Fire and Blood

Chapter 122: First Battle of Tumbleton

Yet, despite the relentless assault, the invaders refused to concede. Their own determination matched that of the Hightower soldiers, and they fought back with such tenacity.

"Ngh!" Ormund let out a strained grunt as he felt the sharp blade pierce his left flank. Despite the pain, the Lord of Oldtown swung his sword, taking down two more sellswords with a decisive strike. However, his efforts were short-lived as another enemy swiftly attacked from behind, plunging a dagger into his back. "Gah!" Overwhelmed by the excruciating pain, Ormund's strength waned, and he collapsed to his knees.

"Lord Hightower!" soldiers cried out.

Ormund clenched his jaw tightly, feeling the searing pain coursing through his body. Crimson liquid streamed from his exposed wounds and mouth, staining his once pristine armor. The taste of iron filled his mouth, a bitter reminder of the battle that had brought him to this moment. He had fought too hard, endured too much, to let it all end here. With every ounce of strength left in his battered body, he forced himself to raise his gaze, his eyes meeting the cold, determined stare of the silver-clad sellsword. The sellsword stood tall and imposing, his sword gleaming in the dim light. He exuded confidence, knowing that victory was within his grasp. With a swift motion, he hoisted his sword above his head, readying himself to deliver the decisive strike that would end Ormund's life.

However...

"*Reeeeee!*"

With Maelyx's timely arrival, the young dragon snatched the sellsword in his talons, his grip unyielding and powerful. As the onlookers watched in awe, Maelyx ascended into the heavens. High above the ground, Maelyx surveyed the world below, and, with a single, swift motion, he released his grip on the unfortunate soul, who now found himself hurtling towards his inevitable demise. The sellsword's screams echoed through the sky, a haunting melody that seemed to fade into the distance. As the sellsword's life flashed before his eyes, he could only marvel at the sheer might of the dragon who had snatched him from the clutches of certain death. The wind rushed past him, whipping his hair and clothes, as the ground grew closer with each passing second. With a final, thunderous crash, the sellsword's body collided with the unforgiving earth.

"Dragon!" a soldier called out.

"Wait! There's another one!"

Ormund looked up at the sky, spotting Maelyx and another dragon, Essovius.

"Reinforcements! It's Prince Viserys!"

"Prince Viserys Targaryen is here!"

"And Prince Lucerys is with him!"

"All right! We can do this!"

Viserys and Maelyx rise higher into the sky with the raging fire beneath them. The young Targaryen prince carefully observes the battlefield, strategizing his next move. As they soar through the smoke and flames, Viserys can feel the heat of the fire licking at his skin, but he remains focused on the task at hand. Looking backward over his shoulder, Viserys spots Lucerys and Essovius soaring close behind them. "Follow me, Luke," he beckoned. With a firm grip on the reins, Viserys gently tapped his dragon three times, a signal that Maelyx had come to recognize. It was a command for them to loop around and prepare for another assault. Maelyx, ever obedient and loyal to his rider, responded immediately, adjusting his wings and changing direction to prepare for another attack run. "Dracarys!"

With a mighty roar, Maelyx unleashed a torrent of fire, engulfing the enemy ranks in a blazing inferno. The screams of the defeated filled the air. They were progressing, but Viserys knew they couldn't afford to become complacent. The battle was far from over, and enemies were still left to be defeated. With a determined glint in his eyes, he tapped Maelyx once again, urging him to rise back into the sky. They would regroup, strategize, and then return to the fray, ready to unleash their fury again.