Exposed
Chapter 8
Exposed
Robb twisted in his seat, desperately searching for any sign of the wolves. They appeared to have gone, but so had everyone else. Harry had been right next to him when the animals appeared. Why hadn’t he checked that Harry was following?
He slowed his horse down enough so he could turn back. The stallion didn’t seem particularly pleased to head back towards the predators, but Robb urged him onwards. He could hardly abandon his friends.
The woodland flashed past him but there was no sign of wolf, horse, or human.
He came upon where the wolves had first attacked them. The flowers Theon had given Hermione were scattered on the ground. He reined his horse in, looking closely at the area to see where the others had gone. “Jon?” He yelled over his pounding heartbeat, his horse moving anxiously at the noise. “Hermione? Harry? Theon?”
Robb saw hoof prints leading off in two different directions. One set was made by two or more horses, the other by a lone one. He chose to follow the latter—whoever had gone that way was vulnerable on their own. He continued to shout out names and was relieved when he heard someone call back far off to his left. Turning his horse, he moved in the direction the voice had come from, hoping that the trail he had been following was made by someone who was actually safe.
The voice called again, and he could make out the words this time. “Hurry, Robb, Hermione’s hurt!”
Dread filled his stomach, and he urged his horse on. In his mind, he pictured Hermione covered in blood from some unseen wolf bite. He shook his head to rid himself of the image.
Robb could make out a figure through the branches and rode towards them. His horse reared suddenly and he was nearly thrown from its back. He looked around to see what had startled the stallion. On the ground a few feet ahead lay a wolf and there was another a bit further on. They were both completely stationary. Robb assumed they were dead, though he could see no blood.
Knowing that he’d already put his horse through enough, Robb arched widely around the wolves until he came upon Theon.
“What happened?” He asked, practically leaping out of his saddle. Just beyond where Theon was standing, the ground fell away. He was looking over the edge. “Where are the others?” Theon pointed mutely down the slope. It wasn’t often that Theon was stuck for words.
Robb moved forward and looked down, fearing the worst. Between them, Harry and Jon were trying to carry Hermione’s prone figure back up the incline. The soft ground was making this a tricky task as their feet slipped in patches of mud. Robb half walked, half fell down to them, ignoring the dirt that immediately coated his garments.
“She was traveling at speed and didn’t see the drop,” Jon panted. “Her horse stopped and she was thrown from the saddle.” Robb felt his stomach clench. To fall off a horse at speed was dangerous. To tumble down a slope wasn’t good either. But both?
“Is she…” he couldn’t bring himself to ask the question, but Jon seemed to understand what he wanted to know.
“She’s alive,” he said, and Robb nearly sat down in relief. “I saw her hit one of the trees before she went out of my sight. She was lucky that it stopped her fall, otherwise she probably would’ve broken her neck.”
Harry looked white with fear underneath all the mud. However worried Robb felt about Hermione’s condition, he knew that Harry felt a lot worse.
They struggled over the crest of the slope together, laying Hermione safely on the ground. Robb could see that she was breathing now—rapid, shallow breaths that made him uneasy.
“We need to get her to Maester Luwin straight away,” Theon said, somewhat pointlessly. He had gathered all the horses though, so he had at least done something helpful in the last few minutes. “I’ll carry her—I’m the strongest.” He saddled up and held out his hands expectantly.
Harry looked like he wanted to protest.
“Theon’s right,” Jon said, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “We want her to be secure.”
With that logic, Harry nodded and passed her up to Theon with Robb’s help. “Please be careful with her,” he said. Then, something seemed to suddenly occur to him for he checked Hermione’s cloak. Without warning, he hurried back down the slope. Robb watched in confusion and moved to see what he was doing.
“Harry, we need to hurry!” Theon called impatiently.
Robb watched as Harry investigated the ground closely, obviously searching for something. He felt Jon stand next to him and observe the inexplainable activity with Robb.
“What’s he doing?” Robb muttered. He glanced at his brother. Jon was wearing a very contemplative look. “What’s the matter?”
“I saw… I don’t know, it happened so fast but then she did it again.” Jon looked over his shoulder. Bewildered by this vague statement, Robb turned, wondering what Jon was looking at. All he could see were those wolves.
“What did Hermione do?” He asked. Jon didn’t answer, but turned back to watch Harry. Robb looked too, just in time to see Harry hide something away in his cloak. Jon walked over to his horse, leaving Robb very much in the dark. “What—”
“I’ll talk to you at Winterfell,” Jon said, cutting across him sharply. Irritated, Robb mounted his horse.
The ride back to the castle seemed to take forever. Robb took the lead, his eyes alert for any sign of the wolves returning. He couldn’t understand why the wolves had appeared in the first place. They weren’t uncommon in these woods, but it was rare for them to hunt during the day, and he’d never known them to attack such a large group. Five humans with horses weren’t exactly easy prey for them.
He looked back at Hermione in frustration. He wanted to set a quicker pace so that Maester Luwin could see to her injuries, but he worried that the uneven motions of the ride would make her worse. He couldn’t tell if it was good or bad that she hadn’t woken yet.
The walls of the castle eventually came into sight, and he spurred ahead to alert Maester Luwin that his skills were needed.
“Someone, fetch Maester Luwin!” He roared as soon as he was through the gate. The people in the courtyard stared at him. Why wasn’t anyone doing anything? He pointed at a guard. “Go bring Maester Luwin immediately!” The man hurried away. A stable boy ran forward, Robb swung down, and threw the reins to him.
He turned around on the spot, suddenly feeling helpless.
“Ah, Robb, there you are.” Sansa appeared behind him, clutching her cloak around her tightly. “I was beginning to think you had failed me. I’m so looking forward to dancing.”
“There won’t be any dancing, Sansa,” he said brusquely, looking around for a sign of the maester.
“But I asked you to—” his sister began, but Robb cut her off.
“We were attacked by wolves. Hermione is hurt.”
Sansa gasped and her hands flew to her mouth in alarm. A small crowd had been attracted by his yells but the Maester was not one of them.
“Will she be alright?” Sansa asked, her voice a bit muffled by her hands. Robb paused in his searching for Maester Luwin to give her an anxious glance.
“I don’t know,” he replied helplessly.
The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew his attention back to the gate and he was relieved to see the others ride in. He ran towards Theon and Hermione and held out his arms so that she could be passed down to him. She was still unconscious and deathly pale but he could feel tiny puffs of air against his neck when he held her as securely as he could.
“What has happened?” A voice called. As he turned, Robb had never been so pleased to see Maester Luwin. Robb started to explain but Harry, Jon, and Theon all spoke too. Maester Luwin raised his hand and the boys all ceased.
“I am only capable of hearing one voice at a time,” the maester said while his eyes darted over Hermione’s form. “Who had the best view of events?”
“I did,” Jon said at once, before he launched into an explanation of the wolves’ attack and Hermione’s fall.
“And she has yet to regain consciousness?” Maester Luwin asked.
“She hasn’t stirred at all,” Theon confirmed.
“Bring her to my turret. I must examine her injuries,” Maester Luwin instructed and Robb didn’t need to be told twice. Harry and Jon walked ahead of him to clear the crowd out of the way and Robb concentrated on not tripping over or bumping into anything.
Once Hermione had been safely placed in the Maester’s care, Robb found himself staring at a wooden door as he and Jon waited for news of Hermione’s condition. Maester Luwin tried to deny Harry access too, but Harry just grabbed hold of Hermione’s hand and sent them all such a determined look that they knew he would not me moved. They had seen no sign of Theon since their arrival, but Robb didn’t care. It was already crowded on the steps with just two of them.
Robb’s mind went back and forth over the wolves’ attack and its consequences until his head ached.
Jon sat on one of the turret steps and Robb followed suit, feeling exhausted. He couldn’t tell how long they’d been waiting; it could have been five minutes or fifty, or perhaps even longer.
“You were going to talk to me about something,” Robb suddenly remembered, looking over at his half-brother.
Jon glanced down the turret steps, as though looking for someone. “I don’t think this is the best place to talk about it. Someone might hear.”
Robb frowned, annoyed at still being kept in the dark. He wondered what Jon could have to say that needed to be discussed so secretly. He’d said that Hermione had done something back in the woods, but what?
His father had told him and Jon of Harry and Hermione’s concession that they didn’t know how they had come to be at Winterfell or even Westeros and he pondered whether it had anything to do with that. It had taken an incredible amount of self-restraint not to blurt a never-ending stream of questions at them both when he next saw them, but as the weeks went by, he found himself almost completely forgetting that they weren’t from anywhere on one of Maester Luwin’s maps. They just seemed like everyone else at Winterfell.
Well, almost.
Harry had those strange things on his eyes (his "glasses") that helped him to see better, and there had been that incident at the execution where Harry had tried to convince Father not to go through with the killing. This dislike of killing also showed itself when they were in weapons training. Robb never tried to actually kill his opponent. When he was fighting with his sword (nor did he have much chance when he was using a wooden sword or even a blunted tourney sword) but he would still aim for the parts of the body where he would do the most damage.
Harry on the other hand, tried to use skill and tactics to defeat his challenger. It worked on occasion when Harry was fighting other young men who were training to be guards, but he had never been successful against more experienced opponents. Robb hated to think how long Harry would last in a proper battle if he just tried to make his enemy drop his sword, or fall over instead of killing them as quickly as possible before the next one came along. Not that Robb knew what it was truly like, having never been in a battle either.
Despite Harry’s strong sense of morality, he was much more suited to life in Winterfell than Hermione was. Robb felt his stomach clench as he thought of her and it wasn’t purely because of the worry he had for her well-being. He had never met a girl like Hermione before. If he wasn’t being honest with himself, he’d never really associated with girls his own age much. There was Sansa, of course, but they had never had a lot in common and he much preferred spending time with Jon and later, Theon. Sometimes his father’s lords would visit but it was rare that they would bring their daughters with them. Those that he had met were nice enough, but he’d had very little to say to them beyond the formalities. Nor had he ever really spoken to any of the girls that worked around Winterfell, like his mother’s servants or those who worked in the kitchen. He’d never really thought of them before. There were other women who worked in Winter Town, namely the local brothel, that Theon like to talk about often, but Robb had never stepped foot there. He knew that his father would probably disapprove, and Robb was loath to disappoint the man he looked up to. Robb had known from a young age that his duty would be to marry a woman from one of the great houses and he’d have very little say in who his wife would be, if at all. But he’d been far more concerned with his weapons training and the prospect of one day being Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North to care too much about girls. At least, until one had fallen out of the sky.
If Hermione had been more like Sansa and Jeyne Poole, Robb doubted that he would be quite so fascinated by her—apart from her coming by an unknown force from an equally unknown land. She wasn’t afraid of doing what she wanted, rather than what was expected of her and for someone whose future had been laid out for him since birth, Robb found her very refreshing. He thought she was very pretty too, and he liked it especially when she smiled, which was why he often tried to make her laugh. She smiled for him more than anyone else. He didn’t know why he paid attention to things like that, but he couldn’t help himself.
“What are you smiling about?” Jon’s question interrupted his thoughts, and he quickly schooled his features into a more suitable morose expression.
“Nothing,” he replied quickly.
Robb was saved from further embarrassment as the sound of footsteps on the stairs drew their attention. They stood up as their father appeared.
“Theon has informed me of what happened in the woods. How is Hermione?” He asked.
“Maester Luwin has told us nothing,” Robb replied in frustration.
Father nodded gravely.
From the other side of the door came a series of cries and moans that were definitely made by Hermione. A small part of Robb relaxed, knowing that she was alive and conscious, but it sounded like she was in a great deal of pain. He hovered nervously at the door again with Jon and his father, all of them knowing better than to interrupt Maester Luwin when he was tending to someone’s injuries.
After a couple of minutes, the noises stopped. The door was opened and Maester Luwin nearly sent the three of them tumbling down the stairs due to their closeness.
“Hermoine has numerous fractures and possible breaks,” Maester Luwin announced, getting straight to the point. “When she hit the tree there was damage to her ribs. The majority of the impact from hitting the ground appears to have been taken by the ankles, hips, and lower back, though mercifully she seems to have avoided any significant damage to her spine.
“She will recover?” Father asked.
Maester Luwin tucked his arms into his sleeves. “It will take a long time and she will experience a high amount of pain but, yes, I think Hermione will eventually get back to near full health. Though it is likely that she will always feel some lingering effects from her injuries.”
Robb breathed a quiet sigh of relief. It sounded like her injuries could have been much worse.
“I have sedated her with a dose of Milk of the Poppy,” Maester Luwin informed, dashing any hopes Robb had of seeing Hermione for himself. “I anticipate she will need to take it often in the next couple of days. I will bind her feet in stiffened bandages, but there is little I can do for her ribs, hips, or back except advise her plenty of bed rest and a restriction of activity.”
Father nodded. “Thank you, Maester Luwin. I trust you are doing all you can. Come, boys, let us leave Hermione to her rest.”
Robb reluctantly followed his father down the stairs of the turret, knowing there was little point in staying to watch Hermione sleep.
Father, I would speak with you and Robb,” Jon said quietly as they neared the exit.
“What is it you wish to speak of, Jon?” Lord Stark asked.
“I cannot talk of it in a place where we may be overheard,” Jon replied, glancing into the twilit yard. There was no one there, but his father nodded.
“We will go to my rooms.”
Robb knew that whatever his half-brother wanted to talk about was related to what he had seen Hermione do during the wolf attack. He was eager to find out what it was that had caused Jon to seek such a secretive meeting.
“Speak, Jon, you know what you have to say can be shared freely here without concern of prying ears,” Father said once they had entered his rooms.
Jon shook his head slightly. “I, I will try, father, but I don’t understand what I saw. I keep telling myself that I must have dreamt it, but I know that I did not.”
Robb felt as confused as his father looked.
“You are not speaking sense. Start from the beginning,” Father instructed.
Jon nodded, seeming to gather his thoughts. “It happened when we were being chased by the wolves. I was close to Hermione when they appeared. A few of the wolves chased her horse off the path, and I followed so I could try to help her.” Jon paused and Robb held his breath in anticipation. “I didn’t have a perfect view of what was happening, but I could see that the wolves were gaining on her. There was… it looked like, like a bright red light. It came from Hermione and moved quickly, like an arrow, striking one of the wolves. The light disappeared and the wolf instantly crumpled to the ground. She shot red light at another wolf and again it was incapacitated. The other wolves ran away but then Hermione was thrown from her horse.”
The last few sentences were said very quickly, and it took Robb’s brain a few seconds to pick through what Jon had said.
“Hermione made some red light and shot it at the wolves?” Robb asked incredulously.
“I know it sounds unbelievable but that is what I think I saw,” Jon replied, crossing his arms defensively.
“The light, it wasn’t fire?” Father said, but Jon shook his head.
“No, it wasn’t flame-like. It didn't burn the wolves in the least. I don’t really know how to describe it,” he sighed. “It’s… it’s like she took some of the light from the sun, but instead of yellow, it was red.”
“But where did it come from?” Robb wondered. “Did you see anything else?”
“I, I can’t be sure but I thought I saw her holding something in her hand,” Jon admitted. “It was only very briefly though—everything happened so quickly.”
“What was she holding?” Father pressed.
“It looked a bit like a stick,” Jon recalled. “I thought that it might be the one we found when she and Harry first arrived here. The light seemed to come from there.”
“So, that stick is like a weapon?” Robb surmised, feeling his mouth go dry. He saw those wolves when he’d been trying to find everyone. Their lack of movement had made Robb believe them to be dead. If Hermione’s stick could make light that killed animals, and possibly people, then it was a weapon far more dangerous than any he had heard of before.
“I suppose so,” Jon admitted.
“Where is the stick now?” Father asked, looking concerned.
Robb blanched. Hermione hadn’t been holding the stick when she was carried back up the hill, so she must have dropped it as she fell.
“I think Harry retrieved it,” Jon said before turning to Robb. “You remember he went back down the slope before we left?” Robb nodded. “He tucked something away in his cloak, as though he didn’t want us to see what it was.”
“Jon’s right, Father. Harry must have it,” Robb agreed. “But… what do we do? Should we pretend that Jon didn’t see Hermione make the light, like we pretend that Jon and I don’t know that they’re not from Lorath? Or do we ask them about the sticks? If they can teach us how to make light like that—”
“Robb, you are getting carried away,” Father interrupted, causing his son to flush. “Their possession of weapons means we must proceed with caution.”
“Caution?” Robb repeated. “Why? There are many weapons kept at Winterfell.”
“Yes, but they are not kept secretly,” Father pointed out. “Nor are those weapons capable of things beyond our understanding.”
“But Harry and Hermione have never displayed any intention to want to hurt someone—they are most opposed to the idea, if I recall correctly,” Robb argued.
“Their weapons are most decidedly dangerous,” Jon said, “but I agree with Robb; I believe that neither Harry nor Hermione would wish to harm anyone at Winterfell.”
Their father seemed to consider their words for a long time before finally speaking. “We will take no action tonight. Harry and Hermione are not in a fit state to answer any of our questions and I must discuss matters with Maester Luwin.”
“Yes, Father,” they both replied.
“And I do not want either of you to go near Harry or Hermione until I have decided what to do,” he instructed. “Despite what you both think, I still believe this to be a dangerous situation.”
Robb bit back his protest, knowing that it wouldn’t do any good, but he didn’t bother to hide his disgruntled expression.
“Yes, Father,” he muttered.
“We will talk on the morrow.”
And with that, they were dismissed.
“Come in, boys,” Father called when Robb nervously knocked on the door. He and Jon had been sent to escort Harry up to Father’s rooms so that they could ask him about his and Hermione’s sticks. They hadn’t told Harry the reason for his summons, of course; Robb didn’t at all fancy being on the receiving end of that mysterious red light Hermione had apparently created.
Thankfully, Father had decided to confront Harry rather quickly and it had been only a day since the wolf attack. But even that length of time had been almost more than Robb could stand, desperate as he was for some answers. A small part of him still wondered if Jon had been mistaken about what he had seen—the whole thing was quite absurd!
Maester Luwin was standing by Father, his arms tucked in his sleeves as Robb closed the door and took his place close behind Harry. He’d been instructed to knock Harry unconscious if he should show any sign of attempting to hurt anyone. The orders made Robb uncomfortable, but they were necessary if Harry turned out to be as dangerous as Father feared. However, should Harry decide to attack them all with his stick then there was actually little any of them could do to stop him. How did one defend themselves against light?
“Harry, I would appreciate it if you would hand over the sticks we found on you and Hermione upon your arrival,” Father said, straight to the point. At the very mention of the sticks, Harry stiffened and Robb tensed, poised to strike a blow to his friend’s head.
“Why do you wish to see them, my lord?” Harry queried slowly. Robb saw the fingers on Harry’s right hand twitch. “They is just wood. Gifts from home.”
There was a pause. It was vital that they got the weapons away from Harry before he tried to use them, but there was not a particularly sensitive way of broaching the matter.
“Harry, we don’t want to hurt you,” Maester Luwin said calmly. “We just have a few questions about the sticks. There are things we don’t understand.”
“What you don’t understand?” Harry asked, still making no move to hand over the sticks.
“I saw Hermione use hers to form a red light,” Jon answered. “The light hit two of the wolves that attacked us and they fell to the ground.”
Harry’s fingers twitched again and Robb managed to stop himself from hitting him.
“For our safety, I would like you to part with the sticks,” Father repeated his command. “You do not need to hand them to anyone if you wish. You can place them in the center of the floor instead.”
“You will take them for long time? Away from us?” Harry looked around and only then noticed Robb’s position behind him.
“Not if you answer some questions and offer reassurance that you mean the people of Winterfell no harm with these weapons,” Father said, using his most intimidating voice.
“We would not hurt anyone,” Harry replied vehemently, taking Robb by surprise. “That is not who we are.” He paused and looked over his shoulder at Robb again before turning back to Father. “If I put them down, you vow you will not hurt me?”
“On my honor,” Father agreed.
Harry reached inside his cloak and slowly withdrew the two sticks. Then he carefully leaned forward and rolled the sticks into the middle of the room. The only sound in the room was the clacking sound they made before they came to a stop. Everyone seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. Robb moved away so that Harry could see he wasn’t in a threatening position anymore.
“Thank you, Harry,” Father said. “Now, how do these sticks work?”
Robb watched Harry have an internal battle with himself. “Hermione can tell you better. She speaks more Common Tongue,” Harry said, but Ned shook his head.
“Hermione is still under the effects of Milk of the Poppy,” Maester Luwin pointed out. “Harry, you understand why we seek the answers to these questions, don’t you?”
Harry nodded with a sigh. “They is not just weapons. They is not weapons really. We call them wands. Hermione and I, we have…” he frowned, trying to come up with the word. “Power. A special power. Not all people have it. The wand lets us use that power to do different things.”
A special power? What does that mean? Robb wondered.
They all exchanged looks with those words.
“What sort of things?” Father asked.
Harry shrugged. “Many things. I can make fire, lock doors, make something big or fly—”
“Fly?” Robb interrupted. All the things Harry mentioned sounded incredible, but that one in particular intrigued him. “Like a bird?”
“The item will go in the air,” Harry agreed.
“Can you show us?” Robb asked eagerly.
Harry looked at Father for permission. “I will do no bad things,” he reiterated. “My power is not to hurt others.”
Father nodded, though he looked to be prepared for trouble.
Harry walked to the center of the room and picked up his stick, or “wand” as he called it.
“What do you want to fly?” Harry asked him.
Robb cast around for something suitable. “Here,” he said, taking out a copper star coin and placing it on the floor. He stepped well out of the way, wary of what would happen next.
Harry waved his stick and said some words that Robb didn’t understand. The copper star lifted steadily into the air and floated in the middle of the room.
Robb could feel that his eyes had widened to the size of saucers, but he didn’t care. It was true then. Harry and Hermione did have a special type of power.
“It is true sorcery,” Maester Luwin breathed quietly.
“Sorcery,” Robb whispered in awe as Harry made the coin float towards him.
“We call it magic,” Harry said.
Robb held out his hand and the coin dropped into it. A broad smile lit up his face. He had a feeling that things were going to be much more exciting at Winterfell from now on.