The noise was absolute.
Fifty Maxim guns firing at six hundred rounds per minute created a wall of sound that vibrated the very stones of Winterfell.
In the first trench line Jorah Mormont gripped his sword Heartsbane. But he did not swing it. He watched.
Ten yards in front of him the Army of the Dead was being dismantled.
The wights charged mindlessly into the razor wire. They got snagged. As they struggled the machine gun fire tore them apart. Arms flew off. Chests exploded. Heads popped like ripe melons.
It was not a fight. It was physics. Kinetic energy meeting rotting biomass.
"Reload!" A gunner screamed next to Jorah. Steam hissed from the water jacket of his gun.
His loader slapped a new canvas belt into the feed tray.
Click Clack.
RAT TAT TAT TAT.
The gun roared back to life cutting down a cluster of wights that had almost reached the parapet.
"They cannot get through!" Jorah shouted to Lyanna Mormont who stood beside him with a small revolver. "The fire is too heavy!"
But the dead had a quality the living lacked infinite patience and zero fear.
As the piles of shredded corpses grew the wights behind them began to climb. They climbed over the mounds of their own dead using the meat as a ramp to cross the wire.
"They are bridging the wire!" Jorah yelled into his radio handset. "Sector Four is getting clogged!"
Andar watched the battlefield through high powered binoculars from the command tower. The illumination flares cast long dancing shadows.
"Sector Four is saturated," Andar noted. "They are using body fill tactics."
"Body fill?" Robb asked horrified.
"They are filling the trench with their own bodies to walk across," Andar explained coldly. "It is a standard swarm tactic."
He picked up the phone.
"Artillery. Switch to canister. Target Sector Four. Danger Close."
On the battlements the 12 pounder Napoleons adjusted their aim. They depressed their barrels until they were pointing almost at the ground.
"Fire!"
BOOM.
The cannons fired canister shot tin cans filled with hundreds of lead balls. It was like a giant shotgun blast.
The shot swept the top of the corpse mounds clear. It turned the ramp of bodies into a spray of red mist.
"Hold the line," Andar whispered. "Make them pay for every inch."
Above the slaughter the Night King watched.
He sat on the back of Viserion no the undead dragon he had raised from the bones found beyond the Wall an ancient beast named Terrax.
He saw the lines of fire. He saw his army being chewed up by the iron machines.
He raised his spear.
The storm clouds swirled.
SCREEEEE.
From the darkness above something dove.
It was not a dragon. It was a flock.
Thousands of undead ravens. They fell from the sky like black hail aiming not for the soldiers but for the machines.
They clogged the cooling jackets. They flew into the gunners faces pecking at eyes. They jammed the feed mechanisms with their crushed bodies.
"Birds!" The gunner next to Jorah screamed batting at the swarm. "They are in the gun!"
The Maxim jammed.
"Jam!"
Without the suppressive fire the wights surged forward. They scrambled over the wire. They fell into the first trench.
"Fall back!" Jorah roared. "Second Line! Move!"
The living defenders abandoned the first trench. They ran through the connecting communication tunnels retreating to the secondary positions.
As the wights poured into the empty first trench they thought they had won ground.
But Andar pressed a button.
FWOOM.
The bottom of the first trench had been lined with oil drums.
A wall of fire erupted turning the trench into a crematorium. The wights trapped inside burned their screeches joining the roar of the flames.
In the Godswood Theon Greyjoy stood by the Heart Tree. The sounds of battle were distant muffled by the castle walls.
"They are coming," Bran said.
Theon looked at the entrance to the Godswood.
"Let them come."
He signaled his Ironborn.
"Flamethrowers ready."
Two men stepped forward with heavy tanks on their backs. They aimed the nozzles at the gate.
A group of wights burst through the iron gate.
"Ignite!"
A stream of liquid fire washed over the entrance. The wights burned but more pushed through walking through the fire their own bodies flaming as they charged.
Theon raised his Type 3 Rifle.
CRACK. CRACK.
He dropped two wights with headshots.
"Reloading!"
He looked at Bran. The boy was gone his eyes white. He was warging.
"Where are you going?" Theon whispered.
Bran was flying. He was a raven soaring high above the smoke.
He saw the Night King on his undead mount. He was circling high waiting for the defenses to crack.
Bran flew higher. He found the Leviathan.
The airship was holding station at five thousand feet above the storm.
Bran flew into the gondola window. He pecked at the glass.
Inside Andar saw the bird.
"Bran," Andar said.
He opened the window. The bird flew in and landed on the map table. It looked at the location of the Godswood. Then it looked at the sky directly above it.
"He is coming for me," the bird seemed to say. "From above."
Andar understood.
"He is going to air drop into the Godswood," Andar realized. "He is bypassing the trenches."
Andar grabbed the radio.
"Dragon One! Dragon One! Abandon the perimeter! The HVT is in the Godswood! I repeat the Night King is going for the Godswood!"
"I am on my way!" Daenerys's voice crackled.
The Night King dove.
He rode the undead dragon straight down toward the Godswood.
But as he descended a shadow intercepted him.
Drogon slammed into the undead beast mid air.
CRASH.
The impact shook the castle. Two massive dragons one living fire and one dead ice tumbled out of the sky.
They crashed into the courtyard crushing a stone tower.
Drogon roared and bit into the dead dragon's neck. He ripped away rotting flesh and bone.
The Night King was thrown from his saddle. He landed on his feet in the snow unhurt.
He stood up. He looked at the Godswood gate.
Then he looked up.
Standing on the battlements above him was a man.
Andar Stark.
Andar held a strange weapon. It was a tube resting on his shoulder.
"Welcome to Winterfell," Andar said.
He pulled the trigger.
WHOOSH.
A rocket propelled grenade streaked down from the wall.
It hit the ground at the Night King's feet.
BOOM.
The explosion threw the Night King backward. He slammed into the stone wall of the armory.
He stood up again. His ice armor was cracked. He looked annoyed.
He raised his hand.
The fallen dead in the courtyard Northerners Dothraki Unsullied began to twitch.
"Oh no," Andar muttered. "He is hitting the reset button."
Thousands of fresh corpses began to stand up inside the walls.
The trap had sprung. But who was caught in it?
[Quest Update: The Battle of Winterfell]
[Phase 2: The Breach]
[Enemy Leader: On the Field]
[Friendly Casualties: Rising]
[Situation: Critical]
...
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
120 Power Stones: 3 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!