The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “Thank you,” he said, unsure of how to respond.

  “I must go,” she said, standing.

  Kendryk rose with her.

  She took his hand, the one that wasn’t holding the dagger still awkwardly wrapped in his cloak. “Be ready,” she said. “And give my love to the king when you see him.”

  “All right,” Kendryk said, still feeling puzzled, and then she was gone.

  Karil hurried over while the guards gawked after her. “Who was that?” His eyes were wide. “Was she a princess? She was very beautiful.”

  “I’m not sure,” Kendryk said. “But she gave me this.” He showed Karil the hilt of the dagger, taking care to turn his back to the guards. “She says I’m about to be rescued, or assassinated.”

  “Doesn’t she know which?”

  “Seems not.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Yes. I suppose if I’m not rescued soon, I might be killed. Or perhaps I’ll be killed before I can be rescued.” It felt to Kendryk like he was talking about someone else.

  “That mustn’t happen.” Karil’s expression was grim. “I will watch over you when you sleep, and I’ll hold that thing. I know how to use it.”

  “No,” Kendryk said, shaking his head. “It’s too risky. Whoever is after me, you should stay out of it. Although …” He came to a sudden stop. “If someone is going to rescue me, I’ll make sure they take you along.”

  “Oh, please do,” Karil said. “I’d do anything to get out of here.”

  “So would I,” Kendryk said, a sudden vision of Gwynneth and the children before him. He hardly dared hope. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could pull it off. But he had to pretend it was possible so he’d stay alive long enough for them to get to him.

  “Do you know who might come?” Karil asked. They stayed away from the guards and kept their voices low. The guards were still busy talking about Brytta.

  “No idea,” Kendryk said, “though I suspect they might work for my friend, the king of Galladium.”

  “It must be good to have a king as a friend,” Karil said.

  Braeden

  Braeden wondered if he was spending too much time in Atlona taverns, though it seemed to be part of Barela’s plan to keep him busy. They spent the days hunting in the woods outside the city no matter how terrible the weather, and the evenings drinking and playing cards. It reminded Braeden of his life before Janna, and he wasn’t interested in returning to it.

  Sometimes Barela was called to the palace, but he joined Braeden as often as he could. One evening, he found Braeden at his card game much later than usual, then walked him back to the rooms he had taken in a nearby inn. “Teodora knows you’re in the city,” he said, once he made sure no one was around to hear.

  “I haven’t been trying to hide.” Braeden wondered if he should be worried.

  “She wanted to invite you to the palace, but I said you were in mourning and weren’t going out.”

  “Why? It might have been the perfect opportunity for me to get close to her.”

  “No better than the opportunity I get most evenings.” Barela paused in the street, looked around to make sure it was still empty, but dropped his voice anyway. “Listen, we’ve decided we’ll do this in a way we might all survive, and rescue Prince Kendryk while we’re at it. Slaughtering the empress in her rooms or at dinner won’t accomplish that.”

  “I could do it,” Braeden said. “And you can rescue the prince in the confusion afterwards. I don’t care if I get away.”

  “That’s what you think right now. But someday, you might be glad to be alive again. And some of us like having you around,” Barela said, giving Braeden an affectionate punch in the arm. “Besides, Brytta told me that Livilla has a plan in place should anything happen to Teodora while she’s in the city. The moment Livilla hears of her death, she will order the city shut up tight. No one will get out while Livilla assumes the regency on behalf of the Archduchess Elektra. Nothing will change and the prince won’t escape. No, the plan you and Arian Orland came up with is much better and will give Brytta a chance to see to her own employer’s interests.”

  “Don’t you wonder what those are?” Braeden didn’t care what happened once Teodora was dead, but was still amazed at the responsibility Brytta carried.

  “I’d rather not know,” Barela said as they stopped near Braeden’s inn. “I suspect they are not in Maladena’s interests and with more information I’ll be forced to act. My priority right now is Teodora.”

  But there was a hitch. “Brytta is gone,” Barela said two days later, a mere three before they were to set the plan in motion. He and Braeden were riding in the woods again, followed at some distance by Barela’s guards.

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “I mean, she’s not there. She’s usually at Teodora’s side, and now she’s not. She comes in the mornings when I leave, but today she didn’t and she wasn’t there last night either.”

  “Did Teodora say anything?”

  “No, though I’m not sure she would.”

  “Maybe she’s sick.”

  “I doubt it. Not right now. There’s too much at stake.” Barela pulled his horse to a stop and looked around a bit furtively. “What if Teodora knows?”

  “Surely she wouldn’t. You weren’t followed, were you?”

  “I’m sure we weren’t, though I don’t know how careful Brytta has been.”

  “Even if she’s been careful, there are many ways this can go wrong. Perhaps the two of you were overheard accidentally. Or the two of us.”

  “Gods, I hope not.” Barela’s horse started moving through the foggy woods. “Should we call it off until we’re sure?”

  “We can’t. Orland is nearby now and we have no way to warn him.” Braeden had wondered if they’d see any sign of Orland in these woods by now, but they were silent except for the occasional dripping of moisture from the trees’ bare branches. He sighed. “Perhaps we should put our other plan in motion.”

  “That’s a good idea. We can hope it’s a false alarm but it doesn’t hurt to be ready. You can use one of my messengers.”

  Barela reported that Brytta had returned by the next morning. “I asked her what had happened and she said she had taken ill.” He frowned. “I’m not convinced. She wasn’t herself.”

  Braeden wasn’t about to mistrust the instincts of such a famous soldier. “I’ll send the message and hope the boy keeps his wits about him.” He was surprised that Orland trusted Anton to such an extent. He seemed bright enough, but he was still so young. And Braeden had to admit, he was worried. This was Janna’s son, and he felt a certain responsibility to keep him from harm, even though Anton didn’t seem to expect anything from him.

  Braeden wrote the message and used the cipher Orland had given him. He hoped no one in Teodora’s court knew it. He also hoped the messenger was trustworthy—a Maladene girl attached to Barela’s headquarters. There were far too many people involved to make Braeden feel very comfortable. But if Anton followed orders, they’d have a way to escape, no matter what happened.

  Anton

  Once Anton hired the ship, there wasn’t much to do but wait. Fortunately, the port was an interesting place, swarming with people from all over the world. Anton enjoyed himself in other ways as well. The serving girl at the inn where he stayed always saw that he got the best of everything and even hinted that she’d like to spend time with him in private.

  “Don’t get a big head, young fellow.” One of the other men laughed after she’d brought him an ale he hadn’t even asked for. “She can see you’ve got money and that always brings the girls running.”

  “I didn’t think it was my pretty face.” Anton grinned as he downed another ale. He was joking, but privately reckoned he didn’t look too bad. He wasn’t handsome like the count, but he’d learned it wasn’t looks so much as manner that made the girls stare at you.

  Anton let his hair grow into his eyes so he could fling it out of the way while fixing hi
s gaze on any pretty woman he chose. He also had a dimple that showed up if he smiled kind of crookedly and he liked to think that smile had become his trademark. He’d practiced it in the mirror when he was alone, and it seemed to work well enough.

  Not that he had much experience. To be truthful, he’d never so much as kissed a girl. The one time a tavern wench had landed in his lap, the count made her get back up, which made Anton mad.

  “I’m not too young,” he insisted.

  “You’re right,” the count said mildly. “But you haven’t learned how to handle this sort. A sweet girl who really likes you is one thing. But these girls—” He swatted the lass on her ample bottom and she bustled off, giggling. “They’re dangerous if you’re inexperienced, which you are.”

  “Then I should become experienced.”

  “You will, but there’s no hurry. Just remember that girls who work in these places aren’t always honest and they’ll treat a fellow with money better. It’s not because they’ve suddenly fallen in love with you.”

  Anton snorted. Of course he didn’t believe that. But it was stupid advice coming from the count, since women fell in love with him whether he had money or not.

  But now the count wasn’t here, and Anton had time. The other fellows talked of visiting a certain place in town, but refused to take Anton along. Anton knew exactly what went on there, and figured he should get that experience sooner or later. But he couldn’t even bribe them because the count had warned them not to and they were scared of him. Sometimes the count was worse than a mother.

  After they’d gone he sat at the table alone and stared glumly into his mug. He didn’t feel like getting drunk, but it seemed he had no choice.

  “Why are you so sad?” someone with a Maladene accent asked.

  Anton looked up. A young woman slid onto the bench across from him. Messenger, it seemed. The port swarmed with them, bringing news to and from all of the ships.

  “I’m not sad,” Anton said, finishing his drink. “I was just thinking.”

  The girl laughed. “Well, you seem sad. But you’re lucky; I’m taking pity on you and buying your next drink.” She waved at the serving girl, who slouched over, glowering at her. Anton was pleased to be the object of jealousy and offered the messenger his special smile.

  “I’m Lora,” she said, downing half her large mug in one long gulp. Anton stared, impressed.

  “Anton,” he said. “Where are you headed?”

  “Right here. And it turns out I have a message for you. It’s addressed to an Anton Kronek, so I assume that’s you.”

  “A message for me?”

  “Don’t look so surprised.” Lora reached into her bag and Anton took the opportunity to gawk. She was very pretty. Dark-haired, flushed and windblown from the road. He always wondered how girls like her managed out there by themselves. They had to be both fast and smart.

  “Where’s it from?”

  “Atlona.” She pulled out a single sheet and passed it to him across the table. “They wouldn’t say who it was from except that you would know and you should use the cipher.”

  So it was about the plan. Anton’s hands shook a little. “Who do you work for?” he asked.

  “General Barela.”

  Anton breathed out, relieved. “Do you work for him personally or are you hired on?” He wondered if she knew anything about the plan.

  “You ought to read that instead of asking stupid questions. I’m sure it’s important since they paid me double to get here fast.”

  “I will.” Anton stood reluctantly. He had to get the cipher from his room to read the note but didn’t want to leave her here. Some other fellow would move in quickly.

  She waved a hand. “I’ll be here when you get back. I’m to wait in case you need to send a message back at some point. They thought you might not need to reply to this one right away.”

  That didn’t sound good. Anton dashed up the stairs to his room and found the cipher. He took only a few minutes to decode the message. His heart fell into his boots. She had been right; he didn’t need to send a reply right now, but what he had to do instead was much harder. He came back downstairs more slowly.

  “Are you all right?” Lora asked.

  “I’m going to need your help,” Anton said. “I have to find someone who’s good with explosives.”

  Braeden

  Now that Braeden had to worry about what might have happened to Brytta, waiting was even harder. Fortunately, Arian Orland appeared right on schedule, sending the whole city into an uproar. As expected, Teodora mobilized all the forces inside the walls.

  But there was a problem. “Teodora insists that you join us,” Barela said, strapping on what armor he could manage on his own. Braeden helped him with the rest. They didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing them, even a page.

  “I can’t.” Braeden tried to think and not panic. This was different than going into battle and he didn’t like the feeling. “The orders that Brytta drew up for the Arnfels are for me alone. Even if she had time to change them, there isn’t anyone else who can do it.”

  “I know. You must play along and then leave as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll go get armored up. Does Orland look plausible out there?”

  “Good enough. He’s arranged around the hills and hidden in the trees, so it’s hard to get his exact numbers. I told Teodora he would have more than five thousand, so she wants to bring everyone, just to be safe.”

  At least that was going according to plan. “I can get most of the guards at the Arnfels out of there for a little while. I should be able to handle the rest, though I need to make sure they don’t kill Kendryk first.” Brytta had seemed particularly anxious about that possibility, though she wouldn’t say why.

  “Yes, that would put a damper on things.”

  Braeden wore lighter armor than usual and hoped Teodora wouldn’t notice. It took a maddeningly long time to gather the troops inside the city. As they formed up to leave on the palace parade ground, he joined Barela at the head of the Maladene force, then nodded at Teodora when she saw him. He stayed in her line of sight as they approached the gates.

  Once through, she and her guard pulled ahead and Barela followed. He turned one last time and waved at Braeden. If all went well they would see each other again someday.

  Braeden spurred Kazmir toward the Arnfels. It all depended on speed now. Orland wouldn’t be able to hold them off for long, so Barela would have to act quickly. But even if one part of the plan failed, the other might succeed.

  Brytta waited for him in an alleyway near the base of the hill, the hood of her cloak pulled up even though the day was warm. She had the papers ready, along with a map she had drawn to show Braeden where to find the prince.

  Braeden grabbed her hand. “You must come with us,” he said. “You can’t risk falling into Teodora’s hands.”

  “I trust General Barela will succeed.” She smiled weakly. “I must stay. When Teodora dies, I will have to prevent Livilla from grabbing power. My employer requires it.”

  “I wish you success then, and thanks. You’ve done a great thing.”

  “Only if we succeed.” She surprised him by leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “Now go. I’ll tie your horse up here and he’ll be waiting for you with the others.”

  Braeden looked down the alley and saw a boy bringing two more horses. One for Prince Kendryk and a spare. Kazmir would do well on a long, fast journey, but most horses wouldn’t.

  He looked up at the bulk of the Arnfels, his mouth suddenly dry. The fortress itself stood on a mountain, with a long staircase somewhere inside it. Braeden would have to climb it before he reached the castle proper. While he’d been a prisoner inside, escape from such a formidable fortress had never occurred to him. He wondered if anyone had ever succeeded as he strode into the first guardhouse at the foot of the mountain, looking confident.

  “I have an order from the empress,” he said to the startled captain. “The city is under att
ack.”

  The captain spluttered.

  “It’s Arian Orland, the sneaky bastard.” Braeden sighed and threw the order onto the desk. “The empress has taken every last guard out of the city with her. She wants you to bring all your extras to the walls to fill in for those who had to go.”

  The captain looked puzzled. With any luck he wasn’t too smart. “This is highly irregular,” he finally said.

  “I just take orders, same as you.” Braeden shrugged. “I doubt you’ll need to leave many here.”

  “No, I shouldn’t think so. There’s only a few prisoners in the dungeons and then it’s just the prince and the boy. They won’t need much of a guard to keep them where they belong, though I’m more worried that someone might try to spring him. You reckon that’s what Orland’s up to?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me, though he’s going about it all wrong. Still, I doubt anyone will try it in the next few hours. You can always send some guards back if the walls seem secure. I can stay if you like, round out the numbers.”

  “Would you? I wonder you’re not out there with the empress.”

  “I’d rather be, but she wanted me to take care of this. Guess I don’t have to be in every last battle.” Braeden offered a half-smile.

  “True. Leave some for the rest of us.” The captain went to the door and grabbed his hat. “I’ll round up everyone at the main gate. You can head upstairs right away. There’ll be off-duty guards in the main floor gatehouse. Send down all except for those on prince duty right now.”

  “All right.” Braeden couldn’t believe how well this was going. He was prepared to kill the captain if he had to and anyone else who contradicted him, but the paper with the empress’s seal on it did its job. He grabbed it off the captain’s desk. It wouldn’t do to incriminate Brytta, though he suspected it was already too late for that. The poor girl’s only hope now was that Teodora died today.

  The captain disappeared down a corridor, shouting orders, and Braeden started the long climb. He kept one hand at the long knife on his belt since he didn’t truly believe he’d pull this off with no resistance. He needed to be ready.