I snuffed out the flame beneath my boot, and then called down for my commanders to initiate an immediate evacuation for Mendenwal. “You will leave all weapons behind, but you may carry out your wounded and any supplies necessary for their care. And you will never come again to war against Carthya. Once you accept those terms, you are free to leave in peace.”
Then I stowed the torch against the cliff’s edge, and sat down to watch it happen. Their exodus would likely take a couple of hours, and I needed that time to determine our next move. I knew where I hoped to come against Avenia in battle; I just didn’t know how to make it happen. Beyond that, I needed to rest. Weighed down and overheated by the chain mail and brigandine, I finally removed them so that I could recline more comfortably in a simple undershirt.
Below me, the evacuation was happening more quickly than I had anticipated. Thus, I learned the great secret to winning battles: Make the other side believe you are crazier than they are. Mendenwal wanted to get as far from me as possible before I went completely mad and relit the rope. Of course, there were no explosives left, never had been any up here, but I liked the idea of them leaving Carthya as quickly as their retreating legs could run.
Eventually, a shout came from below that the last of Mendenwal had gone. I had stayed at this perch too long and too selfishly. It was time to meet again with my commanders and consider our next move.
With Mendenwal’s armies in full retreat, I climbed to my feet again and loaded the chain mail into Mystic’s saddlebag. I refastened the brigandine around my chest and sheathed my sword in preparation to ride back down the ridge. But somewhere in the fields far behind me, I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Looking for me.
“Fink?”
I grabbed my sword and ran toward his voice. He wasn’t much taller than some of the grasses here, but he continued calling for me.
Finally I saw him, limping heavily and with his hands bound in front of him. He had a torn shirt and a dark bruise on one cheek, but otherwise, he seemed all right.
I started running toward him, but when he noticed me, he only started shaking his head and sobbing. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “Jaron, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He already had my forgiveness, and always would have, but I needed to know what had happened.
“I told them about Falstan. That’s why they weren’t here before. They let Mendenwal get swallowed up in the lake and waited until it was over.”
“Who did?”
“Vargan’s army. I’m so sorry.”
As he spoke those words, I heard a sound growing from the base of the hill upon which Fink and I stood. Horses snorted while their hoofbeats pounded against stone and earth. We were not alone, and I figured it was a safe guess that whoever was coming was no friend of mine.
In the distance, a mass of mounted soldiers was approaching. Even from here I could see their black livery coats crossed in red. Having been surrounded by them for so long, the uniform of Avenia was painfully familiar to me. Far ahead of them was an advance group on horseback, and I knew nearly all of them. At the lead, King Vargan was accompanied by Commander Kippenger and Avenia’s standard bearers. Another man rode with them, not in Avenia’s colors, but dressed instead in the fine robes of a nobleman. I squinted to see him better. It couldn’t be. . . .
But it was. Bevin Conner was riding directly beside the king of Avenia. Conner pointed me out first, and Vargan turned course straight for me. I told Fink to get behind me, and then withdrew my sword, eager to test its sharpness. For all of Conner’s arrogant claims that everything he had done was for the benefit of our country, this was a complete betrayal of Carthya. Whatever bargain he had made to ride beside Vargan now, he could never justify this treason, even to himself.
“Let’s just run,” Fink said.
“There’s nowhere to go,” I muttered back to him. For as far as I could see ahead, there was nothing but red and black uniforms growing on the horizon. And there was nothing behind us but a sheer cliff and a long fall.
My sword was ready when they stopped in front of us. I hadn’t yet decided which of them to attack, since I’d likely only get one target before the rest of them stopped me. It would’ve been satisfying to get Conner, but the sneer on Vargan’s face made me furious, and Kippenger had actively participated in the abuse I’d suffered in Vargan’s camp. I owed each of them a response.
Vargan greeted me first. “King Jaron, how nice it is to see you again. My apologies for being late to all your fun with Mendenwal.”
“I wish you’d have come. I would’ve loved for you to meet their fate. Preferred it, actually.”
Vargan arched an eyebrow. “Is there no one left?”
“Not unless they have some excellent swimmers. Either way, you won’t have their services any longer.”
“Other soldiers from Mendenwal are here in your country,” he said. “You haven’t defeated them all.”
“No,” I said. “Not yet. But my captain and I have a bet. Whoever wins the most battles gets to melt your crown for the gold. I’m planning to win, since we have business to settle — I made a promise to that effect.”
Vargan laughed, echoed by the men who flanked him. He said, “I am eager to see you try to destroy my great armies, boy king.”
If it were only me on this hill, my decision would’ve been made. I would’ve rushed at Vargan with my sword held high, letting the consequences fall where they would. But Fink was still behind me, and I couldn’t abandon him.
“You have a difficult decision now,” Kippenger said. “Do you attack us and lose that boy behind you? Or try to escape, in which case you will also lose that boy.”
“All we want is you,” Vargan told me. “Lower your sword and we’ll let the boy go.”
“Is nothing beneath you?” I asked. “He’s just a boy, not a pawn in our talks.”
“A boy who I’ve heard means a great deal to you.” Vargan glanced down at Fink, eager for any depth of cruelty if it could touch me. “What will you give me to save his life?”
“A deep cut with my sword,” I responded. “Carthya will never bow to you, Vargan.”
“Carthya already bows to me! Did you think my offer to let you keep your throne would last forever? No, Jaron, you had your opportunity. Things have changed. Now, Lord Conner will be the king of Carthya, subject to my Avenian empire. Our agreement is made.”
Conner arched his neck and stared down at me. So he would have his throne after all.
“He’s no king,” I said. “Rulers aren’t made just because they sit on the throne. A true king serves his people, protects them, and sees to their happiness if he can.”
Conner’s lip curled when he asked, “What about dying for his people?”
My eyes darted sideways a moment. “Yes, he would die, if necessary. Though I hope we’re speaking about your death, and not mine.”
“King Vargan and I have made some agreements,” Conner said in his mocking tone. “They will ensure one of us a long and prosperous life. Can you guess which of us that is?”
I turned to Vargan. “You might be a horrible king and, for that matter, a horrible person. But Conner is worse. He’s a traitor and a murderer. Be careful in your bargains.”