章 273: 26
I shiver as the cold winds of the North manage to sneak into my heavy cloak and tickle the skin I thought protected. Glaring in the direction I knew the cold to be coming from for a moment I sigh and draw my garment tighter around myself. Even so I wasn't really freezing, the fast march I was forcing on my men – and myself – kept us at least somewhat warm. Everything around us was white, a steady snowfall having set in as we hurried to reach the valley of Thenn as fast as possible, Ragnar and a few dozen of his clansmen leading the way. Looking back I see three hundred of my own men following after us, expressions grim.
How had I ended up here again?
A raven started it all, Thorre sending word from Snow Fort. The Thenn requested help. It seemed that the walkers had become a lot more active now that the wildlings had access to Dragonglass. The clansmen had been pushed hard and finally decided to evacuate at least part of their population south, so that their culture may survive should the warriors fall. I had been asked for aid, being the only southern noble next to the Stark that any free folk could respect.
The most difficult thing about the decision to help had been the right way to explain to lord Stark what I was doing and why. While he had come around the idea that walkers and other abominations might exist on an intellectual level, he nonetheless had yet to see real proof and remained healthily skeptical. Couldn't blame the man, really.
That I just might not come back for his festival in a few months irked the man but in the end he gave his blessing for my adventure, most likely knowing that I might have ignored any other judgment anyway, being known to do what I thought best as I was. He was right of course. And a good leader as he did not issue commands that might just not be observed. Even taking yet another hit to my reputation and relationship with the lord paramount if I would have moved north. There was a shaky trust between my house and the free folk, ignoring the plea for help would shatter it for generations to come. Of course that would hardly matter in this case as the walkers would kill off the free folk long before.
Not to speak of the fact that from a pure practical standpoint I wanted to keep as many corpses as possible from not turning into such in the first place. The numbers of undead should not become even more numerous without at least some resistance. In that vein I had grabbed what dragonglass weapons I had in stock, outfitted as many men as possible and set out for Snow Fort as soon as enough supplies could be thrown onto the ships. In some cases this was actually literal, as half of my docks still remained only mostly repaired. With two hundred melee fighters and a hundred archers I felt at least ready enough to get away, should the worst happen. Even in a high stakes game such as this I preferred retreating to fight another day over a glorious death.
I will never forget the look on Ragnar's face as I debarked my flagship with a steady stream of warriors, the pure and barely hidden gratitude breaking through his otherwise tired expression nearly stealing my breath away. I suspected that he might have actually broken down in tears, had I said a wrong word. Even so we barely allowed ourselves a few hours to shake off our sea legs before moving again. Ragnar had brought me up to speed on the march, my mind wandering back to the conversation.
Taking step after step next to the silent man I finally speak as we move a little ahead of the main group and slightly out of hearing range. My abilities in the old tongue were still somewhat lacking but after years of learning I could make myself understood well enough. "How bad is it, really?"
He grunts, a grimace flashing across his face. "Very. The valley still holds but it won't for long. Many of our warriors are dead and those that remain as exhausted to the bone. Without the dragonglass we would have been driven out of our home a long time ago."
"Can you tell me some more? What are we walking into?", I pressed the tired looking man that had added a few more scars since I saw him last.
"Of course, Ryther. You have more than earned all the information I can supply.", he replies, nodding respectfully as he avoids stepping into a small hole in the hard packed snow. A light curse cropping up a moment later behind us made it obvious that not all men were as careful where they put their feet.
"It started with lone hunters or small groups disappearing without a trace. After that there were sightings of dead moving around...after that reports of attacks, some survivors making it to the valley. A few months later a small group of wights attacked the valley but was beaten back at great cost, mostly by using fire and hacking the attackers to small enough pieces. Half a year after that we spotted the first walker. One of our archers got him with a dragonglass arrow, shattering him and felling the few hundred wights engaging my clan. It brought us near a year of peace… but now they are back."
"The obsidian seems to have scared them off – for a time.", I muse and the man nods.
"Aye, just so. Sadly it did not keep them away for long. The walkers no longer led from the front or entered melee range more than strictly needed, leaving the wights to do most of the fighting. The weapons you supplied allowed us a fighting chance but it was a battle of attrition and the dead simply have numbers we cannot hope to match. Took a while for the elders to recognize this fact."
His voice turned bitter at the end, a tone of mourning swinging with his words. "So many lost that could have been saved… We bought time, we lost good warriors. Some joined our enemies before we could behead or burn them, forcing us back step by step and valley by valley. Now we fight at the border of our home instead of in the cold waste and have nowhere to retreat."
"You do have now.", I gently correct him and he smiles slightly.
"Aye, that we do.", he agrees. "And the Thenn will never forget it, either."
I of course knew that. My help was not even a little self serving, after all. Keeping as many warm bodies as possible from being added to the Night Kings armies was only one of the reasons I raced north as soon as word reached me. Another one had been human decency, of course. Helping fellow men against a common enemy was just sound logic on top of it. But another reason – one I had and would not speak out loud – was that saving the Thenn now would net me battle proven allies. I did not know how many there would be at the end but I was sure that the survivors would come if I called, their debt being too great to ignore my prospective summoning.
For three weeks we marched hard against the cold, which grew ever more pressing as we moved further north. No one attacked us on the way, but we also did not spot a single living soul, which rang every alarm bell and then some in my mind. Asking Ragner only caused him to shrug, telling me that any life that might have been present had long since fled or joined the enemy.
Finally the valley came into sight and I had to pause for a moment to take in the sight. A high wall of stone and packed snow blocked the entrance to a green and white valley behind, surrounded on all sides by high mountains. A wide bridge of chiseled stone spans across an equally as impressive chasm just before the wall, adding yet another layer of defense to the fortification. The gate in the wall shimmered white, causing me to assume that it was made out of some sort of bone. To the left and right of the roughly three hundred meter long wall I could see platforms worked into the steep cliffs to both sides, offering archers a great position and range advantage over any attacker. Over it all throned a symbol that reminded me of a celtic knot or triquetra. It spanned most of the cliffs embracing the walls, dark paint or charcoal having been used to create a gigantic artwork that I could honestly not think an equal of.
"That is damn impressive.", I tell Ragnar, who was still smiling at the sight of his home and the fact that it still stood to greet his return. Before he can speak a horn blast echoes from one of the higher located platforms, announcing our arrival. Slowly starting to walk in the direction of the bridge the man answers, I and my men following along.
"It is our home. Has been for thousands of years and many generations before mine… but it may just be the last one."
"We are here to prevent that, my friend.", I counter calmly, taking a risk in actually calling him a friend. He glances at me for a moment before nodding and I breathe a sigh of relief, not having offended the man.
"I do not expect the valley to be saved, Darren.", he finally states a few minutes later as we slowly close in on the bridge and the fortification behind, which seemingly grew larger with every step we take. He did not sound depressed or even angry as he said the words, only weary and deeply tired. "The walkers and their wights are just too numerous for us to hold back for much longer. While the valley is strong it is not the Wall. Time, numbers and even magic will overwhelm us in time. Hence my call for aid… and the hope for at least some of our culture to survive in another place as our families continue to live."
"I will do everything in my power to make it so.", I solemnly promise and continue to take in the sight before me, knowing that there was a good chance it would be another treasure lost to the wider world soon enough. In the valley behind the wall I could see wide fields and a lot of fruit trees not otherwise being able to survive this far up north. Every step into the valley's entrance also increased the ambient temperature. Looking further into the home of Ragnar allowed me to spot a lot of pools filled with water and I cannot help but gasp in astonishment as a geysir shoots nearly fifty meters into the air in an explosion of scalding hot water, the resulting steam nearly instantly turning into a soft mist covering its immediate surroundings.
The sides of the valley were covered in caves like a honeycomb, thousands of people coming and going from what I took to be the underground dwellings of the Thenn. Ragnar had explained some days in the past that it was a decision of practicality. He explained that the valley had always been and was still rich in zinc and copper, which led to the clansmen mostly wielding bronze equipment. They mined it for millenia, always turning no longer used sites into homes for their steadily growing population. The underground homes were also much better insulated than any home above ground as well as better protected from other elements. In addition this allowed the clansmen to farm the maximum area in the valley, using every bit of open earth to grow food. Building a home above ground would have taken farming area away, which would lead to someone starving and was simply not done as a result.
Now though at least half of the formerly green valley was covered in light snow. According to Ragnar the weather had taken an unnatural turn some years ago and the hot springs could no longer supply the heat needed to keep the cold at bay they had been for millennia. As a result the food able to be grown had decreased each year, adding yet another problem on top of the wights and walkers attacking any clansmen they stumbled across. In the privacy of my mind I mused about hot springs and half dormant volcanoes. Could it be that the caldera beneath the valley was simply cooling naturally?
I shake my head, knowing that this train of thought would lead me nowhere. Natural or not, the result was the same either way. Marching up to the fortification the gates open before us, revealing the area right behind the walls to our eyes and I feel mine widen. At first glance I count roughly a thousand warriors standing ready, clad in bronze armor and wielding bronze, stone, obsidian and the occasional steel weapon. Six lines of melee fighters were always followed by three of archers and a single file of horsemen.
Ordered in neat rows on both sides of the gates they are just starting to disperse as it becomes apparent that the horn blast had not signaled an attack but allies arriving. I suspected that some overeager spotter was going to get chewed out by missing this crucial piece of information during his communication. I greatly suspected that – just like the Night's Watch – the Thenn had different signals depending on who was knocking at the gates. Even with that slight mishap I remained deeply impressed by the obvious organization level the clansmen showed. I had not expected to find such a level of military discipline this side of the wall.
My men and the Thenn watch each other with great curiosity as we move past them and deeper into the valley. Ragnar returned from his position at the front to my side a few minutes later, leading us straight down at the valley to the furthest point, where the ever present light mist grew stronger around bubbling pools of water.
"This is roughly a third of what we have left.", Ragnar states without prompting and waves at the slowly dispersing guards behind the strong walls. "One group is always on standby by the gates, one is patrolling the valley and the last one is resting. At one time we had enough warriors to police the outside as well, to hunt, to force other tribes to pay homage… but those days are past."
While I cared little for the tribute system he absently mentioned, I nonetheless felt for the man. All he had known was slowly crumbling to nothing right in front of him with little for him to do that could affect it. It was just the situation I was hoping to avoid with all my preparations down south but I had a much longer warning period and the advantage of position with a giant fucking wall between myself and the enemy. Points the Thenn did not have running for them, as much as I would have loved for them to have it by now.
It was curious, really, how viewpoints changed in time. I had come into this world thinking highly of the free folk and their ways, only to have my rose tinted view darkened by bloodshed. Snow Fort and the resulting trade had repaired some of that image, as had the valley of Thenn I was seeing now. I had idealized the clans in my old world, realizing that they were just people like everyone else – shaped by their society as we were by ours – was a strange thing indeed.
"They may yet come again.", I quietly counter, only earning myself a grunt from the man. While he obviously did not believe a word of it he nonetheless appreciated the sentiment.
Moving deeper into the valley the scenery shifts from white to green even though it remained very cold. We pass by a lot of fields with clansmen working the earth, tired and oftentimes hopeless eyes following us all the way. Entering the mist bank half an hour of marching later I handed command to Wallace and continued on with Ragnar by myself, ascending a series of stone steps chiselled into the mountain itself.
We soon break through the mist cover and I find myself impressed yet again. In front of us a great gate opens into the mountain, leading to an even greater hall lightened up through big tunnels coming from further up and lines with great statues all along the walls, showing warriors in various poses. The room was easily a hundred meters across and filled with ascending rings of seats, just like an amphitheatre of old greece. It was nearly empty, only two dozen seats in the very center having been taken by clansmen and women.
"Welcome", starts Ragnar – his voice echoing through the room easily – as he opens his arms wide, "to the Magnar Ting, the great hall of Thenn."
"Be welcome.", echoes one of the men in the center, the old warrior with an impressive white beard having turned around at Ragnar's words. "Long has it been since we greeted a southern magnar in our halls. The last one was the Stark, long long ago. Before the crows forget their old vows and started to fight the clans."
"A long time indeed.", I reply with a slight nod, having to almost forcefully keep myself from bowing in respect as it would have been proper on the other side of the wall. Here that would not have gone over well. "The past offers many a lesson, but the present I would hold as more important. And today I am here, offering aid."
"So you are.", another man, this one younger and covered with scars, replies. "I cannot say if you are here for your own advantage or out of an actual desire to help, though."
I shrug. "I will let my deeds speak for myself. Until then you will have to be content with our presence alone… and the fact that we are fighting the enemy of all life, north and south of the wall. It makes us natural allies even if not necessarily friends."
"The enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy, nothing more and nothing less.", he mutters but nods decisively. "Let battle prove your words true, magnar. We will see from there."
Seven other men and four women watch the proceedings with interest but keep their silence for now, Ragnar having held his tongue as well, leaving me to believe that the two that had spoken were the most highly ranked of those present. The scarred youth verifies this a moment later.
"I am Styr, Magnar of Thenn", he starts before opening his arms wide. "And I also welcome you to our valley. Dire as the times may be, I nonetheless observe traditions, as it is proper. Bread and salt!"
The last part is directed at a youth, barely more than a boy, that had been in near hiding next to one of the statues. The boy sprints from the room and returns a moment later with a small plate of offerings, which I partake in as quickly as possible without seeming hurried. As soon as the salted bread passes my lips I feel a lot of tension leave my shoulders. Guest rites were sacrosanct in the north and I felt a lot saver in the presence of the clansmen than I had a moment before.
"Now then. There is no time to waste. Come, join our circle."
I do so with a nod, Ragnar joining as well and seating himself at my side. Another yet unnamed figure, a woman this time, speaks up next, completely ignoring the new additions to the group.
"The wights have withdrawn two dozen miles after the last probing attack and are yet again growing their horde. We could not get close enough to get a real count but current estimates sit at roughly 15.000 wights with a lot more arriving every day. The numbers suggest at least fifteen walkers amongst their numbers. Half a dozen undead giants and their mammoths have been spotted as well."
"Do they have spiders?", asks another one, an old sunken in man missing most of his teeth but with eyes glittering with intelligence.
The woman shakes her head slowly. "None have been reported yet but that does not mean that they are not around… somewhere. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence."
Agreeing mutters echo through the circle as I continue to watch in silence, interested in how the Thenn did things just as much as in the information presented itself.
"The giants are bad enough, Brunahild.", grouses another middle aged looking man with a thick black beard. "We can hold the wights back for some time but the gate will not hold a charge of giants, half rotten or not."
"We could drop the bridge", a second woman offers half-heartedly, only to earn tired laughs from most other participants.
"And condemn ourselves to a slow death instead of a fast one? No, I think not.", finally replies Styr and closes this avenue once and for all. "No, we will have to continue the plan… where our newest arrival comes into play."
Turning to me he stares for a moment in silence before starting to speak. "You have offered to take those we send with you south to safety on the other side of the wall. Do you still stand by your word?"
"Aye. I do.", I reply at once, before adding a few more words. "At least as long as the obvious rules are observed."
"Oh?", the magnar raises a blank spot that had housed an eyebrow at some point.
"The laws of the land have to be observed. First one to pillage, rape or steal a woman against her will is the first one I drain into a weirwood."
A few nods appear in the round, my direct approach to the problem obviously getting to them. "Anything else?", Styr asks and I stand up after taking a deep breath, knowing what I presented next would be controversial at best. Now it was all of nothing.
"I have an additional offer to the simple shelter you would find as I stand by my word. I have spoken with Magnar Stark and he has agreed to it."
"Well then, out with it!", grouses the oldest person present, a woman so bent with age that she might just as well have been a shuffling circle.
"The Thenn will be allowed to make a new home on the other side of the wall, settling in the west of what is known as the new gift. You will found the house of Thenn and join the other northern nobles paying homage to lord Stark. Each and every Thenn as well as those free folk willing to live under the laws of the North will be welcome."
That the words were not thrown – or punched – into my face in the moment they were spoken more than anything else spoke of the dire straits the clans found themselves in.
"You want us to kneel.", states Styr flatly, eyes glowing with barely suppressed rage.
"I want you to live.", I counter at once, waving my hand in the direction of the valley's entrance. "We all know that the dead will overrun this position. Maybe not today or tomorrow but soon. Staying means death, the Stark offers salvation for your people… for your culture."
"The price is very high. You ask for the Thenn's soul to pay for some hearts beating a little longer."
"Yes.", I nod. "It is a lot to ask and the Stark will need another thing before granting you what has just been promised."
"And what might that be?", asks Ragnar from my side, frowning at me a little as he had been just as surprised at my words as the other members of the council.
"A living… as much as that term can be applied to it… wight.", I state and use the resulting silence to explain. "Magnar Stark needs proof of what is happening north of the wall. He needs to show his vassals that there is a good reason for granting the free folk passage in great numbers. Even more so as he is granting lands to those that have been raiding the North for generations. Without it there will be infighting, which is the last thing needed as the enemy of all things living draws ever closer."
I refrain from mentioning the clusterfuck the lands south of Moat Cailin had descended into and that a possible religious crusade against the North was just as much a reason to keep things between northern nobles civil. Adding another fraction to an already unstable situation always had the risk of things exploding and that could not be allowed, not now and not ever. If I managed to move the free folk south and reinforce the northern numbers at the same time it would be a great victory – but only if I did not kick off yet another civil war in the process. Hence the needed proof.
The letter from lord Stark presenting this plan had been a surprise at first but after some thought I could see the logic. From his perspective the threat of the walkers was either true and he could present proof to his men, leaving him with a nearly blank check resettling the free folk… or it was not true and the wildlings would stay north of the wall and be someone else's problem. Either way he would win.
"A wight.", replies Styr flatly, massaging his clean shaven and deeply scarred head. "Not asking for small things, is he?"
I shrug. "He only asks for what is needed to make this venture succeed."
Suddenly Brunahild crackles. "Bah. Stop this charade, Styr. I tire of it."
The magnar stares back darkly but finally nods jerkily. "Fine. Have it your way, witch."
Turning back to me he again falls into his dark staring contest but soon shakes himself out of it. "We have a few captured wights at hand. Brunahild tried some of her sorceries on them with nothing to show for it."
"I wouldn't say ´nothing´", mumbles the woman, having taken some offense at the words.
"Nothing", repeats Styr, not even glancing at the clanswoman. "Even so it matters not why we have them, only that we do. Transport can be easily arranged."
I lean back slightly, a small smile appearing on my face as my mind whirls with possibilities. "I had expected this to take a lot more effort.", I admit easily to the gathered council. "Yet you all seem a lot less reluctant about this whole thing than I expected."
The ancient woman crackles in concert with the other, younger, clanswoman. "Unwise of you to look a gifted horse in the mouth. Why not take it at face value?"
"Because things are seldom as they appear at first glance. A gifted horse might just as well be a poisoned one.", I counter at once, smiling thinly at the greatly amused woman.
"Oh, I like this one.", she grouses wryly before waving the staff she had been leaning on in the direction of the gates, dozens of bones fastened on the upper end making a small racket at the motion. "The dead are coming and if we stay as we are we will all die. There is nothing to gain by being contrary just because we have been slaughtering each other for generations."
"Always the practical one", Styr growls and shakes his head. "Make no mistake, southerner. While you have proven yourself to be – at the very least – no enemy of the free folk, this does not make you our friend. There is too much history that needs to be overcome first. Even so we find ourselves out of options. Trusting you might prove to be the wrong choice in the end but any choice is better than none. The alternative is death… which some will still greet with open arms."
I lean my head slightly to the side at his last words, the question obvious in my face. Brunahild is the one to explain what the clan chief had teased at.
"There is an artifact of the time of heros beneath us, where the earth turns so hot that any unprotected skin touching the walls will be burned right off. It has been there for millennia, regulating the heat through the valley and tempering what might have otherwise been uncontrolled surges of heat and frost. We know not how to control it… but we can break it."
Styr takes over as the old woman turns silent, gaze far away. "Breaking the artifact will – or at least we suspect so – kill the valley and all within. We cannot hold our home but we can make the white ones pay for it in blood, tainted as it might be. Many warriors and those too bound to the old ways will stay behind, drawing in the walkers and their thralls. Once driven back the artifact will be broken, ending the last fight of clan Thenn."
His words had turned solemn, almost painful, at the end and I cannot help but gape at the council for a moment before regaining my composure. "I can only hope the south can repay the sacrifice you are planning. Setting up your ancestral home as a trap… settling this debt will take generations."
"Saving our people will be a good start.", sighs Brunahild
"I will see it done to the best of my ability.", I promise at once, hesitating a moment before continuing. "May I be allowed to see the artifact? Runes and ancient history are a passion of mi.."
"No", states Styr flatly, some hostility in his voice. "We might be about to lose our home but we will not share this. It is Thenn history and such it will remain."
Glancing around I see the other members of the council nodding their heads and raise my hands in a gesture of peace, obviously having stepped into it. "So it will be. I will not inquire further."
The gathering disperses not much later, Ragnar remaining at my side as we walk out of the hall and back into the sunlight. "Four days from now we will move out again. There is much to do.", I muse and only earn a silent nod from the Thenn. He seemed still deeply shaken at what he had heard within the hall, obviously having hoped that his tribe might have a place to return to and reclaim once the walkers were beaten back. To have this hope shredded in the span of a few seconds had to hurt.
In the end it takes six days to get everything in order and the Thenn moving through the gate in orderly lines. Scouts had reported the dead to be on the march after their horde had reached 40.000 with a few dozen undead giants and hundreds of newly reported ice spiders among their numbers. We needed to be far enough away that we did not present the juicier target and this would take a while. Leading the great trek I looked back, the vale of Thenn with the – mostly older – 2.000 warriors and volunteers chosen to bait the trap vanishing into the every falling snow. Styr and Brunahild were leading the last defenders of the valley of Thenn, Styr staying with the warriors while the woman would be the one to break the ancient artifact, whatever it might be.
Styr's son, Sigorn, was with me and leading what remained of the Thenn warriors – all 2.000 of them – together with Ragnar. Also walking alongside us were what remained of the Thenn civilians after years of struggle against the undead menace, nearly 30.000 members of the free folk stoically setting one foot before the other as they left everything they had ever known behind.
Three days after setting out we felt the ground shake just before a deep rumbling sound reached our ears. Looking back I am just fast enough turning around to see the steady snow and the clouds above us being blown away by a strong gust of wind that nearly takes me off my feet. Squinting against the gale I cannot help but gasp out loud, a mushroom cloud of humongous proportions rising in the horizon to the cries of the Thenn.
"And so it ends.", whispers Ragnar next to me, staring at what had to be the last defiance of his old home.
I grasp his shoulders, shaking my head. "No, my friend. So it begins."
OOC: Here it is, the last chapter of the first part, now officially called "Butterfly Effect". I wanted to end the whole story at roughly 100k words, which – obviously – did not go as planned. Right now we´re roughly halfway through the story and have already doubled the word target. The second part will be called "Battle Royal" and be posted after a lengthy break and enough time for me to build some backlog, as already announced on SB. Considering how crazy my life currently is that might take a while. It will happen but I will feel not confident enough to announce when.
Either way I hope you had fun with the story to this point and that i´ll be seeing you again in the next part. Till then, stay healthy and in good spirits! Cheers, thales.
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