Chapter 33

A week later ... Eastwatch-by-the-Sea...

“Whatever happened to the galleys that we once used to guard and trade from Eastwatch, anyway?” Theon asked Cotter, the thought more than once naturally occurring to an Ironborn prince, even a fallen one.

“Where do you think that the Night King got his ships? He turned every last one of those poor buggers, that is my only conclusion, plus any foolish smugglers and pirates caught in the open. Look, we have now been cut down to a force of what two hundred or so odd fellows, half of them wildlings these days ... or Free Folk, as they like to be called. We’ve had desertions, men never coming back from ranging, all kinds of mishaps, and yes, the loss by the turning of our seamen, no small number of them Ironborn, as you might have guessed,” Cotter admitted in low tones in their own Pyke dialect.

“Yes, well, I’ve just received this urgent message by raven, sir,” someone interrupted them, that someone being Tormund Giantsbane himself, “it’s from the Hound, Sandor Clegane, and he writes with the utmost urgency here.”

“I have spotted enemy vessels just six leagues south of the Wall, my lord. Please send some men at the earliest possible speed. This is a very sparsely settled area, with only a few hamlets along the coast, hardly able to put up much of a fight. The closest castle of any significance is Last Hearth, which belongs to the young Lord Ned Umber. That is still many leagues away, too, even if he is willing and able to commit to our aid. Nevertheless, I will attempt to get him to succor us, but it will aid immensely if I have your material as well as moral support, my lord,” the Hound warned the Commander now in his letter.