Chapter 98 95

Lord Axel Arryn.

Recent enemies were surrendering en masse or scattering in every direction. Lord Gilwood Hunter and a handful of minor lords were pledging their loyalty to me right there on the battlefield, doing everything they could think of to earn my favor. Robert and I had a name for that kind of thing. By political necessity I was prepared to pardon them and spare them from reparations, but that did not mean they would walk away with clean hands. My newly loyal vassals were sent to run down the fleeing. It would bind them with blood and destroy any possibility of them forming a coalition against me later.

What had held the rebels together before was greed, strong and respected leaders, and a measure of mutual trust. All the strong figures capable of assuming command were dead, and the rest were not equal to it. The trust would be shattered the moment yesterday's ally put a sword in his neighbor's back to earn my goodwill. The greed would remain, only it would find a different outlet. That would show itself most clearly when the land was divided. The Tolletts had been wiped out. Gulltown, the Vale's chief port, was mine. A city of no small size had been left without masters. Everyone would try to grab a piece, but I already knew what I intended to do with the land.

While the former rebels hunted down their former allies, the rest of the army rested. For a full five days we did nothing but rest, heal, and gather strength for the final push. My gratitude to the guardsmen who had survived such ordeals alongside me ran deep. I personally oversaw their treatment. More often than not, the medical knowledge of Númenor was enough to see to their needs. Some required more involved work, operations performed on the spot, or the last scraps of my magic.

The people around me knew I had been seriously wounded, but they did not understand how seriously. Corbray's sword had done thorough work on my bones: a cut beginning at the left collarbone, running down through the sternum, and ending with the second and third ribs on the right side split apart. Ribs protect the organs, serve as anchoring points for the muscles, and help hold everything inside the body in its proper position. They have three distinct parts and each serves a purpose. The cartilaginous section had been cut, the part responsible for breathing. Look at it from any angle you liked, and by rights I should have been a dead man.

I had been treating myself, and Eyris had assisted without a word, obtaining the ingredients I needed, including freshly ground bone from a recently dead man. Herbalism combined with magic had allowed me to ease the strain and pressure on my body. Magic is not absolute. It cannot fully take over the work of the body, which meant that without treatment my energy expenditure was rising with each passing day. By my own reckoning I had perhaps one more day of active movement in me, and a week's worth of lying still. My medicines had allowed me to begin rebuilding the bone structure inside my body, but only after three full weeks of rest would I be completely healed.

And so, on the sixth day after the battle at four-Pass Valley, which was as good a name as the Westerosi were likely to come up with, once all the small matters had been settled, the executions of traitors, the rewards for those who had distinguished themselves, the care of the wounded, the united army of the Vale, five thousand swords in all, set out to put an end to the civil war and relieve the Royces against King Stannis Baratheon.

...

King Stannis Baratheon.

The middle of Steffon Baratheon and Cassana Estermont's three sons was not at peace. His entire life he had followed his duty, sacrificed much for the sake of the dynasty, and now, at last, when his hour had come, a portion of the lords had refused to support their king. Only the North, the Trident, and part of the Vale had kept their oaths. The plan had been simple, and in its simplicity reliable: bring the Vale to heel and, gathering all loyal men into a single fist, strike at King's Landing. The Vale was expected to be brought to submission within a month or two.

If you wish to make the gods laugh, tell them these plans. The incompetence of the loyalists and the foresight and ruthless countermeasures of the Falcon's Eye had stretched a small war into a grinding conflict that he was losing. And now he was forced to attack the Royce fortifications simply to avoid starving to death. The gods had a wretched sense of humor.

Standing alone, studying a detailed map of the terrain drawn in the field during the fighting itself, Stannis was desperately working through plans for escaping the trap. He had full confidence in the sharpness of his soldiers' swords and the sturdiness of their shields, but even the strongest man cannot fight on an empty stomach. The lack of food was already telling on the army. Worn down by relentless battle, hunger, and spreading rumors of a hopeless situation, they were losing their will to fight. There had been desertions. Those caught were hanged immediately, as a warning to the rest. The soldiers were made to understand that they would not get far, that the knights of the Vale would find them and execute them.

"Your Grace." Ser Preston, who oversaw the scouts, came hurrying into the tent. "The scouts have spotted an army marching under Arryn banners, moving directly toward us."

The question now is which of the Falcons is coming.

"What other banners are there?" A lord's vassals told you who was leading them.

"Royces, Redforts, Templetons, Melcolms, Hunters, the rest we could not identify." Bad. "Shall I have them look more closely at the banners?"

"No. That would be a pointless exercise. Axel Arryn is marching on us."

How did the Falcon's Eye get here? I have met the Blackfish and I know his capabilities. He would never have let Axel's army pass through to our rear, which means either he was outmaneuvered, which seems unlikely, or he was killed. I incline toward the second. Only that would explain how Arryn managed to gather this many men in such a short time. This is bad. We are caught between hammer and anvil. There is nowhere to retreat. We have no choice but to fight.

"How much time do we have?"

"At their current pace, roughly three hours." Acceptable.

"Ser Davos!" Five minutes later the former smuggler entered the tent. "We will have a battle against Axel Arryn in three hours. Rouse everyone who can stand. Distribute the remaining provisions. Let them at least eat before the fighting."

"As you command."

...

That day the soldiers marched with a particularly heavy step. Their desperate position was made worse by the coming battle against the Falcon's Eye's newly arrived army. They had been given what remained of the food, but that could barely blunt the edge of hunger that had built over the preceding days. None of the highborn knew hunger the way King Stannis understood it. Since Gulltown he had done everything he could to stretch the provisions, including cutting the soldiers' rations severely. It had only prolonged the agony.

The common soldiers, watching their enemy form up, felt a grim foreboding settle over them. Even seasoned veterans could sense the unpleasant air that had closed around the king's army. More unease came from the movement inside the Royce fortifications. It was a miserable thing to fight without any certainty that the Royce forces would not strike them in the rear. Stannis had divided his army into three parts: his best troops, four thousand men, he sent against Arryn; fifteen hundred watched the path out of the fortifications; and the remaining seven hundred served as both centre and reserve.

"I did not expect the words of the red priestess to come true." Stannis said it quietly, recalling the warnings of the priestess of R'hllor.

"Your Grace, that is ordinary charlatanism and manipulation of facts." Davos held no affection for the priestess and made no effort to hide it. "That we would come face to face with the Falcon's Eye in battle is an entirely predictable development."

"She spoke of a hammer and an anvil," Stannis said, his mind elsewhere.

"She also said, 'the Falcon will scorn death and rise stronger than he was before.'" Davos's attempt at mimicking Melisandre was not particularly convincing. "Your Grace, I have been to every western city in Essos. I know how these prophecies work." The Onion Knight had never forgiven the priestess for drawing his sons into her faith.

"We can debate that after the battle." The king had grown weary of the endless argument with his most loyal servant.

...

When the battle should have broken out, four riders separated from the army of the Vale. They rode under Arryn's banners and a white flag. Axel Arryn was requesting unscheduled talks. King Stannis found no reason to refuse.

"Ser Richard, Ser Justin, and Ser Davos, you will accompany me to the parley." Without waiting for their reply, Stannis spurred his horse and rode forward at an unhurried pace to meet with Arryn.

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