The "Needle" dropped to the ground with a faint clink.
Tyrion leapt to his feet, grabbed the slender girl in one swift motion, and hurled her into Bronn's arms behind him.
"Bronn, keep her close. Don't let her out of your sight!"
A heartbeat later, Yoren roared like a black bear, springing up from the ground and lunging straight at Tyrion.
The Lust Demon was knocked sprawling, his head sinking into the dry leaves. He saw the crow reaching for the dagger at his waist.
Timett moved faster, darting forward to kick Yoren hard in the side. The old black brother tumbled across the ground three times, struggling to rise.
"No! Don't draw your blades!" Tyrion shouted, still scrambling to his feet.
Timett and Shagga froze. But in the next instant, Vargo Hoat's axe smashed into Yoren's chest. Blood spurted, spraying across the crow's thick, bristling beard.
Yoren coughed weakly as he fell, and at once the camp erupted into chaos. The raw recruits of the Night's Watch drew steel, while the Bloody Mummers leapt up, charging at the crows.
"Hold!" Tyrion cried as he staggered upright. "Shagga! Catch that boy with the horned helmet!" The chieftain sprang away like a gust of wind in pursuit.
"Vargo Hoat! You've broken guest right!"
At that moment, Vargo Hoat was already rifling through Yoren's corpse. He snatched up a purse, loosened the drawstrings, and peered inside. "Lord Tyrion, had you given us this gold, Ser Jaime might never have been taken, and the Lannisters wouldn't be losing ground."
Chella and Timett stepped in front of Tyrion at once, but Vargo didn't come at him. Instead, he threw himself into the brawl between the Bloody Mummers and the Night's Watch.
The camp itself seemed seized by the wrath of R'hllor. Flames soared skyward, painting the night blood red. The fire roared and leapt, blazing so brightly it rivaled the stars, casting the darkness into day.
Tongues of fire licked at the tents, crackling and snapping. Cries rang out, rising and falling in a mad, mournful chorus. Some voices were shrill with terror and despair—folk fleeing the sudden calamity, flailing through the firelight in search of escape. Others rang with fury and defiance—the brave who fought on despite hopeless odds, straining to resist this disaster with what little strength they had.
Smoke thickened in the air, acrid and choking, laced with the stench of scorched cloth and burning wood. Tyrion coughed, struggling for breath. Soldiers raised shields before him, while Timett and Chella closed in at his sides, dragging him back. Through the haze, he caught sight of Arya Stark.
Around the camp, panic spread unchecked. Horses screamed, bolting in terror, toppling more tents and feeding the flames. Black-cloaked figures shouted to restore order, trying to drive people toward safety, but their voices were soon drowned out in the din.
"Gods above," Tyrion thought, his face burning, sweat beading across his brow. This was butchery, nothing like the battlefield on the Green Fork.
From beyond the trees came the crash of armor and the thunder of boots. The Mountain strode into the camp, towering in the firelight like a statue of stone.
One of the Bloody Mummers' Dothraki shrieked a war cry and charged. A moment later, a greatsword cleaved into his shoulder with such force it nearly split him in two.
Clegane's raiders poured into the camp, scattering the mob. In short order, the fighting was ended.
Aside from the fallen Dothraki, the Bloody Mummers had taken no losses. To them, the Night's Watch recruits were lambs to the slaughter. Already they were stripping the corpses.
The poor brothers of the Watch lay dead in heaps—more than twenty of them. Most of the new recruits had scarcely learned to grip a sword before losing their lives. The few survivors fled into the woods. Tyrion could only wonder whether Shagga would be able to find Gendry.
"Vargo Hoat," Tyrion shouted. "You've violated guest right!"
"Your guest right," Vargo Hoat sneered, grinning as he let out a harsh laugh. "These black crows are richer than they looked. I don't believe in your gods!"
"I demand you come with me to King's Landing to stand trial," Tyrion said coldly. "Your men will be taken to Harrenhal."
"My noble Lust Demon," Vargo Hoat jeered. "I wouldn't mind taking you prisoner. I wonder how much Lord Tywin would pay for your cock if I chopped it off."
The Bloody Mummers burst into raucous laughter.
Tyrion's men drew their weapons. The Mountain stepped forward. "My lord, I can deal with five of them on my own."
The Mountain was being modest. He could handle at least ten, Tyrion thought. The Bloody Mummers numbered barely twenty, and they had just come through a fight. Tyrion had more than fifty men, half mounted. Crushing them would not be difficult.
But… he glanced toward Arya Stark, the little girl struggling in Bronn's grip. His chances were better than eight in ten, but he wasn't willing to risk even the slightest chance of failure.
The wiser course was to see everyone safely to King's Landing first, and then exact justice later.
"Well, my lord?" Vargo Hoat said smugly, having already guessed Tyrion's hesitation. "Why don't we part ways here? If the price is right, the Brave Companions will remain good friends to House Lannister."
As the two sides faced each other, another company rode into the camp.
"Ser Gregor Clegane!" an officer on horseback called. "What's happened here?" Tyrion recognized the sigil on his surcoat—a black lion with a scorpion's tail.
"Amory Lorch," the Mountain said. "Some vermin looking to die."
Amory Lorch surveyed the scene. His men stood in a line, forty or fifty strong. His gaze fell on Tyrion Lannister. For an instant he looked surprised, then delight spread across his face. He leapt down from his horse.
"Lord Tyrion!" he exclaimed, dropping to one knee before him. "What's happened here? Are you unharmed?"
"I'm fine," Tyrion said, pulling him up. Now he was certain of victory. "It seems Vargo Hoat and his Brave Companions no longer mean to serve House Lannister. Arrest them. Any who resist, execute on the spot."
At once, every Lannister soldier drew steel in unison—swords and spears leveled at the Bloody Mummers.
"Those who break guest right are beyond forgiveness," Tyrion said. "Especially their leader."
...
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