This story has been stuck in my head for a while now. It's been like an earwig, a song I just couldn't get out of my head until I sung it. I've honestly not been able to type a word of Winter's Wolf or any of my other stories for months now because this was all I could think about.
So here it is, The DreadWolf. It's a rush job, I've barely thought it through, but it seemed a cool concept in my head. What if there was a line of Starks in Essos? How would the heir to this distant branch family interact with what can be a savage and unforgiving continent? Let's find out together.
We all know the story of Theon Stark, The Hungry Wolf, who defeated Argos Sevenstar and sailed his army of Northmen to Essos, the home of the Andals to reap bloody vengeance for their invasion of Westeros. What if on returning to the North he left more than burning villages in his wake. What if he left a son to carry the name of House Stark on these distant shores?
He woke with a splutter. Ice cold was the murky trough water that was flung, ever so gleefully in his face.
"Wakey, wakey, dog lord" a voice pierced through his sleepy haze and shivering shock.
"Few more minutes and I'll be with you presently" He muttered as he wiped the slimy water from his rough dark brown beard. "Make ready the wine for when I wake fully. That Tyroshi white will be excellent to break my fast."
A sharp kick to his ribs was his response. Followed quickly by "oh, I'll give you wine" the voice said through a wicked smirk. It belonged to a man. A short, bald thing with a rounded gut and pocked tan skin smeared in muck. He reached below his overhanging gut into his breaches and retrieved his manhood "it's an excellent vintage, full of body" he laughed with a slight exertion "Can you tell?" He asked as cloudy liquid began to trickle from the tip of him.
With a flurry his would-be victim withdrew from the offending appendage. His chains rattled through the misty morning air of the stables, frightening the giant rounseys as the pig iron was pulled taut.
The fat man simply moved closer and let his morning wine flow onto the chained man's head. "There you go. I'll be able to refill your cup after my supper flagon."
"Don't think I'll have the appetite" he said as his hair, wet with piss, stuck to his head.
"Oh, you will. I'll see to it that you're thirsty" his wicked smirk retuned as he tucked his still dripping unit back into his dirty green trousers. "Thirsty as a man can be. Then you'll gobble up whatever falls out of me"
Grey eyes stared up at the man as he spoke. They were bloodshot and beaten half shut but the icy grey of them gave his capturer pause.
With a huff his chains were freed from a metal spike embedded in the floor. The fat man dragged him out into the morning sun forcing him to cover his tender eyes with back of his hand. He reeked, he thought. His long hair clung to him all too uncomfortably now.
"Faster, you shit" he was pushed along roughly. He was made to hobble past the smithy, its heat almost blistering his purple bruises. They then passed the open kitchen window, the smell of freshly baked bread seemed to cause him more anguish than the hurried beating he'd endured over the last two nights.
Finally, they had crossed the length of the yard before he felt the stubby fingers of the fat man press into his back and push him hard into the mass of slaves that had been gathered.
"I'll be seeing you later, dog lord. I'll be sure to bring a full bladder. Lest you go thirsty. " He said cackling as he began to walk away.
"See that you do, Hunam. I'd prefer to rip it from your gut full and bursting" he grinned. Maybe it wasn't wise to taunt the old slaver. But wisdom wasn't what he was known for.
With an underserved poise the bald master spun on his heels, drew a thick leather whip from his belt and cracked it across the younger man's bare chest. A powder of blood and tanned skin spewed from where the boiled and hardened tip of it hungrily kissed at him.
"I will stuff your mouth with the shit of pigs soon enough!" Hunam shouted as he cracked the whip again, this time leaving an angry gash on his on his shoulder. But the screams of anguish he expected did not come. There was a defiant look beneath the young mans soiled brown hair.
His grey eyes hardened, and his teeth bared at Hunam. His over-long canines glistened a milky white in the morning sun. The other slaves gasped and retreated from the confrontation, huddled, and frightened by the whipmen around them.
"Oh" Hunam said, licking his lips as he readied for another strike of his whip. Just then a bell sounded at the other end of the courtyard. He turned with a knowing scowl; he was being summoned. He turned back to the defiant young man and said "oh, we'll be dancing in the moonlight tonight, boy". He then turned and hurried away.
"I'll be sure to wear my dancing shoes" was the young's man reply as he watched his quickly retreating form with a steely defiance before collapsing to his knees. His breathing was ragged, and his skin burned like fire but he had resisted the putrid man, that was a victory in his mind. His body may be shackled but the wolf would never be tamed.
"Cregan!" he heard a voice behind him. It was one of the other slaves. A woman. Doreah. She rushed to him. Her round honey-brown eyes were wet with worry. "Why do you tempt him?!" she admonished the young man while lifting his head from the soft red clay beneath them. Little attention was paid to the wetness of his hair. "The whipman prides himself on cleaving flesh from bone."
"And I'll wipe that pride from the end of my boot before days end".
"Hush, you must not speak that way. Someone will hear." Doreah berated hurriedly as she dabbed at his many wounds with a brown cloth.
Cregan cut her off "And do what, beat me? I think they've had their fill of that".
"That's what scares me" she replied.
"He is alive, yes?" A shadow came over the two of them as they spoke. The man who cast it stood at least two heads taller than those around him. The harried, black slave collar around his neck stood in some contrast to dark brown skin.
"Barely. But if he doesn't control his mouth he will not be for much longer" Doreah said
"Help me up, Toho" Cregan said offering the giant copper man his hand. There was some hesitation, Toho didn't like being ordered. But he reached out with a massive, calloused hand and yanked the other man to his shaky feet.
"Did you get it?" Toho asked expectantly. His black eyes fixed on Cregan.
"Aye, I did" Cregan whispered. For once showing showing some discretion. "Everything is in place friend, tonight is our night" He looked over to the ever diligent woman on his left "see that everyone is ready, Doreah. Who falls behind, gets left behind."
She nodded and began to speak but was cut off by the clamber of hooves on the pebbled road ahead of them.
A swarm of horses beat into view. Mounting them were the heads of the manse they served.
Cregan took a steadying breath and eyed his surroundings. The sun was rising in the sky now. It brought with it the sweltering heat of the Norvoshi summer. The slave dwellings, his dwellings, sat on the base of a small hill surrounded by fields and a smattering of farmland. The vibrant greens of the field around him stretched on beyond the horizon. He could see the wide rimmed circular hats of the workers toiling away in the distance.
Under the sun the main dwelling stood aglow. Its pristine white walls rose in splendour from the assorted flowers and vines that crawled their way over and around them. The walls made a square with a tower at each point where they met. They were circular in design and were flourished with precise domed roofs. Four of them stood in vanguard around the main house at their centre. A Large squat thing with a golden dome atop it. Windows dotted its exterior. They glowed the colour of a plucked rose as the suns rays bounded off them into the morning sky.
Cregan had never been close enough to the building to describe it in any great detail. But the opulence of it made his blood boil. Who were these men to make a slave of him. He who was the son of the wolf. They would learn soon enough what that meant. The betrayal that landed him here would be avenged a hundred times over. But those were thoughts for the future.
Today's thoughts were on tonight.
All around him were his brothers and sisters in bondage. Soldiers, sellswords, debtors, whores, and whoresons. They were the newly captured. All except Doreah, she once served as bedslave to Ryol Lahas, the manse master's son. She was reduced to field slave when he had had his fill of her.
His wife-to-be forbade her from anywhere near his bed chambers and the scorching linseed farm was as far as she could be without being sold.
Now she stood amongst the rest, the lowest order of slaves. They were sun-browned and weary. Twenty faces in total, faces long in their suffering, each longer than the last. That would change soon, he mused as the giant horses raced past them and up the paved road into the manse. They were trailed by a baggage train of stout carriages with thick fabric pulled over their tops to protect their contents.
Ryol was to be married tonight. There was to be a celebration afterwards. Dozens of men made rich and fat by their toil. Tonight, they would be drunk, and rich and fat and dead. He smirked easily at the thought. His strength was coming back to him.
The whipman had earned his wage last night. He and his cronies had stomped Cregan into the ground. He had planned for that though and it was a small price to pay for his freedom, but he needed to be strong or their plan wouldn't work.
Just then behind them came the gruff shouts of a half a dozen workmen. They were barking orders over the fading din of the carriages climbing into the domed building at the end of the road.
"To your task, you shits!" one of them screamed. Cregan never learned their names. They stood in the thin linen that was produced and sold across Essos by their master. Their tunics open just enough to catch the lone wind that blew through occasionally.
The slaves were not so lucky, the men were bare chested with barely a leather to cover their lower halves. The women had been given short, tan dresses that went down just above their knees. Cregan was lucky that he was able to keep his riding pants. That was a folly on the behalf of his captors. He could feel the outline of the keys he'd stolen during the night bulging in one of the many secret pockets that lined the garment.
With a sigh and a knowing look to Toho he went to his task. One more day, the last day, it was a comforting thought.
0-0
The day had moved at a snail's pace. Years ago, when he was a green boy, virgin to war and battle and blood, he would have been nervous. Now the anticipation barely registered. Valar morghulis, his father told him before his first battle. His day would come like his fathers had. Best go out with a blade in hand. But today would not be that day.
He grunted with excursion as Toho loaded another full sack onto his sun-baked shoulders. The giant Dothraki then lifted three sacks with little effort and began to walk alongside Cregan.
"It is ready" The man said after a moment of silence "We are ready. Lead us well."
"All will be well friend, you have my word".
Toho grunted his answer and carried on into a large storehouse at the edge of the manse grounds.
Night had fallen by the time they had finished. Tired and aching bodies littered the field. Men and women exhausted from the days labour. Calloused, bleeding hands, arched backs and blistered skin was their salary. While the master and his fat companions celebrated with wine and merriment.
The sky was starless, but the hundreds of lit torches and braziers made the entire estate glow like a white hot coal against the green of the fields. The ceremony had taken place hours ago. Now the female slaves were being washed and dressed, covered in perfumed oils to hide the scent of a day at work.
Their real work was to begin tonight. Noble men quickly grew tired of painted, high class whores. They craved the rough world worn touch of a field slave. Someone they could dominate and humiliate without repercussions from the brothel owner.
Doreah was the first to be summoned, gods be good she wouldn't have been too used by the time they began their operation. He needed her for this all to work.
There was a comfortable silence between him and the giant man. Toho had been part of a great Khalisar that roamed the Dothraki Sea. His Khal met a violent end in single combat with the most feared horse lord in all of Essos, Khal Drogo. He wasn't sure of the man's intentions after tonight but there was business between him and Drogo. Business Cregan was wise enough to stay far away from.
Toho brought a hand up to wipe a phantom braid from his face. His features hardened for moment and his jaw clenched. Cregan knew why. His braid had been cut after his Khal's defeat. He refused to bow and fought for his honour, a fight he lost. He had jagged brown scars along his chest to prove it. As he told it, his black braid reached his ankles before that day. Now it barely reached his chin. A wild mane that he refused to touch.
One of the whipman's many hands stood guard at the door of the storehouse, ready to lead them to their soiled hay filled beds for the night. The man was well into his cups. He stumbled behind them, spilling the contents of a thick metal goblet onto the soft grass with every swaying step.
"Hurry it along, there's cunt awaiting me. Hurry up now!" he was slurring as he spoke.
"Not to worry, Febo, you'll be getting your fill" Cregan said.
"What was that? Eh? What was that, slave?" Febo demanded "Hunam hasn't forgot your words from earlier. We've picked a lovely hog for your breakfast" he began to laugh "It's about as big as the horse fucker there. piles and piles of shit it makes. You'll be fat and well fed before the sun dips on the morrow"
Cregan grimaced as they walked into the simple wooden structure that housed the men of the slave troop he was assigned to. There were five other such structures dotted around the outside of the manse. Each holding around twenty slaves. Those who worked the fields were separated from those who tended to the needs of the rich master and his estate. They were finely dressed and well fed. But all men craved freedom, and the right words, honeyed words, could sway any slave.
Once Febo had departed Toho looked over to the brown-haired man next to him.
Cregan spoke first however "I think they're serious about the pig shit this time".
"You've given them many reasons to be".
"Gods be good enough to grant me death or victory tonight and we won't have to find out how serious"
With that he removed the iron key from his breaches. It was a worn lump of pig iron that was barely a fit for the lock it was made to accompany. He quickly stuffed under his bed and walked over to the trough that occupied the space under the only window if their wooden hut.
The sheer heat of the place brought sweat to his brow. He wiped the hair form his face before scooping up a ladle of water and cleaning himself. It wasn't clean water, drinking it usually led to a bout of the shits. Luckily, their master was kind enough to separate their drinking water from their bathing water. How very kind.
Toho had settled into a corner and crossed his legs beneath his giant frame. His massive arms folded across his bulging chest. His head hung low and his eyes closed, he gave off an air of meditation.
He had the right idea though; it was to be a few hours still before they could begin.
The other slaves began to file in, tired and worn.
With a great clunk the door behind them was closed shut. The whipman was probably too drunk now to realise a key was missing.
"See yourselves to bed. You'll need the rest for what is to come." Cregan said.
They all looked at him, fearful.
Cregan steeled himself and walked to the centre of the room.
"It's right to be fearful" he began "Fear is necessary. Without it nothing is ever achieved. Yet our fear does not make us cravens. What we embark in tonight is not the act of cravens. Breaking free from our shackles is not the act of cravens. Taking freedom that is ours by right, is not the act of cravens. Bringing low our oppressors is not the act of cravens!" He was shouting now.
"Tonight, freedom stands on the horizon. she beckons and yearns for your embrace. From her bosom flows the sweet nectar of endless possibility." He raised a clenched fist and allowed a poignant silence.
"So be fearful, be fearful that tonight is the only night. The only night she'll be at arm's reach. Be fearful, for tomorrow, she will be gone."
Not his best speech but he needed them ready. Ready to die if need be.
With that he found a corner in furnace of a room and sat quietly. He eyed Toho who gave him a knowing look before nodding slightly and returning to his own sleep.
0-0
It was three hours later before they heard the signal. A rhapsody of knocks against the wooden walls of their not so humble abode.
The air grew immediately tense. The slaves around him, many of whom had never held a blade, grew still and looked to him for leadership.
With a swift motion he ignored the protests of his swollen, aching muscles and made for the door. He reached into his riding breaches and produced a key. Toho was close behind, his massive feet thumped heavy on the wooden floor beneath them.
"This is our one night." He said to those around him. "Freedom is here. You need only reach out and take it."
With that the door was opened and Cregan crept out with his slave companions in tow.
Night had fallen entirely now. The moon full and embracing, lit up the land around them. Silver blue light danced across the farmlands and illuminated the rolling hills. It gave an eerie life to the grain farms in the distance as they craned in the wind as if taken by an invisible wave of some unseen ocean.
Above them the manse shone as if it was some great pearl. Great flaming braziers had been lit all around it. Music drifted down to them and the smell of sweet wine was thick in the air.
"Here" a small voice said in front of him. It was Siena. A Lysene slave bought from a pillow house not so long ago.
In her slender, milk white arms she held a mess of swords. Cregan was quick to begin handing them out. There were eight in total. He noticed a few of them had cut into her arms, ribbons of red crisscrossing about her otherwise perfect skin.
When he took the last one for himself, he placed a hand on her shoulder drawing her pale blue eyes to his.
"Good work, girl. I will see your suffering repaid with interest to all who thought to chain a spirit such as yours"
"No one saw us take them. Breya in the kitchen has been spicing the wine with some root or the other. The guests can barely stand" She said in hurried whisper. There was some glee beneath her words.
"What of the guards?" He asked sternly.
"Their pace is considerably slower. The whipman ensures they cause no offence to the master and his guests. We must hurry, soon the eating will be done, and the guests will begin to wander the grounds".
"It is time we get on with it then. See yourself behind us. I will not have you harmed." He said and watched as she reached into the fine fabric of her orange linen dress and produced a slim kitchen blade. She held it tightly as blood dripped through her dainty fingers.
She was young, Siena. And as fierce as they came. Never fully broken to the whimpering servile nature of the common bed slave. Though, she endured what she had to, as most did. Her sixteenth name day had only just passed. For most that would have been a day of celebration. For her, it was no insignificant thing either. She had been cursed to be born on the same day as the whipman. As such she was given to him and his piss reeking band of sycophants for a day of sordid celebration.
It was the norm here. When the master of the manse had his fill of a young girl, he gave her to his son or if she did not please him, he gave her to his dogs.
When all the men had left the cabin, they split into two groups, one led by Cregan and the other followed Toho.
The first step was simple, free the other field slaves. Only then would they have the numbers needed to make an attempt at the main house. They had to be careful however, there were guards all around them. They would be rotating throughout the night. This would allow all of them a chance to partake in the celebrations at the manse.
Cregan began to creep along the walls of the estate. The shadows of his men danced against its pristine white, casting long images behind them betraying their advance to anyone approaching the manse. Luckily, no one would be. Not till the morrow at least.
Within a few moments Cregans band came up on the first group of guards. Three men. Whips and swords attached to their hips. A horn of strong spirits was being passed among them as they swayed in the cool night air, laughing all the while.
Cregan could hear the hard stop of feet behind him. He did not need to turn around to know what happened. The flock of slaves around him saw their masters and froze. All the fiery words in the world couldn't really break the chains of slavery. Lifetimes of subjugation couldn't be forgotten with sentiment. It would take action. Blood.
So, that's what he gave them. Cregan moved like water, he was liquid as he advanced on them. A flowing mass of muscle, steel and leather that seemed to glide in its every motion. With long strides to match his long legs he was upon them in seconds.
The sword in his hand stayed hidden by his side until the last moment, then it arced high and wide to remove the head of the closest guard. Before the others could react, the blade flashed twice more and they too lay unmoving on the ground.
He could hear the gasps from the others.
"See" he said while wiping his red stained blade on his riding breaches. "They are only men. It only takes one strike, one moment of action to guarantee your freedom. I pray I'm not alone the next time swords are to be raised."
There was no answer, but Sienna stepped forward, nodded at him, whispered a silent thank you and then proceeded to begin pilfering the bodies at his feet. He had thought she'd be more timid at the sight of death. That was obviously not the case.
"search them for keys" He said to her. "We must be quick."
"You" he pointed to a slave closest to him "grab their weapons".
A few seconds later they were at the door of the closest slave quarters to the one they had just escaped from. With even more armed men Cregan was confident he could get to the second stage of his plan.
Cregan spread his small force around the dwelling while Sienna fumbled the key into the lock. She then slowly opened the door, holding her breath all the while. She created enough space for her leader to slip into the room.
It was dark and reeked of stale sweat and bodily fluids. Huddled at its centre was a terrified mass of slaves, shivering with a mix of terror and anticipation.
"We must move" He said. No fancy speeches here, they were behind schedule.
They began to file out into the night. One in particular made eye contact with him. Grelo. An older slave, who had the rare dishonour of surviving too long in bondage. Cregan held no respect for him.
"This is madness" Grelo spoke in a rushed whisper to those around him "The master will be merciful if we reveal this sin and submit ourselves for redemption."
"We've agreed to this, Grelo" one of the men from his group said "It's the only way, I will not die here. The Wolf is right. Freedom or death."
"Freedom or death" those around them began to mumble.
"You are fools!" The whites of his dark eyes were visible now, he grew fevered with fear. Spittle flew from his mouth, and a grinding sound followed every sentence. He wrung his calloused hands until they grew red. Grelo was as thin as a rake with wiry proportions. His raggy clothes hung from him in saggy clumps of linen.
He grabbed Sienna's hands and pleaded to her. "I will serve this sin no longer. I pray to the bearded ones that you see reason and join me at the feet of the master."
"How do you stand without a spine, old man?" she spat at him and pulled her hands away in disgust.
Grelo looked at her as if struck. He sighed loudly and made to separate from the others. He wasn't given the chance. Cregan's sword burst from the old slave's chest in a spray of viscera.
"Move on" he said as he withdrew his sword and pressed on.
Nineteen more added to his number. It had taken months to rally them to his cause. Those who objected met similar fates to Grelo, though not as gruesome, there was very little supervision in the dwellings at night. Doreah had proven a shrewd agent, she knew how to maneuver among the slaves, often knowing who would not suit their objectives without even approaching them.
Thankfully, the master cared very little. Slaves died every day. Did it matter if they died from exhaustion or peacefully in their sleep? It did not when there was a constant supply of war slaves who could be bought by the by the dozen.
It wasn't long before they had come upon the final dwelling at the opposite end of the manse to where they started. Toho and his assortment of ragged men stood outside of it. There were dozens of them now. Good.
"You've done well" Cregan said to the man. He noticed the blood slick blade in his giant fist. The Dothraki nodded at him in reply. "Did you meet much resistance?"
"Yes. They died" he replied.
"And your people, how many fell?"
"Some. A small number. Some tried to run. They too died."
Cregan nodded in understanding. "To our task then" he said finally.
"He cut down poor Pon'ji!" One of the slaves bemoaned to Cregan. "In cold blood, he did nothing! Nothing!" He was a younger slave. Not one that the young wolf was familiar with. He seemed incensed. Rage flew from his lips as he pointed at Toho with accusation. "Na'han and Dosa were also butchered by this beast. Is this what you have in mind for us, Cregan?"
Cregan eyed him with growing anger. This was not the time.
"Answer me, damn you!" he continued. His hair was a powdery brown, bleached by the sun, his eyes and tunic coloured to match. But for the smears of blood on his breast he was a brown shadow in the night. "Die by the master's whip or the barbarians blade?" Others had begun to muster, looking uneasy at the unfolding events.
"No" Cregan replied. "Cravens will die by mine own hand. We are set to task and I will suffer no further delay!" He set his blade between him and the young man "Come then, avenge your fallen or fall in line".
There was silence, then the young man relented.
Before long they were at the main gates that lead to the main house of the manse. Ahead of Cregan they stood defiant. Two golden barriers of interlocking steel bars. They gleamed in the torch light. Cregans band waited. There were no more guards on the outer perimeter, but the interior courtyard would be swarming with them.
With any luck they would be spread thin. Thin enough to defeat in detail and drunk enough to be unable to resist a group of half-starved slaves.
He could hear the bards singing a jaunty tune on the other side of the gates. He had no idea what to expect. They had a blade in half of their hands now. There were some amongst them that had served in battle. No one of renown but at least they knew where the pointy end went.
With a resounding clunk the latch on the other side of the gates was removed. He could hear the exertion of the person on the other side as the left gate slowly crept open. Only open enough for a slender body to press through. It was Doreah.
She looked over his assembled men with tired eyes and let out a soft sigh of relief.
"You are late" She admonished. "The whipman has begun to whisper of guards missing their rotations".
"He will not be whispering for much longer" Cregan replied immediately before offering up an explanation" We were delayed, not everyone was as eager to this venture as first hoped "
"A pity" she replied, "These chains have a tendency to latch onto your soul if left unchecked".
"Then its best we cast them off presently" Cregan pressed on "How do you fair? you look."
"Used?" It was not really a question. "They've had their fill of me" She trembled in anger and only then could he see her split lip and the bruises that ran the length of her jaw. "Now I will see them also filled. With steel" It came out as an order.
"I will see it done, my lady" he stared at her for a moment before stepping past her into the courtyard that lay beyond.
He had expected many things to greet him when he finally broke through the threshold into the world behind the pristine white walls. What met him was a sea of vibrant gold and lavish blues laid intricately against the structure of the main building.
The massive braziers that lined the building glowed a beautiful orange and cast their light high against the domed roof of the house. It threw waving shadows that rolled across its gold paint.
Vines in bloom with perfect pink and yellow flowers raced across the interior of the walls all around them. A light dusting of grass met his steps as he crept into the courtyard. The only blemish to meet them was the worn path that no doubt led to the stables.
The doors of the main house were not too far ahead. They were red with intricate patterns carved into the thick wood. There were no guards.
"Where are the guards?" he asked. He expected some resistance here. This was the last barrier.
"They are investigating the swords missing from the armoury" Doreah replied. Her deep olive skin seemed to cast a light of its own this close to the braziers. "I had to tell them something to clear a path to the gates."
"I'd hoped to dwindle their numbers some more before we storm the place."
"We will have them by surprise" Siena interjected behind him. "Is that not a good thing?"
"Depends" Toho added "What is their number?"
"With the visiting priest and his men, five and twenty." Doreah said. "Though, there may be more besides. It was hard to keep count" She looked away at the memory.
"Not to mention the singers and the other entertainers. Anyone of them could cause an issue" Siena said.
"Then all die" Toho said simply in harsh Dothraki. Cregan's understanding of the language was poor but he knew that much.
He looked behind him and gave a mental count. There should be just under sixty men behind him. With Tohos losses, there would be less. But they had the element of surprise against an enemy drunk on lust and complacency.
Cregan spoke as they came to the door "This is it" he spoke loud enough to be heard by all around him as they filed into the grassy court. "This is our time. Beyond this door lies freedom" He held his hand high and clenched his fist "Take it, it's yours!"
With a mighty kick the door in front of him flew open and he stormed in. With a shrill yell the men behind him where in soon after. He paid no heed to the lavish furnishings, the intricate paintings that lined the walls or the expensive pots and vases that shone in the torch light with gilded bands about their rims.
No, Cregan only had eyes for the guard that stumbled into his path. The wolf was ravenous, rabid on the thought of his freedom. With a great howl he near cleaved the guard in two. Blood and viscera flew high into the smoky, scented air.
The music that wafted from the singers in the main room was replaced with the pounding of blood in ears. Two more guards rounded on him, appearing from one of the many corridors that lined the main walkway as it ran the length of this house into the main room.
Sparks rained where his blade collided with that of the nearest guard. He parried the follow up from the other guardsman before swinging in a wide arc to create some distance. They both stepped back, fearful of losing their heads.
They readied themselves for another attack but were cut off by the charging mob. Toho tore into them with a dull blade that hacked deep through one of their shoulders. The other guard was mauled by a crazed slave that swung his sword clumsily into the guard's mid-section.
The noise had alerted other guards who were sitting around on the many chairs that lined the walkway. The screams of the whores draped around them was quickly drowned out by the war cry of his men. Before he knew it Cregan and his band were surrounded on all sides by guards. He did not lose momentum. His sword became a blur as he hacked his way through all that came before him.
He fell two more in quick succession and paid little heed to the warm blood that coated him from head to toe. He moved slightly to avoid a sloppy slash from a guard who had snuck up next to him. He drove his blade deep into and through the man before pulling it out and relieving him of his head.
Toho across from him was on a rampage. A wall of muscle and rage as he brought the remains of his shattered sword down on the head of a retreating whipman. With speed belaying his size he was then upon another. His bare hands his only weapon. A stone like fist near removed his opponents head before he grabbed him and threw him to the ground with force enough to open his skull.
The Dothraki picked up a new sword from the mass of bodies on the floor and was back to task soon after.
There were more guards than Cregan had anticipated and for everyone that his plucky band fell, two of their own were slaughtered.
By now the main hall would be alerted and even more guards would join the fray. Not that he could see over the frothing mass of bodies that hacked at each other all around him. Their numbers were working well for them though, this was a war of attrition now and they still had the advantage.
With renewed vigour he dived into the chaos, removing a whipman of his right hand before slamming his head into the nose of another.
Let it be known that The Wolf had his hour, he thought. Today was his day and tomorrow when this story is told, his enemies would quake at the thought of his vengeance visited upon them.
He parried another sword and replied with a vicious swing of his own, leaving his attacker near cloven in two. The man fell with the momentum of Cregan's sword and his weight took the sword from The Wolf's hand. Before he could attempt to retrieve it, a mace took him in the shoulder.
Not hard enough to break it but with enough force to throw him from his feet. The floor was slick with blood and waste. It clung to him and took purchase from beneath his hands and feet as he tried to stand up. He slipped and slid into roll to avoid the follow up from the mace.
It was like a red river had begun to flow through the hallway. It tasted fowl on his tongue and stung the back of his throat. As he tried again to stand, the weight of a body landed on him. In the chaos it was near impossible to make out the figure attacking him.
Yet, their mass was enough to drive him back into the muck. He felt a hand grab the back of his head and slammed him, face first into the filth.
With a gag and a choke, he spat up what little didn't make its way down his gullet. It took all his might to raise his head against the giant hand that was intent on drowning him. A heavy blow to his ribs had him gasping for a breath that didn't come. Instead, his mouth was filled with chocking liquid and spots of red appeared in his vision.
There was a scream and suddenly the weight was removed. It took a long few seconds for him to regain himself but when he did he surprised to see Sienna swinging her small knife recklessly at a man in retreat. He was bleeding heavily from a jagged slash where his right eye used to be. He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, hard. Her blade fell in shock as she clawed at his giant hand.
His face was pulled into a rage filled snarl when he struck her with his free hand. She went limp but he did not release his grip. Before he could strike her again his own mace came crashing down on his head.
He released the blond girl and shook fitfully as he staggered away from the blow. Cregan didn't let up and brought the mace across the man's face with as much force as he could muster. A mist of teeth, spit and blood flew into the air as the life left him.
Cregan reached for the prone form of Sienna as she coughed and spluttered. He handed her the mace and drew her up to her feet. He locked eyes with her and watched as her mouth moved to form words. He could not hear her words over the sound of battle but could read them on her lips, she would be fine, she said.
Once more he threw himself at the nearest guard, this one did not belong to the master. He was probably employed by one of the wedding guests. His garb was more ornate with patterns and designs adorning his breastplate. When he noticed Cregan he swung wildly at the wolf. Cregan avoided his quick slashes and when the guard stabbed at him, he leaned away slightly and threw a fist that rang the man's head like a bell. His other fist took the guard off his feet and allowed Cregan to stomp his head into a bloody paste on the stone floor.
He leaned down and retrieved the man's fine sword before surveying the scene around him. It had only been a matter of minutes since they entered the manse but the carnage they had wrought was inspiring.
Bodies littered the floor, slaver and slave alike. There was very little distinction between the two when they were dead. Only a handful of guards remained. Huddled together, they slashed tiredly at the advancing mass of slaves. Toho was at their head testing at their enemy with his sword.
"Surround them!" Cregan ordered. And so, it was done. Slaves drew a circle around the remaining guards and began to hurl whatever they could find at them. A Heavy vase collided with the head of one of them, taking him off his feet. This was met with loud cheer. "Surrender" Cregan demanded "And we may show leniency".
One of the guards immediately dropped his sword.
"Don't!" another yelled. But it was too late. With a wet clang the swords fell into mess of bodies at their feet. "Fools!" he continued. He would have said more but a hefty shove from the guard next to him exposed him to Toho. The giant man grabbed him by the head and plunged his thumbs deep into the screaming man's eye sockets. There was a squelch when they were driven back into his skull. That didn't kill him but Toho was content to let him suffer and threw him into the waiting crowd. They hacked at him with reckless abandon.
"You will show leniency, yes?" The man who pushed his colleague into Toho asked.
"A quick death is a leniency in itself, no?" Cregan said to those around him. It took a second, but they cottoned onto his meaning and poured into the guards. Their pleading cries were readily ignored as they disappeared under the crowd.
A moment later they stood together, blood lust sated for a time. There was one door left, the door to the main hall. He had lost the majority of his men but could still count over twenty. The guards that littered the floor had to be almost all of the whipmen and visiting guards.
He looked over to Sienna. She was bloodied but alive, thankfully. Doreah had stayed behind the fighting, seemingly unscathed she approached a slave who lay on the floor clutching what had to be a fatal wound in his chest. He hacked and coughed and she began to soothe him. He was dead a moment later.
"They are waiting for us in there!" Cregan said loudly. His voice boomed in the spacious hallway. "Huddled and terrified, they wait. Prayers to their nameless god fall from their lips as easily as their protectors fall before us. Take heart, for in this instant you are slaves no more. When we breach into their final hiding place it will as free men!" There was a cheer and the remaining slaves drew closer, a sword in each hand. They had done the worst of it, now was it was time to see this through.
Toho came up next to him. "Are you ready, friend?" The bronze man nodded his response as they approached the door between them and freedom. It was the most splendid door he'd ever seen. Milk white with glistening bronze laid into it in a pattern that resembled a tree.
It would take some effort to break it down. They would have no doubt secured it on the other side. So they prepared to go to work.
"Wait" Doreah said. "There's no way we're getting through that without axes".
"What do you suggest?" Asked Sienna
"There's a secret corridor that leads from the master's quarters" Doreah replied, disgust evidenced on her face. "When…I… He would have me visit him in secret after he gave me to his son like some common whore." She was angry now. "It runs the length of the building we can get into it and follow it to the kitchen"
"Which leads to the main hall" Siena finished with realisation.
"It's very narrow though" Doreah added.
"I'll take a handful of men" Cregan said "The rest of you keep at this door. Make as much noise as possible, we need them to be distracted".
Before he could select who would be coming with him three men stepped forward. Toho was flanked by two other men, the slave that had objected to his killing of his friends and another older man who waddled with a distinct limp.
"Lead the way" He said to Doreah.
She led them back on themselves and down a bright white hallway that branched off into more of the expansive building. It wasn't long before they came to the door of one of the slave quarters. Inside the modest room Doreah retrieved a torch and moved to remove a heavy drape that hung across the entirety of the far wall. In front of them was a small wooden door. It reached from the floor to just above Cregans waist. He looked over to Doreah with a raised eyebrow and she nodded at the brown door.
Cregan motioned with his head and one of the other slaves removed it. Doreah was the first through. The others followed quickly after. Her torch was the only source of light in what was a tunnel that stretched seemingly into dark infinity in either direction.
The woman strode on in the direction of the kitchen. A few moments of clambering through the dusty, cobweb infested space and they now stood in single file before a similar door to the one they entered through. Light poured in around its edges offering slightly more visibility.
He could hear hushed whispers on the other side. With a steadying breath he reached down and pushed the door hard off its rusted hinges and was thankful it didn't make too much noise when it hit the floor. As quick as he could, he scrambled into the light, half expecting to be swarmed as soon as he emerged.
He was met with the terrified, muffled scream of one of the kitchen slaves. A hand covered her mouth and a sharp "shussh" screeched into her ear. Another slave had covered her mouth before she could give away his position. Cregan nodded at her as he helped Doreah through the hole in the wall. She was the last out.
"This is him?" The woman said to Doreah, her hand still covered the other slave's mouth.
"Yes, this is him" Doreah replied.
"Gods" She said in relief. She was older than those around her. Wisps of grey streaked through her long black hair. Her eyes shone a bright green above heavy, dark circles. Time had carved creases about her worn face. She locked eyes with Cregan "I was beginning to lose hope." She removed her hand from the mouth of the younger girl in front of her.
The young woman stumbled forward "They were going to kill us" she said. "Someone told them about the spiced wine" She pointed franticly to a pile of bodies in the corner and let out a choked sob.
"If you didn't start your commotion when you did, we would have been next" The older lady finished. She looked at her younger counterpart "Calm, Nora. Now is not the time." She looked over to Cregan "They have some priest or the other in there. His guard tasted the wine before he did. Not sure how but he knew the ginny weed was in there. It's supposed to be tasteless."
"The guard" Toho began "Tell me of him".
"He's a giant. As black as night with a sword that's more spear than sword I'm not sure what you'd call it."
"A dog of the priests" Toho said to Cregan
"Would be a shame if they made this too easy" The wolf said with a smirk. A strange joy filled his grey eyes. This would be good. They prided themselves on the invincibility of their special guardsmen. Men trained from a young age by the bearded priests to be the finest warriors in Essos. It seemed everyone had the finest warriors in Essos these days. No matter, they all bled the same. "Do you know how many of them are left?" Cregan asked.
"No" both women said in unison as they shook their heads.
From the kitchen he could hear the commotion in the main hall. Crying, screaming and deep guttural shouting filtered in between the loud raps against the ornate door that kept his slave troop out.
"Stay here" He order them. "Let us end this" He said to those around him.
"Come" Doreah said as she led the two women back into the secret corridor. At the last moment she spun on her heels and strode close to Cregan. Before he could retreat, she latched onto his lips with her own for a chaste, lingering kiss. "There is much incentive for you to survive this" She said, her almond eyes locking on to his grey ones to make a point.
He stared for a moment before turning sharply and striding on to the nights climax.
The main hall lay just at the end of the hallway that led into the kitchen. He had never seen it from the inside, but he knew the giant shining dome of the roof sat above this lavish room.
With his small band next to him he walked towards the beginning of the end. His walk became brisk, then he was jogging, then he was sprinting.
A moment later he burst through thin, intricate silk drapes that hung over the entrance to the corridor that led to the kitchen.
He was in full sprint and with a leap he covered the distance between him and an unsuspecting guest. A man in his later years. Cregan's sword drove through his throat before he could even fully turn. With a roar he removed the blade and brought it across the stomach of a screaming woman next to him.
Toho and the others caught up quickly and the butchery began. It was an instant later that he was met with true resistance. Guards in fine garb with shining breastplates converged on them. There were only six. Another stood still next to a bearded, shaggy man who recoiled into his seat at the sight of Cregan.
A gleaming blade removed the head of one of his slave volunteers. The other was wiser and remained reasonably close to Toho who was fending off two attackers as the third tried to manoeuvre around him.
Cregan focussed on the three guards that made a line for him. They came at him in single file. He would have to be quick before they formed up. He was more agile than his first attacker. With a deft movement he drifted to his opponents left to avoid his sword arm and drove his sword through his stomach. He then jumped back immediately to avoid the next guard and lashed out with a boot to his knee. The man buckled and crumpled to the floor when a meaty fist rattled against his left temple.
Cregan drove his sword into the man's back before he could recover. He then retrieved the fallen man's blade. With two swords in hand, he charged at the remaining guard who had taken a few steps back by this point. Cregan had momentum now, the wolf's blood had taken him. It was a mixture of rage and indomitable will that drove him forward in a flurry of steel.
He swung his blades in an angry, precise rhythm, one after the other at the man in front of him. He was good enough to block and parry, but he began to retreat slowly away from the storm of swords that was Cregan. He feinted left and his opponent bought the lie, leaving him hopelessly exposed. Cregan removed his sword hand and then his head with two sharp swings.
Toho had fared a tad worse. There was a gash across his boulder like shoulder that bled freely as he guarded against continued attack from the only remaining attacker. Before Cregan could offer assistance, the remaining slave bowled into the guard and drove him to the floor. He grabbed at the man's neck and when he found purchase, he squeezed. There was a frantic struggle but a moment later the guard was limp beneath him.
Cregan nodded in approval. The man had proven himself. He was the one who took umbrage with Toho for killing his friends not an hour ago. He was taken from his thoughts by the Dothraki falling to his knees. He held his shoulder in pain. It was more than a single cut. Cregan looked carefully and saw that three other deep cuts ran across his back and abdomen.
"See to him!" The wolf yelled to the slave. He then turned to the ashen faces of the surviving guests. The room stunk of fear. They had retreated to the far side of the massive hall and clung to each other. There were cries and screams and he revelled in the symphony of their begging. But there was one final obstacle. The unmoving guardsman standing next to the bearded priest simply looked on at him. His black eyes betrayed nothing. His skin was like coal and almost shone in the torchlight. He had a bald head covered in a half helm of beaten iron.
He was dressed modestly with a horsehair cloak above a thin blue tunic. Leather breaches and thick boots finished his ensemble.
"Hunam!" Cregan shouted. "where are you 'whip that cleaves flesh from bones'?" He looked across the room and spotted the whipman huddled next to who he assumed was the master of the manse. A wisp of a man in fine jewellery and a pale blue robe that draped about him. Around them the singers and whores clung tightly to the walls.
"Bearded one" Hunam began as his master seemed dumbstruck "Please set your man upon him. Only a blessed warrior can drive away this heathen." he begged at the bearded priest who still sat in the middle of the had recovered from his initial shock and now settled into a passive mask.
He regarded Cregan and with a wave of his hand the giant next to him was seemingly awoken.
"T'Loi, his presence offends he that sits in judgement. Be his instrument and see divine right bestowed".
The onyx man did not reply. He drew up a poleaxe that stood almost a head taller than him. It gleamed an eerie silver in the torch light as he walked towards Cregan. At its peak stood a dagger-like blade. With a grunt he charged and whirled the weapon before crashing it down onto the wolf. He caught naught but air on its blade as Cregan side stepped out of reach.
The giant man twirled the blade with a dancer's grace as he swung in pursuit of the elusive wolf. After ducking a whooshing swing by mere inches Cregan had to roll away as the edge of the poleaxe cleaved into the tiled floor beneath them. It kicked up a spray of sparks before being withdrawn to its master's side.
With a stabbing motion he shot out the weapon at Cregan again. Short, sharp stabs rained at him as Cregan glided across the floor making sure to keep his enemy at distance until could find some strategy.
He was breathing heavy now. It had been a long day and it was now catching up to him. The swords felt heavy in his hands and his feet offered resistance, as if he waded through water.
He decided to gamble. Cregan charged at the guardsman and held his breath in anticipation of his moment. When the pole came at him, he parried it away only for the giant to whirl it around hoping to brutalise the younger man with the long shaft of his weapon. At the last possible moment Cregan leaped and rolled over the pole-ax. Now he was in the man's guard and with a roar stabbed both blades into his midsection. He felt the reassuring resistance of flesh on steel, but his joy was short lived as T'loi retreated before he could do too much damage, he did however drop his weapon as he stepped back.
A predatory grin raced across Cregan's face as the guardsman huddled over in pain. He grunted and wrapped his hands over his wounds. Though, as Cregan approached he stood tall and readied for the wolf's attack.
"No" Cregan said. He threw one of his swords to the feet of his enemy. "These people came for a spectacle. I'm sure we can give them a grander show than that."
Without a thought T'loi received the sword and placed it between him and Cregan.
"Good" The wolf said. "To our bloody business then"
With long, striding steps he was upon the larger man. A over hand chop of his blade was parried away with such force that Cregan's entire arm went numb. He side stepped the counter riposte and pressed at his enemy with short, jabbing strikes. The man did well to retreat but Cregan followed and almost danced around his opponent's guard to stab him deep in his planted leg. He withdrew his blade and took a step back to avoid the giant fist that sung out at him.
Smiling, he raked his blade across the man's outstretch arm and followed with a crunching punch that he was sure broke his nose. T'loi hit the ground with a thud.
"Is that all?" he asked. It wasn't. His opponent rose onto unsteady feet and levelled a bloody glare at Cregan. "yes!" he screamed in response to the defiance. He opened his arms wide as if welcoming the man. His blood howled through his veins and he felt truly alive in the moment. "Come, claw your life from my hands".
He was disappointed however, when T'loi went on the defensive.
"No matter" he almost whispered as he made his final approach. He tested at his opponents guard, once, twice then thrice before lunging in with a parry that sent him stumbling to avoid the wolf's blade. Before he could find his footing Cregan drove his sword through his knee. When T'loi fell onto his other knee for support Cregan removed his head with a roar.
Blood sprayed from the stump high into air its droplets sprinkled down on to the already bloodied young man.
He licked his lips and smiled towards to the terrified preist. He walked right up to him and cast a menacing shadow over the seated man.
"I think I broke your toy." There was a sick glee in his tone. "Will I be playing with you next?" He levelled his sword at the man.
"May he embrace you in eternity" was all the bearded man said at the still twitching body of his guard. He looked over at Cregan and sighed "Do as you will".
"Classy" Cregan said before hacking his now dull blade into the man's skull.
"Sin!" he heard shouted from the assorted guests. Many of them had found some courage and glared at him in disgust.
Cregan laughed and looked over his shoulder to Toho. He was still alive. He sat with his back against the once pristine wall of the main hall with the still unnamed slave fussing over his wounds. Toho gave him a curt nod.
He then turned to the great door that kept his shaggy men out. It had been barricaded with heavy furniture.
"You" Cregan said to the slave tending to Toho. "he'll live. Unbar the door" The man looked at Toho then slowly approached the door and began to remove the obstruction.
"What to do with all of you" Cregan said and stroked his chin with a bloody hand. "i'll leave you to the mob. Maybe they'll be creative, you know, after the rape and torture." He tilted his head towards Hunam "now you whipman" He approached, stopping far enough away to be able to see any heroics before they were attempted "I believe you promised me a dance in the moonlight."
He looked over to his left "Singers" he received no answer "Singers!" this time with force.
"Yes, your, your, your eminence?" one of them stuttered out.
"A tune, if you please" he looked over to Hunam "a jaunty one at that, this will be his final dance after all. Let us make it memorable."
Just then, the door flung open and a flurry of men poured in, swords in hand, ready for the butchering. Cregan stood between them and gave them pause with a raised hand.
"Do as you will but the Whipman and his masters are mine. Oh, and let the singers be for now. It's not much of a celebration with music".
Like a tide the men swarmed over the huddled mass that lined the wall.
Cregan however, remained fixated on the whipman. He cowered under the wolfs gaze.
"I'll give you anything" The master said "The manse, my holdings, you can have it all, whatever you want, just spare me. Please!"
"Spare you?" Cregan said as he approached the body of the priest and dragged him from his seat. He then with some effort, turned the ornate chair to face the carnage that was playing out in front of him. "You who would seek to chain The Wolf? To subjugate The Night Runner? No, there is no recourse but death for you, lest some other fool see fit to repeat your folly."
"Slave!" The master's son had seemingly had enough.
Cregan had sat down with his elbow rested on the arm rest and his head propped up on his fist.
"You are brave" He said to the master's son. He looked very much like his father. The same blue eyes under a crop of silken brown hair that hung over his shoulder. "For a man cowering with whores and the infirm".
"You are above your station and will be soon dragged low by the weight of your sin!" He stood up now and approached the wolf. The other slaves had ceased their fledgling revelry and the singers who were setting up their bloody instruments stopped and observed what was to transpire.
"I assure you, young master I am a strong swimmer" there was muffled laughter from the slaves around him.
"You mock!" He was walking closer to Cregan "You dare mock the one true god?!" He now stood above the young man "Who are you, slave?! Who are you to sit above me?!"
Cregan stood up slowly and now towered above the now shrinking man.
"Who am I?" he asked quietly. "Who am I?!" he grew louder. The master's son began to back away and Cregan walked towards him before speaking again. "I am ripper!" he yelled "I am tearer! I am tooth and claw!" The man fell to his knees before his rage "I am The Dreadwolf!"