The Shadow Throne (18 page)

M
ott had been right about the shortcut trail up to our camp — the little that still existed was in terrible condition, and it certainly wasn’t safe to attempt a climb on horseback. But the fighting between my army and Avenia was moving through the valley and toward us. To avoid it, this had to be our route.

We left the horses at the base of the hill. I hated to leave Mystic behind, but much of our climb would involve scrambling over rocks and across thin remnants of steep trails. We had no other choice.

My leg still throbbed from the fall off the cliff, but I didn’t say anything about it to Mott. Besides, he probably already knew, based on the way I favored it. At least, he stayed right behind me to offer a boost whenever I needed to use it.

When we were nearly to the top, we came to an edge of the trail where it was possible to look down on the battle below. My heart stopped as I realized it was going far worse than I had feared. The hills were stained with blood and littered with the bodies of the dead and wounded, who writhed in pain, crying for help. Hundreds of Avenians had fallen, but at least that many of my own men were lost as well, and the survivors on my side were fighting with ever-increasing odds against them. We were going to lose.

Beside me, Mott and Fink were absorbing the same horrifying scene. Finally, Mott tapped my shoulder and said, “It’s moving this way, Jaron. We must get to the top.”

We finished the climb as if a fire was at our heels, and what I found once we reached the camp surprised me. The men who had remained here were rapidly organizing the linens, tables, and beds to receive the wounded from battle.

A few wounded had already arrived and Tobias was rushing from one man to the other, attempting to care for their injuries. When Tobias had mentioned that he was studying to become a physician, I’d had no idea of the extent of his learning. He was doing far more than binding wounds or applying medicines. He was sewing them up, stopping the bleeding, and even appeared to have performed more complicated surgeries. Amidst all the chaos and cries, he was at his best, working fast and hard. Amarinda stood at his side, working as his assistant and comforting each man as best as she could.

I slowed just long enough to watch the two of them. They operated as a team, each one the half of the other. They belonged together.

Amarinda saw us first. She grabbed a bucket of water and rushed toward us. She offered me the ladle, and while I drank, she inspected the cut on my arm from Kippenger. When I finished, I handed the ladle to Mott and Fink, then Amarinda and I walked over to Tobias.

His eyes were wide but calm when he saw me. Tobias gestured to the wounded man before him and said, “I’ve only read about this, but I’m doing what I can.”

“You’ll do this somewhere else,” I said. “The battle is coming this way. You must leave.”

“No!” Tobias continued to sew the wound of the man between us. “I can’t fight, I’m useless for battle strategy, and I’ll only get in the way here as a regent. But I can help save these men.”

Amarinda touched my arm. “We want to do this, Jaron.”

Every life they might save up here mattered to Carthya. But I gestured across this camp and said, “Within minutes, this whole hillside will be a battlefield. You and Fink must all leave now, or they will take the princess. Amarinda is in danger.”

Without another passing second, Tobias finished the knot for the wound and set his tools down. He took Amarinda by the hand as she called for help to load the injured men into wagons for immediate departure.

Meanwhile, Mott gathered several soldiers who had remained in the camp and then located new horses for the two of us. He helped me onto mine, and then climbed onto his. “Your orders, my king?”

When he and I were alone, Mott rarely addressed me with any title, and it startled me until I realized he had intended to speak to me that way. I briefly glanced back to see Fink helping Tobias and Amarinda. They would leave soon, but the best thing we could do was to hold off any early arrivals.

I turned back to Mott and withdrew my sword. “We ride.”

Mott grinned and withdrew his own sword, followed by the other soldiers behind us. Together, we urged the horses forward and rode toward the battle.

We quickly met a small advance group on horseback, too close to camp for my comfort. However, they were tired from having battled this far forward, and I was eager to take part in this fight. We dispensed with the group easily enough, and then charged onward.

There was only one soldier behind them, but he was as large as a pirate and looked equally as mean. Our swords met, but he struck hard enough to push me off my horse. I fell to the ground and rolled to avoid being crushed by either of our animals. He started to move on, then realized who I was and came around again. This time when he did, Mott crashed into him as if he’d become my own personal battering ram. The man hit the ground with a solid thud.

I swung back into my horse’s saddle, but only had time for a quick nod of thanks before we were met with another group. The first few were big, arrogant, and had clearly underestimated how much better I fought when angry. This was my country, a land my forefathers had protected for generations. Until everything else had been taken from me, I would
not
let it go.

“To your right, Jaron!”

The warning came from Mott, who was locked in battle with a soldier who had brought a mace, which he swung skillfully over his head. I charged for the man at my right. He had a quiver on his back and carried a bow in the same hand with which he held the reins to his horse. Dangling from his waist was an unfriendly looking battle-ax.

He saw me coming and reached for an arrow, but by then I was close enough to give him a deep cut that also severed the cord attached to his battle-ax. As he started to fall from his horse, I grabbed on to his bow and the arrow he had drawn. Once they were in my hands, I notched the arrow, twisted around, and shot for the man with the mace. I actually would’ve missed him, but at the last moment, his horse darted to the left and my arrow hit the man’s stomach. His mace was still in motion, and when the man lurched forward, his mace swung onto his own head.

More of my soldiers were joining us now, both from behind and up ahead, but more Avenians were here too. Many more. We may have bought Tobias and Amarinda an extra fifteen minutes to escape, but that wasn’t nearly enough time. The road ahead of them was better suited to horses than to carriages. If Tobias chose to stay with the wounded in their wagons, he and Amarinda wouldn’t have a chance. They needed every minute I could give them.

So I pushed down the hillside. Mott was a little ahead of me, fighting with a small group riding toward us. I joined him and locked swords with a man I remembered from my time at Vargan’s camp. He was a fine swordsman, likely better than me, and certain of his win in our duel. Nevertheless, I laughed and told him that he fought like an old woman. A blind old woman with advanced dysentery, to be more specific.

“You have your spirit back,” the man replied. I grinned at that until he added, “Luckily, you recovered better than that girl I shot with the arrow. It should’ve been you.”

Every muscle in my body tensed, and time seemed to slow. As if every second of my life became focused into that one moment, I arced my sword away and then back again, piercing him exactly where he had shot Imogen. His entire face became a series of Os, and then his horse charged away from beneath him.

I moved on to battle with the next man and was engaged with him while, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mott riding into another group.

Mott was a skilled sword fighter, well trained and confident in his swings. But he rode directly into the center of a large group, hoping to draw their attention his way and allow my tired army to cut them down from behind. It was a grave error. No single man could fight off so many others.

I finally got in a jab at the nearest Avenian, felling him from his horse, and rode down to help Mott. So far, his strategy was working — Carthya was making good progress on this hill. But it couldn’t last long.

I charged my horse into the center of the group, but this mare wasn’t as strong as Mystic and wasn’t powerful enough to force the circle apart. So I fought my way in, hitting hard and swinging at every red symbol on the Avenian livery.

I was nearly to Mott when I spotted another man charging in from behind. I recognized him immediately as Fendon, the scarred thief I had wounded in the wild on the night I left for the pirates. He had vowed that we would fight the next time he saw me. I had told him he would not see me again.

Clearly, I was wrong.

His sword was ready and he was screaming at the others to get out of his way. I raised my own sword and started toward him, but my path was blocked. I hit at the Avenians and yelled at Mott to watch out. Mott turned and saw Fendon coming, but couldn’t get his sword at a proper angle.

Fendon’s sword stabbed Mott in his side, and it went in deep. Blood poured from him and he fell from his horse.

Almost blind with anger, I struck at the Avenians still surrounding me as I made my way toward Fendon. He saw me coming and backed up his horse, readying himself for whatever fight was still left in me. Once I left the crowd behind, I charged at him so fiercely that he barely had time to register the danger he was now in.

I struck only once and I struck hard. My sword pierced his chest and he fell, dead in an instant.

My own chest felt as if it were clutched in a vise as I leapt from my horse and made my way toward Mott, who had managed to crawl away from the crowd. His breaths were shallow and his face was losing its life. Mott was dying.

Blood was everywhere, so much that I couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from now. Mott grimaced with pain, but I was already tearing off a length of his undershirt to create a bandage. Once I found the wound, I pressed the cloth against his side, but couldn’t make him roll over to tie the knot.

“If you were tired of fighting, there were easier ways to get out of this battle,” I said.

The sweat on his face mingled with his tears. “I wanted to be there when you finished this.”

“You will be there.” Now I felt the sting in my own eyes, but I refused to let him see my despair. “You’ll get better, and then you and I will fight again, side by side.”

Mott smiled. “You’re not as good a liar as you think you are.”

The nails of my fingers dug into my palm. “I don’t lie nearly as often as people think. And you are going to live. You must!”

“Promise me that you will find happiness in life, Jaron. Don’t give in to bitterness.”

Now the tears spilled from my eyes. “The crown has taken everything else from me. Not you too.”

He grabbed my arm, though his grip was weak and fading fast. “Your test has always been the same. Be stronger than whatever life brings at you. You will rise from this.”

“Not without you, Mott. You have to stay with me.”

He only smiled and closed his eyes.

I stood and searched for any Carthyans around me. “Help me!” I yelled. “This man needs help!”

T
here was no immediate response, but I kept yelling, desperate for help. I tried again to move Mott and successfully dragged him a little ways, but that was surely making his wounds worse. I’d never be able to do this alone.

I placed my hands under his arms to try pulling him again, but this time I felt a change in his weight. It took me a minute to recognize the person who was lifting his legs, but then I caught a glimpse of bright red hair beneath an Avenian helmet and remembered. It was Mavis, who had fallen into the hunter’s trap.

There were no words between us. All I cared about then was that Mott was dying before my eyes and my armies were falling around me. This was Avenia’s fault, and whether Mavis had chosen to fight or not, he was with them. He was hardly my friend. But I looked at him as we struggled to carry Mott to his horse. His mouth was turned in a grim smile and his eyes were full of sympathy. Mavis wasn’t my enemy either.

Finally, we managed to hoist Mott into his saddle. I gave Mavis a quick nod of thanks, then got onto my horse and steered Mott around the fighting to return to the camp. Tobias had probably left, but if there was still a wagon, Mott could be taken to wherever he was going.

So it was a surprise to see that the wagon Tobias and Amarinda should have taken was still in its place. A part of me hoped they had used horses instead and were far from this camp by now. But if they did, then there was no chance left for Mott.

With almost the same speed of Falstan Lake returning to its bed, the camp was filling with both Carthyan and Avenian soldiers. Staying just ahead of the fighting, I led Mott to the wagon and this time it took the help of two of my soldiers to get him safely inside. One of them commented that Mott’s body was total deadweight, and with a nasty glare I told him to hush. Mott was still alive and I didn’t want him to hear any such talk. Even so, it was probably already too late. I asked one man to stay inside the wagon with Mott and do whatever was necessary to keep him alive until I could find help. Then I directed the other soldier to drive the wagon past a wide field on the outskirts of the camp and into the dense forest. I didn’t think Avenia would follow them there. Night was falling and they would want to regroup.

Once I saw him safely away from the worst of it, I returned to the battle, fighting where I could while trying to absorb the magnitude of the destruction we faced. For every Carthyan still holding a weapon, I saw ten Avenians equally armed. The air was filled with cries of pain and shouts of anger. And everywhere there was death and suffering, all of it beyond my control. I had never wanted war, and now that I was a part of it, what I saw was worse than anything I could have imagined. I was forced to ask myself whether the freedom of Carthya was worth all of this.

A lieutenant found me there and said he had just received a small group of our men who had escaped from a battle farther north.

“What do you mean ‘escaped’?” I asked.

His eyes darted, and I wondered if they had deserted their countrymen. The punishment for that was severe and I didn’t have the heart to enforce it now. But as it turned out, his news was worse.

“My king, the battle did not go well. They are the few who survived.”

I hardly dared ask. “Roden?”

“He was taken prisoner. My lord, we will fight as long as you command it, but things are not good.”

I scuffed my boot against the dirt, and then looked back at him. “Lieutenant, you will order the immediate retreat of our men into the forest. Get them as deep as they must go to be safe.”

He bowed. “Yes, my king.”

As he began rounding up our men to pull them away, I continued looking for any signs of Tobias and Amarinda.

Then, with more horror than I could absorb, I realized where they must be: behind a woodpile at the edge of camp. I couldn’t see them, but Fink was standing in front of the pile, his sword so heavy that he could barely hold it with both hands. Fink was trying to protect them.

I kicked at the horse beneath me, urging him toward the woodpile. Several of the Avenians followed, swarming me like rabid dogs. But I had no time for them, and dispatched them as fiercely and quickly as possible.

However, another Avenian on a courser horse near the woodpile had spotted Fink, who yelled in terror. From behind the woodpile, Tobias leapt forward. He grabbed the sword from Fink’s hands and pushed him aside.

Tobias swung wildly at the soldier, who quickly knocked him to the ground. The Avenian then turned his sights on Amarinda, who had also emerged. She started to run and the soldier kicked at his horse to follow, but Fink crossed between her and the horse, the sword in his hands again. He was so short that his sword came at the soldier at a sharp angle. It pierced the man’s armor beneath his knee and the man cried as loudly as Fink had just yelled. He collapsed forward, blood spilling from the wound.

When Fink saw me coming, he said, “I did that! Me!”

“You acted as a knight should,” I said. When Tobias and Amarinda were closer, I turned to them. “You were supposed to leave.”

“We tried,” Tobias said. “But they came too fast.”

I slid to the ground and gave Tobias the reins for my horse and the fallen soldier’s as well. “Get into the forest. We’ll gather there.”

“But I already sent the wounded on ahead.”

“There is nothing ahead, Tobias! Look around us!” Then I lowered my voice. “There will be more wounded in the forest. Mott is amongst them.”

That was all Tobias needed to hear. Once they were mounted on horses, Fink led the way. Tobias and Amarinda pushed him from behind, hurrying him into the cover of the woods.

By that time, the battlefield had mostly emptied of Carthyans. I wanted to stay and fight, but nothing I did at that point would end in any way other than with my death.

I never run.

That was what I had said once to Gregor, the former captain of my guard. And now, I had not only ordered the retreat of my army, but I was forced to retreat with them as well.

What was left of the Carthyan camp belonged to Avenia now. The land was littered with our wounded and dead, and if I didn’t find a way out, the rest of us would be dead by tomorrow.

I didn’t look back as I escaped into the forest.