When Shoni arrived to declare that the Wall had fallen, with Tormund and Dondarrion most likely lost, none of them wanted to believe it. Jon Snow pressed him for details, and Daenerys' heartbreak at mention of Viserion was written across her face.
At last Lady Sansa spoke up: "And where are Cersei's armies?"
Everyone glanced about nervously; it would seem the Lannisters had gone back on their word. At Qerhan's side, Sandor laughed darkly.
"So this is how it ends."
Desperately, Snow began to appeal to the lords and Ladies gathered, asking how many soldiers they could spare. He was promised at most ten thousand from the northern houses, and a further sixty thousand from the Targaryens.
"That still leaves us short." He commented. And the more people die, the more soldiers for the Night King's army. A heavy sigh. "We need the Lannisters, we need the Ironborn… Gods where is Theon?"
"We don't have the Lannisters, or the Ironborn!" Sansa said. "And we can't sit around waiting for them to arrive. We need to move now!"
Her brothers and sister all nodded in agreement. And Jon Snow looked to his lords.
"Will you stand with us?"
Qerhan, Sandor, Shoni, and a handful of wildlings were sent with the vanguard. The Dothraki and Unsullied came behind, with the northmen bringing up the rear. Daenerys, Aegon, and Jon would come from the skies. Again, the wildlings grumbled that they were being used as bait, and again Qerhan could not help agreeing. They were only three thousand in all, and did not stand a chance against the Army of the Dead.
Just a few miles from Winterfell, the troops broke formation, instead banding together in small groups, which would attempt to circle the enemy and get behind them. She, Sandor, Shoni, and six others headed for the coast, hugging the eastern shoreline of Westeros in an attempt to make it to the Wall and assess the situation there, hopefully meeting with the remainder of the Night's Watch, whom Jon had ordered out of the safety of Castle Black in order to retake Eastwatch, if possible.
It was deadly quiet. All along the coast, they had seen nothing of the Others or their minions. Not even the shadow of their new airborne weapon. Qerhan wondered if they were heading for Winterfell, or perhaps some of the smaller keeps, in search of new recruits.
Ahead loomed the wall, or what remained of it. The entire easternmost arm had been destroyed, now reduced to a jagged hill of ice, while its outer edge had been utterly lost to the sea. Of Eastwatch, only half of the fortress remained, sagging slowly over the edge of a new-cut precipice. There were no lights in its windows.
"No-one home." Sandor commented monotonously.
"No living soul." Shoni added.
"Tormund…" Qerhan let her eyes wander over the grey ruin, searching for anything. Any sign of movement. In the shadows there was naught to be seen.
They approached with due caution, struggling up the icy hill east of the broken courtyard walls. Here, almost all the stone had fallen away, and they could peer down among the buildings. Shoni was edging for a fire, but until they knew what the threat was, if any, both Sandor and Qerhan insisted they could not risk the light.
On the hilltop, they found the remnants of those rickety wooden steps Shoni had hated so much, and snowed-over piles that might have been the watchtowers. It was cold and sorrowful and bleak up here, with the wind biting at their faces. Hopelessly, they sifted through the snow, not looking for anything in particular. Qerhan took a discarded quiver and swung it over her back.
One of the men ventured over to the northern edge, stepping up onto a pile to look down. At once he dropped, swearing and waving them frantically over.
When Qerhan gazed down at the hoards of waiting dead, her stomach twisted into a knot. There must have been about twenty thousand of them down there, with a single Other in their midst.
"There's nowhere to go." Shoni gasped, hand shaking as he reached out to steady himself.
"No." Sandor rasped. "They haven't seen us yet. We can still get away."
"And go where?" Qerhan hissed. "This is just the rearguard, the rest of the army is behind us. Whichever way we go, we're fucked!"
"We head west, towards Castle Black." He said. "Try to catch up to the Night's Watch, if there's any of them left. Hopefully we can loop back around and meet with the rest of the armies further south."
"That's leaving a lot up to chance."
"Not much else we can do." Shoni remarked. "Let's get on."
Creeping back down the slope, they once again avoided the ominous presence that was the deserted castle. After seeing what they had, it was now apparent that the commanding Other would have most likely placed a few surprises among the crumbling walls, and the company chose not to discover what those might be.
Just half a mile from Eastwatch, Sandor tripped, cursing as he fell forward into the plush snow. Qerhan laughed, of course, praising his inhuman grace, and did not look until she heard him laugh ironically: "Wasn't your last life, after all."
Stuck deep into the ice, all that could be seen of the sword was its polished hilt and handle. Kneeling, Sandor grasped this, and pulled the weapon out of the frozen ground with relative ease.
They made camp in a thicket of tall firs, which broke the wind considerably. Once again, Sandor was the worst of them, shivering horribly as soon as it got dark. Qerhan carefully inspected his extremities before bundling him in a thick elk skin rug. He rested his head on her shoulder while he slept.
Shoni edged over. "How is he?"
"Cold." She answered simply. "He's not made for this, Shoni."
"I know." Her brother agreed. "And I don't think going west will do us any good. I reckon the Crow've either gone south to their leader, or been killed already."
"So which way should we turn?"
"East." He said. "Go along the coast like before. We know the way, and it'll be warmer there than the midlands. Slightly."
She nodded, having thought the same thing. "How will we convince him?"
"Don't need to. We outnumber him."
At first light, they made their intentions clear, and though Sandor did not like turning away from the Night's Watch, they overpowered him, and he surrendered. So they found themselves heading once more for the coast.
Midway through the second day, they heard a glamour, and picked up speed. As they neared the plains before Eastwatch, it grew louder. Thus it was that they found themselves on the field of battle.
All across the plain, the black standard of the Greyjoys flew, broken here and there by golden lions. It seemed Jaime Lannister had not gone back on his word.
"Where are you?" She heard Sandor mutter, scanning the field.
Shoni turned northward, eyes going wide. "They're pouring over."
Indeed they were. Atop the wall stood an Other, and from there he directed his troops over the wall toward the living.
Sandor took off, Qerhan and the others at his heels as he bolted for the commander. She should stop, she knew. Stop him. This was suicide. But something about the way he moved told her he would not halt, would not turn back. And where else could she go but with him?
Shouting from the keep, and Sandor veered off the path as a wight tumbled over the wall, crashing into a thousand pieces on the ground below. Within, they found a group of Lannister soldiers in the midst of a crawling hive or the dead. At the center of the ring of men stood the Kingslayer.
Sandor knocked a Walker away as it ran for him, cleaving another's head in two with his sword. "Jaime!"
The lions head helm whipped around. "Sandor!"
At the heart of the battlefield, the two met, and the Kingslayer pulled his protege into a brief embrace. Qerhan, giving them their moment, swung at the oncoming hoards madly, backing right into Sandor as he released his friend.
"Fucking move, both of you!" She growled, pushing them toward the gate.
Jaime lobbed the head off a wight. "We need to secure the keep!"
Sandor spat. "The keep is lost. It's the Wall we need to secure, come on!"
He dragged Jaime bodily out, with much help from the Wildlings, then grabbed him by the shoulders. Jaime's eyes went wide.
"But they don't exist."
Sandor guffawed loudly. "Tell him that! Listen, Jaime, we need your sword."
"My sword!"
Qerhan clasped his sword hand, inspecting the blade. "Valyrian steel. If you put that through his heart, he and all his cohorts will fall! Come on!"
Together, they pushed and pulled a frightened Kingslayer up the frozen rubble of the wall, Shoni and the others helping to punch a hole in the shambling ranks. But the dead were so many, and they would join them before long if they continued.
"Sandor, use your sword!" She yelled over the din.
"The fuck do you think I'm doing!"
"That's not what I meant!"
"...I can't."
"Yes, you can!"
"I don't know how!"
"Don't give me that bullshit, you've seen Dondarrion do it a hundred times!"
"I'm not Dondarrion!"
She caught him by the collar. "If you don't, we're all dead."
He closed his eyes. "I'm afraid."
"So am I!" Qerhan snarled. "I'm afraid of these fuckers. I'm afraid of that cunt up there! I'm afraid I'll never see my baby again. And I'm afraid of losing you! Now fucking do it!"
She shoved him roughly away, and the jolt seemed to sober him. Removing his glove, he drew his hand upward along the blade as Dondarrion had once done.
It erupted into flames, and they both recoiled, Sandor near dropping the sword into the snow. Then he looked at Qerhan, grinning.
"It isn't hot. I don't feel anything!"
"Fantastic, now let's go!"
Jaime and the others were already at the top. The Other had seen them, and was edging his way over to the Kingslayer, knocking his own soldiers down as he went. Sandor and Qerhan cut their way to him, Walkers falling like flies before the blazing sword.
When the Other's blade clashed with Jaime's, the sound rang clear across the lands. Taking a position behind his friend, Sandor kept the Walkers off his back, while Qerhan and her kin worked the perimeter, effectively isolating the Other, who took swipes at them periodically. In a matter of minutes four of the Free Folk had fallen, and she and Shoni were screaming orders to burn the bodies. With what they did not know.
Gripping her axe firmly, Qerhan was struck by a sudden flash of confidence, and swiped at the Other while his back was turned. Sandor bellowed something at her, but stopped as she severed his right leg below the knee. With a screech, the demon wobbled and fell sideways, struggling only a few away before Jaime was on him, driving his sword firmly through its blackened heart.
At once, a vast number of the Walkers collapsed, hitting the snow with a soft crunch. Sandor laughed and hugged Jaime from behind in a rare display of relief, pride and delirium. With their commander fallen, the rest were easy pickings. Once the fight was done, the living piled the dead into a veritable mountain, and stood back to watch their burning foes light up the night sky.
Sandor came and put his arm around his wife, and Qerhan proudly squeezed his arse.
"We would have been dead if not for you."
"And you." He said, turning to pinch her chin between his fingers. "But if you ever do a fucking stupid thing like that again, I'll skin you."
Laughing, she kissed him. "No promises."