Chapter 42
From Daeron's Perspective
Soon enough, the cultists met my expectations, and before me appeared three monstrous creatures, resembling a horrifying blend of man and goat.
"True monsters indeed," Tun remarked upon witnessing this scene on the battlefield.
"Do you think they possess abilities beyond their enhanced physical prowess?"
"It's possible, but the question is... can the Dothraki force them to use other powers?"
"I hope the Dothraki can."
"But should we prepare for the worst?"
I left the last question unanswered, as Tun knows me quite well. At that moment, the Dothraki, gathering courage, went on the attack. However, the three creatures mockingly allowed them to strike, with the scratches inflicted by the Dothraki arakhs healing almost instantaneously.
"Regeneration?" I thought after witnessing this.
Nevertheless, the Dothraki were undeterred, or at least not to the extent one might expect. They quickly made another attempt to attack, and the trio of monsters silently allowed it. Yet the outcome was the same, with the wounds healing instantly.
"What are the limits of their regeneration? What if the wounds were cauterized?" I pondered a strategy for battling them.
While the Dothraki were unsure how to attack or indeed kill them, the monsters seemed to revel in the unfolding events, smiling, if one could call it a smile. At that moment, I felt a potent magic emanating from the battlefield, distinctly different from the influence of the Black Goat.
"Don't the Dothraki despise all forms of magic?" I wondered, suspecting some sorcerer or witch might be at play.
Meanwhile, on the battlefield, the trio of monsters continued to relish their power. However, a Dothraki of apparent significant influence soon stepped forward.
"Likely the Khal or a bloodrider... But why would he step forward? To boost morale?"
The Dothraki, accelerating his horse, rapidly closed the distance to the Horns. Although they noted his speed, they still chose to let him attack. Apparently, the Horns had concluded that victory was theirs regardless—a grave mistake, as the Dothraki swiftly decapitated one of the trio.
The remaining two, realizing the situation was dire, quickly distanced themselves from the dangerous man. The corpse of the monster hissed as it reverted to a humanoid form.
"Decapitation equals death?"
I couldn't say for certain what killed the monster, as the weapon of the killer radiated a considerable amount of magic at the moment of impact.
Meanwhile, the remaining two changelings, having made a decision, attacked the killer who had dispatched their kin. However, other Dothraki who realized the monsters were mortal confronted them.
Angered at being stopped, one of the Horns extended his hand forward, muttered something, and instantly, black gaseous masses began emanating from him. This mass enveloped the Dothraki, from whom screams soon emerged.
While the cultists slaughtered the Dothraki, I managed to use my ability to draw a bird close enough to the cultist's corpse. Approaching, I observed the decapitated body, its neck cauterized, but most disturbingly, the heart within the corpse was still beating.
"What in the world is this?"
Twenty Minutes Earlier
From a Third-Person Perspective
Having received a gift, Krayden was eager to test it, but there was no appropriate moment for such a test, and transforming into a god-like form among people, especially in the presence of R'Glor's heretical followers, would have been reckless. They would have undoubtedly caused mass disturbances in the city, leading to even more deaths.
And now, especially now, any disturbances were unwanted, considering the barbarians at the gates of the Black Goat's sanctuary. Moreover, it was uncertain how the Black Goat itself would react to this. Given the Horns' connection, it could be expected that the deity's wrath might also descend upon them.
"Later, I think we can do something about this... It's time to cleanse this city of heretics," Krayden thought.
"Krayden, can we allow them to strike us a few times?" Paim unexpectedly asked over the communication link.
Krayden saw an advantage in this action as now the Dothraki and anyone else in this world could wound them. And after people tried and failed to kill them, they would fall into despair.
Initially, that was exactly what happened; the Dothraki, unable to inflict any damage, began to fear. Thanks to their new terrifying abilities, they could clearly sense the fear in people. But soon, something went wrong. A disturbance arose, which Krayden did not understand at first, but it was the first sign that something had changed.
"The fool that I didn't see it coming... In my pride, I forgot that even we could be struck," Krayden reflected on the unfolding events.
!
To everyone's shock, Paim, who was exulting in the power bestowed by the god, was killed by a Dothraki.
After Paim's head was severed, the remaining Horns, by reflex, felt the same pain, but thanks to their fortitude, many endured it.
"What happened there?" Aysinus asked, his voice tinged with irritation.
"Paim's head was cut off," Torrabell reported.
"Let's talk later. Right now, we need to kill them all, no jokes," Krayden conveyed, understanding that further discussion should be postponed.
Following this, Krayden extracted something that distracted him from his brothers; dozens of holes opened in his palm, releasing poison.
The poison was terrifyingly potent, capable of killing anything—or so Krayden believed. He had the ability to transform the poison into a cloud or vapor, but he could also make it more liquid. Additionally, he could shoot the poison through his pores.
Seeing what happened after his leader released the black mass, Torrabell was horrified yet became even more convinced that their actions were justified. How else could they have obtained such power—a power that turned dozens of Dothraki into desiccated corpses, screaming so loudly he thought real monsters lived within the mass.
"What are you waiting for, Torrabell?" Krayden asked as he began moving toward the Dothraki who were horrified at seeing the state of their brothers.
"My apologies," Torrabell replied, and, determined to prove his worth to his leader, he plunged fiercely into the thick of the Dothraki.
The Dothraki had no time to react to the arrival of such a fearsome monster, and the monster, with its physically enhanced abilities, swiftly wielded its Valyrian steel weapon, slicing through both horses and their riders.
That was until he was stopped by two Dothraki who had been standing with the man who had beheaded Paim.
"And what do you plan to do now?" Torrabell asked, as his sword was halted by two massive Dothraki who could rival even him in size.
From a Third-Person Perspective
After Torrabell engaged in a clash with Drogo's blood riders, Krayden was busy decimating the Dothraki forces, with estimates suggesting that over a thousand had been killed. Drogo, attempting to halt the rampage of a single Horn, could not keep up as Krayden, still maintaining distance, aimed to cut down more of the weaker foes.
"First, I need to eliminate the riffraff, then I can deal with the strong ones. But what is Torrabell doing?" Krayden thought, finally spotting his right-hand man struggling with two enormous savages. "Damn it."
Realizing that Torrabell was taking too long to deal with the unwashed barbarians, Krayden was about to intervene in their fight to turn the tide in their favor. But just as Krayden shifted his focus, a swing of an arakh flashed right before his face.
SWOOSH
Before the cult leader stood Drogo, leader of the Dothraki, whose arakh glowed with an otherworldly force.
"Heh... Damn savage... How tiresome you are. Should have exterminated you during the times of Valyria, or right after the Doom of Valyria. Bloody scourge of all Essos."
Enraged, Krayden decided that today he would at least annihilate them. Afterwards, he would wage war against those who fornicate with horses. Now, he would kill the one who dared interfere in their sacred mission. Krayden didn't fully understand where his intense hatred for the Dothraki came from, but he sensed it wasn't entirely his own animosity.
Drogo, responding to Krayden's outburst, simply smiled and said in quite fluent Valyrian:
"It's not for you, sheep, to speak about us. We will kill all of you and show you the difference between us."
Surprised by Drogo's reply, Krayden quickly, without another word, attacked the barbarian he considered arrogant. Since his ability to emit poison was not available at that moment, he opted for a more conventional method of attack. Fortunately, he hadn't forgotten how to wield swords, and his current form allowed him to use his two-handed sword single-handedly.
CLANG
The sword clashed with the arakh, and sparks flew at the point of contact.
"Didn't expect such a barbarian to possess Valyrian steel."
"Thank your city for this gift," Drogo replied.
The clash between man and monster was escalating, while Torrabell, in the meantime, tried to kill at least one blood rider.
"Damn these two... I try to focus on one, and the other jumps in, and it goes round and round," Torrabell thought, trying to find a way to overcome these challengers, problematic even for him.
"But where do they get so much strength? In this state, I should be able to tear men apart with my bare hands... It's impossible for ordinary men to withstand such power."
While Torrabell and Krayden pondered what had happened, the Dothraki themselves were also unaware of their newfound strength. Not all Dothraki shared these thoughts, and among them, Drogo knew what had transpired.
Twenty Minutes Earlier
After the cultists transformed into monsters, Drogo was also shocked, even more so when he saw that no weapon could harm these beasts.
"Blood magic?" Drogo wondered, observing the unfolding scene.
Unlike his peers, Drogo was not biased against magic, believing it to be part of the power one could wield. The Valyrians had conquered Essos with it, after all, how else could they have done so without dragons? And weren't dragons a form of magic? Even their ancestors were subdued by the magic of ancient Valyria, and it was a pity his kin held such negative views on magic.
"What could we achieve if we could harness such power?" Drogo thought, the proof of magic's great force before him.
How could one combat such monsters? These were the thoughts occupying Khal Drogo, and soon, an answer was provided.
"Quite clever thoughts you have, Khal Drogo..." the voice of the Great Stallion echoed in Drogo's mind. "And I will help you solve this problem."
As the divine entity finished its proposition, Drogo quickly felt an immense power envelop him.
"I will grant your horse and your blood riders strength... but only temporarily, for the laws of the gods are hard to break," the Great Stallion concluded.
If the Dothraki language had a word for gratitude, Drogo would have expressed it.
"I will destroy all these damned monsters," Drogo resolved.
And so, Khal began to close the distance between himself and one of the monsters.
"His arrogance will be his downfall," Drogo thought, seeing how the horned beast mockingly invited him to strike.
The Dothraki fulfilled this request and, with a precise motion, decapitated the arrogant wretch. His arakh sliced through Paim's neck as easily as a hot knife through butter, leaving the cultist's body lifeless on the ground.
Seeing this, the Dothraki regained the confidence they had just minutes before.
"Ammenat!" Drogo shouted, pointing towards Qohor, which stood behind the two fallen monsters.
The khalasar cheered joyously, understanding the implications of their khal's words.
Present Time
The duel between Drogo and Krayden was intensifying, and not a single Dothraki wished to intervene. This was the battle of their leader, their khal, and he would not appreciate help or interference. Moreover, Drogo was relishing the fight, imagining how songs would be sung of his victory.
With every clash, Krayden attempted to unseat Drogo, for the rider would lose a significant amount of strength if dismounted. However, it seemed as though Drogo and his horse were one entity; no matter how fiercely Krayden struck, the barbarian did not fall from his saddle. This only fueled the cultist's rage, driving him to strike with even greater fury.
Yet, it was not destined for Drogo to remain in the saddle forever, and at one moment, the blow that met him was the last he would face atop his faithful steed.
"Got him!" Krayden thought, seeing the irritating barbarian finally fall.
The khal was brought down to the ground...
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Chapter 57 has already been published