The Shadow Throne (13 page)

L
ong after Tobias and Amarinda had gone to sleep, I sat awake near the fire, exhausted but unable to sleep. While my fingers brushed over the single coin in my pocket, I watched the flames dance along the wood, and the smoke swirl into the air in whatever direction the wind sent it. What must it feel like, I wondered, to be something that drifts in one way or another, with no will of its own. From my earliest years, I had always been the very opposite of that, endlessly compelled to fight against whatever force seemed to push at me, even when it was for my own good. Such a fool I could be. I vowed to try to change that part of myself. But only on the condition that the rest of the world stopped trying to make me change it.

After some time of letting me be alone, Mott came to sit beside the fire as well. He nodded at Tobias and Amarinda, and in a hushed tone said, “That was a noble thing you did earlier tonight. I would’ve expected more anger from you.”

“Why? They did nothing wrong, and deserve their happiness.”

“You didn’t feel that way earlier tonight.”

“No, but I do now.” I turned to face him so he could see my sincerity. “They should be happy. They have a long life ahead.”

“So should you, Jaron.”

I snorted softly. The odds of that weren’t exactly in my favor.

But Mott only said, “If she were here, Imogen would tell you the same thing.”

When I closed my eyes, her face came to my mind, as it always did, in the moment her fingers caressed my hair. More than once while in Vargan’s prison, I had dreamed about her, that we were together somewhere in the afterlife and I was begging her forgiveness for my mistakes. And though the details of the dreams had receded from my mind like waves from a beach, I remained certain that she had made her peace with me.

When I opened my eyes again, I looked back at Mott and said, “I think she loved me.”

“Of course she did.”

“Why couldn’t I see that before?”

“You always knew it. But you had the princess, your duty to the betrothal.”

“That I did.” I sighed and gazed into the fire again. “Villains and plots and enemies are simple things to me. But friendships are complicated, and love is harder still. It has wounded me deeper than a sword ever could.”

“If you hurt deeply, then it means you love deeply too. Love is a powerful thing, Jaron. In the end, love will help you win this war.”

I chuckled. “That’d be a fine new strategy, I think. When the enemy wields a sword against me, I’ll simply express my love for them. They’ll be so shocked, they’ll collapse on the spot and the victory will be mine.”

“I daresay you will be the first to claim victory that way.” His soft laughter dimmed when he saw I had grown serious. He added, “Tomorrow we will rejoin the war. So it’s time to decide who you are. Will you be carried off by this wind coming at us, or stand and face it?”

If only the complications of life could be simplified that way. I said, “This is no windstorm.”

“It’s
your
storm, and the future of us all depends on you now. So who are you? Sage, an orphan boy who cares only for himself? Or the undisciplined, rebellious prince your father sent away? Life has tested your resilience and strength and willpower, and you have succeeded in ways nobody ever thought possible. But the storm has never been worse, and it will either destroy you, or define you. When everything is taken from you, can you still stand before us as Jaron, the Ascendant King of Carthya?”

I closed my eyes again, but this time it wasn’t to picture Imogen in my mind. I was remembering the moment of emerging from my carriage after returning from the pirates, with a bruised body and a broken leg. It had seemed as though the entire kingdom had come to welcome me home. They had bowed and hailed me as the Ascendant King. Meant to rise from the darkest night and bring dawn to my country. The forces against us in this war were overwhelming. But if I did not find a way out, our doom was guaranteed. There would never come a day when I didn’t love Imogen, didn’t ache to have her back again. But I would have to rise one more time.

“Let’s get some sleep,” I said to him. “Starting tomorrow, we’re going to finish this war. We are going to save Carthya.”

T
he next morning, Mott was alone in camp when he suddenly found himself surrounded by a pack of Avenian soldiers who stormed in from all sides, took his sword, and forced him to his knees. The five men were armed and rowdy, and one of them said something about having come back to search for a missing soldier. Probably Mavis.

All the intruders were ugly — hardly unusual for Avenians, but it was the foulest of them all who spoke to Mott. He had a patch over one eye and thin, colorless hair that looked like winter grass sprouted from his uneven skull.

“Where’s your king?” the man asked.

“Not far,” Mott said. “And he won’t be happy you’re here. I suggest you leave now.”

The man laughed, revealing blackened teeth. It was rather surprising that he still had any left. “One of our newer recruits got into some trouble near here. He told us about you.”

“He told us about you too,” I said from above them. Earlier that morning, I had edged up the limb of a tree to a solid perch where I could wait for their arrival. Being as unaware as they were unintelligent, they had failed to notice me when they came. “Though your recruit didn’t get the description of your odor quite right. He said it was similar to a skunk’s, but I think that’s unkind to the skunk.”

In my hand was a bow Mott had brought along with him. The arrow was already nocked and ready to pull back. I wasn’t the best shot, but they were close enough that an accurate aim wouldn’t be a problem. The man in the center put a knife to Mott’s throat, and only then noticed his companions had already stepped away from him.

“You should drop that now, before you hurt yourselves.” It was the most warning I intended to give.

One of the other men said, “Why? Even up there, we can still get you.”

“In theory, yes. But you won’t.” I tilted my head to the trees behind them. Both Tobias and Amarinda were up there. Together they held a long rope that ran down the tree’s trunk, with a hunter’s knot on the end. When they pulled it, the rope went tight around the ankles of the Avenians, knocking them all to the ground and binding them together. It wasn’t much different from what had happened to Mavis, and I hoped they appreciated the irony in that. When he saw that he had no support with him, the man behind Mott dropped his knife and held up his hands in surrender.

Mott stood and collected their weapons while I swung down from my branch and landed on the ground in front of them.

“You travel so loudly, we knew you were coming an hour ago. I was getting bored, waiting for you.” Then I turned to the man who had spoken. “We lured you here like fish to a baited worm. Now, did you come for me?”

Fish Breath didn’t seem interested in talking until Mott returned the favor and gave him a poke with his own knife.

He squealed and held his arms higher. “I already told you, we came for one of our own.”

“And where is your army headed? To Falstan Lake?”

“I have nothing to say to a boy king,” Fish Breath sneered.

“As you wish.”

I nodded at Mott to drag him away, but he squirmed within Mott’s grasp and shouted back, “You will not kill me!”

“Are you sure of that? Because I was just thinking that I might.”

“Let me live, and I will give you information.”

I made a show of thinking it over. “Well, if it’s interesting, then I’ll keep you alive. But if you waste my time, or tell me any lies, then you have no promise.”

His eyes darted from left to right before he spoke, and when he did it was quieter than before, possibly so that wherever he was, King Vargan wouldn’t hear the betrayal of secrets.

“Vargan is heading directly for the capital. Mendenwal is already there, on orders to destroy Drylliad and everyone within its walls. The victors will join those already encamped at Falstan Lake to end the war there.”

Amarinda drew in a breath and reached for Tobias’s hand. I looked from them over to Mott, debating whether this information was true.

“Has fighting begun in Drylliad?” I asked.

“If it hasn’t, it will soon. I’m told the captain of your guard has formed a line near the city, and reinforced it with the armies of Bymar. They won’t last long, though. Once we figure out how to breach their lines, it’s an easy march into Drylliad.”

My eyes narrowed as I studied him. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not! I heard this straight from a man named Kippenger, one of Vargan’s top commanders.”

Kippenger. I remembered that name like vinegar on my tongue.

I picked up a rock. “Which is your sword hand?”

Fish Breath trembled beneath my implied threat, but raised his left hand. “Please don’t do that. You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“And you said you wouldn’t lie to me. You held your knife with your right hand before.” I raised the rock higher now.

“That’s all I know!” His panicked voice jumped nearly an octave. “Listen, you will find Mendenwal there, and my own king’s armies with them in battle. He intends to destroy Drylliad.”

I frowned at him and rubbed my chin, mostly because it seemed to make him nervous. “All right,” I finally said. “I’ll let you live, but you’d better hope there are others in your army willing to come look for you.” Then I nodded at Mott. “Tie them up.”

While Mott tied the men to the trees around our camp, Tobias and Amarinda came down to help him, and I collected our horses. We had to leave at once. When I last saw him, Roden hadn’t yet figured out his role as captain. If he was no better, those lines outside Drylliad wouldn’t last long.

After we left, Mott asked me, “Do you intend to go to Drylliad?”

“Of course. Drylliad must stand.”

“That battle will be dangerous,” Amarinda said. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

With a grin, I told her, “I’ll have more than ten minutes’ notice that this battle is coming. In that way, this might be the most prepared I’ve ever been.”

We rode as quickly as possible toward Drylliad, but once we came upon the Roving River, I turned to Tobias. “Can you and Amarinda get yourselves up to the camp at Falstan Lake?”

“Yes. But if you’re headed toward Drylliad, I ought to go with you. We’ll have injured men there, and I can care for them.”

“What about Amarinda?” I asked.

“I can help Tobias,” she answered. “Let me be of use in this war.”

Her eyes met mine, and I said, “The terms of our betrothal may have changed, but not the terms of the throne. If something happens to me before this is over, I need you to take the reins as queen. You are already needed, and you must stay safe.”

“I’ll keep her safe, Jaron,” Tobias promised. “Those terms haven’t changed either.”

I nodded back, then said to Amarinda, “You and Tobias will go to the Falstan camp and set up a tent for medical aid. Within a few days, we’ll need it there just as much as where I’m going. Order the commander to send as many men to Drylliad as he can spare.”

Amarinda nodded back at me, and then she and Tobias rode in one direction while Mott and I turned farther north.

We rode hard toward Drylliad, with heavy thoughts of the disaster that would unfold if the enemy breached those city walls. Harlowe was tasked with preparing an army to defend the city if necessary, but his options were limited. Many of the families who’d come seeking shelter inside the city were inexperienced in fighting anything other than the occasional wolf or wild dog attacking their herds, and most were women charged with protecting their children and elders, whose men had already joined the war.

Perhaps Harlowe would carry out his plan to pull men from the prisons. I wondered if they would fight for Carthya or abandon us at their first opportunity. But Harlowe had promised me he would not include Conner as part of those plans. No matter how desperate our situation became, I wouldn’t trust Conner with my own life, or with the lives of my people.

It was late in the day when we approached the last hill before coming to Drylliad. Mott called my name and stopped, requiring me to stop as well.

He said, “I’ve been watching you since we left the Avenian camp. You’re not as strong as you were before. I’ve seen the way you carry your sword, with two hands now rather than one.”

All I could do was to stare straight forward. “I’m stronger each day. Besides, my will is as strong as always, and that matters more.”

“But the battle is just on the other side of that hill.”

“Yes, and if I must, I’ll fight it with my sword in two hands.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Where’s your armor and your shield?”

“Where’s yours?” I countered. I let go of my irritation and only sighed. “No good king sends his people into battle unless he is there beside them.”

“And no good servant lets him go alone.”

I looked back at him, ever grateful. “You’re no servant, Mott. Not to me, or to anyone. And there is no one I would rather ride into battle with than you.”

“Then we’ll go together,” Mott said. “On to victory, my king.”

“To victory.”

We started forward again, and weren’t too much farther along before the first sounds of war reached our ears. Mott and I looked at each other, withdrew our swords, and then rode into the fray.