The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  He approached the walls of Atlona feeling relieved. It was a fine day, and the surrounding mountains were visible, their peaks still covered in snow, although the meadows on their flanks were showing bright green. It was time for cows and goats to be driven up from the valleys to feed on the fresh, tender grass.

  From an impressive hill fort built a thousand years ago, Atlona had grown to a capital city that filled the whole valley watered by the River Arnach. Starting as a mountain stream, the river widened as it rushed through the Arn valley before emptying into a large lake at the foot of the Galwend mountains.

  From the fortress of Arnfels, the city had spread out to the river on one side and the mountains on the other. The wall abutted the stone where the river came from the mountains, curved around the city, and turned east where it met the mountains again. As the empire grew, the city expanded past the original walls. Fifty years ago, the Empress Berenika, tired of the chilly vastness of the Arnfels, had built a larger, more comfortable palace on the other side of the river. Another wall went up well beyond it. This one was low and sloping, meant to repel cannon fire, and star-shaped with sturdy bastions at every point.

  At the main gate, a bored-looking soldier came out. Since it was not a market day, traffic was slow. Braeden announced himself and handed over his imperial warrant.

  “Any idea where the Sanova Hussars are quartered?” he asked.

  “They’re camped out on the parade ground near the Arden,” the guard said. “The inns are crammed full, what with Count Ensden’s army still in town. He should move out any day though, now the Moraltan executions are done.”

  “Ah, yes. When were those?”

  “Day before yesterday. The heads are still fresh. You can see ‘em on top of the inner wall.”

  “Something for the boys to look forward to, then.”

  The streets around the gate were narrow and crowded. Inns and taverns stood next to brothels and shops that catered to every taste and need. There were soldiers everywhere. They spilled out of tavern doorways and swaggered along the street in clusters of three and four. All made way for the hussars coming straight down the middle, with their frightening captives. Braeden noticed that Tomescu herself attracted a lot of attention. A fair number of those who passed seemed to know her by sight or reputation.

  The street opened into a large field. This was the far end of the parade ground attached to the Palais Arden, the imperial residence. From here it was possible to see across the river, over the inner wall, to the many domes and spires of old Atlona. There were many important temples here as each ruler sought to leave their mark on the city. High above it all towered the fortress of the Arnfels, snow-covered mountains looming behind it. It was an impressive sight, and a fit seat for an empire.

  It would take time to find Prince Novitny’s black banners in the sea of tents covering the parade ground so Braeden brought his party to a halt.

  “Find the prince and tell him we’ve got an interesting prisoner,” he told Franca. “I’ll want his help handling the empress.”

  Before she could go, a column of twelve women in the gold armor and red velvet of the imperial guard approached. Word of Tomescu’s capture had traveled faster than he had. Braeden hoped they were here to take her off his hands.

  “Braeden Terris?” a tall, red-faced woman at the head of the column asked him.

  When Braeden nodded, she said, “You are under arrest by order of her Imperial Highness.” So Tomescu hadn’t been bluffing and Teodora really did give leave to her atrocities. If Braeden survived, he’d have to speak with Prince Novitny about finding a better employer.

  Before anyone could stop her, Franca broke away and galloped toward the camp. With any luck she would find the prince before it was too late.

  “All right.” Braeden took a deep breath. Outrageous as all this was, it was best to stay calm. “Please let my soldiers go. I’m responsible for everything that’s been done, whatever it is.” He still felt certain he’d done nothing but follow orders, though that was scant comfort.

  “We will take all of your officers and prisoners into custody. The rest are free to go, although they must stay within the outer walls. You will turn over your arms and come with us.”

  Braeden dismounted and gave Kazmir’s reins to another trooper who’d see him safe to the hussar’s camp. The other officers followed his lead. Their horses would be hardest to replace. The guards disarmed them, then herded them toward the Arnfels. It was to be the dungeon then.

  Janna

  Janna soon wondered if they were as likely to starve to death on the farm as they were on the road. She awoke well before dawn with the rest of the family, her limbs stiff and cold. Breakfast was another hunk of bread and a bitter nettle tea. Once the men went to the fields and the old people were settled in their chairs, Janna helped Disla feed the pigs and gather the eggs. The eggs went into a basket that would be taken to market.

  The children went to play outside, but Janna didn’t know what to do with herself. In Kaleva, depending on the day, she’d go to market, give the children their lessons, inspect the maid’s work, and spend the afternoons on sewing and embroidery.

  Disla clattered in the kitchen, but Janna didn’t want to bother her since she made it clear she neither wanted nor needed help. There wasn’t anything that needed putting away and Janna didn’t see the point in trying to clean a dirt floor.

  She finally asked Disla if she could help with the baby. Disla nodded at the bundle lying on the hearth and Janna picked her up. The little girl unfortunately resembled her mother, but maybe that would change when her teeth came in. “Might I take her outside?” Janna asked. Disla shrugged, and Janna took that as a yes.

  The day was sunny and warm, so Janna sat in the grass with the baby, watched the children play at the edge of the woods and the men sowing the field in the distance.

  That evening, everyone sat around the table after supper, a meager bit of bread with a stew containing unidentifiable meat. Dimir had always raved about the bounty of country food, but it seemed the Kroneks had fallen on hard times, or Dimir’s visits were special occasions for feasting.

  Janna sat at the table, her hands in her lap. In Kaleva, there was always sewing and mending to do, but she had nothing to work on here. She helped Disla with the washing up, but that took a few minutes, since each person used one earthenware bowl and a pewter spoon. The stew-pot remained on the stove, to be refilled tomorrow.

  The dying light came through the small windows, but the room was dark. In the silence, the men lit pipes. “So Mistress Janna,” Bora said after puffing at his for a while. “It’s time you thought of marriage.”

  “Marriage?” Janna gasped. “I don’t know yet what’s become of Dimir. And even if he’s dead, it’s not proper for me to remarry so soon.”

  “Oh, he’s dead all right,” Seko said.

  “How do you know?” Janna looked around for the children, hoping they were out of earshot. They were playing in the corridor.

  “I was in town today,” Seko said, “buying more seed for the northern field. A messenger came through last night, right on your heels, most like. There was a big happening in Kaleva the other day. The general put all the rebel leaders on trial and then hanged ‘em.”

  “Dimir wasn’t a leader,” Janna said. “Perhaps they let him go.”

  Seko shook his head. He almost seemed pleased. “No, I heard it straight from the messenger. He read off a list of the ones hanged and Dimir was one of them.”

  “Oh, Holy Mother.” Janna put her face in her hands. “What will I tell the children?” She dissolved into tears. It wasn’t a surprise, but as long as there was no confirmation, there’d been hope.

  “Pfft, don’t carry on so,” Bora put in. “Our Dimir was so old; you should be happy you’ll get a nice young fellow soon and have babies of your own.”

  Janna looked around the darkening room, horrified. The old people dozed and nodded. She couldn’t tell if they were sleeping, or
agreeing with Bora. She caught Seko’s eye, then wished she hadn’t.

  Janna fought down her panic. “That may be true.” She wiped her tears with her apron. “But I would be remiss in my worship of the Mother if I didn’t observe the eighty days of mourning for my husband.”

  “Hmph.” Bora snorted. “Pious sort, are you? Well, it’s nothing that needs deciding tonight. But eighty days is too long for three extra mouths to live here without doing much good to man or beast.”

  “The last thing I wish is to be a burden.” Janna had thought of nothing else all day. “I can help get food. I’ve learned a bit about what grows in the woods, and it’s a good time of year for berries and mushrooms.” Janna at least knew what certain berries looked like and when they were in season. As to mushrooms, her mother had taught her how to spot the edible ones, just in case those offered at the market had been picked in error.

  “That’s all very well,” Disla said. She looked less unfriendly, perhaps because Janna hadn’t volunteered to help in the kitchen. “But who will look after the children?”

  “Anton is almost ten,” Janna said. “He’s used to minding his little sister, and the two of them can help you with the baby.”

  “All right.” Disla nodded. “Just so they’re not underfoot.”

  No one else objected, so Janna slept a little better that night knowing she could make herself useful. Then perhaps, they wouldn’t be in such a hurry to marry her off.

  Kendryk

  There had to be a way to keep Landrus out of the empress’s clutches. Kendryk tried again. “I still think a council is a good idea. I’m willing to host it and it needn’t be large. I spoke with Father Landrus at length, and he doesn’t strike me as a lunatic. He has the right to defend himself and his ideas, and for others to verify if what he says can be found in the Holy Scrolls.”

  Julia shook her head. “I agree that Father Landrus appears quite sane, but that’s what makes him so dangerous. His reasonable manner makes him popular among the common folk, and among princes as well, it seems.”

  Kendryk’s face reddened against his will. “I haven’t been taken in by him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “I’m not. Father Landrus has many good qualities. In fact, I promoted him to his current position, and recommended he be given further education. While I regret that now, at the time, he gave me no reason to think he would cause trouble. In fact, knowing him as I do, I’m surprised at what he has done.”

  “He doesn’t seem like a troublemaker,” Kendryk said. “That’s why I’m convinced he’s stumbled onto something that must be brought to light.”

  “He thinks he has. But consider this. He’s the latest among thousands of scholars who’ve read the Scrolls over the years. Don’t you think someone else would have reached the same conclusion by now? In your studies with Benet, did he ever say anything of the sort?”

  “He did not. But Father Landrus gave me reason to believe it was because he was not allowed to. The Temple has a vested interest in suppressing any contradictions to its dogma and will go to great lengths to do so.”

  Julia’s eyes sparked, but her voice remained soft. “Prince Kendryk, you know very well that neither you, nor Landrus, nor I can fully understand what’s written in the Scrolls. That’s why we take such care in choosing those who study them, and why we’ve studied them for so long. Interpretation is far from simple and should only be attempted by those who show a deep and vast knowledge.”

  “But what if an interpretation opposes existing dogma? We know certain teachings change over time. Aren’t councils used to decide when a change is in order?”

  “Yes, that is what they’re for, but when the Imperata decides it’s merited, and not just because a priest and a well-meaning ruler decide it is.”

  Kendryk felt put in his place. “You are right of course.” He tried not to let his irritation show. “But the problem remains that sending Father Landrus to Atlona will infuriate not just his congregation, but many Kronland rulers who will see this as another overreach of imperial power.”

  “Very well. I can see that. What do you propose? The fact remains he must have a trial of some sort. In the past, there’ve been private hearings conducted by a high Temple official, but they cannot be from the cleric’s own land.”

  Kendryk nearly sagged with relief, but reminded himself at the last moment to maintain his stiff posture. “What about Octavius Maximus?” He didn’t know what his views were, but his seat was in Helvundala, where Kendryk’s aunt was married to its ruler, Prince Bronson.

  Julia shook her head. “The empress will never agree to a trial so far north, especially not in the lands of your kin.”

  “Why should the empress be given a say in this?” Kendryk asked. “The matter has not yet passed to her authority.”

  “No, it has not; at least not formally. But she knows of the situation and has taken a personal interest. Even though the matter is for the two of us to decide, that she now knows about it means we must work with her.”

  Kendryk gave her an accusing look. With the empress involved, he didn’t see how this could turn out in Landrus’s favor.

  Julia gazed at him, unperturbed. “I know I’ve caused this trouble with my letter-writing. But the truth is, Landrus would be in Forli right now, or dead already on my command, if I hadn’t consulted Livilla. Of course, I didn’t realize how badly the political situation would deteriorate and how harshly Teodora would handle Moralta. But what’s done is done. Be angry with me if you must, but let’s at least find a reasonable place for a trial; something even Teodora can’t oppose.”

  “Somewhere further south where the ruler isn’t a close relative, then.”

  “Yes, something like that.”

  “That’s not so easy. I’m related to everyone, including Teodora.” Kendryk considered for a moment. “What about Princess Kasbirk of Isenwald?” he asked. “She’s a distant cousin and I don’t know her well. I understand she’s quite conservative. Not like my uncle, but no one would accuse her of fostering radicalism in Isenwald.”

  “I like it,” Julia said. “And I can’t imagine what Teodora could object to in Isenwald. Flavia is maxima there, and she’s close to Livilla, I hear.”

  “That’s not so good.”

  “It’s not good for Landrus, true. But Flavia is fair, and she won’t be influenced either way. What matters now is that the rulers of Kronland see that Landrus, and more importantly—you—were treated fairly.”

  “I don’t care how I’m treated.” Kendryk’s voice rose against his will. Even though matters were now going his way, he was finding it hard to calm himself.

  “Ah, but the other rulers do. If your reasonable wishes are granted, and Landrus receives a fair trial at your behest, they will believe they can also deal with Teodora.”

  “Very well then; let’s try to get a trial in Isenwald. What happens in the meantime?”

  “I will write to Livilla,” Julia said. “And you should write to Teodora yourself. I recommend that you flatter her, but be firm. You are well within your rights to ask this even if it’s unusual. If she has any sense at all, she’ll be relieved you’re offering such an elegant solution. She can wash her hands of the whole affair without losing face.”

  “I can manage that. What will you do with Father Landrus until then?”

  “I had planned to send him to Atlona tomorrow, but I can keep him in my dungeon until we hear from Teodora.”

  “Could I take him instead?” Kendryk asked. “Not that I don’t trust you, but his congregation might be less offended.” He didn’t say it, but he hated the idea of never speaking with the priest again, which would be a certainty if he was imprisoned here in Heidenhof.

  Julia hesitated, then nodded. “Of course. Do you have adequate facilities?”

  “Birkenfels Castle stands empty. It’s quite secure.”

  Julia stood. “Then we are in agreement. I’ll turn Landrus over to you, and we’ll speak again when we receive wor
d from Atlona.”

  Upon a few words from Julia, the captain of the guard turned Landrus over to Kendryk’s men. After marching him back out to the courtyard, Kendryk had his hands untied, and asked to borrow a horse for the prisoner.

  No one spoke until they had put the gates of Heidenhof behind them.

  Janna

  Janna went out first thing the next morning after talking to Anton about his new responsibility.

  “But girls are boring,” he complained.

  “Maybe so,” Janna said. “But if we aren’t to stay here forever…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I need to find food in the woods. And I can’t do that unless you help me with this.”

  When he nodded, she kissed his forehead, pulled on her cloak and went out.

  The morning was still cool and misty, though before long, the cloak might well be too warm. Janna walked between two fields, one sprouting small shoots of barley and the other being planted with potatoes. She saw Bora and Seko walking the furrows and waited until they had their backs turned before changing her course. She didn’t want Seko seeing which way she’d gone.

  The woods were dark and she could see nothing but tangles of brush ahead and large limbs overhead. There were strange sounds and nothing resembling berries, mushrooms, or a trail, for that matter. She wondered if she’d made a mistake choosing this duty.

  Going back to the house would be worse though, so Janna took a few deep breaths and let her eyes adjust to the gloom. At last she spotted a narrow trail used by deer, but at least it helped lead her through the undergrowth. She wondered how she’d keep from getting lost.

  The trail led her in deeper, but soon, she heard running water. If she stayed by the stream she could find her way back. That made her feel better, so she went forward. As she became accustomed to the dark and many shades of green, it became easier to distinguish shapes. The giant evergreens dominated, but there must have been a dozen other kinds of trees, most of them with newly furled leaves. Janna wondered if she’d ever know their names.