The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Someone had built a fire and the room seemed pleasant. He didn’t mind staying here. He would spend the rest of his life in this place if it meant his family and Edric Maximus were safe. A tear leaked from one eye and he blinked back the rest, mortified.

  Sybila misunderstood. “I don’t want to give you false hope, but I think a little bit will help you. I hope it will be easier for you to heal if you have something to look forward to.”

  Kendryk nodded, then closed his eyes. There was nothing to look forward to.

  Gwynneth

  The bombardment continued until morning. Only the children slept. It was uncomfortable in the cellar, but the racket outside was more unnerving. When it ended, Gwynneth waited another hour before leaving the cellar to see what was happening. Across the river the gun emplacements were quiet and the smoke had blown away. Merton came up next to her and handed her a glass. She looked at each piece in turn. There were no crews to be seen. It was bitterly cold and had been colder during the night.

  “No doubt they’re huddled around campfires, trying to thaw out,” Gwynneth said.

  “Perhaps they’ve used up all their shot,” Merton said.

  “I hope so. They will send for more, but that might take weeks. I think it’s all right to come out, but give the order that everyone is to stay vigilant and indoors as much as possible.”

  Once everyone was out of the cellar, Gwynneth took to her chamber. She was so tired and cold. It hadn’t been too difficult to put on a brave and cheerful face, since she was confident they would not be hurt, but the long sleepless night had worn on her.

  Someone had built a fire in her room so she kicked off her slippers and slid into the cold bed with her clothes on. She was dozing off when her maid Catrin bustled in and put another blanket over her. Gwynneth kept her eyes shut and soon fell asleep. She woke up a few hours later with a mouth like cotton and a pounding head.

  When Catrin reappeared, Gwynneth asked for food. A tray of bread and stewed meat came in due course and Gwynneth forced herself to eat half of it, then laid down again and drifted off, wondering vaguely what the children were doing.

  She woke up nauseous and vomited into her chamber pot. Catrin came running, but Gwynneth was sick until she was sure there couldn’t be anything left in her stomach. “Don’t let the children near me.” She panted, wondering what sort of plague she could have picked up while living in such isolation.

  After more rest, she felt better. She doubted she was terribly ill, and she ought to show herself. Gwynneth worried that if she disappeared for any length of time the others might lose heart.

  She slept well that night, but was ill again the next morning. By noon she knew what was wrong. She dragged herself out and went in search of the children. Andres was playing with the nurse, while Devyn chased the carpenter’s daughter all over the castle in some kind of game. “Where is Maryna?” she asked the nurse.

  “Gone up to see the Maximus.”

  Gwynneth had to smile. Maryna was so like her father and fascinated by what Edric Maximus was doing. For a five-year-old, she was very devout and understood more about the gods than most adults.

  She made her way up the winding stairs to the study. It was dark, the window closed against the chill wind, but a fire burned in the grate and a few lamps stood on the tables. Gwynneth paused in the doorway looking at Maryna’s curly blond head bent over a large book, with Edric next to her.

  “You know that word,” he said. “It was in the last sentence.”

  “It’s beauty, isn’t it?” Maryna asked, excited.

  “Exactly. But it has a different ending because of the case. Do you see?”

  “Yes.” Her curls bobbed. “It’s very hard, though.” She made a face, then saw Gwynneth. “There you are, Mama. Are you better now?”

  “I am.” Gwynneth smiled and crossed the room to plant a kiss on her daughter’s head.

  “I hope it’s all right she’s here,” Edric said. “She’s so interested, and very intelligent.”

  “Just like her father.” Gwynneth felt suddenly wistful. She missed Kendryk so much it was almost unbearable. “It’s fine, though her nurse will be coming for her. It’s time for a bath.”

  “Will you come back tomorrow?” Edric smiled down at her.

  Maryna nodded happily. Her nurse appeared in the doorway.

  “Might I speak with you for a moment, Your Grace?” Edric asked.

  Gwynneth handed Maryna off, then closed the door behind her. “What is it?”

  “I heard you were ill, and was concerned.”

  “Oh, it turned out to be nothing.”

  “If I may be so bold Princess, I have an idea what it might be.”

  Gwynneth raised an eyebrow. “Why am I not surprised.”

  “So, I’m correct in assuming you are pregnant?”

  Gwynneth stared. It seemed impossible to keep any secrets from him. Finally, she said, “I’d prefer not to tell everyone right away. Just in case something happens.”

  “Of course. I would offer congratulations, but I’m not sure …”

  “You may,” Gwynneth said. “And I’m sure it’s Kendryk’s.”

  “You are?”

  “You are unbelievably insolent.” She paused and took a deep breath. She already knew it did no good to lose her temper with him. “And yes, I’m sure. I needn’t explain myself to you, so I won’t be sharing any details.”

  “No, no of course not. I meant no offense.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.”

  Edric sighed. “You always assume the worst of me, I’m afraid. I only have your best interests at heart.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe that.”

  “I hope you will come to realize it in time. But you must believe I care a great deal about your husband.”

  “That’s the only reason I haven’t turned you over to the empress, though I confess that the more I miss him, the more tempted I am.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’m tempted myself.”

  Gwynneth sat down as a wave of fatigue washed over her.

  “Are you all right, Your Grace?”

  “Yes. But I don’t know how much longer I can bear it. I can’t sleep for wondering what’s happening to him, what awful things that woman might do to him.”

  Edric came around the desk and sat across from her. “I know you don’t believe, Princess, but we must trust in the gods. That faith will sustain Kendryk through everything and will help you as well.”

  “I wish I could, Maximus, since I’m sure it would be comforting.”

  “I pray that you do. And I will never stop praying for a miracle that will return your husband to you and the children.”

  “Thank you for that at least.” Gwynneth stood. “While you’re at it, please pray for another miracle that sends my brother here.”

  Anton

  Even though hundreds of wagons had gone before him, Anton was scared. He did his best not to show it, set his jaw and hoped no one noticed his white knuckles. He was leading two spare mounts across an ice-covered river into Brandana, and the horses didn’t like it any more than he did.

  Count Orland ordered everyone spread out in all directions so the ice didn’t carry too much weight in any one place. The danger of being attacked during such a crossing was high, but there’d been no reports of enemy forces in the area.

  “Brandana should be friendly,” Gerd said. He’d crossed the kingdom several times already, traveling from Lantura to Zeelund and back with Ossian Schurtz’s troops. “Princess Floreta is a great friend of Prince Kendryk’s.” He made it sound like he knew all of these people personally, although Anton doubted he’d ever so much as seen them at a distance.

  But Anton kept his mouth shut. Gerd was a good source of information, as long as you sorted out the lies, which was easy enough.

  “Do you think she’ll give Count Orland the troops he needs?”

  “She’d better,” Gerd said, as they stepped onto solid ground. Anton almost sighe
d with relief, but stopped himself and kept walking along as casually as if they’d been on a road all along.

  “What do you mean?” Anton asked. “What if she says no?”

  “Then I imagine the count will have to burn things. He’ll start with a few villages, somewhere the princess can see them. If she doesn’t give in, he’ll plunder a larger town, hopefully a rich one.”

  “She won’t like that,” Anton said.

  “Of course not. But it’s the fastest way to get her to help. She’ll do anything to make it stop.”

  They were both quiet for a while. The path up the riverbank was steep, and the ground uneven until they reached the road. Even though he’d become much tougher, Anton was out of breath, and his feet hurt. His old shoes had fallen apart, so he had taken the boots off a dead soldier not far from the Birkenfels battlefield. Poking around amongst the corpses, he thought of the woman they’d met the first day out of Kaleva, and how shocked his mother had been that she would steal from the dead. Much as he missed his mother, Anton was glad she’d never find out he’d become one of those people.

  At first, Anton was happy to see snow-covered fields and cozy farmsteads with smoke rising from stone chimneys. There was ample hay here, and Count Orland was offering good coin for it. Anton supposed he would try to stay on the princess’s friendly side. It was a relief to have fodder so handy, after so much scrounging in Terragand.

  On the second day, they reached a crossroads, and then everything changed. The land was as devastated as it was in Terragand. Worse, there were dead bodies everywhere. Here, the people hadn’t had a chance to find safety in the castles and towns. Most had been slaughtered where they stood. Anton wondered who’d do such a thing, remembering the Kronek farm.

  “We’ll find the princess tomorrow,” Gerd said. “She might know.”

  The next day, they traveled through a huge, dark forest. Great, bushy fir trees grew close in on the road and the count ordered everyone on high alert in case of ambush. Anton peered into the trees until his eyes crossed; it seemed impossible that anyone could get through those branches without making a huge racket. But he was nervous all the same, since he hated being exposed on the road like this.

  It was late afternoon when the woods opened up and a great castle appeared in the distance. It had four black towers that rose high above the treetops and tall black walls disappeared into the trees on either side.

  Gerd came running from the front of the column. “Come with me,” he gasped, grabbing Anton by the arm. “Princess Floreta is in that castle and you need to help with Cid while the count gets ready to pay her a visit.”

  Anton was glad once again that no one else wanted to take care of Cid and took him to get water while Count Orland and his officers changed into their parade armor. It was said the old princess had a weakness for good-looking men, and no one could deny the count cut a fine figure in his black armor inlaid with gold. Anton also noticed that Commander Schurtz wasn’t going. He wasn’t good-looking at all, and his manners were terrible. The old princess wouldn’t like him.

  Anton and Gerd helped the count into his saddle because his armor was so heavy. Cid stamped and snorted, not liking the extra weight, but the count gave him the spurs and they trotted into the distance. Anton hoped it wouldn’t take too long.

  Gerd assured him it would. “She’ll probably have him stay to dine,” he said.

  “In that armor?”

  “He can take it off.” Gerd smirked. “The old bird would like that. No doubt he’ll have to use some sweet words with her.”

  “Ugh.” Anton hated the idea of flirting with anyone, especially a wrinkled old noblewoman.

  “He’s good at it,” Gerd said. “Lots of practice.”

  “Ugh,” Anton said again.

  The count returned long before sundown. He was in a fine mood, even tossing Anton a copper along with Cid’s reins. That was good. He hoped to find woolen socks to buy, since his boots were too big. Then Anton loitered behind the men in case he heard something interesting.

  “We’re in luck,” the count said. “The old lady is desperate for help. We’ll have all the fodder and supplies we need.”

  “Any idea who did this?” Schurtz asked. “They say Barela went west after the battle, but this isn’t his style.”

  “It’s not Barela,” the count said. “It’s Tomescu.”

  Anton drew his breath in sharply.

  “Who?” someone else asked.

  “That woman, friend of the empress. Everyone says she’s part wolf, though I doubt it.” The count laughed. “Though according to rumor, she has the most unnerving eyes. Hope I get to see them for myself someday.”

  Gerd looked at Anton. “Know her?”

  Anton swallowed hard. “I think I’ve seen her. In Moralta.” It seemed so long ago, but the fear came rushing back like it had happened yesterday.

  Gerd looked put out. He hated it when someone knew something he didn’t. “Did she look like a wolf?”

  “Not exactly. Though she had these strange animal eyes and I could swear she was sniffing the air the way a dog does when it’s on the trail of something.”

  Gerd stared. “Whose trail was she on?”

  “Mine, I think,” Anton said. He’d tried very hard to forget all about that awful day.

  “Did she find you?”

  “I think she knew I was there, but she didn’t do anything. Obviously, or I would be dead.”

  “I wonder why she left you alone?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t want to talk about it,” Anton said, turning his head away so Gerd wouldn’t see the tears that welled up suddenly. He pretended to adjust something on Cid’s harness.

  “Have it your way.” Gerd shrugged, then talked about what they might have for supper all the way back to the horse lines. He’d probably like it if no one else found out about Anton’s brush with that woman.

  Anton hoped they found her and killed her. He wished he could do it himself after what she’d done to his little sister. Even though he wasn’t yet a good enough fighter to take her on himself, he liked being part of such a large, strong force. No matter what happened, Anton swore to himself that he’d never again be weak and helpless and scared like he’d been back then. He didn’t care what it took.

  Arryk

  “Will those be enough?” Larisa asked, the wind yanking her hair out of its braid and whipping it around her face.

  “They’ll have to be,” Arryk said. They stood at the Arenberg docks where Arryk was overseeing the preparations of his invasion fleet. An icy wind drove sleet into his face, but those working on the ships had to carry on in spite of the weather. Arryk needed to set a good example.

  As usual, Larisa didn’t seem to notice the terrible weather. “It doesn’t seem like those are enough ships to hold so many troops.”

  “I’ll find more somehow, though it’ll take time and a lot more money.”

  “Your poor sister.” Larisa stared at the water. “It would make me crazy, not being able to fight.”

  Arryk looked at her sideways. He loved looking at her though he tried to be circumspect in public. “But Gwynn isn’t a soldier like you. I’m sure she’s bored, being cooped up in a castle, but she’ll pass the time reading and discussing philosophy most like.”

  “Ugh,” Larisa said.

  “She got that from grandmother. Aksel did too. I’m the only one who’s not a scholar.”

  “Thank Ercos for that,” Larisa said, punching his arm. “I would never let a scholar into my bed.”

  “It’s my bed I’ve been letting you into lately,” Arryk said, feeling warmer at the thought.

  “Only because a palace is better than a barracks. What will we do on campaign?”

  “You’ll lodge near me wherever we are. You’re one of my senior officers, so it makes sense.”

  “It does. I’ll be able to advise you at all hours of the night.” She threw him a smile and he nearly went weak in the knees.

  He had promi
sed himself he wouldn’t fall in love, but it was too late. It had been too late the moment he met Larisa Karsten, the top pupil at the Arenberg military academy. All of the male cadets had been in love with her, and a fair number of the girls as well. She looked a veritable goddess of battle; nearly as tall as Arryk, slim and strong, with blond hair in a braid to her waist, bright blue eyes and a rosy complexion that turned golden brown in the sun.

  She’d bested him the first time they sparred with swords, and from the moment she had him on the ground, a blunted steel tip at his throat, he couldn’t think of anyone else. He even stopped visiting a certain Arenberg actress and ignored his father when he tried to bring up princesses suitable for marriage.

  It had taken months, but one night when they were on training maneuvers on the northern islands, she had crawled into his bedroll. That had been nearly two years ago and they had spent all but a handful of nights together since. For all that, she never let on how she really felt and it frustrated him.

  “Why so grim?” Larisa asked. “You’ll figure something out, I’m sure.”

  “I hope so. The problem is, I can’t get all the ships I need to carry enough troops down the river to Birkenfels. I need to bring at least fifteen thousand soldiers and the ships must be able to navigate the river so I can’t take anything very big. I don’t know how I’ll do it in less than a year.”

  “That’s much too long. Won’t your sister run out of food by then?”

  “Probably,” Arryk said miserably. “I also don’t see how I can launch a surprise attack from the river.”

  “You can’t.” Larisa was as blunt as ever. “Count Ensden is experienced enough that he’ll be watching the river.” She turned and looked at a large merchantman being unloaded. “That one alone could carry hundreds of troops.”

  “I wish,” Arryk said. “But even if she could run the river, I can’t afford more than a few ships that size.”