The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “But it’s all right now?” Janna looked into his face anxiously even though he was grinning.

  “More than all right. It’s a surprise, but I love the idea of being a father, having a child with you. Do you suppose it’ll grow up to be a hussar?”

  She smiled up at him. “I don’t see why not. Although I’d wish for more peaceful times, and work.”

  “You’re right,” Braeden said. “Peaceful would be better.”

  “He could still be a splendid horseman,” Janna teased.

  “Oh, I’m hoping for a girl. It’s hard to keep ‘em interested once they turn fourteen, but every now and then you get one like Franca. Wouldn’t that be something?”

  “A girl.” Janna was laughing now. “She’ll have to be very different from me.”

  “You’re turning into a splendid horsewoman yourself.” Braeden started undoing her dress.

  “Adequate perhaps. And that only because Zoltan is splendid.”

  “Was,” Braeden said, sliding her dress down and lifting the hem of her shift. “He’s rather old at this point. Like me.”

  “You’re not old. What are you doing?”

  “Seeing if anything’s there yet.” They both looked at her middle. It didn’t look like she’d gained any weight.

  “I suppose it’s still early for me to get fat.”

  “I can’t wait.” Braeden picked her up and laid her on the cot. “You’ll be very pretty when you’re fat.”

  “Not too fat I hope. Zoltan will complain.”

  “He won’t.” Braeden lay down next to her, and put his hand on her stomach. “He’s used to carrying someone my size, with armor.”

  “True.” She turned toward him. “I’m glad you’re happy about it.”

  “I am. Mostly.”

  “Mostly?” She wondered what the catch was.

  “Completely. But I’m worried, too. Being pregnant and having a baby while we’re at war could be dangerous for you.”

  “Isn’t the war over?”

  “Who knows? The empress is in a strong position, but things change quickly. Just think of how promising Prince Kendryk’s affairs looked a few months ago.”

  Janna shivered and pulled the covers over both of them. “You’re right of course. But there are a lot of other pregnant women about and many who’ve already had children. If they can do it, so can I.” Though she’d never say so, she didn’t look forward to being sick every day while it was so cold and unpleasant on the road. Even inside the tent, she never felt warm until she’d been snuggled up to Braeden under the fur robes for hours.

  “You’re much finer than they are,” Braeden said, stroking her hair. “More delicate. You belong in a nice house, with a doctor close at hand, where it’s warm and dry with plenty to eat. A winter campaign is always miserable.”

  “We’ll be in Atlona for the winter, won’t we?”

  “Depends.” He smiled again. “We can get married there. Maybe you can wear that dress again. If you don’t get too fat in the meantime.”

  “The empress dress?” Janna poked his chest playfully. Both of them remembered the night of Janna’s debut at the palace with some fondness. “But we don’t have to get married if you don’t want to. I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t care about that.”

  “I do,” Braeden said, looking earnest. “You’re a respectable woman and you’re having my child. I want everyone to know you belong to me.”

  “I like belonging to you,” Janna whispered, and blew out the lamp.

  Anton

  “They’re coming,” Anton said. “But I get Orland’s horse.”

  “You’re welcome to it,” Gerd said. “You’d be smart to stay out of the way and let someone more experienced handle him.”

  Anton shrugged. He wasn’t afraid of Count Orland. Not too much, at least. He’d seen him beat a boy with the butt of his pistol for putting on the wrong harness, and the boy still couldn’t eat anything but porridge. Couldn’t talk, either. But Anton was smarter than that, so he didn’t worry.

  Snow had fallen in light flurries all day, and now it was almost dark. Servants were building fires and setting up tents, but Orland and his officers remained mounted, discussing something. After sneaking out of the forest where they’d been hiding from the empress, they were approaching the besieged castle and the count seemed preoccupied.

  For all he liked to talk about women, he clammed up the moment someone mentioned Princess Gwynneth, and made the others shut up too. The other boys said she was very beautiful, so Anton thought the count would want to talk about her more. Maybe he wouldn’t, because he was such great friends with her husband. Anton was disappointed that they hadn’t been able to rescue Prince Kendryk. He didn’t see why they couldn’t fight those Sanova Hussars. When he was a grown man, and a cavalry trooper himself, he’d find a way to beat them.

  Anton edged closer. Part of being smart meant paying attention so you knew what was about to happen before it happened. When the count was ready to dismount, Anton would be there the second he was needed; not a moment too soon or too late.

  “It makes no sense,” Commander Schurtz was saying. “The King of Norovaea’s own daughter. If he lets the empress capture her, he will look like a fool who can’t take care of his family. Bad enough he let the empress have the prince.”

  Orland shrugged. “Word is that King Andres is ill, but Prince Arryk surprises me. I thought he’d be here by now, king or no.”

  “We’ll have to act without him,” someone else said.

  Anton darted forward as Orland dismounted, tossing the reins in Anton’s direction without looking at him.

  “If we can,” Orland said. “I want to count Ensden’s troops, and see how well entrenched they are. I’m not sure what Faris is doing in Zeelund. He’s a resourceful fellow, but I doubt he’ll find the money to rebuild his army.”

  “Maybe he’ll borrow it, like the rest of us.” Schurtz laughed.

  Anton moved as slowly as he dared while holding Cid who had his nose in Anton’s pocket, looking for treats. The officers hadn’t noticed him yet and he wanted to hear more.

  “Can’t imagine those Zeelund bankers extending him much credit,” Orland said. “They used to turn their noses up at me.”

  “But not anymore, eh?”

  “Oh, I have collateral now,” Orland said, and they laughed.

  Anton didn’t know what collateral was, and why it was funny. Then the talk turned to some woman Count Orland knew in Zeelund, and then to the count’s wife. Anton didn’t quite understand what they said, but turned red all the same. He didn’t see why these men were so interested in something boring like women when they had such splendid horses and armor and could fight just about anyone they wanted to.

  Anton liked taking care of Cid, Orland’s enormous, bad-tempered black stallion. There wasn’t much competition for tending him. Anton knew how to handle him, though. So far, he hadn’t met a horse he couldn’t handle.

  Anton got Cid ready early the next morning, but then Orland and his scouts went ahead and there would be no news until they returned. Everyone else camped at a safe distance from the castle, on the other side of the hills that surrounded it. They were very near Ensden’s army, but the freezing weather meant everyone kept to themselves. It was much too cold to pick a fight.

  Snow covered the ground, but underneath it, everything had been burned. They’d had to range far to find fodder for the horses. Anton nearly killed himself running around getting hay and oats from the wagons parked throughout the camp, but at least that kept him warm.

  Orland returned by early afternoon. Anton could see on his face that he was angry, so he stood back. The count leapt off of Cid, and threw his helmet on the ground, letting fly a string of curse words that Anton hadn’t heard before. Which was saying something. The clang of metal on the frozen ground made Cid shy, but Anton was right there to grab him.

  Schurtz dismounted as well. “It’s not impossible,” he said.

 
; “Not impossible,” Orland replied, “But almost. Ensden knows what he’s about and is dug in as well as any I’ve ever seen. We could ride right over them and they wouldn’t budge. And those guns will make mincemeat of us before we get that close.”

  “What will it take?” another officer asked.

  “Another ten thousand at least,” Orland replied.

  “That many?”

  “Well, perhaps a few less. But we need overwhelming numbers against that position. Foot and horse. And artillery. As many guns as we can get.”

  “Where do we get ‘em?” Schurtz asked.

  “I’d hoped for Norovaea, but I won’t wait for them any longer. Tomorrow, we march west. Our best hope now is to recruit whatever friendlies we can from the rest of Kronland. With any luck, Faris will come through sooner rather than later. I’m sick of dealing with this scorched earth. There should be plenty of food to the west, and if they don’t give it up cheap, plenty of plunder as well.”

  Anton liked the sound of that, and smiled as he led Cid away.

  Arryk

  Arryk left the king’s chambers, striding with great purpose until he was out of the wing. Once the double doors closed behind him, he sat on the nearest bench and stared out the window at the snowy garden. Lights glimmered from tall windows across the courtyard, but the pale blue palace walls looked chilly and blank. Arryk sometimes wondered if he was the only person living here who had real, hot blood running in his veins.

  He hoped he’d made it appear that he had a plan, but the truth was, he didn’t. The people around his father were old, cautious, and frightened of shaking the stability and prosperity of Norovaea. It never occurred to them that Norovaea could become far greater. They acted like the affairs of the empire to their south wouldn’t affect them, but Arryk couldn’t believe that Teodora Inferrara’s overreaching didn’t bother anyone here.

  Once the empress vanquished Kronland as she had Moralta and Marjatya, she would turn her gaze north. She needed to be stopped sooner rather than later. Arryk had been so hopeful when Kendryk had taken his surprising stand in the Landrus matter. Arryk considered his brother-in-law a good-hearted fellow, but a light-weight in military matters. So it had been beyond frustrating to watch Kendryk and Gwynneth stand up to the tyrannical empress without being able to help. He was certain Kendryk would have been able to defeat her with his help.

  He needed the support of someone who cared about Gwynneth as much as he did. Arryk stood and made his way down the corridor more slowly. He and his brother shared a wing on the other side of the palace, though they seldom saw each other. Arryk was outdoors all day, every day, while Aksel rarely ventured from his rooms.

  When he approached Aksel’s suite, the outer door stood ajar, so he walked in. His brother was hard at work in his laboratory, standing at a plain wooden table with lamps flickering at each corner. He peered over the rim of his spectacles and said. “Stay there and don’t move until I say so.”

  “Good day to you too.” Arryk grinned.

  “I’m not joking. This compound is highly volatile.” The boy poured a yellowish substance from one beaker into another, looked at it closely, then scrawled something into a book that lay open next to it. “Interesting.” He pushed up the spectacles that had slid down his nose.

  “Boring,” Arryk said.

  Aksel shook his head and clapped lids on a few bottles. “What emergency brings you here?” he asked. “Come, let’s sit.” He took a stack of books from a bench, placed them on the table, and they both sat.

  Arryk handed over the letter.

  Aksel read it quickly, frowning as he went. “Poor Gwynn,” he said. “I hope she’s holding up well.”

  “She’ll be all right. She was always the toughest one of us.”

  “True.” Aksel handed the letter back. “But it’s still hard, and even worse for Kendryk. Clever of Gwynn to keep the castle; perhaps she can make an exchange.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” Arryk snapped. “It’s the last thing she should do, and she won’t. We must relieve her.”

  Aksel raised his eyebrows. “Does Father agree? Or maybe I should ask—can Father agree?”

  “Of course not,” Arryk said impatiently. “He can’t speak, and that idiot Classen is lily-livered as always.”

  “Classen is no idiot. He just doesn’t agree with you.”

  “I don’t need him to agree with me. I need him do his job and let me help our sister.”

  “He won’t.”

  Arryk hated Aksel’s matter-of-fact tone. “He won’t right now. But the two of us can convince him to change his mind.”

  “Classen will listen to me even less.”

  “He can’t ignore the two of us together,” Arryk said.

  “He probably will.”

  “I won’t tolerate it.” He’d never been so frustrated in his life. “Everything he has, he has because of Father. He’s a nobody without him. But we are princes of the blood. Our opinions matter.”

  “No, they don’t. Unless you’re king, no one cares.”

  “I could act on my own.” Arryk wanted to shout at someone, but it shouldn’t be his little brother, even if he was being thick. “If I go, Classen won’t be able to stop me, especially if you support me.”

  “Of course I will support you,” Aksel said. “You should do whatever is necessary to help Gwynn and Kendryk. But that means nothing. I’m not involved in politics, and everyone sees me as a crank, possibly mad. If I speak, no one would pay attention.”

  “I can’t bear this.”

  Aksel sighed. “This is hard, and I’m sure it’s even more awful for you, since you’re the man of action. Do you know what I think?”

  “What do you think?” Arryk slumped against the wall.

  Aksel leaned forward, his light blue eyes intelligent and alert. “Father won’t live much longer; I’m sure of it. And once he’s dead, you can do whatever you think is best. In the meantime, you can prepare. Even if Father gave the order, you couldn’t leave today. You must prepare ships and muster all of the troops. It might take weeks or months to get ready.”

  “So father dies at some point, and then I’ll need ages to prepare.”

  “No. Prepare now. The moment you become king, you’ll be ready to sail for Kronland. Classen can’t stop you from outfitting ships and gathering troops.”

  “I need him to authorize funds,” Arryk said glumly.

  “You have some personal means, don’t you?”

  “Not enough to pay an army.”

  “You don’t have to pay them yet. Do you have enough to hire ships and feed soldiers until they sail?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Find out then. And I’ll give you everything I have if you need it. My income isn’t as large as yours, but I hardly use it. I have a fair amount piled up. You’re welcome to all of it.”

  “You’re a genius, and a very good sort.” Arryk clapped Aksel on the shoulder, and then stood. “I’ll do just that. I’ll have my factor liquidate everything he can, and hire ships. If I need more, I’ll let you know.”

  “Go get our sister,” Aksel said. “I know you can.”

  Kendryk

  A cold wind blew straight into the wagon, slicing through the heat of the fever, and Kendryk wondered if death had come for him. Didn’t the fairytales say that the King of Death and his black horse rode an icy wind? Kendryk shivered, then reminded himself he didn’t believe in fairytales.

  The wagon stopped and someone pulled up the blankets he had thrown off and put something on his head. The wagon moved again and wheels clattered on cobblestones. They were in a city. He tried to think of which one, but had to ask the young man who walked next to the wagon and was charged with guarding him.

  “We’re in the capital, finally,” the man said, his relief obvious.

  “Which capital?” Kendryk still couldn’t get his brain to work right most of the time.

  “Her Highness’s.” The fellow seemed offen
ded. “Atlona.”

  “I’ve always wanted to visit.”

  His guard laughed. “You won’t see much of it I’m afraid. You’re headed straight to the Arnfels. Dungeon, most like.”

  Kendryk felt oddly satisfied at the idea of a dungeon. Surely that would be better than bouncing in a cart all day. With any luck, he’d catch a cold and die before things could get any worse.

  The wagon bumped through the city for an eternity. At some point, it went uphill at a sharp angle, the wind stopped and they came to a halt. Sybila’s voice shouted orders, there was a banging on the wagon and suddenly Kendryk was being carried away from it.

  He wondered where he was, but saw nothing but snow swirling above him and stone walls all around. Next, he was inside. It was dark at first, but then torchlight flared. They carried him up some stairs and put him down.

  Sybila’s face swam into view. “You’ve made it,” she said cheerfully.

  “It seems I have.” It would be rude to die when she had gone to so much trouble to keep him alive. She’d even tried to make sure he wouldn’t be too crippled. He knew there was no point in that, but it was kind of her anyway. “Is this the dungeon?”

  “Oh no.” Sybila laughed. “I doubt you’d survive two nights down there. Dreadful place. No, the empress has given me complete discretion in your care and I intend to take advantage of that. You are inside the Arnfels castle, and heavily guarded, but you won’t go to the dungeon until you are well.”

  “So I can die there?”

  “I hope not.” Sybila’s face disappeared, Kendryk heard footsteps and a door closing. She came back. “I don’t want it put about, but if I can manage it, you’ll never see the inside of that dungeon. There’s a plan afoot to exchange you for someone or other—I can’t give you details of course—but if all goes as it’s supposed to, you’ll be released as soon as you’re well enough to travel.”

  Hope surged in Kendryk’s chest. In the past weeks, he’d begun to recall almost everything. He remembered Gwynneth’s promise to hold the castle and he’d asked if she still did. No one would tell him, but if hope of an exchange remained, perhaps she had succeeded. He prayed that she would not give in.