The Shadow Throne

After another pause, Roden continued, “I went to Gelyn with forty of Jaron’s finest men. At first I thought I was there to teach them how to follow me, but that wasn’t the plan at all. Instead, they were there to teach me how to lead them, to make me into the captain Jaron wanted. I will never have the courage or the wit of my king. But yes, if necessary, I could win this war for Carthya.”

They took a few quiet sips of their drinks, then the Bymarian commander said, “I know little about Jaron, other than the stories Carthyans tell about him.”

I rolled my eyes at that. The last thing I needed was for him to laugh at who I had once been. The war was hard enough; I didn’t need to fight my own history as well.

But when Roden asked what stories, Orison replied, “I heard that the people of Carthya would follow your king to the devils’ lair and back again. Is it true?”

“Yes, and I would be first amongst them,” Roden answered. “I would follow Jaron wherever he goes, and trust with all my heart that he will win this war.”

“How can you be sure?”

Roden’s focus turned to the fire and he lowered his voice. “Some months ago, Jaron made his way to the pirates of Avenia. Their branding is on his right forearm. He tries to keep it covered, but sometimes a person catches a glimpse of it.”

“I saw it earlier when he fought near me.” Orison licked his lips, and then said, “I noticed you have the same mark too, by the way. There are rumors that Jaron is the pirates’ king.”

“He won’t talk about it,” Roden said, “but it’s true. Do you know how he gained that title?”

Orison shrugged. “According to the story I heard, he fought the pirate king and won, though the battle ended with his broken leg.”

“He lets people believe that, but that’s not the real story.” Now Roden faced his companion. “For a few short hours, I was that pirate king. And the battle didn’t end with Jaron’s broken leg. That’s how it began. Jaron escaped from a secure room, climbed the face of a cliff, and defeated me in battle, all with a broken leg. Jaron may give up his life one day, but it will never be taken from him.”

Orison let out a low whistle. “Why doesn’t he tell the story? The people should know.”

“Jaron thinks it’ll turn his armies against me.”

“Ah. He might be right, unfortunately.” Orison was silent for a moment, and then asked, “How did you go from his enemy in battle to his captain?”

“Jaron never saw us as enemies. He risked his life to make me see that too.” Roden shifted his position, as if suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. “I owe him everything.”

“As these men owe you. You are young still, but I look forward to watching you grow as their captain. I believe the day will come when you are one of the greatest leaders in all the lands.”

“Only as long as I’m allowed to serve one of the greatest kings.” Roden pondered that a moment, and then stood. “He was trying to tell me something earlier tonight. I’d better go find him.”

He left the fire and came around the path where I had been hiding. Only now I was leaning against the tree, with my arms folded and a grin on my face that I knew would irritate him.

Roden licked his lips as he stared at me. “Tell me you didn’t hear all that.”

“One of the greatest kings?” My smile widened. “That’s it? Why not the greatest?”

“This will only make your arrogance worse, I’m sure.”

“Really? Do you think that’s possible?”

He chuckled. “You can always make things worse, Jaron.”

“I’ve thought the very same thing myself.”

We were silent a moment before he said, “I shouldn’t have become angry earlier. Why did you think the battle felt easy?”

I motioned for him to follow me to where it was quieter, and there explained to him what Fish Breath had said, and about the absence of Avenia’s king. The more we talked about it, the more I was certain that something was very wrong. Vargan wanted Drylliad, of course, but he left Mendenwal to that task. He wouldn’t care who lived or died in the battle because this city wasn’t his real objective.

“The commander I just spoke to believes that Vargan wants to recapture you,” Roden said.

“Well, he won’t. I’ve had enough of Vargan to satisfy me for a lifetime.”

There was silence again, and then Roden said, “How much of my conversation just now did you overhear?”

“From the time he asked if you could win this war. Why?”

“He told me something before that, something you won’t like.”

“What is it?”

Roden drew in a breath, and took long enough at it that I knew the news must be bad. “Fink made his way to Bymar. He’s the one who got their soldiers here to fight.”

“Yes, I know that. He went there on Amarinda’s orders.”

“Every day since we came back from the pirates, Fink pestered me to train him in sword fighting. I finally gave him a wooden sword and told him to come back when he grew a muscle or two.”

“What about Fink?” I couldn’t hide the concern in my voice, or dull the feelings of panic growing inside me.

“According to the commander, Fink was upset about your death but insisted to everyone it couldn’t be true. So he traveled back through Avenia so he could go and find you himself. They believe he was captured at the border. Nobody has heard from him since.” Roden sighed. “I should’ve taught him how to use that sword.”

“They’ll make Fink talk,” I said. “And he’ll lead them to Falstan Lake. It’s the only place where Fink knows I have plans. Vargan wants me and he expects to find me there.”

As I started to run away from him, Roden said, “If Vargan wants to find you at Falstan Lake, you really can’t be going there.”

“Oh yes,” I responded. “That’s exactly where he’ll find me.”

Before leaving for Falstan Lake, Mott, Roden, and I made a plan. Mott and I would leave immediately and arrive at the Falstan camp by dawn. Meanwhile, Roden would take his soldiers east in search of other troubles. Without doubt, he would find them.

Mott had argued that I should sleep for the night and we could start out fresh in the morning, but I told him it would be impossible for me to sleep, so nothing was gained that way. Besides, as my country continued filling with enemy soldiers, I believed we were safer traveling under the cover of darkness.

The ride to the Falstan camp was quiet and took less time than I had anticipated. The commander who welcomed us looked very much like Mott, except for a long braid of hair that went halfway down his back. He said that Mendenwal continued to maintain a camp nearby, but assured me there had been no sign of Avenia anywhere in the area. At least for now, all was quiet.

“I’m not wrong about this,” I told Mott as the commander led us toward the tents. “Avenia will come.”

“Avenia sent Mendenwal to do the hard work in yesterday’s battle,” Mott said. “Perhaps he’s done that again here.”

The commander stepped forward. “My king, you look exhausted. A tent has already been prepared for you, and we don’t expect any trouble tonight.”