Hello !
Here comes the 24th chapter of the story!
I'm soooo sorry for taking so long. But I wanted to properly do this. I've now written all the chapters and I can say I'll upload one new chapter every week.
Et merci Yen pour les corrections.
Nevertheless, thanks for all the people who review, fav or favorite this story! More than 250 followers, you guys are awesome. Shall we keep on this trend ?
Finally, a few hours before the night, Blödhgarm and the others stopped singing. The three dragons hadn't moved, watching intently the few elves close to them. Drogon and Rhaegal had been on the defensive, ready to protect their brother if they deemed that the elves were becoming a threat. Saphira had acted as a peacemaker between both parties. Fortunately, the intent carried by the Ancient Language had warranted their restrain and the process of healing Viserion had advanced smoothly, without any issues coming from the dragons.
Still, it had taken long hours, to properly heal all Viserion's injuries. The elves, led by Blödhgarm, had a long list of tasks to complete, and each had to be perfectly realized if they wanted Viserion to be able to fly. They had to fix the bones which had been broken, to mend all the torn muscles. It was draining work since the wing of a dragon was one of its most complex parts.
Fortunately for Daenerys, the elves leading this operation were probably the only ones alive who had already healed one or several dragons in the past.
After several hours, Blödhgarm took a few steps back. But his steps lacked their usual elegance as he buckled from the loss of energy. But before anyone could help him, he straightened himself, though Eragon saw his movements were still shacky.
"The wound is closed and the spell which caused the frost on the wound has been removed. But Viserion is still weak," explained briefly the lupin elf before turning his back and taking a few tentative steps in the direction of the others who had just opened a bottle of faelnirv. The loss of energy had been quite important, especially after two nights of fighting against a tireless enemy.
The last hours had been exhausting for all of them. Between Viserion's injury, the long hours of fighting where no mistakes were allowed, and the need to put as much distance as possible with the dead, the nerves of many were put to work.
The sudden stop of the elves' singing had caught Daenerys' attention. She immediately raised her head to understand the cause of this stop. And after the elf's explanation, Daenerys sagged, a weight suddenly lifted from her shoulders as she heard the good news. She didn't lose any time and immediately went in the direction of Viserion to stroke his scales.
Eragon also took the opportunity to have a closer look at the wound. The frostbite didn't look as painful and the hole in his Wing had been mended. But anyone could clearly see Viserion was still suffering from it and it would take weeks for him to be able to fly without any discomfort. He looked tired and weak, but he noticeably brightened under Daenerys' soft petting.
He also noticed Daenerys' eyes softening, understanding that for now, Viserion was saved. The white dragon was wounded and in pain, but they saw him, softly stretching his head to nudge his Rider's hands with care, playfully seeking more attention which he was immediately getting.
But Eragon knew Viserion's quick healing might be one of the only good news of the day. The night had been long and he wasn't sure he would be able to sleep before the next one. Time was pressing them. Each snowflake was a reminder that the Night King was getting stronger.
Nevertheless, the wight they had secured was now firmly bound, with ropes and chains. They hadn't tried any magic but he trusted the cord used by the elves, knowing it was probably stronger than the metallic chains also circling the wight. Nevertheless, no matter how restrained it was, the dead soldier kept twitching, trashing, trying to find a way to free himself from his bonds. But Eragon was confident it was safely secured, especially since there would constantly be an elf keeping watch. To let this wight slip under their watch would be a disaster they certainly couldn't afford. The costs had been too high
Eragon had taken the time to observe the dead they had captured. From the clothes -or mostly what remained of it- it seemed to be an old soldier of the Night's Watch, not that it really mattered at this point. He wore an old decaying black cap which had seen better days. He also lacked the kind of furs usually worn by the Wildlings.
The most unsettling part with wights was their state of decomposition. Wights weren't just corpses which hadn't changed since the day they died. Instead, its body had carried on its long decomposition in the frozen lands. Their prisoner hadn't much skin left on his skull and his left arm was completely exposed, barely held together by some tendons or maybe it was simply the clothes that managed to hold the limbs attached. All over, its skin was completely dark, necrosed.
There was just a single point that seemed to refuse to comply with this feeling of darkness and death. Each wight had blue unsettling eyes which stood in sharp contrast with all the rest of their body.
The rest of their body was just an endless void, just like death was supposed to be. They had no smell as Saphira had pointed out. Nothing, not even the smell of their breath. And Eragon had tried continuously the past hours to detect a presence with his mind, to no avail, something that was both frustrating and dangerous.
It was almost impossible to track the dead with his mind. For the past years, Eragon had been used to feel the light presence of all forms of life surrounding him, it had almost become a second feeling, a sixth sense. The feeling of this touch would change depending on the being close to him, going from Saphira's burning one to the crow's small and scared presence. However, with these monstrosities, there was nothing like that. He was only able to feel the presence of a bond, a chain, with each end corresponding to a wight. It was confusing at best and Eragon had often been surprised during the battle. It felt like fighting with hindered senses. Atop of the Wall, he had a few times misjudged the number of wights climbing the past two nights.
But the time for deeper observation would come later. The Wall was almost empty and they had a long list of decisions to take and action to make. But remaining idle and establishing plans would come later.
"We have to tell the others," said Eragon, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
"The others?" slowly repeated Daenerys to understand where he was going. Eragon understood her lack of comprehension.
"All the people defending the Wall. In a few hours, it will be breached. It will be useless and even dangerous to keep defending the Wall. If they do, they will be trapped, without any possibilities of retreat. They'd be destroyed within a few hours. Useless sacrifices but also, unnecessary resources for the army of the dead"
She seemed to realize but kept looking anxiously at her dragons.
And while Eragon was happy to see genuine concern, now wasn't the time to be pedagogical. he knew they couldn't remain in the current situation. He had seen the last soldiers leave the castle from Eastwatch by the Sea more than two hours ago. The only protection between them and the Night King now consisted of a frozen wall. A wall that would collapse rather sooner than later.
"I know this is probably not for the best, given Viserion's state, but we need to leave this place. If we don't, most of the sacrifices done here would have been for naught" he explained
"Jorah" whispered Daenerys, her voice cracking at the thought of the veteran soldier who had died protecting her.
Eragon knew the old man had been one of Daenerys' most trust trusted advisors. She had shared a bit about him during his stay at Dragonstone, usually with a touch of sadness and uncertainty in her voice whenever his name was mentioned but he didn't know more about the man.
"We burnt his body with Saphira. We know this isn't the burial he deserved but it was the least we could do," answered Eragon softly not really knowing the depth of their relation.
"Thank you" managed to whisper Daenerys before silently approaching herself from Drogon to stroke his scales. The black dragon had slowly nudged his head in her direction, sensing how distraught she was before, in the gentlest way, pushing his head in her hand.
Meanwhile, Viserion had felt the coming departure and started to screech, trying to move his right-wing and his chest, probably judging the pain it would inevitably bring. His movements were still uncoordinated but it would be more than enough to fly.
"We will leave with Saphira and Jon to the other castles of the Wall. We need to alert the other Brothers of the Night's Watch and the wildlings and Jon Is probably the only person they'd trust to leave the fortifications. Given the current situation and the distances, we should be back within the next three days. In the meantime, put as much distance as you can from the Wall. Blödhgarm and the others have my full trust to help you. Your dragons and you need to rest, and it would be best to have some distance between you and the dead to do so" explained Eragon quickly.
He waited a few seconds to make sure she had understood the flow of information passed on to her.
After a few seconds, he saw her slowly nodding. He also received a mental acknowledgement from Blödhgarm, who preferred to remain silent. They had discussed all of this while they were healing Viserion, covering each aspect of the next steps, and weighing the pros and cons of each option. The small vocal speech had been for Daenerys' benefit.
And he could feel the web of icy emptiness was now on the utmost verge of the forest, like a demon ready to burst through their thin and only layer of protection.
They now had to leave the place and reach Winterfell, like all the departing soldiers, who hadn't waited for the dragons to recuperate. The mood had been grime. Despite having four dragons, they were forced to flee. Eragon knew this decision had harshly impacted the already low morale of the soldiers. He didn't dare think about the coming crash of the Wall. Hearing about such an event was one thing, witnessing, or in their case, hearing it would be another.
Some elves were already gone, running to catch up with the Northerners. Their purpose would be to warn Jon of the arrival of Saphira, to be ready to leave as soon as Eragon would arrive. Given their speed, the elves would have no trouble catching up even with a few hours' delay.
The other elves would travel with Daenerys, on Rhaegal and Drogon's back. Letting Viserion fly on his own without supervision was too dangerous to be considered. His wounds were still very fresh and would require some monitoring.
They knew he was able to fly, but they were left in the dark to know for how long and at which pace.
Quickly after, they were gone. They had done their purpose here and Eastwatch by the Sea was now completely abandoned. They had collected Jon and Saphira was flying in the direction of the lone soldiers still guarding what would soon become a breached wall. High in the sky, they saw the people moving South, buzzing like ants, distancing themselves from the oppressing forest and its deadly presence. The last soldiers had left more than an hour ago and the castle was now completely defenceless. The Night King knew they were leaving. He had felt it, and his army was now pressed against the edges of the forest. Some wights were even walking on the burning plains which had been scorched the previous nights by the dragons. They were simply waiting for their leader to recuperate, in order to deliver the final blow to the Wall, while they were completely powerless to stop it. Climbing the Wall would be useless now, a waste of time.
The Brothers of the Night's Watch would arrive safely at Winterfell. The army of the dead was powerful but slow and the snow certainly didn't help the movements of large gatherings like this.
And from what Eragon had seen, the Night King was like Galbatorix. He was confident, confident in his abilities to destroy every single one of them. He believed all their efforts to be fruitless. He wouldn't rush. And the Alagaësian knew he would do the same before reaching Winterfell. He would take his time, taking each northern castle and inn one by one. This was what he had done North of the Wall. He had patiently and thoroughly taken control of the wide area and captured every life being. No matter how hard they had tried, Eragon and the Eldunaris hadn't been able to find a single spirit larger than a bird there. And they now would have to find a way to defeat him and his army.
Late into the night, a loud noise startled all the soldiers defending one of the castles. Many looked around, trying to find the cause of this turbulence. Jon, who had understood, had his eyes wide open, unable to hide his surprise. He had probably hoped the Wall would hold. However, Eragon remained oblivious to their reactions and surprise. He stood, frozen, shocked and overwhelmed. The rumble had been loud, even leagues away; But it was nothing in comparison to the cry he had felt from Nature. It felt as if a fresh wound had been opened and salt had been poured on it.
For the first time in eight thousand years, the shield that guarded the realms of men had been split.
This is the end of the chapter! I hope you've enjoyed it! Please, don't hesitate to comment, review, fav, this gives me a lot of motivation to keep this story and update quickly !