The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Braeden

  The morning after the banquet, the Sanova Hussars received orders to invade Terragand. Prince Novitny called Braeden and the rest of his captains to the command tent. “Count Ensden will be here in a few days, most like,” he said. “He and Barela will combine their forces, and march on Terragand from the south. They expect to meet resistance from Princess Sebesta in Oltena, but also expect to overcome it quickly. The defenses of Terragand itself are another matter, and we can be sure that Kendryk will meet them with a sizable force of his own.

  “The empress’s agents in Zeelund report that Count Faris put together infantry and artillery of at least twenty thousand veterans, while Arian Orland has another ten thousand cavalry. There have been strange rumors about Orland, but Kendryk might have planted them to create confusion. We can expect a good fight no matter what.

  “We won’t be part of that big army. General Barela thinks that our best chance lays in outflanking Kendryk and the empress agrees.” Novitny allowed himself a smirk. “We will travel at speed through Moralta, into Sanova and attack Terragand from the east, bearing down on Kendryk’s base at Birkenhof. We’ll take what we need for the next week and let the wagons catch up. If you want to take your women and children, be sure they’re in good condition for riding.”

  As they left the tent, Reno said to Braeden, “I’m sure Senta will want to stay here. She doesn’t want to leave Adela’s baby yet and needs to find Cara a husband before she gets herself into trouble. Janna can stay with them if you want her to.”

  “Not sure I want her to.”

  “Oh-ho.” Reno punched his arm. “You’ve made progress, then?”

  “Of a sort. She’s still shy, and I don’t want to frighten her any more than I already have. But if I leave her with your wife, she’ll be married to someone else by the time this war is over.”

  “You’re probably right. Senta has her heart set on matching up the two of you, but if you leave her behind, she’ll think you’ve lost interest.”

  Braeden stopped in front of his tent. “I’ll ask her right now.”

  “Ask me what?” Janna was just inside, mending by the light of the open flap.

  “We leave for Terragand in a few days, on a real campaign. This will be different from Marjatya. The baggage train will be days behind and we’ll bring only those who can keep up on horseback.”

  Braeden saw he had taken her off guard, so he sat down on the edge of his cot and waited until he caught her gaze and held it. “You’ll have Zoltan, but it will be hard riding; thirty leagues a day or more, up the eastern border of Kronland. If you don’t want to go, Senta is staying here and can put you up at her daughter’s house. No doubt she’ll find you a husband before long.” He tried to say that part with a laugh, but failed.

  Janna put her work into her lap and took a deep breath. “I’ll come, but only if you want me to.”

  He felt he should make everything clear. “If it’s the empress you’re worried about, I don’t think you need to be.”

  “I’m not. After last night, I’m not afraid of her anymore.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t be. You don’t mind a rough road? We’ll be a few days without the tent. It’ll come on the baggage train, but in the meantime you’ll be rolled up in your cloak on the ground.”

  “I’ve done that often enough. And too many times without the cloak.”

  “All right then,” he said, trying not to look as happy as he felt. “You’ll want to pack things up soon, but first, I wanted to say …” He stopped and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

  He could tell she was as nervous as he was. “You could just come with the baggage. It’d be easier. But to tell the truth, I like having you close by.”

  She flushed, though she kept her lovely eyes on his.

  “And I don’t much like the idea of Senta marrying you off to someone else. Which she would.”

  “I know.” A smile reached her lips. “Though she’s had great hopes for you from the moment she first saw me, I think.”

  “I’m sure she did.” Braeden smiled back, relieved. “I like you very much, but I understand if you’re not ready for whatever comes next.”

  “I like you too. I don’t know if I’m ready, either. But I want to go with you and see what happens.”

  He stood. “I’ll leave you to it then,” and he left in a bigger hurry than he meant to.

  Gwynneth

  “He’s here now, Your Grace,” the footman said. It was strange, not having her ladies around her, but Gwynneth enjoyed the quiet. They would be back soon enough, full of excited chatter about their adventure.

  “I’ll see him in the prince’s study.” She stood up and smoothed her skirts. She hoped the trappings of authority might help, though she doubted it.

  When she entered the room, Landrus was still standing. He was likely to make this interview as uncomfortable as possible.

  “Please be seated, Maximus.” She walked around Kendryk’s desk to sit in his chair. “This might take a while.”

  Landrus took a seat on the edge of a leather chair. “I would ask what you mean by all of this, but it’s pointless. It’s clear you will do whatever you wish.”

  She felt indignation rising, but pushed it back down. She gained nothing by losing her temper. “I have good reason.”

  “I’m sure you think you do.” He’d clenched his teeth and there was a sharp line between his eyes. She’d never seen him so angry. “Several guardsmen told me your so-called concerns about the Duke of Emberg and I doubt my safety was the reason behind your rash action.”

  “It was, in part. You are dear to Kendryk and I doubt he could go on if something happened to you. And you can’t deny it was a possibility that the duke might try something with no one resident at Birkenhof.”

  “I could have dealt with him,” Landrus said, his jaw still tight. “You forget, I have armed men at my disposal now.”

  “I know. I would rather not take chances with your valuable person, all the same.” She turned a blinding, false smile on him. She wondered if he might lose his temper. That would be something to witness. “I do have another motive. Knowing the duke as I do, I realized he could convince himself that the right and patriotic thing would be to join Teodora’s forces. I cannot allow that to happen and holding Balduin hostage will ensure that it doesn’t.”

  “Evard’s militia wouldn’t turn the tide,” Landrus scoffed. He seemed less tense, but his voice was still much louder than it normally was in conversation.

  “No. But while the duke might not fight for Kendryk with enthusiasm, his troops will. And we need them here in Terragand.” She leaned forward. “Birkenhof is unguarded right now and I’m sure the empress will hear of it, from the duke if from no one else. I am sure she will send a force ahead to strike at us before Kendryk can reach her.”

  That seemed to shake him. “You think so? How would that help her?”

  “She would get the same benefit as I do from holding Balduin. If she gets her claws into me or you, or Holy Mother forbid, one of the children, she can force Kendryk to stop everything. We must be strong enough here to hold them off until he can engage her directly. From what I’ve heard of the force Count Faris has assembled, they are excellent on the battlefield, but such troops are of little use scattered all over the countryside. Under no circumstances must Kendryk break up his army. Without Orland’s cavalry, he can’t afford it.”

  “It seems you’ve thought of everything,” Landrus said, his tone still unpleasant.

  “I’ve tried to. I’m hoping to receive more information soon because I’d like to be more sure of what we’re facing. My greatest fear is Teodora sending the Sanova Hussars against us in force. They survived the siege of Atlona with few casualties. You remember those fearsome-looking brutes surrounding the empress in Isenwald? Now picture seven thousand of them, or more.”

  “ Duke Evard’s force can’t stand against that.”

  “You’re right,” Gwynneth said. “And i
f I find they’re coming, I’ll take other measures. I’m having the castle provisioned to survive a long siege. If the hussars come our way, all of us must take refuge there until Kendryk can relieve us.”

  “I suppose you expect me to join you,” Landrus said with a sour look.

  “I do. With any luck we won’t be there long so we won’t have to spend too much time together.”

  “That would be a relief.”

  “There is no need to be rude.” She held her temper with some effort. “I’m doing this for Kendryk, not for you.”

  “He won’t be pleased when he hears of what you’ve done.”

  “He’ll be angry I’m sure. But I’d prefer he didn’t find out until it’s necessary. I trust you haven’t sent a message to him yet?”

  “I was waiting until I had spoken to you.”

  “Good. Please do not send one now.”

  “What happens if I do?”

  “I will stop any messengers leaving Heidenhof and shoot down any pigeons. It is important that Kendryk stay at the head of his army and not leave at such a critical time. It would be bad for morale.”

  “Not as bad as being forced to exile his most powerful ally.”

  She would not allow him to goad her. “No.” She kept her tone even. “But that’s done, though I would undo it if I could, and not for the reason you think. What’s important now is to not make the situation worse. And Kendryk coming back here right now would be worse. Surely you can see that.”

  “Yes,” Landrus said, grudgingly.

  “I understand your feelings about me and I don’t blame you for them. But you have done your part, and the rest is between me and Kendryk. Is that clear?” She put authority in her voice.

  Landrus sat up straighter. “Clear enough. What you’re doing is sensible, but please involve me as little as possible. It would be best if we didn’t have to work together unless it’s necessary.”

  “You’re right,” Gwynneth said, with more emphasis than was polite. “If need arises, I’ll send for you.” She stood, indicating the end of the interview.

  By the time Gwynneth returned to the library, a messenger waited. Hope sprang into her chest, and she wondered if there was a letter from Kendryk. But it subsided as she realized he didn’t yet know she had returned to Birkenhof.

  Gwynneth opened the worn, dirty message pouch and pulled out a letter addressed to her, but written in an unfamiliar scrawl. She scanned the page down to the signature and seal, then nearly fell into her chair. It was from Arian Orland. The message came from Moralta several days ago, and he was making his way south, into Marjatya.

  “I beg your forgiveness, my darling, though I have no right to call you so. I realize I have caused you a great deal of pain,” he wrote.

  “It’s late for that now, isn’t it?” Gwynneth muttered to herself and kept reading.

  He went on in that vein for a while, then mentioned how terrible he felt about betraying Kendryk, who had shown him only trust and friendship. Late for that, too, Gwynneth thought.

  Being apart from her made him realize that he truly loved her and this had not just been a carnal episode.

  Gwynneth snorted.

  He realized that they could never be together, but wanted to make amends, help in some way. How he proposed to do that from Marjatya was anyone’s guess. He added a few garbled words about joining up with Andor Korma and raising a new army, but she couldn’t imagine how that would help Kendryk. She didn’t know what the purpose of the letter was, besides a request for absolution she was unlikely to give.

  A more romantic soul might have thought several smears at the bottom of the page were tears, although knowing Arian, Gwynneth thought it more likely that they were mud. She threw the letter down on her desk and paced along the windows. The day had become warm and sultry, with dark clouds building overhead. There would be a storm.

  The tears came suddenly. She had hoped the worst of the guilt and despair had passed, but it seemed not. Relieved that she was alone, she gave herself over to them completely for the first time. She sank into a heap on the carpet and cried. Thunder crashed, sheets of rain pounded the windows and she cried harder. The rain had decreased to occasional drops and the lowering sun was breaking through the clouds when she stopped at last.

  She picked herself up, walked back to her desk and sat down. The letter she wrote was short. “Everything between us is over. If you wish to redeem yourself, do it for Kendryk and not for me. You must face the empress and win. If you ever cared for either one of us, see you stop her before she enters Terragand.” She addressed it to Count Orland, anywhere in Marjatya and told the footman to take it to the messenger.

  Janna

  It was strange seeing Moralta like this. Before the war, she almost never left Kaleva, and then only for a half-day excursion when the weather was fine, or to go sledding on a hill nearby. Here on the border with Kronland, the country was rugged and wild since most towns of any size were further east. The weather remained pleasant though the nights were cool.

  Janna enjoyed traveling this way, at the back of the column, but not in the midst of the enormous baggage train. Zoltan was happy to be on campaign again and Janna found herself comfortable with him; she could even jump down without help and spring back into the saddle as well as Franca.

  She still felt that Franca did not quite approve of her and understood why. At first she had thought it was simple jealousy, but Franca didn’t seem to have any romantic feelings toward Braeden. She looked up to him a great deal, but was protective as well, seeing Janna as a silly baggage who might take advantage of him, or worse, break his heart. Janna hoped she would do neither.

  Few women had come, except for some officer’s wives of the tougher sort, veterans of many campaigns who no longer had small children. There were also two newlyweds, just married in Atlona. They had it the worst, away from home for the first time, saddle-sore and sleeping on the ground every night. Compared to them, Janna was more like the hardened veterans. She liked the idea.

  Moralta was quiet, the rebellion largely subdued. The hussars worried about attacks from inside Kronland, but they followed the border of Podoska, ruled by the fierce Princess Martinek, without incident. Janna wondered if anyone knew they were coming.

  Now that she no longer feared Teodora, her mind seemed clearer. She still found it impossible to talk about the children to anyone, but she could think about them without being overcome by grief and horror. In fact, she sometimes sensed that Anton was still alive. She didn’t know how or where, but something inside her was certain, and that comforted her. Tough and resourceful as he was, she was sure he’d make the best of any situation he found himself in.

  That night, they made camp well inside the borders of Sanova. The few women joined the men around the cook fires and the atmosphere was easy and companionable. Someone with an accordion started a song and before long, someone else was dancing. After helping clean the cooking things in a nearby stream, Janna came back and sat down next to Braeden. She laughed as Prince Novitny grabbed someone’s wife and launched into a Sanovan peasant dance.

  “You laughed,” Braeden said.

  “I did, didn’t I?” She turned and smiled at him.

  “I’m glad. I thought this would be difficult for you. So many leagues a day and living like we are.”

  “It’s luxurious compared to what things were like after Kaleva. And for the first time in months, I feel a little better. Almost like I’m on holiday.”

  “Some holiday.” Braeden grinned. “And I apologize for the prince’s dancing.”

  “It’s funny.”

  “It’s not meant to be,” he said, but he smiled all the same. He glanced up at the sky, clear and blanketed with stars. “It will be colder tonight. I’ll get one of the extra blankets. Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

  He said it lightly, but Janna caught the heat in his voice. Since leaving Atlona, they’d been sleeping side-by-side on the ground every night, each of them wrapped u
p in a warm cloak by a banked fire. They’d get even closer tonight.

  Gwynneth

  It was as Gwynneth had feared. Teodora was sending the Sanova Hussars ahead to attack Birkenhof. Her source was reliable, and already in Moralta when sending the message.

  She prepared for the worst. At least the harvest had been good and money was flowing into the treasury. She had worked on lists of supplies needed for the castle so piles of long-lasting and preserved foods and fuel were already filling its spacious cellars.

  The next step was moving anything of value from the palace. It was impossible to take everything, since every piece of furniture, every rug, every tapestry was valuable, if not priceless. But she could take smaller items, all the family treasure and all of her considerable jewelry. She packed plenty of warm, plain clothes for herself and the children, and in several sizes, in case they grew in the months there.

  Then she wrote a message to Landrus, telling him to be ready to move into the castle. She asked that he send a wagon with anything larger and heavier ahead and she would have it put in his old rooms.

  By now, Avaron and Linette had returned and considered themselves seasoned campaigners, so they had become more useful than ever. Linette even volunteered to ride to Heidenhof herself to deliver Gwynneth’s message.

  “Help him decide what to bring and escort it back,” Gwynneth said. “He likes you and is more likely to do as you ask than if it comes as an order from me.”

  “I believe I can manage him,” Linette said, then trotted down the long avenue at a smart pace.