Gray-white smoke drifted from the summit of Dragonmont. As an active volcano, this was no peaceful place.
Gendry, Lothor, Anguy, and the others wore simple studded vests. Climbing mountains and exploring deep caves was hard physical work, especially on the slopes of an active volcano. On Gendry's sword belt hung a hammer, Orphan-Maker, and a dagger.
Dragonmont was steep and treacherous, like a set of teeth grown crooked. The mountain was black and dark gray, broken only by the gray pillar of smoke rising from above. Horses were useless here, so they went on foot, making their way along narrow stone paths.
"I don't know how the Valyrians ever settled in volcanic lands like this," Anguy grumbled as he walked. "Smoke and fire everywhere. It must have shaved years off their lives. And they built a great city beside the Fourteen Flames."
Lothor said nothing. He was always quiet and reliable.
The salty, sulfurous air of Dragonstone did not agree with Anguy. He came from the green Marches, where there was no shortage of trees, wind, and rain.
"Perhaps it was fire. The magic of fire," Gendry said with a smile. The Firebinder ring on his finger was slowly drawing heat from the air, forming an invisible shield around him. The red gem burned warm against his hand, as if rejoicing. Through the ring's power, Gendry and his companions could avoid breathing in too much smoke, dust, and filth.
Gendry suspected Valyria had possessed similar techniques. Valyria was famous for its high towers, and without fire-controlling magic, it would have been almost impossible to nurture great cities in volcanic lands.
Gendry, Lothor, and the others first arrived at the base of the volcano. The tunnels there held vast amounts of obsidian, also known as Dragonglass. Unlike ordinary obsidian, this carried a touch of the mystical. Led by Ser Axel Florent, the group slowly entered the deep and ancient tunnels, learning the lay of Dragonstone piece by piece.
"So much of it..." Once they descended into the mine, Gendry looked around and saw Dragonglass everywhere, layer after layer of it. Most was black, though there were pieces of red, green, and purple as well.
Gendry gazed at the dense veins of Dragonglass. In ancient Valyrian, it was called frozen fire. The Valyrians had known how to use it, but the people of Westeros did not, so it had been left untouched.
"Ser Axel," Gendry instructed Axel Florent, "begin mining it. In the future, we will need to make weapons from Dragonglass."
Axel nodded. Whether for arrowheads, daggers, or longswords, there was no shortage of obsidian here. These weapons would not be useful on ordinary battlefields, but against the strange things in The North, they might serve well.
"The Night's Watch can use this to kill wights. Killing Others will be much harder." Gendry ran his hand over the dark Dragonglass, smooth and black like a wall of shadow.
"There is a difference between wights and Others?" Ser Axel asked.
"Of course." Gendry nodded. Wights were merely dead flesh reanimated by necromancy. Steel and fire were enough to deal with them. But the Others, if they were a highly intelligent, soul-bearing race close to men in form, were naturally far more terrifying.
"War will begin soon. We do not have much time, so speed up the mining. Send a first batch to the Night's Watch."
Ser Axel nodded. As local specialties went, Dragonglass was one of the few Dragonstone had to offer.
Gendry, Anguy, and Lothor left the tunnel together. They still needed to search the dragon lairs. Axel remained behind with his men to take stock of the Dragonglass.
Gendry began climbing the steep eastern slope of Dragonmont. The salty air here was even thicker with smoke and sulfur. The eastern slope was far steeper than the western one, and few people ever came here. In the past, the dragons had mostly made their nests high above this side of the mountain.
"During the Dance of the Dragons, six dragons nested here: Vermithor, Silverwing, Seasmoke, and the three wild dragons, Sheepstealer, Grey Ghost, and the Cannibal. Even before the Dance, wild dragons had nested on Dragonmont after escaping the castle. If their lairs remain, perhaps we might find other dragon eggs."
At least a hundred and fifty years had passed since anyone had seriously searched these dragon lairs. The dragons' nests were set high up the black cliffs, filled with smoke and the stink of sulfur, and the heat inside was so intense that humans could hardly enter. After the dragons vanished, no one had any reason to come here.
"Where did the Targaryen dragon eggs go?" Gendry wondered. House Targaryen had indeed lost some dragon eggs over the years. Crow's Eye claimed to have one, though that might be another matter, and one dragon egg had once fallen into Oldtown's hands.
But those numbers were far too small compared with the dragon eggs the Dragonlord Targaryens had once possessed. In the past, the Targaryens had used seven eggs at a time. To Gendry, it felt as if a huge fortune had vanished into thin air. It was maddening. He had taken King's Landing and the volcanic island, yet he had not seen a single dragon egg. Even Viserys and Daenerys had known nothing of where the eggs were stored. Fossilized dragon eggs were already worth a fortune. Living dragon eggs were priceless.
Gendry decided to try his luck in the dragon lairs first. With the Firebinder ring, he might be able to pick up something others had missed. The early Targaryens had not managed their dragons and dragon eggs with perfect strictness, or three dragon eggs would never have been stolen in the first place. Besides, once the eggs hatched, some young dragons escaped the castle. They were not easy to control at all.
Gendry and the others first reached a dragon lair halfway up the eastern slope. The largest and wildest dragons would have placed their lairs higher up, where the environment was worst for men, so they began with an ordinary one. Gray-white smoke drifted around them, and the deeper they went into the lair, the more fiercely they felt the heat and the fire.
Lothor and Anguy followed behind Gendry, and both sensed that something was different. Behind the Storm, Gendry's Firebinder ring moved through heat and flame like a fish in water, drawing in the surging fire element. More importantly, it shielded them from breathing in harmful sulfur and smoke, making the exploration bearable. The ring could not completely erase the oppressive heat, but at least it gave them room to endure.
"These dragon lairs are different sizes," Anguy said. The larger ones could fit many knights walking through them at once, while the smaller ones were much narrower. The largest lair was at the very top.
In the past, Dragonstone had had wild dragons of its own, though some had died before they could grow large. The Cannibal had also dwelt on Dragonmont, devouring many dragons.
The first lair, the second, the third... the group climbed higher and higher.
Even "Sharpshooter" Anguy and "Finger Killer" Lothor were beginning to pant, despite both being strong, hardened warriors. Crossing steep mountain slopes in that suffocating heat was exhausting enough, but searching through hidden, deep dragon lairs that still held their own fierce warmth was no pleasant task. It drained their strength at a terrifying pace.
Even "Sharpshooter" Anguy and "Finger Killer" Lothor were beginning to pant, despite both being strong, hardened warriors. Crossing steep mountain slopes in that suffocating heat was exhausting enough, but searching through hidden, deep dragon lairs that still held their own fierce warmth was no pleasant task. It drained their strength at a terrifying pace.
"Are we really going back empty-handed?" Gendry wondered. The Firebinder ring had grown much stronger on Dragonstone, yet the fire and sulfur inside the dragon lairs were still overwhelming. Reaching such high, deep places had already cost them a great deal of strength. Now only a few caves at the very peak of Dragonmont remained, and some of those were connected on the inside.
"Only a few left. One final push." Gendry entered the high dragon lair first, striding straight in. He could even see the terrible, scorching magma inside Dragonmont. Any deeper, and the passage they had opened would drop away beneath them.
At the far end of the cave, Gendry saw a platform. Beyond the steep walls and jagged ledge, the ground fell straight down toward the lava below, where smoke rose without pause. Only dragons could live in such a place.
Anguy and Lothor held torches, the flames burning bright. Gendry walked ahead, and under the protection of the Firebinder ring and his control over the fire element, he moved like a blade cutting through waves of flame, leading them into the deepest part of the high dragon lair. Without a ring that could command fire, Gendry and the others would never have dared to be so bold. Even so, venturing this deep was extremely dangerous.
"Let's go back, Prince," the red-haired Anguy urged. Sweat dripped down his face, and he had spent a tremendous amount of strength. He had guessed that Gendry carried some treasure capable of absorbing flame, smoke, and sulfur, but the treasure only shielded them. It did not completely suppress the danger. They were still flesh and blood, and they could still feel that fiery pressure.
"Thump!"
Gendry suddenly felt the fiery gem on the ring burn his finger, as if a pulse of flame had made the gem tremble. This heat was different from the flames they had encountered before. Only the strongest fire could make the ring react like this.
At first, Gendry thought it was an illusion, but he quickly realized the feeling was real. He searched the cliff face again and again.
Gendry drew the hammer from his waist.
Thud! Thud!
The hammer struck the steep stone floor. Rock and dust flew, and at last, a large section of stone was slowly cleared away.
There, on the steep ground, a large oval egg appeared in silence. It was golden, with flame-like patterns across its surface. The dragon egg still held a trace of fierce heat. Though buried beneath the cliff, it had been so close to the fire source that it had not turned to stone.
"A dragon egg!" Anguy stared at the golden dragon egg on the ground in disbelief and cried out. They really had found a dragon egg. Every drop of sweat had been worth it.
"You cannot take a dragon egg without entering a dragon lair." Gendry laughed, then placed the golden egg into the cloth bag he carried.
In the end, they searched every dragon lair and did not spare even the most awkward corners. They found three dragon eggs in total.
A golden dragon egg with pink flame-like markings, a red dragon egg with bright copper spots and pink spirals, and a silver dragon egg with purple veins.
...
"Someone wants to kill you?" Alleras asked the "Mage" Marwyn curiously.
"They've tried, and failed. How could those timid gray sheep ever roar and kill like warriors? They only know how to poison food in secret or hire murderers. I'm like a dockside thug. I'm not so easy to deal with." Marwyn laughed loudly. He was short and stout, but his chest and shoulders were solid, and he had a round ale-belly. Men like him were often stronger than they looked.
Alleras glanced at Marwyn. The man truly was unusual. He had none of the air of a scholar and looked more like a street ruffian.
Marwyn had a bull's thick neck and a jaw like a slab of stone. Stiff white hairs sprouted from his ears and nostrils. His brow jutted out, his nose had been broken more than once, and his teeth were stained a mottled red by sourleaf. Around his neck hung a Valyrian steel chain, proof of deep mastery in magic and the higher mysteries.
"The people of the Citadel are really that wicked?" Alleras asked, puzzled.
"In a world ruled by truth, there should be no place for magic or dragons. That is all I can tell you. Books that do not fit their truth are likely locked away in cellars. But I think their truth cannot explain the premise. This world itself is chaotic, and the seasons shift without reason," Marwyn explained in a low voice. "That brat Leo Tyrell has a poisonous mouth, but he is actually a promising seed. He has seen through the Citadel's truth. Better to be a watchdog like me than a pet in a cage."
"Who trained those pets?" Alleras asked curiously. "House Hightower?"
"That is hard to say. Perhaps it was those stubborn old Archmaesters. But House Hightower may not be made of good men either," Marwyn replied.
"What is your surname, exactly?" Alleras asked.
"In short, I am an unwelcome man. Like Maester Aemon, my blood and my name make me unwelcome." Marwyn waved the question away.
"You want to touch the truth, don't you?" Marwyn asked Alleras. "You are an odd little thing too, child of a Dornishman and a Summer Islander woman. Becoming a knight or a captain would be far more impressive than becoming a Maester."
"..." Alleras nodded.
"Learn to keep a low profile. Be an actor. If the Archmaesters ask you what you want, say whatever you like. Say you want to serve lords and great men, or that you want to deepen your learning. But never reveal your unusual curiosity, and never speak of dragons or magic. Say what the fools say. Act carefully. I hope we meet again one day." Marwyn looked at Alleras.
"I will give you one more piece of advice," Marwyn said.
"Stay close to Leo. His mouth is vicious, but the boy is not especially stupid."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm leaving. Goodbye. Those gray sheep want to flatter and deceive the Storm, but I will get there before them. I hear an old friend of mine has already risen high." Marwyn spoke with brisk urgency.
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