Chapter 413: Survivors and Engagement
As far as the eye could see, everything was clad in silver.
The hulls, decks, and masts were all coated in a thick layer of rime; the sea, the men who had fallen overboard, and the debris carried by the wind—all were encased in ice. Even the once-howling gales seemed to have had their strength drained by that eerie storm, replaced now by a gentle, brushing breeze.
The massive block of ice they had been attempting to tow moments ago was now the only thing in sight that looked remotely normal—at least it was flat. Everywhere else, the ocean surface had frozen into a corrugated pattern of ripples. The waves, whipped up by the wind, had lost their heat instantly in the extreme cold and crystallized, creating a wondrous and rare frozen seascape.
Yohn Royce felt as if he were standing in the middle of a colossal, wrinkled white blanket. Yet, a blanket was far softer than ice, and a blanket would never have trapped a ship so ruthlessly.
The flagship of the de-icing fleet—the Mermaid, on which he stood—had managed to avoid capsizing during the epic storm, likely because her orientation had been adjusted early and her weight was substantial. She sat tilted at a slight angle, wedged into the ice like a snow-sculpted model embedded in a white marble table. The other ships were not so fortunate. The Blackbird stood vertical, nose-up like a candle stuck in the snow, its lower half fused into the ice. The Eel had flipped completely, its upper third buried beneath the frozen surface. As for the Claw and the Storm Crow, the two small open-decked galleys, they had capsized with all hands and were frozen solid. It was unlikely a single soul remained alive on them, nor among the soldiers who hadn't managed to scramble into the cabins in time.
Dozens of figures lay scattered across a narrow stretch of ice extending hundreds of meters north and south. Some were frozen into the surface; others had been hurled across the ice by the wind. Not a single one moved. They were the first casualties of this sudden disaster—the first sacrifices in this grand song of ice and fire.
In a single gust of wind, the de-icing team of over a hundred men had lost half its number. Only those who had ducked into the cabins and slammed the doors could have survived the storm and the cold snap that froze the sea in an instant.
Amidst the shock, a noise came from behind. The other survivors on the ship emerged from the cabin one by one, clutching their heads, staring at the transformed world as if they had seen a ghost.
"Don't just stand there!" Yohn snapped back to his senses, his shout pulling the soldiers' wandering minds back. "This storm came out of nowhere; it's likely a trick of the Others. The enemy could be marching across the ice right now. We don't have much time! Clear every cabin immediately—pull everyone out, whether they're breathing or not!"
After a frantic search, nine bodies were found on the Mermaid—men killed by falling furniture, frozen by the chill entering through unlatched doors, or other freak accidents. There were six severely wounded men who could no longer move, several missing, and twenty-three lucky survivors who were largely unharmed.
After testing the ice and finding it thick enough to walk on without fear of falling through, Yohn began issuing orders. The able-bodied men were split into three groups: two were tasked with gathering the dead who weren't frozen into the ice to burn them; six of the lightly wounded were to each drag one severely wounded man back to Eastwatch on makeshift sleds. The remaining fifteen, led by Yohn, took their tools and headed toward the other two ships that might still hold survivors, determined to rescue their brothers.
The rescue of the Blackbird, standing upright in the ice, went smoothly. Most survivors managed to climb out on their own. Remarkably, there were even living men in the stern cabin which was encased in ice; they were fortunate that the seawater had frozen so rapidly under the magical chill that it hadn't had time to flood through the door cracks and drown them. The rescuers simply had to chip away the ice and smash the jammed doors to pull them out.
For every group of wounded pulled out, Yohn dispatched an equal number of able-bodied men to escort them back to Eastwatch. After nearly an hour of labor, everyone alive on the Blackbird had been rescued.
However, the Eel, lying capsized in the ice, presented a problem. The cabin openings were completely sealed beneath the frozen surface; the only way to save those inside was to hack through the hull. Yet, this brand-new warship donated to the Watch by White Harbor was built of thick, sturdy, high-quality timber and coated in a layer of cold, hard ice. It was not something easily broken.
Using the small amount of wildfire carried on the ships, the task of burning the dead was barely underway, but the rescue operation remained stalled at the wooden coffin of the capsized hull. As the sky turned pitch black, tension and fear began to spread. At the thought of wights marching across the ice, the nerves of the exhausted men began to fray. That tension finally snapped when a distinct vibration began to travel through the ice beneath their feet.
"My lord, in a moment we'll be buried under a tide of corpses! The brothers inside the ship are safe for now—let's go!"
"He's right! If we're caught and killed by the Others, the brothers at Eastwatch will have dozens more enemies to face. Even for the sake of the Seven Kingdoms, we shouldn't keep playing the hero!"
"Shove the tools into the gaps for the brothers inside to find and let them fend for themselves. We can't afford any more losses, my lord. It's still not too late to reach Eastwatch!"
"Damn it..." Looking at the hull that was already half-breached—needing perhaps ten more minutes to break through—Yohn gritted his teeth. He had led men in war; in a battle of life and death, you either saved your brothers or gave them a quick end—you didn't leave them here for the Others. Taking several deep breaths, he hardened his heart. "No, hold on a bit longer! There are over a dozen brothers in there! You two with nothing to do—take the horns, go north to scout, and blow them the moment you see the dead. Then we retreat!"
The two men he pointed to stood their ground, looking at each other without moving. Neither was willing to take such a risk for the sake of the men trapped inside.
"Go! All you have to do is blow the horn, I'm not asking you to fight!"
Yohn glared at the two defiant soldiers, his roar carrying the authority he had trained as the Bronze Lord of Runestone. They began to waver, but what happened next was unexpected. With a dull thud, the commander of the de-icing team collapsed, falling from the hull onto the ice. The blood flowing from the back of his head immediately pooled and froze into a red crystal.
Chett, who had taken Yohn down with a single hit, dropped the blood-stained iron hammer. His face, covered in boils, seemed to turn red with rage. He slid down the curve of the hull to the ice and spat on the fallen Yohn Royce. "Stupid old fool. He was only exiled here because he offended the Lord Commander, yet he still dares to lord it over us? Remember this—he slipped and fell to his death! Anyone with an objection can fight me now. If not, drop your gear and run!"
The soldiers still trapped inside the ship realized something was wrong and began to scream and hammer against the hull... but the remaining dozen or so Night's Watchmen on the outside just looked at each other with terrified eyes. Fear of the unknown and death finally triumphed over courage and justice. Without another word, every survivor dropped their tools and ran across the undulating, rippled ice toward Eastwatch, miles to the southwest.
Inside the harbor fortress, chaos reigned. With the Wall extending nearly a mile into the sea acting as a barrier, the terrifying storm hadn't hit the fortress directly. However, a sentry had been blown off the top of the Wall and splattered in the middle of the courtyard, and the sight of the ocean frozen as far as the eye could see was enough to alert anyone to the disaster. After a catapult atop the Wall launched a hundred-pound stone that failed to even crack the ice, everyone realized: the decisive battle they had "longed for" for months had arrived unexpectedly.
Three blasts of the horn sounded. The New Gift settlers living around the fortress swarmed inside. Cotter Pyke's voice boomed like rolling thunder as he directed them. Everyone took up their assigned roles: anyone strong enough to hold a spear or swing an axe was pressed into the defense. Barrels of wildfire and pitch were hauled from the storehouses to the battlements; dragonglass weapons were dragged to prominent positions in the center of the yard and distributed to every warrior. Rows of obstacles were piled throughout the fortress—firewood, sharpened stakes, and bags of grain.
With these arrangements, even if the enemy breached the walls, the Watch would still have the chance to light walls of fire for a few desperate rounds of street fighting. This would defend the massive zigzagging wooden staircases leading up the Wall, buying time for the old and young to evacuate and for the rearguard to destroy the stairs.
Under the cooperation of the officers, Eastwatch rapidly shifted to its final combat state. Amidst this chaos, one group felt completely out of place—the book-retrieval team that had arrived only that day on Daenerys's orders.
They had planned to rest for a night and head to Queenscrown the next morning to reunite with their Queen. No one expected to just happen to run into an attack by the White Walkers. The Unsullied and Free Folk soldiers were not part of the defensive plans, and in the messy preparation, no one told them what to do. They simply formed up under their commander's orders and stood in the courtyard, waiting aimlessly.
Among them, the Red Priest Moqorro was the most bewildered.
Through a flame communication with Melisandre while still at sea, he had learned the good news: the plan had worked, the Queen had been successfully lured to the Gift and persuaded to stay. His ship had arrived at the Wall today. With both himself and Daenerys at the front and the prophecy seemingly fulfilled, why would the Great Other's rival suddenly attack early? Why force a final battle before his own power reached its peak?
Either that mysterious entity had lost its mind and was acting out of desperation, or somewhere in the world, a sudden change had occurred that he didn't know about—something that made the enemy willing to waste magic to start the attack ahead of schedule.
Dismissing his attendants, he worked a spell before a brazier to contact Melisandre. He soon learned the thunderous bad news: that afternoon, upon learning the ships had reached Eastwatch, the Queen had suddenly decided to return south. After a brief talk with the Lord Commander, she had left immediately. By the time Melisandre realized something was wrong, Daenerys had already taken to the air and flown away from Queenscrown. Melisandre hadn't even had time to stop her!
By R'hllor! This little Queen simply would not stay put!
Moqorro immediately left the brazier, smoothed his nervous features into a mask of calm, and found the raven keeper. "Tie messages to every raven: 'Others attacking, need dragon support.' Release them all! Now, immediately!"
Since the various letters had already been prepared, the south-bound ravens quickly flapped their wings and flew from the fortress. These specially selected and well-trained creatures possessed formidable stamina and vision, capable of flying day and night to reach the rookeries in the Crownlands and Dragonstone within a day. Accompanied by the sound of their wings was a short blast from a horn on the eastern wall: the last group of surviving soldiers from the de-icing fleet had fled across the ice to Eastwatch, demanding entry.
Cotter Pyke led men to intercept this new group and quickly noticed Royce was missing. But with everyone facing an imminent threat, he had no time to question the whereabouts of a single noble subordinate. "Is anyone else behind you? What did you see?"
"Just us! The dead! The dead are... they're right behind us, less than a mile away! Quick... close the gates!"
The Commander of Eastwatch waved the exhausted sailors away and turned to the Chief Steward of the fortress. "The dragonsteel bombs? Those round things that arrived from Queenscrown the other day—get them here! And... and those Valyrian steel arrows in my room! Whatever 'Lightbringer' nonsense they are, get them too! Emmett? Iron Emmett! Pick three of your best archers; they stay with me the whole time. If you see an Other, shoot the bastard!"
"Coming! Coming!"
"Gods... Seven save us!"
As the final arrangements were being made, the soldiers on the eastern wall began to whisper in alarm. Tense shouts and trembling prayers melded into one. Although night had fallen completely, the tide of corpses was coming across the sea. Against the backdrop of the white ice, the black mass of the wight army was as conspicuous as could be—to say nothing of the low rumble created by the movement of thousands upon thousands of them!
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