Without the potions, Euron Greyjoy could scarce contemplate how the time would have passed.
Cragorn and him took turns digging the area where they had last hidden it. “I swear by the gods,” he said, while his hands grabbed mud and flung it on a small pile besides, “every time we bury it, it seems to move underground. Place is cursed.”
The Crow’s Eye sneered at his comment. “I could not care less if this place is cursed,” he said, “as long as pirates and pillagers are too afraid to come here and find my prize.” While Cragorn was digging, his humble boat shuddered as Euron danced on it. He had given himself to the spirits completely. His throat felt famished, but he had already exhausted the last of the essence.
“Why Meereen?” Cragorn was saying. Euron got the impression that he had asked several times before, but the spirits took away his gift of hearing. He licked his lips, absent-mindedly fingering his dark black eye of malice. “Meereen,” he repeated, his other eye gazing at the ruins of Valyria with lust. “Where curious cultures have converged, and brave men stand their sentries. Unrealized talent, put to as much use as nipples on a breastplate.” Uncontrollable chuckles began to escape him. “I hear the leader of the Second Sons, Daario Naharis, sits there.” He spat bright blue phlegm in the Smoking Sea. “What a waste.”
“The very same? I have not heard of him in-” Cragorn said, before his arms hit solid steel. At the sound, Euron jumped off the docked ship and ran towards him. “Did you find it?” he asked excitedly.
When they entirely dug it out, it was as beautiful as the time when Euron found it years ago. The pure, shiny reflection only Valyrian steel gave. The black gleam was blended with bloodred gold, painted on a warm and smooth surface. It took the both of them to carry the horn of six feet long to their boat. Before they set sail, he gave it a kiss.
“You think this will be payment enough?” Cragorn asked.
“Oh, yes.” Euron and Daario’s paths had crossed more than once during his time in exile. He knew how he thought. “I had invited him to fight with Greyjoy. Gold was put on the table, and he seemed ready to set sail, but something stopped him. I think it’s time we resume talks. This should do the trick.”
“No,” a harsh voice croaked. “I think not.”
Something dropped on their boat, lean, grim with eyes of blue and flesh black as malice. He reeked of death, and the stench was pungent yet known. Euron’s chuckles turned louder. Fool, he told himself playfully, with your eye you lost all your wits as well. What made you forget of stone men in Valyria?
Euron lunged confidently, looking to knock him in the water, before he realized there were three of them. He went for the one on the left, putting all his force behind the shove. The stone man came closer, closer, until Euron passed right through him and hit Cragorn instead, who tipped over.
Now there were four.
“In these warm, bare shores of Valyria,” they echoed across the ruins, “I cursed the absence of my role in the rightful queen’s bid. But if what you say is true, if Daario Naharis did not set sail on my say, mayhaps I achieved a lot more than I thought. Maybe I can do more. After all, I have nothing to lose.”
Four dead men converged. Euron tried to fight them all away, but his hands mostly touched air. It was not long before the Crow’s Eye realize they were all one man.
In the confusion, flashes of his battle against the Blackfish came back. No, a voice told him. This will not be another defeat. As his vision cleared and the lone stone man became clearer in sight, Euron knew what he had to do.
“Exile was my best teacher,” he said, “it showed me that the world is madness and cruelty. Do you believe the bards? Do you believe everyone gets a happy ending? Do you think your queen is proud of you? And did you hope,” he said, as he grabbed the man without hesitation, much to his surprise, “that I would be too craven to touch you? Fool. A storm does not bow, and I am the storm. The first storm, and the last.”
He forced the stone man’s lips to the horn, and forced him to blow. As an inhuman screech rung across the ruins of Valyria, boiling the Smoking Sea, Euron Greyjoy saw eagerly into the eyes of the stone man, seemingly lucid enough to feel pain and death, for in that moment, the Crow’s Eye found in the poor soul’s eyes the very depths of doom.
*
End of episode – S08E02 will be published on Sunday, 14th October 2018, 8:30 am GMT
コメント