"Does that include you, Captain?" the bastard's bastard asked.
"Yes."
"Then I'll do it."
"Count me in," the boy said.
The rough-looking man folded his arms and nodded.
They were merely slave laborers, the lowest of the low in the Iron Fleet.
"Then let's begin," Victarion ordered. "Boy-you are the youngest, so you blow the horn first. The time has come. Blow it long and loud."
"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhoooooooooooooo." The big boy lifted the horn in both hands and blew, the curved horn gleaming black.
As the horn's note rose, the ancient Valyrian inscriptions carved into its bands began to glow red.
The terrible, piercing sound rang through Oldtown, filled with pain and rage, as though it would scorch people's ears.
It echoed and echoed and echoed, until it filled the entire chaotic world, a sound without end.
Victarion gazed expectantly at the sky. "Come, dragons, come."
"Beautiful. That's the sound. Blow as hard as you can-until you are too weak to go on, until you squeeze out your last breath, until your lungs are searing as though on fire, until the knights of Storm's End, the nobles of Highgarden, and the knights of the Vale can all hear it; until those wretches in Oldtown piss themselves in fear as the horn rings throughout the city. Then pass it to the next man."
Gendry heard that piercing shriek too, yet the dragons remained unmoved.
As the notes were about to enter their ears, pale gray light shone brilliantly.
The rounded, pale gray Stone runes blocked the impact of the magical notes.
The Dragon Horde rallied in the sky, circling high before plunging down. Fierce flames blasted straight into the green Sphinx's face, and the Sphinx, its strength already depleted, could not withstand the dragonfire.
Amid thunderous explosions, the Sphinx also fell to