"Ser Jaime... the portcullis... it's down!"
"I see it!" Jaime snapped irritably, turning to look at the thousands of Wildlings crowded at the gate. He understood why Jeor Mormont had given this order: Castle Black, after its renovations and reinforced walls, was indeed much sturdier, but at the cost of reducing its area to a fraction of what it once was. Stationing over a thousand members of the Night's Watch and the Grey Area Citizens' militia already pushed it to capacity... If these Wildlings were allowed through the Wall without being disarmed, even if they somehow didn't bring anything from outside the fence in with them, they would still pose a massive threat to Castle Black itself.
What's more, those inhuman creatures beyond the Wall had already begun ramming the gate and climbing the wooden barricades. If the portcullis were raised to allow people in, there would be no one left to hold them off…
Rather than opening the gate and letting a panicked mob surge through—only to be attacked from behind while facing away from the enemy—it was better not to let anyone through at all, forcing everyone to pick up weapons and fight back.
Jaime, born of a noble house, could understand this from a strategic perspective. But that didn't mean the other Night's Watch brothers who accompanied him outside the Wall to enforce the order—or the refugees who had just fled in terror from the Haunted Forest—could understand as well. Large groups of Wildlings gathered before the lowered gate, shouting, protesting, and calling for the gate to be lifted, speaking in the Common Tongue, the Old Tongue, and other languages Jaime didn't understand at all.
"Silence!" The Kingslayer stood before the gate and shouted, "Even if we lift the gate, at most only one-tenth of us would escape! Pick up your weapons and drive back the creatures chasing you! Only then do we stand a chance!"
"Who are you to command us?"
"Just a bloody crow! Get out of the way!"
With the sharp sound of a weapon being drawn and a flash of steel, the Wildling who had raised a wooden club at Jaime fell, blood gushing from his neck. Jaime cut him down with a single blow, realizing he couldn't reason with the Wildlings in front of him. Holding his bloodied sword, he took a deep breath, gathered his words, and bellowed, "You sons of bitches! You've got two choices: pick up your weapons and push those things outside the Wall back, then pass through safely—or I'll cut down every last one of you like this bastard here!"
Jaime had never imagined he'd shout such vulgarities one day, but the insults and threats proved highly effective. Seeing his bloodied sword, and the other black-cloaked soldiers around him watching grimly, the tribesmen who understood the Common Tongue were the first to go quiet. They quickly translated Jaime's words into the Old Tongue for the rest—those from deeper Beyond the Wall and the remaining Giants... Slowly, the crowd began turning around, picking up weapons and facing the wooden wall that was already on the verge of collapse under the assault of the wights.
They weren't swayed by Jaime's words or suddenly enlightened. The truth was simple and brutal: the reinforced gate of Castle Black, now wrapped in layers of iron and bars, was too heavy to open quickly. Behind them, the wights were about to break through. This fight wasn't about obeying a golden-haired crow or protecting the realm—it was a battle for their own lives and the survival of the kin beside them.
In the freezing snow, the Wildlings and dozens of Night's Watch brothers huddled within the wooden palisade, arming themselves with whatever weapons they could find, lighting as many bonfires and torches as they could...
But before their preparations were complete, the main gate of the wooden palisade collapsed under the pressure of hundreds of wights. With a thunderous crash, the gate fell, and the dead swarmed in.
---
"Jaime's trapped outside the Wall?" Aegor gasped when he heard the news. "Why him?"
The soldier being questioned shook his head helplessly. "There's no 'why'... It was just his turn on duty today."
That was bad. Very bad. Aegor's expression tightened. Jaime was a Ranger Captain, and he seemed perfectly content with the role—dutiful, loyal, and strictly obedient to orders from above. It made sense that it was his turn to go beyond the Wall to disarm Wildlings.
He might see himself as just an ordinary Ranger Captain, but if anything happened to him, it wouldn't just be the loss of a mid-level Night's Watch officer. It would shake the entire realm. The Westerlands might never again consider aiding the Night's Watch... What if Tywin Lannister believed this was a Northern plot to murder his son? Then all Seven Kingdoms would fall into deeper chaos.
Jeor Mormont also realized how serious this was. "We must find a way to rescue him."
"He won't come up alone. Bring up all the oil drums from the warehouse. We have to push this wave of wights back at all costs." Aegor understood Jaime's character and shook his head. If only that batch of solidified Wildfire from King's Landing were here... Nina had arranged for ships to deliver it to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, but the legion had been too busy receiving Wildlings lately to spare the manpower needed to transport such dangerous cargo. "Try to surround the wooden palisade with fire and use this chance to cover the brothers below as they retreat through the Wall!"
---
As the designated spot for confiscating Wildling weapons, the wooden palisade had all sorts of tools and supplies on hand. The few remaining Giants, the Wildling warriors, and spearwives quickly armed themselves, shielding the non-combatants—young boys and girls—in the inner circle... Most didn't hold blades, but rather torches drawn from the bonfires, preparing to fight with fire.
The wights surged through the collapsed gate, staggering forward toward the huddled survivors inside.
"Don't bunch up!" Jaime roared. "Spread out and charge!"
If they continued to huddle together, even if the wights were set ablaze, those in the center would still be in danger. The more clear-headed Wildlings quickly reacted and let out battle cries, charging alongside him.
"Kill!"
"Burn them to ashes!"
"@#￥%&!"
Roars erupted in a jumble of tongues and accents, the whinnying of shaggy ponies, barking hounds, the thunderous bellows of Giants—all mixed together into an indistinguishable clamor. A medium-sized wight Direwolf with matted fur was the first to leap toward the crowd. Its strength had grown as a wight, but its agility had waned. Jaime sidestepped it, his arm muscles flexing beneath his armor like steel. His sword sliced into the creature's neck, nearly decapitating it.
The Direwolf wight crashed to the ground, immediately swarmed by Wildlings stabbing at it with burning torches. It turned into a writhing fireball, knocking down several people before going still.
The Kingslayer's exceptional skill and fearless presence helped prevent the battle from collapsing immediately. The Wildling warriors and spearwives around him, emboldened by his example, fought alongside him. Survival instinct drove the Wildlings to cluster around him, gritting their teeth and battling the inhuman enemy with everything they had.
Their shouts and bravery began to stir those cowering behind them. One by one, young Wildlings hiding in the crowd found courage, roaring as they joined the fray.
A shout, followed by a sword, a hammer, or a torch—those who reacted fast could avoid a wight's strike and face the next foe. Those who moved too slowly were brought down, blood spraying... The losses were heavy, but that was the nature of battle among the untrained Wildlings.
More and more wights flooded in through the broken gate, and the battle spread from the palisade entrance into the heart of the camp. The few Giants who didn't know how to retreat were quickly surrounded, overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies. Every few seconds, another person fell. Another wight turned into a blazing torch. Alongside the screams and shouts were the sounds of burning flesh, cracking bone, and steel slashing through corpses—a grotesque symphony of war.
Luckily, no White Walkers had joined the fight. With only wights attacking, the defenders' desperate stand—or perhaps more accurately, a cornered counterattack—was barely enough to stop the undead from turning the battlefield into a massacre.
But though their morale surged briefly, their situation hadn't changed. They still had nowhere to retreat. They couldn't carve out an escape path. They were stuck in a hopeless, bloody war of attrition, fighting with raw courage and the hope that Castle Black would open the gate.
As the wooden walls around them began to collapse, dark, massive figures emerged at the edge of the Haunted Forest—Corpse Giants had entered the fray.
And now, the tide of battle was about to turn.
(To be continued.)
***
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