Cold lands
Jaime POV
It was even colder than the first time I went for a ranging mission. But I endured like everyone else and followed Robb Stark from behind. I had to guard him for the duration of the range, and I had no problem doing so. It was Robb who didn't like it. I couldn't blame him for what my family had done. He could never trust me, so I stayed silent behind him.
The Craster's keep was not far away. I hoped the wildling would know where the army of the wildlings was hiding. Riding through these lands from one end to another didn't sound appealing. I wanted to face the Wildling army and put an end to them. It would be great if I died at their most fearsome warriors' hands.
It would be a better fate than I could hope for. It would certainly be better than dying from the cold. Anything would be better than that. Dying by protecting the life of the young lord of Winterfell would give me more meaning than everything I did while I was alive. But I still didn't understand why they put me on such a task.
I wasn't the only one who was ordered to protect lord Stark. Qhorin Halfhand, Waymar, and even old Gared rode next to us. As a seasoned ranger, Gared rode in front of us. I didn't know Qhorin, but I had heard that he was the best sword of Night's Watch. He was a living legend in Night's Watch. I have never heard of him outside the Wall, but no one denied that he was one of the most excellent rangers that ever lived.
He was tall as a spear and had shrewd grey eyes. Seeing his right hand missing all fingers but a thumb made me doubt his skill with his left hand. Waymar once said that Qhorin had become even deadlier after learning to use a sword with his left hand. Part of me wanted to test the old man, but I kept those thoughts to myself.
"My lord," A ranger with Benjen Stark rode to us.
"What is it?" Robb Stark asked. "Are we near Caster's keep?"
"We are close, but" The ranger went quiet and was trying to find words.
"But what?" Robb asked. "What did you find?"
"It is better for you to see it yourself, my lord," The ranger answered.
Robb nodded and motioned for the ranger to lead the way. It didn't take long for us to reach the keep. Or what was left of it. It was broken with the ceiling caved in, doors broken, and blood covering everything from the walls to the ground. Robb dismounted his horse, and we followed behind him. It was a sight that gave chills to everyone.
"What in the name of seven gods is this?" Waymar asked.
"The gods won't answer you," Robb replied. "Not the new nor the old ones. Lord Commander?"
"If gods can't answer us, why do you think I will?" Lord Commander answered and knelt to the first body.
Children, women, and old Craster himself lay dead on the ground. The death wasn't a surprising thing. What shocked us to the core was how the dead bodies were arranged. Legs, arms, and even heads were severed and put in a spiral, like a ritual. I still could see the horror in their eyes. It wasn't something I had seen or heard.
"Did the wildlings do this?" Robb asked.
"I have not heard of any tribe that would do something like this," Benjen Stark replied. "And I know many tribes, from more civilized Thenns to cannibals from the Ice River, but it is the first time I encountered something like this. Qhorin?"
"Many tribes have their customs and traditions, but this is beyond anything they would do," Qhorin replied. "Cannibals wouldn't leave the meat alone, and plenty would have taken the women to be their spear wives. I have a hard time thinking it is the work of the wildlings."
"Are you suggesting it is the work of the Others?" Lord Karstark asked.
"We rest here for a few hours," Lord Stark said before anyone could voice their opinions. "Fill your stomachs, and someone, please burn the bodies. We will ride deep into the night."
Lord Commander ordered a few men to take care of the bodies, while lord Stark sent a few of his men to check the keep for resources. Everyone ate, but I could tell no one had any appetite. Ultimately, we let our horses rest, drank hot wine to warm ourselves, and burned the bodies with the keep. Nobody wanted to stay anywhere close to this place, so we rode as far as possible. Even when the sun had set, we didn't stop. We relied on the reflection on the snow to see our way through the forest.
…
When the sun started rising, we quickly dismantled our camp and prepared for the day. We had another long day of riding before us as we began to near the Fist of the First Men. I could see the mountainous region in the distance. It is said that behind those mountains were the lands of always winter. They were the lands no men have explored.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Waymar asked. "If ranging wasn't life-threatening, and it wasn't so cold, I think more men would want to come here."
"Vale has mountains as beautiful as those," I said. "And they even have mountain clans. They are similar to the wildlings, aren't they?"
"Vale is beautiful," Waymar agreed. "But these lands have a different kind of beauty."
"Is our talk going somewhere?" I asked.
"No, but at least it gets you out of your mind," Waymar answered. "I worry about what is inside your thick skull that you spend so much time inside."
I didn't answer Waymar, and he can think whatever he wants. My thoughts are mine alone. Maybe these mountains will end my morbid thoughts and put me at peace. The sooner I died, the better it would be for my children. At least they will have someone who died for a good cause. Someone not to be ashamed of.
I started to think more and more about them. Poor Tommen and Myrcella, I could only imagine how hurt they are. Learning the truth of their birth was probably hard to accept. Now they have to live with the crimes my father has done. If people know their origins, they will be shunned and hated like I am in Night's Watch. No, their lives would be even worse.
I could only hope Edmure kept his word and had them grow somewhere safe. But even if he didn't, what right did I have to blame him? I could only die. There was nothing else for me to do. This will be my last mission as a ranger. Myrcella and Tommen must hear how I have been killed doing my duty, how I died while protecting lord Stark.
"Any signs of the wildlings?" Robb's question to the approaching ranger woke me from my thoughts.
"No, my lord," The ranger answered. "But Benjen Stark wanted to inform you that there are traces of a passing storm, so it is hard to see any signs that the wildling would have left."
"Keep me informed if something is found," Robb said.
"As you wish, my lord."
It surprised me how well Robb Stark held himself. He reminded me of Edmure, but there was no question that he was Eddard's son. I saw that rigid, cold, and firm sense of honor in him that Eddard had. Robb never said anything to me, even when I saw how much he didn't like me. He could insult and tell me anything, and nothing would stop him. I wouldn't stop him. But he didn't. He kept his silence.
"I don't like this," Waymar said. "Something is wrong."
"What do you mean?" Robb asked.
"We were riding for months now, my lord," Waymar said, and indeed it was almost two months since we left the Wall. "We passed dozen of empty wildling villages."
"The wildlings probably joined Mance Ryder. There is nothing wrong with it," Robb replied.
"No, but neither did we find any rangers along the way. Alive or not," Waymar said. "We are now nearing the Fist of the First Men and haven't seen any sign of wildlings. No stranglers, no ambushes, nothing. Even wild animals are scarce."
"Who would dare to attack seven thousand strong armies?" Robb asked. "And we aren't silent in any way. With our pace, it wouldn't surprise that every animal in the Hounded Forest knows of our presence."
"I don't know, my lord, something feels wrong," Waymar couldn't accept Robb's words.
"Lord Stark is right, Waymar," Qhorin said. "We are riding fast. Even if the wildlings know of us, they cannot catch up to us. The animals have scattered away from us. You should focus on what you see, not what you can't see."
"No, Ser Waymar is right," Robb suddenly said. "The wildlings should have made the move if they have seen us. They are running away from us or are preparing for a battle."
"That is if they saw us," Gared responded.
"As Qhorin said, the whole hounded forest knows of us by now," Robb replied. "Another explanation would be that the wildings aren't here."
It would be troublesome if that were true. It would take at least another month or two to ride to Hardhome. It would tire us too. But we still needed to go to the Fist of the First Men. Our mission wasn't only to defeat the wildling army and investigate the rising dead but to look for the lost rangers. By taking such a route, we can check the most likely places the rangers might be or have been.
…
It was empty. The Fist of the First Men was empty. From this hill, we had a commanding view. Yet it meant nothing. It was empty. There were no signs of anyone: no wildlings nor lost rangers. Benjen Stark, with his rangers, when to look around but has yet to find anything. They were not there, and neither was my fated death.
"We rest here for two days," Robb Stark said. "We will let our horses rest and get supplies from Shadow Tower that will come by Milkwater River. And send ravens back to the Wall to inform of our location."
"So, they are at Hardhome," Lord Umber spoke first after Robb Stark.
"Or they are dead," Lady Mormont replied.
"Set the camp. It could be a trap," Robb Stark said. "They might want us to be stuck here while they attack the Wall."
Everyone went to work. Some started to gather wood for fires and makeshift fences. Others began to work on breaches in the low ringwall, they would be filled with timber and protected with rows of stakes, and the slopes would be booby-trapped with caltrops. Before a tent could even be made, Robb already had a map set on the ground, and he looked at the routes we should take to Hardhome.
"Qhorin, is the route by Antler River the best one?" Robb asked.
"It will take us to Hardhome the fastest," Qhorin replied. "And we have a river on one side, so we won't be surrounded by the wildling ambush."
"Good, the ships should arrive at Hardhome just before us," Robb said. "We shall ride quickly, with as little rest as possible."
Qhorin seemed to agree with Robb on his decision. I had no complaints, either. We were lucky so far to avoid storms as they always passed us or we outran them. While looking around the place, I saw Robb's direwolf digging the ground. Robb looked over once. He also noticed it. Walking up to the direwolf, Robb knelt and dug up a bag.
"Dragonglass?" Robb asked, taking blades from within the bag. "What are they doing here?"
"A storm is coming, my lord," Qhorin said, pointing at the distant clouds approaching us. "It will come at us at nightfall."
"Tell everyone to work faster," Robb replied. "The defenses must be built by nightfall."
It was getting colder. I could feel it. But something was different with this cold. It felt like the cold came from death itself and not the lands. It looked like I wasn't the only one who felt it as I saw Qhorin and Lord Commander gripping their sword hilts. The direwolf looked more vigilant than usual too.
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