He kept his dagger of obsidian as shield against blinding white winds, fearful of corpses breaking through the snowstorm. All he saw were raging snows, all he heard, shouts and screams. On occasion, when from the heavens came blinding lights, Davos Seaworth saw for a split second the butchery of the army of the dead.
Winter was everywhere.
They were hunting in pairs, in tens, in packs. They had surrounded the living from all fours, broke lines with no rhyme or rhythm, no form and one purpose. When dragonfire ceased, Davos saw nothing but the blizzard. What use are my eyes if snows blind me so?
Dolorous Edd was wise in commanding the men flee the castle when the White Walkers came, for when the ice dragon had toppled the Wall, with it had crumbled the foundations of Castle Black. He had also ordered Samwell Tarly go with spare dragonglass to Mole’s Town. The half-broken village would serve as a place of recoup, if the army on the Wall were forced to retreat.
But, as Davos hobbled around with a bare bodkin, surrounded by screams of death and paralyzing cold, he realized there was only so much man could prepare against magic.
Even if he was at the back of the army, Mole’s Town was a long way away. Davos had not the strength to run back. Half his body was burned with fire, the other numbing with ice. Fuck this, he told himself finally. I need to run to spare myself from frostbite. He hobbled, not in the direction of Mole’s Town, but north, to help battling friends.
The wight came at him from the front, and Davos was thankful his dagger was still poised the right way. It had lasted a split second, but the sight had startled him into submission, feet still as stone. He only watched as the dead man charged, impaling himself on the dragonglass in his hand, and burst upon the Onion Knight into shards of brightest blue.
When it died, the yell was unnatural and strangled, of someone struggling to draw breath.
The screams had increased; they were in front and behind. Davos felt his heart thump through his ribs, not knowing which screams were human. His leg ached horribly, his mind was clouded with fear and he felt his remaining fingers would fall away with frostbite. I want this to end, he thought desperately, looking up to the dancing flames in hope. The Long Night could not end, not until Jon Snow struck Longclaw against the Night King’s blue skin… or if someone did the same to him.
Davos tripped on a fallen corpse. Seven hells. He tried to rise quickly, but tired legs prevented him. He clutched the corpse, trying to haul himself up with its support. When he saw the body, shock took over him again.
It was Dolorous Edd.
Another strangled yell came at him. Fallen, he looked up to glaring bright blue eyes. The wight grabbed him with a single hand, lifting him bodily from the snow. For a second, Davos Seaworth was lost in the blank, lifeless eyes, the white snowy beard of a man so huge he could have giant’s blood.
When the wight’s mouth opened and yellowing teeth neared his eyes, Davos snapped out of his trance.
He plunged the obsidian into his torso, at the same time the wight’s teeth clamped his eyes. Davos yelled in agony as the half-giant froze on his face, teeth not letting go. Fall, fall, damn you! the Onion Knight thought, his hands wriggling the obsidian desperately.
There was a yank from someone else, and the giant came down. When it finally did, with it came a sickening crunching sound. Davos Seaworth realized an unknown man had saved his life, but his indecision had cost him his sight.
“I’m here to help,” the voice said, even though when he touched Davos, his hands were cold. He wondered if he should laugh at talking White Walkers taking pity on him.
He fell on Dolorous Edd, consciousness slipping from his fingers, blood and snow raining down his face, not knowing if he was to wake, the last thoughts focused on his wife.
Marya…
*
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