Thud.
The heavy wooden door to the tower was kicked off its hinges. A guard standing there with a torch barely had time to shout "Who's there?!" before a blade found the gap in his armpit.
The Norrey scout who landed the hit tried to dance back, but a spear lunged out from the dark interior of the room, punching through his chest. He didn't even have time to grunt before the light left his eyes. Before the Lannister guard could pull the spear back, a massive Umber battle-axe whistled through the air, splitting the guy's helmet and head like a ripe melon.
"GO! GO! GO!"
"KILL 'EM ALL!"
A Lannister officer finally found his voice, screaming orders as guards poured out of the secondary towers. But the Norreys were already in the shadows. They struck fast, short knives to the throat, daggers between the ribs.
"On me! Charge!"
Greatjon Umber snatched a kite shield from a dead man and plowed forward. He was a human wrecking ball. His Umber elites followed him in a roar of steel and fur, their axes making short work of the Lannister spear-shafts.
Owen Norrey didn't hang around to watch the Greatjon enjoy himself. He knew the clock was ticking. He signaled his men, and they leaped from the battlements onto the stairs below, bypassing the main brawl to sprint toward the gatehouse mechanisms.
Opening that gate was the only thing that mattered. Every second they wasted was a second the garrison had to wake up and organize.
They ran along the inner wall until they hit a line of a dozen guards. These guys were ready. They'd set up a shield wall, pikes leveled, protecting the massive iron winches that controlled the portcullis. They looked calm, professional, and very, very dangerous.
Owen skidded to a halt. He looked at the spears, then at the torches flickering in the town below. They were running out of time.
"Silas! Take half the guys and circle around the lower stairs. Do it now!"
Silas nodded and vanished into the dark with ten men.
"The rest of you, with me!" Owen hissed.
He gripped his knife, his heart hammering. They didn't have armor. One slip, one lucky thrust, and they were done. To hunt a bigger, armored predator, you had to be fast and you had to be mean.
Owen lunged. The Lannister pikes jabbed out, and he rolled, the steel tips missing him by an inch. He came up under their shields, slashing at their ankles. Blood sprayed, and two guards went down, screaming as their tendons were severed.
The Norrey boys swarmed in. Four were skewered instantly, but the others didn't stop. They grabbed the spears with their bare hands, pulling the guards off balance while their buddies stabbed wildly at the gaps in the visors.
Just then, Silas and his crew slammed into the Lannisters' rear. It was a blood-soaked cluster. Owen was about to finish off a guard when a short sword caught him right in the solar plexus.
It was a cold, sharp feeling worse than a Northern winter. Owen looked down at the blade in his gut, his breath hitching. The Lannister guard who stabbed him let go of his spear and drew a dagger to finish the job, but Mata, Owen's second buried a captured spear in the guard's face before he could move.
"Owen!"
Mata screamed, but Owen was already sliding down the wall, his eyes going wide and vacant. There was no time for a funeral.
"OPEN THE GATE! NOW!"
Mata wiped the tears and sweat from his face and threw his weight onto the winch. The heavy iron portcullis began to groan, slowly rising an inch at a time.
Below them, the drawbridge cables snapped as Mata hacked them through. BANG. The massive wooden planks fell across the moat like a thunderclap.
Northern warriors dropped through the "murder holes" in the ceiling, kicking the heavy gate bolt loose and heaving the doors open.
Outside, seven hundred riders were waiting. They didn't need a second invitation.
My dad led the charge, his white sunburst banner leading the way into the city streets. They galloped through the "Castle Town," turning the wide avenues into a killing field.
Alisant Lefford had managed to scramble together a militia of about three hundred men, but they were mostly terrified servants and town guards. They ran straight into Galbart Glover's cavalry. It wasn't a fight; it was a stampede. Alisant knelt in the mud, offering her sword in surrender before the first horse even reached her.
Meanwhile, Ser Wendelin Hill, the bastard running the defense was trying to reach the gatehouse with his personal guard. He turned a corner and came face-to-face with a black bear banner.
Lady Maege Mormont didn't give him time to talk. She swung her spiked morning star, blocked his sword with her shield, and crushed his chest plate with a sickening thud. Wendelin flew off his horse like a ragdoll.
Within the hour, the three Northern columns met at the West Wall. The defenders trapped there were cut off. Seeing their commander down and their Lady in custody, they threw down their spears.
The Golden Tooth was ours.
Robb led us to the godswood later that morning. The Leffords were an old family, half Andal, half First Men so they still kept a massive heart tree.
We had a lot of dead to pray for. Including Ser Stevron Frey, old Walder's eldest son. He'd taken a nasty fall at Oxcross and finally kicked the bucket in the infirmary. I didn't cry for him, but I knew his death was going to make the Frey succession a nightmare.
Robb walked over to me after the prayers were done. He looked tired, but there was a spark in his eye.
"Eddard," he whispered. "I just got a raven from Riverrun. Leo Lefford is dead. His horse went nuts at a river crossing and he drowned. Guess that makes Alisant the head of the house now."
He gave me a nudge. "She's beautiful, she's single, and she's currently our prisoner. You want to marry her? It might make running this place a lot easier if you've got a Lefford in your bed."
I rolled my eyes. "Robb, honestly? If you could just tell the guys to stop looting my future subjects, that would do more for my popularity than a wedding."
Robb laughed. He knew he couldn't stop the looting. If he tried, the army would revolt. But he appreciated the sentiment.
"Fair enough," I said, shrugging. "We can talk about the wedding after I'm officially the Lord of the Tooth. Let's finish the war first."
I'd walked the perimeter of the castle earlier. It was a fortress in every sense of the word, massive walls, full granaries, and a gold mine that was still producing a steady stream of ore. It was a hell of a prize. My dad only had 2,300 men total back at Karhold. With the Tooth, I could support twice that.
"Alright," Robb said, his face hardening as he looked back toward the Riverlands. "Tywin is close. It's time to set the stage for a proper homecoming."
The smile was gone. The cold chill of the North was back in his eyes.
Tywin Lannister was coming, and he had no idea he was walking into a graveyard.