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Without the Triarchy to hold them back, the Volantene navy ran wild across the Stepstones—and across the entire Disputed Lands.
Any pirates, slavers, or smugglers they encountered were cut down on sight. In just half a month they swept through a third of the islands and established themselves as the undisputed power.
Soon the Volantene fleet turned its attention to Bloodstone.
At Malacho Maegyr's command, more than one hundred and eighty warships put to sea, smashing every pirate nest along the way with arrogant ease.
:
Tars Island.
The royal fleet was resupplying under Lord Lucerys's command.
"My lord, ten three-masted galleys, five flat-bottomed ships, and twenty-seven longships—five thousand eight hundred men, all ready."
Tyrion followed the fleet commander with his little ledger, reporting every detail.
He had shamelessly tagged along.
Using his father Tywin's position as Hand, he had wormed his way to the front lines as a logistics officer, hoping to earn some battle honors and see the dragons up close.
"If only I could fight on the front lines and watch the king ride his dragon," Tyrion thought with a quiet sigh.
Lord Lucerys ignored him most of the time, but fifteen years at sea had sharpened his eye. He could tell the Lannister dwarf was talented and didn't completely dismiss him.
"His Grace is out on patrol. Keep every supply line tight and coordinate with Lord Selwyn Tarth to protect the transport routes."
"Yes, my lord," Tyrion answered seriously.
It felt good to be away from King's Landing. No more cold stares from his father. No more persecution from that venomous bitch Cersei.
The gods were merciful.
Stepstones. Waters off Bloodstone.
"Hiss-graa—!"
A streak of blazing red flashed low over the sea. Caraxes's long body skimmed the surface, sending up violent ripples.
:
Daeron rode Caraxes low, weaving between scattered islands to avoid being spotted from above.
"Ginger Island is just ahead."
Caraxes rose briefly. Daeron's sharp eyes picked out the smoking volcano of Ginger Island in the distance.
To be fair, Ginger Island was remote but not hard to find.
According to the Citadel, the Stepstones held over a hundred islands of various sizes.
Three were large: Bloodstone and Grey Gallows to the north and south, and one unnamed island off the eastern coast of Dorne's Broken Arm.
The unnamed island was bigger, but its rocky terrain made it less suitable for digging caves and building defenses than the more weathered Bloodstone and Grey Gallows. So the pirates had ignored it.
Besides the large islands, there were twenty-plus medium islands and nearly a hundred small and tiny ones.
Ginger Island was sizable enough to count as medium.
It was simply too plain and sat on the edge of Bloodstone's waters, so it was usually overlooked—sometimes used as a temporary pirate hideout.
This time, Daeron intended to claim it.
Not just the island, but the wide stretch of sea around it, to keep its location hidden.
First step: find the Golden Company and destroy them.
:
At the same time, dozens of warships put to sea and headed away from Bloodstone's waters.
Their sails all bore the same emblem—a spear with several gilded skulls.
The Golden Company.
"Damn it, the Volantenes are coming! Move!"
Old John Mudd leaned over the crow's nest, face grim, and shouted the warning. The entire company began a frantic withdrawal.
His son, Little John Mudd, moved quickly below deck, urging the oarsmen to row harder.
Both men were sergeants in the Golden Company—officers with their own bands of cutthroats.
Once the order spread, the dozens of ships picked up speed.
Captain Myles Toyne's face was dark. He raised a Myr-made telescope and watched the Volantene fleet closing in.
He had been trying to avoid them.
Two months earlier they had found the tropical island—called Mermaid Island by some—and driven off the monkeys living there. They had built a camp on the eastern shore.
They named it Mermaid Island because someone claimed they heard mermaids singing on rainy days.
Even the calm bay where the island sat was called Mermaid Bay.
Myles Toyne had never seen or heard any mermaids and thought the name ridiculous, but he hadn't argued. A future base for the Golden Company deserved a grand title.
Unfortunately, the Volantenes had arrived.
"Damn Valyrians. They're conquerors no matter where they go."
Myles Toyne cursed under his breath.
The Golden Company had ten thousand men—five hundred knights, five hundred squires, a thousand archers, and the rest infantry and sailors. They even kept a dozen war elephants.
That force was strong anywhere in Essos.
Along both shores of the Narrow Sea, they were the undisputed top sellsword company.
But their opponent was Volantis.
This time the Volantenes had gone mad. The Tiger Party archon had crushed his two Elephant Party rivals, won the support of every young and radical faction, and launched an invasion with over two hundred warships and thirty-seven thousand soldiers, plus more than fifty catapults and countless siege engines.
The Golden Company could not win.
Worse, the Volantenes were clearing every small island on their way to Bloodstone.
Mermaid Island—Ginger Island—sat right in their path.
Myles Toyne had no desire for pointless deaths or to reveal the island's special value and draw more greedy eyes.
He chose caution.
The entire company would withdraw, leading the Volantenes toward Bloodstone.
"Myles, are we really not fighting?" Lyswell Peck asked with his usual sour expression.
Myles Toyne was decisive. "Harry Strickland told me the Volantene Council has changed. After Malacho Maegyr took Grey Gallows, the Elephant Party's Nysos Vysarys switched sides and openly supports the Tiger invasion."
"Now the entire city is screaming for war."
Lyswell gave a dry laugh. "Then we have no choice but to run."
The Golden Company was powerful, but without a Free City's backing they were rootless. That was why they had accepted Illyrio's gold in the first place.
Now Illyrio was dead. They had broken their contract with Myr and lost every patron.
The Volantenes, on the other hand, had an entire Free City behind them—endless wealth and limitless supplies.
They couldn't win. Time to run.
Tommen Peck leaned in. "Big brother, the Peck family in Westeros is gone. You're from a branch line. You still have a claim to Starfall."
Lyswell's mouth twisted. "If I could go back, I would have invaded Westeros already."
The Peck family had always been troublemakers.
The Starfall Pecks had destroyed themselves. But Lyswell's own situation wasn't much better.
A landless, lawless lord with no legitimacy—let alone inheritance rights.
"One day I will take Starfall back," Lyswell said, eyes burning. Then he corrected himself. "No—not just Starfall. Whitegrove and Dustonbury too."
Those were the two castles the Peck family had lost during the Second Blackfyre Rebellion.
Reclaim them and the Pecks would finally be a true "three-castle" house.
Boom!
While Lyswell dreamed of the future, a blazing projectile arced from behind and smashed into one of their ships.
The vessel split in half. One side sank immediately.
The shockwave rocked the flagship.
Myles Toyne spun around and saw the Volantene fleet had closed the distance to less than a mile—almost on top of them.
"Damn it, the wind picked up!"
Old John Mudd roared and ordered the sailors to return fire.
Myles Toyne realized the lead Volantene ships were sleek swan ships using the wind for speed. They had caught up to the slower Golden Company vessels.
Boom! Boom!
The Volantenes were ruthless. As soon as they closed, their catapults fired, smashing the Golden Company's trailing longships and flat-bottomed transports.
Those ships carried ordinary sellswords and vital supplies. They were slow but critical.
Myles Toyne's face hardened. He knew a fight was inevitable.
"Flagship turns to engage! Longships split and flank! Protect the supply ships and get them clear!"
The damn Volantenes fought like rabid dogs. They bit anyone in reach.
Did they think the Golden Company was made of gold and silver?
Boom! Boom!
The answer came in another volley of flaming projectiles and boulders that slammed into Golden Company ships.
On the other side, the Volantene fleet erupted in wolf-like howls.
Malacho Maegyr smiled coldly from his flagship. "So this is the famous Golden Company? They have no strength—they only know how to run?"
He was strikingly handsome, black hair streaked with silver, features oddly refined yet cruel. He wore ornate gilded armor and carried a sword whose hilt was set with a shattered dragon scale and colorful gems.
He was the new Tiger Party archon—the voice of Volantis's Black Walls nobility.
The Stepstones were already his.
The Golden Company wandering through them was simply another target.
"Keep pressure on their rear. Don't let them escape."
Malacho spoke with complete confidence. "We might even capture a few war elephants and put them to work pulling carts."
The fleet moved in perfect coordination. Catapults fired from the front while ships closed from behind, catching the Golden Company completely off guard.
On a nearby island, Daeron watched from a ridge, hidden by tropical trees.
Caraxes shifted restlessly beneath him.
"This is getting ugly."
Daeron calmed the red dragon, careful not to be spotted.
He had come looking for the Golden Company and found them by accident.
Before he could strike, the Volantenes had cut in.
In moments the two fleets were locked in savage combat.
The Volantenes were brutal. Their first volley sank over a dozen Golden Company ships. Their superior numbers gave them a crushing advantage.
But the Golden Company was no pushover.
After absorbing the initial onslaught, they reorganized and counterattacked with grim discipline.
Especially their sergeants—every one of them highly skilled and ferocious.
For a short while they even pushed the Volantenes back.
"Ram them! They're weak in close combat!"
A massive Summer Islander with white hair and black skin drew his bow and ordered a volley of arrows to pin down the lead Volantene ships.
His name was Barq—called "Black Barq"—and he commanded the Golden Company's archers.
No one knew why a black man had white hair, but the world was strange like that.
Black Barq created an opening. The Peck brothers' ships surged through the chaos and rammed a heavy swan ship.
CRASH!
The reinforced prow punched through the swan ship's side. Volantene sailors stumbled and panic spread.
The Peck brothers led their men aboard. Already skilled swordsmen, their bodies enhanced by more than a dozen emeralds, they moved like cats through the melee.
Clang!
Lyswell broke through and slashed the catapult's winding rope. The arm snapped upward, smashing the swan ship's mast and crushing dozens of men.
One swan ship was lost in seconds.
"Are you pigs?!" Malacho roared from afar. "Fire the catapults! Don't hold back!"
"My lord, our own ships are in the way—"
Malacho grabbed his lieutenant by the collar. "Fire! They die for Volantis. The city will remember them."
The lieutenant went pale but obeyed without question.
Boom! Boom!
Another volley of catapults fired indiscriminately into the tangled fleets. Fire spread instantly. Screams echoed across the water.
Lyswell dove overboard and survived.
His brother Tommen Peck was not so lucky. A flaming projectile struck him square in the chest. Bones shattered. Flames swallowed him whole before he could even scream.
The projectile was a special incendiary—dry grass soaked in oil, mixed with dung, wood shavings, and stones, then wrapped in rope. On impact it burst and scattered fire everywhere.
A devastating weapon at sea.
"Tommen!!"
Lyswell surfaced and saw his brother still on the burning ship. His eyes filled with rage.
That was his brother—another sergeant with his own men.
Now that he was dead, Lyswell's standing in the Golden Company would drop.
"Damn it all!"
"Retreat! Break contact!"
Myles Toyne, armored and swinging a massive sword, drove back attackers and gave the order.
The supply ships were already clear. There was no reason to keep fighting.
"Leaving so soon?"
Daeron watched the Golden Company ships begin to pull back. He patted Caraxes's scales.
"Caraxes—fly!"
He wasn't finished with them yet.
"Hiss-graa—!"
Caraxes's molten-gold eyes flashed. His serpentine body rose vertically. Massive crimson wings beat once and launched him skyward.
In seconds he crossed several miles of open sea.