A Feast for Dragons

were so puffed out they looked
about to burst, and the muscles in his chest twitched in a way that it made it
seem as if the bird were about to rip free of his flesh and take wing. And now
the glyphs were burning brightly, every line and letter shimmering with white
fire. On and on and on the sound went, echoing amongst the howling hills behind
them and across the waters of Nagga’s Cradle to ring against the mountains of
Great Wyk, on and on and on until it filled the whole wet world.
    And when it seemed the sound would never end, it did.
    The hornblower’s breath failed at last. He staggered and
almost fell. The priest saw Orkwood of Orkmont catch him by one arm to hold him
up, whilst Left-Hand Lucas Codd took the twisted black horn from his hands. A
thin wisp of smoke was rising from the horn, and the priest saw blood and
blisters upon the lips of the man who’d sounded it. The bird on his chest was
bleeding too.
    Euron Greyjoy climbed the hill slowly, with every eye upon
him. Above the gull screamed and screamed again. No godless man may sit the
Seastone Chair, Aeron thought, but he knew that he must let his brother
speak. His lips moved silently in prayer.
    Asha’s champions stepped aside, and Victarion’s as well. The
priest took a step backward and put one hand upon the cold rough stone of
Nagga’s ribs. The Crow’s Eye stopped atop the steps, at the doors of the Grey
King’s Hall, and turned his smiling eye upon the captains and the kings, but
Aeron could feel his other eye as well, the one that he kept hidden.
    “IRONMEN,” said Euron Greyjoy, “you have heard my
horn. Now hear my words. I am Balon’s brother, Quellon’s eldest living son.
Lord Vickon’s blood is in my veins, and the blood of the Old Kraken. Yet I have
sailed farther than any of them. Only one living kraken has never known defeat.
Only one has never bent his knee. Only one has sailed to Asshai by the Shadow,
and seen wonders and terrors beyond imagining . . .”
    “If you liked the Shadow so well, go back there,” called out
pink-cheeked Qarl the Maid, one of Asha’s champions.
    The Crow’s Eye ignored him. “My little brother would finish
Balon’s war, and claim the north. My sweet niece would give us peace and
pinecones.” His blue lips twisted in a smile. “Asha prefers victory to defeat.
Victarion wants a kingdom, not a few scant yards of earth. From me, you shall
have both.
    “Crow’s Eye, you call me. Well, who has a keener eye than
the crow? After every battle the crows come in their hundreds and their
thousands to feast upon the fallen. A crow can espy death from afar. And I say
that all of Westeros is dying. Those who follow me will feast until the end of
their days.
    “We are the ironborn, and once we were conquerors. Our writ
ran everywhere the sound of the waves was heard. My brother would have you be
content with the cold and dismal north, my niece with even less . . . but I
shall give you Lannisport. Highgarden. The Arbor. Oldtown. The riverlands and
the Reach, the kingswood and the rainwood, Dorne and the marches, the Mountains
of the Moon and the Vale of Arryn, Tarth and the Stepstones. I say we take it all! I say, we take Westeros. ” He glanced at the priest. “All for the greater
glory of our Drowned God, to be sure.”
    For half a heartbeat even Aeron was swept away by the
boldness of his words. The priest had dreamed the same dream, when first he’d
seen the red comet in the sky. We shall sweep over the green lands with fire
and sword, root out the seven gods of the septons and the white trees of the
northmen . . .
    “Crow’s Eye,” Asha called, “did you leave your wits at
Asshai? If we cannot hold the north—and we cannot—how can we win the whole of
the Seven Kingdoms?”
    “Why, it has been done before. Did Balon teach his girl so
little of the ways of war? Victarion, our brother’s daughter has never heard of
Aegon the Conqueror, it would seem.”
    “Aegon?” Victarion crossed his arms against his armored
chest. “What has the Conqueror to do with us?”
    “I know as much of war as you do, Crow’s Eye,” Asha said.
“Aegon Targaryen conquered Westeros with dragons. ”
    “And so shall we,” Euron Greyjoy promised. “That horn you
heard I found amongst the smoking ruins that were Valyria, where no man has
dared to walk but me. You heard its call, and felt its power. It is a dragon
horn, bound with bands of red gold and Valyrian steel graven with enchantments.
The