The second White Walker emerged quietly from the shadows behind the trees, looking almost identical to the first—just like how Aegon was face-blind to some Europeans before crossing over, he couldn't distinguish the difference between them; then came the third, the fourth... Aegon's heart sank rapidly towards the Vale; when the fifth pale figure entered his peripheral vision, the blood in the man's body seemed to freeze: something was wrong, shouldn't there only be one!
Wait, there might have only been one who killed Waymar, but how many appeared? He really didn't have an impression of that!
There was no time to consider whether the story progression of the world he had crossed into deviated from the plot or if his own memory was wrong, now a more pressing choice lay before Aegon. If there were only one or two White Walkers, he could rely on the existence of the obsidian dagger to muster the courage for a fight, but now the enemy's numbers far exceeded their own—the obsidian dagger might indeed kill White Walkers, but the wielder had no extraordinary movement techniques or martial skills. Killing all the appearing magic monsters with a glass dagger and slaughtering all sides? How was that possible!
(Should I be a hero for a few seconds and then fall in this nameless little hollow in the Haunted Forest and be resurrected by the White Walkers to become part of the army of the dead, or...)
The thought in his heart turned for less than half a second, and Aegon made his decision. He stopped his steps towards Waymar, turned his head, and ran away without hesitation. For the sake of righteousness and to make himself feel better, and even more so to warn Gared who was watching the horses not far away, he roared out at the moment he turned around: "Don't go up, run!"
"Coward!" The young noble's roar, mixed with the whistling sound of the longsword cutting through the air, sounded behind Aegon. Royce was already too close to the strange arrival in front of him. There was no time, no room, and no intention of turning around and fleeing. The treasure sword forged from fine steel clashed with the translucent weapon in the White Walker's hand, but it did not shatter it as Waymar had imagined. Instead, it emitted a high, thin, sharp sound that was close to the upper limit of human hearing frequency, like the painful wailing of an animal.
The other White Walkers did not intervene; they stood by and watched, without the slightest worry about the outcome of the battle. One of them looked at Aegon's fleeing back and said a sentence in a harsh voice like fingernails scratching a blackboard, which Aegon didn't understand but clearly had a specific meaning. Another White Walker nodded slightly and chased after the escapee with the weapon in his hand.
...
Behind him, the sharp sound of glass cracking echoed again and again, reverberating through the dense forest and startling countless crows into the sky. After a few more seconds, amidst Royce's roar of "Long live King Robert!", it changed into a crisp explosion like breaking bottles and jars, followed by the young noble's scream.
Aegon did not look back but quickened his pace.
The pulse of his blood pounded against his eardrums and soul, making it difficult for him to hear the sounds outside. Whether before or after crossing over, he had never been this close to death—these monsters behind him were more terrifying than the most vicious murderers or terrorists. Their only purpose was to kill him and use his corpse to strengthen their just-forming army of the dead. This was a contest between ice and fire, life and death, for dominance of this world; there was no room for maneuver, it was a fight to the death.
The soft armor he wore, the animal furs draped over him, and the steel sword in his hand... in his desperate sprint, everything external felt so heavy. Aegon almost forced himself to resist the urge to throw away his weapon. Running for survival, after all, was still somewhat different from being completely scared out of his wits and scurrying away with his head in his hands.
Running with all his might caused slight oxygen deprivation in his brain, and the young noble's tragic scream echoed in the forest late at night, mixed with Aegon's own heartbeat and breathing, making everything around him feel blurred. Was he having a nightmare again? Perhaps when he woke up, he would find himself still lying on the bed in Castle Black's dormitory, his back soaked with sweat?
There was a layer of snow on the ground, and under the snow were puddles, stones... When coming, he could carefully fumble his way forward, but now that he was running for his life, where was the time for that? In his daze, his foot stepped on a round stone, and his body immediately lost balance. The ground rapidly enlarged in Aegon's eyes as he fell in an ugly faceplant, his face hitting tree roots and branches in the snow, stinging painfully.
In an instant, everything from the past reappeared before his eyes like slides, from the playful frolicking he remembered... to enrolling in school, graduating, starting work, finding a girlfriend, preparing to start his own family. Just at this juncture, he had crossed into this damned world, and by chance, followed Waymar Royce, this jinx, out on patrol. At this critical moment of life and death, he even fell down. Everything... was it destined that today would be his death day?
After becoming a Night's Watch member who had crossed over, maybe he would become the first wight who had also crossed over? What black humor...
"Boom!" A loud noise pulled him back from his memories to reality. In his mind, he had roughly recalled his life, but in reality, his face had only been on the ground for about a second. The snow made him fall, but it also cushioned the impact with the ground. Although his face hurt, overall, he was not seriously injured.
Aegon felt he still had a chance. He struggled to prop himself up and immediately found the source of the loud noise—a straight pine tree directly in his escape direction. Stuck in it was an Ice Sword surrounded by a faint blue light, reflecting the pale moonlight and appearing eerie and terrifying. The force with which it was inserted into the pine tree was so great that a section half a meter long was deeply embedded in the trunk.
***
(If he hadn't fallen just now, he would have been pinned to the tree trunk by this beautiful translucent magic weapon at this moment.)
The moment before, Aegon's heart had been ashes over this stumble, but the next moment he felt a sense of relief he had never experienced before. Thank the Old Gods, thank the Seven Gods, thank the Lord of Light, the Thousand-Faced God, or any messy god... He swore that if he could return alive to The Wall, and if he prospered later, he would donate a magnificent statue to every god in Westeros and even the entire Ice and Fire World.
But now, he had to seize the chance to live that this lucky fall brought. Aegon propped himself up and finally couldn't help but glance behind him. Royce's scream had stopped. On the small mound about ten meters away where Will had taken him over a few minutes ago, a gray figure stood silently, muttering something in a chilling, sharp tone, as if cursing that his perfect throw had missed its target.
Once, he had laughed heartily at the Cruel video made by netizens that used the commentary from CCTV's sports channel javelin competition to intrude into the clip of "White Walker shooting the White Dragon Viserion with an ice spear." Who would have thought that things were unpredictable, and today he actually got to experience this luxurious attack method capable of slaying a dragon? Should he feel honored or ironic?
The moon still hung silently in the dark and deep sky. Aegon met the eyes of the White Walker who was chasing him not far away, and his heart stirred. He suddenly realized: this chasing White Walker... was now without a weapon.
This White Walker opposite him threw an Ice Sword at him, not an ice spear. Aegon also didn't know if he was the one who would later attack and kill the White Dragon Viserion... Aegon subconsciously picked up his steel sword and confronted him for a moment, but ultimately suppressed the feeling of "being able to counterattack"—he didn't know if the White Walkers had other means, and besides, even if he could kill this one, there were more White Walkers on the other side of the mound who had finished dealing with Waymar Royce and were now free.
Compared to the temptation of killing a White Walker, he valued his own life more.
He glanced at the Ice Sword stuck in the tree trunk beside him, admitting he didn't have the strength to pull it out. Aegon stared at his opponent for another second, and after confirming that it wouldn't cast magic to conjure another ice spear to shoot him, he turned around and continued to flee towards the direction where the four of them had tied their horses earlier.
...
"What happened?" Gared called out loudly when he saw Aegon from afar. He had heard Waymar's scream, had already untied the reins and mounted his horse, ready to flee. If Aegon had appeared a few seconds later, this old soldier would have taken the four horses and slipped away directly: "Where are Waymar and Will?"
"White Walkers!" Aegon ran to the tree where the horses were tied, out of breath. He grabbed the reins of his horse and scrambled onto its back with both hands and feet: "Run!"
"White Walkers?" Gared's eyes widened. He opened his mouth and looked into the distance behind him: "Is that... the one chasing you?"
Aegon was startled and turned his head to look back. In the dim dense forest, the figure of the White Walker was actually difficult to discern, but the moonlight reflected by the Ice Sword in its hand and its pair of eyes glowing with a faint blue light were too conspicuous... The figure raised its arm again, and a blue light flashed.
"Get down!" Aegon roared out the instant he realized something was wrong, simultaneously pressing himself tightly against the horse's back.
The old soldier did so without hesitation, and this saved his life. The Ice Sword flew past Gared's leather cap, and after hitting Will's horse in the head, it still had leftover force. With a bang, it struck the tree where Royce had tied his horse, shattering the trunk into flying wood chips amidst a loud noise. The snow on the tree canopy slid down with the vibration, hitting the two Night's Watch members and the four horses with a whooshing sound.
What kind of strength was this?
The dead horse fell to the ground with a crash. The remaining three horses neighed in fright. Gared was riding the one whose front hooves reared high, almost throwing him off. The old soldier struggled to hold onto the horse's neck to survive the crisis, but Waymar's warhorse, which he was holding, broke free and ran away without a trace. The two were disheveled and terrified, with no mind to shake off the snow on them, nor did they plan to chase back the frightened horses. Kicking the horses' bellies, they fled south without looking back.