Chapter 41: The Red Sea
Sunlight spilled onto the white-capped sea, shimmering with a faintly blood-tinged golden light, while the heavy oars beat against the water, stirring up rolling waves.
Lord Toland's brother, Harrien Shade, stood upon the deck of the flagship, the Desert Dancer, staring uneasily at the sky. Beside him stood the captain of the three-hundred-oared warship, Hayek Tamas of Lys. In this era of both turmoil and uneasy peace, three of the Nine Free Cities—Myr along the coast, Lys upon its islands, and Tyrosh in the northern Stepstones—had joined together. Their lords and governors swore by their respective gods to form the Triarchy, known also as the Three Daughters. Their ships had repeatedly suffered attacks from the Varezys Fleet, even losing the eastern trade routes for a time. Within the Narrow Sea, the pirate activities of the Three Daughters had likewise suffered heavy blows from the Valyrians.
The Triarchy, having endured several setbacks, desperately needed reinforcements. At this moment House Toland, carrying a vast amount of gold, came knocking at their door—exactly what they desired. Moreover, the chance to vex their old rivals was a welcome bonus. Thus the Triarchy readily assembled fifty large warships to assist House Toland in transporting their main infantry.
Count Sharriel Toland personally led nine hundred cavalry and two hundred hired mercenary riders north by land to rendezvous with House Jordayne's fifteen hundred spearmen. Together they planned to merge with Count Uller's forces and advance toward the Borderlands army stationed in the Red Mountains, near the border between the territories of Weel Town and Yronwood.
While Lord Toland marched north, House Martell also began to muster its forces. A great host of six thousand spearmen and twelve hundred cavalry slowly gathered at Sunspear. Though Dorne was presently in chaos, many lords from eastern and central Dorne still chose to send troops in support of House Martell, even if their levies were smaller than those of the great houses.
However, Harrien Shade had little mind to care for affairs ashore. The lead ship had just raised a signal flag—they had sighted the fleet of House Varezys.
At least twenty large sail-and-oar warships and five heavy galleys escorted dozens of massive merchant vessels sailing toward the eastern coast of Dorne. Upon discovering the fleet of the Triarchy, the escort force left three warships behind to continue guarding the merchantmen while the rest turned about and sailed toward the approaching fleet.
"Lord Gang Suo'er, our ships are fewer than those of those three harlots. If they swarm us, I fear we will not hold," said a gaunt old man with a white beard, his voice tinged with concern.
He wore battered leather armor bearing a blue serpent painted across the chest. This was Captain Miles Stone, commander of the three-hundred-oared warship named the Azure Serpent. A bastard of the Vale, Miles in his youth had sailed the seas with Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake. The Azure Serpent itself had been purchased with the wealth he accumulated during those voyages. Now aging, Miles longed to cast aside his bastard name, and so he journeyed south to seek his fortune under Dragonzel.
After all, Dragonzel had issued a recruitment order at Blackhaven to expand his retinue.
Gang Suo'er the Fire-Bringer leaned against the railing of the observation post and shook his head.
"Captain Miles, you worry too much."
He pointed toward the sky.
"His Highness's dragon is nearby. Support can arrive at any moment."
"A prince? How could he know?" Miles asked.
"The Silver Dragon watches everything from above the clouds. He and Young Master Valarr have been patrolling the area, protecting the shipping lanes."
Gang Suo'er's voice carried a trace of reverence.
"Send the signal. Inform His Highness that we have engaged the enemy fleet."
A soldier of the Silver Blood Army immediately lit the prepared beacon. A straight column of black smoke rose into the sky, climbing until it pierced the clouds.
Along the coastline, Vermithor, who had been tearing into half a charred whale carcass, suddenly raised his head and stared toward the thin column of smoke far away.
Dragons sensed such things far more keenly than men.
Dragonzel tilted his head, following the direction in which Vermithor roared, and immediately understood what his companion had discovered.
"Good work, Gang Suo'er."
Dragonzel drained the last of the broth from his helmet, adjusted the padding beneath it, and placed the helm upon his head. With a grunt he climbed into Vermithor's saddle, gently patting the dragon's massive back.
The dragon shook its head and released a thunderous roar into the sky.
"Roar!"
"Vermithor, sōvētēs."
The command rang out in High Valyrian.
The dragon spread its colossal wings and leapt from the sea cliff. Its enormous claws skimmed the surface of the water, kicking up sprays of white foam. With a powerful beat of its wings, Vermithor soared skyward and vanished into the clouds within moments.
"Large ships prepare to ram!" Gang Suo'er steadied himself. "All men prepare for close combat!"
He drew his longsword. Captain Miles lifted his long-handled battle axe.
"Lord Gang Suo'er," the old captain said with a savage grin, "this old thing still serves well in a naval fight."
"Prepare for impact! Archers, archers—loose! Loose!"
Commander Hayek directed the Triarchy fleet. He placed his Lyseni warship at the rear of the formation, the Myrish ships forming the spearhead while the Tyroshi vessels flanked the fleet of House Varezys.
The sea was instantly filled with a storm of arrows and burning stones.
The galleys of House Varezys possessed tall fore and aft castles and heavy hulls, allowing them to rain arrows and hurl stones from above. The lower sail-and-oar warships had little advantage against them.
Yet they had strengths of their own.
The Triarchy ships were more numerous and far more maneuverable. They hunted the purple-sailed galleys of House Varezys like a pack of wolves.
One galley soon burst into flames.
But beside it, at least three sail-and-oar warships also burned, while one or two slowly sank beneath the waves.
"Boom!"
The ram of the Azure Serpent slammed into a sail-and-oar warship, snapping it in half.
Another Triarchy vessel seized the opportunity to close in. Dark-skinned strongmen from the Summer Isles hurled grappling hooks, while the Dornish spearmen aboard launched their spears.
They were all blocked by the large wooden shields arranged by Miles.
Using the moment bought by thrown javelins, the Dornish warriors leapt onto the deck of the Azure Serpent.
Gang Suo'er split a Dornish spear with his sword, sliding forward in the same motion to sever the man's head. Miles swung his battle axe—first cutting the spear shaft, then the head that held it—in one brutal, fluid motion.
The soldiers of the Silver Blood Army fought the same way.
Battle axes and spears flashed as they clashed fiercely with the Dornish who had boarded the ship.
A slightly smaller Varezys warship rammed another Triarchy vessel attempting to board it. The impact split the hull, capsizing the larger ship outright.
Yet the men aboard refused to yield. They leapt onto the smaller vessel, attempting to seize it.
On that deck stood a shirtless young man wielding a long-handled battle axe.
Every Dornishman who approached him had their spear—and sometimes a limb—split apart as the axe whirled like a storm.
"Hm?"
Gang Suo'er neatly beheaded a Dornishman clad in scale armor. Looking up, he spotted the youth fighting like a whirlwind.
"Is that your grandson?"
He glanced toward Miles Stone, who was panting as he pulled his axe from a corpse.
"Ah?" The old captain squinted.
"This foolish brat—does he wish to die without armor? After the battle I'll spank him until he cannot sit!"
"What is your grandson's name?" Gang Suo'er asked, cutting off a Dornishman's hand before slitting his throat. "His Highness will like him."
"Samwell. Hmph. That brat."
Miles spoke dismissively, though pride rang clear in his voice.
He sounded exactly the same when speaking of Sebastian.
"Dragon! The prince is here!"
A soldier of the Silver Blood Army shouted from the observation post.
A fireball plunged from the sky.
It struck the flagship where Harrien Shade and Commander Hayek stood.
The three-hundred-oared giant shattered instantly beneath the blast of heat. Nearby sailors could even see bodies evaporating within the flames.
More fireballs followed.
Each one smashed apart a Triarchy warship.
Then the bronze dragon plunged from the clouds, its massive wings nearly darkening the entire battlefield.
"Vermithor—dracarys!"
Vermithor's throat glowed with gathering fire.
A torrent of dragonflame erupted.
Ships exploded wherever the fire passed, while men struggling in the sea were boiled alive in their screams.
Even the seawater itself began to boil.
The dragon slowly climbed again after circling the fleet, breathing fire again and again.
The ships of the Triarchy were soon engulfed in flame.
Gang Suo'er ran to the bow, watching in awe as the dragon sent enemy warships one after another into the burning sea.
Then realization struck him.
"Captain Miles! Pull all ships back to the outer perimeter—quickly!"
Miles looked at the exploding ships and the boiling sea and immediately understood.
He staggered to the observation platform and lifted a horn.
"Wooooooo—"
The deep horn call echoed from ship to ship.
Nearly every warship flying purple sails turned at once and retreated toward the outer waters.
Above them, Vermithor roared toward the heavens and unleashed the most furious blast of dragonflame yet.
The sea boiled.
Oak hulls burned.
And the fleet was reduced to ashes.
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