Chapter 48

The Last Hearth, The North,
War Council of the Bay of Seals
A few days later...

“So, the first attempt has been repulsed, but you know that won’t be the last. They are but testing our strength, even now, and they now have Skagos and Skane from which to keep up their raids. Be assured that this enemy will not relent. They made more than fifteen or was that sixteen attempts to take Eastwatch-by-the-Sea from the waters, after all. This foe wants to cover the world in ice and snow. He will not satisfied with less. He is Death itself,” the commander of the local militia, Tormund Giantsbane, warned those of his officers still newer to the fray.

These included none other than the Lord of Last Hearth, one Ned Umber, as well as the Lady of Karhold, Alys Karstark. It was a large and growing coalition, swelling by the day and more resembling an army than a militia in the past few days since ravens brought news to the area of the first landing. This was good news, because the Wildling general and his deputy, the Hound, Sandor Clegane, needed all of the succor they could get for their cause against such a ruthless adversary.

Despite being the nominal lord of the fief where the commander held court, there was no doubt that Lord Ned Umber answered to Tormund Giantsbane and not the reverse. The King had placed Tormund in command through his Wardeness, Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell. The Queen had likely assented as well, but that mattered less. It was a bonus, not a necessity. What mattered was the will of the White Wolf, Jon Snow, the King in the North and now Lord of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. The Dragon Queen was still viewed as mainly his consort here, despite her dragons and armies, as well as her supposed co-regency.

“We will need to have our patrols and scouts out in force every day from now until the landing, no matter how many must repeat these duties. We cannot spare an hour, either. We must have a constant watch and vigil upon the shore. Thankfully, they have a rough choice between trying again for Eastwatch or making another attempt upon our beach. Or they could try both, but that has risks of its own.

“The numbers on the Wall continue to shrink, but that will not be much longer, as the Lannister captives are sworn into the brotherhood of the Night’s Watch. They will soon outnumber the old guard by dozens, if not scores or hundreds of men, but at least they will have brethren to spare for the war,” the Hound added for his part, trying to sound more cheerful than his usual self.

It didn’t come naturally to a hard and jaded man such as he. Sandor also wondered if or when he would see the Mountain among the prisoners, and if so, in what degree of goodwill. He personally doubted that the man would ever yield to such a life on the Wall, serving the greater good of the Seven Kingdoms and the noble purpose of the Night’s Watch. Well, not willingly at least, he snorted while tossing back more mulled wine. Not likely at all.

That wasn’t the worst part of this war, of course. The worst part was knowing that they still didn’t have enough dragonglass, let alone Valyrian steel, to fight back this foe. There was only one weapon in their arsenal that seemed foolproof thus far, the very thing that the Hound feared and hated most of all: fire. Every day, he, Sandor Clegane, the Hound, had to order the pyromancers to work harder on all things fiery to thwart the Army of the Dead. Every day, he, the Hound, who feared almost nothing else, had to face this abject terror of his, the smoke and flame of an open blaze.

It was all that he could not to piss or shit himself at times, but he had to put on a brave front. He had been cowardly enough about fire in the past and fled at Blackwater Bay. He would not dishonor himself like that again. Not here. Not now. Even so, even now, it was fire that most horrified him, most unnerved the warrior as well as the man. No blade frightened him, no arrow, nothing but an open flame, particularly ones that spread like wildfire.

Wildfire ... no, don’t think of it, Sandor. You cannot afford the disgrace of fear this time. Your men look to you for courage. You must give it to them, so they can onward against this despicable and deadly foe. If wildfire arrives, as it must, to come to our aid against this army of ice and snow, then we will use it. I must live to defeat the Night King, so that I can face my brother at last and slay him as he deserves, making him suffer as I do so. I must brave whatever I can to avenge myself at his hands.

I will prove the better Clegane and triumph over my brother, even if it costs me my life to do so. I will not permit him the last laugh or a chance to escape that final confrontation. He and I must encounter one another ... one last time. He and I must clash in the heat of battle, the very midst of the fray, in one final exchange of single combat.

But to get to Gregor, I must go through the Night King. And so I must prevail over him, whatever it costs me to do so. We all have our reasons for this war. For Tormund, it’s saving his people, and perhaps someday bedding the “big woman,” as he calls Brienne of Tarth. For me, it’s just plain and simple revenge. Nothing more or less than that. Vengeance on my brother, Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, for what he did to me.

For now, here I am, guarding this keep and waiting for the next chance to face this foe, to put him down at last. It will go much better once the Lannister prisoners are with us, as well as others to relieve us. The Lannisters will be part of the Night’s Watch in time, but the ones who land on the Bay of Seals might not live long enough to be sworn into the brotherhood. What the Ironborn propose to do is very hazardous indeed, even if the rumors of possible pirate aid is true. Not even Salladhor Saan could be sure of himself against this particular foe.