The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Natalya told him all about his father-in-law’s death and Arryk’s belated invasion. When she told him about Gwynneth’s new-found faith and her support for Edric Maximus, Kendryk nearly came out of his chair. “Now that’s something I never expected. There was something about that in the dream too, but I didn’t understand.”

  “I was surprised too. Gwynneth has always been so practical. But she sent one of your generals, Arian Orland, to take Edric all across Kronland to spread the new faith. Nearly every city in northern Kronland converted peacefully and Orland encouraged the others with a bit of violence. He’s been defeated in the meantime and I’m not sure where he is now. But it no longer matters. The new faith has its own momentum. It’s even infiltrated Brynhild Mattila’s army to the point that Livilla Maxima has had to intervene.”

  Kendryk’s head swam. All was not lost. In fact, it seemed things had carried on well without him. “This is wonderful news,” he said. “Though I understand if you don’t agree. I was so worried I’d ruined everything.”

  “On the contrary.” Natalya smiled. “You set something very important in motion. I had the chance to spend time with Edric Maximus and he’s full of regret for what’s happened to you. He explained about the prophecy and worried he’d made some terrible mistake in interpretation, which caused you to lose everything. But I read over it with him, and I’m sure he’s right. I think it likely you are the ruler that was foreseen. There’s a possibility it’s King Lennart of Estenor, but I don’t know enough about him. Gwynneth is going to see him right now so perhaps we’ll know more soon.”

  “Wait. What? What is Gwynneth doing?”

  “She’s gone to Estenor to treat with Lennart and bring him into the fight on your side. That’s why I spent so much time with Maryna. She and Gwynneth came to Allaux, and from there, Gwynneth left for Zeelund where she took ship for Estenor. I took Maryna back with me and returned her to her Uncle Arryk who’s settling into winter quarters in Fromenberg. It gave me a chance to meet with Edric Maximus on the way. It seems he and Maryna are already great friends.”

  “Yes, she’s always loved him.” Kendryk smiled. “And it seems the lot of you have been very busy. It’s annoying not to be able to help.”

  “I understand. I came here intending to free you, but Teodora and Livilla are too stubborn. Unfortunately, this was the best I could do for now.”

  “It’s enough,” Kendryk said. “I don’t know how to thank you and Gauvain. I hope he didn’t have to give up to much.”

  “He must marry Teodora’s youngest daughter in a few years, but it doesn’t matter to him. It was always going to be a princess he didn’t know. And she’s coming with the Dallmaring Provinces, so Gauvain will be pleased. He’ll be disappointed that I didn’t free you, though I swear to you I tried.”

  “You did brilliantly. I’m amazed Teodora gave up Dallmaring.”

  “It was Livilla. She rather walked all over Teodora, much to my surprise. Something seems to have knocked the stuffing out of her.”

  “Perhaps it’s Arryk sitting so close to her borders.”

  “Maybe. If it were any other woman, I’d say she’s troubled over a man. In any event, she’s not quite herself.”

  “Can’t say I’m sorry.”

  “Well, she might come visit you and take out her bad mood on you. Don’t let her discourage you. She can’t send you back to the dungeon.”

  “She can’t? I confess I’m a little worried she’ll do just that the minute you leave.”

  “Oh no. I’ll be checking on you. You can expect to see someone from the Galladian court or military every few months. They will visit you and make sure all is well. Teodora won’t know who they are or when they’re coming, so she can’t play any games.”

  “You really don’t trust her, do you?” Relief washed over Kendryk.

  “I don’t trust anyone.” Natalya’s beautiful eyes hardened. “It’s bad enough she won’t let you go when there’s no chance she’ll get her hands on Edric now. I refuse to allow her to go back on our deal in the tiniest way.”

  “You are more than a match for her it seems.”

  “I try.”

  Anton

  “This is taking much too long. I must be back in the field before spring, or the war will be over.” Count Orland finished off the tankard and slammed it on the table. He and Anton sat in the kitchen of the Melchor mansion after everyone else had gone to bed. Anton poured more beer for the count and topped off his own mug.

  Anton said nothing and sipped his drink. When the count was in one of these moods, he just wanted to talk.

  “I must get some of that money. It’s maddening. Thousands of gulden pass through the ledgers every day and I can’t get my hands on a single one. There are two more ships coming in this week, weighed down with silk and spices. A fortune right there and I can’t touch it. Their cargo is sold and the money already tucked away in Kamyla’s trusts.”

  “How can the cargo be sold already? I’d want to see what I was buying.”

  “They get letters from the ship’s captains when they first set sail from Indium. It takes months for the ships to arrive and in the meantime everyone here has already decided what they want to buy.”

  “What if the ship sinks? Or pirates attack?”

  “That’s what insurance is for.”

  Anton didn’t understand that. But he thought of something else. “What keeps the captains from just selling everything on the ships before they get here and taking the money for themselves?”

  The count stared at Anton. “It’s a crime, for one thing. They could never come back here again. And I suppose honest sorts wouldn’t even dream of it in the first place.

  Anton wondered if the fact he’d thought of it meant he wasn’t an honest sort.

  “Kronek, I knew you were a genius. You’ve given me the most splendid idea.” The count stood up, swaying a little. “We’re leaving. We’ll take the horses and everything we can carry. I’ll wrap up my affairs, such as they are, and we’ll head out this time tomorrow night. Say your goodbyes to your friends, but don’t tell them where we’re going.”

  “I can’t. I don’t know where we’re going,” Anton said, bewildered, then thought of Gretel and Peter.

  “So much the better. Hey, what’s this? Why the long face?” The count threw back his head and laughed. “It’s that little blonde I’ve seen around the stables, isn’t it? I don’t blame you. At your age, I would have been wild about her too. Well, there’ll be plenty others.”

  “I don’t want any others,” Anton said sullenly. He was excited at the idea of adventure, but leaving Peter and Gretel made his heart hurt just a little. They’d been having so much fun together. Anton had even won a short ice-skating race and Gretel had learned to ride Skandar. He didn’t want all that to end.

  “Of course you don’t. The girl in front of you is always the best one in the world. Until you meet the next one. You’ll see.”

  Anton didn’t believe him. He’d met quite a few girls already and knew for a fact that none were as pretty, or as nice or as funny as Gretel.

  Early the next afternoon, Anton waited near Peter and Gretel’s school. He saw Gretel right after the doors opened. She broke away from a cluster of other blond girls and ran to him.

  “It’s so nice today. Can I ride Skandar again?” she asked. “Peter will come a bit later. He’s helping a friend with his sums. They were learning something dreadfully difficult today.”

  “You can ride Skandar.” Anton tried to keep his tone casual. “But it will be the last time. We’re leaving tonight.”

  Gretel stopped short. “What do you mean? Leaving? Where are you going?”

  “I’m not sure. But the count is ready to get back into the war and I must go with him. He needs to recruit an army and get them ready to go to Kronland by spring.”

  “Why can’t he do that here?”

  “He needs to get horses in Floradias, or even Galladium.”

  “That’s
so far away.” Gretel grabbed his hand, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Anton couldn’t bear to look at her.

  “Do you have to go? Why don’t you just stay here? Surely you can stay with Vrouw Melchor? Or stay with us. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind. We’ll go to school together and you can be a soldier when you’re older.”

  Anton almost gave in. The prospect of being a normal boy, living in a house like the one he grew up in with a family, going to school, being friends with Gretel and Peter stretched ahead of him like a glittering dream. But something inside him poked at him, insisting that would never be his life, much as he might want it. He swallowed it down and said, “I would love that; really, I would. But I can’t. I have to be a soldier.”

  “I don’t understand,” Gretel said, tears running down her plump cheeks. “You don’t have to be a soldier. You can be a merchant. When Peter grows up he’ll take over Papa’s business and you can marry me and become his partner. It would be perfect.”

  “It would.” Anton took one of Gretel’s hands and pulled off the red mitten. Her hand was small, and soft and warm between his. “It would be wonderful. But I don’t know how to explain it. I have to fight. It’s what I was meant to do.”

  “But fight for what? Those princes over there, they’re fighting about the most ridiculous things. Why should you?”

  “Did I ever tell you why the count fights?”

  Gretel shook her head.

  “He fights for love. There’s a beautiful princess he loves and she needs his help. He’s doing all of this for her.”

  That was the right thing to say. Gretel’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and when he wins, will she marry him?”

  “She’s already married to someone else.”

  “Oh, how tragic.” Gretel took her hand back and put it over her heart. “Lovely and hopeless.”

  “It’s not so lovely for the count.”

  “No, I suppose it isn’t. Oh, the poor man. I suppose you must go with him then.”

  Anton was relieved. The crisis had passed. “Let’s go see Skandar. After your ride we’ll meet Peter and you can treat me to one more of those hot chocolates.”

  At the end of the afternoon, Anton wandered slowly with Gretel and Peter back to their house.

  “Wait here,” Gretel said, running inside.

  “You know you’re welcome here anytime, if you want to come back,” Peter said.

  “Thank you.” It was nice to think he might have a safe place to return to.

  “I wish I could come along. It sounds like such excellent fun.”

  “It is, sometimes. But it can be pretty bad too. And boring.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Gretel was back. “Here, take this.” She took Anton’s hand and slid something into his palm. It was a locket on a fine gold chain. The locket was of cream porcelain with a “G” in a fancy blue script. “Open it,” Gretel said. “Give me your pocket knife, Peter.”

  Anton hoped she wasn’t going to cut herself, but she took the little knife and sawed a bit of hair from the end of her braid. She laid it into the locket, where it curled, soft and golden. Anton bit his lip. Crying in front of her would be the worst.

  “Please don’t forget about me,” she whispered, tears running out of her eyes.

  “I couldn’t. Never,” Anton managed, without his voice shaking too much.

  Peter shook his hand and then Gretel threw her arms around his neck and cried all over the front of his doublet. Anton supposed that was what the count meant when he talked about women carrying on and he couldn’t see anything bad about it. Maybe it only was bad with the wrong woman.

  But once he’d said goodbye, Anton turned his mind to the adventure ahead. He didn’t know what the count had in mind, except that it would be illegal. It was hard to sit through dinner and pretend like everything was normal. Fortunately, the count was good at just that kind of thing; talking, laughing, and winking at his wife until she blushed. Her red face looked funny under the paint and powder, but Anton felt a little sorry for her.

  At bedtime, Anton went to his room and put on all of his warmest clothes in layers. Then he packed the rest in fine leather saddlebags that Vrouw Melchor had given him for his twelfth birthday.

  The count had laughed. “I thought you’d be at least fourteen by now. Lied about your age, did you?”

  Anton shrugged. “Didn’t want anyone to stop me from fighting because I was too young.”

  “Quite right. Some folk have the strangest ideas about how old you should be to fight. I say you’re old enough when you feel like it, and are big enough to manage a weapon. And you’ve done well so far.” The count had added a little bag of silver as a birthday present. If he’d had more time Anton would have bought Gretel a trinket to remember him by.

  After Anton finished packing, he looked at the locket in his hand for a long time, opened it and ran his fingers over the lock of hair. After closing it, he hung it around his neck. He didn’t care who saw.

  The count spotted it right away. Anton thought he would make a joke, but his face turned serious. “I’m sorry to take you away from your friends. But it would have ended in tears sooner or later. I wasn’t much older than you the first time I really liked a girl and I hated leaving her. But these little romances never work out, especially at your age. Don’t worry, we’ll be so busy you won’t have to think about her for long. Here, fill your pockets with these.” He tossed some small velvet bags at Anton. When he peeked inside, he saw the glitter of jewels.

  “Just a few souvenirs. She can always get more,” the count said.

  “Isn’t that stealing?”

  “Not really. I’m her husband. And what we’re about to do is far worse. We can’t get caught.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Let’s get out of the city and onto the road. Then I’ll tell you.”

  Janna

  Even though Janna’s life was easier, this pregnancy was harder. Perhaps it was because she had a little one to look after as well. Or maybe it was the awful weather. Or that she missed Braeden so much it hurt. She couldn’t fault the accommodations. She’d never lived anywhere so comfortable with so many servants.

  Perhaps she was bored. There wasn’t much to do by way of work, and with the army she had been used to seeing new places almost every day. Here, she rarely went out.

  In her first weeks here, she’d taken the time to explore the area around her house. It was pleasant enough, reminding her a great deal of Kaleva. She even went to the market a few times and helped the cook pick out the day’s food. But now it rained every day and when it didn’t she felt too large and cumbersome to waddle up and down stairs and streets.

  Doctor Marsel looked in on her every fortnight. She didn’t like him quite like she did Doctor Toure, but he knew his business and his dry competence somehow always put her at ease.

  So she couldn’t explain her unease. Iryna was thriving, though she must have asked for her father at least ten times a day. Janna hoped her own anxieties would lessen after a while, but they never did.

  She occupied herself in sewing and knitting things for the baby and writing to Braeden. There just wasn’t much to write about. She supposed it was good that not much happened, and she’d be busy enough once the baby was born.

  Braeden wrote back from time to time, though it was clear it wasn’t something he was comfortable with. None of his personality and bluff wit came through at all, and it didn’t help that his letters, short as they were, were littered with Franca’s corrections. Those at least made Janna laugh. Franca wrote no better than Braeden, but clearly thought she did. He clearly thought she did too.

  “Here she is.”

  Janna looked up as the study door opened and Birgid came in, carrying Iryna. Iryna could walk well by now, but both Janna and Birgid were terrified of her falling down the house’s steep stairs, so they still carried her much of the time.

  “Early, isn’t it?” Janna reached fo
r Iryna and Birgid handed her over. “Stay, if you can. We can have a cup of tea.” She was probably too informal with the servants, but she like Birgid in particular and was dying for someone to talk to.

  “The little one slept well, but once she woke up, she was awake. And then nothing would do but we’d come see Mama.”

  “I don’t mind.” Janna cuddled Iryna close, who was already squirming to be put down. “Oh, all right.” She put her on the floor and Iryna ran to get a rag doll she had left behind a table. She rang the bell for the maid and ordered tea and some cakes.

  “How are you doing today, ma’am?” Birgid asked.

  “Well enough. Mostly bored.”

  “It’s good for you to get some rest. We’re all tired of this weather I daresay, and now that all the soldiers have gone the whole town seems dull.”

  “I don’t mind that kind of dull.” Janna had never even hinted at her disastrous time after the fall of Kaleva. “I just wish I had more to do.”

  “You need a few friends your own age,” Birgid said wisely. “Other young women with babies you can talk to.”

  “That was one of the nice things about camp.” Janna thought of Nisa Retter and wondered how she was doing. “There were so many other women with small children.”

  “Hmph,” Birgid said. “I can’t think that’s a good place for a fine young lady like you to spend time. Not the right kind of people at all.” Birgid made no secret of the fact she found a military camp an appalling place and terrible for a family.

  Janna smiled. “Oh, you’d be surprised. Some of the officers are quite cultured and their wives come from good families.”

  “If you say so, though I can’t imagine those families approving of that life, if they knew what it was like.”

  “I’m sure some wouldn’t. But a great many do. Until I met my husband I would never have dreamed of it either.”

  “Well, your husband is a good enough sort.” Birgid paused as a maid brought tea in and poured a cup for Janna and one for herself. Then she gave Iryna a hard biscuit to chew on and settled back into her chair. “Though I must confess he frightened me terribly the first time I saw him. Such a rough-looking fellow. But he’s mannerly enough and so gentle with you and the little one. It’s a pleasure to watch.”