[Day 3: Late Night] Night Terrors (read only)

”There's nothing for it. The bridge must be held, or we're all doomed,” says the snake-headed man.

Unhesitatingly, Jon steps forward and proclaims, ”I'll hold it. The Crabfeeder shall not pass.”

”I cannot ask this of you,” the snake-headed man replies, ”You have suffered grievously on my account already.” Though he does not say it, his eyes betray the certainty of death for the one who will hold the bridge.

”I do not fear death,” Jon answers straight away, ”And in any case, the bridge is narrow, and easily held by one man or few against many.”

Then out spoke brave Jon Cobb, a captain fierce and strong:
”To every man upon this earth, death comes soon or late;

And how can a man die better, than facing fearful odds,
With loyal friends beside him, and with the blessings of the Gods.”

”Then you shall not stand alone, my captain,” says a man with blood pouring from his severed arm. ”We will stand with you and keep the bridge.” Silently, more dead and dying men step forward to stand beside Jon.

Then out spoke Iron Edd;
a northerner was he:
”I will stand at your right hand, and keep the bridge with thee.”
And out spoke mighty Merrik;
of Reacher blood was he:
”I will abide on your left side, and keep the bridge with thee.”

”Go then, and may the Seven watch over you.” says the snake-headed man.

Suddenly the scene shifts. Jon and the dead men are on the bridge, fighting for their lives against a roaring horde of crab-clawed warriors. With inhuman speed, Jon spins and whirls a tree-trunk size maul about him, crushing his foes until the wood beneath his feet is slick with blood and gore. Then a blow catches him in his side, throwing him to his knees. He can feel the blood trickling beneath his mail.

He reeled, and on his maul he leaned one breathing space;

Then, like a shadowcat mad with wounds, sprang right at the Tyroshi's face.
Through teeth, through skull, and helmet, so fierce a blow he sped,
His mighty maul stood a hand-breadth out, behind the Tyroshi's head.

The crab warriors won't stop coming. No matter how many he kills there are always more. The dead men are falling now, torn limb from limb by their foes. They make no sound, but somehow he can hear their accusing voices in his head.

”We trusted you. We believed in you. You killed us.”

”No, no, I didn't! You came willingly – you volunteered.”

”We came because we trusted you. You failed us. You killed us.”

And now he stands alone on the bridge. Someone is screaming, screaming, SCREAMING. Jon wishes they would stop, until he realizes that he's the one screaming.

Now all alone stood brave Jon Cobb, but constant still in mind;

With thrice a thousand foes before him, and many more behind.
”Down with him!” cried a captain, with a smile on his cruel face.
”Now yield thee,” cried the Crabfeeder, ”now yield thee to our grace!”

The crab warriors are charging again. Jon raises up his maul, but he can barely seem to move. He looks down to see the hands of the dead men clutching at his legs, holding him in place. The first claw slashes across his arm, forcing him to let go of his weapon. The second claw cuts across his face, blinding him. A third claw buries itself deep in his stomach, and suddenly a long-forgotten feeling explodes back into his mind. Fear. Visceral, gut-wrenching fear.

”Oh Seven, Oh Warrior, to whom we soldiers pray,
A warrior's life, a warrior's arms, take thou in charge this day!”
So he spoke, and raised his arms against the craven foes,
Then shouted out his challenge: "
Rush in and die, dogs!
For so it goes with all who stand against the Wrecker at the Bridge!"


The blood is pouring from a dozen wounds now, and Jon feels himself falling to the ground. The victorious crab warriors scuttle past him, ignoring his useless, dying carcass. As the blackness envelops him, he opens his mouth wide in a silent scream of terror.

I'm dying! Seven have mercy, I'm really dying. I don't want to die. Oh please, oh please, oh please, I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

"
Ser! SER! SER JON!"
Jon wakes to the sound of Alys' worried voice. "
Are you alright Ser? Was you havin' a bad dream? Scared me half to death, you did."
It takes him a moment to focus on blonde, beautiful Alys' anxious face. His breathing is heavy, ragged;
he can feel his pulse racing.

"
Yes...yes, a bad dream, that's all it was. It happens sometimes - nothing to worry about, my dear. But I could really use a drink right now. Be a love and fetch me something from the taproom would you?"


Left alone with his thoughts, Jon stares into the darkness. How much longer? How much more can I take before I snap like a twig?