Bab 168: Baelin 5
Baelin was terrified.
First of the battle, which seemed obviously against them from the start, as the forces of Westeros seemed deadlier than even the Golden Company.
Then, when his master had cast his spell on the slopes of the opposite hill, raising the very dead themselves like puppets.
But that fear had only lasted a moment as his master was knocked aside, slain, and then even the demon that followed.
There was only one conclusion. The men of Westeros were invincible. They all had underestimated them. They had slain a Triarch first, itself a near impossibility in the history of Essos, and now they slaughtered the red cult with contemptuous ease, even in spite of whatever magic the king had worked against them. Now all he could do was watch as they rode towards the camp, hoping against hope that he would be spared, perhaps since he was Myrish, and not dressed in red.
It was not to be, however, for long before the Knights reached them he felt a hand clamp about his wrist.
"It is time to leave wretch. You will accompany us." He looked to find one of that horrible lying cabal, the one that sent his master to his death.
The tone of the black-haired red witch left no room for debate, as her hand seemed to scald his skin just by touching it.
She led him to the edge of the camp, where the other two witches waited, their eyes seeming to scan the horizon, as they approached, the eldest nodded, placing her cane on the ground.
Inky black darkness began to seep out of it, and every instinct screamed that he should not have followed these women, that he should have died instead.
Unfortunate for him that he was a coward.
He tried to flee, to leave the circle of ever-growing darkness, but before his legs could even move the darkness had swallowed them.
It was cold in the darkness, shadows twisted about his form, and it felt as if slimy black tendrils were probing along the edges of his senses.
And then the darkness receded, and they weren't at the camp anymore.
The eldest of the three witches picked up her staff from the ground, though it now looked far more brittle and withered than before. Her eyes looked over the other two, ignoring him as if he weren't even there.
"You should have told me that the fall was so quick." She said bitterly, glancing at her staff. "I would have departed sooner had your interpretations been more accurate."
"I…" the black-haired witch looked as if she was about to say something, but shook her head after a moment. "I apologize, mother, it was my fault, the magic involved made the fire behave erratically."
"Mmph." The red-haired woman nodded her head sharply. "Do not let it happen again, or there will be consequences. The first trial has gone as I foresaw it, but with the Other growing in strength, my visions of the far distance have become less able. I will rely on you two and your more… immediate visions for the beginning of the next stage."
"Yes, mother." "Yes, Grandmother" The two agreed in unison, in that same manner as their so-called prophecy. It sent a shiver down his spine just to hear it.
"Good, Mellisandre the wretch is yours for now, and Qarth your destination, you know your mission." The Black-haired witch nodded, turning towards him with a look of distaste.
"Your daughter will go north, we will need cavalry for the next stage, and bringing the horse lords to heel will be your task, I do not care how you achieve it. Only that they are ready when the time comes for the second trial."
"I will do what you ask grandmother."
"Good, and as you do be wary, the tides of magic have surged and overflowed well past their olden bonds, I have no doubt that the shamans and priestesses of the Dothraki have gained power as well, simply bending wills may win you Khalasars, but it will not win you this task alone."
The silver-haired girl nodded, her eyes sharpening, and the red-haired woman raised her hand in an odd gesture, lifting her staff above her head.
"I will meet you all in two years' time when we are due for the second trial to begin."
As the old woman spoke, the shadows began to rise about her feet, and in a moment she was gone, swallowed into the same void that had taken them here.
And before he could blink the black-haired witch had taken his hand again, dragging him what must be southward.
"Come along now wretch, it is not every day that one manages to survive a massacre of their betters. You are lucky that you still have value to us."
Baelin suppressed a gulp as he felt her long nails dig into his flesh.
What did he do to deserve this?
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone