Song of A Northern Sorcerer

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Kneeling in the slowly melting snow, eleven-name-day Jon Snow, bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, watched with bated breath as the twenty men he was with slowly moved forward through the lightly snow covered forest towards their destination. Despite the Citadel and the Maesters of the south declaring that winter was officially over, and spring was upon them, all the people of the North knew that only really mattered to the people south of the neck. For in the north, snow was an almost constant. And as the words of House Stark stated, winter always came back.

"Keeping up with us lad? Can't have you falling behind on us."

Turning his head sideways, Jon saw the leader of this group, First Ranger Harwin, the son of Hullen the horse master of Winterfell. Nodding, Jon looked around the trees surrounding him and took his time locating each Wolf Rangers that were accompanying them on this task, which in fact turned out to be all twenty of them.

The idea of the Wolf Rangers came from his brother Robb, soon after the incident in the godswood with Lady Stark nearly a year past now. Numerous lords of the North and smallfolk alike had started coming to his Lord Father claiming bandits had been raiding along the Kingsroad between Moat Cailin and Winterfell, as well as along the lesser roads that connected the major keeps of the North to one another. The Lords of the North had sent out their men to try and hunt them down, but no one had any success. It was as if the bandits were wind: striking hard and disappearing.

Many believe that they were just simple bandits that were trying to take advantage of the large terrain of the North and its sudden increase in trade to make a profit, even his Lord Father believed it to be so. But Master Nox did not. So, with his Lord father's permission, Nox had devised a trap. Four small trade caravans with a handful of covered wagons each left Winterfell and traveled through the area the bandits were known to frequently strike. Word was then sent out that each caravan would be transporting a different item, glass, food, wool, metal and other substances. But the truth was the only thing in each of the caravans were dozens of Stark men at arms.

Word eventually reached Winterfell that the bandits had indeed struck only a single caravan, the one that was supposed to be carrying glass to White Harbor. After the single attack, Master Nox was convinced that the bandits were no ordinary bandits at all, but rather sellswords from Essos and that the North needed to retaliate and rout out the bandits to send a message to Myr, the only other known maker of glass in both Essos and Westeros. His Lord Father wasn't convinced, however, neither about the bandits being sellswords or about Myr's involvement. But he did agree that the bandits were targeting the glass shipments, and therefore ordered the Lords of the North to supply more men to help defend the caravans.

For weeks afterwards, the Lords and men of the North searched for the remainder of the bandits, but there was no sight of them. In the end, it was Robb who came up with the idea of creating a special group of men modeled after a combination of the Mandalorians from Master Nox's tales and the Rangers of the Night's Watch. They would be paid soldiers, much like Master Nox wanted, and their duties would be to specifically travel the North and hunt down bandits and others that threatened the peace of the North. With Lord Stark's permission, word was quickly sent out to every nearby settlement that they were looking for volunteers to create this new group of rangers, what their duties would entail, and that they would be compensated accordingly.

At first, dozens maybe even more than a hundred men, both old and young, came to Winterfell looking to join this new group. But Jon was sure that almost all were lured in by the promise of coin rather than anything else. Unfortunately for volunteers, it was not Ser Rodrik or even Ser Jory that was responsible for training them, but rather Master Nox. Within a few days, over half of the volunteers had left. And by the time that Nox had declared them 'mostly fit' for their first assignment, there were only twenty left. And now Jon was with those twenty men that managed to make it through Master Nox's training, hunting down the remaining bandits and trying to find just where the men had come from in the first place.

"Aye," Jon nodded, breathing deep and calling on the Force to try and calm his racing heart like Master Nox had taught him to do. "I can keep up."

"Good," Harwin nodded. "Lord Stark and your sorcerer said you'd be an advantage to us in finding these fuckers. Hope they were right. And I hope the sorcerer taught you a few tricks that will be of use to us. Cause I have no fucking clue how to find these fuckers that are raiding our lines."

Keeping his mouth shut, Jon bit back the retort that he wanted to let loose. While the people of Winterfell overall had treated him better than Lady Stark ever had, in the end, he was still a bastard in their eyes. Something that Master Nox had reminded him of several times. 'Your name is but a name, Jon Snow,' his Master had told him. 'It does not define you, however much people may believe it otherwise. And until such time as you can prove those naysayers wrong, wear your title, embrace it. Take away that which others feel makes them have power over you. And you will find that they will never be able to use your name against you. And in time, you will prove them all for fools.'

Closing his eyes, Jon knelt and placed the palm of his right hand against the ground. Closing his eyes, Jon let out a low breath as he delved deeply into the force, concentrating the swirling power within him into the ground and then reaching out to feel his surroundings. He could feel the trees, the grass, the animals stirring about the woods as they made themselves scarce. But most of all, he could feel the slight sensation that he'd been searching for.

Keeping his eyes closed, Jon kept his right hand firmly pressed against the ground and let the Force guide his left hand as he pointed off into the distance. "They're that way," he said with conviction. "An hour, maybe two by foot."

He could also feel Harwin's doubt. "You sure, boy?"

"Yes," Jon nodded, opening his eyes and standing upright. "After all, Master Nox has taught me and my trueborn siblings a few 'tricks'. This is one of mine."

Even after studying under Master Nox for several years, it still amazed Jon just how versatile the magic, or rather the Force, truly was. Between him, Robb and Arya, as Sansa had rejected any form of instruction from Master Nox, each of them had their strengths and weaknesses when it came to using their newfound powers. Robb almost had an aura about him, as Master Nox described it. He was a natural leader and could think quickly, answering questions during their lessons with Maester Luwin almost as soon as the Maester asked them.

Arya's Force abilities had formed in a way that was far different than Robb's or his own. His beloved little sister could hardly lift a stone with the Force. But, instead, she could use the Force to strengthen her small body in a way that made her faster and almost physically stronger than Robb and himself. To be sure, both himself and Robb could do the same. But where they needed to concentrate to achieve a desired result, Arya could do it naturally. And not only that, but she had the uncanny ability to make herself disappear. Not literally, of course, but it was almost as if she could make people momentarily forget her presence. Of course, this had caused more than a few arguments with Lady Stark as Arya frequently used her gifts to skirt her 'womanly' lessons with Septa Mordane.

And as for himself, he had developed a skill that Master Nox was most interested in. He could track anyone or anything. Even days after they'd passed by and even if they hadn't left any obvious signs. Master Nox had called it 'Force Tracking', and stated that in time, Jon would be able to track down any individual even if the trail was days or even weeks old. At first, Jon hadn't known what to think of his powers. He wanted to be able to use lightning like Master Nox, but instead the Force had manifested itself within him to give him this ability. To say he'd been disappointed had been an understatement. But after several weeks with Master Nox developing his powers, Jon had begun to see the benefit of such a skill. It wasn't just game or the odd bandit that he could track in the open. But in Winterfell, he could enter a room and, with a decent amount of concentration, could even identify and locate those who'd been in the room recently.

And it was because of his tracking skills that he was now with the Wolf Rangers, hunting down the bandits that'd been plaguing their trade lines for months. Not that he'd be doing any fighting of course. Despite being trained by Master Nox for years, his father had yet to gift him a true blade of his own. So instead, all he had to make do with was the small dagger that'd been gifted to him by his father on his last name-day.

Staying a few paces behind the rangers, Jon did his utmost to keep up with the older, more experienced men of Winterfell. By the time one of the rangers that was leading the group and was currently standing at the crest of a small hill raised his hand calling for halt, Jon was nearly out of breath and had to lean up against a tree to steady himself while he pulled on the Force to replenish his strength. 'I understand what Master Nox was talking about now.' Jon thought, looking around at the ranger's in sight of himself and noticing that none of them were laboring nearly as hard as him. 'We may have the Force at our disposal, but there is much to be said for experience and endurance.'

Sticking close to Harwin, Jon kept himself low to the ground as he followed the First Ranger to the crest of the hill. Once at the top, Jon immediately ducked behind a tree. In a small ravine on the opposite side of the hill was a decently sized house, no doubt a fishmonger's family home as it was stationed so close to the large stream that flowed into the White Knife. But it wasn't the larger than average house that'd made the lead ranger call for a halt. But rather the two men Jon could see standing just outside the door talking to one another. Two men who were most decidedly not Northmen. A fact that was confirmed when Jon used the Force to increase his hearing to try and spy on their conversation, only to realize he didn't understand the tongue they were speaking in.

"Well, lad, looks like you were right," Harwin whispered to him as the two of them observed the homestead. "Two men on guard, but last report we had placed their numbers at well over two dozen."

"Could be inside," the other ranger whispered. "That homestead is big enough to fit them all. Be a bit tight, but it'd work."

"Well, this just makes it easier for us then," Harwin nodded. "Spread the word to the others. Split into groups of three. We hit 'em from the north, south, east, and west. Our best archers will stay here with the boy. The signal to move will be when we skewer those two fuckers standing guard. Jon, you stay here. Last thing I need is you getting a big head and getting yourself killed. Gods only know what Lord Stark will do to me if I fail to return with you safe and unharmed."

Jon wanted to tell the man that he was ready to prove himself, both to Lord Stark and the people of the North, but he wasn't given the chance as the First Ranger seemingly disappeared into the grasses and trees around them, taking almost all of the rangers with him shortly afterwards and leaving Jon with the four who were considered to be amongst the best archers in the North. Hells, Jon had even seen a few of the men shoot an arrow in a manner that allowed it to bend around an obstacle in order to hit the targets that lay behind.

Staying low to the ground, Jon watched, more through the Force than with his eyes, as the rangers silently made their way into position around the homestead. The two guards standing at the entrance were still talking and not noticing their death slowly approaching. 'Something isn't right.' Jon thought as the rangers beside him readied their arrows. 'Shouldn't there be more out on guard? The homestead is big, to be sure… But can it really hold the number of men suspected to be with these bandits?'

Letting the land around him fade, Jon pulled on the Force and reached out with his senses, trying to isolate the uneasy feeling he was getting. Almost immediately he recognized what was wrong, as he felt a dozen presences approaching the few that'd been left behind from the opposite direction of the homestead. "They're behind us!" Jon shouted, rising to his feet, as he drew his dagger from his hip, his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

The four rangers started at his yell, but quickly gathered themselves as war cries came from the trees behind them, followed soon by the dozen bandits Jon had sensed. Holding his dagger in two hands, Jon's mind went blank and he froze in place as he watched as the bandits ran at them with weapons drawn. All thoughts of Master Nox's training, his Lord Father's lessons, and Ser Rodrik's advice left him as he just stood there. Even as a bandit closed in on him, sword raised ready to cut him down, Jon couldn't move a muscle in his body.

Just as the sword was about to come down, the bandit jerked as an arrow appeared in the man's eye. A rough pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him off to the side and to the ground. "Get the fuck out of the fight, boy!"

Rolling onto his side, Jon watched with wide eyes as the four rangers fought against the bandits. It was unlike anything Jon had thought battle would be. It wasn't glorious. It wasn't honorable. It was simply…killing. By the time the bandits had managed to close the distance between themselves and the rangers, four of their numbers had been done in by the arrows of the rangers. But even with how close they were, the rangers kept to their bows, using them as staves to deflect swords and axes aside even as they tried to notch arrows.

He watched as one of the rangers grabbed an arrow by the shaft near the head and used it to stab a bandit in the throat, only to pull the arrow back out, spilling the man's blood all over him and then notch and loose the arrow into another bandit's eye. Only to receive a sword in his back the moment he felled that bandit. Another ranger had dropped his bow and had drawn the short sword, but he was outnumbered and surrounded. He managed to land a single cut before a bandit cut open his thigh, making him stagger before a second cut open his throat.

The ranger who'd thrown Jon had drawn his own short sword and stood protectively in front of Jon as he fended off a man who was screaming in a weird tongue. "Get the fuck out of here, boy!" the ranger yelled as he found an opening and cut the bandit down. "We can't fight while trying to protect you at th-"

His words died as something warm splashed across Jon's face. Bringing a shaking hand to his face, Jon wiped at the warm substance and pulled his hand away. 'Blood.' Looking from his hand to the ranger that'd been defending him, Jon's heart raced even faster as he saw the ranger fall to his knees before falling to his side. An arrow in his neck and two more in his chest.

Looking up, the world around him almost seemed to come to a crawl as he watched a bandit in the distance notch an arrow on his bow and take aim. He could almost see the arrow waver slightly as it left the bow, heading straight for Jon. And yet, even watching the arrow coming at him, Jon still couldn't get his body to move. 'Move! Move! Move!' "Move!" The last came out as a shout as Jon final gained control enough to roll to the side. But even then, he was too late as the arrow grazed across his brow above his left eye, leaving a searing pain as he rolled away.

Reaching up to his eye, Jon's fingers touched the cut on his brow. 'Blood,' he thought, pulling his hand away and looking down at it. 'My blood. A ranger's blood. So much…blood.'

A new set of rough hands grabbed him and turned him around, forcing him to look up at the sight of one of the bandits looming over him. "Fuck," the man cursed, his accent not of the North. "We didn't sign up to kill no kids."

"A job is a job," another said, his accent similar but slightly different. "We get paid. We kill. We don't ask questions. Now finish up before the others reach us."

The man above Jon let out a sigh before raising his blade, point aimed down towards Jon's heart. Thoughts of his siblings ran through his head as he stared at the sword ready to take his life. Of Master Nox, of his Lord Father. 'No! I – It can't end like this! It can't!'

"No!" Jon shouted, holding his hands before him and gathering the Force to him before lashing out with it as he'd done countless times under Master Nox's tutelage.

The man standing above him had only a moment to widen his eyes in surprise before he was thrown back away from Jon and into tree behind him. Spinning up to his feet, Jon held his hands out to his sides, waiting for the next bandit to try and get to him. The rest of the men that'd been plaguing the North did little more than stare at Jon as they tried to figure out what'd just happened. But before anyone could move, shouts of 'Winterfell' came from the hill behind Jon.

He almost sagged in relief as he felt the rangers of the North falling on the bandits. But his relief his was short lived as one of the men regained his wits and charged at Jon with his sword raised. Acting on instinct alone, Jon flung his hands towards the advancing man, lashing out with the Force. Just like with the previous man, this one barely had time to figure out what was happening before he was flung back and into another tree with enough force to break the trunk in half as the man impacted it.

Turning on his heel, Jon readied himself to fight some more, only to find that there were no enemies to be had. With the rest of the rangers coming to their aid, the remaining bandits had either surrendered, died, or run off. Jon wasn't sure which. But what he did know was that it was over.

And with that realization, Jon's blood began to cool as he looked down at his bloodied hands. "Well, I'll be damned, Jon," Harwin muttered, coming up and patting Jon on the back with enough force to make him stumble forward a step. "I guess that the sorcerer has been teaching more than just a few 'tricks' eh? Fell a man twice or three times your size at barely eleven name-days. You truly are a son of the North, lad."

Blinking, Jon looked from his hands to the two bandits he'd thrown away from himself. The one that didn't go through the tree was resting at the base of the trunk. His body bent backwards at an unnatural angle. And the second, the one who had gone through the tree had splinters the size of Jon's fingers sticking out of his chest, legs, and arms.

He barely had time to cough before he felt his stomach betrayed him and he lost his fast and meal from the night before. And then the ground was rushing up to meet him as darkness clouded his sight.