Chapter 32: The battle near Hardhome
Summary:
The dead attack.
Notes:
As always Ravenousreadr did her best to improve the reading quality of the chapter. Thanks dear friend!
Chapter text:
Jon had left his dragons on the beach near the fortress of Eastwatch and waited patiently for the large gates to be opened. Walking through them he noticed immediately that the guards had been doubled and extra bolts had been added to the gate. Once inside he observed several new lookout posts and fortifications. Quickly crossing the courtyard he neared the blacksmith's workshop.
None of the familiar hammering sounds could be heard when he approached the main entrance of the building. He was about to reach for the door handle when the guard that had been assigned to accompany him to the main building spoke up.
"He left for Hardhome a few days ago. Some friends of his arrived with a delegation of men from the northern houses. They all left together and took the white wolf with them."
"Was there a lady among these friends?" Jon asked just to be absolutely certain that Lady Brienne, Edric and Loras had reached Eastwatch safely.
"Yes, big as a man she was. She rode up front when the group entered our gates. Behaved as if she owned the place, she did. She was accompanied by a large Lord, a son from house Umber I think but he made it quite clear she wasn't his wife. Commander Belmore will likely be able to tell you more."
They stopped before the main building. Jon turned to the guard and dismissed him with authority. "Thanks for escorting me. I can find my way to the commander's quarters easily from here."
"Your welcome, Prince." The man hesitated but turned and left without further comment.
Relieved that the man had agreed to leave him alone, Jon quickly searched for a secluded spot and leaned against a wall. For most of the way here, he had been so focused on his dragons, merging their minds as he flew in. He had also spent considerable time mentally rehashing all the warfare advice he had received during their last strategy meeting on Dragonstone. All this had kept him so busy that he had not once reached out to his direwolf. He closed his eyes and easily slipped into Ghost's skin.
His direwolf was running along a long row of foot soldiers until he reached the front of the caravan. Through Ghost's red eyes he saw Lady Brienne leading the caravan flanked by a man all dressed in black and another one bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Greatjon but much younger than the head of house Umber. Behind them rode Edric and Loras closely followed by Gendry atop a large horse. Gendry was engaged in an easy conversation with Rykker and Stokeworth.
Searching Ghost's mind for the distance the caravan had already travelled, Jon realised that if he continued his journey today, he would still be able to arrive at Hardhome before them. Being a dragonrider had its perks. He reassured Ghost to continue onwards promising he would meet up with them at their destination and severed the connection. Pushing himself off of the wall, he walked with big strides towards to the end of the hallway.
Elbert Belmore, the garrison commander at Eastwatch received him readily and allowed him to read Sandor Clegane's message that had prompted everyone to leave without waiting for the Prince and his dragons. When Jon had finished reading Sandor's chicken scratch, Belmore told him that even though he had not joined the delegation personally, he had appointed an experienced ranger going by the name of Stane to command the one hundred and fifty men he had selected to join the fight. He also volunteered the information that Stokeworth and Rykker were part of that group. A raven from Cotter Pyke at Castle Black brought the news that two hundred Night's Watch recruits were travelling from Castle Black to Hardhome to help defend the Free Folk settlement. They were led by Jaime Lannister and scheduled to arrive there in four days at the latest.
"The guard that escorted me here told me a delegation from the northern houses arrived as well?" Jon asked when the commander fell silent.
"Indeed. They were led here by Lord Umber's third son, Osric Umber, a lady Brienne of Tarth and a few other noble men. A lot of Boltons amongst them I must say." His peculiar tone when he uttered this last piece of information indicated he wouldn't mind hearing some details about what had transpired at the Dreadfort a moon earlier.
Jon nodded but offered no further information. Instead he changed the subject and remarked how impressed he was with the heightened security measures, congratulating the man on all that had been accomplished in the short time since his previous visit.
Belmore shrugged his shoulders. "I only followed orders. You never know what will happen once you engage such a formidable enemy. I can't begin to imagine what a host of fifty thousand strong looks like. I hope the dragons can make a difference. They are magnificent creatures."
"They are." Jon agreed. "So you are prepared for the eventuality that part of the enemy might come for the Wall here?"
"Cotter Pyke was very insistent that the Wall is our last line of defense and my place as the commander of Eastwatch is here. Under my leadership, the remaining members of the Night's Watch will make sure that not a single wight or magical ice creature will reach the other side of the Wall. We are ready to defend the entrance to the Seven Kingdoms, my Prince.
Jon nodded. "I am glad that the Night's Watch takes the threat so seriously. Thanks for bringing me up to speed. I won't take up more of your time and will leave for Hardhome immediately. Hopefully we will see each other soon with good tidings to impart. Keep well, Commander Belmore." Jon's tone indicated that the interview was at an end.
"Good fortune in the battle to come, my Prince." Elbert Belmore responded with the formal send-off appropriate when men left to engage an enemy. "I will pray you, your dragons and my men will all return safely to Eastwatch before long.
Soon after Jon and his dragons flew low over the beautiful green and white landscape. Hardhome was already visible in the distance when he spotted the large caravan below him. The dragons screeched and he could see the caravan stutter to a halt when most of the men's heads turned toward the sky. To oblige them, Viserion and Rhaegal flew a few low circles over the group. Jon used the opportunity to wave at them before he asked the dragons to pick up speed again and head for the settlement of Hardhome.
Sandor and Tormund were there to welcome him as soon as he emerged from the woods where the dragons had landed. After the hugs were dispensed with, Jon joined a large group around a campfire and accepted a bowl of steaming stew. While he ate, Sandor brought him up to speed. According to the latest scouting reports, both from the air and from scouts on the grounds, the enemy had picked up their pace and would reach the appointed spot in less than a sennight.
"Much earlier than we estimated." Jon sighed. "The good news is that they are still on the right course then." Jon swallowed another tasteful spoonful of delicious gravy. He bowl was almost empty.
"It is as if they can sense the thousands of warm blooded bodies for them to recruit and grow more eager the nearer they get." Tormund grunted. "Want a refill?" He held out his hand to accept Jon's empty bowl.
"I'd love a bit more. Perhaps half a portion? This is really delicious." Jon answered.
"Clegane's spearwife hunted the boar but lucky for you, someone else made the stew." Tormund showed nearly all his teeth when he grinned.
"Ygritte is here then?" Jon turned to Sandor who had been a silent observer until now.
"Wild horses couldn't have kept her away. So I didn't even try to persuade her to stay behind." Sandor answered looking slightly embarrassed.
"More like your red-haired minx didn't trust the other spearwives not to steel her most prized possession." Tormund teased benevolently. "She has been boasting far and wide that she caught the strongest, fiercest male who knows when to dominate and when to yield between her furs."
"Then she only has herself to blame when other women want to steal him. She should have kept all his nicer qualities a secret. Sandor sure kept some of them from us." Jon teased and looked from Tormund's grinning face to Sandor's red cheeks.
"Best get her with child as soon as possible, Sandor." The new father offered his advice. "Once you share a child together, the Free Folk will respect your claim on her and hers on you. I experience this every day and still can't get used to it." Tormund shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.
"That I can imagine." Jon continued the banter. "Poor Tormund here misses the salivating females when he struts past them."
"Myra's not here and my hand is out of practice." Tormund Giantsbane moved his hips suggestively. "Want to help out?"
"Thanks but no thanks." Jon smiled slipping more easily in the open, coarser ways of communicating with the Free Folk now than during his former visits. "About that stew you promised me?"
It was dark when the combined forces of the northern houses and the Night's Watch rangers from Eastwatch reached Hardhome. Their arrival had been heralded by Ghost who unceremoniously entered Jon's tent not long after Jon had finished setting it up. Jon had been in the process of spreading his furs into a makeshift bed when he got toppled by his direwolf and fell upon the heap of furs. After being licked, nudged and sniffed all over Jon pushed Ghost off him and persuaded the direwolf to guide him to the new arrivals.
A warm welcome and some introductions followed but were cut short because of the dark and cold at this time of night. Jon and some of the Free Folk ordered to do so by Tormund helped the new arrivals to set up camp. Even if the atmosphere between the strange mixture of men was rather tense, the tents were erected in record time and they all agreed to reconvene in the morning since the travellers were tired and half frozen from traipsing across the icy landscape for several days.
Ghost had stayed glued to Jon's side the entire time and the both of them quickly retired to Jon's small tent to enjoy a cosy night sleeping closely together relishing each other's nearness and body warmth. But not before Jon had read the letters from Robb and Uncle Benjen that Lady Brienne had handed him.
The next morning Tormund fetched him for breakfast and after sharing a light meal with Sandor and Ygritte inside their small tent, he helped set up a larger tent for a war council. This time several men of Free Folk offered the Dragonrider their help without Tormund needing to urge them on. The extra hands were readily accepted since a strong wind made their task rather difficult. Not long after, Jon's friends started to emerge from their tents one by one. Ghost jumped Gendry as soon as the dark haired young men showed his face.
"Do I have a reason to be jealous?" Jon smiled when he saw Gendry having trouble not to lose his balance when his direwolf front paws leaned heavily against Gendry's chest.
Gendry raised one eyebrow in mock dismay. "You better thank me for taking such good care of this sweet direwolf that you so shamefully abandoned." Gendry petted Ghost's head and scratched him behind his ears. "Poor Ghost keeps getting left behind when you fly all over the realm."
"Thank you my dear and loyal Gendry for taking care of poor lonesome Ghost." Jon's overstated show of obedience got an answering grin from Gendry. "And a good morning to you my dear friend. I trust you slept well?" Jon added.
"Fairly. I missed my warm companion that no doubt slept in your tent. So no, you have no reason to be jealous. Instead I had to suffer the company of Edric and Loras Tyrell." His blue Baratheon eyes studied Jon. "You look well, Jon. Things all right on Dragonstone?" Gendry released Ghost who immediately positioned himself near Jon again.
"Dany sends her greetings." Jon's happy smile while he absently petted Ghost said it all.
"That well uh?" Gendry looked at Jon trying to read more details of his face.
"We're betrothed." Jon beamed but jumped when somebody touched his shoulder.
"Did I hear this right?" Edric exclaimed coming up behind Jon, his mouth close to Jon's ear. "Are you the first one of us to chain himself to a female?"
"Is she as lovely as the rumours say she is?" Loras Tyrell piped in.
"Congratulations, my Prince." Lady Brienne offered him with a bow.
"Thanks" Jon had turned and addressed the three that had snuck up on them. "But please keep it quiet for now. We are at war. There is a time and a place for such a topic and it is not now. I will tell you all about my lovely princess as soon as we have dealt with what is coming for us. Eat your breakfast and tell me about Robb instead. I want to hear from you how he has been doing. His letter only speaks of how well his arm has been healing and how he had everything under control at Winterfell."
While Sandor and Tormund roused the rest of the encampment to spread the word that the leaders were expected at the war council shortly after breakfast, Jon and Ghost sat down and kept their friends company while they broke their fast. Jon was content to just sit there quietly and be a silent participant, listening to their easy banter typical for people used to being in each other's company for long stretches of time. At least their reports of Robb were positive. His cousin's nightmares were becoming less frequent and Robb was itching to resume his training.
Ghost reluctantly agreed to stay outside when Jon neared the larger tent where most of the men had already gathered. Rykker and Stokeworth greeted him at the entrance. They took up guard under a canopy further shielded by a side pane from the rather strong wind that blew in from the north and made it feel extra cold this morning.
"Only first ranger Stane still needs to arrive. The rest are already inside waiting for you." Rykker announced and opened a flap to allow Jon to enter the war tent.
Lord Osric Umber, third son of the Greatjon Umber was there representing a group of almost two hundred men sent by several houses of the North. He had also assumed command of the Bolton contingent. Male servants and guards from the Dreadfort had all volunteered to join the fight. If they fought valiantly they would be given the chance to pledge a new oath to their Lord and return to their home and kin as free men. Lord Domeric Bolton had asked Lord Umber's son to keep an eye on this group since Domeric Bolton had only shortly been released at Winterfell and was needed to set things to right at the Dreadfort. He handed Jon a letter from Lord Bolton that contained further explanations and probably some pledges of loyalty and obedience.
Tormund of course spoke for the Free Folk he had brought along from Mance Rayder's settlement. He introduced Jon to a few of the elders who represented the people living at Hardhome. A Skagosi named Stane entered at that point and introduced himself as the one representing the men of the Night's Watch that had come from Eastwatch. Jon would later learn from Rykker that Stane had voluntarily joined the Night's Watch when he was barely fourteen years old and was a well-respected first ranger at Eastwatch.
Sandor was present as well. His only contribution to the meeting was to inform everyone that they could expect reinforcements from Castle Black to reach them in a few days. They were led by Jaime Lannister. For the rest of the meeting Clegane kept silent, his eyes mostly resting on Jon.
Tormund quickly apprised everybody of the traps that were already in place and the ones they still hoped to complete with the help of the Dragonrider. Dragonfire could thaw the frozen ground which would speed up the digging of the trenches along the flank where they planned to put a barrier of pikes to set aflame. The last day before the enemy was upon them, Jon would use his dragons to weaken the ice on the borders of the large frozen lake where they intended to trap and destroy the enemy if all went well.
Jon relayed to them the pieces of advice he had been given by his Kingsguards on Dragonstone. He warned everyone to stay vigilant, dress warm enough and move about when you felt the cold creep in.
"Do not bring your usual steel weapons and carry several pieces of dragonglass. See that enough torches and fire sources are available to burn our own dead should we suffer losses. Be prepared for a longer period of darkness than normal for this time of the season and expect the enemy to learn and devise countermeasures as the battle goes on.
But the most important thing is to aim for the White Walkers. Aim for their chest and use only dragonglass when you confront them. Fire or steel is useless against them. The wights are more easily defeated. They are extremely vulnerable to dragonglass, just pierce them anywhere. One shallow cut and they perish. Setting them alight with fire is also very effective.
We should also prepare at least one healer's tent close behind our battle lines. The less experienced warriors can help bring our wounded there to give them better odds at surviving."
When everyone nodded and Jon stressed once more how the use of dragonglass would save their lives, Tormund rolled his eyes. Jon didn't hesitate to address his big friend with a telling look on his face.
"Have your scouts been reporting back regularly?"
"Half of them have not yet returned." Tormund looked at Jon, a worried frown appearing on his forehead. "Have you seen something when you flew in?"
"No I haven't. Let's just say I have a bad feeling." Jon was not willing to elaborate on the source of his intelligence. Who would take him seriously if he explained that he dreamt of their scouts being incorporated in the army of the dead?
"I suggest you do not send more out for the time being. Is Orell here or are there any other skinchangers available?" He asked instead. "We better limit ourselves to scouting from up high for now. If the enemy gets closer, scouts on the ground will be in grave danger. The enemy host is extensive. They can cover a large area. Once detected, our scouts are easily outnumbered and don't stand a chance."
"Has anyone any questions so far?" Jon asked looking one by one at the grave faces of the men assembled in the war tent.
"Burning our own fallen friends, is that really necessary?" Osric Umber asked. "Their families at home will not understand."
"We can't run the risk of them becoming slaves of the White Walkers. Can you imagine yourself fighting your best friend who has become a mindless warrior who knows no fear and feels no pain and will take of your head if you don't defend yourself?"
Lord Umber was speechless. He shook his head in denial.
Jon continued on. "As I see it there are only two choices. If one of our own falls, you can either burn his body directly but remember his name so all names of our brave fallen defenders can be recorded for posterity, or if circumstance allow for it and you have the opportunity without jeopardising your own life during the battle, you can firmly bind your fallen fellow soldier's hands and feet."
Jon sighed deeply and gazed seriously at Lord Umber now. "Even if you successfully tied up our own dead and they happen to be resurrected, you will still have to burn their bodies. But there is a chance it won't come to that and you can take them home for a ceremonial burial."
Osric looked around and addressed the men of the Free Folk. "Do you all believe that what the Prince says is possible?"
"I fought dead children of my tribe once. I cut off the little boy's arm with my own sword but he kept coming at me. Even when I beheaded him, his tiny body kept creeping toward me." It was one of the representatives from Hardhome who spoke up. "I also fought a wildcat that looked more like a skeleton. The Dragonriders speaks true. They raise the dead."
A silence followed these words and Lord Umber swallowed and bowed his head starting to accept that this would be a different fight than he could ever have imagined.
Jon cleared his throat and was quick to move their attention away from the morbid topic. The best way was to get the men to concentrate on the battle strategy. It would also give them hope that they could win the battle without suffering too many losses.
"Now let's talk about the positions each of your men will take up and how we will need to move as one to lure the enemy further on the ice. Tormund, can you explain the strategy we devised together with Mance Rayder?"
In the end it was decided that Jon would leave the scouting to Orell and a fellow warg while he and his dragons devoted their time to helping the men dig the trenches.
The war council reconvened that evening to hear the reports of the scouting mission. It became clear that there were only two days left before the enemy reached the appointed spot. Jon reassured them that they had made enormous progress today with the traps and that they would be ready for the enemy.
There was much worse news. The White Walkers had also sent a small contingent to the west to prevent the reinforcements marching towards them from Castle Black to reach their ranks in time for the battle.
Jon had counted on that group of men under the command of Jaime Lannister. Several amongst them had fought the dead at the Fist of the First Men and knew what they were facing. He had also hoped that Jaime Lannister could have taken a look at their battleplan and perhaps could have made some last minute recommendations. But most of all, he had counted on the former knight to lead a part of the attack if not coordinate with all the other leaders and take charge of the entire battle on the ground.
Jon's first impulsive reaction had been to take his dragons and help the group from Castle Black get past the dead but he had been halted by Orell's words. The skinchanger had reminded him that the main host of the dead were near. The Dragonrider was sorely needed here for the last preparations.
Moreover, he would play right in the enemy's cards if he drew the dragons away from the larger battle they were about to face. Jon had been reassured by the fact that the forces Jaime Lannister was bringing outnumbered the enemy heading for them by about three to one. They would only be delayed and would eventually reach them. Just not in time to be briefed before the start of the battle.
One thing was clear now. The enemy knew what they were about and had a way to scout as well. Perhaps White Walkers were also wargs or had some other form of magic at their disposal. It was a scary thought. During the war council everyone had supported Orell, the men from the North for once agreeing without argument with Sandor, Tormund and several other leaders of the Free Folk. So Jon had relented and had stayed put. He had worked hard helping them put the last traps in place and had started to weaken the borders of the lake. The final weakening would be done just before the enemy came into their line of sight. If he did it a bit too early, the stretch of weakened ice would just grow thicker again and all his efforts would have been for naught.
When Orell's final scouting report reached them with a new headcount of the enemy's forces, they all agreed that the next morning, the fighting force would set up camp further away from the settlement of Hardhome nearer to the location they had chosen to confront the enemy.
Jon with the help of Tormund had finally been able to persuade the leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome to evacuate their weakest members to the ships. Nobody could guarantee that all the traps would work flawlessly and that they would successfully prevent a part of the enemy's main host to split from the rest and head straight for all the warm living bodies at Hardhome.
There only needed to be a single strategist amongst the enemy, one White Walker who got the bright idea to attack the settlement and countless lives could be lost. Jon knew they did not have the numbers to contain fifty thousand wights if not all of them walked into their trap. If that happened, the settlement at Hardhome was in great danger of being overrun.
He once more cursed the fact that it had not been possible to bring the Free Folk south of the Wall. They could have used the natural defenses built by his ancestors instead of being forced to meet an enemy that far outnumbered them in open country. Hopefully by the time the Night King finally made his appearance, which Jon prayed would still be a long, long time from now, the Lords of the North and the leaders of the Free Folk would have put aside their pride. Then the younger children and other Free Folk members not able to fight for one reason or other would be safe south of the Wall.
Now however, they had to rely on all the small obstacles they had put in place along the path the enemy was travelling so they would chose the easier path and walk straight onto the frozen lake. The Free Folk had worked hard on that and the skinchangers were keeping a close eye on the situation. If they did stray from the course that had been laid out for them, Jon would set part of the forest on fire to force them back on track.
No matter what precautions had been taken, evacuation was still the best way of safeguarding the non-fighting population of the Free Folk. When that decision had finally been reached, Jon described the best way to go about that, using the strategy worked out by Davos and Ser Gerold. They had devised detailed plans not only for a swift embarkment but also to arrange the defenses on the ships in case of an attack.
Lady Brienne, Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell had not been happy to have been assigned the responsibility of overseeing the evacuation and organising the defenses of the fleet with refugees. But Jon had been adamant. They would be more helpful there. To silence Lady Brienne he had put her in command of the defense of the entire fleet. She had stopped protesting after he had given her a scroll written by Ser Gerold Hightower himself, detailing what weapons to take with them and some pointers on how to defend a fleet and to establish communications between the ships.
Jon didn't reveal to her, Edric nor Loras Tyrell that he preferred the leaders of his army to be men who had seen the enemy before and realised what they were up against. His friends had arrived when most of the preparations were in place and had never seen a wight before. And even though he knew that they would have agreed to be relegated to the role of simple foot soldiers, Jon would feel better if he knew they were making themselves useful in what would hopefully turn out to be a safer place.
Around noon on the last day before the battle, Jon ordered everyone with the exception of the appointed guards to take some time to rest up. They would all have to report for battle before the sun disappeared behind the large mountaintop. The leaders reconvened in the war tent to go over the strategy one last time. It was necessary that they all moved in sync and knew what to do with the wounded and their own dead. Two tents dedicated to look after the wounded had been set up behind the battle lines and healers of the Free Folk were in charge of making these ready to accommodate as many victims as possible. Jon spent his last moments of peace seated against a tree with Ghost's head in his lap and his dragons slumbering a few feet away.
Shortly before dusk
'You can prepare for battle all you want. You can be brave, have excellent plans and believe in your fellow soldiers. The fear still creeps up on you. If it hasn't already, it will probably grip you in the time between finishing preparations and the start of the battle. It will course through you while you are standing there next to your fellow comrade-in-arms, in your protective gear armed to the teeth with nothing left to do than to wait for the enemy host to appear. Just as everyone around you, you are scared stiff but pretend to be brave just the same.
To prevent you from shivering, you might try to crack a lame joke to the one standing to your left or right. You might even move your limbs a little to prevent them from getting stiff from the cold but you have to keep in mind not to break the lines and keep to your prearranged position. All the strategies are in place, everyone knows their role to play and once more you put on a blank face and go back to waiting and keeping silent to make sure you will be able to hear the sounds you have been told the approaching enemy will be making.'
It was a passage from a book on warfare that Sam had read aloud to Jon to distract him and help settle his stomach when he had been ill on Dragonstone. The text seemed apt when he examined the impressive rows of their forces. Everything was prepared. They had done all they could. Every last man had received clear instructions. Their commanders had warned them to brace themselves and stay firm no matter what came for them, be it dead people, smelly rotten corpses of undead animals, or even mystical ice creatures. "Stay in formation and stick to the plan."
Jon all dressed up for battle as well now reached the front line of the ranks. Even though he had never lived through a battle of this scale, he was no stranger to the fear that tries to overpower you right before a fight to the death. Walking through the ranks he was sure each of the men felt it deep down, even though few would admit to it, even if one were to ask them point blank. Jon walked by many soldiers. He smiled and nodded at them and was aware that most of the men were making every effort to put on a brave front. Just like the passage Sam had read to him. Some even smiled and wished him good fortune. The cocky ones that showed no fear were the ones in the most danger. At least that is what Ser Arthur had told him often enough. 'It is better to fear your enemy than to overestimate yourself.'
"See you after we have won and we will all share a pint together." Jon had overheard several versions of that phrase from men speaking to their neighbouring brothers in arms. He kept walking past as many as possible in an attempt to bolster morale. He sometimes stopped to say a few words but it quickly became clear to him that that wasn't enough to lift the predominant mood of fear. He couldn't blame them. Even Tormund's bold stare had wavered when Orell had told him the results of his last scouting mission.
The dead were marching toward them, their ranks had swollen with every living being they had found, be it animals or unfortunate scout. They numbered over fifty thousand easily.
Jon heard the sound of a horn. He stilled and waited. Two more blasts followed. This was the confirmation the enemy had been sighted by the look outs up in the trees at the northern end of the lake. This was confirmation that Jon had made the right decision. His war council had been right. There had not been enough time to help the group from Castle Black and be back here for the start of the battle. His presence on the lake was crucial to their plan. He needed to trap them on the ice. Wights couldn't swim. If he could melt the three edges of the frozen lake not facing the sea, no matter how many wights the enemy showed up with, they would all be sitting ducks for the dragonfire and dragonglass projectiles. They also counted on the fact that large chunks of ice would give in under their combined weight.
The army of the living stood at the ready on the southern side of the lake. Every single one of them heavily armed. The ones on the front lines had large shields they could hide behind. They held a dragonglass weapon of their choice in the other hand and had one or more daggers tugged away in their belt. The following rows had two dragonglass weapons at the ready, one in each hand and also at least one spare item tucked under their belt. At least thanks to Gendry they had dragonglass weapons in abundance. He had almost walked along the entire width of the front lines and looked back over his shoulder to take in the impressive lines of warriors that started near the woods and only stopped near the shoreline. Resuming his inspection he suddenly halted when he saw Gendry standing ready on the first row with a large Warhammer on the ground beside him. Even though it was dark as hell by now, he easily recognised the distinctive silhouette of his friend and approached him.
"Gendry, don't do anything reckless. Stay in formation. I need you to stay alive, you hear. Stick to the plan."
"As long as the plan works, I will, Jon. If not, I'll improvise. Don't worry about me." He showed his belt that contained several daggers and knifes to throw. His warhammer had been modified and now had several dragonglass spikes on all sides. "I will stay and protect the archers. But you know as well as I do that some, probably many of those dead abominations will break through and reach our ranks. I've come prepared."
"Stay safe, Gendry." Jon now petted his direwolf's head. Since Jon would fight from the sky, he had ordered Ghost to keep Gendry company. He touched his wolf's forehead and reaffirmed his order.
"Ghost, stay with Gendry and guard the men here. Rhaegal and Viserion will look after me in the sky. I'll be safe." Ghost whined quietly but bowed his head which Jon recognised as the direwolf's reluctant acceptance of the situation.
He had reached the shoreline and walked towards the large group of archers who would hopefully be the ones to make the largest number of casualties. If all went well the two armies would not really clash but be separated by a large gap of melted ice. The wights would be sitting ducks and be vulnerable to the rain of dragonglass arrows these men would launch upon them. He nodded and said some encouraging words while he walked past them to reach the small cavalry that was hidden back there. When he was close enough to be seen in the darkness, he nodded to Sandor who had been tasked to lead this small group of men on horseback.
His former Kingsguard had been part of every strategy meeting. Jon remembered Sandor's mumbling that the meetings here were fucking more boring than the ones held by Ser Gerold. Jon couldn't blame him. But with the ragtag army they had assembled here, they needed to have a simple strategy. One understood by everyone and most of all they had needed a lot of patience to persuade every untrained soldier of the Free Folk that discipline and staying in formation could mean the difference between winning and losing a battle against this particular enemy.
Reaching the back of the ranks Jon noticed several men shooting him nervous glances. His walk through the ranks had not been enough. Many men had not even gotten a glimpse of him. The men needed something more. They needed to see the might of the dragons. They needed to hear the right words. Words that could take the fear that could potentially cripple them and turn it in a form of positive energy they could use. He needed to find words that could transform their fear into fury, into hatred towards their enemy. Suddenly Jon knew what he had to do.
He hurried over to the place where the dragons were waiting for him. He felt their anxiety mingle with his own feelings. Rhaegal didn't hesitate and lowered his wing so Jon could mount him. Moments later the two dragons were in the air. Approximately nine thousand heads turned upwards now.
Jon knew seeing the Dragonrider and his two mighty dragons at close range might give the men hope. And hope was the best motivation when you stood freezing in the snow and mud before a frozen lake waiting for your worst nightmare to attack you. He hoovered on his impressive green dragon in front of them, letting Viserion light up the sky occasionally and tried to appeal to their honour and pride. He repeated his speech three times, in three different location before the wide ranks so all the men were able to hear his words clearly at least once. He shouted as loud as his voice would allow him.
"This will be the fight of nightmares, the worst kind of enemy you will ever face. But we are the living. We have brains, tactics and superior weapons. We know our enemy's weaknesses. Forget your steel swords, fight with the dragonglass and use fire as we showed you and we, the living will prevail. They may come at us with superior numbers but they are just mindless corpses. We have a good plan and we have two dragons. If we close ranks, they will not stand a chance. The living will prevail.
This night is a night for the history books. Everyone who fights here this night will be remembered as the heroes of this day and age. Songs will be sung about you, about the brave strong men up in the cold North that put aside thousands of years of infighting. Crows and Wildlings, Free Folk and men of the Night's Watch standing side by side with the people that live south of the Wall to defeat the true enemy. Because defeat them we will!
Tonight we all are the protectors of the living. We are the shields that guard the realms of men. Tonight we are the heroes that fight for the living. We fight for our future, for our children's future and for the future of all the generations still to come. Because we are the living! And we fight for the living!"
"For the Living! For the living." First some of the Free Folk but soon the entire army picked up the chant. The loud roar of two dragons could be heard and for a short moment all fear was forgotten. Pride and resolve had taken its place. The men could picture their survival. They could not keep their eyes off the two powerful dragons and felt safe in the knowledge that the enemy faced those fearsome beasts. The living had the Dragonrider on their side. They had a good plan. The living would prevail!
Jon flew alongside the frontline one more time reviewing the ranks. They all kept south of the frozen lake. When some had uttered the idea of hiding in the woods to flank the enemy Jon had slightly amended the idea.
"They can sense us. I do not know how. I do not know whether it is because they can hear our heartbeat, sense our warmth or whether they use some sort of magic. All I know is that they can sense the living. And if they discover we have men stationed along the flank, they might venture off the lake too early and our plan will fail. Our trap will fail and we will be overrun before we can do anything about it. And the ones who were sent to flank them will all die. They would go on a suicide mission and their corpses might be forced to fight us next. Certainly you all remembered what happened to our scouts?"
Everyone attending the war council in the large tent had nodded their head in agreement. They knew all too well what had happened. Orell and another warg had done most of the scouting until then but had needed to rest up before the battle. The few scouts that had volunteered boasting they were the best and would never be detected, had not returned. When Orell urged by Jon had investigated, he had not brought back good news. The skinchanger had witnessed through the eyes of his eagle how hundreds of dead wights had all turned their heads as one in the direction of a scout and the unfortunate man had been overrun and soon marched alongside the dead back to the main host. He had become one of them.
From atop his dragon, Jon studied the ranks one last time and was proud of what they had accomplished in the last few days. For the moment even the Free Folk formed close, almost orderly formations. The only free spaces between the ranks were for the fires they had going, fires not only to provide light and warmth, but fire for the archers to light their conventional arrows. He could also see the men that were carrying torches in their left hand. They had orders to burn their fallen allies if necessary. Jon prayed that they could trap most of the enemy swiftly and prevent close combat. It would certainly lessen the chance of fatalities.
At first sight, the entire army of the living was comprised of Free Folk. When he flew over the east part of the ranks, he spotted the men of the Night's Watch stationed at Eastwatch that had come out to help defend the coast line. Their black coats separated them easily from the white and grey furs the Free Folk were wearing.
Next to them stood the delegation from the houses of the North. These men were predominantly dressed in dark grey colours. Jon knew the group consisted of several second and third sons of the noble houses, joined by trained houseguards and a contingent of smallfolk who had volunteered. Two hundred men would probably not make a big difference. But the fact that they had showed up here at all was historic and meant a great deal. Not only in forging an alliance between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Folk but they could lend credit to Jon's claim of being the defender of the realm and herald him as a war hero.
The last small group he spotted was the delegation from the Dreadfort. Even though these men were also under the command of Lord Umber, the Bolton contingent was not fully accepted. This was underlined by the small gap between the two groups.
Now Jon looked to his right and tried to scan the sea but it was too dark. His ships were out there somewhere a small distance from the coast but far enough not to become a target for the ice spears or arrows from the enemy. He could picture in his mind how the vessels were lying deep into the water. Each ship was filled to capacity with the elderly, the pregnant women and the younger children. That part of the plan had been carried out flawlessly. If the worst happened, Lady Brienne had orders to set sail for Skagos.
Jon had been present at the start of the evacuation and had even helped some of them board. Not many young women had been present. Only the ones who were visibly pregnant had agreed to evacuate. Young girls that had not flowered and young boys under twelve namedays made up most of the group selected to board the ships. Aside the pregnant women, they were a minority of elderly men and women. Jon knew most of them had tried to join the fighting. The leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome had needed to use all their authority to get their older population to agree to help the others board the ship and stay there themselves. They had been given weapons and promised a role in the defense of the ships in case of an attack.
Jon had seen several wrinkled old men with grey beards standing bravely between the younger men in the battle lines before the frozen lake. They were identically dressed and also armed to the teeth. The youngest boys allowed to stay with the army had been given smaller tasks that were vital. They all carried baskets with arrows, daggers, short swords to keep everyone provisioned. Some would also move through the ranks from one commander to another to relay messages and commands during those times when the noise and chaos prevented the men from hearing the latest orders that were being shouted.
Women, spearwives more exactly, made up almost half of the Free Folk numbers. If you saw them standing there looking even more determined than some of the men, you wouldn't give the opponent a chance. Jon and Orell knew better of course. They were the only ones who had seen the enemy approach. Wights as far as the eye could see, poor slaves, but with deadly intent towards the living.
'It will be mercy that we are showing those poor souls.' Jon thought. 'We will release them from their slavery.' He felt a shiver run over his back and knew they were close before he saw them or registered their screams. A large host of wights were marching toward the lake. It wouldn't be long now. Rhaegal and Viserion tensed at the sight. Jon tried to calm them but his own heart was beating fast. He looked at Viserion and they split up. Jon flew to the front of the lake, Viserion to the back. Both dragons simultaneously lit the spikes they had smeared with tar that flanked the woods. The wights close to that side moved to the left.
The fires helped everyone to see clearly at what pace the enemy was approaching. They would also provide an extra barrier between the enemy and the mounted forces of Sandor Clegane that would flank them once the trap was sprung. The fires served their purpose for now. All wights whether they were undead humans or undead animals were now forced to advance in one direction, flanked by fire to their right and the sea to their left. Jon flew back over the enemy host scanning the army to locate the White Walkers. Despite the darkness they were easy to spot. They towered over most of their foot soldiers, sitting straight on a carcass that once used to be a horse. One even rode on an undead white bear. Jon flew back to his own forces, Viserion close behind."
"Up front one White Walker to the left, one in the middle. None close to the water. I spotted at least two others in the middle and three at the rear. Aim for them if you can," he yelled at Tormund who led the center. Tormund Giantsbane didn't hesitate and dispatched a few young boys in all directions to inform the rest of their forces."
Jon turned and studied the wights marching forward on the frozen lake. The ice didn't crack no matter how many wights joined the vanguard. Jon held Viserion back. 'Wait until they reach the center of the lake at least.' He sent the thought by way of Rhaegal. He now clearly distinguished the shouts from the commanders on the ground. They were urging everyone to hold their positions.
"Do not take a step, do not advance. Stick to the plan." The echo of these shouts could be heard over the entire length of the front lines.
Jon ascended so he was high enough to be out of reach of enemy weapons. It seemed to him as if it took forever for the first section of wights to reach the center of the lake. Jon figured by now almost half of the night was already gone. That hopefully meant the fight would not last too long.
He realised all too well that many of the men suffered from the cold by now and hadn't been able to sleep much during the day. Pre-fight anxiety had made most of them restless. He comforted himself with the knowledge that at first light they would know more. Jon reckoned that either they had won by then and the enemy would be retreating or the fight would have been halted one way or another by an enemy that planned to return the next night to renew their attack on the living. Jon refused to consider there could be a third possibility. Defeat was not an option.
Finally the first wights had crossed more than half of the length of the large lake. Jon would soon take action, knowing that after the first burst of dragonfire lit up the sky, the living would start reigning arrows. He waited a bit longer still a bit disappointed that the ice pelt held the weight of the enormous number of enemy soldiers. Not a single crack appeared. It seemed the ice in the middle of the lake was a lot stronger than they had all anticipated.
As soon as he gave his permission, Rhaegal and Viserion dove down and flew over the enemy host. More than three quarters of the wights had made it onto the large lake. Reaching the end he held on to Rhaegal's spikes when they made a sharp turn and started burning through the ice nearest the line of burning spikes that protected the entrance to the woods.
The moment he flew low over the ice he could feel the biting cold the enemy was emanating. He no longer wondered why the ice didn't crack under their weight. They used magic to drop the temperature. Not only did the ice carry the weight of the thousands of wights, the dragons' first bursts of dragonfire upon the weakened borders of ice weren't as successful as he had hoped. They had melted a few holes in the ice but not the straight line creating the wide gap they had been aiming for. Jon turned around ready to repeat the gesture. This time they had more success. A large gap appeared between the frozen lake and the woods.
He heard the commanders shout and saw the army of the living take a few steps back and the men on the front lines ducked down. The archers loosened their arrows and almost entirely in sync the entire host moved another few steps backwards. Another salvo of arrows once more reigned on the wights. Jon saw hundreds of inert corpses littering the ice. Thousands however kept advancing without hesitation.
Again the living retreated a few steps. There was a large gap now between the south border of the lake and his allied forces. Jon knew what he had to do. As previously agreed upon, he waited for the third salvo to reach the enemy and dove to create a gap between their forces and the lake. This time he needed to make three runs to create a gap wide enough to keep his forces safe from clashing with the enemy anytime soon. Satisfied with the time he had bought them, he flew over the entire length of the lake to reach the rear of the attacking army. Viserion and Rhaegal now targeted the wights that had not stepped upon the lake yet, burning their rear guard driving the enemy forward.
"Climb" he yelled at his dragons when he saw a White Walker throw an ice spear. His dragons made an elegant evading turn and rose higher, the spear now flying harmlessly between the two of them. Jon looked down and saw most of the enemy's army had reached the large rectangular surface of the lake. At least that part of the plan was working.
The small cavalry stationed at Eastwatch had been joined by the few mounted men from the Free Folk settlement that had arrived on their sturdy horses. Sandor featured prominently amongst them and had been given command. They had stayed hidden behind their ranks until now. Sandor whistled and they raced as one toward the woods. They halted behind the burning pikes and formed an orderly line so they were now flanking the enemy who was separated from them by the melted ice and the flames of the burning pikes. From their new position they started to rain arrows with dragonglass tips. A few shadow cats leapt across the slowly narrowing gap and were aiming for the horses.
Jon still at the northern end of the lake dove down once more and completed the trap by melting the ice at the far end of the lake. As far as he could see in the darkness, the entire wight army was situated on the lake. They couldn't retreat hence from where they came. The entire length of the lake was cordoned off by burning pikes and melted ice on one side and the sea on the other. In front of them the enemy had to defend themselves against a steady rain of either burning arrows or dragonglass arrowheads. Their shrieks were deafening even from up high. Jon ears were hurting from the shrill, nasty sound. He flew along the length of the lake once more widening the existing gap were his cavalry was holding off the enemy as best as they could. Several burning remains of dead animals were proof that their lines had been breached several times already.
A horn blew. Jon looked toward the sound and saw it was their vanguard. Somehow a small part of the southern barrier of melted water had frozen over again and the first wights were engaging the front lines of his forces. For now the shield wall held but would soon be in danger of being overrun.
Jon hurried over and even though he could do nothing about the dead that had already crossed the lake and were firmly ensconced between his own ranks, he could prevent more wights from crossing over and reaching their forces.
Rhaegal and Viserion alternated attacks. Jon almost fell off several times when Rhaegal needed to execute a swift turn to avoid an ice spear. One hit Rhaegal but the angle had been crooked and it bounced of his scales. Jon however felt a surge of anger the likes of which he had never experienced before in his life and without further thought hurled a dragonglass dagger at the culprit. The White Walker distracted by Viserion's angry retaliating fire burst never saw it coming and when the dagger hit the creature clean in the chest, it exploded in thousands of ice crystals. Jon estimated that at least a several thousand wights dropped dead around the spot where the White Walker last sat atop his horse. He turned and quickly finished re-melting the gap that had been frozen over once more and numerous wights disappeared beneath the water.
"Aim for the White Walkers." Jon shouted and pointed at the only White Walker close enough for their archers to reach.
Jon did another fly over to melt the edges of the lake and keep the gap wide enough. He wondered why everything was always so much more difficult in reality then when you were drawing up your 'simple' battleplan. The archers could only do so much damage.
They had counted on his dragons to burn through the enemy once they were trapped on the ice. They had also relied on the fact that a large part of the army would drown when the ice pelt cracked under the combined weight of fifty thousand wights. His dragons flew all over the place but instead of concentrating on burning wights in the middle of the lake where the arrows of their archers couldn't reach, Rhaegal and Viserion needed to abort their attacks regularly to keep the borders of melted water wide enough.
The White Walkers were the ones that created the cold. That much had become abundantly clear. Rhaegal and Viserion kept burning through the enemy every chance they got but at this rate they would be exhausted long before their dragonfire could make enough impact. Fifty thousand wights were too much to deal with this way. Jon changed tactics and melted a corner of the lake effectively trapping at least a thousand wights on a large patch of ice. Viserion and Rhaegal kept forcing the wights to one side of their limited space until the ice cap capsized and the wights disappeared below the freezing water.
He looked up when he heard loud cheers coming from the Free Folk. Wun Wun raised his arms in victory. He stood amidst a thousand of dead wights and a small heap of ice crystals. The giant had slain a White Walker. Jon noticed two other White Walkers move to the front lines. Probably to attempt to freeze over the southern barrier that separated them from the living. After another run to widen the southern border and the gap safeguarding his cavalry that attacked the enemy flank, he flew towards the rear to isolate another contingent and make a part of the ice pelt collapse.
When Sandor blew his horn Jon aborted his attempt to drown more wights and once more melted the ice near the burning spikes to keep the enemy from overrunning their cavalry in the woods. He flew from left to right, from front to back and slowly Jon saw the enemy numbers diminishing even if their shrieks were still loud enough to hurt his eardrums. At one point the front lines had been overrun but before Jon could react to the blowing of their horn and intervene, another White Walker had been killed and most of the wights that had infiltrated his forces dropped down and the few remaining ones were defeated in no time.
Finally the tide turned and the wights started to retreat. The fight was almost over and it was none too soon. Jon had felt Rhaegar waver in the air several times by now. Spewing so many bursts of fire for such a long time took a lot of energy. The moment Rhaegal felt his human was looking for a landing spot, the dragon gave in to his fatigue and almost tumbled down.
Since Jon was near the north side of the lake close to the woods he quickly landed near the end of the line of burning spikes. Sandor's forces were some three hundred feet away. He could not see them because of the smoke from the fires but he knew they were close enough. He quickly dismounted so Rhaegal could lie down and rest a bit. As far as he could see in the dark, all activity had stopped. No more shrieks were heard, no more arrows rained down on the lake. He gathered that the battle had well and truly ended when he heard the cheering of the living increase.
Jon sat down for a moment and let it all sink in. He had never experienced something like that before. He still heard the echo of the otherworldly shrieks of the wights, still felt the countless eerie blue eyes staring at him. He kept picturing the sheer numbers of human and animal remains that kept attacking even as dragonfire burned through their ranks. This enemy had no fear of defeat. They needed neither food nor rest. Jon was about to praise their luck that they somehow feared daylight and they were probably running off to hide somewhere safe before dawn when a shiver ran over his back. Something was wrong. He looked toward his forces. They all stood there facing the lake. The cheering had stopped. A horn blew three times in quick succession.
Jon turned his head and looked right into the eyes of a White Walker that stood in the middle of the frozen lake. His white icy skin and blue light in his eyes somehow made him visible despite the darkness. The creature didn't move and stared at Jon with something akin to a smirk on his icy face. Jon got back to his feet and watched mesmerised as the White Walker raised his arms. All the wights that had fallen down like lifeless dolls when they had slayed the White Walkers stood back up and opened their eyes once more. Hundreds or mayhap thousands of undead heads turned towards Jon. More wights rose from below the water and crept back up from under the ice. Apparently drowning was not a final death for these strange creatures. A large part of this newly formed force marched towards Jon as one.
"Fuck!" Jon turned to Rhaegal intent on mounting him and taking to the sky once more. He paled. Several wights that hadn't been defeated before had used the distraction caused by the resurrection of their allies on the lake to crawl closer to the green dragon without anyone noticing. Rhaegal screeched in agony, let out a large flame and flapped his wings to get rid of the ones trying to climb him. Viserion still in the air dove toward them and did his best to hinder the large force that was advancing on Jon.
The temperature dropped and the gap between him and the lake froze solid. Realising that there was no opportunity to mount Rhaegal and that his only option was to stand his ground there and then, Jon took Blackfyre in his right hand and a dragonglass dagger in his left. He hardly had time to count to ten before the first wights were upon him. Luckily for Jon it were mindless animal wights and the Valyrian steel of Blackfyre sliced through them. Those he missed ran straight by and jumped Rhaegal instead.
The wave of undead human wights that was almost upon him had not learned to fight in formation. Jon's sword sliced through them while he stepped backwards in an effort to join forces with Rhaegal. The dragon was still fighting of these nasty little wights. Jon felt Rhaegal's annoyance. He could only compare it to a human trying to get rid of red ants after stepping into one of their nests. They were a pest but couldn't really harm you. They kept Rhaegal busy though and he was no real help to Jon except for the fact that he provided an obstacle so they could not get to Jon from all sides.
Despite Viserion's efforts, the wights not minding the danger they were in, kept running around their burning comrades that Viserion continued to put on fire. They seemed not to mind that many didn't make it. Those that did make it attacked Jon with deadly intent.
Jon still standing his ground was getting encumbered by the carcasses that were piling up all around him. Avoiding a large swing of a rusty looking sword, he stepped sideways and his left foot stepped on some bones and slipped between them. Trying to avoid losing his balance, he shifted his foot a few times to reach the ground beneath the bones. That proved to be a dumb thing to do. Even though he managed to stay upright as he had intended, his left foot was stuck now and he could no longer move from the spot where he was standing. Now he was the one who was trapped.
He felt something sting his left arm but ignored it and kept swinging both his sword and his dagger. He looked around assessing how many wights he still had to face when he saw the White Walker advance toward him. Still trying to free his foot, he slew five more wights before the ice creature was upon him. Jon dropped his dragonglass dagger and took his sword in both hands. Ignoring the cold the creature emitted he tried to concentrate and make his mind go blank. Time slowed down.
This was it. If he did not defeat the enemy before him, the dead would win. Never mind what happened with the rest of the battle. He realised that the Night King waiting in the far north knew this as well. If Jon died out here today, the enemy would win the final battle no matter how long it took to get to that point. Jon was necessary to defeat the ultimate White Walker he had seen in his vision. He was the key to the survival of the entire realm. If he died out here today… A vision of Dany walking alongside the cliffs of Dragonstone flitted through his mind. He gritted his teeth. He would defend her. He would fight off every last undead abomination until he no longer drew breath.
Jon concentrated and blocked the first few trust of the White Walker's icy sword but was helpless when the creature punched him in the stomach and sliced his thigh. Without his footwork his options were limited. He couldn't dodge, only counter. Jon barely countered the next swing in time. His left arm hurt from the force of the attack. He saw the follow-up stroke coming towards him in slow motion. He realised his parry would come too late. The icy tip came nearer and was perfectly aimed to pierce his heart. Jon was out of options. This was it. Humanity would lose the war. He made a last effort to speed up his counterstroke and refused to close his eyes.
A big shadow next to him and a loud crack were all that he noticed at first. He tried to make sense of the fact that he was still breathing. He made a conscious effort to calm down the loud erratic beating of his heart making sure to take deep breaths. His vision cleared and he could distinguish the White Walker in his line of vision. The ice creature lay a few feet away but was already rising back to his feet his eerie eyes fixed solely on Jon. Jon broke their gaze and looked up to his right.
"My left foot. I'm stuck." Jon informed Mag the Mighty of his predicament. The giant pulled Jon up, making the bones shift easily and put him down again on the other side of the heap of carcasses. Compared to the giant Jon looked like a toddler.
"Dragonrider free. Fight on!" And the giant pulled out a large tree from behind him and swept at the enemy that kept coming at them. Jon looked at Rhaegal. The dragon had finally gotten rid of most of the wights. "Fly up, Rhaegal. Defend me from the sky." Rhaegal was quick to obey. Soon he joined his fire to Viserion's. Both dragons were now working together to keep more wights from reaching Jon.
Still separated from the rest of their forces, Jon looked around assessing his predicament. A large host of wights stood between Sandor's cavalry and Jon. Together with Mag the Mighty he tried to stay alive until help could reach them or the last wight had been destroyed. From where he was standing he couldn't check what was happening on the other side of the lake. He reckoned the gap at the south side of the lake that had protected his forces would long have frozen back over by now. But neither Rhaegal nor Viserion was keen to leave his side and help the men over there. They both stayed to defend their human from the enemy that clearly targeted their human.
Mag the Mighty was doing his utmost to hold of the wights but the giant was slowly being manoeuvred away from Jon. This was no mindless fight. The White Walkers had a clear strategy. Jon kept swinging his sword hardly aiming at anything consciously. Technique didn't matter against these wights. He had taken his dagger back out and swung both arms from left to right and up and down creating fluid figures moving his feet the entire time, turning, ducking, stretching.
It felt as if he was performing some sort of strange dance. But for now it worked and he succeeded in keeping the enemy from slicing him to pieces. He tried not to think too far ahead. For each wight he killed another took his place and many were standing by waiting for their turn. Soon he would once again be in danger of losing his manoeuvrability because of the heap of carcasses that was growing around him. He stepped backward trying to find a natural barrier to protect his back. He had not the faintest idea how long he had been at it but felt his lungs burning and his arms growing heavy.
The White Walker that had been thrown off his feet by the giant earlier was content to stand by and watch the proceedings. Rhaegal targeted him with dragonfire but somehow a cold shield around the White Walker saw to it that the fire didn't reach him. Jon changed tactics and tried to fight his way toward him but was blocked at every turn. He felt his sword arm burn from fatigue but kept on slicing. He had no choice. It was as if the White Walker sensed his weakening. The ice creature finally stepped forward, intent on facing Jon once more.
"Mag, shield my back." Jon called out realising that the wights that had stepped aside to let the White Walker through were now trying to attack him from behind.
"I try." The giant answered but was being swarmed from all sides.
The screeching of the enemy seemed to intensify for some reason. Jon's ears were hurting. The noise prevented him from hearing much of what was happening elsewhere on the battlefield. That was the reason why Jon saw Jaime Lannister before he heard him. The man came charging through the woods on horseback. Together with a small group, he had circled around and came from the north side heading straight for Jon, slicing wights left and right. Immediately hundreds of wights changed direction to prevent them from reaching Jon. Sandor's forces were still pinned down by the enemy but somehow Jaime Lannister perhaps because he had the element of surprise on his side or perhaps because the man was driven by an extra motivation: saving the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, had succeeded to come closer than anyone else.
Rhaegal sensing Jon's thoughts burned through the group of wights heading for Jaime Lannister. Before the man was able to reach Jon, his horse was struck by an ice spear. He jumped of his horse moments before the beast fell down. Landing on his feet, he pulled out a torch and lit it using the remnants of one of the fires lit by the dragons. His sword in one hand and the torch in the other a determined Jaime Lannister fought his way through countless wights and managed to reach Jon.
Jon nodded at him and they positioned themselves back to back.
"You have no Valyrian steel sword, I gather?" Jon asked between heavy breaths.
"Only a precious Valyria dagger in my belt." Jaime replied.
"Then leave the White Walker to me." Jon ordered.
Jaime at first seemed to obey him and Jon turned and parried the first swing from the advancing White Walker.
"Giant! To us!" Jaime roared at Mag the Mighty.
"I try." The giant yelled back.
The rest of the Jaime's cavalry were still trying to fight their way to their leader. More wights however appeared seemingly out of nowhere to block their path. Jaime Lannister was calculating his options quickly.
"Hold on, my Prince." Jaime encouraged him.
"I try." Jon mimicked the speech of the giant. "My arms are tiring though."
"Then we better end this quickly." Jaime lit a few more wights on fire. "Gods there are many."
Jon didn't reply. He saw a second White Walker closing in on them. "Lannister, look to my right!"
"See him." Came the curt reply.
"Lose your steel sword. It will shatter when it comes into contact with his icy weapon." Jon warned him.
"Torch?" Jaime enquired.
"They extinguish it with the cold they are emitting." Jon yelled back almost deaf himself from the never ending screeches of the wights.
"Damn." Jaime threw his torch into an approaching wight and reached for a dragonglass dagger seeing the second White Walker would come in range soon.
"Aim for his chest." Jon advised him before engaging his own opponent with an offensive swing having found some extra energy now that he saw his chances at survival rise again with the presence of Jaime Lannister.
Jaime changed his mind at the last moment. His hand didn't go for the handle of the dragonglass dagger. That weapon was too short. He would be run through before he could make his first strike and if he threw it and missed the correct spot, he would be left without a means of defending himself. Instead he dug in his pocket and grabbed a number of dragonglass arrowheads and threw them at the White Walker with all his might.
It was a desperate move but a genius one at the same time. Several arrowheads missed their target. A few touched the White Walker backwards with their blunt side, but two hit their target with the pointy end. One penetrated the creature's eye. The other reached the intended target. It hit the White Walker in the middle of his chest and the creature exploded before the eyes of a bewildered Jaime Lannister.
"Fuck," was all the reaction he was able to get out. He saw hundreds of wights drop dead before them. Gathering his wits he approached Jon and almost pushed him to the side trying to take on the remaining White Walker himself. The ice creature however was firmly fixed on his target. No matter what Jaime tried. It turned and went after Jon.
Jon was losing ground. No longer able to match the force of the strikes he used the dodging tactic he had learned and each time took step sideward so he could parry the strike only after it lost most of its momentum.
Jaime used the last piece of dragonglass he carried on him and hurled the dragonglass dagger at the White Walker. It missed the optimal target but still embedded itself in the swordarm of the creature.
The White Walker must have felt the impact because it turned its head to look at the object that had managed to pierce him. That distraction caused enough of a delay for Jon to switch from defence to offense. He aimed Blackfyre at the creature's chest and when the White Walker blocked the strike with less force than before, Jon could slowly force their linked weapons upwards. He used his left hand to plunge his own dragonglass dagger in the Walker's chest. Exhausted, Jon sank to his knees after the White Walker exploded and all the wights surrounding them dropped lifeless on the ground. Jaime was with him in two steps and helped him back on his feet.
"We need to get out of here." He looked around frantically and gestured to the group of his men that had had managed to come within forty feet but stood staring unbelievingly at the lifeless heap of wights and dead animals. "Bring me a horse! Quick!"
He helped Jon mount the animal and took a seat behind him. As soon as they left the spot, Viserion and Rhaegal started burning the wights that had dropped down after the defeat of the White Walkers. Jon could feel their exhaustion.
"The dragons can't keep this up. We need to destroy the last of the White Walkers. We are going the wrong way."
Jaime didn't respond. He stopped his horse only when they were safe behind their own lines at the south side of the lake
"You are exhausted, my Prince. I'll go after them if you will hand me Blackfyre." He dismounted and helped Jon get of the horse.
"We will all go if it is still necessary." Edd Tollet had reached them. "However I no longer think it is. Look! The enemy is retreating."
Nobody dared to cheer this time. Everyone just stared at the lake. The wights that were still standing had stopped fighting and were indeed retreating.
"We need to burn every single wight inert on the ice. We can't risk another resurrection." Jon spoke while breathing heavily. "Can someone hand me something to drink?"
The men looked around. "Eat some snow for now." Edd Tollet advised him. "I'll see if I can find someone with a flask." Jon found a fresh patch of snow and cleaned his hands before he stuffed some snow into his mouth. He instantly felt refreshed. Next he washed his face with the fast melting snow.
"I will take the men out on the lake and help the dragons set fire to the carcasses that are still out there." Edd Tollet volunteered.
"A horse pulled up and Sandor dismounted. He had a gash on the unburnt part of his forehead and had to keep that eye closed. "Take my horse." He held the reins out to Edd Tollet. "Go burn the stupid cunts before they come back a third time." Sandor took Jon's arm to help keep him upright.
Edd Tollet didn't waste a moment, mounted the big horse and rounded up some men. "We will concentrate on the side closest to the sea. Jon, can you ask the dragons to take care of the ones on the other side? I'd be pissed if they burned me."
"Consider it done." Jon answered trying to tie a piece of cloth over the wound on his thigh. He had hardly felt it was there before but now could see and feel it bleeding profusely.
Sandor helped him to sit down and knelt beside him. "Let me see to your arm." He turned to Lannister. "You take over bandaging his thigh. So he can fucking keep his arm still."
"Thanks." Jon said when he reopened his eyes after communicating with Rhaegal and noticed that both men had finished securing a cloth on his arm and thigh. "I'll let a healer look at those cuts as soon as he has helped the more severely wounded. Sandor, let us see to your cut now."
"Dragonrider!" Orell came running over. "There is a White Walker on one of the rafts. Some of the dead are using the five large rafts to try and reach the ships. Send the dragons over to them."
"Rhaegal to me!" Jon yelled out loud but repeated the order in his head. He asked for Viserion too.
"Stand back. Give me space. The green dragon will land here any moment. Stand back!" Jon yelled once more.
Jaime shook his head when he saw Jon scramble awkwardly on top of his dragon. "Stubborn Targaryen," he mumbled and jumped on the first horse he could confiscate, racing in the direction of the coastline.
Interlude 32: Brienne beyond the Wall
She had been so glad when she received the summons from the Targaryen Prince. When she set out toward Eastwatch together with Lord Dayne and Lord Tyrell, twenty volunteers from Winterfell had accompanied them. More men had joined their small caravan when they passed through Wintertown and ever since small groups from other northern settlements had asked to travel alongside to the Wall. As ordered by the Prince, they had stopped at the Dreadfort and had picked up the men that had been incarcerated there. These men were eager to be provided a chance to prove themselves beyond the Wall. If they aided the Targaryen Prince in his fight against the enemy beyond the Wall they would regain their honour and be allowed to resume their previous position.
By the time they all had reached Eastwatch, she rode at the head of a host of approximately two hundred men strong. A large contingent from the Last Hearth had been their last addition. Lord Osric Umber, the third son of the Greatjon Umber had assumed leadership but regarded her as his second in command. Although she presumed he had been given such instructions by the Targaryen Prince, she was flattered anyway by the number of responsibilities he entrusted her with. Even Tyrell and Dayne deferred to her when she decided when to stop or where to set up camp.
Never before had she felt so well-respected when dealing with trained men, some of them seasoned veterans who had lived through more than one battle. At Winterfell she had already been pleased with the way she had been accepted despite several critical glances from visiting Lords and some of the houseguards. But travelling among these men had been a revelation.
She wondered what her father would think if he could see her now. She had been vague in her descriptions of her stay at Winterfell. They all thought she was just visiting the North in the company of Lord Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell. They had even hinted that a possible betrothal between her and one of these young Lords would be most graciously welcomed. She had kept silent on purpose wanting them to hear of her new position as a Kingsguard either when she received her white cloak or when she could write them of the exact date she would be knighted.
She had trusted the Targaryen Prince implicitly and was grateful for the honour he had bestowed on her by promising her this exclusive position. But as soon as she had entered the large gates of Eastwatch at the head of a host of two hundred and fifty men strong, she had been met by one disappointment after the other. Her proud smile had dimmed when she realised that the Prince was not there and the only ones from his entourage left at Eastwatch were Gendry, the skilled blacksmith and close friend of the Prince and the Prince's white direwolf. Prince Aegon had flown off again, this time to fight without them at Pyke and after a short but successful battle, rumours said he was now at Dragonstone for some supposedly urgent meetings.
Next she had been introduced to two men of the Night's Watch who claimed they were personal guards of the Prince whenever he was present beyond the Wall. Lady Brienne had tried to reign in the acute feeling of jealousy. Not revealing her own ambitions she had subtly enquired after the extent of their relationship with the Prince and now she only felt pity for the two Targaryen loyalists who had been exiled to Wall for nothing more than being loyal to Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
Back then she had been able to comfort herself with the message that Sandor Clegane had sent that the Prince would return any day now and that they were bound for the place where the real fight would go down, a fight against a formidable enemy. They had left the next day and Lady Brienne had looked forward to her first real battle as Kingsguard to Aegon Targaryen.
It had all come to naught. She had been severely let down. Here she stood at the railing of a ship anchored near the east coast of this frozen land of mountains and lakes. She pulled her furs tighter around her when the wind blew hard from the north. Despite the many layers of clothing that she wore, she was chilled to the bones. For the first time doubt entered her mind.
She had plenty of time stuck on this accursed ship to ponder whether she had made the right choice, whether she had not made a mistake to trust the young Prince blindly. She had been so certain that Prince Aegon genuinely esteemed her and truly didn't mind the fact that she was a woman. She had believed him when he had promised her the certainty of a knighthood and a position in the renowned Kingsguard. She would be the first woman in Westeros ever to be granted such an honour and he would be the one to grant her this.
That is the reason why it was such a shock when he ordered her to lead the evacuations at Hardhome. She had been slightly appeased when he had explained to her that she was given the responsibility of tens of thousands of souls. The forces he left behind, including Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell would be under her command. She would lead the defences here in the event that part of the enemy managed to escape the traps they had laid out and came for them.
When she had protested that she had been present at the war council and that everyone considered them safe at sea, the Prince had walked her to a more private spot. Keeping his voice low he had explained to her that unlike the others he was sure that the enemy was not to be underestimated. He was of the opinion that they had the uncanny ability to find living souls and come for them no matter how many wights perished in the attempt. He advised her to remain alert at all times and make sure that everything was ready in case the dead found a way to reach them.
He had pointed out that the enemy could command dead animals as well. Perhaps they would send her an enormous flock of dead eagles, ravens or any other kind of bird. They might even try to reach the ships on primitive rafts. Somehow he was convinced that the goal of the enemy was to recruit the Free Folk living at Hardhome. A scroll with recommendations from her future Lord Commander, Ser Gerold had tipped the scale.
She had let herself be persuaded and diligently led the evacuation. She had been mollified to notice that the Free Folk had no qualms with her being a woman. She had only needed to appease the ones that were disappointed that they had not been allowed to fight. She had understood all too well what they were feeling and had offered the most vocal ones a crucial task in the safeguarding of the ships. The evacuation had not gone flawlessly but after half a day of arguing and motivational speeches, the ships had all left the shore and had thrown anchor while still within viewing distance of the coast. At least they could spot the shoreline during daylight when the weather was clear enough.
But now it was long after dark. Most of the night had come and gone and nothing had happened. She was still standing here at the railing of the ship with no more responsibility than to appoint lookouts and see to it that no fights broke out amongst the crew and Free Folk. Everyone was tired and uncomfortable. It had been a tight squeeze to accommodate so many of the Free Folk on just fifty ships. Most of the people on board scarcely had room to sit down.
She shook her head trying to shake the doubts that kept creeping up on her. Would the Prince really see her as an equal to his other Kingsguards? She kept reminding herself that safeguarding fifty ships filled to the brim with passengers and their crew was a big responsibility. She would not let him down.
She took the looking glass out of her belt and scanned the ships that were in her line of sight. As long as they all flew a white banner, everything was okay. The prearranged signal for danger was a red flag next to a lantern so they could spot it after dark. She tried not to bump into too many passengers when she wove her way through the small groups of people sitting on the moist wooden floor of the upper deck in order to check the visible banners in person. All white. She sighed not really knowing what she preferred. On the one hand, if the enemy showed itself that meant that the Targaryen Prince had not side-lined her but had given her a worthy task. On the other hand, if the enemy didn't show, more than fifteen thousand people would not be put in harm's way. Dawn would soon be upon them. The sky was no longer as dark as before. Soon it would be turning red and then the sun would be up not long after.
Edric Dayne came running up to her jumping over legs and circumventing curled up bodies of sleeping Free Folk. "Lady Brienne! Lady Brienne, the ship to our right just raised the red banner!"
Brienne cursed her moment of inattention. She didn't need her spyglass to see the red banner. The lantern and the red flag were clearly visible with the naked eye.
"There!" Edric Dayne pointed at the shoreline. "Rafts are coming our way."
Brienne used her spy glass now to study the indicated spot. She counted five large rafts, each carrying uh something. She had to look again to believe what she saw. There were approximately twenty moving corpses sitting on each of these rafts holding on for dear life or perhaps life was not the correct term. The Prince had not exaggerated. They were at least half-decayed but still moving and carrying weapons. And their eyes! She held her breath for a moment but then regrouped and studied the other rafts.
There it was. Just as it had been described during the war council. Wights were almost always in the company of an ice creature. It stood upright on the raft that still was the farthest distance from her ship. She released the breath she had been holding and studied the White Walker thoroughly, making a mental list of all the weapons it carried.
She handed her spyglass to Edric Dayne. "Here have a look. I will raise the alarm so the archers know to take their positions. The Targaryen Prince had told her that every member of the Free Folk could shoot a mean arrow. According to him, children were taught this skill as soon as they could walk on their own. He had provided each ship with enough bows and arrows with special magic glass arrowheads. Her task had been to select the best archers available on each boat and give each of them a fixed position. If ever the enemy showed itself, they would all know where to stand and every corner of each of the ship would have its defenses ready in no time. She had done all he had ordered. She knew the scroll carrying the instructions of her future Lord Commander, Ser Gerold by hard.
She had not wasted the afternoon on the ship. The crew and the more capable members of the Free Folk on the ships had been armed with dragonglass axes, daggers and longspears. Everyone had been given instructions and knew their positions. The only thing that had kept Lady Brienne from being bored were the short training sessions for small groups she led until everyone selected had shown her what he or she was capable of. She had been frustrated that she had not had the time to visit the other ships to check whether her orders had been carried out with the same vigil and to witness the skills of the defenders that had been picked out there.
She heard the scraping of iron chains that told her the anchor was being lifted. Hopefully the other ships were following the instructions to the letter and were doing the same thing. She checked her belt one more time counting the weapons she was carrying. Brienne, Edric and Loras had been allowed to take their pick from the crates Gendry had shown them at Eastwatch.
She hurried along the length of the ship and spotted Loras easily. He had been keeping the children company earlier and was still in their vicinity. She ordered him to help mobilise their defenses and soon enough the entire ship stood at the ready and was waiting for her orders.
"The rafts are looking precarious and the enemy does not seem comfortable upon them." Loras remarked. "Perhaps we should just ram them."
"It is a pathetic looking attempt of an attack," Edric concurred, "barely one hundred wights and only one White Walker."
"Remember what the Prince told us." Brienne cautioned him. "Don't underestimate them. They may look frail but they show no mercy. They have no sense of self-preservation. They are mindless puppets of the White Walker and most probably don't realise they have been sent on a suicide mission. Aim for the White Walker. Use only dragonglass or fire and aim for his chest. Chances are that if a clean shot can take out the White Walker the fight is over. I have been told that without the White Walker, these so-called wights become powerless."
"The ice creature has two ice spears, a long sword and a few daggers on him." Edric had studied the enemy thoroughly using Brienne's spyglass.
"As soon as the White Walker is within range, give the archers leave to shoot. Let them all fire simultaneously and aim for the White Walker." Edric and Loras nodded and each of them walked to a different part of the ship.
"Dragons!" Someone shouted and several others repeated the word.
Brienne looked up and saw the dragons approaching. Even if they were still far away, she understood they were flying at an enormous speed. She turned her head again to check the position of the enemy. The rafts were still approaching at a slow pace but the enemy had moved. The White Walker and all the wights had turned and were staring at the incoming dragons. The White Walker spread his legs to improve his balance and lifted an ice spear, ready to throw it at the first dragon to come into range.
Brienne held her breath. They needed to distract the White Walker or a spear might hurt one of the Prince's dragons. The silverwhite dragon had no rider and was on course to reach the rafts first. The green dragon appeared to have trouble keeping up.
"Nock!" Brienne shouted on the top of her voice.
She heard her shout being repeated by Loras and Edric respectively at the bow and stern. She witnessed the white dragon dive down towards the rafts.
"Loose!" she yelled and watched with satisfaction as several arrows hit the White Walker's throwing arm. They couldn't aim for his chest since he was standing sideways to have a better view of the incoming dragon. Her action had some result though. The White Walker lost his balance slightly and the ice spear that he had been throwing changed direction and missed its target by a wide margin. The weapon fell into the water and drifted harmlessly upon the waves. Viserion swept over the rafts and lit three of them on fire.
"Nock", she yelled again seeing that the White Walker had picked up a second ice spear.
In the meantime Jon was rather helpless on Rhaegal. The dragon had trouble flying stable enough for his human to stay steady on his back.
'Fly over the ships, Viserion. Make the White Walker turn around and face the archers on the ship.' He sent the thought to Rhaegal hoping his brother would pick it up. He needed all his concentrations not to fall off and couldn't merge his mind with the dragons as he usually did when flying in the air. Viserion either came up with the idea himself or had heard them and instantly complied.
Lady Brienne admired the way the white dragon flew low over the fleet followed by the green dragon. Both dragons circled around but only the white dragon advanced towards the enemy. Brienne immediately grasped the opportunity when as expected the White Walker turned and faced them now, his torso a clear target for the first time.
"Loose!" She shouted. And lo and behold, the White Walker eerie eyes no longer looked up at the dragons but instead stared at the ships and the incoming arrows. Lady Brienne shivered but her eyes grew wide when she saw the ice creature lift his arms sideways and let the arrows impact without making any attempt to save himself. Her mouth fell open when he exploded in thousands of tiny ice crystals. The cheers of the men on board made her lift her gaze from the strange heap. Widening her sight she noticed that the wights on the two remaining rafts had all dropped down and lay lifeless on the wooden beams.
The white dragon made one more dive and soon only a few black pieces of burnt wood were drifting towards their position. She found it all rather anticlimactic. Now that they were no longer in any danger she relaxed and looked for the Prince on the back of the green dragon. She bit her lip when she saw the green dragon having trouble to hover over her ship. From this close by she could see it had a small hole in one of his wings.
"Without counter order, you can bring everyone back ashore soon. But wait till after noon." The Targaryen Prince yelled at her.
She nodded and shouted her response. "Noon, Hardhome."
She waved after him and her eyes kept following the two dragons that flew very slowly back towards the shore.
Before he left Hardhome, Jon gave Lady Brienne detailed instructions for their travels south. Edric and Loras would accompany her. Gendry planned to travel to Winterfell in the company of the small group from Winterfell and Wintertown. He would visit there for some time and then continue south to Dragonstone or King's Landing if all went according to plan.
At first Jon had wanted to send Ghost with Lady Brienne who was set to sail from Eastwatch to Dragonstone. But after communicating with his direwolf, it became clear that Ghost would rather travel overland, not even accompanying Gendry for the first part of the journey. Ghost preferred to travel at his own speed. Jon was worried for his direwolf's safety but had relented acknowledging the fact that the direwolf had a right to make his own decisions. He was not a pet but a companion and friend. He just hoped that Ghost would not get lost on his way south.
Notes:
Next chapter, we pick up from where the main chapter left off and witness the aftermath of the battle near the lake. In the interlude we catch a glimpse of Robb and Benjen at Winterfell.