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- Джордж Мартин
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They
tried
.
Another
spearman
ran
at
him
.
Tyrion
lopped
off
the
head
of
his
spear
,
then
his
hand
,
then
his
arm
,
trotting
around
him
in
a
circle
.
An
archer
,
bowless
,
thrust
at
him
with
an
arrow
,
holding
it
as
if
it
were
a
knife
.
The
destrier
kicked
at
the
man
’
s
thigh
to
send
him
sprawling
,
and
Tyrion
barked
laughter
.
He
rode
past
a
banner
planted
in
the
mud
,
one
of
Stannis
’
s
fiery
hearts
,
and
chopped
the
staff
in
two
with
a
swing
of
his
axe
.
A
knight
rose
up
from
nowhere
to
hack
at
his
shield
with
a
two
-
handed
greatsword
,
again
and
again
,
until
someone
thrust
a
dagger
under
his
arm
.
One
of
Tyrion
’
s
men
,
perhaps
.
He
never
saw
.
"
I
yield
,
ser
,
"
a
different
knight
called
out
,
farther
down
the
river
.
"
Yield
.
Ser
knight
,
I
yield
to
you
.
My
pledge
,
here
,
here
.
"
The
man
lay
in
a
puddle
of
black
water
,
offering
up
a
lobstered
gauntlet
in
token
of
submission
.
Tyrion
had
to
lean
down
to
take
it
from
him
.
As
he
did
,
a
pot
of
wildfire
burst
overhead
,
spraying
green
flame
.
In
the
sudden
stab
of
light
he
saw
that
the
puddle
was
not
black
but
red
.
The
gauntlet
still
had
the
knight
’
s
hand
in
it
.
He
flung
it
back
.
"
Yield
,
"
the
man
sobbed
hopelessly
,
helplessly
.
Tyrion
reeled
away
.
A
man
-
at
-
arms
grabbed
the
bridle
of
his
horse
and
thrust
at
Tyrion
’
s
face
with
a
dagger
.
He
knocked
the
blade
aside
and
buried
the
axe
in
the
nape
of
the
man
’
s
neck
.
As
he
was
wresting
it
free
,
a
blaze
of
white
appeared
at
the
edge
of
his
vision
.
Tyrion
turned
,
thinking
to
find
Ser
Mandon
Moore
beside
him
again
,
but
this
was
a
different
white
knight
.
Ser
Balon
Swann
wore
the
same
armor
,
but
his
horse
trappings
bore
the
battling
black
-
and
-
white
swans
of
his
House
.
He
’
s
more
a
spotted
knight
than
a
white
one
,
Tyrion
thought
inanely
.
Every
bit
of
Ser
Balon
was
spattered
with
gore
and
smudged
by
smoke
.
He
raised
his
mace
to
point
downriver
.
Bits
of
brain
and
bone
clung
to
its
head
.
"
My
lord
,
look
.
"
Tyrion
swung
his
horse
about
to
peer
down
the
Blackwater
.
The
current
still
flowed
black
and
strong
beneath
,
but
the
surface
was
a
roil
of
blood
and
flame
.
The
sky
was
red
and
orange
and
garish
green
.
"
What
?
"
he
said
.
Then
he
saw
.
Steel
-
clad
men
-
at
-
arms
were
clambering
off
a
broken
galley
that
had
smashed
into
a
pier
.
So
many
,
where
are
they
coming
from
?
Squinting
into
the
smoke
and
glare
,
Tyrion
followed
them
back
out
into
the
river
.
Twenty
galleys
were
jammed
together
out
there
,
maybe
more
,
it
was
hard
to
count
.
Their
oars
were
crossed
,
their
hulls
locked
together
with
grappling
lines
,
they
were
impaled
on
each
other
’
s
rams
,
tangled
in
webs
of
fallen
rigging
.
One
great
hulk
floated
hull
-
up
between
two
smaller
ships
.
Wrecks
,
but
packed
so
closely
that
it
was
possible
to
leap
from
one
deck
to
the
other
and
so
cross
the
Blackwater
.
Hundreds
of
Stannis
Baratheon
’
s
boldest
were
doing
just
that
.
Tyrion
saw
one
great
fool
of
a
knight
trying
to
ride
across
,
urging
a
terrified
horse
over
gunwales
and
oars
,
across
tilting
decks
slick
with
blood
and
crackling
with
green
fire
.
We
made
them
a
bloody
bridge
,
he
thought
in
dismay
.
Parts
of
the
bridge
were
sinking
and
other
parts
were
afire
and
the
whole
thing
was
creaking
and
shifting
and
like
to
burst
asunder
at
any
moment
,
but
that
did
not
seem
to
stop
them
.
"
Those
are
brave
men
,
"
he
told
Ser
Balon
in
admiration
.
"
Let
’
s
go
kill
them
.
"
He
led
them
through
the
guttering
fires
and
the
soot
and
ash
of
the
riverfront
,
pounding
down
a
long
stone
quay
with
his
own
men
and
Ser
Balon
’
s
behind
him
.
Ser
Mandon
fell
in
with
them
,
his
shield
a
ragged
ruin
.
Smoke
and
cinders
swirled
through
the
air
,
and
the
foe
broke
before
their
charge
,
throwing
themselves
back
into
the
water
,
knocking
over
other
men
as
they
fought
to
climb
up
.
The
foot
of
the
bridge
was
a
half
-
sunken
enemy
galley
with
Dragonsbane
painted
on
her
prow
,
her
bottom
ripped
out
by
one
of
the
sunken
hulks
Tyrion
had
placed
between
the
quays
.
A
spearman
wearing
the
red
crab
badge
of
House
Celtigar
drove
the
point
of
his
weapon
up
through
the
chest
of
Balon
Swann
’
s
horse
before
he
could
dismount
,
spilling
the
knight
from
the
saddle
.
Tyrion
hacked
at
the
man
’
s
head
as
he
flashed
by
,
and
by
then
it
was
too
late
to
rein
up
.
His
stallion
leapt
from
the
end
of
the
quay
and
over
a
splintered
gunwale
,
landing
with
a
splash
and
a
scream
in
ankle
-
deep
water
.
Tyrion
’
s
axe
went
spinning
,
followed
by
Tyrion
himself
,
and
the
deck
rose
up
to
give
him
a
wet
smack
.
