(Good god I haven't updated this in six months. Hopefully people didn't get too impatient with my very slow writing. I must have rewritten this thing a dozen times and I cut out a lot of things I originally planned for it. But I think it worked out and you readers are probably glad just to have a new chapter out. So here it is, enjoy.)
Garlan helped Davos load another barrel onto the boat. It was old and weathered, the kind of cargo boat you'd see passing through every port around the world. That was exactly what they needed for their mission. Garlan's torn cloak and dusty trousers felt alien to him as he had been dressed in the best clothing money could buy for most of his life. But common sailors didn't dress like that and so he needed to dress accordingly as well as the rest of the crew. Ser Davos had chosen his crew well. Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Brynden Tully, and Ser Mandon Moore. Three exceptional fighters of the Kingsguard and more had yet to join. Garlan was told that one more had yet to arrive and that wasn't someone to be trifled with. He didn't know what that meant until he arrived.
The man was cloaked in rags but he stood out like a cat among rats. He was massive and didn't bother concealing the burns covering half his face. That allowed Garlan to instantly recognize him through his reputation. Sandor Clegane, the Hound they called him although monster would have been more appropriate. Though Garlan was somewhat surprised to see he had someone with him. From what he heard, the Hound generally lived alone and rarely was seen socializing with anyone aside from whores. Unlike Clegane, the companion had a hood concealing his face.
"Are you the smuggler?" the Hound demanded. Davos and the other knights sized up their newest addition.
"I was told there was only one of you coming," Davos said, eyeing the large man's companion.
"He was until I decided to join," spoke a familiar voice. He removed his hood to reveal a handsome clean shaven face with golden hair, Jamie Lannister the Kingslayer himself had joined them.
"What is this?" demanded Barristan.
"The Onion Knight told my father you needed the best killers he could find and here we are. I would have also nominated the Mountain but I'm couldn't guarantee the Hound and him wouldn't kill each other before we left port," explained Jamie.
"And does your father know your volunteering?" glared Blackfish.
Jamie shrugged, "Does it matter? You need the best and we're here."
"That's a no," muttered Blackfish.
The Hound strolled onto the deck, brushing Garlan aside. "Can we leave now? That fucking Redwyne brat isn't going to save himself." he grunted.
It was a magnificent sight to behold. Hundreds of long ships all anchored off shore, waiting to the coming battle. Victarion Greyjoy stood on a balcony in Faircastle, home to House Farman who had abandoned their holdings the moment the Iron Fleet had been spotted. A skeleton crew was left to main the gates and they quickly surrendered. Fair Isle was no stranger to Ironborn raids but they had always relied on the Kings of the Rock to protect them in the past. With the Lannister Fleet a memory, no one could protect them. Victarion wasted no time in establishing Faircastle as a base with only a minimal staff as he needed most of his men ready at their ships should Stannis Baratheon and the Royal Fleet arrive. They had been sighted moving past the Shield Isles and now a confrontation was all but inevitable.
What's worse is that Lord Redwyne was sailing up the Sunset Sea as well though the two fleets were no together and it seemed that Paxter was following but not joining. Which meant Victarion needed to keep his hostage close at all times. Little Horas adjusted to his captivity well enough. He didn't complain or cry though he probably knew that would have done him little good. He ate with Victarion and his closest companions every meal like any highborn hostage, slept in a bedroom most of Victarion's own men would kill to have, and was attended by servants who saw to his every need. Yet for all his comfort, if his father's fleet should ever engage any Ironborn ship, Victarion would end his life with a swing of his axe.
At the moment, the boy was in the courtyard practicing with a bow and arrow. On a ship, they were more important than a sword considering they could kill an enemy before he even boards your ship. One thing the Redwynes and Ironborn shared in common was their focus on training with the bow earlier in their lives then with a sword or axe. Unfortunately, Horas's aim was completely horrendous. He was only a child though and Victarion couldn't help but admire his stubbornness as he would consistently pick up the arrows he missed and try again. The Ironborn in the courtyard one by one ceased their drills and watched the boy, laughing every time his arrow would land far from the target.
Victarion stormed down to the courtyard, his appearance instantly spurred his men to get back to exercises. He approached the boy, who seemed to try and ignore him. Defiant to the last, a typical trait among the Redwynes as the Ironborn learned from centuries of conflict. "You're holding it too tight. Relax your bow arm and don't pull so hard on the string. You don't need a full draw to hit the target," explained Victarion. The boy glared at him out of the corner of his eye. He fired another arrow almost blatantly wrong.
Victarion grabbed his own bow and arrow and hit the dead center of the target with a quick simple shot. Horas was a little surprised by how quickly his captor managed to shoot the arrow. "Your drawing hand should be the only part in your body that moves when you draw," Victarion continued to explain. Horas started to listen to his advice and slowly but surely got more accurate until he finally hit the target. Not exactly dead center and far from ready for a real battle but he was learning.
"Why are you showing me this?" asked Horas.
"House Redwyne has always been a family of warriors and a warrior should know how to fight," answered Victarion.
The sun had set when they finally sprang into action. Tonight was finally the night that Garlan would prove himself. Alongside him were among the greatest knights and fighters in all of Westeros and he was counted among their ranks. Barristan Selmy, Jaime Lannister, Brynden Tully, Sandor Clegane, and Mandon Moore. Garlan could barely contain himself as the team moved slowly towards the walls of Faircastle. They didn't have much time. They had already killed two patrols of men with guard dogs and they will eventually be missed.
For the past several days the group had sailed along the Sunset Sea around Fair Isle disguised as common sailors. Traffic was light as the Iron Fleet had taken over Faircastle and the nearby harbor to wait for the Royal Fleet to arrive. The Redwyne was right behind it but not joining it. Rather it was Lord Paxter's way of keeping his promise should Davos and the others succeed. Lord Stannis made it quite clear that should this mission fail, he was going to launch an attack regardless and they had little time left. They anchored a day's travel away from Faircastle. Any closer and they were sure to run into Ironborn patrols. They walked on foot for the rest of the journey, avoiding any foot patrols whenever possible though not always.
Faircastle was situated on top of a hill overlooking the nearby bay. Its walls were sturdy and strong, rebuilt and redesigned every time the Ironborn raided the island. But its problem was never strong walls as House Farman never had the manpower to repeal an Ironborn attack. If they had a thousand or so more soldiers, they could repel any attack but Fair Isle wasn't an ideal location to live. Due to its close proximity to the Iron Isles, the island had been raided countless times throughout history.
The patrols were minimal as they reached the walls. Victarion Greyjoy must have been keeping most of his men near their ships in case Stannis attempted a surprise attack. Torch lights moved along the battlements but slowly and no sign of urgency. It seemed their presences thus far had gone unnoticed but that wasn't going to last much longer if everything went according to plan. And also if things didn't go according to plan.
"Are you sure it's around here boy?" Brynden asked Jaime. House Farman had a hidden entrance into the castle built into a nearby rock outcrop, a fact that Jaimie Lannister managed to get from Lord Farman after he fled the Ironborn attack to Casterly Rock. Garlan didn't need to be told that Jaime probably threatened the old man in some way to get the information. It wouldn't be the first time a Lannister had to do that to Lord Farman though Lord Tywin's threat was infamous throughout the Seven Kingdoms. When House Farman had become unruly, Tywin didn't send a letter or messenger to resolve the problem. He just sent an envoy to play the Rains of Castamere.
"Just give me a second Goldfish," explained Jaime. Despite the insults, the Kingslayer seemed to harbor some respect towards Brynden. Garlan could tell because the only time Jaime insulted the man was whenever Blackfish made an insult first. He did the same with all the others except Ser Mandon whom Jaime constantly referred to as Ser Stick-up-his-ass. Finally he smiled and reached down, grabbing something. He lifted up a metal slab that had been well hidden covered in dirt and peddles. "Who wants to go down the dark creepy tunnel first?"
Victarion lay in Lord Farman's bed, axe in hand as his eyes refused to close. He knew he needed to get some sleep but he just had this feeling a battle was coming. Maybe he was getting irritated from waiting for the enemy to come to him like the rest of his men. All of the Iron Fleet was itchy for a fight, even for one they might not win. The Ironborn were excellent killers and born seamen but they were lacking when it came to a disciplined coordinated army. They were strong but they needed to be one and Victarion wasn't certain they would be when Stannis attacked.
A knock at his door disturbed his sleep. "What is it?!" shouted Victarion, furious at being roused at such a late hour.
"Captain. Urgent message from Far Point," responded his guard. Far Point was a small fishing village on the southern tip of the island and would be the first watch post that would warn of an incoming attack from the incoming Royal Fleet. Victarion got to his feet and opened the door to see old man Maester Balwin holding a small parchment in his hands. Probably a message via raven. To report this at such a late hour only proved it was important
"What is it?" demanded Victarion.
"My lord. Far Point reports a massive fleet has been spotted sailing under cover of darkness. They'll be here by morning," reported Balwin.
"Send word to all the captains. Prep their ships and crew immediately. I want every available man who can hold a weapon on a ship and ready to fight," ordered Victarion.
Sandor Clegane took point with a torch in one hand and sword in the other as the group moved through the darkened tunnel. Jaime followed behind him then Garlan, Brynden, Mandon, and Barristan who was covering their flank. "What if Ser Davos launches the ship early?" Garlan asked to Blackfish. Seven Hells that Tyrell was starting to really annoy Sandor. He was so green he practically pisses grass but the flower boy was with them because apparently he knows how to swing a sword.
"That's out of your hands boy so just concentrate on your own task," he replied. The Blackfish wasn't any better company then flower boy.
Jaime chuckled, "Don't be tense. You'll get something to kill soon enough. You're not squeamish are you because there's nothing worse in a fight to have some green boy who vomits the first time he decapitates someone." The damn Kingslayer was the most annoying of all. He just wouldn't stop talking and admiring his stupid jokes.
The Hound turned around and with a firm voice he said, "I'm not going to let myself get killed from the first person who hears all of you prattling like a pair of cunts. So shut the fuck up. All of you." No one said a word after that.
They came to a halt in front of a stone wall at the end of the tunnel. There were no signs of a door or exit of any kind. "If it was obvious then it wouldn't be a secret entrance," Jamie spoke up before anyone could say anything. He took the torch from Clegane and held it closer to the floor. Eventually he touched a specific brick about a foot about his head then moved to the left, counting as he went. Jamie stopped his hand as the twelfth brick and pushed. The wall shook and started to twist, revealing a darkened storage room.
"This was an extra root cellar the Farmans built just to conceal the passage entrance. Doesn't really hold any food so we shouldn't have any unexpected visitors in here but the hallway outside leads to the real larder so prepare yourselves," explained Jamie.
"Ser Mandon. Stay here and cover our exit," Barristan ordered. The silent knight from the Vale nodded in acknowledgment.
The Hound handed his torch to Barristan and slightly opened the only door in the room. The hallway was barely lite with a few torched hanging on the wall but no sign of anyone. Moving quickly but silently, he stepped outside and made his way to the end of the hallway. The group followed him as they passed by the larder. Sounds could be heard behind a closed door but there was no sense in starting a fight they could avoid. This was a stealth mission after all. Sandor wasn't naïve enough to think it's going to stay that way much longer. They headed up a set of stairs into the castle itself.
Horas tried to sleep but it eluded him. He had the most comfortable quarters of anyone in the castle and yet that brought no real comfort to him. At any moment, an Ironborn could walk right into his chamber and severe his head. Victarion demanded he write letters to his Father but never showed him any letters his family replied with. Horas had brought shame to his family and ancestors, letting himself be used by the Ironborn. The Redwynes fought the Iron Isles for thousands of years, sometimes losing their lands but always reclaimed it by force.
He ignored the clattering sound outside his room. The guards were constantly getting drunk on duty. A sudden scream however did startle Horas. Were the guards in some kind of drunken brawl? Horas got to his feet and slowly moved towards the door. More slumps and gasps followed as he got closer. Suddenly the door shot open as a massive man with a burnt face and a bloody long sword stepped inside. He might have been the most frightening man Horas had ever seen in his life.
"Horas!" shouted a familiar voice. To his surprise, Horas's cousin Garlan rushed inside. His sword and armor was drenched in blood just like the burnt man and it wasn't his blood. "It's alright cousin. We're here to rescue you," Garlan explained.
"Can you hurry it up in there flower boy? The whole damn castle knows we're here!" shouted someone out in the hallway who judging from the sounds was in a swordfight.
Garlan quickly grabbed Horas by the shoulder and led him out of the room with the large burnt man right behind them. Horas watched as three knights battled at least a dozen Ironborn and yet despite the numbers were winning. What seemed most impossible was how incredible the oldest knight was better than the rest of his companions. The man fought five at a time and yet held his own. Garlan and the burnt man quickly joined the fight and killed the rest of the attackers. "Is this him?" asked the old man.
"Yes now let's go," said Garlan.
"Shame. I was just starting to have fun," chuckled a blond haired knight.
The sun was starting to rise in the distance as Victarion stood on the Iron Victory dressed in armor, axe and shield in hand. It was strange how relieved he was to finally have a battle. It might not be one he would win but it was one he couldn't retreat from and he would either be victorious or die trying. The rest of his men seemed to feel the same. Their spirits were rejuvenated at the prospect of the coming battle. Iron Born were meant to fight and conquer, not sit around too scared to fight the next battle. Most of the Iron Fleet was rowing out into the sea, getting the ships into battle formation.
"Captain!" Ragnar Pyke came running up to Victarion in a panic, holding a letter from a recently arrived raven. "Horas Redwyne is gone. A group of men somehow snuck into the castle and stole the boy before disappearing into the night," he explained.
Victarion gripped his axe so tightly he swore he almost snapped the handle in half. "Tell those incompetent bastards on the mainland to send out every men they have and search every inch of that island," he said in a calm yet menacing tone.
"Lord Captain! One of the scouts spotted a sail boat escaping from the harbor. It's riding through the current by the shoreline to get away," shouted a crewmember from a nearby boat.
"That's gotta be them," said Pyke.
Victarion wasn't so certain but he needed to catch that boat and retrieve Horas before the Redwyne learn of his escape. The fact that this happened just as Stannis Baratheon was arriving with the Royal Fleet couldn't be a coincidence. They were retreating to Stannis for safety. "After that ship! I want the entire fleet in pursuit!" Victarion ordered. It didn't matter if they couldn't the ship or not, the battle was still going to commence. Still they needed that boy alive if the Ironborn had any chance of winning this war. If they defeat Stannis and crush the royal fleet, only the Redwynes will be able to oppose them.
Garlan was exhausted as the group moved through the secret tunnels. Their mission was a success and they escaped back through the larder. It was doubtful the secret entrance would remain hidden much longer as the Ironborn realized the intruders got through somehow and disappeared near the kitchens. Horas was right beside him, probably the least exhausted of them all. Aside from Ser Mandon, all of their armor had blood stains. Jamie and Brynden took a few wounds but either then that, it was all Ironborn blood.
What amazed Garlan the most was not how incredible fighters the men with him were but how easy it was to kill another human being. The first man he killed was part of a patrol within the castle walls. The man went for Garlan but he remembered his training and deflected the incoming axe and countered with a slash that took off the man's jaw. Garlan thought he would feel something when the man collapsed and was finished off with a stab to the chest but he didn't. Killing was incredibly easy, so much so that it frightened him. He had heard about the atrocities committed in war and maybe was now starting to understand it. In battle, a part of you seemed to disappear. Questions of conduct and morality ceased from your mind as your survival nature took over. Then it all comes down to kill or be killed.
"So what was it like killing your first man?" asked Jamie. The Lannister had been pestering him with jokes of Garlan losing his murder virginity the whole voyage to Fair Isle so he clearly wanted to know what it was like for the Tyrell.
"Truthfully it was very easy," replied Garlan.
"Ironborn are overrated if you asked me," chuckled Jamie.
"Not that. It was very easy to kill another man and it got even easier to kill the next man," admitted Garlan.
"And that's the secret to being a real knight," smirked Jamie. Despite the smile, Garlan could tell he wasn't joking.
Victarion grew more furious as the fleet attempted but failed to catch up to the escaping sail boat. The current allowed it to escape it's pursuers without fear of any of the larger ships daring to attempt to navigate the treacherous rocks it ran by. Still the Iron Fleet stayed within sight and the current couldn't be utilized forever. It would get larger and away from the shoreline, allowing the Ironborn longships to ride through it and catch up to their quarry. Whoever was onboard had to know that and was probably going to disembark on the island before it, escaping into Fair Isle's woods. But the chase dragged on and still the sail boat moved along the current. Victarion grew more and more uneasy by the minute. Something wasn't right.
Soon enough, the current moved away from the shoreline and out into the Sunset Sea. The Iron Fleet rowed their ships onto it and closed the gap between their quarry. And yet the sail boat continued its pointless escape. Once it rounded a rocky outcrop, Victarion realized it wasn't so pointless and he made a fatal mistake. Waiting for them off in the distance was a massive fleet of ships with various sigils reflected on their sails but the largest ship has a massive stag. It was impossible. There's no way Stannis Baratheon sailed his fleet past Fair Isle's tip so quickly. And to Victarion's horror it, with them was a large number of ships with grapes on their sails. The Redwyne Fleet had joined them.
"Turn around! Turn around!" Victarion screamed at his men and at any nearby ship that could hear him. He waved at the other captains he could see to retreat but no one was listening to him. The Iron Fleet had grown restless and wanted a fight. Victarion understood their desire but this was suicide. Stannis had put his large war galleys in the front of his lines. Ironborn longships would be crush easily by them if they attacked head on. They needed to use their speed and maneuverability to outflank the larger ships and pelt them with fire arrows from a distance. But the current was drawing the Iron Fleet right towards them and the captains were too eager for a fight to turn back now.
Victarion wanted to close his eyes but couldn't as the first longships reached the war galleys. Just as he predicted, the Ironborn ships were easily smashed aside by the larger Royal Fleet. The smaller Redwyne ships formed a line beside the galleys, cutting off the Ironborn's escape and pelting them with fire arrows. Within a matter of minutes, half the Iron Fleet was either sinking or on fire. The Iron Victory and a few others had turned back, following Victarion's orders but they was nothing for them left to do escape retreat or share the fate of the others. "Back to Pyke," Victarion ordered.
As his ship rowed away from the battle, the enemy's plan formed into his mind. Stannis had someone attack the watch post near the southern tip of the island while his fleet sailed out of sight from the shoreline and waited in position. Once the captured watch post sent a raven saying he was on his way, the Iron Fleet prepared itself and emptying Fair Castle of its best fighters. This allowed a small unit of knights to enter the castle somehow and retrieve the Redwyne boy unharmed. Alarms were raised and the Ironborn started searching the nearby port where a small boat conveniently sailed away just in time to be suspicious. Victarion, believing his ships were hours away from the Royal Fleet reaching them, had the Iron Fleet pursue them. The Fleet would have forcibly taken the boat and continued sailing south to engage Stannis before he expected them. But the boat rowed through the coastline current which eventually got larger and turned away from the island, the perfect place to set a trap. One Victarion should have seen but didn't and now all of the Iron Isle would pay for his mistake.
(I swear the next chapter won't be as long to get to then this one. I am skipping ahead to the Siege of Pyke as the Battle of Fair Isle was the decisive battle in the war and I really take too long writing this battle chapters. Hope you enjoyed and please review.)
