"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"
The agile longboats weaved through the towering waves, their crews shouting a frenzied chant of excitement and madness.
"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"
"WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"
In the light of the lightning strikes, the small boats emerged like a pack of wolves, closing in on their prey.
And the "alpha wolf" was now at the right side of the Arbor fleet's flagship, the Purple Grapes, matching its pace perfectly.
Samwell could clearly see the golden kraken banner waving from the Silence, and the crew on its deck waving their curved swords in a silent roar—
Their mouths opened wide, yet they were all without tongues.
"What is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!"
The only man with a tongue aboard the Silence was the one chanting.
With skin pale as snow, a face as handsome as a prince from a fairytale, he wore a faint smile in his blue right eye, while his left eye was hidden behind a pitch-black eyepatch.
This was "Crow's Eye" Euron Greyjoy!
Samwell instantly recognized who he was dealing with.
The Greyjoys are the ruling family of the Iron Islands, home of the Ironborn. In keeping with their family motto, "We Do Not Sow," the Ironborn scorn the lowly work of farming and fishing, believing that the only life worthy of honor is one of raiding.
The Ironborn were once the most feared and ruthless pirates in Westeros.
After the Targaryens conquered Westeros, the Greyjoys submitted to the Iron Throne, forced to abandon their ancient ways of reaving and pillaging in favor of the humiliating life of farming, fishing, and mining. Yet the Ironborn never abandoned their reverence for their "ancient ways," the glory and allure of raiding forever etched into their souls. Their obedience was more a matter of force, kept at bay through heavy suppression and countless bloody uprisings.
During the reign of the Targaryens, the Ironborn were subdued time and again. However, after Robert Baratheon's Rebellion, the Greyjoys quickly swore loyalty to the new king. Yet, within just six years, the Ironborn's disdain for labor finally boiled over, leading to another rebellion.
That rebellion was also crushed, and the Iron Islands were once more subdued.
Samwell had never expected to encounter Ironborn pirates in the Narrow Sea, let alone one of the Greyjoys' most notorious figures—Crow's Eye, Euron himself.
He remembered that Euron should have been in exile, banished by his brother, Balon, the ruling head of House Greyjoy, which led him and his men to roam the seas, wreaking havoc wherever they went. Now, however, they had crossed paths with Samwell and his fleet in this very place.
For that, he had "Sir" Hobber Redwyne to thank.
It seemed that Euron, fearing attention from any serious ships, chose to stay away from the main shipping lanes, lurking in this part of the Stepstones instead to prey on smaller merchant ships.
And now, by sheer luck, they had stumbled upon five ships flying the Redwyne grape banners, essentially falling right into his lap.
Spears and javelins whizzed through the air, cast by the pirates with the momentum of the wind behind them.
Samwell instinctively ducked, taking cover behind the bulwark. In this darkness, there was no way to see where the spears would land.
The sound of spears striking the hull came in rapid succession, along with the cries of sailors hit by the assault.
"Fight back! Fight back!"
That was Hobber's voice rallying the men to battle.
Unfortunately, the Ironborn had taken the upwind position, forcing the Arbor fighters to hurl spears or shoot arrows against the wind.
The arrows and javelins lost much of their power as they flew.
And even then, hitting the smaller, nimbler longboats was near impossible.
Seeing the futility of their counterattacks, Hobber finally ordered his men to hold their fire and wait until the pirates were aboard to engage.
Samwell used the reprieve to gather his guards.
He had brought fifty men on this journey, but none had experience in naval warfare, and on a night like this, only a few had even managed to make it up to the deck to find him.
Among those few was his first sworn bannerman, Ser Lucas Dayne, who proved himself a natural at sea, moving across the wildly pitching deck as if he were on solid ground.
"Lord Samwell, I suggest you return to your quarters. We'll hold the deck."
"No, I'll fight alongside you."
Seeing his lord's resolve, Lucas simply passed him the oak shield he held.
Samwell accepted it without protest; he'd come unarmed, not expecting a battle.
He'd already sent his squire to fetch his greatsword, Dawn, from his cabin.
"Pirates on deck!"
Lucas's voice sounded in alarm.
Samwell braced himself, and soon he saw the first Ironborn pirate climbing over the railing.
Lucas charged forward, cutting the pirate down and throwing him overboard, but the Ironborn gripped the climbing rope as he fell, swinging back and forth before beginning to climb again.
Sharp whistles pierced the storm as Hobber's frantic shouts rallied their forces.
A moment later, more Ironborn flooded over the bulwark.
They wore gray leather armor and carried crescent-bladed swords and battleaxes, agilely leaping onto the Purple Grapes' deck, as if oblivious to the tempest's fury.
The sounds of clashing steel quickly grew louder.
Samwell raised his shield and joined the fray.
But he refrained from charging straight in, first letting himself adjust to the wildly pitching, slippery deck to find his balance.
Soon enough, an unfortunate pirate charged toward him, only to have Samwell swing the shield into his chest.
The pirate's curved sword clanged against the shield but was sent flying from his hand. Before he could cry out, Samwell drove his shield into his chest with all his might.
Crack!
The pirate's chest caved in with a sickening crunch, blood and viscera spraying from his mouth, splattering Samwell in a grisly shower.
Before he could catch his breath, another pirate, wielding a battleaxe, charged him.
Samwell, controlling his strength more carefully this time, sidestepped the pirate's swing and smashed him in the face with his shield, sending him sprawling to the deck.
He grabbed the pirate's fallen axe and struck again, finishing him off.
The deck suddenly lurched as a massive wave crashed over the side, drenching everything and nearly throwing everyone off their feet.
Samwell clung tightly to the axe wedged in the rail, managing to stay upright.
Then he looked up and saw a dark figure emerging from the waves, standing balanced and poised on the narrow edge of the ship, completely unaffected by the rocking of the deck.
The wind whipped his black cloak high in the air, revealing a golden kraken emblazoned on his chest.
"Greenland lambs," he sneered, voice full of scorn, "we've come to take what is owed to the Ironborn! Surrender your weapons, and I will grant you a clean death."
"Crow's Eye" Euron Greyjoy had boarded their ship.
Samwell stared at the maddening figure, licking his lips, and narrowed his eyes.
(End of Chapter)