Rand's sudden death caught everyone off guard, but his headless slumped form triggered the primal survival instincts of the veterans. Their hearts hammered against their ribs; ignoring Jon's cry to stand, they yanked their reins and wheeled their horses around.
Fight? they thought in a panic. Without even a shirt of mail? We'd be butchered.
Jon watched them flee and realized with a sickening jolt how foolish his command had been. This was not the Gods Eye. These men were not Sunwalkers. Courage alone would not win a fight against armored knights when you were dressed in wool. He turned his horse and followed the veterans, galloping back the way they had come.
A scream of agony tore through the rain. Jon recognized Wade's voice and couldn't help but look back. Wade had been skewered by a Frey lance, tumbled from his saddle, and was rolling in the mud. A moment later, the Frey cavalry thundered over him, and Wade was gone, swallowed by the mud and the dark.
"Riders ahead!" Charlie, the furthest in front, screamed. He saw Bolton outriders closing the trap from the east. "Scatter! Every man for himself!"
The party splintered. Jon, inexperienced in the art of flight, found himself pinned against the banks of the Green Fork.
The river was a churning monster. Jon's mount, spooked by the chaos or perhaps losing its footing in a hidden sinkhole, bucked violently. Jon was thrown from the saddle, hitting the wet earth with a bone-jarring thud. By the time he scrambled to his feet, his horse had vanished into the mist. Three Frey riders had dismounted nearby, their longswords drawn as they closed in on him.
Jon drew his blade, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He took a single-handed stance, but he was outnumbered and unarmored. Within two exchanges, his wool tunic was shredded, and blood seeped from a half-dozen shallow cuts.
Finally, a soldier wearing the twin-tower surcoat of House Frey lunged forward, his blade piercing Jon's abdomen. He punctuated the strike with a heavy kick to Jon's chest, sending the boy tumbling backward into the roaring waters of the Green Fork.
The flood took him. Jon fought the current, his lungs burning. He managed to force a pulse of Solar Grace through his body, knitting the puncture in his gut and the gashes on his limbs. He cast a Blessing of Might, his muscles surging with a desperate, artificial strength.
But the river was stronger. No matter how hard he thrashed, the current was a giant's hand, pulling him down, spinning him until he didn't know which way was up. Water filled his mouth. Fatigue began to win. His vision blurred, and the world began to fade into a series of rolling, white-capped waves.
On the bank, the Frey riders watched until Jon vanished beneath the surface. Satisfied he was drowned, they sheathed their steel and rode off to find more Northmen to kill.
Beneath the water, Jon stopped fighting. His mind drifted, his life flashing before his eyes like a series of vivid, disconnected paintings.
He saw Lord Eddard's stern face, whispering: The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. He saw Robb—the red-haired brother who looked more like a Tully than a Stark—pointing toward the East, as if entrusting him with a secret.
He saw Sansa, the sister who would never call him brother.
He saw Bran. The last time Jon had seen him, the boy could sit up in bed. Now, his head was supposedly spiked beside little Rickon's over the ruins of Winterfell.
And finally, he saw "Horse-face" Arya, his favorite sister.
You're all dead, Jon thought, the cold water embracing him. And now I am too. We can finally go to the gods together.
He let the current take him. But in that final moment, Arya's face became unnervingly clear. It merged with the face of the child he had seen on the road—the one huddled behind the "carter" in the dog-head helm. The carter... Sandor Clegane.
Jon's eyes snapped open underwater. It was her! He realized. That wasn't a carter's son—it was Arya with her hair shorn!
"Arya... she's alive!"
A surge of primal energy erupted in his chest. A skill he had never consciously practiced—something he had only seen Aldric do in the most desperate of times—flared into life.
Great Anshe, shield me!
A spherical shroud of golden light erupted from his body, displacing the water in a violent hiss. He coughed up the river from his lungs as the Light-Shield lifted him, bobbing like a cork on the surface. Protected by the golden orb, Jon drifted downstream, away from the carnage of the Twins.
The shield lasted only a minute before flickering out, dropping him back into the cold. The sudden release left him paralyzed with exhaustion. Just as he felt himself sinking again, a massive white shape lunged into the water. Teeth clamped onto his collar, and a powerful weight dragged him toward the shore.
When Jon woke, he was lying on a patch of wet grass, his feet still trailing in the river. Beside him lay Ghost, as sodden and exhausted as his master.
Jon remembered leaving Ghost at the monastery. The wolf must have followed him across the Riverlands in secret, arriving just in time to pull him from the grave.
Jon sat up slowly, staring at the distant, orange glow on the horizon where the Northern camp was still burning. He looked at Ghost, whose red eyes were fixed on him. Jon buried his face in the wolf's wet fur, his tears mixing with the river water.
"Ghost... Ghost... we lost another brother tonight. But we have a sister to find."
They walked through the dark, staying close to the river. By dawn, they found a small village. Because of House Frey's "neutrality" and its distance from the front lines, the village was untouched by the war. The crops were lush, and the people lived a hard but stable life.
Jon traded his last silver moon—stitched into his inner pocket—for a donkey and a meal. He dressed himself as a common farmer, his black brigandine and fine steel lost to the river or the Frey riders. He began to head east.
Where do I go? he wondered.
Back to Riverrun? No. If Robb was dead or captured, the Blackfish would soon be under siege.
Back to the monastery? To tell the Teacher he had failed, and then leave again to find Arya?
And where was the Hound taking her? Sandor Clegane was no saint, but he wasn't his brother, Gregor. He had stolen Arya from the carnage, which meant he was likely looking for a buyer.
The Vale, Jon reasoned. Lysa Arryn. Catelyn's sister.
If he could reach the Vale, if he could see Arya safe with her aunt, perhaps he could finally let go. He was a bastard, a mercenary's student. With the Arryns, Arya would be a lady again. With him, she would be a fugitive's sister. But he had to see her. He had to let her know she wasn't alone.
The fastest route to the Vale was east along the Green Fork, then north toward the Kingsroad and the Moon Mountains.
Four days later, Jon passed a field of reeds. Dozens of bloated, water-logged corpses had been pushed ashore by the current.
Jon remembered his teacher's words: Never waste a resource. He tied his donkey to a tree and waded into the reeds, hoping to scavenge a knife or a few coins from the fallen.
A rustle in the stalks made him freeze.
"Jon Snow? What in the heavens are you doing here? You should be with the Master."
Jon turned, his eyes wide. It was Roger Hughes, a Sunwalker he had trained with. Roger had been one of the men who followed Kevin into the Brotherhood Without Banners.
"Ser Roger! Where is Kevin? Is he with you?"
Roger shook his head. "Kevin is with another cell. I haven't seen him since the moon turned. I'm with the Lightning Lord now. Beric Dondarrion."
Roger looked around to ensure they were alone, then lowered his voice. "Jon... did the Master give you a secret mission? If it's not for my ears, I can pretend I never saw you."
Jon offered a hollow laugh. "No. No secret mission. I left the Teacher without his leave to help my brother. But five days ago, at the Twins... the Freys and the Boltons turned on us. They slaughtered the King's host at the wedding. I fell into the river and only survived by the Grace of the Sun."
Roger's face went pale. "They murdered them at a wedding? The Guest Right... the gods will curse them for this."
"The gods are silent, Roger," Jon said, his voice hard. "But the Light sees everything."
70+ chapters are available now and daily updates! @patreon.com/zefyrus