The Shadow Throne

I twisted enough to reach a second, smaller knife attached to my boot, and then used it on the rope tying Fink’s hands. Once they were free, he was able to get a stronger grip on the wall, though his knuckles were white and his face was showing the strain on his muscles.

“Listen to me,” I said to Fink. “Climbing up is one thing, but most falling happens on the way down. Every move you make is important. You don’t get to be stupid when stepping down, not even once.”

“Stupid?” Fink cried. “Like jumping off a cliff? Because that’s a really, really big step down, Jaron!”

He was still too panicked to make safe choices. The wall directly below us was too smooth for us to scale down, and the climbers could never get up to rescue us. Far to our right was a tree rooted into the cliff. It wasn’t thick, but it would handle our weight. I still had my end of the rope that I’d used to jump. If I tied it to the tree trunk, it’d get us pretty close to the floor.

I cocked my head at the tree. “That’s where we’re going.” Then I called down to Mott. “I am ordering your retreat! Vargan is bringing his army right into this valley. We’ll be trapped if you don’t get out!”

“Nobody is leaving you!” Mott yelled back.

It put a terrible strain on my shoulders, but I swung around as far as I dared. Although we were at some distance from each other, I tried to make Mott see the earnestness in my face. “Leave,” I told him. “Mott, these are my orders. Make everyone go or they will die. I’ll find a way down.”

This time, Mott nodded. He joined the others who were issuing orders and directed the commanders to move our men out of the valley and away from the lake. Once he had them in motion, he returned to the base of the cliff and called back, “Now you have your way. But I will not leave until you’re with me.”

It was my turn to nod back to him. I handed the rope to Fink and told him what to do if I fell. I hoped my arms and my left leg could keep me on the cliff to move horizontally, but that wasn’t certain. My muscles were significantly weakened from the old injury to my leg and my imprisonment in Vargan’s camp. My hands stung from the jump just now and my shoulder throbbed worse than it should have. I truly didn’t know if I could keep myself up here.

So we took each move slowly. I avoided putting any weight on my right leg, and chose my holds carefully. Then I gave Fink specific instructions for each hold he must make. That was the harder part since he was smaller and didn’t have my reach. We were unimpressive in our speed, but at least we were moving. With a little patience and a great deal of endurance, we would reach the tree. And once there, it would be a simple matter to tie off the rope and slide down to the floor.

But nothing in my life was ever simple. And this time, it wasn’t only me who would suffer. Beyond the well of this valley, exactly where my retreating army would be, the sounds of a great battle had begun. Vargan’s army had met them. We had failed to retreat in time.

Mott was aware of it too, and urged us to get off the cliff as quickly as possible. I pushed Fink to move a little faster, but his muscles were already shaking against the strain. I tried to distract him, asking how he had come to be captured by Vargan.

“After I left Bymar, I thought it’d be no trouble to come through Avenia again,” Fink said. “Nobody bothered me before. But Vargan recruited nearly all of Erick’s thieves into his army, and when I tried to pass through the border into Carthya, one of them recognized me. They knew I was with you now, so they sent me directly to Vargan for questioning.”

I showed Fink his next hold on the wall, then asked, “Other than my plans for Falstan Lake, did you tell Vargan anything else?”

“Yes.” Fink smiled. “I told him he didn’t have a chance of winning this war against you. That’s when he got angry.”

We continued making our way toward the tree. I found it impossible to ignore the sounds of the battle and feared what must be happening. It was torture to hear the cries of injured men, listen to orders being called, and cringe at the clang of sword against sword, all while I remained trapped on this wall. At best, I was useless, and at worst, a deadly distraction.

Below us, Mott called that Mystic had come down from the ledge on his own. I squinted down long enough to see my horse below, and then scowled at him. Maybe it would’ve been better to take Fink down the trail. Probably not — Vargan undoubtedly would’ve followed. But Mystic didn’t seem any worse for his journey, while Fink and I were bruised, exhausted, and still inching sideways for our lives.

“I can’t go any farther,” Fink finally said.

I looked back at him. We were getting close to the tree now, just four or five careful holds away.

“You can do this,” I told him.

“I can’t! I’m telling you, Jaron, if you make me keep going, I’ll fall!”

“Listen to me,” I said firmly. “If you fall from here, it’ll hurt a lot more than you’re hurting now, and you will die. Once you’re dead, I’ll tell the saints to refuse you entrance into the afterlife. You’ll wander forever as a spirit, never getting a moment’s rest.”

My threat worked. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said.

“You know I’ll do it. So you’ll hold on, or else.” Then I gritted my teeth and moved faster. With a good leg, I could’ve been there in less than a minute, and Fink’s muscles were shaking uncontrollably now. As a test, I put enough weight on my right leg to help me skirt a little higher toward the tree, but it collapsed beneath me. I lost all my footing and the grip of my right hand. All that kept me on the cliff was the knuckle of my left forefinger, which I had wormed through the curve of a small root that arched away from the earth.

Fink cried out when I slipped, and somewhere far below, Mott ran to stand beneath me. But I only cursed and pulled myself back into place.

“Don’t do that again!” Fink yelled.

“Hush!”

Angry with myself now for a weakness I still couldn’t conquer, I climbed more deliberately, and made it to the tree. I tossed the rope around the trunk, knotted it tightly, and then wound it beneath my arms. I swung over to Fink and grabbed on to him, then literally peeled him off the cliff and back to the tree.

Once there, I detached myself from the rope, then wound it around him and carefully lowered him down the side of the cliff. When he reached the bottom, Mott pressed him against the side of the cliff where he was safest. The battle continued to rage outside the valley well, and if it moved toward us, it would quickly absorb us into the fighting. I needed to join them — but I felt my strength lagging. It really had been too long since I’d climbed, and I hadn’t appreciated the demands it placed on muscles I rarely used otherwise.

“Get on the rope, Jaron!” Mott ordered.

This time, I felt no resentment for his attempt to order me and took hold of the rope again. But I was dropping faster than I wanted, mostly because with my tired arms it was hard to keep control of the fall. And when I was farther up than I ought to have been, my hold failed completely and I simply fell. I half landed on Mott, who had been anticipating my crash. It saved me from a major injury, though I still collapsed on my weaker leg. It sent a wave of pain up my spine and I grabbed on to the leg to quiet the tremors. But I said nothing.