Chapter 23. The Eyrie.
The singer played a few more lines before the room changed.
Lady Catelyn stood.
She threw back her hood, and the hall fell silent at once. The name Stark still carried weight in the Riverlands, and the face of Lord Hoster Tully's daughter was not one easily forgotten by men who valued their heads.
"In the name of King Robert and all the noble lords you serve," she said, her voice clear and hard enough to cut through every whisper in the room. Her gaze fixed on Tyrion Lannister. "This man came into my home as a guest and plotted the murder of my seven-year-old son, Bran Stark. I, Catelyn Stark, wife of Lord Eddard Stark, ask the knights and free men here to aid me in bringing him to justice."
The smile left Tyrion's face.
He set his cup down slowly and looked around the hall. Men shifted in their seats. Some looked away. Others looked toward the exits. A few reached for weapons because people were idiots and steel made them feel wiser than they were.
Arthur sighed inwardly.
Trouble had not knocked. It had sat down, ordered wine, and been accused of attempted murder.
He was a knight under Lord Jason Mallister now. A Mallister sworn to House Tully, and Catelyn was Lord Hoster Tully's daughter. If Arthur ignored her public call, he would insult the Riverlands, the North, and his own new oath. If he charged blindly, he might help ignite a war before he even reached Seagard. A marvel of options. Every road was bad, but some at least had fewer corpses at the beginning.
Arthur stood slowly, one hand resting near his sword. Around him, the Battanian Rangers stopped eating and placed hands near weapons. The motion was quiet, but the room noticed.
"Lady Catelyn," Arthur said, bowing with one hand to his chest. "I am Ser Arthur Greyoak, sworn knight to Lord Jason Mallister of Seagard. Before this goes further, I ask that the consequences be considered carefully. To arrest a Lannister, whatever the cause, may bring storms none here can easily control."
Catelyn's gaze moved to him. Her face did not soften.
Arthur continued. "That said, until Lord Tyrion is delivered to proper judgment, I will give my word as a knight that no harm will come to him unlawfully. Justice must be seen clearly, or House Lannister will use any blood spilled in secret as a weapon."
The words were careful. Support Catelyn. Protect process. Avoid murder. Leave everyone just enough room to pretend this was still law and not the first spark in a dry field.
Catelyn studied him for several seconds, then nodded. "As it should be. Thank you for your fairness, Ser Arthur."
Arthur turned to Tyrion. "Lord Tyrion, please cooperate. This is now a matter of law."
Tyrion tilted his head, his mismatched eyes resting on Arthur with too much intelligence for comfort. Then he smiled faintly.
"Interesting. A new knight of the Riverlands standing between Stark and Lannister and choosing his words like a man stepping across broken glass. Very well, Ser Arthur. I will cooperate. I have always wondered how northern dungeons compare to Casterly Rock."
He raised his hands to show he carried no weapon. Catelyn's men stepped forward and tied his wrists, not cruelly, but enough. Tyrion allowed it, still looking amused, though Arthur doubted amusement reached very far beneath the skin.
Arthur went to the counter. The innkeeper, Marsha Hedd, looked pale enough to faint into her own stew.
"My goods and horses will remain here for now," Arthur told her. "I will pay storage. My men left behind will guard them and cause no trouble unless trouble comes first."
Marsha nodded too quickly. "Of course, Ser. Very good, Ser. Seven keep you, Ser."
The party assembled before full night had settled. Catelyn had Ser Rodrik, the singer Marillion, the sellsword Bronn, and several hired guards. Arthur brought Ena, Beland, Kator, and ten elite Rangers, leaving the rest at the inn to guard wagons and goods. It was not ideal, but nothing about that night had asked permission to be ideal.
They left the Crossroads Inn under darkness.
Arthur expected them to turn north toward Winterfell.
They did not.
Instead, Catelyn led the party east, toward the High Road and the Mountains of the Moon.
Ena rode close beside Arthur, keeping her voice low. "This is the road to the Eyrie."
"Yes."
"She is not taking him to Winterfell."
"No. She is taking him to her sister."
Catelyn was cautious. Clever, too. The main roads would have eyes, and Lannister gold traveled faster than most horses. The Eyrie was held by Lysa Arryn, her sister, and was almost impossible to assault directly. If one needed to hold Tyrion Lannister away from his family, there were few better cages.
Tyrion, for his part, did not stop talking. He made jokes, asked questions, complained about the road, and said just enough that anyone listening might remember who he was and where he had been taken. A careless man would think him amusing. Arthur knew better. The dwarf was leaving breadcrumbs with his tongue.
"No one from a great house is simple," Arthur murmured.
"What?" Ena asked.
"Nothing useful."
The mountain road grew worse by the day. The path narrowed, twisted, rose, and fell with complete disregard for horses, wheels, or knees. Rock walls towered on both sides. Shrubs clung to stone. The air grew thinner and sharper. Even the horses seemed offended by the road.
On the afternoon of the third day, they entered a narrow valley barely wide enough for two riders side by side.
A whistle cut the air.
"Ambush!" Ser Rodrik shouted.
Figures appeared along the rocks above them. Dozens of men in furs, tattered mail, and mismatched leather, armed with axes, clubs, spears, and flails. Mountain clansmen. The first heavy flails came whistling down from above. One hired guard died instantly when his skull caved in. A horse screamed as its foreleg broke, throwing its rider hard into the dirt.
"Form line!" Ser Rodrik roared. "Protect Lady Stark!"
"Battania!" Arthur drew his sword and raised his shield. "To arms! Beland, Kator, with me on the flank. Noli, hold the front. Archers, take cover and shoot high."
The Battanian Rangers moved quickly. Old Wolf Warriors scattered behind rocks and trees, loosing arrows at the clansmen descending from above. Clan Warriors and Raiders formed a small shield wall, bracing against the first rush. Volunteers moved to the sides with axes and short spears, trying to stop the enemy from flowing around them.
Ena shot a two-handed swordsman trying to come at Arthur's side. The arrow struck deep enough to stop him for half a breath. Arthur used the moment, stepped in, and cut across the man's throat. Warm blood struck his face, and the man went down.
The fight became brutal fast. The mountain clans had numbers and knew the ground. They came from rocks, shrubs, and broken paths, striking and withdrawing, then striking again. But the Battanians were not frightened peasants. They fought in small groups, covering backs, shields locking briefly before opening for spears and axes. Bronn killed like a man doing work he enjoyed. Ser Rodrik held close to Catelyn, his shield dented and his arm bleeding. Tyrion remained guarded by two Stark men, pale but far too calm for a prisoner under attack.
The slaughter lasted perhaps a quarter of an hour.
It felt longer.
When the last clansman fell under Noli's axe, the valley returned to silence except for wounded men and panicked horses. Catelyn's hired guards had been nearly wiped out. Only Bronn, Marillion, and one other remained. Among Arthur's men, three were dead and five seriously wounded. Ser Rodrik had a cut on his arm, but it was shallow enough for him to keep standing.
Arthur stood among the bodies, breathing through the smell of blood. He shook his sword clean and sheathed it. Then he walked to the three fallen Rangers, knelt, and closed their eyes.
"Clear the field," he said, voice low. "Our men are to be burned properly."
Beland and the others gathered the bodies. Dry wood was found, oil poured, and the flames rose against the mountain air. Arthur watched the smoke climb. War had a habit of making itself known before anyone officially declared it.
Ser Rodrik approached with his arm bandaged. "We should move, Ser Arthur. More clansmen may come."
Arthur nodded. The party reorganized and continued east in heavy silence.
Two days later, they reached the Bloody Gate.
Ser Vardis Egen waited there with Vale riders, sent by Lady Lysa Arryn to receive them. After a short exchange, they were escorted through the gate and up the brutal path toward the Eyrie, a castle that seemed less built on the mountain than nailed to the sky by men with too much faith in stone.
The Eyrie was beautiful, cold, and deeply unpleasant.
Arthur disliked it immediately.
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