Rain fell in sheets, and the sky near Golden Tooth City turned dim and murky.
Gendry rode Balerion in wide circles at a great height, waiting for the right moment to fold the dragon's wings and dive.
Endless layers of cloud split apart before the Dragon, creating a dizzying, overturned sense of the world. From below, the Dragon in the sky looked no larger than a fly, a black speck.
Gendry fastened the four short iron chains between his belt and the saddle. The dragon saddle sat just ahead of where the dragon's neck met its leathery wings, forming a natural seat.
Dragons were not horses. Dragons were far more willful and intelligent than horses.
Aside from the short chains, a Dragonrider could also grip the spines along the Dragon's back.
The Dragon's scales were scorching hot, and its flesh radiated tremendous heat like molten lava. No one would dare touch it lightly.
But for Gendry, this was nothing. Though a Pyromancer could not bathe directly in molten rock, enduring high heat now and then was no problem.
Gendry climbed higher and higher with Balerion, cold wind howling around him.
As their altitude rose, the oxygen, temperature, and air pressure all plunged sharply.
Yet as Gendry developed the potential of his "Blood of the Storm, Blood of the Dragonlord" and "Pyromancer," it was obvious he was no ordinary Dragonrider.
"Now, we shock the world!" Gendry called.
Balerion seemed to understand that feeling.
Dragons and Dragonriders shared a kind of mental connection. The only difference was whether it was strong or weak.
The longer Gendry rode Balerion, the more perfectly they worked together.
That required time and experience.
Gendry stirred Balerion's battle spirit with ease. This was the bond between man and dragon.
It was not only because Gendry was the Dragonlord, but also because Gendry was a Pyromancer whose life burned fiercely.
Daenerys was also training Vhagar, but neither the frequency nor the results matched Gendry's.
Balerion folded his wings and dropped, continuing to plunge downward.
The wild wind howled like blades against his face, and Gendry was certain this was what it truly felt like to be a Dragonlord.
On the walls of Golden Tooth City, every kind of defensive weapon had been prepared: small catapults, ballistae, barrels of oil, scorpion crossbows, and more.
The garrison commanders, Ser Forley Prester and Leo Lefford, stood on the walls, looking toward the grey-black wolf pack in the distance.
The deadly one was the enormous she-wolf, as large as a small horse and clearly the leader of the pack.
"Wolves. Have the Starks really turned into wolves?" a red-cloaked Westerlands soldier said in terror.
"Do not be afraid. We have gates and catapults, unless these wolves can tear the gates open," Ser Forley Prester said coldly.
"Are we lords supposed to reason with a pack of wolves?" Lord Leo Lefford said.
"Perhaps not, but we have no choice. The Northerners outnumber us by far," Ser Forley said.
Ser Forley was short, gaunt, and unyielding.
"Surrender immediately." Lord Leo Lefford looked at the letter in his hand. It seemed to be the Northerners' final ultimatum.
There were only four words in the letter.
"My daughter is still in Casterly Rock," Lord Leo thought bitterly.
He still had room in his heart for surrender, but his daughter had been seized by Tywin as a hostage.
"Wait until the Wolf Pack is within three hundred yards, then have the longbowmen and catapults begin," Ser Forley ordered.
Three hundred yards was a far more lethal distance.
"Draw!"
"Draw!"
"Get the boiling oil ready."
The walls of Golden Tooth City became tense but orderly.
But that order would not last. The Westerlands soldiers thought the Wolf Pack was the enemy coming to their gates, but the sky held the far more dangerous foe.
"A Dragon!"
"It's the Dragonlord!"
"Roar!" Gendry commanded, and Balerion let out a furious roar.
Unlike those Dragons famed for their beauty, the dazzling golden Sunfyre, the magnificent Seasmoke, or the Blue Queen, Balerion was a fusion of black and red, just like the Conqueror's dragon, carrying the oppressive presence of a demon god from hell.
He was the color of black jade, his body covered in black scales, while his eyes, horns, and the spines along his back were blood-red. Between scale and horn flowed Dragonblood as hot as molten lava.
Gendry saw the catapults and the boiling oil. He saw the red-cloaked Westerlands soldiers.
"Run! Mother, save me!"
"Mother."
The next instant, the Dragon arrived.
Black-red spears of Dragonfire dropped from the sky and exploded with a thunderous roar.
The walls of Golden Tooth City turned unbearably hot beneath the Dragonfire, the flames bright and blinding.
The boiling oil in the cauldrons burst apart, spraying hot oil into the air.
The soldiers caught in it screamed miserably, clutching at their eyes and faces.
Then came the burning of the catapults, scorpion crossbows, and ballistae, and the screams of the archers.
"Dragonfire!" Gendry commanded again.
Balerion beat his leathery wings and swept back and forth over the walls.
Black-red Dragonfire rolled forward, this time aimed at the soldiers still trying to struggle.
The desperate soldiers let out shrill screams, breaking down at the moment death descended.
Rolling flames swallowed their clothes, their eyes, and their hair. Dragonfire did not stop until death.
"Mercy! Have mercy!"
"We surrender! We surrender!"
"The Black Dread. The Black Dread has returned!"
Everyone had heard the tale of the Black Dread burning Harrenhal, bloody, cruel, and searing hot.
Most of the soldiers on the walls collapsed into chaos.
Whether it was the Wolf Pack or the Stark army, they no longer had the heart to defend against them. This time, it was a true Dragon.
The black dragon cruised back and forth above the fortress of Golden Tooth City, its Dragonfire like hellfire that burned everything in its path.
"Scorpion crossbows!"
"Scorpion crossbows!"
A pale-faced Westerlands lord shouted. There were indeed long iron bolts in the air, but none came anywhere close to Balerion.
Some fired at the Dragon, while others tried to shoot Gendry, but Gendry had no fear in his Valyrian steel armor, not to mention the runes on his body.
Instead, they only enraged the Dragon completely, turning the scene into hell.
Balerion attacked anyone who dared resist with Dragonfire, missing almost no one.
Flames surged all around, as if Field of Fire had returned.
And Balerion was the Black Dread reborn.
The walls of Golden Tooth City were left in utter ruin. Smoke and the stench of charred flesh made people want to retch.
"We surrender! We surrender!"
"Where are your commanders?"
"No one has seen the Lord or the other commander."
Gendry rode Balerion away from the walls of Golden Tooth City. He had not seen either of the two commanders.
Balerion crossed over the walls, no longer paying attention to the chaotic fighting.
"Dragonfire!" Gendry commanded.
A violent blast of Dragonfire struck the gates of Golden Tooth City, and a brilliant fireball blew an irregular hole through them.
Then came the wolves. The Wolf Pack entered.
The wolves' horns sounded shrill and mournful.
Led by Nymeria, the great Wolf Pack surged through the hole in Golden Tooth City and poured onto the battlefield.
Golden Tooth City was being dominated by two supernatural forces at once.
The Dragon and the Direwolves.
What an immense blessing.
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