl. "Your Valyrian is commendable, but that accent… You are a gods-damn Westerosi. Which, given the sigils of those two boys behind you, makes perfect sense. A band of false gods-fearing heathens."
"Says the man from a land that harbours literal goatfuckers and gods know what else," I shot back, my irritation flaring.
"Ha!" Rakakz roared in delight. "Do not think the Qohorik would like to hear that."
"Probably not," I admitted, my patience fraying. "Now, I am a busy man with ports to capture and pirates to slay. So again, why in the seven hells are you here?"
"Yes, busy fits you well. This is what, four ports in five days?" he inquired, an amused glimmer in his eyes.
"Five in seven, actually," I grunted, my patience nearing its end. The urge to run this insufferable prick through with my blade growing stronger by the moment. "Last time. What. The. Hell. Do. You. Want?"
The smile that had been almost permanently plastered across Rakakz's face since my emergence from the port slipped, revealing a more serious countenance. It appeared he understood that I had grown weary of his antics. "I am here, you dim-witted fool, because of you!" he snarled, one hand reaching into the depths of his armour. "You took two of my ports, killed hundreds of my men, and then had the audacity to send me this!" He brandished a sheet of paper, and I quickly recognized it as my demand for his surrender. "Just how large are your balls?"
"You would have to inquire with the various women who share my bed," I retorted, cursing myself inwardly for the slip. That was far too much a product of my father and my upbringing. While rubbing the fact that I had many bed companions in the faces of my friends was one thing, Rakakz was not worth the breath to boast of my exploits.
Rakakz held my gaze for a moment before the smile returned, his laughter echoing with an annoying mirth. "You are a funny fellow. A right pain in my arse, to be sure, but funny." He shifted suddenly to one side, and I tensed, bracing for an attack. "Now," he said, moving to my right, apparently oblivious to my reaction, "how should I respond to this demand?"
"I believe I was clear about your choices," I replied, swirling Red Rain in a graceful arc. The flames danced in the air, mesmerising in their hypnotic flicker, drawing the attention of Rakakz and his men alike.
"Nice parlour trick," Rakakz remarked, seemingly unfazed by the flames. "I saw priests performing such feats in Essos. Did not expect to see a Westerosi pulling it off, though."
"I have my methods," I responded cryptically. "Your choice?"
Rakakz's expression darkened, annoyance flaring as he realized I had grown tired of his games. "You are a young lad, too eager to rush matters," he stated, a hint of condescension creeping into his tone. I held back a retort about knowing when to press forward and when to hold back. "You may miss out on moments you ought to savour. Such as this one."
He took another step toward me, and I remained tense, readying myself for combat. Rakakz noted my stance and sighed, shaking his head. "As I said, young. Brash too. But by the gods, you have made it work thus far." To my astonishment, he fell to one knee, lowering his head to the ground in an unexpected gesture. "I yield. My remaining port is yours. My men, my ships, and myself are yours to command. All that I ask is to retain some power in your ranks and that my past actions be overlooked while I serve you."
I remained where I stood, scrutinising Rakakz carefully for any hint of deception. This man had commanded ports and ruled over men with an iron fist. His swift kneeling felt far too easy, a tactic perhaps too transparent for my liking.
"Well," he said, lifting his head to meet my gaze, "do you accept my fidelity?"
"I am considering it," I replied honestly, even as I remained poised to act the moment he made any move. While the idea of him kneeling had been one potential outcome of my letter, it had been the least likely. Indeed, I had dismissed it as improbable even before the missive had been sent.
Yet now he was here, barely two days since I had sent the letter, kneeling before me. His men watched with bated breath; the lack of shock on those closest indicated they were aware of the plan. The rest of the men, however, did not hide their astonishment, a few even looking as if they might try something that could ruin Rakakz's gesture.
Should they act, they would be put down—either by me or by Rakakz. That was a side issue, however. The main concern was how to handle the fact that one of the pirate lords of Redwater was submitting to my rule. I could either take him at his word while remaining distrustful, or I could strike him down and appear a tyrant to both his men and my own.
What a cursed choice I had to make.
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This story is cross-posted on Questionable Questing, Archive of our Own and Royal Road.
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