They set off early in the morning. Duke Oberyn's vanguard made its way across the bleak terrain, albeit with difficulty, but the battalion following him began to get bogged down in the mud. They came to a vast, rolling field where the Starks' horses skirted the fetid mire that oozed from the ground, seeping between the bumpy roots. The ground was unsteady, only part of the field seemed passable by horse, but no one knew exactly where the Martell army, well ahead of them, had crossed. Under the thick grass, the same rotten, slimy water bubbled everywhere. The woods around the edges of the field were silent in the grey mist, the foliage of the pines and oaks black in the glimmering light.
- Lord Casta!" he heard Patrek Mallister's voice, from somewhere behind him.
The commander came towards him at a fast trot, with a few leather-armoured horsemen behind him.
- There is no crossing here! There is stinking mud in this ground, we must stop and put salt on it before we cross. Some of my men have lost their lives trying! I suggest you...
Jon Snow has felt danger since he saw the dead deer. Before he could reply to the commander, it was confirmed. Out of nowhere, something flew out and knocked Commander Mallister's man from his saddle. He fell on his back, a red arrow protruding from his bruised forehead. Death reaped through the trees with successive shouts and screams. Then there was silence, broken now and then by the rushing of blades, and finally by the terrified sound of pained screams and howls. Jon Snow could not see exactly what was happening, the riders were already forming a ring of defence around the commander. A helmetless warrior with a red-and-black painted face was galloping towards them, blood spattering his eyes from his high forehead. They were Dothraki markings. As he leapt across a puddle, the attacker had already drawn his bow on Jon Snow.
- Drogo khal!" he heard the enemy's battle cries from several directions.
Jon Snow could feel all his muscles tensing under the thin sheet of plate armour, and even with them he focused on the inevitable battle, blocking out everything else from his thoughts.
- 'For the King of Winterfell!' shouted Eddard's old battle cry as he dug his heel into the side of his horse, but the swamp and Mallister's warriors would not let go.
The Dothraki warrior howled like a jackal and shook his compound bow. Three more were already galloping towards them from the same direction Jon Snow had expected. And three more. They shot their arrows as swiftly as a hawk's flight, then turned and headed back. More and more riders joined them from the direction of the mist-covered forest. They galloped in a circle, dealing death to the distracted Starks with quick arrows.
- Form a circle!" he heard Commander Mallister shout.
The air filled with the whistle of arrows. Horses rumbled in the distance, trees crackled and crunched as the heavy bodies of horses broke through the brush.
- Do not let them break through this ring!
Jon Snow now noticed that some kind of order of battle was forming. Ser Jaime's banner was already raised high beside a distant clump of trees, where the leather-clad, blood-shielded Lannister knights formed a circle around the commander. The Martells who remained with them also tried to join them. The enemy struck from several sides at once, Jon Snow unable to follow their movements with his eyes. Ser Jaime's men counter-attacked, but it was to little avail, most of them falling into the bloody mud of the field before they could reach the galloping circles of the Dothraki riders. A counter-attacking Stark troop was pushed back towards the centre of the field, where the ground was most uneven, by the Dothraki riders charging forward at lightning speed. The horses were stuck in the mud, the men falling screaming off their backs as the enemy's flying arrows finished them off one by one. The ring formed around the commander and Jon Snow was still waiting. The trees crackled, the reeds around the water patches rustled dully. Near them, more painted-faced foes burst from the woods and threw a noose of rope at a lunging northern horse. There was carnage at other edges of the field, as the lurking foe slammed into the Stark rearguard. Now more came, and the dead were trampled mercilessly to the ground. Jon Snow clutched the reins tightly. If the attacking Dothraki horde completely surrounded them, it would be all over. They would be slaughtered in the swamp like sacrificial goats in this field.
- Lord Snow!", Jon Snow heard the commander's voice. "This is King Robert's order! I answer to the Lord of King's Landing for you! Please do as I say!
Jon Snow nodded. Even if Ser Jaime orders a breakout from here, he must remain in the protective ring of the Commander's men. Mallister's face looked as if it had been carved from a rock. Jon Snow felt the cold fingers on the back of his neck as he heard the shrill roar of the enemy as the commander strode past him.
- "Commander Mallister!" he shouted after him. "I am the son of Eddard Stark! I will leave none of them alive by the end of the day!
The bodyguards with blood shields held him in the middle. More saddle horses burst from the trees. The enemy might have been surprised when they suddenly moved. Arrows whizzed in from all sides. Jon Snow heard the shattering crack of bone as an arrow slammed into the back of the head of a knight with a blood shield beside him. His companions drew bows, but the painted-faced horsemen galloping in a circle dodged their arrows like a flock of birds. Some seemed to disappear into the forest. He felt the arrows caress his arms. Those who fell behind now would be as dead as the scorched bark of trees, so he raised his bow as he cut. It was as if his father's shadow was now whispering to him from somewhere where he should shoot. He felt a sharp pain in his left arm as he stretched the bow, but it didn't matter now. He turned back in the saddle, with the determined, a thousand times practiced movement that had won him hundreds of hunts and maneuvers at Winterfell.
- "Draw your bow!" shouted Commander Mallister.
- Draw your bow!
Jon Snow was still galloping when he released the arrow. He could still see a red-robed foe galloping towards them, staggering in his saddle. It hit him in the throat, his horse reared, the warrior fell to the ground. When the commander's archers fired again, the enemy that had been following them changed direction and disappeared behind the trees, leaving the dead behind. One warrior rode towards them from the trees surrounding the open field, perhaps to make a suicidal dash straight for the horde lined up on the barren hills. But suddenly he changed direction and started galloping in the opposite direction. Every arrow fired by the khalasar's warriors slammed harmlessly into the hillside behind him. The knights beside Jon Snow began to murmur.
- It's Robert's bastard!
- Come closer, Gendry!
It is certain that the blacksmith was not alone. It seemed impossible to hide so many men and horses in the forests surrounding the eastern slopes of the Red Mountains, but perhaps there were clearings and secret paths that Oberyn's men could not explore. The rider now stopped, raised his sword and roared. He howled as sharply as a hawk about to swoop. He lifted the severed head of his enemy, a Dothraki warrior slain in the forest, by the long pommel of his ramrod and threw it like a bloody rag-bag towards the battalion in array. Jon Snow shuddered. The lone rider crossed a ridge, sliding his sword back into the sheath that beat against his thigh, raising high the bloody bull's-head helmet he held in his left hand. The knights huddled around Jon Snow. The armoured archers surged around the leaders, but the sudden blast of Ser Jaime's bugle immediately ordered them back. The armies now parted at the sound of another bugle. Jon Snow, assigned to the left flank, galloped with them.
- 'The Dothraki take no prisoners,' said Gendry, after they had taken up their positions opposite the black and green hills.'We have foolishly run into a trap set by the khalasar and the wildlings. And this path we are on is too narrow here to turn round. This could not have happened under Robert! We came here to force them into battle, when it is they who have trapped us.
Jon Snow quickly tired of the blacksmith's desperate wails.
- My brother knows what he's doing. We will win!
A bitter smile played across the blacksmith's face.
- Our scouts have been killed, Jon Snow. I hope you're right.
Jon Snow's hand slowly clenched into a fist. Although he was a good twenty years younger, the commander seemed to crane his neck when he looked at him.
- No matter how outnumbered they are, they'll all die today!
- Drogo khal!" the enemy shouted from the forest in response.
- Drogo khal!" Jon Snow heard from the riverbank in the distance.
The riders who dashed out of the trees zipped around the troops at such speed and at such a distance beyond the range of an arrow that it was almost impossible to hit them or even to aim at them. Arrows flew back and forth without success, but no one engaged in close combat. Jon Snow also fired a few along with the others. Some of the enemy's bullets whizzed past his ear, dangerously close to his face. Already, Commander Mallister's blood-shielded men were circling around him, watching him out of the corner of their eye, to deflect the arrows aimed at him with their bodies if necessary. The bastard Gendry galloped towards them, sometimes closer, sometimes towards the forest, sometimes further away, neither body of troops close enough to do any real damage to the other. Jon Snow turned back in the saddle and could still see the still, disciplined order of the army under Oberyn on the hills. The standard flags flew high. The prince waited. A horse with red-painted ram's horns tied to its back was drawn up as a bolt of lightning suddenly cut into the darkening sky. Jon Snow felt the soul of his father, Eddard, for a moment in the lightning that painted the clouds yellow. The bugles, in answer to the thunder of the sky, now sounded everywhere. Jon Snow could hear them both near and far. The enemy riders circling around them seemed like zigzagging shadows in the misty distance. From the reeds that glistened green beside the slimy puddles, he remembered the hair of a slave girl he had made love to in Tywin's palace. The invisible power released by the spilling blood overcomes fear as fire grips the carcass with its teeth, thrown on the pyre. No matter if his body dies now, his immortal soul will still be joined to the lightning of heaven!
- I know you want to keep your head, Commander Mallister. You answer to Robert for me! But I'm not only Eddard's blood, I'm Cregan Stark's son! Son of the Starks! I will not die!
- Jon Snow! Back in the ranks!
Jon Snow spread his arms and felt the rain begin to drench his fur coat over his plate leather vest. He laughed. He decided to ignore Mallister's hoarse shouting. The thunder of the sky was now mingled with the sound of horses' thunder. Jon Snow could not let go of the cocked bowstring as a figure galloping towards him interrupted his aim.
- They are coming!' came from the forest, a knight of Mallister. - What are your orders, my lord?
- Let them come.
Mallister turned with his horse.
- We will maintain the order of battle until we receive orders to the contrary!
- They're not only Dothraki, my lord, they're wildlings!
Now Jon Snow has seen it. He could see banners beyond the wall, and the skull of a painted wolf swinging high overhead, unfolding from the distant mist of the riverbank. His heart leapt. He reached for his wolf's tooth amulet, and his fingers soon felt a welcome chill as he probed. He thought of the day he and Robb had killed the male wolf, and the day his father had carved the protective markings into it. Mallister's measured voice was almost soothing now.
- The King Beyond the Wall is sending the traitors forward because he thinks it will provoke us. We'll keep the order of battle. We will not fall for such ancient deception, and when they turn, we will not pursue!
- That's an order. - the knight struck his armored chest with his fist.
Jon Snow was watching the wildlings. The first arrows fired from a gallop struck the horses' feet as the subordinate warriors scattered. Casta's bugle blasted through the air with a sharp sound in response. The arrows whistled and whirred before him, behind him, over his head, as if of their own volition. As if they didn't really want to hit the sons of wolves. Jon Snow was also surprised at the hatred he now felt for the wildlings allied with the Dothraki tribes. The arrows struck far away from him. Mallister's men circled around him like bodyguards, arrows soon protruding from the shields held over their heads like dragon spikes. He turned his head to the right and saw one of the knights fall, an arrow in his throat. As he fell, his blood spurted out like a flower dropping its petals. Then another knight fell, then another. Like shot deer in a great hunt. Jon Snow watched the ravens circling in the sky and thought they would be glad of the feast. Someone yelled near him. A horse galloped past him and galloped diagonally, its outstretched-armed rider on its back not letting go of the reins even in death. As ordered, no one broke free. Everything happened exactly as Commander Mallister expected. The wildlings halted after shooting their arrows, and, turning sharply, rode back behind the hills. Another bugle sounded. Jon Snow heard the whistle of arrows again as his companions shot after them with practised hands. A few of the horses galloping backwards were cut in the mud, their riders flying out of the saddle, but it was hard to see what was happening. A few arrows even flew towards them as the attackers arrowed backwards, but most fell harmlessly to the grass. The sky was still thundering. The rain didn't stop, only drops fell in his eyes.
- My lord! - before the tumultuous order of battle could be restored, a rider came galloping in, flying a Lannister banner.
- My lord, Commander Mallister! I bring a message from Ser Jaime!
- Speak!
The young man coughed dryly, his face slashed by an arrow, and fear gleamed in his unusually bright eyes.
- My lord! More riders are coming. From the direction of the river.
Jon Snow looked at the commander. Mallister's voice was calm. Robert would probably hang the man who brought such news.
- Did you not watch the trail? I told you to watch it! Where is Ser Jaime?
- I sent three riders, my lord, as you asked.
- What happened to those three horsemen?
The envoy was silent, and his silence revealed more than if he had spoken.
- Where are the three horsemen?! Where are those men?
- My lord... - he groaned - I recognized some of the flags. I also saw Stark's banner. Robb Stark's men were among the attackers. Your men lie dead along the beach, arrows in their throats. It's the truth!
Jon Snow looked up and found no ravens. The world seemed to shrink around him.
- 'And if they are behind us, my lord,' the knight's sober voice interrupted, 'we must not let them surround us!
Jon Snow shouted at the unfortunate young courier. It was all happening too fast for him to think.
- What message did Ser Jaime send?
- Withdraw your units immediately behind the camp to Commander Mallister, the man muttered, not looking at Jon Snow, "so you will join him and avoid our lines being torn apart."
- And Casta?
The knight looked at him in confusion.
- The battalion is waiting. I can say no more, my lord!
The blaring bugles tore through the blood-scented air like the claws of the Targaryens' dragons.