The Shadow Throne

“If I’m accused of being a traitor, I may as well act that way,” Conner replied. “And as to your other accusation, I intend to be the cause of only one more death, one I’ve been anticipating for months.”

Mine.

Vargan’s smile revealed his hunger for just that. “You’re trapped here, Jaron, with a cliff at your back and thousands of my men in every other direction. There’s no escape this time.”

A quick scan of the hills revealed the full size of his massive army, beyond anything I could hope to defeat. Most of them were still moving toward the valley, to where my army was stationed with no idea of what was coming their way. Just as we had blocked Mendenwal’s escape, they would soon block ours.

“You will come with Lord Conner and myself to Farthenwood,” Vargan said.

“Absolutely not.” I shook my head to emphasize my refusal. “Conner’s already taken me to Farthenwood once. Trust me, he isn’t nearly as good a host as he pretends to be.”

Conner laughed darkly. “I’d have thought you’d be happy at the news. To see your reign end where it began.”

“Farthenwood is where you met your downfall, Conner. It is not where I will meet mine.” My eyes settled on Vargan’s puckered face. “If we must talk, then let’s do it at Drylliad. There’s no reason for us to go to Farthenwood.”

“Of course there is.” Vargan chuckled now, as if he and Conner knew a joke they had yet to share with me. “You chose Farthenwood yourself. Do you remember when?”

The message I had sent with the Avenian thief. He took it to Vargan instead of keeping his promise to me. That was their joke.

Conner seemed almost disappointed. “I expected more from you, Jaron.”

“And I expected less from you.” I grinned. “Though I suppose if you and Vargan combined your brainpower, you might have enough wits for me. Almost.”

Vargan stiffened at the insult. “I will see you hanged this very week, and kill everyone who stands with you, just as I did to Imogen.”

My heart pounded at the mention of her name, but I finally saw a purpose in her death. No matter what else happened in this war, I could not allow anyone else I loved to die. I had to find a way to see this through.

With that thought, my eyes shifted from Conner to Vargan. “I understand your interest in hanging me,” I said. “But first I must carry out my promise to destroy you. And I might need a little more time for that, now that I have to add Conner to my list.” I gestured to Commander Kippenger. “Probably you too, by the way.”

“Take him,” Vargan ordered.

Kippenger rode for me, but I grabbed a knife from my belt and hurled it at Conner. The flat edge struck his horse, who bucked hard and startled Kippenger’s horse. Both Kippenger and Conner fell to the ground, which created even greater confusion amongst the animals. I turned and pushed Fink forward with me. Somewhere behind us, Vargan screamed orders to chase us as we raced toward the cliff.

“They’re coming!” Fink cried.

I couldn’t go down the steep trail I had come up before. The risk of someone catching up to us there was too great. But as we got to the ledge, I knew only one option remained, and it wasn’t good.

“How tight are your hands tied?” I asked him.

He pulled at them, but there was no give. “Very.”

“Put them over my shoulders.” I ducked low enough for him to comply while I grabbed the rope that I’d partially burned for Mendenwal’s army. I knotted it, then wrapped it two or three times around my waist. There was no time to do this properly.

Fink tried to wiggle off me. “No, Jaron. Please don’t.”

“Yes, Fink. Close your eyes if you must.”

Kippenger entered the ridge first and swiped at me with his sword. It stung my arm but I was already running. With Fink on my back and screaming in my ear, I ran off the side of the ledge and into thin air.

Over the history of my life, the stupidest thing I had ever attempted was at age seven, when I tested the power of an old trebuchet against a standing target on castle grounds. Darius and I had just had a lesson on how catapults work, and I was curious. However, my aim was off and instead of hitting the target, the boulder put a hole through the roof of my father’s private apartments. Fortunately, the rooms were empty at the time apart from one unlucky servant who saved his life by diving through a latrine into the fetid waters below.

It had been the stupidest thing I’d ever done, that is, until I ran off a cliff with Fink’s arms around my neck and a rope knotted around my waist. In the last second before I jumped, it occurred to me that I hadn’t verified if the knot binding the rope to the tree was tied tightly enough, or how long the rope even was. Would Fink and I crash into the floor of the valley before the rope pulled tight?

However, I had Vargan’s men chasing me, so my fate was certain if we didn’t jump. I only hoped if this failed that my death would be quick. I hated pain.

As it turned out, the saints may have listened when I begged for their help before. Or at least, we didn’t crash to the valley floor. But the devils certainly had their fun with me when we met the length of the rope.

The first thing I felt was the rope pulling tight against my waist and then cinching like a noose against my rib cage. The next sensation was Fink’s arms locked against my throat. It was the only way he could hold on when I jumped, but he was choking me nonetheless. From there, we collided into the side of the cliff wall. I took the brunt of it with my shoulder, which was hardly helpful in keeping hold of the rope — the one thing still keeping us from falling any farther. The rope had been wrapped two or three times around my waist, but no longer. Once we hit the cliff wall, only then did I realize my palms were stinging with rope burn.

We were alive, but our troubles were far from over. We were about halfway down the cliff wall — too high to jump down and too dangerous to climb up. Several of my men had seen what we did and were shouting cries of alarm from below. Overhead, Vargan realized he had been spotted. But I felt vibrations on the rope from above and knew they wouldn’t leave until they had done their best to ruin my escape, such as it was.

“Grab on to the wall!” I yelled to Fink. “They’re cutting the rope!”

I rotated his body in front of mine, then braced against the wall while he transferred his weight from me to the rock. Once he did, I got myself in a better position, but as I moved, the rope from above us fell. I would’ve gone with it if Fink didn’t have his foot tucked around my weaker right leg.

Vargan peered over the edge. “I’m told you haven’t climbed since returning from the pirates. You’ll fall from there.”

I didn’t answer. It took enough of my concentration not to make any move that proved him right.

Vargan growled at me, but by then my archers were taking aim at him and he had no choice but to run. I yelled down that Carthya needed to gather for a quick retreat. I had seen Vargan’s army. We were no match for their numbers.

Orders were shouted in all directions below me, but one voice rose higher than the others. Mott.

“We’ll get you both down from there. Hold on!” he yelled.

“Their army is coming,” I cried. “Go!”

But Mott ignored me and instead called out for help from climbers who could get up to me. It was humiliating. Before Roden had broken my leg, I could’ve scaled this wall in minutes. Now, I was frozen upon it.