"Hyah! Hyah!"
With their prince's orders given, Alyn's small, handpicked band of elite men immediately set off behind him.
Though Crackclaw Point was long and narrow, the breadth of its mountains was not to be underestimated-the uninhabited ranges stretched at least several hundred li from east to west, with no shortage of rough mountain roads along the way. (There is no need to find this strange; Martin established Westeros as a continent nearly the size of South America.)
Fortunately, twenty or thirty li did not take riders very long to cover.
The Dothraki steed beneath Aegon bounded several meters at a time, its hooves striking broken fragments of dragonglass along the rugged trail and scattering little sprays of black chips.
Its four hooves carried it over the uneven path, its mane streaming like silver threads in the wind.
That, however, meant Aegon had to keep a careful eye on the ground ahead.
The trail was unexpectedly good, wide enough for two carriages to travel abreast-
Of course, if carriage wheels really came through here and rolled into the uneven cracks, they would surely get stuck among the irregular black stones.
Horses should have no trouble, though. There was probably more than enough room for five or six peninsula knights to ride side by side.
"Three years ago, we would never have imagined we'd travel this way in our lifetimes." Rupert urged his horse forward to catch up with Aegon, his rather handsome face full of emotion.
He raised a hand toward the cut stumps of shrubs and the filled-in hollows along both sides of the trail, reporting on the road beneath them. "People rarely came here before. This trail certainly wasn't wide or level enough. If we'd brought the main force just now, the column would have stretched out so