Hugh had served Prince Aegon for more than five years, long enough to know the tempers and sizes of most living dragons. Sheepstealer, though a wild and stubborn creature, was an adult by any measure. Its bulk lay somewhere between Silverwing and the red queen Meleys, likely the last of the second generation to crawl from its shell.
Yet Hugh knew wild dragons often grew large, and some swore Sheepstealer was third generation at most.
Whatever its true age, its size spoke clearly.
Hugh doubted the Cannibal would ever hunt Sheepstealer on purpose. Nor, given its wary nature, would Sheepstealer dream of provoking the Cannibal.
High above the Narrow Sea, however, that certainty had already been shattered. The Cannibal tore at Sheepstealer's exposed belly with savage delight. Its pale green eyes shone with a cruel, vengeful light.
At dawn it had crept close to a silver she-dragon's nest, plucking up one of her warm eggs. It had nearly escaped cleanly when the muddy brown dragon now writhing beneath it happened to pass overhead with a sheep dangling from its jaws. Sheepstealer had paid it no mind. The Cannibal had returned the courtesy.
Until the fool cried out.
That single bellow had roused the sleeping silver dragon and drawn the attention of a bronze-scaled brute with a temper as sharp as its claws. The silver had soon abandoned the chase to guard her clutch, but the bronze pursued the Cannibal from Dragonstone all the way toward the cold northern seas.
The Cannibal had not wished to test itself against a larger rival. Nor did it desire wounds. So it fled, lay low, regained its strength, and, once the bronze dragon was lost behind the mists, wheeled back in fury to hunt down the cause of its torment.
It found Sheepstealer soon enough, sprawled across a sheer rock face, belly full and eyes half-closed in contentment.
The Cannibal did not bother with subtlety. It shrieked and plunged at once, wings beating like thunder.
Startled from its rest, Sheepstealer belched a panicked rush of flame. That only deepened the Cannibal's rage. In a heartbeat the chase began anew, a wild second flight that carried them a thousand miles and more. The Cannibal harried its prey across the sky until they hung only a few dozen yards above the sea, neither willing to yield.
Sheepstealer's cry split the morning when the Cannibal's jaws clamped hard upon its neck. It clawed at its attacker's chest, scoring bloody furrows, but the Cannibal only tightened its grip and anchored its hind talons deep into the smaller dragon's flanks.
Far below, a massive cargo ship cut through the waves. The smell of blood drifted down. The Cannibal glanced toward the deck, then beat its wings, seeking height for a killing strike. Sheepstealer thrashed wildly, spoiling the ascent.
Opportunity mattered more than caution. The Cannibal steadied itself and drove in for the neck again, intent on the kill.
Hugh narrowed his eyes from the deck of his own vessel. He saw the muddy dragon's struggles weaken and acted at once.
"Krestin, take the men and follow the plan."
He did not wait for acknowledgment. Turning sharply, he sprinted back toward his warship, the Iron Hammer.
"Ready the ballistae. Aim for the black one," Hugh shouted. His voice rang across the deck.
The Iron Hammer carried two heavy ballistae, each plundered from Lys, and Hugh meant to make them count. He swung one into position himself, shoulders tight with purpose.
"So you enjoy springing upon His Highness from the shadows, do you," he muttered, lining up the shot.
He pulled the release. The steel bolt screamed through the air and struck home with a wet crack. Nearly a third of its length vanished into the Cannibal's neck where it joined the collarbone.
The Cannibal shrieked, loosed Sheepstealer at once, and hurtled toward the Iron Hammer.
Hugh did not flinch. He hauled another ballista into alignment, breath steady, gaze cold.
"Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena send their regards," he said, voice low with satisfaction.
He fired again.
The Cannibal twisted aside, the bolt flashing past its snout. It gathered flame in its throat, but the sea erupted with more shrill whistles. Two warships flanking the Iron Hammer had loosed their bolts as well. Predicting the Cannibal's furious charge, they struck it broadside. The wounds were shallow, yet the second bolt jarred the beast sharply, clearing its battle haze.
The dragon answered with a torrent of black-green flame that engulfed the Iron Hammer. Hugh had already leapt overboard. Fire wrapped the ship in an instant, consuming mast and hull in a roar that drowned out the sea.
The remaining four ships closed in as the Iron Hammer burned. Their nearest pair loosed four more bolts, yet the Cannibal, now fully aware, dipped and rolled through the sky, letting each missile plunge into the waves.
Below, Sheepstealer writhed weakly upon the surface. The Cannibal descended long enough to bathe it in dragonflame, then veered northward and vanished into cloud without a backward glance.
Only when the black shape had faded entirely did Hugh rise from beneath the waves. He had shed his plate while sinking and now floated breathless beside the drifting wreckage. Regret crossed his face.
"If only I had struck the eyes," he murmured.
Even a heavy bolt meant little against the hide of a grown dragon unless it pierced something vital. Poorly forged shafts sometimes melted outright in dragon blood.
Hugh waited a moment longer to be certain the Cannibal had truly gone, then swam toward the Harpy's Daughter. By the time he climbed aboard, the fighting was finished. The ship's guards lay dead or bound, and a host of sailors and slaves knelt with their hands clasped over their heads.
"Guess what I found, Captain."
A wiry youth rushed to Hugh's side, excitement brightening his face.
"Gold, then? Or spices? Perhaps a hold stuffed with fine silks?" Hugh allowed himself a rare smile.
"Nothing of the sort."
The boy nearly burst with triumph.
"It is armor. A full suit, Captain, forged of Valyrian steel. And two greatswords beside it."
Hugh stared. Surprise flashed into delight.
"Are you certain? Valyrian steel?"
"Certain as sunrise. The guard confessed after I took three of his fingers. And the metal looks like nothing forged in our time. I swear it belonged to a Dragonlord."
"Good. Good. Good." Hugh laughed aloud, unable to contain himself.
With armor such as that, Prince Aegon would ride into the Stepstones with a far surer defense.
He started toward the hatch to inspect the treasure himself, but a stout, quick-footed man hurried over, breathless.
"Captain, come and look. That muddy brown dragon is not dead after all."
"Not dead?" Hugh halted, startled.
He had assumed the Cannibal had crushed the life from Sheepstealer.
"It has not sunk. It is still thrashing on the surface," the man said. His expression shifted uneasily. "Shall we... well... finish it?"
He dragged a thumb across his throat.
A dead dragon was worth more than a dozen treasure ships. If word reached the mainland, kings themselves would come bidding for such a carcass.
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A/N: Aegon's ambition has begun to stir.As his power grows, so do his foes, traitors, and enemies rising with blades already drawn.
Will he truly succeed… or be crushed before he can claim it all?
If you want to find out, read ahead on Patreon. 19 advance chapters available, the first 2 are free.
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