Cyberdyne of the Night's Watch

Chapter 13

The sun was just settling over the tops of the trees when Jon spotted a wide clearing on the east bank of the river. "Cyberdyne, over there," Jon pointed it out to him. "Shall we make camp?" He still asked politely after all of these weeks of traveling together even though he knew that Cyberdyne would agree to whatever Jon wanted.

Without hesitating, Cyberdyne dove over the side of the boat so gracefully that he barely even made the sides stir. But the resulting splash drenched Jon and rocked the boat so much that water sloshed over the sides. The water at this point in the river was so deep that only Cyberdyne's hair was visible above the water, but that didn't bother him at all. He took hold of the rope on the bow and dragged Jon over to the bank, slowly emerging from the river as he walked. They tied the boat up to an old willow that hung over the banks and trailed its tendrils in the water.

Setting up camp was quick. Cyberdyne could carry all of the supplies out of the boat in one trip, and could gather all of the necessary rocks for a fire pit in another trip. And while Jon took care of setting up the tent, Cyberdyne got dinner. He waded back into the river and came back out with ten fish, one impaled on each of his fingers. No net or rod necessary, and far more than enough to supplement the bread, cheese, and dry meat they'd taken when they left Robb's army at the Twins.

Dinner was roasting over a crackling fire by sunset. Jon sat back against an old tree trunk and watched the streaks of orange and red on the clouds turn to purple. The Wall had some of the most beautiful sunsets, but he'd been unable to enjoy them; there was always some task to do. Or someone there to gripe about the cold and the food rather than enjoy what they had. And when he'd been with Robb and his armies, he was wracked with internal struggle: whether he was abandoning the Watch and breaking his vow. Now, traveling with Cyberdyne down the river... he was happier than he'd been in a good long while.

Cyberdyne jumped to his feet. "Twenty eight men approaching up the road," he told Jon. In the darkness, Jon could catch just the slightest bit of light shining out from behind Cyberdyne's eyes. "Eleven of them carry weapons."

Jon stood as well. "Don't hurt them, Cyberdyne." He could see the shadows of the men moving through the forest. "Not without reason, anyway. We're men of the Watch; they have no reason to harm us." Not that bandits or hillfolk particularly cared about the Watch, or any other fealty. Men tend to forget that sort of thing when they're starving and downtrodden and can't even provide for their own families.

The group of men came closer. Jon recognized one man on horseback, and two more horses drawing a creaky old cart. There was some sort of crate on the cart, but Jon couldn't make it quite what it was.

"Who goes there?" Jon called out. The men didn't slow at all; they were already making their way to the campfire, and Jon's question didn't give them any pause. The horses' hooves continued to clip-clop closer on the packed dirt road. "I warn you, we're armed!" That was a bit of an understatement: Cyberdyne could have killed all twenty four of them without even using a weapon.

"Ay, so you should be." The man's voice was sort of hoarse and grizzled; the sort of man who'd been barking orders for decades. A military man. And strangely familiar. "Never can tell what sort of scum you'll come across on the King's Road." The man on the horse came within the circle of flickering light cast by their campfire, and Jon recognized him immediately. The thick, matted beard... the rough skin that looked like rotting old wood... that stooped shoulder...

"Yoren?" he asked. It was the old Ranger who'd led him to the Wall along with Uncle Benjen, then headed back south for new recruits.

"'Allo there, Snow." Yoren dismounted his horse and came to shake Jon's hand. "Got to tell you, I couldn't be happier to see a friendly face out here in these times." He sniffed, and his eyes darted toward the fish on the spit over the campfire. "Especially one who's got some food to spare."

"I can't believe it," Jon said as the rest of the group came forward. There were a lot of hardened men, likely criminals, accompanying Yoren. But there were also a number of children that Jon would have thought too young to join the watch.

"And who's your friend here?" Yoren asked, craning his neck to look up at Cyberdyne. "Blighter looks big enough to face down the Mountain!" He turned toward one of the boys in his group, probably around seventeen or eighteen years old. "Makes you look like a lit'le girl, Gendry!" That got a chuckle from some of the others, though the tall, muscular lad that he'd been talking to scowled back.

The cart came within the circle of firelight, and Jon realized that it wasn't carrying a crate or some other cargo; it was a cage. There were three men inside poking their heads out through the bars. One of them gnashed his teeth at Jon, and he swore that the man had sharpened fangs.

Then another person stepped into the light. Small, hardly reaching up to Jon's chest, with short hair cut in uneven patches. The person was covered with dirt and grime and wearing literal rags that had been torn and patched a hundred times over. But underneath it all, Jon recognized her immediately. That long face, those slate-grey eyes, and more than anything else, the fierce fire in her eyes. His half-sister, Arya Stark.