The Lion's change of heart

Chapter 2

Family. Duty. Honor.
--Words of House Tully.

Brienne

They ran as fast as they could, with Jaime tagging along, chains rattling against the ground. Brienne quickly took position in the skiff and dislodged the skiff using an oar, though Jaime had to be shoved in by Ser Cleos.

“Here ser,” Brienne said as she handed an oar to Cleos.  “You’ll have to row as well.”

He did as asked and the skiff began to glide through the water at a pace that they could hope to escape the war galley. The wind and the current certainly were in their favor. Jaime sat silently, looking out behind them to see if they had evaded their potential capturers. Only the top of the mud red and watery blue sail was visible. With the deceptive twists and turns of the Red Fork, the galley seemed to be across the field moving away from them, behind the foliage surrounding the banks. But deception was the key feature of the Red Fork, just as enormity was for Harrenhal.

Brienne lifted her hands to shade her eyes and get a better look at their pursuers. Lady Catelyn’s last words to her rang in her ears. “Get me my daughters back. You’re my only hope.”

“Faster  Ser,” she urged Cleos. She put in all her strength into rowing, her arms bulging with each stroke. She caught Jaime staring at her in amusement. “Have we lost them yet, Kingslayer?” she asked him rudely. He did nothing except look back half-heartedly and shrug.

After what seemed like hours of cat and mouse, they finally lost sight of the top of the sail. They swept around bends and small wooded isles, and maneuvered their way amongst rocks and undergrowth and just as they were starting to hope that the pursuit was over, the distant sail was sighted by Cleos again.

“The others take them,” he cursed as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

“Row!” Brienne bellowed.

“They are gaining on us,” Jaime observed after a while. “They have bigger sails than we do and more rowers; Nine on each side. And archers as well as hand to hand combat men. We cannot hope to outrun them.”

Ser Cleos paused to catch his breath. “Eighteen you say? That hardly seems fair.”

“Six for each of us. I’d prefer eight but my shackles somewhat hinder me, unless Lady Brienne would be so kind as to unshackle me.”

She hated it when he called her Lady in that tone. She ignored him and continued working on the task at hand.

“We had half a night’s start on them,” Jaime said. “They’ve been rowing since dawn, resting two oars at a time. They’ll be exhausted. Just now the sight of our sail has given them a burst of strength, but that will not last. We ought to be able to kill a good many of them.”

Ser Cleos gaped. “But... there are eighteen.”

“At the least. More if you count the fighters.”

His cousin spluttered. “How can we hope to defeat those many?”

“Did I say we could? The best we can hope for is to die with swords in our hands.” He was perfectly sincere. Jaime Lannister had never been afraid of death.

Brienne broke off and wiped her forehead. She could feel her strength waning. Perspiration had glued her straw coloured hair about her face, and her bodice seemed to stick to her skin. “You are under my protection,” she growled.

Jaime gave off a bark of laughter, irking her even more. “Then do as you say, wench. Or free me so I can protect myself.”

The Galley was now barely forty yards away, a great wooden dragonfly. The water around her had foamed by the action of oars, and she seemed to glide almost magically across the river, gaining on them in every passing second. The men on board crowded closer to the front as they approached, bows and quivers strung across their back.

“Archers. I hate archers.” Jaime announced.

When the boats were in hearing range, Jaime cupped his hand around his mouth and shouted, “Come to see me off, eh?”

“Come to take you back Kingslayer,” came the reply. It was Ser Robin Ryger who had answered. He was a stocky man with a receding head, shaggy grey eyebrows, and strapping arms. Over his mail he wore a soiled white surcoat with a weeping willow embroidered in pale green, but his cloak was fastened with a silver trout. Riverrun’s captain of guards. In his day Ser Robin Ryger had been a notably tenacious fighter, but his day was done; he was of an age with Hoster Tully, and had grown old with his lord.

“How is that you lost your golden locks,” Ser Ryger asked.

“I thought maybe I could ward off my enemies with the sheen off my head. It’s certainly worked well enough for you.”

Brienne had rowed a bit further while the hackling went on. She spotted a large island sat in midstream much further ahead. The main channel flowed right. To the left a cutoff ran between the island and the high bluffs of the north shore. Brienne moved the tiller and the skiff sheared left, sail rippling. If I could only scale the cliff face, we have as much as won this stupid hide and seek game. Brienne was determined. She was doing this for Catelyn and her belief that Brienne had nothing to do with Renly’s death.

Thirty yards behind, the galley was entering the bend. “Ser cleos, take the tiller and Kingslayer grab my oar and keep us off the rocks.”

Ser Cleos shoved the oar into Jaime’s hand and scrambled astern. They crossed the head of the island and turned sharply down the cutoff, sending a wash of water against the face of the bluff as the boat tilted. The island was densely wooded, a tangle of willows, oaks, and tall pines that cast deep shadows across the rushing water, hiding snags and the rotted trunks of drowned trees. To their left the bluff rose sheer and rocky, and at its foot the river foamed whitely around broken boulders and tumbles of rock fallen from the cliff face.

They passed from sunlight into shadow, hidden from the galley’s view between the green wall of the trees and the stony grey-brown bluff.

Brienne sucked in as much air as could fill her lungs and dived into the muddy green water with a soft splash. I hope Jaime knows how to stall for time.  A moment later she was brushing off the shrubs off her knees as she hoisted herself onto the base of the bluff. She quickly hopped over a waded pool and hastily started climbing the cliff.

Down below she spotted Jaime turn around to parry with Ser Ryger again. Thank the Gods he got the hint.

“Ser Robin,” Jaime shouted. “Hear me out for a moment.”

Ser Robin motioned for his men to lower their weapons. “Say what you need to quickly. I have many other scum to attend to, all of them with more honor than you. ”

“Lady Catelyn freed me. I did not escape on my own. She commanded me to bring her daughters, Sansa and Arya, back from King’s Landing. I am only following your Lord’s daughter’s orders.” Jaime said as courteously as possible, for all the good that it did to them.

Ser Robin simply frowned, hard lined forming across his hardened, sunburned face. “Lady Catelyn doesn’t rule the riverlands. Bowmen,” he signaled his archers on, “notch, dr-.”

The archers would hardly have missed if it weren’t for a cascade of rocks and pebbles raining down on them. Brienne had carefully managed to reach the top of the cliff. She was directly above the war galley and could spot Ser Rygers shiny bald head.

She used her foot to dislodge a rock as big as a cow, and saw it roll down towards the men in the boat. Two men jumped out of the galley, while one’s leg was crushed as he was about to do the same. The rock split into two as it hit the floor of the deck, and one rolled off towards the sail, tearing it down until it was reduced to rags.

The other bit had managed to punch right through the wooded floor. The galley had already begun to sink as the river’s current filled the hole made by the rock. The oarsman’s screams echoed off the rocks while the archers flailed violently in the current. Judging by their movements, neither man could swim.

Ser Robin and his thrice-damned archers will have a wet and long walk back home. Brienne smiled to herself and sighed in relief.

Finally! I finally posted this :D