A/N: More battle scenes here, along with some magic being displayed on both sides.
Thanks to filipinosberman and Ascalon on SB for beta-ing.
Chapter LIII: Shocking Surprise
28 AC
Fourth Moon
Elanzo Aresaryn
The first time he realised something was wrong was when the hairs on his neck started to stand.
He grumbled and scratched the back of his neck, frowning as the skies started to darken.
"This day just isn't good," Elanzo muttered, "As if it's not enough to have cloudy skies, now I feel like something terrible's on the horizon."
"Lord High Admiral," A sailor saluted, "We'll soon be within distance of the Essosi coastline."
"Good, have the men prepare to disembark as soon as we dock," Elanzo ordered.
"Aye, Sir!"
Yet as soon as he said that, another sailor hurriedly shouted, "Milord, Braavosi sails, port side!"
"What?"
Elanzo quickly took his far-eye and examined the flotilla of ships rapidly approaching the Dornian fleet. As he adjusted, he soon realised that the ships were surrounded in an unnaturally thick mist that shrouded them like a thick blanket, and the Braavosi insignia was barely visible. Furthermore, the clouds seemed to take a far darker shade of grey, and soon Elanzo learned just why his neck hairs stood up so rigidly.
"Can you see anything else through the mist?" Elanzo hurriedly ordered.
"Negative, Milord! And they're approaching fast! We've been repeatedly hailing them, but they aren't responding!" The sailor reported.
"Mages, have you detected anything?"
"Aye, Milord! Dark magic signatures in abundance!" An Arcanist said, "They're what's creating this dense fog!"
"Signal the fleet! Full stop and turn eighty degrees portside!" Elanzo ordered, "These are Braavosi ships, but they've been compromised! Prepare for battle!"
Bells rang and coloured flags were hoisted, and the ships turned left to face the Braavosi navy as sailors prepared ballistae and mages prepared spells.
While some would assume Hydromancers could use their powers anywhere with a water source, the sad reality was that their powers were confined to rivers and did not extend to the oceans, and that meant their magic was completely useless in deep sea naval battles. For this reason, all Hydromancers on board instead served as mariners and would fight with javelins, blades or bow and arrow.
As they prepared for a brief exchange of fire, bolts of black shot out from the Braavosi ships, and those that missed landed in the water with such force they caused minor waves that rocked the Dornian ships. Some landed on the ships, and those who raised barriers in time defected the dark magic, while a dozen others were damaged and sunk in short order.
"Arcanists, prepare to fire!"
Glowing lights could be seen on the Dornian ships, and soon bolts of turquoise and white launched from the Dornian side.
The exchange of fire lasted a few minutes, shortened by the swift closing of distance by the Braavosi fleet as they prepared to board and ram.
"Prepare to fire and manoeuvre!" Elanzo ordered, "Bring them all down!"
In the first large-scale clash of magic between two opposing sides, the Dornians suffered losses due to the sheer scale and power of the enemy mages who put most initiates to shame. Only their training and discipline combined with their superior seamanship ensured that the Dornian ships did not suffer heavier losses.
"Arcanists, suppressive fire on the Braavosi! Take them down and provide cover for our allies!" He ordered.
Under intense fire, the Arcanists shielded the Dornian ships and returned fire with bolts and beams of light that, while not as powerful as the black magic itself, whittled down the Braavosi ships one by one and softened the odds.
Soon, they entered ballistae range, and Elanzo bellowed, "Open volley with broadsides!"
Ballistae loosed their bolts against the enemy ships, damaging and sinking many with unerring accuracy. The Braavosi did the same, but their own ballistae crews lacked the Dornians' accuracy and training.
Some managed to get within boarding range, and the Dornians beheld for the first time the twisted crews manning the Braavosi ships.
The men were not men but mutants with lifeless eyes and bulging limbs, moaning and gurgling as if their minds were permanently damaged. They leapt onto Dornian decks with inhuman speed, power and reflexes, and they tore into many mariners who fought fiercely in return. He saw many in black robes chanting and weaving shadows in their hands, and the baleful red glow in their eyes highlighted a great intelligence.
"Drive them off our ships! Use Tucosar fire to burn those ships down!" Elanzo ordered, beheading a mutant who came too close for comfort, "Archers, take down those black robes!"
Jars were lobbed onto the Braavosi ships, immolating wood as the Tucosar fire began to spread. Archers killed the black robed magi, who fell like wheat to a scythe.
The fog was too thick to see clearly, and with all the shouting and bellowing in the air he could not clearly discern the state of the other Westerosi Fleets in the Narrow Sea.
"Milord, the dragons!" He heard a sailor point to the sky.
Overhead, Elanzo could see the dragons of House Targaryen swooping in from the skies and scorching the Braavosi ships in a bright inferno, the screams of men reaching his ears as they fell into the seas. Such screaming was inhuman, like a monster roaring with the voices of a hundred shadows.
He could see countless black bolts being fired against the dragons, and most exploded in the sky like miniature pots of wildfire that threatened to wound both dragon and rider. One dragon-rider pair screeched in pain as they were caught in an explosion, promptly limping back to the rear lines for safety.
"Damnit. If they're taking the dragons down as well, this is really bad," Elanzo grumbled, "Though in a rather satisfying way, it will humble those arrogant Targaryens and make them think twice."
Thankfully, the other Targaryen dragonriders were unharmed, and it was thanks to them that a swathe of the Braavosi fleet was sunken and the rest driven back to the cheers of the men. Yet to Elanzo, as the mist settled and cleared it was painfully obvious that the Braavosi had reaped a heavy toll upon the Royal fleets.
The Dornian, Paletillian and Sonarian fleets (under command of House Blodfeld) survived with most of their fleet intact, while the fleets of the other kingdoms suffered terrible casualties - at least a fifth of their ships - despite their greater numbers. Even the Ironborn were not spared, the Iron Price reaping a heavy toll.
"Damn," Elanzo muttered, "This day just keeps getting worse."
"Milord, what do we do now?" Asked a sailor.
"We make for shore and dock immediately; get the reinforcements and supplies unloaded, and report to the Grand Duke everything that transpired," Elanzo listed down, "And… to tell him that Braavos has unwillingly betrayed us."
Elanzo knew for a fact that his once-people, his former homeland, would never shy away from the chance to take down the slavers and show the superiority of their cause, and if it meant having to ally with so-called barbarians, so be it. For this to happen and with that display of magic, it could only mean the absolute worst has come to pass, and the government ceased to function.
"Ormallos… how you'd be rolling in your grave seeing all this," Elanzo muttered with a wry smile, "How the mighty Titan has fallen…"
IIOII
Aegon Targaryen
He was burning badly, his dragon Balerion mauled by that dark magic.
It hurt so badly, his limbs burning in invisible fire and heavy as steel. His mind was delirious with pain, fatigue and fear. To think that such power existed; power capable of bringing down dragons from land, power dark and corruptive beyond imagination.
"W-Water…"
His voice was a pitiful whimper, soft and barely above a whisper, and the nearby physician quickly placed a cup of water to his lips which he greedily gulped down.
"Your Grace, please lie down; you're severely injured and need rest," The physician pleaded.
"What of Balerion?" Asked Aegon, "What of my wives and children?"
"They are slightly worn and wounded, but are otherwise safe with light injury," The physician reassured, "Balerion, on the other hand…"
"Tell me…"
The physician sighed.
"He is severely wounded, and he's lost both his wings. Even worse, we believe he will not last past the fortnight. I am sorry, Your Grace."
Aegon was tired, exhausted. Within his heart, a volcano erupted - a volcano of anger, anguish and vengeance. He wanted to scream, to rant and rave and vent his frustration on something, anything within his reach. And yet he could not; he lost complete sensation within his right arm, and his left was heavily bandaged. He tried to clench his hands, but the slightest twitch caused a delirious wave of pain that made him whimper.
"Your Grace, please, you must not move," The physician urged.
Aegon managed to calm himself, his raging anger cooling into a simmering rage. He would have his vengeance against those who dared wound his dragon so badly; this insult against House Targaryen will be paid for dearly.
"Have someone tell my queens… tell them they are now in command," Aegon rasped.
"As you command, Your Grace." Said the physician.
IIOII
Disputed Lands
Visenya Targaryen
"Vis, are you okay?"
Rhaenys looked with concern at the haggard form of Visenya, who desperately tried to hold herself upright as a warrior-queen and not a wife worrying endlessly for her husband.
"I-I am fine, Rhae," Visenya waved off, "It is nothing."
Rhaenys would have insisted, but she abstained from saying such, knowing her sister's stubborn insistence on a facade of strength.
"If you say so," Rhaenys said.
A soldier entered the tent and bowed, "Your Graces, Grand Duke Arin Rada is here per your orders."
"Send him in," Visenya beckoned.
Arin stepped into the tent with the face of an overworked man, his black bags thick and his lids laden with weight. There was no cheer, no nonchalance, not even the slightest hint of relaxation in his features, his shoulders unusually tense and his lips fixed in a deep frown.
Both Visenya and Rhaenys shared glances of understanding and dread.
"Thank you for answering our prompt summons, Grand Duke Rada," Said Visenya, "Can you tell us what you have learned about our newest enemies? We saw the Titan of Braavos on the ships' sails, but we know little else."
Arin shook his head with frustration, pursing his lips, "I'm sad to say I've little to report on; aside their devastating magic, they've somehow mutated their thralls into powerful soldiers who've no concept of fear of free will, and they have mages wielding powerful dark magic capable of creating thick mists as one example."
Visenya cursed under her breath in High Valyrian, pinching her nose and pacing around to collect her thoughts.
"What else do you know about these unknown mages?" Asked Rhaenys.
"From what we could gather, they're based in western Essos and most likely have full control of Braavos," Arin explained, "We've encountered more of their number in the Disputed Lands, and they all have Tyroshi, Myrish and Lyseni accents. As for whether they've compromised the Triarchy governments, I cannot say, but I believe we should assume the worst."
"Damn, to think we'd actually be facing such a terrifying enemy…" Rhaenys mouthed, "What of the Priests of R'hllor? Surely they wouldn't tolerate such an enemy?"
"Scouts say they've been mercilessly attacked and hunted down, taken by surprise by both the black robed magi and hordes of converted slaves," Arin said, "They've put up stiff resistance and are protecting any who manage to escape the Black Robes' clutches. As of now, they're withdrawing from the cities and making their way towards our armies."
"And Braavos? Is there anything we've learned in the city?" Asked Rhaenys.
"My spies are turning up dead, and I've received reports of increased violence and targeted strikes against their hideouts," Arin sighed, "The Five Families of Braavos are experiencing the same on their territories, and in light of this, I've had to order a complete pullout from Braavos."
"And with Braavos declaring itself our enemy, we now have a second front to fight on," Visenya concluded, vexation writ deep on her eyebrows, "Do these black robed magi have any weakness? Anything we might exploit?"
"Only that aside from their powerful magic, they're as agile and strong as a feeble Human being; they die too easily and compensate with hordes of mind-controlled mutants," Arin said, "As for their magic, it's not so easy to divine a weakness, but we found the ships' hulls to be full of dead bodies."
"Dead bodies? What for?" Questioned Visenya.
"Blood sacrifice," Arin answered, "My Arcanists tell me they've used the corpses as catalysts for the fog."
"Gods preserve us, if they can conjure such magic…" Visenya muttered, "This completely upends our plans for a quick war resolution."
"I'm afraid so, Your Graces," Arin nodded, "If these cultists have sunk their fangs into four of the Free Cities at their very hearts, we must prepare for a long and costly war."
"How long do you think it will take, Grand Duke Rada?" Rhaenys inquired.
"I would say five years, give or take," Arin answered.
Visenya slowly nodded, and then turned to face Arin and said, "Thank you, Arin. Please help gather all our top commanders for a war council; starting today, we have to take a completely different approach to this war."
"At once, Your Grace."
With so many uncertainties at play, the Westerosi would become even more cautious in how they approached this war, and yet they had to win now that they committed to it. If they withdrew or lost, who knows what horrors the cultists could unleash upon Westeros?
IIOII
Fifth Moon
Elaegelle Targaryen
"Hold the line! In the name of Dornia, hold the damn line!"
Never had she felt more afraid for herself and her people than in this moment, where hundreds of mutants were barrelling down upon their position, their hollow eyes filled with a feral rage that surpassed even the hungriest of predators.
Supported by two more companies, Elaegelle organised the defence of a nondescript village close to the Tyroshi outskirts, supported by onagers and ballistae as they loosed barrels of Tucosar Fire to incinerate the mutants to ashes. Many met their end in this way, yet the mutants continued to attack.
Behind the safety of their barricades, pikemen held the mutants at bay while archers fired back in a tiring, repetitive routine.
"Your Highness, the left flank is about to give!" A soldier reported.
"Send some of our reserves and reinforce that position! We must hold on until reinforcements arrive!" Elaegelle ordered.
With no cavalry and no magi on their side, the defenders had to rely on regular might, and the fate of a village was balanced on the tip of a thin needle.
Elaegelle herself moved between the different flanks of the formation, rallying her troops and sending help whenever she could, but she herself was beginning to tire out, her fingers sore from pulling the bowstring and her legs aching in protest, but she dragged herself onward, determined to succeed.
Ser Jaehaerys Calderon, ever the faithful servant and sworn shield, directed reserves to reinforcing the defensive formation, leading a small group of mobile fighters to kill any mutant that managed to breach the formation.
"Do not fall this day, Men of Dornia! Our lives and the lives of the villagers depend on it!" She shouted.
"Oorah!" Her men shouted.
She felt an arrow graze her cheek, and she glanced in the direction of the shooter, finding a skilled archer alongside the black robes. Elaegelle drew her own bow, whispered a few words of power, and shot a glowing orange arrow that pierced the throat of the shooter before it imploded in a huge plume of fire.
"Your Highness!" Ser Jaehaerys shouted worriedly, risking a glance in her direction.
"I'm fine! Focus on the battle!" Elaegelle ordered.
Reluctant as he was, he obliged, knowing the battle took higher priority over a flesh wound.
Just then, a horn sounded, and rocks and bolts of light crushed mutants into a fine paste, followed by hails of arrows and javelins before the cataphracts struck from behind the mutants, slaughtering them in droves to the cheers of the defenders.
Before long, the last of the mutants was slain, and the men of Dornia cheered in relief.
"Your Highness, it's good to see you alive," Said the leader of the cavalry, "I am Captain Doran Moratyn, and I bear a message from the Grand Duke."
"Let's hear it," Elaegelle said.
Unfurling a scroll, Doran read, "In light of your exceptional performance and unyielding spirit despite the challenges the black robes and the mutants posed to you, I hereby promote Princess Elaegelle Targaryen to the rank of Colonel and place an entire battalion under her command. Furthermore, I promote Sergeant Vilarr to the rank of Captain, effective immediately. Grand Duke Arin Rada."
Doran then fished out a badge and replaced Elaegelle's Lieutenant rank, and then he said to the men, "Soldiers, salute your colonel and captain!"
And they crisply saluted in Dornian fashion.
"What are your orders, Colonel?" Asked Vilarr.
"Have the men organise the wounded and the dead, and order supplies for a proper stone wall to be built," Elaegelle ordered when she suddenly felt light-headed, "T-Train some men among the militia, and hold position u-until further orders are received…"
And with this, Elaegelle fainted to the shock of her soldiers, collapsing like a puppet with cut strings.
"Healers, we need healers!" Vilarr shouted.
As they inspected her face, they soon found it turning an unnatural shade of black, her face rapidly losing its colour.
"And tell them we need anti-poison remedies immediately!" Jaehaerys ordered.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the battle scene!