Chapter 38 – the 24th day of September, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest
Osha sat on the cold, hard seat. The 'Taipan' was crowded. A score of strangers were crammed in with her. The rotors were the noisiest thing she had ever heard.
Not for the first time, she wondered how all this had happened.
It had been another ordinary night at Winterfell. Ordinary, at least, as any had been in the past year since her capture. She still wore shackles about her ankles, but at least the chains had been removed and she had a degree of freedom of the castle. She had been put to work in the kitchens, and in truth she had never ate so well. When her duties were done she could even kneel by the heart tree in the godswood to pray. Gage the cook had taken her into his bed, but he was gentler then most and she did not mind it much.
They had been eating in the great hall when they heard the rotors again, the flying men returning for another visit. There had been a time when this would cause a commotion bordering on a riot, but now few got up from their seats to observe their arrival. As usual, the cooks and kitchen wenches had claimed a table of their own once everyone else was accounted for. Silence only fell as the visitors walked in. She recognised 'Captain' Huysing, though not the older man next to him. A pair of men of the Night's Watch came in as well, one a greybeard, the other still half a boy. She had never met either of them before, but knew them immediately. Every wildling this side of the Frostfangs knew of the halfhanded ranger, and Bran had oft spoken about his bastard brother.
She saw them quickly cross the hall to converse with Lady Catelyn. Arya Stark had rushed into the bastard's arms, but Osha had already noted the glances being thrown her way and knew something was amiss. Sure enough the big knight Ser Rodrik had soon come over and grasped her arm. Without complaint, she allowed herself to be led away. She was taken up a series of passages, eventually emerging into a room she had never been before, but knew to be the lord of Winterfell's solar.
Inside a small crowd had gathered. The old maester had led the simpleton Hodor into the room as well. He carried Bran in his arms and deposited the little lord in a thick wooden chair at the head of a long oak table. The two crows stood alongside the two flying men. Lady Catelyn took a seat beside Bran, her hands crossed and foot tapping in anticipation. When the group had assembled, all eyes turned to Huysing. He looked at her in turn.
"Osha, it is good to see you again."
"Thank you, m'lord" she'd mumbled.
"I'd like you to meet someone". He gestured to the older flying man next to him. "This is General Angus Campbell, head of the Australian Defence Force."
"My lord" she'd said again. North of the Wall, those words had never left her lips even once, but it had become her standard greeting for all new arrivals at Winterfell. She felt no shame in keeping her captors happy.
"My lady" the old man said, and Osha blinked in surprise at this formality. "I am told you were born north of the Wall, even that your brother once killed a giant. Tell me, how tall was she?"
"Ten feet tall m'lord."
The two flying men exchanged a glance. Campbell turned to lady Catelyn. "My lady. I apologise for the abruptness of this request. I wonder if you might do us the favor of releasing this woman into our service."
Catelyn Stark looked from the flying men to Osha and back. Osha bid her tongue. On her occasional visits to the castle Lady Catelyn had never exchanged a polite word with her. Indeed, her very presence seemed to enrage her, even in her shackles, and Osha usually went to great lengths to keep out of her sight. She strongly suspected if Bran's mother had been present the day of her capture she'd have been fed to the wolves, as smiley boy Greyjoy had suggested. "Certainly General, this can be done, but might I ask as to what purpose?"
The flying men exchanged another glance. "I am not sure I am at liberty to say, my lady. Again, my apologies. But we are working with the Night's Watch. Lord Commander Mormont knows we are here."
"A wildling woman" Lady Catelyn went on. "The only purpose this can serve…does it concern Mance Rayder?"
The flying men did not reply. They glanced at the older Night's Watchmen, who was staring at Osha.
"You know me, do you not?" he asked.
"Aye" she replied. "You're the Halfhand."
"You came south with two deserters. What were their names?"
"Stiv and Wallen."
"Aye, they were my men. I might have even called them good men, before they forsake their vows." He turned to the general and captain. "She is honest, for a wildling. She may serve our purpose."
"What purpose?" Lady Catelyn spoke again. "Do you seek to parley to Mance Rayder?" She looked suddenly alarmed. "Do the wildlings march on the Wall?"
"The Wall is secure, my lady" Qhorin said. "We ask a different task of her. She has knowledge, of the lands Beyond the Wall…"
"Then you would ask this knowledge of her and take your leave" Catelyn replied sharply. "No, this is something else. With respect sers, what are you not telling us?"
For a long moment the two flying men and two night's watchmen failed to reply. Glances were exchanged, the silence stretching awkwardly, until broken by a voice much higher in pitch.
"The Others…the Others are back aren't they?"
All eyes turned to Bran, but he was looking at her.
"Others?" Catelyn asked, looking around. "What do you mean?...The White Walkers? The creatures from the Long Night?"
General Campbell frowned. "I am truly sorry my lady. There are things happening right now my people do not quite understand. Two of my men are missing, but we are working with the Lord Commander and the king to get to the bottom of it. I know of no immediate danger to you here in Winterfell." He nodded at Osha. "But this woman could help us."
"What do you need with Osha?" Bran piped up now. When the general did not elect to reply, Lady Catelyn stood, in a sudden fury. "My son is the Stark in Winterfell, though be may still appear a boy. If you come into our home demanding favors of us General, you had best answer him."
General Campbell considered her a moment, then looked back at Bran. "Yes, my lord. We wish for her to act as intermediary with Mance Rayder."
"Mance Rayder is a traitor, my lord" spoke up Ser Rodrik in disbelief, still clutching her arm. "To meet with him is itself an act of treason." He looked at Qhorin. "What do you say of this?"
"Aye, Mance broke his vowels and turned his cloak. When the time comes, he will face the gallows. But right now we are facing an unknown enemy. Mance is the devil we know. Perhaps we will end up making common cause with him."
The room had descended into something of an argument then. Osha had remined silent, as if hoping she would be forgotten. Somehow Bran made himself heard above the rest.
"You haven't asked Osha" he pointed out, raising himself onto the table with his arms, while his legs flopped uselessly behind him. "You haven't asked Osha if she wants to go."
General Campbell turned back to her. "Have you ever met Mance Rayder, my lady?"
"Aye, I saw him once. He came to our camp, urging us to join him."
"Did you?"
"Aye, for a time. But we left soon enough, a group of us, heading south."
"Why did you leave?"
Osha looked around the room. "Mance thinks he can fight, but even in his camp, men leave their fires and go into the woods and don't come back. Hali and I decided to come south then, with a couple o' others. One knew some crows he'd traded with before. They were afraid too. The last ranging had all disappeared, but still they were sent out. We had the ropes for climbing, so we all went together."
"Would Mance Rayder consider you a deserter then?"
Osha had shrugged. "We are free folk. We swear no oaths. We follow those who we please."
"Then will you do this service for us, my lady?" Campbell had asked. "All we ask is that you introduce us. We will fly you there with a heavy escort, and take you straight back. You need not spend even a single night north of the Wall."
Osha had hesitated. Memories of nights so cold it seemed she would never know the sun again flooded back to her. "When we came south, Stiv said you canno' fight the cold. All that matters is getting as far south as south goes."
"Then we could take you to White Harbor, or even King's Landing, afterwards" Campbell offered. "Perhaps with a heavy bag of silver, if your hosts would be so inclined."
If anything, this promise only served to infuriate Lady Catelyn yet further. "I must write to my son" she had insisted. "And the Umbers, and the Karstarks. If wildlings march on the Wall or…worse, the Northern lords must return home at once."
Bran had started talking to his bastard brother. "Have you seen a three-eyed crow?" he'd asked excitedly, the question only eliciting a shake of his brother's head.
That was the last thing Osha could remember, but somehow she must have agreed. The next morning, at first light, she had boarded one of their flying machines. After a brief stop at Castle Black to 'refuel', they had soared over the Wall like it was but knee-high.
Now she sat on a cold, hard seat, the Halfhand on one side of her, Captain Huysing the other. They flew over hills and forests and frozen lakes. She thought she'd known the lands beyond the wall as well as anyone, but she had to admit she was completely lost from this point of view. Despite the noise she even slept a little. She awoke to Huysing tapping her on the shoulder. The light had changed. The machine was descending. Osha looked out, and immediately saw a shimmering river that could only have been the Milkwater. In her youth, she must have crossed it half a hundred times, herding their goats and hunting packs of elk. Through the Taipan's windows she spied parties of men and animals. Even at a distance, she knew her own kind anywhere.
The machine came to rest at a bend in the river. The doors opened and green-clad flying men filed out, followed by the two crows. Huysing helped her unstrap and led her to the door. Osha lept down, her feet crunching onto solid earth. Somehow, it had never felt so firm.
"Alright?" Huysing asked.
Osha nodded. She glanced at the free folk, some of whom were already scattering at their arrival. The flying men had formed up in a tight circle around their craft. Osha took this as her cue to stride up the riverbank. She could hear the Milkwater surging over some rapids to the north. She might even have recognized them, but her eyes were fixed on the endless string of men, women, children and animals that were following the river. It was late afternoon by now, and many had already stopped to make camp for the night.
Naturally, their arrival had started something of a panic. This did not surprise Osha. Her people were easily spooked by the strange and the new. A hundred yards away a woman older than her was shooing away a small flock of sheep. Another was carrying two squalling babes. Most were fleeing. Some had stopped just to stare, but Osha soon saw a warband riding up from the south. She walked to it calmly. She'd convinced the Starks to return the garb she'd been captured in. Dressed as a Winterfell kitchenhand, she could not be sure her own kind might not mistake her for an enemy. Her shackles were gone as well, though her skin was still red raw around the ankles.
There were about a dozen riders, men and women. Their leader she had never met, but again knew at sight. He was thick of body and blonde haired. He carried a large, curved steel scythe. He squinted at her as he reared up.
"You are the Weeper" Osha said.
"Who the fuck are you?" the raider asked, glancing between her and the flying men. The rotors on the Taipan were slowly coming to a stop.
"I'm Osha, I grew up by this river" she explained. "These men want to treat with Mance."
The Weeper blinked his watery eyes. "And who the fuck are they?"
Osha had prepared the best answer she could. "They're flying men, from beyond the seas. They know what hunts us, and they want to help the free folk."
The Weeper cocked his head. "Flying men?" he repeated, as if he couldn't quite believe his ears. He glanced back at his warband, who were staring at the green-clad strangers in equal astonishment.
"They want to treat with Mance" Osha repeated.
Suddenly, the Weeper gave a harsh bark of a laugh. "Flying men…Rattleshirt spoke the truth." Looking over the party the Weeper's eyes narrowed even further. "Why the fuck are crows with them?"
"They wish to parley with Mance."
The Weeper was looking her up and down now. "And where did you come from?"
"From the South" Osha said, careful not to specify where. "But I am no kneeler."
The Weeper hesitated a moment longer, surveying the strangers warily, then jerked a meaty thumb over his shoulder. "Mance is that way, if you wish to treat with 'im. But crows are no' welcome in our camp."
"Its for Mance to decide who's welcome" Osha said, too boldly.
The Weeper raised his scythe threateningly. "Speak to me like that and you can taste my steel, you kneeler bitch."
Huysing had slowly walked over as the conversation went on. He looked on the Weeper's band impassively. "Hello there. We seek the King-Beyond-the-Wall. We bring gifts for the free folk. Can you take us to him?"
The Weeper was looking the captain up and down now. "Aye, I can take you to him" the Weeper replied after a moment, suddenly more polite than Osha might have expected.
"Thank you."
The Weeper gave her a pitiless glance, then grunted and reared around. His war band fell in behind him. Osha and Huysing led the flying men, with Qhorin and Jon Snow bringing up the rear, their black cloaks even more conspicuous then the flying men's queer green garb. They began making their way through the camp. A thousand tents of hide and leather and canvas clung to the Milkwater, like an endless row of suckling babes. A hundred cookfires were being lit. They could hear the thwack thwack of woodsmen attacking the surrounding trees, collecting anything that would burn to hold back the coming night.
Free folk stopped and stared of course, though seeing the strangers walking alongside the Weeper's band seemed to subdue the panic a touch. There were cries of 'Crows! Crows!' but mostly they advanced through an ocean of staring eyes. A few young boys even came over to follow them north. One tried grabbing for a flying man's weapon and had to be physically shooed away. At one point Huysing nearly tripped over a stray sheep, but nothing else that could quite be called violence occurred. Osha counted herself surprised. After a time she heard the sound of rotors again, and looked up to see the Taipan following after them, hovering along like an eagle brooding over her eggs.
The Weeper eyed them as they wound their way through the tents and carts loaded with the meagre possessions of the free folk. Even she had never seen so many of her kind together. Mance must have united a hundred tribes, perhaps two hundred. There were thousands, tens of thousands of them. Perhaps a number so large Osha had no words for it. It took some time. It was over an hour later when they at last came upon a larger cluster of tents. One was thrice the size of any other, made from the pelts of what looked like snow bears, and topped with a pair of antlers taken from a great elk.
A small crowd had assembled out the front of it, looking on the strangers with wary eyes. Osha recognised Mance Rayder at once. He was a man of middling height, wearing a dark cloak mended with tattered strips of red. He wore no crown. He hardly looked a wildling, let alone a king. There were half a dozen others she did not recognize, though a few she could guess at.
The Weeper reared up beside the group. "These men have come to see Mance" was all the explanation he gave.
The procession slowed to a stop. Above them the Taipan seemed to circle for a minute, then came to rest a hundred yards away on the banks of the Milkwater. From the youngest mewling babe to the greatest war chief, eyes watched it descend wide with shock. Huysing glanced at her, she nodded at Mance. The captain of the flying men stepped forward.
"You are Mance Rayder, I presume?"
"You presume correctly" Mance said, recovering with surprising grace. He looked the flying men up and down. "To whom do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"
Huysing gave a small bow. "I apologise for the intrusion, your grace. The circumstances are extraordinary. My name is Patrick Huysing" he looked around at the little gathering. "I'm afraid I have a very strange story to tell. This woman has very kindly offered to be our guide" he said, indicating Osha "and I believe you know this man" he said, indicating the Halfhand. Qhorin was staring at Mance Rayder tight lipped.
"We are acquainted" Mance replied. "You have some new friends, Qhorin?"
"We have some new enemies, all of us" the Halfhand replied.
"Oh no" Mance countered. "An old enemy. The very oldest. Have you become acquainted with them as well?"
"Perhaps we have" Qhorin said. "The Lord Commander has instructed me to parley, to the displeasure of many, you will not be surprised to hear. I think we have much to talk about."
"Indeed" Mance looked around the scene. "It is getting cold already. Best come inside."
Osha found herself being led into the tent. By the time the flap was closed, it had grown crowded. There were introductions all around. On one side of Mance sat a short but immensely broad man known as Tormund Giantsbane. On his other was Styr, the Magnar of the Thenns. His wife Dalla tended to a brazier, alongside her sister Val and her own companion, a fierce young raider named Jarl. The Weeper came in and sat with the rest of his folk, glaring at the crows as best his watery eyes would permit.
Opposite was Huysing and an aide, rapidly scribbling notes. Osha sat between him and the two crows. The wildlings were looking on Qhorin with particular loathing, but every hand was stayed. Every weapon remained in it's sheathe. Huysing began to tell his tale, of the Maidenring and all the events since, ending with the climatic battle at the Fist of the First men two nights before. Mance listened in silence for a long while.
"We had heard talk of a Maidenring, and flying men" he admitted after a time. "Few believed it of course, not even when Rattleshirt saw you."
Huysing nodded. "Perhaps there is no way to prove it right now, but truly, we mean you no harm. We have no particular desire to interfere in the affairs of your world. We do not serve the King of Westeros, nor are we part of the Night's Watch, though we have come to their aid." He nodded at the crows. "What concerns us right now, and the reason we have come all this way, are the creatures we are told are hunting you."
"You saw them?" Mance asked.
It was Qhorin who replied. "Aye, we fought them."
"So that's what that was" Mance said, sounding slightly awed. He glanced at his companions. "We heard a great noise in the night, even here. The giants were restless. They said their mammoths could sense movement in the earth, and there were strange lights to the south, like the dawn had come early."
"Yes, perhaps you heard our bombers" Huysing replied. "They…rained fire and steel on the forest, and appeared to scare these Others away, but we are not really sure what happened. One of our men was killed, and another two are missing. If you have any knowledge on what might have happened to them, we would be most grateful."
Mance had a pained expression on his face. "If you have not found them by now, I am afraid there is little hope, Huysing. You won't see them again, or if you do, they won't be men anymore."
"What do you mean?" the Captain asked innocently.
"I am sure you know by now" Mance replied. "Those that are killed by the Others, or even die in their sleep at night, rise again."
The younger crow took that moment to speak up. "It happened first at Castle Black. Two of our rangers" he glanced at Qhorin, who raised no objection to him speaking. "Jafer Flowers and Othor. They slew six men, before we could…before we destroyed them."
"With fire?" Mance offered.
"Aye."
"Very good young Snow. I'm sure Ned Stark would be proud of his son."
Jon Snow blinked. He had not been introduced by name. "You know me?"
"Aye, I have seen your face. Twice in fact."
The young crow looked bewildered, taking a moment to puzzle it out. "When you were a brother of the Watch…"
"Yes, very good. You were just a boy, and I was all in black, one of a dozen riding escort to Lord Commander Qorgyle when he came to visit Winterfell." He glanced around the tent, seemingly enjoying the chance to tell this story. "I was walking the yard when I came on you and your brother Robb. It had snowed the night before, and the two of you had built a great mountain above the gate and were waiting for someone to pass underneath."
"I remember" Jon said, and the young man suppressed a laugh. "You swore not to tell."
"Yes, that vow I kept, at least."
"But what was the second time?"
"When King Robert came to Winterfell to make your father Hand."
Osha blinked in surprise at this. She wasn't the only one.
"That can't be so" Jon Snow objected.
"Oh, it can" Mance replied, and went on to tell the story of how he had gotten word of the king's visit. He had scaled the Wall, bought a horse, ridden it south and fallen in with the royal procession a day south of Winterfell. When he was finished, even Qhorin looked impressed. Tormund Giantsbane was laughing uproariously. Dalla was passing out horns of mead, which even the flying men accepted. For a moment, all the animosity in the tent seemed forgotten. It fell to Huysing to get the conversation back on track.
"Most impressive, your grace, but perhaps we should return to the matter at hand."
"Indeed" Mance said, taking a measured swill from his own horn.
"Let us all accept that yes, these creatures, whatever they are exactly, do exist" Huysing went on. "They are capable of doing the things we've seen. They can, indeed, 'raise' the dead, however that works, and would appear to be a threat to all living things. But we need to know more to combat them. Do you know where they come from?"
"North" was all Mance said. "Too far north for men to live, or even Giants, the Land of Always Winter."
"Our observations indicate Westeros extends north to the polar ice cap. So far we've seen nothing but ice, but we will look more closely. Is there any way for this process to be reversed?"
"To turn the dead back? No" Mance shook his head. "You can only burn them, so they don't keep coming back."
"When did you first encounter them?" Huysing asked.
Mance lowered his ale, looking from the flying men to the crows and back. "There are many tales I could share with you" he said cautiously "but begging your pardons, there is still much that is not clear to me. You say you do not mean us harm, but the Night's Watch kill my people." He nodded politely at Qhorin. "They still view us as the real threat."
"The Wildlings raid and kill on our lands" Qhorin replied, equally polite. "It is for good reason we defend the realm. Though I agree, a greater threat presents itself. The Lord Commander spoke to me. He is open to the idea of a truce, as long as the raiding stops."
"We are heading south, to hide behind your Wall" Mance replied. "We do not seek conquest, only the safety of the free folk."
"So, if we're clear on this" Huysing interjected. "What we're seeing is not an invasion, but a massive evacuation?"
"You see it clearly" Mance agreed.
"The Commander may be open to a truce" Qhorin repeated "but he does not have the authority to open the gates to a wildling horde. That authority must lie with the king. It is the mercy of Stannis Baratheon you must fall upon."
"Aye, then let us trust in his mercy, though if those talks should fail…" Mance left the sentence hanging.
"Perhaps a delegation from the…free folk, could meet with the king?" Jon Snow suggested, looking at Huysing. "You could fly them south?"
Huysing looked over at Mance. "Such a thing may be possible. We would have to make the arrangements."
"You want us to beg of a Southron king?" Tormund Giantsbane asked. "Will this king want us to kneel to him? To kneel before his big iron chair?"
"If you would be subjects of the realm then you must swear to its king" Qhorin answered. "That would be the least of his demands."
"We are not kneelers, you cocksucking crows!" the Weeper said suddenly, jumping to his feet.
Throughout the tent hands twitched, reaching for weapons, but Mance looked at the raider coolly. "Weeper, if you cannot restrain yourself at parley then leave this tent."
The Weeper did not deign to reply. He spat on the floor, dropped his horn of ale and walked out, the flap of the tent dangling behind him. Huysing was looking from Qhorin to Mance and back. "No one is saying this is going to be easy."
"No, it will not be" Mance agreed. "But I have spent years bringing peace between a hundred warring tribes. If we can make a peace with the Night's Watch and the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, I would only welcome that. Either way, we need to get south."
"Then you threaten us with war" Qhorin said.
"We flee or we perish" Mance countered. "The Others are never far. My people cannot stay here for long."
"Do they always attack at night?" Huysing asked.
"They never come when the sun is up."
"But at night?" Huysing persisted. "How is it you fight them?"
"They raise the dead to do their bidding. We ring the camp with fires and have wargs and watchers to warn of their approach."
"But there must be more to it then that" Huysing said, frowning. "My people could only hold them off with massive air support. Have you killed a white walker somehow?"
"I have killed a hundred wights, but I know of no man who has looked upon an Other and lived."
"So you have been attacked before, but never in such numbers?" Huysing asked.
"How many attacked your people?" Mance asked, looking at Qhorin. A distinct note of concern had entered his voice.
"At least seven were spotted" the ranger replied. "As for wights? There must have been ten or twenty thousand, we are still counting."
It was Mance's turn to frown now. "The free folk have never seen such numbers. They don't come out during the day, but they're never far. On cold nights we always find a few dead come morning."
"Well then forgive me, your grace" Huysing pressed "but something here does not add up. If the force that attacked the Night's Watch, or even the remnants of it, attacked your column here, I do not see how you could possibly defend yourselves. Why would they attack one and ignore the other?"
"Aye, I ponder that question every night" Mance admitted. "Why do they send their servants after us, but never the masters?" He shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Perhaps they fear us. We have wargs and giants and fierce raiders, and every man on watch carries a flame. Perhaps our numbers are too great. The Others attack stragglers and small villages at night and vanish in the daylight…" he trailed off a moment, then shook his head again. "But no, if you really want to know Captain, I think they could have anytime, but they choose not to."
"Why?"
"Why indeed? I intend us to be well south before we can find that out."
"Well then, in case such an attack does occur, there is a degree of help we would be willing to offer, until such time as you can reach the Wall and plead your case to the king."
"Why?" Mance asked.
"Why?" Huysing repeated, taken aback.
"Why would you help us? The free folk mean nothing to you."
"All human life has value" Huysing answered after a moment. "All humans have rights."
The figures in the tent seemed to stir at this. Tormund Giantsbane gave a harsh bark of a laugh. Styr, the Magnar of Thenn, just looked confused.
"Well then we would welcome whatever aid the great flying men may offer" Mance said graciously.
"It may not be much, but we can give you this" Huysing said, pulling what Osha knew to be a small blue 'lighter' out of his pocket. He flicked his fingers and a small flame appeared. The free folk stared in fascination. Huysing offered it to Mance, explaining how it worked. The King-Beyond-the-Wall flicked it clumsily a few times before he was able to reproduce the flame himself.
"We brought a couple of boxes" Huysing went on "and a few flares. I can show you how to use them." He glanced at the half open tent flap, where the daylight was rapidly fading. "I'm afraid my orders are to leave here by nightfall, your grace, but I will plead your case to my people. More help may yet come."
The flying men stood, followed by the Night's Watch. The free folk rose in response.
"The Others headed north; you say?" Mance asked, as Huysing made to take his leave.
"Yes, in approximately this direction. We're now about fifty kilometers away, that's…about ten leagues." Huysing glanced at the 'watch' on his wrist. "That was about thirty-six hours ago now, though I'm not sure how fast these Others move."
"Quite fast, when they want to" Mance replied grimly. He followed the flying men out of the tent. Outside, more faces had gathered with the dusk. Osha spied a raider wearing a giant's skull as a helm that could only be the Lord of Bones. A red-haired spearwife called out Jon Snow by name. The young crow looked startled but elected to ignore her and followed after Qhorin. The squad of flying men outside had indeed brought forth a pair of large metal boxes. Huysing began pulling more lighters out, and then a small device that turned out to be a flare gun. He showed Mance how to load it, then fired one into the air. For a long minute the thick white pelts of the king's tent turned a deep red, before the light fell back to earth and faded to nothingness.
Mance got to work immediately, distributing the gifts to his most trusted raiders. Tormund Giantsbane started fiddling with a lighter of his own. After a minute he'd dropped it, suckling a burnt thumb, but he looked happy. Osha looked on the scene, hopeful. A part of her wondered if she should stay, back with her own kind, rather than return to Winterfell and her shackles, but a chill wind took that moment to blow through the camp. To the west the sun had truly set, and the light was fading. Osha shivered. Tormund Giantsbane scrambled to pick up the fallen lighter. When he stood, Mance's frown appeared to have infected him now too.
"It was bloody cold last night" Osha heard him say to Mance, as the free folk argued over the booty. "And Harma's riders still haven't returned."
"Riders?" Huysing queried, looking from Tormund to Mance and back.
Mance shot his underling a glare of mild fury. "After we saw the lights Harma sent half a score of riders to scout the way south" he admitted. "That was yesterday. They were meant to return by dusk, but there's still no sign of them."
He looked back at Tormund, the chief now shoving handfuls of lighters into his pockets. "Make sure every raider and man on watch has one of these. I want the fires burning brightly tonight."
"Aye" was all Tormund said. He managed to seize a flare gun and pocketed that as well. He picked up his great stone maul and went to join his warband, already barking orders in a great booming voice.
Mance turned back to Huysing. He looked the captain up and down, as if still getting the measure of the man. "Well Captain, this has been an extraordinary meeting. I hope we meet again, assuming we live to see another sunrise."
"I wish we could do more, your grace, but there is no time tonight. We will plead your case, and see if we can provide more help, but it will take time. We will keep watch from above in case these creatures return." He nodded up at the darkening sky.
"Aye" Mance said. "Let us hope they remain wary of us. We still have a long march to the Wall." He looked over at Qhorin. For a moment Osha wondered if the two men might embrace, or share a handshake, but the ranger merely stood back. "May the Others fail to take you" was all he said.
"They won't take me easy."
"No, they won't."
With that their group departed. The flying men quickly formed up behind their captain, and Osha fell in with the two crows. No one made any great moves to stop them as they headed for the Taipan. The craft's rotors were already spinning up again. Osha was practically hauled aboard. A minute later there was another sudden jolt and they took off to begin the journey south. The Milkwater and the great host of the free folk rapidly disappeared behind them.
They flew level over the haunted forest, all but the tips of the trees already in darkness. The reddish glow of sunset began fading well off to the west. Between the clouds, Osha could soon see stars again. Few words were exchanged in the noisy cabin, though she could hear the 'radio' crackling to life here and there. Huysing was half shouting back into it.
She couldn't be sure how long had passed. They might have been halfway back to Castle Black when she heard the deepening note of concern in the captain's voice. Despite herself, Osha leaned over to hear the conversation.
"Say again, Zero Alpha?"
"Romeo One. Advise Contacts. Drone reconnaissance reports cold spots approaching your last position."
"Zero Alpha, cold spots? From which direction?" Huysing demanded.
The answer was several long seconds in coming.
"Romeo One, uh…advise contacts closing in all directions, over."
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P.S. sorry for the delay on this one guys. As you can see, its a fairly large chapter. I found myself writing and rewriting it a few times until I was quite happy with it (I was also on holiday for much of January). More to follow!
