"Kill them! Hahaha!" "Slaughter the lot!"
The pirates shrieked like forest mandrills, their voices a cacophony of guttural roars and senseless howls designed to shatter the nerves of their prey. But the terror didn't travel upward. Instead, it was reflected back upon them the moment the front ranks realized what the Chainbreakers intended.
Panicked pirates tried to scramble backward, but those behind them, ignorant of the danger, continued to shove forward in a greedy frenzy. Trapped in a bottleneck of their own making, the horde became a stagnant mass of flesh.
"Release!"
The command echoed with the force of a thunderclap. A low, heavy rumbling erupted from above, silencing the screams of the attackers.
CRUNCH. CRACK.
"Run!" "Get out of the way!"
The massive barbed roller, a jagged beast of timber and iron, began its descent. It moved with a terrifying, deliberate pace. Occasionally, its crude construction caused it to catch on a stone, pausing for a heartbeat before the slick clam grease and the weight of the logs forced it into a sudden, lethal slide.
It was this stuttering rhythm that broke the pirates' spirits. Some, unable to flee, drew their daggers and turned on their own comrades, trying to hack a path through the wall of bodies.
BOOM. SQUELCH.
The roller met the front rank. The first pirate didn't even have time to scream before three-sided iron spikes punched through his skull, pinning him to the stone. The roller shuddered as it encountered the resistance of bone and gristle, but fueled by gravity and the frantic thrashing of the dying, it rolled on.
"I don't want to die!" "My hand! My hand is gone!"
The stairwell became a slaughterhouse. Those who survived the initial impact stood frozen, watching their companions ground into the stone. They finally understood why the stairs had been built in that jagged "7" shape; the design ensured the roller stayed perfectly aligned, scouring the channel clean.
"K-Kamos! Boss!" a pirate stammered, his face white with shock. "Do we... do we keep going?"
Kamos stood paralyzed, his mind reeling. Before he could speak, a high-pitched wail cut through the air.
"Gods have mercy! Someone... just kill me! Please!"
A pirate lay twisted nearby, his belly and thigh skewered by the spikes, blood pulsing in rhythmic spurts onto the stairs. The sight broke the last of the pirates' resolve.
I hope the boys on the slopes have reached the top, Kamos thought desperately.
Aaaaagh!
As if in answer, a series of wet thuds echoed from the inclines. Kamos watched as several of his men, looking more like pincushions than pirates, slid down the smooth stone slopes, their bodies riddled with arrows.
"Dammit!" Kamos roared, the frustration boiling over into a blind rage. "If they want to hide in their hole, we'll smoke them out! Burn it! Burn it all!"
"We can't, Boss!" a pirate yelled back, clutching a Myrish tube. "The buildings are soaked in sand and seawater! Those bastards anticipated the fire—they haven't left so much as a blade of dry straw!"
Kamos snatched the tube and looked for himself. His face flushed a deep, angry red. The defenders were already winching a second spiked roller into place. He realized with a sinking heart that the fortress was a death trap.
"The forest!" Kamos spat, smashing a nearby water jar with his iron-bound arm. "They can't have watered the whole Godswood! We'll burn the woods and smoke them out from the rear!"
"Aye, Boss! Let them choke on the smoke!"
"Lord Narsas! They're heading for the Godswood!" a lookout shouted. "Lord Jon is in there alone! What do we do?"
Narsas felt a cold spike of panic. He was a thief from White Harbor with a quick wit, but leading a defense against a hundred vengeful pirates was beyond his depth. He looked toward the treeline, his heart hammering.
"Don't worry," a voice rasped.
Kapo stepped forward, his face etched with a strange, fierce confidence. He spun his twin hand-axes with a casual, terrifying grace—a skill honed in the finger-dances of the Iron Islands.
"You've forgotten the Lord's words," Kapo said, looking at the confused faces of the guards. "But I remember every syllable."
"What are you talking about?" Narsas asked.
"Jon knew they would come," Kapo explained, his voice rising with the fervor of a believer. "When he left, he told Garo that 'the heart tree never fears the lightning.' He wasn't talking about the weather. He was talking about the storm of enemies coming from the northwest. He warned us to train because he knew the Stepstones would strike back."
The men listened, rapt. In the heat of battle, the need for a miracle had turned Jon's cryptic warnings into divine foresight.
"And the Godswood?" Narsas pressed.
"Jon's last words were 'Ghost will protect me,'" Kapo smiled, a jagged, predatory look. "The Great White Wolf is there. Jon isn't hiding; he's waiting. He's watching us to see if we're worthy of the power he gave us. And if we fail... that's when the Dragon wakes."