The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy #3)

The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy #3) Page 33

Mott shouted to the Bymarian soldier that he was here with me and that we needed his help to get behind the lines.

He turned to us. “Your captain has already called for a retreat behind those lines. The bridges across the trenches will be removed soon, and Mendenwal won’t be far behind.”

“Show us the way,” I asked.

“I can, but it won’t do much good. We’ll be overrun before this night is over.”

“No,” I assured him. “We won’t.”

He pushed forward, and with Mott’s help and mine, we cut a path toward the lines. Though I saw great courage in my men, the war itself was nothing but ugliness and horror. I resolved again to end it as soon as possible.

We were permitted through the lines where the men were being organized for their next round in battle. Our numbers were falling, and it wasn’t hard to see that if they were sent out again, most of them would not return. Yet they were calm and focused, and ready for whatever might come. Once Mott and I got under the canopies, I was immediately recognized by several of the men. I asked where Roden was and they said the captain was in a tower at the center of the lines, waiting for the last possible moment to raise the bridges so that as many of our men as possible could get here to safety.

“What if Mendenwal gets across?” I asked one man.

“The captain says we are to hold this line just as we held the border of Gelyn.”

“He’s right.” I stepped closer to him and asked, “How is the captain received by your armies now?”

The man thought about it a moment, then said, “I would give him my life, Your Majesty.”

I would have asked more questions, but by then, Mott had found us some archers and we hurried along behind the crowded lines. I relayed my plan along the way, and with wide smiles they told me it wasn’t likely to work, but they looked forward to trying anyway.

Word spread quickly that I had come, and a man approached me and said Captain Roden wondered if I had orders for him.

I asked, “How long do you think before Mendenwal is at our lines?”

“They’ve fallen back to regroup, sire. We’ll hold them off with our trebuchets and archers, but that won’t work for long. We expect them within the hour.”

“Then tell the captain to keep our men inside these lines.”

“But if we wait —”

“Yes, let’s do that. Let’s wait.”

He was confused, but still bowed to me and then hurried away. Mott only smiled. He knew what I had in mind.

Throughout the following hour, we watched, waiting for Mendenwal to come. And so they did. In the fading light, we heard them long before we saw the tips of their helmets or wave of their colors. Mendenwal marched in lines and in perfect unison. They were coming for us. And they were coming quickly.It was impossible to know how many men they had left, except that the noise of their march was growing.

Their advance was held together by the beat of drummers at the rear. Each roll of the drums pushed the battle nearer. Their drums grew louder, bolder. The message in the rhythm was clear. They would be here soon, and were bringing our defeat. The men near me stood on restless legs and some even looked around, as if wondering where we’d retreat to once Mendenwal came. I even overheard one comment that we’d be best to run to the castle now, and fight from there.

But by then, the rhythm of the approaching march had also reminded me of an old Carthyan anthem. Likely, many of my soldiers’ mothers had sung it to them while they were young, as my mother had to me. I climbed a ladder to gain some height above the group, and then started singing.

Let the winds blow, lad

Let fall the deep snow.

Let the stars fall, lad

We’ll answer the call.

Others joined me in the next verse, and suddenly the drumbeats that had seemed so threatening now strengthened us.

Let the dark come, lad

Ask not where it’s from.

After the fight, lad

We’ll see morning’s light.

They continued singing, even when I turned away to watch the armies’ approach. When I thought the time was right, I asked an archer to send a flaming arrow straight into the air. Whatever Mendenwal brought to us next, this fight was not over yet.

When I was younger, my brother and I used to carve small boats from wood and sail them on this same river. It took about fifteen minutes for them to leave the castle walls and make it to this stretch of water. I hoped the oils from Drylliad would carry at a similar pace.

It took Mendenwal almost twenty minutes to get past the worst from our archers and catapults. There was no way to know if the oils had made it this far — from this distance, the water wouldn’t look any different. But the timing was good.

The soldiers of Mendenwal entered the river together, entire rows of men moving across it in time with the beat of their drums.

Once the trenches were full, I ordered the archers to light their arrows and then shoot. They weren’t aiming for the men — there were far too many for us to get them all. They were to aim for the water.

The first few arrows entered the water and were immediately extinguished. But those in the next round found the patch of oil, which instantly lit the river as bright as the midday sun. Fire traveled in ripples up and down the water, burning wherever it was fueled, and licking the men in its path. The soldiers scrambled to get away, but the flames would not be stopped so easily. The others who had not yet entered ran to avoid the flames now spreading to land. Within seconds, Mendenwal was awash in chaos, and their leaders were having trouble regaining control. The drumbeats, I noticed, were gone.

Once the fire burned itself out, I heard Roden shouting from his tower. I moved until I could see him, standing on the ladder so that he was as visible as possible.

“You came to these lines as farmers and tailors and merchants,” he said. “But you stand here now as soldiers, in defense of your king, your country, and your families. Nothing is more sacred than their lives, and those who fall in their service will be carried to the afterlife on the wings of angels. Do not hesitate. Do not falter. Do not doubt that we will succeed. I will celebrate with you at the end of this night!”

With a loud whoop, he then sent all remaining men away from the lines again to finish the battle. I remained stunned for a moment. The Roden I had known was slow with words, full of self-doubt, and wouldn’t have been able to inspire even the most eager warrior. Had such a speech really come from his mouth?

Yes, of course it had. Glimmers of this person had appeared at times when we were together at Farthenwood, even when he didn’t know it. I knew this was in him, but just hadn’t anticipated he would find his way this well or this quickly. Perhaps it was arrogant to congratulate myself on having chosen such an excellent captain, but I couldn’t help it. He was exactly the leader I had expected him to be.

When I raised my sword and started to leave with the men, Mott asked me to stay back, for my own safety. I rolled my eyes to let him know I had no intention of that, and so without delay, he leapt over the mounds of earth at my side and we dove into the battle. The fighting was still hard, but it was obvious that many of Mendenwal’s soldiers had run once the fire broke out. Their king wasn’t here and their leaders were far too spread out now to be effective. Likely, many of them had no better idea why they were in this war than I did.