Vigils began filling my dungeon room. I started into the center of them, but Harlowe pressed me back. Then, from up higher on the stairs, we heard bodies thump to the ground. Caught by surprise, the men who had entered the cell were easy prey for Harlowe, holding Terrowic’s sword. Moments later, Mott darted through the door with a baselard in one hand and longsword in the other. He had on the same helmet as the other Avenian soldiers, and was dressed in the same black and red coat as I wore, though his wasn’t belted.
He saw Tobias first and raised his brows in surprise. But then he saw me and frowned. “What have they done to you?” Before I could answer, he remembered his business and said, “We won’t have long. Let’s go.”
Tobias and I leaned down and grabbed the helmets and daggers from two men who had fallen. We had no time to disguise Harlowe, but I hoped with our uniforms and weapons it would appear that we were vigils escorting him as a prisoner.
Once outside the dungeon, Mott helped me onto a horse he had tethered nearby, then climbed up in front of me and told me to keep my head down. He had a second horse for Harlowe, who leapt into the saddle with more agility than I’d ever have guessed he was capable of. Tobias rode behind him, and even put his dagger out to make it appear as if Harlowe was his captive. Amazingly, almost without the notice of other soldiers in the area, we rode away.
Mott wasn’t taking us toward the main entrance of the camp, but rather, toward the swamp. We passed several tents, but fewer soldiers than I’d have expected. Then somewhere behind us the camp suddenly burst into activity and I knew our absence had been discovered. Mott only rode faster, trying to stay ahead of the alarm to search for me without drawing any attention our way.
We stopped in a quiet area near the swamp where the ground was already mucky and where cattails and duckweed grew thick and dense. Mott jumped off the horse, then pulled me into his arms. I insisted that I could walk but he continued carrying me deeper into the water and dropped me into a small boat hidden there. Harlowe and Tobias climbed in behind us and the coxswain immediately ordered the two rowers into action. I noticed one of them used his oar to bat away at something before we moved. If we were lucky, it was only a snake.
They folded a thick blanket over my shoulders and Harlowe directed me to a seat at the center of the boat while we silently backed away from the shore. Kneeling before me in the boat, he slid wool socks and leather boots onto my feet and asked if I had any injuries requiring immediate attention. When I shook my head, Harlowe handed me a flask and told me to drink slowly. The hot tea was like a balm to the little energy still flowing within me. The liquid took on the bitter smell of the sulphur rising in vapors from the swamp, but I didn’t care. I drank it gratefully while Harlowe sat quietly beside me. Tobias was somewhere behind us, watching for anyone who had followed.
Night came faster within the swamp, or at least it seemed that way. The plants atop the water were so thick in places that they often forced us to back up in search of clearer routes. The foul odors were nauseating, held in by the tall trees that crowded the shorelines. When we were far enough north of Vargan’s camp, the coxswain ordered lamps to be placed in the front of the boat, but they only made the shadows more menacing and the black water look deeper. I turned away from it and buried myself deeper into the blanket.
“Are you cold, Your Majesty?” Harlowe felt behind him in the boat. “We have more blankets.”
“I’m fine. Nothing more is needed.” When he met my eyes, I added, “Thank you, for what you did back there.”
“Thank Mott. This was his idea.”
I turned around to look at Mott, who was already watching me. I nodded at him, a weak attempt to communicate the gratitude I felt. His smile back at me was grim.
“Two men helped me get inside the camp,” I murmured. “Both were archers —”
“They didn’t get out,” Mott said. “I’m sorry, Jaron.”
So Vargan had told me the truth about their fate. Hearing the news again didn’t lessen the sorrow I felt for their loss, or my regret that I didn’t achieve more for the price of their lives.
It was impossible now to see anything beyond the light of the lanterns, but I suspected there was little here worth seeing. I tried to ignore the creaks and moans that gave life to this swamp and drank more of the tea. I’d gone so long without any substantial amount of food, my stomach was having trouble with the liquid. But it was giving me much needed warmth inside, so I continued to draw from the flask.
“I wish you could see this place in the sunlight,” Harlowe said. “Perhaps you’d tell me whether it’s as ugly as I’ve always thought it is.”
A corner of my mouth turned up. I hadn’t seen much of the swamp, but I’d smelled more of it than I cared to. I could already give him my opinion.
“My family has always lived here,” Harlowe continued, “but as soon as I was grown, I wanted to leave, to make my home as far from this ugly place as possible. I did leave for a while, and years ago on my travels met a lovely girl named Havanila. She felt that Libeth needed us, and insisted there was beauty in the swamp. That’s the way she was — someone who only saw beauty around her.”
“Havanila. I’ve never heard that name before.”
“It’s where my granddaughter’s name comes from.” Harlowe returned to his thoughts again, and then said, “I lost my dear Havanila a year ago, far too soon.”
I took another sip of the tea. It was clear from the tone of his voice how much he had loved her. How much he still loved her. I wondered which was worse: to love someone who passes too early. Or to never love at all.
“How did she die?” Beyond my curiosity, the question was meant to distract my own thoughts.
The creases in Harlowe’s face deepened as he considered his answer. Finally he said, “I believe it was sadness. You see, there have been three losses in my family. You know of the death of my oldest son, Mathis, a few months ago. Perhaps I’ve never told you, but you remind me a little of him. There are some slight physical similarities, but the likeness is really in your character. Like you, he was stubborn and willful, and hard to discipline. Despite his challenges, I loved him dearly.”
I thought of my own father, the endless battles over his attempts to control me, mold me, and make me see the world through his eyes. And me, resisting all of that, every time. I wanted to believe that despite the troubles I had caused my father, he had loved me just as dearly as Harlowe loved his son.
Harlowe continued, “You may not know, but Mathis had a younger brother. When he was still an infant, he was stolen away by his nurse, an Avenian woman who demanded a large ransom for his return. I would’ve paid it, but never heard from the woman again. It was a terrible winter that year — likely neither of them survived it on the run. My wife never fully recovered from that loss; I’m sure that sorrow eventually led to her death. But I take comfort that if she cannot be with me, at least she is with my sons now in the afterlife.”
“You believe in the afterlife, then?” I asked.
His eyes remained steady on me. “I know it exists. My family waits for me there.”
As my family waits for me.
“I suppose I’m telling you this because although I would never aspire to the role of a king, sometimes I think of you as my own son. I had to go after you in that camp, because I could not bear to lose you too.”
No response came to my mind, so I only wrapped the blanket tighter again. After a long rest, I asked for news of any developments in the war.
“There’s been no word yet from Kerwyn,” Harlowe said. “Let us hope that means he is continuing to work with King Humfrey of Mendenwal, and nothing worse.”
“Their army broke through our borders three days ago,” I said. “They tore through our defenses near Benton and moved northward.”
Harlowe reacted with surprise. “Yes, they brought thousands of soldiers, numbers Carthya could never compete against. But how did you know?”
“Nobody thought I would ever leave that camp,” I said. “They weren’t always as cautious as they ought to have been in their conversations near me. I know far more than Vargan would like to believe. What I don’t know is Mendenwal’s plans now that they’re here.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Harlowe offered. “One of our spies intercepted a message from Mendenwal to Avenia. The bulk of Mendenwal’s armies are taking up camp at Falstan Lake, where they’ll wait for further instructions from Avenia.”
“Then you must send more of our men to Falstan Lake too. We have a good camp in the highlands above the lake.”
“We don’t have nearly enough men to win a battle there, sire.”
“That battle won’t be about numbers. And no one should act until I can get there.”
Tobias, who had been listening, cut in. “Are you sure, Jaron? You may have information now about Avenia. But they know us better too. In your bargain with Commander Kippenger, you told him all your strategies.”
I turned enough to grin at him. “Did I? Why else have I practiced lying in my life, but for that moment?”
Tobias chuckled. “You gave him false plans?”
“Is that an accusation, Tobias? Do you doubt that I am burying the wealth of Carthya in secret caves in the hills of Benton?”
“There are no hills around Benton,” Tobias said. “Nor caves.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s what makes them so secret. Do you doubt that I am melting our warriors’ swords and using the metal for armor? Or that I am seeking peace with Mendenwal by offering to give my future child to their king? Do you? Because Kippenger didn’t doubt any of it. I learned from them, but they got nothing from us.”
While the others laughed, Harlowe picked up our old conversation. “We can get you to Falstan Lake, if you wish. But I urge you to first take time to rest.”
“I’ll rest on my way there. Make sure it’s widely known throughout Carthya that I am alive, and that I’ll be at Falstan Lake.”
“If I send out word, our enemies will hear it too,” Harlowe warned.
“I’m counting on that. But I won’t be there right away. There’s something I must do first.” I turned and asked Mott, “Do we have weapons with us?”
Mott reached in front of him in the boat and withdrew my sword and its sheath. “I was able to get this when they put it in storage a couple of nights ago.” I held out my hand for it, but he only lowered it near him again. Normally, I’d have insisted on taking it, but that seemed like too much effort, and it would’ve been hard to hold anyway. Then Mott gestured to a wrapped bundle near him in the boat. “More weapons are in there too, though we shouldn’t need them. We’ll cross back into Carthya soon. Then get as far as we can from this place.”
I shook my head. “Turn the boat around. We need a safe place to land inside Avenia.”
Mott grimaced and his fists clenched. Something about me kept Mott at the edge of his temper, or beyond. At least this time I understood why, and tried to hedge the argument by saying, “I have reasons.”
He wanted to yell at me — I knew that, and he would’ve been justified in doing so — but he only took a deep breath and said, “Remember where we are, Jaron. We are nearly to Carthya, where we can dock safely. Your orders will take us deeper inside Avenia.”
“We’ll dock in Avenia, preferably on their western shore.” Mott groaned, and Harlowe started to object, but I said, “It’s a safer plan anyway. It won’t be hard for Vargan to get men on the Carthyan side of the swamp. They could be waiting for me there. Nobody expects me to stay in Avenia.”
“There’s a reason nobody expects it,” Mott said. “It’s too foolish, even for you.”
I turned back to Harlowe, to give him the details he would need for this next phase of the war. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he said once I had finished. “But at least tell me why you’re staying in Avenia.”
I shared a look with Tobias and Mott before I said, “We’re going to the pirates. It’s time they answered the call of their king.”