The cold wind howled like a wailing infant. Along the entire Great Gorge, aside from the sound of the frigid air flowing, only the occasional snippets of conversation from the soldiers on night duty along the defense path remained, along with the crackling of firewood in front of the tents behind him.
Such a long-lost quiet.
The wights' nightly harassment that had persisted for weeks had ceased the day before yesterday—not because it had become ineffective, but because as the forest destruction progressed (the weirwood trees had been destroyed by the wights, and the remaining ones burned by the Night's Watch using wildfire), the concealment provided by the forest had weakened significantly. Along the Great Gorge, the Haunted Forest on both the northern slope and the southern slope near the valley floor had been cleared of trees and roots. The banks of the Milkwater River were now bare, with only a few scattered weirwoods clinging near the Night's Watch mountain path still remaining.
This final batch of weirwoods, while their resistance to the cold god's power had already diminished to near nothing, were located so close they were practically under the noses of the Night's Watch, to the point that not even the thickest night could conceal them. If the enemy wanted to uproot and destroy them in advance, it would cost hundreds or thousands of wights.
Although controlling the dead was simple, it still required magic. Moreover, though the resurrection of corpses was terrifying to the living, it had insurmountable flaws. No matter how advanced the necromancy, it could not conjure soldiers out of thin air. When the White Walkers led an army of the dead, unless they achieved a great victory, their numbers would decrease with every battle. Unlike the living, they could not rely on reproduction or reinforcements from other regions to maintain an endless army.
Sending wights to chop down trees right under the watchful eyes of the well-prepared Night's Watch at night, just to destroy the last few weirwoods, was not only cost-ineffective but also a waste of military strength.
---
The breath he exhaled turned into puffs of white mist, forming frost on his eyebrows and beard, which rustled and fell as he brushed them off. Slim wrapped his blanket tighter around himself and moved all nineteen of his fingers and toes on his two arms and two legs.
The Night's Watch stationed along the Great Gorge received an allowance 1.5 times greater than those at the fortresses, and the food supply provided ample meat and wine. When they were first selected and sent to the Gorge, many were pleased, but over time they realized that guarding this place was truly grueling.
With the continuous improvement of the Wall's logistics, the soldiers' cold-weather gear was generally adequate... However, the weather here was simply too harsh. The Night's Watch at the front lines of the Gorge had no walls to block the wind. The moment the air stirred, the temperature would plummet to the point where one could barely feel their own body, and only by moving occasionally could they avoid freezing their toes off.
Just a bit longer! Slim muttered to himself—less than an hour and his shift would be over. Then he could return to the wind-sheltered tent built in a hollow behind him, take off his armor, crawl into his sleeping bag, and get some proper sleep.
As he looked forward to resting, a soldier a few meters away let out a low gasp. Slim turned his head and saw that the sky to the west had brightened slightly. For a moment, he thought the sun had risen from the wrong direction. Only after two seconds did he realize—no, it was the Beacon Tower at Ice Canyon Port. The westernmost fortress along the defense line was under attack.
Ice Canyon Port lay southwest of the Milkwater River estuary. Ice Bay had not frozen over. Could the army of the dead have swum around the defense line to attack from the sea? Slim had doubts, but what troubled him more was this: now that the Beacon Tower at Ice Canyon Port was lit, was there anything he needed to do after seeing it?
The Gorge defense plan had long been verbally conveyed to every soldier by the lowest-ranking officers, and after repeated drills, it was deeply ingrained. Everyone knew: no matter which part of the Great Gorge was attacked, once it was confirmed not to be a feint, the Night's Watch on duty had to light the Beacon Tower. If the commanders of Ice Canyon Port, Gorge Lookout, or Shadow Tower deemed it necessary, they would dispatch reserves from the two fortresses to reinforce the attacked area.
However, the plan never said what the Night's Watch stationed along the Gorge should do when the Beacon Tower at Ice Canyon Port was lit.
A faint ripple of commotion spread instantly from west to east across the entire Gorge defense line, waking many soldiers who had just finished their shifts and should have been resting. But the Night's Watch at each section still strictly adhered to the plan and did not leave their posts or act rashly. The commander at Gorge Lookout quickly dispatched messengers along the entire Gorge to deliver orders, reiterating that "adherence to the plan is the highest priority." The command believed that Ice Canyon Port had the capability to deal with whatever problem it faced. On the other hand, if the problem was one that even a thousand Night's Watch couldn't handle, then drawing troops from the Gorge would only weaken the defense line without helping the situation.
The messenger's order reassured Slim. He turned back from looking westward and refocused on the dark Gorge below. A sudden, stronger gust of wind blew past, and something cold and wet landed on his nose. He looked up and, unsurprised, saw that it was snowing again.
The good news was that the increased brightness from the accumulating snow made scouting and sentry duty slightly easier. The bad news was that someone would have to clear the snow piling up on the mountain path once daylight came. The Night's Watch had no special cleaning unit. Each section had to handle the work themselves.
Another busy day tomorrow.
Slim sighed. The hot breath he exhaled turned into a large puff of white mist. Then suddenly, a horn sounded.
Ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh ooh—
The horn echoed through the Gorge, spreading across the line and gradually fading, but there was no mistaking it—it wasn't an illusion. Along the Gorge line, the Night's Watch had abandoned the traditional one, two, or three horn blasts. The men here never descended into the Gorge to patrol, which meant that if the horn sounded, there was only one possibility.
Enemy attack.
He quickly looked both east and west to confirm that the lit Beacon Tower was not in an adjacent defense section. Shadow Tower, the high command of the western front, had long divided the Gorge line into nearly a hundred defense sections based on length and terrain. Each section, depending on the ruggedness of the terrain, was manned by twenty to fifty Night's Watch, with slightly more at the central stronghold, Gorge Lookout. According to the plan, if a neighboring section was attacked, the immediately adjacent sections had the duty to assist while ensuring the safety of their own post, helping hold the line until reinforcements arrived.
Though his glance was hurried, he found the answer at once. The Beacon Tower that had been lit was several miles away. It was not a neighboring section.
...
Hurried footsteps came from behind him. Several of the quicker-reacting soldiers from his team had already thrown on warm clothes to avoid freezing to death and rushed out of the tent, following their captain toward the cliff's edge.
"What's happening?"
"At least three miles to the east. It's not our adjacent section!" Slim reported loudly.
"I asked what's happening, not where was attacked! What kind of answer is that? Are you happy it's not our section?" the squad commander barked. "When you hear the horn, the first thing you need to do is confirm our own section isn't under attack. Only then do you check if others need support. Understand?"
"Yes... Commander!" Though he had been on night duty properly and hadn't even dozed off, Slim still felt a bit wronged by the scolding. But military law was strict, and he dared not argue. Obediently, he responded and, following the usual training, took a burning torch from the brazier stand and hurled it into the Gorge.
The commander's reprimand wasn't just because the young man had failed to respond according to the rules. It was also because of the glee in his voice when he said "it's not our adjacent section," which had irritated him, so he intended to lecture him thoroughly.
However, as the torch flew through the darkness and fell into the deep Gorge, its faint light, reflected off the snow, illuminated an area of several dozen feet. What came into view shocked even the commander. On the icy surface of the Milkwater River at the bottom of the Gorge, a black tide surged across the north-south boundary line, flooding toward the southern slope where the defense line was situated. The eerie horn that echoed in the Gorge had, to a degree, muffled the noise of the wights. That was why none of the night sentries had noticed them right away.
The torch vanished into the black tide in an instant, like it had sunk into water. Even the commander, a veteran who prided himself on his nerve, was almost scared stiff.
"Lord of Light above..." the commander muttered hoarsely, then snapped back to action. "Slim, light the Beacon Tower immediately! Nahat, take your brothers and open the wildfire crates, move them out! Gwen, go wake everyone still dawdling in the tents and bring all the Dragonglass weapons. Lads, this time it's real!"
All the soldiers in the section were roused. One crate after another of war supplies was opened and hauled from their moisture-proof, blast-proof packaging to the cliff edge. The battle began at once. Green fireballs burst over the forefront of the wight horde as they began climbing the cliffs, and Dragonglass arrows rained down like water. Although the enemy's attack was overwhelming, at least this time, the Night's Watch didn't have to worry about wasting supplies on a false alarm.
The Beacon Tower was quickly lit, but it was soon clear that no help would come from neighboring sections.
Beacon after beacon was lit across the Gorge. Of more than ninety defense sections, over eighty were attacked simultaneously. The worst-case scenario in the plan had come to pass. The enemy wasn't attacking at a single point. They were launching a full-scale assault across the entire line.
(To be continued.)
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