Nikonos is caught with nowhere to run.
But the clash of battle isn’t what scares me.
What scares me is that the charge from the city is a suicide run. Spiders are getting swarmed, and horses are getting their legs cut out from under them. Kal’s company is taking casualty after casualty and yet even so its momentum is unstoppable as it punches in and starts smashing down banners. The whirlpool of battle spins the two kings to face each other. Nikonos casts a lance at Kal, and Kal ducks aside, then throws a rope. The loop flies over Nikonos’s helmet and settles around his shoulders.
Kal reins his horse into a hard turn that drags Nikonos from the saddle.
Around Kal, his officers also turn to create a new wedge, one that will take them back to Saryenia’s gates. They cut across the havoc, opening a path.
Kalliarkos drags his rival, who runs at first, trying to twist out of the rope that’s now settled around his torso and pinned his arms to his side. Men try to cut Nikonos free but are struck down by the soldiers surrounding Kal. The moment Kal breaks out of the mass of fighting, he urges his horse into a gallop, and of course Nikonos can’t keep his feet. The man who murdered his brother and young nephew tumbles over the ground like a sack of rubbish.
It’s horrific, and yet my free hand is in a fist and I want to shout aloud in triumph because it’s so satisfying.
People crowd the walls of Saryenia. We can hear their cheers even from this distance. Infantry wearing the bright tabards of Father’s firebird veterans sorties from the gates, streams of men joining to push a fresh attack.
Thrown into utter confusion by the capture of the man they are here to support, the army of old Saro pulls into a turtle to protect itself.
Kal makes a wide sweeping turn with the limp body bumping behind him and comes to a halt halfway between the walls and the enemy. He raises his sword for all to see: the triumphant model of a Saroese ruler displaying the corpse of his defeated rival.
His surviving companions form up around him, facing the enemy as if daring it to charge. But the bold strike has done its work.
The East Saroese soldiers raise their shields above their heads as a sign of surrender. From within the enemy command company a white flag is raised on a pole.
The battle is over.
Watching Kal embrace the brutal tradition of his forebears is like ripping out a piece of my heart.
Beside me, Thynos stands stunned. “That was the worst possible outcome. We can’t fight the Garon alliance now. We have to abandon this position and retreat at once. We must warn the Efean army and get them to turn around so they do not march into this disaster. We can take a defensive position in the far north—”
“No.”
They all stare at me.
“No,” I repeat.
As I find the anchor that binds my five souls to the land, the whirl of confusion in my mind slows. There are so many Rings turning at different speeds, and I can see them all.
Inarsis’s strategy was based on the expectation that the two Saroese factions would do so much damage fighting each other that the victor would be weak afterward, not strong. But Garon has no losses and a complete victory.
Even if the Efeans immediately surrendered and begged the pardon of the new king and queen, the chief officials of the Efean rebellion would be captured and sentenced to death in the mines. Kal and my father wouldn’t be able to stop it even if they wanted to. All across Efea there would be a series of executions to set an example and restore order. And everything would go back to being what it was.
But so far the Saroese don’t know how widespread the Efean revolt is. Until they figure it out, we have that advantage.
As for Gargaron himself, I now know how to defeat him.
That leaves Kal, heir to two thrones.
I still love him, and I do still trust him, but maybe there is no way out of the pit of vipers where he’s fallen; maybe he’s already been stung. Maybe there can be only tears and loss, just as everyone has kept telling him and me all along.
Amaya loves tragic stories of heartbreak and doomed lovers. But I don’t.
I like to win.
“We need a bold strike of our own,” I say to my disbelieving audience.
Thynos slaps me on the head just as he would at Garon Stable. “That’s impossible. General Esladas’s firebird veterans and the Royal Army will cut us to ribbons on the battlefield. Add the West Saroese troops to his command, and it doesn’t matter that we outnumber them both in bodies and in righteousness, because we have too many inexperienced recruits with not enough weapons.”
“That’s why we can’t meet them on the battlefield. Our path to victory is a matter of narrow openings, perfect timing, and a daring piece of risk-taking.”
“We’re at war, not on a Fives court.”
“A Fives court is exactly where we need to confront our adversaries.”
He shakes his head impatiently, not understanding and waving a dismissive hand, but I keep going. I can tell the Shipwrights are curious. Maybe their interest is only that of people watching a wagon careening toward a wreck, but I have their attention.
“The Garon alliance hasn’t yet realized you are working for the Efean rebellion,” I say to Thynos. “Meanwhile no one trusts the East Saroese, not even as prisoners. I can’t imagine anyone trusts the West Saroese either, considering they were part of the old Saro alliance just a few months ago.”
“True enough. What’s your point?”
“Convince the royal council to allow you to accompany the East Saroese prisoners to the harbor west of here where the Garon alliance landed. You can argue they must be transferred onto ships to go home there instead of in Saryenia’s harbor. Insist that the West Saroese army accompany you to guard the prisoners. The West Saroese will trust you because you’re married to a West Saroese princess, and Gargaron believes you fight for the Garon alliance.”
“I see. Get both foreign armies away from Saryenia.”
“That’s right. Get those soldiers out of the way. You and the Shipwrights have to meet up with the Garon alliance now as if that’s what you always intended to do. Mis can carry our message to General Inarsis outlining the new plan. We have a brief opening to take control of the city while Lord Gargaron and the monarchs don’t yet know how extensive the Efean rebellion is. We need a single, audacious blow that they won’t see coming.”
“How can that be managed?” he scoffs. “The royal family is in possession of Saryenia and the palaces. They are protected by the Royal Army under the command of the brilliant and ruthless General Esladas.”
“Aren’t we fortunate, then, that I can negotiate with the general?”
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