ASOIAF: The Rise of House Ashenblade.

During the three days granted for an answer, Arlan had chosen Blackstone Canyon because it could divide decisions as readily as men. The road narrowed between broken walls, widened around an old quarry floor, then split: the firm track led deeper into FireStorm, while a rough western lane returned toward Tauha. Neither route required pits or falling stone to become difficult. Barricades could make officers, horsemen, infantry, and baggage choose different ground.

Cade received thirty Black Armor soldiers in three ten-man files. One would show itself at the forward bend, one would remain behind the quarry wall, and one would serve as reserve. Their task was to yield ground by signal, not hold every pace as though stone itself carried honor.

Brienne took ten soldiers and the white-marked surrender lane. Anyone entering it without a weapon would be passed behind her line, counted, and guarded. Anyone using the cloth as cover to attack would find shields across its narrowest point.

”You are leaving an exit inside the position,” Cade said.

”I am leaving Lyman’s men a choice that does not require killing us,” Arlan answered. ”Your lines make the other choices worse.”

Bor commanded the remaining ten and two timber barricades mounted on wagon wheels. He could close the firm road, reopen the western lane, or separate mounted officers from foot. Wayne placed ordinary household archers above the quarry with instructions to shoot horses, horns, banners, and men actively leading a charge. Massed killing was not their first purpose; breaking signals was.

Rodrick stationed the neutral observers where they could see the old boundary stone and the first surrender posts without standing in the fight. The water records, Lyman’s demand, and Arlan’s answer remained sealed in FireStorm. Living witnesses carried only copies.

The plan had a weakness everyone could name. Rain had softened the western lane, and one wheeled barricade needed to cross it at the second horn. If the axle sank or the team arrived late, Lyman’s rear would remain open and Bor’s ten could be caught between mounted men and mud.

They tested the lane with an empty frame, then with the weight of green timber. The second wheel sank four inches deeper than the first. Bor laid brush beneath the rut and moved the hauling ropes higher on the frame, gaining leverage at the cost of speed. Cade assigned one file to watch the work but would not promise it could reach Bor once the forward line engaged. Every improvement shifted men or time from somewhere else.

Brienne walked the surrender route without armor, then again carrying a shield. At one bend, prisoners would vanish from the sight of soldiers still fighting and might assume they were being killed. She moved the holding file into the open quarry and ordered white cloth tied above it. The position exposed her guards to arrows. Wayne marked two stone faces from which his archers could cover them without shooting across men trying to yield.

”Then give me ropes and twice the men on the wheels,” Bor said.

”Twice the men would leave the village road undefended,” Arlan replied.

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Bor considered the ground and asked for two spare wheel pins. If the wood failed, he wanted a replacement within reach.

They built in daylight. The barricades looked like field works, not concealed murder. White lanes remained clear. A few shallow pits and loose rocks from old quarrying were left visible near the eastern shoulder, enough for scouts expecting Black Pine stories to find and report. No stake waited beneath the grass.

”He will think he discovered the trap,” Wayne said.

”He will have discovered one danger,” Arlan answered. ”What he believes that danger means belongs to him.”

Cade rehearsed three withdrawals. At the first horn, the forward file yielded to the quarry mouth. At two, the reserve rotated through it while Bor moved the western barricade. At three, Brienne opened the surrender corridor and Wayne cut horns and standards from the column. If any signal failed, file leaders held their last defensible task instead of waiting for Arlan to invent a new order from across the canyon.

The first rehearsal exposed a problem. Echoes doubled Wayne’s horn and made two files move at once. Rodrick suggested colored cloth; Cade used square panels for withdrawal and a long strip for surrender, large enough to see through noise. The correction mattered more than pretending the canyon had obeyed their first design.

The second rehearsal lost the long strip when wind tore it from the upper cord. Brienne demanded a shield cover she could raise by hand if both ties failed. The third left an observer in the path of Bor’s wagon, so Rodrick moved the neutral party to a shelf with a retreat down the eastern side. By the time Lyman’s scouts appeared, every part of the plan had failed harmlessly at least once. None had become certain.

Arlan gave file leaders authority to abandon the canyon if both white markers disappeared, the western lane closed behind FireStorm, or civilians appeared on the quarry floor. They repeated the conditions back without ornament. A clever defense that trapped its own retreat would serve Lyman as surely as a bad one.

One final route remained through the old drainage cut behind the quarry. It could carry wounded men in single file but no wagon. Brienne marked the entrance with a strip visible only from inside the position and placed a water skin there. If every larger plan failed, survivors would still know where a smaller escape began.

Wayne checked it once in armor and emerged with mud to his knees.

Near noon on the third day, Lyman’s scouts arrived. They found the visible pits, climbed far enough to see Cade’s forward shields, and returned without being shot. An hour later, the Tauha column approached in two parts rather than one. Lyman placed mounted retainers near the rear, kept his baggage outside the narrowest bend, and sent men along the eastern shoulder to avoid the ground his scouts distrusted.

”He listened,” Cade said.

”Good.”

The column held one hundred and fifty men. New weapons shone in its first ranks. Lyman rode near the front in decorated leather that sat poorly at one shoulder, and two men among his retainers watched signals rather than ground.

Rodrick studied them through the glass. ”Possible Nightsong men.”

”Possible?” Wayne asked.

”They ride like messengers and carry no Tauha family marks. That is suspicion, not a name.”

Lyman halted before the canyon and sent men onto the visible rough shoulder. Nothing swallowed them. They crossed the ground his scouts had called trapped, and confidence moved backward through the column.

At the forward bend, Brienne’s white cloth could be seen beside Cade’s black shields. A herald read the terms once: leave weapons, enter the marked lane, receive quarter. Lyman ordered his archers to shoot the cloth down.

The first arrow missed. The second cut one cord and left the strip hanging.

Then Lyman divided his force exactly as the road invited him to do. Foot advanced against Cade; horsemen moved toward the western lane; officers remained between, trying to command both. Bor laid both hands on the first barricade wheel.

Arlan raised the square panel. The forward file began to retreat.