Chapter 20 – The First Appearance of the Others (I)
The group hurried to Jon's side.
Hanging from the surrounding trees were the corpses of several children, arranged in a crude circle. In the clearing at the center, severed limbs had been laid out to form a strange symbol—its meaning impossible to discern. Scattered around the site lay more than a dozen intact bodies, each riddled with wounds.
The scene was so grotesque that a chill crawled up everyone's spine.
"Are wildlings really this brutal?" Gendry muttered. "Or do they… enjoy torturing corpses?"
"No," Qhorin Halfhand said grimly. "Not like this. From what I know of the free folk, they don't do this. Killing someone takes only a few strikes—no one wastes time hacking a body to pieces for no reason. Wildlings may fight without discipline, but they don't slaughter like this."
Saelen lifted the torn clothing of one corpse with the tip of his sword, frowning.
"There are bite marks and claw wounds here. Human teeth. Human hands."
"These bodies are pale—snow white," Jon added quietly. "And their eyes… they're all blue."
Saelen's suspicions crystallized in that instant.
They've already been turned.
He was about to warn the others when a ranger cried out in shock.
"Loren—this is Loren Rivers! One of Benjen Stark's men!"
The ranger crouched down to examine the body—
—and the corpse suddenly sat upright.
Its right hand shot out, clamping around the ranger's throat. In its left hand was a sword, which it drove again and again into the man's chest—five, six savage thrusts. The ranger's body twitched briefly… then went still.
Before anyone could react, the corpse sliced off the man's head and flung it toward the group.
It let out a shrill, grinding howl, like steel scraping against stone.
For a heartbeat, the clearing was frozen in horror.
Then panic exploded.
"Stay away from the bodies!" Saelen roared, reacting first.
"Robb—behind you!"
He hurled his sword with terrifying force. The blade pierced straight through a charging wight and pinned it to the ground.
Jon intercepted another with a desperate block, sparks flying as blades collided.
Robb thrust his sword straight through a third wight's chest—
—but it didn't slow.
Ignoring the blade impaling it, the creature raised its weapon and attacked Robb and Jon with berserk fury. Facing an enemy that felt no pain and feared no death, the two could do nothing but fall back, desperately defending, step by step.
The dead had risen.
And the Others had finally revealed themselves.
The brief lull shattered completely.
All the corpses in the clearing rose at once.
Limbs twisted. Bones cracked. Dead flesh scraped against frozen ground as the bodies clawed their way upright, blue eyes blazing with murderous hunger. The wights surged forward, attacking every living soul in sight.
Steel rang out as the men fought back—but panic spread almost instantly.
"Gods above! These monsters won't die!"
A scream tore through the chaos.
It was another ranger—Erett.
He had already cut down several wights, yet each one simply rose again and came at him anew. Exhaustion slowed his arms. Before he could recover, a wight stabbed him straight through from behind. He collapsed to his knees as more wights swarmed him, blades plunging again and again into his body.
His screams were mercifully brief.
"Gendry!"
Saelen knew ordinary steel was useless. He sprinted toward Gendry and seized Ice as it was thrust into his hands. Gripping the Valyrian greatsword with both hands, he spun and swept it in a wide arc—
The pursuing wight was severed cleanly at the waist.
The upper half tumbled to the ground, unmoving at last.
"Normal weapons can't kill them!" Saelen shouted.
"Form up—tight formation! Take their heads and limbs!"
At his command, Robb, Jon, and the others quickly regrouped into a defensive circle. Ser Rodrik stood at the center, wounded. Earlier, he had been dragged down by several wights and struck again and again—saved only by Robb and Jon fighting like demons to pull him free.
Though his mail and plate had spared him grave injury, the sheer force of the blows left him dizzy and gasping. These creatures were fast—and monstrously strong.
I'm old, Rodrik thought grimly. Too old for this.
Theon stood beside him, loosing arrows into the mass outside the ring. The shafts didn't kill, but they slowed the wights enough to buy precious seconds.
Seeing the line stabilize, Saelen grabbed Gendry by the shoulder.
"Get the cavalry here—now! Tell Tarly to distribute the dragonglass weapons!"
These weapons had been prepared long ago, but Saelen had never expected to use them so soon. They had barely passed beyond the Wall—
Has the Far North already fallen this far?
Where were the tens of thousands of wildlings?
Had they already been turned?
"Yes, my lord—hold on!" Gendry shouted, sprinting off into the storm.
A wight charged Saelen, howling, axe raised.
Saelen centered himself and swung Ice in a brutal horizontal cut. The blade tore open the creature's abdomen. Its frozen organs spilled out—solid as stone, no blood flowing.
This thing had been dead for a long time.
Valyrian steel truly was the bane of the dead.
Confidence surged through Saelen. He plunged into the wight horde, Ice flashing left and right. Within moments, six—seven wights lay destroyed at his feet.
Then Loren Rivers came for him.
The former ranger had been large even in life. As a wight, his strength was terrifying. He smashed straight through Robb's formation, scattering the line.
Saelen intercepted him.
The wight reared back, blue eyes blazing, and brought its sword down in a savage overhead strike.
Saelen didn't dodge.
Steel met steel with a thunderous crash.
The impact numbed Saelen's arms and drove him back several steps—but he held. The wight swung again, slashing at his waist.
Saelen blocked once more.
Snap.
The wight's blade shattered.
In the same motion, Saelen stepped inside its guard and decapitated it with a single, merciless stroke.
Elsewhere, Qhorin Halfhand fought with brutal efficiency. He dodged a blow, spun, severed a wight's sword arm—then its head. The headless body staggered, still clawing.
Suddenly, a torso-only wight lunged from the ground and clamped its teeth into Qhorin's left arm.
Qhorin cried out.
Another wight tackled him, pinning him to the ground. An axe rose overhead.
Qhorin turned his face aside and closed his eyes.
So this is how it ends.
A blade flashed.
The axe-wielding wight's skull split in two. Its body collapsed onto Qhorin as Saelen drove Ice through the second wight, freeing his arm.
Qhorin opened his eyes.
Saelen stood over him, smiling, one hand extended.
Qhorin grasped it with his remaining hand and was hauled to his feet.
"Thank you," Qhorin said hoarsely. "I owe you my life."