GOT/ASOIAF: Ruler Beyond The Ice

The sound of something piercing through the air, which should have been clear and sharp, was so loud it hurt everyone's ears. Melisandre cried out, lost her balance, and fell backward onto the filthy ice.

Aegor broke out in a cold sweat. He hadn't clearly seen the trajectory of the projectile, but that flash of light had triggered deeply ingrained memories of mortal danger. His reaction was purely instinctual, and just in time. He knew full well that if the enemy intended to target anyone on the Wall, he—marked by the god of cold after killing a White Walker—and Melisandre, a servant of the Lord of Light and wielder of fire magic, were undoubtedly the most likely targets.

The push wasn't just to save her. It was also to use the recoil to shift himself away from the danger zone.

Then, the object truly came.

A gray shadow flew through the space where Melisandre had just stood, ghost-like, still carrying tremendous momentum after traveling nearly a league. It quickly vanished into the gray sky south of the Wall, leaving only a fading whine in its wake.

Had it not been for Aegor's push, the Red Woman would've been skewered through the chest and killed on the spot.

...

The Wall was so high that few ranged weapons could ever reach the top. The Night's Watch brothers stationed above had no warning. The other officers nearby had only seen Aegor suddenly shove the red-robed woman, followed by a piercing screech through the air. Only after the echo faded did everyone begin to react.

"What was that just now?" Mormont stared, almost thinking his old eyes had failed him. He turned, shocked, but could no longer see the object that had flown past them.

"It was a weapon thrown by a White Walker. I was nearly killed by one before." Whether it was an ice sword, an ice spear, or just a stone, Aegor couldn't tell. He took two steps back to clear the danger zone, crouched down, and helped the Red Priestess up. "Lady Melisandre, are you hurt?"

"Mm... I'm fine." The red-robed woman stood, her face pale, one hand clutching her left arm. Since Aegor had known her, she had never seemed so much like a regular person. "As expected of the servants of the god of cold. I was just thinking... about being too careless."

Before she could finish, another piercing noise echoed through the air. The Wall shuddered like it had taken a direct cannon hit. The ice beneath their feet cracked and trembled. A wide section of the icy guard rail at the edge of the Wall collapsed with its base, more than a meter thick, and shattered down the side. Startled, the nearby soldiers all backed away from the Wall's edge.

The White Walker's second ranged strike had hit the Wall. Judging by its aim, the enemy had hoped to strike Melisandre, who'd now been dragged into a blind spot, but they'd underestimated the strength of the Wall's solid ice. The attack had failed.

It wasn't safe here anymore.

"My lady, you must leave the Wall. The White Walkers can sense your position."

The interrupted spell left the Red Priestess reeling and in pain. She didn't resist. Nodding, she allowed a nearby soldier to support her toward the lift. The cage door opened, and she stepped in, descending to the ground.

The White Walker Aegor had killed two years ago could only embed his ice sword half a meter into a tree. But the one who attacked today had pierced more than a meter of solid Wall ice. Was this particular White Walker stronger, or had these creatures grown more powerful over time?

The second projectile-like attack, which had shattered part of the Wall's edge, had rattled all the soldiers atop the Wall. Fortunately, a third strike did not follow. This kind of powerful ranged assault must be taxing even for the White Walkers.

Soon, a Night's Watch brother shouted, "Lord Commander, the fire below... it's going out!"

Ignoring both the threat of further White Walker attacks and Aegor's warning, Jeor Mormont approached the edge of the Wall and looked down. The wildfire and pitch oil in the barrels had already been consumed by the catalytic burn of the fire-enhancing spell. The towering wall of flame from earlier had merely been the burning of wooden fences and gate panels, amplified by Melisandre's magic. Without the spell, the remaining wood couldn't sustain that level of fire. As soon as her spell was interrupted, the flames died down, leaving only smoldering embers.

The heat remained, but it was no longer enough to immediately destroy any wights that stepped on it.

A dark tide of wights surged toward Castle Black's entrance without hesitation. Two enormous wight giants had already staggered into the middle of the path between the Haunted Forest and the Wall. If either managed to squeeze into the tunnel before the gate closed, it would be a catastrophe. Ordinary wights could be dealt with—light a fire at the tunnel entrance, prepare dragonglass weapons, and even if there were 100,000 of them, they couldn't breach the Wall.

But Castle Black was currently packed with Wildlings who had just passed through. In such chaos, if even one wight entered, it wouldn't matter how many tricks the Night's Watch had prepared—they wouldn't be able to use them.

The ballistae, originally mounted for counterattack, had been moved down to prevent the Wildlings from causing unrest. But that ultra-long-range "decapitation strike" from the White Walkers had opened Mormont's eyes. He now realized that these enemies possessed cunning, intelligence, and means previously unknown. Against such foes, the Lord Commander dared not be careless.

Gritting his teeth, the Old Bear made a difficult decision. "Blow the horn! Prepare to shut the gate!"

"Has Jaime made it inside?"

"I don't think so. There are still a few brothers below!" Mormont took a deep breath, then made up his mind. "It's too late. Sound the horn. Shut the gate!"

Aegor stamped his foot in frustration but didn't argue. Instead, he turned to ask the other Night's Watch brothers behind him, "Where's that small hanging basket—the one we used to bring Mance in for negotiations?"

"In that corner, over there!"

"Lower it!"

The iron gate rumbled as it descended. The last Wildling to make it through was nearly crushed, rolling through just in time. A woman clutching a child, seeing she couldn't make it, threw the infant forward. The baby soared through the gap just before the gate slammed shut. She then picked up a torch from the ground, turned her back to the gate, and faced the oncoming tide of wights.

The sound of the iron gate slamming down was a death sentence for all who had not yet entered the tunnel. No oil barrel, no rocket, could now stop the pale tide from consuming the last few hundred. From atop the Wall, one could clearly see the black figures of those still outside—today's guards—vanishing like ink spilled into filthy water, disappearing without a trace.

...

The fine steel sword brought from Casterly Rock was already dull, but in Jaime's hands, it remained a deadly weapon. He spun like a whirlwind, cutting down every wight that lunged at him. As he faced the endless wave of snarling, clawing undead, the Kingslayer felt a strange sense of peace.

It seemed he would meet his end with honor. His only regret was that he hadn't even seen one of the legendary "White Walkers" before being forced into this desperate fight with their reanimated pawns.

A shadow flickered overhead. He looked up and saw a small hanging basket, barely big enough for one person. Unlike the main lift cage, it wasn't mounted on tracks, and in the fierce wind, it swayed violently. It swung past him once, and he hesitated for just a second before cutting down another wight. When it swung back toward him again, he leapt decisively and grabbed the thick rope supporting the basket.

(To be continued.)

***

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