Chapter 49

The Bay of Seals,
Two days later...

“Here they come, boys ... here they come!” Jallen Tarlor, the captain of the watch, shouted, as the Dead came ashore yet again in force.

“Aye, that they do! Are we ready to set them ablaze, too!” Nardel, his sergeant of the watch, a Wildling like their commander, asked him.

“You know Lord Tormund’s standing orders, my savage friend! Cook them! Fry them! Roast them! Burn them all!” Jallen insisted, much to the relief of Nardel, who was anxious to rid the coast of the wights and White Walkers yet again.

“Good, because I have a burning need to broil me some wights!” Nardel laughed as they unleashed the first volley of flaming arrows against the undead invaders.

“Same here ... I haven’t forgotten Torrhen Snow, after all! He was my captain, just as I am yours. He will not go unavenged! More volleys, boys! Knock and loose! Knock and loose! Burn those bastards for the sake of our bastard, Torrhen Snow, captain of the watch!” Jallen roared just as the flames spread and devastated the army of wights rushing ashore.

“Remember Torrhen Snow, lads! He did not die in vain! He did not die in vain!” Nardel yelled as they continued to lay into the wights.

“We’ll push ‘em, back, cap’n, just you see!” another of the men, a former fishermen along the same shore, reassured Tarlor and Nardel to the best of his ability.

“I certainly hope that you prove to be right, Asten. The last thing that we need is to give the wights a toehold in Westeros ... even one. They’d use that and expand it, no doubt of that. Can’t have that ... even if Lord Tormund Giantsbane didn’t command us otherwise!” Jallen worried aloud, given that he didn’t know ... and couldn’t know how many of those dead motherfuckers were about to reach the shore.

“Keep at ‘em, folks! Keep up the fires! We’re not goin’ anywhere! We’ll hold fast our defenses and send them back to the ships! Those dead bastards are gonna burn or flee, but they’ll be gone either way!” Nardel encouraged the militia, men and women, boys and girls, to keep the fight.

“It’s fight or die, my loves! Fight or die ... and then if you die, you’ll be slaves of the Night King forever! Stand tall and throw them back! Fight snow with fire, my friends! I’ll not go down without burning as many of those pricks as I can!” Jallen insisted again.

He turned in time to see Asten get pierced with a spear himself, one wielded by a wight who looked surprisingly proud of himself. The wight was already aflame, but he kept up the fray while Asten endured the agony of death by fire to cut him down at last with a knife slash to the neck. He wouldn’t go down unblooded, that much was clear. The fisherman from the Bay of Seals died very well, in spite of the most excruciating pain that he could ever imagine.

He will not die in vain, by the old gods and the new. Do you hear me, Night King? Our men will not die in vain such as yours. I’ll even swear it by the Lord of Light, if needs must. Jallen wasn’t about to just let this matter go and move forward with his life. He would persist and persevere to the bitter end.

This battle continued for what felt as if they were all stuck in the lowest of the seven hells, burning together or sweating from the heat and smoke as they choked the undead at last. Or, rather, they seemed to do so. There was no telling in a battle such as this one, with the fog of war and the smoke of confusion hanging so thickly in there. The stakes were incredibly high now and no one wished to rest on their laurels.

So far, sure, the Dead had been beaten back, but they weren’t ones to cease their ruthless prosecution of this war. For now, the living would gladly keep up the pressure ... until this foe was sent back into the sea where he belonged. If the Ironborn were right, the Drowned God could have them then. Otherwise, who really cared?

As long as he was dead, that was all that counted. Dead and gone for real and forever. Surely they couldn’t regenerate at sea. Right?

Jallen was more than ready to find out.