The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Gwynneth hurried into the room alone. “So it finally arrived? What does it say?”

  Kendryk handed her the letter. She sank onto a chair while she read. “Is that all?” She handed it to Count Faris.

  “That’s all.” Kendryk had hoped for more time. Now there was none. He should have made any decision yesterday. “We must prepare to go soon, then.”

  “I’m coming, of course,” Gwynneth said.

  “Are you sure? It won’t be an easy journey.”

  “I don’t care. This might well be the most important event of your reign and I won’t miss it.”

  “If you like, I’ll stay here.” Count Faris passed the letter back to Kendryk. “In this case, the princess will be of greater use to you. With any luck, many Kronland rulers will attend, and she can lobby on your behalf so you can focus on the trial.”

  “The trial.” Kendryk shook his head. “I can’t believe it’s come to that. If Flavia Maxima can’t be swayed, I don’t see how this will work to our benefit.”

  “It will, either way,” Gwynneth said. “In the unlikely event she finds Landrus innocent, it will be a slap in Teodora’s face. If he’s found guilty, it will outrage everyone in Kronland and they will see it as a personal slight to you. Teodora loses either way.”

  “I must confess, I’m surprised she is coming,” Faris said. “Her presence will make this far more significant than a mere priest’s trial.”

  “She’s no doubt hoping to put me in my place in front of everyone.” Kendryk minded that possibility far less than he should have. “And she may well succeed.” He needed a plan, but the wheels of his mind had frozen in place.

  “Not necessarily.” Faris stroked his small beard. “Either Teodora doesn’t have all the facts, or she is choosing to ignore them. Thanks to you, Landrus’s pamphlets have spread all over Kronland and even into Sanova and Moralta.”

  “And people are paying attention,” Gwynneth added. “I’ve written to everyone, and every ruler in the northern part of Kronland has already heard of Landrus. In fact, Prince Bronson in Helvundala, and Princess Floreta in Brandana asked me if I can send them more of his work. They’ve received petitions from their clergy as well, asking for a council to discuss these matters.”

  “That’s good.” Kendryk struggled to keep despair from seeping into his voice. “But I don’t see how that helps Landrus right now. If he’s found guilty and executed, that’s the end of it. There’ll be nothing more to print, and everyone will forget about it within a few months.”

  “It might not help Landrus, but it can help us a great deal,” Gwynneth said. “Especially if these rulers are present at the trial. They aren’t friendly toward Teodora at the best times, and this might give them a real complaint.” She stood. “I will send messages to every Kronland ruler today. With any luck, most of them will reach Isenwald in time for the trial. I’ll also order everything packed so we can leave in a few days.” She was out the door in a whirl of blue silk.

  “Well,” Kendryk said. “I’m glad she at least is decisive.”

  Count Faris smiled gently. He alone seemed to understand how Kendryk felt. “This could be much worse. The empress could have ordered you to send Landrus straight to her, or to Forli, and you would face a much harder decision right now.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” He still felt no relief, His head whirled, trying to think of possibilities, but there were none. Perhaps Gwynneth would have some ideas. He just couldn’t bear the thought of bringing Landrus all that way in chains and then having it all be over.

  Braeden

  Braeden squinted against the bright spring sunlight. At least it was still spring. He hadn’t spent more than a month in that dungeon though it seemed much longer. He had no idea why they were letting him go since no one mentioned a trial. A guard dumped him into a wagon, which bumped along cobbled streets for a while. He needed a little time to sit up, and longer to get his bearings. By the time he did, the wagon had reached the foot of the hill on which the Arnfels stood and was going through the streets of Atlona.

  After the silence of his cell, the noise was deafening. People ran around the cart, giving him strange looks and dodging other wagons. Braeden looked around with interest. He’d never been in this part of Atlona. The streets were wide and the pretty buildings painted in a variety of light colors. Many had wrought-iron signs swinging over their doorways and lampposts stood all along the street. There were even pavements for people to walk on and wide gutters between those and the street. Most civilized.

  The temples were even more noteworthy. Braeden’s wagon must have passed at least three large ones and several smaller ones. The one built by Teodora’s predecessor was the most impressive. Two great towers rose alongside an ornate facade and the towers themselves shone with gold and copper on the graceful cupolas.

  Soon, the wagon was at the wall, and Braeden was greeted with the grisly sight of the rebellious Moraltan princes’ heads. Or what was left of their heads. They had been up there for a few months through warm weather and plentiful birds. Braeden was grateful his head was not up there too though he reckoned he wasn’t important enough for that. They might have taken the head, but they’d have just dumped it into a ditch alongside his body.

  Once outside the wall, the wagon turned down a wide street with the Palais Arden at its end. Braeden hoped he wasn’t being presented to the empress in this condition. But just before the palace, the wagon turned again, heading for the parade ground. So he really was returning to the hussars. Braeden breathed a sigh of relief. In front of Novitny’s tent, the wagon stopped. Braeden scooted to the edge and got out. He still wobbled when standing.

  Franca burst out of the tent, but the delight on her face faded fast. “Oh sir. You look dreadful. I’ll go get the prince.” She disappeared back into the tent, probably so she didn’t have to look at him.

  Novitny came straight out. “Well it’s about time,” he roared, clapping Braeden in a bone-crushing embrace. “Thought that bitch was going back on her promise.”

  “Sir,” Franca tugged at his elbow. “Please don’t talk about the empress like that so loud, in the middle of camp. Lots of unfriendlies about.”

  “They already know what I think of that wicked hag. Still, you’re right. Dura’s got a knack for politics.” He clapped Braeden on the back while steering him into his tent. “If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have figured out how to release you.”

  Inside Novitny’s tent, Braeden collapsed into a chair. He hadn’t ever felt so weak. The prince sat in another chair. “Well, don’t just stand around, lieutenant, go see about getting the man some food. Looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.”

  “I’ve eaten.” Braeden smiled as he heard Franca shouting at someone outside the tent. It was good to be back. “Just not very much.”

  “Well, Kazmir will be grateful if there’s less of you to haul around.”

  Franca came back. “Food’s on its way, sir. Oh, and I ordered a bath drawn up in your tent. Not to be rude, or anything, but you need one.” She couldn’t quite stop herself from wrinkling up her nose, it seemed.

  “Thank you. I know I could use one.” Braeden didn’t worry overmuch about baths though it was nice to have one now and again when there was time and water. Besides, the Arnfels dungeon had a particularly famous aroma.

  “And lieutenant, eh?” He smiled at Franca. “Congratulations; though I’d better watch my back.”

  “Oh sir, I’d never …” Franca began, wide-eyed, then stopped when Braeden chuckled. “I can never tell when you’re making fun, sir.” Her face reddened.

  “I had to reward her for her quick thinking when you were arrested.” Novitny paused as a servant scurried in bearing a large tray of food. Braeden eyed it hungrily.

  “Go ahead,” Novitny said. “You eat; I’ll talk.”

  Braeden dug in, washing every bite down with great swigs of the excellent ale.

  “In case you’re wondering, there won’t be a trial.
You’re completely free with all charges dropped.”

  “That’s very good news.” Braeden looked at the food and settled on a piece of a large fowl. “I wasn’t keen on taking my chances with one.”

  “I wasn’t either. Can’t trust that woman for even a moment. She does as she pleases and not many are brave enough to stand in her way.”

  “You are,” Braeden said between mouthfuls.

  “Eh, I have some political protection.”

  “Still, I appreciate the help.”

  “Ah well, you know …” Novitny looked embarrassed. “Come now, don’t stop eating. You should have those berry pastries before Lieutenant Dura eats them all. I’m surprised she left any.”

  “Oh, sir, I’d …” Franca began before trailing off. She was getting a little quicker at spotting a joke.

  “So why free me now, without a trial?” Braeden reached for a pastry.

  Prince Novitny chuckled. “Her Highness finds herself in a real fix, and we’re in a position to help her. And I’m not helping for free. First thing I wanted was your release with no further talk of a trial, and the second is over there in those chests.” Novitny nodded at three large chests standing across the tent, wrapped in chains and secured with enormous locks.

  “Gold?” Braeden reached for another pastry. To his surprise the first had disappeared.

  “Every last bit of it. I had Dura count it all to be sure. You’ll get your share soon.”

  Braeden’s day was getting better and better. “So what’s this problem you’re helping Her Highness with?”

  “A prince up in Kronland is being a troublemaker. Young Kendryk Bernotas of Terragand has taken a liking to a priest whose preaching isn’t to the liking of the Temple.”

  “Not another one of those,” Braeden groaned. “We saw how that went in Moralta.”

  “This is different. The Kronland states are independent, bound to the empire with individual charters. Prince Kendryk may do as he pleases in most matters, including the religious. The charter only requires him to send a certain number of troops when the empire is threatened.”

  “Which might be soon. Has there been any progress on the Zastwar treaty?”

  “None yet. Ambassador Arceo is cooling her heels in Melampis, waiting for an audience with the Sultan. Which puts Her Highness in a real lather.”

  “Good.” Braeden pushed the empty plate away.

  “Yes. Good for us, and an opportunity for Prince Kendryk to press his luck.”

  “What do we have to do with any of this?”

  “Aside from the Zastwar problem, which might turn very bad, Andor Korma has started a rebellion in Marjatya, picking up supporters everywhere. And to top it off, Prince Kendryk has asked for a public trial for his priest, in Isenwald.”

  “That seems odd.”

  “It is. All kinds of reasons behind it, according to the politicians. But in the end, Teodora feels she must go to Isenwald and make a good show of force while grinding little Prince Kendryk under her heel. The rest of the Kronland rulers might appear too, so she can intimidate them at the same time.”

  “I don’t know much about these things,” Braeden said. “But isn’t she going about it all wrong? Wouldn’t it make more sense for her to just let Kendryk have his way, so he and the others will send her their troops without making trouble?”

  “You’d think so,” Novitny agreed. “But this woman is not reasonable. She never takes the easy way if it mean showing any weakness. I think she’d sooner starve to death in the Arnfels surrounded by enemies than give any Kronland ruler the impression she might give them an inch.”

  “Just so long as we’re not starving to death with her,” Braeden grumbled. “But isn’t this whole trial a concession? Couldn’t she just order the priest sent to Forli?”

  “She could try, but Livilla advised against it. Pretty frightening when the voice of reason in this place is a crazy old woman like the Maxima.”

  “I still don’t see how we fit into this and how you extorted so much gold from the empress.”

  “Teodora needs two things right now. First is a strong military force inside Atlona, should the worst happen and Korma get across the border. Ensden’s main army is stationed at the Zastwar border until the treaty is signed, or not. So he can’t help right now. She also needs an impressive escort to take to Isenwald to put the fear of the gods into Prince Kendryk and the others.”

  “She wants you to split your force.”

  Novitny nodded. “I don’t like to, and I don’t think we’re used best in fending off a siege. But she doesn’t have a lot of other troops at her disposal right now. For what she’s paying us, I’ll do it. Now, go get your bath. Her Highness might pay us a visit later, and you should look as dapper as possible, just to spite her.”

  Janna

  “I can’t imagine that your sister would want more mouths to feed.” Janna remembered her reception at the farm.

  “It won’t be like that,” Maya said. “Her children are grown and gone, and she’s always complained about finding good help at the shop. You say you worked in a shop in Kaleva?”

  “My father owned a dry goods store, and I was at the front counter sometimes.”

  “I’m surprised you’re still so fearful around strangers.”

  “I hated it, but having that counter between you and everyone else made it easier. I wasn’t good at chatting with the customers like my sisters were, but well enough do my job.”

  “You’ll be able to manage?”

  “I’m sure I will. But what about Anton? He must make himself useful somehow.”

  “Oh, he will. Zara’s husband drives a wagon for hire. He’s got several horses that need care, and your boy is good at that. Besides, he’s good with people. Everyone likes him.”

  “Thank the gods for that.”

  “I’ll send a note along,” Maya said. “You needn’t worry about being a burden because I know you do. Not everyone is as unkind as your husband’s people. Besides, I doubt you’ll be there for long. How long did you work in your father’s shop before your husband spotted you?”

  “Just over six months and we married a month after that.”

  “See here, Janna.” Maya settled herself at the kitchen table. “I understand that you might not be keen to marry again, but you have to think about it. You’re still young, and there’s no doubt you’ll catch the eye of a man or two, once you’re in Trepol. If you want my advice, take the best one you can get as soon as you can get him. Anyone who’s a steady sort and who’ll be kind to you and the boy. Zara knows everyone around there and she’ll be able to advise you. But the sooner you’re settled, the better. Zara and Ivan aren’t the youngest, and at some point, their children will get the business. You want to be sure you’re provided for by then.”

  Janna saw the sense in it, though she dreaded the thought of being put on display again, like a piece of merchandise. That was how it had been in Kaleva. Once a girl of the Beran family was of marriageable age, she went to work at the front counter of the shop, so the bachelors of the area could look her over. Janna had hated the feeling, and as frightened as she’d been of Dimir at first, it had been a relief to no longer be on the market.

  “I’ll do whatever I have to to keep Anton safe.”

  “That’s a good girl.”

  They left the next morning since there was no point in delay. The last word had been that the southern road, leading through Trepol and into Marjatya was peaceful. “There might still be packs of soldiers about.” Maya loaded them up with bundles of food and a spare blanket. “Try to find a crowd of people and stick with them. Get off the road at sundown and stay in the trees.”

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Janna began.

  “Oh, Psshht. I couldn’t call myself a godly woman if I didn’t do a little something for you and the boy. And it’s little enough, though I know Zara will be good to you. She was always my favorite sister.”

  Janna squeezed Maya’s hand and turned to th
e road. Anton was eager to go, once Janna told him he’d have horses to care for. He’d already peppered Maya with all kinds of questions about them that she could not answer, so he couldn’t wait to get there and see for himself.

  There wasn’t much traffic on the road at first, and Janna and Anton made good time. She had to explain to Anton why returning to Kaleva wasn’t possible.

  “That empress is a bad person,” he said. “You haven’t done anything, and neither have I. Why does she want to punish us?”

  “She’s worried that when you grow up, you’ll still be angry with her and start trouble.”

  “She’s right about that.” Anton arranged his face into a grimace.

  “So maybe it’s that she understands how boys think.” Janna smiled at him. “What would you do if you were the emperor?”

  “I would give Moralta independence, first thing.”

  “Would you? They would stop paying taxes to you, you know.”

  “I don’t care. I’d have palaces full of gold, so I wouldn’t need any stupid taxes.”

  “You’d be a kind emperor.”

  “Except I don’t want to do that. I want to be a soldier.” It hadn’t helped that he’d seen soldiers at the tavern daily, filling his ears with lurid tales of the battlefield.

  It was drizzling, but they had their cloaks and the sky cleared by midday. There were a few others going their way, but they were on horseback, so Janna and Anton weren’t able to keep up.

  At a small crossroads that afternoon, they fell in with a strange-looking group of people in wagons. At first Janna was afraid of the noisy, dark-skinned men who looked so foreign, but then she saw they had women and children with them. They were all rather loud and a little frightening, but as usual, Anton made friends right away.

  “They’re not going as far as we are. But we can stay with them until they turn off on the road to Olvisya.”

  “We certainly don’t want to go that way.” Janna shuddered. “How can you understand them?” They spoke a language she didn’t recognize.