Lennart shook his head, and made ready to move on to the next town. He’d had his troops scatter to all the farms and estates, making sure everyone left. The estates weren’t easy to convince either, with many of the aristocracy friends of Prince Herryk and therefore loyal to Teodora.
“Tell them Mattila won’t care who they’re loyal to,” Lennart told an officer who complained of being unable to get an old countess with imperial sympathies to budge. “She’s welcome to stay and take her chances, but her people are leaving.”
That didn’t always happen either, but Lennart didn’t have time to enforce his orders at every little farmstead. That didn’t stop him from confiscating the food stores and livestock and sending them back to Richenbruck, and that usually persuaded folk to follow their goods, rather than risk starving. It wasn’t how Lennart wanted to do it, but he hoped they’d thank him later.
As he left yet another village behind him in flames, its inhabitants trudging toward the city, Lennart had to push away his doubts about why he was here. Destroying an entire kingdom and forcing its people into terrible hardship was so far from his original mission, he more than once wondered if he ought to just go home.
With him gone, Mattila wouldn’t punish the population further and it would all be over. Surely, being forced to live under the empire’s thumb, practicing a corrupt faith was still preferable to losing everything, then risking exposure and starvation.
Lennart’s horse plodded down the frozen road. All around him, smoke rose from burning villages and farmsteads, and the people he passed on the road stared at him with hatred in their eyes. He’d have to face Mattila soon, or he’d be murdered in his sleep. And worse, he wouldn’t blame the person who did it.
He shook his head, forcing his mind back into the path he’d chosen. If he faltered now, there was no point. He’d read the Scrolls many times, and knew the gods liked testing one’s faith, sometimes in the cruelest ways imaginable.
He’d already thought it awful the way they’d taken Kendryk, but that was no doubt a test of his resolve as well. And that Gwynneth and some of the children had survived meant his task was not completed. The fact that Teodora had the wherewithal to take herself over the mountains in winter and ally herself with Mattila also meant the forces of evil were far from defeated.
The bigger task wasn’t safeguarding Terragand or Tirilis. The real fight still lay ahead, and Lennart knew that Evil was trying to discourage him now, hoping he’d run back to his wife, child and comfort.
Lennart squared his shoulders and looked ahead. He wouldn’t be stopped now. He’d continue his work of removing any sustenance Mattila’s army might find here, then prepare to do battle with her before she destroyed the people of this country.
Homes and farms could be rebuilt, and Lennart would help with that. He smiled. By the time spring came, Mattila would be defeated, and everyone would be back where they belonged, rebuilding and planting crops. Lennart offered up a prayer that the gods would make it so.
Maryna
Maryna was used to being on horseback, having learned to ride at age three, and a mule wasn’t much different. But climbing this mountain was like nothing she’d ever done. By now, it had snowed enough that the roads were no longer passable by coach. Maryna saw Count Vega didn’t like it, but they’d all have to ride mules if they wanted to make it.
The path through the snow was narrow, treacherous and freezing. The morning of their departure, a guard had come into their room and dumped a pile of woolen clothes on the floor, so Maryna had wrapped herself in cloaks, shawls and mufflers. Only her eyes peered out, but the wind cut through the layers like it was nothing.
At the end of the first day, a guard had to help her off the mule, she was frozen so stiff. They made camp in the shadow of a large pile of rocks, but no matter how close she huddled to the fire, Maryna couldn’t get warm. The guards passed around some kind of liquor that burned her throat, but that only helped for a while. Maryna thought her teeth might never stop chattering.
Then a wolf howled. It sounded close, and Maryna’s head jerked up, the cold forgotten. Nearby, the mules shuffled restlessly. The guards looked up, and at a barked order, two left the fire to investigate. By then the wolf had howled again, and was answered by another, farther away. Then another.
Maryna knew she shouldn’t be afraid. Wolves were more likely to target animals, though she worried about the mules. Still, she doubted the guards would let them get close. Now it sounded like a dozen howled, in a great circle around the camp. A few more guards got up. Maryna moved around the fire to sit closer to Natalya.
Natalya smiled at her. “They’re not coming any closer. It’s an eerie sound though, isn’t it?”
Maryna nodded. “We used to hunt them in Terragand, though my father wouldn’t let me come along.”
“I’ve been on a wolf hunt or two,” Natalya said, “though I prefer the stag, which doesn’t bite back.”
That made Maryna laugh. “Me too.”
The howling continued for a long time, but after a while, the animals settled down and the guards returned to the fire. By the time Maryna returned to the tent she shared with Natalya, it went silent.
After they’d gone about a league from their campsite the next morning, Maryna noticed some of the guards looking at the ground closely. She still couldn’t understand their chatter, but Natalya said, “Those are the tracks. See? They didn’t come close.”
“I suppose they needed to let us know they were there.”
“Perhaps they’re helping the boys spread the word about us.” Natalya spoke softly, even though they always spoke Galladian with each other, which the guards likely wouldn’t understand.
“I hope so.”
They came to a crossroads at the top of a pass, and took a north-facing fork. Natalya frowned. “That’s odd. I would have thought they’d go straight east, since this route will lead into Tirovor.”
“Maybe there’s too much snow the other way?”
“Maybe. It’s good for us, since Tirovor is officially on bad terms with Maladena.”
Maryna was glad to hear that. Perhaps she’d meet more friendly boys willing to help.
The way down the mountain was worse than going up, with the snow deep and slippery. Even the mules had to pick their way more carefully than before, and as usual, Maryna tried not to look down.
She became used to the song of the wolves every night. Perhaps they were usual this time of year. Once she got over her fear, she wished she could see one, at least from a distance. She doubted it would be as scary as Daciana Tomescu or Olvisyan assassins.
They entered yet another village, though Natalya said they wouldn’t stop. “I overheard the guards say Vega is pushing them hard. He doesn’t want to stay in Tirovor any longer than he has to. It’s too bad. If we had just a little time here, we might get help from the locals, so long as we had a window to the street.” She smiled at Maryna. Their conversation with Sepp and his friends had been the highlight of their lives in the past weeks.
They stopped to eat at a large tavern near the middle of town, and Maryna thought the chatter of the locals around them seemed livelier than usual. She was used to attracting a certain amount of attention, but this sounded different. Folk seemed excited rather than fearful.
And something else was going on. Maryna had just started on her meal when the dining room door burst open and Count Vega stormed in. He looked as angry as she’d ever seen him. He beckoned to the leader of the guards and barked at her in rapid Cesiane.
She nodded, drawing her heavy dark brows together, then shook her head and called over another guard.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Maryna whispered.
Natalya had been listening. “They’re not letting us leave.” She had remarkably good hearing.
“Why not?”
“Something about customs forms and permits for prisoners. I suppose you can’t pass from one country to the other without certain formalities.”
Maryna giggled. “Count Vega thwarted by paperwork. It’s too funny.”
“As long as he doesn’t take it out on us.” But Natalya looked amused too.
It seemed she’d been right, at least about the delay, because after their meal, Natalya and Maryna were taken to a nearby inn. The room was warm and comfortable, but it unfortunately faced a back alley. Still, Maryna resolved to keep a close eye on any passersby.
Teodora
When Rykter told her that Elektra had attempted to escape, Teodora didn’t know whether she was proud or annoyed. Overall, Elektra was a disappointment, but she could be spirited occasionally. It was a shame that bit of personality had never been channeled in a useful direction. And it was also too late, if the girl was a Quadrene now.
Teodora wasn’t keen on condemning her own heir, but she’d do it if necessary. After dismissing Rykter, she pulled herself out of the chair and called for a servant to light the lamps. With the upheaval of Teodora’s arrival, the palace staff was in disarray. Dinner would likely be late.
Since she didn’t know who she could trust among the palace’s many employees, Teodora let eight guards accompany her to Elektra’s room. It had been Princess Viviane’s, and Teodora wondered if the silly girl had chosen the room herself. No doubt the flattery and sudden power had gone to her head.
“Wait here,” Teodora told the guards as she pushed the door open. Maybe it was unwise to believe Elektra wouldn’t try anything, but Teodora sensed no danger. And the scene in the room was peaceful, aside from the heresy being committed.
“You shouldn’t pray to all four like that,” Teodora said, walking to the center of the room and stopping.
Elektra turned. “Why not? The Holy Scrolls say we should.” She rose to her feet and came toward Teodora, though she stopped well out of arm’s reach.
“Ridiculous.” Teodora shook her head. “If you want to live, this foolishness ends now. I can’t even think of what to tell Livilla. It will break her heart, knowing you’ve strayed from the true path.”
“Livilla will be fine,” Elektra said, her tone oddly cold, considering how close she and Livilla had always been. “I’m sure she’s seen worse. You, for instance.”
“You are in a poor position to talk back, though I’m sure you already know that. Have your gods told you to defy me, even if it means your death?” It would be typical of Elektra’s idiocy that she’d find it romantic to die like a martyr.
Elektra’s lip trembled. “They haven’t told me anything.”
Teodora chuckled. “Do they usually?”
“Yes, they have. At least a few times.” Elektra’s red-rimmed eyes grew sad. “And always at moments when I’m in great danger. I know Holy Vica saved my life when Braeden captured me.”
“Of course she would. That was before you turned bad. Have the gods ever helped you since you became a heretic?”
Elektra frowned, clearly taken aback. “I think they did. They told me how to help Princess Gwynneth rescue Braeden.”
“You really are an idiot.” Teodora’s patience wore thin. “There is no reason on earth any of the gods would help you in such a thing. And if they did, they led you astray, didn’t they? If you hadn’t listened to them, you’d be dining with Lennart right now, safe in your treachery, at least for the time being.”
Elektra jerked back as though she’d been struck. “I don’t believe that.” The faintness of her voice belied her words.
“I don’t care if you do. But I need you to come around, and quickly. I’m willing to welcome you back with open arms and all the privileges of my heir, in spite of everything.” Teodora beamed.
“How kind of you.” Elektra’s voice remained faint. “What do you want from me in return?”
“I want you to do your duty.” Teodora took one rapid step toward Elektra, grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward the altar.
Seemingly stunned, Elektra went along.
Dropping Elektra’s arm, Teodora went to the altar and knocked all the icons but Vica’s to the floor. “We’ll start with this nonsense. I’m taking you to the temple where you’ll pray for forgiveness, then publicly commit yourself to the true faith.”
“But the temple is Quadrene.”
“Not anymore.” Teodora looked at the dark beyond the windows. “By now the false Maxima will have been removed and Father Stipan of the League of Aeternos put in her place. He’ll hear your confession, and assign a penance.”
“What will happen to Antonia Maxima?” Elektra’s eyes were wide, her face pale.
“What usually happens to heretics, though this time I won’t bother with a trial. Those don’t turn out as well as I’d like.”
“You can’t just kill a Maxima. The gods will strike you down.”
“She’s not a real Maxima.” Teodora’s patience was at an end. Then she thought of something. “But if you cooperate, I might spare her life.”
Elektra’s lips disappeared into a white line. “I hate you.”
“I don’t care.” Teodora smiled, a little pleased that Elektra wasn’t giving in so easily. Perhaps she’d gained some spirit since running away from Atlona. “Let’s start with this: you recant your false beliefs, your false Maxima stays alive for now.”
“For now?”
“I’ll have other tasks for you, I’m sure, as will Father Stipan. Do all of those without complaint, and I’ll see the old lady doesn’t freeze to death in the temple dungeon.”
Elektra nodded, though her eyes burned into Teodora’s.
“And you’ll stay by my side from now on. You’ll spend every day with me, and most of your nights. You’ll do everything I say. I want complete and unquestioning obedience.”
Elektra nodded again, her arms folded across her chest.
“And if I see the slightest hesitation, the slightest hint of protest,” Teodora got close to her daughter, staring straight into her eyes, “Antonia Maxima dies. She’ll die horribly, and you’ll watch.”
Teodora smiled and stroked Elektra’s cheek, even as she jerked away. “But because you’re my daughter and I love you in spite of everything, you’ll get yet another chance. Once the Maxima is gone, one squeak of protest out of you over anything. Anything.” Teodora tilted Elektra’s chin up with one finger so she couldn’t look away. “You’ll go the same way as the Maxima. Is that understood?”
Elektra nodded, her lips pressed together, her eyes burning with hatred. It didn’t matter. Teodora wouldn’t leave her unsupervised, and could use her ridiculously soft heart to manipulate her.
Teodora breathed out. “I’m so glad that’s settled, my dear. I was sure you’d see reason. Now come. We’ll go to the temple tonight, cleanse you of your heresy, and while we’re there, bring back Princess Viviane. I’m sure she’s missed this place.”
Elektra was silent, but followed Teodora out of the room.
Elektra
Elektra was living in a nightmare. She didn’t know which was worse, being forced to sit by while her mother ordered the deaths of Braeden, Gwynneth, Devyn and Stella, or having to look at Princess Viviane while she did it.
The princess had survived her prison stay, but that was about all. She hadn’t been there long, but it seemed she’d refused food, and as a result was alarmingly gaunt. She’d always been slender, but now she was skeletal, her eyes sunken in their sockets, her hair grayer than before.
The princess also stared at Elektra in the most menacing way, though Elektra hadn’t been directly involved with her capture. It was true she’d been on the winning side, but hadn’t lifted a finger.
Elektra somehow got through the ceremony at the temple, muttering words of confession while trying to avoid Father Stipan’s hard gaze. She was sure the penance he’d assigned was supposed to be awful, but Elektra didn’t mind too much. It involved hours of prayer every day, which suited her fine. She could get away from her mother during that period, and she needed to pray in any case.
Perhaps the gods would still guide her. On her own, no
one would notice she wasn’t praying the way she was supposed to, and Edric Maximus had always been adamant that icons weren’t necessary.
The worst was seeing Antonia Maxima dragged off to the dungeon. Teodora had kept her confined to her quarters until she could bring Elektra to see it. The Maxima hadn’t gone willingly, and in spite of her age, Teodora allowed the guards to beat her rather badly.
Elektra could hardly hold back her tears, seeing the kind old Maxima bleeding from her nose and lip, a great lump already growing over one eye. But she couldn’t say a word, lest her mother do worse.
After leaving the temple, Teodora stepped into a sleigh bearing them back to the palace, and Elektra followed. “It’s nice to have time for a chat, isn’t it?” Teodora said, her cold hand squeezing Elektra’s. “While you tussled with Janos Rykter and were confined to your room, I received so much interesting news.”
Elektra was silent. She didn’t care, and doubted any of it was good for her.
“It seems you had all kinds of problems while you pretended to rule here, so I’m sure you won’t mind handing those back to Princess Viviane.”
“Not at all,” Elektra murmured, glad about that part. Let the princess have her stupid court and treacherous courtiers.
“I heard there’s a peasant revolt underway,” Teodora said, sounding almost gleeful. “And you were too weak-willed to put it down.”
“I didn’t even know what was happening and where.” Elektra almost said Braeden had gone to investigate, but held her tongue at the last minute. The less Teodora knew about his location, the better.
“Well, I will put a stop to it. I also heard the most interesting news about Princess Gwynneth.” Teodora tucked her hand under Elektra’s arm, though Elektra pulled away. “It seems she was captured by the leader of the rebellion. Terris will have his hands full, since it seems he’s gone off to rescue her.”
“Mm,” Elektra said. So much for keeping Braeden’s activities quiet.
Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4) Page 49