Game of Thrones: I Am The Heir For A Day

Chapter 178: Cannibal’s Wrath

Chapter 178: Cannibal’s Wrath

"Rhaenyra, I'm here to help you!"

Jeyne's hoarse voice rang out.

Rhaenyra turned to see Jeyne struggling up the hill, carrying an unconscious Jessamyn.

"How is she?" Rhaenyra asked, forcing a smile, her concern more perfunctory than genuine.

"She's weak from blood loss," Jeyne replied, her voice dazed. She gently laid Jessamyn on the ground and moved to support Rhaegar.

Rhaegar glanced at her, noticing her dull eyes and slight tremble—signs of shock.

"Be careful not to aggravate the wound," Jeyne warned, carefully taking Rhaegar's arm, her grip tight.

She had witnessed Rhaegar's solo stand against the Mountain Clans. In the heat of the battle, she had drawn her dagger, ready to end both her and her friend's lives if Rhaegar fell. By some miracle, they had survived.

Bloodied swords, flying sparks, and a blazing dragon had been her reality moments ago. Her worldview had been shattered and reshaped by the sight of Rhaegar's valiant fight and the dragon's fiery wrath.

"This is a miracle!" Jeyne murmured, clutching Rhaegar's arm tighter, seeking security.

With great effort, Rhaegar flattened himself on Cannibal's back. The saddle would only worsen his injuries.

Rhaenyra and Jeyne climbed off the dragon, then carefully lifted Jessamyn onto its back. Syrax, not as swift as Cannibal, was still on its way back.

Rhaenyra settled into the saddle and earnestly pleaded, "Cannibal, fly us back to Runestone safely."

"Roar..." Cannibal rumbled, slowly standing and flapping its wings to stabilize its flight. It understood the gravity of the situation.

Behind the saddle, Rhaegar and Jessamyn lay on the dragon's back. Jeyne sat between them, holding each of their hands, her eyes tightly shut as she fought her fear of heights.

She held on firmly, though the fear of falling was unfounded; Cannibal, an adult dragon, had a broad back and flew smoothly, ensuring their safety.

...

Runestone

The outer walls of the castle stood firmly shut. Soldiers atop the battlements drew their bows, loosing arrows and hurling logs and stones down upon the attackers. Below, clusters of Mountain Clansmen swarmed together, their crude ladders and siege wagons crashing chaotically against the city gates.

"Don't stop the rolling logs! Bring up the oil!" bellowed Gerold, clad in iron armor, commanding the battle from the city gate.

"Lord Gerold, we're running out of soldiers at the gates!" Lester Waynwood arrived breathless, panic evident in his eyes.

"Send a team to reinforce them, now!" Gerold's face was smeared with blood as he shouted orders.

An hour earlier, most of the guests at the wedding banquet had died from poisoning. Amid the chaos, a dozen Mountain Clansmen infiltrated the castle through a secret passage, intending to kill the survivors.

Fortunately, Gerold and a few other Vale knights held their ground, fighting the intruders to a standstill. Lester and Joffrey, positioned on the second floor, provided critical support, helping to repel the attackers.

However, their relief was short-lived. A large force of Mountain Clansmen appeared outside Runestone City, forcing the soldiers to immediately shut the gates and prepare for a siege.

Despite heavy casualties, the Mountain Clansmen persisted in their relentless assault.

Gerold grabbed a messenger, his voice tense with urgency. "Did the raven carrying our plea for help to Gulltown get out?"

Gulltown, the closest and most powerful town, was their best hope for reinforcements. The Lord of Gulltown and his family were also present in Runestone, ensuring that any message would be quickly acted upon.

"The raven has flown out, my lord," the messenger confirmed.

Relieved, Gerold released the man. The Royce House of Runestone was among the most powerful in the Vale. The city's walls were as robust as a fortress, and they commanded hundreds of cavalry and three thousand soldiers.

However, with half their forces transferred to support Longbow Hall, only about a thousand soldiers remained in Runestone.

Outside the city, the Mountain Clansmen's assault was unrelenting. The sheer number of attackers stretched as far as the eye could see.

Gerold had just experienced the agony of losing his wife, and now, for the first time, he found himself commanding a large-scale battle. His heart was heavy with unease.

The siege wagons ground to a halt at the city gates, their hammers pounding repeatedly against the doors. Soldiers on the walls poured oil and shot arrows in a mercilessly.

The oil ignited instantly, engulfing the siege wagons and the surrounding Mountain Clansmen in flames. Screams of agony echoed through the battlefield, mingling with the acrid scent of blood and burning flesh.

"Attack! Climb the walls!" a burly, disfigured man shouted as he climbed a ladder, urging his fellow tribesmen to follow.

This was Shae, the eldest son of the Stone Crows tribe's patriarch. His two younger brothers had been sent on another mission.

Despite the defenders' best efforts, the sheer number of Mountain Clansmen proved overwhelming.

Logs and stones rained down from the walls, and oil fires blazed, but the attackers continued to climb. The walls of Runestone, only seven or eight meters high, allowed a few determined invaders to slip through the defenses.

"Kill!" Gerold drew his sword and slashed at the Mountain Clansmen who managed to breach the walls. But no matter how quickly he moved, he couldn't prevent more from scaling the fortifications.

Soon, more than a dozen Mountain Clansmen had reached the top, killing soldiers and causing chaos.

Shocked and desperate, Gerold rallied his troops to defend the city. Suddenly, a dragon roar echoed from the distance, silencing the battlefield as all eyes turned to the sky.

A pitch-black dragon burst through the clouds and swooped down on Runestone. Its ghostly green flames scorched the battlefield, leaving screams of agony in its wake. Another dragon, golden and majestic, followed close behind, unleashing its own torrent of golden fire.

"No! What kind of monsters are they? Run!" The sight of the dragons' fury sent the Mountain Clansmen into a panic, abandoning their weapons and fleeing in terror.

"Burn them all!" Rhaenyra, sitting on Cannibal's back, her face contorted with rage, commanded the dragon to unleash its fire.

The two dragons, one black and one gold, circled above the battlefield, their flames crisscrossing in a devastating pattern. The Mountain Clansmen, packed tightly on the ground, were incinerated en masse.

Rhaenyra, consumed by vengeance, pursued them relentlessly. She and Rhaegar had nearly perished at the hands of these savages, and she was determined that they would pay in blood and fire.

"Help! Help me!" came the desperate cries of the fleeing clansmen, their voices cut short by the dragons' fire.

In moments, the area around Runestone was reduced to scorched earth, littered with the bodies of the dead. Only a few Mountain Clansmen escaped into the Vale and the forests; the rest were consumed by the dragonfire.

Rhaenyra's eyes were red, her face streaked with dried tears. "Rhaenyra, stop chasing!" Jeyne cried out in panic, clinging to Rhaegar and Jessamyn on the dragon's back.

"Be gentle, Jeyne," Rhaegar's face was pale as he held Jeyne's trembling hand. He shared her desire to annihilate the Mountain Clans, but the pain from his wounds was unbearable.

Rhaenyra snapped out of her fury at the sound of his voice, turning to look worriedly behind the saddle. "Cannibal, land at Runestone," Rhaegar commanded, patting the pitch-black scales beneath him.

The dragon obeyed and descended toward the besieged city.