Martin, George R.R. - The Arms of the Kraken

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George R.R. Martin - Arms of the Kraken (A Song of Ice and Fire Book 4 Novella).htm

GEORGE R.R.

MARTIN

THE ARMS OF THE

KRAKEN

THE PROPHET

Aeron Damphair was drowning men on Great Wyk when they came to tell him that the king was dead.

It was a bleak cold morning, and the sea was as leaden as the sky. The first three men had offered their lives to the Drowned

God fearlessly, but the fourth was weak in faith, and began to struggle as his lungs cried out for air. Standing waist deep in

the surf, Aeron seized the naked boy by the shoulders and pushed his head back down as he tried to snatch a breath. "Have

courage." he said. "We came from the sea, and to the sea we must return. Open your mouth and drink deep of god's

blessing. Fill your lungs with water, that you may die and be reborn. It does no good to fight."

Either the boy could not hear him with his head beneath the waves, or else his faith had utterly deserted him. He began to

kick and thrash so wildly that Aeron had to call for help. Four of his drowned men waded out to seize the wretch and hold him

under water. "Lord God who drowned for us," the priest prayed, in a voice as deep as the sea, "let Emmond your servant be

reborn From the sea, as you were. Bless him

with salt, bless him with stone, bless him with steel."

Finally it was done. No more air was bubbling from his mouth, and all the strength had gone out of his limbs. Face

down in the shallow sea floated Lmmond, pale and cold and peaceful.

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George R.R. Martin - Arms of the Kraken (A Song of Ice and Fire Book 4 Novella).htm

That was when Ihe Damphair realized that three horsemen had joined his drowned men on the pebbled shore. Aeron knew

The Sparr, a hatchet-faced old man with watery eyes whose quavery voice was law on this part of Great Wyk, His son

Steffarion accompanied him, with another youth whose dark red fur-lined cloak was pinned at Ihe shoulder with a ornate

brooch that showed the black-and~gold warhorn of the Goodbrothers. One of Gorold's sons, the priest decided at a glance.

Three tall sons had been born to Goodbrother's wife late in We, after a dozen daughters, and it was said that no man could

tell one son from the others. Aeron Damphair did not deign to try. Whether this be Greydon or Gormond or Gran, the priest

had no time for him.

He growled a brusque command, and his drowned men seized the dead boy by his arms and legs to carry him above the

tideline. The priest followed, naked but for a sealskin clout that covered his private parts. Goosefleshed and dripping he

splashed back onto land, across cold wet sand and sea-scoured pebbles. One of his drowned men handed him a robe of

heavy roughspun dyed in mottled greens and blues and greys, the colors of the sea and the

Drowned God. Aeron donned the robe and pulled his hair free. Black and wet, that hair; no blade had touched it since the sea

had raised him up. ll draped his shoulders like a ragged, ropy cloak, and fell down past his waist. Aeron wove strands of

seaweed through it, and through his tangled, uncut beard.

His drowned men formed a circle around Ihe dead boy, praying. Norjen worked his arms whilst Rus knell astride him.

pumping on his chest, but all moved aside for Aeron. He pried apart the boy's cold lips with his fingers, and gave Emmond

the kiss of life, and agait and again, until the sea cam« tfirehinji from his mouth. The boy began to cough and spit, and his

eyes blinked open, full of fear.

Another one returned It was a sign of the Drowned God's favor, men said. Every other priest lost a man from time to lime,

even Tarle the Thrice-Drowned, who had once been thought so holy that he was picked to crown a king. But never Aeron

Greyjoy. He was the Damphair, who had seen the god's own watery halls and returned to tell of it. "Rise," he told the

sputtering boy, as he slapped him on his naked back. "You have drowned and been returned lo us. What is dead can never

die."

"But rises." The boy coughed violently, bringing up more water. "Rises

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again." Every word was bought with pain, but that was the way of the world; a man must fight to live. "Rises again." Emmond

staggered to his feet. "Harder. And stronger."

"You belong to the god now," Aeron told him. The other drowned men gathered round, and gave him each a punch and a

kiss to welcome him to brotherhood. One helped him don a roughspun robe of mottled blue and green and grey. Another

presented him with a driftwood cudgel. "You belong to the sea now, so the sea has armed you,"

Aeron said. "We pray that you shall wield your cudgel fiercely, against all the enemies of our god."

Only then did the priest turn to the three riders, watching from their saddles. "Have you come to be drowned, my lords?"

The Sparr coughed. "I was drowned as a boy," he said, "and my son upon his name day."

Aeron snorted. That Steffarion Sparr had been given to the Drowned God soon after birth he had no doubt. He knew the

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George R.R. Martin - Arms of the Kraken (A Song of Ice and Fire Book 4 Novella).htm

manner of it too, a quick dip into a tub of seawater that scarce wet the infant's head. Small wonder the ironborn had been

conquered, they who once held sway everywhere the sound of waves was heard. "That is no true drowning," he told the

riders. "He that does not die in truth cannot hope to rise from death. Why have you come, if not to prove your faith?"

"Lord Gorold's son came seeking you with news." The Sparr indicated the youth in the red cloak.

The boy looked to be no more than six-and-ten. "Aye, and which are you?" Aeron demanded.

"Gormond. Gormond Goodbrother, if it please my lord."

"It is the Drowned God we must please. Have you been drowned, Gormond Goodbrother?"

"On my name day, Damphair. My father sent me to find you and bring you to him. He needs to see you."

"Here I stand. Let Lord Gorold come and feast his eyes." Aeron took a

leather skin from Rus, freshly filled with water from the sea. The priest pulled out the cork and took a swallow.

"I am to bring you to the keep," insisted young Gormond, from atop his horse.

He is afraid to dismount, lest he get his boots wet. "! have the god's work to do." Aeron Greyjoy was a prophet. He did not

suffer petty lords ordering him about like some thrall.

"Gorold's had a bird," said The Sparr.

"A maester's bird, from Pyke," Gormond confirmed.

Dark wings, dark words, "The ravens fly o'er salt and stone. If there are tidings that concern me, speak them now."

"Such tidings as we bear are for your ears alone, Damphair," The Sparr said. "These are not matters I would speak of here

before these others."

"These others are my drowned men, god's servants, just as I am. I have no secrets from them, nor from our god beside

whose holy sea I stand."

The horsemen exchanged a look. "Tell him," said The Sparr, and the youth in the red cloak summoned up his courage. "The

king is dead," he said, as plain as that. Four small words, yet the sea itself trembled when he uttered them.

Four kings there were in Westeros, yet Aeron did not need to ask which one was meant. Balon Greyjoy ruled the Iron Islands,

and no other. The king is dead. How can that be? Aeron had seen his eldest brother not a moon's turn past, when he had

returned to the Iron Islands from harrying the Stony Store. Balon's grey hair had gone half white whilst the priest had been

away, and the stoop in his shoulders was more pronounced than when the long-ships sailed. Yet all in all the king had not

seemed ill.

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George R.R. Martin - Arms of the Kraken (A Song of Ice and Fire Book 4 Novella).htm

Aeron Greyjoy had built his life upon two mighty pillars. Those four small words had knocked one down. Only the Drowned

God remains to me. May he make me as strong and tireless as the sea. "Tell me the manner of my brother's death."

"His Grace was crossing a bridge at Pyke when he fell, and was dashed upon the rocks below."

The Greyjoy stronghold stood upon broken headland, its keeps and towers built atop massive stone stacks that thrust up

from the sea. Bridges knottei Pyke together; arched bridges of carved stone, and swaying spans of hempen rope and

wooden planks. "Wa; the storm raging when he fell?" Aeron demanded of them,

"Aye," the youth said, "if was."

"The Storm God cast him down," the priest announced. For a thousand thou sand years sea and sky had been at war. From

the sea had come the iron-born, and the fish that sustained them even in the depths of winter, but storms brought only woe

and grief. "My brother Balon made us great again, which earned the Storm God's wrath. He feasts now in the Drowned God's

watery halls, with mermaids to attend his every want. It shall be for u: who remain behind in this dry and dismal vale to finish

his great work." He pushed the cork back into his waterskit "I shall speak with your lord father. How far from here to

Hammerhorn?"

"Six leagues. You may ride pillion with me."

"One can ride faster than two. Give me your horse, and the Drowned God will bless you."

"Take my horse, Damphair," offered Steffarion Sparr.

"No. His mount is stronger. Your horse, boy."

The youth hesitated half a heartbeat then dismounted and held the reins for Damphair. Aeron shoved a bare black foot into a

stirrup and swung himself onto the saddle. He was not fond of horses-they were creatures from the green lands, and helped

to make men weak-but necessity required that he ride. Dark wings, dark words. A storm was brewing, he could hear it in the

waves and storms brought naught but evil. "Meet with me at Pebbleton beneath Lord Merlyn's tower," he told his drowned

men, as he turned the horse's head.

The way was rough, up hills and woods and stony defiles along a narro1 track that oft seemed to disappear beneath the

horse's hooves. Great Wyl was the largest of the Iron Islands, so vast that some of its lords had holding that did not front

upon the holy sea.

Gorold Goodbrother was one such. His

keep was in the Hardstone Hills, as far as from the Drowned God's realm as any place in the isles. Gorold's folk toiled down

in Gorold's mines, in the stony dark beneath the earth. Some lived and died without setting eyes upon salt water. Small

wonder that such folk are crabbed and queer.

As Aeron rode, his thoughts turned to his brothers.

Nine sons had been born from the toins of Quellon Greyjoy, the Lord of the Iron Islands. Marlon, Quenton, and Donel had

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Martin, George R.R. - The Arms of the Kraken

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