Chapter 10: War
The journey south was a hard one. A storm picked up soon after Tormund's group, including Ygritte, Orell and the Crow, left. The wind whipped at the tent walls and snuffed the fire out completely. Eira was glad she didn't feel the cold as she stepped outside to help fasten down some of the more permanent fixtures of the camp.
Already drained from the night before, Eira struggled to offer anything but a measly spurt of blood to her God to ensure the main firepit kept alight despite the wind, snow, and sleet. People were bundled up in their thickest furs and boots, the elderly and vulnerable were hidden in the main tent with Mance who was planning out the safest route towards The Wall. Eira helped the cooks serve out thick stew with bread to everyone, ordering two men to give the last three pots of stew and three of the remaining loaves to the giants who had begrudgingly moved closer to the fire and the rest of the camp.
The trek started as the sun weakly hit its peak in the sky, the giants rode their mammoths at the very front, partially blocking the wind and snow from the army behind. Every step felt like a mile to Eira, weak from giving so much blood, and her cunt aching from losing her virginity the night before. Not the wisest move.
The next few days and nights felt like an unending tundra, derived from light and peace. They camped within The Haunted Forest warily, constant patrols and every noise investigated. Eira found herself in countless meetings with Mance and his trusted generals and elders, debating routes and attempting ceremonies in small, cramped tents with dozens of gawking eyes. Her spy never returned, nor did the shadow apparition of her mind. She wished she could share the warmth of her God as she tried to not stare at blue lips as people spoke, or purple nails as goods were passed to her.
Eira's initial journey from her village to the camp had been much faster, with long experienced men who'd climbed the wall and journeyed through the haunted forest before. She felt like she was in a herd of sheep now, shuffling towards an unknown end for days and nights on end. Nothing changed, just more blurry white snow, narrow dark trees, and wind trying to push them back.
When she felt most hopeless Mance only dampened her mood, Orell, their trusted Warg, had sent his eagle over the skies and dropped a note into the camp. The Crow had escaped. Their inside man was gone and probably already back to Castle Black alerting their army to get ready. Mance grasped her hands tightly as he told her, crushing her wrist bones as he forced her to promise not to tell a soul about this, as if Eira had any human to talk to now her Giant was long gone over The Wall.
More lonely nights droned on, more trudging through calf high snow, waiting in camps stuck due to impossibly powerful winds. Some of the older Wildings began to claim that it was the world telling them that it was wrong for them to be leaving their home. That they shouldn't leave the True North and break The Wall. That upset had resulted in at least two dead, as Mance's most trusted warriors stopped any sign of mutiny in their tracks.
Their final camp was at the south border of the Haunted Forest. Fortunately the weather had died down this far down, leaving nothing but a low fog that, although dampened everything in camp, allowed an extra blanket of security that even the most eagle eyed Crow wouldn't be able to see them. Although, speaking of eagles, there'd been no sign of Orell's eagle since the last message Mance had disclosed to Eira. When it was announced to the camp it had quickly become the assumption that Ygritte herself had killed him, finally fed up with him pining after her like a runt pup. Eira hadn't known either party enough to agree or disagree, but did stay longer in Mance's tent in comfort for him losing a trusted ally.
"I can't even argue over the rumours lass" The man had sighed deeply over a flagon of winter berry wine that they'd brought with them on the journey, the berries brought sugar and energy, and the alcohol made everyone bitch less about the cold. "She probably did kill the skinny cunt." Eira had burst into laughter, it was a spark of happiness within the seemingly unending journey of greys and white.
The time came soon after that night. It was dark but clear, the fog still hung low around the forest and Mance had ordered the camp to be split into two, one for warriors facing the front, and the other for healers, the wounded, and weapons that needed tending to. Eira stalked through the dark forest with the rest of the chosen warriors, the Giants this time lurking behind the main group, crouched closely to the ground and shushing their mammoths every so often, who made it known that they were not happy being dragged through the brush of the woods. Behind them dragged bags full of dry leaves, sticks and logs. They were to set a huge bonfire, as big as Eira could manage, to signal to Tormund's group that they were ready for battle and waiting for the tunnels doors to open, allowing them to slip through The Wall and take over.
Eira's heart was pounding, this was it, she was going to war. As the warriors dumped the kindling into a large pile she prayed silently.
Please, show me strength, show me power. I will survive this darkness with your Light.
One spark and the kindling went up in a roar. Bigger and taller than possible. A grin split Eira's face, he was here waiting and watching. Her God was with her.
She turned to the warriors creeping out of the woods, she felt elated, crazed with the feeling of her God's presence.
"See? My God is here and will lead us through this fucking night." She raised her knife, slicing her free arm and watched the bloody blade alight immediately, "Anyone who wants their weapon blessed, line up".
Surprisingly, a group of warriors that Eira had done her best to avoid walked up first. Thenns. They were tall and imposing, with their shaved heads, scarred faces, and hunger for human flesh. An axe was pointed in her face, the man's face stern. She dripped her wound onto the blade, little flames spreading onto the metal until it covered the edge of the blade. An appreciative grunt was her thanks, they didn't speak common tongue.
Several others came up to have their blades bleed and blessed, as well as two quivers for arrows. Mance appeared with a bandage, some water and wine to help her get over the bleeding.
Standing beside Mance Eira could see the expressions on the army's faces as they watched and waited for their King to speak. She'd found that she'd forgotten that this kind, unassuming man, who sung songs by the fire and always looked out for the vulnerable members of the clan, was a fierce King who'd managed to unite the near hundred clans of Wildings beyond The Wall.
"Now, we wait for a signal from the south side. Then descend on the tunnel doors. We either walk through. Or we fight our way through." He gave Eira a nod and marched over to the main generals of the army, her fighting teacher, an middle-aged man covered in tattoos and scars, and a Thenn. As they waited, for a signal, a Warg, anything, Eira whispered countless prayers into the blazing bonfire and hoped that that would be enough to get her, Tormund, and everyone else through this night.
Whilst crouched in wait, ready to sprint at a second's notice, Eira spied an owl swooping from The Wall and over the Haunted Forest, circling momentarily, then diving towards a Thenn who barked out in old tongue to his men behind him, then nodding to Mance.
It was time.
The army rushed onto The Wall like a pack of rabid wolves. The giant King Mag the Mighty rode in at the front with his mammoth, Dongo close to its side, galloping in huge strides and leaving gaping caverns for footsteps in the snow. Close behind ran the hardiest of Wilding warriors, battle axes and long swords high in the air as they charged with a roar. Eira was close to the back with her fellow young'uns, who yipped and shouted with their own trusty blades. The tunnel to The Wall was getting ever closer, she could see the top of the Watchtowers be flooded with men and knew soon arrows would be reigning down onto the group. She was glad that their own party of archers were close in front, ready with their fiery arrows that sparked and fluttered in their quivers, not spreading or distinguishing despite their whipping hair and the blistering wind.
"ROPES" A bellow broke from the front of the party, one of the young'uns rummaged in his satchel and hurriedly shoved through the crowd. Tormund's group had yet to open the tunnel door, Eira felt a pit in her stomach grow but refused to acknowledge what that could mean.
He's fine. Tormund is fine. Will be fine. I will see him soon.
The mammoth would rip the gate of it's hinges, there was no doubt about it, then Eira would be able to run in with her fellow Wildings, battling with the Night's Watch set in stone that she was certainly, one of them now, and find Tormund. Maybe he was injured, or had been captured. She needed to know. Needed to get to him.
Eira was ripped from her dark worries by a sudden light, up above Crows were setting fire to barrels. She met eyes with one, a large greasy man with a slimy grin, lit by the fiery barrel in his hands. Keeping eye contact, he pushed it and the barrel splattered onto the Mammoth. Tar. To her side, a boy named Varl, who was often partnered with her for sparring grabbed her shoulder,
"Fire girl, we won't last if they're bombing us with that tar. We gotta get up there and stop them!"
"Mance said we had to stay at the back?"
Varl scoffed, "Don't you hear those screams? That could be Rayder now! And the dead can't say shite!" He had a point. She nodded and stood closer with him and another boy she trained with often. She could do this. She was "fire girl".
The mammoth roared and whined, tearing away from the ropes to escape the flood of fire and sticky, black tar. She watched in horror as several more barrels were pushed onto the army, hearing screeches of pain in the crowd as men and women were burned alive by the thick, black substance. The group scattered, Dongo tried to grab the Mammoth to continue their attack on the gate but was caught blindsided by a fiery barrel.
What followed was a deafening cry from Mag the Mighty, charging at the gate. Eira watched in awe as he ripped it upwards with his bare hands and barreled through the Tunnel, the army followed him, spreading like ants and confronting the waiting Crows with fire and blood. Eira slipped through the first fight with ease, the boys darting in front of her and clambering up a nearby ladder then appeared to leave to the top of The Wall.
Eira gripped her flaming knife in her hand, scrambling to her feet and stabbing a man in the neck from behind without a thought. The boys rushed the next man to turn on them and pushed him off The Wall. The thud could be heard even over the cry of war. The greasy man from before charged at them and managed to gut Varl right in front of her eyes, knocking him down as he bled out of his mouth, his hands clutching at his own organs. Eira shrieked and slashed at him over and over, but the man was faster than his looks. She jumped back, ripping up a sleeve and slicing at her arm, sickness be damned, she needed more fire.
The blade whooshed, completely encompassed with flames. The greasy man stopped in horror, the pause allowed Eira to run the flaming weapon through his chest with a cry, as he dropped on his back she continued to stab him in a frenzy.
A hand wrapped in her hair wrenched her off the bloody corpse, raising Eira until she was eye to eye with a Crow.
"You're no Wildi-" She slashed at him with her fiery blade with a cry but the much more experienced man dodged it with ease, "How in the fucking hell are you doing that?". Eira responded with another cry and swipe, kicking her legs in hopes a good beating to his balls would release her from his grasp. The man groaned with each thud but didn't let go. His other hand shot out and wrapped around her neck, squeezing.
"Stop it!" He ordered, like she was a dog, and continued to squeeze.
The edges of her vision began to fade, Eira's slashing and swiping slowed until her arm went limp to her side, the knife still alight on the ground of The Wall. She felt herself being dropped, was probably about to be kicked off the side of The Wall.
She hoped the Crows would have the sense to burn her body. Let her live with her God of Fire forever.
Note: This definitely isn't exactly how the battle went but I honestly do not have the time to watch a full episode just for my silly little fanfic.