20 – Setting Out Blackfeather preened the metallic-sheened feathers on Rek’Sai’s forearm.
“It will come with me.” Rek’Sai raised his hand and launched Blackfeather into the air.
“The rest of the ravens stay in the village.
They can sense Blackfeather’s location.
If anything happens, release them.” Ser Goodwin watched the massive black bird circle out of the hall.
His throat bobbed once.
“My lord, relying on only a few birds…” Rek’Sai did not answer.
He drew a deep breath.
His chest swelled high.
From deep in his throat came a low, prolonged whistle.
The sound was not loud, yet it made the torches on the stone walls flicker hard.
Heavy padded footsteps sounded outside the door.
The wooden doors of the hall were pushed open.
A dark-gray giant wolf with shoulders nearly 1.4 meters high walked in with measured steps.
Wolf.
It bared its mouth.
Thick saliva dripped from its sharp white fangs.
Its ghostly green pupils swept across Goodwin and the others.
The three squires Goodwin had brought instinctively shrank back, hands closing on their sword hilts.
“Put your hands down.” Brienne spoke coldly, hand resting on her own scabbard.
The squires froze.
Wolf walked to Rek’Sai’s feet.
Its massive head lowered to the ground, and a submissive low whimper rose from its throat.
“After I leave, Wolf stays.” Rek’Sai’s rough hand pressed into the silver-white mane at the Wolf King’s neck.
“It commands the pack outside.
That is enough to tear any trash that dares approach Cedar Village into strips of meat.” Rek’Sai turned his head toward Pat in the corner.
“Pat, get over here.” Pat, still holding the sheepskin account book, jogged forward with his back straight.
“My lord!” “Show the bearing of a steward.” Rek’Sai looked down at the thin youth from above.
“While I am gone, you are the rules of Cedar Village.
Whoever you judge capable of working, promote them directly.
Anyone who dares disobey your orders—no need for words.” He patted Wolf’s head.
“Tell Wolf.
It will bite their throats out.” Wolf cooperatively rose, turned toward Pat, and bared its teeth, letting out a bone-chilling low growl.
Pat’s legs went soft, but he bit down hard on his lip and steadied himself.
“Yes, my lord!” Pat answered loudly.
His voice trembled slightly, yet carried a fierce edge.
Rek’Sai nodded in satisfaction.
He bent down.
His enormous shadow completely swallowed Pat.
He leaned close to Pat’s ear and lowered his voice until only the two of them could hear.
“When you run into something you’re not sure about, go to the battle pets in the camp.
Through them I can see you, and I can also pass orders to you.
Remember that?” Pat’s pupils contracted hard.
Unconcealable shock flashed through his eyes.
He swallowed and nodded heavily.
Rek’Sai straightened and turned his gaze to Brienne.
“You go back with Goodwin.” Rek’Sai pointed outside the door.
“Go say goodbye to your father.
Then pick two attendants who understand rules and have quick hands.
They need to know how to light fires, skin animals, and keep their mouths shut.” Brienne frowned.
“Master, you’re not returning to Evenfall Hall with me?” “If I go, all I’ll do is listen to your father spout useless noble nonsense.” Rek’Sai grinned with a cold smile.
“Go handle your business.
Tomorrow at sunrise we meet at the city gates of Tarth.” Brienne did not hesitate for even a second.
She dropped to one knee.
“Understood, Master.” Goodwin watched Brienne’s clean, efficient movements.
Mixed feelings churned in his chest.
The once stubborn, naïve girl now stood before this savage giant as obedient as a longsword whose edge had just been sharpened.
“Lord Selwyn will look forward to your triumphant return, Ser Rek’Sai.” Goodwin placed a hand over his chest in salute.
“Tell Selwyn to prepare himself to receive the jealousy of all Westeros.” Goodwin left with Brienne and the squires.
The sound of hoofbeats gradually faded.
Rek’Sai strode out of the hall.
The sunlight was piercing.
In the Beast Camp behind the mountain, Pig was rolling in the mud.
Ayla sat on a tree stump nearby, weaving grass rope with her hands.
Rek’Sai blew a sharp, loud whistle.
Pig flipped upright at once and shook the mud from its body.
Its massive frame made the ground boom with every step.
Its tusks flashed coldly in the sunlight.
It ran up to Rek’Sai and affectionately rubbed its black-brown bristled head against his thigh.
“I’m taking you to chew on a few hard bones from the Westerlands.” Rek’Sai swung up onto the boar.
The custom-made iron-reinforced saddle gave a dull metallic scrape.
In mid-air Blackfeather let out a sharp cry and settled steadily on Rek’Sai’s broad right shoulder.
The next morning at dawn.
Outside the gates of Tarth.
Sea wind carried a faint salty tang.
Thin mist shrouded the gray-white city walls.
Brienne wore chainmail polished to a bright shine, a greatsword on her back, and led a tall Andal warhorse.
Behind her stood two young men.
One was solidly built and carried a heavy travel pack.
The other was lean, a skinning knife hanging at his waist.
Both looked somewhat nervous and kept glancing into the depths of the mist.
“My lady… will Lord Rek’Sai really come riding a monster?” The solid attendant could not help asking in a low voice.
“Shut up.
When you see Master later, put away those ignorant, never-seen-the-world expressions of yours.” Brienne scolded them coldly.
The words had barely left her mouth when the earth began to tremble faintly.
In the thick mist a massive black shape was rapidly approaching.
Heavy footsteps sounded like war drums, each one landing on everyone’s heart.
The gate guards tightened their grips on their spears.
Their Adam’s apples bobbed.
The dense mist was violently smashed aside.
A terrifying wild boar the size of a battering ram burst out of the white fog.
Its thick tusks looked as if they could pierce the city walls.
On the boar’s back sat Rek’Sai like an iron tower.
He wore no armor—only rough hide short clothes.
Corded muscle stood out on the exposed arms.
Two hand axes hung at his waist.
The massive Arcanite Reaper was slanted across his back.
The ancient gold on the blade reflected a chilling dark-red sheen.
Blackfeather perched on his shoulder, looking down coldly at the people beneath the city gate.
The guards staggered back several steps in fright.
Spears fell to the ground.
“Master.” Brienne strode forward and took hold of her chestnut warhorse’s reins.
Rek’Sai pulled Pig’s reins.
The Boar King gave a dissatisfied grunt and sprayed a jet of hot breath.
“People chosen?” Rek’Sai swept a glance over the two attendants.
Those green vertical pupils carried a beast-like pressure.
Both attendants’ legs went soft.
They nearly dropped to their knees, heads lowered hard, not daring to meet his gaze.
“Reporting to Master: both of them have worked in the hunting grounds.
The solid one is Rolf—great strength, can carry heavy loads.
The lean one is Tick—a good guide, quick with skinning and fire-making.” Brienne reported.
Rek’Sai gave a cold snort, neither approving nor rejecting.
“Let’s go.
To sea.” He wasted not a single extra word.
Both legs clamped hard against the boar’s flanks.
Pig let out a savage roar.
All four hooves flew as it charged toward the docks.
Mud and gravel exploded behind it.
Brienne swung up into the saddle with clean movements.
“Follow!” She snapped at the two attendants and spurred after him.
In the distance, on the docks, a two-masted sailing ship flying the quartered arms of House Tarth had already lowered its gangplank.
The captain stood on the deck.
Watching the giant beast charging toward them, his face turned ashen as he clutched the seven-pointed star pendant at his chest.
The storm was about to sweep across the Narrow Sea.