The Shadow Throne (The Ascendance Trilogy, #3)(44)

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.

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.