The Shadow Throne

Half-Moon Pass was a narrow corridor through the steep mountains of Gelyn. So named for its crescent-shaped trail, the pass was the sole connection for travel between our two countries.

 

Gelyn had long maintained a small garrison of around three hundred men at the mouth of the pass. Roden’s job was to draw small groups of men away from the garrison, capture them, and gradually take control of the entire border. Once that was accomplished, they were to lie in wait for other Gelynians to come.

 

I wasn’t sure when things had gone wrong. The note from Roden indicated they had taken control of the garrison, and even held up under fighting against the first wave of soldiers to come through the pass. But that battle left him with only eighteen men, and the next group was on their way. Now, as I approached the battle from a distance, I hoped the additional men I’d sent that morning would make a difference.

 

As I drew closer, the clashing sounds of blades, the cries of the injured, and the odors of sweat and blood rushed at me in feral waves. Immediately, I withdrew my sword and charged forward.

 

The worst of the battle seemed to have already passed, and far too many of my own men lay dead on the ground. I had been the one to send them here, and could not dismiss their sacrifices as easily as looking away. We had to win this battle before the sun rose again, or their deaths would be for nothing.

 

I reached the garrison in the shadows of the setting sun, but there was still enough light for me to take in the struggle of my armies against the leather-clad men of Gelyn. We seemed to have the advantage, but the battle was far from over. The garrison had been designed to feed and bed soldiers, but now served as a series of small structures where the courageous could fight and the weak could hide. Surrounding the few buildings were tall, ragged cliffs with occasional ledges overlooking the land. It had been my intention to go as deeply into the center of the battle as possible, but I got no closer than to the empty horse corral before I was drawn into the fighting.

 

I quickly recognized one of the soldiers who had left with Roden a few weeks before. We had no time for a proper greeting, but with our combined strength, we were able to buy ourselves a few seconds to catch our breath.

 

“Where’s Roden?” I dreaded to hear that he had fallen, as I saw no sign of him anywhere here with his men.

 

The soldier only cocked his head up to a ridge. “The captain might be on one of the ridges behind the garrison, but wherever he is now, he’s done us no good.”

 

“Why not?” I scanned the area, hoping to see him. “Isn’t he fighting?”

 

“Yes, my king, he fights,” the man answered. “But we have many fighters. What we lack is a leader.”

 

I wanted to ask more, but we were pulled again into the battle. Despite the fact that Gelynians were not accustomed to fighting, I realized that perhaps I had underestimated their strength before. Instead of swords, they fought with pikes and halberds, and it required us to change our strategies. They could swing or thrust with the sharp end of their pikes before we could get close enough to do any damage to them. However, I soon realized that their weapons also challenged their ability to fight in any direction but forward. So I focused my attacks on the men whose backs were toward me and did my best to avoid the rest.

 

As I plunged deeper into the action, I realized that Carthya held the advantage against this wave of men. Clearly we had fought hard and well, though without the additional soldiers I’d sent, we surely would have been sunk. The tide had turned in our favor, but I wanted this battle ended before more lives were lost.

 

On a hill ahead of me, several of our archers had gathered in a semicircle, watching for trouble and helping where they could. They were invaluable, but it cost a full dozen of my soldiers to guard them, and we were losing too many from the halberds as the Gelynians charged directly at them.

 

I pressed my way toward the archers, then I pointed to the ledges on the cliffs behind us. “Get yourselves up there,” I shouted above the noise surrounding us. “You’ll be far more useful and will need no protection.”

 

“We lack the king’s talent for climbing,” one archer said.

 

“Lately, the king lacks the same talent,” I said. “But that’s where you need to be.”

 

The archer nodded, and then directed his men to follow him. Once they ran for the ledges, I jumped down to join the others, pausing only to wince at the pain that bolted up my leg. “Where’s the captain?” I cried.

 

The swordsman beside me smirked. “Roden is your captain, not ours. We all know why he was given that position.”

 

His reaction caused me to pause. “Oh? Why is that?”

 

“He’s your friend, sire. Maybe you trust him, but you can’t expect us to.”

 

Actually, yes, I could expect it, and I did. But my retort was lost in the shrieks of several Gelynians charging for us at once. The man next to me tripped and fell, but I held them back until he joined me again. Hoping to draw the Gelynians away from our archers, who were still climbing, I ran deeper into the garrison.

 

The buildings that served Gelyn’s border vigils were small, but sturdily built from rock and thick planks of wood. They ran in two parallel lines and had a wide space in the center where men could eat, train, and march. That area was congested now with my men and theirs, all of them fighting nearly on top of one another, and so I darted right, through a narrow path between two buildings. There I hoped to make an escape behind the garrison and come out in a better position. However, this path led me to a dead end. As I considered my circumstances, I realized I’d made a mistake coming this way. A bad one.

 

More men had followed me than I’d anticipated, and when I could run no farther, I faced an outhouse with a steep and rocky hill behind it. Without the option of climbing, there was no escape from this area. So I continued to fight, but the Gelynians were pressing me closer to the hill, far from any help.

 

“They called you ‘sire’ back there,” one Gelynian shouted at me. “Is it possible we have the boy king here?”

 

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said. “But thinking you have me is a delusion. Does the fish have a bear just because it’s within reach of the claws?”

 

I thought that was a good remark, but it seemed to go over their heads, and became a waste of a perfectly good insult. I consoled myself by getting a deep jab into the gut of one of the larger men. At least they paid attention to that.

 

I used the chance to begin scrambling up some rocks where I’d be out of reach of their pikes. If they tried to follow I could kick at their weapons, or better yet, just drop other rocks down on them. It wasn’t the most graceful fighting style, but in that moment, grace was the furthest thought from my mind.

 

Except my weaker right leg collapsed as I neared the top of the rocks and I landed back on the roof of the outhouse, nearly falling through it, which would’ve been unfortunate for any number of reasons. The men below me grabbed one leg and then another, pulling me back to them. I tried kicking, but it didn’t do much good. Maybe they did have me, after all.

 

Then I recognized the cry of a familiar voice. A pair of boots appeared above me and an armful of rocks cascaded over my head and down onto the men below. I would’ve pointed out that I’d had that same idea already, but I supposed it didn’t matter who dropped the rocks, only that it happened.

 

Arms reached down and braced mine. As I was helped up from the shed onto the top of the ledge, I grinned and said to Roden, “If a battle like this is how you welcome me when we’re friends, I can only imagine what it would’ve been if we were still enemies.”

 

 

 

 

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