The Shadow Throne (15 page)

I
heard Roden’s voice long before I saw him. He wasn’t speaking loudly, but everything else had become so quiet and still. I caught the sound of my name and silently moved toward him. He’d been angry for what he considered my insult to his skills in battle, and I could only imagine what he must have to say about me now.

I saw him in silhouette with his back toward the fire, and planted myself behind the trunk of a tree nearby where I wouldn’t be seen. I vaguely recognized the man he was speaking to. It was the soldier from Bymar who had led us behind the lines, a commander in a fine uniform whom the others addressed as Lord Orison.

“Pardon my observation,” Orison said. “But you are as young as your king. Why did Jaron choose you as his captain?”

“I’m still asking myself that question,” Roden answered. “If you figure it out, please let me know.”

I had already answered him weeks ago, when he and I had fought before the pirates.
Anyone fierce enough to threaten Carthya is strong enough to defend it
, I’d told him. And I had meant it. When it came to a battle, Roden did not blink.

“I only wonder because we all know how focused King Vargan is on recapturing your king. He has made those intentions very clear, and yet we both know what would happen to Jaron if Vargan gets hold of him again.”

Roden nodded in agreement, but for my part, I didn’t like the way the conversation was going.

Orison continued, “If this war became yours to command, could you do it?”

Roden shrugged. “Jaron won’t let himself be captured again, and he knows how to survive on a battlefield.”

“Yes, but if something did happen,
could
you command the war?”

There was a long silence while Roden thought it over. I pressed in closer, eager to hear what he had to say. Finally, Roden drew in a breath and said, “When Jaron first sent me to Gelyn, I was a boy with a sword, only pretending to be the captain of an army. But after several hard-fought battles, I am not that boy anymore.”

No, he wasn’t the same. But it still wasn’t the answer Orison wanted.

After another pause, Roden continued, “I went to Gelyn with forty of Jaron’s finest men. At first I thought I was there to teach them how to follow me, but that wasn’t the plan at all. Instead, they were there to teach me how to lead them, to make me into the captain Jaron wanted. I will never have the courage or the wit of my king. But yes, if necessary, I could win this war for Carthya.”

They took a few quiet sips of their drinks, then the Bymarian commander said, “I know little about Jaron, other than the stories Carthyans tell about him.”

I rolled my eyes at that. The last thing I needed was for him to laugh at who I had once been. The war was hard enough; I didn’t need to fight my own history as well.

But when Roden asked what stories, Orison replied, “I heard that the people of Carthya would follow your king to the devils’ lair and back again. Is it true?”

“Yes, and I would be first amongst them,” Roden answered. “I would follow Jaron wherever he goes, and trust with all my heart that he will win this war.”

“How can you be sure?”

Roden’s focus turned to the fire and he lowered his voice. “Some months ago, Jaron made his way to the pirates of Avenia. Their branding is on his right forearm. He tries to keep it covered, but sometimes a person catches a glimpse of it.”

“I saw it earlier when he fought near me.” Orison licked his lips, and then said, “I noticed you have the same mark too, by the way. There are rumors that Jaron is the pirates’ king.”

“He won’t talk about it,” Roden said, “but it’s true. Do you know how he gained that title?”

Orison shrugged. “According to the story I heard, he fought the pirate king and won, though the battle ended with his broken leg.”

“He lets people believe that, but that’s not the real story.” Now Roden faced his companion. “For a few short hours, I was that pirate king. And the battle didn’t
end
with Jaron’s broken leg. That’s how it
began
. Jaron escaped from a secure room, climbed the face of a cliff, and defeated me in battle, all with a broken leg. Jaron may give up his life one day, but it will never be taken from him.”

Orison let out a low whistle. “Why doesn’t he tell the story? The people should know.”

“Jaron thinks it’ll turn his armies against me.”

“Ah. He might be right, unfortunately.” Orison was silent for a moment, and then asked, “How did you go from his enemy in battle to his captain?”

“Jaron never saw us as enemies. He risked his life to make me see that too.” Roden shifted his position, as if suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “I owe him everything.”

“As these men owe you. You are young still, but I look forward to watching you grow as their captain. I believe the day will come when you are one of the greatest leaders in all the lands.”

“Only as long as I’m allowed to serve one of the greatest kings.” Roden pondered that a moment, and then stood. “He was trying to tell me something earlier tonight. I’d better go find him.”

He left the fire and came around the path where I had been hiding. Only now I was leaning against the tree, with my arms folded and a grin on my face that I knew would irritate him.

Roden licked his lips as he stared at me. “Tell me you didn’t hear all that.”

“
One
of the greatest kings?” My smile widened. “That’s it? Why not
the
greatest?”

“This will only make your arrogance worse, I’m sure.”

“Really? Do you think that’s possible?”

He chuckled. “You can always make things worse, Jaron.”

“I’ve thought the very same thing myself.”

We were silent a moment before he said, “I shouldn’t have become angry earlier. Why did you think the battle felt easy?”

I motioned for him to follow me to where it was quieter, and there explained to him what Fish Breath had said, and about the absence of Avenia’s king. The more we talked about it, the more I was certain that something was very wrong. Vargan wanted Drylliad, of course, but he left Mendenwal to that task. He wouldn’t care who lived or died in the battle because this city wasn’t his real objective.

“The commander I just spoke to believes that Vargan wants to recapture you,” Roden said.

“Well, he won’t. I’ve had enough of Vargan to satisfy me for a lifetime.”

There was silence again, and then Roden said, “How much of my conversation just now did you overhear?”

“From the time he asked if you could win this war. Why?”

“He told me something before that, something you won’t like.”

“What is it?”

Roden drew in a breath, and took long enough at it that I knew the news must be bad. “Fink made his way to Bymar. He’s the one who got their soldiers here to fight.”

“Yes, I know that. He went there on Amarinda’s orders.”

“Every day since we came back from the pirates, Fink pestered me to train him in sword fighting. I finally gave him a wooden sword and told him to come back when he grew a muscle or two.”

“What about Fink?” I couldn’t hide the concern in my voice, or dull the feelings of panic growing inside me.

“According to the commander, Fink was upset about your death but insisted to everyone it couldn’t be true. So he traveled back through Avenia so he could go and find you himself. They believe he was captured at the border. Nobody has heard from him since.” Roden sighed. “I should’ve taught him how to use that sword.”

“They’ll make Fink talk,” I said. “And he’ll lead them to Falstan Lake. It’s the only place where Fink knows I have plans. Vargan wants me and he expects to find me there.”

As I started to run away from him, Roden said, “If Vargan wants to find you at Falstan Lake, you really can’t be going there.”

“Oh yes,” I responded. “That’s exactly where he’ll find me.”

B
efore leaving for Falstan Lake, Mott, Roden, and I made a plan. Mott and I would leave immediately and arrive at the Falstan camp by dawn. Meanwhile, Roden would take his soldiers east in search of other troubles. Without doubt, he would find them.

Mott had argued that I should sleep for the night and we could start out fresh in the morning, but I told him it would be impossible for me to sleep, so nothing was gained that way. Besides, as my country continued filling with enemy soldiers, I believed we were safer traveling under the cover of darkness.

The ride to the Falstan camp was quiet and took less time than I had anticipated. The commander who welcomed us looked very much like Mott, except for a long braid of hair that went halfway down his back. He said that Mendenwal continued to maintain a camp nearby, but assured me there had been no sign of Avenia anywhere in the area. At least for now, all was quiet.

“I’m not wrong about this,” I told Mott as the commander led us toward the tents. “Avenia will come.”

“Avenia sent Mendenwal to do the hard work in yesterday’s battle,” Mott said. “Perhaps he’s done that again here.”

The commander stepped forward. “My king, you look exhausted. A tent has already been prepared for you, and we don’t expect any trouble tonight.”

“Please go to sleep,” Mott said. “Tomorrow will be better if you can face it with a clear head. Besides,” he added once I started to object, “I can’t sleep if you won’t, and I’m exhausted too.”

I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to sleep, but by then I was willing to try. The aches and stings from the battle had caught up to me and even ducking inside the tent felt like an impossible chore. I collapsed on the cot fully clothed and was asleep before Mott had left.

I slept solidly until first light, when I arose and got to work. I first exchanged the battle-stained coat from Dawn for a simple gray-laced shirt and a belt for my weapons. Then after eating a hearty meal, I went alone to survey the area, eventually finding myself at the overlook of Falstan Valley. Far below me, the Roving River emptied into this valley, creating a beautiful wide lake. Or, it used to, anyway.

The Roving River began somewhere in the mountains of Gelyn and wound southward through Carthya, supplying water to most of our people. This same river ran behind Farthenwood, and was where I had lain after taking a wild ride on one of Conner’s untrained horses, and also where I had confessed my true identity to Mott. Dawn and the women of Drylliad now guarded this river near the castle walls.

As it left Drylliad, the Roving River gradually cut deeper into the earth, leaving high canyon walls on either side. I stood on one of those walls now, not far from my camp.

Falstan Lake, and the valley surrounding it, had been named for an early explorer of these lands. He had commented in his journal on the beautiful sight of coming upon the cool blue waters of the lake. Our people had enjoyed it ever since then. I, too, had many good memories of swinging into the waters from a rope hung from some of the tall trees on the shore.

But for well over a month, the lake bed had been dry. All that came through the caked valley floor now was a thin vein of river water, only a pale shadow of what it should have been.

Falstan Lake still existed, or at least, the water from the lake still existed. Except that instead of a wide, deep lake, it was bottled up in the canyon at my back, trapped behind a steep wall of rocks, logs, and mud. As the water rose higher, so did the dam of debris. Now it was nearly even with the earthen cliffs beneath my feet. From my angle, it looked as though an entire hillside somewhere upriver had collapsed and the debris had become lodged here.

As the commander had indicated the night before, Avenia was nowhere in sight, but Mendenwal was entrenched in their own camp not far from the lake’s former bed. The soldiers of that camp had enough water for cooking and drinking, and to manage their animals. But little more. There certainly wasn’t enough water for the men to bathe in, and I hoped the smell of so many sweaty and dirty soldiers was choking them. Not that I was in a position to judge. After so many battles and the miles of dusty road in between, I needed my own bath. By now I was sure my odor offended even the devils, which was no small feat.

Mendenwal must have known our camp was here and yet they had not attacked. Why? Perhaps they were waiting for Vargan and his men. It surprised me that they waited at all. Mendenwal had thousands of men here, far more than we’d encountered near Drylliad. Surely they would look at our fewer numbers and see their advantage.

From what I could determine, Mendenwal had crowded their soldiers into a semi-sheltered knot of land that would be nearly impossible for my men to breach. They were near the dry lake bed, but surrounded by sheer slopes. It would be a long ride for us to approach from the south and attack from on top of the slopes. And I was certain the entrances to their camp were very well guarded should we attempt to enter it directly. The only way to defeat them was to draw them out. I had some ideas about that.

After a careful survey of the area, I returned to camp and held council with Mott, Tobias and Amarinda, and my military leaders. We described all we had seen in our battles, and they told me similar stories of their troubles. Little of what we discussed was encouraging.

Mott shared with the group a message that had come in from Drylliad earlier that morning, which was that the nearness of our battle yesterday had thrown the capital into disarray.

As we had suspected would be necessary, Harlowe had opened the prisons to anyone who swore an oath to act in defense of the country. But with the chaos in the city, the one prisoner who had not been offered the chance to fight had still escaped.

“Conner,” I breathed. “Where’s Conner?”

Of course, no one here could answer me, but his absence bothered me in every possible way. More so since I already knew Conner had been in communication with Vargan. I had no time to waste on wondering where he had gone, but clearly I had been wrong all this time to keep him alive. I hated the thought that he was free in the world, likely never to be captured again, and undoubtedly at work on more destruction.

Mott only shrugged in response to my question. Nor did anyone have news about Fink, which bothered me equally as much.

Next, we discussed Mendenwal’s vast armies camped nearby and my commander’s belief that they were readying for attack. Although I would’ve liked to wait for Avenia, it was vital that we make the first strike, before Mendenwal advanced. So with a map of the area spread across a table in my tent, I gave my lieutenants their orders. But the grim expressions on the faces around me very plainly showed their reluctance to carry them out, and in clear and respectful terms, a few of them even shared their specific concerns. Nothing of what they said to me was wrong, unfortunately. We
were
risking a lot, and also depending far too much on luck to see us through to victory. The confidence I had felt from the beginning faltered beneath their arguments.

“Will doubt be our enemy now?” I asked them. “Because doubt will defeat us far quicker than any army could. No plan is perfect, but that’s no reason to give up. Unless someone has a better option, then we will go forward as planned.” And hope against reason that I was not leading my men to their deaths.

One of my lieutenants leaned forward. “My king, we will follow you to the end. But we’ve seen their numbers. By my guess, we’re outnumbered as much as five to one.”

I sat back in my chair and smiled. “Only five to one? We might consider sending home half our army, then, so as not to intimidate them.”

Uneasy laughter spread within the group and my grin widened. I couldn’t let it show, but in truth, I was just as anxious about the upcoming battle as they were. Probably more.

By then we were coming to the end of a very long meeting, and I was tired. I was much stronger since escaping the Avenian camp, but yesterday had been a hard battle and tomorrow would demand even more from me. With so little sleep the night before, the weight of all I bore on my shoulders felt exhausting. I had only barely motioned for everyone to leave when Mott swept them out as if they carried the plague.

“You’re a king’s ideal nursemaid,” I told him. “Defending me with a sword in one hand, and using the other to tuck me into bed for an afternoon nap.”

Mott smiled. “Defending you takes both hands. So you may tuck yourself into bed, or do whatever is necessary to get some sleep.”

“How can I?” My face fell, and I felt the urge to stand and pace the floor. “Even if everything goes well tomorrow, we both know that Avenia is still out there somewhere.”

“Then what can I do?”

“Find me five men for tonight,” I said. “Men who can climb.”

Mott’s brows pressed together. “Jaron, you haven’t been able to climb since the injury to your leg.”

“I never said I’d be climbing. Now, find me five. And warn everyone else to use this day to rest. We’ll move before first light.”

He gave me a bow, then backed out of the tent. “I’ll find your men, but only if you rest too.”

I lay down for a while, but did not sleep, then got up and ate a little while I studied maps of the area. My camp was higher in elevation, making it difficult for Mendenwal to launch a surprise attack against us, but it wasn’t impossible either. There was a narrow and steep trail that led directly from their camp up to the ridges above them. It probably wouldn’t support an entire army, but it was a fast route to my camp.

I considered joining the others outside to discuss the matter, except that Mott would’ve scolded me for not sleeping, and I didn’t need that.

Tomorrow would prove to be a very important day. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

As requested, five soldiers arrived at my tent that night shortly before dark. I had managed to get some sleep by then and felt ready for what lay ahead. As quietly as possible, I explained what I needed from each of them and the great danger involved, then invited any of them who wished to withdraw to do so. Not one man accepted the offer, which gave me increased pride in the courage of my military. However, before we left, I eliminated two of the men. One was because I knew he had a young family at home, and the other was quietly massaging his wrist. Whatever the cause of his discomfort, he was not the best fit for my plans.

I showed them a small wood-and-iron trunk that had come from Drylliad weeks earlier, then ordered the two strongest men to carry it to the ridge overlooking the former lake bed. As we walked, I explained in more detail the risks and challenges ahead. If the Mendenwal army had the sense of fungus rot, they were watching for our attack. So although the hill to the side of the dam was steep and slippery, they would have to descend it silently and in darkness, using little more than their wits and past experience with near vertical ground. Beyond that, they would have to lower the heavy trunk with them on ropes, and then wait until my signal to use it.

“Tell me you can do this,” I said. “Everything hinges on you tomorrow.”

The three men vowed with their lives to succeed. I had their loyalty; now I could only hope for their safety. We had no second chance if they failed.

Once they left, I returned to the camp where Mott stood with the heads of my armies, awaiting orders.

“How many men do we have here?” I asked.

One of my men responded, “Nearly a thousand, sire.”

“Then I want our one hundred weakest men. Poorly armed, but on horseback.”

“To sacrifice?” another captain asked doubtfully.

“Not at all,” I countered. “To be the heroes of Carthya. They will win tomorrow’s battle for us. When the moon is highest, have them meet outside my tent.”

“What about the rest of us?” Mott asked.

“Everyone else should prepare to ride. We fight tomorrow.”

I started to leave, but Mott caught up to me. “Jaron, your plan sounds reckless and dangerous. And if I know you at all, then it’s probably impossible too.”

“That sounds about right.”

He chuckled. “Are you ready for what’s coming?”

I smiled as I glanced sideways at him. “I am ready. Yesterday’s battle was only a distraction from Vargan’s larger plan. Tomorrow, the drift of this war is going to change.”