The Shadow Throne

“Can you walk?” Mott asked, coming to his feet.

I wasn’t entirely sure if I could. Fink ran over to me and put his shoulders under my arm. With his help and Mott’s, I stood and found my balance. Mott helped me into Mystic’s saddle, then I rode far enough into the valley to see the outer edges of the brawl. The bulk of the fighting had already moved away from us, but too many of my men had already fallen here. We weren’t fighting a battle; we were targets for slaughter.

When Mott and Fink rode up beside me, I asked, “Where is the fighting moving?”

Mott scanned the horizon. “Back to higher ground. Away from the lake.”

“Toward our camp?” My eyes widened in horror. “Tobias and Amarinda are still up there!”

“We can’t make it past the battle to warn them,” Mott said.

I steered Mystic around. “We’ll climb up where the dam used to be.”

“You exploded most of that hillside,” Mott said. “Are you sure anything is there to be climbed?”

“If it isn’t, we’ll build a way to the top,” I said. “We’ve got to warn them before Vargan arrives.”

Mott 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.