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Name: Bloodwind
Contractor: Robb Stark
Physique: 47
Magic: 50
Species: Ice Direwolf (1)
Pack: Soldier wolves Nymeria (blood kin 6), Lady (blood kin 7), servant wolf Vine
Skill: Link (Magic)
Blood Pact Points: 3
Wildfire had once been true magic.
In the age when dragons flew and sorcery had not yet retreated from the world, the substance had been far more terrifying than the green fire now stored in King's Landing. Over time, as magic faded, wildfire had weakened with it.
But weakened did not mean harmless.
Robb had tested it after Kevan's defeat. Bloodwind's icy mist could smother ordinary flame with ease, yet wildfire resisted it. Only when the direwolf's Magic rose high enough could his cold truly freeze the green fire and force a passage through it.
Ice Armor and the icy mist were not true blood pact skills. They were rough uses of Bloodwind's magic, abilities he had learned and shaped on his own after his Magic attribute rose.
Link was different.
It created a magical channel between contractor and contracted beast. In a world full of magic, both sides would gain from that connection. Unfortunately, Robb himself possessed no magic of his own. To Bloodwind, linking with him brought no real increase.
To Robb, however, the change was enormous.
One moment, he had been a powerful man with a body trained beyond ordinary human limits.
The next, he had become a man who could touch magic.
Standing on Bloodwind's back, Robb lifted his hand. Frost gathered and lengthened, forming a spear of ice. He aimed it straight at Tywin Lannister.
The spear flashed across the battlefield.
"My lord!" Kevan shouted.
He threw himself forward. The spear meant for Tywin drove through Kevan's left shoulder instead, punched through armor, flesh, and bone, and sent him tumbling from his horse.
"Shields!" Lord Serrett roared. "Protect Lord Tywin!"
Men surged around Tywin with shields raised.
Tywin looked down at Kevan only once. His face did not change.
"Do not pull it out yet," he said. "Prepare the styptic powder first. Stop the bleeding when it comes free."
Then he looked back toward the battlefield.
"Archers. All of them. Concentrate on Robb Stark and the direwolf. Bring up the hidden scorpions."
The order spread quickly.
Arrows poured toward Robb and Bloodwind like black rain. They clattered against the ice armor, skidded away, or snapped outright. Some struck Robb's chest and shoulders, but the ice covering him held.
"Dragons died beneath scorpions," Tywin said coldly. "A wolf can die the same way."
Under ordinary use, the magic flowing through Link ran thin, like water through a straw. Bloodwind's natural recovery could almost cover the cost.
But battle was not ordinary use.
As Robb shaped spear after spear, shield after shield, the channel widened from straw to pipe. Bloodwind's magic began to drain with frightening speed. In only a short time, nearly two thirds of it had been spent.
Robb felt it clearly.
That meant he had to end this quickly.
Bloodwind charged toward the surrendered Riverlands formation.
Some men raised spears. More stepped back.
They had no wish to fight the King in the North. Most of them had been forced forward, and the sight of Robb emerging alive from wildfire shattered the last of Tywin's hold over them.
Seven or eight hundred diehards still blocked the way. They were men tied to Marq Piper, men who had gone too far to turn back.
Robb leapt down from Bloodwind's back.
Ice came free from its sheath.
"Brothers of the Riverlands!" he roared. "I pardon all your past crimes. Now fight with me!"
His words struck the wavering line like a hammer.
The Riverlands recruits hesitated for one breath.
Then they turned.
Robb was already among the diehards. He threw Ice. The Valyrian steel blade flew through the front rank, skewering men one after another before vanishing into the press. At the same time, frost formed in both his hands. Two ice swords flashed into being.
A man tried to seize his right arm and drag him down.
Robb drove an ice blade through his throat.
He felt a new rhythm of battle open before him. Throw Ice, form two blades, cut, retrieve Ice, throw again. The rhythm was brutal, simple, and terrifyingly effective.
Bloodwind tore through men beside him. The direwolf's jaws closed, claws flashed, and every sweep of his body sent soldiers flying.
The Riverlands recruits shouted and joined the slaughter.
Robb's ice armor had turned red with blood.
"Whoever stands in my way dies!"
On Riverrun's side of the field, Tytos had thrown himself against Lord Serrett's five thousand men. The defenders were brave, but courage could not erase the difference in numbers. They were being pressed back toward the gate.
Then horns sounded from the Red Fork.
Northern light cavalry appeared on the river.
They had crossed on small fishing boats, rafts, and anything else Smalljon could buy or seize from villages upstream. While the wildfire trap drew every eye, they had landed along the riverbank, formed ranks, and now charged into the Lannister left.
Lord Swyft rode hard to Tywin.
"My lord, northern cavalry have landed behind the left wing!"
"I see them," Tywin said.
Swyft froze.
Tywin pointed without hesitation. "Take three thousand infantry and stop them."
For a moment, Swyft looked as if he had been sentenced to death.
"Yes, my lord."
Tywin turned to his guards. "Tie Ser Kevan to his horse. We withdraw."
The order to retreat went out.
Swyft's three thousand infantry moved to meet the northern cavalry, but they had barely formed before the shape of the attack changed again.
Seventeen ice direwolves broke away from the cavalry line. Nymeria and Lady led them, with thirteen more controlled by the Wolfguard.
Then the two smallest ice direwolves vanished.
In their place stood two massive woolly mammoths, their shaggy bodies towering over the field.
The Lannister infantry stared.
The mammoths charged.
Men broke before them like reeds in floodwater. Shields shattered. Spears snapped. The northern cavalry followed through the gaps, cutting down anyone who tried to stand.
Lord Swyft turned his horse and fled, cursing Tywin Lannister with every breath.
Robb saw Tywin's banner moving away.
He forced Bloodwind after it.
At the edge of the camp, Lord Serrett had managed to bring up one of the scorpions. The giant bolt launched with a shriek, aimed straight at Robb.
Robb raised both hands.
An ice shield formed before him.
The bolt smashed into it, breaking through layer after layer. Its iron head reached within a hand's breadth of Robb's chest before losing the last of its force.
Robb caught the shaft.
Then he threw it back.
The scorpion bolt crossed the field like judgment and drove straight through Lord Serrett, pinning him to the wooden frame behind him.
As blood filled his mouth, Serrett stared at Robb in disbelief.
Dragons had died to scorpions.
Robb Stark had blocked one.
'How can a monster like that be killed?'
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