Narrow seas, vast skies, and the pirate fleet were on the hunt.
The "Telescope" was currently navigating the waterways above the Stepstones. If it got dragged into the narrow channels between the islands by the pirate longships, there would be no chance of escape.
Gendry noticed that most of the Myrish had olive skin and black hair and eyes, completely different from the Lysene people. Many believed they were close relatives of the Rhoynar.
The pirates' two longships were flanking them from both sides, with black sails and flags. The pirates' ballistae fired grappling hooks with ropes, followed by massive arrows.
As the longships closed in, boarding ladders were thrown over. There were just too many hooks and ladders flying in, and the sailors couldn't dismantle them all in time.
"Thwip!" "Thwip!" The Myrish sailors fought back amidst the rain of arrows. Several pirates took arrows to the chest, screamed in agony, and then fell into the sea, where they would become shark food.
"Keep shooting! Passengers, stay back!" Captain Dunster shouted, with the lookout and navigator directing the sailors' attack. Daggers, short swords, and crossbows—those were the Myrish's favorite gear. But the pirates' ballistae were just too fierce, gradually silencing the Myrish.
"Should've bought some longbowmen!" Captain Dunster lamented. Crossbows just weren't efficient enough, and they hadn't bought many of the fancy triple-shot models.
An archer could shoot three arrows in the time it took to fire one crossbow bolt—that was the advantage of longbows. Generally speaking, crossbows had stronger penetration, but they were slow to fire and tricky to reload.
Seeing the ballista arrows slamming brutally into the deck, most of the Westerosi passengers dropped their crossbows and cowered, covering their heads.
Gendry dodged nimbly, but after a few shots, old Qyburn motioned for him to move back. There was no way human flesh could withstand a ballista bolt. After a few rounds, the Myrish were starting to break.
Other pirates, holding their shields high, didn't care about their fallen comrades and climbed up the "Telescope" from all directions using the ladders. The pirates were well-trained, and once it came to close combat, the Myrish sailors were relatively clumsy.
"War isn't a game. It's blood and fire, courage and experience!" The Myrish sailors' line crumbled at the first touch. The terrifying Myrish crossbows weren't omnipotent.
The leading Myrish sailors lacked the pirates' bloodlust, and the hastily organized passengers were no professional fighters.
Gendry saw the panic and fear on the faces of the captain, navigator, and others. Once a sea battle turned into boarding action, it was quick and brutal. After all, the sea wasn't like land. Once attacked, there was nowhere to run. The Westerosi passengers were even more frantic, huddled at the back of the ship, sweating and crying.
"I am unlucky. I should've stayed in Westeros and found a small castle to be a maester!" Maester Qyburn muttered quietly, but he still looked relatively calm. The old man and the young one were hiding at the stern.
"Can you swim? If things get really bad, you should try to swim away. I've lived enough, but you're still young."
"Let's see how things go," Gendry whispered.
"Charge! A delicious feast!" The pirates' swift blades were like a storm, first cutting down the Myrish navigator who was leading the resistance, then killing a few more who didn't react in time. The other Myrish sailors didn't hold out much longer and dropped their weapons. Only Captain Dunster stood his ground, his face ashen.
"Drop your weapons and armor! Crouch down!"
"Drop your weapons! Get down!"
The sounds of short swords, daggers, armor, and crossbows hitting the deck were harsh and forceful.
Gendry found a secluded spot. The mace was still nearby, but the armor was too conspicuous to keep on. The Myrish sailors huddled at the front, followed by the Westerosi.
"One, two, three... twelve!" Gendry silently counted the pirates. There were about twelve of them. For ease of combat, pirates rarely wore cumbersome plate armor, opting for leather jerkins instead.
"I am the storm!" The pirate captain shouted as he boarded the ship. He had purple hair and a mouth full of ravenous golden teeth. He was tall and wore black scale armor, wielding two longswords.
The pirate captain looked at Captain Dunster like he was already a dead man.
A better option would've been to ram the ship's side and shatter the oars. The pirates must've wanted to capture the entire vessel, which was why they didn't attack that way.
"Why fight?" The pirate captain stepped on the navigator's corpse and kicked it aside, blood pooling on the deck.
"Sailors aren't slaves or slavers. They're experienced free Myrish sailors. Leave the cargo, and you can keep your lives. I'll fetch a high ransom for you."
"What do you think of my proposal, Captain?" the pirate captain said arrogantly.
"Sir, please, I'll pay you a high ransom separately. But these goods are meant for Myr. I have collateral in the treasury!" Captain Dunster forced a smile, a very strained one.
"As everyone knows, pirates never haggle!" The golden-toothed pirate slapped the captain across the face. "Now you should be awake!"
"Spread out. Get some men to check the cargo in the hold. The rest, stay with me!"
Gendry was calculating the number of pirates. There were men on the longship manning it, and now the pirates had split into two groups. One group of six, and the golden-toothed pirate seemed to be the most dangerous, strong, and burly. This was a good opportunity—should he strike or not?
"Wise captain, you have not only cargo but also passengers here. Westerosi, right?" The golden-toothed pirate glanced around and noticed the Westerosi passengers among the Myrish sailors. It was easy to tell them apart.
The Westerosi mostly had the look of Andals—blonde hair, green or blue eyes.
"Yes, sir!" Captain Dunster stammered, beads of sweat on his forehead. Compared to himself and the Myrish sailors, it seemed these Westerosi were in even more danger.
Sending a ransom note to King's Landing was too far for the pirates. Their better option would be to sell them into slavery or just kill them and take their stuff.
The golden-toothed pirate walked right up to the Westerosi passengers. The ones at the back huddled together, actually hiding Qyburn and Gendry.
"Damn, ugly ones, old ones, not a single pretty boy or girl. No way to get a high price from the Lysene slavers!"
"Sir, please don't kill me. I'll give you all my goods and money!" A short, fat Westerosi merchant groveled and pleaded.
"Give me your money?" The golden-toothed pirate laughed. "Kill you, and the goods are still mine."
"What's this old man doing here?" The golden-toothed pirate noticed old Qyburn at the very back. "The old are the least valuable!"
The pirate walked up to Qyburn and examined him. Qyburn sensed Gendry's tension but subtly signaled him to stay put. Gendry shifted his position again, not out of fear, but to get closer to the mace.
"Sir, please forgive me. I'm no ordinary old man. I studied at the Citadel in Westeros. I'm a well-trained healer. I might be of some use to you!" Qyburn said formally, neither humble nor arrogant. His demeanor gave the pirate pause.
"You speak well, but you're too old, old man. The cost of keeping you alive is more than what you're worth! Say hello to the sea for me. Maybe the mermaids need a healer!" The golden-toothed pirate grabbed Qyburn's sleeve, glaring menacingly, pretending to throw him overboard.
Qyburn started to beg for mercy, which just made the pirate laugh harder. "Poor old man, I'll let you live a bit longer. You made me laugh. After I've taken all the wealth, you can meet the sea then!"
"And you, boy, take off that iron mask! You've got a good build and a voice as clear as steel. As long as you don't have scars or pockmarks on your face, those Lysene whores will like you!" The golden-toothed pirate noticed Gendry with the iron mask. Even though he was hiding at the back, his build was noticeable.
"As you command, sir!" Gendry touched his mask, but it didn't fall off. As he moved, he felt the mace in his hand and, with a movement as swift as thunder, smashed it straight at the golden-toothed pirate.
Wait, observe, wait, observe. The pirate was wearing black scale armor. If this attack didn't kill him, Gendry would regret it a thousand times over.
Gendry felt like he was back in the forge, focusing all his spirit into one point, delivering the best possible strike.