When it was time to climb the hills of the Eyrie, it was no wonder the battalion separated.
Sansa Stark found that her previous ascent of the Mountains of the Moon helped her in this one considerably. Indeed, Petyr Baelish and she easily led the pack on horseback. Brienne of Tarth was not far behind, but others nowhere to be seen. Sansa suggested they pause for their men to arrive, but after a few minutes the only one who did was poor Podrick Payne, red-faced and gleaming after a bumpy ride on his horse, yet determined to prove he was as agile as the knight he served.
“I have sent a raven to the Eyrie,” Baelish said. “They are on their way down to escort us to the top. I would suggest we wait till they arrive. Who knows what the woods hold?”
Sansa replied in the negative. The woods were darkening, but she would be surprised if Stone Crows dared interfere their voyage – they had presumably seen the thousand men at the foot of the hills and decided against it. “We go on,” she said.
The sight of Pod lumbering made Sansa feel as much pity for him as it did amusement. It was for his sake that she slowed down to have a chat with, while Brienne and Baelish dawdled ahead. “The journey is difficult for those who have never been on these rocks before.”
Podrick seemed alarmed that Sansa had decided to make conversation with him. “Don’t mind me, m’lady,” he said swiftly. “I don’t mean to bother you… I can wait back if-”
“No, no,” Sansa said, suppressing a giggle. “You do not intrude anything. When I was in King’s Landing, all the lords, ladies and the king frightened me silly, enough to keep my mouth shut. I would not like that to happen to you. I hope you trust me as much as I trust you.”
The squire stopped his horse, too tired to react while riding. His face formed a weak, indolent smile in gratitude. But before lips parted in reply, the distant sound of a whoosh neared, and a spear pierced through his eye.
Podrick fell from his horse wordlessly, slamming his head on a rock beside. As Sansa screamed, Pod’s horse sprinted into the woods. Sansa saw hill tribes emerge, behind rocks and trees, spears and rusty swords in their hands.
Fifteen, twenty of them.
She ducked, just in time to hear another spear singing over her head. Hooves from ahead rapidly charged in her direction. This is how I’m going to die.
The sound of steel on flesh made Sansa look back up. A figure dueled with a group of five, clad in thick silver armor. Brienne. Screams and grunts ruled the air as she held them back, her Valyrian steel no match for their spears and stones. Other members of the mountain clan snuck at Brienne from behind, hoping to catch her unawares.
“Brienne, behind you!” Sansa yelled, before they could attack. One of them was reminded of Sansa’s presence and ran towards her. She tried to flee with her horse, but it threw her over and fled.
Podrick’s lifeless body lay beside her. The hilt of a sword glinted from beneath. As the raider charged towards her, Sansa yanked at it, but under Podrick’s weight it refused to budge.
Come on, please!
Blood splattered Sansa’s face. The raider fell on her, screaming in agony. Sansa tried to push him aside, but he was too heavy. Sansa shrieked. Her tongue tasted his blood.
The raider flopped besides and was soon as lifeless as Podrick. The man who pushed him, Petyr Baelish, stood over her, bloody dagger in hand. His left hand was drenched with blood, eyes full of hate, but they dissolved as soon as they made eye contact with Sansa. “Are you hurt?” he asked, but Sansa could barely hear him. She saw Brienne fighting mountain raiders in front of her with Ghost. Her eyes and mind felt hazy, senses rapidly dimming. Behind her was the faint sound of frantically sprinting men, as the northern force finally caught up.
We’re saved, she thought. As Sansa Stark fell faint, the last thing she remembered ringing in her ears were the howls of Ghost.
*
Comentarios