Chapter 257

The salty sea breeze hit the Ironborn like a long-lost lover's embrace, lifting their spirits. Moments later, the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore reached their ears. After an exhausting night fleeing through the dense woods, the retreating crew finally emerged onto the coast.

With no sign of pursuers, they had taken several short rests along the way, though Asha had driven them forward after barely ten minutes each time. Now, as their feet finally left the mossy forest floor for solid ground, half of them collapsed where they stood, refusing to move another step.

The dark ocean stretched before them, its surface rippling with ghostly white waves under the cold wind and faint moonlight. This was not one of the prearranged rendezvous points, and Asha’s promised ships were nowhere to be seen. Her instincts told her to push her men to continue searching along the shoreline, but reason whispered otherwise: if no pursuers had come after an entire night, perhaps Robb Stark had decided to let them go.

Looking at her loyal yet exhausted crew sprawled across the ground, Asha couldn’t bring herself to force them onward.

At least they had reached the sea. Though she wasn’t much of a believer, if dying with wet feet really did help one find the Drowned God’s watery halls, then at least her crew wouldn’t need to worry about being lost in death.

Asha found a raised, exposed rock near the shore and sat down, loosening the straps of her leather armor and untying the laces of her vest to rest.

Dale Droop-Eyes was already snoring, demonstrating his legendary ability to fall asleep anywhere. Some of the sturdier sailors shared swigs of apple cider and nibbled on what little food they had managed to bring from Deepwood Motte. A few tended to the remaining horses, while Asha’s cousin, Quenton Greyjoy, posted lookouts in the trees.

Most of the crew collapsed after a quick meal, while a few sharpened their swords and axes. One of the two women in the group disappeared into the woods with a man who clearly had no intention of resting. The sight stirred similar thoughts in the others, but when one man tried to coax Asha to join him, she ended the matter with a sharp kick to his backside.

...

They had escaped Deepwood Motte intact, losing no one. But now, Asha had to think about what came next.

First and foremost, they needed to find the ships.

After her defeat at the kingsmoot by her uncle Euron, Asha had sailed north with four remaining ships to reclaim Deepwood Motte. She had ordered the ships to stay near a fishing village north of the castle, with half on constant patrol in case of a Northern counterattack. If Robb Stark’s forces had swept the coastline, however, the situation would be much worse.

If the coast hadn’t been swept, the ships should still be waiting a few miles to the northeast, and Asha could safely lead her men to regroup, escape the North, and plan their next move from the sea.

If the coast had been swept, they faced a dire challenge. Sea Dragon Point was dozens of miles away, and after a night of grueling retreat and avoiding main roads, reaching it within a day would be nearly impossible. Worse, if they encountered Northern patrols sweeping the coast, her depleted force of less than two hundred would have no hope of escape.

Robb Stark had reportedly led twenty thousand men south, with relatively few losses. The force attacking Deepwood Motte had numbered fewer than ten thousand, leaving the other half of his army unaccounted for. If those soldiers were scouring the coastline, Asha’s group might already be surrounded without realizing it.

Asha longed to head directly to Sea Dragon Point to put as much distance as possible between herself and Deepwood Motte. But if the first rendezvous point proved empty, she would lose precious time doubling back, making the decision to go west to Sea Dragon Point an all-or-nothing gamble.

East or west?

It was a question she wrestled with until exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

...

In her dreams, the worst had already happened. Robb Stark’s coastal patrols had burned her four ships to cinders. Unaware, she led her men to the northern fishing village, only to find no ships waiting. Forced to march west to Sea Dragon Point, they wandered the barren peninsula, hunted by Northern forces. After days of desperate flight, the Northern army, like an inexorable tide, caught up with them. Two thousand men drowned her hundred-strong force in a sea of blood. Asha herself was captured, tortured, humiliated, and finally burned alive at the stake.

...

She woke with a start, the nightmare still vivid in her mind. The pale dawn was creeping across the sky, stars fading one by one.

“Get up, you lazy bastards!” Asha leapt off the rock she had been leaning against and kicked Kol, the man who had tried to drag her behind the rocks the night before. “If you don’t want to go home, feel free to keep sleeping. Otherwise, wake up, eat something, wash your face with seawater, and get ready to move!”

The camp stirred reluctantly, her men groaning as they stretched and gathered their belongings. Though they had only rested for an hour, the suffocating tension from the night before had eased somewhat.

“Move it!” Asha snapped her whip in the air, urging them on. “If I’m in the saddle and you’re still here, you’ll be following hoof prints to catch up!”

One sailor adjusted his salt-stained mail, grabbed his weapon, and froze. His eyes fixed on the distance. “What’s that?”

Asha followed his gaze. The western sky remained dark, with only the faintest hints of dawn light bleeding through the forest. At first, she saw nothing, ready to scold him for panicking over shadows. Then a small stone seemed to move.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon more carefully. It wasn’t a stone. It was a row of black shapes—human shapes.

No, not just one row.

They were surrounded.

...

“Damn it, they woke up!” Aegor cursed, his annoyance clear.

After tracking the Ironborn to the coast, his forces had painstakingly formed a tight encirclement under the cover of darkness, intending to catch the enemy off guard. But just as they were about to spring the trap, the Ironborn woke up on their own.

Bad luck. But no matter.

“Sound the horns! Charge! Remember, the men don’t matter, but try to capture the women alive. A hundred silver stags for whoever catches Balon Greyjoy’s daughter!”

“Yes, sir!”

...

If Asha had known she was only worth a hundred silver stags, she might have passed out from sheer indignation. As it was, she had no time to dwell on the insult, her fury already stoked by the sight of thousands of enemies charging toward them.

“Who the hell was on watch?” she roared. “How did they get so close without anyone noticing?”

“I—I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep.”

“Then why didn’t you wake someone to take your place? Forget it—no use blaming anyone now. Everyone, get ready! This ground is soaked by the sea; if we die here, the Drowned God’s watery halls are just a step away!”

“Watery halls!”

The Ironborn, knowing escape was impossible, readied themselves for one last desperate charge.

“Death is not the end!”

“We shall rise again!”

“Stronger than before!”

“For the Drowned God!”

With a rallying cry, Asha and her crew launched themselves toward the weakest point of the encirclement, determined to break through. Their ferocious charge carried them close to the enemy lines, but instead of swords, they were met by arrows and stones.

Though the volley slowed them, the Ironborn pressed on, spurred by the realization that their opponents were poorly equipped.

“They’re not Starks!” Asha shouted as she noticed the ragged equipment and lack of proper weapons among their foes. “They’re peasants! We can win!”

Her words reignited the Ironborn’s resolve, and they surged forward with renewed vigor.

But Aegor had prepared for this. As the Ironborn closed in, his mountain clansmen lobbed jars of wildfire, creating eerie green walls of flame that stopped the Ironborn in their tracks.

Terrified of the unnatural fire, the Ironborn faltered. Their charge lost momentum, and soon they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

“Cowards!” Asha screamed, hurling a hand axe over the flames. “Face me if you have any honor!”

Her defiance went unanswered. The battle was over.

“Yield, and you will live!” came the cry from the encircling forces.

Surrounded, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered, Asha and her crew had no choice but to lay down their arms.