Chapter 109 106

In the silence, distant sounds were already carrying through: the drumming of hooves, the crack of shields, the ring of steel, the murmur of men, curses and oaths. Elena, citing illness as her cover, had managed to track the movements of Jaime Lannister's host and had given them warning well in advance of its arrival. Could embittered northmen, given enough time to prepare, set a proper trap for lions? As it turned out, they could, and a very fine one at that. Jaime Lannister had proven himself an impatient man of pride, and that pride had cost him. After weathering the first charge of the lion cavalry, the northmen hidden in ambush came pouring out and began closing in from every direction.

Men cursed and begged for mercy, and lived or died by it. The valley walls played strange tricks with sound, the same voice sometimes seeming to come from two different directions at once.

When it was over, Robb was drenched in blood and bone-weary. His father had been right: a man could learn the craft of war, but he could never grow accustomed to it. Within ten minutes a crowd had pressed around him, dirty and battered but fiercely pleased with themselves. The forces that had not been committed to the fighting came riding in soon after: Lord Bolton, Ser Manderly, Lord Glover. With them came a dozen highborn prisoners, the most prominent of whom was Jaime Lannister. While someone quickly ran through the names of the others for Robb, the Kingslayer spoke first.

"Lord Stark." It was plain the golden lion had been roughed up considerably. "I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have lost it."

"Where is my father?"

"Somewhere out there." The Kingslayer knew. His eyes gave him away. "You cannot kill me, boy, or your family suffers for it."

"True," Robb said, a thought forming. "But I can kill others. Bring him." He pointed to the man on the far left.

"No, no, no, my lord, please!" The condemned man struggled, but two soldiers took hold of him and pressed him down over a stump, and there was nothing to be done.

"One chance. Where is Lord Eddard Stark?"

"If I tell you, Lord Tywin will kill me! Please, have mercy, please!" The next moment, the screaming head left its body.

"Bring the next one." While the second man was being brought to his knees, Robb made the reasoning plain. "Lord Tywin is a long way from here. I am not, and I will keep taking heads until I know where my father is."

His father had raised him to be just and honest, and there was nothing more contemptible than killing an unarmed man. He glanced quickly around and understood that those present had no objection to what he was doing. The Greatjon was still flush with victory and cared nothing for enemy lives. Roose Bolton, Torrhen Karstark, Maege Mormont, Galbart Glover, and several lords of the Trident were openly behind him. Only Manderly, Mallister, and Blackwood watched with something like disapproval in their eyes.

"Last words."

"I curse you," the second man said, and his head followed the first.

"Next is him." The moment the most frightened of them understood he was to be next, the words came pouring out.

"My lord, I know where Lord Stark is!"

"Keep your mouth shut, or my father will have your head!" Jaime tried to shout, and received another blow to his own for the effort.

"Before the battle, Ser Jaime gave orders to Ser Swyft and his company to move the prisoners to a village in the south. I don't recall the name, but it is no more than an hour's ride..."

As soon as Robb had learned everything of use, he dispatched a large party to retrieve the prisoners. The man who had told him all of it understood well enough that the Old Lion did not forgive betrayal, and asked only to be allowed to take the black. Robb saw no reason to refuse him that, and agreed. Three hours of anxious waiting followed before the party returned, bringing with them an exhausted Eddard Stark and the other former captives.

Robb, along with most of those present, felt something loosen in his chest at the sight of those they had thought lost. Ned found the strength to embrace his firstborn and tell him he was proud of him. The Young Wolf was entirely lost in the moment of reunion, with no thought yet for the wave that his defiance of the king would send crashing down upon him.