She spoke with a defiant arrogance that echoed in the narrow pass. "Leave this place, knight, or it will become a grave for you and your men."
I studied her, this wild-haired woman clutching a stone hammer. Her bravado was impressive, but it ignored the reality of her situation.
"Unfortunately, we cannot leave until our task is complete," I replied, my voice even. "Are you the chief of the Howlers?"
"I am Morna, daughter of the previous chief, Ulf. I am not the chief. State your terms and leave." Her words were blunt, devoid of any diplomatic grace. I wondered what gave her such confidence in the face of certain defeat.
"I am Ser Julius Harlane, commander of this expedition for House Waynwood. My terms are simple. Surrender, bend the knee to Lord Waynwood, and no one will be harmed. Your people will be spared. Refuse, and we will have no choice but to take this fortress by force. You have until dawn to decide."
"We do not lay down our weapons to anyone! We do not kneel to your coward lord!" she shouted, her knuckles white on her hammer's grip. "We will settle this now! A fight to the death! Tell your men to leave if you fall!"
It was a desperate, foolish challenge. "A duel would be a swift resolution," I acknowledged. "But you have already said you are not the chief. You do not have the authority to make such a decision for your entire clan. And I would prefer to settle this with your chief, not through combat with a woman."
My words, meant to be pragmatic, struck a nerve. With a furious cry, she lunged, her hammer swinging in a wide arc. I sidestepped the blow, caught her arm as she stumbled past, and pinned her to the ground with a controlled motion. She struggled fiercely against my grip.
"Stop! Please, do not hurt her!"
A new voice, cracked with age, rang out. An old woman emerged from the cave mouth, leaning on a cane, a group of wide-eyed boys behind her. "We surrender! We want no more bloodshed!"
Finally, someone who saw reason. As she drew closer, I recognized the sharp, knowing look in her eyes. This was the warg, the mind that had guided the birds and orchestrated the ambushes. Her presence explained much.
With her authority, true negotiations began. The clan would surrender and swear fealty. We sent a rider to fetch Lord Morton, a journey that would take a week.
In the days that followed, I used the time to understand these people and their home. The stronghold was a marvel of natural defense, well-hidden and easily protected. They lived off the land, hunting and foraging. The land itself was rich with resources, a fact I noted for Morton's future plans.
I learned from the old woman, named Morag, that the chieftain I had killed months ago was her son. He had usurped and murdered the previous chief, Ulf, using the very Valyrian steel sword I had returned to Lady Anya. He had ruled as a brute for a decade, with Morag serving as the true strategist. She had raised Morna after the girl's father was killed. It explained the young woman's fierce loyalty and lack of political subtlety.
With their surrender, we shared our food supplies, and they showed us their hidden water sources. The initial tension eased. Some of my soldiers even began forming tentative bonds with the clansfolk, a few even speaking of marriage. It was an unexpected but welcome development.
When Morton arrived with Maester Lomas, his satisfaction was palpable. He was making history as the first Valelord in memory to successfully subjugate a mountain clan.
The ceremony was conducted with solemnity. The remaining clanspeople knelt and swore oaths of fealty to House Waynwood. To ensure their loyalty, Morton would take half of their children as wards, a common practice. On my counsel, he agreed to invest in the region—building a keep for his younger brother, Donnell, and constructing a road to connect the territory to his own. Many of the soldiers who had fought here chose to stay and settle the land.
To cement the new peace, a marriage was arranged between Donnell and one of Morag's granddaughters. They would form a new branch house: Waynwood of the Howlers. Five knights would remain to keep the peace.
The campaign was over. Our task was complete. Tomorrow, we would march for home. But first, I looked forward to a proper wash.