The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “She would be,” Kendryk said. “But she’ll be a help to Arryk now, though it will be a hard time for her. She was close to her father.”

  He shouldn’t feel sorry for her. But he did anyway.

  Janna

  Even though Janna tried to drink little or no wine with each toast, there were too many. Before tonight, she’d never had anything stronger than beer or ale and worried she might be drunk. After Teodora rose and left the room, Janna stood up carefully. The room spun, then straightened out while she held on to the back of her chair. The Maladene officer smoothly caught her by the arm and walked her back to Braeden, chuckling under his breath. Janna was sure he was laughing at her.

  Braeden met them halfway around the table, the blonde still with him. He introduced her as Brytta Prosnitz, the empress’s personal secretary.

  The Maladene officer’s attention shifted in an instant. Brytta was exquisite in a way Janna never could be. Naturally, all the men stared at her. But Braeden didn’t. He was looking at Janna.

  Back in the fragrant night air of the gardens, they both drew deep breaths at the same time. “See,” Braeden said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  “It wasn’t. It was awkward and embarrassing, but also interesting. And I wasn’t frightened like I thought I would be.”

  “You were quite a success. Everyone complimented your beauty and your ability to reply to the empress without breaking down in tears.”

  “She makes people cry?”

  “Often,” he said cheerfully, slipping his arm around her waist as they strolled through the gardens. Moonlight glinted off the tops of the temples and from the bulk of the Arnfels, a few lights burned.

  Janna leaned into him. She was sure she’d had too much wine. “Then it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”

  “And it’s over now, isn’t it? Teodora hasn’t a clue who you are, and now she’s had her fun at our expense, she doesn’t care.”

  “I was so frightened before, but I’m not anymore. And I don’t think it’s because I’ve had too much to drink.”

  Braeden kept her close as they entered the camp. Torches lit their path. “You’ve faced a lot worse than her and survived. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  “It’s you,” Janna said, as they entered his tent. “It’s because of you I feel safe. You didn’t let her bully me. You shocked everyone with how bold you were. I hope it doesn’t cause trouble for you.”

  “It won’t. She’s used to me speaking my mind. That’s what she expected.”

  “Thank you all the same.” They faced each other in the middle of the tent. She suddenly felt awkward. Even worse, she remembered something else. “I’m afraid I’ll need your help to get out of this dress.”

  That seemed to stop the awkwardness. “That’s easy enough.” Braeden turned her around. “Hook and eye?”

  She nodded.

  First, he took the necklace off and put it back into the box. “We’ll get you a little trunk for your things.”

  “I don’t have any things.” Her only possessions in the world were two cast-off dresses.

  “That will change soon enough.” Braeden unfastened the hooks on the dress while Janna held it up in front. She wondered when he’d become so practiced in undoing dresses. “You’ll need a few new dresses and warmer things before winter comes. I’ll have Senta take you shopping while we’re still in Atlona.”

  “I can’t …” Janna began.

  He turned her around, her dress now unfastened. “Janna, stop it. I want to, all right? I like having you here and taking care of you, that’s all.”

  She nodded, not knowing what else to say, still holding the dress up in front.

  He brushed her cheek with his hand, a strange look in his eyes. “Now off to bed,” he said, giving her a gentle shove toward her curtained-off corner.

  “Good night,” she whispered, before turning away.

  Her heart pounded in her head as she lay down, trying to calm her breathing. More than anything, she wanted to climb into bed with him. The realization had been there for a while, but for the first time she let herself think it openly. What did that make her? Wasn’t that just what all of those disreputable women did; climb into bed with the first man who gave them a pretty trinket?

  She was sure if she went to him right now, he wouldn’t turn her away. But what would happen beyond that? She didn’t know if she was ready to be with a man again, although she was almost certain she could be happy with Braeden. She wondered if she could make him happy as well. Her mind wouldn’t stop turning in circles, but finally she heard his even breathing, and she fell asleep, matching it.

  Gwynneth

  The horses traveled well, but the land road took a long circuit away from the river, meaning they had to travel far to the west before reaching Duke Evard’s lands. In sight of Emberg Castle at last, they camped in the woods and laid plans.

  By now, the men had a much different view of Gwynneth. That she was traveling and sleeping rough without a complaint or even a servant to help her seemed to impress them. And she was doing this to rescue Landrus, someone they all adored.

  As they sat around the fire after an appalling supper of dry biscuit and even dryer meat, Gwynneth asked everyone to gather around. “Our best chance is to catch Count Balduin at the hunt. He goes out every morning.”

  “What does he hunt, Your Grace?” someone asked.

  Gwynneth shrugged. “Anything that moves. For someone who does it so often, he’s not much good at it, so the game at Emberg survives. But the trees are riddled with lead.” That brought a laugh. “Now, Balduin is not an intelligent man, but he will resist and he is strong. He usually hunts with a small escort of a groom, a beater, and one or two friends. I think none of them will offer much resistance.”

  “Dogs?” A man asked.

  “A few. Our greatest worry is that they will sound the alarm too soon.”

  “What if we throw them some meat?” someone else asked.

  “Good idea. I hope it tastes better to them than it does to us. If the dogs are nearby, throw them meat while the rest move on Balduin. Try to see that no one is harmed. Use the blunt ends of your pistols or swords. Balduin must be kept as uninjured as possible. I want him strong and healthy for an extended stay in the dungeons.”

  That brought a small cheer and shouts of, “Our princess is a right trooper.”

  Gwynneth smiled. “It’s not done yet. Captain Merton will have specific instructions for each of you. I’ll stay out of the way, but will be ready to ride to Birkenfels at speed. We make straight for the castle, put Balduin in the dungeon and lock the place up after I go. I’ll handle the duke.”

  “He won’t hurt you, will he?” Merton asked.

  “He wouldn’t dare. Not with his precious boy in the castle at our mercy. It helps that he thinks I’m capable of any atrocity. I will also see that Edric Maximus is well-guarded, though once I’ve dealt with the duke, we’ll have no more worries from that quarter.”

  Rolled up in her cloak on the mossy ground, Gwynneth found it hard to sleep. The long ride had been exhausting, but she was exhilarated at what lay ahead.

  The morning dawned cool and foggy, perfect for their plan. Gwynneth stayed near the road with a few men who had reluctantly volunteered to attend her. She wanted to be left alone, but Merton wouldn’t allow it. In the distance, hounds bayed, then Merton and his party disappeared into the foggy woods.

  Her horse stamped and snorted. One of the men lit a pipe. No one felt like talking. There were a few gunshots, some shouting, then there was silence again. Gwynneth wasn’t sure if she could bear it. At last, Merton came crashing through the trees on his big horse. “We have him, Your Grace,” he said, grinning. A few more horses, then she saw Balduin, riding his own horse, his hands tied to the pommel.

  “Good morning cousin,” she said.

  “Don’t speak to me, you whore,” he burst out.

  A guard backhanded him across the mouth. “You don’t speak
to your princess like that.” Blood streamed from Balduin’s mouth and Gwynneth smiled.

  “Gag him,” she said. “I’ve heard enough of his stupidity in the past few years.”

  Someone tied a rag into his mouth which also stopped the bleeding.

  Now the horses had to prove their worth. They could lose no time getting to Birkenfels. If the duke found out soon, he could send a party large enough to stop them.

  “What did you do with the others?” Gwynneth asked.

  “Tied them up and left them in the forest. We turned their horses loose, so they’ll be found, but hopefully not for a few hours.”

  “Good. I want no one raising the alarm too soon.”

  In less than two hours, they were at the river, clattering across the bridge as Birkenfels rose above them. Gwynneth rode into the castle with them and waited until they had locked Balduin into a cell. Merton arranged guards at all important entrances, then followed Gwynneth down to the gate.

  “Raise the drawbridge,” she said. “I’ll deal with the duke and when he realizes he can’t get to you, I’ll relieve you with those I can spare from the palace.” She turned to face him before mounting her horse. “I can’t thank you enough. What you have done today may turn the tide for Prince Kendryk. He might be angry at first, but I’ll see it’s directed at me.”

  “Not necessary, Your Grace.” Merton bowed. “It was your plan and well done. I would be happy to take any credit I can.”

  “I will not forget this.” She pressed his hand, then rode for the palace.

  She surprised everyone when she galloped into the courtyard, dirty, alone, and on a strange horse. She handed him off to a groom, then ran inside, calling for a maid. Catrin was likely on a boat sailing up the river from Kaltental. She found a young chambermaid who had helped dress her a few times. “Bring up hot water,” she said. “There won’t be time for a bath, but I must clean up. Can you dress hair?”

  “Some simple things, Your Grace,” the girl stammered, frightened and delighted at the same time.

  “Simple is perfect. Now help me out of this filthy dress.”

  She had washed and dressed when a servant announced the duke’s arrival. “I’ll meet him in the entry.” She had no intention of making this a long interview.

  The duke stood at the foot of the stairs as she came to the top. “I knew you were behind this,” he shouted. “I always knew you were no good. First you betray your husband, and then you abduct my son. I’ll have you killed for this.”

  “You can’t,” Gwynneth said, gliding down the stairs and coming to a stop halfway down. “The guards at the castle will cut Balduin’s throat the moment they hear that any harm has come to me, to the children, to Kendryk, or to Edric Maximus.”

  “Whore!” the duke spat.

  Gwynneth raised an eyebrow. “You’re not in a position to call me names, Uncle.”

  The duke ground his teeth.

  She went on. “If you take your troops anywhere outside Terragand, your son dies. Is that clear?”

  The duke looked startled. She’d been right, then. “How did you? I mean, what makes you think …?”

  “Oh never mind how I know. Though it seems I was right to take precautions. As long as you behave yourself and follow Kendryk’s orders, as you are supposed to, no harm will come to him.”

  “My son will die in those cells.” Balduin seemed to be his one soft spot.

  “He’s being kept in the best of them and will receive excellent care,” Gwynneth said. “It’s in all of our interests to keep him alive. Don’t you agree?”

  The duke’s look was murderous, but there was nothing he could do. He stomped back down the hallway and out the front door.

  Kendryk

  Kendryk hoped the weather held a few weeks more. It was the golden autumn, and Terragand was at its loveliest. Gold and orange trees stood against the dark of the evergreens and the grape harvest had started in the vineyards they marched past. And having so many thousands of men behind him made Kendryk feel better.

  But there was a hollowness that was new; it differed from the sharp pain that came years ago with the news of his brother’s death and being forced to leave Benet and Prince Gauvain in Galladium. At the time, his eleven-year-old self had thought he would die of grief. On the long journey back to Terragand, he had kept his face stern all day, but soaked his bedroll with tears every night.

  Kendryk had always expected more grief in his life, at some point. He had worried about losing Landrus, and realized that death would part him from Gwynneth, in a far distant future. That Gwynneth might betray him had been beyond imagining. Perhaps it was worse because no one would talk about it even though everyone seemed to know what had happened.

  The army paused its march at the crossroads into Aquianus, and Kendryk called for his officers. He was sure of his course, but wanted those with real military experience to have their say. Someone set up a table in a field and Kendryk sat down with Faris at his right, a map spread out before them. “I had thought to go straight south, through Terragand. That’s what Teodora suspects, but it’s by far the fastest way.”

  “How’s the road through Aquianus?” asked DeGroot, a weathered veteran from the western islands of Zeelund. “Are they friendly?”

  “The road is good though narrow as it cuts through some hilly country here.” Kendryk pointed at the map. “Prince Fabrey is friendly enough. He won’t offer help, but won’t try to stop us either.”

  “It would take an extra two or three days at the rate we’re moving,” DeGroot said. “I doubt we can afford that.”

  “I doubt it too,” Kendryk said. “So we’ll march through Terragand. We won’t surprise Teodora, but there will be many of us. Let’s move on.” He rose from his chair and the others stood. Suddenly, DeGroot lurched forward and vomited right onto the map. Another officer caught him before he fell and lowered him back into a chair.

  Kendryk started toward him, but Faris pushed him back. “Best to stay clear until it’s certain what it is, Your Grace,” he said.

  Kendryk looked at DeGroot, now slumped back in the chair and gasping for breath. Sweat bathed his yellowing face. Someone opened his collar to help him breathe, and then they saw the telltale red rash on his chest. If Kendryk had thought he couldn’t feel any worse, he was wrong.

  “Stand back,” Faris said. Everyone else seemed on the verge of panic, so Kendryk composed his features as well as he could. It hadn’t escaped him that DeGroot had been less than three feet away from him across the table. He might already be infected. It was on the mind of every person there, but Faris acted like it was nothing more than a head cold. “Send for the stretcher bearers and alert the doctors. They’ll send people who can help.”

  Kendryk swallowed hard and pulled Faris aside. “But they’ll be exposed,” he said as softly as he could without whispering.

  “They’ve already been exposed.” Faris stepped away to let the implication sink in.

  Plague.

  And this was not the first case seen in camp. Kendryk prayed to the Mother that this had started in the past day or two. If the cases were few enough, the spread of the disease might still be stopped.

  He wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that the medical staff was so well-prepared. Two strong men came with a stretcher, their faces covered in linen masks. They picked the burly DeGroot up as if he weighed less than a child and laid him on the stretcher.

  “Is it all right to handle him with bare hands?” Kendryk asked.

  One voice came back, muffled by the mask. “We won’t get it from touching him but we don’t want him breathing on us.”

  “I see.” Kendryk wondered how close he had to be to the man for his breath to travel that way. He felt sick, but it was most likely fear. The symptoms took a few days to show themselves. For a moment, everyone stood around, waiting for an order from Kendryk.

  “Let’s stay here a while longer,” he said. “I need to assess the situation.” He would have preferred to gr
ab Faris by the throat and shake him. He wondered when he’d become so violent. “Count Faris, might I have a word in private?”

  He turned his back on all of them and walked down the road, away from everyone.

  Faris caught up to him. “I’m sorry Your Grace. There were a few scattered cases, and I didn’t want to add to your burden.”

  “This is my burden whether I’m aware of it or not,” Kendryk said through clenched teeth. “How am I supposed to make reasonable decisions when I don’t know that I’m in danger of losing my army to plague?”

  “You’re right. I apologize.”

  Kendryk took a deep breath. “How long have you known about this?”

  “A few days before we met you, just over a week ago, was when I heard of the first case. In the meantime we’ve heard of the plague found on the ships arriving in Zeelund from Cesiano. A few of these troops came off those ships.”

  “Someone must tell me the precise number of cases. We’re not leaving this place until I know. I also want to speak to the doctor in charge of these patients as soon as possible.”

  “That’s not advisable.”

  Kendryk wheeled on him. “Why not? We’ve already been exposed. What difference does it make?”

  “Please Your Grace, don’t be unreasonable. You didn’t get that close to DeGroot, and neither did I. You mustn’t take the chance.”

  “Find a way I can speak to the doctor. I’ll just have to keep my distance and I suppose it won’t be a confidential conversation. Not that it matters, since I always seem to be the last to learn anything of importance anyway.”

  “I’ll arrange a meeting as soon as possible.”

  “Arrange it at once,” Kendryk said. “Right now.”

  Faris nodded and walked off quickly. He wasn’t used to Kendryk being a tyrant. Maybe it was time to change that. Not being a tyrant hadn’t helped his cause so far.

  Kendryk followed Faris, his mind whirling. He didn’t know what he would do if he found out the worst. He couldn’t camp here and wait for everyone to die. And yet, if they marched on, they risked spreading it to every person they encountered on the road and in the towns. By the time Kendryk faced Teodora, half his army and his country might be sick and dying.