The Black Brothers charged out into the cold, shields locked, Donal bellowing for them to keep the shieldwall. Lancel was at the back, waiting as the men began to spill out through the doorway like water from a drain. He could see the glow of flames and falling snow through the gap between their heads and the top of the doorway, and then arrows flicking through the air. Donal bellowed out "tortoise!" and the watchmen near the middle raised their shields over their heads.
"When it's our turn, keep to the back and hug their rear like your life depends on it. Face back, they'll need someone covering that way and we're most vulnerable from that direction anyway." Young Henly said. Despite the name, he was well over fifty, his face weather lined and scarred. "Whore, you stay in close on me and Lannister. Focus on dealing with archers; you've got the crossbow. Don't get cut off. You got no shield and you're no good at sword-"
He was interrupted as a couple of wildlings came charging out of the tunnel-or tried to, because Lyle smashed the first ones head with his mace and tackled the second, both of them vanishing into the tunnel.
Lancel could already hear the noise of hand-to-hand fighting outside, and the last of the watchmen were spilling out.
"Go, go!" Henly shouted, moving as fast as he could despite his old wound. Lancel followed shield raised over his face, stepping over the body of a man with an arrow between his eyes blocking the doorway.
The courtyard was utter chaos. The roofs of King Tower was burning, bits of thatching falling away even as crossbow bolts flew from its windows. They flint barracks had torches on its roof, but they hadn't caught, and the great hall was a tower of flame. A few bodies were lying about, watch and wildling alike, already crusted with falling sleet. Lancel regretted that he hadn't had time to get more than his cloak, his breeches and his nightshirt on before they'd had to run or fight.
"Fall in! Fall in!" someone was calling as Lancel raced up to the back, forcing himself to slow down to avoid leaving Old Henly on his own. An arrow buzzed into his shield, and he overlapped his shield with the fighters in the rear, side by side with Henly, Satin falling in behind him.
"Left! To our left! They got a fookin' shieldwall!" someone yelled. Lancel glanced about as he shuffled backwards, trying to see it over the heads of the other black brothers. He was taller than most, even at his age, and he saw the spears bobbing in the light thrown out by the column of fire that was once the great hall, moving to cut them off from the staircase. He blinked at the sleet and embers running into his eyes.
"Look out!" Henly roared, and then he was staring a couple of wildlings, one with a spear and one with an axe, neither with shields, rushing at him. Time seemed to slow down. Henly seemed to press in tighter on his left; the man on the right, Lancel didn't know his name, almost recoiled. He could see the frost in the axeman's beard, the glint of his axe, hear the clatter of the arrows in the spearwoman's quiver. His whole body tensed as the axeman raised his weapon…
Lancel stepped forwards, wrenching his shield clear of the wall and jamming it up into the haft of the axe, catching the weapon near its weak and whipping the falchion across his leading arm. The man screamed, stumbling back, dropping the weapon, his hand severed and spurting blood.
Lancel paused in shock, surprised more than anything else. I got him, I got him-
Something flicked at his face and he jerked his shield up and caught it.
"Get back in the wall!" Henly was yelling, and then he was scrambling back, catching blows to his legs with his falchion and to his body with his shield, the woman's face screwed up in fear or fury as her spear darted out like a biting serpent. It thudded into his shield long enough for it to get stuck, and Lancel took the opportunity, snapping the weapon and lunging at her-
"Keep the tortoise!" Henly roared, and Donal and the other veterans in the formation echoed it. He pulled himself back into the line as the woman threw aside her broken spear and drew a wicked little hand axe. Someone was pushing at his back as he shuffled back, and then he heard Satin yelling "Give me a shot! Give me a shot!" and remembered how he'd seen the Men-at-Arms drilling at Casterly Rock what seemed like an eternity ago. He half-crouched, and Satin loosed. The buzz from that close stung his ears. An arrow hit the woman with the axe, but not Satins; it came down from impossibly high, almost nailing her to the ground.
The wall. They're shooting from the top of the wall, gods be good, we're not alone…
But up ahead the Thenns had nearly cut in between the watchers and the wall.
I'm going to die tonight, he realized with a start.
"They're going to cut us off!" someone was shouting, and then Donal was yelling "Wedge! Wedge! We'll crack their line open!", his bulky frame pushing through the mire of bodies that surrounded him. "Harrow, I want you to lead a dozen men around, rush forwards, see if you can flank them or force them to thin o-"
Lancel didn't see much, just the flash of a sword being swung inwards and then a yell of "Lannister! Lannister for Aye!" and "Murderer!" and suddenly the whole shieldwall just disintegrated, Lannister men turning inwards. Someone bulled into him from behind, knocking him flat on his face, and he rolled over just in time to put his shield between his face and a hobnailed ranger's boot. Henly was turned inwards, pushing into the men with his shield. He swore, his hand scrabbling on icy slick ground, as he tried to stand. The night's watch formation ahead of him was nothing more than a mass of stamping bodies, wildlings to their left and front, mutineers to their rights…
"Get up! Get up!" Satin was yelling, before someone kicked him to the ground, grunting with the effort.
Will Harrow stood over him, hard faced and wiry. His sword was running red. "Get up, m'lord. We're running for Essos."
Now of all times…
He was frozen in shock, too numb to move.
"Get up and run!"
"Traitor!" someone yelled. Satin had his sword drawn, and was advancing on Will. "You fool, you killed us all! They, they eat us southrons!"
Harrow lunged and they fought, blades flashing.
He began to pull himself up, swearing under his breath. I'll not have less honour than a whore.
Someone staggered back and tripped over Lancel, and then he was sliding back as the whole line collapsed in, some turning and running, others caught in the human river, wildlings falling in amongst them with axes and knives. They were lost, they were routing, they were to be butchered like sheep. He managed to get to his feet, pushing against the current, searching for Will. A Thenn came at him with a copper sword, and for a moment they were trading blows, beating at each others shields, before the Thenn tripped over a body and went down. He saw Satin then, being almost chased by Will Harrow, the veteran driving him backwards with ease. The King's Tower blazed behind like a beacon, with no wildlings in sight between the men and the tower…
"King's Tower! Make for the King's Tower!" Lancel found himself yelling as he charged at Will Harrow.
"Coward! Coward!" Lancel screamed.
I should have died on the executioners block. The seven were merciful, letting me die with honour.
"What the hell are you-" Harrow asked, before Satin slashed him across the back and Lancel chopped his head near in half. The boy was panting, his face bleeding from a gash above the eye. "King's tower!" Lancel yelled, and then Satin was yelling it too.
"Traitor! Traitor!" someone was yelling, and then a couple of watchmen came at him with swords drawn. Lancel was scrambling back, parrying furiously, never attacking, struggling to keep both of them to his front. "No, no, he killed Harrow, he's loyal!" Satin was yelling, over and over, and lancel kept shouting "Kings Tower!" over and over. They must have gotten the message, because one of them turned back to deal with a Thenn, then took off at a run.
Lancel was panting, his clothes sweated through despite the cold.
"King's Tower!" the ranger was shouting, and others were echoing it, running for the tower in twos and threes, breaking off from the slaughter at the base of the wall. Lancel ran with them, and Satin too. He could hear the yells of wildlings in close pursuit, and saw a ranger fall with a spear between his shoulder blades.
We're the rearguard. We're the rearguard. You're going to die, do it with courage.
He glanced back and saw a Thenn hot on his heels. He stopped and turned, almost sliding on the ice, and caught the rushing warrior's sword on his shield before taking his leg clean off with a low cut. He turned and ran again before the next two could catch up, glancing back. Fifty yards, thirty, twenty to the tower…
The first of them had gotten ahead of the second by a good ten yards and was gaining on him fast. Satin was running barely five yards ahead, already slowing.
Lancel turned and fought again. This time, the wildling slipped back his leg when Lancel tried to chop it off, and the second was on him as well. He scrambled back, hoping to god he didn't trip, turning left and right, trying to keep them both on his shield side while they tried to flank him. He swept his falchion in figures-of-eight, trying to use the mass of the blade to keep them back. He wished he had a greatsword. The first of them went for him, catching his falchion on a shaggy shield and going to saw at the back of his legs with his sword. Lancel lowered his shield, closing that line, and beat at his head with his pommel, knowing that at any moment the second would open his throat. Lancel slammed a knee into the wildling, knocking him back, and opened him from shoulder to hip then whirled around, looking for the second wildling. Satin stood over him, bloodied sword in hand.
"Run!" Satin was yelling, and then he did just that, rushing pell mell for the door of the tower. It slammed shut after him.
He collapsed against the wall, panting, the falchion clunking down into the floor.
Up above, faint, he heard a ranger shout out "The Starks are coming!" and cheering, then Alliser bellowing for silence.