Game of Thrones: The Stag's Storm

"Coward! Coward!" Golden Tooth whirled his twin blades, slashing wildly at the air. His vision blurred, and a crushing anger weighed on him.

Clang! Golden Tooth's blade cut across Gendry's arm. Fortunately, the wound was neither deep nor long, though blood streamed from it. Gendry's backhand swing came with a howling rush of air, his warhammer smashing Golden Tooth's head to pieces. Blood, fragments of skull, and brains spilled across the deck. Golden Tooth crumpled like a dead fish. Gendry raised his warhammer again and moved to support the others.

"Don't look down on old men. This old fellow can still be useful!" Qyburn said mildly, looking at Golden Tooth's corpse.

"Kill them!" The remaining pirates were much easier to deal with. They wore only leather armor and had no helmets. Maces, crossbows, and shortswords were all deadly against them.

"Throw down the ladders! Cut the ropes!" Captain Dunster called. Their spirits soaring, the Myrish sailors raised their shields and hurled away the ropes and ladders. They were delighted, but frightened too. After killing so many pirates, there could be no peaceful end to this.

For some reason, blood and pain had brought Gendry into a strange state. He grew more excited, strength surging through him. I am the blood of the storm, the fierce winds of the Narrow Sea, its driving rain-a warrior as fearsome as the storm itself.

"Die!" Gendry raised his mace, readied his shield, and went to reinforce the fighting.

Only one crafty old pirate remained on deck, hiding behind the mast and firing a crossbow. No one dared approach him. But the Myrish sailors had already hit him with their own crossbows, weakening him and slowing his movements.

Gendry raised his shield, then struck while the pirate was reloading. His hammer came down with a howling rush of air, smashing the old pirate's brains out and leaving only half his skull.

The pirates lay sprawled across the ship. Gendry put away his warhammer. Blood had soaked the sleeve over his arm, making him look terrifying.

The battle on deck ended quickly. When the pirates who had rushed into the cabins heard the shouting and ran back out, only bolts awaited them. One after another, they were shot full of holes like hedgehogs.

The pirates' two longships lay close to the merchant ship, but their decks were lower. Those aboard had heard the fighting without knowing what had happened. Normally, Goldtooth Pirate should have called them over to take the vessel by now. Seeing the ropes and ladders destroyed gave the pirates left behind a bad feeling. Their best fighters had already died aboard the ship. Another attack would likely cost them even more.

"Display Golden Tooth's head! Display Golden Tooth's head!" Gendry shouted.

An idea struck the Myrish sailors. They found a long pole and hung Goldtooth Pirate's head from it, letting it sway in the wind.

The crews of both pirate ships saw the chilling sight. Half the severed head had been smashed apart, but the golden teeth and purple hair were unmistakable.

"Let's board them and avenge the captain!"

"Golden Tooth was tricked! Those damned Myrmen—did they have sellswords aboard? Even an ordinary merchant ship had skilled fighters!"

"Is your head full of seawater too? So many good fighters are dead. I don't want to be shot by a crossbow. Get moving!" The pirate ships chose not to seek revenge. Instead, they rowed away from the battlefield. Gendry had proved the unexpected factor.

The pirates were practical men. The black ships had few hands left, not even enough to fully man the oars and ballistae, and the boarding party had suffered heavy losses. They could not afford another defeat. Climbing from a lower deck to a higher one was dangerous to begin with. The first wave had assumed the Myrmen were weak, and that mistake had cost them their best men.

"The gods preserve us!" Captain Dunster wept with joy, feeling he had escaped death. The sailors did not stop to clean the deck. They sped away from the Stepstones. Neither side wanted a fight to the death.

Gendry breathed a sigh of relief. His luck had held. What he feared most was the pirates choosing mutual destruction, or reinforcements arriving from the Stepstones. The pirates feared those aboard the merchant ship, and Gendry feared a desperate assault from their vessels. Fortunately, the pirates were ruthless enough to abandon their comrades without hesitation.

"Thank goodness there was no poison on the blade. It only broke the skin." Qyburn hurriedly pulled back Gendry's sleeve and applied some medicine. "Myrish Fire Powder. It may hurt a little. This is what I scattered earlier, too."

"Thank you!" The gray powder burned against Gendry's wound like fire. It had a disinfecting effect.

"You have the makings of a formidable warrior!" Qyburn said quietly. "You have excellent natural gifts and steady nerves. On a battlefield, both are deadly!"

"Thank you so much!" Captain Dunster came over to Gendry as the Myrish sailors and passengers applauded the Iron-faced Warrior.

Chapter 12: Rhaegar and Robert

"You're famous now, Gendry!" Qyburn teased in the cabin. The boy with the mace had inspired awe with his performance on the deck of The Telescope. Wild and unrestrained, he had saved the ship.

"The pirates demanded our surrender. How could I dare surrender? They would have thrown you into the sea and sold me to the Perfumed Garden." Gendry spread his hands helplessly. His left arm still bore a simple bandage, but he was strong and healthy, and such a small wound would heal quickly.

Most of the pirates came from the Three Daughters. They demanded hefty ransoms for free citizens of those cities, but generally spared their lives. They showed no such kindness to Westerosi captives, who were most often sold into slavery.

"True, child. But your victory has earned you a great deal." Qyburn smiled.

Qyburn knew that Captain Dunster, the Myrish sailors, and the Westerosi passengers had all given Gendry plenty of gifts. After all, the boy's courage had spared them both physical suffering and financial ruin.

"Fighting wasn't what I imagined. If Golden Tooth hadn't been so smug and split up his men, I would hardly have had a chance to turn things around. If twenty men had boarded at once, we wouldn't have stood a chance." Gendry reflected on the fight. It had been perilous indeed. He needed heavy armor and a helmet, protection before he could strike effectively. Circumstances had forced him to fight without armor. "If all the pirates had worn armor, we would have been doomed."

"Indeed, Gendry. War is a dangerous game, but luck is part of strength too! War isn't a tourney surrounded by flowers. A puddle, a patch of mud, something foul eaten at supper, even a bad mood can decide victory or defeat! Every human being has limits!" Qyburn looked at Gendry, curious about the face behind the iron mask. "History books speak of godlike warriors who surpassed human limits, but those accounts are all at least centuries old. The Valyrian Dragonlords and the princes and princesses of the Rhoyne mastered both combat and magic. Now all we have are the wars of mortals."

"I originally intended to make you my apprentice. Medicine isn't as glorious as knighthood, but at least it's safe and keeps you fed. Now, though, boy, you seem born for the battlefield. That sort of talent is very rare." Qyburn considered this for a while before speaking.

"Being a warrior is all very well, but I'd like to live a little longer. Learning medicine sounds good too."

"Nothing would please me more! But I know more than medicine and poisons. I also know history, law, poetry, religion, and the language of Old Valyria."

"I imagine those are much more complicated than smithing!" Gendry felt pleased. If an accomplished maester like Qyburn had not been expelled from the Citadel, he would rarely have had the chance to meet him. There was another advantage too: Qyburn had no backing. He could only attach himself to someone with strength-to Gendry.

"More interesting than smithing too. I'd be delighted to mold a warrior! Once we reach Myr, you may also need a weapons instructor. A knight's weapons training requires expertise," Qyburn continued. "Many people think fighting is only for brutes, but they're wrong. A warrior can have many talents. Prince Rhaegar, for example."

"Rhaegar!" Gendry's interest immediately stirred. "I know he was a prince who died at the Trident." Though Rhaegar was dead, his ghost seemed to linger in the sky, tearing the kingdom apart.

"That period of history interests me too. Unfortunately, I was only a maester, too weak to truss a chicken. I could only imagine its heroes from the war reports at the Citadel. Our fat king was once unstoppable in his youth."

Maester Qyburn continued. "In those days, Prince Rhaegar and King Robert were the brightest stars. There were also the Sword of the Morning, Wild Wolf, Sweet of the Vale, and Barristan, but Rhaegar and Robert were two very different men. Prince Rhaegar was melancholy. He preferred books to swords and loved playing his Silver-stringed Harp. Women wept for his beauty and sadness. King Robert was different. He was the Laughing Storm reborn. Robert always sought joy and laughter-hunting, drinking, bedding women, competing in tourneys. In his youth, he was tall and powerfully built, generous in spirit, and renowned for his courage and prowess in battle."

"What happened next?" Gendry pressed.

"Every Westerosi knows what happened next. Two proud warriors became entangled over a woman, a woman with wolf blood, and the entire kingdom was buried with their ill-fated love! But what truly happened between Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar is difficult to say." Qyburn pondered.

"There's no untangling right from wrong now!" Gendry said. "But the Mad King and his son certainly threw away their throne."

"Indeed. What mattered was the Battle of the Trident, the hammer blow with which King Robert killed Rhaegar. Once they lost on the battlefield, the rest became meaningless! Still, it was remarkable that Prince Rhaegar managed to wound Robert so badly. His station was too high, and his interests too varied. He wasn't a born warrior."

Gendry considered that and found it true. Jousting was very different from a real battlefield, and Rhaegar had not devoted all his attention to fighting.

"Whether it's Robert or Rhaegar doesn't matter. Aesthetics, music, dancing, medicine-these are merely embellishments for a knight. What matters is winning the war, winning everything! You must be stronger, more fearless, and more cunning than your enemy. Prince Rhaegar forgot that, and so he lost to Robert." Fire seemed to burn in Qyburn's eyes.

"Yes!"

"Now, this old man has an immodest request. Would you take off your mask? If you don't wish to, forget I asked," Maester Qyburn said.

Gendry removed his mask, revealing short black hair, deep blue eyes, and the shape of his mouth, chin, and cheekbones.

"My gods!" Qyburn pointed at Gendry's face, his mouth falling open. "I should have realized. I should have realized." He had seen both Robert and Renly. This face was practically a smaller version of Renly's, though the boy was destined to grow stronger than him.

"I may stand out a little, but there's not much I can do about it," Gendry said politely.

"Please forgive my slander of the king. Your temperament is quite different from his. The king is proud and hot-tempered. Otherwise, I should have guessed sooner. After all, caste toughness holds true!"

"It doesn't matter. The king has forgotten me anyway!" Gendry waved it away. For now, he had no interest in meddling in Westeros. His claim was too weak. Better to build his strength in secret.

"Then all the better. In another corner of the world, a bastard and a disgraced maester will bring the world some fresh excitement! And those damned Lannisters too!" Qyburn grew excited. Without dragons, martial prowess and charisma were vital. During the War of the Usurper, for example, Robert had become king not merely because of his blood, but also through his charisma and victories.

"The Lannisters? Do you have some history with House Lannister too?" Gendry asked, puzzled.

"There was indeed an incident. After the Citadel expelled me, I sought service with Tywin, but he had me thrown out!" Qyburn said awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable. "Lord Tywin is powerful and wealthy, and he is a cold, practical man who could abuse children and sack King's Landing. I thought he might fund my research. Unfortunately, he's stubborn too, full of aristocratic airs, and despises fallen maesters like me."

"But none of that matters now. Compared with those studies, helping teach an invincible warrior would be far more fulfilling!" Qyburn looked at Gendry. He had no power, but he had potential. "You carry the blood of the dragon, the Deer, the First Men, and the great river."

"But the king's trueborn children-why..." Qyburn hesitated, speaking uneasily. He had seen the king's eldest son, a pale, proud boy with golden hair and green eyes. Unfortunately, the boy showed none of House Baratheon's traits. The king also had another bastard at Storm's End.

Still, that was hardly unheard of. Rumors of kings being cuckolded were nothing new. In the days of the Unworthy, the king himself had fabricated accusations that his wife was having an affair with his brother, the Dragonknight.

"Oh, I've never met them. I wouldn't know!" Gendry said coldly. If the secret would eventually come out, he would rather not be the one to expose it. That would draw too much attention.

Seeing Gendry's attitude, Qyburn understood a little more.

"It's an honor to become your subordinate and mentor. Let us work toward your cause, Your Highness!" Qyburn said respectfully. Now he had broken with House Lannister completely.

"The honor is mine too, Master Qyburn!"

On second thought, Gendry realized he had assembled a third faction in Essos, though it was rather short on people. The other two were the Targaryen siblings and the hidden Jon and "Aegon"!

Chapter 13: Arrival in Myr

The Telescope passed through the Stepstones with a scare but no further harm. The frightened Myrish captain was like a bird that flinched at the twang of a bowstring. His ship raced onward until Tyrosh City came into view, then stopped to hastily replenish fresh water and supplies.

A large, bustling city appeared before Gendry. Tyrosh was a fortress city protected by high walls, standing at the northeastern end of the Stepstones, not far from the mainland. Its inner walls were made of fused black dragonstone. Tyrosh was much larger than Sunspear in neighboring Dorne. The Weeping Tower stood at the harbor entrance, and the Dionysian Fountain lay within the city.

"So lively!" Gendry watched ships coming and going at the Tyroshi docks. Many of those hauling cargo were slaves, with overseers watching them. Many of the Free Cities were ports with thriving trade. He had never left King's Landing before, and distant Tyrosh felt very different.

At the Tyroshi docks, Gendry saw many peoples of the known world. Those with black skin came from the Summer Isles, while those with olive skin were most likely Dornish or Myrmen. The Tyroshi were easiest to recognize. They were loud, flamboyant, and greedy. They loved bright colors, dyeing their hair and beards blue, green, chestnut, pink, purple, scarlet, vermilion, and more.

"Those are the black walls of ancient Valyria. That was how the Valyrians built their military fortresses!" The wind and waves were calm, and most aboard were still resting. Only Maester Qyburn stood at the bow, pointing out Tyrosh's black walls to Gendry.

By the standards of noble households, Gendry had begun his education very late. Qyburn could only work tirelessly to pass on everything he knew and make up for the lost time. Fortunately, he discovered that Gendry's memory and understanding far exceeded the ordinary, greatly bolstering his confidence and sense of accomplishment.

"A magnificent relic!" Gendry exclaimed. The Valyrian city-state had been far ahead of its time: the Valyrian Road, the Valyrian Black Wall, Dragonglass Candles, the Forty Valyrian Dragon Kings, and more. After Valyria fell, the world became a battlefield for barbarians. Even the savage Dothraki grew insufferably arrogant. House Targaryen, which had escaped by luck, had only ranked among the lower-middle Dragon Kings back then. They possessed almost none of the essential arts, such as Blood Magic or advanced construction techniques.

"The Black Wall of Volantis is even grander than Tyrosh's walls. Volantis also has the largest population."

"Volantis. I didn't see many Volantenes in King's Landing."

"If we have the chance, we'll visit Volantis. It suffered terribly during the Century of Blood, but its foundations remain the richest. Then you'll see the grandest black walls in the world, relics of Valyria!"

"That would be wonderful!" Gendry said.

"Valyria's achievements depended on the Arts of Blood and Fire, profound magic! Many say magic has vanished, but I believe it has always existed. It simply rises and falls like the tides. When the Magic Dragons disappeared, magic seemed to weaken too!" Qyburn remained fascinated by magic, and that fascination had led him ever further astray.

"Have you ever witnessed the magic of Stars and Fire, then?"

"I haven't achieved that yet, but I believe it's possible!" Qyburn said awkwardly. "Still, magic cannot be forced. The people of the Targaryen Dynasty always longed to hatch Magic Dragons, and that led to one tragedy after another!"

"But if one day you truly acquire the Arts of Blood and Fire, awaken the blood of the storm, and summon the Rhoyne back to life, I too shall share a little of your glory!"

"Easier said than done!" Seeing the ship getting underway, the two returned to the cabin.

"Your Highness, the Tyrosh you just saw is only one of the Free Cities, yet it is already so prosperous. If we gain support in Essos, there will be ample opportunity, whether we advance elsewhere or expand here." Maester Qyburn spoke deferentially.

"You don't need to call me that, Master Qyburn. I'm your apprentice, and a bastard with nowhere to retreat!"

"Great achievements spring from hardship! Only lofty ambitions can make them possible!" Maester Qyburn persisted. "Allow me to introduce the current situation in Essos. Trade, especially the slave trade, is the heart of everything here." Qyburn produced a simple map of Essos.

"We've left Tyrosh and will soon reach Myr. Tyrosh, Myr, and Lys once joined together as the Triarchy, but that alliance fell apart long ago. The three cities undermine one another, while all detest Volantis. Pentos is the weakest and most helpless, having been defeated by Braavos. Volantis is greedy and arrogant, with almost no friends. Braavos currently stands alone: wealthy, powerful, and independent.

"Lorath, Qohor, and Norvos aren't worth much discussion. The key lies in these six great city-states, their entanglements and attacks on one another. Beyond them, the Dothraki are also enemies not to be underestimated. They often cross the Rhoyne to invade!"

Gendry studied the distribution of power along the Rhoyne. Qohor controlled the region between the Qhoyne and Anoy, while Volantis's influence reached only as far as Heart's Home on the middle Rhoyne. Between Anoy and Heart's Home lay a buffer zone between the two city-states, making it the stretch of the river most densely infested with bandits.

Maester Qyburn's analysis is sound, but he probably wouldn't anticipate someone taking a knife to slavery itself and making an enemy of the whole world.

"Essos differs greatly from Westeros in its institutions, customs, and beliefs. No one has ever truly united the continent. Its rulers are mostly wealthy merchants, and their positions aren't permanent. Only the titles differ."

"Magisters, archons, governors, or the Sealord," Gendry said.

"Yes! In any case, they have to be elected. That's their game!"

Qyburn looked toward Myr, deep within the Bay of Whispers. "Our opportunity lies here!"

"The Disputed Lands!" Gendry looked at the area Qyburn had marked.

"Yes! Since the alliance of the Three Daughters collapsed, they have fought one another for sovereignty over this land, keeping plenty of sellsword companies fed! And there's the Stepstones nearby too. All of it can be considered land without a master."

The dream was grand. In reality, he had only one man.

Gendry studied that stretch of land. The Disputed Lands had once been fertile, but repeated wars had ravaged them, and their ownership remained unresolved. Chaos was a ladder. Finding a sellsword company to hide among here would be easy enough.

There's no escaping bloodshed. If only I could get a dragon! Gendry thought.