Chapter 243: A Show of Strength
Whirr—
The sound of something tearing through the air, which should have been a crisp and pleasant whistle, was so loud it made everyone's ears ache. Melisandre let out a muffled groan as she lost her balance, tumbling backward onto the filthy ice.
Egger broke into a cold sweat. In truth, he hadn't even clearly seen the trajectory of the flying object; it was simply that the flash of light darting across his vision had triggered deeply buried memories of peril, causing him to react instinctively. He knew all too well: if the enemy intended to strike someone present, then he—marked by the Great Other for having killed a White Walker—and Melisandre—a follower of the Red God wielding fire magic—were undoubtedly the two most likely targets.
That shove had not only been to save Melisandre; he had used the counterforce to propel himself away from his original position.
Then, something indeed flew past.
A grey-white shadow, like a small phantom, streaked through the space where Melisandre had been standing. It maintained its momentum for nearly a league, disappearing rapidly into the grey-white sky south of the Wall with a fading howl.
Had it not been for Egger's shove, the Red Woman would surely have been skewered through the chest and killed on the spot.
The Wall was so high that few ranged weapons could ever reach those at the top, leaving the Watchmen standing there with zero vigilance. The other officers only saw Egger suddenly push the Red Woman down before the thunderous roar of the projectile reached them. It took several seconds after the echoes faded for the crowd to react.
"What was that just now?" Mormont nearly suspected his old eyes were failing him. He stared back in shock, but the object that had flown past him moments ago was long gone.
"A weapon thrown by a White Walker. I was nearly killed by the same trick once." An ice sword, an ice spear, or just a stone? Egger hadn't seen it clearly either. He stepped back two paces, leaving the danger zone, and knelt to help the witch up. "Lady Melisandre, are you alright?"
"Ugh... I am fine." The Red Woman stood up, her face pale, clutching her left arm. Since Egger had met her, she had never appeared so much like an ordinary human. "Truly servants of the Great Other... I was actually thinking of how to face them... I was careless."
Before her voice could fade, another massive crash rang out. The Wall felt as if it had been struck by a cannonball; the ice beneath their feet actually groaned and cracked. A section of the ice battlement—designed to stop sentries from falling—collapsed along with its base for over a meter in width. Shards of ice clattered as they tumbled down, sending the surrounding soldiers scrambling back from the edge in unison.
The White Walker's second long-range attack had struck the Wall! Judging by the point of impact, the enemy had likely hoped to penetrate the ice to kill Melisandre, who had been pulled into a blind spot, but the ice was frozen far more solidly than they had imagined, and they failed.
It wasn't safe here!
"My Lady, please leave the top of the Wall. They can sense your location!"
The forced interruption of her spell had left the witch dizzy and in pain. She did not try to endure it and nodded, allowing the eager soldiers to support her toward the winch cage. The door closed, and she descended to the ground.
Two years ago, the ice sword thrown by the White Walker Egger killed could only embed itself half a meter into a tree, yet the one Melisandre encountered today could shatter a meter of solid ice... Was it that the attacking White Walker possessed greater strength, or were these creatures growing more powerful as time passed?
The second projectile-like strike that shattered the ice wall terrified every soldier atop the Wall. Fortunately, a third attack did not come. Such a high-powered method of attack was likely not easy even for a White Walker. Soon, a Watchman cried out in alarm: "Lord Commander, the fire below... it's going out!"
Ignoring the threat of further attacks and Egger's warnings, Mormont leaned over the edge to look down. The wildfire, pitch, and lamp oil in the barrels had long since been consumed under the catalysis of the enhancement spell. The towering wall of fire from moments ago had merely been a terminal lucidity of the wooden fence and gates burning under the surge of magic. Without the help of fire magic, that small amount of wood could not sustain such a blaze. The moment Melisandre's casting broke, the wall of fire shriveled into a patch of glowing red charcoal on the ground—it still held heat, but it could no longer instantly destroy the wights trampling over it.
The dark tide of wights surged back toward the entrance of Castle Black without hesitation. Two towering wight-giants had already lumbered into the isolation zone between the Haunted Forest and the Wall. If either of these behemoths wedged themselves into the tunnel before the portcullis closed, it would be a catastrophe. Simple living dead might be easy to handle—one need only light a great fire at the tunnel mouth and prepare some dragonglass—but Castle Black was currently crammed with newly arrived Wildlings. If the wights slipped in during such chaos, the Night's Watch would have no way to use their tactics!
The scorpions that could have retaliated had been moved down to prevent a Wildling riot, and the White Walker's ultra-long-range decapitation strike on Melisandre had been an eye-opener for Mormont. He realized he was facing opponents with intelligence and unknown means. Facing such cunning and dangerous enemies, the Lord Commander did not dare be careless.
Gritting his teeth, the Old Bear made a difficult decision: "The horn! Prepare!"
"Is Jaime inside the Wall?"
"Likely not, there are several black brothers still down there!" Mormont took a breath, determined not to let it sway him. "There's no time. Sound the horn, close the gate!"
Egger cursed. Having no time to argue with his superior, he turned to ask the other Watchmen: "Where is that small basket? The one used to bring Mance in for negotiations?"
"In the corner over there!"
"Lower it!"
The iron portcullis ground downward with a heavy rumble. The last Wildling to make it through was nearly crushed, scrambling inside just in time. A woman carrying a child, seeing no hope of passage herself, threw the infant forward; watching the child fly through the gap just before the iron gate slammed shut, she picked up a discarded torch with a satisfied look and turned to face the oncoming tide of wights.
The sound of the iron gate hitting the floor pronounced a death sentence for everyone still outside. The oil barrels and fire arrows could no longer stop the pale tide of wights from swallowing the last few hundred people. From the top of the Wall, one could clearly see the black silhouettes of the Watchmen on duty—like drops of black ink in sewage, vanishing in an instant.
The castle-forged sword brought from Casterly Rock was already notched, but in Jaime's hands, it remained a lethal tool of slaughter. He spun like a high-speed top, shredding every wight that lunged at him. Looking at the endless, clawing living dead swarming toward him, the Kingslayer actually felt a sense of relief in his heart.
It seemed he might have a reasonably respectable end. His only regret was that he hadn't even seen a fabled White Walker before being driven to a dead end by these things that were supposedly just foot soldiers.
A black shadow swayed down from above. He looked up to see a small basket, large enough for only one person. Because it lacked the rail-guided stability of the winch cage, it was spinning and swaying violently in the gale. He hesitated for a second, cut down one last wight, and as the basket swung past him again, he leaped decisively, grabbing the thick rope tethered to it.
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