章節 39: Things Worsen
His breath was short, and his body ached as he continued to rush back west up into the south eastern section of the Wolfswood. Resting momentarily against a tree, Rodrik took in deep heaving breaths as he looked down at the various light injuries he had suffered in the defence of Torrhen's Square.
Around him, the remnants of the Northmen under his command rushed by, barely five hundred in all. The rest all dead or captured by the Ironborn that now sat in the newly conquered castle of Torrhen's Square.
Taking another deep breath, Rodrik pushed off the tree and started moving through the woods.
With his army gone and Torrhen's Square now under the control of the Ironborn, that meant that Winterfell was dangerously exposed. Luckily, he had one thousand men still remaining at Winterfell and with those men, he should be able to defend against an Ironborn attack long enough for Lord Mallister in the south or Jon in the north to come to his aid.
And as Rodrik continued to move through the forest, he started to pick up the sound movement. Around him, men came to a halt as they too listened to the sounds and as they got louder and closer, they realised that it was the sound of galloping hooves.
'Reinforcements!' Rodrik internally exclaimed, a smile coming onto his face, turning to see in the distance as a group of cavalry men rushed towards them. The flag of House Bolton raised in the air. 'Are the east finally starting to move? If they do then this will become much easier. But those bastards should have come sooner.'
The western part of the North had been completely ravaged, hundreds of men, women and children killed or captured by the Ironborn. The east on the other half was untouched and with it, Rodrik had attempted on many occasions to raise another host.
There were thousands of soldiers yet to have being raised simply because they were on the edge of the respective lands of their lords. It would have taken weeks for them to simply get to their lords castle and just as long to make sure that they were all properly trained and armed.
But Rodrik had hoped to hold the Ironborn long enough for the east to raise such an army, only for no reports or signs of the east doing so.
'But it seems I was wrong. The Bolton's, they came to our aid. There's still hope.' And as the smile on Rodrik's face grew and his men cheered at the sight of reinforcements, that's when he heard more galloping closing in on the sides.
He went to look in those directions only to hear a horn sound and watched the riders charging towards them, lowered their lances.
"Form ranks, the Bolton's have betrayed us!" Rodrik shouted, but it was too late as from the flanks, riders burst free and cut through what remained of Rodrik's army. The Bolton men charging from the front smashing through them.
It was over in a matter of moments, the already weakened and tired force under the command of Rodrik Cassel stood no chance against the fresh, mounted warriors of House Bolton.
And in the centre of the slaughter that was taking place around him, one Ramsay Snow watched on with a smile, a crow sat on his shoulder releasing a caw as its beady eyes watched on.
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Ducking under a swing, Jon slashed his blade at the Ironborn raiders stomach. Longclaw easily cut through the man's stomach and disembowelled the man as he dropped to his knees, Jon continuing round to parry a strike and lash out with a cut along another man's neck. Temporarily closing his eyes as blood squirted from the deep cut on the Ironborn's neck and got into his eyes.
Stumbling back, he wiped his eyes clear of blood just in time to see Ghost knock a man to the ground who had attempted to take Jon out in his vulnerable state. He heard more than saw the sound of Ghost tearing apart the man as he was once again busy defending himself against the never-ending stream of Ironborn.
They had been occupying the Wolfswood for a good few weeks, scouts watching and reporting Ironborn movement. Then Jon and his small force of five hundred men would ambush the unsuspecting forces and slaughter them.
They did of course suffer losses, but they were few in comparison to the losses suffered by the Ironborn.
Even so, as Jon killed another man with a downward cut, he spun round to point his sword threateningly at the five others that had come up behind him. This force of Ironborn they had ambushed was by far the largest and it seemed, they had come prepared.
Originally, scouts reported an Ironborn force of one thousand moving into the forest as well as another two small forces of five hundred each moving up on either flank. The Greatjon had pointed out that it was obvious that they were baits and that they should fall back to Deepwood Motte.
That had been the plan and they had been making their way back to Deepwood Motte when suddenly they found themselves surrounded.
It was no more than a few hundred men, less than their own force. But it was enough to keep them occupied long enough for the rest of the Ironborn army of two thousand men to catch up.
Jon had seen how devastating ambushes his smaller force of could be five hundred having annihilated enemy forces two times his number. But he hadn't quite appreciated just how nice it was to be the ambusher rather than the one being ambushed, at least not until he found himself in that very position.
He had quickly he realised that this battle was no longer one for victory, but one for survival.
As the five men in front of him rushed forwards to take him out, Jon centred his breathing and met the charge with one of his own. Outnumbered he may be, but Jon was a far better warrior. Even before fighting in a war, he was capable of beating many seasoned knights at Winterfell, now that war and battle had honed his skills and senses, Jon would not lose to men like these.
Especially not when he was defending his homeland.
Finishing off the last man with a thrust that pierced through the man's back, Jon pulled his blade free and took a quick survey of the battle. It was already lost with many attempting to flee.
But there were still many pockets of resistance, northern pride rearing its head as the men of the North fought with everything they could, even to their dying breaths. Just the sight alone was enough to make Jon forget his feelings of fatigue and continue fighting, just to match his men's determination.
However, that was halted when an arrow struck his shoulder and Jon collapsed to one knee. His eyes looking at the arrowhead peeking out of his right shoulder and reached round, snapping the back of the arrow.
As he did, he turned to see where the arrow came from and he needn't look far, his gaze instantly landing on the sight the smarmy face of a boy he grew up. A boy who had learned played, hunted, and fought by the side of his brother and betrayed him.
With a snarl, Jon clutched Longclaw tightly and rose to his feet charging towards the Ironborn who was preparing another arrow. "Theon! I'll kill you, you bastard!" He roared in a way that was uncharacteristic for the usual solemn bastard son of Eddard Stark. But Jon didn't care, all he saw was red and charged towards Theon.
創作者的想法 
Carrots123
Carrots123 Now, I know that the Bolton's action may be surprising and a little confusing due to the state of things. However, much like with the Dornish, there is a reason for it. Now, there is an animal that appears in this chapter, for those of you who understand the more fantastical and magical side of ASOIAF, then this should provide you answers to part of the puzzle.
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榜單 
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