Chapter 17.5- The Seadragon's Roar

This was the fourth such cave they were clearing in half as many weeks. The pace of the progress irritated him more than anything else. Every cave taking made them bleed for the effort. Every ground of space they took from the pirates, they bled for. These men did not run at their superior training, arms, or supplies. Instead, they seem to revel in the disparity. Trying their best to equalize the differences.

Borros was not blind either, he could see just how they were doing it. The pirates were leveraging the tight spaces of the caves to wield there smaller, inferior weapons, and to prevent the cavalry, training, and armour of their foes from mattering as much. It was impressive, but annoying. Oh so annoying. He stepped into the next man’s guard, grabbing his wrist to prevent him shoving his knife into Borros’ stomach. The Baratheon Knight slammed his helmet-clad head into his opponent’s bare skull. The man tried to stumble backwards in pain but Borros’ hold on his hand was too strong. Borros dropped is Warhammer for a second and dragged the man in before using his grip on the man’s own knife to shove said knife into his neck. The man fell and Borros picked up his Warhammer again, ignoring the smell of piss and shit.

He was at the front, the tip of the proverbial spear. From here, there was no shortage of men to fight. Skilled and unskilled. Old and young— well what passed as old for a pirate. He hadn’t seen a single man old enough to pass as a Greybeard back in the Stormlands but he knew that even men who looked to be in their third and fourth decades were still dangerous. The life of a pirate was not a bloodless one and these men had it worse as they lived on an Island mired in constant conflict. This was out the kind of place Borros needed. Now if only they weren’t so fucking cowardly.

He stepped deeper again, pushing one man backwards with a swing if his hammer , and blocking another’s attempt to skewer him with his shield. The tighter the cave became, the more the men within fought all harder for every bit of ground they gave up.

Borros latched his hammer to his waist even as he huddled behind his shield for a few seconds to avoid being stabbed even as he reached for the short sword heated on his waist. It had more in common with a dagger than a proper sword, but it was adequate for this killing.

He stepped backwards. The man stabbing into his shield overextended. Borros dropped his shield, and with a spin and a swipe of his blade, the man’s neck was split in twain, sending blood splattering all over the place. Borros stepped over the body, and shoved the next man backwards with the face of his shield. Now they were in a wider cavern. More than two men could stand abreast here, and as Borros stepped in, the rest of his men began to file in after him.

It was bigger and darker than he expected so he had to wait for more and more torches to come in for him to get an understanding of where they were. It was like a big hall, the centre of the cave maybe.

“It’s a shame the dragon rider did not come with you” He heard the voice and it took him longer than he would have liked to trace it. He had to look up. There were ledges, footholds, and all sorts of things along the cave’s wall. So many places to step that there looked to be dozens of men watching them from above. Each one holding a bow aimed right down at them.

“Shields” He barely managed to yell in time before the sound whistling arrows was all he knew.