Chapter 46: Act 1: Chapter 36
Thirtieth day, Ninth Moon, 250 AC
After we had finished tending to the wounded, we had begun to take stock of what was around us. There had been no sight or sound from the Ironborn within the house, so I made sure that everyone stripped armor off the dead, and I went about recovering the arrows that I could, while Koryn helped keep watch on the doorway.
It was a few minutes later when the other group of men from the shore joined us, one fewer than when they had set out, but accompanied by two prisoners.
I greeted them when they had approached. "They all dead?" I asked.
"'Cept for these two," Theon replied.
"Did everything go alright?"
"Was good, up until the last moment. Jon was killed at the end when one o' those bastards went crazy and rushed us. Got himself impaled on a spear but kept going. Ain't ever seen the like."
"He ran himself up the spear to kill Jon?" I asked, incredulously.
"Aye, it was crazy. After he died, these other two surrendered though."
I nodded and ran an eye over the two men. They had some bruises forming on their faces, the men probably roughed them up, but they were still armored and unbound.
I looked them in the eye and said, "Strip out of your armor and clothes." Once they had done so, I had Theon and the others tie them up to a nearby cart.
Once that was finished, Theon asked, "How many died here?"
"Eleven dead and eight wounded. Not sure how many of those wounded will end up dead. Maybe one more - depends on whether or not their wounds go bad."
Theon grunted. "That's bad." He tilted his head to the house and asked, "How many in there?"
"Not sure. Maybe ten?" I shrugged and called over to Koryn and asked him.
"Seven I think," he replied.
Bronn denied that and said, "Nah, it was ten, but they left those two out here to die. So, eight left in the house."
Vestrit wandered over and said in a low tone, "No. There are nine. I counted them."
"You sure, Vestrit?" I asked.
He looked me in the eye and growled out, "I'm sure. I need to know how many I can still gut."
The bloodthirsty look in his eyes told me that he wasn't about them being in the village. As Vestrit stalked away and returned to his post, watching over the door I leaned over to Bronn and whispered, "What happened to him?"
Bronn whispered back, "His 'Da was killed first thing. His mother 'n sister, well, they took a lot longer."
I grimaced at that. "Let's make sure he doesn't kill himself, eh?"
Bronn nodded and wandered over to the feast that those bastards had laid out and started eating. When he caught my look, all he said was, "What? It's our stuff anyways."
I shrugged and moved over to where Koryn was standing watch. "What should we do?" I asked.
"I'm not sure. Don't see how we can end this without more of ours dying. Not that I want to see them go free, not after what they did to Zane and the village."
Vestrit, overhearing this, exclaimed, "You think Zane has it bad? You don't know what I-"
I cut him off. "Vestrit. This isn't a competition. Do you really want to make it one?"
Vestrit looked stricken.
"Easy now, it's alright. We aren't going to just let these bastards go free," said Koryn.
"We could burn 'em? With your flame jar things." Vestrit suggested, trying to move past his reprimand.
I let him off, and replied, "Lighting the house on fire would be dangerous. We might have the village go up around us."
Vestrit shrugged. "Better the village than us."
I frowned in thought. It would be better I suppose, but I think I should see if they will accept an unconditional surrender.
I gestured to everyone in the area to ready themselves. Once they had done so, I stepped forward and shouted, "You in there! Come out with your armor off and hands above your head! If you surrender, you'll be allowed to take the black!"
Beside me, Vestrit grumbled something but I couldn't make out what it was. He likely wasn't too happy that he would be robbed of the chance to kill more Ironborn.
A moment later, there was a shout from inside the house. "Fuck that! How about you 'n I fight, farmer! If I win, we take our stuff 'n leave. You win, my men leave the stuff 'n leave."
A duel? This bastard wants to duel?
"The fuck is wrong with you? Surrender or die!"
"Fuckin' farmer! The lot of you are cowards!"
"Coward? You're the one hiding in a house!"
Once it was clear that no response was coming, I told the men around me, "Get ready. I'm going to burn them out."
I only had two jars left, so I had to use them wisely. I lit the first jar and tossed it at the doorway. Unfortunately, my aim was off, and it caught on the wall beside the door. The wall caught fire quickly and began to spread.
By the time I lit the second one and prepared to throw, the door flung open and the Ironborn rushed out. Not missing a chance, I tossed it at the first man out the door, and he caught fire quickly and went down screaming.
The Ironborn rushed us, but their leader, apparently impatient, sprinted towards me, shouting, "WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE!"
I hastily drew my sword and parried his first blow. His second and third were neatly parried, but his forth caught me on my arm. It glanced off the chainmail, but the force of the blow caused me to reflexively drop my sword.
With my other hand, I punched the leader's exposed face. He went reeling backward, and I quickly picked up my sword again.
The sword felt incredibly heavy in my hand, and I could tell that I wasn't going to win this fight. I tried to backpedal a little bit, to give myself some time, but the Ironborn didn't allow that.
"Coward!" he shouted. "This is what happens to cowards!"
He ran over to another fight, where a villager, Rob, was fighting another Ironborn.
Coming up behind the fight, the Ironborn leader took a heavy swing overhead with his sword and cut Rob's head in half.
I stared in horror as Rob's body collapsed.
"That's what happens to cowards and their friends!" The man shouted, gleefully.
We rushed towards each other, as I wasn't going to allow him to do the same thing twice. The Ironborn swung again, but I managed to step out of the swing. I tried to follow up with my own swing, but it was too slow. The Ironborn grasped my arm as it swung past him and tugged me forward, off balance.
As I fell, I twisted around so that I still faced the man. The Ironborn swung at my chest, this time, but before he could swing, his neck erupted in blood.
A howling Vestrit had hopped onto the man's back and was repeatedly stabbing the Ironborn in the neck.
"Die! Die! Die! Dieidiediedie!"
As the Ironborn collapsed underneath Vestrit's weight, Vestrit continued to stab.
Once the Ironborn's head was almost completely detached, Vestrit jumped up, covered in blood, with a wild look in his eye, and screamed, "WHO'S NEXT?"
The surviving Ironborn that had rushed out of the house, of which there were only five, all dropped to their knees and shouted, "We'll take the black!"
As I stood up, I saw that Bronn was calming Vestrit down, while the other men were stripping the surviving Ironborn and tying them up.
The village around us was catching fire – the fire from the house the Ironborn had holed up in was spreading. One of the villagers - I couldn't see who - was screaming in pain and looked to be missing an arm.
With the smoke heavy in the air, and the events of the day finally catching up to me, I fell to my knees exhausted. I looked up to the sky but couldn't see anything due to the large black cloud of smoke that hung over the village.
Fuck Westeros.