They were thirty- four in total. Twenty Unsullied, twelve Dothraki hunters, Ser Barristan and the Queen herself. A party big enough to remain untroubled by bandits, but small enough to move quickly. Drogon travelled with them, if irregularly. His terrifying shadow darkened the same road as the riders, but the dragon slept alone. He never rested at their camp but he was never far away either.
The riders sped south, eating the miles away with their constant pace. Daenerys felt only dread for what lay ahead, for who lay ahead. On their third day they had found a body lying in the road, a neat hole in the back of his head where something short and sharp had been pushed up into his brain. They stopped to bury the poor fellow. Daenerys wondered who he had been and what he had done before the assassin had killed him but more importantly she wondered why the assassin had killed the man. She tried to guess what the poor man had done to deserve such a short sharp end. Had he just been unlucky? Had he spoken to the assassin? Did he even realise that he was walking down the road for the last time? That these uneven paving stones and mud pools would be the last thing he ever saw?
The assassin plagued her mind as they moved ever south. 'The assassin must be from a foreign land, a very far away foreign land." She told herself. She did not know if it was reassuring or not.
In her time, she had met sadists and sorcerers, mercenaries and thieves, people both good and bad, but she doubted whether she had ever met anyone like the dark figure she now pursued. She told herself that the assassin was some dark creature created by the Others or blood magic or black sorcery. She did not know why but, terrifying as the thoughts of undead, unstoppable, primal killing machines were, they were understandable. Picturing the assassin as a tall, snow skinned, red eyed abomination was easier than imagining it as just another man. It was easier to see it as inhuman and disgusting than to picture such a force of strange death and disturbing horror as just another man. A man just like one who might pass you in the city streets.
It was only when they passed through the sleepy village of Grey River that Daenerys got her first information of the assassin.
She was contemplating matters in her tent when Barristan Selmy entered.
"Your Grace I have an Innkeeper with me, he says there was a strange man in the village a few days ago, asking after someone matching Jon Snows description."
Daenerys instantly knew who the 'strange man' was, it was the same formless, faceless figure who darkened her dreams each night.
"Bring him in" She commanded. She stopped just short of licking her lips in anticipation. Would the assassin be horribly deformed or marked with strange and ancient skin ink? She had to know, she would know.
The Innkeeper was short, round and balding. He had a nervous almost cornered look in his eye. Daenerys knew that look, it was the same one she had worn after finding the bodies in her tent.
"Sit" she gestured to the chair opposite her. The Innkeeper swallowed noticeably before sitting down.
"I'm told that you met a man asking after someone"
"Yes… uh your ladyship"
Daenerys leaned forward. She had to know, "What did he look like?"
The Innkeeper moistened his lips.
"I… I couldn't tell you" his voice was bewildered yet scared at the same time.
"What do you mean you can't tell me?" she asked forcefully. If this man was playing the fool…
His voice shook and quivered "You have to believe, I can't remember his face. I just remember those eyes… they… they saw right through me" he was on the brink of tears "He… he asked me about your man, gave me three silvers then… then he just vanished." She could hear that he was on the brink of babbling but then he raised his bowed head and looked her in the eye.
"I've seen soldiers, Bolton men. Terrible people, people who enjoy hurting. Enjoy inflicting pain. I've met bandits who are worse, godless men… men who don't care what judgement awaits them after life, men who'll rape and steal because they can. I even met a red priest once. I knew that they'd burn their own mother to appease their god, they'd slaughter a nation with fervour if the flames asked them to."
His voice grew softer and he took a deep breath.
"But in all my years and all the terrible folk I've seen, I ain't never seen something like him." He paused. Daenerys gestured for him to go on.
"I knew that… he could kill me, and he wouldn't even feel anything about it. Not satisfaction or pleasure or bloodlust, he just would kill me… and move on, it wouldn't even be anything to him. Your ladyship if 'He' is after your man, then your man is in huge trouble.
"human life doesn't mean anything to him." His voice was barely more than a whisper now.
"Did he have any markings? Any distinguishing features? Anything to set him apart from other men?" She asked hurriedly.
The Innkeeper looked at her with eyes that still could not understand what they had seen.
"I don't remember anything but that stare, that dark stare that saw straight into my soul." He shook his head "No matter how human the rest of him is… that look in his eyes is anything but."
No matter how beautiful the sunset had been, Daenerys could not take her mind off what the Innkeeper had told her, even if it had been days ago. She had talked with Ser Barristan late into the night.
"Could he be a faceless man?" She asked "they're infamous for having a less than human demeanour."
"He could be" Ser Barristan concurred "But, the faceless take an almost religious reverence when taking a life, from what I've heard of this man, it sounds Your Grace, that it just makes no difference to him whether a life ends because of his actions. He treats it as we might treat stepping on an insect or washing our hands. Something ordinary, hardly worth remarking on."
"Ser Barristan, it may sound like a flight of fancy… but could he be some sort of creature from North of the Wall? Some sort of assassin for the White Walkers?" She asked tentatively. Out loud it sounded ridiculous, but instead of laughing, Ser Barristan merely stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"He could, but the man could be an agent of the Mermen or a Necromancer from the borders of the Shadow for all we know. From what I can tell he might be a ghost"
Ser Barristan widened his eyes at how ludicrous it sounded coming from his own mouth "slipping in and out unnoticed, appearing and disappearing at will" He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.
"All we know Your Grace is that he is very, very dangerous. We need to find Jon Snow before he does."
They were gaining on Jon that much she knew. He was traveling by wagon, which meant he was moving slowly. They broke camp at dawn and rode hard throughout the day, the stark, snow covered Northern countryside moving past them at lightning pace. Daenerys could tell that the days were growing shorter and the nights longer and longer, but even without the lengthening darkness, everywhere she looked, winter encroached on the land. Ponds fully frozen, the paving becoming slicker as ice froze in the cracks between the stones. She often found herself glancing North. Glancing towards where an undermanned Wall was only defence between them and the lifeless, icy winds.
Drogon's monstrous shadow swept over the lands as they rode through the day, but she wondered if even he was enough to stop the cold. Damn Snow, damn him for filling her with doubt. Once she found him she would convince him, she would make him believe in her. Make him believe that hope was not dead.
"Your Grace, at this rate we should catch up to him by tomorrow" Ser Barristan said as he entered her tent. "There's a town up ahead, Pinecrest. With luck we will find them there tomorrow night."
Daenerys thoughts were troubled though. A shadow haunted her dreams .In her dream Jon Snow had smiled at her even as an arrow went into his back, then another, then another.
"Any word of the assassin?"
Ser Barristan frowned "No, Your Grace."
A gust of wind buffeted the tent frame and the fire sputtered in its brazier.
"Keep warm Your Grace, it'll not be a pleasant night." He cautioned her.
She raised her eyebrows "They never are anymore."
Something was wrong, the old knight was worried, it sat heavy upon his brow and aged his already aged face.
"Ser Barristan, what occupies your thoughts?"
He sighed "It's the cold Your Grace, I've felt many winters, but never a cold like this." He paused "This winter will be different." he shook his head
"It is also this man that troubles me" Daenerys knew he was not talking about Jon Snow "but enough of him, I wish you pleasant dreams Your Grace." Then he departed.
The wind howled throughout the night, and the next day. Frigid, icy wind that threatened more snow, more storms. The party moved swiftly. Daenerys knew he was close, in her soul she could feel his presence, she did not know how but she could. Why then was she filled with such dread? Such uncertainty and apprehension?
The sun fell early, hiding its face behind the clouds before slipping below the horizon almost unnoticed. The only sign that the life and light of the world had gone was the changing of the grey sky into a darker shade of grey, then black. Still they pushed on. It was risking the horses but Daenerys knew that she would find him tonight. A glow of firelight beyond a distant rise told her that Pinecrest was close. The town would light its fires to ward against the onset of night.
Why was she so nervous? She urged her horse onward, faster, she had to get there. The trees rushed by. Dark pillars that whizzed by on either side. Ser Barristan called out something to her but she ignored it. She had to reach him. She had to see him before the uncertainty overwhelmed her. She topped the rise
And looked down upon chaos.
A building in the centre of the village burnt like a funeral pyre, huge flames leaping and dancing into the night. Lighting up the small town with its harsh dancing light. The building cracked under the onslaught of the blaze. She heard the wood groan in agony as a section of roof collapsed into the inferno below. The fire was eager to leap and spread its destruction, already the adjacent buildings seemed to smoke and glow as pinpricks of flickering light took hold of them.
From that fiery hell she saw a figure emerge, the night cloaked his features in darkness but the blaze behind him cast his shadow as a tall as a giant across the small square. She knew it was the man she was looking for, the man who had caused her uncertainty, her apprehension. She felt the emotionless gaze fall upon her as the figure looked at her silhouetted on the hill. He could not know it was her, but the gaze was the same.
Then The Man turned away and entered one of the adjacent houses.
Within seconds he had blended back into the shadows.
I managed to get a (fairly long) chapter out, today. I hope you're enjoying the story so far (I know I'm enjoying writing it). Please remember to drop a review, comment or suggestion, it really helps motivate me and aids in me becoming a better writer.