Mounted on his horse, Lord Jason heard the advice and clenched his teeth, but said nothing.
He would never admit this was his mistake.
All he cared about was victory. In his dictionary, there had never been such a word as defeat.
The lord watched as his infantry fought a desperate battle against the Northmen.
And these Northmen had gone mad. They cared nothing for their own lives, willingly trading their worthless lives for those of his elite soldiers.
The sight made Jason's heart bleed.
These were the finest troops the Westerlands had trained over the years.
The Westerland soldiers were well-trained, disciplined, and fought in tight formation, but against such frenzied attacks, their lines were beginning to loosen. Gaps were starting to appear.
Lord Jason roared, "Second wave! Cross the river immediately!"
"Support them!"
The Lannister horns sounded once more.
Woooooo—
The second group of Westerland infantry began crossing the river.
Another fifteen hundred men.
The same elite troops.
The same orderly ranks.
The same gleaming armor.
They stepped into the river and advanced forward.
The battle in midstream still raged on.
The water had already turned red with blood. Corpses floated everywhere. Severed limbs drifted with the current.
Screams, battle cries, and the clash of steel blended into a single chaotic roar. The river flowed on, carrying blood and bodies downstream.
A young Westerland knight swung his longsword, cutting down three Northmen in succession.
Blood splattered across his armor.
Battle fever burned in his eyes.
As he fought, he shouted, "Come on!"
"Come on!"
One Northman charged him and was cut down.
Another came and was cut down as well.
A third.
A fourth.
Then the fifth Northman reached him.
The man carried no weapon.
Instead, he lunged forward and wrapped both arms around the knight.
The Northman was covered in blood. He had already suffered seven or eight sword wounds, and a deep gash across his chest exposed the bone beneath.
Yet his arms clamped down like iron shackles.
"You—"
The knight struggled, hacking at the man's back with his sword.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
But the Northman refused to let go.
The Northman lifted his head and grinned, revealing blood-soaked teeth.
"You bastard!"
"We die together!"
Then he sank his teeth into the knight's neck.
The knight screamed.
Both men toppled into the river and disappeared beneath the water.
A string of bubbles rose to the surface.
Then nothing.
Elsewhere, a Northman grabbed a stone from the river and smashed it into the head of another Lannister soldier.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The soldier's skull burst apart.
Red and white matter spilled out and mixed with the river water.
Some of the Westerland infantry in the front ranks had already begun turning to flee.
Northmen caught up to them from behind and buried axes into their backs.
One soldier collapsed into the river.
Struggling, he tried to crawl back to his feet.
The Northman brought his axe down again, chopping into his leg.
The soldier let out a scream and never got up again.
"Run!" the Northman shouted at the fleeing Westerland soldiers.
"Run!"
"Let's see you run!"
"Weren't you enjoying the chase?"
"You chased us for three days and fought four battles!"
"Weren't you so impressive?"
"Come on!"
"Come on!"
But at last, the second wave of Westerland infantry arrived.
Fifteen hundred fresh soldiers joined the fighting, and the tide immediately began to turn.
They surged forward like a flood and swallowed the Northmen whole.
The Northmen began to fall back.
Fighting as they retreated, they withdrew toward the eastern bank of the river and toward the edge of the forest.
They left behind a field of corpses.
They left behind a river full of blood.
Yet they were still fighting.
Still killing.
Still risking everything.
Lord Jason's eyes lit up.
"Chase them!"
"Don't let them escape!"
"Third wave! Everyone across the river!"
"I'll lead the charge myself!"
Lord Lefford was horrified.
"My lord! No!"
"You cannot go yourself!"
"You are the commander!"
"The commander?" Jason shoved him aside.
"So what if I am?"
"A commander should lead from the front!"
"Let the men see that their lord is no coward hiding in the rear giving orders!"
Jason had already spurred his horse into the river.
"Hear my roar, men!"
"Kill every one of these wolf pups!"
Seeing their lord charging personally into battle, the soldiers of the Westerlands were greatly encouraged.
The Lannister army raised a thunderous cry and followed Jason into the river, charging toward the opposite bank.
"For Lannister!"
"For the Westerlands!"
"Kill those Northern savages!"
Several thousand men surged into the river at once.
The water churned violently beneath their feet. Spray flew everywhere, battle cries shook the heavens, and golden banners snapped in the wind.
Jason led from the front.
The river rose past his horse's legs, then its belly, then nearly to his own knees.
With men packed shoulder to shoulder ahead of him, his warhorse whinnied and refused to advance.
Lord Jason raised his sword high.
"Kill!" he roared.
On the opposite bank, the Northmen were still retreating.
They had already fallen back onto the riverbank itself, retreating to its edge.
In another moment, they would disappear into the forest.
Jason caught up to them, leaped from his horse, and splashed through knee-deep water, personally leading the charge onto the shore.
As he ran, he shouted, "After them!"
"Don't let them escape!"
The Westerland soldiers followed him onto the riverbank and pursued the withdrawing Northmen.
Then, at that very moment, another horn sounded from within the forest.
A sense of dread rose in Jason's heart.
Then he saw countless men pouring out of the trees.
They wore green clothing that blended into the forest itself.
Their banners bore silver trout on blue fields—the sigil of House Tully.
There were also the banners of House Blackwood.
And others as well: the Twin Towers of House Frey and the sigils of numerous Riverlands houses.
The main Riverlands host.
They had arrived too.
Jason's heart sank.
There were too many of them.
A dark mass poured from the forest like a tidal wave.
At least five or six thousand men.
Perhaps even more.
They charged forward with battle cries, spears bristling like a forest and blades gleaming like snow.
Jason knew that no matter what happened, retreat was impossible now.
"Reform the ranks!"
"Face the enemy!"
"Shield wall!"
"Lower your spears!"
The Westerland soldiers rapidly formed up.
Though they had just emerged from the freezing river, soaked to the bone and shivering from head to toe, they still assembled into formation with remarkable speed.
Shields were raised.
Spears were leveled.
A wall of steel took shape.
The Riverlands army crashed into them.
The first wave consisted of Tully infantry.
Wearing half-plate armor and carrying long spears, they charged forward with fierce cries.
"For honor!"
"For the Riverlands!"
"Kill these Westerland invaders!"
The two armies collided with a thunderous crash.
Spears punched through shields.
Swords hacked against armor.
Blood sprayed.
Men screamed.
Jason swung his sword through the melee.
In quick succession, he cut down three Riverlands soldiers.
One slash severed a soldier's spear.
The next struck his neck.
Blood erupted and splashed across Jason's face.
Another thrust pierced a second soldier's chest, the tip of the blade bursting out through his back.
A third swing struck another man in the face, shearing away half of it.
"Come on!" the lord roared.
"Who else?"
A Riverlands knight charged at him on horseback, lance leveled.
Jason sidestepped the attack and slashed at the horse's leg.
The animal screamed and crashed to the ground, throwing its rider.
Jason stepped forward and drove his sword through the knight's throat.
"Our lord is unstoppable!" the Westerland soldiers cheered.
But their cheers were quickly drowned out.
The second wave of Riverlands troops had arrived.
On the western bank of the river, Lord Lefford turned to the sweating commander of the archers.
"Can you shoot?"
"Three hundred paces, my lord... that's too far."
"Even if we can loose arrows..."
"Most of them will end up hitting our own men in the back..."
Lord Lefford knew the lord had walked straight into an ambush.
All he could do now was hope this lion came to his senses and ordered a retreat before it was too late.
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