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Chapter 415
🕑 Added 2025-01-29 12:50:12 +0000 UTCThe wind howled, a sound like the wailing of infants. Along the entire length of the Great Canyon, aside from the rush of frigid air, the only other sounds were the occasional murmurs of soldiers on night watch along the defensive line, and the crackling of firewood before the tents behind them.
It was a long-missed quiet.
The wights' nightly harassments, which had persisted for weeks, had stopped two days prior. Not because they were ineffective, but because, as the forest was cleared—the weirwoods destroyed by the wights and the other trees burned by the defenders with wildfire—the forest’s concealment had become increasingly weak. The entire Great Canyon, the northern slope and the lower reaches of the southern slope, had been completely cleared of weirwoods, root and branch. The banks of the Milkwater were now bare, with only a sparse scattering of weirwoods surviving close to the Night’s Watch road.
This last batch of weirwoods, offering almost no resistance to the penetration of the power of the cold gods, were so close that they were practically pressed against the defenders’ chins, to a degree that not even the thickest night could protect them. To preemptively uproot and destroy them would require sacrificing hundreds, even thousands, of wights.
Controlling the dead was simple, but it still required magic. Not to mention—while the means of resurrecting corpses were terrifying to the living, they had an insurmountable flaw: no matter how skilled the necromancy, it could not conjure soldiers out of thin air. If the Others led their army of the dead without major victories, their numbers would only dwindle, unable to replenish themselves like the living, who could reproduce and receive reinforcements.
To send more wights to chop wood at night, right under the noses of heavily guarded human defenders, for these last few weirwoods, was not only cost-ineffective, but also a waste of troops.
The exhaled breath formed white mist in the air, condensing on eyebrows and beards into a thin frost that, with a touch, fell in flakes. Slim wrapped himself tighter in his blanket, and wiggled all nineteen fingers and toes on his arms and legs.
The allowance for soldiers guarding the Canyon was one and a half times that of those guarding the fortresses, and the food supply was generous with meat and wine. Initially, many were delighted to be selected for the Great Canyon, but after some time, they realized how truly difficult it was to guard this place.
With the continuous improvement of the Night's Watch's logistical supplies, the soldiers were now generally equipped with warm gear. However, the weather was simply too cold, and the defenders at the front lines of the Great Canyon had no walls to block the wind. When the air moved, the temperature dropped so low that one almost couldn't feel their own body, as if only by moving occasionally could they avoid repeating the mistake of losing toes to frostbite.
Just hold on a little longer! Slim silently recited in his heart—in less than an hour, his shift would end, and he could return to the windbreak tent built into the rock recess behind him, take off his armor, and snuggle into his bed for a good sleep.
As he daydreamed of a good sleep, another soldier a few meters away let out a low gasp. Slim turned his head to look, and noticed that the western sky was slightly brighter. For a moment, he almost thought that day and night had reversed, and the sun was rising from the wrong direction. Two seconds later, he realized: no, those were the beacons of Icecanyon Port, the westernmost port fortress of the defense line was under attack!
Icecanyon Port lay on the coast southwest of the mouth of the Milkwater. The Bay of Ice was not frozen. Had the army of the dead bypassed the defenses and swam to attack there? Slim was puzzled, but what troubled him more was: with the beacons of Icecanyon Port lit, what should he do?
The Great Canyon’s defense plan had long been verbally communicated to every soldier by the lowest-ranking officers, and after several drills, it was deeply ingrained in everyone’s mind. Everyone knew that no matter which point along the Great Canyon was attacked, the night watch defenders had to light the beacons after confirming it was not a feint. If the commanders of Icecanyon Port, Canyon Watch, and the Shadow Tower deemed it necessary, they would send out reserves from the two fortresses to support the point under attack.
But the plan did not say how the defenders along the Great Canyon should react when the beacons were lit at Icecanyon Port!
A slight disturbance, like a wave, spread instantly from west to east across the entire Canyon defense line, waking many soldiers who had already finished their shifts and were supposed to be resting. But the defenders at each point ultimately adhered strictly to the established plan, and did not deviate from their posts or take unauthorized actions. The commander of Canyon Watch also quickly dispatched men to run along the entire Canyon, repeating the command that "everything is to be done according to the plan". The command center believed that Icecanyon Port was capable enough to solve its own…problems. Conversely, if even a thousand defenders couldn’t handle the problem, no matter how troops were drawn from the Canyon for support, it would be impossible to both send reinforcements and maintain the integrity of the defense line.
The messenger’s order reassured Slim. He turned back, stopped looking at the western beacon, and refocused on the dark bottom of the Canyon. A sudden, stronger gust of cold wind blew, and a small, wet, icy object fell on his nose. He looked up at the sky, unsurprised to find that it was snowing again.
The good news was that the increased brightness from the snow would make reconnaissance and sentry duty easier. The bad news was that the snow accumulating on the defensive mountain path would have to be cleared by daylight, and within the Night's Watch, there was no separate "cleaning" department responsible for this. It had to be handled by the defenders of each section themselves.
Sigh, another busy day tomorrow.
Slim sighed. The hot air he exhaled formed a cloud of white mist much larger than that from his nose, and then, the horn abruptly sounded.
Whoooooooo—
The horn echoed back and forth in the Canyon, spreading across the entire line, gradually becoming faint and distant, yet undeniably real. The Night's Watch had abandoned the distinction of one, two, or three blasts of the horn, especially along the Canyon. The defenders here would never descend to the bottom of the Canyon to patrol, which meant—if the horn sounded, there was only one possibility.
Enemy attack!
He quickly looked in both directions to make sure that the adjacent defensive sections hadn't lit their beacons. The Shadow Tower, as the supreme command post of the western line, had long divided the Canyon defense line into nearly a hundred sections according to length and terrain. Depending on the terrain's difficulty, each section was guarded by a team of twenty to fifty men, with the midpoint temporary fortress, "Canyon Watch," having slightly more. According to the plan—if the adjacent defensive section was attacked, the neighboring sections were obligated, while ensuring their own defense areas were secure, to send help to support the attacked section's defenders until the reserves arrived.
Although it was a panicked glance, the target was found immediately: good, the place where the beacon was lit was several miles away, it couldn't be the adjacent defensive section!
Hurried footsteps came from behind. Several of the fastest-reacting soldiers from his team had already put on clothes to ensure they wouldn't freeze and rushed out of the tent, charging towards the cliff edge under the leadership of their captain.
"What's the situation?"
"At least three miles east, not our adjacent section!" Slim reported loudly.
"I asked 'what's the situation', not 'where's the attack'! Why are you happily telling me it's not the adjacent section?" the squad commander sharply reprimanded. "When you hear the horn, the first thing you need to do is confirm that our own defensive section is not under attack, and only then judge whether other places need support, understand?"
"Yes…sir!" Even though he had been diligently on night watch, not even dozing off, he was scolded out of the blue. Slim felt a bit wronged, but military law was strict. He didn't dare to talk back to his superior, so he obediently replied and, as trained, took a burning torch from the nearby fire pit rack and threw it forcefully into the Canyon.
Part of the reason the captain scolded the young night watchman was anger at his failure to respond to the horn according to training, but more so it was because he was annoyed by the hint of schadenfreude in the young man’s statement that "it's not our adjacent section". He had intended to give him a lecture.
However, as the torch pierced the darkness and fell into the deep Canyon, the faint light, reflected by the snow, slightly illuminated an area of a dozen meters. A scene that even he, the captain, hadn't anticipated came into their view: on the frozen Milkwater at the bottom of the Canyon, a flood-like black shadow was surging across the north-south dividing line, towards the southern slope where the defense line was located. The echoing, mournful sound of the horn to some extent actually masked the sounds they made, so that none of the several soldiers on night watch noticed it immediately.
The torch fell into the black tide, instantly disappearing as if sinking into water. Even the squad leader, who considered himself a veteran, almost wet himself in fear.
"Lord of Light…" The squad commander gasped for a moment, then immediately reacted: "Slim, go light the beacon immediately! Nahat, take your brothers and get the wildfire uncrated and moved out! Gwen, go wake up everyone still lingering in the tent, and then bring all the dragonglass weapons. Lads, this is no joke this time!"
The entire section's soldiers were called up. Crates upon crates of combat supplies were unpacked from their moisture-proof and explosion-proof packaging and moved to the edge of the cliff. The defensive battle began instantly. Clusters of green flames quickly burst among the front ranks of the corpse tide that had begun to climb the cliff, and dragonglass arrows rained down as if they were free. Although the enemy’s attack was frightening, on the bright side—at least the defenders didn't have to worry about wasting combat supplies like they did during the last false alarm.
The beacon was quickly lit, but they soon discovered that no one could expect help from the soldiers of the neighboring sections.
One after another, beacon towers were lit. Of the more than ninety defensive sections along the Canyon, more than eighty were simultaneously attacked by wights. The worst-case scenario in the plan had occurred: the enemy was not attacking at a single point, but along the entire line!
