The clang of longswords was sharp and strong, as the sparring match between Thorfinn and Merek entered its fever pitch. Such scenes had become commonplace in the camp over the last few months. Mance, as promised, had become the sword-master to both Thorfinn and Merek, and everyone knew he would often come by during his idle hours to instruct the two young men.
The bout continued for some time. They slid past each other, then shifted and dodged, looking for an opening. Each had victories over the other. When the training ended, they both sheathed their blades. They tossed their swords to Jeff and Mel, who immediately began their own match. Mil watched them, eager but knowing his turn hadn't come yet.
Thorfinn caught his breath and laughed, "You've improved again, Merek."
Merek flashed a proud grin, though he replied, "So have you! Mance always says you learn faster. I think it's true. What's your secret? Tell me!"
Thorfinn smiled, "When your mind-power is strong, everything comes easier."
At the mention of mind-power, Merek's spirits flagged. He had tried to learn magic during these months, but he couldn't pass the hurdle of mental strength. He had been vexed by this for a long time. Talent for magic was a blessing few were given. To date, Thorfinn had only met two people with such a gift: Thenya and Lyra.
Thorfinn continued, "But you, your talent for the sword is truly fine. I only narrowly keep pace with you by using my own unique edge."
Merek forced a wry smile, "Don't try to comfort me. That's not 'cheating'—that's your own gift, your own skill. I'm no sore loser."
Since they started practicing, Thorfinn's three lads had often come to watch, so Thorfinn simply forced them to join the sword lessons. Sparring was well and good for them, but the body conditioning every morning put them through hell. Thankfully, they could generally keep up with Thorfinn's routine exercises now.
Whenever they went out for drills, the mischievous children of the camp would clamor and trail behind them. They found the method of training a novelty, and the exercise soon replaced games of 'knights' as their new pastime.
After their session, Thorfinn and the lads headed back to their tent. When he returned, Lyra was always there to thoughtfully present him with hot broth and take his cloak. These were small things that Morla simply didn't do. Lyra's smooth, comfortable actions constantly triggered Morla's sense of peril, and though the two girls were outwardly civil, they were secretly vying for him.
However, Morla held one advantage over Lyra: she was bolder, often creating small, intimate moments to provoke Lyra. Thorfinn gained no peace from either of them. Though the surface was harmonious, the veiled challenges hidden beneath their kindness kept Thorfinn on pins and needles. Siding with one would only anger the other, leaving Thorfinn caught squarely in the middle. A man is undone by a maiden's kindness, indeed.
Just then, Mance sent a messenger, and Thorfinn was finally able to escape.
Inside Mance's large tent, Mance's brow was furrowed. Reynar was there as well, and Dalla was roasting some food with Val helping her nearby. As soon as he entered, Thorfinn sensed the subtle shift in the air. Something had clearly happened, and by the looks of it, something quite ill.
Thorfinn sat down before asking, "What in the seven hells is going on? Why the grim faces?"
Reynar spoke up, full of anger, "Someone came across the Others on patrol, and they were accompanied by a crying babe. The man was a mewling coward, wetting his breeches and screaming his way back to camp."
Thorfinn finally understood. He thought for a moment before addressing Mance: "What is your assessment?"
Mance sighed deeply, "We've yet to face wights head-on, but their terror is known to all. But how do the Others replenish their numbers? Legend says there was only one Other at first, but now their numbers are surely far greater. I suspect... they are increasing their numbers somehow."
Thorfinn nodded. Mance's thinking was sound. In fact, Thorfinn had also wondered how the Others grew their ranks. He had his own suspicions, but they needed to be confirmed.
Thorfinn: "I think you're right. It likely has something to do with that infant. But where did the child come from? What of its parents? They wouldn't have just stolen it, would they?"
Reynar immediately flared up, "Only those fools who worship the Cold God would do such a thing! They are either mad or thick-skulled! I don't know how they came to worship a vile demon, but I say we should slaughter them all. That would end whatever plots they have once and for all."
Mance: "That is unavoidable. The Land-Beyond-the-Wall is a land of freedom, and faith is free. We cannot force them to worship something else. Thankfully, they are only a minority, and dealing with them won't take much effort. I'll have the Thenns handle that. Thorfinn, I sent for you because I have another favor to ask."
Thorfinn laughed, "A favor? It's not the first time, and I've been out scouting these past few months without you being so polite."
Mance persisted, "This is different. My mind has been on the Free Folk right in front of me, but the news of the Others has truly reminded me: I've neglected the Others' movements these past moons. The intelligence you spread earlier was a huge help; many only chose to come here because of it.
Even those who have traveled here recently have been attacked by the dead, but most who heard the rumors used fire to repel them and successfully escaped. But where do these corpses go? I do not know.
The Lands of Always Winter is a peculiar place. I sent Orell, who is a skinchanger like you, to scout it. But through his bird, he can only see the broad strokes; he can't get more detailed information. You are the master in this regard, and I wish... for you to take a trip into the Lands of Always Winter. You may refuse, of course. I know it is dangerous."
Thorfinn understood Mance's worry. He also knew that he might truly have to go to the Lands of Always Winter. No one was more suited than he. If a Free Folk spy could survive in the heart of the Others' domain, that person would be him. To know the enemy is the only way to win a hundred battles, and this war between men and the Others would require sacrifice. Thorfinn was not afraid of Mance's request; in fact, he was secretly excited.
Yes, Thorfinn was also a restless spirit. If he were content with a mundane life, he wouldn't train so hard daily, wouldn't practice shooting, and wouldn't hone his sword skills. Beyond merely planning for survival, Thorfinn wanted more...
After a silence, Thorfinn finally said, "I will go to the Lands of Always Winter. But I must discuss it with my family first, and then I will ask Lyra for a small favor."
Relieved to have his answer, Mance said, "Naturally. But you must know that if you truly do not wish to go, I will not force you."
Thorfinn smiled, clapping Mance on the shoulder, "That much I know, of course."
Reynar looked grim. "Thorfinn, lad, this is too dangerous."
Thorfinn: "I am a skinchanger, I have magic, and I am a warrior." Thorfinn said nothing more, only those words, and then he turned and walked out.
Watching Thorfinn leave, Reynar turned to Mance: "Mance, you shouldn't ask him to take such a risk."
Mance was worried, too. "I don't want to, but it's the best plan we have. We cannot remain clueless about the Others' intentions. What are they waiting for? Where have all those wights gone? Orell is not his equal. You know that as a skinchanger, Thorfinn is simply the better one, not to mention his other skills."
Knowing he couldn't argue with Mance, Reynar said bitterly, "If anything happens to him, you will regret it."
With that, Reynar lingered no longer and left the tent. After Reynar departed, Val came to Mance's side. She hadn't spoken, but that didn't mean she was indifferent to what Thorfinn was about to do.
Val worried, "If it's so dangerous, does he truly have to go?"
Mance looked at Val. "I did not force him. I simply said that bringing back intelligence would be for the best. You know how much trouble the information Thorfinn gave us before saved us. We are not safe on this side of the Wall. In the future, we need more leverage against the Night's Watch, and more options. Thorfinn understands this. You know I would not put him in danger unless I had no choice..."
Val fell silent. When Mance first returned to the camp and released the news about the Others, the small villages and petty chieftains all scoffed. It wasn't until a Free Folk warrior killed a wight with an obsidian weapon that anyone took Mance's words seriously.
The rumors had been confirmed, and the Free Folk all believed the truth. This also brought Mance more support. New followers included capable fighters like "Avfyn the Crow Killer," famed for slaying many Black Brothers, and "Morona the White Mask," known as the Witch Warrior and leader of a wildling band.
The advantages brought by superior intelligence were a powerful lure for Mance. Who would choose the long, hard road when there was a shortcut? Mance's insistence on this request likely stemmed from this realization. He simply had no choice before Thorfinn, but now he needed Thorfinn to step forward.
The more Val understood the terror of the Others, the clearer she saw where the Free Folk's only hope for survival lay. The burden on Mance's shoulders was heavy, and if they were to pass the Wall, the Night's Watch was an obstacle they could not avoid.
Val sighed, her soft whisper echoing in the warm hall, "The Gods keep him. Just let him come back alive."
Back in his own tent, Thorfinn did not bring up the matter. Even when his family pressed him, he gave vague excuses and dodged the issue. Thorfinn had made his decision, but to fully settle it, he needed Lyra's help. He needed her to perform a prophecy. Though he was not skilled in foresight, he intended to use the power of her magic to gauge the peril of his journey.
Outside the tent, Merek and Ygritte were discussing archery. Morla had somehow found this girl a good friend, and they got along well. Orrik, who was also Kissed by Fire, and Reynar both had no dislike for the girl. Thorfinn was also quite interested in her, given that she was the Free Folk girl who had managed to bewitch that bastard son of a Stark.
Ygritte was sixteen or seventeen, quite short for her age, lean but very muscled. Her weapon of choice was a short, curved bow made of horn and weirwood. She had a round face, small hands, a flat nose, and teeth that were white though uneven.
The two girls were currently exchanging archery tips. The gentle wind blew, making Ygritte's wild red hair fly about. Thanks to her close relationship with Ygritte, Morla's archery had improved by leaps and bounds recently.
Even Thorfinn had been pestered by her into an archery match. He had to admit the girl's skill was unique. Perhaps the style differed with the person: Thorfinn's archery was more powerful and steady, while Ygritte's was faster and more precise. Both had their merits.
Seeing Thorfinn return, Morla joyfully rushed to meet him. Thorfinn tore himself away from the muddle of his thoughts. The happy Morla had a magical power about her; she always found a way to cheer people up.
Facing his family and friends, Thorfinn pushed the plan to explore the Lands of Always Winter from his mind. At that moment, he cherished every second he had with his loved ones.