The Shadow Throne (16 page)

I
managed to sleep a little more that night, though I was already awake when a vigil came to tell me the one hundred men were gathered. Over a thick layer of chain mail, I wore a deep blue brigandine embroidered with the gold crest of Carthya and with metal plates riveted to the fabric to protect my arms and torso. Mott thoroughly disapproved of the outfit. He wanted me in full battle armor, but it was too heavy for me, especially since I still lacked the full strength I’d had before my time in Vargan’s camp. Besides that, I was neither the biggest nor the strongest in this battle. My only hope was to be the quickest, and for that, I needed light armor. In better news, Mott informed me that my horse, Mystic, had been sent to the camp in anticipation of my arrival. I was thrilled for that. Mystic knew me well and would cooperate better with my plans than another, less fierce horse. I dismissed Mott to prepare Mystic for the ride while I finished getting ready. All that remained was to strap on my sword and whisper a request to the devils not to interfere with my plans.

Except this time, that didn’t seem like enough, and my thoughts turned to the saints. When I was younger, the priests had always frowned and murmured to one another when I entered the chapel each week. Admittedly, that may have been because I rarely let pass the opportunity to make loud jokes to my brother about their tedious sermons. The priests said I wouldn’t get any favors from the saints until I took their sermons seriously, but I tended to believe the saints were just as bored with their sermons as I was. Besides, I’d never considered myself the type of person the saints would be interested in helping anyway. As I thought about the coming day, I hoped I was wrong about that.

In the quiet of my tent, I reflected on what the priests had said about the afterlife. The idea that those who had passed on remained a part of our lives, eternally watching over us, appealed to me in a way it never had when I was younger. And if the priests were right, then Imogen must be a saint now, as well as my family. The saints would help me. Imogen would
make
them help me — I knew she would. So for the first time ever, I had no worries about the tricks of the devils. I would ride into battle on the wings of the saints.

As I strode from the tent, Mystic’s reins were thrust into my hands. I climbed astride and immediately noticed Mott already on his own horse.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“It’s all very shameful,” he said. “It turns out I’m one of your one hundred weakest men.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m afraid it’s true.” Even as he spoke, Mott couldn’t resist smiling. “It’s a source of great embarrassment, Your Majesty, and I beg you not to question me about it any further.”

I chuckled again, and then rode to where all the men could see me. “My friends, what we are about to do is not the battle of your forefathers, nor the time-tested strategies of the past. It has never been done, or to be fair, never been done successfully. But that is what will make us great. You will tell your children and your grandchildren of this moment. In your old age, the last smile on your lips will be the memory of what we are about to do. Your commanders undoubtedly told you that I wanted the weakest of our armies to ride with me here today. Be grateful that you were chosen, because it is through the weakest that the strong arm of Carthya will wield its strength. My friends, we ride as the weak always will: quietly and without drawing even the attention of the sleeping bird to our path. Follow me.”

Only a few dim lanterns highlighted the grave expressions of the soldiers, but I saw Mott’s face well enough. He smiled at me with a look I’d seen before: He thought me the biggest fool he had ever known, and hoped that very quality might save us all. I hoped so too.

I led the way along a trail I had studied earlier that day. It would take us from our camp overlooking the valley down to the floor through a narrow pathway largely obscured by thick trees and tall shrubbery. It would eventually empty out not far from where I intended to lie in wait for Mendenwal.

Our group traveled in complete silence. Of course, the horses made plenty of noise, but as was common in the nights here, wind swirled throughout the valley. As long as we were careful, our sounds wouldn’t carry all the way to Mendenwal’s camp.

By dawn, I sat upon Mystic’s back at the far end of the valley floor, easily within Mendenwal’s grasp. Mott was at my side and one hundred of Carthya’s least impressive soldiers sat on horses behind me. What they lacked in skill, they made up for with confident postures and calm stillness.

The scouts of Mendenwal saw us at first light and quickly rode back to their camp with shouts of alarm.

“They’ll gather their armies now,” I announced. “Everyone stay ready and wait here.”

Once the first group from Mendenwal entered the valley floor, I rode forward, flanked by Mott and my standard bearer, who held the flag of Carthya aloft in the morning breeze. It was emblazoned with my family’s coat of arms over the blue and gold colors that had always symbolized the compassion and courage of my country. We stopped within calling distance of each other, no closer than necessary.

Their commander had brought ten men ahead with him. Since I had only Mott and a poorly armed standard bearer, the ratio seemed about right for our respective forces. I called to their commander, “What brings Mendenwal into war against Carthya? We have no quarrel with you.”

“We ride on orders from King Humfrey. His reasons are his own.”

“And are you certain those reasons are worth your deaths?” Mott cleared his throat as a warning to me, but I only smiled and raised my voice. “I don’t wish to offend your king, of course, but it’s clear his reasoning abilities have abandoned him. Perhaps you should take your armies and go home, while you can.”

“You will not insult the king of Mendenwal!” the commander cried.

“It’s not an insult. Only an observation of fact. The only reason King Humfrey would invade my country is because he was either threatened or else Avenia promised him something gold and shiny. Please believe me when I tell you that Avenia will not keep its promises. They are using you to destroy me, and they will turn on you next. For your own sake, Commander, I urge you to ride home as fast as your wobbly horse can carry you.”

The commander’s face tightened, which nearly made me laugh. I hadn’t deliberately made anyone this angry since Master Graves had attempted to teach me my letters at Farthenwood so many months ago, and it felt good.

The commander gestured to the hundred men far behind me. “Is that your army, King Jaron? Or did you bring your country’s fiercest kittens?”

I briefly turned back to them. “Be warned. Our kittens will scratch like lions. The men behind me are the ones who wanted the honor of crushing your army.”

“I could send my nursemaids out here to fight those men.”

“I’m sorry you have such little value for your nursemaids. We invite them to become Carthyan citizens. You are warned, Commander. We will defeat all of your army camped here this day. I meant what I said before. Most of your men will not survive. Including you.”

The commander laughed. “Surrender to me now, Jaron.”

“No, you surrender to me!” I yelled. “I’m bored of this conversation. Either promise to leave Carthya this instant and you will live, or go and fetch your armies. I will take out the first thousand myself. Maybe more if they’re no sharper than you seem to be.”

The commander looked to his companions, who snorted their disdain for me, and then he said, “Very well, King Jaron. You have sealed your doom.”

“So said the last man I defeated. Off you go, then! Bring me your worst, and hurry! I was awake early and am hoping for a nap this afternoon.”

As the Mendenwal group rode away, Mott turned to me and said, “Are you insane?” I smiled back at him and he said, “Of course you are. Please tell me you have a plan.”

“Here’s my plan,” I replied. “We stay right here. Do you know any tunes to whistle while we wait?”

Apparently, Mott did not know any tunes for whistling, but he did work in a nice chorus of grunts and sighs.

The Mendenwal armies must have been ready to march, because it wasn’t long before I saw them. Mendenwal soldiers were swordsmen, well trained and well disciplined. There were far too many of them to travel by horse, so nearly all of them entered the valley on foot. I saw the commander and his leaders on their horses, but they led from behind, which I had expected. They wanted the least valuable of their men, the ones in front, to take the worst of whatever my armies would bring.

“How many men are coming?” I asked Mott.

He squinted. “I estimate at least a thousand already on the march, but I can’t see the end of their lines. You can’t expect to fight them all.”

“No,” I said. “I don’t expect to fight any of them.”

Once they were close enough to begin the battle, the order was given for the soldiers to run for the three of us. I made a loud comment about the unfortunate tendency of Mendenwal women to sprout warts on their faces, then turned and began riding away. Not too quickly. Just a bit faster than they could run.

“Our one hundred can’t handle them,” Mott said. “Some are very poor fighters.”

“That’s why they’re here, and not with the others.”

Mott quickened his horse to keep pace with mine. “I cannot believe that you would sacrifice these men for any reason. It’s not like you.”

I only smiled. “How many men are behind us now?”

He glanced back and said, “Their lines are in disarray. But the valley is quickly filling.”

By the time we reached my men, panic was clear on their faces. Most had drawn their swords, ready for a battle that was certain to end in devastating failure.

“Why do you all look so worried?” I asked, riding around them. “Have you seen the bright sun rising today? Is anyone else feeling warm?”

Judging by the sweat on their faces, they all were. Or maybe it had nothing to do with the heat. These men were terrified.

“Then let us ride,” I said. “Not too fast. But stay ahead of their armies.”

So we rode. With credit to the Mendenwal soldiers, some of them were excellent runners and seemingly tireless, so we moved faster than I would have liked. Behind us, the wide valley continued to fill, and their soldiers were becoming increasingly angry.

Finally, we were nearing the end of the valley. The Carthyan camp high above us was entirely empty now. We had no second chances, no support, and if things didn’t go well, no place to go to save ourselves. With Mendenwal at our backs and impossibly steep climbs ahead of us, I could never get everyone to safety.

Except I had no intention of getting to the top. Only to get a little higher than where we were now.

I rode to the rear of my men and raised my sword. Then I yelled out to Mendenwal, “Lay down your weapons now and live.” They only continued to run for me, which was unfortunate, but not unexpected. “Very well,” I muttered. To whatever end, it was time to unleash a plan I had anticipated for months. In the next few minutes, we would face either great success or a certain slaughter.

W
ith my one hundred men less than a minute from being literally trapped against a sheer cliff wall, I increased the speed of my horse. Mott matched my speed and together we returned to the front of the group and signaled to the three men who had climbed down the hill in the darkness. They had been hiding at the base of the wall, and were now in place. Upon my signal, a flaming torch was held high. They lit a rope that led inside the opened wood-and-iron trunk, and then ran for the hills.

“We should ride faster,” I said to Mott.

“Is that what I think it is?” Following my lead, he said, “You told me the gunpowder at Vargan’s camp was all you had.”

“All I had with me,” I corrected him. “Not all I had.”

“You’re going to blow up that wall?”

My focus remained on the growing fire ahead of us. “It’s not a wall, Mott. It’s a dam.”

One of my first acts as king was to send every spare man to this area to dam up the Roving River. I had hoped for a barricade that would appear to be created by the natural flow of debris, and that vision had been executed to perfection. In fact, I’d heard that much of the dam was formed simply by sending large items down the river to clog the spillway.

Now, at full speed, I charged sideways for the hills with my men behind me. At first, the Mendenwal soldiers seemed more distracted by the fire at the base of the dam than the consequences of it. Once they realized what was happening, it was too late.

The explosion burst before my men reached the hills, and it shook the ground like violent thunder. Mystic panicked and tried to bolt, but in a battle of wills between us, I intended to win. It was the only way we’d survive. I dug my legs firmly into his side and urged him forward. My ears rang like chapel bells in my head from the noise while the disturbed air pressed in waves at my back.

The base of the dam burst with a fury I could not have imagined. Instantly, the walls above it collapsed, sending not only water, but also rocks and logs catapulting through the valley like a full-scale assault.

My men were drenched by the time we reached the hillside, but all of us were there. And the Mendenwal soldiers that had filled the valley like busy ants were swept away in the fierce waters. Falstan Lake was returning to its bed. Within a precious few seconds, more than half of their army was gone.

My men cheered, but the battle had only begun. Not all of Mendenwal had entered the valley, and they would be panicked now and need time to regroup and install new leaders. We would not allow any recovery. The remainder of my army had left camp and was already on their heels, advancing from the rear.

“The match is more even now,” I said to Mott. “We can win this.” Then I directed my attention to the men with me. “You have passed the test of courage, which is the hardest of all tests. Now is the time for battle, and I know you can do it. Stay on your horse to fight and keep moving. You hold swords in your hands, but remember that every part of you is a weapon. You have legs, and strong backs, and best of all, you have brains. Never stop thinking, never stop looking ahead and making your plans. As long as you think, you will survive.”

Eager now to prove themselves in real battle, the men cheered again, and I led them back toward Mendenwal’s camp. At the shores of the restored lake, the few soldiers who’d escaped the waters lay in the mud, both soaked and stunned. Maybe their retreat to the shore hadn’t been slowed by the heavy weight of armor, or else they’d been strong enough to swim desperately for their lives. Unarmed and panicked, they ran toward their camp when they saw us riding for them. I let them run. It was better to have their armies collected all in one place once I arrived.

We rode into the Mendenwal camp amidst a chaotic battle with the rest of my armies, who had already entered from the opposite direction. The camp was situated in a small well of a valley with little vegetation and surrounded by tall walls of sharp gray rock. We entered at one end, and my army blocked the only other escape. Within this well, hundreds of soldiers fought one another on horse and on foot. Mendenwal was clearly unnerved, which gave my armies the advantage. I ordered my one hundred men to surround the camp as best as they could so that no one could escape, then located the narrow path I had seen on the maps the night before, the one that traveled up the cliff walls to the ledges high above the battlefield.

I rode in that direction with my sword at the ready, and used it when necessary to clear the path ahead. With the bulk of their army gone, including most of their leaders, Mendenwal could not hope to win no matter how long they fought. But I didn’t wish for this battle to last long either. Every lost soldier had someone at home who loved him. Most had wives or children or a mother who depended on them for survival. Each fallen Carthyan I passed caused a lurch within my gut. It was time for this battle to end.

Before starting up the steep path, I sheathed my sword and grabbed a torch instead. It was a slow, hard climb for Mystic, and the gravel-covered trail was more slippery than I liked. The sheer edges below me promised a straight fall to the valley floor, but Mystic was as surefooted as he was strong. Once I stood on top of the ridge, I surveyed the battle. My one hundred men had held their places to surround the camp. Nearly everyone was fighting, but we controlled the exits. Mendenwal still outnumbered my soldiers, but their numbers were also falling faster. Without leaders, they only continued fighting out of the desperate will to survive. All they needed was a reason to stop, and a chance to live. I would offer that.

First, I removed some rope from Mystic’s saddlebag and tied one end to a tree. Next, I ran to a large rock nearby. It took all my strength to roll it to the very edge, then undoubtedly a nudge from the saints helped me tip it down the slope. The rock collected strength as it rolled and dislodged several others — a definite bonus. It created enough noise and threat that many of the closest men had to stop fighting and run to safety.

Finally, I had everyone’s attention. With the torch back in one hand and the rope in my other, I raised both arms and yelled, “At the other end of this rope is more of the same explosives that just blew up the dam. If I light it, the same thing will happen to you, only your burial will be in rock, not water. You saw what happened to your brothers in the lake bed, how quickly your numbers were cut in half. Imagine what’ll happen here. My men know how to survive that explosion. Do you?”

My soldiers smiled up at me. In truth, none of them knew how to survive an explosion of this rock, possibly because there was no way to survive it. And yet they trusted me to make it happen.

“You have two choices,” I continued. “Lay down your swords and you’ll be granted safe passage to return home in peace. Or try keeping your sword, and you’ll get poked by the Carthyan closest to you. If I don’t get everyone’s cooperation, I’ll light this rope and set off an explosion twice the size of what you just saw. None of you will ever see your homes and families again.”

The soldiers of Mendenwal looked to one another, silently making their choices. I hoped they were the choices I wanted.

I let my arm holding the torch slack a little. “This is getting heavy, so I can’t allow you much time to decide whether to live or die. How about if I count back from five?”

And my countdown began. At five, nearly half of Mendenwal instantly dropped their weapons and fell to their knees. By three, the clanging of swords to the ground was audible. But at the final count, I still saw far too many defiant men, preferring to die on their feet than surrender to a boy king.

I respected that — truly I did — but I could not tolerate it. This battle had to end.

So I stepped forward and, with the tip of the rope held out said, “We will meet again in the afterlife, then. You’ll get there first, so be sure to save a nice place for me.”

And I lit the end of the rope, which did the trick. Those who refused to kneel were forced to the ground by their own panicked peers. The rope only burned a few inches before I was looking down on the complete and total surrender of the Mendenwal army.

I snuffed out the flame beneath my boot, and then called down for my commanders to initiate an immediate evacuation for Mendenwal. “You will leave all weapons behind, but you may carry out your wounded and any supplies necessary for their care. And you will never come again to war against Carthya. Once you accept those terms, you are free to leave in peace.”

Then I stowed the torch against the cliff’s edge, and sat down to watch it happen. Their exodus would likely take a couple of hours, and I needed that time to determine our next move. I knew where I hoped to come against Avenia in battle; I just didn’t know how to make it happen. Beyond that, I needed to rest. Weighed down and overheated by the chain mail and brigandine, I finally removed them so that I could recline more comfortably in a simple undershirt.

Below me, the evacuation was happening more quickly than I had anticipated. Thus, I learned the great secret to winning battles: Make the other side believe you are crazier than they are. Mendenwal wanted to get as far from me as possible before I went completely mad and relit the rope. Of course, there were no explosives left, never had been any up here, but I liked the idea of them leaving Carthya as quickly as their retreating legs could run.

Eventually, a shout came from below that the last of Mendenwal had gone. I had stayed at this perch too long and too selfishly. It was time to meet again with my commanders and consider our next move.