The wooden beams shook violently, and dust sifted down in a steady stream.
With a crash, Ser Brienne, who had opened the door, staggered where she stood. She clutched the doorframe tightly, while a white-robed figure fell behind her. A moment later, Gryn felt all of Castle Black shudder with a thunderous tremor.
As he drew his sword, he was already moving. "Leave with me."
Then, with another crash, the candle in the room toppled and fell, its flame abruptly extinguished.
As he stepped out, Gryn's peripheral vision swept over the room behind him, now completely swallowed by darkness. The books, maps, and other precious items did not make him hesitate for even a moment.
"Your Grace!"
"Pass on my order. Everyone evacuates."
The corridor was in chaos. Gryn calmly issued the king's command and, surrounded by the Kingsguard, headed straight for the stairs. At the sight of the king, the Blue Cloaks gathered one after another to carry out his orders.
"Your Grace!"
Melisandre appeared alone, clad in a thin red robe. Gryn did not slow. "Where is the Three-Eyed Crow?"
His unease deepened. Before Melisandre could answer, he seized her wrist and roughly pulled her along. "Evacuate first." On the next floor, Gryn saw a disorderly crowd—Attendants and Maidservants, the Stark family, their retainers, and Grey Cloak guards. "Ned, Bran is still below!" Lady Catelyn screamed in anguish.
"Daryl, Joel."
Gryn urgently called to the two Blue Cloaks ahead. They were brothers from Crabb's Lands, possessed of the rare steadiness found on Crackclaw Point. He tossed the red-robed priestess hanging half against him toward the Daryl brothers, his tone clipped. "Take her out first."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
Then, without waiting for anyone to react, Gryn strode away.
Meeting Arya's startled gaze, he raised a hand and chopped sharply