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The Westerlands host marched past Riverrun in a long, noisy column.
Fully armed soldiers moved along the river road not far from the castle, their lines stretched like a snake across the ground. Many had iron cookpots strapped to their packs, and each step made the pots knock together in loud, careless rhythm.
They wanted to be seen.
No commander trying to hide a movement would allow so much noise. The marching pots were almost comic, clattering with every step. To Brynden, that made the column more threatening, not less. A careless enemy invited carelessness in return.
On Riverrun's western wall, Lord Tytos Blackwood leaned close to Brynden Tully and spoke in a low voice. "Our scouts report that this host numbers roughly twenty thousand. Kevan Lannister commands it. Judging by the direction, they mean to reinforce the Golden Tooth."
Brynden watched the column without showing joy or anger.
"They pass before us this loosely because they are certain Riverrun has no strength to sally," he said. "Reinforcing the Golden Tooth... Has there been word from King Robb? And the other castles?"
"Nothing from His Grace yet," Tytos answered. "Raventree Hall reports all is normal. Darry's scouts found ten thousand Westermen still holding the crossroads. As for Stone Hedge..."
His voice faded.
Brynden understood.
Before this new phase of the war began, Robb's intelligence net had made the flow of messages faster and broader than any Riverlands lord was used to. Once the war truly moved, however, delays and uneven reports returned like old ghosts. A message one day late could kill a castle.
The Riverlands had too many roads, too many rivers, too many burned villages, and too many frightened men carrying half-truths. Every report reached them stained by distance.
"We have heard nothing of the twenty thousand men Jaime Lannister led," Brynden said. "They should be at Stone Hedge. The castle had more than six thousand defenders. It can hold for some time."
He looked again at the Lannister column. "This war now depends on which side breaks the stalemate first."
To the south, Edmure Tully reached Stone Hedge with nearly eleven thousand men.
The castle before him no longer resembled the Stone Hedge of his memory. Wide stretches of wall had collapsed. The mud-red outer stone had been blackened by fire, and in several places the bricks looked half melted. In the old yard, charred corpses lay in heaps.
The smell reached him before the sight settled fully in his mind. Wet ash, burned meat, and old smoke clung to the broken yard.
Some bodies were straight and stiff, burned after death. Others were curled inward, limbs drawn tight by the last instinctive agony of men burned alive.
It was a cruel distinction, but any man who had seen enough burned bodies learned it. Edmure wished he had not.
Edmure drew a heavy breath.
Behind him, a young soldier saw the bodies and broke. "Mael! Paul! Captain..."
His grief spread through the ranks.
Lord Lymond Lydden rode forward beneath the white badger banner of Deep Den. Nearly a thousand of the men with him were prisoners he had freed after Jaime was wounded.
"Lord Edmure," Lymond said, "when we broke out of Stone Hedge, Jaime Lannister was wounded and unconscious. Since they did not stay here to recover, they must have returned to Harrenhal. We meant to ride for Riverrun, but Kevan Lannister's army blocked the road west. Stone Hedge blocked the road north, and the crossroads garrison still held the east, so we went south toward Acorn Hall and found you."
Edmure had almost attacked Lymond when he first saw the Lydden banner. Patrek Mallister had stopped him.
At Harrenhal, Lymond had already shown Patrek goodwill toward the King in the North. His price had been enormous: a future claim to the Wardenship of the West. Robb, through his intelligence net, had accepted the possibility. The first noble defector from the Westerlands was worth buying, if only to show others the price of changing sides.
To Robb, Lymond had never been a trusted friend. He was a dangerous tool. Yet a dangerous tool could still open a locked door if handled carefully.
Robb had never trusted Lymond blindly, but the information he sent had been checked again and again. It had proved useful.
That only made the present situation more dangerous.
"We must return to Riverrun," Patrek said. "If Kevan's army is moving that way, my lord, the castle cannot be left alone."
Ser Marq Piper rode up as well. "Lord Edmure, let me take the cavalry ahead. I can scout the road and confirm the enemy's movements."
Edmure looked at Stone Hedge's blackened walls.
"We return to Riverrun," he said. "I will not allow my father's castle to become this."
At Riverrun, Lord Swyft's five thousand-man vanguard arrived first.
They built camp in clear sight of the walls, dragged out ladders, prepared shields, and behaved as if the defenders inside were already trapped animals.
Lord Tytos watched from the wall and spat. "Bait."
"Yes," Brynden said.
"Then why not bite carefully? We can crush five thousand men before the rest arrive."
"Because bait exists to be watched, not eaten."
Tytos fell silent, but his fingers tightened on the stone. He was a proud lord and a brave man. Watching five thousand enemies swagger outside the walls without answering them felt like swallowing iron.
For two days, the standoff continued.
On the fifth day at noon, Brynden was shaken from a short rest by urgent shouting. Edmure's army had appeared and was attacking Lord Swyft's camp.
From the wall, Brynden saw it clearly: Edmure's men striking the Westermen from the rear, Lord Swyft's camp collapsing in confusion, Riverlands banners advancing through smoke and dust.
Too easy.
That was the thought that ruined the taste of rescue.
Kevan's twenty thousand should have been here by now. If this was a trap, where was the blade?
Tytos came to him again. "If we do not open the gate now, Edmure's men will be crushed."
Brynden's face was grim.
Edmure might be foolish. He might be proud. He might let emotion lead him into ruin.
But Edmure Tully was no traitor.
Brynden had scolded Edmure since the boy could hold a practice sword. He knew his nephew's flaws too well. Betrayal was not one of them.
"Three thousand with me," Brynden ordered. "Lord Tytos, you keep three thousand on the wall. If anything goes wrong, you close the gate."
The drawbridge lowered.
Brynden led the sortie at speed, striking toward the Westermen pressing Edmure's front. For a moment, the attack seemed to work. Lord Swyft's camp buckled between the two forces.
Then Edmure's cavalry split.
One thousand riders wheeled around the camp and hit Brynden's men from both sides near the moat. At the same time, the Westerlands archers turned their bows away from Edmure and loosed into Brynden's formation.
The trap closed.
"Back!" Brynden shouted. "Back to the gate!"
The retreat became a butcher's yard.
Men who had run out through Riverrun's gate with hope now fought back toward it with terror chewing through their ranks. Brynden cut a rider from the saddle, kicked a fallen shield under his own feet to keep from slipping, and drove his men toward the drawbridge by force of will alone.
Riverlands cavalry punched through his infantry. Men fell into the moat. Arrows hissed from the camp. The gate began to rise, but Westermen threw themselves onto the drawbridge and the bottom of the gate, weighing it down with their bodies.
Brynden grabbed one by the collar and hurled him into the water.
On the wall, Lord Tytos understood the look Brynden gave him.
It was an order.
"Loose!" Tytos roared.
Several archers hesitated. The men below wore fish and tree banners as well as lions.
"Loose!" Tytos shouted again, voice cracking. "Close the gate!"
Arrows and stones fell on the gate.
They killed Westermen. They killed Riverrun men. They struck anyone clinging to the drawbridge until the weight lessened and the gate finally rose.
Brynden was dragged down beneath bodies with an arrow in his left shoulder.
When he woke, his hands were bound.
Edmure stood before him with his own hands tied behind his back. His face was pale, and three fingers were missing from his left hand.
The bandage around the hand had soaked through. Every beat of Edmure's heart seemed to push fresh red into the cloth.
"Traitor," Brynden rasped.
Pain crossed Edmure's eyes. "Uncle, Tywin told me he would not ask me to betray my family. He said I was not clever, but I was not so stupid that I would sell Riverrun willingly. He only needed me alive and miserable enough for others to use."
The words came out hoarse. Edmure looked less like a lord than a man trying to explain how a trap had closed around him while he was still searching for the trigger.
Lord Piper laughed nearby.
The old riverlord's smile was full of spite. "Do you understand now, Blackfish? After you stripped me of honor and locked me away, my son went to Tywin. Edmure's little victories? Gifts. All of them. Gifts sent through Marq so your own suspicion would drive you apart."
Lord Piper had not needed to defeat the Blackfish in battle. He had only needed to make Edmure believe he could win without him.
Brynden's eyes moved to Ser Marq Piper.
Marq did not flinch.
"We failed to take Riverrun before Lord Tywin arrived," he said. "That is the only pity."
Lord Swyft looked at him uncertainly.
Marq turned. "Lord Tywin placed me in command because I know Riverrun. Any objection?"
Lord Swyft had none.
"Good," Marq said. "Send the newly captured men forward. They attack first."
The order told Brynden everything he needed to know about the man Marq had become.
In the woods beyond the battlefield, Patrek Mallister and Thormad watched in silence.
When the orders began moving, Thormad whispered, "What now?"
Patrek looked west.
"We go to the Golden Tooth," he said. "We find Robb Stark."
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