Benjen's horse slowly made its way down the tunnel under the Wall, its head hanging low. Both the animal and its rider were weary and tired after a long, stressful rush back to the Wall. Without Coldhands and after seeing wights rise from the snow, Benjen did all he could to make it back to the Wall, carrying the precious cargo he had fought hard to obtain.
However, the First Ranger's mind was still north of the Wall. He had taken the rest of the day to prepare a pyre for his fallen brother after the fight with the White Walker. Just like the pyre for Jojen Reed, he had soaked the wood with oil and placed small jars of the same substance throughout the stack to make sure that the fire burned strong and quick. As Benjen worked, he constantly felt like looking over his shoulder, waiting for more wights to appear. Seeing them charge out of the woods was one thing. Seeing them rise from below you, their blue eyes flashing and their broken teeth-gnashing was a new level of terrifying.
Thankfully, none came.
After placing Coldhands' body on the stack, Benjen lit the pyre with his flint and steel, stepping back as the wood caught fire. At first, the fire was a normal color before suddenly flaring up and changing icy blue. The fear Benjen felt when he fought the Other came back stronger than ever, nearly overcoming his senses, but just as quickly as the flames had changed blue, they turned blood red. As they changed, a strong, warm wind blew in from the south. Benjen felt a feeling that he had only felt a few times, and always when he stood in front of a Heart Tree. He felt the presence of the Old Gods.
The gates into the castle opened wide as Benjen entered the courtyard. Already, there was a small crowd of black-clad figures eager to see the ranger and his mythical prize. Even though many of them were new and Benjen hadn't been around when they arrived, those who had served with the man had made sure to spread his influence to the new brothers. As always, Starks managed to ride high wherever they went and Benjen had proven no different.
"First Ranger." Ser Alliser said, striding up to the slumped figure in the saddle.
"Lord Commander," Benjen said tiredly with a slight nod.
"Were you successful?" Ser Alliser asked, glancing past Benjen at the chest strapped in chains hanging from the saddle.
"I was," Benjen grunted, sliding out of the saddle and holding on to the horse to make sure he didn't fall over. "Give me a few hours of sleep and I'll show you. Make sure no one opens that chest!"
Alliser nodded before motioning for two watchmen to take the horse and chest. "Stable the First Ranger's horse and have that chest brought to my office. Guard the door when you're done."
The two men nodded and did as they were told as Ser Alliser walked with Benjen back to his room. The two black brothers didn't speak too much until they finally reached the door to the room. They weren't close, despite their years serving together, but they shared a mutual respect. Their relationship was purely professional.
"You arrived alone," Alliser said. "What happened to the….other one?"
Benjen shook his head. "He didn't survive," he said quietly. "I will tell you the story later. I need one more thing." Alliser gestured for Benjen to continue.
"I need a length of chain, two feet long, with a collar. Attach it to the inside of a chest the same size as the one I have."
Alliser raised an eyebrow but nodded. "I will get Donal on it. Now get some rest, you look fucking terrible."
Benjen could only smile weakly before entering his room. As soon as he was alone and shed his cloak and armor, he fell on his bed and was asleep within seconds.
Line Break
"We found what we needed just on the edge of the Haunted Forest." Benjen started. Before the First Ranger sat the same men he had first introduced his plan to, minus the sniveling craven that was Janos Slynt.
Apparently 'Lord' Janos, as he was mocked by others, had fled from the fight at Craster's Keep. He was found cowering outside the door and had not taken part in the fighting at all. According to Edd, who had led Craster's wives back to the Wall, Jon had slammed the man up against a wall and had promised to see him face consequences for his cowardice. Turns out, there wasn't much Thorne could do that would make Slynt's life any worse. After Edd and the others had spread the story of what Slynt did, what little respect the man had at the Wall had been thrown away with the rest of the man's dignity. He was ridiculed, ignored, and pushed around relentlessly by the other men in Castle Black. Even Alliser had turned his back on the man, finally flicking the leech off his back.
"Coldhands, because of his, ah, condition, was able to track the creatures," Benjen explained. "They're not animals that leave prints. Coldhands had a way of feeling where they were, sensing their presence."
"And you found them on the edge of the Haunted Forest?" Qhorin asked curiously. "That seems very far south….at least for these creatures?"
Benjen shrugged. "I guess. How they attacked us was very telling." he continued. "They rose from the ground, from beneath the snow. They look like shambling creatures, but they can move quickly when need be."
"How did you fight them?" Donal Noye grunted before elaborating. "Kill them, I mean?"
"A lot of hacking and slashing," Benjen admitted. "Cutting off an arm or a leg won't slow them down or stop them. They'll attack you regardless of what you do to them. They'll fight and fight until either you die or you take off their arms, legs, and head. It's like nothing we've ever trained for. There's no way to prepare for them."
"What happened to Coldhands?" Alliser asked, pushing the story forward.
Benjen grimaced. "We thought we'd be dealing with just wights," he explained. "We didn't expect an Other to appear."
"You fought a White Walker?" Qhorin asked, leaning forward.
"Gods willing, I won't have to fight another." Benjen nodded. "The temperature became bone-numbing cold and the bloody thing arrived in a freezing mist. They make an entrance and it's nothing short of petrifying."
"Since you're still here, I assume you defeated it," Alliser said. "How?"
Benjen drew his dragonglass dagger and laid it on the table before the four men. "This is how I defeated it."
Maester Aemon reached out, patting the table lightly until his hand touched the dagger. He then ran a soft hand over the blade, nodding as he did.
"Dragonglass," he mumbled softly. "Frozen Fire. The First Men used it when they fought the White Walkers a gift from the Children of the Forest."
"As soon as the blade touched the fucking thing, it disintegrated, swept away like smoke in the wind," Benjen said. "But it wasn't exactly an easy fight. The thing was fast and strong. It sent Coldhands flying ten feet into a tree.
"He didn't survive the hit, did he?" Bowen Marsh said.
"No." Benjen sighed. "I burned his body and put him to rest. He deserved that much as a brother."
Alliser leaned back in his chair. "So where does that leave us?"
"I brought back the top half of a wight," Benjen explained. "It's still alive and more than enough proof of the existence of what's out there."
"And what do you plan to do with it?" Donal asked.
"Bring it south," Benjen said firmly. "If I send a raven before me, I should be able to stop at the main castles in each region and show the assembled lords there. Winterfell, Riverrun, the Eyrie, Casterly Rock. I only have the one wight and it makes sense to make one big showing."
"That's why you wanted the specially made chest," Donal said. "To keep the thing contained."
Benjen nodded. "The thing is too dangerous to be held in a cage. It could still reach out and grab anyone. This way, I can keep it contained and the chain collared to its neck will keep it from going far."
"When do you leave?" Thorne asked.
"Give me a few days," Benjen said. "I must first send a raven to Winterfell and give the lords of the North a headstart before I start my path. Now, what about my nephew? Has there been any news on him?"
"Only his companions have returned." Bowen Marsh said, shaking his head. "But the wildling horde continues to move south. The only rangers we have north of the Wall are scouting the enemy. We've even pulled men from the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea to bolster the castle defenses."
"Do you mean to speak to Mance?" Benjen asked, addressing the question to Alliser.
The old knight hesitated, then shook his head. "I plan on defending the castle," he said, avoiding the question.
Benjen held back a huff. Alliser Thorne had always been an annoying stick of a man. He was too set in his ways, too stubborn to ever change. Jeor Mormont knew when to make war and when to make peace. Thorne had no such sense. Even now, when Benjen had unmistakable proof of a greater enemy, Thorne was still willing to fight the wildlings even though he knew what they were running from.
"Lord Commander, with all due respect, it would be a mistake if you fought them," Benjen said. "We know now who the true enemy is, and it's not Mance Rayder. Surely you see that."
"If the wildling horde isn't our enemy, then they will not attack us," Thorne said gruffly.
"They will attack because you won't let them south of the Wall!" Benjen protested. "You leave men, women, and children out there to die! To suffer a fate worse than death!"
The two brothers glared at each other for a long moment, each struggling for dominance. Alliser was older than Benjen and had served for just a little longer than him, but they both held great respect from their peers.
"Your nephew went north to speak with Mance." Alliser gritted out. "If he fails, that is on him."
"According to Lord Umber's son, Rayder wants to speak with Lord Stark." Bowen Marsh muttered, earning himself a glare from Ser Alliser.
"Has he been summoned?" Benjen asked.
"He has." Ser Alliser answered. "But until then, the wildlings can stay north of the Wall."
Benjen bit back a response before nodding. "Very well. You are Lord Commander."
"I am." Ser Alliser said, seizing the high ground in the conversation. "I have given your plan my approval, but do not forget that my duty first and foremost is to protect the Wall."
Benjen glared at the man before nodding. "You're making a mistake, he said once more before getting to his feet and striding out, fury coursing through his body. Once he was outside, he gripped the snow-covered banister, sighing heavily. "Your stubbornness will be the end of us."
Robb Stark
Lord Harroway's Town was more of a small, well-protected town rather than an actual village. There was a market and a sept, along with all the other essential buildings such as a tanner, smith, tavern, and barracks. Men bearing the sigil of House Roote strode through the streets in packs of twos and threes, watching lazily for any sign of trouble.
"Sire, why did we not ride to Harrenhal?" Ser Robar asked quietly as the four riders entered the town, passing under the shadow of a large stone tower that watched over the town and the road that went through it.
"We don't know who we can trust," Robb answered. "Besides, once word gets out that I am in the Riverlands, with the Green Man no less, questions will be asked. Questions I have no wish to answer."
"Questions will be asked regardless," the Green Man grunted sarcastically. "I'm riding an elk."
"We also don't need the High Sparrow getting wind of where the king is," Brienne added. "There's no telling how many of his followers roam the land."
"Exactly," Robb said, nodding to his commander. "We're just here to find if Thoros or any of the company is close. We can't stay in any place for long. The Green Man is right. We're already drawing attention to ourselves."
The four riders reached the tavern and tied their horses, and elk, to the railing outside before going in and finding a table at the back of the room. A barmaid quickly brought them drinks and promised to return with food before walking off, dodging gropes as she worked. A burly barkeep barked occasionally if he felt like his patrons were getting too bold with their grabs, his hand hovering near a thick club to emphasize his threat.
"Do you think the High Sparrow has spies here?" Ser Robar asked, leaning over his drink and speaking in a hushed tone.
Robb shook his head, cradling his tankard in his hands. "We can't be sure."
"Josiah has been slowly rebuilding the Faith Militant for years." the Green Man grunted after taking a drink of his ale. "It's safe to assume that he's left some followers here."
"How's he done that?" Brienne asked curiously.
"Rebuilt the militant over the years?" the Green Man responded. "As a traveling septon, in every village he passed through, he managed to convert one person into a hardcore fanatic. That person, in turn, would turn others into fanatics. Like a rot spreading from tree to tree, Josiah built up a force that he could call upon when he needed it."
"How do you know this?" Robb asked.
The Green Man shrugged. "The trees have eyes," he said vaguely.
"Here ya go, my friends!" the barmaid said kindly as she laid out trays of bread and roasted meat. She looked questioningly at the Green Man's tankard. "Need a top off?"
"No, thank you." the Green Man said politely.
"Miss?" Robb asked before the girl could walk off again.
"Yes sir?" the girl asked, turning towards Robb.
"You wouldn't happen to know if the King's Company has come through recently, do you?" Robb asked. "We're hoping to join them."
The girl smiled apologetically and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. They don't tend to come this far east. You can usually find some of them camping at High Heart."
Robb held back a sigh of frustration, forcing a smile on his face. "Thank you."
The girl nodded and left, leaving the four warriors alone.
"Wonderful." Ser Robar muttered darkly, loading his plate with bread and meat. "What now?"
"High Heart is a two-day ride from here," Robb said, picturing a map of Westeros in his mind. "If we push hard, we can make it in a day and a half."
"I'm surprised Thoros hasn't left some men to patrol the King's Road," Brienne said.
"The Mountain and his marauders destroyed much of the land around Acorn Hall and Pinkmaiden. The King's Road was mostly left alone." Robb explained. "We'll spend a night here and move on in the morning."
Line Break
After breaking their fast at the tavern, Robb and his companions set off west, setting a steady pace that saw them eating up the distance between them and the ancient hill. There was little talk among the four riders, each knowing that reaching High Heart was essential for their survival. The central Riverlands were filled with farms and villages, but there was no telling if any of them were loyal to Robb or the High Sparrow.
For most of the ride, Robb berated himself for allowing the High Sparrow to raise the Faith Militant. Compared to the armies Robb could call on, five hundred poorly trained villagers were a drop in the bucket, but it was proof that the High Sparrow was no longer abiding by Robb's rule. He had even managed to rally knights under the banner of the militant. There was no telling how soon the man would be able to persuade lords and ladies to give their armies to him.
Jon had recommended that Robb and Margaery use their influence with the Faith in Oldtown and get a new High Septon elected. It was a good suggestion, backed by Lady Olenna, but it was shot down almost immediately since every septon in Oldtown was slaughtered in Victarion's raid and the Starry Sept was nothing but a burnt husk. The Sept of Baelor was now the sole, undisputed center of the Faith of the Seven in Westeros.
Now Robb was riding through the Riverlands, constantly feeling like he had to look over his shoulder, waiting for the High Sparrow to show up again with his band of fanatics. When he had a hundred Green Men at his back, Robb was confident that he could deal with anything the old man could throw at him. With three warriors, even as highly trained as they all were, Robb was much less confident.
A howl broke Robb from his thoughts as the four riders came to a halt. Robb, Brienne, and Robar had to calm their horses, who had been spooked by the howl, but the Green Man's elk seemed not to care at all.
"That sounded close," Brienne said, half drawing her sword.
Robb gazed in the direction of where the howl came from, looking for any sign of wolves. Since Brienne had taken over as his primary defender, Robb didn't mind leaving Greywind to watch over his wife and child, but for the first time in months, he would have loved to have his faithful companion at his side. No beast would dare attack Robb with Greywind around. He was a true master of the wild.
"Much like you, that wolf has strayed too far from its pack." a familiar, lecturing tone said.
From either side of the road in front of Robb and his companion, seven riders emerged. Six were knights in silver armor, wielding swords and shields, each showing wounds from the battle at the Isle of Faces, while the seventh was a man Robb knew all too well.
Robb drew his sword. "Ready to finish what you started, septon?"
The old man did not look impressed with the northman's fighting words. He merely held up a hand, signaling something, though Robb wasn't sure what.
"Seven riders behind us," Brienne whispered to Robb.
"Back to back," Robb ordered, keeping his eyes on the High Sparrow as his three companions prepared themselves. Brienne and Robar drew their swords while the Green Man hefted his axe.
"It didn't have to be like this." the High Sparrow said, moving a little closer. "All you had to do was convert from your pagan ways."
"The way you converted from yours?" Robb snapped, smirking slightly. "Did you tell your men that you were once a follower of the Old Gods?"
The High Sparrow scowled. "I found truth and true faith in the Seven. I no longer recognize the false gods of trees and stone."
"Gods your family has always protected and served." Robb countered. "Your fanatics see you as a godly man, but I know you for what you really are."
"And what might that be?" the old man asked.
"An ambitious coward," Robb said. "A man who lets others fight and die for him while he continues to run his mouth."
The High Sparrow spread his arms wide. "These honorable and noble men do not fight for me, Robb Stark, but for the Seven that are One."
"They fight and die so that you can grab at power you have no idea how to wield." Robb countered. "Do not give me mud and call it wine, you two-faced swine! I will stop you before you throw my realm into chaos!"
The old man shook his head sadly. "May the Father have mercy on your soul."
"And may the Stranger drag your corpse to the depths of the Seven Hells." Robb snapped back.
The High Sparrow only nodded before taking his place behind his knights. One warrior moved forward, lifting his visor on his helm so that his voice could be heard. He drew his sword and looked at his comrades.
"May the Warrior give us strength!" he shouted before closing his visor and charging forward, the other five knights right behind him.
"Harrison Jass," Robb muttered darkly as the knights thundered towards him. "Of course, you're here."
Harrison was the first man Robb engaged. Since they had met a few weeks ago, the man's swordwork had remarkably remained unchanged. He was clumsy in his technique and not nearly as fast as the king. Within moments, Robb had a chance to end the fight before he was forced to deal with another rider whose sword was descending on Robb's head. The northerner quickly parried the blow before responding with one of his own.
The four riders fought with everything they had for a few vital moments, occasionally getting a lucky blow against a rider, but the odds were hopelessly against them. They were outnumbered, overwhelmed, and only a few minutes away from being dead on the ground.
A howl shook the forest, this time much closer than before. Horses skittered and riders were forced to take their attention away from the battle so that they could regain control of their mounts. Robb tried to take advantage of their confusion, but he was only able to strike down one knight before he was attacked by another two.
Everything happened at once. The woods, silent except for the ringing of steel on steel, came alive as wolves tore into the Warrior's Sons, knocking them off their saddles as their horses were brought down as well. Dozens of red, brown, black, and grey-furred demons raced out of the trees, sinking their claws and fangs into the fanatics. The panicked cries of the Warrior's Sons were cut off at alarming rates as throats were torn out. Amazingly, Robb and his companions were left alone.
With the battle over, one more wolf came onto the road. This one was much larger than the others in the pack and Robb immediately recognized it as a direwolf. Its grey fur and golden eyes reminded Robb of Greywind, but there was something in the wolf's eyes that was much different. There was a wildness there that Greywind didn't have. It was clearly the alpha of the pack, and the other wolves showed it respect.
The wolf looked at Robb before turning towards the High Sparrow, a ferocious growl reverberating in its throat. The septon's horse reared in fright, throwing the old man from the saddle before bolting off, followed by two hungry wolves. The large wolf continued forward until it was standing over the septon. Now, the rest of its pack had surrounded the High Sparrow, sitting and waiting for their leader to have the last kill. There were nearly twenty wolves in total, the largest pack that Robb had ever seen in his life.
The High Sparrow's death was quick and bloody. As the direwolf bit down on his neck, one hind leg came up and disemboweled the man in one stroke, spilling his guts across the road. As soon as he was dead, the direwolf moved back, allowing others to come forward and feast on the old man's corpse.
Robb couldn't believe what he was seeing. There was so much happening, but there was only one name rolling around in his brain.
"Nymeria," Robb said.
The direwolf padded towards Robb, gazing at him with the wild golden eyes. The northern king kept a firm hand on the reins as the wolf circled him, sniffing him. Finally, the wolf came to a stop in front of Robb.
Nymeria threw her head back and howled up at the sky before bounding off into the forest. The other wolves responded to the howl before following their pack leader into another hunt.
The Green Man dismounted and walked over to the High Sparrow's corpse, pushing the remains with his foot. He nodded once and looked back at Robb.
"It seems the wolf was not as far from his pack as he thought."
"Who's Nymeria?" Robar asked. "The Dornish Queen?"
"My sister Arya named her direwolf after her," Robb explained, patting his horse's neck affectionately. "She had apparently run off after savaging Joffrey's arm. No one has seen her in months! Years!"
"It seems that you are not the only wolf thriving in the south, sire," the Green Man said with a half-smile. "Hopefully we shall see our savior again."