Year 102 A.C.
POV: Denovan
The dead direwolf and the chaos of the battle were not what truly caught my attention. What terrified me was the center of the clearing.
There, dripping a dark and viscous blood, was something I swore, by all the old gods, I would never see loose through these forests in this life. A cadaverous spectre was surrounded by four direwolves. But it was not a common human; it was a Giant, a mountain of dead flesh and exposed bones, wielding a colossal club.
How is this possible? The dead should not awaken for another two centuries. Or have they always been here, lurking in the shadows of the Lands of Always Winter, just waiting for the right moment? I looked at that abomination, and a genuine cold ran down my spine. How would I kill something of that magnitude? It was enormous.
The wolves growled, furious, but they seemed to understand that they could not kill that thing. They only delayed it, circling, biting, and retreating. Why didn't they flee? I looked into the wolves' eyes and saw exhaustion. They dodged by pure instinct from the incessant attacks of the undead's club.
I watched everything like a passenger in my own mind, unable to wake up from this lucid nightmare.
After a few minutes, a sharp and potent howl broke the air. It wasn't far. The wolves that were resisting stopped the attack in the same instant and bolted in the direction of the call. They passed by me, and only now, up close, could I notice the real size of those beasts. They were larger than Kali and Orion, even with the genetic improvement that my bonds provided to my tigers. Those wolves were a force of nature.
I turned my gaze back to the cadaverous giant, expecting it to stay still or follow the wolves slowly. That was when the dread set in.
He turned his skull, almost devoid of skin, and looked directly into my eyes. Where there should have been eyeballs, two slits of a chilly and supernatural ice-blue glowed. He saw me. And, unlike the slowness of the dead that I remembered from the stories, he bolted.
He ran with a devastating force toward me. The club rose, cutting the air with the sound of thunder. In the moment the blow was going to crush me...
I woke up.
I sat up abruptly, my breath coming in short and heavy sobs. Cold sweat dripped down my face.
"Holy shit..." I whispered, running my hand through my hair and throwing it back. Was it just a dream? I doubted it. My instinct screamed that it was a warning, a vision through the eyes of one of my bonds or something deeper. Fuck caution. I was going to do exactly what I told Sigrid not to do.
I hurried out of the tent and entered the tent where my men were resting.
"Wake up! Put on warm clothes and follow me!"
They looked at me groggily, confusion written on their faces. Seeing that they hadn't understood the gravity, I roared:
"NOW!"
I left them behind and went straight to Morn's tent. I needed numbers. As dangerous as it was to face a creature like that, it was the perfect opportunity to consolidate my power. If I saved them from a monster of legends, the clan would have no choice but to follow me.
"Morn!" I shouted, invading the tent without ceremony.
The leader of the Ice-Bones was under thick skins with two women. He stood up quickly, his hand reaching for his axe. Polygamy was not something strange on this side of the Wall, but the invasion was.
"Denovan? What the hell are you doing here at this hour? Did you come to kill me? I knew I shouldn't have trusted..."
"Shut up and listen to me," I cut him off, my voice icy. "Get dressed. We have enemies nearby. Prepare your best men and bring as many torches as you can."
Morn's countenance changed. Distrust gave way to a deadly seriousness. "Enemies? Tell the truth, brat, or I'll kill you myself right now."
"Morn, believe me. We need to kill it before it reaches the village."
"If you are deceiving me, I will cut off your limbs one by one."
"I appreciate the hospitality. I'll see you outside," I replied, already turning on my heels and heading to Sigrid's tent. I knew it was dangerous to take her, but she was strong and skilled. Besides, if I left her behind in something like this, she would kill me the next day.
I entered and found her already standing, buckling her sword. She looked at me with sharp green eyes. "What did you see, Novan?"
"Undead," I replied curtly.
She stopped for a second, an amused expression threatening to emerge, but seeing my face, the smile died. "You're not serious... are you?"
"Prepare your things. And remember: your sword won't kill it. Only fire works against these things."
...
Twenty minutes later, thirty warriors were gathered in the dimness of the forest. Morn approached, his breath forming clouds in the cold air.
"Where are the enemies? I called my best men for a war."
"It is only one," I said, starting to march. "I will explain on the way."
"There are no rival clans or beasts that require thirty men on this side of the forest, brat," Morn grumbled beside me after a few minutes of fast walking.
"Have you ever heard of the White Walkers?" I asked aloud so everyone could hear. Morn snorted, but it was Sigrid who answered, remembering the stories I used to tell.
"Creatures made of ice, who seek only to destroy life..." she recited, her voice trembling.
"They use dead bodies to create an army. One day, when they are thousands, they will march South. That Wall... it was never made to keep us out. It was made to keep that away from them."
"Those are stories to scare naughty children, Denovan!" Morn countered, irritated. "Do not take me for a fool. We are not entering the forest at this hour because of a fairy tale."
"It's not a story. I saw it..."
At the front of the group, Nix, my little owl, flew over the canopy of the trees, tracking the trail of death.
An hour passed. Desperation began to take hold of me as the trail seemed to go cold. Morn stopped, gripping my shoulder with brute force. "Enough! You made us walk in circles. I'm going to kill you right here for making a fool of me."
I was going to respond when I began to recognize the vegetation and the trees in front of me.
My eyes glowed gold for a second. "It's close!"
"Don't ignore me, brat," Morn said, grinding his teeth.
We took a few more steps and came out into the clearing where the battle had occurred in my dreams; it was possible to see the body of a direwolf crushed on the ground.
"By the old gods..." Morn said.
"A crushed direwolf? What creature can do this?" he continued, incredulous.
It was one thing to see a corpse, a spear, a bear, or another direwolf kill a direwolf, but to crush it like pulp—almost nothing could cause something like that.
"Believe me, Morn," I said at his side.
Not waiting for him to answer, I spoke while already preparing to run in the direction I remembered the direwolves and the spectre had run.
"Get ready, we are close to them."
I saw a touch of fear in his eyes, and just as Sig was about to comment on something...
I ran. I bolted with a speed that left them behind. Even with the heavy armor, my reflexes and muscles conditioned by the bonds made me a swift shadow among the pines.
I already suspected what Sig would tell me—that dead wolf was one of the wolves she saw in her dream. But we have no time for that.
We reached the clearing. The silence was replaced by the sound of flesh being crushed.
Morn and his men came to a halt, torches flickering. In the center lay the body of a direwolf, completely crushed. And before it, the Giant.
It was a vision of nightmare. Four meters tall, bluish and frozen flesh, wielding a tree trunk as if it were a twig. Another direwolf tried to move away, limping with a broken leg. The spectre raised the club for the final blow.
I wouldn't let him finish it; I bolted to attack him. As much as I couldn't kill him, I could at least cut him until he was useless.
That's what I thought, until I saw my strike ricochet off the spectre's shin.
The blow didn't cut; it only chipped. The skin was hard, similar to ice, and it only took a chip off the giant's leg.
"FUCK!"
The blow that was meant for the limping wolf changed direction and came toward me. The blow was fast, very fast.
I flexed every muscle in my body to manage to dodge in time. The blow passed beside my face, grazing the spaulder of my armor.
I heard the warriors approaching and shouted:
"Use fire!" I screamed, jumping over the monster.
The fight that followed was the hardest of my life. I struck with my Thenn steel axe, but the blade, though sharp enough to cut bone, seemed to hit frozen stone. The giant's skin did not cut; it chipped like ice. It was hard to cut, but gradually, by trying to hit the same spot, I could see I was almost managing to cut one of his legs.
"FIRE! USE THE TORCHES AND THE ARROWS!" I ordered again. Some were stubborn and needed to confirm with their own hands to be sure it really would have no effect.
Sigrid and Morn flanked the creature. Sigrid was agile, distracting the monster while Morn delivered powerful blows that barely made the giant retreat. It was the three of us against a mountain of death. At every moment, we felt that the next mistake would be the last.
The warriors finally began to hurl spears wrapped in lit cloths and fire arrows. At first, the giant seemed to ignore it, but as the flames spread through its rotten fur and dry flesh, it began to falter.
The creature became slow. The blue glow in its eyes began to flicker. The heat of the fire was "turning off" the magic of the White Walkers that kept it standing. With a final joint effort, Morn, Sig, and I brought the creature down, finally managing to sever the leg, which collapsed in a pyre of bluish flames and black smoke.
Silence returned, heavy and fetid. Morn's men were pale, their hands trembling as they held their weapons.
"By the gods..." Morn murmured, wiping sweat and soot from his face. "I never imagined seeing a White Walker of the legends with my own eyes."
I let out a dry laugh, without joy, while sheathing my axe.
"I told you I would show you many things, Morn. But I have to disappoint you... that was not a White Walker."
He looked at me, incredulous. "What?"
"That was only a wight. A servant. A foot soldier. There are thousands of them out there," I explained, looking toward the deep North. "White Walkers are different. Fire does not kill them. They only fall before Valyrian Steel or Dragonglass. What we faced today was just the beginning of the end."
Morn looked at me in disbelief. He seemed ready to doubt, to point a finger and call me crazy once more, but exhaustion weighed on his shoulders. The abominations he had witnessed that night had shattered his worldview. He let out a long sigh, as if processing a bitter truth.
"That's why the city?" he asked, his voice in a tone of reflection.
"They cannot cross the sea," I replied, looking at the giant's ashes. "We will be protected from at least one direction. It is our only chance to have a real refuge."
Silence fell between us for an instant, broken only by the crackling of the flames consuming the corpse.
"I will support you," Morn said finally. "I had promised before out of necessity, but now it is genuine. You are a warrior my clan can count on. I believe in you, Denovan. I will follow your orders when the hour comes."
I nodded, feeling the weight of that loyalty. As I turned my gaze away, I saw Sigrid.
She was kneeling beside the direwolf that was limping. The creature was down, its two back legs immobile and lifeless. By the position of the body and the strange angle, its spine had been snapped.
I approached slowly. Without taking her eyes off the animal, she spoke with a choked voice:
"It was them, Denovan... in my dream, I had seen them. There are still two missing." She wiped her face quickly, trying to hide her fragility, but the tearful tone betrayed her. She was a formidable warrior, but her heart was still too sensitive for certain cruelties of the world.
I sighed, feeling a pang of pity. "I believe that at least one of them is still alive. They were following the undead to protect the one that escaped."
"We have to find him," she said, standing up and facing me with determination.
"Sig..."
"You're not going to deny me this a second time, are you?" she interrupted, her green eyes shining with plea.
"Alright. Let's go. But first... finish this wolf. He will not survive for long."
She took a step back, horrified. "You wouldn't do that. Don't ask that of me."
"Then go check on the warriors," I ordered, lowering my tone. "See if they are all alright and tell them to prepare to head back. And tell them we have work to do."
She hesitated, and I held her shoulder. "We won't be able to keep him alive, Sig. He is a direwolf; he is too fierce. Do you think he would let us care for him? And even if he did, he is too badly wounded. We have no healers or methods to heal a broken spine. Killing him now is the only act of mercy left to us."
Her countenance softened, replaced by a deep sadness. "Make it fast," she whispered, turning and walking toward the men without looking back.
I was left alone with the wolf. He was the largest of the group; a majestic beast with black fur and green eyes that looked like emeralds in the darkness. He stared at me with a dying ferocity, but seemed to relax minimally when Sigrid moved away. The effect of my aura and my bonds began to act upon him, but that only made my task more bitter.
"I apologize," I said, unsheathing my axe. The metal glinted under the light of the distant torches. "It's the only thing I can do for you now... but I promise: I will save the rest of your family."
I raised the axe. The wolf looked me in the eyes, and for a brief second, the ferocity vanished. There was an understanding there, an intelligence that transcended that of a common beast. He let out one last low breath.
"Goodbye. Rest in peace."
The strike came down, fast and certain. The steel blade separated the head from the body in a single clean movement. The wolf's face, now motionless in the snow, displayed an expression of relief.
I took a deep breath, cleaning the blade in the snow before turning back to Morn's men.
"Burn the bodies!" I ordered, my voice echoing through the clearing. "Dead bodies are raw material for the enemy. They can be revived and used against us."
The warriors hesitated, but soon began dragging the remains toward the flames.
"From this day on, do the same with your own dead," I continued, walking among them. "You won't want to have to fight against your own fathers and sons on the battlefield."
Morn approached, his voice cutting through the murmur of the men. "What is this story, Denovan? Your sister is saying we are going back to the village now? And that you two will continue alone? We are going to finish what we started."
I sigh. This man had a gift for complicating everything.
"It won't be necessary, Morn. Your men must be tired," I replied.
"I'm going after the last two direwolves. I'm going to bring them to our side," I said, pointing to myself and Sig.
Morn arched his eyebrows, an enthusiastic spark appearing in his gaze. "All the more reason for me to go with you. I want to see with my own eyes how you bend these beasts."
I sigh. "Then let's go. We leave in ten minutes."
I walked to a nearby tree and sat down, leaning my head against the frozen trunk. My legs felt heavy.
"Denovan..." Sigrid's voice sounded beside me, loaded with anxiety.
"We are tired, Sig. We ran for hours, faced an undead giant, and the cold is punishing us. Let's rest a bit. There are still two wolves alive; they won't just disappear."
Sigrid observed me for a moment. She nodded silently and sat down beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder.
"Ten minutes..." she murmured, closing her eyes.
I closed mine as well, but my mind was already far away, flying under black wings.
'Nix... Find them for us.'
"Cru cru."
I sigh.
This night will be long...
While we waited, Morn sat beside me as well and asked:
"Now that you're talking about the direwolf, I noticed... why didn't you bring your beasts?"
"They wouldn't be as useful; fire was the only thing we had that would be effective against these dead."
"Effe- what?"
I sigh.
I repeated what I had said with a bit of amusement. "I meant that fire was the only thing we had that would help us. My owl came with us; she was the one who tracked. The rest are not used to the night or couldn't do anything against a wight."
"Hum... I see, you're right. I hadn't thought of it like that."
I look at Morn and, for the first time, he seemed quite friendly and willing to talk.
A shared battle is the place where true trust is forged.
The wolves may have had a sad end, but things will be easier between me and the Ice-Bones in the coming days.
-/-/-
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