Hi ! Sorry for the wait guys, I was travelling and didn't have my computer or the internet (and I survived, which amazed even me – funny thing though my family thought something had happened to me because I didn't respond to them on facebook or facetime, since I was in another country and didn't have reception on my phone or internet, and they even contacted my friends to make sure I hadn't died or something. One of them sent me a text on a local phone number and I had to buy an internet international connexion to contact my parents TT. And I was just gone for seven days at the time… XP)
But, enough with my life story.
I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Ferz
Chapter 2: Journey
The marketplace was full of people, merchants and street vendors calling for attention, sailors going about their business, townspeople shopping. Arya decided to first look for a good horse on which she could go quickly to the Twins. She would have to travel along the coast to the west for a week first. Once in the Neck she would just have to keep going in the same direction for two days and she would be there. She needed a horse capable of bearing such a long journey, but it also needed to be calm enough to walk on the rough path of the first week without tripping every other second. The Vale was a dangerous region, with mountains and cliffs and unstable grounds. After some time she found a steady mare with good footing. Her temper was a bit quicker than Arya would have liked, but she would have to do. Arya paid the fifteen silver stags the merchant asked for the horse. It was a somewhat low price for such a horse but, when Arya mentioned it thinking that there might be something wrong with the mare that she didn't see, the merchant raised his eyebrows. "More horses than men left, these days, with all them lordly Sers killing each other for a king or 'nother. 'f ya want ta pay more, boy, your welcome to it." Arya just shrugged, paid and left with her new horse.
Instead of going on with her shopping Arya went to a tavern, the only one in the city, apparently. It was a stone building of modest appearance. When she entered she was happy to find a strong fire warming the men inside. Three groups were discussing the situation in the North loudly. One man assured the others that the Lord of the Vale, when he became a man, would be able to rule Winterfell since he was Starks' cousin. Another was sure that that couldn't happen since he was only their maternal cousin, and so couldn't take the North. A third answered that from what he saw it was the man with the bigger army who had the bigger claim. Lots of people seemed to disagree, or at least disagree with the concept if not with the reality of it, saying that the right to rule was not only a question for swords. The northern Lords would not submit to a southern Lord, whoever he was.
- Maybe he could marry a Stark girl, ya Lord, Arya said, taking a dornish accent.
- The Starks are all dead, boy, answered someone with a derisive grunt.
- Really? I was in Sunspear. Arya Stark is the Prince's prisoner. He want to wed her with his son, take the North for Himself.
- And how do you know that, boy? The Prince's confidante, are ya? Some people laughed, but more wanted to hear Arya's answer.
- No, 'am not, but my cousin serves in the castle, and she says she brings meals to a lady locked in a tower, a girl of four and ten with black hair. She isn't allowed to talk to her and she can't read, but the girl talks with a northern accent, and my cousin heard guards calling her "Lady Arya".
In the tavern everyone was silent, then a woman spoke.
- 't's true no one knows what happened to the Stark girl.
- Maybe she's 'live, the northern Lords believed him when Lord Bolton faked her capture and tried to marry the girl…
- And I heard that the Viper of Dorne was in King's Landing before the girl escaped. Might be he took her, said another.
Arya left before hearing anything else. In the eye of a crowd one who said a few words and stayed a mystery seemed more believable than one who expanded on thousands of "proofs".
For the next hour Arya bought food for her journey. She didn't intend to stop too frequently or too long to hunt, it would slow her travels too much. She had money as long as there were people to steal from. When she had enough dried meat, bred, cheese and dried fruits she left the city.
The first day or so of the journey was straight on something that could be, with a bit of stretched imagination, called a road. She pushed her mare enough to go quickly but not enough to tire her too much. She did not intend to loose time because she had to wait for her horse to get better. At midday Arya stopped near a small stream and filled three gourds with clean water. She didn't know these lands except from maps and her teachings from the House of Black and White. Faceless Men where supposed to be able to find someone wherever he was in the known parts of the world, and so she had learned the landscape surrounding every free city and the ones in Westeros too. But that didn't mean that she could know whether she would find another clean source of water soon. She had also learned to be careful. After she ate some of her meat, bred and cheese she left the stream, watching as the landscape became rougher and rougher. She passed some fishermen hamlets where children with large eyes watched her go. The next day she crossed a somewhat bigger one, which could almost be called a village, with a tavern and stopped there to eat. The common room was dark but a nice smell came from the kitchen and Arya sat down at one of the tables.
- What can I bring you, my boy? The matron asked, coming to her with a smile on her roundish face. Arya smiled back and asked for the day's meal and some ale. There were no other clients and, seeing as the woman seemed of the gossiping kind, Arya had no trouble starting a conversation.
- 'am going to me uncle, a few days west from here, Arya answered when the woman asked her what she was doing on the road, alone. He needs an apprentice, he's master carpenter, ya know, 'nd me da' s enough mouths to feed with me three brothers and me two sisters in Storm's End. With Winter coming, ya know.
The matron nodded sternly, as would anyone when winter was mentioned so close to its start, but she smiled at her.
- Storm's End. Never been out the Vale meself, but I have a nephew in the Stormlands. One of my sister's sons. Must have a family of his own, now. So, what news from the South?
Arya finished her piece of bread.
- Weather ain't so bad yet south of King's Landing. T's why I travel now. Since King Robert's brothers' death the Stormlands are ruled directly by the crown and the taxes have been raised to send men in the South. Before I left they said Arya Stark had finally agreed to marry Lord Lannister.
- Arya Stark? I thought she was dead.
- Really? No, she was hidden by the Queen and sent to Storm's End after Stannis' death. Wants to marry her to Lucan Lannister. He rules Storm's End for the Crown.
- But… why ?
- So that the Lannister can become Lords of the North, I guess, answered Arya, shrugging as if it didn't matter to her one way or another.
Arya finished her meal making small talk with the woman then left, paying exactly the price asked for. A boy travelling to become an apprentice didn't have enough money to distribute it without thinking, and the matron knew that. It didn't matter that Arya Stark had enough money. She was never in this tavern.
When she left Arya's eyes fell on some young boys playing in the dirt beside the road. Watching them she couldn't stop thinking that most of them would not survive the approaching Winter.
…
She was running, her nose on the ground, smelling and tracking her pray with her pack. The smell of the woods was filling her and she couldn't stop running. Never. Another part of her pack scared the stag towards them and suddenly her teeth were biting the tender skin and the stag's blood filled her mouth.
Arya woke up. Her wolfdreams had never stopped but for the first time she noticed how feeble they had become in her years in Braavos. Now she could still taste the blood, warming her throat, the smell of her pack all around her. Three years ago Arya thought these were just dreams, expressing her longing for freedom. Now she knew it wasn't the case. She had trained her warg talent. Never, since Nymeria, had she become so linked with another animal, but she was a warg and she had learned to become other animals around her. She couldn't know if there was another warg amongst the Faceless Men, but there had to have been some before. The Kindly man and the Waif, as she had named them in her head, had been able to train her gift.
Nymeria was alive, she had always known that. But the dream she had just had, so clear, meant something else: her she wolf was close.
But Arya couldn't tell exactly where, and she had no hope of finding her by herself in these lands, in the immense forests of the Neck. She had long since outgrown the lies one tells oneself. If Nymeria didn't find her, assuming she wanted to, Arya didn't have a chance.
She had been riding for three hours that morning when she noticed she was followed. She was almost at the Twins, she had crossed the King's Road the day before and expected to arrive in one or two days.
The men observing her could be bandits, thieves or routed soldiers, she had seen all three kinds the days before in groups of two or three, hiding in the woods. It didn't really make a difference if they were one or the other. If they left her alone she wouldn't do anything. If they attacked they would die. She wasn't worried, not because she thought she couldn't die, but because dying didn't worry her. When you lived in the House of Black and White dying became a simple reality. It felt like the fear of dark as a child. Once you outgrew it you couldn't really remember what you were afraid of in the first place.
As the road turned under her mare's hooves, the ambushed men came on her. Twenty men faced her now, plus about ten at her back. They were dirty, badly shaved and blocked her way on all sides.
- Hey, traveller, a large bearded man said. What are ya doing all alone on this bad road ? Hey, little man? The voice was mocking; the man didn't doubt for a second that he was in control.
Arya was four and ten, and if she had been a boy she would be almost a man grown. But her feminine frame made her appear younger than a boy her own age, perhaps two and ten when she posed as a boy.
- I am a singer from Braavos, Arya said, borrowing the Braavosi accent she had learned to mimic perfectly long since. I go from village to village to sell my songs.
If she was lucky the bandits would translate "singer" to "popper" and let her go.
Sadly she understood quickly that that wouldn't happen. She had a horse, and that simple fact could mean she had money these days. Plus they could always use or eat the horse. She saw the instant the leader of the group, the one who had spoken before, decided to attack.
She killed three of the men before they could notice anything amiss, and the fourth before her feet had touched the ground. She could fight on her horse, of course, but against 30 men she had a lot more chance to survive on foot.
The four corpses, poisoned by the darts she had sent, hadn't had time to touch the ground when the others attacked. In a flowing motion Arya had a dagger in each hand. Her sword would have impaired her more than helped with so many enemies. A man died from a perfectly placed wound on his neck, cutting his jugular artery and leaving him to die of blood loss in seconds.
She blocked a sword on her right while nicking a man on his left cheek. The poison on her blade would take care of him – definitively.
She jumped from the trajectory of a sword which crashed into the skull of the man behind her, whom she avenged by killing swiftly the idiot who had just slayed his own ally. She used the poor balance of another to make him fall on two others, all three immediately trampled on by their friends.
She jumped, she turned, she blocked swords and killed men. She counted in her head, about fifteen down, another fifteen to go, and she was already tiring. Her training had been extensive, but it had never been based on fighting so many opponents at the same time.
She blocked another sword but missed the knife of an almost dead man already half on the ground, swearing when it caught the skin on her arm. The pain would impair her movements until she could tend to the wound, and she wouldn't be able to do that until all men were dead.
She poisoned a man and her left blade reached the beating heart of another.
But there were too many of them, even with all her skills, she was alone against 30 men obviously trained in combat. She was tiring but her new opponents were just throwing their first blows.
She jumped to the right, avoiding a longsword, but was too slow and the blade tore through her left shoulder, biting her flesh. She cried in pain, falling on the ground for an instant. It was all the others needed. In a second a blade was grazing her neck and she knew she was about to die. She was not afraid, but the pain in her shoulder, in her arm, in her knees where she had just fallen on the hard ground, made her spill a few tears.
In that instant they heard it, the howl of a wolf in the woods, a mere ten meters from the melee.
And then there were cries of terror and howls of pain joining the grunting and tearing of flesh. Arya blacked out.
When she woke up Arya felt warm. Even though she was in pain and felt the hard ground under her she had the strange feeling that she was home.
She opened her eyes and realized that the fur she felt against her side was moving.
She knew her even before her sight found its focus. She had missed her as much as all the other members of her family.
- Nymeria, she whispered simply, laying her uninjured arm on the she wolf's fur.
She had become enormous in the woods, a beast taller than her, 1m50 tall at her neck, two meters in total.
But it was if they had never left each other, as if Arya had stayed in those woods with Nymeria instead of going to King's Landing, as if Nymeria had come to Braavos with her. All around the both of them stood more wolves than Arya had ever seen. Maybe up to two hundred.
For two days Arya laid where Nymeria had dragged her away from the road, too weak to walk by herself. The wolves hunted for her as well as themselves and she warged with Nymeria to bring water back in the gourds so she could clean her wounds and drink. The wolves had eaten all 30 men and their horses but left her mare alive, and even managed to stop her from fleeing by surrounding her until she calmed down. Therefore Arya was able to get back the herbs, tools and supplies she kept in her satchels. Some of these poisons could kill a man before he noticed it. She used some of the other herbs and potions so heal her wounds.
Arya had heard from some villagers she met two days before that an immense pack of wolves had been seen, bigger than any any man had ever seen before, and which killed Lannister, Stark and Baratheon men. But some had whispered stories of ex-Stark men surviving such encounters while the wolves tore Freys and all others, as if the wolves had decided not to attack them. She hadn't paid it any mind, in the South there had always numerous rumours about how northerners were magicians or sorcerers, immune to some diseases or even capable of seeing in the dark. Being impervious to wolves was just another one of these ludicrous stories, she thought.
But…
Nymeria wouldn't have attacked men wearing Stark colours, and she obviously led this pack.
The wolves adopted Arya immediately. Some of the younger ones fought mock battles among themselves while others watched amused or annoyed. Arya shared enough of Nymeria's mind to differentiate one from another even if they were too numerous for her to know them all well. But since Nymeria's thoughts came with smells and images it was somewhat hard for Arya to know of which Nymeria was thinking without going all the way into her mind, giving up her own body for a while. Since that wouldn't do in battle Arya took to name them. Some of them wore simple names like "small-dark-one" or "big-white-she-wolf-with-three-cubs" but others had real names like "Tyrion" for a very small adult wolf with almost golden fur and "Jeyne" for a young she wolf who reminded Arya of Sansa's childhood friend Jeyne Poole somehow. They treated her with care and affection and a sort of wolfish respect. Arya understood quickly that they thought her their alpha. In return she thought of them as her pack. Arya noticed that Nymeria shared her thought with them. Maybe it was a trait of all direwolves, maybe they could all know where the members of their packs were and what they did, but men knew too little of hem for Arya to be sure. Because she shared her mind with Nymeria through their link she could communicate indirectly with all the wolves too. She wasn't linked to them as she was to her direwolf, but it didn't matter. Before her training she hadn't even noticed that she sent thoughts to Nymeria, but now she did and could send specific ones.
- The Freys killed Robb, she said aloud, sending images of the Red Wedding, knowing Nymeria understood as she moaned sadly, trying to comfort her. They also killed Grey Wind. The she wolf cried again and groaned. Another than Arya might have feared for her life, being grunted furiously at by a two-meter tall direwolf. But Arya was a Stark, a daughter of Winterfell, and she hated the Freys as much as her wolf.
- Others have helped them in their treachery, the young girl said then. I don't know who. I must know, and then we can avenge our family.
The wolf seemed to not, and maybe he did. Arya knew only that the mind she shared with her wolf cried for vengeance and that they both knew they had to find the right targets before acting.
They left at down on the third day after her fight. Arya rode her mare on the road while the wolves ran in the forest all around her. Sometimes when the cold wind became too much she jumped to Nymeria, running with her in the warmth of her fur. The wind wasn't too bad yet in the Neck. Snow fell sparingly.
It wasn't Winter yet.
Yay, another chapter translated !
Please tell me what you thought, if you liked reading it (or not ^^')
Oh, and since english isn't my native language, feel free to notify me if you see mistakes or weird things (those happen when you translate, you get the two languages mixed up and end up with something noone can understand except you XP) See you next week !
Ferz