"Ready! Loose! Loose!" The archers and crossbowmen once more spat more than a thousand arrows into the sky. Shooting was almost a pleasure — even when they missed, the arrows still flew toward the enemy.
Dany atop her Drogon veered sharply aside and clearly became disoriented for a moment. The second dragon following in her wake wheeled back as well.
The Targaryen did not need long to understand how she should act.
I was still standing atop Rivulet's saddle, though I nearly lost my footing a couple of times whenever the horse shifted beneath me. From the other side, Rolf Keith rode up, and I steadied myself against his shoulder.
Drogon made a vast circle, sweeping around the battlefield from the flank. I watched anxiously as he banked upon his right wing, passed beyond the Dornishmen, crossed the Blueburn, and came around behind our rear.
"Clegane, ride and warn Dorell's archers not to take their eyes off that beast."
The squire nodded and silently galloped off to the right.
Daenerys came at us from the rear. Drogon unleashed another great torrent of flame and surged forward, drawing nearer to his own troops.
This time, we found ourselves in a very unpleasant position. The archers continued firing at the dragon, but no longer in coordinated volleys. Those arrows that struck nothing eventually began falling back to earth — directly onto our own host.
"Your Grace!" Gerald Orm yanked me sharply by the arm, and together we leapt down to the ground. The bodyguards raised several shields overhead in unison. Around us, the arrows of our own archers began raining down.
One shaft struck Loras Tyrell in the shoulder, though fortunately it failed to pierce his pauldron. It glanced off the steel and buried itself harmlessly in the grass.
Drogon carved a blazing furrow across the battlefield, and then, drawing close to his own men, abruptly climbed skyward and swept into another pass.
"That bitch has clearly spotted us!" shouted Fell Silveraxe. "We need to move!"
We vaulted into our saddles and rode hard to the side. Garth Hightower lagged behind slightly, covering our maneuver.
On Drogon's second pass, he came frighteningly close, and I felt a wash of scorching air across my face. That was already dangerously near. Even so, Dany remained cautious and did not descend too low. Yes, our bowmen had managed to earn a sliver of her respect. Because of that, the dragon could not burn with full effectiveness, and much of his fire went to waste.
The dragons began a third circuit. On the ground, meanwhile, chaos reigned. The air stank of burnt flesh, scorched hair, and blood… The burned and maimed screamed in agony. Hundreds rolled across the earth, trying desperately to beat out the tongues of flame devouring them. The barrels of water and the soaked bull hides prepared in advance were clearly nowhere near enough.
And then Dany made a mistake.
She should have continued burning and slaughtering the troops, grinding them down steadily, hundred by hundred. But she caught sight of King Joffrey in his gleaming armor, surrounded by his guards, and could not resist. Or perhaps she simply wished to bring the horror to an end as swiftly as possible.
Drogon came around from behind once more, descending lower this time, to make certain of the strike, and plowed King Joffrey and all his retinue with a tongue of flame.
And at that very moment, our heaviest scorpions and great crossbows loosed—the very weapons prepared for this instant.
The range was scarcely anything at all. Daenerys pressed herself as deeply as she could into the dragon's armor, and the bolts missed her.
An iron bolt the length of a man and as thick as my wrist tore free from one of the scorpions and a heartbeat later punched beneath the dragon's wing, where the hide was all but unarmored. It struck so deep that scarcely a third of it remained outside.
The dragon's roar was likely heard as far away as King's Landing. Fury rang through it, and hatred, and wrath. But there was pain there too… and panic.
Drogon jerked violently in the air and began listing down to the right. I stared without blinking as the enormous beast, thrashing its wings and tail madly, started falling ever closer toward the ground.
Its claws and tail tore through our infantry, while the dragon itself crashed directly into the ranks of the Unsullied, scattering several dozen men like rag dolls and gouging deep trenches into the earth.
By then I had already vaulted back into the saddle and could see through the sea of heads as the dragon finally came to a halt. The impact threw Dany from his neck. The height was not great, but the fall certainly did her no favors.
And that is precisely why one does not sit astride a dragon without proper fastening. It was idiocy! While studying with Marwyn the Mage in the royal library, we had managed to uncover accounts describing how the Targaryens rode their beasts. They used specially made saddles, securing their legs at the calves and fastening their lower backs with leather straps. And rightly so — dragons perform violent maneuvers in the sky, changing direction in an instant, and a rider's hands alone are not always enough to keep from being thrown free or to counter the force of inertia.
I was honestly surprised Dany had only now encountered such a problem.
"Burn them all!" I drew Winds of Change and slashed it sharply through the air, signaling Braye's men where to fire.
By then one of the scorpions was already burning merrily, set aflame by the dragon, but the other two launched jars of wildfire straight toward the Unsullied and the dragon.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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