The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(42)

I picked up a rock. “Which is your sword hand?”

Fish Breath trembled beneath my implied threat, but raised his left hand. “Please don’t do that. You said you wouldn’t kill me.”

“And you said you wouldn’t lie to me. You held your knife with your right hand before.” I raised the rock higher now.

“That’s all I know!” His panicked voice jumped nearly an octave. “Listen, you will find Mendenwal there, and my own king’s armies with them in battle. He intends to destroy Drylliad.”

I frowned at him and rubbed my chin, mostly because it seemed to make him nervous. “All right,” I finally said. “I’ll let you live, but you’d better hope there are others in your army willing to come look for you.” Then I nodded at Mott. “Tie them up.”

While Mott tied the men to the trees around our camp, Tobias and Amarinda came down to help him, and I collected our horses. We had to leave at once. When I last saw him, Roden hadn’t yet figured out his role as captain. If he was no better, those lines outside Drylliad wouldn’t last long.

After we left, Mott asked me, “Do you intend to go to Drylliad?”

“Of course. Drylliad must stand.”

“That battle will be dangerous,” Amarinda said. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

With a grin, I told her, “I’ll have more than ten minutes’ notice that this battle is coming. In that way, this might be the most prepared I’ve ever been.”

We rode as quickly as possible toward Drylliad, but once we came upon the Roving River, I turned to Tobias. “Can you and Amarinda get yourselves up to the camp at Falstan Lake?”

“Yes. But if you’re headed toward Drylliad, I ought to go with you. We’ll have injured men there, and I can care for them.”

“What about Amarinda?” I asked.

“I can help Tobias,” she answered. “Let me be of use in this war.”

Her eyes met mine, and I said, “The terms of our betrothal may have changed, but not the terms of the throne. If something happens to me before this is over, I need you to take the reins as queen. You are already needed, and you must stay safe.”

“I’ll keep her safe, Jaron,” Tobias promised. “Those terms haven’t changed either.”

I nodded back, then said to Amarinda, “You and Tobias will go to the Falstan camp and set up a tent for medical aid. Within a few days, we’ll need it there just as much as where I’m going. Order the commander to send as many men to Drylliad as he can spare.”

Amarinda nodded back at me, and then she and Tobias rode in one direction while Mott and I turned farther north.

We rode hard toward Drylliad, with heavy thoughts of the disaster that would unfold if the enemy breached those city walls. Harlowe was tasked with preparing an army to defend the city if necessary, but his options were limited. Many of the families who’d come seeking shelter inside the city were inexperienced in fighting anything other than the occasional wolf or wild dog attacking their herds, and most were women charged with protecting their children and elders, whose men had already joined the war.

Perhaps Harlowe would carry out his plan to pull men from the prisons. I wondered if they would fight for Carthya or abandon us at their first opportunity. But Harlowe had promised me he would not include Conner as part of those plans. No matter how desperate our situation became, I wouldn’t trust Conner with my own life, or with the lives of my people.

It was late in the day when we approached the last hill before coming to Drylliad. Mott called my name and stopped, requiring me to stop as well.

He said, “I’ve been watching you since we left the Avenian camp. You’re not as strong as you were before. I’ve seen the way you carry your sword, with two hands now rather than one.”

All I could do was to stare straight forward. “I’m stronger each day. Besides, my will is as strong as always, and that matters more.”

“But the battle is just on the other side of that hill.”

“Yes, and if I must, I’ll fight it with my sword in two hands.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Where’s your armor and your shield?”

“Where’s yours?” I countered. I let go of my irritation and only sighed. “No good king sends his people into battle unless he is there beside them.”

“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.