Chapter 7: Desertion?
The last remaining horse collapsed. Though it still drew breath, it could no longer find the strength to stand.
Egger cast a glance toward the south, then looked back the way they had come, and slumped onto the ground.
...
Ten days had passed since that terrifying night with the White Walkers. They had been fleeing for ten days and ten nights straight. In that time, their total sleep added up to less than twenty-four hours. At this moment, exhausted in both body and soul, Egger wanted nothing more than to fall face-first into the dirt and never get up again.
Fortunately, they were only a few leagues from their destination. No matter how much they dragged their feet, they would surely sleep south of the Wall tonight, in safety.
The flight had been anything but smooth. Though they had escaped the White Walkers, they quickly ran into a logistical nightmare: the supplies for a beyond-the-Wall patrol are distributed among the four men. Ser Waymar Royce, as the commander riding a warhorse, naturally carried the lightest but most precious cargo—dried meat and shredded jerky. Egger's horse carried the blankets and spare clothing; Gared carried the bread; and Will held the oats for the horses.
If you had to choose two of those packs to lose while fleeing with the other two, what would you pick?
The answer didn't matter, because Egger and Gared hadn't been given a choice. Will's horse had been killed by the White Walkers, and Waymar's had bolted in terror. The two survivors were left with only half the food and warmth they needed. The problem surfaced quickly: "fodder" and "rations" go hand-in-hand. While a wild horse can survive on grass alone, the Watch's mounts were pack animals. To maintain their stamina, the fats and proteins found in oats were indispensable. With the grain lost, and the men unwilling to feed their meager bread to the beasts, Gared's horse broke down after two or three days of grazing. Egger's mount fared only slightly better—Egger suspected this was simply because he weighed less than the veteran.
They had paused briefly when the first horse fell, making a swift and grim decision. They slaughtered the animal for its meat and allocated all the remaining bread as fodder for the lone survivor. Piling the weapons, food, and blankets—dozens of pounds of gear—onto the horse's back, they continued south on foot. Thus, the three survivors—two men and a horse—fled for several more days, the men eating horsemeat and the horse eating bread. Having fed the animal the very last loaf, they finally neared the Wall.
Gared sighed, pulled the gear off the horse's back, tossed it aside, and drew his steel sword.
Leaning against a tree for a momentary reprieve, Egger looked at him in confusion. "What are you doing?"
"Killing the horse."
"Killing it?" Egger found the idea absurd. "It accompanied us all this way. It's worked hard even if there's no glory in it. We're almost home and you're going to play the executioner? We're half a day from the Wall. I could crawl back on an empty stomach, and it's not like we've run out of horsemeat yet."
"Hmph." The veteran let out a disdainful snort. "You actually plan on going back to Castle Black?"
"What do you mean?" Thinking required energy Egger didn't want to waste. "Where else would I go?"
"I'm going to cross the Wall and head south to find a place to hide." Gared stared at Egger. "At the westernmost end of the Wall, there is a great gorge—a natural chasm that cuts through the Frostfangs. Because of it, the original builders thought no fortification was needed there. They only built a single strong tower on the south side and stretched a chain bridge across. It's called Westwatch-by-the-Bridge. We all know the Watch has nineteen castles along the Wall, but this is the only one that doesn't actually lean against the Wall itself..."
Desertion? Egger's heart skipped a beat. He had been pondering escape for a long time. "So, we can bypass the Wall and head south via that bridge? Surely Commander Mormont wouldn't leave such a massive loophole."
"Of course not. The Bridge of Skulls is blocked, and the Shadow Tower keeps men at Westwatch to prevent wildlings from scaling the gorge. We'd have to traverse the gorge itself—descend to the bottom and climb back up the southern face. There's almost no path; it's dangerous and grueling. A supply train could never make it, but for two men traveling light, there's a good chance of crossing."
"And after we bypass the Wall? What's the plan then?"
"There isn't one," the veteran shook his head. "We take it as it comes."
"Then forget it. You know what happens to deserters." Egger shook his head. "The White Walkers are terrifying, but there are ways to deal with them. As long as we hunker down behind the Wall and rely on—"
"You don't know a damn thing," the veteran interrupted. "Waymar Royce is dead. He was a noble!"
"We didn't kill him."
"We didn't kill him, but in the eyes of some, it's no different than if we had!" Gared said bitterly. "Subordinates are supposed to protect their officers. Now the officer is dead and we come crawling back with some story... its credibility will be shredded. White Walkers? Bloody White Walkers! If young Waymar were alive to tell it, that would be one thing. But with only us two going back, those bastards won't believe a word of it!"
"What would they do to us?" Egger frowned. He had been so focused on survival that he hadn't considered the aftermath.
"What would they do?" Gared laughed coldly. "Even if we bring word of the White Walkers back to Castle Black, whether we are treated as deserters depends on a single word from the top. If we're going to be treated like deserters anyway, why not actually desert?"
Egger went silent for a moment. "The Watch is so short-handed, and we are Rangers," he said tentatively. "Surely Commander Mormont wouldn't just take our heads."
"Commander Mormont might not want to, but that Royce boy's family will demand an answer!" Gared said with hatred. "The Royces were kings in the Vale once. They are an ancient First Men house with thousands of years of history. Even after being subdued, they remain the most powerful vassals to House Arryn. Even the Starks have to be polite to them. That boy's father sent his son here and generously provided a massive shipment of supplies to the Watch. If a Great Lord like that wants someone to blame for his son's death, do you think Mormont will protect us?"
Because the rulers of the Vale did not participate in the War of the Five Kings in the original story, many people might not remember the Royces clearly. But if you were told that the Vale knights Sansa brought to Winterfell during the Battle of the Bastards—the ones who helped Jon Snow defeat Ramsay Bolton—were all commanded by Waymar's father, Yohn Royce, and half of them were provided directly by House Royce, you would understand the weight of that name.
Egger didn't know if Gared was being alarmist. Despite having been here for nearly a year, coming from a world of equality meant he didn't truly grasp the influence of a Great Lord. But he knew one thing: even if those Great Houses were toys in the hands of Littlefinger or Varys, crushing a common soldier of the Night's Watch would be as easy as stepping on a bug.
No wonder the survivor of the trio deserted in the original story.
The problem now was: the survivor who crossed the Wall ended up dead under Eddard Stark's sword. Egger didn't think a transmigrator who didn't know the roads or the people would fare any better by joining a runaway's party. Should he return to Castle Black or try to circle south through the Frostfangs? To put it more abstractly: should he leave his fate in the hands of the Night's Watch, or take it into his own?
"Even if the Lord Commander doesn't take our heads, we'll be on the blacklist. The next time there's a dangerous or suicidal mission, we'll be the first choice," Gared continued, adding another persuasive reason to flee. "Think about it: Benjen Stark will definitely lead a group north to find out if the White Walkers are real. If we still have our heads, we'll be the scouts and the cannon fodder, no question. I've been on the Wall forty years; I know these officers' minds. They don't even have to squat for me to know what they're about to drop."
Egger had no rebuttal. He sighed. At least Gared was right about one thing: in the original plot, Benjen Stark did go north to find Waymar and disappeared during the search. Even if Egger survived that, there would be the Great Range led by Mormont to find Benjen; then the wildling invasion, then the Siege of the Wall... He was just an ordinary guy who had recently learned the basics of swordplay and riding. Who could guarantee he'd survive round after round of crises?
He didn't have time for long-term planning. He had to leave the Watch. There was no time like the present. Maybe he should just run with Gared.
It was just a shame about the horse he had grown used to—the animal that had faced death with him and escaped the White Walkers, only to end up as rations for a deserter's journey.
Just as he steeled himself to make the decision, the exhausted horse on the ground began to whinny uneasily. It struggled to stand, as if sensing Gared's intent. The veteran flourished his sword, preparing for a quick kill. He was about to strike when his expression suddenly shifted. He hesitated. "What's that sound?"
"Don't scare me." The hair on Egger's neck stood up. He shut his mouth immediately as Gared signaled for silence. The two men—one standing, one sitting—remained motionless, letting their senses soak in the environment.
The howling wind and the rustling leaves formed the background noise of the world. Beyond that, there was only their breathing and the horse's nervous snorting. But gradually, a rhythmic thudding began to emerge from the background... moving from a faint trick of the ear to a distinct, audible sound. Thump-tap, thump-tap. A rhythmic cadence, clearly approaching them.
It was the sound of hooves treading on thin snow. Having heard it for ten days, neither man could mistake it. But the horse that had fled with them was currently collapsed on the ground. Where were the hoofbeats coming from?
Was it Waymar's horse, finally catching up? Or was it...
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