"Seven hells," Ser Landon said as the group emerged from the forest onto a flat expanse of land that stretched for as far as the eye could see. "What is that?" He pointed to the landscapes only discernable feature, a hill, tall and thin, massive despite being far off in the horizon.
"High Heart," Ang said, a shiver running up his spine.
"What is it," a Lannister soldier asked him.
"A holy place…or, well it was a holy place, for the Children of the Forest. There was a grove of weirwoods that grew at the top of the hill. Then the Andals came and one of their kings marched on the hill. He murdered the Children and cut down the weirwoods. They say it's still haunted by their ghosts."
"Who's they," another soldier asked.
"People," Ang shrugged, "my mother."
"What'd I care what some Ironborn slut says bout it? Ser Landon, from up there we can see for miles. I say we head up, stay the night, get a lay of the land."
"Stay up there…with ghosts," Hot Pie asked frowning.
"Shut up Hot Pie…no such thing as ghosts," Gendry said.
"I'd tend to agree Gendry," Ser Landon said. "And we would have quite the vantage from up there…"
"Aye, you can see for leagues and leagues in all directions," Ang interrupted, "which is why we should steer clear of it. High Heart is due west of Harrenhal. Due north is Riverrun. The Young Wolf will have men there, waiting, watching for Lord Tywin's army."
"Winter's coming…could use some wolf pelts to line me cloak," one of the Lannisters said, to the laughter and nods of his fellows.
"We didn't come here to fight Starks," Landon said sternly, "We're to get him to Banefort. That's it."
"If not there, where then," one of the soldiers said after a while.
"Ang," Ser Landon asked.
"Well, er, if I remember right…if we go south-west we'll reach a stream that feeds into the Blackwater. If we turn west from there we can cut through the hills near Pinkmaiden, find a ford, cross the Red Fork."
"Right. Best get moving then," Ser Landon said starting south-west.
"Shoulda kept the bloody horses," one of the Lannisters grumbled.
Two hours later Angstrom agreed with him. They'd left the horses behind that morning and were now shouldering their bedrolls and packs, along with their swords and some light armor hidden beneath their peasant garb. Winter was indeed coming, but out there on the flat ground, sun high in the sky, not a hint of shade in sight, it certainly didn't seem that way. He'd had to deal with the heat of King's Landing when he was in the Gold Cloaks, but that involved standing around more than anything else. Ser Landon though, the strong young knight was setting a quick pace and that kick to the ribs had probably broken something. He began to lag behind, wheezing, clutching his side. Even Hot Pie, red faced and sweaty was making better time.
"Come on then old man," Gendry said throwing one of Ang arms over his huge shoulders.
"I'm five and twenty…I think," he said irritated.
"You don't know?"
"It's complicated."
"You certainly don't move like your five and twenty," the boy said with wry smile.
"I've had a bit of a rough go recently," Ang said with a smile of his own.
He saw Ser Landon look back and begin to slow, concern on his face. He seemed ready to call a halt for a break but Ang waved him off. He didn't want them to be out here in the open any longer than they had too. He thought it was fitting that Gendry had fashioned himself a helmet in the shape of a bull's head because the boy was certainly as strong as one. Ang had never been a big, and he was lighter than he was now than he had been in the Gold Cloaks, but he was still a man grown, outfitted with sword, dagger, cudgel, pack and chainmail. But he may as well been a child to Gendry. With the boy's help he was able to keep pace with the rest of the group and in another few hours they all heard the babbling of a nearby brook. When they came upon it the water was clear, wildflowers blooming along the banks, small fish swimming in little pools formed by this rock and that. It seemed to be one place in the Riverlands untouched by the war.
"You mean to tell me this little thing," Gendry said flopping down next to Ang, "turns into the Blackwater?"
"Aye. You uh… you follow this south and it gets wider, deeper, and eventually it's the Blackwater."
"But it's so…small."
"When I was seven or eight, my father hired on a maester to teach me letters and sums and history," Ser Landon said splashing some of the cool water on the back of his neck. "One of his favorite things to say to me was 'Great things often have the humblest of beginnings.'"
"What's humble mean," Hot Pie asked dunking his head in the water.
"Unassuming," Ser Landon answered, the boy staring at him blankly.
"It means low Hot Pie, or small," Ang said.
"Oh…so like us then? Right?
"Aye," he said looking from Gendry to Landon to Hot Pie, "like us."
They lingered there for half an hour, filling their skins with water and resting sore legs, before heading out once again. With the sun beginning to set Ser Landon had debated staying for the night, but they could make out the tops of a tree line to the west and no one relished the idea of being caught out in the open. It took them some time, but they reached the safety of the forest shortly after nightfall. They worked their way through the trees a while long before finding a large clearing where they decided to make camp. Exhausted as he was, Ang was looking forward to a curling up beside the fire and drifting into sleep, dreams be damned. But after a long day no one felt much like volunteering to take first watch and the gods, whose hatred of him Ang was becoming increasingly sure of, cursed him with the short straw. He was sitting there fighting back a yawn when someone tossed him a skin.
"Go ahead and finish it off then, Ang. Never been one for the stuff," Ser Landon taking a seat across the fire.
"I remember when I was that way," he said draining the last of the wine. "You'll develop a taste for it, believe me."
"So," the knight said moving closer to him, "when are you going to do it?"
"Soon. Would've gone tonight but the boys are beat and my side is fucking killing me."
"I did say sorry about that."
"I know you did," Ang replied punching Landon in the arm. "Listen…Landon…have you given any thought to what I was saying? About coming with us."
"I, er, I have."
"And?"
"Taking the black…it's forever Ang."
"Aye, it is."
"Forever's a long time," Landon said with a frown.
"So that's how it is then," Angstrom asked with more emotion in his voice than he'd intended.
"Ang…I'm sorry. It's just…"
"Fuck off," he said slapping Landon's hand away. He stomped to his bedroll and hunkered down under a blanket, praying for sleep to come. But it didn't. He tossed and he turned and he hadn't the slightest clue why. Dawn came before sleep did and he cursed the gods knowing today would be miserable, but he rose regardless. The fire was near dead as the other men stretched and prepared themselves for the day. They were near ready to leave when they heard laughter and the shouts of men approaching the clearing.
There were twelve of them, five wore chainmail and black surcoats with what looked to be white suns emblazoned upon them, the other seven wore metal caps and armor of boiled leather that Ang recognized instantly. He'd seen it dozens of times at the Red Keep. These were Stark men. They stopped upon entering the clearing and surveyed the waking men. They weren't badly outnumbered, but Ang didn't know the quality of the Lannister soldiers. Not to mention he had no desire to see Gendry and Hot Pie forced into a battle.
"Well…s'all this then," a man in a black surcoat asked with a grin.
"Lost lambs it looks like," a Stark man answered.
"Lions more like," another Stark said.
"No! No, sers…not us sers," Ang said stepping forward before any of the Lannisters could make a move. "We's jus farmers, tryn'a 'scape the Lannisters."
"That so," the grinner said, "where'r you from?"
"Darry…ser," Ang said looking at the ground.
"Seem's strange, heading west…if yer trying to escape lions," a different man in a black surcoat said.
"We're…er, we…we wish to join the Young Wolf's army," Ang said after fumbling for an answer.
"You lot wish to fight for the King in the North," one of the Stark's asked.
"He's King o' the Riverlands too," Landon piped up from behind him, "Lord Darry says so!"
"Aye, s'what Lord Darry says," Ang said nodding vigorously
"So…yer all from Darry. Come to fight fer Robb Stark and take vengeance on the Lannisters? That right," the grinner asked walking amongst them, hand on his sword.
"Aye," Gendry said.
"Right…then tell me boy," the man said suddenly rounding on Hot Pie, sword drawn. "You tell me, just where the fuck is Darry?"
"W-whh-what…" the boy stammered.
"Darry! Where is it you fat little shit," he grabbed the boy by the hair and twisted him around, putting the sword at his throat, "Where's Darry!? Where the fuck…"
The man's words died about a second before he did. Ang hadn't even had time to react before Ser Landon had drawn his sword and separated the grinner's head from his body. For half a heartbeat no one moved, frozen by shock.
"LANNISPORT," Ser Landon cried, bringing everyone back into the moment.
Wolves and lions alike drew their swords, Ang along with them. He shoved Hot Pie to the ground and made for Gendry. The boy was already crossing blades with one of the men in surcoats, clumsily blocking blows. Ang swung down hard cutting the man's hand in half then turned to face two attackers. He knew Gendry had killed the man when the shrieking stopped. The two Stark men attacked him as one, driving him backwards. He dodged and parried, trying to find a way to circle around them, but they cut off every angle he saw. Finally one of them overextended himself, lunging wildly. Ang ducked to the left and exploded upwards, his sword piercing the man's leather armor and finding his heart.
As he rolled away he drew the dagger from his boot and took the cudgel from his hip. Glancing around he saw Lannisters and Starks dead on the ground, Ser Landon dueling with three men, and Gendry pulling Hot Pie behind a tree. He turned to find his attacker had been joined by another. He tried to parry a blow with his cudgel, but the sword slid down and cut his hand. He could see his sword lodged in the dead man not ten paces from where he was standing, but it may as well have been a hundred leagues away. He was wondering if the three-eyed raven would feast on his flesh when an arrow lodged itself between the eyes of one of his attackers. When he turned to see where it came from he only saw a horse, then something struck him in the head and everything went black.
When Angstrom opened his eyes everything was still dark. Feeling a familiar itch he realized there was a sack on his head and he began to struggle. His hands and feet were bound, and judging by the smell and the motion he was strapped to the back of a horse. He let out a low guttural shout, thrashing about ever harder.
"Why?! What did I do!? How many time will I wake up a prisoner," he called to everyone and no one. "Old gods! Drowned God! Even you, the One True Cunt whose taken so many of my friends! I'm calling on you! I'm fucking calling on you!"
"Know why they don't answer you boy," a voice said after a while. "Because they aren't real."
"Aye," another voice chimed in, "there's only one true god, the Red God. R'hllor, the Lord of Light."
"Open yourself to him," the first voice said, "let his fire fill your heart. Do that and you'll know that even if your false gods were real, R'hllor would burn them all away."
"Funny thing that," Ang said. "My 'false god' lives beneath the waves, and last I checked water douses fire well enough. So the way I figure it, the only thing that would be burning is your Red God's asshole whenever my god's done fucking him with a trident. So why don't you, and your Red Cunt, go fuck…"
When he next woke his feet and wrists were still bound, but he wasn't moving…at all. There was a rope tied around his chest and he was certain he had been tied to a tree. His head was pounding, mouth dry, and he was getting ready to scream for water when someone ripped the sack off of his head.
"Thirsty old man?"
"Gendry!? Thank the gods your alive," he said recognizing the boy as his eyes adjusted. "Hot Pie!? Is he alright," Ang asked drinking deep from the skin of water.
"Course e's alright. We dun kill children."
Ang turned to look at the speaker and…well, after coming face to face with the Mountain it was hard to call any man a giant, but the man in front of him was the closest thing to one. He was six and a half feet tall at the least. He had the belly the size of a cask of ale but you could see the strength in his hands, arms, and shoulders. His grey hair had grown down past his shoulders, and he had a grey beard, woven in two massive braids, that hanged down upon his massive belly. He wore robes of mottle blue, green, and grey, and on his back sat the biggest, ugliest wooden club Ang had ever seen.
"Who're…" Ang went to ask.
"Name's Harren."
"Like…"
"Aye, like that Harren."
"Are you…you're a Drowned Priest?"
"Aye."
"What's a Drowned Priest doing with…er, here, in the Riverlands?"
"S'long story. What's an Islander do'in wit lions?"
"Long story."
"It true…what you said. Bout yer god livin neath the waves," the hulk of a man asked.
"I…no. I don't keep the Drowned God. I keep the old gods of my mother."
"But yeh are an Islander?"
"Aye," Ang said warily.
"Well, don't matter then. Yeh may not keep him, be he keeps yeh."
"Can…can you tell me where we're going?"
"Yeh'll see soon'nuff," Harren said before pulling sack back down over Ang's eyes.
An hour or so later someone untied from the tree and lifted him to his feet, shoving him in the direction they wanted. Whoever it was shoved frequently and Ang tripped most every time, ribs screaming every time he hit the ground. After a while of it someone grabbed him, throwing an arm underneath him to help him along.
"Don't Gendry," Angstrom whispered. "They want me to see me fall…let them."
"Piss on that," the boy said.
A few hours later Gendry's pace began to slow and Ang heard shouts from all around. Ang felt the moss and moist leaves beneath his feet give way to hard stone. The sunlight filtering through the sack on his head disappeared, replaced with nothing but darkness.
"What's happening," he asked the boy.
"I…I think we're here. Oi! Leave him be! Fuck off!"
Gendry kept shouting as he was pulled away, as Ang was shoved to the floor.
"What do we have here Thoros," Ang heard a voice ask.
"Lions, my lord. There were more, but, well, wolves found them," a voice answered back, it's words greeted with laughter and applause.
"Let's see them then."
A man ripped the sack of the head and Ang squinted, eye's trying to adjust to the light. He looked to his left and saw Ser Landon, leg bandaged and pale. He looked right and saw Gendry and Hot Pie and the enormous Drowned Priest. He stood, blinking, and realized this was the hollow hill where he'd seen Arya. He was about to call out for her when he felt someone slam into his side, arms wrapping around his waist. A face looked up at him, dirty, bruised, but familiar.
"Ta…Tarber," Ang asked.
The boy nodded.
"Oh gods," he shouted kneeling to hug the boy, "I...Tarber, thank you…thank you…"
"Angstrom Pyke," a shout came from behind him. He turned to only to find strong hands grasping the side of his face, soft lips on his, a tongue slipping inside of his mouth.
"Whats…" Ang sputtered out when it was over.
"I know I told you too grow your whiskers out…to hide that thing you do when you lie. But I don't know if I like you with a beard."
Ang stared at the person in front of him. His hair had been cut, crudely, with a knife no doubt. His nose was crooked, the last traces of bruises fading from his face. Then the man smiled and Angstrom knew.
"Levi?"
The man just kissed him again.
