AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello readers, thank you for sticking with this story and reviewing. The story has once again been nominated for a writing award in the SI/ISOT category, this time on the Citadel subreddit. The Awards also feature a number of other categories with great stories. I would very much appreciate you guys checking that out, and if you feel this story is worthy of the win, please vote too.
Google 'TheCitadel voting stage' and you should get the reddit thread with the link to the voting form. Polls are open until Saturday night British/Irish time, so don't dawdle!
Thanks for reading!
THE GOODSISTER
After eating when the sun was highest, a day after Jon Stark rode south with a wight to try and stop a battle, the wargs announced that he had failed. The Norreys were marching back the way he went under the warmest sky Val had ever experienced.
Everyone who could hold a weapon armed themselves and went to the places where they would ambush the kneelers.
Draped in the black chainmail liberated from the Crows' armoury, Val and her six chosen archers were just west of the inn, using the curve of its log wall to hide. At the corner of the 'L', though the young Sayer called it a backwards 'L', whatever that meant.
What mattered was she was on high ground, and she could see the entire area where the ambush would catch the Norrey men, except for a curve where the Kingsbloods were. The road, the forest, the marshes between the road and the eastern forest, all of it.
The unicorn riders and half the Laughing Tree joined Chief Rikka's warband in the forest above the road, ready to rain arrows. Though invisible to anyone on the road, Val could see the piles of dirt and rocks, the stakes disguised as small bushes, and the trenches. It's like a long castle, she decided, I hope it works. I don't think I'd be fooled.
The other half of the Laughing Tree put their pikes with new steel tips together and hid behind the Inn, prepared to block the way forward and lock the enemy into the trap. Longspear Ryk led them, a shield in one hand, a sorcerous weapon of the outlanders he claimed to have stolen in the other. A likely story, Val thought to herself, As if he could steal anything from the Canadians.
"Here they come," said the O'Neill, "Scouts crossing the border now. Column behind at five hundred yards."
Val frowned. Not at the content of the message but its tone. Of course you can be calm, you don't have to fight. The man was atop their strange carriage, away to the east in another small forest, far from where the fighting would be. And the man declared that battle was certain as if he had just finished cooking a chicken and was offering part of it to the person next to them.
For her own part, Val could feel her blood move with every heartbeat. Though the kneelers were still around the curve over the road and she could not see them yet, her legs demanded she pace about. Her palms itched as they held her bow and arrows. Her tongue shifted in her mouth, wanting to ask seventeen different questions.
Calm yourself, fool, she told herself, Just because you trusted the kneeler doesn't mean you are responsible. The warriors do not know this is your first battle. If you act like a scared child, they will run and fall.
She quickly decided on a question to ask. There was one that rose above the others in anger. She quickly cleared her throat so her voice wouldn't squeak when she spoke it, and activated the sorcerous device the Canadians called a radio. "So Jon Stark has betrayed us," she intoned gravely, "Is he leading the scouts to us or is he skulking with the warband?"
There was a pause for a moment.
"Neither," Duquesne replied, "I don't see him at the front of the column at all. But I don't think he's betrayed us. They're not marching in close order, some of them don't have their helmets on."
"It wasn't wise to let him go alone," Val replied before thinking.
"O ye of little faith," Duquesne replied, "I can see him now. He's at the rear just in front of the supply wagons."
"His wolf is leashed in one of them, chewing the hell out of the wood," the O'Neill added, "And the man himself is riding with his hands tied in front of him. Looks like Jonny said some things his fellow Crow didn't like and got himself taken prisoner."
Val bit her lip. For some reason, that tiding was just as disturbing. If he's a prisoner, the Crow with him might kill him when the ambush begins, she told herself, And then what shall we say to his brother in Winterfell?
"Guess our theory was right, sir," Zheng continued, "Ser Alliser Thorne sent out men he could trust to stir shit."
There was something to be cheerful about, Val decided. "So they don't know we are waiting for them."
"Apparently not," Duquesne stated, "You and Ryk will have to deal with the scouts first though."
The kneelers on horses were moving slower than she had hoped, allowing their eyes to search everything nearby with more care than she had hoped. They're no untested boys.
"I see them." Fearing they'd soon examine the inn from a distance, Val quickly slipped along the round wall again, out of sight save for a single eye.
The scouts got closer and closer, and everyone became more and more still. The rustling and shifting of Ryk's warriors behind Val ceased entirely, as the Canadians gave reports over the radio on the progress of the enemy.
The kneeler horses were shaggy and small, like those of the Free Folk, and likely had the same endurance. To Val's eye, they would have looked at home beyond the Wall as much as anyone, except that their clothes and boots were better made.
It was clear the riders were truly alert. Their mouths were flat lines of concentration under drooping mustaches, and their hands kept clutching reins and crossbows. Their eyes swept the treelines, both those on the hill nearby and where the Canadians were.
Val recognised what these men were immediately, the tales of returned raiders ringing clearly in her head.
The eldest warrior of her party joined Val, a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman from the Frozen Shore clans ten years older than her, simply known as Gilliane. "The kneelers haven't seen the ambush. The gods are with us."
Val began wondering at that. She couldn't believe not a single person in the forest had been seen or heard. Or that neither the line of bushes and small trees to hide the positions nor the clearing of the way down the middle seemed out of place. Are they that arrogant? They'll notice. It's only a matter of time.
"They're men who seek the bounties on the heads of our raiders," Val replied to Gilliane, "Paid in silver for each."
The older woman blanched. "Is that so."
"They look like the survivors described. They like dragging raiders behind their horses until they're dead."
Gilliane bared her teeth. "Mayhaps we shall do the same to them."
Val glanced at her. "No time." She waited until the next pause in Canadian chatter about the Norreys and then activated the radio again. "Longspear, are you ready to take the scouts?"
"Have two dozen waiting inside the inn's palisade and…" he began, stopping mid-sentence only to continue, "By the gods! Stop him!"
There was a commotion both from beyond the inn and over the radio, heavy breathing.
"One of the kneelers in the inn just broke out!" Ryk hissed.
Val leaned out from the Wall, trying to see the man.
"We see him," Duquesne replied, "He's heading down the road, towards the scouts."
The leader of the Norrey riders at the front held up a hand, bringing the whole group to a halt. The innsman finally came into view, dressed in linens, his hands and arms moving wildly as he attempted to explain from a distance. Val felt an icy grip around her heart. He's going to warn them. We should've seized everyone inside the damned inn.
"You can't get him?" Ryk asked, meaning the Canadians.
"We kill him and the scouts will know we're up here," Ygritte whispered back first.
"We can't kill him either," O'Neill stated, "We need attention looking up the road, not on either side of it."
Val knew the truth when she heard it. "Everyone stay where you are," she said, ignoring the lump in her throat, "Doesn't take a warband to kill one man."
"What?" said a voice in her ear. She ignored it, turning to Gilliane and the others. "With me!"
Without checking to see that the others were following, Val burst forward around the log wall of the inn and onto the open slope. The scouts eyes tracked upwards from the innsman to her, causing the man himself to turn around to see what they were looking at. Still moving at pace, she nocked an arrow on her bow, took aim, and stopped to loose it.
The innsman bolted southwards, attempting to weave. But Val had hunted rabbits from the age of eight years. The black-fletched arrow sailed from her fingertips and stuck itself in the man's throat as he turned to see if she had shot. He tumbled hard, rolling off the road entirely onto the marshy ground beside it.
"Ouch," Zheng declared, her voice ringing in Val's ear. The leader of the scouts gave a shout and a wave forward. The riders nocked their crossbows or drew swords, and came at a charge up the road, throwing caution to the wind.
Val nocked another arrow, as her escort arrived and shot their own at the approaching horses. Two of the animals were hit, then one of the riders. All were three unable to ignore it and dropped out of the charge, dead or dying. The Crow arrows hit hard, Val thought gleefully, loosing another herself. She missed the leader by an inch, the man not flinching for a second.
Snarling at the failure, she realised at least some of the riders would reach her before being shot down. And at last, the front of the full enemy host came around the corner, led by their yellow and green-thistle banner, easily able to see her and the others.
"Back!" Val shouted to her escort as they loosed another volley, "Follow me!"
She rushed past them, fumbling for the radio control. There was no doubt they were following this time; their breaths and curses could've been heard in Winterfell itself.
"Longspear, we're going to go inside the walls," she breathed heavily, "Spring the trap as soon as they're inside!"
"Beautiful notion," Ryk replied, "Worry not. We'll fuck these kneelers right up the arse. Best hurry though, they look like they want to do the same to you."
Val ignored his cheer and his warning, though she picked up the pace. The thudding of horses' hooves was now floating through the air. Just as they neared the gate through the wooden wall, a crossbow bolt smacked into Gilliane's back. She sprawled into the mud.
Val turned and shot an arrow back, as two more of the escort dragged Gilliane through the gate. The scouts were very close now, and aiming their crossbows.
"Get out of there!" came a shout over the radio.
Shit. Val ducked inside the open gateway, quarrels chasing to where she had stood a breath before. She found Longspear's men hiding behind the gates themselves, vicious grins on their faces. Good. "Did the bolt hit you deeply?" she asked Gilliane, who was sitting up against a post and raking mud off her face and clothes with her fingers.
The woman shook her head. "The chainmail and furs did their job. Hurts bad. I'll bruise." A grin appeared. "Not the first time at that."
Realising Gilliane wasn't in any danger, she pulled her escort towards the inn itself, to get within the corral nearby. They just made within the strong wooden fence when the scouts rode in, wheeling inside towards them.
Val watched with grim satisfaction as Longspear's men slammed the gates shut and pulled the kneelers out of their saddles. Daggers, maces and warhammers did the bloody work after that, not a single one of the thirteen riders harming their attackers. They died too quickly, she thought, before the radio spoke again.
"Enemy azantyr moving up the road quicker now," Duquesne said, "Coat-of-plate, crossbows and poleaxes. Not many shields. As expected."
"Old Guard types at the front," O'Neill added, "Grey hairs and scars on every one of them. Younger guys in the rest of the column, I think. Some of them don't even have beards."
Column? "The old men and boys," Val thought aloud, "The Starks really are going to war in the South, if that is all the mountain clans can muster."
"Sure, but they know someone is in the inn now, Val," Duquesne continued, "They're halfway up the road. You need to make a choice. Wait for them to put their entire force in the ambush zone, or spring it now and take out the veterans to send the younger guys running."
Surprised the Canadian was not commanding her to do one thing or the other, Val nonetheless knew at once what had to happen. "We wait. The Norreys must be taught that trespassing on the lands of the King of Gift and Wall has a price. The Starks too. The kneelers will respect strength over mercy."
The Canadians said nothing for a moment, or were talking among themselves off their radio if Val had to guess.
"You're in command," Duquesne said at last, "It isn't what I would do, but it's your choice."
"I know. How long until the kneelers are where they must be?"
"A minute. I suggest you look for yourself."
The conversation over, Val climbed through the corral's wooden fence again, pausing only when she noted Gilliane staring at her.
"What?"
The older woman smirked. "You look utterly mad when speaking with that thing."
Val couldn't help but smile back. "I know. Come with me."
She marched straight to the gate, through the collection of the scouts' bodies in the process of being looted, the Free Folk warriors still guarding the way out looking on in envy. She looked to the latter. "Open up."
"Aye."
The gates swung in again. The looting stopped as the men and spearwives grabbed their weapons again, seeking another foe. Good to see Ryk's people are not imbeciles, Val thought, before she strode out into the road like she had built it herself and looked south.
The enemy was close enough to .
They were at the bottom of the hill and beginning to climb it, led by the banner of yellow with thistles on it. Behind, a long line of men stretched all the way to the next hill along the road, where wagons were being pulled into view. Every single warrior had armour of a sort that Free Folk chiefs would have killed entire clans to possess a single set.
The Norrey chieftain sat on horseback with a group of riders around him, carrying the Norrey thistles and the Stark direwolf in the middle of the line. He had even better, drawing Val's eye as it looked like parts of his arms had been replaced with metal ones, the steel shaped around his forearm and hands.
But it was when she looked at the vanguard closest to her again that Val felt like someone had poured icy slush down her back.
Though the gentle slope seemed to be challenging the legs of these older men, every single one of them stared out from under their helms with the look Val had seen only a few times before. They mean to take us alive and then make us die screaming.
"Gods," Gilliane muttered, nocking an arrow to loose it at the Norreymen.
Val didn't reply. She didn't even bother trying to keep her voice calm when her next words sprung out. Her throat felt like it was closing. "Ryk, Ygritte… now," she choked out, not hearing herself over the sound of hoarse shouts from the enemy.
A horn blew from behind and a greater shout.
From around the walls of the inn came Longspear Ryk and two others with banners; the golden horn of Joramun on a blue sky and the Laughing Tree. Behind them followed a hundred pikes, held by men and spearwives wearing the same black chainmail, shields and black helms that had struck fear into Free Folk for generations. With those were half as many again with crossbows, larger shields, axe and mace.
Val and her escort joined Longspear, letting arrows fly as he took up a place on the right side of the road near where Val had planned to spend the battle. The pikes and crossbows put themselves across the road beside their leader. No one will get past them, Val decided.
The Norreymen slowed, but didn't stop. They were near enough that the pockmarks of individual faces could be distinguished. And the pikes were still not levelled at them. The pikes were still arranging themselves somehow, and the crossbows were not shooting.
Val looked to Longspear to ask why he was taking so long and found him giving a snarling grin, taking his 'stolen' Canadian weapon into his hand. "Watch this." He raised it, and squeezed a small piece of it that could only be a trigger.
The weapon thundered, half jumping out of his hand. Three times it boomed, into the air around the Norreys. Why is he not killing them with it? Val wondered.
At last, the advance stopped. The remaining men glanced to the sides, as if being sure that the others were seeing what they were.
"What the hell are you doing, Ryk?" Duquesne demanded over the radio.
Longspear ignored him. "PIKES!" he roared.
The block of warriors beside him lowered their weapons towards the Norreymen at last. The first five rows presenting between each other in a wall of speartips, the rest holding the pikes just above the heads of the rest, ready to step in if someone further in front fell.
Val's mouth dropped open, before she stopped herself and closed it again. She had never seen anything like it before. And Longspear was not yet finished.
"Forward!" he shouted. His warriors responded.
"HUZZAH!" they shouted with each step taken.
HUZZAH, HUZZAH, HUZZAH!
Though the word was strange to her ear, Val knew that it was the signal for the next part of the ambush. She paid little heed as the pikes finally met the Norreymen, who tried and mostly failed to swat them away with their poleaxes. Her attention was elsewhere.
The rest of the kneelers were rushing to join the fight, their old men having marched forward more quickly on seeing Val shoot the innsman. Their neat line was breaking up in their eagerness to kill Free Folk, and more confusion came as a new sound could be heard over din of battle by the inn: Hooves.
Val moved further westwards to where she could get an unobstructed view of what was going to happen next. The kneelers are about to meet a tribe they have never fought in battle for a very long time.
From three paths cleared on the slope above the Kingsroad, the unicorn riders burst through the trees at a full gallop and lowered their lances. The Norreymen in the middle of their marching line had no chance to react. Like deer that have just seen a hunter, they froze as the massive beasts and the warriors atop them rode through.
Lances pierced both sides of the bodies of young men and shivered off, Crow-forged steel tips piercing the armour easily with the weight of the unicorns behind them. Then the animals themselves collided with those not lucky enough to die from the lances. Val sucked in a breath through her teeth as the unicorns headbutted their prey, rode them down, kicked them as they passed.
The Norrey chief just barely escaped being caught by a lance, though the standard bearer carrying the wolf banner was not so lucky, his mount falling to a unicorn horn to the rear haunches. The man and the banner fell under the grievously wounded horse, the remaining riders in the centre bolting to the rear while looking back at both with wide eyes.
Marcach led his people through the carnage they had made until he was almost on top of the Canadians in the opposite forest, before wheeling southwards to prepare another charge. The unicorns themselves were covered in blood, shaking their heads to get it out of the hair around their eyes.
Val felt a surge of excitement rise up through her like never before. How does it feel! She wanted to scream southwards, How does it feel to be ridden down, kneelers?! She just barely kept the words out of her mouth, controlling herself and looking to see what she might do to help next.
The attack split the enemy column in two, a gaping bloody chasm of dead and dying left behind separating the two surviving parts, at least a hundred dead or very badly injured between them. The old men in front and the younger men at the rear were now two warbands, not one.
Just as planned.
Ygritte and Rikka began their attack as soon as the unicorns were clear. The archers, the best of both tribes, stood up from their hiding holes on the slope above. Arrows began flying like birds between the trees, barely visible blurs until they bounced or buried themselves in the Norreys below.
Ygritte's arrows flew to the the men at the front who hadn't joined the fight against Longspear yet, forcing them to stand and stay behind what few shields they had. Their bows were powerful enough, and the range was not so great. The kneelers were being brought low quickly.
Further south, the Kingsbloods tried to pick off the less experienced kneelers at the rear. Val saw their arrows were not having the same success. Ygritte had made the decision to give over some of the Crow steel-tipped arrows to Rikka as a peace offering, but the Kingsbloods had already shot them or their bows were too weak.
Trouble, Val decided, Those kneelers will realise their armour protects them and charge. She waved for Gilliane to move and made her way up the slope. "Where are we going?" the woman asked her.
"Ygritte first," Val replied.
The appearance of the small group spooked a few of the archers in the holes closest to the inn, causing a few arrows to be aimed, but they realised Val and the others were friendly and the arrows were not shot.
Val travelled on the same path the entire host had used to get up into the hill the day before to dig the holes and camouflage the ground. So many feet had travelled it that it was almost as wide as the Kingsroad, though it did wind around large trees and bushes. It did not take long to reach Ygritte at all.
The spearwife was using a strange weirwood longbow that was taller than she was. Blood poured from the place she held its wood, dripping down her arm. She was nocking a bow as Val jumped into the hole with her, pushing branches of a leafy bush out of the way.
Ygritte half jumped at her arrival. "What.. Val the Princess. What do you want? What's so important you couldn't use the radio?"
Val had to ask. "Did you hurt your hand?"
"Duck!"
Val followed the advice, just in time for a slingstone to fly through the air, smashing the branch she had moved just before into splinters. Ygritte rose again, putting an arrow to the bowstring. Val stood and saw she was aiming at the slinger who had unleashed the stone. The man was among a group of about fifty others, using them as protection.
"It's not my blood," Ygritte said, "It's sap. Thing bleeds sticky sap all over me. But it can also do this!"
The arrow thrummed off the string, and buried itself through to the feathers in the chest of the slinger. He dropped his sling and a new stone to clutch it, staggering to the ground. What in the gods' name is that! Val wondered.
"Took it from an Other that Sayer killed," Ygritte explained, sensing the question, "What do you want, Princess?"
"The Kingsbloods aren't killing many kneelers back there," Val said, pointing southwards, "The Norrey chief is back there. Once he understands their arrows aren't doing anything, he'll charge."
Ygritte's lip curled. "Serves 'em right. They wanted the easy pickings and the loot." She loosed another arrow, which stuck again up to the feathers, this time in a shield. The man holding it flinched backwards, not killed or injured, opening a gap that another archer used to kill a different man.
Val opened her mouth to object, but Ygritte knew what she wanted. "You want some of my unit. You can have the fifty over there. They're not doing much at the moment."
"I want more Crow arrows too."
"Well, you can't have any except those the fifty have. We need the rest here."
Val bristled. Why am I called the warchief of this host in the first place? "I lead here, Ygritte of the Laughing Tree."
Ygritte turned towards her, revealing yet another of the Canadian weapons strapped to her leg. "I follow Michael Duquesne, Princess. Don't get all high and mighty with me."
Facing the vivid memory of just how easily the same weapon had killed kneelers in full armour only minutes before, Val grimaced and took a step back before she could stop herself.
That reaction seemed to amuse Ygritte. "Good you know what this is." She pat the weapon with her clean hand.
Val recovered her senses at once. She enjoys this too much. "Shall we ask Duquesne then?"
It was Ygritte's turn to grimace. "No… Just making sure you know I'm not yours to command. Take a sheaf of arrows each, they're against the tree behind us. One each. You take more and I'll come find you after."
Val did not thank her, but climbed out of the hole. Gilliane and the rest of her escort pulled themselves out of other ones, tracking her to the arrows in question. They all grabbed one bundle a piece, except for Val who took two, and together ran southwards again down the pathway. The Ygritte's archers joined in, the spearwife having sent a runner to get them moving
They crossed the cleared ground that the unicorns had charged down, which also marked where the Kingsblood and Laughing Tree warbands fought. Val caught a small glimpse of the carnage on the road that Marcach's riders had caused as she ran by, but any thought about it was interrupted.
A Kingsblood warrior quickly darted from out behind a tree, a bone spear in hand. "Stop!" he said.
He seemed too old to have passed through the Wall, though Val knew plenty 'boys' of age had done so under the noses of the Crows and Canadians. The older men don't want to see their boys die to the Others.
"We're bringing you more arrows," Val explained quickly, "Where's Rikka?"
"Down that way," the young man said.
Val and the others ran, the path curving slightly east with the curve of the hill. She could soon see the inn again. Longspear was pushing the Norreymen hard, and almost had them off that slope entirely. Marcach's unicorns were loping into view too, a charge against the men Ygritte had been shooting at about to start.
Half of her wanted to shake with glee. The northern part of the Norrey host was going to be killed to man. She could see it. But the southern part wasn't. Something needed to be done.
Val soon found Rikka in council with her tribeswomen, overlooking the Norrey wagons. The kneelers had wisely pulled them into a circle of sorts, the ground to either side scattered with the bodies of donkeys and a few oxen. The Kingsbloods were still shooting at them, though their arrows were tipped with antler and bone now. Even Jon Stark was out of his saddle and ducking behind a cart full of grain bags.
Don't move, Stark. "We brought more arrows," Val announced, joining the little group of elder Kingsblood women.
Rikka turned to see. "Good. We are running out. These kneelers are tough. We must thin their numbers before we take their wagons." The chief gestured to two younger women, who ran up and took the sheaves of arrows from Gilliane and the others.
Val glanced northwards again, seeing the unicorns crunch into the kneelers there once more. This time two or three of the beasts did not survive, the Norrey poleaxes working just as well as spears. The kneeler chief won't let that happen again.
"No, we need to charge," Val said, before pointing to the slaughter nearer the inn, "The kneelers cannot fight unicorns in the open. There is only one place them behind the wagons can flee to, they will …" She stopped speaking, as the thing she was describing happened.
The Norrey chief and his men charged out from the wagon circle and straight up the slope towards the Kingsbloods.
"Gods… they can't!" Rikka half-shouted at no one in particular.
"Of course they can," Gilliane growled back.
"Shoot them down!" Val commanded.
The archers with her obeyed the order, and the Kingsbloods too. A flurry of arrows rolled like a wave down through the trees, sticking in trees, men and dirt. And another. And another. Still the kneelers came, though more fell, not just to the archers but the small stakes and holes dug to slow them down.
Val hair seemed to stand on end as she looked at the sight, sure as anyone could be that the Norreys would not stop. We need more warriors. She activated her radio once more.
"Ygritte, the kneelers are charging. Get over here!"
The Laughing Tree's response was drowned out by a roaring shout. The first of the kneelers had reached the foxholes and were putting their poleaxes to work. Young boys and spearwives both were cut down mercilessly. Skulls split and shoulders shattered from the weapons, while others simply caught Others in nearby holes fled rather than shoot more arrows.
"Get everyone back!" Val declared, "Shieldwall, right here!"
A number of the elders looked to Rikka. "What are you lookin' at me fer! Go!" They ran to either side, shouting the command as they went.
The kneelers crept forwards ever closer, avoiding the traps and obstacles and using trees to shield from the Crow arrows striking hard again. Val brought her own bow up and added more to their woes. But she only hit one in two times, and every arrow spent made her feel like spiders were crawling all over her.
The shields of the Kingsbloods and Laughing Tree went up in front of Val as her last arrow killed a man of an age with her, which banished the crawling feeling for the moment. Thinking she knew what was coming next, she drew her sword and picked her round shield off its straps, two more pieces from the capture of Castle Black.
She barely had time to raise the shield before a swarm of axeheads came crashing downwards. One impacted the rim, almost ripping the shield from her grasp entirely. Others came slamming into helms and wood, or fur-covered skulls among the Kingsbloods. Men and spearwives recoiled in pain or dropped to the earth.
The man in front of Val dropped to his knees as the poleaxe that had struck her shield was pulled back, the bottom point of the axehead tearing part of his neck away. Wish we had some pikes here now. She quickly dragged him back, not sure if the wound was fatal, and took his place in the line.
The kneelers were not in a single group, but a number of them, striking as hard as they could against the shieldwall. The Norreyman directly opposite her was older than the others, Val saw, and bringing his poleaxe up again to strike. No you don't. She quickly rushed forward, under the reach of his weapon, and drove her sword through his throat.
The blood poured from the wound, soaking the length of the blade. The man's eyes rolled up and he dropped, clutching it. Val felt ill, but the enemy were so close that it burned like fire, helping her to swing wildly to keep them away.
"Follow Val!" Rikka called from behind, "Follow the kin of our King! Push!"
Val could've turned and killed her for that, but it didn't matter. Somehow the numbers were matched, and the kneelers were the ones who really wanted to keep the fighting at the length of a spear. The whole shieldwall erupted in warcries, spittle and swinging weapons. All around her, Val found her people on the attack, a whirlwind.
The kneelers stood for a minute, some twirling their poleaxes against this and that opponent, others switching to short swords or daggers. Their armour blocked many blows, though the slope of the hill sent a few tumbling downwards. The Kingsbloods' soon ground to a halt, the kneelers having too great an advantage in arms and protection.
Val felt the battle may be lost right there and then, and took a step forward to try and stop it. Yet more warcries stopped her.
Ygritte and another hundred warriors of the Laughing Tree appeared, charging from the left. They slammed into the first group of kneelers they could, and sent all of them dying or running. Ygritte herself waved them on, keeping her strange longbow in hand and sending an arrow or two through easy targets.
The Norreymen broke at that. "Back to the wagons!" cried one of them, and the rest took it as a command. They began moving back down the hill, as fast as they could.
Val saw the chance. "Charge!" she screamed.
The whole Free Folk warband moved down the hill, hot on the heels of the kneelers. Only a few were caught. It was harder to move with everyone else getting in the way, though Val and Gilliane managed to outpace the rest by a few steps.
When they broke out of the trees, Val could see Longspear's pikes moving down the road, Marcach's unicorns resting in the middle of the marshy field beyond… and the Canadians' machine moving the long way across the same, churning the ground into mud as it moved. The kneelers made it behind their wagons again.
It's over, Val thought, Almost.
To her surprise, Jon Stark soon appeared from between two of the carts, a blade at his throat. The man holding it was none other than his fellow Crow. Panic shot through Val.
"Hold!" she commanded, "Shieldwall!"
There were grumbles from behind her, but no arrows or charges set forth beyond her position. Wait for your loot, damn it.
"That's right!" the Crow said, "I know you need this boy. Move any closer and I'll gut him like a fish!"
"That's Lord Stark's son!" came a shout from within the wagon circle, "Let him go now!"
"You're a fool Norrey," the Crow replied, twisting his head back, "This man is a brother of the Night's Watch and a traitor. They're going to kill us all. Lord Stark will never know who killed his bastard, and bastard's brother will think it was these wildlings. You stay right where you are too if you value Snow's life, you hear?!"
Val took a step forward, which gained her the attention of the Crow and Jon Stark alike. "Let him go."
"March back the way you came and then I'll let him go."
A lie, Val knew, You just said he was a traitor.
"What do we do?" Gilliane asked quietly.
Val looked around. The Norreys were not in favour of what the Crow was doing, but Jon Stark was just as much a hostage to them as to the Free Folk. The Canadians were getting closer with each breath, but Val knew their arrival might cause the Crow to slit Jon on principle; they had taken Castle Black and the man knew that now.
Val made the decision. "We need to kill that Crow. Now."
Ygritte stepped up beside her. "Aye, I've had enough of this shite," she muttered, slinging her longbow over her shoulder.
"Do as I said!" the man himself called, "By the Seven, I am not afraid to die if it means pissing all over your dreams of peace with the Seven Kingdoms. But I'd rather live to see the Starks kill you all later. Move!"
Holding her hands up to show she was doing as he said, Val gave the nod to Rikka and Ygritte. Slowly and quietly, the Laughing Tree and Kingsblood warriors backed off. Quietly enough that the sound of the Canadian approach could be heard.
The Crow turned to look in the direction of the noise, craning his neck out from behind Jon. Val saw the opportunity.
"Ygritte," she mumbled, "Now."
The spearwife grabbed the Canadian weapon from its strap on her leg, and aimed it with both hands, smearing it with weirwood sap. The Crow barely noticed, the alien sight of the horseless carriages moving towards him too strange to dismiss. He was too close to miss.
Ygritte's weapon sounded once, a thunderclap that echoed back from the opposite hills. The Crow grew a bloody red hole on one side of his head, and fell turning to reveal a larger one on the opposite.
Gods, what power. Val felt her stomach sting her throat. She gulped, struggling to rid herself of it for a moment.
The Crow's knife scraped across Jon Stark's neck and jawline as he dropped, shaving hair and skin off, but the young man escaped with his life. He quickly shoved away and ran. His direwolf howled from outside sight, still trapped in another wagon, as Val and the others joined him, returning to the trees where the warband waited.
"I thank you, my lady," Jon said to Ygritte, holding his hand to his jaw as gore leaked between his fingers, "You saved my life."
Ygritte opened her mouth, but failed to find any words, blushing. "'twas this one's idea."
Jon Stark's grey eyes turned on Val, expelling her ill feelings and fatigue from fighting. "I thank you too, then."
Warmed by the words, Val fought hard to make sure he didn't know that. "You can thank me by talking to your brother on our behalf."
The young man gave a nod, causing him to wince with pain. Val offered him a piece of clean linen from the bag on her hip, which he took gladly, but didn't apply to his jaw. The rumble of the Canadian 'crawler' by the Kingsroad interrupted the moment. It avoided the bodies of the slain carefully, moving more nimbly than Val thought was possible.
Soon, it was within speaking distance and Michael Duquesne appeared on the top of the thing, the large weapon pointed directly at the Norrey wagon circle. He quickly spotted Val and the others in the trees, and a frown broke out on his face.
"Val of the Free Folk! Norreys of the North!" he shouted, "Enough blood has been spilled today. You've all proven your point!'"
Val blinked. "What is he doing?" she asked, moving out of the trees again.
"Saving the kneelers' lives all sudden-like," Ygritte sighed as she followed, "An annoying habit of his."
Val made a point of looking around and saw bodies scattered all over the forest and road. "Gods help us when he decides to kill."
"Aye," snorted Ygritte, "That'll be a day to see."
A man jumped up on a wagon right in front of the 'crawler'. Val realised it was the Norrey chief, his helm removed to reveal a bald spot. "You are the Canadeens?" he asked.
"Canadians, yes," Duquesne replied, "As you've probably been told, we're trying to get to Winterfell to talk peace with Lord Robb Stark."
"Peace?!" the Norrey chief snarled, "You call this, peace?" He gestured to the whole battleground. "This is a massacre!"
"We did not participate in this battle," Duquesne lied, "You were defeated by the Free Folk alone."
"I'm not defeated yet!"
"Yes, you are. And Jon told you about the wights, showed you one. You chose to disregard that."
"I chose to protect my lands and my smallfolk from wildling murderers and rapers. The wights aren't here yet, the wildlings are. There's a host gathering by the crossing of the Last River you won't be able to…"
Val couldn't believe her ears. They're bickering, not negotiating! "Enough!"
Both Duquesne and the Norrey chief turned their heads to her. Only the latter seemed angry about it.
"Lord Norrey," Val began, "I'm goodsister to Mance, King of the Wall and the Gift. I offer you the chance to take your remaining men home, with their weapons and armour. The wagons and carts stay here. We'll burn the dead."
The words felt like ashes in her mouth, but she pressed on.
"We'll let the Starks decide on war or peace, it's not for the Night's Watch or you to decide for them. Do you accept? Or shall we continue the slaughter to no gain? Will you leave your lands with no warriors at all to defend them?"
The Norrey chief ran both hands through his thinning hair, turning around to look down inside the wagon circle. There was some conversation that Val couldn't hear, but it caused the man to hang his head for a moment.
Without looking at Val or Duquesne, the kneeler gave his the reply.
"We accept, may the gods damn us all."