Game of Thrones Iron Stark

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Beyond the Wall the rangers ran for their lives.

The White Walker's ice spear had already taken one of them through the back. Tyro lay in the snow with the shaft jutting out of his chest, coughing blood.

"Don't come back for me," he rasped. "Just go."

Benjen and the others hesitated for half a second, then kept running toward the trees. They could hear the White Walker's footsteps behind them now.

Tyro waited until the Walker was close. He still had half a canister of wildfire. He hurled it with the last of his strength.

The Walker dodged easily. Blue eyes watched without emotion as the wights swarmed over Tyro and tore him apart.

From the ridge the White Walker raised one pale hand. The snow beneath it began to shift and crack. Dozens of enormous white spiders the size of hounds burst from the drifts and scuttled straight for the Haunted Forest.

Benjen's remaining men finally reached the trees. For one heartbeat they thought they were safe.

Then they saw the spiders.

"Climb!" Benjen shouted. "Use the rigs!"

Most of them launched into the branches. One man's rig jammed. He hit the ground hard as the first spiders reached him.

Benjen dropped back down without thinking, grabbed the ranger under one arm, and hauled him upward just as a spider's leg scraped the bark where his head had been.

They ran through the canopy, swinging from tree to tree while the spiders climbed after them, chittering and clicking. The Haunted Forest became a nightmare of green fire, swinging men, and pale legs reaching through the leaves.

Far to the south, on the Dothraki sea, Daenerys waited inside a ruined temple the Dothraki had already sacked.

She had thought the baby was coming. The false labor had passed, leaving her shaken and embarrassed.

Jorah spoke gently. "Most women carry for ten moons, Khaleesi. You still have time."

Daenerys looked at him with wet eyes. "Please. Go check on Drogo. I have to know if he's alive."

Jorah didn't want to leave her with so few real fighters, but her face broke him.

"I'll go alone," he said. "If I run into the Black Panthers I'll say I'm a sellsword. They won't know I ride with you."

He rode hard toward the sound of battle.

Even from a distance he could hear it — the deep, rolling bellows of elephants. The Black Panther tribe had brought war elephants, not just rhinos.

Jorah crested a low rise and saw the fight.

Dothraki riders circled the huge beasts, loosing arrow after arrow while their terrified horses refused to close. The elephants were turning into living pincushions, but they kept fighting until they finally collapsed. One by one the great animals went down.

Jorah felt a cold knot form in his stomach. If forty thousand Dothraki ever crossed the Narrow Sea with beasts like these, Westeros would burn.

He pushed the thought aside and rode on, searching for Drogo.

He found him in a clearing.

Drogo and two bloodriders were fighting the old Black Panther khal and his three sons. The bloodriders each had one opponent. Drogo was fighting two at once and losing ground fast. His curved arakh rang against their long spears again and again.

Jorah didn't hesitate. He charged straight in and blocked the spear that would have taken Drogo in the back.

Drogo's head snapped around. "Andal! What are you doing here? Where is my moon?"

"Safe," Jorah said, already turning to meet the next attack. "She sent me to find you."

Jorah took one of Drogo's opponents. That left the old khal for Drogo alone.

The old man laughed even as he fought. "You let an outsider fight your battles, Drogo? Have you forgotten the old ways?"

Drogo's blade never slowed. "He is a warrior. He earned the right to stand with us. Worry about your own sons instead of my honor."

The old khal had no more breath for talking after that. Drogo's arakh came at him in relentless, killing arcs.