3 The Westerlands

Spring had come after a year of winter and I was eleven years old aboard the Wind Vein. The Wind Vein was Harle's ship, a lovely thing with a bull of oak and a Weirwood carved bear head in its prow. Harle's men were rowing and their painted shields lined the ships sides displaying the black bear on a green field of house Mormont. The chanted as they rowed, reciting the tale of Theon Stark the Hungry Wolf and how he sailed to Andalos and kept the North free of the Andal invasion.

It was a good tale and it's rhythm brought us up the Red Fork which was connected to the Trident and lead into the Westerlands. We were going West, against the current, but the journey was easy, the ride placid and the sun warm. Some men rode horses keeping pace with us on the southern bank while behind us was a fleet of ships and Wind Vein was the spear tip. This was the host of Beorn Break-Bone, the Lord Umber, thousands of Northern Raiders going to war. All the Riverlands belonged to them and the Stormlands grudgingly accepted their rule and now they mean to take the Westerlands.

The Westerlands, while not as rich in grain and men as the Reach, was very wealthy in gold as they mined gold in the many mines such as Casterly Rock and Castamere. The Red Fork river ran into the mountainous regions of the Westerlands and it is the easiest way to enter the region as if you marched an entire army you would have to pass the Golden Tooth. The river was not deep but Harle boasted the Wind Vein could float on a puddle and it was almost true.

From a distance it looked long, slender and knife like but once you were aboard you could tell how the sides sprung out so it sat on the water instead of cutting through it and even laden with forty men, their armour weapons and shields it needed very little depth. Once in a while her bottom would scrape on gravel but by staying on the outside of the rivers sweeping ends we were able to stay in sufficient water. That's why the mast had been lowered so on the outside of the rivers turns we could pass under overhanging trees without becoming entangled.

Jory and I sat in the prow with Rollen and it was our job to describe everything we saw, which was very little other than flowered, reeds, trees and the occasional bird. Swallows had returned from their winter sleep and flew over the river while crows pecked at the carcass of a hare. Sometimes we'd pass a riverside settlement of wood and thatch but the people and their livestock had already ran away. "The Westermen are frightened of us." Rollen said. He lifted his white blind eyes to on oncoming air. "They are right to be frightened of us, we are warriors." Rollen said. "They have warriors too." I said remembering the ancient tales of the Lannister Kings of the Rock but Rollen just laughed.

"One in three may be a warrior, sometimes not even that many. But I'm our army every man is a fighter. The North is a harsh place and it makes hard men, every one on these ships has faced winter, they are warriors in the south however your winters are short and practically just more autumn, that does not make strong men." He said to me and I nodded even though he could not see it. "Wolves hunting sheep." I muttered to myself and Rollen laughed. "You do listen boy!"

Watch and learn my father had told me, and I was learning for what else could I do. So I learnt, one in three men were warriors, beware the shadow walkers and the sword wraiths, watch the cut beneath the shield, a river can be an armies road to kingdoms heart. Watch and learn.

"And they have a weak king. Lambert Lannister, King if the Rock and he had no stomach for a fight." Rollen said as his empty eyes stared off into the distance. "He won't fight?" I asked. "Oh he'll fight because we'll force him to fight, and he'll call on his friends in the Reach but in his weak heart he knows he cannot win." He told me. "How do you know all this?" Jory asked and Rollen smiled. "Oh you summer child, our men have been to Mercia trading pelts and amber for steel and food, they talk and they come back and they tell us what they heard.

'Kill the traders' I thought. Why did I think that way? I like Harle, liked him much more than I liked my own father. I should by rights be dead but Harle saved me and Harle treated me like a son. He called me a Northerner and I liked the Northerners. Yet even all those years ago I knew I was not a Northerner, I

was Durran, Son if Durran. Durran Durrandon. Durran if Storms End. Not Durran Mormont. I clung to the memory of that fortress by the sea, of the birds flying over the walls, of the seals on the rocks, of the white water shattering on the cliffs. I remember the folk of that land, if the men who would call my father King. It was a comfort. That was, and is Storms End to me. Home.

Harle would give me the fortess if it could be taken but then it would belong to the North and I would be their hired man and nothing more. Lord only at their pleasure. I'd be no better than Emmon Frey who was no king but a pampered dog on a short rope. What the Northmen give, the Northmen can as easily take away. So I will hold Storms End by my own effort, my own hands, my own sword, my own blood.

Thinking back I'm not sure I knew all that at only eleven name days. Some I'm sure, it lay in my heart unformed, unspoken but hard as stone. It would be half forgotten and contradicted I'm time but it was always there, in my heart. Destiny is all Rollen liked to tell me, destiny is everything. "What are you thinking?" Jory asked me. "That it would be nice to swim." I said as the oars dipped and the Wind Vein glided on into the Westerlands.

The next day a small force awaited us. The Westermen had felled trees into the river that did not fully block our way but would make it difficult for our oarsmen to make progress through the small gap between the tangled branches. There were about five hundred Westermen and there were a score of bowmen and spear throwers waiting by the blockade, ready to pick off our rowers while the rest of their men had formed into a shield wall. The round shields were painted with the purple unicorn on a silver field. House Brax if I remembered correctly from my lessons with Cadwyn.

Harle laughed when he saw them, that was something else I learned, the joy with which the North faced battle, for in the cold, far north a death in battle is better than a death to winters chill. Harle was cheering as he turned the steering oar and ran the Wind Vein onto the shore. The other ships were also grounding themselves while the horsemen that had been keeping pace with us dismounted and prepared for battle.

I watched from the Wind Vein and the ships crew pulled in leather and mail, some even fastening steel plate, and then, weapon in hand, the leapt ashore. What did the Westermen see? They saw strong men, wild hair, wild beards, wild eyes and hungry faces. To the men of the Westerlands they were demons who embraced battle like a lover. The North was not a rich Kingdom, most here had nothing to their name but monstrous pride, battle scars and a well sharpened weapon and with those things they would take what ever they wanted.

The Westerman shield wall did not stay to contend the fight for once they saw the ferocious Northerners, outnumbering them vastly, they ran away to the mocking calls of Harle's men who then used their axes to cut away the blockage in the river and after a few hours we were moving again. That night the ships clustered together on the riverbank, fires were lit ashore and men were posted as sentries and every sleeping warriors kept their weapons beside them.

Thankfully no one troubles us and the next day we came upon a town with thick earth an walls and a high palisade. This, Harle had assumed, was the place the Westermen had meant to defend, and had failed to defend. There seemed to be no warriors atop the wall and so Harle lead his ship aground and closed in with his men to investigate. The earth wall and stone palisade was in good condition and Harle marvelled at how the castles garrison had chosen to march down hill to fight us rather than sat behind the sturdy defences of the mountain keep.

The Westermen guards had plainly gone now, likely further west to King Lambert of Casterly Rock. The gates had been thrown open and smallfolk knelt outside the castle walls begging for mercy. The smallfolk were most probably those too old, sick or stubborn to flee. Three of the smallfolk were Septons, their heads bowed. "I hate Septons." Harle said cheerfully, his sword Longclaw was in his hand and he swept her blade in a hissing arc. "Why?" I asked him. "Septons are like ants, wriggling about being useless. You will speak for me Durran." He commanded. "Yes my Lord." I responded with a nod.

"Ask them where this place is?" He ordered, I asked and learned the town was called Hornvale, the seat of house Brax. "Tell them that my name is Magnar Mormont, that I am called Harle the Fearless and that I eat children when I'm not given food and silver." He commanded me with a laugh. I did as I was bid and told them, the kneeling men looked up at Harle who had unbound his flame red hair, as I would learn meant he was in a mood for killing. His grinning men made a line behind him, a line heavy with axes, swords, spears, clubs and war-hammers.

"What food we have left is yours." I said, translating a grey bearded man's answer. "But he says there not much food." I told him, that made sense, winter ended not long ago and the Lord Brax would have taken food with him when he fled. Harle grinned and stepped forward after hearing my words and still grinning he swung Longclaw so it half severed the mans head. I jumped back, not in alarm but because I did not want my tunic stained with his blood.

"One less mouth to feed. Now ask the others how much food there is." Harle said cheerfully. The grey bearded man was now red bearded and he twitched as he died, his struggles slowly ended then he just lay, dead, his blank eyes staring into mine, none of his companions tried to help him as they were too frightened. "How much food do you have?" I demanded. "There is food my Lord." One of the Septons said shaking. "How much food?" I demanded again. "Enough my Lord, enough." He said fearfully.

"He says there's enough." I told Harle. "See Durran, a sword is a great tool in discovering the truth. Now ask about the Sept, how much silver does it have." He ordered and I obeyed. The Septon blabbered that we could check for ourselves and take what we liked. It's all ours, anything we found was ours, all ours. He kept mumbling and so I translated these panicked statements and Harle smiled again. "He's not telling the truth is he?" Harle said but I was confused because I believed the man. "He's lying?" I asked.

"Aye, he wants me to look because he knows I won't find anything. That means the treasure is hidden or taken away. Ask them if they've hidden their treasure." I did as Harle bid and the Septon reddened. "We are a poor town, with little treasure." He said and he stared wide eyed as I translated his words, then he tried to get up and run but he tripped over his own robe and Longclaw plunged through his spine so that he jerked like a fish out of water as he bled to death. There was treasure of course, it had been buried, another Septon told us as much and Harle sighed and cleaned his blade of the dead Septons robe.

"They're such fool, they'd live if they just answered truthfully the first time." He said plainly. "But suppose there wasn't any treasure?" I asked him. "Then they'd tell the truth and die." Harle said without care and I found that funny, I always did hate Septons. "But what's the point of a Septon but to hoard silver for us Raiders? They're ants who hoard treasure find the ants nest and dig-" Harle began and I knew he must have learnt it from his father because Rollen had taught me the same lesson. "And a man is rich." I said finishing the statement and Harle smiled at me and clapped my back.

Harle stepped over his victims. At fist I was shocked at how easily Harle would kill a defenceless man but Harle had no respect for a man who would cringe and lie, he appreciated an enemy who fought and showed spirit but the men who lied and schemed, like the men he killed at Hornvales gate, they were beneath his contempt no better than animals. We emptied Hornvale of food, then we made some farmers dig up the treasure. It was not much, a few silver cups, a few silver plates, a bronze bust of the smith, a silver seven pointed star and a bag of silver stags. Harle distributed the coin amongst his men then hacked up the silver plates with his axe and handed out the scraps.

"It is a weird religion, they worship one god yet the god is seven?" He said shaking his head as if too say he'll never understand it. "Aye my Lord, just the Seven who are One." I said and began following him around the Sept as he looked for more treasure. "What do the name of these gods?" He asked me as he kicked a door half of its hinges. "I don't know." They had names of course but I could hardly remember them, I never did like learning about the Gods. "Then who is the 'Warrior'?" He asked.

"One of the Seven." I replied. "A god of the battle, I quite like that." He said with a smile. I cast a weary glance at the stone carving of the Warrior that stood in the Sept, suddenly fearful that the New Gods were watching over me, readying divine punishment for my Sins against the Seven. Sensing my fear Harle roughed my hair. "Do not worry, the Southern Gods have no true power, it's the Old Gods that hold power in Westeros, they have since before the First Men when the Children of the Forrest carved the ever watching eyes into the Heart Trees." He said

"Do they really have no power here?" He was searching a shed at the back of the Sept and had found a iron sickle that was in good condition, he tucked it into his belt and continued. "Of course they don't, if the Warrior had power here then he would bless his worshipers with victory and we would be cast into the sea, but we're not, instead we are raiding his temple." He laughed at that.

"The Gods of the Forrest reward us for keeping them and respecting them, but the Southern Gods do not protect their own people, they cry rivers of tears for aid, beseech them for protection, yet we come along and slaughter them all the same." He said as he kicked down another door. "Does that sound like a God with power?" That seemed to me like unarguable logic. What is the point of worshiping a God that did not help you? And it was clear the worshippers of the Old Gods were winning and I found myself grasping the Weirwood amulet around my neck as we returned to the Wind Vein.

We left Hornvale ravaged, it's folk weeping and it's storehouses empty. We rode on down the wide river our hull full with grain and salted fish. Later, much later I learned that King Gwayne's wife had come from Hornvale. It was a strange marriage alliance as he was a prince and she a lord's daughter but House Brax was once a very strong military house and so the match was made. Her father, the man who failed to defeat us at the river, was Lord Brax. She always lamented that after she left the Northmen sacked the town and she would say how the Seven will smite us for our actions and it seemed wise not to tell her that I had been one of the Raiders.

We ended the voyage at a town called Deep Den. It was much less impressive that Hornvale, being a small castle surrounded by a small town. It's garrison had fled also and the people that remained welcomed the Northerners with food and silver. There would have been time for a horseman to reach Deep Den with news of Hornvale's fate and the Northmen were always happy for such messengers to spread fear of their coming. And so it was that the small town, with its wooden walls and small fort atop a hill, fell without an ounce of blood.

Some ships crews were ordered to man the walls while others raided the countryside. The first thing they sought was more horses and once the war bands were mounted they raided father afield, stealing, burning and harrowing the land. "We shall stay here." Harle told me. "For how long?" I asked. "Until the Long Night comes again and the world ends in ice. This is our land now, through conquest we will make it so."

A month later Beorn sent ships back down the river with messages encouraging settlers to come and they did, rowing up river in groups of twos and threes, bringing men, women and children. The settlers were allowed to take what ever houses they wished except for those belonging to the few Lords that had bent the knee to Beorn and Elric. One such man was the Lord Serret of Silverhill who preached to sent word to his smallfolk and to other lords that the Seven had sent the Northmen, he did not say why they had sent us and perhaps he did not know but his words meant that his wife and children were safe and his house would survive and so he said them. But Elric convinced his brother that the Lords twin sons should be kept as hostages incase the Southern Gods changed their mind about the Northerners.

Harle, like the other Northern leaders, often rode out into the countryside to bring back food and he liked me to go with him because I could translate for him and over the weeks we heard more and more stories about a great Westerlands army that was massing at Lannisport in the shadow of Casterly Rock. Harle told me Casterly Rock was the greatest fortress in the Westerlands, it was made in the Age of Heroes carved into the side of a mountain, atop a gold mine, by House Casterly and then Lambert Lannisters ancestor, Lann the Clever tricked his way into becoming king of the Rock.

It was there that Lambert assembled his great army and that was the reason Harle was so intent on gathering food. "They will besiege us, but we will win, then Casterly Rock will be ours and the Westerlands will follow." He said it calmly, sure in victory as if defeat was inconceivable. Jory stayed in the town while I rode with his father, that was because Jory was sick again, struck with violent cramps that often left him pain stricken and reduced to sobbing tears. He vomited in the night and was pale, the only relief came form a brew of herbs concocted by a Maester who served House Serret.

Harle worried about Jory yet he was pleased that his son and I were such good friends. Jory did not question his fathers fondness for me, nor was he jealous, he knew one day Harle meant to take me back to Storms End and I will be given my fathers lands and he assumed I would stay his friend making Storms End a Northern stronghold. I would be Magnar Durrandon and Jory and his brother Hullen would hold other strongholds making Harle a great Lord with the support of his sons and Storms End. We would all be Northmen to the bone, and the world would spin on until the seas freeze over and the Others Come. In other words everything would stay the same until it was all no more.

That was what Jory thought, doubtless Harle thought so too. Destiny is all, that was what Rollen said. News came during the warmth of summer that the Lannister army was marching at last and that King Gordan Gardener of the Reach has sent his army to support King Lambert. So two of the four remaining Kingdoms would face us. The only two that posed a threat as Dorne and the Vale could care less about our squabbles.

Once we got the news our raids into the countryside stopped and we made Deep Den ready for a siege. The palisade on the earth wall was strengthened and the ditch outside the wall was deepened. The ships were pulled up from the riverbank onto the shore, far from the walls to they would not be reduced to ash by archer fire. Beorn Break-Bone had decided to endure a siege as he believed we were strong enough to hold what we had taken but if we tried to take more land then our forces would be stretched too thin and we could be defeated piece by piece. Better to wait and watch as our enemy breaks themselves in the defences of the Deep Den.

Our enemies came as the poppies bloomed. First came the Westermen scouts, they came as small groups of horsemen who circled the walls wearily, by midday came Lamberts foot soldiers. Bands of men with spears, swords, sickles and axes. They camped well away from the wall using branches and tents to make shelters that stretched across the field. Deep Den stood on the east side of the river which meant the river was in the middle of the town and the rest of the Westerlands. The enemy however came from the south, having crossed somewhere down river and marching up.

A few of their men sat in the other bank to ensure our ships did not cross to make foraging expeditions and the presence of those men meant the enemy surrounded us. They made no attempt to attack us however, Lambert Lannister was waiting for the Reachmen to come. The only excitement in the first week was when a handful of Lamberts men crept close to the walls and loosed arrows at us and the missiles crashed into the palisades and stuck there becoming perched for birds. After that the fortified their camp surrounding it in a barricade of felled trees.

"They are frightened that we will make a sally out and kill then all." Harle said to me. "They'll try to starve us then?" I asked and he laughed. "Oh they'll try, but the fools couldn't starve a mouse in a pot." Harle responded cheerfully, he had a torch in his hand and another beside a straw man. There were two thousand torches alight in the wall but only two hundred living men on guard, Elric ordered many more torches lit to give the impression we had many more men than we do. The lords hung their banners on the wall, Beorns chained giant and Harle's black bear amongst them.

"If they want us out they need to make an assault, and they best do it soon before their men go home to tend the fields." The Lannisters, instead of attacking tried to pray us out of the Deep Den. A dozen Septons carrying poles topped with the seven pointed star and followed by a score of Silent Sisters, came out from behind their barricades and paraded just out of bow shot and from there they prayed to the Seven to throw us back to the sea. That was the day the Reachmen army arrived to support Lambert. They had close ties as Gordan Gardener's sister was queen to Lambert, and that was the first day I ever saw the guiding green hand of the Gardener Kings.

It was a huge banner of white cloth upon which the green hand of house Gardener was displayed. "Your turn will come." Harle said quietly, talking to the rippling banner. "When?" I asked excitedly. "Only the Gods know." He replied, still watching the standard. "By the year end we will bring the Westerlands too heel, then we move on to the Reach." He said to me. "It sounds so easy like that. It won't be easy will it?" I asked and for once he looked at me serious. "No, we need more ships." He said but what he meant was they needed more men, not ships.

"Why not go East or South?" I asked him. "The Vale is plagued by Raiders so we'd have not just the Arryn Knights to contend with but the Mountain Clansmen, and Dorne is nothing but sand and snakes." He nodded out towards the enemy encampment. "But this is good land. Rich and deep, you can raise children here, you can grow strong here." He fell silent as a group of horsemen appeared from the enemy encampment and followed the rider who carried the guiding green hand. Even from a distance it was clear these were important men for the ride fine horses and had mail coats glinting beneath their green cloaks.

"The King of the Reach." Harle said, guessing. "Gordan Gardener?" I said and he nodded at me. "We shall find out soon." He said grinning. "Find out what!" I asked. "Find out what these Reachmen are made of. Lambert Lannister will not fight us, let's find out if the Gardeners are more bold." He said and I could feel the excitement radiate off him. "When do you think they'll come?" He asked, testing me. "Dawn." I responded after a moment of thought. "Aye Durran, that's when they shall come, straight at us, they'll crash ladders against our walls, they'll lose some men in the climb but the rest will slaughter us." He laughed then. "That's what I'd do, but that lot, southerners with no spine." He spat in disgust.

Beorn Break-Bone must have thought the same thing because the sent two men to spy in the Westerland and the Reach forces to see if any ladders mere being made. The two men went out at night and were supposed to skirt the besiegers encampment and find a place to watch the enemy forces from outside the camp but they were both seen and captured. The two men were brought to the field in front of the castle and made to kneel there with their hands tied behind their backs. A tall man stood behind them with a drawn sword and I watched as he poked one of the Northerners in the back, I watched as the Northman lifted his head and I watched as the sword swung. The second man died the same way and the bodies left for the ravens.

Beorn and Elric also watched the execution, I rarely saw the brothers, Beorn Umber stayed in the castle atop the hill most of the time while Elric, thin and wraithlike, always paced atop the wall come nightfall, scowling at the Southerners though now he spoke hastily to Harle gesturing out towards the green field and our enemy. He never seemed to speak without a scowl but Harle was not offended. "He's angry," Harle told me after, "because he needs to know if they're going to attack us, now he wants some of my men to spy on them but after that," he nodded to the bodies in the field, "perhaps I'd better go myself."

"They'll be looking for more spies." I said not wanting Harle to end up headless before the walls. "A leader leads, and you can't ask men to risk death if you'd not risk it yourself." He said. "Let me go." I blurted out and he laughed. "What kind of leader sends a boy to do a man's job, eh." He clapped my back affectionately. "I'm from the South, they'll not expect a southern boy." I said trying desperately to convince him to send me instead. "If your a southerner how can we expect you to tell us the truth?" He was joking I realise now but the words cut me then.

"I will tell the truth, and I'm a Northerner now, you said so yourself." I said, clutching the Weirwood talisman. Harle began to take me seriously, he looked me in the eye. "Are you really a Northerner?" He asked. "I am." I replied and at that moment I meant it, with every bone in my body. At times I was certain I was a Stormlander, a secret sword wraith hidden in the Northern army and I would strike when they least expected, and in truth I was confused. I loved Harle like a father, was fond of Rollen, wrestled and raced with Jory and all of them treated me like one of them, just from another tribe yet suddenly it seemed Harle was worried about me.

"I'm a Northman, and who better to spy on them than someone who speaks the language." I said forcefully. "Your a boy," Harle said and I thought he was refusing me but was actually getting used to the idea, "no one will expect a boy." He still stared at me, then glanced at the two bodies with ravens pecking at the severed heads. "Are you sure Durran?" He asked. "I'm sure." I insisted. "Then I'll ask the Break-Bone." And he did, Beorn must have agreed because he let me go.

It was after dark when the gate was opened and I slipped out. At last I am a shadow walker. I thought, remembering the tales of shadow beasts, from Asshai by the Shadow, that Donal, the blacksmith at Storms End, would tell me. In truth the journey needed no supernatural abilities as a series of campfires in the enemy camp marked the way. Harle advised me to skirt the edges of the encampment to find an easy way in but instead I walked towards the first gap in the felled trees that served as the wall.

Beyond the dark bramble I could see the dark outlines of sentries and I was nervous. For months I had thought being a shadow walker like the beast from Asshai and here I was, our in the dark, not far away there were headless bodies and my imagination invented a similar fate for myself. One small part of me knew I could walk into the camp, say who I was and demand to be taken to Lambert Lannister or Gordan Gardener, yet I did not because I had spoken the truth to Harle. I would go back as I had promised to do and to a boy a promise is a sacred thing.

So I crept across the field feeling small and vulnerable, my heart thumbing in my chest and my soul consumed by the importance of what I did. Half way to the Westerman camp I felt the hairs in the back of my neck prickle and I felt as though I was being followed. I turned and stared into the darkness yet saw nothing but the black shapes that shiver in the night. Not trusting my own eyes I sprinted to one side and dropped, listening again, this time I was sure I heard a foot fall in the grass. I waited for a moment and heard nothing so I crept forward to the Lannister camp and waited there but still I heard nothing else behind me and decided I had been imagining things.

I had worried that I would not get past the Westermen's wooden wall but the large felled oak left plenty of room for a boy to wriggle under and I did so slowly making no noise. I ram in into the camp and was almost immediately challenged by a sentry. "Who are you?" A gruff voice demanded and I could see the firelight glittering in a spear head that was being pointed towards me. "Osmund." I said using my old name. "A boy?" He said shocked and he leaned forward to ensure he saw correctly.

"What are you doing boy?" He asked. "Taking a piss." I said. "And what's wrong with pissing outside your tent eh?" He asked. "My master doesn't like it." I said. "And who's your master?" The spear tip had been lifted now and I could see the man's face reflected in the torchlight. "Cadwyn." I told him, it was the first name that came to my head. "The Maester?" He asked and that surprised me but I nodded my head and that satisfied the man. "You better get back to him then." He said, gesturing me away. "I'm lost." I said to him. "Shouldn't have come all this way to piss at my sentry post then should you?" He said with a laugh then he pointed. "That way boy."

I walked openly through the camp, past the fires and past the small shelters where men snored. A dog barked at me and a horse whined and off to the side a man lay passed out in the mud. The sentry had pointed me towards the Reachmen tents, I knew this because the green hand of house Gardener hung above a tent. I walked towards that tent for lack of anywhere else to go. I was looking for ladders, but saw none, I saw men drinking and singing and it reminded me of the nights spent outside Duskendale. One of the singers saw me and shouted a challenge but realised I was just a boy and waved me away.

I was approaching the big fire now, the one that lit the front of the tent crowned with the guiding green hand of Gardener and i skirted the fire, going behind the tent to the dark. Two men guarded the entrance to the tent and there were voices murmuring from inside but I couldn't hear what they were saying and no one noticed me sneaking in the shadows, still looking for ladders. Harle said the ladders would be stored together either in the heart of the camp or at its edge but I saw none, instead I heard sobbing.

I had snuck to the back of the big tent and was hidden behind a stack of firewood. I'm the space between the wood pile and the tent there was a man kneeling and praying. I lay on my belly like a snake and crawled in the shadows to get a better look. He held his hands to the sky and bent forward is if worshiping the earth. "Mother Above grant mercy, spare me for I am a sinner." He said and then vomited, but he did not sound drunk. He sounded like a young man and as a flap of the tent was opened and candle light looted out I saw that it was indeed a young man. I was shocked to find that the man who lifted the tent flap was Maester Cadwyn.

I had thought it a coincidence that there were two Maesters named Cadwyn but it was no coincidence at all, it was indeed red haired, cross eyed Cadwyn and he was here in the Westerlands. "My Lord." Cadwyn said, dropping the flap and casting darkness over the young man. "I am a sinner Maester." The young man said, he had stopped sobbing, perhaps because he did not want Cadwyn to see evidence of such weakness, but his voice was full of sadness. "I am a grievous sinner." He said clutching the Seven pointed star around his neck.

"We are all sinners my Lord." Cadwyn reasoned. "A grievous sinner." The young man repeated ignoring Cadwyn's solace. "And I am married, I have shamed her." He said shaking his head. "Salvation lies in remorse, for the Mother is merciful." Cadwyn said placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "Then the Seven know I should be redeemed for my remorse would fill the sky." He looked to the stars then.

Cadwyn walked towards me then stopped and turned, he was almost close enough to touch yet he had no idea I was there. "The Seven send temptation to test us." Cadwyn assured as he grasped his own Seven pointed star that hung between his Maester chains. "The Seven send women to test us, and we fail then they send the Northerners to punish us." The young man said frustrated. "I never should have married, I should have become a Septon." He insisted. "And the Seven would have found a great servant in you, my Lord. But the Seven have other plans for you." Cadwyn said comfortingly.

"If my brother were to die, Gods be good he won't, what kind of king would I be?" He asked. "A King under the Seven." So that was Gwayne. That was the very first time I ever saw him or heard his voice, and he never knew. I lay in the grass as Cadwyn consoled Gwayne for giving into temptation, it seemed he had bumped a servant girl and immediately after had been overcome with pain and, as he put it, spiritual torture.

"What you must do is bring this girl into your service." Cadwyn advised. "No!" Gwayne said, dismissing the idea but Cadwyn crouched and grabbed him by the shoulder. "Bring the girl into your service, and resist your temptations, show your strength to the Seven above. Thank them for tempting you and praise them when you resist." Cadwyn advised him. "The Stranger will take me, I made a bow to the Seven to never again fall to my temptation, not after Wendall." The name Wendall meant nothing to me at that moment but I would later learn, much later, that Wendall Flowers was Gwayne's bastard son welped on another servant girl.

"I pray to be spared the temptation and to be inflicted with pain as a reminder. The Seven in their mercy made me sick as punishment. I am the most miserable of sinners." Gwayne went on. "We are all sinners and we all fall short the glory of the Seven, the Septon preaches as much." Cadwyn said, his hand still in his shoulder. "Nine have fallen as short as me." Gwayne moaned. "The Mother is merciful, she will see your remorse and lift you up. Welcome the temptation, and resist it. Do this and the Seven will reward you, they will." Cadwyn said urgently.

"By removing the Northerners?" Gwayne asked bitterly. "They will Lord, the Warrior will smite them." Cadwyn insisted. "The Northmen will not be thrown back to the sea by waiting." There was a sudden hardness in the young princes voice that made Cadwyn draw away. The prince stood towering over the Maester. "We should attack them." Gwayne insisted. "King Lambert knows his business, and so does your brother, the King. They will starve, it is the will of the Seven." Cadwyn said soothingly to the prince.

So I had my answer, they did not mean to attack but ti starve us out of Deep Den. I dared not carry that information straight back to the town, not while Cadwyn and Gwayne were so close to me. So I waited until the two went back inside the tent then I went back. It took a long time but no one saw me, I was a true shadow walker that night, living through the shadows like I was a beast from Asshai. I climbed the hill to the town until I could run the last hundred paces and I called Harle's name. The gate creaked open and I was back in Deep Den.

Harle took me to see Beorn when the sun rose and to my surprise Qarl was ther, Qarl the snake. He gave me a sour look but not so sour as the scowl on Beorn's face. "So what did you do?" He growled. "I saw no ladders." I began. "What did you do?" He demanded with a snarl, so I told my tale from the beginning. How I crossed the fields and thought I was being followed, then gone through the barricade and had spoken to the sentry. "Beorn stopped me there and looked at Qarl. "Well?" He asked him, Qarl nodded.

"I saw him through the barricade, heard him speak to a man." So Qarl had followed me. I looked to Harle who shrugged. "Lord Umber wanted a second man to go and Qarl offered." Qarl gave me a smile, the kind of smile a wolf might give a hare before he pounced. "I could not get through the barrier my Lord." Qarl said. "But you saw the boy go through?" Beorn demanded. "And heard him speak to the sentry, yes Lord, though what he said I could not tell." Qarl told him.

"Did you see ladders?" The giant man asked. "No Lord but I only skirted the fence." Beorn stared at Qarl making him uncomfortable then transferred his dark eyes to me, making me uncomfortable. "Do you got through the barrier, then what did you see?" So I told him, told him how I found the big tent and if the conversation I overheard, how Gwayne had wept because he had sinned and how he wanted to attack to town, of how the Maester said we would starve. And Beorn Break-Bone beloved me because he believed a boy couldn't make up the story of the prince and the servant girl.

Besides I was amused and it showed. I thought Gwayne was a pious weakling, a weeping pennant, a pathetic nothing. Even Beorn smiled as I described the sobbing prince and the earnest Maester. "So, no ladders?" He asked again. "I saw none." He stared at me with his fierce, bearded face and to my surprise he took off one of his arm rings and tossed it to me. "Your right, he is a Northerner." He told Harle. "Aye Lord, he's a good lad." Harle responded then beckoned to an old man who sat in the corner of the room.

The old man was called Farlen Reed or Farlen the Dreamer. He was a poet much like Rollen and would tell stories but he was also a sorcerer. He had green dreams and received messages from the Old Gods through these dreams. Now without word Farlen took a paste from his pocket placed some on his eye lids, some on his tongue and he closed his eyes. Up in the rafters a raven squawked and Farlen opened his eyes. Many claimed to have visions and many used the Weirwood paste but Farlen was famous for his visions being correct and Beorn was a man so riddled with superstition that he would not act unless he thought the Gods supported his moves.

"Well?" Beorn demanded impatiently but Farlen ignored him, staring at the raven in the rafters, then he nodded slowly. "It could not be better." He said. "So the boy told the truth?" Beorn asked. "He did." With that simple sentence Farlen saved my life from Beorn, for if he said I had lied I may not have left that room. Beorn stood and grappled his sword from were it was meant against the wall. It was a giant great sword a normal man would have to wield in two hand yet the seven foot tall Beorn hefted it in one hand like a longsword. "No attack means we go." He ordered.

He had been worrying that the Westermen and Reachmen would attack as they made raids across the river. The northern side was lightly manned by the enemy, only a light garrison to dissuade raiding parties but that afternoon Beorn led twelve ships across the river and attacked the Westermen there. It seemed Farlen's dreams did not lie for no Northerners died and Beorn came back with weapons, food, horses and prisoners, twenty prisoners. Lambert Lannister beheaded two of our men, so Beorn Break-Bone killed twenty of theirs. He did so in sight of the enemy camp so they knew, he had the headless bodies thrown into the ditch below the wall and had the head placed on spikes and mounted above the gates. "In war you must be ruthless." He advised me and I took it to heart.

"Why did you have Qarl follow me?" I asked him, hurt by the action. "Because Beorn insisted on it, and you don't disagree with Break-Bone if you want unbroken bones." He said with his usual grin but I didn't reciprocate. "Because he didn't trust me?" I asked. "Because he doesn't trust anyone but Farlen. But I trust you Durran, always remember that." He said to me and I smiled then.

The heads above the gate were picked apart by birds until they were eyeless skulls with only tufts of hair that stirred in the summer wind, still the Westerlands did not attack. The sun shone, water on the river rippled and the wind beat against the boats that were drawn up on the river bank, yet still no attack. Rollen, who even though he was blind, liked to come up to the ramparts were he would demand I describe what I see. Nothing changed, I would say, the enemy is still behind their hedge if felled trees, there are clouds beyond the hills, a hawk is hunting above and the wind ripples the grass. Nothing changes.

"Now tell me about the Weirwood paste." I demanded. "The dreamers paste." He laughed. "Does it work?" He thought about it for a moment. "Aye, if you have the gift." He said wi to a nod and he began to stare across the landscape that he could not see. "But I have noticed one thing," he stopped then and I had to prompt him to continue making him sigh as though he knew he shouldn't say more, but he did. "The signs are best read by a clever man, and Farlen is clever."

I did not undertake what he was trying to tell me. "But Farlen is always right?" I asked as though that must prove it was true. "Farlen is always cautious, he won't take risks and Beorn, though he didn't know it, likes that." He said and it seemed to me like he was avoiding what he really wanted to say. "But the dreams are messages from the Gods?" I asked. "The wind is a message from the Gods, as is the flight of a bird or the fall of a leaf. All are messages but in truth Durran the Gods speak in only one place." He rapped my head. "There." I still did not understand and was obscurely disappointed.

"Can I try the paste?" I asked him. "Of course, you are a free man, a northerner but perhaps it's best you wait a few years. What are you now?" He asked. "Eleven name days." I answered, tempted to say twelve. "Wait until you are old enough to marry, four or five name days from now." That seemed an unlikely prospect as I had no intention to Marty back then, I was not even interested in girls yet, though that would change soon enough.

"Jeyne perhaps?" Rollen asked slyly. "Jeyne?" I asked shocked. I thought I'd Jeyne as a playmate not as a wife, indeed the very idea of it made me laugh and Rollen smiled at my amusement. "Tell me Durran, why we let you live?" He asked me. "I don't know." I said, but I had a few ideas. "When Harle captured you he thought you could be ransomed, but instead he decided to keep you. I thought he was a fool but he was right." He said. "I'm glad." I responded, truly meaning it.

"Because we need the South, we are few, they are many. Still we will take the land but we can only hold it with the help of the Southerners. A man cannot live in a home that is forever besieged, he needs peace to grow crops and raise cattle, and we need you. When men see that Magnar Durrandon is in our side they won't fight us. And you must marry a Northern girl so that when you have children they will be both of the North and of the South." He paused then thinking about that distant future when we will all have peace then he chuckled. "Just make sure they're not worshipers of those Seven Gods, Durran."

"They will worship the Old Gods, and pray before a Heart Tree." I said, again meaning every word. "The Seven is a soft religion, a woman's creed. It doesn't strengthen men it makes them into worms." We sat in silence for a moment before Rollen spoke again. How much smoke is rising from the Westerlands camp?" Rollen asked me. "More or less than last week? How many fires lit last night?" I looked on for a moment and thought back to my memories if yesterday and the day before. "Less smoke, less fires." I told him and he smiled.

"They are leaving to harvest. They call themselves an army but they are farmers at heart, they march from their homes when the seeds are planted but come time to harvest they fear hunger come winter and scurry home to collect their harvest." He said with a smile. "The harvest we then take?" I said and he laughed so loud he reminded me of his son. "You're learning now Durran."

But the Westermen and Reachmen did not give up despite how many men they were losing each day, that was until Elric Umber loaded a cart with food. They piled it high with cheese, salted fish, freshly baked bread and a barrel of ale and had a dozen men drag the cart to the enemy camp. They left it just out of bow shot and shouted to the sentries that it was a gift to Lambert Lannister from Beorn Break-Bone. The next day a rider in red and gold rode up to the gates holding a peace banner. King Lambert wanted to talk.  "Which means that we have won." Rollen told me. "It does?" I asked. "When an enemy wants to talk it means they do not want to fight, so we have won."

And he was right