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Huff. Huff.
Daven Lannister led fewer than a thousand Lannister soldiers through the streets of Lannisport. When they reached the street he had chosen for defense, he broke them into ten-man squads and sent them into the maze of lanes and alleys to lie in ambush.
He had expected ironborn to come roaring after him.
No one came.
After waiting for far too long, Daven sensed something was wrong and sent one squad to scout the harbor district. A short while later, the report came back.
The ironborn had withdrawn.
Daven hurried back to the harbor. The enormous fleet that had blocked the mouth of the harbor was gone. Broken longships still floated in the waters near shore, drifting between splintered oars and bodies. The harbor district itself lay in dead silence. He saw no enemy, no civilians, no movement at all, only corpses and the wreckage of shattered engines.
Hooves sounded from the right side of the district.
The Lannister cavalry that had covered the retreat returned as well. Seeing them, Daven knew the ironborn had not marched on Casterly Rock.
That only deepened the question.
'They abandoned Lannisport after landing successfully. Where in the seven hells did they go?'
Early the next morning, his guards woke him with news that reinforcements had arrived.
Five thousand Westerlands cavalry came thundering into Lannisport from the direction of Casterly Rock, their column long and imposing. They were the force Ser Addam Marbrand had brought from the Golden Tooth.
Addam believed his slow return to the Westerlands during the previous crisis had helped lead to the fall of Casterly Rock. This time, he had stripped the cavalry down for speed. In less than two days, he had brought them from the Golden Tooth back to Lannisport.
The five thousand riders had originally included two thousand heavy cavalry, but their heavier armor and equipment had been left with the slower Stormlands infantry transporting supplies behind them. Those five thousand foot soldiers were likely only halfway along the road.
"What?" Addam shouted after Daven explained the situation. Dust still covered his cloak from the ride. "The squids retreated? After they had already landed?"
"Yes."
"How many? Where did they go after leaving Lannisport?"
"More than two hundred longships, and dozens of captured Lannister warships," Daven said. "I estimate roughly twenty thousand men. As for where they went, I would very much like to know."
Addam's expression darkened. "They cannot be thinking of sailing straight into Blackwater Bay to attack King's Landing, can they?"
Daven frowned. "Lord Tywin took most of the capital's strength to Harrenhal. It is possible. A few months ago, no one expected them to strike Lannisport either."
Before they could argue further, a rider came hard from the direction of Casterly Rock and leapt down with a letter in both hands.
"Lord Daven! Ser Addam! A raven from the Golden Tooth!"
Daven had not even reached for it before Addam snatched the letter and broke the seal.
He read quickly. Then every curse Westeros had ever given soldiers spilled from his mouth.
"Ser Addam," Daven asked, "what happened?"
Addam took a long breath and forced himself steady. "Yesterday, at least ten thousand northern soldiers made camp before the Golden Tooth and began building siege engines. It seems they truly mean to attack."
Daven felt a chill. "You just brought troops here to reinforce Lannisport, and now they move on the Golden Tooth. I do not like the feeling of that.
"Still, the castle has six thousand men defending it. Unless the northmen bring their entire army, they cannot take the Golden Tooth."
"Do not think only of the best case," Addam said. "The letter says a gray giant wolf appeared below the walls with a pack of direwolves. Robb Stark should be leading in person. The Golden Tooth is high and hard, yes, but even Casterly Rock..."
He did not finish.
Daven understood.
"Then ride back at once," he said. "If I were not afraid the squids might turn back again, I would go with you."
"I leave now. Send the situation here to Lord Tywin."
"I will write the raven at once."
The five thousand Westerlands cavalry had barely rested after reaching Lannisport. Under Addam's command, they mounted again and rode back toward the Golden Tooth.
At the Golden Tooth, Raynald Lefford climbed the wall after making his morning report to Lady Alysanne Lefford in the main keep.
"You had the night watch," Raynald said to the captain on duty. "Was there anything strange in the northern camp?"
The captain saluted. "No, my lord. Only..."
"Only what?"
"Late in the night, there seemed to be some movement in the enemy camp."
Raynald frowned. "Movement at night? Are they shifting men under cover of darkness?"
He scratched his head, unable to make sense of it. "I will watch myself tonight. Whatever games the northmen are playing, as long as the Golden Tooth stands here, they will not enter the Westerlands. Go rest when your replacement comes."
"Yes, my lord."
After the captain left, Raynald inspected the walls. The Golden Tooth was a fortress, and its stores of grain, weapons, and arrows were deep enough for a siege measured in years. Satisfied with the preparations, he climbed onto a crenel and looked down at the northern camp, where cooking smoke curled lazily into the sky.
For a moment, he imagined holding the victorious King in the North outside the Golden Tooth for months, making his own name known across Westeros.
That night, Raynald waited on the wall early.
The Westerlands were warmer than the North, but the Golden Tooth stood high, and the mountain wind at night still cut through cloth and leather. Raynald took a long drink of wine against the cold.
Then he heard movement below.
He narrowed his eyes at once. In the firelight of the northern camp, he could vaguely see figures shifting, but the distance made it impossible to tell what they were doing.
"You five," he ordered, calling scouts to him. "Go down and check the enemy camp. Spread out and keep hidden."
The five scouts nodded. With help from the soldiers on the wall, they climbed into five hanging baskets and were slowly lowered toward the ground outside the castle.
Rustle.
Raynald heard a faint sound near the wall.
The night was too dark to see. He took a torch from a nearby soldier and hurled it toward the sound.
The spinning torch threw wavering light over the trees.
Raynald saw pairs of green eyes there, each as large as an egg.
"Pull them up!" he shouted, fear breaking through his voice. "Pull them up now!"
The torch had not gone out when it struck the ground. In its light, enormous shapes, gray and black, sprang from the trees and rushed the five scouts beneath the wall.
The scout closest to the woods had only just stepped out of his basket when someone above shouted a warning. He looked up in confusion, then forward.
His scream was short.
Three direwolves, each nearly the size of a warhorse, reached him in a blink. One seized his left shoulder, another his waist, the third his left leg. They tore in opposite directions.
Blood splashed over the hanging basket. Each wolf took its piece and vanished back toward the trees.
Three other scouts met the same end, ripped apart after a single brief scream.
The last man might have been luckier, or more cursed. Only one direwolf reached him.
"Help me! Help me!"
The beast caught him sideways in its jaws and ran. His screams faded with it into the trees.
Raynald had only just drawn his bow when the pack disappeared like lightning.
He remembered that, for one foolish moment, he had considered going down to scout in person. Cold sweat covered his back.
The men around him were white-faced.
Raynald forced a laugh. "Relax. As long as we do not leave the castle, those direwolves cannot threaten us. They are big, yes, but still only beasts. If they are so capable, let them climb the walls and eat us."
The soldiers thought about it and slowly recovered. Brutal as the wolves were, walls were walls.
After that, Raynald no longer wanted to investigate what the northern camp was doing. He warned the night watch to stay alert and returned to his comfortable room in the keep.
For the next two nights, the northern camp made the same movements. Raynald first believed troops were being shifted, but by day the number of cooking fires did not seem to decrease.
So the strange standoff before the Golden Tooth continued without even a probing attack.
On the road back from Lannisport, Addam met the five thousand Stormlands infantry near Sarsfield. They were escorting grain, baggage, and the heavy equipment of his cavalry toward Lannisport.
Addam gave their confused commanders new orders to turn back to the Golden Tooth, then left the cumbersome foot soldiers behind and pressed on with the cavalry.
The riders and horses were exhausted by days of forced movement. It took them three full days to reach a narrow stretch of the river road half a day's ride from the Golden Tooth, where the road dipped through the mountains below the castle.
The valley was long and tight. At most, five horses could ride abreast.
In a place so dangerous, Addam should have sent scouts ahead before entering. But this was the safe heart of the Westerlands, and his men had passed through only days earlier. He did not want to add another task to riders already worn thin.
If the northern army truly had taken the Golden Tooth, someone should have escaped toward Sarsfield or Casterly Rock before the fall. Addam had seen no fleeing men on the road.
So he led the column into the valley without hesitation.
Nearly an hour later, the front ranks were close enough to glimpse the Golden Tooth in the distance.
A long howl rolled through the valley.
A massive wolf leapt into view at the exit of the valley. It was larger than any horse, and its long howl echoed between the cliffs.
Boom! Boom!
The riders behind Addam reined in as explosions roared above them. Orange fire bloomed along the valley rim to their rear. Broken stone crashed down and blocked the road behind the column, burying the last dozen riders and their horses before they could move.
At the same time, dense ranks of enemies appeared on both slopes.
Arrows fell. Logs as thick as pillars and stones the size of basins rolled down from above, smashing men and horses into broken heaps.
"Ambush!" Addam roared. "If you want to live, charge forward! Break out!"
He had no time to wonder how the enemy had appeared here. He drew his sword and drove his horse toward the valley exit.
Fifteen direwolves in metal wolf armor appeared behind Bloodwind. Behind them waited more than a thousand fully armed Winterfell spearmen in silent formation.
Bloodwind's howl ended. The giant direwolf drew in a deep breath, received Robb's command through the bond, and gave his pack a low growl.
Then he charged head-on into the Westerlands cavalry.
Nymeria, Lady, and the other armored direwolves followed. It was their first true battlefield test in Westeros.
"Crossbows!" Addam shouted, yanking a lion-carved crossbow from his saddle. "Fire at will!"
More than twenty riders around him aimed at the white giant wolf and pulled their triggers.
Bloodwind remembered that weapon.
White mist surged around his body. Driven by magic, the mist condensed into bright diamond-shaped plates of ice, wrapping him in armor.
Clink, clink, clink!
The bolts struck the ice armor and bounced away without leaving a mark.
Bloodwind lowered his head and slammed into the cavalry like an armored battering ram.
Addam never had the chance to swing his sword. The impact hurled him from the saddle and sent him crashing into the right-hand cliff. He hit the ground and coughed up blood mixed with fragments of something softer than blood should hold.
Through blurring eyes, he saw Bloodwind surrounded by ranks of cavalry.
For a heartbeat, Addam forced a smile.
Even a mammoth, surrounded by lions, would be dragged down in the end.
Then Bloodwind opened his mouth.
A vast cyclone of icy mist swept through the riders closing around him. When the mist cleared, men and horses alike had become clear, lifelike ice sculptures.
Crack. Crack.
The giant wolf rammed through them, shattering the frozen riders across the valley floor. The armored direwolves behind him crashed into the remaining cavalry with claws, teeth, and weight.
Addam watched the monster break free and continue killing.
His eyelids grew heavy.
'What did we provoke? That is no direwolf. That is a monster.'
The cavalry behind him saw the first two hundred men trampled, clawed, bitten, and finally frozen. Fear overwhelmed discipline. Unable to turn their horses in the narrow valley, many threw themselves from the saddle and fled back on foot.
Robb stood on a high platform above the valley and watched the battle below.
The rear half of the Westerlands cavalry was being cut down by northern soldiers on the slopes. The spear formation prepared at the valley exit had not even been needed. Merely testing Bloodwind's pack had broken the front half of Addam's force.
"That is enough," Robb said to Crey beside him. "Take surrenders where you can. Our strategy is to occupy the Westerlands. Do not waste valuable labor."
With the outcome decided, Robb turned and left the platform.
The ambush in the valley had been won with almost no losses.
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