Northwestern Area of the True North
POV of Orell the Warg
Orell was walking behind one of the soldiers brought to the True North by the man chosen by the Old Gods and reminiscing about the past in which he used to live the harsh life of a Free Folk.
That was when it happened.
The dozens of ravens leading them through the silent forest suddenly scattered and flew away. A closer glance at the ravens flying away told him that their minds were free. Which meant that whichever warg had been using them for the past few days had just lost his connection with them.
This was not normal. A warg doesn't just lose connection with bonded animals or birds. Actually, he has never heard of such a thing happening at all.
If the body of the warg dies when his mind is inside his animals, then his mind is left inside those animals. The animals don't just become free and fly away.
He had never heard of the thing that was happening in front of him.
But before he could say anything to the Chosen One, the snow underneath him shifted, and a skeletal hand sprouted out of it.
His heart leaped in fear at the sight. And then the fear doubled as the air around him turned colder and more and more hands erupted out of the snow. After the hands came the head, then the torso, and soon enough, the dead began to rise from the snow.
"FORM A CIRCLE!" he heard Varko shout behind him, and turned around to see that the men were already forming a circle to defend themselves against the growing horde of dead surrounding them.
He tried to get in the circle when the hand jutting out of the snowy ground caught his leg, making him fall to the ground.
He looked up and his heart fell as he saw the wights rising from the ground. They were already running to surround him. He struggled to get up, but it was too late.
The first wight, a spearwoman with blue eyes and only half a face, jumped at his face, making him fall to the ground under her weight, a little dazed, while she tried to bite at his face.
He closed his eyes in fear, fearing the worst, but realized that nothing was happening when the pain never came.
He opened his eyes a little and noticed that the woman was still on his face, but the helmet that the Chosen One had warned him from taking off had saved his life. She could not chew through it.
He quickly pushed her off, but more of them came for him. This time, he knew the capabilities of his armor and was less afraid.
That didn't change a thing when all of them piled up on him and tried to stab, kick, punch, and bite him to death.
They couldn't hurt him through the armor, but the mountain of bodies felt suffocating.
As the bodies around him became tighter and tighter, he remembered the dragonglass dagger he had been given before the start of this secret expedition. He forgot about it simply because, till now, he had never used it in a live combat situation.
He took it out with some difficulty and stabbed the first wight on top of him who was trying to chew on his groin. Something that was making him very uncomfortable.
The wight disintegrated into pieces as soon as the dagger found home. It did not even strike something important, but one of the many ribs jutting out of its side.
It was as if the dagger broke whatever enchantments held the wight together.
It gave him a lot of confidence, considering that he was still stuck between a great pile of bodies that was still increasing. He wondered how many wights were there and if he would have to fight an army once he was out of this pile.
He next slashed at the wight above him. The blade's arc found three wights in its way, and all three crumbled into piles of bones and meat.
The sight gave him another boost of confidence, and he shouted back at the wights trying to eat his face.
"Fuck you motherfuckers."
The next few moments were filled with action. As he stabbed more wights, he got more space to move his arm and his blade, allowing him to kill more of them and turn them into mush.
By the end of the minute, he had come out of the great pile of bodies. Then he saw a flash of light, and a bright light consumed the world around him.
He killed the wight trying to bite his shoulder armor and peeked outside the pile of dead bodies. He saw a great pillar of flame controlled by the Chosen One, destroying hundreds of wights per second. And he realized with another pang of fear that the hill they had come to stand upon was filled with wights.
When did so many of them surround them?
The confidence he had gained was shattered, and he quickly ran toward where the leading group was standing behind the Chosen One.
He made sure to raise his hands ahead not to be mistaken for a wight, and the scorching flame of the pillar passed over his head, not affecting him in the slightest.
"Hey!" he shouted amongst the screeching death throes of the wights.
Varko saw him and gestured for him to come to them quickly.
"Good to see you alive," Varko said in his no-nonsense tone and pushed him inside the circle they had formed, allowing him to recover even as he came face to face with a few wights in front of him.
He quickly took out his dagger and was about to stab at it when he noticed the tree roots binding the three wights in their place.
With some embarrassment, he remembered that this was the main reason why they came here in the first place. To capture the wights so that they have proof of the return of the White Walkers.
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Next Chapters' Name:
Ch.143: White Walker
Ch.144: First Contact of Leaders