Dragonfire burns Seagard
As the bronze bells roared above Eagle Cape, Daemon rode Glutton across the source of the Blue Fork.
The bells of Booming Tower rang hoarsely and rapidly, like the mournful cry of a dying beast. Each sound struck the eardrums, mingling with the shouts of battle from afar and the howls of the Ironborn, creating a chaotic mess in the sky above Seagard.
Looking down, dozens of longships were crowded in the bay to the west of Seagard, their black sails embroidered with various black sails.
The Ironborn surged ashore from the boats like a black tide, brandishing battle axes and iron hooks. Some were setting fires, some were dragging screaming women, and others were stuffing the stolen gold and silver into sacks while chanting slogans like "Drowned God bless us!"
"It's the Booming Tower!" Gael's voice came from behind Dreamfyre, her pale purple eyes fixed on the coastline below.
Half of the indigo flag of Seagard had fallen, the silver eagle emblem was blackened by smoke, and the city walls were crowded with Iron Ironborn wielding battle axes. Their longships, like black venomous tongues, densely covered the mudflats of Eagle Cape, and the skull and crossbones flags on the decks fluttered in the firelight.
The land at Eagle Cape was stained dark red by the firelight.
From the Seagard to the villages along the coast, thatched huts were burning, fishing boats were sunk, and several farmers who tried to resist lay in pools of blood with their throats slit. Ironborn's spears were stuck in their bodies, their straw hats impaled on the tips.
Daemon Targaryen's Caraxes in fury, his crimson Dragonfire grazing a Watchtower and incinerating two Ironborn were hurling stones down. "Those filthy fish!" his voice was filled with malice, his silver hair whipping wildly in the wind. "Little Daemon, watch me burn their ships to the ground and feed them to the fish!"
"Don't be impulsive!" Daemon reined in the Glutton, and the Black Dragon suddenly soared up, dodging an iron arrow shot from below the city wall.
He surveyed the entire battlefield: the western wall of the Seagard had been breached by the Ironborn, and the local lord, Earl Lymond Mallister, was leading soldiers in silver eagle armor to plug the gap. His blue-grey eyes burned with fury, and each swing of his longsword sent a trail of blood flying.
The villages and towns of Eagle Cape were engulfed in flames. The thatched roofs of farmhouses crackled and popped. Ironborn dragged screaming women toward longboats. The bodies of several children were dumped on the mudflats, and the waves, laden with blood and foam, crashed against the rocks.
"Gael, stick close to him." Daemon's voice was as cold as iron. "You two go blockade the coastline, burn all the longships, don't let a single one escape. Remember, protect yourselves, and keep an eye on him—don't let him go berserk and charge into the Ironborn."
Gael gently touched Dreamfyre's neck, and the pale blue dragon responded with a low growl, "Don't worry." She glanced at Daemon Targaryen beside her, who was eager to try something, "If he dares to misbehave, I'll have Dreamfyre on him."
"Hey!" Daemon Targaryen was about to retort when Caraxes 'Gael Dreamfyre swept past him from the side and behind. He glared down at Gael, but his eyes didn't show any real anger. "Burn the ship then, who's afraid of who?"
Two dragon shadows swooped down instantly, their crimson and pale blue Dragonfire intertwining to form a fire net that enveloped the longboat on the mudflats.
The screams of the Ironborn pierced eardrums. Some tried to jump into the sea to escape, but were hit by fragments of the sails ignited by the Dragonfire, and struggled in the seawater, turning into torches.
The outermost longships were the first to catch fire, the cracking of pine logs mingling with the curses of the Ironborn, like a chaotic funeral dirge.
Daemon took a deep breath and patted the Glutton's neck. The Black Dragon roared deafeningly, and jet-black Dragonfire cascaded down like a waterfall, striking precisely the pile of Ironborn besieging the west wall.
There were no screams, only the crisp sound of flesh burning – where the Dragonfire swept, the Ironborn were reduced to ashes scattered by the wind, along with their battle axes and leather armor, turning into charred dust.
"It's a dragon! It's the royal dragon!" The Mallister soldiers at the breach erupted in cheers. Earl Lymond to slash down an Ironborn chieftain with his sword, the feathers on his silver eagle helmet stained with blood. "Hold on! The royal dragon has come to our aid!"
The Ironborn's formation crumbled instantly. They were not afraid of the city walls, nor of swords, but they were terrified of the destructive fire that descended from the sky.
Some people threw down their weapons and ran towards the mudflats, some knelt down and prayed to the Drowned God, and a few crazy fools threw their battle axes at the Glutton, only to be burned to ashes by the Black Dragon Dragonfire.
"The hunt has begun," Daemon whispered, the black three-headed dragon brand on his right shoulder burning intensely, as if resonating with the Glutton's fury.
He guided the Black Dragon to skim low over the villages and towns, its Dragonfire brushing against the rooftops, forcing the Ironborn hiding in the barns out, but without harming the women and children huddled in the corners.
Dust rose on the distant horizon as Rayford Rosby arrived with Daemon's followers.
Rupert Crabb charged ahead, slaying the first fleeing Ironborn with a single blow. Myles Rivers roared and charged into the fray, battle-axe in hand. Corlys Celtigar and Lyonel Corbray flanked him on either side, while Jarman Waters's arrows never missed their mark, his single eye gleaming coldly in the firelight. Like a sharp blade, they pierced the Ironborn's path to the mudflats, turning the chaotic rout into a desperate slaughter.
"Earl Lord!" Daemon's voice echoed through the city walls via the dragon's roar, "Take your men out of the city! Wipe out the remaining bandits!"
Lymond Mallister was taken aback, but then he reacted and raised his arms, shouting, "For Seagard! For Silver Eagle!" The soldiers echoed his shouts and surged out of the breach like a tide. The Silver Eagle armor gleamed in the firelight, like a flock of vengeful birds of prey.
Every inch of Eagle Cape became a battlefield. Daemon rode Glutton, circling high in the sky, as black Dragonfire rained down, weaving an inescapable net of fire.
He saw Daemon Targaryen riding Caraxes, deliberately spewing Dragonfire into the sea around the longship, the rising steam scalding the Ironborn were trying to jump into the sea, making them scream in agony.
Gael's Dreamfyre precisely ignited the masts of every longship, the pale blue flames transforming the black sails into enormous torches like the dance of fairies.
The Ironborn's resistance grew weaker and weaker. Those raiders who believed in the "Old Way" lost all their ferocity in the face of the Dragonfire, leaving only animalistic fear.
Some knelt on the ground, begging for mercy with prayers to the Drowned God, only to have their necks severed by Mallister soldiers who caught up with them;
Some people crawled into the crevices of the reef, only to be burned to ashes by the dragon's breath of the Glutton;
There was also an Ironborn leader wearing a tricorn hat who tried to organize a counterattack, but Harlan Hunter shot him in the eye with an arrow and pinned him to a rock engraved with the symbol of the Drowned God.
The battle raged from noon until Dawn. When the first rays of the rising sun pierced through the smoke and shone on the ruins of Seagard, Eagle Cape finally fell silent.
The mudflats were littered with the corpses of the Ironborn and the wreckage of burned longships. The waves, carrying charred wood chips and blood foam, washed over the shore again and again, as if trying to cleanse the land of its sins.
Daemon rode the Glutton and landed in the square of Seagard. The Black Dragon's claws trod on a stone slab that had been scorched white by Dragonfire, and the hot breath from its nostrils smelled of sulfur.
Lymond Mallister walked over, leaning on his Earl. The blood on his armor had already congealed, and his blue-gray eyes were bloodshot, yet they held a sense of relief at surviving a calamity.
"I am Lymond Lys, Earl of Seagard. Thank you, Your Highness... thank you, Iron Throne." His voice was hoarse as he bowed deeply to Daemon. "If it weren't for your timely arrival, Seagard would likely have been plundered today."
Daemon Targaryen and Gael also landed on their dragons, Caraxes and Dreamfyre still had cigarette ash on their scales.
Daemon Targaryen grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth, charred rags clinging to his silver beard. "These stinking fish can't take a good burn; they haven't had their fill yet."
Gael gently shook her head, her pale purple eyes sweeping over the wounded soldiers and weeping women in the square. "First, take stock of the casualties and treat the wounded. Rayford, have everyone help clean up the battlefield."
Daemon gazed at the distant horizon, the rising sun painting the sea a golden-red hue, yet unable to wash away the stench of blood in the air.
He knew that this raid by the Ironborn would not be the last—those raiders who believed in the Drowned God, like the tides on the shore, would always return when you least expected.
"Lymond Earl," Daemon began, his voice weary, "Fortify the walls, repair the Booming Tower. We may not be around the next time the bells toll."
Lymond Mallister nodded solemnly. "Your Highness, rest assured, the House Mallister will defend Seagard to the death."
The Glutton suddenly let out a low growl and nuzzled Daemon's arm with its head. Daemon lowered his head and stroked the Black Dragon's scales. The brand on his right shoulder was no longer hot, but it left a strange tingling sensation.
He looked up at the Dawn sky, as if he could see the direction of the Iron Islands, those longships hidden in the mist, waiting for the signal for the next raid.
The smoke of battle in Seagard gradually dissipated in the morning light, leaving only the broken walls of Booming Tower and the charred remains of longships, like a silent monument, etched with the tragic clash between the Dragonfire and the Ironborn.