*
Jon had left his dragons on the beach near the fortress of Eastwatch and waited patiently for the large gates to be opened. Walking through them he noticed immediately that the guards had been doubled and extra bolts had been added to the gate. Once inside he observed several new lookout posts and fortifications. Quickly crossing the courtyard he neared the blacksmith's workshop.
None of the familiar hammering sounds could be heard when he approached the main entrance of the building. He was about to reach for the door handle when the guard that had been assigned to accompany him to the main building spoke up.
"He left for Hardhome a few days ago. Some friends of his arrived with a delegation of men from the northern houses. They all left together and took the white wolf with them."
"Was there a lady among these friends?" Jon asked just to be absolutely certain that Lady Brienne, Edric and Loras had reached Eastwatch safely.
"Yes, big as a man she was. She rode up front when the group entered our gates. Behaved as if she owned the place, she did. She was accompanied by a large lord, a son from house Umber I think but he made it quite clear she wasn't his wife. Commander Belmore will likely be able to tell you more."
They stopped before the main building. Jon turned to the guard and dismissed him with authority. "Thanks for escorting me. I can find my way to the commander's quarters easily from here."
"Your welcome, Prince." The man hesitated but turned and left without further comment.
Relieved that the man had agreed to leave him alone, Jon quickly searched for a secluded spot and leaned against the wall. For most of the way here, he had been so focused on his dragons, merging their minds as he flew in. He had also spent considerable time mentally rehashing all the warfare advice he had received during their last strategy meeting on Dragonstone. All this had kept him so busy that he had not once reached out to his direwolf. He closed his eyes and easily slipped into Ghost's skin.
His direwolf was running along a long row of foot soldiers until he reached the front of the caravan. Through Ghost's red eyes he saw Lady Brienne leading the caravan flanked by a man all dressed in black and another one bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Greatjon but much younger than the head of house Umber. Behind them rode Edric and Loras closely followed by Gendry atop a large horse. Gendry was engaged in an easy conversation with Rykker and Stokeworth.
Searching Ghost's mind for the distance the caravan had already travelled, Jon realised that if he continued his journey today, he would still be able to arrive at Hardhome before them. Being a dragonrider had its perks. He reassured Ghost to continue onwards promising he would meet up with them at their destination and severed the connection. Pushing himself off of the wall, he walked with big strides towards to the end of the hallway.
Elbert Belmore, the garrison commander at Eastwatch received him readily and allowed him to read Sandor Clegane's message that had prompted everyone to leave without waiting for the Prince and his dragons. When Jon had finished reading Sandor's chicken scratch, Belmore told him that even though he had not joined the delegation personally, he had appointed an experienced ranger going by the name of Stane to command the one hundred and fifty men he had selected to join the fight. He also volunteered the information that Stokeworth and Rykker were part of that group. A raven from Cotter Pyke at Castle Black brought the news that two hundred Night's Watch recruits were travelling from Castle Black to Hardhome to help defend the Free Folk settlement. They were led by Jaime Lannister and scheduled to arrive there in four days at the latest.
"The guard that escorted me here told me a delegation from the northern houses arrived as well?" Jon asked when the commander fell silent.
"Indeed. They were led here by Lord Umber's third son, Osric Umber, a lady Brienne of Tarth and a few other noble men. A lot of Boltons amongst them I must say." His peculiar tone when he uttered this last piece of information indicated he wouldn't mind hearing some details about what had transpired at the Dreadfort a moon earlier.
Jon nodded but offered no further information. Instead he changed the subject and remarked how impressed he was with the heightened security measures, congratulating the man on all that had been accomplished in the short time since his previous visit.
Belmore shrugged his shoulders. "I only followed orders. You never know what will happen once you engage such a formidable enemy. I can't begin to imagine what a host of fifty thousand strong looks like. I hope the dragons can make a difference. They are magnificent creatures."
"They are." Jon agreed. "So you are prepared for the eventuality that part of the enemy might come for the Wall here?"
"Cotter Pyke was very insistent that the Wall is our last line of defense and my place as the commander of Eastwatch is here. Under my leadership, the remaining members of the Night's Watch will make sure that not a single wight or magical ice creature will reach the other side of the Wall. We are ready to defend the entrance to the Seven Kingdoms, my Prince.
Jon nodded. "I am glad that the Night's Watch takes the threat so seriously. Thanks for bringing me up to speed. I won't take up more of your time and will leave for Hardhome immediately. Hopefully we will see each other soon with good tidings to impart. Keep well, Commander Belmore." Jon's tone indicated that the interview was at an end.
"Good fortune in the battle to come, my Prince." Elbert Belmore responded with the formal send-off appropriate when men left to engage an enemy. "I will pray you, your dragons and my men will all return safely to Eastwatch before long."
***
Soon after Jon and his dragons flew low over the beautiful green and white landscape. Hardhome was already visible in the distance when he spotted the large caravan below him. The dragons screeched and he could see the caravan stutter to a halt when most of the men's heads turned toward the sky. To oblige them, Viserion and Rhaegal flew a few low circles over the group. Jon used the opportunity to wave at them before he asked the dragons to pick up speed again and head for the settlement of Hardhome.
Sandor and Tormund were there to welcome him as soon as he emerged from the woods where the dragons had landed. After the hugs were dispensed with, Jon joined a large group around a campfire and accepted a bowl of steaming stew. While he ate, Sandor brought him up to speed. According to the latest scouting reports, both from the air and from scouts on the grounds, the enemy had picked up their pace and would reach the appointed spot in less than a sennight.
"Much earlier than we estimated." Jon sighed. "The good news is that they are still on the right course then." Jon swallowed another tasteful spoonful of delicious gravy. He bowl was almost empty.
"It is as if they can sense the thousands of warm blooded bodies for them to recruit and grow more eager the nearer they get." Tormund grunted. "Want a refill?" He held out his hand to accept Jon's empty bowl.
"I'd love a bit more. Perhaps half a portion? This is really delicious." Jon answered.
"Clegane's spearwife hunted the boar but lucky for you, someone else made the stew." Tormund showed nearly all his teeth when he grinned.
"Ygritte is here?" Jon turned to Sandor who had been a silent observer until now.
"Wild horses couldn't have kept her away. So I didn't even try to persuade her to stay behind." Sandor answered looking slightly embarrassed.
"More like your red-haired minx didn't trust the other spearwives not to steel her most prized possession." Tormund teased benevolently. "She has been boasting far and wide that she caught the strongest, fiercest male who knows when to dominate and when to yield between her furs."
"Then she only has herself to blame when other women want to steal him. She should have kept all his nicer qualities a secret. Sandor sure kept some of them from us." Jon teased and looked from Tormund's grinning face to Sandor's red cheeks.
"Best get her with child as soon as possible, Sandor." The new father offered his advice. "Once you share a child together, the Free Folk will respect your claim on her and hers on you. I experience this every day and still can't get used to it." Tormund shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.
"That I can imagine." Jon continued the banter. "Poor Tormund here misses the salivating females when he struts past them."
"Myra's not here and my hand is out of practice." Tormund Giantsbane moved his hips suggestively. "Want to help out?"
"Thanks but no thanks." Jon smiled slipping more easily in the open, coarser ways of communicating with the Free Folk now than during his former visits. "About that stew you promised me?"
***
It was dark when the combined forces of the northern houses and the Night's Watch rangers from Eastwatch reached Hardhome. Their arrival had been heralded by Ghost who unceremoniously entered Jon's tent not long after Jon had finished setting it up. Jon had been in the process of spreading his furs into a makeshift bed when he got toppled by his direwolf and fell upon the heap of furs. After being licked, nudged and sniffed all over Jon pushed Ghost off him and persuaded the direwolf to guide him to the new arrivals.
A warm welcome and some introductions followed but were cut short because of the dark and cold at this time of night. Jon and some of the Free Folk ordered to do so by Tormund helped the new arrivals to set up camp. Even if the atmosphere between the strange mixture of men was rather tense, the tents were erected in record time and they all agreed to reconvene in the morning since the travellers were tired and half frozen from traipsing across the icy landscape for several days.
Ghost had stayed glued to Jon's side the entire time and the both of them quickly retired to Jon's small tent to enjoy a cosy night sleeping closely together relishing each other's nearness and body warmth. But not before Jon had read the letters from Robb and Uncle Benjen that Lady Brienne had handed him.
The next morning Tormund fetched him for breakfast and after sharing a light meal with Sandor and Ygritte inside their small tent, he helped set up a larger tent for a war council. This time several men of Free Folk offered the Dragonrider their help without Tormund needing to urge them on. The extra hands were readily accepted since a strong wind made their task rather difficult. Not long after, Jon's friends started to emerge from their tents one by one. Ghost jumped Gendry as soon as the dark haired young men showed his face.
"Do I have a reason to be jealous?" Jon smiled when he saw Gendry having trouble not to lose his balance when his direwolf front paws leaned heavily against Gendry's chest.
Gendry raised one eyebrow in mock dismay. "You better thank me for taking such good care of this sweet direwolf that you so shamefully abandoned." Gendry petted Ghost's head and scratched him behind his ears. "Poor Ghost keeps getting left behind when you fly all over the realm."
"Thank you my dear and loyal Gendry for taking care of poor lonesome Ghost." Jon's overstated show of obedience got an answering grin from Gendry.
"And a good morning to you my dear friend. I trust you slept well?" Jon added.
"Fairly. I missed my warm companion that no doubt slept in your tent. So no, you have no reason to be jealous. Instead I had to suffer the company of Edric and Loras Tyrell." His blue Baratheon eyes studied Jon.
"You look well, Jon. Things all right on Dragonstone?" Gendry released Ghost who immediately positioned himself near Jon again.
"Dany sends her greetings." Jon's happy smile while he absently petted Ghost said it all.
"That well uh?" Gendry looked at Jon trying to read more details of his face.
"We're betrothed." Jon beamed but jumped when somebody touched his shoulder.
"Did I hear this right?" Edric exclaimed coming up behind Jon, his mouth close to Jon's ear. "Are you the first one of us to chain himself to a female?"
"Is she as lovely as the rumours say she is?" Loras Tyrell piped in.
"Congratulations, my Prince." Lady Brienne offered him with a bow.
"Thanks" Jon had turned and addressed the three that had snuck up on them. "But please keep it quiet for now. We are at war. There is a time and a place for such a topic and it is not now. I will tell you all about my lovely princess as soon as we have dealt with what is coming for us. Eat your breakfast and tell me about Robb instead. I want to hear from you how he has been doing. His letter only speaks of how well his arm has been healing and how he had everything under control at Winterfell."
While Sandor and Tormund roused the rest of the encampment to spread the word that the leaders were expected at the war council shortly after breakfast, Jon and Ghost sat down and kept their friends company while they broke their fast. Jon was content to just sit there quietly and be a silent participant, listening to their easy banter typical for people used to being in each other's company for long stretches of time. At least their reports of Robb were positive. His cousin's nightmares were becoming less frequent and Robb was itching to resume his training.
***
Ghost reluctantly agreed to stay outside when Jon neared the larger tent where most of the men had already gathered. Rykker and Stokeworth greeted him at the entrance. They took up guard under a canopy further shielded by a side pane from the rather strong wind that blew in from the north and made it feel extra cold this morning.
"Only first ranger Stane still needs to arrive. The rest are already inside waiting for you." Rykker announced and opened a flap to allow Jon to enter the war tent.
Lord Osric Umber, third son of the Greatjon Umber was there representing a group of almost two hundred men sent by several houses of the North. He had also assumed command of the Bolton contingent. Male servants and guards from the Dreadfort had all volunteered to join the fight. If they fought valiantly they would be given the chance to pledge a new oath to their Lord and return to their home and kin as free men. Lord Domeric Bolton had asked Lord Umber's son to keep an eye on this group since Domeric Bolton had only shortly been released at Winterfell and was needed to set things to right at the Dreadfort. He handed Jon a letter from Lord Bolton that contained further explanations and probably some pledges of loyalty and obedience.
Tormund of course spoke for the Free Folk he had brought along from Mance Rayder's settlement. He introduced Jon to a few of the elders who represented the people living at Hardhome. A Skagosi named Stane entered at that point and introduced himself as the one representing the men of the Night's Watch that had come from Eastwatch. Jon would later learn from Rykker that Stane had voluntarily joined the Night's Watch when he was barely fourteen years old and was a well-respected first ranger at Eastwatch.
Sandor was present as well. His only contribution to the meeting was to inform everyone that they could expect reinforcements from Castle Black to reach them in a few days. They were led by Jaime Lannister. For the rest of the meeting Clegane kept silent, his eyes mostly resting on Jon.
Tormund quickly apprised everybody of the traps that were already in place and the ones they still hoped to complete with the help of the Dragonrider. Dragonfire could thaw the frozen ground which would speed up the digging of the trenches along the flank where they planned to put a barrier of pikes to set aflame. The last day before the enemy was upon them, Jon would use his dragons to weaken the ice on the borders of the large frozen lake where they intended to trap and destroy the enemy if all went well.
Jon relayed to them the pieces of advice he had been given by his Kingsguards on Dragonstone. He warned everyone to stay vigilant, dress warm enough and move about when you felt the cold creep in.
"Do not bring your usual steel weapons and carry several pieces of dragonglass. See that enough torches and fire sources are available to burn our own dead should we suffer losses. Be prepared for a longer period of darkness than normal for this time of the season and expect the enemy to learn and devise countermeasures as the battle goes on.
But the most important thing is to aim for the White Walkers. Aim for their chest and use only dragonglass when you confront them. Fire or steel is useless against them. The wights are more easily defeated. They are extremely vulnerable to dragonglass, just pierce them anywhere. One shallow cut and they perish. Setting them alight with fire is also very effective.
We should also prepare at least one healer's tent close behind our battle lines. The less experienced warriors can help bring our wounded there to give them better odds at surviving."
When everyone nodded and Jon stressed once more how the use of dragonglass would save their lives, Tormund rolled his eyes. Jon didn't hesitate to address his big friend with a telling look on his face.
"Have your scouts been reporting back regularly?"
"Half of them have not yet returned." Tormund looked at Jon, a worried frown appearing on his forehead. "Have you seen something when you flew in?"
"No I haven't. Let's just say I have a bad feeling." Jon was not willing to elaborate on the source of his intelligence. Who would take him seriously if he explained that he dreamt of their scouts being incorporated in the army of the dead?
"I suggest you do not send more out for the time being. Is Orell here or are there any other skinchangers available?" He asked instead. "We better limit ourselves to scouting from up high for now. If the enemy gets closer, scouts on the ground will be in grave danger. The enemy host is extensive. They can cover a large area. Once detected, our scouts are easily outnumbered and don't stand a chance."
"Has anyone any questions so far?" Jon asked looking one by one at the grave faces of the men assembled in the war tent.
"Burning our own fallen friends, is that really necessary?" Osric Umber asked. "Their families at home will not understand."
"We can't run the risk of them becoming slaves of the White Walkers. Can you imagine yourself fighting your best friend who has become a mindless warrior who knows no fear and feels no pain and will take of your head if you don't defend yourself?"
Lord Umber was speechless. He shook his head in denial.
Jon continued on. "As I see it there are only two choices. If one of our own falls, you can either burn his body directly but remember his name so all names of our brave fallen defenders can be recorded for posterity, or if circumstance allow for it and you have the opportunity without jeopardising your own life during the battle, you can firmly bind your fallen fellow soldier's hands and feet."
Jon sighed deeply and gazed seriously at Lord Umber now. "Even if you successfully tied up our own dead and they happen to be resurrected, you will still have to burn their bodies. But there is a chance it won't come to that and you can take them home for a ceremonial burial."
Osric looked around and addressed the men of the Free Folk. "Do you all believe that what the Prince says is possible?"
"I fought dead children of my tribe once. I cut off the little boy's arm with my own sword but he kept coming at me. Even when I beheaded him, his tiny body kept creeping toward me." It was one of the representatives from Hardhome who spoke up. "I also fought a wildcat that looked more like a skeleton. The Dragonriders speaks true. They raise the dead."
A silence followed these words and Lord Umber swallowed and bowed his head starting to accept that this would be a different fight than he could ever have imagined.
Jon cleared his throat and was quick to move their attention away from the morbid topic. The best way was to get the men to concentrate on the battle strategy. It would also give them hope that they could win the battle without suffering too many losses.
"Now let's talk about the positions each of your men will take up and how we will need to move as one to lure the enemy further on the ice. Tormund, can you explain the strategy we devised together with Mance Rayder?"
In the end it was decided that Jon would leave the scouting to Orell and a fellow warg while he and his dragons devoted their time to helping the men dig the trenches.
***
The war council reconvened that evening to hear the reports of the scouting mission. It became clear that there were only two days left before the enemy reached the appointed spot. Jon reassured them that they had made enormous progress today with the traps and that they would be ready for the enemy.
There was much worse news. The White Walkers had also sent a small contingent to the west to prevent the reinforcements marching towards them from Castle Black to reach their ranks in time for the battle.
Jon had counted on that group of men under the command of Jaime Lannister. Several amongst them had fought the dead at the Fist of the First Men and knew what they were facing. He had also hoped that Jaime Lannister could have taken a look at their battleplan and perhaps could have made some last minute recommendations. But most of all, he had counted on the former knight to lead a part of the attack if not coordinate with all the other leaders and take charge of the entire battle on the ground.
Jon's first impulsive reaction had been to take his dragons and help the group from Castle Black get past the dead but he had been halted by Orell's words. The skinchanger had reminded him that the main host of the dead were near. The Dragonrider was sorely needed here for the last preparations.
Moreover, he would play right in the enemy's cards if he drew the dragons away from the larger battle they were about to face. Jon had been reassured by the fact that the forces Jaime Lannister was bringing outnumbered the enemy heading for them by about three to one. They would only be delayed and would eventually reach them. Just not in time to be briefed before the start of the battle.
One thing was clear now. The enemy knew what they were about and had a way to scout as well. Perhaps White Walkers were also wargs or had some other form of magic at their disposal. It was a scary thought. During the war council everyone had supported Orell, the men from the North for once agreeing without argument with Sandor, Tormund and several other leaders of the Free Folk. So Jon had relented and had stayed put. He had worked hard helping them put the last traps in place and had started to weaken the borders of the lake. The final weakening would be done just before the enemy came into their line of sight. If he did it a bit too early, the stretch of weakened ice would just grow thicker again and all his efforts would have been for naught.
When Orell's final scouting report reached them with a new headcount of the enemy's forces, they all agreed that the next morning, the fighting force would set up camp further away from the settlement of Hardhome nearer to the location they had chosen to confront the enemy.
Jon with the help of Tormund had finally been able to persuade the leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome to evacuate their weakest members to the ships. Nobody could guarantee that all the traps would work flawlessly and that they would successfully prevent a part of the enemy's main host to split from the rest and head straight for all the warm living bodies at Hardhome.
There only needed to be a single strategist amongst the enemy, one White Walker who got the bright idea to attack the settlement and countless lives could be lost. Jon knew they did not have the numbers to contain fifty thousand wights if not all of them walked into their trap. If that happened, the settlement at Hardhome was in great danger of being overrun.
He once more cursed the fact that it had not been possible to bring the Free Folk south of the Wall. They could have used the natural defenses built by his ancestors instead of being forced to meet an enemy that far outnumbered them in open country. Hopefully by the time the Night King finally made his appearance, which Jon prayed would still be a long, long time from now, the Lords of the North and the leaders of the Free Folk would have put aside their pride. Then the younger children and other Free Folk members not able to fight for one reason or other would be safe south of the Wall.
Now however, they had to rely on all the small obstacles they had put in place along the path the enemy was travelling so they would chose the easier path and walk straight onto the frozen lake. The Free Folk had worked hard on that and the skinchangers were keeping a close eye on the situation. If they did stray from the course that had been laid out for them, Jon would set part of the forest on fire to force them back on track.
No matter what precautions had been taken, evacuation was still the best way of safeguarding the non-fighting population of the Free Folk. When that decision had finally been reached, Jon described the best way to go about that, using the strategy worked out by Davos and Ser Gerold. They had devised detailed plans not only for a swift embarkment but also to arrange the defenses on the ships in case of an attack.
Lady Brienne, Edric Dayne and Loras Tyrell had not been happy to have been assigned the responsibility of overseeing the evacuation and organising the defenses of the fleet with refugees. But Jon had been adamant. They would be more helpful there. To silence Lady Brienne he had put her in command of the defense of the entire fleet. She had stopped protesting after he had given her a scroll written by Ser Gerold Hightower himself, detailing what weapons to take with them and some pointers on how to defend a fleet and to establish communications between the ships.
Jon didn't reveal to her, Edric nor Loras Tyrell that he preferred the leaders of his army to be men who had seen the enemy before and realised what they were up against. His friends had arrived when most of the preparations were in place and had never seen a wight before. And even though he knew that they would have agreed to be relegated to the role of simple foot soldiers, Jon would feel better if he knew they were making themselves useful in what would hopefully turn out to be a safer place.
Around noon on the last day before the battle, Jon ordered everyone with the exception of the appointed guards to take some time to rest up. They would all have to report for battle before the sun disappeared behind the large mountaintop. The leaders reconvened in the war tent to go over the strategy one last time. It was necessary that they all moved in sync and knew what to do with the wounded and their own dead. Two tents dedicated to look after the wounded had been set up behind the battle lines and healers of the Free Folk were in charge of making these ready to accommodate as many victims as possible. Jon spent his last moments of peace seated against a tree with Ghost's head in his lap and his dragons slumbering a few feet away.
***
Shortly before dusk
'You can prepare for battle all you want. You can be brave, have excellent plans and believe in your fellow soldiers. The fear still creeps up on you. If it hasn't already, it will probably grip you in the time between finishing preparations and the start of the battle. It will course through you while you are standing there next to your fellow comrade-in-arms, in your protective gear armed to the teeth with nothing left to do than to wait for the enemy host to appear. Just as everyone around you, you are scared stiff but pretend to be brave just the same.
To prevent you from shivering, you might try to crack a lame joke to the one standing to your left or right. You might even move your limbs a little to prevent them from getting stiff from the cold but you have to keep in mind not to break the lines and keep to your prearranged position. All the strategies are in place, everyone knows their role to play and once more you put on a blank face and go back to waiting and keeping silent to make sure you will be able to hear the sounds you have been told the approaching enemy will be making.'
It was a passage from a book on warfare that Sam had read aloud to Jon to distract him and help settle his stomach when he had been ill on Dragonstone. The text seemed apt when he examined the impressive rows of their forces. Everything was prepared. They had done all they could. Every last man had received clear instructions. Their commanders had warned them to brace themselves and stay firm no matter what came for them, be it dead people, smelly rotten corpses of undead animals, or even mystical ice creatures. "Stay in formation and stick to the plan."
Jon all dressed up for battle as well now reached the front line of the ranks. Even though he had never lived through a battle of this scale, he was no stranger to the fear that tries to overpower you right before a fight to the death. Walking through the ranks he was sure each of the men felt it deep down, even though few would admit to it, even if one were to ask them point blank. Jon walked by many soldiers. He smiled and nodded at them and was aware that most of the men were making every effort to put on a brave front. Just like the passage Sam had read to him. Some even smiled and wished him good fortune. The cocky ones that showed no fear were the ones in the most danger. At least that is what Ser Arthur had told him often enough. 'It is better to fear your enemy than to overestimate yourself.'
"See you after we have won and we will all share a pint together." Jon had overheard several versions of that phrase from men speaking to their neighbouring brothers in arms. He kept walking past as many as possible in an attempt to bolster morale. He sometimes stopped to say a few words but it quickly became clear to him that that wasn't enough to lift the predominant mood of fear. He couldn't blame them. Even Tormund's bold stare had wavered when Orell had told him the results of his last scouting mission.
The dead were marching toward them, their ranks had swollen with every living being they had found, be it animals or unfortunate scout. They numbered over fifty thousand easily.
Jon heard the sound of a horn. He stilled and waited. Two more blasts followed. This was the confirmation the enemy had been sighted by the look outs up in the trees at the northern end of the lake. This was confirmation that Jon had made the right decision. His war council had been right. There had not been enough time to help the group from Castle Black and be back here for the start of the battle. His presence on the lake was crucial to their plan. He needed to trap them on the ice. Wights couldn't swim. If he could melt the three edges of the frozen lake not facing the sea, no matter how many wights the enemy showed up with, they would all be sitting ducks for the dragonfire and dragonglass projectiles. They also counted on the fact that large chunks of ice would give in under their combined weight.
The army of the living stood at the ready on the southern side of the lake. Every single one of them heavily armed. The ones on the front lines had large shields they could hide behind. They held a dragonglass weapon of their choice in the other hand and had one or more daggers tugged away in their belt. The following rows had two dragonglass weapons at the ready, one in each hand and also at least one spare item tucked under their belt. At least thanks to Gendry they had dragonglass weapons in abundance. He had almost walked along the entire width of the front lines and looked back over his shoulder to take in the impressive lines of warriors that started near the woods and only stopped near the shoreline. Resuming his inspection he suddenly halted when he saw Gendry standing ready on the first row with a large Warhammer on the ground beside him. Even though it was dark as hell by now, he easily recognised the distinctive silhouette of his friend and approached him.
"Gendry, don't do anything reckless. Stay in formation. I need you to stay alive, you hear. Stick to the plan."
"As long as the plan works, I will, Jon. If not, I'll improvise. Don't worry about me." He showed his belt that contained several daggers and knifes to throw. His warhammer had been modified and now had several dragonglass spikes on all sides. "I will stay and protect the archers. But you know as well as I do that some, probably many of those dead abominations will break through and reach our ranks. I've come prepared."
"Stay safe, Gendry." Jon now petted his direwolf's head. Since Jon would fight from the sky, he had ordered Ghost to keep Gendry company. He touched his wolf's forehead and reaffirmed his order.
"Ghost, stay with Gendry and guard the men here. Rhaegal and Viserion will look after me in the sky. I'll be safe." Ghost whined quietly but bowed his head which Jon recognised as the direwolf's reluctant acceptance of the situation.
He had reached the shoreline and walked towards the large group of archers who would hopefully be the ones to make the largest number of casualties. If all went well the two armies would not really clash but be separated by a large gap of melted ice. The wights would be sitting ducks and be vulnerable to the rain of dragonglass arrows these men would launch upon them. He nodded and said some encouraging words while he walked past them to reach the small cavalry that was hidden back there. When he was close enough to be seen in the darkness, he nodded to Sandor who had been tasked to lead this small group of men on horseback.
His former Kingsguard had been part of every strategy meeting. Jon remembered Sandor's mumbling that the meetings here were fucking more boring than the ones held by Ser Gerold. Jon couldn't blame him. But with the ragtag army they had assembled here, they needed to have a simple strategy. One understood by everyone and most of all they had needed a lot of patience to persuade every untrained soldier of the Free Folk that discipline and staying in formation could mean the difference between winning and losing a battle against this particular enemy.
Reaching the back of the ranks Jon noticed several men shooting him nervous glances. His walk through the ranks had not been enough. Many men had not even gotten a glimpse of him. The men needed something more. They needed to see the might of the dragons. They needed to hear the right words. Words that could take the fear that could potentially cripple them and turn it in a form of positive energy they could use. He needed to find words that could transform their fear into fury, into hatred towards their enemy. Suddenly Jon knew what he had to do.
He hurried over to the place where the dragons were waiting for him. He felt their anxiety mingle with his own feelings. Rhaegal didn't hesitate and lowered his wing so Jon could mount him. Moments later the two dragons were in the air. Approximately nine thousand heads turned upwards now.
Jon knew seeing the Dragonrider and his two mighty dragons at close range might give the men hope. And hope was the best motivation when you stood freezing in the snow and mud before a frozen lake waiting for your worst nightmare to attack you. He hoovered on his impressive green dragon in front of them, letting Viserion light up the sky occasionally and tried to appeal to their honour and pride. He repeated his speech three times, in three different location before the wide ranks so all the men were able to hear his words clearly at least once. He shouted as loud as his voice would allow him.
"This will be the fight of nightmares, the worst kind of enemy you will ever face. But we are the living. We have brains, tactics and superior weapons. We know our enemy's weaknesses. Forget your steel swords, fight with the dragonglass and use fire as we showed you and we, the living will prevail. They may come at us with superior numbers but they are just mindless corpses. We have a good plan and we have two dragons. If we close ranks, they will not stand a chance. The living will prevail.
This night is a night for the history books. Everyone who fights here this night will be remembered as the heroes of this day and age. Songs will be sung about you, about the brave strong men up in the cold North that put aside thousands of years of infighting. Crows and Wildlings, Free Folk and men of the Night's Watch standing side by side with the people that live south of the Wall to defeat the true enemy. Because defeat them we will!
Tonight we all are the protectors of the living. We are the shields that guard the realms of men. Tonight we are the heroes that fight for the living. We fight for our future, for our children's future and for the future of all the generations still to come. Because we are the living! And we fight for the living!"
"For the Living! For the living." First some of the Free Folk but soon the entire army picked up the chant. The loud roar of two dragons could be heard and for a short moment all fear was forgotten. Pride and resolve had taken its place. The men could picture their survival. They could not keep their eyes off the two powerful dragons and felt safe in the knowledge that the enemy faced those fearsome beasts. The living had the Dragonrider on their side. They had a good plan. The living would prevail!
Jon flew alongside the frontline one more time reviewing the ranks. They all kept south of the frozen lake. When some had uttered the idea of hiding in the woods to flank the enemy Jon had slightly amended the idea.
"They can sense us. I do not know how. I do not know whether it is because they can hear our heartbeat, sense our warmth or whether they use some sort of magic. All I know is that they can sense the living. And if they discover we have men stationed along the flank, they might venture off the lake too early and our plan will fail. Our trap will fail and we will be overrun before we can do anything about it. And the ones who were sent to flank them will all die. They would go on a suicide mission and their corpses might be forced to fight us next. Certainly you all remembered what happened to our scouts?"
Everyone attending the war council in the large tent had nodded their head in agreement. They knew all too well what had happened. Orell and another warg had done most of the scouting until then but had needed to rest up before the battle. The few scouts that had volunteered boasting they were the best and would never be detected, had not returned. When Orell urged by Jon had investigated, he had not brought back good news. The skinchanger had witnessed through the eyes of his eagle how hundreds of dead wights had all turned their heads as one in the direction of a scout and the unfortunate man had been overrun and soon marched alongside the dead back to the main host. He had become one of them.
From atop his dragon, Jon studied the ranks one last time and was proud of what they had accomplished in the last few days. For the moment even the Free Folk formed close, almost orderly formations. The only free spaces between the ranks were for the fires they had going, fires not only to provide light and warmth, but fire for the archers to light their conventional arrows. He could also see the men that were carrying torches in their left hand. They had orders to burn their fallen allies if necessary. Jon prayed that they could trap most of the enemy swiftly and prevent close combat. It would certainly lessen the chance of fatalities.
At first sight, the entire army of the living was comprised of Free Folk. When he flew over the east part of the ranks, he spotted the men of the Night's Watch stationed at Eastwatch that had come out to help defend the coast line. Their black coats separated them easily from the white and grey furs the Free Folk were wearing.
Next to them stood the delegation from the houses of the North. These men were predominantly dressed in dark grey colours. Jon knew the group consisted of several second and third sons of the noble houses, joined by trained houseguards and a contingent of smallfolk who had volunteered. Two hundred men would probably not make a big difference. But the fact that they had showed up here at all was historic and meant a great deal. Not only in forging an alliance between the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Folk but they could lend credit to Jon's claim of being the defender of the realm and herald him as a war hero.
The last small group he spotted was the delegation from the Dreadfort. Even though these men were also under the command of Lord Umber, the Bolton contingent was not fully accepted. This was underlined by the small gap between the two groups.
Now Jon looked to his right and tried to scan the sea but it was too dark. His ships were out there somewhere a small distance from the coast but far enough not to become a target for the ice spears or arrows from the enemy. He could picture in his mind how the vessels were lying deep into the water. Each ship was filled to capacity with the elderly, the pregnant women and the younger children. That part of the plan had been carried out flawlessly. If the worst happened, Lady Brienne had orders to set sail for Skagos.
Jon had been present at the start of the evacuation and had even helped some of them board. Not many young women had been present. Only the ones who were visibly pregnant had agreed to evacuate. Young girls that had not flowered and young boys under twelve namedays made up most of the group selected to board the ships. Aside the pregnant women, they were a minority of elderly men and women. Jon knew most of them had tried to join the fighting. The leaders of the Free Folk at Hardhome had needed to use all their authority to get their older population to agree to help the others board the ship and stay there themselves. They had been given weapons and promised a role in the defense of the ships in case of an attack.
Jon had seen several wrinkled old men with grey beards standing bravely between the younger men in the battle lines before the frozen lake. They were identically dressed and also armed to the teeth. The youngest boys allowed to stay with the army had been given smaller tasks that were vital. They all carried baskets with arrows, daggers, short swords to keep everyone provisioned. Some would also move through the ranks from one commander to another to relay messages and commands during those times when the noise and chaos prevented the men from hearing the latest orders that were being shouted.
Women, spearwives more exactly, made up almost half of the Free Folk numbers. If you saw them standing there looking even more determined than some of the men, you wouldn't give the opponent a chance. Jon and Orell knew better of course. They were the only ones who had seen the enemy approach. Wights as far as the eye could see, poor slaves, but with deadly intent towards the living.
'It will be mercy that we are showing those poor souls.' Jon thought. 'We will release them from their slavery.' He felt a shiver run over his back and knew they were close before he saw them or registered their screams. A large host of wights were marching toward the lake. It wouldn't be long now. Rhaegal and Viserion tensed at the sight. Jon tried to calm them but his own heart was beating fast. He looked at Viserion and they split up. Jon flew to the front of the lake, Viserion to the back. Both dragons simultaneously lit the spikes they had smeared with tar that flanked the woods. The wights close to that side moved to the left.
The fires helped everyone to see clearly at what pace the enemy was approaching. They would also provide an extra barrier between the enemy and the mounted forces of Sandor Clegane that would flank them once the trap was sprung. The fires served their purpose for now. All wights whether they were undead humans or undead animals were now forced to advance in one direction, flanked by fire to their right and the sea to their left. Jon flew back over the enemy host scanning the army to locate the White Walkers. Despite the darkness they were easy to spot. They towered over most of their foot soldiers, sitting straight on a carcass that once used to be a horse. One even rode on an undead white bear. Jon flew back to his own forces, Viserion close behind."
"Up front one White Walker to the left, one in the middle. None close to the water. I spotted at least two others in the middle and three at the rear. Aim for them if you can," he yelled at Tormund who led the center. Tormund Giantsbane didn't hesitate and dispatched a few young boys in all directions to inform the rest of their forces."
Jon turned and studied the wights marching forward on the frozen lake. The ice didn't crack no matter how many wights joined the vanguard. Jon held Viserion back. 'Wait until they reach the center of the lake at least.' He sent the thought by way of Rhaegal. He now clearly distinguished the shouts from the commanders on the ground. They were urging everyone to hold their positions.
"Do nottake a step, do not advance. Stick to the plan." The echo of these shouts could be heard over the entire length of the front lines.
Jon ascended so he was high enough to be out of reach of enemy weapons. It seemed to him as if it took forever for the first section of wights to reach the center of the lake. Jon figured by now almost half of the night was already gone. That hopefully meant the fight would not last too long.
He realised all too well that many of the men suffered from the cold by now and hadn't been able to sleep much during the day. Pre-fight anxiety had made most of them restless. He comforted himself with the knowledge that at first light they would know more. Jon reckoned that either they had won by then and the enemy would be retreating or the fight would have been halted one way or another by an enemy that planned to return the next night to renew their attack on the living. Jon refused to consider there could be a third possibility. Defeat was not an option.
Finally the first wights had crossed more than half of the length of the large lake. Jon would soon take action, knowing that after the first burst of dragonfire lit up the sky, the living would start reigning arrows. He waited a bit longer still a bit disappointed that the ice pelt held the weight of the enormous number of enemy soldiers. Not a single crack appeared. It seemed the ice in the middle of the lake was a lot stronger than they had all anticipated.....