The King of Winters

The Kingsmen

The man on the roof was the first to die. He was crouched down by the chimney two hundred yards away, no more than a vague shadow in the evening gloom, but as the sky began to darken he stirred, stretched, and stood. Anguy's arrow took him in the chest. He tumbled bonelessly down the steep slate pitch, and fell in front of the wooden door of the holdfast.

The dragon guards had posted two guards there, but their torch left them night blind, and they had crept in close in the blanket of night. Kyle and Notch let fly together. One man went down with an arrow through his throat, the other through his belly. The second man dropped the torch, and the flames licked up at him. He screamed as his clothes took fire, and that was the end of stealth. Thoros gave a shout, and the brotherhood attacked in earnest.

Edric watched everything from his horse beside Lord Beric, from the crest of the wooded ridge that overlooked the wooden holdfast, mill, bakery, and stables and the desolation of weeds, burnt trees, and mud that surrounded them. The trees were mostly bare now, and the few withered brown leaves that still clung to the branches did little to obstruct his view. Lord Beric had left Beardless Dick and Mudge to guard their back and Edric saw their rear guard getting ready for battle behind them swords in the air.

The western horizon glowed gold and pink, and overhead a half moon peeked out through low scuttling clouds. The wind blew cold, and Edric could hear the rush of water and the creak of the mill's great wooden water wheel through the raging battle. There was a smell of rain in the dawn air, but no drops were falling yet. Flaming arrows flew through the evening mists, trailing pale ribbons of fire, and thudded into the wooden walls of the holdfast. A few smashed through shuttered windows, and soon enough thin tendrils of smoke were rising between the broken shutters.

Two guardsmen came bursting from the holdfast side by side, axes in their hands. Anguy and the other archers were waiting from them in the trees. One axeman died at once. The other managed to duck, so the shaft ripped through his shoulder. He staggered on, till two more arrows found him, so quickly it was hard to say which had struck first. The long shafts punched through his breastplate as if it had been made of silk instead of steel. He fell heavily. Anguy had arrows tipped with bodkins as well as broadheads. A bodkin could pierce even heavy plate. Edric was a decent marksman though compared to Anguy it was like comparing a dwarf to the giant. It had been the sword he favored like all the other knights of his House.

Flames were creeping up the west wall of the holdfast, and thick smoke poured through a broken window. A black cloaked crossbowman poked his head out a different window, got off a bolt, and ducked down to rewind. He could hear fighting from the stables as well, shouts well mingled with the screams of horses and the clang of steel. We have to kill them all, he thought fiercely. Kill every single one. Avenge the Starfall massacre, avenge his aunt, avenge his uncles, kill everyone to avenge them.

The crossbowman appeared again, but no sooner had he loosed than three arrows hissed past his head. One rattled off his helm. He vanished, bow and all. He could see flames in several of the second-story windows. Between the smoke and the mists, the air was a haze of blowing black and white. Anguy and the other bowmen were creeping closer, the better to find targets.

Then the holdfast erupted, the Targaryen guards boiling out like angry ants. Two men rushed through the door with the three headed dragon shields held high before them, and behind them came a knight in full armor with a greatsword and a shield with two great curved fangs painted upon it in black, and behind him three more guards came covered in black chainmail. Others were climbing out windows and leaping to the ground. Edric saw a man take an arrow through the chest with one leg across a windowsill, and heard his scream as he fell. The smoke was thickening. Quarrels and arrows sped back and forth. Watty fell with a grunt, his bow slipping from his hand. Kyle was trying to nock another shaft to his string when a man in black mail flung a spear through his belly. "The time has come," Lord Beric shouted to the men behind him. "Now."