Half a month later, on the outskirts of Crown Town.
Ten thousand elite heavy cavalry stood ready, fully armed and prepared to march. The warhorses beneath them were tall and powerful, the first generation of fine breeds carefully selected and raised by Qyburn. Each rider was equipped with two additional horses—one carrying armor, the other laden with rations and fresh water.
At their front stood a thousand Dragon Soul Guards clad in Valyria steel armor, mounted and silent as statues.
Lo Quen surveyed the assembled host with satisfaction before vaulting onto Blooddancer's broad back, gripping the reins fastened to the saddle.
Jaelena moved with swift grace, mounting Silverfall beside him.
Both dragons let out earth-shaking roars as their vast wings unfurled, whipping up a violent gale that blotted out the sky.
"Advance!"
At Lo Quen's command, Blooddancer and Silverfall rose sharply into the air, soaring into the clouds.
Below, the steel torrent of ten thousand ironclad riders and a thousand Dragon Soul Guards thundered forward, rolling east beneath the dragons' sweeping shadows.
...
Two months later, deep within the Dothraki Sea, at the ruins of Vojjor Samvi.
The desolate stone remnants stood silent in the endless ocean of grass—until now, when the stillness shattered under the roar of thousands.
Zekko's vast khalasar had stopped here to rest. Nearly ten thousand warriors, their women, children, and countless horses crowded the land until there was hardly space to move.
The air reeked of horse sweat, charred meat, and the unwashed musk of savages.
Khal Zekko, a towering figure, sat on a low stool draped in animal hide, tearing into a half-raw leg of lamb. Fat dripped down his thick beard as he chewed.
A Ko knelt before him, his tone tense as he reported, "Great Khal, the Qohorik tremble at the news of our approach. They've sealed their gates, ready for us to plunder the surrounding villages. But... word has come from the west. It is said that Khal Drogo... died months ago in Myr—slain by a man from Yi Ti who commands dragons. They say he has three of them!"
Khal Zekko paused mid-bite, his heavy brows furrowing deeply.
He spat out a shard of bone and growled, "Is your information reliable?"
"It comes from several slaves who escaped the Free Cities," the Ko stammered. "They crossed the Grass Sea to bring the news..."
"Hmph!"
Khal Zekko slammed the gnawed bone onto the ground, sending splinters flying.
"A slave's tongue leaps faster than a prairie hare. That fool Drogo—no wonder he died in Myr. But should we abandon Qohor's riches over a few madmen's tales?"
He rose to his full height, sweeping his gaze over the gathered Ko and Bloodriders. "The Great Mother and the Horse God gave us steeds and blades, not to cower in the grass like frightened sheep! We ride for Qohor! Let those stone-dwellers taste blood once more!"
His roar ignited the warriors' fervor, their answering cries booming like thunder.
The khalasar stirred like a waking beast, shifting and writhing as it prepared to move again. Warriors mounted their horses with wild shouts while women and children hurriedly packed their crude tents.
Then—suddenly—
The tall sea of grass, higher than a man, began to shake violently, as though swept by an unseen hand.
It wasn't the wind. It surged from every direction at once.
A strange dread settled in every Dothraki heart. Even the horses sensed it, snorting nervously and pawing at the ground in agitation.
Khal Zekko snapped his head upward.
A massive shadow fell over the camp, blotting out the sun.
ROAR—!!!!!!!!
The dragon's cry tore through the air, shaking the ruins to their foundations. Countless Dothraki lifted their eyes in terror as their steeds reared and screamed.
High above, Lo Quen gazed down coldly from Blooddancer's back.
Without hesitation, he gave the order to strike.
Blooddancer's jaws opened wide, and deep within its throat a crimson light began to gather and flare.
BOOM!
A torrent of blazing red fire slammed into the plains before the khalasar.
The earth exploded in flame, the grasslands transforming in an instant into a rolling sea of blood-red fire.
Flames several feet high devoured the tall grass with crackling fury.
The Dothraki scouts and riders at the forefront didn't even have time to scream—they and their horses were vaporized in an instant, leaving not even ash behind.
The wave of scorching heat swept outward, flinging distant riders and mounts into the air like rag dolls.
"Dragon!!!"
Khal Zekko's eyes bulged wide as he let out a roar of sheer terror.
Almost at the same moment that Blooddancer breathed fire, another deafening dragon's roar echoed from the rear of the khalasar.
A graceful silver shape appeared in the sky above the retreating riders. Jaelena's silver-gold hair streamed wildly in the storm winds stirred by the dragon's wings.
Silverfall opened its enormous jaws and unleashed a torrent of silver fire.
The fleeing Dothraki and their horses were engulfed in flames within seconds.
Both their front and rear escape routes were cut off.
The horsemen stared in panic at the dense sea of grass towering taller than men on either side.
"Run! Run!"
"Split up! Into the grass!"
Khal Zekko's orders were drowned beneath the chaos of terrified screams and the shrieks of panicked horses.
The Dothraki warriors could no longer heed their Khal's commands. The instinct to survive had completely overpowered discipline.
They whipped their terrified mounts into a frenzy, charging blindly into the boundless grasslands on both flanks.
The khalasar shattered in an instant, descending into total chaos.
Blooddancer and Silverfall, under the command of Lo Quen and Jaelena, swooped down to begin the hunt.
From above, the dragons circled and dived in relentless pursuit, raining fire upon the fleeing horde. Each wave of flame brought new screams and pillars of blazing light.
Khal Zekko's face twisted with fury. Brandishing his massive arakh, he tried to rally his Bloodriders for a counterattack.
"Shoot them down! Kill those dragon riders!" he bellowed, voice raw.
Several Bloodriders, choking down their terror, drew their composite bows amid the chaos and fired toward the circling dragons.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
A hail of arrows streaked into the sky—but the shafts, strong enough to pierce leather or chain, struck harmlessly against Blooddancer's dark crimson scales. They clattered and broke apart, bouncing away without leaving a mark.
Blooddancer didn't even bother to evade. It only shook its massive head in irritation and let out a deep, contemptuous snarl.
The color drained from Khal Zekko's face and from those of his Bloodriders. Despair hollowed their eyes.
If arrows could not harm it, how could they fight such a creature?
In that moment of stunned hopelessness, Lo Quen's gaze fixed upon them.
As though reading his thoughts, Blooddancer folded its wings and dove straight down in a violent, unstoppable plunge toward Khal Zekko's position.
The Khal looked up just in time to see a vast shadow blotting out the sun. The icy breath of death pierced his very bones.
He never even had time to scream.
"Roar—!"
Blooddancer swooped low, jaws opening wide. A surge of blood-red fire erupted forth.
BOOM!!!
Flames consumed Khal Zekko and his Bloodriders in an instant.
"Khal Zekko is dead!!"
"Khal Zekko was burned alive by the dragon!!"
The vaporization of their Khal and his chosen warriors shattered what little courage the Dothraki had left.
Their final will to resist collapsed.
The rest turned into a terrified mob, fleeing like sheep, cursing their horses for not having more legs as they bolted into the grasslands in blind panic.
But when they thought they had escaped the dragons' flames and burst through the tall grass, they were met by rows of gleaming spears and drawn bows.
Lo Quen's heavy cavalry and Dragon Soul Guards had already laid their trap along the edge of the grass sea.
The heavy cavalry leveled their long spears, forming an unbreakable wall of steel.
"Loose!"
The cold command rang across the lines.
Whoosh—!
The rear ranks of riders released their bowstrings, loosing a storm of arrows into the panicked Dothraki bursting from the grass.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The dull sound of arrows sinking into flesh filled the air. The first wave of Dothraki fell screaming, their cries once again shattering the brief silence.
Moments later, the heavy cavalry lowered their spears and spurred their warhorses forward, crashing into the disordered masses.
The lances punched easily through leather armor, piercing flesh and bone alike.
The Dothraki, once feared across Essos, now fell like lambs before the slaughter under the combined assault of dragons and cavalry. The battle quickly turned into a hunt—a grim and methodical slaughter.
An hour later, the field fell quiet beneath a haze of smoke and the stench of blood.
The captives, their hands bound tightly with rope, were strung together in groups of dozens and tethered to cavalry saddles. Heads bowed, their eyes were full of terror.
Their women and children were gathered under guard, their wails echoing across the plain.
The captured horses numbered beyond counting.
From one trembling prisoner, Lo Quen finally pried out what he sought—the location of the Dothraki's sacred city, Vaes Dothrak.