Chapter 5: Narrow Encounter
Two miles was not far, but their progress through the woods was agonizingly slow. Twilight deepened, and the northern night fell with startling speed. The cloudless sky soon turned a bruised, deep purple, and the stars and moon began to emerge. Though their light was not a ten-thousandth of the sun's, the reflection off the snow provided a passable level of visibility.
"It's just ahead," Will whispered to Egger, his voice tight with nerves.
"Be careful. If anything happens, just run," Egger took a deep breath. Unlike Will, who feared the unknown in the dark, Egger knew exactly what they were about to face. He felt a surge of adrenaline—his body and mind both realized that in the face of humanity's ancient enemy, he had to be at his peak.
A wolf howled deep within the woods.
Will stopped and dismounted by an old ironwood tree covered in gnarls. Egger followed suit. The cold wind hissed through the branches, and Egger felt the temperature plummet. Whether it was a psychological trick of the mind or the unnatural chill brought by the White Walkers, he couldn't be sure.
If the plot held true, the group was likely already surrounded.
"Something's not right here," Gared muttered.
"Is that so?" The young knight gave him a disdainful smile.
"Can't you feel it?" Gared challenged. "Listen closely to the sounds in the dark."
"The wind, the rustling leaves, and a wolf. Which one has frightened you out of your wits, Gared?" Royce dismounted gracefully, tying his horse to a low-hanging branch a good distance away from the other three mounts. He drew his longsword. "If you're afraid, stay here and watch the horses. Egger, Will—come with me to see these dead men."
Gared frowned, enduring the insult, and pulled out his tool bag. "I'll start a fire."
"Old man, there is a limit to stupidity. If there are enemies in these woods, are we to build a fire to draw them to us?"
"Some things only fear fire," Gared said, clutching his flint. "Bears, direwolves, and... and other things."
"I said no, and I meant no."
...
Egger watched the exchange with a scowl. He wondered if they spoke more quietly, perhaps the White Walkers might miss them and move on with their new thralls.
But he had no standing to silence them. He opened his mouth to speak but stifled the urge, instead tightening his grip on the dagger hidden up his sleeve.
Gared glared at the young knight for a moment before finally bowing his head to the command. Royce nodded with satisfaction and looked at Will and Egger. "Let's go."
Will moved in short, hesitant steps, looking left and right as he led Egger through the dense thicket and up a gentle slope. Both moved with careful, light touches, trying to remain silent... but the knight bringing up the rear had no intention of being "sneaky." He marched behind them with his head high, his body brushing against leaves, his ringmail clinking, and his sword hilt or luxury cloak snagging on branches, prompting muffled curses.
Every sound Royce made caused Egger's heart to seize. You damned fool, Egger cursed internally. The man had forbidden them from speaking when there was no danger, yet now that silence was vital, he was making enough noise to wake the dead. Egger considered turning around and putting a sword to the boy's throat to demand quiet, but he knew that would only create more noise and, given the skill gap, cause the situation to spiral out of control.
He could only take it one step at a time.
It was truly "one step at a time." A mere hundred yards felt like a year's journey. Finally, he followed Will to the crest of the snow-covered ridge.
Through his heightened tension, Egger clearly heard Will suck in a sharp breath.
Below the ridge, the pale moonlight bathed a clearing, illuminating the remains of the wildling camp. The embers were still sending up wisps of white smoke. There were snow-covered rocks and a half-frozen stream. Everything looked normal—except the ground full of wildlings Will had described was gone.
"Gods preserve us!" Behind them, Ser Waymar Royce hacked away a branch blocking his face and joined them at the crest. He stood tall beside the two commoners, sword in hand, his cloak snapping in the wind. The starlight and moonlight clearly outlined his noble silhouette.
"Get down, damn you!" Will yanked at Egger, pulling him into a crouch. "Something's wrong."
Royce didn't budge. He looked down at the empty clearing and laughed. "Well, Will, it seems your dead men have decided to move camp."
Will went quiet, his chest heaving as he stared at the empty camp in a trembling daze. Egger felt the chill closing in from all directions, seeping through the gaps in his clothes. His right hand gripped his steel sword tighter, while his left clenched the obsidian dagger in his sleeve. He widened his eyes, desperately trying to spot a trace of the enemy... In the TV show, the White Walker had appeared inexplicably behind Royce. He had long forgotten the book's description of their arrival. Where would they come from this time?
"Get up, Will," Ser Waymar commanded. "There's no one here. Hiding like this is unbecoming!"
Filled with dread and suspicion, Will shot a nervous glance at Egger before reluctantly standing up.
"I have no intention of returning from my first patrol empty-handed. We must find these people." Royce looked around. "Climb a tree and look. Move fast. Watch for firelight in the distance."
The final moment was approaching. Egger controlled his breathing and whispered into Will's ear: "Watch out for the dead."
"What?"
"What are you whispering about? Move!"
Egger's cryptic warning only made Will more nervous. He glanced back once before turning to execute the command. The wind suddenly gusted. The poacher reached a tall, straight sentinel tree, drew his dagger and bit down on it, and began to climb. As the trunk shook and snow fell in heaps, he soon vanished into the branches, leaving only Waymar and Egger standing in the ruins of the camp.
Egger's nerves were stretched to the breaking point. He finally understood why people spoke of "pricking up their ears." If he could have controlled the muscles, his ears would have been standing perfectly upright.
To his relief and horror, he heard an abnormal sound almost instantly.
Something was moving through the nearby trees. The sound of something treading on snow and snapping fallen twigs was faint, filtered through the thin layer of loose snow, so much so that Egger couldn't be sure it wasn't his imagination.
He looked left and right, raising his sword into a defensive stance.
"What is wrong with you today?" Ser Waymar frowned. "I remember you. You're not quite like the rest of those raiders and rapists, but..."
"Be quiet!" The temperature began to plummet. A sense of crisis so intense it transcended rank took hold of Egger. He interrupted Waymar without hesitation. "Listen!"
"Listen to what? It's only..." Waymar raised an eyebrow, about to mock him as usual, but his expression suddenly shifted. "Who goes there?" After his long refusal to believe, he finally sensed the wrongness. "Will! Do you see anything?"
The poacher in the tree didn't answer—whether from cold, fear, or the dagger between his teeth.
The wildling campsite sat in a hollow, surrounded on three sides by ridges. While this blocked the wind, it also killed their line of sight. Though the two men below sensed the encroaching chill and the faint sounds nearby, they could see nothing in the dim moonlight... Waymar raised his own sword. Unlike the standard-issue steel of the Night's Watch, his weapon was a family heirloom, superior in both make and beauty, gleaming brightly in the moonlight.
The leaves rustled, the frozen stream gurgled, and a snow owl screeched in the distance. The terror of the unknown didn't torture them long—because the master of those sounds soon stepped out. A White Walker emerged from behind a ridge, rounding a tree to face them.
Maintaining his high alert, Egger saw it immediately. The first white shadow entered his vision. It was tall, gaunt, and hard as old bone, with skin as pale as milk. Its armor seemed to shift colors as it moved—white as new snow, then black as shadow, dappled with the deep greys and greens of the forest. With every step, the patterns rippled like moonlight on water.
Ser Waymar Royce followed Egger's gaze and quickly saw the figure that had materialized from the dark. He sucked in a breath and leveled his sword at the intruder. "Who goes there? Stand!"
It was a challenge, but the tone lacked the arrogance and casual authority he had used on Egger and the others. The young noble threw his long sable cloak back to clear his arms and held his sword with both hands. Egger's keen eyes noticed the man's hands were shaking.
The wind had stopped. The cold was bone-deep. Egger's own hands were shaking—not purely from fear, but from a battle-lust flooding his body. His adrenaline was spiking, making his blood feel as if it were boiling. The White Walker approached the two men of the Watch silently and slowly, wielding a translucent crystal sword that looked like a shard of thin ice. Egger knew that while Valyrian steel and dragonglass could kill these things, only the former could meet their weapons head-on. And that extinct magical metal was something he had no hope of obtaining.
The dragonglass dagger was essentially a piece of glass. It was brittle. He would likely only have one chance. Success or death. Two against one—if Waymar could distract the creature for even a moment, he could...
"If you will not stand," Waymar moved forward bravely, raising his sword above his head. His voice regained a hint of its defiant tone. "Then dance with me!"
Egger took a deep breath, sword in one hand and the hidden dagger in the other, following close behind the Ranger leader. But the moment he took his first step, his racing heart skipped a beat in pure shock. An unexpected complication had appeared.
Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/MistaQuartz
On Patreon, you can explore Extra Chapters in advance!