映像特典～ドスラク人の歩みと聖地の風土・特徴

The Doom took Valyria in minutes. But the rest of Essos wasn’t so lucky. Out of the east swarmed the Dothraki. And there were no dragons to push them back.

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The Dothraki tide slammed first into the Sarnori, who called themselves the Tall Men, and whose ancient kingdom dominated the grasslands of Essos. The Tall Men at first scorned the Horselords as uncivilized barbarians. Which they were. But Khal Mengo had united all of them into one khalasar with one aim. To trample the world beneath their hooves and take other peoples as their herd. One by one, the cities of the Tall Men were overwhelmed. Still, they wouldn’t unite against the Dothraki. Many didn’t believe the tales of the rare survivors.

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No army could move so fast or strike so quickly. They didn’t know that the Dothraki live in the saddle and have such command over their horses that they seem to have four legs, not two. Where most archers fire from foot, the Dothraki fire from horseback. Charging or retreating, it makes no matter, they are just as deadly. But the Dothraki prefer close combat, howling for blood as they ride down their enemies with their arakhs. And there were so many of them. When Khal Mengo’s son, Khal Moro, laid waste to the Waterfall City of Sathar, renaming it, The Place of Wailing Children, the Tall Men finally realized their peril.

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Led by a High King, they assembled a great army to break the khals once and for all and met the Dothraki on what would ever after be known as the Field of Crows. The four khals commanded almost 80,000 horsemen between them. The Tall Men had 100,000 foot soldiers, 10,000 armored riders, 10,000 light horsemen, and 6,000 scythed chariots. As battle was joined, the earth-shattering advance of the Tall Men’s chariots smashed through the center of the Dothraki horde, the spinning blades on their wheels slicing through the legs of the Dothraki horses. When one khal went down before them, cut to pieces and trampled, his khalasar broke and fled. The chariots thundered after the fleeing horsemen, and the High King and his armored riders plunged in after them, followed by their foot soldiers, waving their spears and screaming in victory. But it was a trap. The Dothraki were not fleeing, as the Tall Men realized when the Horselords suddenly turned their horses and unleashed a storm of arrows. Two more khalasars swept down on the Tall Men’s flanks while another attacked them from the rear, cutting off their retreat. Completely encircled, the High King and his mighty host was destroyed. The Tall Men had stood for thousands of years. Now the crows feasted on their corpses, as the Dothraki squabbled over their valuables.

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The common wisdom is that the Dothraki tide finally broke upon the spears of the Unsullied at Qohor, saving Essos from the Horselords. In truth, the days when the Dothraki could threaten the entire world had already passed. The great khalasar forged by Khal Mengo had splintered into a dozen hordes after the death of the last great khal, and the riders had resumed their petty feuds. The grasslands of Essos are now called the Dothraki Sea, but no more nations drown in it.

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Still, the Dothraki priestesses, the Dosh Khaleen, prophesy that one day the Dothraki will gather at Vaes Dothrak, their holy capital, and unite once more under the greatest khal of them all, the stallion who mounts the world. He will lead their people to the ends of the earth and grind all nations to dust beneath them. I knew a khaleesi who the priestesses said would give birth to this Stallion. She didn’t. No doubt, the Dosh Khaleen have made the same prophecy before and will again.

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World conquest is an alluring dream, but few who dream it ever awake to its reality. Yet could the Dothraki, united behind one great leader, conquer the world? When I first came to Essos, I laughed at the idea. But now, most armies are either sellswords paid to fight who often refuse to die, or peasants called up from the fields and hovels. How long would those armies stand against the charge of 100,000 screamers howling for blood? How well would boiled-leather jerkins and mailed shirts protect them when the arrows fall like rain?

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When the Doom claimed Valyria, the great freehold fractured into warring cities and upstart nations ripe for the taking. Out of the east swarmed the Dothraki, the horselords of the plains who feared only defeat and dragons, and now the dragons were all gone.

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Under the great Khal Temmo, they sacked and burned every town and city in their path. No army could stand against them, because the Dothraki do not stand. The horselords do not draw up battle lines or hide behind shield walls or layer themselves in armor. The Dothraki charge. Their blades are more scythe than sword, and better to cull the infantry ranks without breaking stride. Even their archers fire from horseback so that advancing or retreating, the arrows never cease. To the Dothraki, a man who does not ride is no man at all, without honor or pride.

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When the city of Qohor realized Khal Temmo was coming, they strengthened their walls, doubled their own guards and hired two full companies of sellswords. The Dothraki were used to glorified farmers with spears, Qohor would show them a proper army, with armored and mounted cavalry to match the horde’s own. As an afterthought, the city leaders sent an envoy to Astapor to buy Unsullied. The slavers had always claimed that the Unsullied were the great Ghiscari legions come again. Few cared. The dragon-burned ruins of Old Ghis were a stark reminder that the age of the foot-soldier was over. The envoy had his orders, however, and quickly bought three thousand Unsullied for the long march back, for Unsullied do not ride.

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But while they marched, Khal Temmo arrived at Qohor. I can imagine how pleased the Khal was to finally face a challenge. By the end of the battle, crows and wolves feasted on what remained of Qohor’s heavy horse. All the sellswords had fled. Qohor knew that the Dothraki would very soon break through the gates to rape, slave and burn at their pleasure.

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Yet the next day Khal Temmo woke to find before the gates three thousand eunuchs in formation, armed with only spears, shields and spiked helms. The Unsullied had slipped past the Khal’s army in the night while the Dothraki feasted. Khal Temmo had many times their number and could easily have flanked the small forces, but to the Dothraki, men on foot are made only to be ridden down. Eighteen times the horselords charged and eighteen times the Unsullied locked their shields, lowered their spears and held the line against twenty thousand Dothraki screamers. When the Khal’s archers rained arrows on them, the Unsullied lifted their shields above their heads until the swarm passed; and then they held the line. In the end, only six hundred Unsullied remained, but more than twelve thousand Dothraki lay dead, including Khal Temmo and all of his sons. The new Khal led the survivors past the city gates where one by one each man cut off his braid and threw it down before the feet of the Unsullied, defeated and shamed forever.

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Since that day, the Unsullied fill the ranks of cities and households wealthy enough or desperate enough. Sellswords fight for gold, knights for glory and Dothraki for blood. To a man, the Unsullied fight only to obey. With the right master over them, imagine how the forces of chaos would break against their shields. The conquerors, the madmen, the usurpers.

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Between the Free Cities and the Bones, between the Shivering Sea and Slaver’s Bay, spreads the Dothraki Sea. Named not for its waters but for how freely its conquerors roam upon it. A traveler on the Dothraki Sea will find few villages and no farms. Because the Dothraki view it as a sin to cut into their Mother Earth with plows and shovels. And the Dothraki know only one punishment.

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The closest the Dothraki approach to civilization is Vaes Dothrak. Though to outsiders, it doesn’t look like a city. There are no walls because the Dothraki believe only cowards hide behind them, instead of facing an enemy blade in hand. But the Dothraki couldn’t do that here either. Within the bounds of the city, no one, not even the mightiest Khal, may carry a blade, by order of the priestesses of the Dosh Khaleen. Not that any enemy would be foolish enough to attack the sacred city of the Dothraki in the first place.

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Two giant bronze stallions rear over the entrance to the city, their hooves meeting in the air to form an arch, the famous Horse Gate. Through it is the Godsway, where the Dothraki drag the sacred idols of the cities and peoples they’ve broken. Along one side, stone gods look down on you from cracked thrones with chipped and stained faces, their names lost to time. Across the road, monsters watch you pass. Black iron dragons with jewels for eyes, roaring griffins, manticores with barbed tails poised to strike and other terrible beasts from every corner of Essos. But there is nothing to fear. If these gods and devils had any power, they would never have ended here.

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Not all foreign gods in Vaes Dothrak are broken. In the Eastern and Western Markets, merchants worship their god of trade with the sufferance of the Dothraki, who themselves don’t understand buying and selling. The Western Market is a great square of beaten earth filled with animal pens, drinking halls and a maze of stalls and crooked aisles. Even goods from Westeros find their way here. Though the merchants who sell them wouldn’t know a Lannister from a Frey. The Eastern Market is, fittingly, a stranger place. The elders of the Dosh Khaleen view it with suspicion and most Dothraki stay away. They aren’t wrong. The great elephants, the basilisks in silver cages and the striped black-and-white horses of the Jogos Nhai are harmless enough. But I can see how the elders wouldn’t want their younger members to see the warrior maids of Hyrkoon, who wear iron rings in their nipples and rubies in their cheeks. Or listen to the Shadow Men, who cover their bodies with tattoos and hide their faces behind masks and whisper dark secrets for a price. This is all of Vaes Dothrak that foreigners ever know. For only Dothraki are permitted in the inner city where the Dosh Khaleen live out their lives.

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A bloodrider, drunk on fermented mare’s milk, once told me that the Dosh Khaleen are stewards. They prepare for the day when every rider of every khalasar shall return to the city. And the Dothraki truly will be one blood and one khalasar again, under the greatest Khal of all, the stallion who mounts the world. He will ride to the ends of the earth and grind nations into dust, and take the whole world as his herd. Or so the prophecy goes. Yet the world is vast, with many places a horse can’t go. The stallion who mounts the world couldn’t rear above a mountain range. Or leap across the sea. Still, the world has been conquered before. Just not with stallions.

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