Author's Notes: Hello again, everyone! This chapter consists of a Jon Snow POV. I wanted to forewarn some people about this chapter (probably should have done the same with the last one too) and let you know that there will be some graphic violence and M-rated content herein. For those of you who decide to keep reading, thank you and I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 7
Somewhere along the White Knife, Shibon 17, 15,367 ABG
Jon's horse snorted in irritation as he tapped the mount's hindquarters, interrupting the animal's attempt at grazing and indicating that it wasn't yet time to eat.
On reflection, he couldn't blame the horse for being irritated. Ever since he had heard his father's orders, Robb had decided to push the cavalry hard. Too hard, some of the men had been muttering.
It had been three days of tough riding. The first would not have been so bad, as they mostly followed the Kingsroad north and east, however Robb had decided to push the men to make fifty miles instead of the customary forty for cavalry. Yesterday was even worse. They had left the Kingsroad at the Waterman heir's urging and had followed hunting trails parallel to the river. Unfortunately, most of the trails had been washed out by the recent rains and snowmelt. They ended up only making thirty-five miles that day and by the time they settled down for the night, both horses and men were exhausted.
Today had been much of the same and as he looked at the skyline, he noticed that they only had a little over an hour before dusk.
Directing his horse forward toward Robb, he saw his brother angrily staring at the waning light as if he could force the Sun to stay overhead just a few hours longer.
"Robb, have you sent men to find a camp for the night yet?" he asked gently.
"Aye," Robb muttered tightly, eyes still staring at the horizon. "Father's men know what they're about."
Nodding his head in agreement, Jon began to worry as he looked at his brother. He and Robb had always played at going to battle against the south when they were boys. He had never imagined that his first experience at war would be against the Stark's own bannermen.
'And likely Robb feels the same,' he thought.
The Bolton's actions, while still traitorous, were somewhat understandable as this would be the third time in their sordid history they had rebelled against the Starks. The Dustins, the Ryswells, and the Whitehills, however, had never risen against House Stark since they had knelt to the Winter Kings of old. And, as far as he knew, those houses had no legitimate grievance against House Stark either. Their actions were motivated only by greed and power.
'And their treason will be remembered,' he vowed to himself.
Trying to lighten his brother's mood, he said, "We'll get there in time, Robb. For all we know, Lord Bolton fell off his horse and got trampled in the muck during the siege."
Robb took his eyes off the horizon, looked around to see if anyone would overhear, and then spoke to him with a grim tone.
"Bolton will have already taken Waterhold, Jon. The only thing we'll be in time for is to sift through the ashes of whatever is left."
Blinking at the certainty in his brother's voice, he asked, "What will we do, then?"
Robb sighed and then said, "Look at the men, brother, what do you see?"
Turning in the saddle, Jon took in the ragged procession that stretched for nearly a quarter mile and saw the exhaustion in the steps of each horse and the way that the men sagged atop their own mounts.
Wincing, he turned back around and said quietly, "We can't fight like this."
"No," Robb admitted. "Richard said there's a large town just ten miles north of our camp. We'll ride for there tomorrow and give the men a day's break before continuing on. Waterhold is only fifty miles from the town so we can lightly garrison it and hopefully the Manderly horse can reach the town the day after we leave."
Both brothers rolled their eyes at the thought of the Manderly cavalry making any good distance. Both hosts had initially rode out together and they stuck with one another throughout the first day. The Manderly horse, though, was primarily composed of southern cavalry, heavy horse that was two to three hands taller than most of the northern-bred horses. Their size, while fearsome in battle, meant that they had trouble covering distance and their hosts had split early on the second day.
The Karstark men, led by their heir, were initially with the Manderly host, but had somehow caught up with them and demanded to be part of the scouting effort. Robb had quickly agreed, bringing their number to three-hundred-fifty men.
Focusing back in on his surroundings, Jon wearily saw the small clearing that the men would use as their camp for the night. Seeing the scouts' horses already camped and slumbering on their sides in the middle of the clearing was both a surreal and amusing sight until he saw the grim-faced men eyeing the newcomers and guarding their mounts.
"Same watch rotations as last night," Robb said to the veteran men that Lord Stark had sent with his heir.
"I want a few scouts to make their way toward Claypool as we sleep. I don't want any surprises on our ride tomorrow," Robb finished with the customary cold face of a Stark Lord.
A few of the men winced at Robb's last order but their spokesperson just nodded his head before saying, "Aye, Lord Robb. The horses need a few hours sleep at least before we move 'em, but me and a few boys will head out in the hour of the bat and go toward Claypool."
Nodding his head in acceptance, Robb rode toward the center of the clearing and Jon quickly followed. As they walked their horses closer, they both allowed their mounts to graze for half an hour before taking them to sleep with the other horses whose riders were also part of the first night watch.
Two hours of a thankfully quiet watch later, both brothers bedded down for the night and Jon pulled up his status as he had done each night since he received it.
Name: Jon Snow
Level: 2, 50%
Age: 15
Race: Human
Alignment: Neutral
Languages: Andalos 'Common Tongue'
Reputation: Level 1 "Who are you again?"
STATS
Health: 150
Mana: 110
Stamina: 190
ATTRIBUTES
Strength: 16
Agility: 16
Dexterity: 17
Constitution: 15
Endurance: 19
Intelligence: 11
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 10
Luck: 10
RESISTANCES
Fire: 5%
SKILLS
Beast Bonding: 5, 67, 94
Blood Magic: 1, 0, 100
Swordsmanship: 13, 21, 96
Shields: 4, 42, 78
Medium Armor: 1, 13, 89
Horsemanship: 3, 76, 72
ABILITIES
Fire and Blood: Affinity with Blood Magic and Fire Magic will always remain at 100
Wolf's Blood: +10 skill levels to Beast Bonding when taming wolves (Grants skill Beast Bonding and spell Tame)
MARKS
Dragonkin I
'At least my horsemanship went up today,' he thought drowsily.
Hearing movement off to the side, he looked around, alarmed, before he noticed Grey Wind and Ghost come out of the woods.
"Where have you two been all day," he mumbled as he ran his hand over Ghost's fur.
Instead of answering, Ghost just lay down next to him, making himself comfortable before drifting off to sleep.
Comforted by the familiar presence, Jon decided to follow suit.
Sometime later…
"Jon, wake up," a rough voice said close to his face.
Jerking upright, Jon blearily looked around and noticed it was still hours before dawn.
Groaning, he tried to make out who had woken him when he heard Robb harshly say, "Get up. We ride in half an hour. Claypool has been attacked."
Jon's exhaustion faded quickly at Robb's words, and he began to pack the few possessions he had before going to search for his horse.
He soon found his mare snuggled up against an unknown stallion and he rolled his eyes before trying to coax her awake without causing her to lash out in alarm.
Fortunately, he was successful, and he packed his meagre belongings before mounting and trying to find Robb.
Once on his mare's back, he could see the camp was a hive of activity and that most of the men had already saddled up and were getting into their travel formation from the day prior.
They were fortunate that several of the moons were out tonight, and they provided the column with enough light to see without resorting to torchlight.
As they slowly crept toward Claypool in the pre-dawn hours, he listened to Robb and the scouts quietly discussing the information brought back by the men who had ventured toward the town that night.
"…two-hundred or so men, all cavalry, rode through the middle and started throwing burning brands on the thatch roofs."
"…could see it burning from about five miles away."
He watched Robb's face morph from a stoic calm to a restrained anger at the butchery described.
"What about the survivors? Surely some were able to get out of their houses before they burnt down," Jon interjected into the conversation.
Noticing that Robb was waiting for the answer as well, the scout responded, "Can't say. Once I counted their number, I got out of there to warn all of ya. There's still a few men that stayed back so we'll know more once we get closer."
Nodding his head in understanding, the chatter died down and the column rode forward for over an hour under the moonlight.
Halfway to their destination, Jon thought dawn was quickly approaching but revised his opinion in shock at what he was seeing.
"That's north, not east," he mumbled to himself.
The false dawn was actually the burning town of Claypool.
Gripping his reins tightly in his hands, he calmed himself and swore that he would see justice for those who lived there.
As the rest of the column realized what they were seeing, a cold fury seemed to permeate the men and the horses whickered, sensing their rider's tension.
Another hour later and they were about half a mile from the town proper. Dawn was finally approaching, not that it was necessary with the light given off from the town.
Listening to Robb question the scouts that remained, he started to get the full picture of what they were facing.
"The initial force was made up of about a hundred-fifty, all riders milord. They rode up and burnt the town with torches. All the women and children who escaped were corralled down by the riverfront. The men and the elderly were butchered as they came out of their houses," the grizzled scout who volunteered earlier in the evening said to Robb.
"You said the initial force was one-hundred-fifty. Did more attack?" Robb asked.
The old man nodded with a grim expression before saying, "Aye. About fifty or so men came out of the woods north of the town, without horses mind you, about an hour after everything began. They went down toward the riverfront. I thought it was suspicious, so I sent a few boys to take a peek at where they came from and found a Bolton camp guarded by fifty men and a hundred horses just a hundred yards into the wood line."
Robb nodded sharply at hearing that and then asked, "How many women and children do they have prisoner?"
The veteran seemed to age visibly as he sighed and said, "Can't really say, milord. The fire and smoke obscured the numbers, and I didn't want to risk one of my men getting caught and letting these bastards get away. I'd say a few hundred at the least, though."
Robb paled as he heard the man's estimate. Eventually, Robb looked once more at the scout and asked, "How many men would you need to take out the Bolton camp in the wood line?"
The old man blinked before grinning viciously and said, "If you give me fifty, I can promise we'll gut 'em all without many casualties. Only a few of the bastards were up on watch last we saw."
"Pick fifty and get your men in position, we attack at dawn," Robb ordered the man.
The veteran stalked off quietly but with a spring in his step.
Somewhat let down that Robb didn't give that duty to him, Jon looked at Robb and noticed that he was staring back at him.
"Jon, I'm going to attack along the river line from the south at dawn. I want you to lead the reserve from here. If they start to flee back into Claypool, I want you to attack from the west into town and we'll pincer them. If they flee north, then skirt the town and hammer them in the fields."
Mouth dry, he looked at his brother in shock before saying, "I won't let you down, Robb."
Robb flashed a savage grin before saying, "I know. Come, let's get the men into position."
The next fifteen minutes were a hectic scramble of trying to quietly position hundreds of cavalry into position without alerting the enemy. They failed the quiet part miserably but fortunately the darkness, smoke, and the distance seemed to be enough to keep their force hidden.
Jon looked to his left and saw the fuming visage of Harrion Karstark, heir to Karhold. When Robb informed Harrion that his men would be serving under a bastard for the battle, the heir to Karhold looked ready to throttle Robb. Luckily, the man seemed to control himself and showed enough restraint to merely nod at his orders before arraying his own forces with the men Robb gave to Jon.
'Why in the world did Robb give me command of the heir to Karhold,' Jon thought warily as he watched the enraged Lordling savagely restrain his mount's movement.
Putting his worries out of his mind, Jon looked over the formation he had placed his men in. He split his own men with the Karstark men and made two forces. The first was five men wide and ten deep and was prepared to assault the town should the Bolton forces flee there. The other was twenty-five men wide and two deep and he positioned it slightly to the north of his other formation in case the Bolton men fled north.
Deciding that he had done all he could in the amount of time he had, he anxiously watched the Sun crest the horizon and shine on the withered husk of Claypool. To the south he heard a wolf howl and he watched Robb's men stream out of the wood line at the trot and increase to a gallop once they reached the river line.
'Fortunately, Ghost didn't join in with Grey Wind's howl,' he thought as he looked down at his direwolf.
Jon's view of the inevitable battle Robb's force was rushing into was blocked by the smoke and buildings. However, that didn't stop the sounds of men, women, and children screaming from reaching his men's ears.
"What are you orders, Snow," Harrion barked at him, interrupting his thoughts.
Frowning at the Karstark heir, Jon said, "We hold until we can see which way the enemy force flees."
"And can you see through smoke, Snow," Harrion spat. "You'll sit here and watch as Robb does the fighting. No doubt you hope he dies, and Lord Stark makes you his heir," Harrion finished, glaring at him.
Restraining his anger, Jon glared at the pompous fool and made to speak but the idiot Lordling beat him to it.
"Well, I'm no traitor!" Harrion shouted to the men. "I won't sit here waiting for Robb to die for a bastard's treasonous plans. Karstark men, follow me!"
The Karstark men let out a yell as they followed their Lord's heir into the still-burning town and leaving the remainder of Jon's force in disarray.
Staring in anger and disbelief at Harrion's actions, Jon looked back at his men and saw confused and judging eyes staring back at him.
Seeing a familiar face, Jon made a snap decision and barked, "Angus! Reform the men in the twenty-five by two formation. If you see men flee to the north, attack them. If after fifteen minutes you see nothing, then you are to reform and attack the town. Am I understood?"
The bewildered man named Angus nodded hesitantly before saying, "Snow, do you not plan to lead us?"
"No, I'm giving you command!" Jon said grimly. "I have a pampered Lordling's arse to save."
As he wheeled his mare around and pushed her to ride toward the town, Jon couldn't tell whether the laughter behind him was aimed at him or at his words.
Pushing the thought from his mind, he drew his blade and focused on his surroundings as he moved closer to the burning buildings.
A gust of wind swept from the town past him and the stench carried with it was unlike anything he had ever encountered. It invaded his nostrils and smelled of a dozen familiar things that, put together, made him want to retch and he had to restrain himself from gasping for air.
Pushing through the smoke, he saw burnt bodies piled up like refuse off to one side and a massive bonfire still blazing on the other. Continuing on, he passed by dozens of atrocities and he only noticed that his mind had begun to wander when he heard the sounds of fighting. Steel hammering against steel and men screaming in pain.
Exhaling in relief that he was near something familiar, he pushed his frightened horse toward the fighting and he finally saw the Karstark men that he had chased after.
'My men, my responsibility,' he thought as he rode forward and slashed at a Bolton man who was about to stab the underbelly of a Karstark horse.
The sword swept through the nape of the man's neck with only the slightest resistance and the Bolton man dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Looking around the battlefield, Jon could tell that the initial fight had gone in his men's favor but the close confines and the rubble and detritus along the thoroughfares had caused the men to slow their horse's speed and now the Bolton men were counter-attacking, bogging his men down and frightening the horses in the streets using spears and burning pieces of wood.
'The men need to pull back and dismount. They'll just kill our horses otherwise,' he thought.
Deciding to follow his own advice, he turned his mount back the way he came before dismounting. Smacking his mare's rear and ordering the horse to leave, the frightened animal was only too happy to follow his orders and leave the Hell that the town of Claypool had become.
Pushing past the choked throng of horses, Jon was surprised when he found himself next to two Bolton men. Luckily, the men were equally surprised to see him dismounted and he recovered first.
Slashing high in a feint, his training with Rodrik took over. The Bolton man went to block but found that Jon's sword had already moved to its actual destination, right above the man's left knee.
Jon's strike connected, shearing through the man's flesh, and he used the momentum of his strike to redirect the second man's stab down and away from him. His sword, now pointed away from the second man, was unable to be brought around in time and so he stepped into his guard and struck the man's head with the pommel of his sword.
He felt bones crunch under the force and the man immediately slumped to the ground. Turning back around to focus on the first man, Jon blanched as he saw the amount of blood pouring out of the man's leg and the man's frantic attempts to stop the bleeding.
Dazed and unable to look away, Jon felt someone collapse against him and he stumbled before righting himself. Looking up, Jon saw Ghost on top of a Bolton man that had snuck behind him, tearing out his throat.
"Good boy, Ghost," Jon said shakily.
Looking around, he noticed a cluster of Karstark men with Harrion in their center about a dozen yards away. They were under attack by what looked like bandits in Bolton colors and several large hounds.
One of the Karstark men suddenly jerked back as an arrow took him in the eye.
Following the path that the arrow took, Jon saw a grinning man perched on top of the smoking remains of a building. The man's bulbous lips, fleshy face, and eyes the color of the Wall distinguished him from the rest of the Bolton men and Jon grimaced as he saw the recognition in the man's eyes when he saw Harrion.
"Go get him, Bella," the man shrieked as he pointed toward Harrion in glee.
A massive hound propelled itself over the broken remains of the house and toward Harrion's men.
Looking back toward Ghost, Jon said, "Can you reach the man on the building?"
Ghost snorted before dashing off behind the broken buildings.
"I'll take that as a yes," he mumbled as he walked toward the remnants of the Karstark formation.
Taking two of the Bolton men from behind, he used a technique he had learned from Rodrik on how to kill an unaware man without fouling his blade. The two men dropped like lifeless dolls as he sliced through the many arteries along their necks.
Moving forward, he hamstrung the back leg of one of the hounds and the dog turned around, viciously trying to leap and bite him in return. Fortunately, the hound stumbled as its back leg gave out and he plunged his blade through its skull.
Trying and failing to remove his blade, he cursed and unsheathed his dagger as he looked for a more suitable weapon. Seeing a decent sword from one of the men he killed earlier, he went to pick it up and was bowled over by another hound.
Frantically trying to keep the hound's jaws from clamping on his face, he interposed his gauntlet between them and viciously stabbed his dagger in and out of the dog's abdomen. The bloodthirsty animal seemed to ignore the first few stabs but after half a dozen, the hound seemed to slump in on itself and whimper.
Not letting his guard down, he flipped the animal over, reversing their position, and plunged his dagger through the dog's left eye. The animal shuddered before falling still.
Still on the ground and covered in gore, Jon quickly crawled over to the sword from earlier, picking it up as he pushed himself back to his feet. Gulping in air greedily, he gasped as he saw that only Harrion and 'Bella' were left alive from the earlier combat. Walking forward, determined to end the last hound, Jon felt a line of pain cut its way across the right side of his face.
Stumbling forward, Jon heard a scream and saw Ghost riding the Bolton archer all the way to the ground, a ten-foot droop from the building. Jon's eyes widened in panic, but he needn't have worried, as Ghost pushed off at the last second and landed casually off to the side. Jon swore he saw Ghost give him a look of relief before the direwolf pounced and tore out the archer's throat.
Hearing Harrion scream, Jon cursed and rushed toward the beleaguered man who was in the same position as he was earlier but without the knife. As he reached the pair, he stabbed his new sword through the base of the animal's skull and the massive hound collapsed on top of Harrion.
Kicking the dog off and stumbling to the side, Jon caught himself against an unstable looking wall.
"Jon," he heard Harrion say in astonishment.
Ignoring the young Lord except for a brief glare, Jon looked at the pockets of remaining Karstark men and noticed that the fighting was finally over.
Right as he was about to sit down, he heard men rushing toward them from the river.
Groaning, he barked, "Form up on me!"
The remaining Karstark men and even Harrion stumbled and staggered their way into a makeshift line before Jon made out Robb riding toward them with his men and a few prisoners in tow.
Sighing in relief, he stepped out of the line and waved his hand at Robb.
Recognizing him, Robb grinned before a concerned look reached his face.
"Jon! Are you injured?" Robb asked as he dismounted and walked toward him.
"Just a scratch," Jon mumbled as he gestured toward the dead archer from earlier.
One of the prisoners gasped as he saw the dead man and said, "Milord, that be Ramsay Snow."
Robb grinned in victory and relief when he heard that but looked concerned again when Jon winced, the pain from half a dozen injuries he didn't realize he had all hitting him at once.
Robb looked over the twenty or so remaining Karstark men, all exhausted or injured in some way, before asking, "What happened here, Jon?"
Wincing, he made to speak but was once again interrupted by Harrion, the fool.
"Lord Robb," Harrion began as he went to one knee, "I disobeyed the ba-Jon Snow's orders and attacked with my men soon after you charged. I know not what happened to the rest of Jon's command, but he saved my life."
Astonished that the Lordling was actually taking some measure of responsibility, Jon nodded his head at Harrion's retelling and added, "I ordered the rest of the men to attack any of the Bolton men that fled north. I imagine they're there now."
Robb looked angry but he eventually said, "We'll deal with this later. Jon, take these men and any injured you find back to the wood line. There are two women left in the village with some healing skill, I'll send them to you.
Nodding his head at the sensible orders, he gathered all the surviving men and guided them to where they were just prior to the battle.
Hours later, with the cut on his face cleaned and sewn up, Jon curled up against Ghost and fell asleep.
Author's Note: So, a bit of a longer chapter this time around. Next time we'll be going back to the normal Eddard POV as he prepares to engage the Bolton Army!