Edryck rode fast down the slope from Cobbler's Square, the streets were clear for once, the fires and falling rubble having driven most people inside or out of the city; he leaned forward in the saddle to keep his balance while his horse pounded through puddles of ash-mixed water that splashed onto the flanks.
He glanced up, saw Vermax pull into a fast climb above the Fishmarket, the green wings beating hard, then saw Seasmoke lash out with a wide burst of flame, the orange jet missing the smaller dragon by a body length but searing a line across the roof of the brewhouse, and he shook his head.
"That kids cracked," Edryck muttered. "Whole lot of the Targaryens are cracked, but that one's half a step past normal."
He sat back in the saddle, hauled left, and shouted across the clatter of hooves "Hugh, come on, keep up."
Hugh charged along two lengths behind him, his own mount snorting loud with effort, as Hugh was quite a large man. The big man pushed the pace, and he twisted in the saddle to stare at the duel overhead. "I've never seen such power before," Hugh said, voice carrying even over the horses. "To think dragons are so powerful..."
"They spit real fire, too," Edryck mocked. "As you'll soon find out if you don't hurry the fuck up!" They cut across a narrow yard behind a smithy, and came out near the Kingsway, and followed it straight to the main gate of the Red Keep; the gate house stones still trembled from the last tremor when Seasmoke's fire had dashed against the walls, and smoke wafted from the arrow loops. Both riders dismounted fast. Edryck tossed his reins to a guard who looked as though he might bolt at any second.
"Hold him," Edryck ordered. The guard only nodded once, eyes still fixed on the sky; Vermax had just crossed the rim of Maidenpool Square with Seasmoke a little behind.
Edryck stepped into the courtyard and found chaos. Servants ran with bundles of linens, scribes carried ledgers under their arms, two maids dragged a small chest past a toppled cart, and a half-dressed noblewoman screamed at a footman because her husband had left without her. Edryck grabbed the sleeve of the nearest guard.
"Who's in charge here? Where's the Princess? Where's the King?"
The guard pulled free.
"Gone," he said. "They've not returned I can only assume they left the city."
Edryck cursed under his breath and strode up the main stairs, Hugh right behind him. Hugh cast a worried glance back toward the open gate. "We should leave while we can. That silver dragon drops fire on the walls and we're all dead."
Edryck waved the thought aside. "Can't afford it. I'm used to a certain standard of living now, and if Jace dies then I lose that, so I intend to make sure the boy stays alive."
Hugh snorted. "And how exactly? We don't have wings. And an arrow won't touch those beasts, they're too high up."
Edryck stopped at the top of the stairs, thinking, then snapped his fingers once as the idea formed. "Follow me."
They moved through the corridors of the Red keep, ones that had once been full of servants and lords, but were now empty. One tapestry had slipped its hooks and lay bunched on the marble, but Edryck stepped over it without slowing. At the end of the passage he turned down a narrower flight that led toward the maester's tower, and the air smelled of old parchment and candle grease. He kicked open the door to the maester's study without knocking. Scrolls littered the desk. A large box sat open on the floor half packed with bundled letters. Maester Orwyle hunched over a crate, tucking a silver vial inside. Edwyn thought it was strange as the maester looked as if he had been packing for a while. Considering the situation they were in it was certainly bizarre that the maester would be packing his things away as if he was going to leave just before an event like this happens.
But right now Edryck didn't have time to think about that.
The old man glanced up, his eyes wide, chain swinging against his chest. "Edryck? Seven above, what are you doing here? We must leave before the dragon brings down the tower."
Edryck strode forward, passing stacks of ledgers. "I Need information. Tell me, did the anyone here ever reproduce the scorpion bolts that the Dornish used on Meraxes?"
Orwyle's jaw fell open. "Absolutely not. Such a weapon would be sacrilege. No king after Maegor would permit it."
"How do you know? Were you there? Did you see a royal decree?"
Orwyle hesitated, gaze sliding to the window where smoke rose. "I can only assume they would never break the edict."
Edryck smacked the desk hard enough to rattle the ink pots. "Assume gets my head roasted and my meal ticket dead." He calmed down for a moment before taking another breath and looking up to Orwyle "If they made one... where would it sit?"
Orwyle stammered. "Even if some smith forged it, the keep is vast. It would be buried in storage. We are wasting time. The city is unsafe we need to leave."
Hugh stepped closer, his shadow filling the room. "Answer him."
Orwyle flinched, then sighed. "There is a lower store under the old armoury. Many obsolete weapons were sealed there. I never catalogued all of it."
"That will do," Edryck said. "Show us."
Orwyle looked to his half-filled crate. "It may not be there."
"You're coming anyway." Edryck replied as he began walking out of the maesters solar. The maester grumbled but led them into the passage behind the door, down spiral stairs lit by torches, the stones down this staircase were cracked and looked to be in disrepair; likely no one had ever ventured down here to clean or repair them. At the base they emerged into a half-lit cellar lined with racks of rusted axes, dented shields, and coils of chain links thicker than a thumb. The air was damp and smelled like iron that had rusted.
"Start looking," he told them.
"I'm telling you Ser Edryck this is a fools endeavour," Orwyle said to the Knight as he stood and watched them search. "Scorpions were one of the only known weapons capable of injuries dragons, after Aegon and his sister wives conquered the seven kingdoms all scorpions were destroyed and they've never been produced anywhere since."
"With the exception of Dorne of course," Orwyle added.
"I may be a Knight but that does not make me stupid Maester Orwyle," Edryck replied as he continued searching. "I am fully aware of the history of Westeros, however I am going on the assumption that Aegon was not a stupid man, and so recreated the weapon that could destroy his greatest asset in order to find a defence against it."
Before Orwyle could speak again Edryck turned to him. "Search now! I don't want to hear another word from you!"
Orwyle finally relented and they searched. Hugh took torches from a holder on the wall and lit them before he thrust one into each row to push back the dark. Boxes cracked open at a kick. Most held corroded arrowheads, stacks of scale mail fused by rust, chipped sword blanks. Orwyle wiped sweat from his brow.
"It's useless," he said. "We should flee. The city burns. Weapon we have can match dragon hide."
"You want to wager that?" Edryck replied.
Minutes passed with scuffling feet and the clank of metal tossed aside. At last Hugh stopped at the end of the third row. He crouched, reached under a tarpaulin, and lifted. The tarp slid away to reveal a heavy iron frame, its curved arms bound back with rotted rope, the winding crank still intact though streaked with corrosion. The stock was oak as thick as a man's thigh, the prod braced with layered steel plates, and the trigger lever looked solid.
Hugh grinned, teeth bright in the torchlight. "Found it."
Edryck walked up and whistled once. "Now that looks like a dragon slaying weapon if I've ever seen one..."
Orwyle stared like he had seen a grave open. "Unthinkable," the maester said. "To think such a dark weapon still exists here."
"History always has a way of repeating itself," Edryck said before slapping Orwyle on the back. "Can you carry the whole thing?" He asked Hugh.
Hugh tested the weight, bent his knees, and hoisted the scorpion onto one shoulder, the frame balanced as if it were a lumber beam. "Not too bad."
"Good," Edryck said, then turned on his heel. "We load it on a cart, haul it to the highest stable roof, and the next time that silver dragons gives us a straight pass we put a bolt through his eye."
"Assuming you can hit it," Orwyle muttered.
"Oh I'll hit it," Edryck said with a grin on his face.
They started back the corridor, their footsteps echoing, Hugh carrying the scorpion like a toy, Edryck holding the torch high to light the climb, and behind them Orwyle shuffled, still protesting under his breath yet following, and outside the roar of dragons rolled over the keep roofs as the chase continued above a city that burned.
___________________________
Jace clung to Vermax's back with both arms wrapped tight around the base of the horns as the dragon twisted hard through the smoke-choked sky. The leather straps on his boots had already snapped, every sharp turn sent his legs flailing. His body was bouncing off the hide more than riding it. When Vermax banked right, Jace's feet flew out left. When the dragon twisted left, his whole body tipped and hung sideways, nearly vertical to the city below.
"Shit! fuck! Vermax!" he shouted, coughing on the smoke.
Seasmoke shrieked behind them, and Jace felt the heat ripple up his back. Vermax beat his wings once, twice, then suddenly tucked them and dove, dropping like a stone toward the rooftops of the Red Keep. "Vermax, naejot emagon Seasmoke emagon pryjagon skorion." (Vermax, lead Seasmoke out to the sea.)
Vermax roared once in response and pulled up just in time to scrape past a damaged tower on the western wall. He banked left and dropped through a narrow gap between two watch spires. A section of stone cracked and tumbled as Seasmoke followed, smashing through the gap behind them with no concern for the damage, he then opened his jaws and let out a burst of fire. It passed just under Vermax's tail, luckily the smaller agile dragon was able to avoid it. Jace still felt the heat lick across his boots. He looked back and saw Seasmoke gaining again. The silver dragons eyes were focused completely on them, it seemed to be salivating and foaming at the mouth as it flew after them. Jace couldn't help but think that it wasn't trying to attack them. It was trying to hunt them, he had seen the same look on cannibal all too often.
Jace had no plan. No strategy. He couldn't attack. Not with his father still clinging to that saddle. All he could do was pull Seasmoke away from the city, draw him out over the water, and keep him chasing long enough for Laenor to regain control or to jump off. They soared over the Blackwater, the air was clearer out here, it felt like Jace could breath again. The smoke thinned. The wind hit harder.
Though one thing still bothering Jace was his armour; he ripped off his shoulder plate and let it fall. It spun in the air and vanished beneath the waves. Then he yanked off the other. It followed the same path. His chest was burning, his breathing shallow from the smoke. After getting all the armour off he took a deep breath. "That's better," he said, almost laughing. "Almost feels like I can move again."
He glanced over his shoulder.
Seasmoke was getting closer, it beat its wings desperately, like Vermax was his last meal. If it wasn't for Vermax being the faster dragon they would've likely caught up by now. "Vermax, naejot Dragonstone. Jelmio kostagon jorrāelagon raqiros." (Vermax, go to Dragonstone.) it was the only thing he could think of, Uncle daemon was the only one who he thought might know what to do. He was just as skilled a rider as Jace was, perhaps together they could stop Seasmoke and save his father.
Vermax angled his wings. They started to rise and head towards the east.
But then Seasmoke roared—louder than before—and turned. He pulled off from the chase and wheeled back toward the city. Completely ignoring Vermax and Jace, like they hadn't ever existed.
Jace stared, his mouth open.
"No," he said. "No, no, no, no—"
He pulled hard on Vermax's horns, and the dragon turned. They followed fast, wings snapping against the wind. "What the fuck is wrong with him?" Jace muttered. "Why is he doing this?" He couldn't make sense of it. Dragons didn't do this. They didn't ignore their riders. They didn't kill without cause. He thought maybe it was pain. Maybe Seasmoke had been injured, maybe something was pressing into his body, maybe he had lost control for one moment and now he couldn't find his way back. Or maybe...
Jace didn't finish the thought.
They reached the city again. The fire hadn't slowed in their absence. Whole blocks were burning now. The harbor was a wall of smoke. People had started screaming again as they saw Seasmoke and Vermax return over the city.
The nightmare wasn't over yet.
Seasmoke dove. He swept low over the open market near the southern gate. Instead of firing again dove low and picked up a dozen charred corpses with his claws and threw them up chatching them with his jaws. He did this again and again eating and consuming dozens of corpses.
Jace pulled Vermax up and circled to watch. This wasn't normal, dragons didn't have appetites this voracious. Half a dozen sheep would be enough enough to satiate a dragon of even Vhagars size. "What in seven hells..." he mutturted to himself.
Below Seasmoke continued to gorge himself on the dead bodies of Kings Landing, only when he ran out did he flap his wings and let out another inferno of flames which again killed hundreds in moments. For a moment Seasmoke landed on a building and craned his neck down to get the bodies in the streets. Jace was hopeful that his father would take that moment to jump off of the dragon and run, but from what Jace could see Laenor was unconscious, he didn't know how; he assumed that he must've smacked his head against the scales of Seasmoke during the chase.
Seasmoke then flew towards the jousting arena.
Jace went still.
"What—" he whispered. "No..."
Seasmoke flew closer and closer; the jousting arena was just outside the walls of the city. It also happened to have the highest concentration of people who were now running for their lives.
In an open field.
Jace leaned forward and shouted.
"Vermax, iāsagon!" (Distract him!)
Vermax dove. He let out a roar, circled Seasmoke, lashed at the dragon with his tail—but Seasmoke didn't turn. He opened his mouth and fired a wall of flame, forcing Vermax to break off, then went back to flying towards the field.
Jace watched, his throat dry. He felt true panic and fear well up inside himself, he knew his family would've been evacuated by now but what if they hadn't, what if they were still there.
His hands were shaking now.
He realized then what he had to do.
He stared down at the massive silver beast, at the rider still in the saddle, motionless, body slumped forward. Jace didn't know if his father was conscious, didn't know if he'd wake up in time. But he knew what Seasmoke was becoming. And he knew what that meant.
He gripped Vermax tighter. The shaking spread to his chest.
"No..."
His voice cracked.
"No."
He blinked hard, once. He felt his heart pounding in his throat. Every breath came hard for him. It felt like his heart was being squeezed.
"We can't..."
His voice failed again.
His arms felt weak. His chest ached more than it ever had.
"We can't let him keep doing this."
Vermax flew above Seasmoke, flapping his wings slowly. Jace turned and looked at the city again. The bodies. The flames. The people running. And below, the silver dragon that flew lower to the ground ready to light the fields outside of Kings landing ablaze.
Jace bit down hard on his lip. Hard enough that blood filled his mouth.
He closed his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry."
He leaned forward.
"Vermax... Dracaerys."
Vermax folded his wings, tucked his legs, and dropped like a falling boulder straight at Seasmoke, the dragon blurring as the wind screamed in jaces ears; he felt every violent shake of the dragon's spine as muscles tensed for the strike. A heartbeat before impact Jace braced, both hands locked on the forward horn, knees clamped so hard his thighs burned; then Vermax opened his jaws and unleashed a jet of orange flame that washed over Seasmoke's rear haunch, the fire rolling across the silver hide. The blaze did nothing to the scales, yet the blast caught Seasmoke's attention, and the older dragon bellowed, a deep resonant sound that vibrated in Jace's skull.
Vermax snapped his teeth around the base of Seasmoke's tail and jerked sideways, trying to drag the larger dragon off course. Scales scraped like grinding millstones as Vermax clawed for purchase, hind talons raking bright lines across silver scales. Seasmoke swung his tail in a vicious arc, the sheer force flinging Vermax outward, but the green dragon held on, his neck straining, his wings half-open to keep balance. The two dragons began to spin, locked together in a dance over the fields outside King's Landing; dust whirled below as peasants scattered, and screams carried upward on the wind.
Jace yelled above the roar.
"Vermax, kostilus!" (Vermax, hold on!!)
Seasmoke answered by twisting his neck, deep orange fire spitting from deep in his throat in a sweeping arc that slashed across Vermax's extended right wing. The membrane flared bright for an instant, the heat baking Jace's face, and Vermax shrieked, releasing his bite.
The smaller dragon beat both wings hard, the air forcing Jace sideways; his legs lost grip and his body swung up high over Vermax's spine, then the dragon rolled, forcing Jace flat against the neck hide while Seasmoke climbed in pursuit.
Flames roared again, another cone licked close enough that Jace smelled scorched leather where his vest smoldered. He ducked, his chin scraping Vermaxs scale, and slid one hand down to a lower horn that jutted from Vermax's spine to keep himself from being peeled off by the wind.
Vermax angled upward, claws trailing smoke. He roared once, drew deep, and spat a tight column of fire back over his shoulder. Seasmoke thundered straight through it, jaws open, his own flame burning white at the edges as he answered with a blast that crossed paths with Vermax's in midair, two infernos colliding and illuminating the sky.
The dragons then hit head-on. Their bodies slammed together with a sound like trees splintering under an axe, and the shock shuddered through Jace's bones. Vermax drove his claws into Seasmoke's chest scales, the talons punching between silver scales, while Seasmoke's larger claws reached over Vermax's shoulders and tore downward, ripping three deep furrows that bled hot black blood rather than red. They bit at each other's necks; jaws snapped, teeth clashed, smoke burst from nostrils. The force of the collision sent both dragons tumbling end over end, wings tangled together as they thrashed against each other.
Jace clung to Vermax's horn; wind tore tears from his eyes and ripped the breath from his mouth. A plume of fire burst past his left arm then a second gout flared under his boots, forcing him to pull both legs in tight against the spine. One misstep and he would drop into the salads between the battling dragons. Seasmoke lunged, his jaws closing over the crest of Vermax's right shoulder, teeth punching through scale and muscle. A cracking sound rang through the air, and Vermax screeched, a raw piercing screech that made Jace's heart seize. The smaller dragon twisted in pain, claws scrabbling for purchase, then snapped onto Seasmoke's nearest wing, teeth locking across the joint where bone met sinew, and drove hind talons into Seasmoke's flank with brutal force.
Vermax kicked, ripping a chunk of silver membrane free; the flap of ruined wing skin fluttered like torn sailcloth. Seasmoke roared, flexed, and hurled his whole body sideways, ripping loose from the bite and sending Vermax spinning off. The sudden separation left both dragons mere metres above the ground; dust and loose straw blasted away beneath them as their impact loomed. Vermax flared every wing muscle left to him and slapped the air in a downward stroke, roaring every second he did it.
Seasmoke did the same on his stronger left side. Both beasts caught the wind, bodies jerking from free-fall to a low sweeping glide that skimmed the grass and churned it into swirling debris. Though it also had the unintended effect of making dozens of pesants faint as they believe themselves about to be crushed. They climbed, blood and smoke trailing behind them in twin spirals. Vermax's right wingbeat labored but he still continued to force altitude. While Seasmoke wing limped, the wing curving unevenly, yet rage drove him skyward.
Vermax's wounded wing beat in a faltering rhythim that rattled every bone in Jace's body, and the pain that lanced from the dragon's torn webbing travelled through the saddle-less spine beneath him so cleanly that Jace felt each failing stroke as a dull punch in his thighs. He blinked sweat from his eyes, tasted smoke and salt on his lips, and forced himself to focus on the silver beast climbing below. Foamy spittle, streaked pink with blood, dripped off Seasmoke's chin and left a spotted trail through the haze; the older dragon's mouth kept working, as though every snap had whetted an ever-growing hunger. During the last grapple Jace had seen the proof of this hunger; when Seasmoke clamped down on Vermax's shoulder, muscle had torn away, and Seasmokes throat had convulsed in a swallow. The memory crawled over his skin like ants, it reminded him all too much of Cannibal, but it made him feel worse as it was happening with a tamed dragon.
A roar thundered up from below. Seasmoke's neck straightened, the thick tendons standing out like coiled ropes, and his chest ballooned. The maw opened in a stretch, lips peeling away from yellow fangs that jutted at uneven angles. Deep in his throat a red glow gathered, swelling brighter with every heartbeat until flame overflowed the lips and a column of blinding heat blasted straight toward Jace.
The first tongue of fire skimmed Vermax's right flank, kissing the green scales with enough heat to ignite the sweat on Jace's sleeve. The second gout erupted lower, beneath his boots, and the sudden updraft of blistering air lifted his legs clear off the spine. He clamped his knees, hauled both heels back, and locked calves against the ridges, but the horn under his left palm grew slick where scales wept blood and he nearly slid free into the raging inferno.
Vermax reacted before Jace could revn scream in pain; the smaller dragon collapsed his wings, folded his legs tight to his belly, and knifed downward. The dive wrenched the breath from Jace's lungs, the wind tearing past so fast it felt like a thousand lashes to his face. Far below, the brown smear of turned earth rushed up to greet them until Vermax snapped his wings open again, the membranes trembling like sails in a storm, and shot across the fields.
Pain flared along Jace's ribs where the earlier burn had seared through leather. He hissed and ripped it off, throwing it away, and twisted for a look at Seasmoke. The larger dragon's tongue flicked out to catch stray droplets of gore from his own teeth, and his single intact eye fixed on Vermax with a bright, feral focus. Laenor hung limp in the saddle his braids whipping freely in the wind, his body tethered by the safety chain alone; if that strap failed, nothing would stop him tumbling head-first into his death.
Seasmoke tucked his wings for his own dive, foreclaws angled inward for extra speed, the torn membrane of his right wing fluttering loudly but still holding shape. He gained fast. When the tip of Vermax's tail entered reach, Seasmoke darted forward like a viper his jaws snapping. The tail lashed aside, but not fast enough; teeth raked over overlapping green plates, shaving scales away.
Vermax banked left and climbed, but Seasmoke drifted to intercept and struck again, this time aiming for the trailing edge of the injured wing. Jace shouted a warning and felt Vermax roll to throw the larger dragon off. The move half-worked: Seasmoke's teeth clicked on empty air, yet his momentum carried his massive body into Vermax's ribs. The impact boomed like stone on oak, sent shockwaves through Vermax's frame, and hurled both dragons into a joint tumble, each spinning around the other like twin boulders launched from a trebuchet.
Grass blurred, then sky, then flame, then sky again. At the peak of the tumble Seasmoke's neck whipped forward; instead of a single snap, he worked his jaws in short, savage bites that drove the upper row of fangs repeatedly toward Vermax's throat. Each bite attempt came a half-hand closer than the last, the fangs scraping scal, trying to open the neck up. Vermax arched back, hissed, and plunged his own head into Seasmoke's line of attack. He clamped down on the thick bronze-veined horn jutting from Seasmoke's brow, and every muscle along Vermax's jaw tightened until with a sickening crack the horn came away, splintered at the base; blood geysered from shattered bone, spraying across Jace's boots in steaming arcs.
Vermax spat the horn out and immediately spewed a focused stream of flame straight into the rival dragon. Fire flooded across Seasmoke's face; scales heated up like hot iron, and the silver dragon let out a deafening howl. In the same instant Seasmoke jammed both hind feet against Vermax's belly and kicked. Talons raked deep grooves, and the force of the shove blasted the two dragons apart.
Air howled between them as they fell on diverging paths, and each fought for balance just above the rooftops now flaming inside the walls. Vermax's right wing stuttered, but he managed to gain altitude. Seasmoke's left wing drove powerfully, yet the right beat with an ugly hitch that threw him off balance. A stone tower loomed dead ahead. Vermax rolled; Seasmoke, following too close, smashed straight through the upper floor, stone blocks and wooden beams exploding outward in a fountain of rubble. A flying granite fragment clipped Vermax's hip, the jolt sliding Jace half a body length backward; though a piece of debris managed to hit him in the shoulder; Jace bit down on the intense pain of it and kept holding on.
Above the crash debris Seasmoke emerged trailing dust, his eyes much wilder than before. He overtook Vermax in three heaving beats, sank teeth into the green dragon's tail, and whipped him overhead like a flail. Vermax shrieked, curled his serpentine neck around, and struck the exposed under-armour of Seasmoke's belly. Fangs sank past scale, and musxle. The bite forced the silver dragon to relax his grip long enough for Vermax to tear free, shredding scales into the wind.
"Tolī, Vermax! Sȳrkta!" (Now, Vermax, climb higher!) Jace's voice cracked, but the dragon heard. Vermax surged, seeking altitude where thicker clouds might cloak them. Seasmoke followed, his breath rasping like bellows, blood still pumping from the numerous wounds, but not looking like it hurt him at all.
...
Edryck urged the cart up the last rise of Rhaenys Hill, his horse straining while the wagon wheels thumped over loose stone and sent the scorpion rattling so hard the iron prod rang. He reined in at the crest and swept his arm toward the city below.
"Set the frame there, against that fallen arch," he said, voice clipped. "The stone will take the recoil."
Hugh swung down, his boots crunching on broken marble. He shaded his eyes with one huge hand and stared at the sky where green and silver shapes twisted through plumes of smoke.
"Seven save us," Hugh muttered. "Look at them dance."
"They will fly lower once fatigue bites," Edryck answered, swinging off the saddle. He unhitched the cart traces. "Until then we wait."
"Wait?" Hugh's brow furrowed. "You hauled me through half the city to wait?"
Edryck shoved a shoulder into the scorpion's oak rail and heaved. "Help me set the legs."
Hugh grunted and gripped the rear beam. Together they wrestled the weapon off the wagon and grounded it against the shattered base of a stone maiden toppled in an earlier tremor. Edryck kicked chocks under the legs while Hugh hammered bronze hoof-pikes deep into fractures in the flagstones.
"Wind?" Hugh asked.
"Quartering out of the bay," Edryck said. He spat to test the drift. The spit carried east. "Not strong but enough to push a bolt off a narrow target at three hundred paces."
Hugh eyed the dragons again. "More like six hundred, maybe seven. No shot from here."
"That is why we wait," Edryck replied. He hauled on the winch, drawing the torsion ropes back until the latch clicked, then eased the crank. "They bleed and tire with every pass. When one turns to strafe the market the path will drag him right over us."
Hugh lifted the loading lever, set a bolt the size of a jousting lance into the groove, and checked the fletchings. "And if they keep flying high?"
"Then we move," Edryck said. "Better that than waste our one shot." He wiped sweat from his eyes with a torn sleeve. "I have seen soldiers loose arrows too soon and watch them fall like snowflakes."
A distant crash rolled across the district as Vermax and Seasmoke slammed together above the Street of Sisters; sparks flared when claw ripped scale, and the green dragon's wing folded in sudden spasm. Both beasts fell through a haze of embers, wings thrashing until they split apart over the rooftops.
Hugh sucked in a sharp breath. "I thought that was the end of the little one."
"Not while the rider clings," Edryck said, with a small smirk. "The lad grips that neck like a tick."
Hugh rubbed a palm over the rough shaft of the bolt. "You sure you can hit true? I have never aimed at anything that moved faster than a charging boat."
Edryck's lips twitched. "I once put a bolt through t a leviathan off the coast off Ibb." He tapped the scorpion stock. "This admittedly will be a little harder."
"A leviathan..." Hugh said, his brow furrowed, "flesh and scale are nothing alike. A dragon's hide is iron turned inside out."
"That is why we aim for the joint," Edryck repeated. "Where wing meets chest or neck meets skull, or just hit the dragon in the eye. The old maesters wrote that Meraxes fell to a bolt through the eye."
Hugh exhaled. "Eye shot in a smoke storm. Easy work."
"You lift. I loose," Edryck said. "Between us we make the shot." He braced his shoulder under the tiller, adjusting the upward angle in tiny increments as he tracked the duel. "See the sag in the silver beast's right wing? It's a tear in the membrane. He favours it. He must dive lower to strike."
"So we wait," Hugh echoed, settling behind the weapon. "Fine. I dislike missing."
...
Jace leaned low over Vermax's neck, one hand still slick with blood gripping the horn, his legs aching from the last tumble. He wiped the sweat and soot from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He had to save his father, he had to do something. 'Seasmoke was slowing down now, perhaps he will flee soon...' Jace thought. Though it was wishful thinking at best, the dragon looked half crazed.
"Vermax, jēda ūndegon sȳrī!" (Vermax, lead him over the sea!)
The green dragon let out a low growl, flapped its wings harder, and veered toward the open waters of Blackwater Bay. Behind them, Seasmoke followed, his injured wing jerking with each beat, but the power in his bulk still pushed him forward. Jace looked back once to see the froth at the corners of the silver dragon's mouth.
He bit down hard, chest tight, heart pounding. This was crazy, what he was about to do was almost as foolish as flying straight into Valyria, maybe even worse than jumping on the back of a dragon over twice as large as Vhagar. But he had to. He had to save his father.
There was no other way.
"Vermax... dracarys."
Vermax climbed suddenly, wings stretching wide before he spun. Flames gushed from his jaws in a burning wave, arcing back toward Seasmoke as he twisted mid-air. Seasmoke met the fire with his own, both jets clashing in the wind, steam billowing out where the streams collided. The air itself seemed to burn. Then the two dragons slammed into each other again, limbs locking, claws raking, their tails whipping through the sky like ropes in a storm. Vermax bit at Seasmoke's flank while the larger beast tried to drive his fangs into the smaller dragon's neck. Their wings tore at the air, half-flying, half-falling, their bodies tangled and rolling above the waves.
Jace trembled. Even the thought of what he was about to do scared him, but he pushed himself forward.
He slid forward on Vermax's neck, wrapping his arm around the horn, the other tight against his ribs. His legs braced on either side of the spine. Below him, the sea surged closer, blue turning to orange, reflecting the flames above them. He then pushed himself up onto his legs when he was able to and when he saw an opening.
He whispered to himself, "This is mad."
And jumped.
Vermax vanished beneath his feet. Fire erupted past his back as the dragons turned mid-roll, a burst of flame narrowly missing him. The heat grazed his face and burned his clothes, but he kept his eyes on the rope trailing from Seasmoke's saddle. He hit hard. The impact nearly ripped his arms from his sockets, but his fingers locked around the rope. The dragons twisted again, wings snapping, and Jace was flung sideways. He slammed against Seasmoke's flank and grunted in pain, but pulled himself upward, one rope loop at a time. It took all the strength left in his arms and legs.
He reached the saddle. His arms shook. His chest felt like it was caving in. He clawed at Laenor's shoulder.
"Father!" Jace shouted. "Wake up!"
Nothing. The wind howled. The dragons screeched as they continued their dance. Jace smacked his father's face. "Wake up! Please!"
Still nothing. Seasmoke dipped violently, and Jace slipped. His foot missed the saddle horn and he fell half-off, hanging by his elbow. He gritted his teeth, pulled again, pain flashing white behind his eyes. He slammed his palm against Laenor's face.
Then Laenor stirred.
His eyes blinked open. His body jerked forward as he saw nothing under him—just wind and ocean.
"Father!" Jace cried.
Laenor grabbed the front of the saddle, knuckles white, his chest heaving. "Jace?! What the seven hells are you doing?!"
"Saving you!" Jace shouted. "We're both getting out of here!"
Laenor shook his head violently. "You shouldn't be here! You need to get off this thing now!"
"We're going together!" Jace snapped, already unfastening the chain that kept Laenor strapped in. "Get ready to jump!"
He glanced down.
"Shit," he muttered. "Shit shit shit—"
The dragons had circled back toward the city. They weren't over the sea anymore, they were skimming above the harbor, it would be too risky to jump from here, especially when the dragons momentum was already erratic. They could end up being flung further into the city.
He looked up.
"Vermax, naejot hāedar! Hāedar!" (To the sea! The sea!)
But his voice was swallowed by the roars. Vermax didn't hear him. He turned mid-air and slammed into Seasmoke again with full force. The impact drove both dragons into another spin.
"Father, hold on!" Jace shouted, but Laenor had already lost his grip.
"Nooo!!!" Jace screamed as Laenors hand slipped from the saddle horn. Jace lunged forward, caught his wrist just in time.
Laenor clung to Jace's arm The weight pulled Jace forward. He locked his jaw and tried to hold.
Then it happened.
*Crack*
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Jace screamed as his shoulder gave way. Pain shot through him like a spear. The joint tore free from its socket and his entire arm went limp.
He couldn't hold onto his father anymore but luckily Laenor hadn't let go. Jace's other hand gripped the saddle so hard his fingers tore at the leather. The dragons twisted again, and they were nearly upside down.
"Hold on, Father!" Jace grunted through clenched teeth. Jace let out a trembling grasp. Rain-warm tears blurred Jace's vision; every muscle in his good arm quivered, his numb one hung dead at his side, and pain stabbed behind his eyes like shards of glass.
Laenor could see this, he could see how Jace trembled, how he was only a few moments away from falling down. Despite being large for his age, despite how strong he was, in the end he was only a boy and he couldn't hold a full man's weight, not when it was being thrashed around by a dragon.
"Father, please," he gasped. "Reach. Pull yourself up. I can keep you—"
Laenor shook his head, a soft refusal that cut deeper than any wound. "Look at you Jace... One gust and we both die."
"I'd can do this! I won't fail again! I won't let you die!."
Laenor smiled, a small broken thing that made Jace's throat close. "You took the sky for me tonight, you saved countless people today stopping Seasmoke. That's enough."
"It isn't... now shut up and climb!!!" Jace's tears turned hot with anger. "Climb or I'll jump after you."
"This is not your fault," Laenor murmured. "Nor your burden. Listen, Jace. Listen well."
"I won't—"
"You will. You are a born rider, braver than I ever dreamed, I only wished I could have seen you become King."
"Stop..."
"Tell Luke I will miss our adventures in the caverns beneath Dragonstone..."
"Tell sweet Joff that his father is sorry he couldn't be there when he grew up..."
"Tell your mother..." His voice cracked. "Tell her my love was never a lie."
Jace looked into his father's eyes and shook his head. "Please don't do this..."
"I am proud," he whispered. "I'm so proud of you."
Jace sobbed, a hoarse, broken sound. "Stay with me..."
Laenor smiled at his son one last time. "Everything good in me lives on in you."
"No... Father!"
"I love you, Jacaerys."
Laenor loosed his grip.
Time shattered.
Jace's scream ripped from his chest so violently it left him breathless. Laenor's cloak snapped in the wind as he fell—one heartbeat, two—and then the cloak fluttered emptily where he'd been.
"VERMAX rybagon!" (VERMAX! Save him!)
Vermax shrieked, and tore free of Seasmoke's hold. He pitched into a throat-raking dive, green wings shuddering, but before he could even get close Laenor's body struck the stone street with a dull, final thunder that silenced every other sound.
The world froze around that moment.
Jace's throat closed. His vision tunneled. Below, people scattered like ants from the place his father lay still among shattered masonry and drifting ash. A roar of pure agony burst from Vermax as he couldn't pull up from the dive and crashed into the ground. Seasmoke roared as well, his bulk twisting in mad spasms, and Jace's body whipped forward as the larger dragon bucked to throw him. Every violent jolt snapped through his dislocated shoulder; black sparks filled his sight, but he locked his legs around the front ridge and refused to let go.
"AHH!" he yelled out as every movement sent unbearable pain through his body. Seasmoke only shrieked louder. Blood frothed from the corner of his mouth. The world tilted as he spun, his wings beating unevenly—until a low thrum cut through the aie.
A single black bolt sliced the air.
It struck, burying itself deep in Seasmoke's right eye. The impact rocked the dragon's skull; a geyser of black blood sprayed the air, staining Jace from head to waist. The silver beast convulsed once—twice—then everything went slack, wings folding like broken sails. Jace felt the horrible shift of weight as the dragon began to plummet. His fingers reached for any strap, any ridge—too late. The saddle rolled, the sea burst upward, and icy water swallowed fire, smoke, and sky.
Cold stabbed deeper than the grief he felt. Salt filled his mouth. In the murk he saw nothing but spinning silver scales and ribbons of blood. Strength bled from his limbs, driven out by pain and loss. He no longer knew which way was up or down. Somewhere above, the surface rippled with the dragon fire .
Jace kicked, once, twice, his arm useless, his lungs already burning.
"Father..." The word echoed in the dark.
He kicked again.
The light receded.
And the silence closed in.
(AN: That is the end of the arc. I hope you guys enjoyed it. While you guys are probably used to me killing people at this point this death had significance as it is part of the later plot. Not really for character development as Jace already had that in Valyria, no this was just part of the plot I'd say. While I could've chosen someone else like daemon or Rhaenyra, Laenor seemed like the better choice due to his insignificance thus far. But anyway after this chapter there will be a five year time skip with a sixteen year old Jace. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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