The Shadow Throne
Page 39

“We should ride faster,” I said to Mott.
“Is that what I think it is?” Following my lead, he said, “You told me the gunpowder at Vargan’s camp was all you had.”
“All I had with me,” I corrected him. “Not all I had.”
“You’re going to blow up that wall?”
My focus remained on the growing fire ahead of us. “It’s not a wall, Mott. It’s a dam.”
One of my first acts as king was to send every spare man to this area to dam up the Roving River. I had hoped for a barricade that would appear to be created by the natural flow of debris, and that vision had been executed to perfection. In fact, I’d heard that much of the dam was formed simply by sending large items down the river to clog the spillway.
Now, at full speed, I charged sideways for the hills with my men behind me. At first, the Mendenwal soldiers seemed more distracted by the fire at the base of the dam than the consequences of it. Once they realized what was happening, it was too late.
The explosion burst before my men reached the hills, and it shook the ground like violent thunder. Mystic panicked and tried to bolt, but in a battle of wills between us, I intended to win. It was the only way we’d survive. I dug my legs firmly into his side and urged him forward. My ears rang like chapel bells in my head from the noise while the disturbed air pressed in waves at my back.
The base of the dam burst with a fury I could not have imagined. Instantly, the walls above it collapsed, sending not only water, but also rocks and logs catapulting through the valley like a full-scale assault.
My men were drenched by the time we reached the hillside, but all of us were there. And the Mendenwal soldiers that had filled the valley like busy ants were swept away in the fierce waters. Falstan Lake was returning to its bed. Within a precious few seconds, more than half of their army was gone.
My men cheered, but the battle had only begun. Not all of Mendenwal had entered the valley, and they would be panicked now and need time to regroup and install new leaders. We would not allow any recovery. The remainder of my army had left camp and was already on their heels, advancing from the rear.
“The match is more even now,” I said to Mott. “We can win this.” Then I directed my attention to the men with me. “You have passed the test of courage, which is the hardest of all tests. Now is the time for battle, and I know you can do it. Stay on your horse to fight and keep moving. You hold swords in your hands, but remember that every part of you is a weapon. You have legs, and strong backs, and best of all, you have brains. Never stop thinking, never stop looking ahead and making your plans. As long as you think, you will survive.”
Eager now to prove themselves in real battle, the men cheered again, and I led them back toward Mendenwal’s camp. At the shores of the restored lake, the few soldiers who’d escaped the waters lay in the mud, both soaked and stunned. Maybe their retreat to the shore hadn’t been slowed by the heavy weight of armor, or else they’d been strong enough to swim desperately for their lives. Unarmed and panicked, they ran toward their camp when they saw us riding for them. I let them run. It was better to have their armies collected all in one place once I arrived.
We rode into the Mendenwal camp amidst a chaotic battle with the rest of my armies, who had already entered from the opposite direction. The camp was situated in a small well of a valley with little vegetation and surrounded by tall walls of sharp gray rock. We entered at one end, and my army blocked the only other escape. Within this well, hundreds of soldiers fought one another on horse and on foot. Mendenwal was clearly unnerved, which gave my armies the advantage. I ordered my one hundred men to surround the camp as best as they could so that no one could escape, then located the narrow path I had seen on the maps the night before, the one that traveled up the cliff walls to the ledges high above the battlefield.
I rode in that direction with my sword at the ready, and used it when necessary to clear the path ahead. With the bulk of their army gone, including most of their leaders, Mendenwal could not hope to win no matter how long they fought. But I didn’t wish for this battle to last long either. Every lost soldier had someone at home who loved him. Most had wives or children or a mother who depended on them for survival. Each fallen Carthyan I passed caused a lurch within my gut. It was time for this battle to end.
Before starting up the steep path, I sheathed my sword and grabbed a torch instead. It was a slow, hard climb for Mystic, and the gravel-covered trail was more slippery than I liked. The sheer edges below me promised a straight fall to the valley floor, but Mystic was as surefooted as he was strong. Once I stood on top of the ridge, I surveyed the battle. My one hundred men had held their places to surround the camp. Nearly everyone was fighting, but we controlled the exits. Mendenwal still outnumbered my soldiers, but their numbers were also falling faster. Without leaders, they only continued fighting out of the desperate will to survive. All they needed was a reason to stop, and a chance to live. I would offer that.
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.