The Shadow Throne (Ascendance 3)

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.

“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.