The Shadow Throne (Ascendance 3)

“Thank you, sire.” Dawn hesitated and glanced at the other women. “My king, there were rumors about your fate in Avenia. Lord Harlowe assured us he had seen you alive. It gave us hope, but it’s still a great relief to see you with my own eyes.”

“It’s a great relief to be seen.” Then, speaking to all the women and their daughters, I said, “Will any of you volunteer to go up this river and into the castle?” This was the same way I had gone several months earlier to claim the throne, and I visualized it perfectly. “Once you’re inside, you must tell the people the king requests every ounce of heating oil, animal fat, and pitch in the city. Upon my signal, they will pour it into this river.”

“Why destroy all our oils?” a woman behind Dawn asked. “How will we cook, or light our lanterns?”

“We’ll eat cold food in the dark if it saves our lives,” Dawn said to her. “We obey the king.”

“I’ll send a signal when I’m ready,” I said. “A single flaming arrow into the air, straight up.” I looked over to the girls, as strong in heart as their mothers, though most were no older than Fink. “Who will do this for me?”

A smaller girl near the outside of the group raised her hand. From the comparison of their faces, I instantly knew this was Dawn’s daughter. Confirming that, Dawn walked over and gently brushed a hand across the girl’s shoulders, then crouched down to face her.

“There should not be any danger between us and the walls,” Dawn said. “Still, you must run fast and don’t look back. Once you get inside, tell them you have a message straight from the king.”

The girl curtsied to me, then set off so quickly I doubted even the wind could catch her. I thanked the women, then we started back toward our horses, but I heard Dawn calling to us. In each of her hands were leather brigandines marked with the blue and gold colors of Carthya. Mine was a little large and Mott’s a little small, but far better than our thinner Avenian coats.

“We sewed these ourselves,” Dawn said as she fastened mine. “They may not be fit for a king, but they are good enough for the proud warriors of Carthya.”

“That’s all I ask,” I said, happy to finally be rid of the Avenian colors. “How can we get behind the lines from here?”

Dawn explained our best possible route, and Mott and I rode that way, though it took us back amidst the fighting. Mott stayed ahead of me through most of it, protecting me with the might of several men. I did my part, but he had been right before. I often needed both hands on my sword, and felt tired sooner than I should have. I vowed that it would not be necessary in the next battle.

I couldn’t guess at the numbers Mendenwal had here, but as far as I could tell, Avenia was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, Carthya was assisted by a large number of men from Bymar. Amarinda had told me once that their armies were cavalry, but I hadn’t appreciated their skills until seeing them in battle.

A Bymarian soldier ahead of me fought both to his left and right as needed, and used his horse to fight forward. They acted as one, with the horse seeming to know instinctively what its master required. My skills weren’t half so polished, and I promised myself that after the war I would seek out the Bymarians for training.

o;And no good servant lets him go alone.”

I looked back at him, ever grateful. “You’re no servant, Mott. Not to me, or to anyone. And there is no one I would rather ride into battle with than you.”

“Then we’ll go together,” Mott said. “On to victory, my king.”

“To victory.”

We started forward again, and weren’t too much farther along before the first sounds of war reached our ears. Mott and I looked at each other, withdrew our swords, and then rode into the fray.

Roden’s defense was set up less than a mile outside the walls of Drylliad, and was visible from the minute we crossed the ridge. Although the soldiers of Bymar and Carthya were fighting against other soldiers out on the wide fields ahead of me, the Roving River far to our right became a sort of perimeter that Roden had determined could not be crossed by the enemy. Along the entire river, wide wooden canopies had been built to shield his men from incoming arrows, and the earth was dug up into tall mounds that would barricade against any attacks from straight ahead. The river was narrow here, but it was deep, and except for a few temporary bridges, nobody could cross it without going for a swim. That would make it difficult for the enemy to breach the lines, but not impossible.

I intended to make it impossible.

My purpose was to get inside the castle walls, or better yet, to get a messenger in there. But we had to hurry. So instead of diving into the heat of the battle, Mott and I rode farther to the south, encountering a few men on the outskirts. From what we could see, they were mostly from Mendenwal, but since we were still dressed as Avenians, their guard was low and they did not expect our swords when they came.

As we came closer to the lines, however, those same uniforms became our disadvantage. We rode toward a small glen that carried the Roving River beneath the castle walls out to the countryside. We were nearly into the glen when, from out of nowhere, a wall of women came running toward us, screaming and yelling to create confusion and distraction. It worked. Several of the women carried wooden poles, connected to each other by lengths of fabric about the size of a blanket. Before I could react or change course, the women ran on either side of my horse and Mott’s as well. They passed us almost before we saw them coming, and used those stretched blankets to rip us both from our saddles.

With a hard thud, I landed on my back on the ground, while my horse rode away free. Mott had held on better than I did, but the women didn’t give in until they had pulled him down near me.

Farther on, some younger girls caught our horses and swung into their saddles. Then yet another swarm produced swords, which they pressed against our chests, while others removed our weapons. We had been overcome by the mothers and daughters of Carthya, and nicely so. Perhaps they should be my commanders, I thought.

The woman threatening me was tall and simply dressed, and held her sword with confidence. “Invaders of our country, we sentence you to death, under the name of King Jaron of Carthya. Have you any last words?”

“Yes, I do, actually.” I stripped off the helmet I wore so that she might see me better. “Before using that sword, you should know that my name is King Jaron of Carthya.”

She reacted with a gasp and widening eyes, signs she recognized me, and praise the saints that she did. Begging for forgiveness, she removed the weapon from my chest and fell to her knees, as did all the others there.

Mott came over and helped me back to my feet, then I asked the women to rise. The one who had addressed me before said her name was Dawn.

“A name that carries feelings of peace and warmth,” I said. “Your parents could not have known all you were capable of when they gave you that name.”

She smiled back at me. “Few soldiers here know what we’re capable of, Your Majesty. But Roden, the captain of your guard, trusted us to guard this this river. Should any of our people come this way needing to get inside the walls, we bring them in through the passage beneath your castle. But no one else will enter. Forgive us for not recognizing you.”