Chapter 59: Chapter 27: A Fish out of Water (Vaemond, Lucas Blackwood) (Part 1)

28th of 2nd Moon, 8024

Outside the Walls of the Dunfort, Duskendale

Vaemond spurred his horse forward through the sandy beach at a slow trot, occasionally urging his horse to the side to avoid a dead horse or rider, the entrails of which had turned the tide a pinkish red.

It was a charge born of desperation….desperation and hunger. They had sallied out that morning at first light, some 200 riders mounted on bedraggled starving horses.

The time of the attack and its sudnessness after weeks of boring siege had caught Vaemonds men on the outskirts of the siege camp by surprise, but the riders had not delayed long to capitalize on their advantage but rode quickly for the center of the siege camp…with the goal of ending the siege in a single stroke.

It had been Balerion, the King's bloodhound that had woken him from his sleep and warned him of some impending danger with his barking, well before Ser Harold Langward, who had the watch, barged into his tent, warning him of the attack.

Vaemond didn't have time to fully armor, only being able to pull on a leather riding jerkin and one of his two black shoulderplates before he stumbled out of his tent, Blackfyre in hand and mounted his horse, all of his Kingsguard save for Ser Harold in a similar disheveled state.

He had managed to rally the early risers amongst the camp, who had gone from making cookfires to break their fast to counter charging in the blink of an eye.

They had met halfway between the camp and the Dun Fort, on the sandy coastline in a clash of steel and horse.

The fight had been bloody, the castle gates of the Dun Fort had been closed and the sallying party knew there would be no retreat for them and fought fiercely.

Vaemond had not managed to kill any enemies, but he had knocked a few off their horses while Ser Harold Langward fought his way deep into the enemy column to the point the King thought his Kingsguard had been lost, until the white knight cut his way back to his comrades.

Despite the bravery of the charge, the attackers were doomed to failure once they lost their mobility trapped against the coast and the rapidly waking siege camp.

Archers and Crossbowmen had simply stood on the sides and picked them off one by one, and the melee had quickly turned into a slaughter, 200 men had sortied out of the Dunfort and they were slain or captured to a man, not one had returned to the fortress.

Losses had not been insignificant for the Targaryens however, 80 men had been killed or heavily wounded, mostly those in the outer ranks, though there were many whose corpses adorned the beach as well.

Vaemond maneuvered his horse around one such corpse, one of his own men, who would have looked almost peacefully sleeping in the sand if his neck hadn't been slashed to a red ruin.

‘’It was brave….if nothing else their charge was brave.’’ Vaemond remarked to his three Kingsguard, breaking the silence of the death around them.

Corlys scoffed ‘’Brave and stupid….they never had a chance against us.’’

‘’It wasn't beating us, they rode out for…..they wanted to kill me, end the war quickly….and I gave them that chance by riding out to meet them, brave and stupid applies to me just as much them.’’ Vaemond said, feeling like an utter fool, he had risked everything by leading the countercharge personally, just as he had at Edgerton, and yet somehow he remained unscathed, in the moment however the only thought that came to his mind was to repel the attack, little thought to the consequences his death would bring his family.

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard shrugged ‘’Better brave stupid and alive then the brave, stupid and the alternative.’’ he finished, nodding at a Darklyn freerider who had quickly found himself a new role as crab food upon the beach.

‘’All these men didn't have to die….the fortress will fall within the fortnight…..just as the Warrior above blesses those that show courage in battle, he abhors those that shed blood needlessly.’’ Ser Roland Crakehall said piously, blood and gore dripping from his two handed great ax slung at the flank of his horse.

‘’Be glad you serve me and not my father….he would not have liked you much I fear.’’ Vaemond said lightly, and Ser Harold Langward and Ser Corlys exchanged a knowing chuckle, the late King Aegon's cynicism was well known.

‘’And what's not to like?’’ The big Crakehall bristled.

‘’I meant no offense Ser Roland, only to point out that, even after leaving behind the sept in King's Landing, I have not found myself lacking for interpretation of  scripture while in your presence…my father was not a godly man.’’ Vaemond said, causing the other two Kingsguard to laugh and even Ser Roland cracked a smile.

The mood soon soured however as they approached Vaemonds tent of red and black cloth in the center of camp and saw the camp quartermaster standing next to a cage of ravens, a grim look on his face.

‘’A raven must have come in during the battle.’’ Ser Harrold Langward mused

‘’Dark wings, dark words by the look on his face..’’ Corlys Velaryon replied.

‘’Whatever it is, i'm in no hurry to hear it, let us have a few more moments of victory.’’ Vaemond said, slowing his horse to a trot.

He dismounted from his horse and handed the reins to a groom and went back to his tent, removing his shoulder plate and dressing in something more befitting a King before finally going to see the quartermaster, where Ser Roland Crakehall was pacing around impatiently.

‘’Quartermaster….I thank you for your patience….tell me, what news have you received.’’ Vaemond asked.

‘’News from the Vale your Grace….and reports from Lannisport.’’ The man said.

‘’The Vale first I think.’’ Vaemond said, if he was receiving a raven it was likely from Nestor Royce, his Marshal, who had returned to the Vale to raise his host and do what he could against the rebels.

‘’Lord Royce writes that he marched into a trap at Narrowshade, west of Runestone, nearly three fourths of his army was killed or captured…he's fallen back to Runestone with some one thousand men and awaits further orders.’’ The man said grimly.

‘’I told him to avoid a fight….to just threaten their flanks…with him defeated the Lords of the Vale will be able to march south into the Riverlands without fear of their flanks or rear….what was he thinking.’’ Vaemond said, studying the parchment.

‘’He wrote that his scouts told him of a small rebel host and he pursued them, only to be met by over 10 thousand rebels…he writes that he takes full responsibility for the defeat.’’ The quartermaster replied.

‘’Acknowledging his blunder will not bring the men of Runestone back.’’ Vaemond said before sighing.

‘’Send a raven to Runestone informing him he is to take what remains of his host and join with the Sistermen in taking the small island castles off the coast….his men can still be of some use, small as it is….ill send 20 of my 50 galleys blockading Duskendale to transport him’’ Vaemond commanded.

‘’What of the news from Lannisport?’’ Roland Crakehall asked, himself being from the Westerlands.

‘’Vickon Greyjoy and some 15 thousand Ironborn landed at Lannisport, thinking to sack the city, they drove off a small force of 2500 men left to guard Lannisport without difficulty, routing them and set out to making ladders to assault the town.’’ The man began.

Vaemond made no move to interrupt, though he had an idea from the man's tone that what he said next would not bode well for his war efforts.

‘’Before they could attack the castle of Lanns Hall, Loren Lannister set upon them with a host of some thirty thousand while the Ironborn were landing 10 thousand more men, taking them by surprise, the fight was bloody but Vickon and his men were driven off with some 6000 dead and captured, they are fleeing south into the Reach.’’ The quartermaster said.

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‘’I suppose it could be worse, if your reports are correct Loren Lannister was bloodied as well, but if they had landed north at Seaguard they could be at Riverrun by now reinforcing the Tullys….instead they are fleeing south, no good to anyone and the Tullys remain isolated.’’ Vaemond said, the calmness of his words not betraying the pit in his stomach.

His victory at Edgerton seemed unimportant now, the war was fast going against him. Nestor Royces host was destroyed, the Greyjoys far from any other allies, and even the remnants of the levy at Duskendale had struck their own blow, ambushing a force of loyal clawmen on their way to Duskendale and slaying nearly 700 of them.

Vaemond nodded ‘’If that is all I shall retire to my tent…thank you for your report quartermaster.’’

The man bowed and left while Vaemond entered his tent, washing the blood from his face with a basin of water.

He then made his way to the large map of Westeros sprawled across a table and slowly removed the orange shield figure of house Royce from the Vale, placing it near the direwolf of the north and the rose of the Reach, bystanders to a war that was fast becoming a feast for the crows.

Two Weeks Later, Outside the Walls of Duskendale

The pale stone walls of Duskendale were alive with movement, despite it being early morning. Guardsmen in chainmail and spears stalked along the walls, while crossbowmen watched anxiously.

Vaemond studied the walls from his horse, a good distance away from the walls and for good reason.

Almost on cue, a large boulder landed on the plains outside the city, far away from any of the besiegers, but the crash of the stone was loud enough to keep many in the siege camp who had the previous nights watch from sleeping.

‘’They've got to be running out of boulders by now….I barely got any sleep last night.’’ Ser Roland complained, the city of Duskendale had a single trebuchet inside the city walls and they had made good use of it, firing boulders over the walls methodically throughout the night, and just two hours ago one had landed a few feet away from one of the besiegers tents, killing two horses and wounding a camp follower.

‘’They will run out when they run out.’’’ Vaemond said curtly, his attention focused on scanning the defenses, his scouts claimed that there were some thousand men within the city walls and the captured garrison from the recently captured overlooking Dun Fort had confirmed this, Vaemonds own observations also aligned with these reports.

‘’We could make it stop….we have four thousand men, give the order and the city will be yours by nightfall Vaemond.’’ Corlys Velaryon said.

‘’And the rebels arms did fail…under the pale walls of Duskendale.’’’ Ser Harold Langward mused.

‘’Lucky for me you are a better swordsman than you are a poet.’’ Vaemond said with a small smile before shaking his head and continuing.

‘’We will starve them out, i'd like a fight as much as any of you, but there is no sizeable enemy host approaching, we have the time.’’ the King finished.

Before his Kingsguard could respond, the blaring of trumpets from behind startled them.

Wheeling his destrier around, Vaemond, a hand on Blackfyres hilt immediately relaxed his grip when he saw the long flowing of house Baratheon, bright yellow silk with a black stag, waving in the wind, at the forefront of the column riding a black war horse was a one eyed burly man in dirt stained plate armor.

‘’My uncle.’’ Vaemond said smiling, riding back to the camp to meet Orys Baratheon.

Orys Baraethon had always been a big man with black hair as dark as coal, at his 50 years his strength remained, but the sides of his black hair were streaked with white, but despite his growing age, the lord of Storm End looked every bit a warrior.

Vaemond dismounted and greeted his uncle, who had served as hand of the King for over twenty years with a clap on the shoulder.

‘’I had not thought to find you here Uncle.’’ Vaemond said with curiosity.

‘’I had not thought to be here…..but here I am with some 15,000 men.’’ Orys said.

‘’Where are the rest of your Stormlords uncle?’’ Vaemond asked, his uncle had assured him he could raise at least 25 thousand men.

‘’I sent most of my strength south to the southern Westerlands to merge with Vickon Greyjoy surviving Ironborn that fled from Lannisport.’’ Orys said, removing his plate helmet with golden stag antlers.

Vaemond waited patiently for his uncle to continue.

‘’With this force here I had hoped to march to the Trident by way of Maidenpool, reinforce the Tullys but recent events have made that improbable.’’ Orys said, taking a cup of wine.

‘’Recent events?’’ Vaemond asked calmly, preparing himself for the worst.

‘’You haven't heard?’’ Orys said, taking a sip of wine, Vaemonds' silence being enough answer for him.

‘’Samwell Tully has sent his forces to take the gold mines in Nunn's Deep…Loren Lannister will march to meet him with Lannisport secure, and with Royces defeat the Knights of the Vale will descend south from the bloody gate……if he had remained in Riverrun I could have reinforced him and we could have marched south to join with the Greyjoys and the rest of my forces…..but with him marching west he is beyond the point of both retreat and reinforcement.’’ Orys said, as the veteran of half a dozen conflicts, he had a good mind for strategy.

‘’Do you think he has a chance?’’ Vaemond asked.

Orys shook his head slightly ‘’He will have good defensive positions, but the armies of the Riverlands will be hard pressed to defeat the Knights of the West, courage or no, Lord Tully has brought an army of trout into the lion's den.’’

Vaemond took the news silently, he had of course recognized the danger the Tully host was in, but he had hoped the Tullys would remain patient and defend their own lands, forsaking battle until they were reinforced, but Samwell Tully's sudden assault to the West had put them in grave danger with little hope of escaping a pitched battle.

‘’What will you do now?’’ Vaemond continued.

‘’I'll ride south, join back up with my forces and the Greyjoys….as should you, finish your business with Duskendale today…that's my council…storm the walls and join with us in the south, the deserts of Dorne are no easy place to muster armies but within a month or two they shall be marching up the princes pass, together with your forces, mine, the greyjoys and Martells….we will have the men to meet Loren Lannister and the Knights of the Vale in a decisive battle.’’ Orys said.

Vaemond shook his head ‘’I'm not ready to march, I mean to siege Duskendale into surrender, save my men an unnecessary bloodbath….but I mean to raise several thousand additional men north of the Blackwater Rush, when Duskendale capitulates and I have those men I shall join you in the west uncle, you have my word.’’

Orys nodded ‘’I suggest you make haste Vaemond…the Ironborn are not known for their patience…but I will keep them in line…you can be sure of that.’’

The following morning the Lord of Storm's End would ride west with his host to join the forming loyalist army in the flatlands of the southern Westerlands, but not before sending a force of a few thousand men to chase off the surviving levy of Duskendale from their siege camp at Rooks Rest at Vaemonds request.

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