ATMAO Ch 7
Ser Jaremy Rykker was resolved. Every ranger worth that name expected a day like this. When his back was against the wall, surrounded by enemies and in a land entirely hostile to him.
If he was in a party of seven loyal men, like he was supposed to be, he would have taken these savages on and likely have won.
But he had lost his men. Othor to the wildling archers, Thoren to Morag's axe, Dirk, Chett and Garth to treachery. All he had left was a rookie on his first ranging.
Kobe was an enigma. A lowborn and a murderer, but unusually skilled with his sword for a no name Northerner. When Mormont had told him of the plan to find out what happened to Ser Waymar Royce and what the wildlings were planning, he had thought it unnecessarily complicated.
A team of seven rangers was stronger than their usual rangings, especially so for one whose purpose is only to gather information. Yet the Old Bear had liked the idea, and wished to see if it would work in future rangings. Jaremy could see the benefits in such an arrangement, but it did require them to have someone tag along to take care of the ravens.
He was surprised to hear that the proposal was Kobe's and even more so when he turned out to be one of the rangers on this outing. Yet he pulled his own weight and so Jaremy did not mind. The abandoned villages had been disquieting and they had been separated when Morag's band hand attacked them. That was all the incentive the traitors Chett and Garth had needed before trying to kill him and Thoren. He had barely been holding on when Kobe had come knocking down the door, and for a moment he had thought it was all over.
It had made sense to him in that moment of maddened desperation. Kobe had planned everything. Had this ranging organised, schemed this betrayal, made up an excuse to separate Dirk from the rest of the party to murder him, then had come to murder him, all so he and his conspirators could desert the Watch.
Yet, Kobe had saved him instead, and the two were left to be the last survivors of their little party. Jaremy still could not understand how them taking ravens along on the off chance that they might not survive the mission, like Ser Waymar Royce had not survived his, had led the three traitors to conclude that they were doomed to a suicide mission.
Perhaps they had made no conclusions and told him whatever excuse they could summon for their treachery.
Ironically, their treachery had made their claim come true in the end.
Jaremy remembered the battle with Morag and the one enemy who managed to escape, no doubt having carried the news of their battle and the information on his party and their numbers. The rest of their tribe must have then arrived at Whitetree, that cursed village, and found the remains of the traitorous rangers. Even for wildlings, it should have been easy to count the dead, and realise just how reduced their numbers must have been.
Part of him had just wished to return to the Wall after Whitetree. If Kobe had suggested it at that moment, he would have agreed to turn their horses back.
Yet, neither spoke of the possible option out loud, and they journeyed northwards. The two men had gotten closer, they had no choice but to, and his opinion of the other man had improved. Though of low birth, he spoke intelligently and fought nobly. As one of the newer recruits, he had much to learn about travelling through the savage lands beyond the Wall, and with no other company, he was happy enough to teach it to him.
They reached Craster's Keep and Jaremy saw another side of his new companion when he asked to take Craster's new son back with them to the Wall. Jaremy had known murderers before, and the more time he spent with Kobe, the less likely he thought that he really was a murderer. Yet, he did not think it right to inquire about his crimes from before he took his oaths.
Regardless, Kobe's kindness was misplaced and he had to turn him down harshly. And then just before they were about to depart, they got surrounded by wildlings.
Despite his companion's optimism, he had little doubt that this would be their end. Still, they had done their duty and used all their ravens to pass information back to the castle, and if they were going to die, they would do so after taking as many of these savages as they could with them. So he had listened to Kobe's ideas for there was not much to lose even if they failed.
And yet he did not understand this latest request.
"A parley? What use would a parley be with these wildlings?"
"It might not accomplish much, but it can make a statement and improve our chances of getting away." Kobe explained.
"This is ridiculous." He proclaimed. Parleys are important in war. It can let the two hostile parties come to a compromise to avoid battle. But the wildlings wanted them dead, while they wanted to live.
What compromise could there be between those two objectives?
Yet, it was only natural for a commoner to not know about these things.
"It is just about doing things the proper way. Right now, it looks like we are dogs being cornered, not soldiers much better than they could ever be." That was not untrue, but Jaremy hardly cared for the opinions of savages. Then Kobe turned to Craster.
"And it looks like they are forcing our host into handing over his own guests, when you have offered us refuge until dawn. It might make them wonder what else they could force you into giving up."
Craster, predictably, got angered by that. "Do you think me a fool, Crow? You are trying to fool me into letting you stay longer. I will not have mine own risked for you."
Jaremy was going to shut this entire discussion down, but Kobe interjected as if he too had predicted this reaction.
"No, no, we will still leave right after the parley! But if in the parley you make clear that you had already offered us until dawn to stay and budge from it, then it will make them respect you more."
"Huh! Or they could just attack me home!"
"Maybe." Kobe relented. "But what difference did it make to them if we fought now or at dawn? Even more, they must have just arrived here after travelling for days. Surely they would like some rest before attacking all of us? But it makes a lot of difference on your reputation. It makes it known that you are not a man whose arm they can bend just because there's more of them."
"But you will still leave right away?" He asked suspiciously.
"Right after the parley." Kobe assured him.
Jaremy had had enough of this. Usually if someone had a plan of some sort, the rest of the team was supposed to trust him and not question him in front of others. But Jaremy was the superior here, and Kobe was just a rookie in these regions. He did not yet have the privilege of that trust.
"If it's just a mummer's farce, what benefit do we even get from it? You want to risk the wildlings breaking the truce and murdering us both for no real gain?" He demanded.
Kobe turned to him, and he recognised his expression as the same when he was trying to convince Craster to go along with this parley.
"There is some benefit for us too. If we tell them we have Craster's hospitality until dawn, they will expect us to leave at dawn. So they won't be ready when we run off in the middle of the night."
Jaremy could see how that might be useful, but was it really worth acting out this farce?
But he could see that Craster was now more convinced knowing that the rangers had something to gain from this too, making the offer more trustworthy.
Jaremy swallowed his objections and sighed. The wildlings came in all sorts, and most actually respected some sorts of truce. He would have liked to be more sure of his enemies' character before agreeing to something like this. But, considering their situation, would it really make much of a difference?
Their enemies had the Keep surrounded and knew how to survive and hunt in these lands better than perhaps even he did. Even ignoring the talk of wargs and goats, he had no illusions about how this will end.
So he agreed, and resolved to conduct himself as a knight in what was likely to be his last battle.
The two men armoured up, even using the choice parts of armour that they had salvaged from the corpses of the dead brothers at Whitetree, then followed Craster outside. Craster had spikes planted around his keep in a perimeter that enclosed all their animal pens. They walked to the edge of the perimeter, and the wildlings reciprocated with three men of their own. Then two more. Then three more.
Jaremy did not think they understood the idea of a parley.
They did not seem to have an obvious leader. The eight people were divided into three groups. The first group that had come forward was headed by a boy of perhaps fourteen, with familiar facial features, and for a moment Jaremy was back at Whitetree, fending off Morag as Thoren came to assist him.
The second pair had the oldest looking woman he had ever seen, accompanied by a young woman. Neither looked dangerous, which alarmed his experienced instincts in of itself.
The third group looked much more traditional with all three grown men. He tried to see if he recognised any of them, but Morag and his more infamous men had died at Whitetree.
"I am Ser Jaremy Rykker of the Night's Watch. Who are you, and what do you want with us?"
"I have heard of you, crow. I hope you don't die too quickly." The leader of the third group said.
"But I have never heard of you." Jaremy answered, making the man bristle.
"Jarl. Remember it, crow! That's the name of the man who will kill you!"
Death threats would have bothered someone who was not prepared to die for his duty. Jaremy only moved on to the other groups.
"You killed my father." The boy declared, confirming his suspicions. "I have been hunting you for weeks, don't think you will get away from here." He said with quiet purpose.
"Your father hunted me as well. I got away. He did not."
The boy's eyes widened and his hands went to his sword. Jaremy had never let go of his own. But it proved unnecessary, as the man behind the boy grabbed his hand and stopped him.
"Patience, Morag." The man told Morag, son of Morag. The boy shook off his hand but kept his aggression in check.
"Iroh." Jaremy said in recognition.
"Rykker." The older man greeted him, smiling through his missing teeth and silver hair.
"I had thought to see you with Morag." Jaremy fished for information.
"I wasn't there." The wily old man deflected.
"Are you the new leader of this tribe?" Jaremy persisted, but Iroh only smiled.
"Me? No, no, Iroh is much too old for all that." He laughed softly.
But Jarl's anger and Morag's hesitant stare at the old man still gave him plenty of indication of what was happening.
"Too old for 'all that', but not too old to come to challenge me?" Jaremy dug deeper.
"I am only here to accompany my nephew. After all, he has been taking care of me in my old age."
The old woman scoffed and Jaremy was forced to turn towards her and the younger woman who supported her.
He could not understand them.
He understood the divided tribe, had expected it even. He understood the old leader's son wanting to be the next leader, that was how it was done in civilised places. He understood this Jarl wanting to become the leader with his own strength; that was the common practice in this land without laws. It was not uncommon even south of the Wall, thought Jaremy as he remembered Robert Baratheon killing a man much better than him to claim a throne he had no right to. He even understood old Iroh, a dangerous man but one supporting the rights of his younger kin.
But he could not understand this Grisella. How does some so frail stand as an equal to the men here and raise no protest? Was her sorcery truly powerful? It made him uneasy.
"You are not fooling anyone with your acts." She chided Iroh. "See. Even the crows are wary of you."
"Stop wasting time, you old farts!" Jarl interjected. "I am going to kill you, Rykker! Right here, right now!"
"You can do what you want once the sun rises." Craster had not forgotten the reason why he was here. "These men are still my guests until then." He brandished his axe, and Morag glared at the man wielding his father's weapon.
"Then I should kill you too, Craster! Rid these lands of your black blood." The boy threatened.
"Come on then, boy." Craster gestured at the spikes that still separated them. "Cross into my home and I will send you to meet your father."
"It is ill done, Craster." Iroh stopped Morag again. "Mocking a man's death before his son. And that axe, did the crow give it to you?"
Craster affirmed and Iroh turned to Morag. "It is his for now, but he does not want it as much as you do. He will trade it for weapons just as good." He motioned at Jaremy and Kobe. "And right there are weapons you can trade back the axe with. Once you have killed the crows that is."
For the first time during the parley Jaremy took his eyes off of the wildlings to look suspiciously at Craster smiling nastily.
"Like I said, you can do as you like with them after the sun rises. But they are under my roof until then, and no one can force me into breaking my word." He agreed easily.
"That is fine with me. Once the sun rises, I will hunt you down Jaremy Rykker, and avenge my father!"
"Not if I get him first, little boy." Jarl said in challenge.
Jaremy considered retorting, but if the two groups fought each other it would only be to his benefit. So he got ready to call an end to the parley and start backing away carefully.
"What if we yield?" The voice stopped him in his tracks.
Kobe had not spoken up the entire time, but now had the attention of everyone.
"Huh? The fuck did you just say?" Jarl demanded what Jaremy was thinking.
"We are obviously outnumbered and surrounded. Why would I keep fighting when it'll only mean death?"
Jaremy almost couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Is it another new idea he had thought up so we can get away?
"Why would we take the surrender of a crow when we could just kill you?" Jarl asked.
"Why wouldn't you? The man gathering the freefolk under his banner used to be a crow too. And as for killing me? The idea that the dead cannot hurt you, is it really still true?"
Jaremy would have believed that Kobe was speaking nonsense, but the words clearly meant something to the wildlings as silence descended upon them.
"What do you know about the dead?" Iroh was the one to ask now. The old man was looking at Kobe as if finally seeing him as a person instead of just another ranger.
"I know that this is the time for the living to stick together. That every fighter is important if any of us is to survive. Especially one that could help you get past the Wall."
Jaremy unsheathed his sword, but Kobe had positioned himself with Craster between them.
The action had not gone unnoticed by the wildlings who had drawn their own weapons, and Jaremy remembered where he was. A parley. He couldn't attack someone at a parley. Not even someone who was supposed to be on his side.
"Have you betrayed us too, Kobe?"
Kobe shrugged.
"Why does that surprise you? I was forced to become a crow on the threat of death, and have been one for barely two moons. Why would I not take the first chance I got to break free of your shackles?"
Because you saved my life, Jaremy thought. He wanted to ask why he had done what he did, but there was no use for it.
"It matters not." He put his blade away. "All you need to know is that you will be the first to die by my sword."
Any reply from Kobe was interrupted by laughter. Both Jarl and Grisella were laughing, and Jaremy's anger burnt brighter. The implications of Kobe's betrayal dawned on him.
He was alone. And with no plan. Craster would be even more reluctant to let him stay. All their plans were now useless as well. They were Kobe's to begin with, and he had no doubt the traitor would expose them to the wildlings. It surprised him that the idea affected him so much. Despite himself and all his resolve, he had ended up putting his hopes on them.
Jaremy chided himself mentally. He was a veteran ranger, and a blooded knight even before that. If he is surrounded, then he only needs to fight his way out or die trying.
Curiously, the thought reminded him of a question he had asked himself earlier. A parley is for getting a compromise between two sides. They want to kill us both and we want us both to survive. The compromise for this parley was that one would survive.
"Not so fast, you sly crow. I am no fool." Jarl interjected and ignored a cough from the old woman at that proclamation. "If you have only been a crow for two moons, how would you even know how to get us across the Wall?"
Morag nodded at that. "I was thinking the same. What exactly can you offer us?"
Kobe frowned, then grabbed the spikes separating the two sides and jumped over the waist sized barrier. Then answered,
"I was a crow for long enough to learn about the Night's Watch. Their castles and their numbers. The land south of the Wall, their villages and hamlets, the Lords and Castles and how many men they can bring to bear to stop us."
Jarl harrumphed. "We can just torture all of that out of you. Rykker might hold out, but a craven like you will squeal like a pig."
"If you torture me I'll just lie. And a craven like me would rather kill himself than get tortured. But if that did not convince you, I have something else that might." And then Kobe let out a whistle.
They waited for a minute, Jaremy too was curious at his claim, when he could not think of what else he might have had to assist the wildlings.
Despite the delay, Kobe's expression did not show anxiety, so the wildling leaders waited. It was Craster whose patience ran out first, perhaps even he had felt betrayed by Kobe or thought that he had been made a fool of.
"Your horses are still locked in me stables, turncloak. If you had freed them, they would already be here."
"Ah, it's not the horses that I called for." Kobe explained as a figure became clear in the moonlight, travelling along the spikes from the direction of the Keep. It took another moment to recognize her and the fact that she walked outside the spikes as well.
"NELLA!" Craster shouted. "I told you to stay inside. This is no place for women!"
Jaremy distantly noted Grisella react to that, but his attention was on the woman. She was bundled up for travel, with her child in one hand, and a very familiar cage with a very familiar bird in the other.
"What have you done?" Jaremy murmured.
"Have you gone deaf, woman! What do you think you're doing?!" Craster shouted, then tried to jump over the spikes to get to her. But Kobe was ready with his shield and pushed the man back to their side. The old man fell down in the snow ungracefully and the wildlings laughed.
"Is that one of his wives?" Someone asked.
"Once, perhaps. But she's only his daughter now." Kobe answered.
"So you're taking a wife," Iroh remarked, "good on you and the woman, but unless Craster taught her to wield a spear, how will she help us get past the Wall?"
"I am sure she can learn to fight," Kobe answered after looking at the woman, "But it's the bird that's the real prize." He showed off the raven to the wildlings. "This is what the crows use to send messages. And only crows use it. So if we are getting past at one location, I can send a message that we are passing at another location, so the path will be clear for us."
Jaremy could see the greed and doubt in the wildlings' eyes, but most of what he felt was confusion. Had it been someone like Chett or Garth making these claims, he would have laughed. But Kobe had continuously shown himself to be very cunning. So he had to ask,
"You can't even write. What use would the raven be to you?"
"Can't I?" Kobe mocked. "Knowing your words is so very helpful, especially when no one knows about it so people don't bother to hide their letters from you."
".." Jaremy didn't wish to believe it, but had to assume the worst when Kobe was involved. He cursed himself for not killing Kobe at the first sign of treachery, parley or not. He could jump the small barrier between them easy enough, but the wildlings would interfere no doubt. He considered doing it anyway.
Craster had recovered himself by then and was looking at his wife with anger.
"Don't you understand, you stupid cow? I am the one who keeps you safe. From humans and even worse beyond my Keep. Even if you escape me, there's only death waiting for you."
The woman, shaking like Craster's words were a storm, still spoke with weary resolve, "I have already died five times, Father. What's one more?"
"Come, we shall decide your fates. This has been more talking than I am used to." Morag spoke to the newcomers on their side. "And you, Rykker. Do not dare die by any hands, but mine."
Rykker did not may the boy any mind. He only cared about killing Kobe now. He did not think the ploy with the raven was very likely to succeed. Since Maester Aemon was blind, all the missives were read directly by the Old Bear who knew the hand of most of his important men. If he recieved Kobe's missive, assuming he even knew how to write, it's unlikely he'd just take it at face value.
Still, before he died, he wanted to kill Kobe. And in that objective he now had only one person who might assist him.
"Craster," He called. "If we work together, we can kill them and get your wife and son ba-"
Craster was old, but moved as swift as a snake. Jaremy's ears rang as he found himself crouching down in the snow.
"Don't you fucking speak of me wife and son, you cursed crow. You have brought-"
His accusations cut off as Jaremy's shoulders struck his chest, driving the air from his lungs and the man to the ground.
"I've had enough. Of everybody's shit. Stay down. I will take my horse and leave, and the gods willing, we will never see each other again."
Jaremy left to face his death.