章 57: POV - Jon (iii)
Lord Commander of the Northern Rangers, and Acting Commander of the Nights Watch and Northern Army, Jon Snow lowered his spy glass and scowled, "Are the scouts back yet?"
"Yes, Lord Commander," Ranger Marco said. "They say the icy bastards are still in the woods, but they keep sending more of the dead at us from there. A second force has appeared to the left of the main host, but their dead haven't advanced. Also, only two of the scouts made it back from him…"
The Ranger pointed to the forest beyond the Wall, white with frost and beautiful as the intense cold killed the trees. Pointed at the Night's King who sat upon a massive undead horse surrounded by his Others. Jon gritted his teeth. He couldn't help but think about how young he was, but his followers had backed him when the dead rose. Was at his side when castle was overrun on the tenth day. And they were still standing by him now when the leaders of the Watch and the North had been given to the fires to keep them from rising once more.
He raised his glass again. The Others were halted in a column along the edge of the forest, block of undead spear and swordsmen standing motionless among them. They were flanked by two hundred mounted men-at-arms each. Pennants from long dead, ancient houses snapped from their lances in the night air. The night was dark, and even more so closer to the woods. If it wasn't for the hundreds of fire arrows being launched from atop the Wall, Jon doubted they could have ever seen their enemy. Who knows how many thousands of centuries-long dead were in the woods, ready to be unleashed.
We can't hold them back, he thought, looking at the enemy force.
There were only a few thousand men left in Castle Black, and most of them where in the courtyard dealing with the last wave of wrights. Still, of those men left to hold the Wall most of those that remained standing were archers or other fighters who stayed in the back. Soon, men and boys who rarely if ever held a sword would have to become front-line infantry. It would be a slaughter. Fifty of their Archers were atop the Wall with him, keeping a steady stream of flaming arrows launching outward. The trench of oil and wood they had dug had finished burning a few days ago, and the undead attacks kept them from replenishing the fuel. And in the courtyard…the sounds of fighting had stopped.
Jon looked down, and raised an eyebrow in surprise. All of the wrights were gone; burned in one of the many fires or chopped up so completely that their bodies had little to animate. There was a figure in full plate, enameled in brilliant blue, not the black and fur of the Watch or grey of the Northern Armies. Jon's lips skinned back as he smiled for the first time in weeks.
"Maybe we do have a chance." Jon quietly murmured. A bit louder he asked, "Does the enemy have anything on the right?"
"Nothing on the right as yet, my lord. As I said, not all of our scouts have managed to return."
"Lord Rogers has arrived, so we are going to launch a counter-attack. I want all of our men, minus our archers on the Wall, to form up and prepare to move. Rogers is going to need our help."
Marco hesitated. "Lord Commander, shouldn't we wait for the remaining scouts to get back?"
Jon felt himself flush slightly, blood darkening his skin from the mail collar of his coif and up. He looked downward, his eyes tired, "If they haven't gotten back by now, then you might not want to see them again."
Marco nodded slightly, understanding the implication in his Commander's statement. Then he said, "We can work men over the nearby hills to either side of the enemy. Maybe we can force them to either withdraw or risk being surrounded."
Jon considered for a moment, then shook his head. "We'll have to fight them sooner or later, and they aren't afraid of our weapons or numbers. They're obviously here for one reason, and we can't let them past. Otherwise all of Westeros will find itself under ice." He looked at the Valyrian blade in his hands, and added, "But maybe we can get lucky."
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