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Chapter 421
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:52:08 +0000 UTCAlthough many in the Night's Watch criticized the new Lord Commander’s methods and political leanings, Dennis Mallister had to admit: Aegor’s title of “White Walker Slayer” ought to be changed to “White Walker Bane.”
It was as though he truly anticipated every move the enemy might make.
For centuries, the Night’s Watch focused their defenses entirely on the Wall, yet Aegor insisted on carving mountain paths south of the Gorge to establish a new defensive line. Sure enough, the enemy eventually crossed the Gorge to attack.
Tradition dictated that Night’s Watch fortresses remain unwalled to demonstrate their lack of ambition toward the Seven Kingdoms. Yet Aegor ordered all fortresses to prepare for defense without the Wall. As predicted, the White Walkers bypassed the Wall entirely.
A year ago, when Aegor accepted the wildlings, nearly half the Watch rebelled against the idea. But after taking command, Aegor doubled down, continuing his policies from Eastwatch without compromise. In time, he proved them wrong: he could feed the New Gift's population and even turn them into a vital wartime resource.
While Dennis entertained doubts, reason told him that Aegor hadn’t foreseen every move the enemy made. Instead, Aegor had accounted for every strategy they could take, devised responses, and ensured everyone was informed of the plan.
Now Dennis admitted that even with all his caution, he couldn’t have done better. To serve such a brilliant and decisive Lord Commander in his twilight years was a privilege—one he embraced wholeheartedly, even gratefully.
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Everything was laid out in the defensive plans. Dennis needed only to follow them faithfully. The Shadow Tower’s priority was to cover the eastern quarter of the Gorge. As soon as the beacon was lit, the fortress gates opened. Under strict order, the eastern passage admitted Gift dwellers into safety, while the western passage sent reserves with supplies to reinforce the front line.
Over 400 reserves departed the Shadow Tower toward the Gorge, advancing until they met reinforcements from Gorge Watch. Since the entire Gorge was under attack, these reserves were not designated for any single point. Instead, at each embattled position, they left half a squad, a crate of wildfire, and bundles of arrows. Though modest in scale, this support had an outsized impact on morale.
The eastern defenders, no braver or better trained than those in the west, fought harder because they knew they wouldn’t be abandoned. On average, they inflicted greater losses on the undead horde.
When news arrived that the west had fallen, the commanders agreed there was no point in holding the line further. The reserves began a strategic withdrawal, with most of the defenders successfully retreating to the Shadow Tower. Only the westernmost outpost, Westbridge Watch, was abandoned entirely.
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Within the Shadow Tower, the defenders braced for the enemy’s next move. By midnight, the undead appeared.
The advancing horde was unmistakable against the snowy plains. Even the muffling snow couldn’t drown out the thunderous march of tens of thousands of undead. The first sign was the rumble of footsteps. Then, like ink spilling across white parchment, the horde poured from the western mountains, surrounding the Shadow Tower on all visible sides.
No one could estimate the numbers—a tide of corpses stretched to the horizon, blending into the dark mountains and forests. The defenders described it simply: an endless sea of death.
The horde didn’t attack immediately. Instead, it surrounded the tower, isolating it before launching a full-scale assault.
If defending the Gorge was like holding back a tide with a dam, then the Shadow Tower was a lone rock battered by waves. The undead assaulted from over 270 degrees, directed by a dozen White Walkers with merciless efficiency. Horns blared, signals flared, and ravens flew to spread the alarm across the Wall.
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"Light it up! Burn them all!"
The Shadow Tower, with its stone walls and long-prepared defenses, was far better equipped than the hastily built Gorge line. The outer perimeter was cleared of snow, studded with dragonglass spikes, and protected by trenches filled with pitch.
When the undead entered the kill zone, Dennis gave the order. Flaming arrows and wildfire rained down, igniting the trenches in seconds. Green flames roared high, illuminating the night.
But the fire only slowed the undead. They surged forward, unheeding of pain or death, bodies fueling the flames. Soon, they reached the walls. The defenders poured wildfire over the climbing corpses, turning them into living torches.
The undead piled on top of one another, building mountains of bodies. Dragonglass arrows felled them, but each kill only added to the pile. As the corpse-mountains grew, the defenders prepared their final weapon: barrels of hardened wildfire.
Green fire erupted, consuming the undead in waves of intense heat. The corpse-mountains shrank, but still, the undead came.
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Dennis barked orders, rallying his men. Supplies were moved inward to prevent damage from the fire, and reinforcements worked tirelessly to fortify the gates. Despite their age and exhaustion, the defenders fought on.
Then came a thunderous crash. The gates shuddered as something massive struck them. From the walls, the defenders cried out in terror:
"Mammoths!"
"Giants!"
Panic spread, but Dennis roared over the chaos, commanding his men to hold their ground. The gates shook again, the enemy's strength testing the Shadow Tower's resolve.
