The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  So far, her father’s response had been the most disappointing. “It makes no sense for Kendryk to risk his kingdom over some preacher,” his last letter had said, even though she had explained to him how this was more than a religious disagreement. If her father helped, they wouldn’t need anyone else.

  She spotted a letter from Natalya Maxima in Galladium, one of her oldest friends. As the maxima in Allaux, Natalya had the ear of King Gauvain, a good friend from Kendryk’s childhood. Gwynneth read it eagerly, but friendly as it was, it offered nothing concrete.

  So he couldn’t escape without talking to her, Gwynneth took her pile of letters and found a place in Kendryk’s dressing room. She sent his servant to bed since she could help with any clothes that needed unfastening.

  After working through all the letters, she was dozing in a chair when Kendryk entered. The candle had burned itself out, and it was well after midnight.

  Kendryk started when she moved in the chair. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “No, stay right there.” He knelt on the floor in front of her, leaned into her lap and kissed her. “This is a nice surprise. You didn’t have to wait up.”

  “I know.” Gwynneth kissed him again. She’d noticed a distinct decline in kissing since they’d returned from Isenwald. Maybe because they had so little time alone. “I’m afraid I’ve got bad news and thought you should hear about it as soon as possible.”

  Kendryk looked alarmed. “You could have sent for me. I would have come straight away.”

  “It’s not urgent—” there’s not much to be done right now.” She told him about the news from Zastwar.

  Kendryk sighed and laid his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair.

  Finally he asked, “What will we do?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve written to everyone at least twice. My father is being horrid although I’m sure if it comes to real trouble he’ll help.” Then she told him about the letter from Natalya. “You should write to Gauvain. He trusts Natalya, and she’s at least sympathetic. Perhaps a personal appeal …”

  He stood. “No, Gwynn, I won’t do it. This is not something friends and family can help us with. If we are in real trouble, we need proper alliances and definite commitments.”

  “We aren’t getting those right now.”

  He paced the room. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? If Teodora attacks us, we’ll get help, or we won’t. We’ve done our best.”

  Then she stood. “We? I’ve done my best. Do you know how many letters I’ve written? Two hundred twenty-four! I can’t do this alone, Kendryk.” To her chagrin she noticed her voice quivering. She was so tired.

  “Darling,” he said, coming over and taking both her hands in his. “You don’t have to do any of this. I started this, and I must find a way to see it through.”

  “But if I don’t do it, who will?” Now the tears spilled over. “I know you need to spend time with Father Landrus, to figure out what to do, but it doesn’t seem like you’re making any progress. At least none I can see.”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” he said, pulling her to the edge of the bed, until they were both sitting. He kept holding her hands. “This will not be a normal war. We can’t fight it the usual way.”

  “Then how are you going to fight it? Are you going to wait for imperial troops on our land before deciding it needs to be defended? This may be a religious fight, but we still need soldiers and weapons.”

  Kendryk sighed. “So far, none of this has gone the way I expected.” He pulled her close. “I’m sorry darling, I appreciate everything you’re doing. And when it bears fruit, you’ll get all the credit. I would help you, except that Father Landrus is sure we will find more answers in the Scrolls.”

  “I wish I had your faith.” Gwynneth snuggled into his chest. She’d missed this so much.

  “So do I,” Kendryk said, stroking her hair. “But I understand why you don’t. If I were anyone else, I’d think I was mad, too.”

  “I don’t think you’re mad,” Gwynneth said into his shirt, suddenly very sleepy.

  “Yes you do.”

  “All right, I do. But I love you anyway.”

  He laughed a little. “Good. That’s all that matters. We must trust the gods. They have taken care of us so far, and they won’t abandon us now. I am sure we are doing their will right now.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Gwynneth murmured, then pulled him down onto the bed next to her.

  Kendryk

  Kendryk rode out early, with as many men as he could spare. Count Faris had already taken ship for Zeelund to hire an army. Kendryk didn’t like leaving Birkenhof undefended, but the danger was on his borders, not here at home. Maryna cried when he said she couldn’t come. First they’d gone to Kronfels without the children, and now he was leaving without her again.

  “I have to leave Mama here, too,” he explained.

  “But you are always gone, Papa.” Tears ran over her chubby cheeks.

  “Not always.” He felt guilty because he spent so little time with her, even when he was here. “Can you be a big girl and help your mother?” Not that Gwynneth ever needed help.

  Maryna nodded and hugged him one more time.

  Gwynneth saw him off in the courtyard. She looked pale and tired, like she always did these days. “If good news comes from Zastwar, you can stop writing letters for a day or two,” he smiled at her. “And if Arian Orland gets here before I return, don’t let him leave.”

  “Can I at least give him a piece of my mind?”

  “All right. But don’t frighten him too much.”

  “I’ll try not to.” She lifted her face for a kiss. “Please be careful and hurry back.”

  They headed south at a brisk walk. It would take all day to reach the nearest frontier outpost. He hated this state of affairs. All the time spent poring over the Scrolls hadn’t yielded a single clue. He knew that Father Landrus understood more, but by now Kendryk wondered if he’d read the signs incorrectly.

  The prophesied ruler seemed much more sure of himself and quite a glamorous figure. Gwynneth assured him he was, reminding him of swooning girls on the streets of Kronfels, but he was sure that was because they were excited about the trial. Under normal circumstances, anyone could see he didn’t cut quite the dashing figure he ought. He was too short and his nose wasn’t altogether manly. His brother would have been better at this and Kendryk wondered again why the gods had let someone so well-suited to his role die so young.

  They reached the first outpost within a day. Karrebad was a town of some size on the border with Podoska. An ancient baron held the tiny castle.

  “No one’s bothered us here since my brother fought Prince Martinek for the girl,” the baron said, before dissolving into a fit of wheezing. Kendryk wondered if he’d die on the spot. The famous feud over the girl had happened at least sixty years ago.

  “We have other problems now.” Kendryk recounted the events in Kronfels. He knew that Gwynneth had written the baron at least one letter, but he appeared to be almost blind, and clearly didn’t remember it.

  The old fellow clucked and shook his head. “What in the name of the Father were you thinking, Your Grace? No good can come of this. Back in my father’s day, when old Princess Benda feuded with the emperor, he put an end to it so fast, her family still hasn’t found her head. Though they got the body back after a time …”

  “Yes, yes,” Kendryk said, uncomfortable with the talk of heads being separated from bodies. “This is different, I assure you. I have the support of everyone in Kronland this time.” The lie was out before he could stop himself. “We’re just taking precautions. The empress will have to fight Zastwar when the treaty expires, and no one will bother us here. I want to fortify the border, out to Sanova.”

  The old man frowned. “Princess Martinek won’t take kindly to imperial troops marching through her lands if the empress comes.”

  “I’m sure she won’t. But I also doubt she has enough soldiers to stop a force of a
ny size. We don’t either, but I need your help to slow them down, should the worst happen and we’re attacked.”

  “I can do that.” The baron brightened. “Wouldn’t mind putting on the old armor one more time though I doubt I can sit a horse.”

  “Why don’t you lead the castle defenses,” Kendryk said diplomatically. “I’ll leave a few of my troops to man the town walls and train up the city watch. Please also call up your militia for training. They needn’t be mobilized just yet, but they must be ready.”

  “Very well, Your Grace. I can’t say I approve of all this trouble-making, though things are awful dull around here these days.”

  “I hope there won’t be any trouble.”

  “Begging your pardon, but for someone who feels that way, you’ve sure done your bit to stir it up. And here I thought when your brother died, we were in for a long, boring, peaceful time. Well, you never know how these young fellows will turn out. When I was your age, I never even dreamed of starting a fight, except in a tavern. Once, when I was nineteen, my cousin Elfred and I….”

  “Yes, yes. Everyone keeps reminding me what an awful thing I’ve done. I appreciate your help all the same.”

  Rather than pray for guidance as he was supposed to, Kendryk prayed that Teodora wouldn’t attack. He prayed for something to happen, something that would keep her out of Terragand. Though he didn’t wish for war with Zastwar, a small amount of trouble on their border would suffice. Even though he would admit it to no one, Kendryk wondered if the gods were listening to him at all. Maybe they never had, and he had interpreted chance events as the signs he wished for so fervently. If this path led to disaster, he had no one to blame but himself.

  Janna

  Janna heard a stream running nearby, so she stumbled to it. The day was hot and her feet hurt. She sat on a rock and put them in the fast icy water, letting the hem of her skirt swirl around her ankles. It tickled a little, so she laughed. Then she laughed harder until she couldn’t stop. She laughed until tears ran down her face, and she didn’t stop until she saw the girl leading a horse to the water. She had long black braids and wore breeches.

  Janna stopped laughing long enough to say, “You look funny.”

  “I do not,” the girl said.

  “You’re wearing breeches.” Janna giggled. “What kind of girl wears breeches?”

  “A smart one.” The girl turned to peer at her more closely. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  “I’m well, thank you.” Janna’s giggles turned into hiccups. “And you?”

  “Sir,” the girl shouted, “You’d better come see this.”

  “Who’s sir?” Janna asked and hiccuped loudly. “Excuse me.” It occurred to her that these might be soldiers, but she no longer cared. She reckoned there wasn’t a single thing they could do to her that could hurt her anymore. It was a lovely feeling.

  She was still laughing when “sir” appeared. He was an enormous brute, with long yellow hair that curled out in all directions. He wore armor and a belt of pistols, but Janna didn’t find him very frightening. From the way he stared while she giggled and hiccuped, he might have been frightened of her.

  “So you found her right here?” He asked the girl.

  “Just sitting right there, laughing. Do you suppose she’s mad?” she added in a loud whisper.

  “I can hear you, you know,” Janna said. “And I’m not mad. At least, not most of the time. At least, I didn’t used to be.”

  The man nodded and took a step closer. “Where do you live?” he asked. “We’ll take you home.”

  “Live?” Janna stopped giggling. “I don’t live anywhere. Everyone is dead. Everything is gone.”

  “Hmm …” the man said.

  “What should we do?” the girl asked.

  “We can’t leave her here.” They were speaking Moraltan, but his had a strong accent she couldn’t place.

  “Yes, you can.” Janna smiled. “In fact, I wish you would. You seem to be a soldier and I don’t like soldiers. It’s not personal,” she added, not wanting to seem rude.

  “All right,” the man said. His eyes were bright blue, and they twinkled, she noticed. She hadn’t at first because the beard that seemed to cover his whole face was so distracting. She’d never seen anyone with a beard like that.

  “Are you foreign?” she asked. She knew it was rude, but he didn’t seem to mind. The girl was smiling, but trying to hide it behind her hand.

  He nodded. “I’m not Marjatyan if that’s what you mean.” He delivered a rather courtly bow. “Braeden Terris, of Prince Novitny’s Hussars.”

  “Goodness. What sort of name is that?”

  “Oh, Novitny’s Sanovan. Surely you know of the Sanova Hussars?”

  Janna shook her head, and the girl snorted. It seemed it was rude not to know this. “Are you Sanovan?” she asked, to cover her embarrassment, then remembered that she could no longer be embarrassed.

  “No, I’m not.” His tone was conversational, as if he were sitting in her parlor in Kaleva.

  “Because Braeden Terris is a strange name.”

  “It is,” he said cheerfully. “And what’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Janna Kronek.” She’d forgotten she shouldn’t use that name. Not that she cared anymore. If this fellow wanted to kill her for being a rebel, she’d welcome a quick end.

  “So Mistress Kronek, what are we to do with you?” He took a few steps closer, and she flinched.

  “It’s all right,” he said softly. “I won’t hurt you. I’m not one of those kinds of soldiers and I don’t allow my men to be.”

  “It’s true,” the girl added. “They’re a good lot.”

  He turned to the girl. “Trisa, would you run to your mother and ask if she’d be willing to help this young lady for a day or two?”

  The girl pulled the horse she’d been leading away from the water, and went back into the woods, looking over her shoulder as she went.

  “I don’t need help,” Janna said.

  “Yes, you do,” the man said quietly. “How long since you’ve eaten?”

  “I had two handfuls of strawberries last night. I’m fine.”

  “A real meal. And what about a bath?”

  “That’s been a bit longer.”

  “Slept in a bed, under a roof, with a full belly?”

  Janna started crying.

  “That’s what I thought. Listen ma’am, I won’t force you to come with me. But I don’t like to leave you out here by yourself. The next people to find you might not be friendly.”

  “They usually aren’t,” Janna muttered.

  “Right. But Trisa’s mother, she’s a good sort. She’s married to one of my officers and has raised three girls. She’ll take good care of you.”

  “And then what?”

  “Let’s not worry about that right now. We’ll get you cleaned up and fed and rested and then we’ll figure something out.” He’d come closer now and held out a hand.

  Janna hesitated, then looked straight into his eyes. They were clear and still sparkled. She saw none of that look that so frightened her. She put her hand into his. Like the rest of him, it was huge and swallowed her own. He pulled her up off the rock and she stood in the water, her feet numb by now.

  “Shoes?” he asked, looking around.

  She shook her head.

  “That’s no problem.” He smiled, then whistled. A gigantic black horse appeared at his shoulder. “Lucky I didn’t unsaddle him yet.”

  Janna shrank back.

  With one swift movement, he picked her up and set her in the saddle. She squeaked and held on for dear life. The horse looked at her sideways, but held still. It looked like it was a mile down to the ground.

  The blue eyes twinkled up at her again. “No need to be afraid of Kazmir. He only pretends to be fierce. He’s gentle as a lamb and loves ladies.”

  Janna doubted she qualified as a lady at this point, but was too frightened to protest. Still, it was a nice change to be frightened of
a horse instead of its rider.

  Kendryk

  They were traveling a boring stretch of the Podoska road, when one of Kendryk’s scouts spotted a large party of horse ahead.

  Kendryk’s heart lurched. “Sanova Hussars?” He’d feared the empress would send them ahead.

  “Doesn’t seem so, Your Grace.” The scout was young and nervous.

  “Were they bearing a banner?”

  “Yes.” The boy brightened. “A black falcon on a purple field.”

  “The Orland standard,” Kendryk said. “Bring Arian Orland to me straight away.”

  “Yes sir.” The scout galloped off again.

  He was back within a quarter hour, accompanied by a lone horseman in fine black and silver armor, mounted on an enormous black warhorse.

  Kendryk rode forward and took off his helmet, handing it to a page. “Count Orland?”

  The man dismounted. He swept his own helmet off and went down in the mud on one knee. “Your Grace, a most unexpected honor.”

  Taken aback, Kendryk dismounted. “Please rise. There’s no need to stand on ceremony. You haven’t done so until now.”

  Orland stood, then threw back his head and laughed, showing a mouth full of white teeth. Black hair fell to his shoulders, framing a singularly handsome face. He stood a good half head taller than Kendryk, who had the fleeting notion that maybe this was the ruler Landrus was always going on about. He looked the part.

  Kendryk frowned. He would have to be stern. “It should come as no surprise I’m displeased with you. Have you received my messages?”

  “I have,” Orland said. “I was on my way to Birkenhof and didn’t expect to meet you on the road. Is all well?”

  “Hm.” Kendryk didn’t want to offer any information before receiving an apology, and Orland appeared in no hurry to offer one. “Before I give you any news, I wish to discuss your activities.”