Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop! The sound of hooves broke the stillness of the Rainwood, mingling with the clang of armor and steel as the horses splashed through the muddy road.
The Rainwood was a damp, emerald world. Streams and rivers wound through the dark forest, and the ground was covered in mud and rotting leaves. Caves riddled the woods.
South of Storm's End, in the Rainwood of Cape Wrath, the dragon-walking party patrolled along the edge of the forest. At the head of the group rode Gendry, Daenerys Targaryen, Stannis Baratheon, Qyburn, and the red priestess Melisandre. Their guards and attendants included Barristan Selmy, Anguy, Lothor Brune, and others.
In terms of strength, it was a formidable party, complete with Dragonlords, a sorceress, swordsmen, a maester, and a master archer.
Gendry wore a black studded vest, black wool riding breeches, and a golden surcoat embroidered with patterns, with black leather boots on his feet. On horseback, he looked even taller, like a streak of golden Storm. The black dragon Balerion and the white dragon Viserion still had their tails wrapped around Gendry's arms as they perched on his shoulders.
Beside him, Daenerys rode her little silver horse, wearing "Heraq," the pelt of a white lion from the Dothraki Sea, a trophy won by Drogo's khalasar. The fearsome lion's head formed her hood, while the hide became a natural cloak, falling from her shoulders down her back, soft and fluffy. The green dragon Vhagar nestled beside her, sharp claws sunk deep into the lion's mane, its tail coiled around her arm.
The magic dragons looked about the size of small dogs, though the black dragon was clearly larger than the other two. But once they spread their leathery wings, they seemed very different. A dragon's wingspan was three times its body length. A closer look showed that a young dragon's body was mostly neck, tail, and wings, so dragons were actually lighter than they appeared. And judging by the dragonbone bow Gendry had obtained, dragonbone was both light and strong. A dragon's bones were unlike those of ordinary beasts.
"Roar!" Once they saw the open forest and sky, the magic dragons excitedly left their masters and flew upward, circling and dancing through the air.
Now the dragons spread their wings and soared, drifting like untethered boats, while the scent of sulfur and fire began to spread. Dragons could not be kept shut away in caves forever. A magic dragon's life belonged to the sky.
Gendry and Daenerys looked up. Three young dragons flew overhead, the black dragon, the green dragon, and the shyest of them all, the white dragon, turning into dark shadows against the sky.
The black dragon Balerion had already learned to hunt, and he flew the highest and farthest. Under his lead, the other two young dragons had also begun to hunt and fly higher.
The world before Gendry, Daenerys, and the others was fresh green, a damp, living green. In the Rainwood, trees crowded in from every direction, shutting out the sun.
The trees of the Rainwood were larger than any Gendry had ever seen. Their magnificent trunks twisted like the faces of old men, with silver moss for hair and beards. There were hemlocks and redwoods, white oaks, soldier pines standing tall as towers, huge sentinel trees, broad-leaved maples, mahogany, wormtrees, and even the occasional wild Weirwood. Beneath their crooked branches, ferns and flowers grew thickly. Mushrooms covered the spaces between roots and spread over trunks, like countless pale, speckled hands reaching out to catch the rain. Other trees were blanketed in moss, green and gray, some once bright purple but now turning red at the tips. Every stone was covered in lichen, and poisonous mushrooms grew beside rotting wood.
"Dragonflocks rarely appear here," Great Lord Stannis said. "In history, most of Dragonstone's wild dragons hunted around the Wendwater."
"The Rainwood is still some distance from Dragonstone," Qyburn said.
"This place is so green, yet Dorne is so terribly dry," Gendry sighed. The Rainwood was the greenest and wettest place he had ever seen. The trees were tall and lush, and even the air seemed fresh and green.
Daenerys rode beside Gendry. She knew that beyond the Rainwood and the sea lay Dorne, dry and barren. The Princess of Dorne had been her brother Rhaegar's wife, and so in some sense had been kin to them. But when the Beggar King and his sister had fallen on hard times, the Dornish had offered no open help. In truth, Daenerys felt little affection for them. Gendry's personal friendship with the Red Viper could not change the distance she felt toward the Dornish.
"This is thanks to the first Storm King, 'God-fearing' Durran, who stole the daughter of the Sea God and the Goddess of the Wind, earning their eternal hatred," Melisandre the red priestess said.
"The Citadel does not see it that way. Most maesters believe it is a matter of wind and moisture. Great storms formed in The Summer Sea gather moisture as they move north, until they crash violently into Cape Wrath," Maester Qyburn explained.
"But that does not explain where the storms come from. Storms never seem to strike Dorne," the red priestess said. "That is why Dorne became dry, hot, and unfit for men to live in."
"It is indeed a wonder. But when one considers that giants and the Children of the Forest once lived in the Stormlands and the Rainwood, it no longer seems so strange," Qyburn said. "I suspect some caves in the Rainwood once belonged to the Children of the Forest." In truth, Qyburn's guess was not wrong. There were indeed caves in the Rainwood where the Children of the Forest had once dwelled, though most were now empty.
"Giants? Children of the Forest?" Daenerys asked in confusion.
"Yes, Princess," Qyburn explained. "Long before the First Men arrived, all of Westeros was occupied by ancient races, including the Children of the Forest and the giants. From Cape Wrath to Cape Kraken north of the Iron Islands, the land was once a vast forest where the Children of the Forest lived. The giants dwelled in the hills below the Red Mountains and among the rocky ridges of Massey's Hook. The Rainwood in particular was terrain the Children of the Forest favored. Around the Rainwood, the Storm Kings of old even fought wars against the Children of the Forest."
"There is such a tale," Ser Barristan said. "But those are legends. They have long since become creatures from stories."
"The Oath was real, Ser Barristan. In the beginning, the First Men accepted the Old Gods of the Children of the Forest and made the 'Oath' on Dryface Island in the vast Gods Eye, dividing the land between them. Later, the Andals invaded, and most of the First Men intermarried with them. The Storm Kings changed from worshipping the Old Gods to worshipping the Seven. Several more centuries passed, and the two peoples completely merged... while the forgotten Children of the Forest vanished from the Rainwood and the Stormlands." The old maester spoke slowly.
The history of Westeros could also be called a history of shifting peoples. First came the Children of the Forest and the giants, then the First Men, then the Rhoynar and the Andals. This land might indeed still hold many unsolved mysteries. The Rainwood had once been part of a primeval forest, which also included what was now the Kingswood, where the Children of the Forest had lived. The Children of the Forest had allowed the First Men to build villages along the streams, but conflict broke out when the First Men began cutting down timber.
The first Storm King, "God-fearing" Durran, seized the forest for the First Men, leading to generations of war between House Durrandon and the Children of the Forest. A forest witch known as the Green Queen once ruled the Rainwood for nearly a generation. By the time the Andals arrived, most of the Rainwood had been conquered.
Storm King Baldric Durrandon encouraged the Andals to fight among themselves, and Durran XXI even formed a "Weirwood Alliance" with the Children of the Forest in the Rainwood. Only after the First Men and the Andals made peace did the Children of the Forest gradually disappear from the Rainwood.
"Giants and the Children of the Forest are not merely legends, my lords, though they have almost vanished south of the Wall," Gendry said. "Lord Mormont has written to the lords of the realm asking for aid. More and more wildlings are coming south, and among them are even surviving giants. They are fleeing something. As for the Children of the Forest, perhaps they still remain in the far north." Mormont had sent out letters, and as one of the powerful men of the realm, Gendry had also received the plea for help.
Gendry knew that beyond The North, beyond the Wall, lay the greatest number of strange and uncanny things: Direwolves, snow bears, giants, wildlings, and even the White Ghosts and wights that would eventually come. Gendry had once hoped that the Children of the Forest might still appear in the Rainwood and guide him, but it seemed they had all hidden themselves in the north.
The red priestess raised her voice. "The night is long, and the shadows of night are encroaching upon the world. Fire and ice, light and dark, my lords. The wars of mortals will end one day, and we must welcome the final battle of destiny."
Everyone was used to the red priestess's preaching by now. No one listened to her faith, only to her predictions. In the past, talk of such uncanny things would have been dismissed as mad ravings, but now that dragons had returned to the world and the Sword of Sorrow stretched across the heavens, anything was possible.
"There are only two castles in the Rainwood, Uncle?" Gendry asked Great Lord Stannis.
"Yes, Prince," Great Lord Stannis said with a nod. "Cape Wrath is rainy, and the land is fertile. The west side is mountainous, with Crow's Nest, Griffin's Roost, and Stonehelm of the Red Watch scattered across it. Most of the eastern side of Cape Wrath is taken up by the Rainwood. Though the Rainwood is damp and rainy, it produces fine furs, timber, and amber, but it has only two castles. Mistwood stands on the southern edge of the Rainwood, while Rain House was built in the north."
"This damp weather is just as unpleasant as Dorne's dry heat. The Stormlands' best trading town, Weeping Town, lies at the southern tip of Cape Wrath beside the Sea of Dorne. It has a busy port and handles most of the Stormlands' trade."
The southern coast of Cape Wrath was lined with ancient stone watchtowers, though many had long since cracked and collapsed. In the past, when Dornishmen crossed the Sea of Dorne to raid, those towers had sounded the alarm. Villages had grown around some of them, and a few had become towns. The most famous was Weeping Town, where the body of the "Young Dragon" had once rested for three days on its journey home from Dorne.
"The coast of Cape Wrath has been neglected for too long. We need to bring it back to life," Gendry said. Myr, Lys, and Dorne were not far away. If reinforcements from the Twin Cities or Dorne came by sea, this place would be the best gate to hold. Storms were frequent on the Narrow Sea in autumn, so taking more of the journey overland was better than relying too much on water.
Though the Stormlands had varied terrain and frequent storms, it still had plenty of good land, especially near the Kingswood and the Rainwood. All of it had to be used properly.
By then, Balerion had already caught a plump gray hare in the Rainwood. Flame had turned the hare into cooked meat, and the dragon flew back to Gendry with it.
"Hiss! Hiss!" The black-red swirling flame had scorched the wild hare black. Only magic dragons, like men, enjoyed cooked food. The black dragon happily devoured his meal, his head darting like a snake as he snatched at the meat. The other two young dragons flew back as well. They had brought prey too, but nothing as rich as Balerion's catch.
Magic dragons could eat several times their own weight in a day, and they were growing stronger and stronger. Balerion's scales were exceptionally beautiful. Dragons truly were strange and marvelous creatures.
"In the future, will these dragons live in the Dragonpit in King's Landing?" Great Lord Stannis Baratheon asked.
"I don't think that will be necessary, Uncle," Gendry said. The Dragonpit might not be suitable for magic dragons. When he was in King's Landing, he had once visited the collapsed, blackened Dragonpit. "That great domed fortress, the Dragonpit standing on Rhaenys's Hill, has long since become a ruin. Its iron gates were once broad enough for thirty knights on horseback to ride through side by side, like the mouth of a vast cave. But the dragons inside the Dragonpit never grew to the size of their ancestors."
Daenerys nodded. She had never been to King's Landing. Most of what she knew about magic dragons and the past came from the old knight Ser Barristan Selmy and Maester Qyburn.
Maester Qyburn nodded and said, "I suspect the problem was the walls and chains. The dragons in the Dragonpit could not escape their restraints. Though they were well fed and cared for by dedicated Dragonkeepers, they ultimately lost their freedom. Ever since the last dragon died, summers have grown shorter, while winters have grown longer and colder. It seems magic dragons may be closely tied to the climate."
"There is another problem," the red priestess said, looking at the dragons. "After ancient Valyria was destroyed, the tide of magic slowly began to fade, so the dragons of later years could no longer compare to the dragons of old. The Black Dread should have been the last dragon that had seen Valyria. Even at the height of the Targaryen dynasty, there were only dozens of magic dragons, while ancient Valyria had hundreds, even thousands."
"After that came the dragons' extinction. After The Dance of the Dragons, they gradually withered away."
"I have seen dragon skulls. They grew smaller and smaller. As for the last dragon, people say she was a green female, small and weak, with stunted wings, and the eggs she laid could not hatch," Ser Barristan said. He had once seen the dragon skulls hanging on the walls of the throne room. The empty eye sockets of those giant skulls seemed to stare down coldly upon the world. Robert had thrown them into the cellars and replaced them in the throne room with hunting tapestries he preferred.
"The last dragon was frail, but my dragons are full of life," Daenerys said, watching Vhagar quickly finish his food.
The dragons hissed as they ate, first the prey they had caught, then the strips of salted beef Daenerys and Gendry tossed to them. The young dragons began snatching the beef in midair, roasting the strips directly before swallowing them.
Still unsatisfied, Balerion flew back into the sky to continue hunting, and the other two dragons followed after him.
Gendry had a feeling that the current surge of magic was the strongest in centuries, even thousands of years. That was why the dragons he and Daenerys had hatched seemed to be growing at an absurd rate. In two years, the black dragon could reach a wingspan of twenty feet, and that was without having reached a volcano yet.
"Robb Stark sent me a letter. Aside from saying that cutting off the supply lines has been a great success, he mentioned one rather embarrassing little matter. He sent Theon Greyjoy to Seagard." Gendry raised the letter in his hand. The raven had carried it to The Eyrie, and from there it had been forwarded to Gulltown and then Storm's End.
"It is easy to release a tiger, but hard to trap it again. If I were Theon, I would seize this chance to run," Ser Barristan said. "He is only a homeless young man, vain and arrogant besides. Once provoked, he will be desperate to return to the homeland he imagines for himself."
"Let him go. Robb will eventually understand that his mercy comes at the cost of the people of The North," Gendry replied, looking at his magic dragons.
Once Theon fled, the Ironborn might be about to enter the field. If Balon was still the same bewitched fool as before, then the Ironborn would have to be taught a lesson.
"Is this about betrayal?" Daenerys asked softly, a hint of fear in her violet eyes.
"Yes, Dany." Gendry nodded. "If Theon truly betrays Winterfell and us, then he really is a chameleon."
"Traitors are hateful," Daenerys said with feeling. A faint glimmer of her silver-gold hair showed beneath her hood, making her look very lovely.
Betrayal was a bitter memory for her. In Braavos, they had lived in a house with a red door. The old and sickly Ser Willem had been very kind to Daenerys. A few years later, Ser Willem died, and Daenerys and Viserys were driven out by the servants. After that came the Fat Magister, another traitor.
Gendry rubbed Daenerys's hand. His hand was broad and strong, while Dany's was small and delicate.
"Cunning Kraken. The Greyjoys also claim descent from the Drowned God and the Grey King," the red priestess said, the blood-red ruby at her throat gleaming.
"Have you seen them in the sacred fire, my lady?" Maester Qyburn asked.
"No." The red priestess shook her head. "But I have heard their stories. The Drowned God is a cruel god, and the Grey King was a cruel king. The Drowned God is as harsh and brutal as the Ironborn themselves. He demands that his people strictly follow the Old Way. Legend says the Drowned God created the Ironborn so they would rape and plunder, forge a new world with blood, fire, and song, and carve their names upon it."
"But the Ironborn are weak now. They should not be able to stir up much trouble," Stannis said. The Ironborn had been defeated by him before, beaten soundly by Robert, Eddard, Stannis, and the others.
"Beware the Ironborn. Many years ago, the Storm King was defeated by black-hearted House Hoare," Gendry said slowly. Still, if he had not known what was coming, no one at present would have treated the Ironborn as a serious threat.
Many years ago, the Storm Kings had indeed stumbled badly against the Ironborn. Some time before Aegon's Conquest, the Storm Kingdom had briefly dominated Westeros, controlling two and a half kingdoms: the Stormlands, most of what was now the Crownlands, and the Riverlands. Then the Ironborn took them by surprise. Harren the Black's grandfather, Harwyn Hardhand, led the Ironborn across the land and seized the Riverlands. This time, what worried Gendry was not the Ironborn's military strength, but the Bloodline power Crow's Eye had uncovered.
"Kind Storm, you are right." The red priestess nodded. "The stink of magic was once everywhere, but in some places it was especially strong. Harrenhal, Dragonstone, Storm's End, Winterfell, Oldtown, and even the Iron Islands. I have heard the stories of the Old Gods, Skinchanging, Green Sight, but I believe I can bring more."
Gendry looked at the red priestess. Her blood-red eyes were strange and beautiful, and she was tall and striking.
Those names were all weighty ones. Dragonstone had been an outpost of the Valyrian Empire. Oldtown was a center of learning and records. Harrenhal was wrapped in curses. Storm's End was tied to the legend of God-fearing Durran. Winterfell was linked to the Old Gods. Several great castles were connected to Brandon the Builder, and the Iron Islands seemed to be tied to the alien god known as the Drowned God.
In short, with all these strange and varied places, together with the eruption of magic after the Sword of Sorrow and the Red Comet, this truly seemed like a war of the gods.
Ancient Valyrian magic, the power of the Drowned God, the power of the Old Gods, the power of the Lord of Light, and on top of that, the power of the Others and the Night King. All of Westeros seemed crowded with wonders, dazzling and bewildering. Never had so many strange and uncanny forces appeared in the same age.
"It seems someone believes in the curse of Harrenhal as much as I do," Qyburn said. He had also recorded those places in his lists.
"Your thinking is correct." The red priestess glanced at Qyburn, then murmured, "House Hoare was not so simple, and their choice of Harrenhal held deep meaning."
Maester Qyburn nodded. "I once studied House Hoare as well. It is said the black-blooded Hoares were very unpopular in the Iron Islands, and the priests of the Drowned God often cursed them. Archmaester Hake described the Hoares as 'black of hair, black of eye, and black of heart,' while their enemies said their blood was black as well, claiming their Bloodline had been tainted by the Andals because House Hoare often intermarried with Andals in ancient times.
"But it was not only that. The Hoares did not worship one god alone. They studied other gods and magic as well. Their quartered arms bore a golden longship on black, a green pine on white, a cluster of purple grapes on gold, and a black raven flying through a blue sky. House Hoare was deeply self-serving, and unlike the others, they did not follow the Old Way. Their rule was entirely different from the Old Way of the Ironborn. They began opposing plunder and instead promoted trade."
Gendry listened to them. Harrenhal was indeed no ordinary place, sitting close to the Gods Eye and the Isle of Faces. The Isle of Faces lay in the middle of the Gods Eye. At the end of the Dawn Age, it was there that the First Men and the Children of the Forest ended their centuries-long war and made their pact. The island was one of the very few places in southern Westeros where Weirwoods still grew. Everywhere else, the Weirwoods had been cut down and burned.
When combined with House Hoare's beliefs and practices, Gendry suspected they had studied dark magic as well, and had some dealings with the Old Gods.
"House Hoare stinks of magic, so Harrenhal was destined to be an evil city," the red priestess said with a smile. Then she turned to Gendry. "To avoid accidents like Harren the Blackhearted, you need my power, kind good knight."
"The Storm does not seek cooperation, but obedience, my lady. The gods should stand beneath the crown," Gendry replied calmly, looking at the red priestess.