The Fierce Falcon.

Part 53

Artys's Pov, 

Sitting on top of Mist as I ride her out of the gate I take a deep breath while the falcons soar in the sky overhead and not long after I leave the gates close as I ride through the lines and lines of soldiers towards the front. 

Turning mist around I see the faces, the faces with fear but also courage on them standing here and standing on the wall but I can't stop my eyes from moving over towards Sansa. 

"Today we fight! Not for a king, not for a throne but for every man, woman and child that lives in Westeros! We raise our swords to fight together, to fight for the man next to us and his family, for the beating hearts of our children!" I begin as Mist snorts, and I let her slightly walk up and down a bit. 

"Aye I could tell you all I am not afraid, but in moments where we are afraid those are the moments that matter! Those are the times we can be brave, so I ask you all to be brave to fight, to help me bring a new Dawn!" I add and I hear them begin to speak in agreement. 

"He may think we are weak because of that we love, that we know grief and pain but all those things have made us stronger! That our hearts are able to beat for others makes us fight harder and fiercer than he ever can! I will not lie to you and say we will all see the light of dawn! But I will promise you that I will fight with every fiber in my body with every drop of blood to see a new dawn arise for us!" I yell and I hear swords being pulled, spears tap into the snow covered ground and cheers right now. "Do not fear dead because it comes for us all! But when it looks you in the eye say not today!" 

Turning around, I inhale deeply, the weight of the helmet settling firmly on my head. "Ready!" I shout, my voice echoing against the stone walls. The air is thick with anticipation, the scent of smoke wafting from the catapults where fireballs blaze brightly against the twilight. Trebuchets groan, their arms loaded and ready to launch a fire towards the incoming army. This is our stand, our moment of bravery. The Night King and his army loom in the distance, but we are living men. He has indeed chosen the wrong people to wage war upon.

"Fire!" I yell, and the machines respond instantly, catapulting balls through the air towards the oncoming horde. As they strike, igniting the night with fleeting bursts of light, my eyes can't help but widen at the sheer number that's charging towards us. It's not just men; giants and beasts of all kinds, anything he could muster, are all running upon us.

"Reload!" I scream, my voice piercing the tense air as the Falcons dive towards the oncoming horde. Their talons release the sacks and balls filled with Dragon Glass shards, which cascade down like deadly rain or explode on impact. Moments later, the sky blazes with fury as the dragons soar overhead, their breaths unleashing torrents of fire upon the undead army, engulfing them in a sea of flames.

Pulling my sword out as the dead just keep on running our way I take a deep breath as for a moment I seem to block everything out, this is it. If we lose the whole of Westeros will be lost, lost in a night that will never end. 

Seeing the thousands and thousands of arrows fly towards the army, along with the massive fireball, it feels like an endless onslaught. For every enemy that falls, twenty more surge forward to fill the gap. "Get ready!" I yell, my voice cutting through the chaos. Mist beneath me shifts nervously, sensing the impending clash as the dead draw nearer with each passing second. The air is thick with tension, a palpable force that grips every soldier on the field. We brace ourselves for impact, knowing that this moment could very well be our last stand.

And before I know it, the dead charge towards us, their numbers overwhelming. With a firm grip on my sword, I strike down the first of the undead assailants as they clash against the living's defense. Above, dragons roar, unleashing torrents of fire upon the dead to try and keep them  back but there are just so many.