Chapitre 23: The Hunt for Crow's Eye pt.3
Maekar
Skagos
"By the gods," Arlan said, his voice trembling.
Euron's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he said, his voice dripping with malevolent pride.
"We have to fight that?" one of the knights whispered, barely able to contain his fear.
"RUUUUNNN!" another knight yelled and then ran in the opposite direction towards the village.
The others followed, but Maekar stayed, his eyes fixed on the giant dark beast that stood at the entrance of the large cave.
It must be at least a hundred feet long, he estimated.
He wondered if Euron had truly gained control of the dragon. Did the Dragonbinder actually work as intended?
"Kill them all," Euron commanded.
The dragon let out an earth-shattering roar, the sound echoing off the rocky hills and sending birds scattering into the sky. It spread its massive wings, the force from them nearly knocking him off his feet. The dragon then took to the sky, the powerful gusts from its wings sending him to the ground.
As he looked up, he saw the dragon flying towards the village where the knights had fled.
He turned to see Euron still at the mouth of the cave, watching the dragon fly further up into the sky.
Determined, he stood up and gripped his sword. Euron had to die. Even if he might not make it out alive, he was going to take Euron with him.
He ran towards Euron, who spotted him and drew his worn sword. He noticed the dark, gleaming armor Euron was wearing—Valyrian steel.
'Oh right, Valyrian steel armor,' he thought grimly.
Euron met him halfway, and their swords clashed with a metallic ring that echoed through the hills. The force of the blow reverberated up his arm, and he had to brace himself as Euron pushed him away.
"Why must we fight, little prince?" Euron taunted. "You could join me."
He stayed silent. They clashed again, the sounds of their duel mixing with the distant roars of the dragon. Euron's armor gave him a significant advantage. Every strike he landed seemed to glance off the Valyrian steel, leaving Euron unscathed.
He lunged, aiming for a gap in Euron's armor, but Euron twisted away, bringing his sword down in a brutal arc. He barely managed to deflect the blow, the force of it sending him staggering back. Euron was strong and skilled, his movements fluid and precise. Maekar could see the madness in his eyes, a wild glint that made him all the more dangerous.
Euron pressed the attack, his sword moving in a blur. Maekar parried desperately, feeling each impact jar his bones. He knew he couldn't win a prolonged fight against Euron's superior armor and strength, and there was also the dragon to worry about.
He needed to find an opening, a weakness to exploit.
As they fought, the dragon returned to the ground near the village, its massive wings kicking up clouds of dust and debris. Euron laughed maniacally, a wild, unhinged sound that echoed across the battlefield.
"You can't win, little prince," Euron said, looking towards the dragon, which then let out a powerful stream of flames that engulfed the village. The screams of the knights who had fled there filled the air, a horrifying cacophony of agony and despair.
He watched in horror as the village burned, the heat of the flames reaching even where he stood. The dragon's fire was a living, breathing force of destruction, its orange and red tongues licking hungrily at everything it touched.
"You are special, little prince," Euron continued, his voice a dark, seductive whisper. "The blood of old Valyria and the blood of Winter flows through you. You could be so much more with my help."
He remained silent, glaring at Euron, his resolve hardening.
"Join me," Euron said again, his eyes gleaming with madness. "I can make you a god… we… can become gods."
"You're a madman," he spat, striding forward to attack again.
They clashed once more, their swords ringing out in the chaos. He was on the back foot; each blow from Euron was powerful, relentless, driving him back step by step.
But then he noticed a slight weakness—a gap in the armor near Euron's throat, just large enough for a precise strike. He feinted to the left, drawing Euron's sword away, then pivoted sharply and thrust his blade towards the opening.
His sword did not find its mark, instead slashing across Euron's eye. Euron screamed in pain, his free hand flying to his face, blood streaming down his cheek.
Euron screamed out in pain, clutching his ruined eye. "AHHHH! You little bastard! I'll kill you!"
'Now you look like you're supposed to,' he thought with a grim smile.
"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" Euron screamed, his voice raw with fury. He turned towards the dragon.
"COME TO ME!" he yelled at the dragon, his voice echoing through the battlefield.
The dragon turned towards them but did not move.
"COME TO ME!" Euron shouted again, this time in Valyrian.
The dragon remained still, its glowing green eyes fixed on them, unblinking.
"Looks like it does not obey you," he said, his voice edged with defiance. "A dragon is not a slave."
Euron's face twisted in rage and desperation. "I am going to have you burned, boy," he spat, his face covered in blood. "You will suffer!"
The dragon began walking towards them, each step causing the ground to tremble; the heavy thud of its massive feet created deep, resonant booms that echoed in the still air. The ground beneath his feet seemed to pulse with each step the dragon took, as if the very earth were responding to its presence.
'Oh, I guess he is in control of it,' he thought, his heart now beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of his chest.
The air grew hotter as the dragon approached, its nostrils flaring, exhaling plumes of smoke, and its tail, adorned with sharp spikes, whipped back and forth with a dangerous grace. The creature's eyes never left them, and its jaws parted slightly, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.
Euron, still clutching his wounded eye, looked up at the dragon with a mix of fury and desperation. "COME TO ME!" he screamed again, his voice hoarse and desperate.
He lunged at Euron, their swords clashing once again, but this time he had the advantage. Euron, half-blinded and bleeding heavily, was slower and less coordinated. He pressed the attack, each strike driving Euron back step by step.
In the background, the dragon continued its slow, deliberate approach, its massive form casting a long shadow over the land.
Euron swung his sword wildly, trying to fend off his relentless assault. But Maekar was too fast, too precise. He dodged Euron's clumsy strikes, landing blow after blow on Euron's armor. The Valyrian steel held, but each hit sent shockwaves through Euron's body, weakening him further.
The dragon let out another low growl, its nostrils flaring as it drew closer. He could feel the heat radiating from its body, the air around them growing hotter with each passing moment.
Then it happened. Euron stumbled, his foot slipping on one of the rocks on the ground. He saw his opportunity. With a swift, decisive move, he stepped forward and swung his sword in a deadly arc. The blade sliced through the air, aiming straight for Euron's throat.
Euron tried to raise his sword to block, but he was too slow. His blade found its mark, cutting deep into Euron's neck. Blood sprayed from the wound, and the madman's eyes widened in shock and pain.
"You... bastard..." Euron gurgled, his voice choked with blood.
With one final, desperate gasp, Euron collapsed to the ground, his lifeblood pooling around him. He stood over him, breathing heavily, his sword still dripping with Euron's blood.
But his relief at killing Euron was short-lived. He felt the hot air around him, panting and slightly disoriented. He turned to see the massive head of the dragon staring down at him, its eyes glowing with a menacing green light.
'This is it,' he thought.
But the dragon did not turn him into ash. Instead, it seemed to sniff him, then turned its attention back to Euron's lifeless body.
He found himself under the dragon's massive wings, and it was then he saw it—a few meters away from him, the horn, the Dragonbinder. The intricate carvings on its surface seemed to pulse with an ominous energy.
As the dragon remained distracted by Euron, he crawled towards the horn. At this point, he was prepared to try anything. He reached the horn, its dark surface cool and foreboding under his fingers.
Suddenly, the dragon turned its head towards him again, but this time it looked angry. Its eyes bore into him, and he realized it was staring not at him, but at the horn beside him.
'Use the horn,' his mind screamed. But another part of him urged him to destroy it. It was as if the dragon itself was requesting it.
Making a split-second decision, he thought, 'This better work.' He raised his sword, the dragon moving closer with each passing second. He brought the blade down onto the horn, cutting it into two pieces.
The dragon let out another earth-shattering roar, the sound reverberating through the hills and the wreckage of the village. Perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him, but he thought the dragon nodded to him before it once again took to the skies and flew east, its massive wings beating the air with powerful strokes.
Maekar stood there, panting, his sword still in his hand. He watched the dragon disappear into the distance, feeling a strange mix of relief and awe.
He stood there in silence for a while, processing what had just happened. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed—a deep, relieved, almost hysterical laugh that echoed through the eerie silence of Skagos.
"Ha ha ha ha!" he laughed, the sound almost alien in the desolate landscape.
His gaze then shifted to Euron, and his face lit up with a wide grin. "Time to take my prize for all this," he muttered.
Walking over to Euron's lifeless body, he knelt down and began stripping the Valyrian steel black scale armor from him. "This is mine now," he said, his voice filled with grim satisfaction. He noticed how the armor was adorned with various intricate patterns, glyphs, and arcane symbols.
"Beat the boss and got the loot," he said, laughing.
Once he had removed the armor, he turned towards his brother, who lay motionless nearby. He walked over, the armor in hand, and sat down beside him. He placed his hand near Aegon's nose and felt a faint breath.
"Oh, he's alive," he said in an almost disappointed tone.
He put his sword to Aegon's throat, his only obstacle to becoming the crown prince. He was so close; one slash and Aegon would die.
But he stopped.
"Not like this," he muttered. It would not look good if Aegon died here in his presence.
"Well, Aegon, time to get out of here. Let's hope the horses are not dead," he said, standing up and looking towards the village, which was still burning in the distance.
"How the fuck am I going to get you to the shore," he said, looking between the armor and Aegon.
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Dragon
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone