The Shadow Throne
Page 36

“Please go to sleep,” Mott said. “Tomorrow will be better if you can face it with a clear head. Besides,” he added once I started to object, “I can’t sleep if you won’t, and I’m exhausted too.”
I wasn’t sure whether I would be able to sleep, but by then I was willing to try. The aches and stings from the battle had caught up to me and even ducking inside the tent felt like an impossible chore. I collapsed on the cot fully clothed and was asleep before Mott had left.
I slept solidly until first light, when I arose and got to work. I first exchanged the battle-stained coat from Dawn for a simple gray-laced shirt and a belt for my weapons. Then after eating a hearty meal, I went alone to survey the area, eventually finding myself at the overlook of Falstan Valley. Far below me, the Roving River emptied into this valley, creating a beautiful wide lake. Or, it used to, anyway.
The Roving River began somewhere in the mountains of Gelyn and wound southward through Carthya, supplying water to most of our people. This same river ran behind Farthenwood, and was where I had lain after taking a wild ride on one of Conner’s untrained horses, and also where I had confessed my true identity to Mott. Dawn and the women of Drylliad now guarded this river near the castle walls.
As it left Drylliad, the Roving River gradually cut deeper into the earth, leaving high canyon walls on either side. I stood on one of those walls now, not far from my camp.
Falstan Lake, and the valley surrounding it, had been named for an early explorer of these lands. He had commented in his journal on the beautiful sight of coming upon the cool blue waters of the lake. Our people had enjoyed it ever since then. I, too, had many good memories of swinging into the waters from a rope hung from some of the tall trees on the shore.
But for well over a month, the lake bed had been dry. All that came through the caked valley floor now was a thin vein of river water, only a pale shadow of what it should have been.
Falstan Lake still existed, or at least, the water from the lake still existed. Except that instead of a wide, deep lake, it was bottled up in the canyon at my back, trapped behind a steep wall of rocks, logs, and mud. As the water rose higher, so did the dam of debris. Now it was nearly even with the earthen cliffs beneath my feet. From my angle, it looked as though an entire hillside somewhere upriver had collapsed and the debris had become lodged here.
As the commander had indicated the night before, Avenia was nowhere in sight, but Mendenwal was entrenched in their own camp not far from the lake’s former bed. The soldiers of that camp had enough water for cooking and drinking, and to manage their animals. But little more. There certainly wasn’t enough water for the men to bathe in, and I hoped the smell of so many sweaty and dirty soldiers was choking them. Not that I was in a position to judge. After so many battles and the miles of dusty road in between, I needed my own bath. By now I was sure my odor offended even the devils, which was no small feat.
Mendenwal must have known our camp was here and yet they had not attacked. Why? Perhaps they were waiting for Vargan and his men. It surprised me that they waited at all. Mendenwal had thousands of men here, far more than we’d encountered near Drylliad. Surely they would look at our fewer numbers and see their advantage.
From what I could determine, Mendenwal had crowded their soldiers into a semi-sheltered knot of land that would be nearly impossible for my men to breach. They were near the dry lake bed, but surrounded by sheer slopes. It would be a long ride for us to approach from the south and attack from on top of the slopes. And I was certain the entrances to their camp were very well guarded should we attempt to enter it directly. The only way to defeat them was to draw them out. I had some ideas about that.
After a careful survey of the area, I returned to camp and held council with Mott, Tobias and Amarinda, and my military leaders. We described all we had seen in our battles, and they told me similar stories of their troubles. Little of what we discussed was encouraging.
Mott shared with the group a message that had come in from Drylliad earlier that morning, which was that the nearness of our battle yesterday had thrown the capital into disarray.
As we had suspected would be necessary, Harlowe had opened the prisons to anyone who swore an oath to act in defense of the country. But with the chaos in the city, the one prisoner who had not been offered the chance to fight had still escaped.
“Conner,” I breathed. “Where’s Conner?”
Of course, no one here could answer me, but his absence bothered me in every possible way. More so since I already knew Conner had been in communication with Vargan. I had no time to waste on wondering where he had gone, but clearly I had been wrong all this time to keep him alive. I hated the thought that he was free in the world, likely never to be captured again, and undoubtedly at work on more destruction.
Mott only shrugged in response to my question. Nor did anyone have news about Fink, which bothered me equally as much.
Next, we discussed Mendenwal’s vast armies camped nearby and my commander’s belief that they were readying for attack. Although I would’ve liked to wait for Avenia, it was vital that we make the first strike, before Mendenwal advanced. So with a map of the area spread across a table in my tent, I gave my lieutenants their orders. But the grim expressions on the faces around me very plainly showed their reluctance to carry them out, and in clear and respectful terms, a few of them even shared their specific concerns. Nothing of what they said to me was wrong, unfortunately. We were risking a lot, and also depending far too much on luck to see us through to victory. The confidence I had felt from the beginning faltered beneath their arguments.
“Will doubt be our enemy now?” I asked them. “Because doubt will defeat us far quicker than any army could. No plan is perfect, but that’s no reason to give up. Unless someone has a better option, then we will go forward as planned.” And hope against reason that I was not leading my men to their deaths.
One of my lieutenants leaned forward. “My king, we will follow you to the end. But we’ve seen their numbers. By my guess, we’re outnumbered as much as five to one.”
I sat back in my chair and smiled. “Only five to one? We might consider sending home half our army, then, so as not to intimidate them.”
Uneasy laughter spread within the group and my grin widened. I couldn’t let it show, but in truth, I was just as anxious about the upcoming battle as they were. Probably more.
By then we were coming to the end of a very long meeting, and I was tired. I was much stronger since escaping the Avenian camp, but yesterday had been a hard battle and tomorrow would demand even more from me. With so little sleep the night before, the weight of all I bore on my shoulders felt exhausting. I had only barely motioned for everyone to leave when Mott swept them out as if they carried the plague.
“You’re a king’s ideal nursemaid,” I told him. “Defending me with a sword in one hand, and using the other to tuck me into bed for an afternoon nap.”
Mott smiled. “Defending you takes both hands. So you may tuck yourself into bed, or do whatever is necessary to get some sleep.”
“How can I?” My face fell, and I felt the urge to stand and pace the floor. “Even if everything goes well tomorrow, we both know that Avenia is still out there somewhere.”
“Then what can I do?”
“Find me five men for tonight,” I said. “Men who can climb.”