The horns sounded across Oldtown, becoming the city's second voice, as if determined to contend with the bells.
Bright banners flew from the tops of long poles and masts, snapping constantly in the wind.
Most numerous and most prominent were the golden quartered banners, their quartered arms flaunting their might everywhere.
Beside them flew the banners of green fields and golden roses, cobblestone runes, striding hunters, red encampments, beehives, giants throwing pine trees, blue gyrfalcons, black and white swans, yellow nightingales, and many more.
"Long live King Gendry!"
"Long live King Gendry!" the soldiers and knights shouted.
Gendry led the army over the walls and drove into Oldtown from due north, then swept past both sides of the Citadel.
Longships and horses entered Oldtown together.
Most of the soldiers were aboard longships, whether cavalry or infantry.
A smaller number rode warhorses behind them, treading through the black floodwater that had not yet receded.
The soldiers wore gleaming steel armor, most of them draped in bright yellow cloaks.
Echoes rose from the walls of the Citadel as the maesters saw the golden reinforcements.
Everyone atop the Citadel walls shouted back, "Long live Gendry! Long live Gendry! Long live the Storm!"
"Long live the King!" cried Mollander, the crippled apprentice, his eyes filling with tears.
"Is that the Warrior come down from the heavens?" Alleras stood on the wall and looked at the young king in black scale armor, crowned with great forked horns.
The Storm wore a golden cloak and held a longsword in his hand. Brave, fearless, a demon of war.
"The Dragons are here, Sphinx." "Woodcock" Pet had somehow slipped up beside Alleras, startling him.
"Mm." Alleras nodded, too intent on chasing the shadows of the Dragons across the sky to notice Pet's pale face.
Shadows appeared overhead, one after another.
Three Dragons circled above them all, shadows in the blazing sun.
The Dragons beat their wings, and the sound was like thunder.
The people of the Citadel stared wide-eyed. The Sphinx and the stone Dragon were only patched-together imitations. The King and Queen's Dragons were true living magical beasts.
"Hightower and the Citadel are going to be crushed by the King's fury," Mollander said.
After all, in this war, Hightower had not only surrendered, but the stone Dragon and the Sphinx might now fight for the Kraken.
"How did they grow so large? No wonder the King had the confidence to rush into Oldtown with reinforcements," Alleras thought in surprise. "It has only been a year at most, yet they are already bigger than warhorses. How is that possible?"
Woodcock also watched the Dragons. "Dragons and magic. How could they grow so quickly?"
"Who do you think will win?" Woodcock asked.
"I don't know," Alleras answered honestly.
"Oldtown is a trap. Crow's Eye is luring the King inside."
"Exactly." Alleras looked at Woodcock. Since when did Woodcock have that kind of mind?
Oldtown had become a trap, yet Gendry had thrown himself in without hesitation. That did not seem like the King's usual style.
The Storm had never lost a war. He was the killer who fixed his eyes on his prey. But Crow's Eye was mysterious and unpredictable as well.
Who was the hunter, and who was the prey? Perhaps both sides were trying to lure the other in.
Crow's Eye and Gendry had both risen suddenly, both savage and fierce.
Beyond the cards they had shown openly, Alleras felt certain that both men had hidden moves. The victor would be the one with more cards left to play.
Gendry and Daenerys's three Dragons were about to battle the Greyjoy Kraken, Hightower's stone Dragon, and the Citadel's Sphinx. A battle for the ages.
"Balerion, Viserion, dracarys!" Gendry's iron voice cut across the battlefield, and the Dragons seemed to feel his rage.
"Vhagar," Daenerys called affectionately, forgetting all fear. "Dracarys!"
The Dragons charged into Oldtown with the army, breathing fire from high above, flames of every color.
The fleet of "the Reader" Rodrik Harlaw was closest to the Citadel and suffered the first attack. No one could withstand the fury of Dragons.
Balerion soared high, then dove like a swift falcon. Spiraling black-red dragonfire exploded across the Ironborn longships.
"My gods." The Reader turned and saw the longships not far behind him all burst into flame.
The black Dragon spread its wings and roared.
A twisting stream of black fire struck the Ironborn full in the face, melting their eyes into jelly that slid down their cheeks, while their hair and beards caught fire at once.
In that instant, the Ironborn seemed to wear crowns of flame twice as tall as their heads. The stink of scorched flesh overwhelmed every other smell, and their screams drowned out every other sound.
Three Dragons appeared together in the sky: a black Dragon, a green Dragon, and a white Dragon.
The other two Dragons unleashed their power as well, dancing and roaring. True dragon roars.
Rodrik's longships caught fire one after another, and the Ironborn screamed in agony as dragonfire turned them into roasted meat.
The Ironborn had brought the wrath of the sea, and Gendry had sent them the wrath of Dragons.
"Crow's Eye, you bastard. You set me up. May you die screaming." Rodrik cursed, because the men dying were all his old followers from Harlaw.
It was a vicious stroke. Crow's Eye had sent him to the Citadel to make sure he obtained the Sphinx key, and also to make sure he was the first to face the Dragons' fire.
Rodrik no longer meant to look back. He was Balon's brother-in-law, and a thorn in Crow's Eye's eye.
Before his longship exploded, Rodrik no longer cared that the seawater stank. He jumped straight into the water and swam toward the Iron Throne's army.
"I surrender! I surrender!"
Seeing Rodrik do it, many Ironborn followed, either swimming over or turning their longships back.
The Iron Throne's longships danced along the river, spreading across the northern waters where they had been scattered before.
The only high points left in Oldtown were now the Hightower and the Citadel. Beyond the Citadel lay the flooded marsh of Oldtown, filled with foul, fishy water.
Longships had shallow drafts, and on this waterlogged surface, they could move freely in every direction.
"Launch the longships!"
The boarding battle began. Both sides fought in longship formations, perfect for bloody close combat.
Old grudges and deep hatred made their eyes burn all the redder.
"It is time." Crow's Eye fixed his deep blue eye on the Dragons roaring in the distant sky. "Rodrik is probably dead too."
"Sound the horns," Malora ordered the hornblowers. "The Dragons have truly appeared."
Several horns sounded at once.
They were the keys that awakened the Stone Dragon and the Sphinx.
Aboard the Silence, the hornblowers of House Hightower and the maesters from the Citadel who had gone over to Crow's Eye, also Hightowers, blew their horns together. Foam and blood appeared at the corners of their mouths.
After blowing the horns, the men collapsed one after another.
Sometimes several temporary horns were blown at the same time, all to draw out the greatest power of the Stone Dragon and the Sphinx.
The Stone Dragon and the Sphinx had originally protected only a small circular area. Now, to unleash all their power at once, every horn had to be spent together.
"For victory, it is worth it." Crow's Eye looked toward the distant sky. After all, they were not true Dragons.
"Let the wild stag rejoice over holding down the Stone Dragon and the Sphinx. My dragon horn will sound again." Crow's Eye waved a hand, and one of his bastard sons hurried over.
"Go to Victarion. Tell him the time has come. The Dragons, the wild stag, and the Dragon Princess have all appeared. This is the chance the Ironborn have long awaited."
More shadows filled the sky. The green Sphinxes and the black Stone Dragon also took flight, heading toward the true Dragons.
The Stone Dragon and the Sphinxes spewed pitch-black flame, slick and oily, like burning fire oil. Shadow fire.
High above Oldtown, the battle of Dragons began.
True Dragons against false Dragons, true fire against false fire.
Three true Dragons faced three false Dragons from the Citadel and Hightower, monsters pieced together with runes.
"This? I thought Hightower might have something more impressive." Gendry looked at Oldtown's three guardian beasts. They were crude work, only imitating a Dragon's breath, fire, and flight.
The Stone Dragon was a Dragon corpse chemically preserved and wrapped in black stone, breathing fire oil.
Since the Dragon was already dead, its fire-breathing organs had surely been altered to use fire oil.
"Form without substance, my king. No soul, only emptiness. Monsters awakened by the maesters of the Citadel with ancient runes, blood, jewels, and glyphs," the red priestess explained.
"The hornblowers are risking their lives," Marwyn said. "Only death can pay for life. They are sacrificing the guardian beasts themselves to stop the Dragons."
"Crude as they are, the fact that they can fly at all after consuming so many runes and lives is still impressive."
The hornblowers used every last bit of strength, offering up their lives. The Sphinxes and the stone beast barely managed to move and fight in the air.
The battle in the sky was spectacular and cruel, but Gendry had confidence.
Living creatures were far more agile than dead things, and they had fighting instincts besides. More than that, Gendry had fed many runes to the Dragons.
Flames of every color burned across the sky: the living, vibrant flames of the Dragons and the false black flames of the stone beasts.
Against the blue sky, the battle grew clearer and clearer. The clumsy Stone Dragon and the two Sphinxes could not reach the Dragons at all. The three Dragons were dancing in the air.
Young Dragons were much nimbler in the sky than old Dragons, let alone stone ones.
Again and again, the three Dragons breathed fire, then slipped away beautifully at the last possible instant. In truth, the Stone Dragon and the Sphinxes rarely struck them at all.
The three Dragons were like eagles flying high, like swift hunting falcons. They circled, shrieked, and spat flame, but never let their enemies close.
"Roar!"
Balerion glared angrily at the Dragon bound in stone. It carried the scent of a dead Dragon, an insult to all dragonkind.
They had used a Dragon's corpse and bones, joined them with black stone and other things, carved jewels and runes into the vessel, then filled it with fire oil to imitate a Dragon's breath.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The Dragon swarm, the Stone Dragon, and the Sphinxes exchanged wave after wave of fire.
The true Dragons clearly had the advantage. They were exceptionally agile, and they could fly higher.
The flames of true Dragons, strengthened by runes, were more powerful as well.
"The Sphinxes and the Stone Dragon are going to lose," Alleras said with certainty from the Citadel wall. As he watched the battle unfold, the situation soon became clear.
The flames of the Sphinxes and the stone beast barely hit the Dragons, and their power was almost negligible. The black fire-oil flames seemed little more than an itch to the young Dragons.
But the dragonfire of the three true Dragons struck the Sphinxes and the Stone Dragon again and again. Though the black stone had not fully melted, the runes were beginning to crack and the gems were falling. None of that was a good sign.
"At this level of power, it seems the Stone Dragon and the Sphinxes cannot stand against true Dragons," Woodcock said with a nod.
The Stone Dragon and the Sphinxes were artificial things, after all. They had no souls, no vitality, and the black stone and iron added to their bodies made them even heavier.
They could breathe fire, but they were bound by weight, and there was a limit to how high they could fly.
"They are not true Dragons after all." Gendry watched the battle.
"Roar!"
Balerion roared, and the other two Dragons flew high into the sky with him.
The black Stone Dragon and the green Sphinxes hung in place, spraying black fire everywhere like headless flies, circling without knowing where their prey had gone.
"Who came up with these things?" Gendry looked at the clumsy monsters and felt they were little more than disposable creations. With no souls, they had far too many weaknesses.
Hightower must have spent enormous effort on them, but false things still could not compare with true Dragons.
When two true Dragons fought at close quarters, their defenses and flight speeds were similar. They usually gave up dragonfire and turned to other weapons.
Claws long as swords, dark and heavy as steel, sharp as razors. Teeth that could bite through a knight's plate armor. Tails like whips, capable of shattering a carriage with one blow, snapping a warhorse's spine, and hurling a man fifty feet into the air.
But these counterfeit Dragons made by Hightower and the Citadel were weaker in defense, agility, dragonfire, and speed. The true Dragons could soon bombard them from range.
Led by the black Dragon Balerion, the three Dragons climbed deep into the clouds, then folded their wings and dove. They struck the Stone Dragon first.
The Dragon swarm aimed their fire straight at the Stone Dragon's head and mouth.
Three streams of dragonfire, three spears of flame in different colors, slammed hard into the Stone Dragon's mouth.
The Stone Dragon spat black shadow fire, only to be completely overwhelmed.
Balerion did not attack the Dragon's body. He targeted its fire-breathing mouth and the runic eyes it used to see.
Black-red spiraling dragonfire, orange-yellow dragonfire threaded with green, and pale golden dragonfire mixed with blood-red and orange-yellow.
Bang!
Boom!
Brilliant light flared in the air, and most of the Stone Dragon's head blew apart.
Black stone scattered wildly across the sky, followed by the dead Dragon's head wrapped within it. Rotten Dragon flesh, black stone, gems, and black gold burst apart, and the runes shattered.
The tubes storing magical fire oil exploded as well, sending black flames blazing brightly across the sky.
The Stone Dragon swayed and plunged headfirst into the Honeywine, never to fly again.
The Dragon swarm began focusing their fire on the two Sphinxes. Once again, they aimed for the mouths, the places where fire was breathed. Balerion rose into the sky again, preparing to repeat the same tactic.
Together, they climbed into the sky and bombarded the Sphinxes' heads.
This Stone Dragon, into which House Hightower had poured so much manpower and wealth, had performed rather poorly in real combat.
"Ours Is the Fury!"
"Ours Is the Fury!"
The Iron Throne's army shouted its battle cry, their cheers rolling like thunder.
A long, terrible cry tore through the air.
The dragon horn had come.
The true sound.
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