CHAPTER 246

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CHAPTER 246

296 AC

POV THIRD PERSON

An eerie stillness gripped the land in the heart of the Vale of Arryn. Aermir, wielding his formidable familiars, had woven a tapestry of silence over the valley. He was stifling the traditional means of communication between the valley's houses and the rest of the Vale as he did in Sisters.

Upon the craggy peaks that surrounded the Valley of Arryn, Poe, and Erebus, circled like silent sentinels with their hundreds of ravens and crows. Their vigilant eyes scoured the skies, ensuring that no raven would carry tidings of the valley's plight. As the lords of the houses within the valley sent forth their messengers, none returned. 

If Poe or Erebus were away, they would inform the others, and on the ground, Berus, Artio, Sith, and the others would hunt down the messengers. None of them were able to leave this Valley, pitiful messengers were becoming food to the wildlife one by one.

...

In the halls of House Ruthermont, Lady Elara Ruthermont, conferred with her advisors. The absence of support fueled the flames of anxiety. It had been days since they had sent ravens and messengers but there were no reply. In the absence of his father as the sole heir, it was her responsibility to defend their land. Her cousin Arron Ruthermont, a seasoned warrior, voiced his concern, 

"Something is amiss. Lord Arryn should have answered our calls by now."

Elara was a smart woman but didn't know anything about warfare; she realized this weakness in her, and as the future heir, she had to remedy that in time, but for now, she had to depend on the judgment of her more experienced counselors. Arron had many victories against the mountain clan raids and defended their land courageously. He shook his head and said,

"And something is wrong with mountain clans, too. They don't wage wars. They don't have the numbers or supplies for it. The only reason we didn't wipe them out is the precarious nature of the mountain, and the number of men we would lose would be staggering in the mountains. Mountain clans do not unite. They fight among themselves as much as they fight with us."

A knight barged in and brought with him a message that Aermir allowed it to pass. Elara read it and passed it on to Arron. It was a message from Lord Wydman. he was asking them to unite and march onto the mountain men. Arron said,

"I think we should unite and chase them out right away. They might be large in number, but we are the knights of the Vale. They can never content against us in the plains."

Another knight said, "We should call for House Hunter and Upcliff to join us and put them in a deadly pincer."

Elara liked this idea, and they sent ravens right away. Of course, Aermir got this message first and allowed them to come to the battlefield, but he was going to change the battlefield. He retreated toward House Hunter and Upcliff's castles and camped just beside a forest. This camp was bait, and most of his forces were deep within the forest.

...

House Egen, stationed on the valley's slopes, faced a relentless assault from the mountain clans. A skilled archer, Lady Alayne Egen unleashed arrows into the approaching enemy. However, the enchanted armor of the mountain warriors rendered many arrows ineffective. House Egen, like most houses, was in awe of how well-outfitted the mountain clans were.

Among the mountain clans, Tormund of the Iron Spikes wielded a massive war hammer, shattering the defenses of House Egen. The hillside skirmish became a test of endurance, with each side vying for control over the strategic slopes.

...

The sun climbed high in the sky, casting its warm glow upon the lush valleys of the Vale of Arryn. House Hardyng was trying to defend a shallow river crossing. Umar, Chief of the Moon Brothers, keenly observed the Hardyng encampment from the concealment of rocky crags. First, they clashed with Hardyng forces, with a subtle signal, he initiated a calculated retreat, beckoning his men to draw the Vale forces into a trap redied by Aermir. A week ago, Aermir had created this trap and told Umar what to do.

Ser Beric Hardyng, a seasoned commander with a reputation for vigilance, eyed the apparent vulnerability of the retreating mountain clans. A tinge of skepticism clung to him, yet the prospect of a decisive victory over the Moon Brothers fueled his decision to pursue them. If they were anywhere close to mountains, he would never chase them but what could they do in the plains? In his eyes, they might have better weapons but were still mountain savages. As long as they were in the plains, he was sure this was his victory.

River looked more tame than usual, but he didn't care about this. He thought the gods were helping him. This way, his cavalry wouldn't lose much speed. Usually, the water here would come to the knees of the horses, but now it was at half at that. His thousand-man cavalry charged with ferocious intent, as they were passing the river the mountain men created another line and started to fight again. Those mountain savages were holding their ground on the other side of the river; the realization came to him when he heard the rumbling sound, but it was too late.

He couldn't believe his eyes; a flood was coming toward his men, but how, how was this possible? How did they cause a flood this fast? He was seeing the flood wave coming towards his men, but he still couldn't believe his eyes. This was not possible; half of his army was still crossing the river. He couldn't turn back; all he could do was change. Their frenzied charge turned into a desperate one; they didn't care if they were trampling friendly or enemy forces; they just wanted to pass the river in the shortest time.

Aermir had created a dam using his earth magic. He had slowly erected a wall so the water level didn't fall down right away. He didn't need a dam for a long time. All its purpose was to create a powerful enough wave, and it was accomplished. If he didn't release the water, it would have collapsed in a few days anyway. This dam didn't cut all of the water, but most of it, and Vale men didn't have time to investigate water shortage when they were under attack from 4 different fronts. 

As House Hardyng's forces advanced across the river, only a small portion of it managed to pass the river safely. Now, Moon Brothers had the numerical advantage. Suddenly, the air resounded with the twang of bowstrings as mountain archers, concealed amidst the crags and foliage around the river, released a storm of arrows.

Chaos erupted on the riverbanks as Vale forces, caught off guard again, faced the onslaught. Arrows found their targets with deadly precision. In the heart of the skirmish, Ser Beric Hardyng, a bastion of resilience, fought to restore order to his forces. Umar, seizing the opportune moment, emerged from the rocky crags to confront Ser Beric in single combat.

Ser Beric and Umar circled one another, swords met in a symphony of clashes, echoing through the craggy landscape. Umar, agile as a mountain cat, moved with an innate grace. His attacks were swift, and his enchanted armor weighed as much as a leather one. Ser Beric, clad in armor that gleamed beneath the sunlight was slower than him but his strikes were powerful, a testament to the disciplined training of a Vale knight.

Ser Beric, with the weight of House Hardyng on his shoulders, fought valiantly to maintain control, he was a powerful man but Umar's strikes were unnaturally powerful. Thanks to Aermir's plan, every battle had at least a one or two-hour difference between them. This way, he could travel between fronts and buff 200 of the fighters, providing them with unnatural strength and speed. This caused him to fly from one place to another without any rest, but this made the battles easier.

The confrontation reached its zenith beneath the merciless sun. Both sides were bleeding and sweating like a river. Umar, seizing a moment of vulnerability, executed a series of rapid strikes. Every strike felt like a hit from a battering ram. The Vale knight, fatigued and alone, found himself at the mercy of the mountain chief.

Ser Beric hid behind his shield, but Umar charged him like a bull, and shield slammed Ser Beric's shield, causing lord Beric to topple back. Ser Beric didn't give up; he was beaten and bruised. Every place on his body was hurting, but he didn't give up. He gritted his teeth and tried to get up, but a kick hit his helmet and knocked it out of his head. His head was spinning, and his ears were ringing. He could feel it; the end was coming for him.

He threw his sword toward charging Umar, but he defended it with his shield and, with his one-handed axe, cleaved at Ser Beric's shoulder. Ser Beric winced in pain but didn't die right away; he smiled with a mouth full of blood and stabbed Umar in the neck with a dagger. Taking him down with him.

Umar, the Chief of the Moon Brothers, stood triumphant; he had won the battle, but a few seconds later, he crumbled to the ground, falling prey to the wound on his neck, and he was dying with a smile on his face. He knew better days were coming for his people, and he was leaving a triumphant clan to his son. Aermir was too far away to reach in time. With great hardship, Umar raised his axe and, with a gargled sound, tried to shout; blood was clogging his throat.

"Fo- Moon Brot... Fo- Old....."