Dawn was just breaking when the grey-white banner of the Wolf Pack came surging through the chill morning air. Never had Gendry loved the smell of the sea breeze more than he did now.
After leaving Fire Herb Manor, the Wolf Pack immediately escorted the slaves hauling four wagons of dried Fire Herb and pushed east at full speed, aiming to reach the coast and rendezvous with the smuggler fleet as planned.
In the past, the Wolf Pack always traveled overland from Fire Herb to Myr. This time, however, the Handsome Man made a swift decision to take the sea route through the Disputed Lands. The road from the manor to the coastline was rougher and harder to traverse, but once they changed to ships, the journey would be much faster.
Even so, it was impossible for a convoy like theirs to move unnoticed. The harvest season for Fire Herb was fixed, and escorting a column of slaves hauling the cargo inevitably slowed them down.
"Four lookouts. Front and rear!" the Handsome Man ordered, choosing agile, sharp-eyed veteran Sellswords for the task. Cavalry rode along both flanks. In the center were the wagons of Fire Herb, protected by infantry and longbowmen. Everyone wore armor—plate, black scale, or mail. Even the slaves were given leather armor to keep them alive.
"There are watchers behind us," a lookout at the rear reported quickly. "Bandit Sellswords and runaway slaves have had eyes on us the whole time!"
Gendry ran a hand along the haft of his spiked warhammer.
Be ready, old friend.
"We chose the sea route to Myr to avoid those bandit Sellswords," the Handsome Man muttered. "And still we can't shake them. They've set ambushes along the land routes and never expected us to take to the sea. Once they realize it, they'll turn and chase. Faster! As fast as you can! We're only safe once we're aboard ship."
"The enemy outnumbers us several times over and hides in the dark. Afraid, brothers?"
The Handsome Man raised his riding crop and spurred his horse back and forth along the column.
"Not afraid!"
"Warriors of the Wolf Pack don't fear death! We're northerners—we don't blubber like women!"
"Our tactics are simple," the Handsome Man called out, clasping fists with one mercenary after another, even the slaves. "Courage. Courage. And more courage. Men come first. If we must, we abandon some Fire Herb. As long as we carry most of the cargo out alive, that's victory!"
"Winter is coming! The lone wolf dies, the pack survives! If the old gods and the new still look kindly on us, then let us march forward over the corpses of those bandits!"
"Winter is coming! The lone wolf dies, the pack survives!"
The Sellswords of the Wolf Pack answered in voices like ringing steel and pressed on with iron resolve.
"Kid, later you'll stay in the center with Master Qyburn and guard the cargo," the Handsome Man said as he rode up to Gendry.
"Captain, I want to be in the assault!" Gendry lifted his warhammer. "My hammer's thirsty for blood!"
"Good lad." The Handsome Man clapped his shoulder, then lowered his voice. "The Wolf Pack may fear nothing, but the pack still needs its cubs alive. Guard your life well. The families back in Wolf's Den will need you one day."
From dawn to noon, the bandit knights' scouts shadowed them from afar. They never closed in, only harassing—loosing a few bolts from their crossbows at the marching column before wheeling away again. The shots never reached anyone. It was intimidation, nothing more.
"I can smell war in the air," the Handsome Man said. "The scouts are just probing. When their main force arrives, they'll try to encircle us."
There was still some distance to the sea. Ahead stretched rolling hills and open plains—terrain well suited for slaughter.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
War drums and horns echoed across the land. The combined force of bandit Sellswords and escaped slaves rose once more behind the Wolf Pack like a dark cloud, cresting the low hills and taking the high ground.
Without the high walls and shelter of Fire Herb Manor, this fight would be desperate and deadly.
Gendry pulled on his helmet and iron mask and tightened his grip on his spiked warhammer.
"Drop that batch of Fire Herb! I'll let you walk away!" Purplebeard shouted.
"The Wolf Pack may not be as ironclad in its word as the Golden Company," the Handsome Man shot back coldly, "but at least we don't stoop to being thieves and swindlers like you!"
"That's him—the Lion of Meereen, Lord Baradak! He's the Sellsword who killed Rust!" Purplebeard called to the Meereenese at his side, pointing at Gendry behind the Handsome Man.
"That black-haired boy in the iron mask killed Rust?" the Meereenese gladiator asked in rough, halting Common Tongue.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with sun-browned skin, clad in black-and-red leather armor. A long spear rested in his grip. Bald, with scars crisscrossing his face, he fixed his eyes on Gendry.
"Yes. I'll never forget that spiked warhammer," Purplebeard said grimly.
"I'll kill him. Then I'll eat his heart. A gladiator grows stronger by eating the heart of the brave." Hunger flashed across Baradak's face. "Rust wasn't the strongest, but he won dozens of matches in the pits. If that boy killed Rust, then I'll deal with him myself."
"Should Lord Baradak put on plate?" Purplebeard urged. "Without armor, you'll be at a disadvantage."
"Wear that clumsy iron?" The Meereenese fighter's expression darkened with impatience. "My speed is my greatest strength. Leather is enough."
Purplebeard said no more. In the pits of Meereen, gladiators wore little to no protection. The crowd paid to see blood.
"Yes, Lord Baradak. But the Magister only ordered us to slow them down and look for a chance to reclaim the Fire Herb—not to fight the Wolf Pack head-on," Purplebeard said, unease creeping into his voice.
"Coward," Baradak sneered, raising his long spear before charging forward.
"These Meereen gladiators are all as reckless as wild boars," Purplebeard muttered bitterly, holding back his own men who were itching to join.
"Let the escaped slaves go first."
"But how do we answer to the Magister?" Purplebeard's treasurer asked with a sour look.
"Answer?" Purplebeard snorted. "Answering doesn't mean dying in some pointless bloodbath. If we're dead, what good is gold? The Wolf Pack is hard steel. If we can delay them, that's already done our part. Let the Meereenese and the escaped slaves wear them down. We'll see if an opening appears."
Mercenary gear varied wildly. Only the Golden Company could match a standing army. Most Companies lacked proper armor. In terms of equipment alone, the bandit Sellswords were inferior to the Wolf Pack.
Purplebeard waved his hand. A confused mass of escaped slaves began to charge, following behind the Meereenese. Most had become cheap bandit Sellswords in the Disputed Lands, but without training or proper sustenance, their fighting strength was pitiful.
"Masked whelp! Come out!" the Meereen gladiator roared, with a chaotic crowd of escaped slaves shouting behind him.
"Draw! Loose!" Fletcher commanded.
Longbows arced in smooth, deadly curves. Arrows rained down. Several unlucky escaped slaves were struck and fell alongside their horses, bristling with shafts.
Only the crafty Meereen gladiator avoided the killing arcs. His horse collapsed beneath him, but he rolled forward and continued the charge.
The tragedy was that he reached the line alone.
"Cowards!" Baradak snarled, glancing back at Purplebeard still standing atop the hill. The bandit Sellswords showed no sign of coming down to help.
"Whizz!"
Fletcher Dick loosed another arrow. It cut cleanly through the air and buried itself in Baradak's left shoulder. Blood seeped down his arm.
"Cowards! Hiding inside your iron shells!" Baradak roared, raising his long spear.
The Handsome Man stepped forward to meet him.
Baradak's long spear struck again and again, darting like a viper's tongue. The Handsome Man brought up his longsword, but a sword could not match the spear's reach. The spear's edge slashed across his face, opening a bloody line. At the same time, the Handsome Man forced his way in and cut Baradak's arm in return.
"Die!"
Gendry saw Baradak consumed by fury. His spiked warhammer howled through the air as it came crashing down.
"Coward!" Baradak bellowed, thrusting his long spear at Gendry from a vicious angle.
Gendry's oak shield caught the blow. In that heartbeat of resistance, the warhammer slammed mercilessly into Baradak's face.
Qyburn hurried over.
"Throw off a few crates of Fire Herb! Move!" the Handsome Man barked, hastily binding his wound as his gaze shifted to the bandit knights still watching from the hill.