The dawn was cool and grey as the banner of the Wolf Pack, a pack of wolves in full gallop, cut through the morning mist. Gendry had never enjoyed the smell of the sea breeze more than he did now. They had left Firegrass Manor at first light, a column of armed men escorting four large wagons of dried firegrass, making for the coast where a smuggler's fleet awaited them.
The land route to Myr was a known path, likely watched. Handsome had instead chosen a rugged, difficult track leading to the sea, gambling that speed and the element of surprise would see them through. But a convoy of this size could not move completely unseen.
"Four outriders, front and rear," Handsome commanded, choosing his most agile and sharp-eyed veterans. "Cavalry on the flanks. Wagons, infantry, and archers in the center. Everyone wears what armor they have. Even the slaves get leather jacks. A life is a life."
It wasn't long before a rider galloped back from the rear. "Riders behind us! They're keeping their distance, but they're there. The bandits' spies are shadowing us."
*Ready yourself, old friend,* Gendry thought, his hand resting on the familiar, cold steel of his warhammer.
"I had hoped the sea route would throw them off," Handsome muttered. "They must have had men watching every road. They will circle around to cut us off. Speed up! We are only safe once we reach the ships." He raised his voice, galloping along the length of the column. "The enemy outnumbers us and waits for us in the hills ahead! Are you afraid, brothers?"
A resounding "No!" roared back from the men.
"The warriors of the Wolf Pack do not fear death! We are Northmen! We do not weep like women! Our tactic is simple: courage, courage, and more courage!" He moved along the line, clasping hands with his men, even the slaves driving the wagons. "In the end, all that matters is that we live. Abandon the cargo if you must. If we escape with our lives, it is a victory! Winter is coming! The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives!"
"The pack survives!" the mercenaries roared, their voices a single, steel-edged promise.
"Boy," Handsome said, pulling his horse alongside Gendry's. "You and the Maester will stay in the center, with the wagons."
"Captain, I wish to be in the vanguard," Gendry insisted, raising his warhammer. "My hammer thirsts for blood."
"Good boy," Handsome said, clapping him on the shoulder. He leaned in close, his voice low. "The Wolf Pack is fearless, but it also needs its young wolves to live. Protect yourself. The families back at the Den will need you."
They pushed on. The bandit scouts harassed them from a distance, firing crossbows from extreme range, their bolts falling harmlessly short. "I smell war," Handsome said, his eyes scanning the gentle hills and plains ahead, a perfect killing ground.
Then they heard it: the deep, booming thud of war drums and the braying of horns. On a hill behind them, the combined force of the bandits and escaped slaves appeared, a black cloud against the morning sky. Without the high walls of Firegrass Manor, this battle would be swift and brutal. Gendry pulled on his helmet and iron mask, his grip tightening on his hammer.
"Abandon the firegrass!" Purple Beard's voice boomed from the hilltop. "And I will let you live!"
"The Wolf Pack may not be the Golden Company," Handsome shouted back, "but we are not swindlers and oathbreakers like you!"
"That's him," Purple Beard said, pointing a gauntleted finger at Gendry, who sat his horse just behind Handsome. "The one who killed Rust."
The new Meereenese gladiator beside him, a tall, brown-skinned man with a scarred, hairless head, looked down at Gendry. "That black-haired boy in the iron mask?" he asked, his Common Tongue rough and halting.
"I will never forget that hammer," Purple Beard confirmed.
"I will kill him," the gladiator, Bardak, growled, a look of savage hunger in his eyes. "And I will eat his heart. The heart of a brave man makes a warrior stronger."
"Lord Bardak," Purple Beard advised, "perhaps you should wear some plate? It is a great disadvantage to fight without it."
"And be clumsy as a cow? Speed is my armor," the Meereenese man sneered, impatient. "Leather is enough." Purple Beard knew better than to argue. The fighting pits of Meereen valued bloody spectacle over caution.
"But my lord," Purple Beard protested, "the Magister only ordered us to delay them, to seize the firegrass if we can. He did not order us to fight the Wolf Pack to the death."
"Coward," Bardak spat, and with a wild cry, he spurred his horse down the hill, his longspear held high.
*Impulsive brute,* Purple Beard thought bitterly. He held his own men back. "Let the slaves go first," he commanded. "Let them and the madman from Meereen soften them up."
With a confused roar, the horde of escaped slaves charged after the lone gladiator. "Draw!" Dick the Fletch commanded. A rain of arrows from the Wolf Pack's longbows fell upon the charging mob. Men and horses screamed and fell, but Bardak, cunning as well as crazed, weaved through the arrow storm. His horse was shot out from under him, but he landed on his feet and charged the rest of the way, arriving at the Wolf Pack's lines alone.
"Cowards!" he screamed, looking back at Purple Beard's men, who remained on the hill.
An arrow whistled through the air. Dick the Fletch had found his mark. The barbed head embedded itself deep in Bardak's shoulder. Roaring in pain and fury, the gladiator raised his longspear. Handsome met his charge, but the longspear was quicker than his sword. A line of red appeared on the captain's face. In the same motion, Handsome's own blade bit deep into Bardak's arm.
"Die!" Gendry roared, seeing his captain wounded. His warhammer whistled as he brought it down. Bardak, impossibly fast, thrust his spear at Gendry's chest. The oak shield blocked the blow, but in that same instant, the hammer crashed down, mercilessly, upon Bardak's unhelmeted face.
As the gladiator fell, Qyburn rushed to Handsome's side.
"Leave some of the wagons!" Handsome grunted, clutching the bleeding wound on his face as he stared at the bandit knights still watching from the hill. "Get the rest to the ships! Go, now!"
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