Chapter V. Spear of the Sun

Westeros, North of the Wall

Three-eyed crow.

All his plans, millennia of effort, of manipulation to ensure the survival of humanity, turned to dust by the appearance of one man. No, not even a man, but something far more ancient and powerful.

As soon as the newcomer set foot in this world, the weaves of destiny were torn to shreds, already damaged by the arrival of that damned dragon several centuries ago. The very powers that had kept the gods dormant and held back the return of Others were destroyed. The very destiny of this world shattered.

Everything had spun out of control, and he could not foresee what lay before them. Magic began to grow in power with redoubled force; more and more people began to awaken their gifts, and those who practised the magical arts gained power they had never dreamed of before.

The barrier protecting their world from the nightmares of the Void now no longer existed. It was only a matter of time when the Great Other would descend to earth, instead of limiting himself to the ministrations of his servants.

And would they be able to guarantee that somewhere beyond the boundaries of this world, there is not something worse than the god of darkness and cold?

All he felt was desperation and hopelessness. In addition, the only person who could control all this was the one who had caused it all. What's more, he was unable to contact this powerful entity, his mind seeming like an impenetrable fortress and his dreams closely guarded.

The only consolation was that the stranger did not even try to hide his presence. His magical signature blazed like the sun in the gloom of the night, attracting the gaze of any creature hiding in the darkness. A challenge thrown to every force in this world. Even the old gods shimmered restlessly in their deep slumber, angered at the newcomer's impertinence.

If he wanted to influence the course of events in any way, he must make contact with that one. And since he could not speak to him through possessed animals, he had to send his physical manifestation of a three-eyed crow. But that would not be enough.

"Hmh. I have an idea. Leaf!" He called out, his shout echoing through the cave hidden beneath the huge weirwood tree.

After a moment, a small figure no more than four feet tall, with golden-brown skin and large amber eyes, emerged from one of the corridors.

"Brandon, what do you need? Have the gods revealed anything more to you?"

"No, my dear. Nevertheless, their silence does not surprise me." He replied in a serious tone, glancing at his most trusted aide. 'I have a task of extraordinary importance for you. On the other side of the Wall."

The leader of the surviving Children of the Forest looked at him with surprise and curiosity and Old Greenseer knew well where this came from. Leaf had not left this place for over a millennium, when she brought him here on the orders of his predecessor..

"So, what is the task?"

"You will set out for the very south of Westeros, and there you will meet the person who has led to this whole situation in which we find ourselves. He is a very tall man of unknown race, shackled in dark armour and a horned helmet unique to him. You need not worry about finding him, as I will guide you to him."

Leaf looked at him questioningly, "And what do you want me to do when I find him? He might as well kill me on the spot."

Brandon shook his head, saying, "I've been watching his actions for the last few days. I think we can assume he's not bad of character, but we don't know his goals. First of all, you will make contact and try to establish a thread of cooperation with him. You will tell him about our task and how his presence has affected this world."

"Do you want me to induce guilt in him? What if he doesn't care at all? Those most powerful rarely reckon with those below them." He replied, her voice full of doubt.

"Let's worry about it later. Carry on, because other parties will seek to use him for their own benefit." He replied with a sigh, hoping all was not lost.

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Dorne, Sunspear

Qhorwyn Hoare

He could not hold back the smile that crawled across his face as he saw the dormant city ready to be ransacked. In addition, evidently the Drowned God was with them, for an unusually dense and unnatural fog shrouded the entire coast and encroached upon the city. Moreover, the Ironborn had no problem seeing in the fog, as if their god had blessed them.

With a skill honed from millennia of pillaging, their nimble boats headed unnoticed towards the harbour. Several crews busied themselves quietly securing the Dornish ships.

While Rodrik and Yandel commanded the attack on Shadow City, he intended to lead his men directly to the fortress and, using hooks on ropes, climb the walls while the attention of the guards would be turned towards the city under attack.

If all went according to plan, by evening, his fleet would be loaded to the brim with loot.

Only a well-executed plan could guarantee their success. For Sunspear, as well as the city itself, was well fortified. The town itself was defended by three walls, and the fortress was an even tougher nut to crack.

After a quarter of an hour, the first boats arrived at the quay, and his warriors moved quickly to occupy the first of the walls. Yandala's men hidden in the city should soon open the gate leading through the first of the walls.

For the next few minutes, everything seemed to go according to plan. Rodrik's men got inside and began to eliminate the guards. Soon, however, the silence was broken by loud screams. A moment later, the alarm bell began to ring.

"Fuck!" he cursed angrily. "If I catch the one who fucked up this attack, I'm going to cut his balls off with a dull knife."

Bells rang throughout the city, and more and more shouts came from the town.

Turning to his men rowing the longship, he ordered, "Hurry, we need to get under the walls as soon as possible."

As soon as they reached the walls, they began to throw hooks and set up ladders to climb up as quickly as possible. The city was already in full swing by this time, and arrows began to rain down from the walls above him, although there were far fewer of them than he had feared, and because of the fog protecting them, they missed more often than they hit their targets.

The defenders clearly had not expected an attack on the well-fortified Sunspear, and certainly not from the Ironborn.

"Bleed the Dornish dogs. First to the walls gets a bag of gold!" he shouted, wanting to motivate his men to fight.

The fighting raged. The Dornish were outnumbered, and he knew they would soon be pushed back into the keep, and things seemed to be going even more in their favour in the city.

The fighting had spread to most of the southern part of the city. Even the townspeople themselves had taken up spears to defend their homes, but most were untrained.

Qhorwyn felt a surge of excitement as he imagined the untold riches hidden within the keep. With a cry of ecstasy, he swung his axe at the nearest guard fighting another Ironborn, slicing and shattering its jaw in the process.

Just as he thought the path to victory was within his sights, a terrifying roar ripped through the heavens, and the earth shook, sending many of his men tumbling from walls, ladders, and hooks.

Words filled the air in some strange language Qhorwyn had never heard, and in his travels he had sailed across most of the known world.

Suddenly the mist simply vanished, revealing a peaceful night sky, bright with a full moon and stars. One moment the mist was all around them; the next, it was gone.

Before his mind could process what had really happened, another shout rang out, shaking the world once more. A vast stream of fire cut across the coastal waters from south to north for perhaps a mile, consuming over half of their fleet and generating unimaginable amounts of steam.

The heat that reached him made him realise that all who were under the walls of the fortress, even if not incinerated by the fire, must have died from the terrible heat. The surviving ships burst into flames of their own accord.

He could only stand and stare at his destroyed fleet with widened eyes in disbelief. Disbelief soon transformed into a deep sense of despair as he contemplated the magnitude of the loss. The once-proud vessels, symbols of their strength and resilience, were now nothing more than charred remnants, drifting aimlessly in the water, a stark reminder of the unleashed power.

"Impossible. This can't be happening," he mumbled in horror.

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Dorne, Near Lemonwood

Neferion

They were sailing past Lemonwood when one of his routine scans for the energy given off by the drowned god whose malevolence had been with him for days. He focused his senses, and sure enough, a few dozen miles to the north, somewhere where the maps said Sunspear should be, he could sense the intensified presence of this despicable deity.

Having a bad feeling about this, he decided to leave the boat and travel on his own feet towards the capital of Dorne. For more than two years he had been working on a thu'um that would help him move faster, but it was not yet complete.

Every word in Dovahzuul hid the many layers of reality described underneath. Even if you understood one aspect of a particular word and could use it in the thu'um, it did not mean that you knew its full meaning.

And by linking words together in a shout, you also had to grasp how these individual parts affected each other as well as the whole.

Taking a deep breath, he concentrated his will on the intended effect, then opened his mouth, from which came a shout that this time did not ring out like thunder but spread like a whisper.

RU SU WUNDUN (Run, Air, Travel)

For he did not need to be showy now, so he deliberately limited the effects of the thu'um. All that could be felt was a slight vibration of the air.

After a moment, he took his first step, and his foot stopped in mid-air, as if standing on solid ground. Shifting his weight onto it, he took another step, and both his feet seemed to float in the air.

He took a few more test steps to get his body as well as his senses used to moving on invisible ground, which in reality was just compressed air under his feet.

After a moment, he tensed his leg muscles and launched himself even higher into the air and then began to run, higher and higher, climbing several feet with each step. When he was more than a mile and half above the ground, he moved directly towards the overhanging shoreline on which Sunspear stood, its shores drawn on the horizon like shadows in the soft moonlight, to his eyes visible almost as clearly as in daylight.

Although he had almost 100 miles to travel, in about a quarter of an hour he had the fortress and the surrounding town in his sights, and just moments earlier the sounds of fighting and the smell of blood and burning had reached him. The only problem was that everything was obscured by an extremely thick grey fog, blocking even his vision.

To his senses it emanated a stench of rotten fish, a lot of salt and a few other things he couldn't identify. He knew whose work it was and was now fully convinced who must have attacked the city.

Without hesitating, he moved towards the ground, at the same time concentrating on his words; he used the Clear Skies shout to make a deal with the damn fog.

LOK VAH KOOR (Sky, Spring, Summer)

Momentarily, the fog dissipated and all clouds disappeared from the night sky. The aura of the Drowned god also disappeared with them, revealing a coastline filled with ironborn longships and ships presumably belonging to pirates from Stepstones and Dorne itself.

He took a quick look at the situation both in the city and the fortress; there was fighting going on, and the defenders were being pushed back. The southern walls belonged to the invaders. But first he should deal with the fleet.

His first target became the longships, most of which lined up nicely along the shore, as if sending an invitation to him. So he hovered a few feet above the water, facing northeast along the coast and, concentrating all the power of his thu'um to the maximum, shouted.

YOL TOR SHUL (Fire, Inferno, Sun)

His thu'um bent the skies, and a giant horizontal pillar of fire, 60-70 feet in diameter, appeared in front of him, engulfing all ships in its path.

Neferion watched with delight; the fire was so intense and the air so hot that even the pirate lords' ships, which were farther away from the coast, caught fire. Even two or three belonged to Dornish.

He really doubted that Ironborn would leave any of the Dornishmen alive. Even if they had survived, they would have died by now. Unfortunately, he was not an omnipotent god. He couldn't save everybody. That's how life was.

Due to the vast amount of flames, it seemed like day for a moment, while the cries of pain and dying of the attackers on those ships, being burnt alive, merged into one choir of agony.

As the conflict continued in the city, those on the walls and in the keep, who had a better vantage point, froze, whether they were pirates or Dornishmen. They were briefly transfixed by the horrific scene unfolding in front of them.

Though the use of so much thu'um had left a mark on him, particularly Skywalk, he could only afford two or three more if he wished to battle at his current full power.

He landed with a bang on the outer wall of the keep, sending the terrified Ironborn flying down on either side. Seeing their terrified looks, he smiled predatorily and concentrating his senses and intentions on who was his ally and who was his enemy here, he used Voice once more.

MID VUR SHAAN (Loyal, Valor, Inspire)

Battle Fury has empowered the Dornishmen, making them strike faster and with greater force, tiring less quickly, and increasing their will to fight with every blow they land.

ZUN HAAL VIIK (Weapon, Hand, Defeat)

Suddenly, every weapon held in the attackers hands flew out, pulled by an invisible force. Every single one of them lost their weapons, and many were wounded with dislocated arms or other injuries to their hands.

A large part of the pirates were left without weapons, others only with daggers. Few had any spare weapons with them; most, either because they had already lost them or for some other reason, found themselves in a hopeless situation, and it was not over yet.

KRII LUN AUS (Kill, Leech, Suffer)

Marked for Death was the final nail in the coffin. They had lost a large part of their vitality; many of the wounded men had simply fallen to the ground, and their armour had begun to fall apart. The seams were coming loose, the chainmail eyes were cracking, and the leather was cracking.

The feeling of terror that filled the attackers now was palpable. Neferion swept his gaze over the walls and courtyard of the keep and finally spotted him. Qhorwyn Hoare, just as Harland had named him, except that at that moment he resembled his fish ancestors more, considering how his mouth was alternately closing and opening in disbelief.

He calmly crossed the 60 feet that separated them, throwing pirates blocking his path off the wall here and there. He stopped in front of him and, taking off his helmet, looked down at him like the worm he was.

"Ah. Last Prince of the Iron Islands, I would say it's an honour, but that's not true, and no pleasure at all."

Before Hoare could answer, he added in a mocking tone, "I kind of wanted to chat with you, but innocent people are dying, and I don't feel like it right now. I'll just need your head. I think it's a romantic gift for the princess. It's a shame there's nothing left of your father."

At the same time, Red Rain appeared in his hand, and Qhorwyn's head separated from his body.

IIZ (Ice)

Before the head could hit the ground in mid-flight, it was frozen. He grabbed and threw it into his magic bag. The previously summoned sword disappeared with it.

"Hmh. Since we're already in Sunspear, all I have to do is pull out my favourite weapon, the only one that pierced Alduin's fucking eye. Come to me, my sun, Solarion." At his words, a spear of extraordinary beauty materialised in his hand as if made of particles of light.

Made entirely of an unknown metal that looked like gold. It was eight feet long, its shaft decorated with carved shapes and symbols, and ended with a graceful, two-foot-long wide blade with a slit in the middle, separating it into two parts.

It was a gift from a friend of his, or more like a good acquaintance. In any case, he was the only Daedric Prince he liked. Sheogorath had supposedly stolen it from some winged being during one of his many travels in the Void… Oh, that one must have been really pissed.

He then impetuously struck the top of the wall with the spear's hilt, causing it to crack; the weapon momentarily shone with golden light, transforming into a lance of solar energy.

The golden halo bore down for miles, and night turned to day, though only for a few seconds. Then he spoke, and from his voice everything around him trembled as he directly introduced himself to the world for the first time.

"Zu'u Laat Dovahkiin, Ysmir Strundu'ul, Dovahsebrom, Alduin Feyn."(I'm Last Dragonborn, Ysmir Stormcrown, Dragon of the North, Alduin's Bane)

The world froze, an unnatural silence filled everything, and then, with redoubled force, invisible chains tried once again to lock him in the prison of mortality and seal his powers.

This time, however, he was prepared, and although he was unable to break the powers that already bound him, he successfully repelled the attack directed at him.

"Ironborn, listen carefully! I have killed your king, his heir and most of the lords of the Iron Islands! There is nothing left of your main fleet, and the longships on which you came here have been consumed by flames! I do not want you to surrender; I am simply informing you that it is now your turn!" His voice, despite no longer using any Words of Power at the moment, continued to carry with it an extraordinary power, easily resonating far beyond the city.

Now there was only one thing left for him to do. Cut down the remaining Ironborn and secure the city.

With more than human speed, he jumped to the nearest opponents, still stunned by the display of might and magic. Before the first opponent realised what was happening, he found himself with a hole in his fist the size of a human head, burnt right through.

In the same second, the next found himself cut in two by the blade of a solar spear. The flesh at the point of the cut was cauterised, as if in contact with extremely hot fire.

Neferion cut or stabbed several more of them, then, standing on a straight section of wall and seeing the Ironborns themselves in front of him, he flexed his muscles and threw the Solarion straight at them. The spear soared like a luminous flash into the abyss of night, taking several dozen lives with it. He reached out, and in another golden flash, it appeared in his hand.

He then leapt into the courtyard, landing between the astonished Dornish, who were protecting the palace's entrances, and the Ironborn, who trembled with fear and began to flee, some even falling to the ground and crawling backwards to get as far away from him as possible.

He briefly glanced at this pathetic sight before focusing his attention on the Dornish, to whom the enormous figure in magnificent obsidian armour, holding a radiant spear, must have appeared nearly divine.

"Are you going to stand like that for a long time? These people have invaded your house. They are murdering your brothers and sisters. They want to burn your homes and rape your women. Kidnap your children. Kill them," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. They, reinforced by Battle Fury, needed no more encouragement and threw themselves at the invaders.

He, meanwhile, moved towards the city itself, where most of the enemies were located, killing a few of them along the way. The 30-foot gate leading from the fortress into the city was closed, however, but he leapt over it without a second thought, landing on the other side on the stunned Ironborn, killing them on the spot.

FUS (Force)

A single Word of Power ripped from his mouth, sending their companions standing a little further away into the air with tremendous momentum.

Without hesitation, he moved along the street, killing any of the pirates fleeing in front of him.

"Where is your courage, dogs?" he called out angrily after them. "When you are faced with a real enemy and not defenceless women and children, do you turn tail?"

None dared to answer, however, focused only on escaping this divine punishment. Those who chose to continue fighting, but with the Dornish, were pushed towards the outer wall and the coast.

Within fifteen minutes, the remnants of the Ironborn and Stepstone pirates were trying to squeeze through the gate, but those who made it to the shore found only a charred ruin. Those ships that had survived his earlier Fire Breath sailed away as if pursued by Mehrunes Dagon himself.

Neferion burst through the gate after them, his mass and speed crushing the men squeezed inside. Without hesitation, he threw his spear at the largest group of about 100 pirates just offshore.

A bolt of light struck the centre of the gate, then exploded, illuminating the entire beach while the invaders were reduced to ash.

Around him, more and more Dornish warriors began to pour through the gates of the keep and city, cutting down the remnants of their enemies, disregarding their pleas for mercy. For such as they were, the only mercy they could receive was the mercy of death.

As the last of the attackers fell, the shore erupted with shouts of joy and victory, mixed here and there with the pain of loss. Hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of Dornishmen must have lost their lives that night.

More armed men and even women began to pour onto the beach. Soon they began to chant. "Bright Lord. Warrior." Several other titles appeared, but these two were the most common.

But he raised a hand and cried in a booming voice, "Silence." In an instant, the people who filled the shore and the city walls fell silent.

So he continued, "I am no Bright Lord. Nor one of your Seven. My name is Neferion, and the only title that truly means anything to me is Dovahkiin or in your language, Dragonborn."

After his words, silence fell again, only to be broken after a moment when single shouts of "Dovahkiin" and "Dragonborn" were heard, soon turning into one chorus of voices chanting "Dovahkiin" while the sun rising in the east illuminated his silhouette facing the crowd.