3 The Ashen Grove

Say what you will about being in the arse end of the arse end of the world, the sky sure was pretty here.

It was the first time he had ever seen the Aurora Borealis in his life. The sky was filled with that interplay of green, blue and violet light.

He placed a chunk of seal meat in his open palm and continued to stare into that dancing sky as Ishmael ate out of his palm.

It had always been on his bucket list to travel north and see that. That had been a lifetime ago, in a life he could scarce remember. He reluctantly dragged his eyes from the northern lights and settled his eyes on a nearby small camp fire.

Shaded in the thick trees, he could only see 2 or so from where he was, which was at least some benefit. He doubted that Crowl would be made enough to risk travelling at night through the pass. It was treacherous without the men he had in the mountains purposefully making life difficult for them.

"You seem fine in this cold." Said Torrhen as he sat beside him. Cregan leant back, placing his palms in the snow behind him.

"I didn't spend my entire life in the caverns Torrhen." Said Cregan with a smile on his lips and in his voice.

"Aye, I suppose not." The short man replied. The two of them sat there in the snow quietly for a few moments, until Cregan dared to break it.

"What do you know of the Ibbenese?" Asked Cregan.

"Just cause I'm short I know about those hairy whale fuckers!" Barked out Torrhen. Cregan blandly looked at him for a few seconds, a single eyebrow raised, before Torrhen began to laugh.

"Sorry. Yeah, we deal with them occasionally. Lots of them stop at Eastwatch and don't risk getting to close to their isle, but I've traded with them in the past." Said Torrhen.

"Know their language?" Asked Cregan.

Torrhen shrugged.

"The odd word. Whale. Money. Some numbers. Not much more." Said Torrhen. "Why do you ask?"

Cregan looked contemplative for a few seconds, mulling on the question before answering.

"I kind of want to hunt a whale." Cregan lied. The lie was obvious to both of them, but neither commented on it.

For a few moments they stayed like that, the cold night air disturbed only by the odd light snore or baying of some unicorn.

"GET UP!" Shouted some distant voice.

The two men sat in the snow shared a look with each other before launching to their feet and grabbing their weapons, Cregan unsheathing Leviathan.

"They're coming!" The voice shouted again. Cregan's eyes widened. They stole a march on them. Their plan wasn't enough to slow them down.

"Skagosii! With me!" Shouted Cregan as he climbed atop Ishmael and kicked it into action. Men awoke other men, putting out their fires with fists full of snow, nervously equipping what few armaments they had. The camp was quickly descending into chaos. A chaos Cregan could not abide. He rode past tent after tent, shouting commands to get up, get armoured and prepare for battle. To report to your commander. Behind him a few more Unicorn riding cavalry men followed him. Then more. And more.

They rode into a large clearing at the edge of the forest, a great semicircle opening in the forest. At the centre was a small frozen pond, with a single dead willow tree beside it.

And there, in the distant, heading through the mountain, was a thousand torches.

The full moon shone down upon the rocks and trees, previously being enough light for them. But now, as Cregan stared into the fire of those torches, at the men that unnumbered his, at the warriors demanding his blood he could see little else besides those torches.

His Calvary was looking at him. Waiting for his command. He sat there, unable to move for a few seconds.

What was he doing? He wasn't a soldier! He wasn't made for this!

Cregan shook his head. His actions had gotten him here. He would reap what he sowed.

Someone handed him a lance, he could not tell whom, so great was his concentration on what to do.

"Men of Kingshouse!" He shouted in his loudest voice.

The unicorn mounted lancers lowered their weapons, their 3m long lances aimed squarely at the 1000 men before them.

He had to draw them into the forest. The men had been mapping it out, setting traps and learning the lay of the land. In the forest they'd crush them. But in the forest they'd lose the advantage of cavalry, the woods too thick to easily charge upon them. The plan was simple.

Charge and retreat. Charge and retreat.

Cregan sheathed Leviathan on his left and gripped the lance in a death grip. Ishmael bayed and shivered briefly, until with a deafening scream he kicked his mount forth, riding hard into that great torch lit mass.

At first he heard only his own hoof-steps. For a scarce moment he feared he was riding at them alone. But still he rode forwards, ever forwards.

After a mere few moments he heard the crunch of hoofbeats in the snow behind him, heard the roar of 100 men atop unicorns baying for Crowl blood.

The thunder of their charge filled the night air. Cregan's vision narrowed, focusing only on a small pinprick of light ahead of him. A shaking torch, moving slightly back. He steadied himself and plunge. The lance shook with barely contained fury as it pierce through the chest of one poor man. Ishmael continued forwards, running down man after man in savage fury.

It could not continue, waving torches, thrusting spears far to close to Cregan for his liking, jabbing and stabbing at Ishmael in his legs and chest. The other cavalry men had finally reach the mass of men, and in the chaos Cregan pulled back on the reins of his mount and turn the unicorn around, trotting weakly off towards the forest again.

Blood had almost completely painted Ishmael, and it was wheezing badly. The dense forest meant that he could not gallop, and he was in no state to do so. Cregan leapt off the horse and unsheathed Leviathan, slapping the unicorn to get it to fall back further into the forest. Cregan's cavalry did the same, retreating from the now prepared mass of spears and torches. A few did not make it back, lying on the cold snowy ground, and in horror Cregan watched as the men under Crowl simply walked over the slain. Cregan couldn't tell just how many survived the charge or how many they killed, but it seemed at least over a hundred made it back to the forest. Hopefully they'd keep to the plan.

Cregan ran to keep up with them as they made their way to the great grove, where they had plained to trap the enemy. Compared to the thick dense forest around it, the grove had only three heart trees in a wide clearing about one hundred metres wide and deep.

Cregan watched as the mounted riders of his sped on ahead, saw the dragonglass arrows fly behind him. And heard hoofbeats behind him. They could not be friendly riders. He broke into a full on sprint now, aware of the roaring riders behind him. Strangely, with every step the forest seemed to come alive with a orange glow.

Cregan jumped over a fallen log, the snow crunching as his feet landed. He slipped, falling to the floor, as the first rider leapt over the same log, missing him by moments. The riders kept coming and coming over and over, the sound of their charge filling the air.

And the man breaks. He runs, or crawls over the dead after the battle, or sneaks off in the night.

Cregan looked up, through the canopy of oaks and pine, to see a moon shining. He thought back to his days training with his father, or with some of his soldiers. He thought of home, and rather than thinking of that place in the countryside with two brothers, he saw his eldest sister, his younger sister, his stern father and shrewish but kind mother. He saw Kingshouse.

He felt his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He saw a lone rider on a unicorn. He looked tired, half slumped in the saddle. The scenery around him was hilly, long tall grass following a small stream. No.. He wasn't alone. Beside him was a man and his dog. A broken man.

Cregan shook himself awake, the riders ahead of him now, screaming and hollowing, but the ground was still shaking. He got to his feet and looked behind him.

The moon was no longer the only light source. Fire was spreading from tree to tree, and in front of that roaring fire was men, marching, holding spears and swords and sharpened hoes. Men wearing furs and sealskin. Cregan watched briefly as the flames roared.

They intend to burn us all.

Crowl was mad. He sent his own men into a forest then set it on fire. He would kill them all.

Cregan picked up Leviathan from the ground and ran, ran away from the flames, towards the great grove. He heard shouts and screams, and ran in their direction.

In a few moments he was there. Four hundred spear-men successfully holding off a charge of unicorn mounted riders. They had thrown down logs and obstacles to slow and funnel the riders, and under his and Torrhen's training and years of raiding practise the army had held. The Riders charged into their spears of dragonglass and scrap iron. Unicorns screamed and half roared half whinnied as spears pierced through them.

The bodies of the unicorns and their riders served as a shield for the infantry, and the remaining riders tried to turn around and retreat.

"For Kingshouse!" Shouted Cregan, as he ran towards the unicorn mounted riders. They turned around, and seeing the distraction, Torrhen's infantry began to fight in earnest, quickly stabbing and lunging towards the riders. Some of the riders were heading towards Cregan. As one came close Cregan swung Leviathan with all his might into a rider's chest. The starmetal blade dug into the riders flesh and the rider was dragged off his mount. With a roll Cregan narrowly dodged the sharp unicorn of the near feral unicorn. Stumbling to his feet Cregan dodged another charge of a unicorn and a lance, then again, reaching his men at the centre of the grove. Cregan turned around, placing both hands on his sword, holding it in a defensive position.

Ash and cinders were filling the air, flames rising higher and higher, the orange glow lighting the grove as the moon no longer could, blocked by smoke and smog.

Despite the cold snowy conditions, the trees were lighting impossibly quickly.

The men retreated back slightly, their back protected by the forest to their rear, which had yet be set aflame.

Out of the fires in front of them, backed by the remaining riders on their flanks, 800 infantry ran out. They were trying to escape the flames too. Their faces seemed black from ash and soot, and afraid.

At the front of this army was a middle aged man with a wicked grin on his face. He had scraggly red hair that looked as wild and angry as the flame behind him. Some memories reminded Cregan of who he was.

Lord Brandon Crowl.

Cregan held up his hand as his army took a step back, Cregan taking a step forward.

Atop his unicorn, Crowl took a step forward too.

"Stand down Magnar. I will take my due from your father's lands and be gone. Your pathetic attempt to fight me is over." Said Brandon, a wicked grin playing upon his face.

Cregan desperately tried to listen for the sound of hoof-steps he was waiting for.

"My lands. Stand down Brandon. Lay down your arms. 100 years ago a Magnar united the Skagosi under one banner, and I will do so again." Said Cregan, a spark flying past his eyes as he said this.

"AHAHA!" Barked out Brandon. "You're a braver sot than your father, I'll give you that. But I have the more men."

Cregan pointed Leviathan at Brandon.

"1 on 1 old man. Let's see who is the better leader." Said Cregan, before placing both hands upon the plain hilt of his sword and holding it over his shoulder, pointing towards Brandon.

"With that blade? I'll enjoy hanging that over the firepit I'll roast your body on Magnar. I've tasted Mutton of Magnar, how does Mangar Lamb taste?" He asked.

Brandon charged atop his unicorn, holding the greatsword with just his right hand, ready to swing it at Cregan as he rode past. Cregan charged, moving his stance from an over the shoulder grip to by his chest, holding the sword up. The two leaders of their clans charged towards each other, one on unicorn back the other afoot.

In the sight of free heart trees, the two blades connected. With enough force to break bone, the Steel Greatsword of Crowl smashed into the Starmetal bastard sword of Magnar.

And the sword broke. Wrenched from his hands, the steel had cut into the Starmetal halfway into the blade. Cregan ducked and was forced to let the sword go, now defenceless. Brandon turned around, his unicorn facing on of the silent heart trees on Cregan's right, as Brandon laughed. He pulled the ruined Starmetal blade off his greatsword.

"Your father never tell you this is just for show boy?" Asked Brandon, as he chucked the useless blade to the side. He lifted his greatsword, the point aimed directly at Cregan's chest.

Cregan paled before the blade, before sighing.

"Worth a shot." He said. He looked to the sky, though the dark clouds of ash had completely blocked the stars, aurora or moon.

Brandon barked out a foul laugh, then turned his unicorn towards Cregan.

Cregan held his arms up, displaying his chest. He wondered where he might end up next.

Brandon kicked his unicorn into action, and the mount sped on, head down, horn aimed squarely at Cregan.

Cregan closed his eyes and counted to three.

When he opened his eyes he ran towards the unicorn, shouting and screaming as he broke into a sprint. Brandon held his greatsword behind him, ready to send a heavy swing straight into Cregan.

An arrow of dark glass slammed into the unicorn's eye, and the beast stumbled, falling to the floor. Brandon fell over the mount, launched out of his stirrups and crashing into the ash covered snow. Cregan reached to the small of his back and drew a small dragonglass dagger, placing it against Brandon's throat as he dragged the older man to his feet.

"You forgot I didn't just bring infantry." Said Cregan with a smile.

Arrows rained around them as Cregan elbowed Brandon in the face and dragged him back to the cover of his infantry, who were starting to march forward. One hundred and fifty archers marched slowly out of the burning forest. Snow and Ash fell around them. Whoever Brandon had put in command below him was stuck. A burning forest fire behind him, a well entrenched infantry force supported by archers in front.

Cregan looked to his right, and behind the weeping heart tree came his mounted riders, led by a angry bloodied unicorn. They slammed into the terrified riders on the right flank. Without room to manoeuvre, their flank crumpled. The men surrendered en mass, between the roaring flames and the now charging spear wielders, unicorn riders and the rain of glass arrows, they couldn't hold.

________________

As the late winter sun rose over the ash and snow, the trees were still smouldering. Almost a mile of forest had burnt down before the flames died into embers. Ash and snow filled the air, and the sound of men melting snow on the still cindering trees filled the air.

Cregan stood before a heart tree, the body of Ishmael and a man sitting in it's branches. Despite it's heroic last charge, his mount had not survived the night, and Cregan gave it the gift of mercy, spilling it's blood in the roots.

A skinchanger named Rodrik had taken credit for the fire, attempting to say it was a move to trap the Crowl army he had betrayed. His heartless body hunched before the heart tree. A portent of the justice he'd have to bring forth today.

Cregan turned around, facing Lord Crowl.

"We are going to Deepdown. You will surrender the castle and name your son it's lord before taking the black." Said Cregan bluntly.

He pointed the sword he had taken from Lord Crowl.

"Or I will kill you and burn down your keep as your men burnt down the forest." Said Cregan coldly. "None will be spared."

Brandon seemed to be looking around Cregan's eyes.

"I see two souls... at the edge of your eyes. And a third, between them. The Oldest of all." Said Brandon.

"Must you be taken before the heart tree too Brandon Crowl?" Asked Cregan angrily. "Your blood will feed the old gods, and then your son's and daughters will do the same."

"Who is talking now? The first soul? Or the second?" Asked Brandon. Cregan really looked at the older man. Far from the anrgy barbarian he was last night, the man seemed broken, tired. Green eyes were shaking in their sockets.

"Talk sense old man." Said Torrhen Whaleborne as he walked beside Cregan.

Brandon shook his head, as if trying to shake lose something from his head.

"Cregan? Where..." Asked Brandon.

"Surrender or die Brandon. I will not ask again." Growled Cregan.

"...Very well Magnar." Said Brandon. "I surrender."

Torrhen and Armon grabbed Brandon by arms and lifted him to his feet. A fur wearing rider handed the reins of a young male unicorn to Cregan.

Strange, to have an emotional attachment to a creature I can scarce remember.

As Cregan climbed atop his new mount and Brandon was tied to it Cregan's thoughts turned as they so often did to the future.

He had won the battle. But that was mostly luck. Deepdown would soon surrender to him, but then what? He wanted to bring the Stanes to him to. To unite Skagos and become it's high lord. That might take some convincing. Lord Stane was his grandfather, but would he bend to a boy only five and ten? And then he'd need to ride to Winterfell. He'd need to renegotiate Skagos' place in the North.

And of course, the year of the false spring had several things coming up, most of all the Harrenhall tourney. Tying his new greatsword to his unicorn, Cregan finally began the ride towards Deepdown, the future ahead of him.