Chapter 3 –

The Others

'We have to help them'

The voice echoes in his mind, as Kratos readies his spear again aiming at the Ice-like figure that led the troop of the undead. He did not know whether they were Hel Walkers or something different, nor did he care. Atreus' voice pleaded with him to help the man, in his moment of fear and desperation, and so he would.

Once again, the spear aimed true to its mark and flew straight for where the creature's heart must lay only to be met with a lazily maneuvered parry, which staggered the ice creature into a daze as if it was expecting a much different outcome instead of the loud clang, and the powerful blow it suffered. Its shock was shared evidently by its two companions.

Beside him, Kratos saw Freya unsheathe her sword and step out onto the bank of the blood-stained river, watching the dozen undead, who were now clumsily readjusting their gait to cross the shallow river. And with a burst of speed, that would have thrown any other warrior into a fit of fear and frenzy, the undead sprinted across the river toward the Valkyrie Goddess, leaving their masters to evaluate the menacing figure that slowly approached them, spear in hand.

Kratos eyed his three opponents, sparing only a glance at Freya who had the undead handled on her own, as she danced gracefully amidst their chaotic charge, Thrungva glinting brightly as she hacked and slashed the undead, half of which were tied down by her Vanir seiðr which commanded the roots of the trees around them to hold them in place.

"Don't worry about her brother, she's got this well in hand." Mimir helped refocus Kratos' attention "Hel walkers brother? I don't think the gates of Hel open to these lands."

Kratos tightened his grip on the Draupnir spear, as he allowed the surprisingly graceful ice creature to make the first move. The quivering black-red fur-cloaked man was all but forgotten, as he had quickly scampered off just behind the cover of the woods after Kratos had first attacked.

Panting heavily, through shallow breaths Mance clutched the hilt of his once steel sword to his chest. The weapon still serving as a totem of strength to him. His heart pounded without mercy, it felt to him as if it would shatter his rib cage and pop right out. He had seen into the eyes of death itself. And survived by a fucking miracle. Because that is exactly what it was.

A miracle. An Honest to God's miracle.

As his thundering heart calmed down, and he finally caught his breath, he braved to peek toward the stream from which he had just escaped. The pale giant of a man towered in front of the others, no fear emanating in his posture. The strange red mark that encircled his back, underneath his pauldron, and over his bald head on a backdrop of ashen white skin eerily reminiscent of a weirwood tree gave him hope. A welcome feeling, one that he ruthlessly tried to avoid in most cases.

This was not most cases. Hope is exactly what he needed.

The visage of the giant's companion who danced gracefully amidst the wights, her golden blade shining under the few rays of light that illuminated the banks of the stream, as it glinted through the dead flesh of the wights gave him joy. Another feeling he had given up on, just seldom moments ago. She was a witch, that much was clear, and he was for once happy to encounter one.

But he had no time to bask in the feelings. He needed to get away. Should the two fall to the others, he did not want to be on their warpaths should they return as wights as well. But the problem was, he had nowhere to run to. He had deserted the night's watch, and he knew he was no longer welcome at Craster's Keep. He knew the bastard there would sooner sell him out to his old brothers, and it would be Qhorin first who would come to take his head.

No, his hope now lay in the hands of the strangers.

He watched as the ashen warrior tightened his grip on his spear just as the monster in the center of the two others raised its icy crystal sword to the other and charged at his savior.

The warrior did not react immediately, apart from gently lifting the base of the spear off the ground, but just as the three monsters reached his location, and attacked like three efficiently placed pincers the giant spun the spear in his hand, effectively halting their advance, and then he lunged at the figure to his left, use the spear as a shield to maintain distance between him and the two monsters.

Within a moment's notice, the dazed ice monstrosity was on the floor, shocking both Mance and the icy creature's companions, as the giant had done it with nothing but his bare hands which seemed to possess ungodly strength behind them.

Still deflecting blows from the other two, the warrior stepped closer to the downed figure and smashed its head under the heel of his boot, as the figure produced a sizzling hiss, and dissolved into icy mist.

The shock that the perished white walker's companion felt was shared by Mance, as not only had the warriors not shattered upon impact with the weaponry of the others, but the Giant, for that is what Mance believed Kratos to be, had managed to overpower the white walker with nothing but his raw strength.

A strength that Mance believed was only possessed by the Giants, that roamed the lands beyond the wall, or by the Gods. And he did not yet believe that his saviors were Gods. For gods of these lands never answered their calls, and for one to arrive uncalled for was something he could not fathom.

The warrior pulled away from his dazed enemies, allowing them a chance to collect themselves.

And then one of the icy creatures started to speak, taking a few steps away from the angry ashen white giant. Its voice was harsh, and colder than the coldest ice, as it cut through the silence that had descended between them, making Mance's ears ring.

The witch had already won her battle, all bar one of her enemies dead, and unmoving, and the last one trapped in roots as it struggled against its bindings.

"You are not of these lands…... stranger. Leave." It spoke, as its pale blue eyes bore into the angry Giant's own.

And for a moment, Mance's heart leaped to his throat, as the stranger seemed to actually consider his words.

Kratos eyed the two icy creatures. It was no Hel Walker, that was certain. He would need to ask the man they had rescued about their origin and significance later.

For now, he did not want to involve himself in a conflict that he knew very little of. Killing one of the ice creatures was a necessity, as it seemed that the creatures had never tasted defeat. The shock its destruction sent through its other two companions was enough to move them into contemplation, and dialogue.

"No." he ground out in reply, to the creature's demands. "This fight is over."

The creatures did not take kindly to his refusal, as they seemed to lose themself in rage, all grace, and elegance that they possessed fighting him previously forgotten.

'Hubris. That will be their downfall. Very well.' He sighed and once again readied his staff, but they seemed to have not lost all of their wits as they stayed away from his reach.

'Foolish.' He thought as he quickly threw the spear at one before it could prepare whatever magic it was intending to throw at him. The creature dodged the spear, only to be met with another as the previous copy exploded just as it sailed past its shoulder. The other one caught the creature in the heart and exploded destroying the icy husk into a mist as the previous one had been.

Only one remained.

The last creature still showed no signs of fear, but it also maintained a distance out of his reach, instead opting to raise a short wall of ice between him and it.

'Futile.' Kratos mused as another Draupnir spear exploded having wedged itself into the icy wall, which shattered immediately.

The creature flung cursed ice at Kratos, hoping to maintain the range between them, while still showing some form of offense to him. It had failed in close-quarter offense and defense before. This was its only avenue remaining. It was a useless endeavor, as Kratos' shield unfurled from his left Vambrace, the magic in it catching the cursed ice as Kratos spun around fluidly and returned with double its speed back to the creature itself.

The last creature exploded into puddles of ice as well, and the clearing finally fell silent.

"Well, Hel Walkers they are not. That is for certain." Mimir commented introspectively.

It seemed the talking head was too much for their unwitting audience, as the black-red-fur clad man stepped out into the bank as well, the empty sword's hilt still clutched tightly in his right hand, as he gawked at Mimir's head.

"Is that talking severed head?!" he asked his gawking not subsiding.

Freya snickered silently. Kratos did not share in her amusement.