Chapter 7: A Clutch of Shadows
The blood-red egg, nestled in the deepest, most fiercely heated recess of the suitcase's volcanic grotto, began its violent birth throes as Vaelyx was negotiating the terms for acquiring a sturdy, ocean-going vessel with a consortium of tight-lipped Braavosi shipwrights operating in Pentos. Malakai had identified "The Sea Serpent" as a prime candidate – swift, well-armed, and with a reputation for weathering the unpredictable squalls of the Summer Sea. Vaelyx, as Valerius, was driving a hard bargain, his cool demeanor masking the internal urgency that clawed at him.
A sudden, sharp mental cry, a wave of incandescent heat that he felt even through the suitcase's magical insulation, made him pause mid-sentence. The Braavosi factor, a man with eyes like chipped ice, raised a questioning eyebrow.
"A momentary… indigestion, gentlemen," Vaelyx said smoothly, a chilling smile touching his lips. "The richness of Pentoshi cuisine. If you'll excuse me."
He concluded the deal with a swiftness that surprised them, securing "The Sea Serpent" at a favorable price, then retreated to his lodgings, his mind already descending into the fiery nursery.
Vorlag and Veridian, now the size of large mastiffs, sensed the imminent arrival. Vorlag, ever the aggressive sentinel, paced restlessly before the pulsating red egg, his obsidian scales bristling, letting out low, guttural growls. Veridian, perched on a higher ledge, watched with his intelligent golden eyes, his jade-and-bronze form tense, occasionally emitting soft, anxious chirps.
The blood-red shell, already glowing like a live coal, cracked with explosive force, sending shards skittering across the grotto floor. A wave of almost unbearable heat washed outwards, far more intense than that from the previous hatchings. From the fiery crucible emerged a dragonet that was pure, incandescent fury. Its scales were the precise shade of arterial blood, so dark they were almost black in the shadows, but blazing crimson where the magical light touched them. Its eyes were not gold or bronze, but molten pools of ruby, burning with an inner light. It was slightly larger than the others had been at birth, its limbs thick with nascent power, its claws already formidable.
It let out a roar that was not a screech or a chirp, but a deep, resonant bellow that shook the very air of the grotto, a sound far too powerful for its size. It fixed its blazing ruby eyes on Vaelyx.
Ignis let out another bellow, and a gout of brilliant scarlet flame, hotter and more focused than anything Vorlag or even Veridian could yet produce, erupted from its snout, striking a nearby rock face and turning it instantly to molten slag.
Vorlag, perhaps seeing a challenge to his dominance, launched himself at the newcomer with a savage roar. Ignis met him head-on, a whirlwind of crimson fury. The two young dragons clashed in a shower of sparks and furious hisses, their fires momentarily engulfing each other.
The two combatants broke apart, panting, their fires dimming slightly, but their ruby and golden eyes still blazing defiance. Veridian, from his perch, let out a distressed chirp, clearly unsettled by the ferocity. It took all of Vaelyx's concentration, a sheer exertion of magical will, to impose a fragile truce. Three dragons. A true clutch. Each a distinct personality, each a potent weapon, and each a monumental challenge to control and conceal.
The demands on Vaelyx became staggering. Feeding three rapidly growing dragons was a logistical nightmare. Malakai, bless his efficient, unquestioning nature, now arranged for entire small herds of goats and sheep to be delivered to a remote, walled-off property Vaelyx had acquired on the outskirts of Pentos, ostensibly for "agricultural experiments." From there, Vaelyx would magically transport the unfortunate beasts into the suitcase. The charnel farm within its expanded dimensions grew ever larger, a grim testament to his dragons' voracious appetites.
He expanded the volcanic grotto yet again, creating a vast, multi-levelled cavern where the young dragons could, with extreme caution, begin to test their wings. Short, clumsy hops became powerful glides. Their fire control improved under his relentless tutelage. Vorlag's black-red flames became devastatingly precise. Veridian's ethereal green fire developed a disconcerting ability to bypass some magical wards. Ignis's scarlet inferno was sheer, unadulterated destructive power.
The suitcase itself, Newt Scamander's ingenious creation, was being tested to its absolute limits. Vaelyx spent hours reinforcing its containment charms, its silencing spells, its spatial enchantments, drawing deep on Voldemort's knowledge of arcane architecture and warding. The constant drain on his magic was significant, forcing him to be more ruthless in his energy expenditure, relying on his wand for almost all complex spellwork to maintain efficiency. His psychopathic compartmentalization allowed him to manage the intense pressure, but the sheer weight of his secrets was a constant, cold companion.
His alliance with Illyrio Mopatis solidified. The Magister, impressed by the Serpent's Scale's continued success and Valerius's uncanny foresight in trade, became more forthcoming. He provided Vaelyx with detailed charts of the Smoking Sea, annotated with harrowing tales of previous failed expeditions, and lists of Valyrian words that supposedly held power over the stone guardians rumored to protect some ruins.
"The journey to Valyria is a path to madness or unparalleled riches, Valerius," Illyrio rumbled during one of their late-night discussions, his eyes gleaming with vicarious ambition. "Many have tried. Most have perished. But for those who succeed…" He gestured expansively around his treasure-filled chamber. "This would seem but a pauper's hovel."
Vaelyx, using Legilimency, confirmed that Illyrio genuinely believed in the potential rewards but was also clearly hoping to use Vaelyx as an expendable probe. He also gleaned that Illyrio suspected "Valerius" of possessing some hidden, perhaps magical, advantage but couldn't fathom its nature. This suited Vaelyx perfectly.
The Valyrian expedition team was handpicked. Kaelen, his grim loyalty absolute, would command the martial arm. Lyra's stealth and Boros's strength were indispensable. Malakai would manage logistics and finances from Pentos, a vital anchor. Vaelyx also selected a dozen of his most hardened, disciplined sellswords, men whose courage bordered on recklessness, and whose loyalty had been bought with blood and gold. For the ship's crew, he hired a veteran Tyroshi captain named Orzono, a man who claimed to have sailed closer to the Smoking Sea than any other living sailor and who, more importantly, displayed a healthy fear of "Valerius" and a profound greed for the promised bonuses.
"The Sea Serpent" was refitted under Vaelyx's direct, if discreet, supervision. He subtly wove protective enchantments into its hull, spells for speed and silent running, wards against unnatural storms. His private cabin was heavily reinforced, its door a marvel of mundane and magical locks, ensuring the suitcase within remained inviolate.
Before they could embark on the perilous journey to Valyria, Illyrio presented Vaelyx with a "test of faith and an opportunity for mutual enrichment," as he phrased it. A rival consortium of Volantene traders, backed by a powerful Tiger cloak family, had established a fortified trading post on one of the Basilisk Isles, cutting into Illyrio's lucrative slave and spice routes. They had also, Illyrio claimed with outrage, stolen an ancient Valyrian astrolabe, a device rumored to be essential for navigating the treacherous, ever-shifting magical currents around Valyria itself.
"Reclaim this astrolabe, Valerius," Illyrio had urged, "and dismantle their outpost. Ensure the Tigers of Volantis understand the folly of challenging my interests. Success will not only be generously rewarded but will also prove your company's capabilities in… maritime endeavors."
It was a clear challenge, a dangerous mission far from Pentos, requiring naval skill and amphibious assault. It was also, Vaelyx recognized, a perfect shakedown cruise for "The Sea Serpent" and his chosen expeditionary force.
The assault on the Volantene outpost was a masterstroke of brutal efficiency. "The Sea Serpent," aided by Vaelyx's enchantments, slipped past the island's outer patrols under the cover of a magically conjured sea mist. Lyra, moving like a phantom, disabled the sentries at the small, fortified harbor. Kaelen and Boros then led the Serpent's Scale in a perfectly coordinated amphibious assault, their landing craft grating on the beach just as dawn broke.
Vaelyx remained on "The Sea Serpent," ostensibly directing the battle from afar, but in reality, subtly augmenting his forces with magic. A well-aimed Confringo (Blasting Curse) from his disguised wand caused a crucial watchtower to explode, sowing chaos among the Volantene defenders. When a Volantene fire ship attempted to intercept their landing craft, Vaelyx, from the privacy of his cabin, briefly opened his suitcase. He didn't release his dragons, but he allowed a sliver of their collective aura – the predatory menace of Vorlag, the unsettling magic of Veridian, the raw fury of Ignis – to wash out. The Volantene sailors on the fire ship suddenly faltered, their movements becoming sluggish, their faces paling with an inexplicable dread. The fire ship veered off course, crashing harmlessly into a reef.
The battle was short and savage. The Volantenes, caught by surprise and unnerved by the seemingly supernatural misfortunes plaguing them, were overwhelmed. Kaelen himself, a grim figure in his scarred plate armor, cut down the Volantene commander. The astrolabe, an intricate device of interlocking black Valyrian steel rings, was recovered from the commander's burning quarters.
As per Illyrio's explicit instructions, the outpost was razed, its defenders put to the sword. No mercy was shown. The Serpent's Scale Company left behind only smoking ruins and a chilling message for the Tigers of Volantis.
Their return to Pentos was triumphant. Illyrio was overjoyed, showering Vaelyx with praise and a handsome sum of gold. The Valyrian astrolabe was handed over, though Vaelyx, having studied it intensely within his suitcase, had already memorized its intricate workings and even subtly duplicated its core enchantments onto a mundane replica for his own use.
The success of the Basilisk Isles raid cemented Vaelyx's reputation as a formidable commander, capable of projecting power far beyond the city walls. His men looked upon him with an almost religious fervor. He was more than just a captain; he was a harbinger of victory, seemingly touched by fortune itself.
This growing power, however, further isolated Vaelyx. He shared his true thoughts, his ultimate ambitions, with no one. His lieutenants were loyal tools, his dragons potent but demanding weapons. The persona of Valerius was a carefully constructed mask, but beneath it, Vaelyx-Voldemort was ascendant, the chilling intellect and ruthless ambition of the Dark Lord now fused with the Targaryen lineage and a burning desire to reclaim a birthright.
Within the suitcase, the remaining four eggs were stirring. The pale cream one, striated with gold, had begun to crack. The bronze egg with silver swirls felt distinctly warm. The white egg with sapphire flecks occasionally trembled. And the deep blue one, like a stormy sea, emitted a low, mournful thrum.
The Valyrian expedition was no longer a distant plan; it was an imminent necessity. He needed more knowledge, more resources, perhaps even a safer, more secluded place to hatch and rear what was fast becoming a formidable flight of dragons. Valyria, the dead heart of his ancestors' empire, called to him with promises of ancient magic and the keys to his ultimate conquest. The Serpent of Pentos, now a master of three young, hungry flames, was ready to brave the Smoking Sea.