The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

She returned late, glowing with success, a small cart hitched to her horse. “All of his finished works are in there. I’ll see they are brought to the castle tomorrow. He was not happy about it, but I persuaded him to join us there whenever you send the word. I told him you had everything in hand and we’d likely never have to go there.”

  “Good.” Gwynneth smiled at her. “You’ve done well. If the worst happens and we are all forced to live together up there, you can be my liaison.”

  She hadn’t taken Linette to be a religious sort, so she was surprise to find her curled up in the drawing room after supper, reading a lengthy Landrus tract on the Life and Work of Ercos.

  “Is it interesting?” Gwynneth asked.

  “Marvelous. I never knew about any of this. I do wish you would also read it, Your Grace.”

  Gwynneth did her best to conceal her amusement at her flightiest lady-in-waiting turned missionary. Perhaps if it came to a siege, and she was overcome by boredom she’d be forced to become a Landrus acolyte herself, just to find reading materials.

  The next morning, she went to visit Balduin. Gwynneth wrinkled her nose and pulled her cloak closer. It was cold in the dungeon and it smelled bad. She had expected that, but it was still unpleasant. She didn’t have to go far, since she kept Balduin on the highest level, in one of the nearest cells.

  As she approached it, the guard banged on the bars. “On your feet. The princess is here to see you.”

  There was some rustling and grumbling and then her prisoner stood at the bars, blinking in the sudden torchlight.

  She smiled at him. “How are you doing? Not too uncomfortable, I hope?”

  He muttered something rude, then turned his back.

  “Hey.” The guard poked him through the bars with a sheathed sword.

  “It’s all right. I wanted to make sure he was alive and well so I can reassure his father.”

  “He’ll kill you on sight.” Balduin snarled and lunged at the bars.

  Gwynneth took one step back. “No, he won’t. We’ve already spoken and he won’t lay a hand on me. It’s touching really, how much he loves you. He’ll do anything to keep you unharmed. You should be pleased.”

  It worked. Balduin’s face took on a kind of glow. She knew he cared for nothing in the world so much as to please Evard.

  “I may bring him here to prove that you’re in good condition. If I do, you will speak only when spoken to. If you make a scene, you will spend the rest of your days in a far more unpleasant cell, in which case those days will be very short. Is that understood?”

  Balduin narrowed his eyes and huffed, but nodded.

  “Good.” She turned and went back down the corridor. The duke would be here before too long in response to her message. She liked having him at her beck and call.

  Kendryk

  Kendryk longed for Landrus with his cool and calm faith that would tell him to pray and trust in the gods. He longed for Gwynneth, and her practical, optimistic advice. She, more than anyone, would assess the situation and make the best of it. But by now she was in her father’s court, immersing herself in the intrigue.

  At least he had done that right. Across the water Gwynneth would be safe from the plague. He tried very hard not to worry about the children and thanked the gods for Birkenhof’s current isolation.

  But his concern right now was his army. Kendryk made his way back through the troops, who parted before him. He wondered how many of them were already infected, but reckoned it would be best to show no fear. So he smiled at all he passed, several times asking directions to the hospital wagons.

  These sat in a field at a distance from the rest of the baggage train. A few men were putting up a tent since it was easier for the doctors to work if they had space and light. Kendryk walked up to it without hesitating. “Can someone tell me where I might find the chief doctor?”

  “She’ll be at the head cart, talking to that count fellow.” The man doffed his cap, uncertain as to Kendryk’s identity.

  Kendryk saw Faris talking to a short, sturdy woman in white. She turned as he joined them. “Your Grace should put on one of these,” she said without preamble, handing Kendryk a linen mask to tie over his mouth and nose. “It’s not foolproof, but better than nothing.”

  Faris was tying his on.

  “You needn’t come,” Kendryk said. “In fact, I want you to return to camp. I’ll confer with the doctor and send for you later.” He turned back to the doctor and heard Faris leave after a moment’s hesitation. “What’s your name?”

  “Etta Darstel.” Her voice was as weary as her face. “I’m glad you’ve come. I have ideas for treatment, but the orders must come from you.”

  “Tell me.” Kendryk tied on his mask. “But first I want to see the patients.”

  “Are you sure?” Doctor Darstel fastened on her mask as well. “A few are far gone. In most cases, the sickness takes only five days, from first symptoms to death.”

  Kendryk shuddered. “I’d like to see.” That was a lie. He would have given anything to be anywhere else right now. If Teodora had been standing in front of him, he would have surrendered to her without hesitation to spare himself this.

  The doctor led him to the wagon that held the three worst cases. Kendryk had to bite his tongue until it bled to keep from whimpering like a child. Just three days of this sickness and they were no more than yellow skin hanging from their bones, with black splotches covering their bodies. These were beyond all help, the doctor told him, though a fair minority seemed to survive by never getting quite that sick.

  The less severe cases were all being taken into the tent. “The fresh air seems to do them good,” the doctor said. “And it helps to get a break from the jolting of the wagon.”

  Kendryk nodded, feeling hopeful. There seemed to be less than twenty cases of the plague itself. A few remaining patients in the wagons had other illnesses or wounds.

  As they walked back to the front he asked, “How can we stop this?”

  Doctor Darstel sighed. “It’s too late. If we’d been able to quarantine the first few cases, we might have had a chance.”

  “Why wasn’t that done?” Kendryk kept his voice gentle, knowing it was not her fault.

  “No one would give the order. It was several days before you arrived and everyone seemed to think it best to wait.”

  Kendryk shook his head. Everyone included Faris, but also DeGroot, who now lay unconscious in the tent. Kendryk made a point of looking for him. He wondered if Faris had planned to let him know before arriving at Birkenhof with a plague-ridden army.

  “Can we still quarantine?” he asked. “Several of us were exposed just now. What if we stayed apart for a few days until symptoms appear, or not?”

  “If you can spare the time, it might be worth trying.” Her tone was sympathetic. She understood how desperately he needed a solution. “But by now, so many have been exposed, there’s no point.”

  “I understand. All right then. How can I help you? I can’t stop the whole army if a quarantine won’t work, but I can give you more help and find a better place for you to set up a hospital. We can send any new cases back to you.”

  Her face lit up. “That would be helpful. In this fine weather, the tent works well, but this might go on for weeks or months. A roof over our heads would be welcome.”

  “I’ll find one.” He might have to turf a lord out of his manor house, but Kendryk didn’t care.

  He took off his mask. “Thank you for showing me everything and for your honest opinion. I’ll find accommodation and send you further instruction.”

  Kendryk walked back to the front of the column, trying to remember who lived near here. By the time he’d reached Faris, who looked at him warily, he knew. “I have a job for you,” Kendryk said. “I know Baron Torsten has a nice solid house of some size not far from here. Tell him we need to borrow it for a time. He must move out by morning, I’m afraid. Give him gold if he complains.”

  Faris stared at him. “Your Grace, I
don’t understand.”

  “It’s simple. We need a hospital. With proper care, many can survive this plague. We also need a place we can send new patients. The Torsten house should be big enough. I don’t want sick soldiers traveling across the countryside, spreading disease everywhere.”

  “The baron won’t like it.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t like it either, but something has to be done since it’s too late to do what’s easier and more effective.” He let the implicit accusation linger.

  Faris hesitated, then turned away. Kendryk hoped he wouldn’t hear any more about it. He had been too kind all these years, with everyone around him thinking they could do as they pleased.

  While he waited for Faris’s return, he walked to a stand of trees and sank down on the grass in the shade. He needed to pray, and this was the only place he could. A great fir towered over him, large and comforting, as he had always thought of the Father. He was beginning to understand what Landrus had been trying to teach him. He could kill himself trying to do his best, but he had to trust he was on the path the gods had ordained for him. And if that path was wrong, it was too late to change now.

  Janna

  When it was time to sleep, Janna curled up in near the fire. Husbands and wives often put their cloaks together and took advantage of the closeness, judging by the noises. By now it was no use denying she wanted the same, but Janna still couldn’t get over the embarrassing lack of privacy.

  Braeden seemed to have no such worry as he spread the heavy wool blanket over her and lay down next to her while pulling it up over himself. “You’ll have to come closer for this to work.” He slid his arm under her shoulders as she scooted nearer. “I have a draft going up my backside.”

  She giggled and left her head pillowed on his arm. He used his free arm to pull the blanket most of the way over their heads. It got warmer fast.

  “This reminds me of sleeping with my sisters,” Janna said.

  “That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Braeden said, with a laugh.

  “No, no, that’s not what I meant. When I was little, I shared a bed with two of my sisters. We’d pull the covers over our heads so we could talk without disturbing the others. Otherwise, this is very different.” It was, and lovely. She had never even slept like this with her own husband.

  “Tell me about your sisters. How many do you have?”

  “Four, all of them older.”

  “That’s a lot of girls in one house.”

  “Oh, yes. My poor father. He tried to marry us off as fast as he could.”

  “Surely not you, the baby?”

  “Me most of all. By the time I was sixteen, my oldest sister was a widow with two little ones and living with us. The second oldest and her husband still lived there too, while they saved money to buy their own house. It was crowded, to say the least.”

  “So they foisted you off on an old troublemaker.”

  “It wasn’t like that. Dimir was a good match. He had money, a good reputation, a nice house, and he was kind. Back then no one expected he would get involved in radical politics. Still, I didn’t want to do it until I met the children. I fell in love with them right away …” She trailed off, and a tear slid down her nose.

  They were silent for a moment, but she knew he was still awake because his fingers stroked her hair. Tears had run into her mouth, so to distract herself she asked, “Why don’t you tell me how you met the prince?”

  “It’s not a nice story.”

  “Will you tell me anyway? I want to know.” She put her hand against his cheek.

  After a long silence, he sighed then spoke. “I was eight years old, living on the eastern coast of Anglana. My father was a fisherman, and I had two sisters, one older, one younger. My mother worked mending nets, so we ran wild most of the time. One day raiders came, probably from Estenor. My father never even made it to shore. Once they’d killed all the men, they started in on the rest of us.”

  Janna stopped a sob from rising in her throat. “Oh gods.” She stroked his cheek with her finger.

  “They killed my little sister and then my mother after they—well, you know what happens as well as anyone.”

  “In front of you?” She couldn’t stop the tears now.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you bear it?”

  “Because I had to. What else was I going to do? They carried me and my older sister off to their ships, though I never saw her again, either.”

  Now Janna cried, in great gulping sobs. Braeden kept stroking her hair, then wiped her eyes with the corner of the blanket.

  When she could speak again, she said, “It’s too dreadful. You would have been younger than my Anton. He’s almost ten, and oh gods, he saw all of that too. But you survived and did all right.”

  “I did. There’s no need to cry over it now. It was almost thirty years ago and I never think about it. Your boy will be all right too.”

  Janna loved him for his calm assumption that Anton lived, and in that moment she knew her heart was safe. The past still haunted her, but more than anyone, Braeden had helped her realize that her life wasn’t over and she might be happy again. She moved closer, wrapping her arm around his waist and resting her cheek on his chest, feeling his solid bulk protecting her from everything bad. “Now tell me the rest.”

  Braeden wrapped both arms around her. “The raiders sold me to the Novitny estate, which has a huge salt mine. It makes them richer than the Sanovan queen. I never saw the inside of it, and it’s a good thing. I found out later the slaves lasted less than a year, the children maybe six months.”

  “Oh, how could they?”

  “They don’t anymore. At least not like that. It was a terrible waste of money, especially when slaves became scarce and more expensive. So, they were bringing me off the ship with all the others, and the prince and his father were down at the docks. The prince spotted me and decided he wanted me for a pet. He was a stubborn bugger even then and wouldn’t let his father alone until he’d told the overseer to let me go.”

  “How wonderful.”

  “Terrifying more like. I didn’t understand a word they said. The prince’s father looked like a barbarian king and even as a little boy the prince himself looked as fierce as he does today. I thought they would have me for dinner, or worse.”

  “Oh dear.” Janna pictured a small Prince Novitny, braided beard and all. “But they didn’t.”

  “No. The little prince had no brothers or sisters and needed a playmate. I figured it out soon enough and then we were always together. They educated me right alongside him though neither of us learned much; we were more interested in riding horses and playing with swords.”

  “That I can imagine. How very fortunate you were. Unfortunate at first but then something good happened after all.”

  She sensed, rather than saw him nod.

  “That’s how I feel,” she whispered. “Unfortunate because of all of those terrible things that happened since spring, but fortunate now.” Before the tears came again, she tucked her head under his chin and fell asleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

  Gwynneth

  After the foulness of the dungeon, it was a relief to step back into the crisp autumn air. Gwynneth crossed the castle’s little courtyard, enjoying the view of the bright blue sky. She was meeting Duke Evard here because she could force him to leave his men outside the walls. That would be far more difficult at the palace.

  She went into the little library that Landrus had used during his earlier stay. All of his things would be brought here later in the day.

  “He’s here, Your Grace,” Merton said. In spite of Landrus’s public dislike of her, Merton remained her stout supporter, all while never giving up his hero worship of the maximus. Gwynneth admired his flexibility.

  “Send him to me.” She took a seat behind the heavy old desk, the window at her back.

  The duke swept in, stomping up the stairs. “I must protest my men being detained.”

 
; “They’re not being detained, Uncle. I simply don’t want them all crowding in here. It’s a lovely day and they can enjoy it until you return.”

  “You have some nerve, sending for me like this,” the duke huffed.

  “It’s a friendly request from one family member to another.”

  “Family doesn’t kidnap each other.”

  “Depends on the family.” Gwynneth smiled. “I think we are still well-behaved compared to say the Inferraras, or the Martinek clan.” Over the past centuries, members of those families had an alarming tendency to die under suspicious and sometimes violent circumstances. Most recently, it had been the mentally feeble but otherwise healthy emperor who died of an unexplained fever overnight, with Teodora conveniently available for coronation the following day.

  She continued. “I invited you here because I have news that concerns all of us and I will need your help.”

  “It’s not like I can refuse, is it?” the duke grumbled.

  “True. But on to the news. I have received word that the empress is unleashing the Sanova Hussars upon us. They are traveling through Moralta at speed and plan to overrun our eastern border. I’m sure they hope to take Birkenhof and outflank Kendryk before he can meet her in battle.”

  The duke sat up straighter. “You are sure of this?”

  Gwynneth nodded. “I have reliable sources at the Atlona court and one amongst the hussars themselves. Kendryk is making his way south, but all the same, we must do what we can to stop them ourselves. He cannot fight on two fronts.”

  “I agree with you,” the duke said, to Gwynneth’s surprise. He adored all things military and had forgotten for the moment that he wanted nothing to do with her or her plans.

  “Your forces will need to face the hussars. I’m sure they will make short work of our border defenses. I also expect they’ll make short work of your troops, but if we’re clever about it, we may slow them down while minimizing your casualties.”

  “My troops are well-trained,” Evard protested. “I know they can meet the hussars in the field.”