Janna hoped the worry didn’t show on her face. The strange silence that morning had been unnerving, but now there were faint sounds of gunfire and shouting. Dimir had told her the battlefield would be leagues away; far outside the city walls. He was so convinced they’d win they never talked of what to do should the fight come to them.
“Where’s Papa?” Anyezka asked.
“He’s fighting in the war,” Anton said, even though he’d promised Janna not to mention it in front of his little sister.
Janna sighed. “Anton, remember?”
He made a face and clapped his hand over his mouth.
“What’s a war, Mama?” Anyezka asked.
“It’s a big, um, meeting of soldiers,” Janna said, then broke off when she heard the front door open.
“Papa!” Anton shouted, and the two children raced to the front of the house ahead of her.
Janna stopped when she saw Dimir. His face was black with soot, his clothing torn, and there was blood on his hands. Both children had also stopped short, staring up at him.
Janna swallowed. “Anton, please take your sister to the kitchen for a minute. There are two apple cakes on the table,” she whispered as he tugged Anyezka down the corridor.
The children gone, she turned to Dimir. “You’re back so soon. Is the battle over? Did we win?”
“Oh, it’s over,” he said, breathing hard, and slumping against the door. “Don’t look so horrified. Most of the blood isn’t mine. You and the children must go right now. We’re trying to hold them off at the gates, but they are too many. They’ll be inside the city within the hour.”
An icy wave washed over her as her hands flew to her mouth. “Go? Go where? How? You’re coming with us, aren’t you?” she choked out.
“No,” he said, taking her hands in his bloody ones. “You must take the kitchen wagon and the donkey. The neighbor boy will help you hitch it up. Take as much food as you can carry, and blankets.”
He fumbled in a pocket and pressed a key into her hand. “There’s money in the strongbox in our bedroom. Take it all. It should be enough.”
“Enough for what?”
“Enough to get you to my uncle’s farm. You remember my uncle and aunt, Dusek and Irina? They were at our wedding?”
“I think so,” Janna murmured, though she had no idea who he meant.
“Anyway, take the cart, and go now. People are already leaving and the roads are crowded. Go as quickly as you can. You must not be here when the empress’s troops break into the city.”
“I can lock the door,” Janna said. She tried to think, but her mind wasn’t working. “We can hide until it’s over.”
“No you can’t. I’m sorry sweetheart, but you do not understand what it’s like when a city is sacked, and I’d rather you not find out.”
She nodded. “All right, I’ll get ready to go. But you must come with us. I don’t know the way.”
“It’s simple. Follow the main road east for a day, then turn north at the big crossroads for Sanova. Another half-day of travel and you’ll reach the town of Nitrany, and from there you ask for the Kronek farm. People will know.”
“But why can’t you come?”
Dimir sighed. “I helped start this. I can’t run away.”
“Of course you can,” Janna said. “You’re already gone; no one will notice if you don’t come back.”
“I’ll notice. Besides, the more of us there are holding the gate, the more time our families have to get away. We can’t win, but we can give you that. Now don’t waste it. Go!” He gave her a gentle push.
“All right,” The blood roared in Janna’s ears and she couldn’t speak until it stopped. “We’ll go. And we’ll wait for you at your uncle’s farm.”
He attempted a smile. “That’s a good girl. Now come here.” He pulled her into his arms and held her close for a moment, then kissed her while she fought to keep the tears back. “Tell the children goodbye for me. It’s better if I just go now.”
Janna nodded and forced a smile onto her face as he went out. She stood in the doorway and watched him go down the street toward the western gate. When he was out of sight, she closed the door and locked it. She looked around, saw a small chest standing in the hallway and pushed that against the door. If they ran out of time, she didn’t want enemy troops strolling into the house.
Next, she went to the kitchen, trying to slow her breathing before she got there. She couldn’t fall apart in front of the children.
“Where’s Papa?” Anyezka asked.
“Papa had to go,” Janna said. “He wants us to go on a trip and wait for him in the country.”
“A trip?” Anton frowned. “What about the war?”
“He has to finish fighting in the war. He wants us to go to his aunt and uncle until it’s over.”
“I don’t want to go to the country,” Anton said. “It’s boring there.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Janna tried to sound brisk and cheerful all while pushing down the terror that threatened to overwhelm her. “There will be all kinds of animals. We’ll be on a farm. But I’ll tell you about it on the way. Can you both help me get ready?”
Anton jumped up. He always liked to help.
“Run next door and get Karel. Ask him to help you hitch the donkey to the wagon.” He was out the door before she could say anything else.
“I want to help, too,” Anyezka said in a small voice.
“Good,” Janna said. “Do you know Papa’s box up in our bedroom?”
The little girl nodded. The box was a forbidden object that the children loved to look at and guess what was inside. Sometimes Dimir would let them touch its flower carvings and bright brass latches.
“Can you bring it to me as fast as you can?”
Anyezka nodded again and ran off.
Janna turned to the larder. She emptied a few large baskets and refilled them with anything that would travel well. There was bread and cheese, sausage, and a few sacks of nuts and dried fruit. She also took a small sack of flour. If the journey ended up taking longer than a few days, she might have to learn how to bake or cook something. She hoped there would be people on the road who could help her.
Anyezka returned with the box, and when Janna opened it, she saw a few folded papers and what looked like a small fortune in coin. She would probably need the papers if she came back, so she put them in her pocket without reading them. She laid the coins out on the table and tried to smile as she said, “If I had time, I’d sew these into our clothes.”
“Why?”
“My old nurse told me a story about how she ran away from Sanovan raiders when she was little, but kept tripping because the coins sewed into her skirt hem were so heavy.”
“That’s a funny story.”
“Yes, I used to think so too.” She put the copper coins in her pocket, then sent Anyezka back to her bedroom to get a purse for the rest.
Janna walked out the back door to the courtyard. Anton was telling Karel, a dull-looking boy of thirteen, that they were going on an adventure to Sanova. “Thank you for helping, Karel.” She tucked a copper into his hand. “Go tell your mother you should leave the city now. Enemy soldiers will be here soon.”
Karel scurried off and Anton tugged at her sleeve. “I thought Papa and the army would stop the enemy.” His face was white.
“Not yet,” Janna said, hoping her voice sounded strong. “He wants us to be safe, just in case. Finish tying up the donkey and then come with me. We have a lot to carry out.” She sent him upstairs to pull all the blankets off the beds and put them in the cart then went to see how Anyezka was faring. She was back in the kitchen with Janna’s purse.
Janna took it, filled it with the remaining coins, then tied it around her waist and under her apron.
They weren’t as quick as she would have liked, but in less than an hour since Dimir had gone, the cart trundled out onto the street. They joined a flood of people and wagons streaming to the east. The shouts and explosions seemed much clos
er now. Janna hoped they weren’t too late.
Braeden
Kaleva, Moralta
The line of muskets crumpled and Braeden found himself behind the enemy. He pulled Kazmir up hard, turned around, then herded the defeated troops toward his men at arms.
“Round them up,” he said. “We’re going to the gates.” It had taken just a few ugly casualties to shake the inexperienced troops, and once they saw the Sanova Hussars thundering down on them, wings shrieking, they broke and ran.
Franca Dura, his youngest trooper, rode up next to him. “You could hardly call that a battle.” It was her first big engagement and he couldn’t blame her for being disappointed.
“You could hardly call them soldiers. Townspeople and farmers with a few weeks of training. The nobility didn’t bring enough to matter. What were they thinking?”
“They thought we wouldn’t come.” Franca looked at the bodies strewn on the field. “I wonder if they left the best to defend the gates.”
“I doubt it.” Braeden nodded at the men and horses disappearing into the distant woods. “Their best troops came with their nobles and ran away with them.”
“Should we chase them?”
“No, our orders are to take the city. We’ll get to the rest later.”
By now they were behind the imperial troops gathered at Kaleva’s western gate. The city walls were stout enough, but there wasn’t much left of the gate. It had taken a few shots from one small gun to turn it to splinters. Men on the walls fired into the troops gathered below, but their aim was poor and most of the attackers wore helmets.
“What happens when we get in?” Franca hadn’t yet been party to a sacking.
“We round up what rebels who still live,” Braeden said. “Then we restore order. The foot-soldiers have a few hours to get what they can, but the general doesn’t want the city destroyed. We might have to break a few heads if they get into the liquor.”
The gate’s last timbers separated with a crash and soldiers flooded into the city. More hussars had gathered behind Braeden, and he gave the order to go ahead. The rebels hadn’t stopped fighting but now they were exposed and badly outnumbered. By the time Braeden came inside the walls it was over. Most of the defenders were dead and the few who had surrendered were wounded.
Braeden pushed through the clustered soldiers. “Make way,” he bellowed. “By order of the empress, these people are to be taken prisoner.” The soldiers moved aside, eager to get into the city with its promised rich shops and homes.
Braeden dismounted and walked to the small group of rebels that remained.”Who is the leader here?” he asked in Moraltan, pulling off his helmet.
“It seems I am.” A tall, lanky fellow with graying dark hair and red-rimmed eyes in a blackened face stepped forward. Blood streamed from a wound in his arm.
“Your name?”
“Dimir Kronek. Do you want me to surrender?”
“You don’t have to.” Braeden looked around and beckoned a young trooper forward. “Bind up Master Kronek’s arm. I don’t want him bleeding to death.”
Kronek barked a laugh. “So you can kill me later?”
“Won’t be me,” Braeden said, “For now, we’ll take you to the city jail. Your wounds will be seen to and you’ll stay there until you can receive a trial.”
“A trial?” Kronek winced as the soldier bandaged his arm. “Sham justice from a sham empress is no justice at all.”
“You’ll receive it anyway.” Braeden gave Kronek a gentle shove to get him moving, then told his men to gather up the other wounded.
Kaleva had a grand city hall built of gray stone, with a roof of red slate and many fussy flourishes. Most importantly for Braeden’s purpose, it had a spacious dungeon. A few pale, well-dressed, but dirty men stood blinking in the light of the corridor as they entered the building.
“Who’re these fellows?” Franca asked, walking at his elbow. The clank of her armor echoed off the stone walls.
“Likely the imperial governors. The rebels captured them when they overthrew the government last month.”
“They don’t look hurt.” Franca stared at one of them as she walked past and the man shrank back.
“No, though I wouldn’t want to stand in their boots when it comes time to account for themselves before Empress Teodora. I’m sure she’ll want to know why they surrendered instead of dying at their posts.”
Franca snorted.
The rebels were put into cells and arrangements made for a doctor to see to the wounded.
“When’s the trial?” Franca asked as they walked back to their horses.
“On the morrow, most like.” Braeden swung back into the saddle. “General Ensden will call them guilty and they’ll hang for treason. Counts and princes will go to Atlona to face the empress.”
Franca shook her head. “I’d rather just have it over quickly.”
“Me too,” Braeden said. “Now let’s get these looters under control. Our orders are to give them a bit of time to pick up what they can, but they’re not to set fires or kill anyone.”
They rode down a side street away from the town hall. A shriek came from an open window above them, followed by prolonged screaming.
“Sir, they’re killing someone right now.” Franca pulled out a pistol.
“I don’t think so.” Braeden took care not to look her in the eye. “Rape’s allowed, but only for as long as the looting goes on.”
Franca stared at him, her lips pressed together and her face pale under her freckles.
“It’s a sacking, girl. I don’t make the rules. It’s how the people are punished for rebellion.”
“You know that poor woman had nothing to do with the rebellion.” The color rose in Franca’s cheeks. “As usual, it’s the men who are idiots, starting fights they can’t win, and it’s the women who pay.”
“You’re right. But it’s not up to us. And you’re in luck because we get to stop them now. It’ll all be over soon.”
Franca turned her pistol around. “Where do I start, sir?”
“With this lot.”
A cluster of soldiers were coming out of a large building carrying clothing, food, jewelry and a few small pieces of furniture.
“All right fellows,” Braeden shouted. “Time to head back to camp. Take what you can carry and go find your unit outside the city.” He pointed his saber at a skinny young musketeer trying to hoist a plump, shrieking maid over his shoulder, “Not the girl.”
The boy hesitated and paid for it with a smack from the butt of Franca’s pistol, delivered with more gusto than was strictly needed.
Kendryk
The men stared at Kendryk, surprised. The one who’d spoken with him earlier glanced toward the priest and said, “It seems you’re not the only one who needs assistance.”
“You must help me help Father Landrus, this moment, before my uncle further incites this crowd.” Kendryk watched recognition dawn on several faces.
“But of course, Your Grace,” the man standing next to him said. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you recognize Prince Kendryk, our ruler.” There was a flurry of nods and awkward bows.
“I need to stop the duke before he starts breaking heads.” Kendryk was relieved that the duke’s party had stalled in the square for at least a moment. “Any ideas?”
“Perhaps Brande should use his voice,” one man said. “It’s uncommon loud.”
“Excellent. Please shout my name and order the duke to stop.” Kendryk looked for something to stand on. For the thousandth time he wished he were just two inches taller. Then he remembered the boys on the barrel and turned to them. “I’m afraid I need to borrow this for a moment.”
The smallest of them started to protest, but one of the older boys said, “Hurry now; it’s the prince himself!” And all three jumped down. Before Kendryk could think again, someone had boosted him up and suddenly he looked across a sea of hats.
The man named Brande stepped forward and bellowed, “His Grace Prince Kendry
k bids the Duke of Emberg attend him at once.”
The rumbling crowd quieted while the duke and his entourage swung as one in Kendryk’s direction.
“By the Mother, it’s Kendryk!” His cousin Balduin’s stupid face was more puzzled than usual. “Say, cuz, did you come to arrest the preacher, too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the duke said. “His Grace is clearly here on personal business.”
Kendryk fought back a sudden urge to smile. It was a strange way to describe the prince of the land dressed as a merchant and standing on a barrel like an urchin at a tournament.
“You are correct, duke.” Kendryk stayed up high for the moment. “Nevertheless, I must ask you in my official capacity to please stop. I don’t recall issuing an arrest warrant. Oh, and Balduin, please refrain from taking the Mother’s name in vain.”
Balduin opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again upon a glance from the duke.
The same man who’d helped Kendryk onto the barrel handed him down. Now the entire crowd turned in his direction and parted like a miracle from the Scrolls as he walked into the square.
Kendryk had almost reached his uncle before he realized that he was not alone. Most of the men he’d been standing with were following close on his heels. He threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin a little higher.
Once he stood before the duke he put on his haughtiest expression. “The warrant, please.” Kendryk made no move to reach for it, forcing the duke to dismount. It would have been a severe breach of etiquette for him to lean over his sovereign.
The duke handed him the document with the barest hint of a bow.
“This bears neither my seal nor my signature.” Kendryk scarcely glanced at it before handing it back.
“I planned to get your signature later.” The duke’s left eyelid quivered. “I knew you would approve.”
“If you had first presented me with the facts surrounding Father Landrus, I might have.” Kendryk felt the need to sound as stern as possible. “As it is, I will conduct my own investigation before any further action is taken.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 2