Chapter 8: The Lurking Specter
The sound of hooves grew closer, and the identity of the visitor was soon revealed: Will's horse, which had been killed by an ice sword ten days ago, emerged from the trees, with a pale, emaciated figure sitting on its rigid body covered in icicles.
The White Walker that had been pursuing Aeg had transformed the dead horse into a wight, turning itself from a regular White Walker into a White Walker knight. If it hadn't been for its poor riding skills, it would have caught up with them much earlier.
But now the result wasn't bad either. A sense of satisfaction arose within the White Walker: it had finally caught up.
In human terms, the endurance and willpower of these two black-clad humans in front of it were quite excellent, especially the younger one: from the decisiveness of turning to flee at the first sight of it, to the calmness and accurate judgment of not harboring naive thoughts when seeing its weapon leave its hand, to the agility of dodging the thrown ice sword, and the speed of fleeing all this time. This was a quality human, and after today, he would also make a fine wight servant.
Facing two opponents, but the advantage of its power, equipment, and abilities was so great that it could completely ignore the disadvantage of facing one more opponent, not to mention that the two humans were already at their physical and psychological limits. This was not a battle, but a hunt.
The horse that had collapsed on the ground whinnied and struggled to its feet, staggering away into the distance, while Aeg drew his weapon, staring coldly at the approaching White Walker. Steam rose from his lungs, and a low, uncontrollable growl emanated from the depths of his throat, not sounding like it came from his vocal cords, but rather from his soul. Shock and fear transformed into a surging battle intent: the opponent had a horse, and there was no way to outrun it. So, it was either the White Walker's death or his own survival!
Fighting with their backs to the wall, not to defend the Wall or the kingdom, but for survival.
"I'll hold it off," Gared realized they were in a desperate situation and raised his sword. "You run. Someone has to warn the brothers that winter is coming."
"No, I don't want to be hopelessly caught after you're taken down, dying while still on the run," Aeg knew Gared couldn't possibly hold off the opponent. "We'll take it down here, then escape together beyond the Wall. We'll discuss the specific plan later. Be careful of its weapon. Steel swords can't block it. If it dares to throw that thing at us again..."
The enemy didn't wait for him to finish. It stared at the two Night's Watchmen with emotionless eyes that glowed with a faint blue light for a few seconds, then charged at them on horseback.
"Dodge!"
The two quickly split up, using the surrounding trees as cover. The two Night's Watchmen circled around obstacles to avoid the mounted White Walker's several charges, which didn't even touch them. After several attempts, the White Walker let out a shrill roar and dismounted, rushing at them on foot.
"Attack!" Gared shouted and lunged forward.
"Be careful!"
Aeg called out. The swordsmanship training the Night's Watch received was the most basic blocking and counterattacking techniques, more than enough to deal with wildling raiders who fought purely on instinct and strength. But this style of combat was based on the assumption that "weapons could withstand collisions," a condition that did not hold true against the White Walkers!
Without much preparation or confrontation, the real battle quickly escalated to a life-or-death climax. Although Aeg had warned the old soldier to be careful of the White Walker's weapon, Gared had been accustomed to his fighting style for over thirty years. Seeing an opening in the White Walker's defense, he instinctively moved in for an overhead chop!
This was a simple but masterfully executed strike, flawless in angle and timing, catching the White Walker off-balance as it dismounted. Gared had never received any flashy swordsmanship training; he relied solely on forty years of experience and proficiency. This chop seemed to gather all his life's skills and strength. Even the Sword of Morning, if he crawled out of the grave, would have to be on high alert to face this blow. The old soldier even had an intuition that this strike would end the battle, without needing Aeg's assistance.
Even if this strike is blocked, I can quickly recover and change it into a side slash, forcing the opponent to continue defending. At that moment, Aeg can attack it from behind and finish off this damned creature. The best part is, if we can kill this White Walker that came knocking on our door and bring its corpse back beyond the Wall, we won't have to risk being deserters.
This was a cunning and deadly strike, which would have put a human opponent in great trouble but reality deviated from the plan from the very first step, because his sword broke.
The sword Waymar Royce brought from home barely held up against the White Walker's ice sword, and the standard weapons used by the Night's Watch soldiers were the most ordinary steel swords, made of material that was just barely considered "steel." Their toughness and strength could not compare to high-quality steel, and upon the first impact with the White Walker's weapon, the point of collision immediately shattered, and the entire sword broke in half with a loud bang, scattering into several fragments.
Gared, having lived for fifty years, had never encountered such a situation. He was stunned for a moment, and the White Walker calmly stabbed him with its ice sword.
"No!" Aeg's eyes widened in horror. His teammate was engaged with the White Walker just two meters away, too close for him to offer any assistance. He could only watch helplessly as his teammate was struck down, roaring in despair as he charged at the enemy from behind without hesitation.
Aeg did not have much love or admiration for Gared. A Night's Watchman who had served for forty years and was still just a soldier, how could he be admired? It was like his previous life, when he arrived at a construction site as a supervisor representing the client for an inspection. It was impossible to inexplicably become friends with a fifty or sixty-year-old construction worker who was still moving bricks and laying walls, unable to read a single word. This wasn't looking down on others or discriminating against the working class, but the differences in outlook, thinking, and lifestyle between the two were so vast that there would be no common topics or interests, let alone sincere friendship and feelings.
But regardless, Gared was his roommate under the same roof and the brother in black who had taken the most care of him since his arrival at the Wall as a transmigrator. Most importantly and realistically, the old soldier was his only comrade-in-arms against the White Walkers, his remaining support and pillar of strength. He had a series of coordinated plans in mind, and as long as he could lure the White Walker into revealing a flaw, he could plunge the obsidian dagger in his hand into the enemy's body.
If everything went smoothly, Gared would also be his guide and companion in escaping the Wall.
But now, all plans and intentions were stillborn. His only remaining teammate was struck down by the enemy's sword without even a single exchange, leaving him alone. How could he possibly defeat the human nemesis in front of him with its formidable strength and eerie abilities?
"Ah…. go to hell!" When hope disappears, even the most rational and cowardly can become insane. Aeg roared with all his might, and at that moment, fear vanished without a trace. Nothing could scare a soldier who had decided to perish together with his enemy. He raised his sword over his head with his right hand, slashing at the White Walker's back of the head, while his left hand gripped the obsidian dagger, stabbing at the enemy with all his strength. If there was no possibility of survival today, then he would fight like a man. Since death was inevitable, he wouldn't let the enemy have it easy!
The pale figure turned around, expressionlessly raising its weapon to block. This last prey disappointed it. The previous man had been defeated in this way, yet he still attacked in the same manner?
This slow, snail-like strike, distorted by anger and with a trajectory so clear that it could be blocked or dodged in countless ways, was the final struggle? Oh, and perhaps the small dagger in the other hand?
The White Walker showed disdain. Its body, maintained by magic, had no vital points. Except for decapitation, which could cause it some trouble, a stab to the abdomen even if it stood still and allowed the attack, the weapon couldn't harm it in the slightest.
The White Walker raised its ice sword, mirroring the scene of Gared's defeat, blocking and breaking Aeg's sword without error, then taking advantage of the opening in front of him to deliver a horizontal sweep. The ice sword sliced through the Night's Watchman's body, and everything was settled.