Chapter 154: Fierce Battle in the Haunted Forest

In the snow-covered valleys of the Frostfangs, graves dug by the Wildlings were everywhere, and dry bones and skulls could be seen all about.

Mance Rayder mobilized tens of thousands of Wildlings to open countless ancient graves in the northern valleys of the Frostfangs, searching for the legendary Horn of Winter.

There were Hardfoot people walking barefoot in the snow, Thenn people clad in bronze scale armor, Night Runners with their faces painted with moons, Tiger Tribe people draped in saber-toothed tiger pelts, and even giants.

The northern mountain region of the Frostfangs was an ancient and magical land where a great number of Giant Kings, Thenn Magnars, and leaders and heroes of other Wildling tribes were buried; rumor had it that the Horn of Winter was in one of these graves.

Some said the owner of the grave belonged to Joramun, who was the King-Beyond-the-Wall in history; according to ancient legends, Joramun blew the Horn of Winter, awakened the giants sleeping underground, and with the help of the giants, unified the lands Beyond the Wall and was crowned King-Beyond-the-Wall.

Others said the owner of the grave belonged to a legendary Giant King who helped Brandon the Builder construct The Wall and used the Horn of Winter to help the giants survive the long winter.

Regardless of who the owner of the grave was, Mance Rayder had finally found the horn he had dreamed of.

Several Wildlings carefully lifted the horn out.

This horn was enormous, as black as night, with curved lines a full eight feet long, and an opening wide enough for an infant to crawl into. Ancient runes were inlaid on the horn with gold, silver, and agate.

Mance stroked the horn excitedly, "What a magnificent horn!"

"Magnificent it is, a fine horn indeed, but is this thing really the Horn of Winter?" Tormund raised an eyebrow.

Because the Wildlings had no written language, there were no markings on the grave, and no one recognized the runes on the horn; Mance and the Wildlings could not even verify who the owner of the grave was, let alone know what kind of horn it was.

"This is the Horn of Winter." Mance told Tormund in an irrefutable voice, "As long as the Horn of Winter is blown, The Wall will collapse."

Mance stood on the ridge and held the horn above his head, "We have found the Horn of Winter! The Free Folk will surely be able to tear down The Wall and make the crows on The Wall and the wolf pups in Winterfell wail in terror!"

The Thenns, Cave Dwellers, Night Runner Wildlings, Tiger Tribe Wildlings, Great Bear Tribe Wildlings, Ice River Tribe Wildlings, and Goat Tribe Wildlings—tens of thousands of Wildlings in the valley began to cheer and roar.

"Mance! Mance!"

"The Free Folk will prevail!"

Waiting for the cheers of the crowd to subside, Mance dismissed the people, and the Wildlings scattered one after another, returning to their chaotic camps.

The Wildlings lacked discipline; they pitched tents at will, and everywhere there were cattle, sheep, children, old people, and ox carts and mule carts piled with sundries; different groups and tribes often fought and quarreled, though fortunately, there were not many bloody conflicts.

The pregnant Dalla stroked her belly and looked at the horn, "Mance, why did you lie? This is not the Horn of Winter at all."

"As long as the Free Folk believe it is the Horn of Winter, that is enough." Mance said gloomily, "It can boost morale."

Tormund stroked his thick beard, "That may be so, but if we get to the foot of The Wall and pretend to blow the Horn of Winter, relying on a fake won't be of any use."

"Even if we really found the Horn of Winter, we would not blow it." Dalla sighed, stroking her protruding belly, "If the horn were blown and The Wall collapsed, humanity would lose its barrier against the Undead. In that case, what use would it be for the Free Folk to flee to the North or further south? The Undead would pursue us relentlessly."

Mance kissed Dalla's face, "You truly are a kind woman, but a person's kindness is often exploited by the enemy. If the Starks and the Old Bear knew that the Free Folk dared not blow the Horn of Winter, they would slaughter the Free Folk without restraint. By pretending to possess the Horn of Winter, we at least have the capital to deter the enemy."

Dalla worried, "We haven't found the Horn of Winter; what if the horn is obtained by the Undead or a necromancer? These servants of the Dark God would blow the Horn of Winter without hesitation and destroy The Wall; in that case, the fire of human life would be extinguished in cold and death."

Mance reached out and touched Dalla's cheek, "That is indeed a huge hidden danger. I have heard that the necromancer Ogbeta of the Bat Tribe is also looking for the Horn of Winter. Once the servants of the Dark God get their hands on the Horn of Winter, the Free Folk, the Night's Watch, the North, and the entire Westeros will be finished."

"However, the ignorant Eddard Stark and the stubborn Old Bear will not listen to this. We must demonstrate the power of the Free Folk on the battlefield before the enemy will negotiate with us."

The skinchanger Orell rode over on a plow horse.

Orell's eagle patrolled the area around the Giant's Stair and the Fist of the First Men, so the Wildlings had a grasp of the enemy's movements; Orell's arrival meant that military intelligence had arrived.

Mance swallowed nervously, "Orell, tell me, what did your eagle see at the Giant's Stair?"

Orell revealed a sinister smile, "Mance, you really are something; just as you predicted, the strong Mag the Mighty led the giant warriors and repelled Qhorin Halfhand's Rangers and the warriors of the mountain clans. Both sides suffered heavy losses, and we even captured the leader of the mountain clans, 'The Goat' Wull."

Mance was relieved, "The Goat is a legendary figure among the mountain clans. When I was a Ranger at the Shadow Tower, I had several dealings with him. The Wull clan is the most powerful of the mountain clans, and only the Flint clan of the mountains can be mentioned in the same breath as the Wull clan. The Goat is a Northern nobleman and a very valuable hostage."

"The Weeper, Alfyn Crowkiller, and Mag the Mighty must keep a close watch on The Goat and not let him run away."

The Weeper liked to gouge out the eyes of his enemies and torture them slowly to death, and Alfyn Crowkiller had a passion for hunting down the Night's Watch; neither of them were good people.

Tormund shrugged, "The Goat won't be able to escape, and whether he can survive is a question. Alfyn is fine; he hates crows, but doesn't hate the mountain clans much. As for The Weeper, he loves eating eyeballs and will probably gouge out The Goat's eyes to soak in wine and eat. Mance, I reckon by the time your men find The Weeper, The Goat will likely be dead already."

Mance worried, "It would be a great pity if The Goat died."

Orell said, "My eagle saw Qhorin release a raven, flying toward the Fist of the First Men. The raven is still in the eagle's field of vision; should I shoot it down?"

"No need." Mance looked toward the Fist of the First Men, "Let Eddard and the Old Bear receive the news that Qhorin has been repelled at the Giant's Stair. Once their morale is shaken, the Free Folk's chances of winning will be even greater."

At the Giant's Stair, The Weeper brandished his sickle and sliced a gash into the face of The Goat Wull.

"I often go to the Wull clan's territory to raid. Usually, those girls who are willing to take off their clothes obediently, I take them Beyond the Wall; as for those who dare to resist, I gouge out their eyeballs and watch them weep."

"Today I will gouge out your eyeballs and eat them with onions."

The Goat sneered, "You barbaric idiot, do you think you can scare me? Eddard will avenge me. If you want to kill me, do it quickly."

Mischief flickered in The Weeper's wet eyes, "Want to die quickly? Not so easy. I'll cut off one of your hands first, and that way, you'll be in the same boat as Qhorin."

The sickle drew a deadly arc toward The Goat's wrist.

"Stop!"

Thistle charged over riding a shadowcat, and The Weeper had no choice but to retract his sickle.

"Woman, The Goat is my prisoner, to be dealt with as I please."

Thistle smirked, "It was the giant who captured The Goat. If you kill The Goat, Mag the Mighty will likely tear you into pieces!"

Mag the Mighty walked over, his shadow looming over The Weeper. The Weeper cursed a few times and turned to leave.

Thistle dismounted from the shadowcat; she was lean and pretty, and she took out a wineskin and handed it to The Goat's mouth, "Drink! This is ale."

The Goat swallowed the ale gratefully, and then he looked at Thistle.

"Are you a skinchanger?"

Thistle nodded, "Ever since I had the shadowcat, no man has dared to bully me."

"How many skinchangers are there Beyond the Wall?"

"There are many." Thistle looked toward the east, "For example, in the Haunted Forest, there is the skinchanger Borroq and his boar. That brutal boar will make the Haunted Forest tremble, believe me."

In the dense jungle of the Haunted Forest, Jory Cassel, Captain of the Guard of Winterfell, and Haris Moran, the deputy captain, led by the Ranger Daven, advanced along the forest's hunting trails.

All around there was the smell of humus, soil, and pine needles, and even more so, an unsettling aura.

Because the forest was not suitable for cavalry charges, Jory Cassel's army consisted of three hundred cavalry, and the rest were all Rockborn infantry. The Rockborn infantry were led by Resson Magnar of Driftwood Hall and Billy Stane of King's Hall.

"I don't like this Haunted Forest at all." Haris Moran spoke up, "I feel like there are many eyes staring at us."

Daven chewed on his wooden dentures, "How do you think the Haunted Forest got its name? The Wildlings all say this place is haunted."

"There are no ghosts in this world," Jory Cassel said, lowering his voice. "There is no need to scare the soldiers with ghost stories."

Lord of Floating Driftwood Hall Billy Stern rode over; he had been complaining about not being able to fight while riding a unicorn, and the warhorse made his backside sore.

"Where exactly is the enemy? Since we entered the forest, aside from wild boars, we haven't even seen a shadow of a person."

No sooner had he finished speaking than a lance shot out, striking a Rockborn beside Billy Stern, and the Rockborn soldier fell to the ground screaming.

In an instant, lances and arrows rained down from the front, and a large number of Wildlings charged out of the woods, howling.

Jory Cassel drew his longsword. "Battle formation! Fight for Winterfell!"

Most of the Wildlings wore moldy seal-skin cloaks; Daveth the Seal-skinner brandished a stone hammer, and Morona White Mask charged out with her hand on her longsword. The Wildlings had no cavalry, only infantry.

Morona White Mask wore a weirwood mask; legend had it that her mask, tableware, furniture, and saddle were all made entirely of weirwood. Some said she was beautiful beneath the mask, while others said she was hideous. No one knew, because every man who had seen her true face had been killed by her.

The nickname of Daveth the Seal-skinner easily brought the Dreadfort to mind. In reality, this Wildling, who sported a walrus-like mustache, was the leader of the Seal Tribe. Their tribe relied on seal skins to make a living, and Daveth himself was an excellent seal-skinner, which was how he earned the nickname.

Historically, the Seal Tribe often crossed the sea from Eastwatch to raid the Last Hearth, and sometimes they would go to Skagos.

Jory Cassel galloped his horse, trampling the first enemy to use a lance beneath his mount. Jory's sword danced in a lethal arc, and the second and third enemies fell in succession.

Horns and trumpets sounded from all directions, and more and more Wildlings swarmed in from everywhere.

Resson Magnar and Billy Stern commanded the Rockborn soldiers to meet the charge. Wildlings, Rockborn, and Rangers fought fiercely in the forest, and blood stained the earth red.

Jory Cassel stabbed a spearwife to death when, suddenly, the ground shook and a terrifying wild boar charged out.

The wild boar was roughly twice the size of a warhorse. Borroq the skinchanger rode in the saddle on the boar; he was thick-set and ugly, with a face that resembled a boar's. The boar's tusks were like sharp bayonets, instantly impaling several cavalrymen; men and horses alike were pierced by those tusks, and blood flowed down the snow-white ivory.

The Rangers and the Winterfell cavalry fell into chaos in an instant; many warhorses were so frightened by the terrifying boar that they either collapsed or reared up.

The wild boar bit off a Ranger's head, blood spraying everywhere. Jory Cassel calmed his mount and appeared behind the boar, charging toward it.

Jory's sword struck at the boar, and the boar let out a roar, turning to bite at Jory Cassel's mount. The horse's head burst instantly, and Jory fell heavily to the ground, covered in horse blood. Jory saw stars, and just as he was about to stand, Morona White Mask struck his forehead with her sword, and he fell.

Morona's weirwood mask was stained with blood-red gore.

The appearance of the wild boar filled the Rockborn, Rangers, and Winterfell household guards with fear, and now that their commander Jory had fallen from his horse and been captured, the army was thrown into complete disarray.

"We cannot win against the wild boar." Daven rushed to the adjutant Haris Moran, who was already terrified. Daven shook Haris. "Retreat to the Wall immediately, or more people will die."

Haris Moran was a cautious man who had long served as Jory Cassel's deputy. Whether in practical combat experience or personal martial prowess, Haris was far inferior to Jory Cassel. He was a good man, loyal and kind, but he lacked Jory's ability.

After Jory was captured, Haris Moran had no choice but to sound the horn for retreat. Resson Magnar and Billy Stern personally commanded the Rockborn warriors to cover the rear, and the army retreated toward the south, with endless shouts of battle behind them.

Morona White Mask locked Jory Cassel's hands with iron chains, her gaze fixed on Borroq atop the wild boar through her weirwood mask.

"Mance was right to send you. Borroq, I used to complain about your wild boar destroying the farmland in my settlement. I never imagined that your damn boar would have such powerful deterrent force, capturing the enemy commander in a single battle."

Borroq dismounted from the wild boar. "This fellow is just the Wolf King's Captain of the Guard, not Eddard Stark."

Daveth the Seal-skinner said, "If only we had caught Eddard today; we could have used the Duke of the kneeling men to open the Wall."

Morona said, "The Wolf King is at the Fist of the First Men. According to Mance's plan, the battle to capture the Wolf King will take place on the upper reaches of the Milkwater."

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(End of chapter)