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The gates swung open before the riders entered, and Jon found himself in the courtyard of Castle Black, which was now unusually empty, which was not surprising - most of the castle defenders and those who had come to their aid were either on the Wall or resting after a hard day's work. John headed straight for the lift, noting to himself that the passage through the Wall was blocked, which meant that Edd had received the letter in time. It was a long climb, and John was surprised to note that he had grown accustomed to this seemingly habitual waiting. As the ropes creaked, he slowly climbed upwards, and his ears were already filled with the sound of commands, soldiers cursing, and the thuds of catapults. The fact that the throwing machines were back in working order pleased John in no small measure.
The cage stopped, and no sooner had Stark stepped out of it than a squad of tired Glover soldiers poured in, looking like they hadn't slept in a long time. Their eyes were squinting sleepily, many were yawning continuously, some were leaning on their spears to keep from collapsing from fatigue.
- Lord Commander,' a sentinel came running up to him as soon as he saw who had come to the Wall. - You have arrived at last.
- Where is Mournful Edd? - Jon asked.
- With Lords Glover and Locke, commanding the defences,' was the immediate reply.
With a clang and clang, the two catapults hurled flaming projectiles into the brown mass beneath the Wall, which did not even think to part and let the fire collect its tribute. The only problem was that it was only a drop in the ocean, for the flames were devouring at most a couple of dozen Wychts, while there were thousands of them. Looking down, John saw giants and mammoths, direwolves and bears, dusk cats and, of course, humans. Or rather, those who had once been humans.
The Night King brought everyone he could reach to the Wall.
- John, over here! - Stark was distracted by Mournful Edd's shout, and he hurried to his friend, with Robett Glover and Ondri Locke standing beside him. But before he had gone a few paces, John froze, staring into Edd's face. The right side of his face was disfigured, as if it had been ripped open by sharp claws.
- What the...
- Handsome, isn't he? - Edd grinned, holding out his hand to John.
- What happened? - Stark asked, shaking his hand in return.
- 'Birds,' Tollett replied. - A huge flock. They came at us so fast we didn't realise it. We lost six of them, the damned things threw them off the Wall. Archers, don't yawn! We save dragon-glass arrows, but we don't spare flaming ones!
- Did they get you? - John looked round. The archers were indeed firing flaming arrows at the climbing dead, but the flames were reluctant to ignite the dead flesh, but where they succeeded, the dead fell like flaming shells and knocked down those who were following.
- Yes,' Edd said, 'one of the creatures tried to peck out my eyes, but I was against it. I did kill it, but as you can see, it had some clawing to do.
- What's the situation?
- So far so good, Your Grace,' Glover reported, 'but these things won't stop. They're coming in a steady stream, and it's getting bigger. John Amber has set up a schedule where men are rotated on the Wall every five hours. Soldiers need rest and hot food. And this view,' Robett nodded at the advancing soldiers, 'is not good for their morale.
- Where's Amber himself? - John asked, noting that the White Walkers themselves were nowhere to be seen.
- He went downstairs about an hour before you got here,' Edd said, and then he spoke up. - The seventh scorcher, that man's stamina!
- Lord Amber spent almost twenty-four hours on the Wall, overseeing the repair of the catapults and then organising the delivery of the shells,' Ondry Locke entered the conversation, his voice like the creaking of rusty hinges. Old and hunched, he showed no sign that the frost and icy wind were in any way troubling him. - He was eager to atone for his crimes against the North and House Stark.
- Well, if--' Jon didn't have time to finish, for the horns sounded and there was a shout:
- AIR!!!
A huge flock of birds swooped out of the forest and headed for the Wall, gaining altitude. They swooped down on the defenders, many of whom had not had time to hide behind shields or wooden shelters and were now flailing from side to side, covered on all sides with dead birds. Some had come dangerously close to the edge, slipped and fell, and only their ragged cries announced the sad fate of the fallen.
- Fucking hell, we've got to do something about this! - shouted Edd, furious, as the pack finally scrambled back. - We can't waste arrows on these things!
But after a moment it was clear that the bird attack was just a diversion.
- Cats! - There was a shout. - The cats are coming!
Under the cover of the other dead, the dusky cats, digging their sharp claws deep into the ice, climbed upwards, making it difficult to hit them. The problem was aggravated by the fact that the whirlwinds tried to cover the predators with their bodies, and soon enough it became clear that it would not be possible to delay the cats.
- Weapons to battle! - came the order. - Prepare the glass!
Grabbing spears and axes, the soldiers froze, covered by their shields. Old Ondry was led away, though John would have been glad if Lord Locke had been taken off the Wall at all - the old man was no longer a warrior, and therefore could not help in the defence. John himself, surrounded by soldiers, drew the Long Claw from its sheath and stood at the ready.
Despite the fact that the attack was expected, the cat appeared suddenly. With a single blue eye, its pelt was stripped off, showing rotted muscles and bones, but that didn't make it any weaker. With a wrenching growl, he lunged forward, and at the same moment several flaming arrows struck him, but they did nothing. The cat's claws rained down on the raised shields, and at once two spears with dragon-glass tips were thrust into the dead beast's skinned flanks. At the same instant the cat fell to the crushed ice and froze. The semblance of life had left him.
- Hold on, people! They're coming!
Three cats climbed up the Wall and immediately attacked the wall of shields. Two more climbed up and rushed towards the catapult crews, but they were met with arrows as they approached. The archers had to divert their arrows to cover them, and the Wychs took advantage of it. It was as if they'd been reinvigorated and they were climbing even faster.
- Hit them! - shouted Mournful Edd, waving a short spear to which was attached a long and narrow piece of dragon glass. - We need to throw them back down! If we don't, we'll all die here!
There was no time to wait, the first ugly head had already appeared over the edge of the Wall, and John, shaking the men, shouted:
- Yol! Toor! Shul!
A whirlwind of fire swept away the straw-faced Wychs, but the two Locke soldiers who shared the fate of the dead were also struck. They were swept aside and fell to the ice, dying instantly. At this moment John was visited by the rather cynical thought that the burned men could no longer be raised by the Night King.
- Archers, no distractions! - shouted Jon, not letting the men fall into a stupor. - Strike the dead! The whole North is behind you! Your wives and children!
John, surrounded by his loyal men, moved along the edge, swinging his sword and slaying those creatures that escaped the Breath of Fire. The Valyrian steel was hitting them one by one. The soldiers following Stark, clutching spears, axes, and dragon-glass daggers, killed any who tried to climb over the edge, but the dead kept coming.
The fiery breath turned the wychs into cinders, and Jon suddenly felt the taste of blood in his mouth, while his sore throat hinted that he too had a limit.
How much time had passed since the battle had begun, Jon did not know, but at some point he found the Karstark soldiers fighting beside him, and Harald himself fighting the dead, covered on both sides by his men. The people on the Wall were getting bigger and bigger, the archers were running out of dragon glass arrows and had to send men for new ones.
Another Wycht swung a rusty sword at Jon, but his weapon shattered after the first clash of blades and the Long Claw blew his head clean off. The next whirlwind was halved in two, but a third came at him from behind, and only at the last moment did Stark turn round and plunge his sword into the whirlwind's chest.
When he looked round, he found that the blue-eyed dead were no longer on the Wall, and the new ones had not yet climbed up. The archers continued to pelt them with arrows without interruption, the tired soldiers were replaced during the battle, and the exhausted soldiers finally allowed themselves to rest.
- The first thing to do is to get the dead out of here! - John ordered. - We don't need to fight with our own brethren!
The people took heart, and the fallen fighters were hurriedly carried away, and soon enough it became known that nearly four dozen men had been killed in the battle. How many were badly wounded was yet to be counted. Some of them were not destined to live through the night, some would not see the dawn. Some would have to have a leg or arm amputated to prevent blood poisoning.
- Damn it, this is just the beginning,' Edd breathed heavily, his scars bloody. - They're only three in a row now. What's going to happen next?
- I'm afraid to imagine,' John admitted.
Their conversation was interrupted by a soldier who could hardly stand on his feet from fatigue, but he bellowed at the top of his lungs:
- Your Grace, Lord Glover is wounded!
Robett Glover, who had been rushed downstairs, was lying on the bed, pale as a sheet. He was clutching his stomach with both hands, and blood was trickling from under his fingers. The first glance at the lord made it clear that he wasn't alive.
- Damn it,' Glover wheezed, 'I never thought I'd die on the Wall.
- Save your strength, lord,' the maester said, tending to his wounds. - You'll be fine. In a week, you'll be back to swinging swords.
- I've never heard a fairy tale since I was a boy,' Robett smiled weakly.
When Glover saw John, he said:
- Do you see, Your Grace, how fate works out? I've fought the Ironborn and slaughtered Bolton's dogs, and in the end I die at the hands of some vile creature,' Robett looked out the window, where heavy clouds covered the sky to the horizon. - You know what I want?
- What is it? - John moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed.
- To see the blue sky one last time,' Glover's voice was getting weaker. - To know that there was still hope.
- There's always hope,' Stark assured him. - And as for the sky...
Jon stood up and walked outside, his head tilted toward the sky. He took a full breath and shouted:
- Lok! Vah! Koor!
The shout rushed to the heavens, and the common soldiers, anointed knights, and noble lords watched mesmerised as the clouds rapidly dispersed, revealing the blue sky. For the first time in a long time, the sun's rays illuminated the faces of the people and this long-suffering land that had been soaked in blood. The inhabitants of the Last Hearth, standing in the courtyard and on the battlements, listened to the echoes that echoed from the North and then looked up into the sky.
At Carhold, Alice Karstark opened the window and looked out. Up there, an unknown force had dispersed the heavy clouds to which everyone was accustomed. Some laughed, others cried.
To the surprised murmurs of the servants and household, Sansa walked outside, unable to believe her eyes, and Bran Stark, sitting in the mantis, smiled as the sunlight touched his face. Rickon laughed joyfully, and his new wildling friends echoed the Young Teen Wolf.
Robett Glover died with a happy smile on his face, looking out the window for the last time. In the last moments of his life, he knew there was still hope. Hours later, he and all the dead were burned at the pyres.
The assault on the Wall did not stop for a second.