On the south bank of the Blackwater Rush, countless banners flew as the army formed its lines. In Gendry's camp, two massive catapults began hurling stones toward the front, while the soldiers had readied wooden rafts, though they had not yet dragged them into the water.
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Golden battle standards streamed through the air like a glittering field ready for harvest.
Aside from Gendry's own quartered banner, the dragon, the stag, the Wolf Pack, and the freed slave breaking his chains, all the Baratheon banners he had brought were unfurled as well. The Crowned Stag leapt proudly upon them. This was King Robert's sigil, the sigil of House Baratheon, and the whole city would gladly accept it.
But Gendry was not especially optimistic about mobilizing King's Landing. First, Varys had an endless web of informants in the city, and the Lannisters had spent heavily there. Even the White Cloaks were almost all Lannister men. Second, the people of King's Landing were typical townsfolk. They could riot well enough, but they were no regular army, and they did not much care for hard labor.
"The only ones who might help me are those hotheaded brothers from the Begging Brothers and the few people still devoted to King Robert," Gendry thought. In his youth, King Robert had possessed a hero's bearing. He had always been generous and fond of laughter, and there were still people in King's Landing who admired a bold, rough man.
Gendry looked ahead at King's Landing, which lay across the world like a savage beast. Built by the will of the Conqueror, it was the youngest and most populous city in Westeros. Its walls were lined with ballistae and fire-lance crossbows. Though the city lacked good soldiers, it had no shortage of craftsmen.
The Red Keep dominated Aegon's High Hill, controlling the vital approach to the river mouth. With its iron-reinforced works, huge towers, and thick red walls, it seemed like a brutal beast crouched above the river and the streets. The cliffs below the castle were steep and rocky, patched with moss and brambles. Any fleet had to pass beneath the castle before it could enter the harbor and attack the city.
Tyrion had also built two devious winch towers. The one on the north bank stood beneath the cliffs of the Red Keep, while the stone tower opposite it on the south bank had its foundations sunk into the water. They had dug a deep trench along the shore, and Gendry saw at once how difficult that made the stone tower to attack. One would either have to wade through deep water or build a bridge across.
"The marksmen have been placed, Prince," Ser Barristan said. These marksmen had been prepared to deal with Tyrion's winch towers. Ordinary longbows would not do, so they had selected the finest Purpleheart-bowmen, along with archers from the Summer Isles.
"What a cunning little Imp. Tell the longbowmen to stand ready."
"Yes."
"The fleet is a little late, and part of it was also assigned to the Onion Knight and Morosh," Ser Barristan Selmy said to Gendry. His blue eyes always carried a trace of sorrow. "The main army took The Kingsroad and the Kingswood. It moved far faster than they did. The Kingsroad is quicker than the sea route."
Although Stannis and Gendry had first taken a fast ship to Dragonstone, the larger fleet that set out later from Storm's End had still encountered all sorts of trouble. Reefs, storms, and currents were all hazards a fleet had to face. Moreover, part of the Twin Cities fleet had been given to the Onion Knight and Morosh.
"Perhaps the timing is just right. As for the fleet, I've set the battle plan, but no one but the Onion Knight and Morosh can properly command the detached squadrons," Gendry said. In truth, Davos knew the riverside of King's Landing best. The Onion Knight, Morosh, and Salladhor all knew ships, sails, oars, and coasts. Great Lord Stannis, however, was also an old hand at such matters. As Master of Ships, he had traveled much of Westeros's sea frontier.
Fate had once again fixed the battlefield here and now. Every force would erupt at a single point, King's Landing, and the question was who would rise above the rest. Would the Rose and the Lion come from the flank? And from far away, the elephants and the Goddess of Lust?
"Increase the pressure from the catapults and archers, then stop after a while. Tell the soldiers to save their strength. The main course hasn't begun yet," Gendry said to Ser Barristan and the lords around him. The lords of the Stormlands were all eager for action. Heavy warhorses and twelve-foot lances were too wasteful for a siege, especially when the Blackwater Rush was so broad and the walls of King's Landing were so high and strong.
Ser Barristan was certainly a man who valued honor, but the lords had come for more than loyalty. They had come for profit. Land, castles, wealth, and the wardship of minor nobles' children. They all knew the Westerlands was a rich land.
"As you command!" Lord Caron said.
The entire battle line along the south bank of the Blackwater Rush was laid out. As the dense calls of the war horns rose, growing more and more urgent, the longbowmen of the Stormlands drew their bowstrings, and catapults large and small began working faster with thunderous rumbles.
"The reserves from the Vale and Crackclaw Point hidden in the woods are not to move," Gendry told Robar Royce and Harry the Arse. With the decisive battle approaching, Robar and Harry the Arse had also come to the battlefield on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush. On the north bank, some forces from the Vale and Crackclaw Point were still driving troops from Maidenpool and other places toward the northern gates.
"As you command."
Robar and Harry the Arse accepted the order and left, carrying the excitement and hot blood of young men. On the far side of the Kingswood, the dark mass of Vale cavalry and Crackclaws were already prepared, like an endless forest. The most elite blue-cloaked cavalry and the black-scaled Crackclaws waited in silence, holding still for the moment fate would decide.
The red priestess stood to one side of the crowd. As their dedicated sorceress, she was there to guard against any strange powers that might appear.
"Now it depends on Great Lord Stannis," Gendry said. The fleet was the great lure, and Great Lord Stannis was a sailor seasoned by war.
Gendry planted Orphan-Maker in the ground. He waited, waiting for the moment when the flames erupted.
…
The waters near King's Landing were a chaos of sound, filled with roars, shouts, horns, drums, the trembling notes of flutes, and the splash of thousands of wooden oars rising and falling. Once they entered the river, they were to use oars only. Great Lord Stannis had already given the order. There were not many armored men or archers aboard the ships either, all to keep the vessels fast and powerful.
Great Lord Stannis Baratheon stood on the deck of the Fury, feeling the direction of the wind. He looked toward the ballistae and fire-lances on the walls of King's Landing, weapons that could set sails ablaze. A sea breeze stirred his old yellow cloak, which had been with him for many years.
"The wind is from the south right now. Once we lower sail and take to the oars, our movement will not be affected. The fleet can ride the tide straight in, but once we enter the river, the situation will turn against us. The current at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush is strong and fast. The Lannisters will not overlook that. They will certainly make use of the rapids," Great Lord Stannis thought. But he had expected this and had no intention of stuffing the fleet straight into the channel. At most, only twenty warships could enter the river at one time, lest their oars foul one another and the ships collide.
The finest and fastest ship, the Fury, was commanded by Stannis himself, along with the Great Lord Steffon and the Sea Stag. The Swordfish was placed slightly behind them. She had two hundred oars and the largest ram in the entire fleet.
The powerful core of the fleet consisted of the Lady Harra, Brightfish, Laughing King, Sea Demon, Horn of Glory, Janei, Trident, Swiftblade, Princess Rhaenys, Dog's Nose, Sovereignty, Faith, Red Raven, Queen Alysanne, Cat, Brave, Dragonbane, and other warships. Each flew the yellow battle banner of House Baratheon. Only behind them came the hundred-oared ships commanded by nobles and knights.
"Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the Storm!"
"Victory to Storm's End!"
The soldiers shouted back and forth across the water, cheering one another on. They had spent too long cooped up belowdecks and were eager to claim victory. Joffrey's little fleet was said to have only fifty warships, and cramped ones at that.
"Ten ships to a line is already loose enough, and I will be cautious entering the river," Stannis thought. Besides the hundred warships he commanded, the Royal Fleet and the Twin Cities fleet, he also had reinforcements from the Gulltown fleet, while the Vale fleet was now anchored at Duskendale. Stannis could originally have brought more than two hundred warships, but to deal with wildfire and a possible stab in the back, he had coordinated with Gendry.
Stannis's fleet had been made up entirely of fast, handy warships, while the ships selected to ferry soldiers across the river had not yet moved. That fleet had been organized by House Velaryon, with the Glory of Driftmark, the Seahorse, and the rest all standing ready. Those clumsy vessels, the fat-bellied merchant ships, slowed everything down.
"Should we continue into the river?" asked Ser Irem Florent, Great Lord Stannis's deputy. He had originally been in The Reach, but after hearing of the war in the Stormlands, he had joined Stannis's host.
"No need. This time, I am not the main player. I need to observe the situation," Stannis replied. The true main force was the elite land army led by Gendry.
"How do you think we should fight?" Stannis asked his brother-in-law with the distinctive protruding ears.
"I think we have the numbers. There's no need for caution or clever schemes. We should charge straight into the river."
Stannis gave Irem a look. Talent was truly rare. If he really handed the fleet to Irem, this fool might squander it all. He was arrogant and did not have much of a brain. What war lacked most was excellent commanders. Since Gendry could lead the land army, Stannis could confidently lead the fleet.
"The dwarf's iron chain must be ready by now. They are preparing to stretch it across the river," Stannis said, looking at the river mouth where rough waves surged. When their fleet set out, they had captured a small group of fishermen, and the fishermen's words confirmed Gendry's warning. The dwarf seemed to have been busy building some sort of iron chain to seal the river mouth, though the fishermen disagreed among themselves and could not say whether the obstruction had been completed.
Stannis saw the Red Keep atop the high hill, its black shape pressed against the lemon-colored sky, with the mouth of the Blackwater Rush below. Across the river, the shore was dark with men and horses, yet they continued launching arrows and stones in perfect order, unmoving as a mountain.
"Great Lord!" The fast ship Stannis had sent out returned first with its report. "We found two winch towers beneath the cliffs of the Red Keep. From what we observed, there is also a massive iron chain below them."
"Just as expected." Great Lord Stannis ground his teeth and clenched his fist. One must not go to war in anger.
"What of Joffrey's toys?" Stannis asked.
"I recognized the heavy Godsgrace, the old and sluggish Prince Aemon, Lady Silk and her sister ship Lady's Shame, Wild Wind, King's Landing, White Hart, Longspear, and Sea Flower," the man said.
"What about Lion's Star? Lady Lyanna, the great ship my brother built for the Maiden he loved so dearly. And Robert's Hammer? It is the largest warship in the Royal Fleet, with four hundred oars, and the only ship in the Imp's hands that can stand against the Fury."
"I did not see them, my lord."
Stannis thought for a moment. Most likely, those ships had escorted some important person out to sea. Otherwise, the Imp would not have held back his fiercest warships.
"Set our fast ships in motion," Great Lord Stannis ordered. "The swiftest ones. But do not commit them all."
"As you command, my lord."
One battle line of ships surged into the river. King's Landing's Royal Fleet began pulling back upstream, apparently trying to lure the enemy deeper in. But Stannis had still sent only a single line of ships.
...
"What in the world is going on?" Tyrion said anxiously on the city wall. "No wonder Father insisted I be careful of Stannis. The man is like steel, but since when did he become this cunning?"
Tyrion saw that there were few soldiers on the decks and no sign that they intended to land. The rowers below the gunwales were protected by the decks and were quite safe.
"Have I been tricked?" Cold sweat dripped from Tyrion's brow. He smelled a trap. He had been laying one, but the others had not been idle either.
Arrows shot from the towers. One fighter was struck by accident, then staggered and fell into the water. It was the first blood spilled that day, but it would not be the last.
Stannis's warships were arrayed in neat formation all the way to the horizon. The main fleet did not enter the Blackwater Rush. Instead, it looked as though they were preparing to carry soldiers to the north, while the soldiers on the south bank remained calm and composed, showing no urgency to climb the walls. The small wooden rafts did not move either.
"My lord, what about our pitch pots?" someone beside Tyrion asked. Burning pitch pots had been prepared on the castle walls, waiting for Stannis like flaming birds. And there were even more sinister pots behind them.
Even if the wildfire burned, what meaning would it have if it only consumed one battle line of ships, and fast ones at that? Wildfire was a one-use weapon. The great fleet outside could still move freely and ferry all their men and horses ashore.
"My lord, to the north! There is movement north of King's Landing. Someone is trying to attack the gate."
"What?" Tyrion was startled, though not especially surprised.
"Wildfire. I laid wildfire there as well. But... but why couldn't they wait a little longer?"
"Ships! Ships!" the lookouts of the Red Keep cried.
"What is this?" Tyrion muttered. Were these people the saviors of King's Landing? He did not dare believe it.
Far out at sea, sails bearing the elephant appeared, while the Goddess of Lust danced with the Harpy.
"Prepare the chain," Tyrion thought, but he had no time to react. The order he had given was to raise the chain once the bulk of the enemy had entered, but those fools could not tell one enemy from another.