Anton smiled and handed it to Lennart. “It’s Bosek Komary’s. We stopped his carriage as he was trying to escape across the bridge.”
Lennart took the sword and grinned at Anton. “I’ve already talked to Martinek, and judging by what he’s said, you’re having an extraordinarily good day.”
He stepped forward and laid a hand on Anton’s shoulder. “And by the time I’m through with you, it’ll be even better.” He frowned and pointed at Anton’s arm. “You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”
“Er, no.” Anton had forgotten all about it. “Just a flesh wound.”
“Good.” Lennart shook his head, looking Anton over. “Get back to camp and clean up. Then present yourself at my tent at sundown.”
Teodora
In the aftermath of Jozef Mattila’s escape, Teodora felt shakier than usual. Over two thousand troops spread all over the mountains had failed to find the boy, and she believed Aksel when he said they’d found a clever way for him to escape.
It seemed likely he’d reached Mattila, and now she was free to turn on Teodora. She had only a small army of five thousand to defend her, along with a few hundred more imperial and city guards. She sent a call to the countryside to raise the militia, but doubted she’d get a response.
Frantic, she pushed ahead with construction of the new temple, even though they’d barely lay the foundation before winter. But the gods could still save her, by bringing early and heavy snows.
With the passes closed, both Mattila and Lennart would be stuck on the other side of the mountains until spring. And with a reprieve that long, Teodora could come up with something.
It rained and rained in Atlona, mirroring Teodora’s gloomy mood, and slowing progress on building the temple. After a week of rain, Teodora gave up her daily visits to the site and instead spent extra time in her own chapel. All she prayed for was snow. If it was raining like this in the valley, surely the mountaintops would be covered?
But messengers kept coming overland, which meant the passes remained open. First, it was all bad news. A torn, dirty message from an anonymous person arrived, explaining that Natalya Maxima had assisted King Arryk in flushing out a plot against him. Puzzlingly, the Duchess Maryna had played an important part in the venture.
Teodora hoped the source was mistaken about everything, but weeks later, ships docking in Capo brought similar news, though there was no more talk about Maryna. This person had no doubt confused someone else for her, or perhaps King Arryk had installed an imposter to throw Teodora off the scent.
“It’s all so frustrating,” Teodora said to Livilla, as they dined together alone one evening. Teodora found she didn’t have the energy to deal with all of her problems, while putting on a carefree face for sycophants who probably wished for her fall. “And now there’s more news, and I can’t decide if it’s good or bad.”
“The news that Mattila is taking her army north?” Livilla took a long drink of wine. It seemed the Maxima was drinking twice as much as usual these days. And she always knew everything at the same time or before Teodora did. No doubt several of Teodora’s sources worked for both of them.
Teodora nodded. “I suppose it’s good, since I worried she’d ally with Lennart.”
The last she’d heard, he still threatened Richenbruck, and might attack any day. “But I wonder what she’s planning to do now?” It was also annoying, because if Lennart won through, Teodora had hoped to somehow convince Mattila to stop him.
“No doubt she wishes to consolidate her hold on Brandana. Though there might be something else.” Livilla smiled. “I have good news, from Countess Biaram herself. She asked me to pass it on to you since she worried about sending more than one copy of such sensitive information.”
Teodora leaned forward. “She’s brought Princess Viviane over to our side?”
“Better than that.” Livilla’s eyes sparkled. “She’d just managed it, than who should appear in Kronfels, but Prince Kendryk. It seems he was rather skittish, but the princess was cool as always. You know how she is. She nearly had him, when Braeden Terris rides into town.”
Teodora’s mouth was suddenly dry. “What an opportunity.” She hoped against hope the princess had managed some treachery, but Braeden’s presence might have spoiled any plans.
“Indeed. She and Countess Biaram had to think fast, but they conceived an ingenious plan. Prince Kendryk is dead, and as far as anyone else is concerned, Braeden Terris did it.”
At first, all Teodora heard was, “Prince Kendryk is dead.” She didn’t yet know how, and she didn’t much care. But the man who’d caused her so much grief was gone.
She wished it had been at her own hand, but this was good enough. And he’d died also knowing she’d wiped out his family.
“I will make a great offering of thanks tomorrow,” she said, surprised to find her voice shaking.
“That’s a good idea,” Livilla said, “but be discreet. It’s best if no one knows you were behind it until Braeden Terris is dead.”
Teodora hadn’t yet absorbed that part. “So everyone thinks he’s done it. Why isn’t he dead yet?”
Livilla sighed. “Princess Viviane insisted on a big public trial, likely to put to rest any rumors she was involved, which of course, she was. The countess didn’t agree, but was overruled. Braeden Terris will stand trial, and likely be condemned. If it hasn’t happened already, it ought to be any day now.”
“That’s good news,” Teodora said. “Though with his luck, I won’t relax until he’s well and truly dead. Please tell me when you receive more news about the trial.”
“I certainly will. And I’ll share your relief when that troublemaker is dead.”
Livilla looked at her. “Are you sure you’re well? There’s something else I learned today which might interest you, but if you’re too tired, it can wait.”
“I’m well.” Teodora felt a little light-headed, but recognized it as relief, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. With Kendryk gone, and no heir to succeed him in Terragand, perhaps Lennart would give up the fight.
Teodora allowed herself a bit of hope. “You might as well tell me.”
“I received a message from Maladena today, from your cousin. She wishes me to pass it on to you. A most interesting pair of prisoners has washed up on her shores, and she wondered if you might want them. Since she can’t offer you any financial help right now, she hoped these would help by providing a large ransom.”
Lennart
The weather held, and Lennart needed only another week or two to make it over the mountains. Then it could snow all it wanted.
If he’d had his way, he would have marched the moment after his victory in Richenbruck was certain, but he needed to give his troops time to recover. Though the victory had been resounding, Lennart had taken terrible casualties. Thousands of wounded needed tending to, and thousands of dead needed burial. His soldier’s high spirits mingled with grief for their losses.
He also needed to deal with a great many prisoners. Lennart pursued his usual course of offering employment to all of those fit and willing, but those needed time to be absorbed into the ranks.
So he allowed himself a fortnight to deal with all of that, and prayed the weather held. He also had to hope that Brynhild Mattila wouldn’t stand in his way, though only a few days after the battle, he received news she was on the move.
“This is odd,” Lennart said, frowning at the dispatch he’d just received.
Lofbrok, Isenberg and Martinek gathered around at the table he used as a desk in Prince Herryk’s palace, which he’d taken over as his headquarters after the prince scuttled off to parts unknown. “Mattila has moved out, but not in our direction. It looks like she’s gone west, toward the Lantura road.”
“Back to Brandana then,” Lofbrok said. “But why? What’s changed in the past few days, besides our victory here?”
“I would have expected her to head in our direction. Why else was she there if not to support Teodora?”
“If only that were true,” Lennart said. “It would be an incredible stroke of luck. I’d prefer Mattila on our side, but failing that, having her out of the way works too.”
He drummed his fingers on the table for a moment, thinking. “This is a sign,” he said. “Time for us to go. We’ll just have to leave anyone not fit for combat here in the city. Those who recover quickly can catch up to us, if the snow holds off. Let’s start on plans to move out in three days.”
They’d been at work only a few hours when a messenger arrived, bearing two messages. “From Isenwald,” he said. “Both are urgent, but you ought to read this one first.”
Lennart opened the pouch, and saw it was from a Major Silberg. The name sounded familiar, and after a moment, he recalled that Dolf Kalstrom had put the major in charge of the Archduchess Elektra’s escort. He hoped there wasn’t a problem.
“Oh gods,” he said after reading a few lines, then putting the paper down on the table. He was unable to keep the shock off his face, and he didn’t much care. Everyone else stared at him, wondering, so he had to say something.
It was hard, but he got the words out. “Prince Kendryk is dead,” he said, then paused as the news sank in for those gathered around.
Tora Isenberg put her hands over her face, and Lennart remembered that she’d spent several months with Kendryk before the battle at Kaltental.
Trystan Martinek hung his head, but only for a moment. When he looked up, his eyes blazed. “What happened?” he asked.
Lennart forced himself to keep reading. This was getting worse by the word. “I don’t believe it,” he said, “and neither does Major Silberg. I’m sure there’s been a mistake.”
Trystan stared at him, and Lennart hated himself for having to say the next words. He was tempted to just hand the letter over to Trystan, but that would be cowardly.
“Princess Viviane claims Braeden Terris did it, right in front of her, no less.”
“That’s a lie!” Trystan jumped up, overturning his chair and throwing off Isenberg’s hand on his arm. “It’s impossible that Terris would do such a thing. Something is wrong with this account. Is this major at all trustworthy?”
“As far as I know,” Lennart said, “though he admits he heard this in a village market many leagues from Kronfels. It’s possible the message became garbled as gossips passed it on.”
Trystan sat back down. “So he didn’t receive official news?”
“No. Though I’m sure we can expect something from Princess Viviane soon.”
Lennart forced himself to keep reading, even though his mind was already whirling with the implications. Aside from the pain of losing a friend, he was about to have a very serious problem.
Terragand no longer had a ruler, and Kendryk’s heirs were dead. He didn’t know what to do about the lack of a leader there. He waited until he’d finished the letter before speaking again.
“Terris is to be tried in Kronfels, but it sounds like it’s happening a few days from now. We’re too late to do anything from here.”
He allowed himself a bit of temper, and swore as he brought his hand down on the table. Braeden was almost as serious a loss as Kendryk.
Feeling heavy, Lennart pulled open the other pouch. This one contained two messages: another from Silberg and one from Elektra.
He read Elektra’s first, dread creeping over him. Her words were the right ones, speaking of reconciliation and her duty as Lennart’s ally. But they didn’t feel right. It was hard to picture Elektra doing anything to help Braeden, no matter how much she claimed she’d changed.
Silberg’s accompanying note didn’t make him feel any better. He seemed to think traveling to Kronfels was a good idea, but he’d needed convincing by Elektra, and Lennart didn’t trust her motives.
He told the group of both letters’ contents, but kept his misgivings to himself for the time being. Not only did he not believe Elektra would influence the trial in Braeden’s favor, he had to admit he didn’t trust her. Not yet at least. And now his hands were tied. All he could do was pray that the gods would deliver justice.
Maryna
At first, being in prison wasn’t so bad. Maryna and Natalya were locked inside the great fortress, but they shared a suite of rooms, with two servants to take care of them. The rooms were small and somewhat dark, but they were allowed to walk in a little garden inside the walls. It wasn’t pretty, and most of the plants had dried up in the hot sun, but it was nice to get outside, even though seeing guards all around the walls were an uncomfortable reminder of the situation.
The biggest problem was boredom. There wasn’t much to do, and even though Natalya persuaded the guards to bring them books and a deck of playing cards, they soon read the books, and you could only play cards for so many hours every day.
“When do you suppose the queen will send for us?” Maryna asked, as they played a new game Natalya had taught her. Popular at court, it was meant for four players, but Maryna could learn the basics with two.
She hadn’t asked until now, because after a few weeks passed with no summons and no visitors, Natalya looked increasingly worried.
But Maryna was worried too, and wasn’t able to hold back anymore.
Natalya put her cards face-down on the table. “She ought to have done so at least two weeks ago; one at the latest. I can’t imagine what’s gone wrong.”
“Perhaps her message never reached King Gauvain,” Maryna suggested.
“It’s possible, but I expect her to send more than one. Queen Beatryz needs money, and Gauvain would give her a great deal for us. She’s surely sent several messages by now.”
“Maybe the war is slowing things down.” Maryna refused to accept that they’d be stuck here for good. She would not spend her life as a prisoner. How she’d get out of here on her own she didn’t know, but together with Natalya, she’d figure something out if Gauvain didn’t come through.
“Perhaps.” Natalya looked down at the table. “There’s another possibility. If the war is heating up, Beatryz may hold onto us in case Galladium captures one of her important generals. It would be easy to get them back if she has us.”
Maryna tried to swallow down her panic. “But that might take months,” she gasped, hoping she didn’t sound too distressed. “My parents must be so worried by now, hearing nothing about us for so long.”
“Yes, it might take months, or longer.” Natalya raised her eyes and waited until Maryna met her gaze. “As you know, sometimes people stay in captivity for a long time. I doubt that will happen to us, but you must prepare for the worst.”
“I can’t bear it.” Maryna’s head drooped, and tears dropped onto her hands, holding the cards in her lap. “What if I don’t get out of here until I’m eighteen, or older?”
Several weeks of this tedium had already been more than enough. Months or years of it would likely make her lose her mind.
“You can bear it.” Natalya’s voice was soft. “I am so sorry that I got you into this. I had hoped to spring you on the empress as part of a double surprise I’d planned, but it would have been wiser to return you to your mother. She won’t be much happier than we are, stuck in the king’s smallest hunting lodge.”
“No, she won’t like that very much.” Maryna wiped her tears, then took a deep breath. A true duchess didn’t whine or carry on, and faced whatever the gods sent her way with strength and grace. “I suppose I’ll bear it if I must, though I am frightened.”
She dropped her voice at the last, because she hadn’t wanted to admit it. What if Queen Beatryz didn’t care to exchange her, and just wanted her dead instead?
“I understand. It’s hard not knowing what comes next, and not being able to do a thing about it. But we must pray and be strong. The gods will protect us, but so will our standing. Can you imagine even a queen killing a Maxima and a duchess?”
Natalya shook her head as if the idea
were ridiculous. “It would be the stupidest thing she can do. We are far more valuable to her alive, so I’m sure she’s just waiting to make the perfect exchange. We ought to work on passing our time more productively. It’s fine that you learn silly court games, but we ought to further your education instead, don’t you agree?”
“But we have no books,” Maryna said, even though her heart thrilled at the idea of private instruction from Natalya.
“We don’t need books.” Natalya’s eyes danced now “I’d say between the two of us, there’s a great deal of information in our heads. Why don’t we share it?”
Maryna was certain that most of what was in her head had been put there by Natalya, so it wouldn’t be much of an exchange. “I can’t imagine what I know that you don’t,” she said.
“Well you spent hours and hours studying with Edric Maximus, while I’ve spent only an afternoon with him. Why don’t you tell me everything he taught you? We might not have the Scrolls before us, but I’m sure you remember a great deal from them.”
“Perhaps I do,” Maryna said, pleased that at least one part of her mind had been filled by Edric, and not Natalya.
Anton
For the first time since Susanna died, Anton felt good again. He’d played an important part in taking the Obenstein, and capturing the enemy general made his success look more like competence than luck.
Lennart had been extremely generous. He’d sent for Anton, and they’d had a private conversation in a fancy room in Prince Herryk’s palace.
“I want to promote you to captain,” Lennart had said. “But you must be at least eighteen.”
“Oh, er, I’m definitely eighteen.” Anton hadn’t bothered lying about his age in a while and was rusty.
“That’s a relief.” Lennart’s eyes twinkled. “So, Captain Kronek, if it’s all right with you, you’ll serve under Trystan Martinek.”
“I’d like that.” Anton wasn’t completely sure about Trystan, but they’d worked well together, and Trystan had been generous in his account of Anton’s actions.
Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4) Page 24