Chapter 92 89

The Vale.

A wide, level expanse enclosed on all sides by sloping rock walls. In shape it resembled a bell. And inside it, a company of men had been driven back against the stone and surrounded. After many traps and many fights, Ser Jasper Redfort's force had been reduced to a hundred exhausted riders, so cut up they could barely keep their weapons in hand.

A thousand Corbray soldiers had them encircled. Ser Lyn Corbray was among them, naturally. But the owner of the Valyrian blade Lady Forlorn had not troubled himself to watch a battle that was drawing to its close. The Redfort soldiers had held on for several reasons: their equipment, the finest in the Vale, their training, and the fact that they were veterans, along with the enemy committing his forces in small pieces rather than all at once. Without any one of those things, the Redfort guardsmen would have been rotting in the earth long since.

We are pinned against the rock. There is no escape. Neither my men nor I have the strength left to break through their lines. Perhaps this is the end. Grim thoughts had taken hold of Jasper's mind. He could surrender, but something in him would not allow it. And that instinct was not wrong.

Suddenly the sound of a horn rang out across the whole valley.

"Ser, is that... Can it be?" a guardsman asked in disbelief.

"Yes." A smile came to his lips. "It is not our time to die yet."

The company led by Lord Axel Arryn had arrived.

...

"A great deal of effort has gone into getting things to this point, hasn't it?" The plan was moving well and could fall apart at any moment.

Look at it however you like, three hundred against a thousand is not the most favorable odds. The enemy cannot be given time to find their footing, or death is waiting for us. Most of those out there ride in Corbray colors, and the banner tells me Lyn Corbray commands them. One hard charge, get Redfort out, cut off the head, and withdraw.

"Well then. Let us not waste any more time and get started. Morgan, attack!"

Our advantage is that our entire force is cavalry. Speed and momentum are our friends in this fight. Five minutes was all it took to agree on the plan. Morgan takes half the riders and rides to get Jasper out. He is alive, otherwise the guardsmen would have surrendered by now. I go for Lyn Corbray's head.

"Forward, lads!"

"OOOOH!"

...

Ser Lyn Corbray.

"Ser, it is Axel Arryn! He is leading the attack on us personally!"

"What?!"

"They broke through the third unit and are fighting the second right now!"

Move fast. I did not account for a charge that heavy. It seems when Arryn leads an attack himself, his soldiers turn into something inhuman.

"Arryn has punched through our left flank and is already in the center!"

Damn you, Arryn. Why such haste, why take such a risk? Has he seen through the plan?

From the very beginning they had done everything to draw Arryn out and kill him. They had scouted the terrain and the hills, worked through hypothetical battle scenarios, used every resource available for this one moment. The plan was straightforward: draw the Falcon's Eye into a trap through a fighting withdrawal, into which Brynden Tully could pour his army and seal the pass. Lyn himself was either to kill Arryn or hold him until Tully arrived. But the Falcon's Eye's reckless charge allowed no room for a prolonged engagement.

"Pull together! I am going out personally to take the Falcon's Eye's head!"

...

On the other side of the field, what remained of Jasper Redfort's company, freed in the nick of time by Arryn's arrival, stood near the rock wall and watched the battle unfolding before them in silence. The moment the reinforcements arrived, the Corbray soldiers had left them alone and turned their full attention to the newcomers.

Exhausted, covered in blood and small wounds, Jasper Redfort watched his fervent attempt at glory go down in vain. He did not attempt to join the resucers himself. His men were spent and badly wounded, unable to match the pace of an attack, and would only have gotten in the way. He simply signaled to Morgan's column that there was no need to push through to reach them.

Jasper's thoughts were occupied with the reasons for his own failure, as a commander and as a man. From childhood he had placed his trust in one thing only: his own skill at arms and the men loyal to him. Everything else he kept at arm's length. So why, having loyal men and his own strength, had he been defeated, while Arryn, on level terms, was cutting his way through to the enemy commander?

...

Going surprisingly well.

The infantry could do nothing at all against my riders and died under the hooves. When a charge of knights builds momentum, infantry faces nothing but a meaningless death. I understood that. The enemy commander understood it too, which was why he had sent his own cavalry across to cut us off.

"Gessio, break right and link up with Morgan!"

"My lord, look out!"

"RAAAA!"

On reflex alone I managed to parry a horizontal cut aimed at taking off my head. The blow was powerful, precise, and would have been lethal. For the first time since the rebellion began, death had come this close.

"How?!" My would-be killer looked genuinely surprised. "No matter, this is even better! It would be a shame if the great Falcon's Eye died so quickly!"

Silver heavy plate with three black ravens clutching three red hearts in their talons. Surrounded by knights of the same house, though without any of his usual flair. Clear enough. My target had come to me.

"Ha! If you want my head, you will have to earn it." I meant it. Not even a den of snakes and spiders like King's Landing had killed my love of a good fight.

"Eyris, make sure no one interrupts my duel."

"As you say." His voice reached me as I spurred into the attack.

...

Ser Lyn Corbray.

What sort of monster is this?

There was no other word for it. A few minutes into the mounted duel and he had done nothing but defend. Arryn's blows were strong, fast, and lethal. His reputation had not been conjured from thin air. Still, it was humiliating. He, the finest duelist in the Vale, was being knocked around like a green squire facing a seasoned knight.

Realizing that conventional means would not win a duel against the Falcon's Eye, Lyn looked around. Arryn's soldiers were still holding, forming an unbroken screen that kept him separated from the Corbray knights. But with each passing minute Arryn's numbers thinned, and the moment the screen broke would come sooner or later. Until then, he simply had to last.

After a time, gaps began to open in the screen, and a pair of his household guardsmen squeezed through. They drove straight at the Falcon's Eye meaning to kill him. A pair of men was no problem for this monster. He batted aside the first man's lance and took his head in the same motion. The second managed to drive his lance tip into the side, punching through the armor. A second later that rider was on the ground with his belly opened. The wound on Arryn's side was shallow, the armor quality too high. Lyn's own attack managed to catch his left shoulder, earning a powerful vertical stroke in return.

Every blow from the Falcon's Eye rang through the bones like a bell. Every exchange left new wounds on him, because armor was no obstacle to a Valyrian blade. Each strike took more of his awareness with it. Only the brief reprieves bought by allies spending their lives had kept him going this long. And when he could no longer attack, when Arryn drew back to take his head, a horn sounded.

Brynden Tully's army, two thousand strong, arrived on the field. For one heartbeat the battle stopped, and the Falcon's Eye's soldiers stared at the enemy reinforcements in shock. In that brief pause, three more Corbray knights broke through to aid their lord.

They were no real problem for this monster, but the lives they spent bought Lyn the moment he needed to clear his head, and he saw an opening. An opening he used immediately. The Valyrian blade drove from Arryn's left collarbone to his right chest. Lady Forlorn was soaked in the Arryn's blood. The wound was serious.

A moment later, to the screams of his own men, Axel Arryn began to fall from his horse.

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