Chapter 28

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***

Bright Island, according to Three-Finger, is a pretty fortified place. It wasn't surprising, considering who lived nearby.

Each village, of which there were few, had strong wooden walls, and the centre and heart of the island, Castle Bright, had high white walls with the same towers. The garrison there was pretty strong, but Lord Tywin had taken a certain number of men away when he was raising banners against Robb.

Theon had given a lot of thought to conquering this piece of land in the middle of the sea. He had twenty-five rooks. Each rook had a hundred heavily armed warriors.

'Two and a half thousand fighters my father gave me in my hands - quite a strong army. Except that if you put aside the slaves some captains use as rowers, the number can safely be reduced by a third.'

He decided to use his warg abilities. They had been increasing in intensity lately. Greyjoy didn't know how to improve them, or learn to control them himself-it all came like a click in an instant.

Now he could control Cicero during the day, but only for a certain amount of time. There was an invisible bond between them that Theon could feel - he began to say words that Greyjoy had never said in front of him. Because it would never have occurred to him to teach the parrot Russian....

The connection worked the other way round, though. Sometimes he had the urge to eat something strange, like grain... And also a female parrot.

- We'll hit Bright Island at night, Theon told Dagmer and Aaron. - It would be suicide to attack during the day with our forces.

Dagmer grinned, but Aaron was taken aback by Theon's words. He didn't like it, but he wouldn't say why.

- The Drowned God favours us. - The Drowned God favours us.

In Greyjoy's mind, a plan for the assault had been brewing for some time. There is a great risk involved, but what without it?

- There's a grove not far from the castle. Most likely the remnants of a hemlock that the Andals have graciously decided to preserve. - The captain of the Son of Thunder grinned. - We'll land near it and hide in it.

- How do you know about the grove? - Scrubby asked.

- A bird on the tail brought it.

Dagmer looked suspiciously at the flying Cicero, but only grinned with his four halves of his lips. It looked nasty, even in Theon's opinion, and he'd seen a lot.

- What's next? - Scabbard asked. - Hide your whole army in it and wait for the stupid green-bloods to open the gates?

- I'll take a hundred men with me - the most experienced. The grove is not far from the castle, less than a hundred metres. And yet close enough to the shore that our arrival will not be noticed.

-We'll quietly kill the sentries. - Theon smiled. - The Chardraven bow is accurate and silent. And far enough.

- It's a Nordic weapon, and not under the Old Law. - His uncle disapproved.

- Go on. - Dagmer was interested. The old pirate had never been squeamish and had used various tricks in his time. And he saw nothing wrong in taking a rich castle on the sly.

- We'll climb over the walls using hooks I ordered from one of the blacksmiths before we set sail.

-Prepared in advance? - Scabbard wondered.

Greyjoy nodded calmly. As soon as his father had told him his purpose, he'd made preparations, first gathering information, making plans, and then finding what he needed to carry out his plans.

- We will climb over the walls and open the gate. Castle Bright doesn't have many defenders - only six hundred. If we're successful, we can kill half of them naked in the barracks, and the other half will be killed quickly if they don't get a foothold somewhere.

- The plan is certainly good, in the spirit of the old days. - Smiled Scherbatny. - But it's too risky even for me. What if some smart-as-fuck sentinel sees you? What then?

- Then I'll either die or manage to open the gate, but we'll take the castle with more losses.

-'Well,' said Wet-head. - So be it. You seem to want to go yourself, nephew?

-Yes, Uncle. - Theon nodded in agreement.

'Too, too risky... but the plan should work out. If all goes well, a certain amount of credibility is assured for me.'

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

On a quiet, moonless night, the long rooks of the ironmen crashed silently into the sandy shore of the island. A multitude of figures in armour began to jump from the two moored rooks. Sharpened blades, axes and hammers gleamed. Much blood would be spilled today.

Theon and his small band of a hundred fighters ran across the distance separating the shore and the grove. A grove that boasted strong and long crowns of trees intertwined with each other. Autumn had come and the yellowish leaves were beginning to fall.

Greyjoy could hear the breathing of a tense and excited hundred armed subordinates. He looked around - in the centre of the small grove stood a chard tree. It had some sort of strange, drawn face compared to the others. He couldn't figure out what the strangeness was.

'The face is painted with paint, not blood,' the thought ran through his mind.

He did his best to put aside any unnecessary thoughts at the moment. The main thing now was to concentrate, and not to think about the locals who had decided to 'desecrate' the faith in the Old Gods in this way.

He could feel the rustle of the wind washing over his long wings like a sea. His hearing became much sharper, and his face felt strange. He did not feel human.

The small shadow of a bird was flitting back and forth between the cogs. Its beady eyes peered intently into the darkness, watching for any sentries. The bird shook its head in humanlike satisfaction and silently descended, leaving the walls.

Theon was relieved - he looked around reflexively - many people were not paying attention to him, the ironborn's eyes were fixed on the fortress wall. They were men from different ships and reported to different captains, but all were experienced, old warriors. If the quiet infiltration failed, they would have to fight their way to the gate, and Theon had no doubt they would.

The section of wall they were about to climb had only a couple of sentries standing a certain distance apart. Greyjoy pulled out his arrows, and in his mind he ordered his parrot to get ready.

He crept quietly to the end of the grove and drew the bowstring. For a brief moment, a certain duality of what was happening appeared in Theon's mind - with one mind he was aiming at a sentinel, and with the other he was looking at that same sentinel from the wall.

It was a strange way of aiming, but it caused no discomfort or problems.

The bowstring rattled and the arrow travelled the distance and plunged straight into the eye - too accurate, too deep. But a charcuterie bow does wonders... and then there's Theon's ability.

The sentinel fell to the ground without making a sound, resting his corpse on the wall. The parrot flew closer to the second sentinel, who didn't notice.

He repeated the trick with the second lathman of the Farmans. The arrow sank into his eye, but as it fell, there was a quiet but tinkling sound of the steel helmet hitting the stone.

For several minutes he waited agonisingly, hoping no one had heard. It had not, no one had raised the alarm. The sentries wouldn't be replaced until a couple of hours later, and they wouldn't be checked until half an hour later, as far as Greyjoy remembered from his observations in the parrot's body.

'I just killed two guards with a bow from a hundred metres away - isn't that too fucking cool?' - Theon thought, giving the command to the others that it was okay to start. Next to Greyjoy was his squire, Erich Harlow. He wanted to leave him on the ship, but the boy volunteered to go, shaking his axe menacingly at the green-blooded men.

Dozens of warriors began to run out of the grove, trying to get to the wall and climb it as quickly as possible. Hooks jingled as they caught on the crenellations and iron men began to climb the ropes. Theon was one of the first.

The guards at the gate had no time to shout before they were cut down by throwing axes, arrows, and swords shoved down their throats. The hundred that Theon had recruited acted quickly and confidently. The grate began to rise, the bridge began to lower, and the gate began to open.

Unfortunately, some particularly attentive footman raised the alarm, but it was too late - the gates of the fortress were open. Theon lit the two arrows he had specially prepared and fired them into the air, signalling for the others to act.

A couple of minutes later, when half of the hundred had already stormed the barracks, wreaking death among the half-sleeping and stripped Farman soldiers, an avalanche of ironborn burst into the courtyard. Castle Bright was taken in practically a couple of hours....

'''''''''''''''''''''''''"'

- He should be killed by the old law. - Aeron muttered to Theon as the local septon was brought in. He was a young man, only a few years older than Greyjoy himself.

-All right, Uncle,' he agreed. The young septon with the blond hair heard the conversation and tried to break free of the two pairs of strong arms, but his attempt was unsuccessful. A crunch was heard - it was one of Theon's men punching the septon in the face, breaking his nose.

Aaron left, satisfied that he had been given the opportunity to drown the servant of the false gods, and with them took away the septon, who was staring wildly around, trying to break free.

Greyjoy himself turned his gaze to the Three-Fingered Man.

- Have Lord Farman and his family been locked up in their private chambers? - Theon asked.

- Yes, I've put a couple of fighters to guard them. Some of them wanted to take advantage of the lord's daughter, but I talked them out of it after a couple of slaps.

-You did? - 'Is it one of my crew or Harlow's men doing something naughty?

'I hope it's one of my crew.'

- Greg Shaggy.

-I remember him,' Theon said thoughtfully. He'd thought he was trustworthy, in boiled leather and carrying an axe, at least someone who wouldn't disobey orders. Apparently he was wrong. As soon as he got his hands on him, he would have to punish him.

He walked through the courtyard, looking at the many corpses. Theon had ordered the killing of those who would raise a weapon against them - there were many. The islanders knew what the iron men would do to them if they took the castle.

Half of the garrison was killed in the barracks, and the other half tried to fight back - unsuccessfully. True, he had lost a couple of hundred fighters, but that was an acceptable price to pay for capturing such a strong castle.

The banners with the silver ships on a blue background were dropped and replaced by the black flags of the Greyjoys. Sebaston Farman and his family were locked in their private chambers - Theon claiming them as booty. His Uncle Aeron had wanted to give them to the Drowned God as well, but the younger Greyjoy had reasoned that they would be more useful as hostages.

He heard distant female sobs, shrieking male voices. The Iron Men, relieved of their tension, were having as much fun as they could - no one was stopping them. The main thing was not to kill those who had accepted their fate meekly.

The four fighters and his squire marched beside him. The boy had tasted blood, too, slashing a couple of foot soldiers with his axe. It was something he was proud of, having been brought up on the stories and legends of his people. A true son of the Iron Islands, Baelon would be proud to call him.

- What, you want your share too? - Theon questioned him, watching some woman in long grey robes being led away by a couple of excited pirates to a secluded corner.

'Silent sister

- I've already taken my share,' Erich replied with a stubborn shake of his head. - A couple of enemies I've killed is my trophy.

- You paid an iron price, but you didn't take what was rightfully yours.' Greyjoy was surprised at Harlow's answer. He hadn't expected that from a twelve-year-old boy. - I will give you a portion of my share as my ward.

The Reader's nephew nodded and said nothing more. There might have been an awkward pause had not Scabbard approached Theon.

- Nice catch. - He smiled with four teeth. - It's been a long time since we've been here, and the locals have built up a certain amount of fat.

- Don't let anyone set fire to anything,' Shooter warned him. - The walls are stone, but the buildings are made of wood.

-I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to do something like that. Where's your Uncle Aaron?

- Paying his respects to the Drowned One. Drowning the local septon.

- That's the right thing to do, Dagmer quipped. - Those septons should be drowned immediately.

- You better tell me, when are these corpses going to be cleaned up? Otherwise, this place is going to stink.

- Looks like fun to me. - The famous pirate shrugged, catching Greyjoy's surprised look. - I love the stinking smell of death in the morning.

'Sick bastard.'