Chapter 191: The Order of Leaving

The Far-Watch went first.

That had always been the plan. Vess and Merta had written it that way six months ago, long before anyone on the Wall had seen a tusk above the trees. The Far-Watch knew the land. They knew how to move quietly, and how to see danger before it saw them. They would go ahead of the column and clear the road.

Encrid stood at the inner end of the Mouth’s long tunnel and watched them leave.

There were fewer than sixty of them now.

Fennick led them. He had been a bandit once, before Encrid had bought his debts along with the rest of Volk’s crew. Now he walked at the head of the Far-Watch with a bow on his back and a scout’s hood over his head, and when he passed Encrid, he nodded once.

Behind him, four men carried a stretcher.

Captain Odrin Kass lay on it with his eyes closed. His left arm was bound to his chest. His face was the color of old paper. The healers said he would live, if the road was kind to him.

Dane’s poleaxe lay on the stretcher beside him.

No one had been able to take it out of his hand.

As the stretcher passed, a window opened over the cloth-wrapped head of the poleaxe.

[ Name: Poleaxe of the Final Stand ]

[ Grade: B ]

[ Maker: Wall Armory ]

[ Condition: 91% ]

[ Description: ]

[ A poleaxe forged more than a century ago for the commanders of the Wall. Its dark iron head bears the scars of countless battles, while its long ashwood haft has been replaced several times over the years.

The weapon was wielded by Garick Dane, the First Watch Commander of the Wall, during the Final Stand. Facing one of the Five Elders of the Great Green Forest, Garick fought despite knowing he could not survive. With this poleaxe, he managed to draw blood from an Elder before losing his life. ]

[ The weapon remembers his bravery. ]

[ Effects: ]

[ Unyielding Will (new): The wielder gains strong resistance against most forms of mental interference and mental attacks. ]

[ Fearless: The wielder does not experience fear. ]

Encrid read through the entire status window and marvelled at the weapon that had been shaped by the will of an ordinary man.

He remembered a sentence from the original novel, spoken by a master blacksmith.

’Even an ordinary weapon can be reborn and become extraordinary when it is wielded by an extraordinary person.’

Encrid had never truly understood what the blacksmith meant when he first read those words. He had assumed it was simply a poetic way of describing the bond between a warrior and his weapon.

Now, he understood.

The poleaxe had not become extraordinary because of some rare material or the skill of the smith who forged it. It had become extraordinary because of the person who had wielded it, and the will he had left behind.

As Encrid watched the stretcher being carried through the tunnel, another window suddenly appeared before him.

[ ✦ ✦ ✦ Emergency Quest ✦ ✦ ✦ ]

[ The Wall is being abandoned. Eight thousand lives are on the southern road. ]

[ Objective: Lead the survivors of the Wall across the Darwen Span. ]

[ Reward: ▮▮▮ (Title) / Narrative Relevance increase ]

[ Failure: The majority of the survivors will die before reaching the Span. Narrative Relevance decrease. ]

Encrid read it once.

Then he closed it and turned to watch the next group come down the inner road.

✧ ✧ ✧

The children came second.

All of them. Every child on the Wall.

There were more than Encrid had realized. The children of soldiers, of porters, of cooks and tavern-keepers and laundresses. Children from the Shambles who had never been counted on any roll. Children whose parents had died on the parapets in the last nine days.

And the thirty-four children of the Gleaning.

They came down the inner road in wagons and on foot, holding hands in When she reached Encrid, she stopped.

Encrid looked at the girl and waited for her to speak. After a moment, she finally did.

"I know I am in no position to ask something of someone of your standing," she said quietly. "But can you please promise me that you will come back alive, young master?"

Encrid looked at her.

He knew why the girl was worried about him. To her, and to most of the children of the Gleaning, he was almost a savior. He was the person who had fed them when everyone else had looked away, who had given them a place to belong, and who had helped give them a life worth living.

If Rael was like a big brother to those orphaned children, then Encrid had become something different.

A stern parent.

Someone they could depend on.

Someone they believed would always come back.

He wanted to promise her. He wanted to tell the child that he would, no matter what it took.

But he did not want to make a promise he could not keep. Although he was keeping his safety as the top priority, he had no way to say confidently that all of them would make it back alive.

So he remained silent.

Something shifted in the girl’s expression. Her eyes filled with tears, but she quickly turned her face away.

"Stay safe, young master," Wren managed to say.

Then she turned and walked into the tunnel.

One by one, the children of the Gleaning followed her, disappearing into the darkness after her.

Ilse’s brother Tam walked near the back, looking over his shoulder. He was nine. He had a small wooden sword stuck in his belt.

Encrid watched him until he disappeared into the tunnel.

Then the Gleaning itself came.

Rael walked at its head. His burned hand was wrapped in fresh linen. He still did not have his greatsword. He carried a spear from the Cavel wagons instead, and he held it like a man who did not trust it.

Behind him came his crews, in fours. Hask. Ilse. A hundred workers, bloodied and exhausted, with their packs on their backs.

That was when it happened.

A soldier of the Fourth Watch was standing near the tunnel entrance, waiting for his section’s turn. He watched the Gleaning pass, and his face twisted.

"Mercenaries," he said loudly. "Going out ahead of the Watches. Ahead of men who’ve bled on this stone for twenty years?"

He spat on the ground in front of Rael’s feet.

Rael did not stop walking.

But Encrid did.

He turned and walked over to the soldier. He was a big man, a head taller than Encrid, with a bandage around his neck.

"What’s your name?" Encrid asked.

The soldier hesitated.

"Merrick, my lord."

"Merrick. Do you know who that is?"

"The mercenary. Rael."

"Rael," Encrid said, "walked into the forest with the Lord Commander. He stood in front of the Elder and put his sword in its eye. And when the Lord Commander was dying, he picked him up and carried him three miles through the horde so that he could be buried on the Wall."

He did not raise his voice.

"You want to spit at someone, Merrick? Spit at me. I’m the one who gave the order."

The soldier stared at him.

Then he looked at Rael, who was already inside the tunnel. At the bandaged hand. At the spear held awkwardly in the wrong grip.

He looked down at the ground.

He did not say anything else.

✧ ✧ ✧

The logistics went next.

The Quartermastery. The Works. The healers.

The wounded went in wagons. Two hundred and ten of them. Elder Wode had chosen who would go on the wagons. He had sat on his stool in the Healers’ Hall all morning and pointed, and the healers had carried out the ones he pointed at.

Encrid did not ask him about the ones he had not pointed at.

He did not want to know the answer.

Wode rode on the last of the wounded wagons himself. He sat at the back with his stick across his knees, and he did not look at Encrid as the wagon passed. His face was wet.

Vess rode with the Quartermastery’s wagons, a ledger open on his knees, still writing. Merta walked beside him with the evacuation order in her hands.

Corr went in a wagon too. He had his tally board on his lap, and he was still counting.

"Everyone through the Mouth, my lord," he said as the wagon passed Encrid. "I’ll have a number for you at the Span."

"I’ll want it."

Ellis Cavel rode behind the logistics on his dusty grey horse. He stopped beside Encrid for a moment.

"My father’s iron," he said quietly. "Most of it’s still on the Wall."

"My apologies, young master. It did its work - but we can no longer hold the Wall."

Ellis looked back up the inner road, toward the parapets.

"It did," he agreed. Then he rode on.

And finally, the soldiers.

They came down from the parapets section by section, the way Danel had ordered. The Ninth Watch first, because it was farthest from the breach. Then the Eighth. Then the Seventh.

They came in silence.

No one spoke. No one sang. They walked down the stairs and along the inner road and into the tunnel, and every one of them looked back at the Wall at least once before they went through.

Sir Gareth Varus came to stand beside Encrid.

"Harun has twenty knights," he said. "They’ll ride with you. They won’t leave your side."

"The column needs them more than I do."

"The column has twelve hundred of your father’s men," Gareth said. "You have twenty." He paused. "That was not a suggestion, young master."

Encrid looked at him. He knew he couldn’t pursue Gareth to assign the men elsewhere - afterall, the Duke himself has ordered to ensure Encrid’s safety.

So he just nodded.

It was noon.

To the north, Encrid could feel it through the soles of his feet. Slow. Heavy. Far closer than it had been that morning.

The Elder was almost at the stone.

✦ ✦ ✦