Chapter 14 Old Problems, New Players a Lion Brought to Bay
"That was as unpleasant a journey as I had expected father." said Obara Sand. She was standing at the edge of the Bonewayay as the rock and dust of the road, if it could even be called that, wound its way out of the last bit of the mountains towards the ruins of Summerhall, once one of the castles of House Targaryen. In front of her the army continued to move its slow winding way out of the pass.
"It is not called the Boneway for no reason, my dear." Oberyn laughed as he stood his horse to one side, watching with his daughter as his army passed by. One or two of the mercenaries than made up that army looked up at him, and he smiled cheerfully at them, not incidentally hefting his spear in one hand. Those men that looked at him looked away quickly, blanching.
Once again Oberyn wondered if his niece and Viserys understood the nature of the army they had assembled. The dregs of an entire continent, all brought together and given weapons and in some cases even taught how to use them. The boy-king at least should know the real nature of most of the mercenary companies. Arianne I'll give the benefit of the doubt.
Of course, he thought, smirking as more men looked away from him, these people might worship the money they're being paid, but will only follow someone who can speak their own language. And I can speak that language, oh yes. Oberyn had been a mercenary in Essos himself when he was younger, and the lessons he'd learned during those years had stayed with him. By now every man in that column understood that he was not someone they wished to cross, not even the worst of them like the lieutenants of the Company of the Cat. Not after Bloodbeard, their former chief, had tried to remove Oberyn only to die himself.
Thankfully loyalty in the Company of the Cat went to whoever was the nastiest and the toughest. Oberyn had proven he was the toughest by cutting Bloodbeard down within two days of meeting him, and forcing the rest of the company to watch as he died on the sands of the Boneway well before they reached even Castle Wyl.
"Father," said Obara, bringing Oberyn's attention back to her. "Are we…" she paused, "Are we really going to…" she paused again, and Oberyn sighed.
He had hoped that all of his daughters would opt to go with the Princess, but Obara had decided to come with him. Hardened fighter she might be but she had never been on the march, and never took part in a war. "Yes," he said coldly, "we are. These are the Stormlands girl, the lands where The Usurper mustered much of his army, where the two Baratheon brothers have gotten their armies as well." He paused before going on. "Or at least a portion of them. Regardless, they will stand against our new liege Lord, and they stand between us and vengeance!"
At the word vengeance he saw his daughter stiffen her spine slightly and he nodded before leaning forward. "We might have sent out here as some kind of feint, but Viserys is a man with big ideas who has no idea about war. I'll admit that his first few targets will work, but they won't give him anything, oh possibly a stepping stone to more, but not important enough. We need to do some real damage, and that means moving quick and striking hard. We can't be bogged down, we can't let up, and we need to cut a swath that will be remembered for decades! If you don't have the stomach for it, tell me now. You can still be sent back to House Wyl."
"I'll do what needs to be done." Obara muttered.
Oberyn nodded. "Good." With that he turned away began to bark out orders for the army to keep going, it might be later in the day but he wanted to be well away from the pass leading into the Boneway before they made camp. Despite Summerhall having been a ruin for years, there were other threats nearby.
For one, Doran's spies had passed on the fact that House Dondarrion had decided not to take part in the current conflict, since its lord was missing in action. However, their traditional duty to protect pass might force whoever had been left in charge to make the attempt. Worse, they were still close enough to the small pass that led up to Blackhaven from the Boneway to make a sortie from that House deadly to their attempt to get out of the Boneway.
They would camp that night well away from the passage out of the Red Mountains and then they would move on. Oberyn had decided that his initial target would be the lands of House Wagstaff, which was the nearest house that wasn't part of the Dornish marches, then the lands around Grandview, of House Grandison. Wagstaff had a small holdfast, not a true castle, and had sent some of its strength to war in any event. They would fall easily, and their lands would give his army enough food and plunder to boost its morale after the hard march through the Boneway.
Oberyn wasn't going to siege Grandview though, that was too tough a nut to crack without taking severe losses. But the lands around it would be open, since they had sent a third of their armsmen to join Renly's horde, and the smallfolk they captured there would be able to tell them a lot about the events in the Stormlands and Reach. With that information he could decide to turns towards the Reach or stay in the Stormlands. The second option would be his preference, but Oberyn was flexible enough to wait and see.
Keep moving, keep burning the land, keep my army happy, and make everyone else very unhappy. And also stay close enough to the ocean to get back to it quickly if need out and away from the Dornish Marches and stay away from the Reach side entirely. We know that they kept most of their men at home, a force I don't want to tangle with. Summer knights most of them they may be, but they'll be well led, and I can't say the same for my lot, besides myself , unless our prisoners tell us something has occurred elsewhere that makes the heart of the Reach vulnerable it will be best to keep to the Stormlands. At least my orders allow me to do that.
OOOOOOO
Derik Derik Waters was a part of a gang, practically everyone in Flea Bottom was part of some kind of brotherhood or 'house'. It was simply the difference between survival and death, lone wolves didn't last long in Flea Bottom, or even the rest of the city. If you didn't have someone to watch your back, someone you could trust at least a little then you were dead. His gang was called the Bastard's Boys, since they were all bastards who didn't know who their father was, and in some cases their mother too. They were all ages starting from as young as nine to as old as thirty, with seniority denoting status among the gang.
Life in Flea Bottom was hard at the best of times, but since the siege began it had become even worse. Derik didn't really have the vocabulary or knowledge to understand why, food simply wasn't coming in. Nor was anything else. Iron for the smithies, wood for the almost constant construction projects going on everywhere in the city, leather for the leather makers, flour, wheat, charcoal, everything that made the economy of the city go came from outside.
King's Landing sat in the Crownlands like a giant lump of granite on a thin sheet of leather, distorting everything around it. Of course it also created things, but those things needed other things to be created from. So the economy of the city had simply ground to a halt slowly and of course being at the bottom rung Flea Bottom was always going to get the worst of it.
Derik didn't understand any of that, all he knew was he hadn't eaten anything beyond Bowls o' brown for a few weeks now. Worse the bowls were starting to look disturbing even to his Flea Bottom trained eyes. He had also been fired from his job down at the docks, and his woman hadn't been home in two days. When went to the brothel she worked at to see if she was still there for some reason, he'd been told that she had gone home on time two days back. He'd also been told she had a deep, racking cough as she was. A sick person had about as much chance of walking the streets of Flea Bottom as a fish did of flying.
So Derik Waters was angry, one of hundreds of thousands of people in the capital that were becoming angry and looking for targets take their anger out on. That was why he and thousands of others were here listening to a former merchant as he shouted exhortations against the royal family off of the Street of Flour
"This can all be laid on the feet of the Bastard King and his Bitch Mother," said the merchant, which elicited a roar from the crowd. "The Lannisters have always run roughshod over King's Landing! I'm not the only man here who can remember what they did during the Robert's Rebellion, and you all know what happened in the Battle of Two Truths! The Lannisters shit gold, but all we see is the glitter on their blades, never the gold itself!"
That won another roar from the crowd as Derik and all the other men around him shouted and raged. Normally they would never have listened to a merchant, especially one who looked well-off. Now, if you looked close enough you could see that the siege had had an effect on him. His clothing was badly frayed in places and his body was far thinner than it had been judging by how loose it were on him.
"Robert might not 've been a good King, but at least he was someone we could relate to! At least he didn't shit all over us, at least he didn't burn us or butcher our children!"
That won an even louder roar and the crowd began to stir, every man there checking their makeshift weapons. Though makeshift wasn't really the proper word for some of the weapons, billhooks, meat cleaver's, all different kinds of hammers, awls, heavy saws. A lot of people in the city routinely used tools that could be used as weapons all too easily.
"Now Robert's brother is out there! Renly might be too pretty to be real, but at least he's an honest one, one who will speak up for the people! Now I say we open the door for him. Who's with me!?"
The crowd roared surging towards the nearest gate, with the merchant deep in it somewhere holding a very rusty yet still serviceable short sword. Derik found himself near the front of the mob but didn't have a problem with this. His blood was up, he had a cargo-man's hook in one hand and a rage to take on the world.
That emotion began to cool the moment the mob was within sight of the interior defenses that had been thrown up around the gates. Several buildings had been smashed to pieces to create a makeshift barricade shaped in a U around the gate facing outwards into the rest of the city. It was only two stories tall, and if the mob was armed with bows it wouldn't have been a very good position because there was only a smattering of cover on the top created by bits and pieces of rubble sticking out from the rest of the barricade. But they didn't.
"You are ordered to disperse!" Shouted a voice, somehow being heard over this sounds of the mob roaring forward. Derik wasn't the only one to see the dozens of bowmen on up there, who were quickly being joined by others as they climbed up the barricade's back.
Nor was Derik the only one in the crowd to begin to stop moving forward, having second thoughts. But there weren't enough of them to stop the press of bodies from behind, and however unwittingly that first group of rioters found themselves being pressed forward by their fellows.
"I said disperse, Stranger damn you!"Though no one in the mob knew it, the man shouting was Lord Harte. Having been stripped of his command on the wall, he had been given command of the interior defenses of the Old Gate. The bruises Jaime had given him at the Hand's behest for springing their most dangerous defensive trap too soon had healed for the most part. And he had taken to his new task with enthusiasm and creativity…
The crowd jeered, and a few men began to throw cobblestones up trying to hit the archers upon the barricade. They weren't close enough just yet though. One or two smaller stones hit among the archers, but that was all.
It seemed to be enough for the commander up there however who said "Fire!" Bows began to twang, and screams began in the mob as people hit by arrows. Yet that seems to only incense the mob further, and they rushed forward towards the barricades.
The archers fired as quickly as they could not even taking the time to aim, but the mob was simply too large for their arrows to stop. Somehow the gestalt mind of the mob seemed to realize this, and shouts and jeers began again as men all around realized that they would win through if they just kept pressing. They would lose dozens, but that didn't matter, it would always be someone else doing the dying.
That equation changed however when the mob reached the final block that would carry them up to the barricade. There Derik and a few others kicked over or smashed a few small jugs. Then they began to scream and that scream went on for the rest of their shortened lives.
Those small jugs contained wildfire. Wildfire ignited from even the gentlest tap especially if it had been left out in the sun for even a few moments as these had been. Before the mob had been spotted, they had been covered by small tarps, which kept the direct sunlight off them though they had done nothing to prevent the jugs from heating up even with the occasional rain shower. Those tarps had been removed before the mob was in sight, and now the wildfire raged.
It started slowly, the screaming in one portion of the mob rising higher and faster than the others, but it soon spread. There were dozens of those small jugs around, hidden in the nearest side streets towards the barricades all around each of the seven Gates. The wildfire spread so fast and so quickly that most of the mob couldn't even flee. The green fire was everywhere, consuming all in its path.
The Lannisters had once more brought fire to the city, decimating the first large-scale riot.
OOOOOOO
Tytos Blackwood frowned as he stood in one of the guard towers set to one side of Raventree Hall's main gate, watching as a little under half of the besieging army out there pulled out of their camp and began to march away. "What is going on now?"
"Those are Bracken colors there father." His eldest son Brynden muttered. "By the old gods, what could have happened to convince that traitor Jonos to pull his force back from attacking us?"
"Well it's not like the siege was going anywhere." Lucas, Tytos' next oldest son scoffed. "They've only made a few small attempts to storm our walls, simply digging in and trying to batter our main gate down with no success at all."
That was true, Tytos reflected. The attackers had only attempted to try and take the walls by storm twice, taking severe losses in their attacking forces each time. The fact the defenders actually had too many men to man their defenses made any assault like that difficult in the extreme.
"Their siege towers would be a problem if not for our catapult." Brynden reminded his young brother. "After we smashed the first two they seem reluctant to use them further, but that's no reason to get complacent."
"Brynden is right," Tytos said, speaking up for the first time and ending his son's argument. "We can't afford to get complacent. They are starting to tunnel out there, which means we might need to create counter-tunnels soon." That made both his sons nod grimly. Fighting in a tunnel like that would be deadly for both sides, and if the attackers could keep the tunnel open, their numbers would begin to tell.
Really thanks to the size of the castle's walls and his house's preparations prior to the beginning of the siege, that was really the only way the attackers could end the siege in their favor. They certainly didn't have as much food out there as he did in here, thanks to the aid of the smallfolk who were now protected by his castle's walls.
After a moment Tytos spoke up to lighten the mood. "As to what could cause Bracken to pull back like this, only an assault on his land or castle could pull him away from our throats. Somehow I think the wolves have come, and the lions and their allies are feeling the pinch."
OOOOOOO
"How did she get so big?" Bess Bracken asked, rubbing one hand down the side of the massive direwolf that so fascinated her.
Arya smiled at her, but did not stop in her work of grooming Nymeria. Here in the Riverlands all of the direwolves shed somewhat, though not nearly as much as Arya had expected them to. They know winter is coming just as much as we do, she thought before shaking her head. "They're direwolves, not regular wolves this is the size they're supposed to be, I think."
"But she's as large as a warhorse!" exclaimed Bess incredulously. "What would they eat in the wild?"
"Anything they want to." Arya laughed. "Ghost prefers moose, and Fenris has a liking for bear. My Nymeria seems to prefer deer meat accompanied by mushrooms for some reason. She'll eat mushrooms raw, though thankfully she seems to know instinctively which types not to eat."
"Really?" Bess laughed, taking a brush that Arya past to her. "I like chicken myself." Arya laughed and the two of them continued to work on the large direwolf's fur while she lay there grumbling happily at the attention.
Arya had decided to take a page out of her older brother's book: that the children of families that had broken their oaths or fought against them were not to be blamed for the acts of their parents. As such she had made certain that all of the Bracken ladies were treated well and had actually befriended Bess. The younger girl was simply fascinated by Nymeria, and had apparently been bugging her mother for over a year now to get her a hunting dog of her own. Her father wouldn't hear of it, considering hunting to be something only men could do.
The young girl had confided in Arya that she had long chafed at being forced to take lessons about etiquette, sewing and other things that were just uninteresting to her, and had tried her hand at many other things. She'd even gotten the castle's master-of-arms to train her a time or two until her parents found out and put a stop to it. Because of this and her general attitude Arya saw Bess as a kindred spirit and was doing all she could to encourage the girl, as was Dacey.
The two of them continued to talk while taking care of Nymeria, but soon enough it was almost dark out, and Arya escorted Bess back to her rooms in the top floor of the keep. She nodded at the two guards, both Mormont men, who made up a large portion of the northern portion of their men here. The Mormonts all knew how to swim, not well, but enough to get them across a river, something that couldn't be said of House Umber, Hornwood, or Karstark men.
Once inside the noble apartments, she saw Lady Bracken waiting for them. The older woman frowned at her daughter but Bess stared back not giving an inch. "I will speak to you later my girl." Lady Bracken finally said pointing imperiously toward Bess's bedroom. "To bed with you."
Bess growled a little, but nodded and moved off. The moment her daughter was out of earshot the older woman whirled back to face Arya who was still standing there, a faint smirk on her face. "It's bad enough you people took our castle and imprisoned us, now you're filling my daughter's foolish head with these idiotic ideas of yours!"
"How are they idiotic? I would've thought that you'd understand with Dacey and I here that a woman could become a warrior if she tried hard enough, or anything else she wished. The Mormont women have always been warriors as far back as anyone can remember. And winter is coming, you should be happy that your daughter wants to toughen herself up."
"I've heard the words of House Stark before, they didn't impress me then and they don't impress me now." Lady Bracken retorted with a sneer. "Just because you northern barbarians sometimes have to let your women learn the ways of war doesn't mean here in civilized lands that it's something we encourage. I demand you stop encouraging her!"
"My mother thought that same way, until I helped stop an attack that might have taken Winterfell by surprise." Arya said with a shrug. "If one of your older daughters had been strong enough to be a warrior, they might have also been smart enough to see through our disguises before we were inside Stone Hedge. And besides, do you really think you're in a position to make demands of me?"
Lady Bracken scowled but subsided when Nymeria moved up behind Arya, nuzzling into the short girl's hair from behind. Lady Bracken looked away for a moment then back at the young Stark girl. "What will happen to us anyway? You said you wouldn't allow us to be mistreated, and I have to say that you haven't yet, but what will happen to us if your side wins?"
"When my brother wins." Arya said smirking with a hint of teeth which caused the other woman to back away slightly. "When my brother wins, your House will be punished heavily. The precedent's already been set with the Freys. You'll probably be stripped of your Noble status, this castle and everything else. You personally might be sent into exile and your children taken by other houses, or into the Silent Sisters."
Arya was actually wondering if she could get away with taking Bess as a servant. Since she wasn't a knight she couldn't take a squire, but a page, maybe? She liked the younger girl, and encouraging another girl to rebel against what society saw as her role was fun as all get out.
"What if my husband surrenders, would that grant us leniency?" The older woman asked, aghast.
"Maybe, that's not my call. I doubt you'd be allowed to keep Stone Hedge even then, it's too good a castle. Whatever else you won't be in any position to continue this whole Blackwood/Bracken feud. You lot backed the wrong side, that's all there is to it."
"You know my husband will come for us? He'll have no choice but to try to retake the castle. Will you use us as hostages against that?" Actually Lady Bracken was more worried about such a ploy being useless than being used in the first place. The Lannisters were not the sort to care about hostages outside their own family.
"Maybe." Arya replied, shrugging. "It depends on whether or not he's in charge out there. If he is, we might and even if he sieges us we've got enough supplies in here to last us for years, and I doubt that any army trying to besiege us would even have weeks until my brother arrives to destroy them."
"Understand me." Arya went on, stepping forward into the older woman's personal space and staring up at her, her eyes hard. "I'm personally disgusted by the fact that your family sided with the Lannisters after they had imprisoned my uncle, wiped out House Vance of Wayfarer's Rest and a few other houses along their way here. If you had just declared neutrality, or simply acceded to their demands for food in return for them not pillaging your people I would've understood, but your husband didn't do that. Instead tried to settle your old gods-damned petty feud with House Blackwood! I doubt when my grandfather told his lords to act as their own conscience dictates that he had that in mind! Whatever happens to most of your family, I won't give a damn."
Lady Bracken backed away, her eyes wide and fearful for a moment and Arya growled a little at her before turning away abruptly. "But at least my brother and I won't paint your daughters with the same brush as their father and the rest of your house. We're not like the Lannisters, we're not going to wipe out your family, but we will make damn certain that your family is never in a position to ever threaten the peace of the realm again."
With that Arya walked off, leaving lady Bracken staring after her. Later that day Arya and Dacey met with Hathan and Roger. Hathan was still convalescing and would be for weeks yet. Despite their training with Ranma none of the Wolfsworn had the ability to use their ki to enhance their healing ability, not even Jon could do that, and Hathan had taken serious injuries in the battle holding the entrance to the barracks.
Sitting down, Arya took a moment to smirk at Roger, who scowled back at her. Bess wasn't the only Bracken girl attempting to get close with one of her captures. The oldest daughter, Barbara was constantly trying to flirt with Roger whenever she could when the girls were allowed out of their rooms for meals. Roger however knew precisely what his wildling wife would do to him if he cheated on her, and rebuffed her advances at every turn. This strangely enough simply made her more determined rather than make her decide to switch her attempts onto one of the others.
"Any word from Edd?"Roger asked, turning away from Arya purposefully.
Eddy was easily the best of the Wolfsworn in scouting around, not in hunting, just scouting. And he had been sent to watch the road past the point where they had ambushed the convoy during that ambush just in case, and hadn't rejoined them for the actual battle. That way, if things went wrong in the attack he and his men would've still been around to attack the Lannister supply lines. Luckily that hadn't been necessary.
"Not yet, though he should pull back some time tomorrow. I can't imagine it would take longer than five days for word of what happened here to get to the Lannister forces at the Kneeling Ford." Dacey responded before turning to Hathan. "Are you done your survey of the supplies?"
"Yes, and I have to tell you taking Stone Hedge was a magnificent idea Arya. Not only were they using the convoy system up to the Kneeling man's Ford, but they were using it from Wayfarer's Rest to her. Apparently there are still bandits out there that take any opportunity they can to attack their supply chain. In fact the convoy from here to Wayfarer's Rest has to be guarded by at least 400 men at a time and even then is sometimes attacked." Hathan replied.
"We've got enough supplies here for us to last us for more than decades with our numbers, which would be enough for a force the size of the Lannister main army for at least a few weeks. Without this place, and without Wayfarer's Rest…" Roger shrugged. "They'll have to live off the land, and an army that size simply can't do it. Ranma was right about that at least."
"I could wish we could let Edd and his men out there, they could continue to hit any hunting groups or whatever." Hathan mused. "But we'll probably need all the help we can get her."
Dacey nodded agreement, and the conversation turned to the defense of the castle. Each of them would be in command, initially at least, of a different guard shift, so that 200 men were on the walls at all times, though obviously in a pitched battle more could be called up. The rotation would keep their men fresh for the fight.
It was just as well they had rested their men when they could, because early the next day Edd and his men fell back to the keep. As the rest of his men trooped through the gates he yelled up at Dacey, who was standing on the wall. "They're about two hours behind us, you should start seeing them soon! I'd estimate that they sent at least 4 or 5000 men, nearly their entire force from the Kneeling Man's ford! And they've got both grapnels and some makeshift rope ladders. I'd bet anything they'll start to make a makeshift battering ram when they get here too."
Dacey nodded grimly then turned to one of her men. "Get the others up here, I want as many men on the wall as we can get."
A moment later Arya raced out of the keep, pulling on her suit of lizard-lion armor as she went. Growling angrily Nymeria followed her, but remained in the courtyard by one of the towers rather than follow Arya out onto the wall itself. There just wasn't enough room out there for her to move around, and Nymeria wasn't as good as Fenris was at using ki to strengthen her body's durability. "They're coming?"
Dacey nodded, not taking her eyes from the northern vista. "That's what Edd says."
Soon enough the attacking army came into view. Dacey wasn't very good at estimating numbers but the size of the army did seem to point to there being 4 or 5000 men out there. More than enough to wipe out at her force in the open field with minimal effort, considering there was only about six hundred of them. Attacking us inside a castle however, that's a different bard's tale, she thought grimly.
Rather than surround the castle, the attackers kept marching straight up to it, with grapnels and rope ladders at the ready. Archers began to fire immediately as the attackers entered their range, causing the attackers vanguard to fall back and their own archers to come up. Soon an archer duel began at the front of the castle, slowly spreading out as the attackers did. At least a hundred men died in those first few moments, none of whom were among the men on the wall. The attackers didn't have any way to defend their men from high-angle fire while Stone Hedge was a large and well-built castle.
Even so a battering ram was brought forward, one of its ends still showing several dozen small branches covered with leaves. Dozens of men with large shields tried desperately to defend the men carrying it while they raced forward.
"Archers concentrate fire on the battering ram!" Dacey ordered. All around her the men along the wall and in the gatehouse turned their attention from the enemy's archers to firing on the men with the battering ram. Even with the numbers of men around them with shields, the attackers couldn't stand such a weight of fire. Soon enough the battering ram faltered under that fire, many of the men that had carried it going down. The attackers fell back in disarray, unwilling to face that level of fire, and the archers went back to sniping with their opposite numbers.
Elsewhere, men had raced forward with grapnels throwing them up here and there along the wall. The defenders cut these ropes quickly as they could, but they made themselves targets to the opposing archers and two men died doing so. Despite this however, all the ropes were cut quickly, and the attackers were forced to fall back. At the sound of a bugle the army retreated out of the range licking its wounds.
Arya frowned, absentmindedly checking Fang's edge after using it to cut one of the grapnels. "They must not have realized how many of us there were if they thought that would've worked."
"True, but the next time they'll come after us stronger and better prepared." Roger replied from the next to her.
"Who cares?" Arya said scoffing. "They can't take us by siege, they can only take us by assault and we've got more than enough men to make them pay ten to one every time they try. I don't think they'll be able to stomach that kind of exchange."
"That's rather cold of you, but true enough." Edd chuckled grimly, testing his spear's leaf-shaped head with a finger.
Two days later, the besieging army was reinforced further by the arrival of a force nearly as large as the first that had arrived, flying house Bracken colors. While the rest of his army set up camp all around him, the Lord of the castle came forward under flag of truce.
Edd, Roger, Dacey and Arya were all standing on the wall by the gate, watching as the traitor rode up. Edd looked at the others, nudging Arya's bow which was propped up next to the younger girl. "Hmmm?" He asked hopefully.
"I wish," Arya muttered. "I've got no patience for traitors. But he's flying a flag of truce. The old gods would not look on us favorably for breaking such."
Dacey and Roger both rolled their eyes at their friends' bloodthirstiness, waiting silently for Jonos to speak. Soon enough he did so, bellowing out, "I am Lord Jonos Bracken, lord of Stone Hedge. I demand to know if my family is still safe, and what I might do to secure their release."
As the leader of this assault, Dacey took it upon herself to answer. "I am Dacey Mormont of Bear Island. Your family is safe, and will remain such. We have no need or desire to use them as hostages at this time." In an aside she muttered, "Since I doubt you'd be allowed to honor any deal based off that."
The others all nodded, with Roger going so far as to reply. "Aye, the Westerlanders have never been shy about sacrificing hostages, especially those not their own. And the first force that arrived outnumbers Bracken's."
Dacey waved him to silence, speaking up to continue her reply. "As to terms to secure their release, that is impossible. You stand accused of treachery against your Lord Paramount and the Riverlands as a whole, aiding the invaders of this country for your own personal gain. Thus the only terms we are allowed to take from you and your family is unconditional surrender."
"Then I will take back my castle and family by force." Jonos bellowed belligerently, not responding to the insults, then wheeled his horse away.
He firmly believed he was on the right side even now, the evidence of Joffrey's bastardy was too thin in his opinion, and Edmure was well known as a hothead, so could have easily been led into some sort of treachery. And more practically, the Tully's power had been waning badly, else how could the Freys have gone so long with their power grabs unchallenged by their Lord Paramount? No, he had seen a chance and took it, there was nothing wrong with that.
"Love your idea of diplomacy Dacey," Edd remarked, smirking at the older woman. "Though I don't remember Ranma ever actually telling us we couldn't offer our own terms to the traitorous Riverlands houses."
"He didn't but I think I offered the terms he and Daenerys would have offered if they were here. Besides I was diplomatic. I didn't call him a son of a bitch, a gold-buggering harlot, or a Lannister whipping boy with rocks for brains." Dacey replied primly, causing the others to laugh, even as the besieging army began to prepare an attack.
OOOOOOO
Stannis pulled himself up over the wall, while behind and in front of him his personal guard had gone, clearing the areas of the wall to allow him access. He pushed one man aside and roared out,"Ours is the fury!" while he brought the Lightbringer around. The sight of the flaming sword frightened his enemies, but a few of them were still brave enough to try and charge towards him along the wall. One died from an arrow to the side of the head from the ground outside the castle of House Stokeworth. Another was engaged briefly with one of his Flame Guard, but the third reached Stannis. The greatsword in Stannis' hands slashed into the short sword of the other man slamming it out of his hand and slicing him open from one side of his stomach to the other.
A kick to the dead body and Stannis was away, leading the assault towards where a corner tower would allow access to the courtyard below and the keep beyond. Behind him, more men came up the ropes, and there was a deep rumble as a siege tower slammed into the side of the wall of the castle. There was another roar as more men came across its wooden bridge, and Stannis smiled grimly.
He had given Ser Balman Birch, who had married into the Stokeworth family and who was the de-facto leader of house given the men they had sent to King's Landing, a chance to surrender, and two days to consider it. After that time passed his army had begun its attack. The castle had held out for four days, but that was only because Stannis wanted the castle to remain standing unlike Rosby, whose outer walls he had ordered pulled down. But Stokeworth was in the center of very decent, well carried for farm land, and he had ordered his men to tread lightly here, something he enforced in as draconian a manner as possible. While Stokeworth would never be able to feed even a tenth part of the capital's population, it would be able to feed his army and its own smallfolk easily enough for a few months.
A moment later he didn't have time to think about such things. There was a group of fifteen men inside the tower, and Stannis was all alone for a moment. Even the fear of his flaming sword wasn't enough to overcome the courage given by numbers and the men charged him. He ducked under one sword blade, while blocking a blow from a flail, before Stannis quickly brought his greatsword slamming into and through one man's arm into his chest piercing both before he pulled it out quickly to block an overhand blow from a mace.
"Clear the door my King!" shouted a voice behind him, and Stannis grunted, pushing hard against the haft of the mace then ducking aside from another blow from the mace before kicking out catching that man in the balls. Stannis grabbed the mace wielder by the head, pulling him up and using his body as a shield towards his friends as he pushed forward allowing another swordsman in behind him. The man in his grip gasped as one of his former comrades tried to shove his longsword through his body to get to Stannis, but it didn't work.
Stannis was able to move to one side of the doorway, still using the other man as a shield for a moment his own blade having fallen to the floor of the guard room as he simply protected himself while more of his men piled into the tower around him. Soon the last defender went down, and he tossed the body of his former shield aside before grabbing up the Lightbringer again. "Forward!"
A moment later Stannis was standing in the courtyard staring up at the keep. It's doors were closed, but that would not last long. Already the main gate was being opened, his men were pouring in. He nodded to Lord Buckler, who had proven himself one of the better men Stannis had in close combat. He didn't know enough about strategy or tactics to make a decent wartime Hand, but as a leader in this kind of battle, he would do well. The two men nodded at one another, then Stannis bellowed. "Bring up the battering ram!"
Two hours later the battle was over, and the prisoners, what there were of them were being dragged out. The men anyway, the women were facing something far worse. Realizing this when he didn't see any maids among the prisoners being brought out of the keep Ser Seaworth scowled. I'll hold my hand up to being a pirate, a scoundrel, even a murderer, but there are some things I won't allow if I can help it. With that thought foremost in his mind, Davos grabbed a few of his House's men and entered the keep determinedly.
He found the women, the maids and other servants of the castle here and there in the keep where they had tried to hide unsuccessfully. Now the soldiers were doing what victorious armies due to the women of their enemies. Davos and his men put a stop to such as the moved through the keep, but they began to run into opposition when they ascended to the second floor.
There in the keep's kitchen they found a man who had just grabbed a young servant girl, who couldn't be more than 15 and threw her to the ground. His fellows all around were already undoing their breaches as the girl screamed beneath the first man.
"Get off her." Davos said, growling the words. When the man didn't obey fast enough, Seaworth bleakly thrust his sword into the man's back and through his stomach. The girl almost screamed again as she was suddenly awash with blood, but her screaming stopped as Davos pulled her would-be rapists body off her and tossed it to the side. Behind Seaworth his men spread out, daring the other men in the room to do anything.
From another room on the far side of the kitchen, which might've been the storeroom or some such, several dozen other soldiers poured out. All of them had their blades out, and their eyes were ugly as they moved toward Davos and his men.
Behind them Davos could see five other maids, two of whom had already been stripped of their clothing while the others looked as if they had been beaten. He glared at the men, and was about to order them to put up their blades in Stannis' name when the would-be rapists stopped suddenly, suddenly looking very worried.
"Is there a problem here?" said a voice from behind Davos and he turned, his eyes widening slightly. In the doorway stood twenty of the Flame Guard their hands on their swords, their shoulders marked with the burning flame that denoted their station.
The soldiers who might've fought Seaworth and his men backed off fearfully. Not only were they now outnumbered, but it was commonly thought among the regular soldiery that the men of the Flame Guard were not right in the head. Fighting them was a losing proposition.
After a moment the leader of this group said simply, "Lord Stannis and the lady have ordered that the womenfolk not be molested. This will happen."
Davos moved to the doorway and looked on in astonishment as the Flame Guard entered the keep purposefully. All of them, and their numbers were now up to 400. But behind them came an even worse force. Melisandre herself strode into the keep glaring around. And if that doesn't do it nothing will he thought, being careful not to meet Melisandre's eyes, better safe than sorry after all. Strange, I wouldn't have thought Melisandre the sort of woman to care what happens to other women, but I suppose I could be wrong, about that at least.
Unknown to Seaworth, Melisandre had plans for those women. Plans which would in time be just as horrifying to the women as what would have happened to them otherwise.
That night Stannis and the rest of his lords and most favored lieutenants slept in the keep. The upper halls hadn't seen much in the way of fighting and were very livable. It was nice to have a bed rather than a cot after so long in the field.
At her Lord's behest Melisandre tried one more time to scry current events without a sacrifice. She was at it for several hours, refusing to come away with nothing, until finally she got a vision. The steel jaws of the wolf, ripping out a lion's guts. The blood from the wound sprayed everywhere, tiny drops of blood each becoming, as the vision changed, a richly armored knight. The next image was of a giant skull rising from a city which she recognized at King's Landing. Then suddenly the skull multiplied, spreading everywhere. Then that too changed, the skulls freezing as a giant hand of snow and ice suddenly appeared, and winter blanketed the land.
She gasped, breaking out of the vision and stumbling away from the fire shaking her head for a moment. The Great Other, his hand is growing stronger his arm longer as winter nears! The rest she didn't understand, but that last piece was easy enough. She hastily grabbed up a robe draping it over her body, her skin glistening with sweat and her breasts heaving for a moment as she composed herself, her hands and legs trembling for a moment. When she was certain she had control of herself Melisandre raced out of her room to find Stannis.
At that moment Stannis was the only one of his lords awake, standing in the castle's study pouring over his map. He wasn't actually thinking about the physical map so much. No, he was wondering about the Reach, and their army, as well as what Melisandre and his own spies had reported about the dangers pressing the Reach from every direction. How loyal were they? How loyal were the Stormlands lords with Renly, surely they had learned by this point that Renly was no Robert reborn? What would the combined army's morale and disposition be? All those things would matter when they clashed, as they inevitably would.
He looked up as Melisandre entered, out of breath even from the short distance from her room to his at the end of the hall. The vision had really taken it out of her. Stannis frowned, watching her legs and hands shaking with exhaustion. "What have you seen?" He asked, pushing a chair towards her before he turned to the series of bottles two one side of the room.
Melisandre sat down quickly, and he passed her a cup of good brandy quickly. She gulped down the entire glass then put it down and began to explain the series of images she had seen.
After a moment Stannis sat as well, his face almost ashen. "The first vision is simple enough to understand, the war between the wolves and the lions continues, and the young Stark has apparently won a major victory. But the rest…" He shook his head, his face carved from granite. "Plague, a worst enemy than any army."
"It is not just that!" Melisandre said sharply. "Those bodies, unless they are burned to ash, when winter comes… When the power of the Great Other comes they will come alive! With an army of that size, nothing will stand against it."
Stannis thought that was an exaggeration. Even if he believed in this Great Other, the Wall had withstood the White Walkers several times in ages past, and they had not been able to move around it before. Still, he wasn't about to say that aloud, understanding that that was one of Melisandre's main objectives in helping him gain the throne.
Worse, the problem of the plague was real enough. It was a wonder really that King's Landing hadn't had one before this. Moreover, that danger was something he could grasp. It also forced his hand in a way. I had hoped to let my army gain more training time, then send out overtures to various Stormlands and Reach lords that might be willing to turn their coats after seeing how incompetent my brother is in the field. But not now, I cannot trust Renly to be as ruthless as he needs to be to deal with a plague. I'll still send out various messages, especially to the Florents and others of the Reach, but they won't have nearly as long as I hoped to decide to switch sides…
After several moment's reflection Stannis spoke aloud again. "Tell me Melisandre, how would you make a city burn?"
OOOOOOO
Hearing the call from the lookout indicating he had seen land in the southwest Asha smiled widely, looking forward to the end of this particular journey.
The trip down from the north had been very nervous. Just because the captains decided to follow her initially didn't mean all of them were happy about it later, and it'd taken several more instances of smooth talking to make them keep following her. Even so she had lost two ships when they got to the Cape of Eagles. They had split off to join their fellows attacking that beleaguered land.
Stupid of them she thought now, not for the first time. What prizes do they think to find in that area of fishermen, and farmers, there's nothing of import there! Nothing worth the Iron Price. Still, if I can get Rodrik on my side, this lot can go hang for all I care.
A few hours later she was marching her way up towards Ten Towers, the seat of one of the greatest houses of the Ironborn. She was immediately admitted into Ten Towers, the seat of House Harlaw, since the guards knew her well, she had been here many times before in her youth. The castle was named that because the lord who had commissioned its construction had been a man of mercurial moods, and every single tower that was scattered across the castle looked different.
Asha paused for just a moment before she entered the largest tower, a massive spire that served as the castle's keep, looking around at the other towers. She remembered playing tag and running around here in her youth, up and down steps and all around the towers. Asha often felt more at home here in Ten Towers than back in the castle of Pyke, though that wasn't saying much.
A few minutes later Asha was ushered into the Reader's, as he was known, study. He was of course reading when she was shown inside. This time however he wasn't reading one of the books which lined every inch of the large studies interior, instead he was reading a note of some kind. He looked up as Asha entered, setting aside the note with a small smile. "My watchers said that you returned with ten ships, well done! I thought that you'd only return with three or four at most."
"You knew I'd run into trouble." Asha said, making the question a statement as she looked at the older man.
Rodrik Harlaw was an older man of her father's generation, but that was about all he had in common with Balon Greyjoy. Where Balon simply looked as if he had a certain low cunning, as well as a lot of anger and arrogance, Rodrik looked like a scholar, which matched his voice. He could also make the usually harsh, dark tones of the language of the Iron Islands seem almost flowing. He was somewhat shorter than Balon, his hair was almost completely solid gray, and his beard was neatly trimmed.
For all that he looked like a scholar though Rodrik had and indeed was still a capable captain. His ship, the Sea Song, was well maintained and Asha had served on it under his command when she was younger. His hands, despite the fact that they were stained with ink, were large and strong, and there was a mace hanging from the back of his chair.
"Oh yes, it was obvious. I don't think your father set out to let you fail, but he certainly sent enough older captains, men who knew their own minds, along so he could be certain there would be some kind of assault on the North. Foolish, but if you'll forgive me Balon was never one for deep thinking. "
Rodrik took off the Myrish glass he needed to use to read with, setting it down with care then suddenly leaned forward. The affable old scholar disappeared, replaced by the intelligent and penetrating eyes of an Ironborn warrior who had lead his ship and family to becoming the most powerful House in the Islands despite Balon's Rebellion and everything else life through at them.
"This whole operation, the 'Rise of the Kraken', was an idiotic endeavor from the very beginning." he said bluntly. "If Balon was so determined to attack Westeros we should have attacked Seagard alone with our full forces. Then we might have taken the day, and we could have seen a time to come when the Ironborn might rule a portion of the Riverlands once again if we allied with one of the other powers, the Lannisters for preference. As it is we've not only woken the wolf and the fish but the lion as well, and I've no doubt pricked ourselves on the roses of the Reach."
At her raised eyebrow Rodrik shrugged. "I haven't heard anything from any of the other attacks, what does that tell you?"
Asha groaned slightly. A victory was shouted and lauded about, a loss… if you were the Ironborn there was nobody alive to tell about it. "How long would it take some survivors from Lannisport to get here? I've never been on that route before, I've always gone far out to sea to make certain I didn't see any of their naval galleys."
"If there were survivors of that attack, they'll be in sight of Harlaw within a few days, if they came directly here at any rate. I'd think that they'd be Blacktyde ships. Like myself Baelor was not happy about being forced to join the war. I think he'd take any chance he could to get away."
Rodrik stared at her, and Asha thought quickly. "How many ships can you give me?"
"I could pledge you another two dozen longships, eventually. It would take time to get most of them here of course, I had to hide them so that your father wouldn't find them. Up rivers, here in there all along my island. Why?" Rodrick's tone however showed he already had a shrewd idea.
"I need a victory, a big one, one with lots of reward for our iron price, with that I'll be able to command enough respect from the other captains, and we might be able to do something."
"Like what?" Rodrik pressed, shaking his head. "If Rise of the Kraken was the disaster we both think it is, what can we do? This is a trick question my dear. It only has one answer."
"You mean defend the islands? From who? With everything happening on the mainland, who is going to have enough attention to spare for us?" Asha asked skeptically.
"Everyone we attacked." Rodrik said bluntly. "We ourselves might not be important in the grand scheme of things, but little pinpricks can add up, and as my analogy should have told you, I'm afraid that out attacks succeeded just enough to rouse our enemies, but not enough to destroy their ability to strike back. Never do an enemy a small injury my dear, remember that. However, we need more information about the other attacks and we need you to get your victory before we could decide what to do next. By the way, what captains came with you?"
Asha described them, and watched as Rodrik's eyebrows went up. "Really, the Kennings split? Interesting. I think you might wish to take the time to speak to Lord Kenning about that, it strikes me as odd. For now however, I can promise you several ships in the next several days. Until they arrive, my House is yours. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to finish before dinner."
"Heh, I'll let you to your reading old man." Asha laughed, turning away with much of her humor restored. Over the next few days as Rodrik began to gather his ships, Asha did partake in Ten Tower's hospitality. On the third day she decided to take Rodrik's advice however, and journeyed to Castle Kenning, House Kenning's seat.
It was inland, but a river led up to it from the ocean, allowing her to use Black Wind to get there rather than journey overland on horse, something Asha was thankful for not being a very good rider. In fact she'd rather eat a horse than ride on one.
Letting Qarl in command of the ship Asha jumped out onto the small wharf which allowed access to the small keep of House Kenning. The door was opened for her, and the castellan of the keep, an older man with a fearsome set of facial scars, only one eye and a peg leg, showed her into his lord's sitting room bidding her wait there for him.
The room was much more spartanly furnished than the Reader's, and not just because of the absence of books or book shelves. There were several soft, comfortable chairs, a single desk at one end of the room, a lit fireplace on one wall, and several sconces for lit torches. But what caught Asha's attention was the tapestry hung on the wall directly across from the fireplace. It showed the banner of the house, a hand coming out of some storm clouds, one finger pointed downward sending lightning bolts everywhere.
Asha had seen the banner before, not only in the past month but before that, and yet it's significance had never actually penetrated. The sign was that of the Storm god, the evil god in the Old Way, the en