The Bloodriders had been ordered to scout the terrain and resources, and they couldn't afford to travel only at night. Though the Blood-Weeping Star in the sky stained the heavens crimson, its dim glow made it impossible to see distant objects clearly.
That's why Aggo and his companions had struggled so much last time.
This time was different. With a clear objective and no need to check for human presence or large animals, they moved swiftly.
Under the Blood-Weeping Star, Daenerys, unburdened by the Khal's elderly and infirm, led the way. Silver Lady galloped merrily across the endless red sands, her hooves kicking up thin trails of crimson dust.
Jorah and his Bloodriders followed three horse lengths behind Daenerys, with over twenty Dothraki warriors bringing up the rear.
The thunder of hooves echoed across the land. Sand lizards, their scales the color of rust and earth, poked their heads out from the grass, seemingly sensing the vibrations in the ground.
*Screech!*
*Caw! Boom!*
Piercing, guttural cries suddenly rang out overhead. A wildcat-sized sand lizard tried to dart back into the grass, but a stream of dark crimson flames descended from the sky.
The black smoke, thick with the stench of sulfur, instantly ignited the demon grass beside it.
The sand lizard squeaked and fled the inferno, but in the next moment, the sky darkened, and it found itself soaring weightlessly through the air. The sharp, piercing pain in its soft belly hadn't yet faded when a roaring inferno swept over it, plunging the lizard into unconsciousness.
*Thud-thud-thud*
The rhythmic hoofbeats echoed as the dragonflame-kindled demon grass quickly sank beneath the shallow red sand, leaving only wisps of white smoke swaying in the breeze.
Daenerys looked up at the young dragons vying for their bloody meal in the sky, a satisfied smile curving her lips.
The centaurs, with their exceptional sense of direction, led the group without any detours, finding the Dragonbone at midnight.
It made sense, really. People with poor navigation skills could never become Khal's scouts. The Great Dothraki Sea, with its vast, featureless plains, offered even less to guide oneself by than the Red Waste. Yet scouts were sent in all directions, sometimes riding a day or two away from the Khal's encampment.
"By the Seven Gods... is this truly a creature's bone?"
Even after repeatedly hearing that Balerion could swallow a wild ox whole in a single bite, Daenerys couldn't help but gasp at the sight of the Dragonbone, as massive as a warship.
The bones exposed above the sand were grayish-white, growing darker with depth. Originally, only a small portion of the skull had been visible, but Rakharo had dug away the sand to investigate the Dragonbone's size.
"Completely excavating the sand would be too massive an undertaking and take too long," Daenerys said, climbing to the top of the Great Dragon's head, which stood two stories high. She gazed at the burial mound, which had formed a winding hill, and began to waver.
Jorah frowned, studying the massive skull. "Your Highness, what do you plan to do with this Dragonbone corpse? Transporting it all back seems impractical."
"This..." Daenerys smiled wryly. "To be honest, I originally intended to transport it back. Never mind the gold it could fetch—just imagine crafting weapons from it. You've seen the power of Dragonbone bows. They're essential weapons for any warrior!"
"The Dothraki lack the technology to forge Dragonbone weapons," Jorah replied. "Only the most skilled Qohor blacksmiths can shape Dragonbone into weapons."
"What do you suggest? Leave it here to rot?" she asked.
Jorah stroked his chin. "Let's take back some of the more portable Dragonbones and bury the rest here. We can return for more in the future if needed."
"The skull is too large to handle. We'll take the bones from the wings."
At Daenerys's command, the Dothraki set to work with fervor. They followed the Great Dragon's neck down to its abdomen, digging just deep enough to search for broken bones.
The bone Rakharo had brought back was a fragment of a broken bone. As Daenerys had suspected, the Great Dragon must have been severely injured and unable to fly, crashing to the ground mid-flight.
"Huh? What's this? This bone is so thin... wait." A Dothraki paused his digging, picking up a 40cm bone club from the sand and turning it over and over in confusion.
Following the path from "skull—neck—spine—wings," the Dothraki dug a winding trench.
The sand was soft, making the work easier than expected. The trench reached a depth of two to three meters.
By the time the sky turned a deep indigo, they had reached the middle section of the neck.
"Khaleesi, something's wrong! It's not Dragonbone—I've found a human corpse!" The Dothraki shouted, his voice trembling with fear. "This isn't human! It's a Demon! A Demon's corpse! No human should look like this!"
"A Demon! A Demon's corpse!" The other Dothraki working nearby gathered around to look, and they also screamed in terror.
As the big boss, Daenerys naturally didn't have to work. She'd been busy training the little dragon on the side.
Hearing the commotion from the pit, she hurried over and peered down at the centaur. "No demons! Demons wouldn't dare approach a Great Dragon, not even a long-dead one! That must be a human..."
She'd started shouting with full of energy, but as the crowd parted and she saw the twisted bones half-buried in the brown sand, she froze in horror.
The corpse was truly terrifying. It was curled into a fetal position, not a mere skeleton.
Its skin resembled dark purple demon scales, tightly clinging to the bones. One could see dense, thumb-sized "scales" as coarse as old tree bark covering its entire body.
Were those arms curled at its chest, or some kind of creature's claws?
Ten dagger-like fingers stabbed toward the sky, poised to strike, as if ready to devour anyone nearby.
The body was as emaciated as a starving child, yet its fangs and claws stretched a disproportionate twenty centimeters.
What was even more terrifying was that the eyeballs in the corpse's sockets hadn't decayed or weathered away. In other words, they hadn't been decomposed by bacteria.
Around the deep purple eyeballs, black, tar-like mucus oozed, making the corpse glare at them with a "malicious" intensity, as if it were alive. Its mouth, split nearly 180 degrees, seemed to be roaring with demonic curses.
"Fuck," Daenerys cursed in Earth tongue, then quickly switched to the local dialect. "Seven hells, Ser Jorah, you've seen it all. What kind of creature do you think this is?"
She hadn't forgotten this was a fantasy world, where even the Children of the Forest and Giants existed. Goblins and gnolls wouldn't be out of place.
"He should be human," Jorah replied, still digging in the pit. He walked over to the centaur who had first discovered the corpse and took the pale, bone-like club from his hand.
"Your Highness, look," he said, waving the bone at Daenerys. He then measured the bone against the left leg of the "demon" corpse. "The corpse is missing a lower leg—this one in my hand. Given your earlier theory about the Great Dragons' origins—that one escaped Valyria during the Cataclysm—
could it be that it was ridden away by a knight?"
"The Great Dragon was mortally wounded and fell from the sky. The knight broke his leg, and his tibia was severed from the corpse."
Aggo retorted, "Look at how long the tibia is—it doesn't match the frail body at all. If this were a human, they'd have to be a dwarf."
A tibia without the foot, over 40 cm long, clearly indicated its owner had been a towering man. The huddled corpse, however, stood no more than 1.2 meters tall.
"It's said that the lands from the Long Summer to the ruins of Ancient Valyria on the Smoking Sea are still shrouded in a curse," Ser Jorah said, rising to his feet and fixing Daenerys with a solemn gaze. "From Volantis to Slaver's Bay, there's the Valyrian Road left from the Freehold era, yet they prefer to take a longer, circuitous sea route around the ruins. That road to Mataris is called the Demon Road."
"Didn't Valyria perish in a volcanic eruption?" Daenerys asked, puzzled. "Why is it linked to a curse now?"
"I don't know," Jorah said, frowning thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's the vengeful spirits of Ancient Valyria's Dragon Kings? As you know, Valyria was a civilization that mastered dragons and Blood Magic."
"Heh, you just said the Dragon King's gruesome death was due to a curse," Daenerys said, pointing at the "demon" corpse in the pit with amusement. "Aren't you contradicting yourself?"
"If it wasn't a curse, why didn't a single person or dragon escape Valyria? Dragons can fly! The fire and lava were terrifying, but they couldn't burn dragons. How else could all the dragons have been killed?" Jorah countered in a rush.
"Perhaps he was cursed and rode a dragon to Qarth to seek help from a Male Warlock," Aggo interjected.
The Dothraki had been terrified at first, but seeing the Khaleesi and Jorah arguing at length in front of the "demon" without it reacting, their courage gradually returned.
"The Male Warlocks of Qarth are indeed world-renowned," Jorah said with a sneer. "But their fame comes from their constant use of fake magic to deceive the masses. Even in Westeros, we've seen those blue-lipped tricksters."
"Then..." Aggo pondered for a moment, pointing eastward. "He might have ridden a dragon across the Jade Sea to the Shadowlands, a land teeming with wizards and Shadowbinders. The Witch-Demon you burned to death, Khaleesi, learned her methods of communicating with demons there."
"Why are you so sure he's going to seek help? Where else could there be magic more powerful than Valyria's?" Jorah scoffed.
"Whether he went to Asshai to find a Wizard, or was dazed by the earthfire and flew here randomly, it's none of our concern," Daenerys said, pointing to the demon-like corpse. "Don't touch it directly. Gather logs and wild grass nearby and burn it on the spot. Valyrians believe in cremation, so this won't dishonor the memory of this Dragon King."
The Dothraki immediately stopped digging, scrambled out of the pit, and began collecting firewood.
Around nine in the morning, Daenerys's three dragons simultaneously breathed fire, igniting the pyre in the pit. The group then huddled behind the Giant's bones to escape the sun, planning to resume work at dusk.
Hmm, Daenerys had the most comfortable spot. She had made her home in the mouth of a Great Dragon, its thick skull completely blocking the sunlight. Lying on the cleaned jawbone was cool, comfortable, and especially amusing.
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