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Dragonlord Chapter 168: Giants and Islands P2
🕑 Added 2025-09-24 16:38:45 +0000 UTCBenjen took off the telescope and sighed. Keeping an eye on the Giants was becoming a tedious task. They moved around a lot, and their movements only heightened the anxiety among the brothers of the Night’s Watch. The ground trembled under every step made by the Giants, and from what he observed so far, they were settling in the Gift.
That was bound to create some tensions with the petty lords who were granted lands in the Gift. After all, they were hardly prepared to deal with the Giants, and the Children of the Forest roam around their lands.
For now, the Giants kept themselves close to the Wall and didn’t wander further inland.
Though he had sent a raven to Winterfell, no response came from his brother. He considered sending a raven to Avalon, but then he thought better of it. His nephew was already busy with matters of the southern kingdoms and had just got married. He didn’t feel like disturbing his nephew over something Winterfell should handle.
‘Besides, these Giants seem to be far docile compared to the ones that tried to attack the Shadow tower.’ Benjen mused while observing some of the Giants resting behind pine and weirwood trees.
The Children of the Forest were also camping near the Giants. The last he heard from his nephew, the Children were setting up their groves near Avalon and in the Wolfswood. He never imagined the Children would easily frolic among the Giants and somehow make them cross the Wall.
‘Well, it’s better than having the lot of them become wights of the Others.’ Benjen thought while scratching his chin.
A low horn suddenly sounded from one of the western watchtowers along the Wall, making Benjen turn away from the Giants.
“Don’t tell me there are more Giants coming from the north,” Benjen muttered while rushing towards the watchtower in haste.
“What is it?” He asked hurriedly once he arrived at the watchtower. “More Giants?”
“There are boats in the river carrying wildlings.” the watcher said.
Benjen took the mounted telescope and adjusted the lens to zoom in on the Gorge.
Below, shadowy figures crept across the river. Rowboats, crudely lashed together from driftwood, scraped through the current. He felt cold settle in the pit of his stomach as he realised exactly who was crossing the river, going by the human bones used as decorative ornaments by the wildlings.
The Ice River clan—gaunt, fur-clad figures daubed in paint and filth—paddled hard, teeth bared. They rowed the boats in a hurry, and he knew the danger the Watch and the people they protected would be in if the clan circles the Wall through the Gorge.
Benjen’s eyes narrowed. The clan were whispered of as cannibals, feasting on their dead and enemies alike. Their hunger was legendary, and their cruelty greater still. If they made it across, villages south of the Wall would suffer horrors untold.
He had to wonder whether this was a ploy by Mance Rayder to test the weaknesses of the Wall.
Benjen turned to the men under his command.
“Man, the scorpions and wait for my command. Sink the boats, and let the Gorge carry them to their graves. Then we ride down and cut down any who crawl ashore. No one passes the Wall on our watch.”
The rangers under his command assembled quickly, taking up their posts and standing steady against the cutting wind, black cloaks snapping behind them. Benjen observed the boats in the Gorge until they came near the bridge, which was within their bow range.
Benjen raised his hand in a silent command. Bows creaked as the archers strung their bows and stood at the ready.
“Now,” he said.
A volley of arrows hissed down into the mist. The first rowboat shattered into screams as shafts punched through hide and flesh. A man toppled backwards into the torrent, swallowed in an instant. Another clutched his throat, blood steaming against the icy spray.
The wildlings howled in fury. They paddled harder, some raising crude shields of bone and wood, while some tried to take their chances at swimming through the icy waters of the Gorge. Those who took their chances in the Gorge by abandoning their rowboats either met an icy death by getting crushed between blocks of ice or they fell with an arrow lodged in their bodies.
The archers on the Wall continued to rain arrows on the wildlings below while Benjen guided their aims with the magical telescope gifted by his nephew. The traction trebuchets mounted on the Wall launched barrels of oil into the river under Benjen’s orders. Inside the barrels were small pockets of Wildfire to ensure the explosive power upon ignition was sufficient to damage the enemy.
“Again.” Benjen shouted at the archers.
A new volley of arrows rained down on the wildlings. This time, the arrows were lit with fire. Nothing happened at first, so Benjen ordered another volley of fire arrows.
This time, one of the fire arrows found purchase as the white mist lit up with bright yellow. There was an explosive sound from below, and the wildlings screamed in terror as fire swept across the river.
One boat capsized, spilling its shrieking crew into the river. The current spun them away, faces vanishing beneath foam. A third boat cracked apart as a fire arrow struck tar-smeared planks, flames hissing where spray met oil.
Still, the wildings came. They refused to turn away.
Dozens of boats, desperate, frenzied, driven by some mad hunger.
“Brothers, with me,” he said, voice grim. “We finish this on the banks.”
The newly built windlasses atop the Wall allowed his rangers to be transported to the bottom quickly and in greater numbers. The entire system was constructed in Avalon under the watchful eyes of his nephew. He wouldn’t be surprised if magic were involved in the process. He wasn’t one to chase after answers for all questions. He was just happy that the newly installed windlass systems worked far better than the ones used at Castle Black.
Benjen led thirty of his black brothers against the wildlings, the best hunters and killers the Watch could afford to spare.
The iron gates guarding the tunnel through the Wall opened one by one, revealing the path leading to the bridge across the Gorge.
The Night’s Watch moved as one behind Benjen. Their boots crunched against ice-packed ground as they descended the switchback path down the Gorge’s southern face. Torches flared, steel glinted, and black cloaks streamed behind them as they ran into the storm of spray and snow.
At the shoreline, the half-burnt boats scraped against the rocks. Ice-river clansmen leapt ashore, snarling like wolves, bone knives clutched in pale hands. Their eyes shone with a wild hunger and madness, showing their ferocious intent despite the setbacks they faced.
“For the Watch!” Benjen shouted, unsheathing Frost from its scabbard.
Benjen’s sword—made by his nephew’s magic, dark as smoke—cleaved through the first wildling’s chest, splitting hide and rib alike. He took a step back, cutting down another who tried to spear a fellow ranger from the side. Blood spattered across the snow, steaming in the cold air.
To his right, Ser Wylk smashed a clansman down with his mace. The wildling fell into the rocks before finishing him with a crushing blow to the head. On the left, arrows sang as two rangers loosed into a press of foes, felling three wildlings in quick succession.
The wildlings fought with a terrible fury despite the initial setback.
Benjen saw a fellow brother of the Night’s Watch go down when a burly wildling tackled the man to the ground. To his horror, the wildling sank his teeth into the neck of his fellow ranger. A terrible scream came from the downed man, making Benjen surge with righteous fury. Benjen’s sword flashed, and the wildling’s head spun into the river spray.
More wildlings landed on the shore to battle. The Gorge became a chaos of steel and shrieks while the river turned red from the blood spilt.
The cannibals swarmed with reckless abandon, their numbers thinned by the river but still fearsome. One tore a ranger’s throat while another drove a bone dagger again and again into a ranger’s chest before Benjen’s blade cut him down. A bunch of wildling women tackled a ranger by throwing their bodies at him and started to bite hungrily into his arms and legs.
Rage flared in Benjen’s chest, seeing his friends being turned into snacks for the wildlings.
He spurred forward, cutting the butchers apart, black steel singing in his hand. The golden runes on Frost glowed as more blood he spilt on the riverside.
“Gather together! Leave none standing!” Benjen shouted.
In the chaos of the fight, the men under his command struggled to come together, but they did nonetheless. The rangers managed to pull their way through the snow that tried to drag them down under their own weight. As his rangers reorganised, they managed to beat back the wildlings to the river as best as they could.
But try as they might, they still could not scare away the wildlings.
“Persistent bastards! They want to die fighting!” Ser Wylk said while huffing and rubbing away the blood splattered on his face. “We should pull back.”
“Not yet. We can beat them back.” Benjen growled as he cut through a wildling from shoulder to the hip with Frost.
“There are more rowboats coming, and these mad bastards are trying to eat us! We have to pull back, Stark.” Ser Wylk yelled while smashing his mace into the side of a wildling before headbutting the enemy.
The rage clouding his mind dimmed, allowing Benjen to think clearly. Just as he accepted the fact that it was better to pull back, he froze.
An unholy roar echoed over the screams of the battlefield.
At first, they ignored it, but the wildlings and the brothers of the Night’s Watch stopped as they heard screeching and the sound of flapping wings. They looked up to see a raven emerging from the mist hanging in the air.
‘A raven?’ Benjen thought with disbelief before his eyes widened as the mist blocking the view of the sky parted as if a storm swept them aside.
“Yes!” Benjen screamed in delight as the golden dragon of his nephew emerged from the mist, its terrifying roar shaking the ground.
The dragon opened its jaws and breathed down golden flames across the length of the Gorge, all the way to the bridge.
Benjen and his fellow rangers watched the rowboats carrying wildlings blow apart, consumed by the intense heat of dragonfire. Hordes of wildlings simply turned into ash, consumed by golden flames. The dark waters of the Gorge boiled under the intense heat, leaving the wildlings who jumped into the water suffering a fate worse than those on the rowboats. Those wildlings in the Gorge boiled to death as the cold waters of the river heated up under the intense heat of dragonfire.
The ice blocks that once leisurely floated along the Gorge disappeared in the blink of an eye as the whole river near the bridge boiled. The screams of wildlings in the boiling water echoed over the howling winds.
The dragon circled back and breathed another long stream of fire along the banks, reducing the few wildlings that managed to escape from the boiling river. The brothers of the Night’s Watch howled in approval as their most hated enemy was wiped out in the blink of an eye.
The last few wildlings who were fighting the Watch were quickly put down with swords and spears in their throats and hearts. When the battle ended, there was silence, save for the thunder of the gushing Gorge.
The dragon landed with grace on the southern banks of the Gorge. The snow crumbled under its weight.
Benjen stood amidst the ruin, his breath harsh within his helm. He lowered his blade, its edge steaming in the cold.
“Tend to the wounded,” Benjen ordered. “Burn the dead. We leave no meat for the Others to turn into wights.”
“If there are any survivors?” Ser Wylk asked, nodding at the bodies that floated in the Gorge.
“Make sure there are no survivors.” Benjen said coldly.
“Aye, first Ranger.” Ser Wylk nodded with a grin, but not before casting a long look at Jon, who was dismounting from atop his dragon.
Benjen cast a brief glance at the old knight who had fought by Rhaegar’s side at the Trident. He wondered whether the crownlander knight saw Rhaegar in his nephew. He wouldn’t be surprised if rumours of such were widespread in the North and beyond. Thankfully, Harrion’s own dragon would question the credibility of most of these rumours.
The rangers obeyed. Torches were lit, and pyres were soon started to be built by his men while some dragged the bodies in the Gorge to the banks. The stench of burning flesh mingled with the scent of pine and snow.
He swept the blood clinging to Frost and secured it back on its scabbard.
“Jon.” Benjen greeted his nephew with a warm smile and pulled him into a hug.
“Uncle.” Jon greeted Benjen happily, patting Benjen’s shoulder.
“I’m surprised to see you here, but I’m glad you came.” Benjen said happily while Jon grinned.
“Did Eddard send you?” Benjen asked once he pulled back from the hug.
“Yes, he did.” Jon nodded while wrapping his cloak tighter around his body as the cold winds howled past them.
“I came to talk with the Children, but I saw the wildlings in the Gorge. So, I came to help.”
“How did you know the wildings were crossing the Gorge?” Benjen asked curiously.
“Ah, I scouted ahead by warging into the raven.” Jon said, pointing his thumb at the circling raven above their heads.
“It’s good that you’re here. Am I right in saying that more reinforcements are coming to the Wall?” Benjen asked.
“Indeed, uncle. Robb is leading a great host to Castle Black. He is already halfway there. And I just learned Harrion has also sent a substantial host by the Mountain road to support the western towers along the Wall.”
“Good. We’ll need them in the coming days. The Watch is stronger than it has ever been, but we’ve been besieged by a massive wildling army under Mance Rayder. We’ll need the strength of the Northern Houses to put the wildlings down for good.” Benjen said, tiredly rubbing his face.
“You look like you’ve had several sleepless nights, uncle.”
“Aye.” Benjen huffed. “Keeping our watch on the wildlings and guarding the Wall is our duty. But having Giants that shake the Wall when they walk keeps us wide awake at night and day.”
“I can see that it is an inconvenience to have the Giants so close to the Wall.” Jon said with a frown.
“Yes. Can you do anything about it?” Benjen said with a nod at the snowy battlefield littered with bodies of dead wildlings. “As you can see, we have enough problems on this side of the Wall.”
“I will try.” Jon said reluctantly.
Benjen stared northward, across the Gorge, where shadows moved in the mist. More clans would come to test the defences of the Wall. More boats would likely test the river. The Wall stood, but winter pressed hard against it, relentless.
The flames roared, and the Gorge swallowed the dead. For now, victory was theirs, but the war was not decided by a single battle.
Benjen set his eyes on the massive dragon lounging on the snow.
‘I guess the war might be over sooner than I thought.’ Benjen mused.
******
Harry was reading through one of the tomes he liberated from Valyria about dragons and some of the recorded conflicts between dragonlords. The news of Daenerys Targaryen hatching dragons made him read the tome, which was collecting dust in his private collection.
Of course, those baby dragons of Daenerys did not pose a threat, but there were greater forces at play. The presence of a shadow binder from Asshai, who also happened to be a Red Priestess beside the last Targaryen, made him take the dragons a little more seriously.
If he wanted, he could take his airship now and remove the threat altogether, but he was curious to see whether Daenerys Stormborn could prove to be a headache for Stannis and Aegon.
Though he was confident he could take out any threat with his magic, he was curious to see whether Valyrian dragons had any weaknesses to conventional weapons. It was merely a curiosity, and lo and behold, he came across an interesting snippet about a battle between two dragonlords over a woman. It was in the form of a poem, but it was the only recorded battle between two dragonlords ever mentioned in the tomes he collected from Valyria.
But fate is cruel, the gods unseen.
From the shadowed keep, a bow was drawn.
A shaft of steel, kissed by sorcery,
Found the eye of Vaelor’s drake.
The emerald drake gave one last scream,
And fell—a comet wrapped in fire.
“A shaft of steel kissed by sorcery – valyrian steel.” Harry muttered thoughtfully before chuckling. “Of course, that’s one of the reasons why the Freehold restricted the sale of Valyrian steel outside their lands.”
He felt embarrassed to get this piece of information from a poem about two dragonlords fighting over a woman they both loved.
Harry felt silly now for not seeing this sooner. It was the most logical thing to do.
Undoubtedly, enchanted steel retained properties that would help it cut through dragon scales. It made him cautious as well because Winter and Sundancer would be vulnerable to arrows or bolts made of valyrian steel.
A knock on the door to his study made him look up from his musings.
“Come in.”
Elsera Snow walked in with a roll of parchment in her hand, her eyes shining with delight.
“A raven came bearing word from Captain Nimpton. Fair Isle has fallen, and Lord Farman has bent his knee without a fight.” Elsera said promptly.
“Well, it was far quicker than I thought.” Harry said with genuine surprise. “I guess that speeds up the plans for Lannisport.”
“Shall I give the order for the airships to prepare, my prince?” Elsera asked eagerly.
Harry drummed his fingers and pondered what to do.
“All right. Let’s prepare the airships.” he finally said.
Harry waved off Elsera from his study while his thoughts went elsewhere. With his plans for the Westerlands accelerating at a brisk pace, he needed certain things to be settled in Avalon.
After all, severing two kingdoms from the yoke of the Iron Throne required his personal attention.
Comments
Codayoda
Could he just make a single quiver of the Valyrian steel arrows. Key them to his blood. And enchant the arrows to return to the quiver after they hit something?
