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"Lift! Put your backs into it!"
On the third afternoon of the Westerlands siege of Riverrun, more than three hundred soldiers strained in an open stretch upstream on the Tumblestone, diagonally across from the castle.
They were carrying more than twenty small fishing boats.
Tywin Lannister watched from behind them with Lord Swyft and Lord Serrett.
"Lord Tywin," Lord Swyft said, "when Lord Leo attacked Riverrun last time, he requisitioned almost every fishing boat nearby. I widened the search, but after half a day we have found only these.
"Ser Marq has begun building simple boats. Within two days, we should have more than a hundred small rowboats, enough to cross the Tumblestone.
"Forgive my bluntness, but Ser Marq's attacks these past two days looked almost as if he were performing for Riverrun. They achieved nothing. My lord, I think he..."
"Piper has already proved his loyalty to me," Tywin said.
Lord Swyft had been preparing to tighten the noose around Ser Marq. Tywin knew his nature and cut him off before the words could settle.
Swyft's expression smoothed at once. "Of course. I have never doubted Ser Marq's loyalty to you. I only worry he may be too tired, and that fatigue has made his command careless."
He then turned the conversation neatly. "My men have already checked the river. After Lord Leo's last raid, Riverrun sealed the water gate thoroughly. Do you mean to have them clear it, then force our way into the castle through there?"
"Occupy it?" Tywin looked downstream toward Riverrun's northern wall and shook his head. "No. Today I mean to destroy Riverrun and leave the defenders inside with no choice but surrender."
He turned to Lord Serrett. "Begin."
The broad-shouldered lord in armor bearing the peacock of House Serrett raised a hand. Three transport wagons rolled to the riverbank. When their cargo beds opened, they revealed barrels sealed in wax and packed deep in fine sand. A sharp, stinging smell drifted out at once.
"We will move farther back," Tywin said. "Serrett, remind them to be especially careful with the wildfire."
"Yes, my lord."
Tywin gave the order and rode away from the river. He had never liked placing himself in danger when others could stand there for him.
On Riverrun's western wall, Lord Tytos Blackwood stared at the huge Westerlands camp and felt helplessness rise in him.
Over the past two days, he had used four thousand Riverrun defenders to hold more than ten thousand attackers outside the walls. But today the enemy had gained at least another fifteen thousand men.
Months earlier, Riverrun had survived thirty thousand enemies. Back then, however, the defenders had more than twice the strength they had now, and commanders like Brynden Tully had shared the defense.
Tytos understood the truth. If nearly thirty thousand men attacked the western and southern walls together, Riverrun would eventually fall.
"Boats! Careful, there are boats on the Tumblestone!"
The warning came from the right side of the western wall.
Tytos ran to the parapet and saw more than twenty small fishing boats drifting with the current toward the northern wall. Westerlands soldiers stood aboard them.
'The water gate is sealed. What are they trying to do?'
He could not simply watch.
He turned to his deputy. "The defense here is yours. I am taking two hundred men to the water gate. If they begin an assault, send word to me at once."
"Yes, my lord."
Tytos chose two hundred Blackwood soldiers and hurried down toward the stair leading to the water gate beneath the northern wall.
In Lord Hoster Tully's bedchamber, four tall guards stood watch inside and outside the room. A male servant carrying hot water and towels spoke briefly with the two guards at the door, then stepped inside.
He placed the basin in the corner and prepared to wash Lord Hoster as usual that afternoon.
Rumble. Rumble.
Crack, crack!
A chain of explosions roared through the castle. The entire keep began to shake violently. Great cracks spread through the walls like spider legs, widening as they ran.
"Protect Lord Hoster!"
The two guards inside the room reacted first and rushed toward the great feather bed.
One had taken only two steps when part of the ceiling collapsed. A pile of stones, each as large as a man's head, crashed down and buried him where he stood. At the same time, more stone fell over the doorway and blocked it completely.
"Why are you standing there? Help me lift Lord Hoster! We use the balcony stair!"
The remaining guard reached the bed and shouted at the stunned servant.
The servant snapped out of his terror and hurried forward. Together, they lifted Lord Hoster from the bed. The old lord gave no response. His eyes were dull, as if nothing that happened around him could reach him.
They had nearly reached the balcony when the whole keep dropped.
The floor that had been shaking beneath their feet tilted sharply to the left. A long stone from the ceiling, thick as a grown man's thigh, broke loose and fell toward the three of them.
Because Tytos had spent precious time choosing his household soldiers and hurrying down from the western wall, he had only just reached the northern side of the castle when the explosions began.
He looked up in shock as the ancient keep of Riverrun, which had stood over the Riverlands for ages, was suddenly webbed with countless cracks. The deepest and widest began at the water gate.
After the explosions stopped, stones began falling in great sheets from the keep.
"Back!" Tytos shouted, waving both arms. "The keep is coming down!"
His men fled south with him.
A tremendous crash followed. Dust, grit, and broken gravel rolled over them like a storm.
"Cough! Cough!"
Minutes later, Tytos stumbled out of the dust, coughing violently and spitting grit from his mouth.
Through the haze, the main keep seemed to have collapsed.
Only one thought remained in his mind.
'We are finished.'
Edmure was Lord Hoster's only heir. If Lord Hoster died, Edmure would become the new Lord of Riverrun. Edmure and Brynden were both in Westerlands hands. If Edmure ordered Riverrun's defenders to open the gates and surrender, even if Tytos wanted to fight to the death, he might not be able to stop the men from obeying their liege lord.
"Lord Tytos! The keep still stands! It still stands!"
As the dust thinned, one of the Blackwood soldiers saw the huge shape beyond it and shouted excitedly.
Tytos lifted his head.
The main keep had not collapsed outright, but it had been twisted out of its old proud shape. The towers on both sides leaned inward. The central structure had cracked through the middle and sunk downward into the water gate and the empty spaces below.
Wildfire had detonated beneath the center of the keep.
Wildfire's true horror was not the blast, but the way it burned, devouring nearly everything it touched. Its explosive force was not as clean or violent as the high explosives known in Robb's previous life. Robb himself had once used wildfire to blow open the Dreadfort's gate, not its walls.
Tywin had believed wildfire could destroy Riverrun because he had seen what it did at the Mud Gate.
But Riverrun was not the Mud Gate.
The thick walls of the main keep, built of hard stone and mortar, and the weight of the structure itself, resisted the blast far better than the lower works around the Mud Gate. The keep had not been thrown into the sky as Tywin expected. Instead, it now sagged and twisted, half ruined and half standing.
"Quick," Tytos ordered. "Get Lord Hoster out while there is still time!"
There was still hope: Lord Hoster's room was not in the center of the keep. It stood on the left side, where it overlooked both the Tumblestone and the western wall.
Nearly two hundred Blackwood soldiers ran toward the intact spiral stair on that side of the keep.
Inside the bedchamber, the servant had seen the stone falling and had instinctively wrapped himself around Lord Hoster, lowering his head and waiting to die.
Warm, copper-sweet drops struck his face.
Then he heard the guard.
"Take him out. Quickly. I cannot hold this long."
The servant opened his eyes.
The tall guard had braced the fallen stone with his shoulder and both hands. Blood spilled from his mouth as he held the thigh-thick slab above them.
"Go!" the guard roared.
The servant rolled, hauled the unresponsive Lord Hoster onto his back, and dragged himself along the tilted balcony floor toward the spiral stair.
"Lord Hoster," the guard whispered as they disappeared from sight, "I can guard you only this far."
The breath went out of him. The stone grew heavier. His arms weakened.
Across the Tumblestone, Tywin watched Riverrun's keep sag inward and let out a rare sound of surprise.
"Not destroyed outright? That is not what I expected. Riverrun is solid indeed." He turned to Lord Serrett. "No matter. We brought enough wildfire. Prepare a second blast."
Before Lord Serrett could answer, a Westerlands messenger rode hard from the direction of the camp.
"Lord Tywin! Ser Kevan was defeated below the Golden Tooth yesterday afternoon by Robb Stark. He has returned to camp with two thousand cavalry."
Tywin's eyes hardened.
"Useless. Even if most of his men were Stormlanders, he had twenty thousand men and returned with only two thousand riders?"
He looked to Serrett. "Prepare everything. I will hear Kevan's explanation before deciding when to finish Riverrun."
"Yes, my lord."
Tywin returned to the command tent. When he and the noble commanders had taken their seats, Kevan began his account of the battle beneath the Golden Tooth, adding more color than truth required.
Robb Stark, according to Kevan, had been shameless and base, caring nothing for noble dignity. He had sent infantry to die first, then used cavalry at the opening. Northern ice direwolves were enormous and terrifying. Northern soldiers used fire and frost sorcery. In his telling, too many factors had made defeat unavoidable.
In short, the defeat was not his fault.
Tywin listened without expression.
"Leave the excuses aside," he said at last. "Kevan, you said the Golden Tooth made no move from beginning to end?"
"Yes, my lord." Kevan's anger flared at once. "I held Robb Stark's fifteen thousand men in place so Addam could strike from the Golden Tooth and hit the northern army's exposed rear. But he hid in the castle and watched me defeated by northern sorcery. I ask you to punish Addam Marbrand for this."
"Before we left Harrenhal, we received Daven's raven," Tywin said. "He wrote that Addam had already led his army back to reinforce the Golden Tooth that very day. The road from Lannisport to the Golden Tooth does not take so long.
"So either Addam refused battle as you say, or the Golden Tooth has already fallen."
Tywin stared at the war map on the long table, tapping one finger against the wood in measured rhythm.
"Impossible," Kevan said firmly. "Before we fought the northern army, I observed the Golden Tooth carefully. There was no sign of a siege. If the northmen had taken the castle by force, no matter how quickly they cleaned up afterward, traces would remain."
He wanted the blame fixed on Addam. He wanted it badly enough that he sounded certain.
Tywin nodded slowly. Even Tywin found it hard to believe the Golden Tooth could have fallen so cleanly.
"Very well. When this battle is over and I learn the truth of the Golden Tooth, Addam will be punished if he deserves it.
"Next, because you came here from Riverrun's direction, Robb Stark will certainly bring troops back to see what has happened here. That gives us time to prepare a trap."
Ser Marq Piper stepped forward at once.
"Lord Tywin, Lord Swyft kept Riverrun from sending word as soon as he arrived. I do not think Robb Stark knows I have joined you. I can still pass as their man.
"I will take the Riverlands recruits who have submitted to us and pose as defeated remnants. I will lead the enemy army into your trap."
Marq had failed to take Riverrun, and he had been waiting for a chance to prove himself again.
"Good," Tywin said. "Do that. Piper, if you successfully lure Robb Stark into the trap, Riverrun will be yours."
Ser Marq froze, then dropped to one knee. "Thank you, Lord Tywin. House Piper will serve House Lannister to the death!"
Lord Piper, his father, reacted a heartbeat later. He knocked over his chair in his haste and knelt as well. "Th-thank you, Lord Tywin!"
Tywin nodded to them.
"Stand. A Lannister always pays his debts, whether the debt is gratitude or vengeance."
He looked around the command tent. A faint smile touched his mouth.
"Since we are setting a trap for Robb Stark, leave broken Riverrun alone for now. Gather all the wildfire here. I will make a splendid tomb for this victorious King in the North, one worthy of his station."
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