novelraw Chapter 163 163: Galloping Hells
Chapter 163 163: Galloping Hells
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123 AC, Dothraki Sea
Daemon did not have the time to think about what the sorcerer had just said, for the thunder of hooves grew louder by the second. The Dothraki charge was coming straight for them, war cries rising beneath the strange golden rain.
Despite the fact that he would deny it later, Daemon Targaryen thought that he would die at this moment. He knew that there was no true logic to it, for a galloping cavalry of Dothraki warriors paled before gods and giant dragons made of stars. However, it was something that he was intimately familiar with. There was no strange magicks, aside from the fact that they were faintly glowing gold, or giant unnatural monsters, and so every instinct he had as a warrior returned, all of which told him that he was standing before certain death.
The sorcerer seemed almost lost as he stared at the golden rain, uncaring of the coming threat, and no amount of yelling broke the man from his stupor. He did not know why Potter seemed to focus more on the rain, and why he had paled before it, but knowing him, there was a likely reason for it. However, no matter how good that reason might be, it would not spare them should the Dothraki reach them either.
And so, Daemon prepared himself for a moment, raising Dark Sister to meet the incoming cavalry. He saw his nephew do the same, his face pale, likely echoing his sentiment. Then Harry Potter casually flicked his hand without even looking at the Dothraki, and the world stopped.
That was the best way to describe it, for the droplets of rain were stuck in the air, as if they had just decided not to fall. Before him, Daemon could see the figures of the riding Dothraki, the faint golden glow trailing behind them, while also having their eyes be unnaturally still.
In the sky, he saw birds completely and utterly frozen, stuck in the air as if the world had turned into a painting. He looked at the sorcerer with a questioning expression, only to freeze at the serious expression on his face, as the man silently walked forward, uncaring about the frozen enemies that had been seconds away from killing him. It was then that Daemon finally understood why the Elder Dragons had called him the Lord of Space and Time, for he had never even heard of such magicks before.
Truthfully, despite witnessing it before his eyes, Daemon still could not truly grasp the extent of it all and so remained in baffled silence. As for Potter, he had not spoken a word either and simply walked forward without even acknowledging the impossible feat that he had just committed.
Not knowing what else to do, both Targaryen princes followed after him into the settlement. After some time, it was Aemond who finally broke the silence, "What… What was that?"
"Time is such a beautiful concept, a definition of beginnings and endings, relative and yet strict in ways that are beyond even gods," the man answered neutrally, "Depending on where you are and how fast you're going, it may behave differently. Sometimes, it feels like it passed in the blink of an eye, and sometimes, it even comes to a crawl and stops. I have bought us enough time with this, especially before the storm spreads too far away. But we need to get to the settlement to stop things from spiralling out of control, since time can't stay frozen forever."
"The storm?" Daemon repeated, "You care more about a little rain than you do the Dothraki cavalry that you stopped."
"The Dothraki were but a measure born of desperation, the rain… the rain not so much."
The sorcerer did not elaborate, and Daemon decided not to press. He had accepted that the world stopped making sense the moment they entered the Summer Sea and fought monsters from the Basilisk Isles. Or perhaps it was earlier when he met the god of Naath. He wasn't exactly sure, but he dearly craved the days when the world had felt right, with dragons being the mightiest creatures in the Known World, and House Targaryen being the most powerful due to their blood allowing them to ride and bond with them.
Alas, normalcy had become but a distant dream since the fateful day he saw that cursed manse on Dragonstone. He couldn't help but wonder if his daughters had also seen such horrors during their time with the Potters. He sincerely hoped not, given the fact that they seemed to look forward to spending time with the Potters. Daemon would say, without a doubt, that while he did not regret going on an 'adventure' with the sorcerer, for it was eye-opening, he would not do so again.
Daemon had thought that the worst of it would have been Harrenhal, when he had witnessed the destruction of one of the mightiest fortresses in the Seven Kingdoms in the blink of an eye. Alas, it seemed that the world was far more terrible indeed.
He turned towards his nephew and saw a fascination with the display of power. He could understand it, of course, for he had been much of the same during his youth, trying to find secrets in Dragonstone left by Visenya about the magicks that she was rumoured to have. Aemond truly reminded Daemon of his younger self, for he had the same drive, the same ambition. Perhaps he should spend more time with his nephew to help him avoid the mistakes that Daemon had committed. And it would also be useful for his son to have the support of the rider of Vhagar.
That was, of course, a thought for another time, for Daemon's attention was filled with the frozen settlement before him. At the edge, Daemon could see a great bronze statue of two gigantic stallions whose hooves met a hundred feet above the roadway to form a pointed arch. It was certainly a grand entrance, though the settlement itself had no walls, so Daemon did not see the use for it, other than its striking appearance, he supposed.
The settlement itself was larger than he expected it to be. Though it seemed to be mostly empty, or at least, not crowded, the city itself seemed to almost rival King's Landing in size, though there was no structure that came close to rivalling something like the Red Keep in greatness. There were certainly stone buildings, though they were quite rudimentary, with the best being what seemed to be a few manses, and Daemon saw a market in the distance, though it was completely silent due to the sorcerer's magic.
Aemond spoke up loudly in realisation, "This is Vaes Dothrak, isn't it?"
Daemon nodded absentmindedly; that did sound familiar. He remembered reading about it in his youth, about the city that the Dothraki had built for themselves, capable of hosting all of the Khalasars at once. He had been filled with thoughts of glory to rid the world of the Dothraki atop Caraxes. His father had disabused him of this, telling him that the Dothraki were a critical part of the slave trade in Essos, and while ridding the world of them would be a blessing, it would be akin to declaring war on every city in Slaver's Bay and perhaps even beyond. And even then, some other group would replace them, perhaps even more terrible.
He had not been particularly convinced that these reasons were not to wipe away the loathsome savages from the world, but he had respected his father enough to do it. The thought did return to him during his banishment, though the Sea Snake's proposal to conquer the Stepstones was more appealing, especially since it was obvious that it was against Otto Hightower's plans.
Yet, here he was, walking in the frozen city of the savages that he once entertained burning to cinders atop Caraxes. Daemon was tempted to ask where they had planned on going, but it was obvious that they seemed to walk towards some gold-glowing structure in the distance, because, of course, the sorcerer would want to go there.
After some time, they arrived before what almost seemed to be a temple, which seemed far better made than most of the structures in the city. For one, the walls were made of thick stone, with tall pillars along the entrance, and even marble stairs. It wouldn't have made a half-bad place to sleep, if it weren't for the fact that it was glowing the same gold as the rain.
Potter did not say a word as he walked up the stairs, and through the open door, and they stopped as came before a statue of a great stallion made of the same Black Stone he recognised from Ax Isle, only this time, the statue seemed to be littered with cracks, each releasing a glowing golden liquid that seeped onto the ground, which seemed to affect the entire building, hence why it glowed.
Daemon's nephew obviously couldn't help but contain his curiosity, "What is this?"
"There is power in blood, mortal or divine, though the latter more so than the former."
The Rogue Prince felt his heart hammer in his chest, "You claim that this is godly blood? What of the rain?"
"I did say that the Elder Dragons spilt First Blood, though I suppose I didn't say whose blood it was. The Great Stallion, the Horse God, the god of the Dothraki. Of course, I wouldn't exactly call it blood, a distilled conceptual realm would be more accurate, through some kind of forced material actualisation would be my best guess, but it would hardly be as poetic."
Poetic? No wonder the sorcerer had looked concerned when the rain began; it was apparently divine blood. In his time in Essos, he had heard stories of horrors that mages did using blood. He could only imagine what they could do with godly blood. He honestly could not understand a fraction of the consequences of such a thing, only that it was.
Thunder rumbled despite the frozen time, and Daemon almost jumped, having felt nought but silence since they entered the city. When the thunder stopped echoing, three crones seemed to have appeared from behind the statues, their eyes glowing the same gold as the so-called divine blood.
If Daemon remembered correctly, didn't the Dothraki worship the widows of their Khals or something of the same sort, calling them prophets of their horse god? He had dismissed it as nonsense earlier, but it seemed that there were nuggets of truth in these tales.
The crones spoke at once, with something deeper and unnatural layered in their voices, "YET IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU THAT WE SUFFER SUCH A FATE AND THAT BLOOD SPILLS IN OUR SACRED CITY. WE KNOW OF YOU, GODSLAYER, USURPER, ANATHEMA. WE KNOW OF YOUR DEEDS. HAVE YOU COME TO GOAD US BEFORE THE END?"
Potter's harsh eyes softened greatly at the crones' words, and he shook his head, "I had no intention of spilling blood. My quest has long since been fulfilled."
Daemon had no idea what quest the man spoke of, but the three crones answered nonetheless, "AND YET IT IS BY YOUR TRESPASS THAT THE CHAINS FOUND US, THAT ALLOWED THE OLD ONES TO CIRCUMVENT THE ANCIENT LAWS. IT IS BY YOUR ACTIONS THAT OUR BLOOD SPILLS LIKE FILTH UPON THE WORLD, ALL TO BE USED AS A WEAPON AGAINST YOU."
The prince's mind blanked for a moment; assuming that the 'Old Ones' were the Elder Dragons, as they had breached onto the realm of horses and sand they had been in, did that mean that the giant flying stallion had been, in fact, the Dothraki's Horse God? If so, he supposed that such a reaction was justified, for they had invited enemies onto his domain. Most lords would have been outraged, and a god likely more so. Then again, he knew very little of these 'Ancient Laws' that governed gods either, so that might be nought more than supposition.
The sorcerer looked almost sad at this, "They wanted to target Qohor, I suppose."
The three crones stilled at that, and then blinked, "YOU EXPECT US TO COME TO YOUR AID."
Potter simply shrugged, "I'm sorry about what happened, I really am. By breaching into your realm, I allowed the Elder Dragons to follow me. But right now, I am not the one using you like livestock, draining your authority to rain down your blood onto the world, until nothing is left as it expands. Are you telling me that you would allow yourself to wither into a husk like this, that you would not see yourself avenged?"
"YOU SPEAK WITH HONEYED WORDS, ANATHEMA. WE HAD HOPED THAT BY BLESSING OUR WARRIORS WOULD DEFEAT YOU, AND THE OLD ONES WOULD SET US FREE, BUT IT WAS BUT A FALSE HOPE."
The sorcerer gave the crones looks filled with pity, but did not say anything about that. The crone's expression shifted, "KEEP YOUR PITY, ANATHEMA, FOR IT IS BETTER TO HAVE FOUGHT AND LOST THAN TO DIE A HUSK FOR ANOTHER'S AMBITIONS. YOU WERE CORRECT, FOR IT IS OUR OWN BLOOD THAT IS SEEPED WITH THEIR INTENT. THE CITY OF THE TREES AND STEEL WAS TO BE THEIR GOAL. YET, OUR BLOOD SHALL NOT TOUCH THESE LANDS, SO I VOW. DO NOT MISTAKE THIS FOR FORGIVENESS, FOR WE LOATHE YOU AS CERTAINLY AS DAY FOLLOWS NIGHT, ONLY SHARING A GREATER ENEMY, SO THAT OUR LAST ACT BE OUR OWN, NOT THEIRS."
Potter bowed faintly, "Thank you, Great Stallion."
"IT IS TIME, ANATHEMA. WE FEEL THEIR WILL SEEPING INTO OUR OWN. WE FEEL THEIR PURPOSE INVADING OURS. GRANT US A MERCY OF A TRUE DEATH, O' LORD OF SPACE AND TIME, FOR A STALLION RUNS FREE UNTIL HIS DEMISE, UNTOUCHED BY CHAINS, AND SO SHALL WE, EVEN IF IT BE BY YOUR HERETICAL HANDS THAT WE SHALL FALL."
The sorcerer solemnly raised his hand, and a large crimson gem materialised. It would have likely been worth more than most kingdoms, should it be worked by a goldsmith, but Daemon instinctively knew that it was likely far more than that.
As he was staring the giant gem in his hands, Potter spoke up softly, "Know that I take no joy in this, that this act is not motivated by greed or ambition, but mercy, that what was taken from you shall only be used to avenge those who would have seen you in chains, that in the freedom of Death, you shall be avenged."
"SO, BE IT," the crones echoed.
Finally, the sorcerer took the stone and pressed it towards the statue. The moment the crimson gem touched the Black Stone, the sound of cracks started to echo in the room. The already existing cracks in the statue began to widen, with fractures spreading across the entire statue.
The gem itself began to glow, with the liquid that seemed gold fading away, and instead glowing towards the stone itself, which shone brighter with every second. The fractures widened, and light seemed to leak through, all of it absorbed by the giant statue.
It might have been his imagination, but he swore that the crimson light within the gem began to pulse, akin to a heartbeat for a moment, as the cracks spread across the entire length of the statue, until the entire stallion seemed to shine.
Then the stallion began to lose its shape, the stone softening, and then melting into a viscous black substance, whatever glow that it held flickering and disappearing. And finally, the pulsing stopped, with the sorcerer holding the giant gem, which became the only source of light in the temple.
Speaking of which, across the chamber, the three crones stood perfectly still for a moment before their glow dimmed. They each gave the sorcerer a grateful yet dissatisfied look before they turned into dust and flew away from the wind.
Daemon followed the sorcerer in silence, who had put the stone in his pocket, and walked out of the city. It was only then that he realised that time had returned to normal, for he saw the storm clouds dissipate in the sky, as the golden rain stopped.
They walked out of the city in silence, somehow, every single person that had been there ignoring them. The sorcerer looked at the distance, and it was then that Daemon realised what he was looking at, for the Dothraki Khalasar that attacked them was turning into dust much like the crones had in the temple, though the experience was obviously not as peaceful, given the obvious sounds of fear and panic.
Daemon's nephew broke the silence, "What's happening?"
"As I said, there is power in blood, especially that of a god. The Great Stallion used his own blood to bless every fighting man who held faith in it, all to fight us. Such a thing has a price, and they are now paying it, a desperate action from a cruel deity. Ironically, the only people that are likely to survive this are the ones who did not believe in it, the slaves kept in the city and the merchants."
This time, the Rogue Prince had a question that would not leave his mind, "Is it… is it dead?"
"Yes. Few men can claim to have witnessed the death of a god, and I suppose that you can count yourselves amongst them now," Potter answered mercilessly. "The Elder Dragons' plan also did not come to fruition, with me having stopped the expansion of the rain before it reached its destination. Nevertheless, I'm sure that they will have something else ready soon."
Both princes looked at one another, for this was, without a doubt, a victory, and yet the man's tone was certainly not one that showed that he treated it as such. After hesitating for a moment, Daemon asked in a softer tone, "Are you well, Potter?"
"It has been quite a long day for me, I suppose, and I have a lot to think about," the man answered absentmindedly, "But don't worry about that right now. After all, this has been enough excitement for the day, so why don't I take you home?"
Once more, both Targaryen princes looked at one another, likely echoing the same sentiment of how tired and overwhelmed they felt at this. There were no words that could truly describe what they had just witnessed. Nightmarish monsters near the Basilisk Isles, gods, realms beyond the world, visions of a life unlived, giant dragons made of stars, storms of divine blood, and now the death of a god. It was too much, too strange, and Daemon found that he simply did not have the will to question any of it anymore. He had had his fill of adventures and glory, that he was sure of.
And so, finally, the sorcerer snapped his finger, and the dry wind of the Dothraki Sea vanished, replaced by the salty air of Blackwater Bay, and Daemon would say that he had never been gladder to look upon the Red Keep than he had at this moment.
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Excerpt from: Of the Unsolved Mysteries of the Year of Calamities
By Archmaester Aemond of King's Landing
The Year of Calamities, or 123 AC, had brought with it great change across Westeros and Essos, some of which resulted in great consequences to this day. Very few of these changes were as impactful or as mysterious as the lost Khalasar of Vaes Dothrak.
To this day, it baffles the mind to see such a significant part of history, one that had shaped much of the continent of Essos for the centuries that followed, be completely and utterly unknown.
The little that is known of the events of that fateful day comes from the remnants of escaped slaves and merchants who had been staying in Vaes Dothrak during the event. So far, we only know of some freakish storm appearing while the Khalasar that had been staying in the sacred city went to battle some invading force, only to never be seen again after the storm faded away. The city itself did suffer some damage from an unknown sorcerer, specifically one of the most revered temples in the city, which the Dosh Khaleen resided in. The Dosh Khaleen had disappeared with nowhere to be found, and there were rumours of a sacred artefact being destroyed as well.
Given the disastrous nature of the event, many fled the city in fear, merchants and slaves alike. Some of whom survived, but most were found and interrogated by the many Khalasars that roamed the Dothraki sea. It is said that all Khals returned to Vaes Dothrak to decide what to do, which ended with the first instance when blood was spilt inside Vaes Dothrak.
From a historical standpoint, many do not consider it to be the first time that such an act occurred, as the Dothraki were a barbaric people easily prone to violence, and yet it is likely the first time that it had been shed on such a scale. In the end, the specifics matter not, for the result was the same; entire Khalasars fought against one another for supremacy and for utter destruction. By 130 AC, their numbers had whittled down to the tens of thousands at best.
This constant in-fighting, which had strangely been far more bloody than previous battles in the past, resulted in a smaller number of slave raids, and as they had been one of the greatest suppliers of slaves to Slaver's Bay, which had caused enough of an economic impact in the decades that followed, to weaken the region during the Second Century of Blood, which allowed slaves to revolt. Of course, one might never know, for there were many points of pressure that allowed the slaves to revolt during the Second Century of Blood, but many historians proclaim that the fall of the Dothraki had been a critical part of it.
The Dothraki once more attempted to regain their former might during the Second Century of Blood under Khal Motho, hoping to sack the cities of the newly renamed Freedom's Bay, though he fell to the spears of the Last of the Unsullied, alongside the rest of his Khalasar, marking one of the greatest victories for the Free People of Essos.
To this day, no sign of the Dothraki remains, with Daes Dothrak becoming a hub of commerce with very little influence of its bloody and barbaric origins, being ruled mostly by banished merchants from Yi-Ti and Qarth, though the name did remain nonetheless, including its infamous Horse Gate.
And yet, after all of this, we do not know the spark that started all of this. However, this humble author cannot help but wonder what could have possibly erased an entire khalasar, warriors and horses alike, from existence. Could it be magic? An act of the gods? Alas, the truth, if it still exists at all, vanished with the storm that day over Vaes Dothrak.
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AN: I'm not sure about this chapter. The idea is to show a bit of the consequences of the previous chapters, essentially, Harry using the realm of the Great Stallion, the Dothraki God, to escape, and how ruthless the Elder Dragons were in trying to dismantle it. Pretty much, they rained down his essence onto the world, starting from Vaes Dothrak, with the aim of the storm growing until it reached Qohor, so that they'd undo the magic Harry had laid there, which made magic hard to use there, and thus Qohor an undesirable place for magic users, likely planning that someone would finally kill R'hllor and let the fragment of Light be unclaimed.
Harry killed the Great Stallion by draining its power before it could be used, since the god chose death over being used as a tool, though he wasn't exactly happy about it. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but the Elder Dragons are the ones who crafted the rules after the War in Heavens, using the fragment of Light, essentially protections tied to rules, that would fade away if they're broken, and allow the Elder Dragons to punish them.
Anyway, Harry finds himself a bit lost, since either he gives the fragment of Light to the dragons, and a war between gods starts, or he stops them, and the Outsiders gain a greater foothold in the material realm. Either way, the mortals are likely to die in great numbers, which is something that he needs to solve.
I know that a lot of you didn't like the last few chapters, which is fair. My thinking was that a direct fight wouldn't really solve the core problem that Harry is dealing with, whether he won or lost, so I tried to take it in a different direction. Not sure if it came out like I wanted it to, though. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.