The Shadow Throne (Ascendance 3)

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.

With Mendenwal’s armies in full retreat, I climbed to my feet again and loaded the chain mail into Mystic’s saddlebag. I refastened the brigandine around my chest and sheathed my sword in preparation to ride back down the ridge. But somewhere in the fields far behind me, I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Looking for me.

“Fink?”

I grabbed my sword and ran toward his voice. He wasn’t much taller than some of the grasses here, but he continued calling for me.

Finally I saw him, limping heavily and with his hands bound in front of him. He had a torn shirt and a dark bruise on one cheek, but otherwise, he seemed all right.

I started running toward him, but when he noticed me, he only started shaking his head and sobbing. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “Jaron, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He already had my forgiveness, and always would have, but I needed to know what had happened.

“I told them about Falstan. That’s why they weren’t here before. They let Mendenwal get swallowed up in the lake and waited until it was over.”

“Who did?”

“Vargan’s army. I’m so sorry.”

As he spoke those words, I heard a sound growing from the base of the hill upon which Fink and I stood. Horses snorted while their hoofbeats pounded against stone and earth. We were not alone, and I figured it was a safe guess that whoever was coming was no friend of mine.

In the distance, a mass of mounted soldiers was approaching. Even from here I could see their black livery coats crossed in red. Having been surrounded by them for so long, the uniform of Avenia was painfully familiar to me. Far ahead of them was an advance group on horseback, and I knew nearly all of them. At the lead, King Vargan was accompanied by Commander Kippenger and Avenia’s standard bearers. Another man rode with them, not in Avenia’s colors, but dressed instead in the fine robes of a nobleman. I squinted to see him better. It couldn’t be. . . .

But it was. Bevin Conner was riding directly beside the king of Avenia. Conner pointed me out first, and Vargan turned course straight for me. I told Fink to get behind me, and then withdrew my sword, eager to test its sharpness. For all of Conner’s arrogant claims that everything he had done was for the benefit of our country, this was a complete betrayal of Carthya. Whatever bargain he had made to ride beside Vargan now, he could never justify this treason, even to himself.

“Let’s just run,” Fink said.

“There’s nowhere to go,” I muttered back to him. For as far as I could see ahead, there was nothing but red and black uniforms growing on the horizon. And there was nothing behind us but a sheer cliff and a long fall.

My sword was ready when they stopped in front of us. I hadn’t yet decided which of them to attack, since I’d likely only get one target before the rest of them stopped me. It would’ve been satisfying to get Conner, but the sneer on Vargan’s face made me furious, and Kippenger had actively participated in the abuse I’d suffered in Vargan’s camp. I owed each of them a response.

Vargan greeted me first. “King Jaron, how nice it is to see you again. My apologies for being late to all your fun with Mendenwal.”