"Good! A spear is a fine choice against a brute like The Mountain, but when I face that pig, I won't let him die too quickly!" the Red Viper said, brimming with confidence.
Too much confidence isn't a good thing! Gendry thought, but he did not interrupt the Red Viper's display of assurance. Against a monster like The Mountain, caution was the wiser course.
Dothraki roars rose from the battlefield. Khal Zhako brought his Screaming Warriors close to the battle lines, but he did not launch an attack.
"Run!" "Run faster!" The Dothraki released a group of slave boys they had driven forward. There were no girls, because girls still had value as property. The boys raced toward the gates of Myr. They had bronze skin and almond-shaped eyes, much like the Dothraki, but they were shorter, with flat faces and hair usually cropped close.
"They're Sheep People!" Brown Ben said. "They live in Lhazar, southeast of Vaes Dothrak, and raise livestock. The Dothraki call the Lhazareen 'hessirak,' meaning 'sheep people,' because they're meek and live solely by herding."
"It seems the Dothraki want to teach us a lesson!" Gendry said.
The young slaves ran on foot, but how could they outrun fine horses? The Dothraki Screaming Warriors spread out, forcing the children to scatter. Riding hard, they lashed the young slaves with their whips. One boy caught by a rider howled in agony, blood staining his back.
The Dothraki farther out grew bored. Some boys fell wounded and could only keep crawling. The Dothraki drew their bows and sent arrows through the Sheep People's backs. Moments later, every one of the boys lay dead before the battlefield.
Gendry watched the bloody scene. Violence was not everything. This only deepened the Myrmen's hatred and fear of the Dothraki-everyone's hatred and fear.
"Once the cavalry rides out, I'll be counting on you. Sorry for the trouble," Gendry told Brown Ben, Maester Qyburn, and Arrow Maker.
"Don't worry!"
"I still want to shoot a few more Horsemen dead," Arrow Maker said defiantly. "They say these Horsemen are the finest archers alive."
The slaughter was merely the first appetizer the Dothraki served to the Myrmen. Yet to the Khal's bewilderment, the Myrmen did not retreat. They held their Unsullied formation.
The Horsemen's scouts soon spotted the truth: there were not several thousand Unsullied among them. Reassured, they relaxed.
Seeing that there was no great army of Unsullied, Khal Zhako confidently ordered a charge.
Beneath the vast sky, the Dothraki Screaming Warriors began their charge, their long braids glossy black. Their chests were bare beneath painted leather vests, and they wore neither shields nor helmets. Horsehair leggings covered their legs, and bronze belts circled their waists. Only the Khal's belt was different: his was beautiful gold.
Clack! Clack! The trebuchets gave a despair-inducing creak, then hurled stones half the size of a man toward the Dothraki ranks.
Some unlucky Dothraki were struck by the stones, their bodies bursting like watermelons. But more charged onward, crashing toward the formation the Unsullied had prepared.
"Cowards in armor!" the Dothraki Screaming Warriors cursed.
Grey Wolf and Steel Fist had organized the formation. The Unsullied and the thousand Wolf Pack Soldiers on its outer front were fierce veterans. The two thousand Free Infantry behind them only needed to hold their ground.
Thud! Some Horsemen were thrown straight to the ground, while the shield wall remained unbreakable. They had received their first gift. Gendry had ordered plenty of oil spread over the ground before the Unsullied formation. The once-dry earth was soaked, making it difficult for mounted men to charge.
"My victory depends on how long Grey Wolf and Steel Fist can hold." Watching the battle below, Gendry felt like an arrow on a taut bowstring, ready to fly.
Chapter 79: The Warrior Descends to Earth (Please Keep Reading)
The battlefield before Myr became a mingling of colors: the black of the Dothraki Screaming Warriors, the white of Myr, the grey and white of the Wolf Pack banners, the red of blood, and the black or silver of armor.
And all those shifting sounds! Gendry thought. The battlefield's clamor mingled human voices, the cries of horses, and the clash of weapons. Gendry and the Red Viper heard it all. This was men slaughtering men. Insults, curses, shouts, screams, prayers.
Woooooo! A horn sounded, low and long. Gendry's warriors could not face death as fearlessly as the Unsullied, so horns and shouts had to stir their fighting spirit.
Gendry held his breath and watched the situation below Myr. Grey Wolf's shield formation was slowly contracting.
The soldiers under the Unsullied's command held their formation, their spears a forest. The repeated Dothraki charges were having some effect, but fortunately, the formation had not fallen into disorder.
I have to seize the right moment. There will only be one chance! Gendry thought. His soldiers were not Unsullied. Only deathless troops like the Unsullied, immune to pain, could endure eighteen assaults by the Dothraki Horsemen.
Most of Gendry's soldiers lacked such endurance. He had to strike before they broke, deciding the outcome with a cavalry clash.
"There are only a few Unsullied! Those behind them are men who live in stone, men in armor. They're no match for me!" Leading the charge, Khal Zhako swept past the shield formation and the Free Army infantry behind it. These escaped slaves did not look like a hard-hitting force.
"Charge a few more times! Kill them all!" Khal Zhako feared only an Unsullied shield wall, not this watered-down imitation.
"The Dothraki truly are born horsemen!" Even the Red Viper, standing atop the high wall, praised them. Almost every power in Westeros relied chiefly on infantry, unwilling to field an army made entirely of cavalry as the Dothraki did.
"Kill!" The Dothraki roared as they charged. Light cavalry formed the core of their strength, their warriors wielding arakhs, longbows, and whips. Though the muddy, oil-soaked ground delayed them somewhat, they still swept forward like a gale.
The trebuchets behind Myr's gates worked at full speed. Great stones descended like thunderbolts, each taking Dothraki lives. The longbowmen on the walls offered their own blessings of arrows.
Death reaped lives, both Dothraki and Gendry's soldiers. Even clad in armor, men still perished in battle.
The Dothraki Screaming Warriors had charged back and forth several times. Spears thrust from the shield wall before Myr like a forest. Most horses avoided them, deftly swerving before the spear formation, but a few could not be controlled and barreled straight ahead.
Spears tore into the horses, which collapsed with agonized cries. The Dothraki on their backs were killed before they even hit the ground.
Yet the weight of the horses falling onto the shield wall also caused brief moments of confusion. Some soldiers were crushed and injured beneath them. Men from the rear kept stepping forward to fill the gaps.
"Hold! Hold!" Steel Fist shouted. The Wolf Pack infantry were the finest troops, holding the front like an iron mountain. He worried about the Free Army soldiers. A battlefield would not pity escaped slaves merely because their cause was just.
The Dothraki scattered with howls, lofting arrows into the shield formation. Some unfortunate Free Army soldiers fell, never to rise again.
Grey Wolf still lived, and so did Steel Fist. Though some Free Army and Wolf Pack Soldiers they knew had died, Grey Wolf still led the men in holding the formation steady.
"It's up to you now!" Grey Wolf glanced back at the battlements and licked his dry, bleeding lips.
The Dothraki had launched seven full assaults. For the Unsullied, that was hardly a number to boast about, but with so many freed slaves among their ranks, it was already an honor.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom-boom-boom! Deep drumbeats sounded, like the judgment of fate.
Khal Zhako watched the Myrish shield formation still holding firm. Seven assaults were no small number. If he kept wearing his men down and still failed to break the formation, he too would meet his downfall beneath Myr's walls.
I have to end this battle! Khal Zhako brandished his curved blade, growing impatient. These stone-dwellers were proving troublesome this time. Curse him for listening to the Tyroshi, who had tempted him with claims that Myr was easy pickings.
The time has come! Gendry thought. The Dothraki's momentum was gradually fading, but more importantly, his own shield formation could not hold much longer. It was time to throw a punch and give the Dothraki something to remember.
Gendry told Brown Ben and Arrow Maker, "Loose fire arrows! Disrupt the Dothraki's rhythm!"
"The Second Sons' mounted men will form the rear force. Attack the Dothraki from behind!"
Gendry, Long Spear, the Red Viper, and Brown Ben descended from the battlements together. Next came a fight to the death.
"The Warrior will grant us strength!" the Red Viper said.
"I pray for the strength of the Warrior and the Smith as well!"
"Draw!"
"Loose!" Arrow Maker personally commanded the longbowmen as they fired. They had been aiming for the Dothraki's vital points, but now they changed targets to the ground before the Unsullied shield formation. It had been soaked with oil earlier. Whether it would still work was uncertain, but they had to unleash a heavy volley.
The remaining oil suddenly flared before Grey Wolf's shield formation, though only in small patches. It was not wildfire, after all.
Though the battlefield before the Myrish shield formation had been soaked with oil, horses had galloped over it again and again, trampling the earth countless times. The fire arrows had little effect when they struck the ground. Smoke rose, and a few warhorses took fright.
The Dothraki were somewhat bewildered. These tiny flames-was this all the Myrmen had?
"Kill!" Hooves thundered as the Myrish cavalry surged out through a gate on the other side. Fresh and rested, they rode to fight the Dothraki to the death.
Gendry and Long Spear led the mounted men out through another gate, charging straight into the Dothraki ranks. The Red Viper followed behind them.
Six hundred Wolf Pack Cavalry, eight hundred Long Spear Company Cavalry, and some mounted Free Army soldiers made up the force. These two thousand-odd riders were Gendry's finest troops. There were also the hundred Dorne Light Cavalry the Red Viper had brought, who had their own role to play.
A Dothraki warrior foolishly charged at Gendry. Gendry's warhammer smashed into his chest, punching through his painted vest, muscle, and lungs, killing him instantly.
Gendry rode on without pause, swinging his warhammer, striking and roaring like a savage butcher. Six hundred heavily armored riders smashed into the Dothraki like a mighty fist.
"Kill! Kill Khal Zhako!" Gendry shouted. He had the finest Dornish horse and the finest weapon. He was the arrowhead, the keen point of the blade.
The heat of battle crashed between them until Gendry spotted Khal Zhako. The Khal was already past forty, and physically he could not compare with Khal Drogo. But in battle experience, every Khal was a formidable opponent.
Khal Zhako recognized the man before him too. Clad in Black Scale Plate Armor, wielding a warhammer, and surrounded by mounted warriors, he had to be the ruler of these stone houses.
Khal Zhako rode a magnificent Dothraki horse. As he swept across the field, the bells in his hair rang in the wind.
"Fight me!" Khal Zhako gave a strange roar, then slashed his arakh toward Gendry like a waning moon.
Khal Zhako's long blade struck with extraordinary agility and viciousness, as nimble as a leopard, seeming to leave afterimages in the air. But Gendry did not retreat. Today, he was like the Warrior descended to earth.
Chapter 80: The Death of a Khal (Please Keep Reading)
"Coward! Milkman hiding in an iron box! Coward!" Khal Zhako cursed, his black eyes blazing with anger. The Dothraki despised men who lived in stone houses and wore armor.
Khal Zhako swung his silver arakh, the bells on his thick black braid jangling. His weapon was half sword, half sickle, its long edge sharp as a razor.
"Die!" Khal Zhako attacked Gendry like a violent storm, his blade flashing as curses poured from his mouth.
Khal Zhako's curved blade traced an arc, but failed to bite into Gendry's waist. Gendry's warhammer and armor stopped the Khal's attack.
Long Spear, leader of the Wolf Pack's mounted warriors, wielded his spear, while Gillo Reha, commander of the Long Spear Company, swung his longsword. Gendry's silent companions attacked Khal Zhako's two Bloodriders. The Bloodriders were like the Khal's own limbs, equally fierce and skilled in battle.
Grey Wolf and Steel Fist left some men to clear the battlefield. The remaining infantry advanced together, joining the cavalry of the Wolf Pack, the Free Army, and the Long Spear Company in cutting down the Dothraki.
Gendry wore Black Scale Plate Armor, his equipment of the finest quality: helmet, gorget, and black-scaled plate. The Wolf Pack Company's mounted men were similarly equipped. Heavily armored cavalry cost a fortune and sacrificed some speed on the battlefield, but they were more than adequate against these Dothraki warriors who charged blindly ahead.
The Dothraki Khals favored such headlong charges, seemingly with no cleverer tactics in their heads. Now the Heavy Knights' short, sharp charge was proving effective. This was not the Dothraki Sea. This was Myr.
Clad in heavy armor and wielding his warhammer, Gendry defended calmly. The arakh was indeed well suited to slashing, easily inflicting long, deep wounds from horseback. But Gendry's Black Scale Plate Armor offered considerable protection against its edge.
"Only cowards hide in iron armor!" Khal Zhako cursed. His arakh fell like a downpour, dazzling the eyes and whistling through the air.
Dothraki duels had no armor, only flowing blood. Their Screaming Warriors attacked one another, their arakhs cleaving spines, waists, and bellies. Blood, death, dismemberment, and dying howls-that was the Dothraki battlefield.
Of course, Khal Zhako was no fool. Though he wore no armor himself, he sought the joints and weaker points in Gendry's plate. The armpits, elbows, knees, and joints beneath the arms were usually the most vulnerable parts of heavy plate armor, but Gendry's Black Scale Plate Armor was fine enough to protect them all.
Gendry's tight defense made Khal Zhako's attacks miss again and again. Even the occasional blow that struck his body landed uselessly on his Black Scale Plate Armor.
But Gendry's heavy hammer occasionally struck Khal Zhako's bones and muscles during a counterattack, making his blood surge. The clash of steel rang without pause, and the heat of battle seemed to engulf them both.
Strength met strength, speed met speed. Gendry did not fear Khal Zhako, especially with armor protecting him. Before long, he had taken the measure of Khal Zhako's fighting style and strength.
A man who had risen above six or seven thousand Screaming Warriors was an opponent worthy of respect, but Gendry had to surpass the Khal.
"This coward is going to butcher you, Khal." Gendry defended calmly. He felt as though his strength were inexhaustible. A warrior should stand firm as stone, then rage like a storm. He blocked every slash with his warhammer.
Zhako was a Khal past forty, after all. Experience could not make up for his waning strength. Slowly, Gendry began to see fear in Khal Zhako's eyes. Khals only occasionally clashed with armored mounted men, and they were unfamiliar with this style of fighting.
There's no retreat now! The battle was taking an ugly turn, and the Khal was growing anxious. But the Dothraki Screaming Warriors despised losers. That was why the Khal who had died beneath Qohor's walls had insisted on fighting the Unsullied to the bitter end.
The longer Khal Zhako fought, the more frightened he became. The warhammer seemed to carry an immense weight. After meeting it head-on a few times, Zhako's muscles ached, while his opponent only grew fiercer. Apart from Khal Drogo, Khal Zhako had always believed himself invincible. He was destined to pay for his arrogance.
"Take off your armor! Duel me!" Khal Zhako cursed.
Gendry watched Khal Zhako coldly. The Warrior still stood behind him.
My advantages: strength and armor. Gendry's heavy hammer collided with Khal Zhako's curved blade. Gendry attacked harder and more fiercely.
Gendry felt like a sharp sword fresh from the forge, shining ever brighter.
Clack! Clack! Khal Zhako attacked in a furious frenzy, yet could not break through Gendry's defenses. When a blow occasionally struck a safely protected part of his black armor, Gendry ignored it.
In return, Gendry's warhammer whistled sharply through the air. Its heavy, spiked head left a blood-red wound in the Khal's chest. Though it missed his heart, it shattered bone.
Khal Zhako seemed to go mad. Ignoring his wound, he swung his blade through the pain, but his frenzied attacks began to slow.
"Die!" Khal Zhako swung his arakh, but it struck only Gendry's arm plate.
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