The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Elektra cried and cried, and when she was done, was renewed altogether. If she was strong enough to take on a hardened killer like Braeden Terris and survive, and wily enough to earn the respect of General Mattila, the empress wouldn’t be able to stand against her either, when the time came.

  Gwynneth

  The summons came from Natalya at midday. “I wonder what’s happened?” Kendryk asked Gwynneth as they hurried down the street to Natalya’s palace. It was always faster to walk than calling for a carriage, or saddling a horse. “Surely Lennart hasn’t landed in Kronland yet?”

  “I hope he has,” Gwynneth said, praying he had. “Perhaps he went ahead before the entire subsidy arrived.”

  Natalya met them at the door of her library, her face grave. “Have a seat,” she said. “You’ll want a drink,” she added, and a novice brought cut glass tumblers of brandy to each of them before leaving the room.

  “Oh dear,” Gwynneth said, before gulping down the drink. Perhaps something had happened to Arryk, or to Aksel. He was the empress’s hostage. What if Teodora killed him in retaliation for Kendryk’s escape? Her brandy down, she choked out, “My brothers?”

  “No, no,” Natalya said. “The last I heard, Arryk is restoring his government and acting peculiar, but we can speak of that another time. Aksel has safely arrived in Atlona. Livilla wrote, and said he’s set up a laboratory in her palace. He’ll be allowed to write to you soon, I’m sure.”

  “Thank the gods.” Gwynneth sank back into the chair’s soft cushions, and put her empty glass on a tiny table next to it.

  “What is it then, Natalya?” Kendryk asked.

  Gwynneth realized he hadn’t touched his drink.

  “Arian Orland is dead.”

  “What?” Gwynneth and Kendryk chorused.

  “How?” Kendryk added.

  “Ambushed by Mattila in Brandana,” Natalya said. “She wiped out his entire force, with only a few taken prisoner.”

  “Wouldn’t Mattila want Arian as a prisoner?” Kendryk’s voice was soft.

  “Perhaps. Though she never got the chance. A cannon ball took him, and that was it. Not even a corpse to return to his family.”

  “Oh gods,” Gwynneth said faintly, not sure what to feel.

  “Is it certain then?” Kendryk seemed to be bearing up well. “If there’s no body, perhaps he got away. It’s happened before.”

  “It’s certain. Several eyewitnesses reported it. I am sorry; I never had much use for him, but I know you were friends.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Kendryk said.

  Gwynneth knew she no longer cared for him, but was sad all the same. And then something occurred to her. “Have you heard anything about his page? Of Anton?” Maryna and Devyn would be terribly upset at the news that harm had come to their friend.

  Natalya shook her head. “No. It’s likely he was killed as well, but I have no reports either way. Perhaps he got away somehow, but it’s best not to cling to false hope.”

  Gwynneth turned to Kendryk. “What will we tell the children? They were so fond of Anton.”

  “So was I,” Kendryk said heavily. “Let’s say nothing for now. Perhaps he’ll turn up, and they will have grieved needlessly.”

  “That’s wise,” Natalya said. “Before Orland left, I told Anton he was always welcome here. If he escaped, perhaps he can find his way back.”

  “Gods, I hope so,” Gwynneth said.

  Kendryk took her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll go straight to the chapel and pray to Ercos for his protection.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Natalya said. “It’s all we can do right now.”

  Teodora

  “The Orlands, father and son, are finished,” Teodora said to Solteszy as they sat in her study early one morning. She had just received the latest dispatches. They’d already heard that Mattila had chased down and defeated Arian Orland. “Now it’s certain Arian is dead. Numerous witnesses saw him blown to bits. And now even more good news.” She handed the message she had just opened to Solteszy. “Ensden has taken Kaltental from Duke Aidan Orland and chased him off into the countryside. If Lennart thinks to invade, he’ll have trouble gaining a foothold without Kaltental.” Teodora felt positively gleeful. So many of her opponents were now dead or utterly defeated.

  Good news followed on good. Next came a letter from Elektra, saying she was safe, and telling of an incredible adventure. She had been captured by the traitor Braeden Terris, but escaped his clutches and made her way through the wilderness alone until she found Mattila. Teodora was astonished at her daughter’s resourcefulness, and decided she might be of some use after all. So she immediately sent a contingent of imperial guards bearing a letter, ordering the archduchess to return to Atlona immediately. With any luck, she’d be on her way soon.

  Teodora pondered. Elektra was nearing her majority and it was customary for the heir to be given an important position in the capital. Teodora squirmed in her chair. Her own similar experience had made her realize she could do the job much better than her decrepit old uncle. And ultimately, that realization had led to his death. The last thing she needed was Elektra getting the same ideas. She needed to find some role for her daughter, one that would make her feel important without being a threat.

  “What do you think about a marriage with Norovaea?” she asked.

  Solteszy looked up, mildly alarmed. “Surely, you’re not thinking about breaking the Archduchess Zofya’s engagement?”

  “Not at all. But Elektra is available and old enough to marry.” Livilla had told her about the attempted match with Arryk, and Teodora was disappointed that hadn’t worked out. True, Arryk had been upset about Larisa Karsten, but surely he could see the value in a match with the future Olvisyan empress? “And conveniently, Aksel Roussay is here. I’ve only spoken with him briefly, but he seems reasonable and he’s been cooperative enough.”

  Aksel had written his brother a plaintive letter, and Arryk’s response had been … interesting. Judging by his raving, incoherent tone, it was only a matter of time before he lost his mind altogether, and hopefully his throne along with it. Teodora wondered if she could groom Aksel to be ready to take his place when the time came. Perhaps he’d be happy to marry Elektra—dull as she was—if it meant gaining a kingdom.

  But he wouldn’t make much of a suitor shut up in the Arnfels. Teodora stood. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” She called for a carriage and went straight to the fortress. When she saw Aksel this time, in the same little room, he looked a bit worse for the wear.

  “You look like you need a change of scene.” Teodora smiled.

  “Very much.” Aksel didn’t make an attempt to smile back.

  “This is what I propose,” Teodora said. “I will have you moved into the Palais Arden. There’s plenty of room in the family wing with both girls gone, and I’ll see you get a laboratory as well.”

  Aksel’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to live with you?” He didn’t sound excited at the prospect.

  “In a manner of speaking. The palace is large, so I doubt we’ll see much of each other.”

  “All right,” Aksel said slowly. “What do you want from me in return?”

  “Nothing right now.” Teodora didn’t want to bring up marriage until she had everything else organized. “Your brother has indicated the money is on its way, so as an act of good faith, I thought it would be nice to get you out of here.”

  “It would be nice.” Aksel finally smiled. “Very nice. When can I go?”

  “Today,” Teodora said. “I’ll have rooms prepared for you.”

  Lennart

  The first installment of money arrived from Zeelund, and Lennart set to planning his invasion in earnest. The noble council was easy enough to bring into line, once he showed them the guarantees. He’d also been able to raise a fair amount of enthusiasm across the countryside.

  Lennart had laid the groundwork long ago, by making sure every temple received detailed accounts of the atrocities commi
tted by Teodora Inferrara and Brynhild Mattila in the name of the old faith. Special services were held on the anniversary of the fall of Kersenstadt to remember the thousands of innocent believers slaughtered there. So when it came time to call up the provincial militias, everyone of fighting age signed up eagerly. In some areas, recruiters turned away dozens, because a portion of the young and able-bodied needed to stay behind to work the land.

  Priests and priestesses in the Estenor temples had preached for months now that Lennart was the long-awaited ruler, chosen by the gods to vanquish the forces of darkness. While Lennart was aware of the confusion around the ruler mentioned in the prophecy, he thought he might be the one. Not that he wanted to place himself above the likes of someone as good and devout as Prince Kendryk, but Lennart realized he fit the prophecy closely enough, with a much better chance of victory than Kendryk ever had. As soon as he’d read the words of Edric Maximus, he realized the gods had chosen him for something special. He intended to not disappoint them.

  And the one problem holding him back was now solved as well. Just before the longest night, Raysa came to him mid-morning, in his study, something she never did. She’d had a visit from her doctor, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know. “Meldahl, give us a moment?”

  His adviser left the room soundlessly and at speed. The moment the door fell shut behind him, Lennart gathered his wife into his arms. “So it’s certain then?”

  She’d buried her face in his chest and when she looked up, tears streaked her cheeks, though she glowed with happiness. “Yes, the doctor said the little one will be here before the leaves fall again.”

  “Thank the gods,” he murmured, pulling her close again and stroking her hair. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I knew you could do it.”

  “It wasn’t me, or even us,” she said softly. “It was the will of the gods. They are blessing your actions. They want you to go to Kronland.”

  He sat down in Meldahl’s chair and pulled her onto his knee. “That’s what I believe too.” In the past months, Raysa had read the Holy Scrolls, and while she wasn’t completely convinced of the Quadrene doctrines, she at least understood why Lennart believed. He hoped to bring her all the way before long. “And the timing couldn’t be better,” he said, after they’d grinned at each other for a moment. “I must be in Kronland by spring, and now I can make plans for a regency.”

  She frowned. “I’m not ready to be regent. And besides, I still want to go to Kronland with you.”

  “I’m sorry love, it’s out of the question now. Once you’ve had the baby and the two of you are well, you can both come see me. But first I must make some arrangements. The baby will be my heir, but you and Meldahl will rule jointly until it’s seventeen, should anything happen to me.”

  “I hope nothing does,” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear it.”

  “I doubt it will. Like I said, I’m lucky, and now I’m certain the gods are looking after me and want me to succeed. While I’m away you won’t have to worry about anything. Meldahl will be in charge of day-to-day affairs, and I’ll manage the rest with letters and fast couriers. If you feel up to it, you can sit in on council session so you learn what goes on there. How does that sound?”

  “Intimidating. But I want to learn so I can help while you’re away.”

  “That’s all I need.” He kissed her, then said, “We’ll announce it at the feast for the Coming of Light two days from now. Sounds right, doesn’t it?”

  “It’s perfect,” she smiled again, then kissed him herself, quite a bit longer this time.

  Braeden

  Feeling so weak was annoying. Braeden had taken a pistol ball through his right shoulder, and though the ball had been removed while he was unconscious, the flesh took far too long knitting itself back together again.

  “You move too much, sir,” Doctor Sarborg said, looking sad. “It will never heal if you keep moving.”

  “Never?” Braeden asked in exasperation. He was aware that the doctor was prone to exaggeration, especially of the negative, but he was sick of it.

  “Well, not never, perhaps.” The doctor wrung his pale hands. “But it might take a long time. And I’m sure you’re eager to get back to … well, whatever it is you do.”

  “Hmph,” Braeden said, and flung himself back against the pillows, tired of staying still. He walked a little every day, though not for long, and the doctor complained when he did. He was also bored. Karil had healed far more quickly, and was already drilling with Martinek’s troops. Braeden was eager to get back into the game himself.

  “How are you today?” Trystan Martinek asked as he came inside the tent. He stopped by nearly every day, though Braeden wasn’t sure why, since he improved so slowly.

  “Same as before.” Braeden grimaced. “Worse, if you ask the doctor.”

  Trystan shook his head as he took a seat at Braeden’s bedside. “I hoped you’d learned by now not to ask Sarborg anything. You’ll never get an answer you like.”

  The doctor huffed indignantly and left the tent.

  Trystan’s face clouded over. “I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said. “Mattila caught Arian Orland trying to cross the Lera, cut him off, destroyed his force, and killed him.”

  Braeden felt like he’d been doused in cold water.

  “Are you all right, man?” Trystan asked.

  Braeden swallowed hard. “Orland dead, are you certain?” he choked out.

  “I’m afraid so.” Trystan’s face was grave. “I’m sorry; I’m sure the two of you were friends.” Braeden had told him how they’d planned Prince Kendryk’s rescue.

  “Of a sort,” Braeden said. He didn’t want to think of the rest, had to force the words out. “But what’s worse, my stepson was Orland’s page. I don’t suppose there’s been any word of an Anton Kronek?”

  “That’s terrible luck,” Trystan said. “I can make inquiries, but from what I’ve heard, no one survived. There might have been a few prisoners we don’t know about, and it’s possible stragglers will make their way to us. Don’t give up hope just yet.”

  “The boy always had the devil’s own luck,” Braeden said, his mouth dry. He fumbled for a cup at the bedside, and Trystan poured more water into it and handed it to him. Braeden took a few sips then said, “But Orland had that same luck. If his ran out—” he couldn’t say any more and laid back again, exhausted, and with that same dull heaviness he’d felt after Kersenstadt settling over him. He’d failed Janna and his own children; now he’d failed her son too.

  Trystan’s normally hard eyes were sympathetic. “We’ll keep looking for him, in case he got lucky. Unfortunately there’s more bad news, though I hope it’s not as personal to you. I’ve also received word that Ensden attacked Kaltental. He caught Orland the elder unawares, and took the city by storm. Evard Bernotas now holds it, while Ensden mops up the rest of Terragand.”

  Braeden shook his head. “No word from Lennart yet?”

  “None.” Trystan looked grim.

  “What about Faris?”

  “He’ll be lucky to hold Birkenfels through the winter. I reckon the best I can do is try to keep Ensden off him.”

  “Can you?” Braeden asked. “Can we?” He wanted nothing more right now than to get out of bed and go fight Ensden. “I know how to fight him. I’ve fought at his side often enough.”

  “I thought you had,” Trystan said. “And I’ll need your help. But you’ll stay in an advisory capacity until you’ve recovered. And that might take longer than we’d hoped because we need to move out. I want to go today.”

  “I’m ready,” Braeden said, though he didn’t know if it was true.

  Elektra

  Now that Elektra wasn’t so frightened of Mattila anymore, she felt more comfortable questioning the general’s strange behavior. “I mean no disrespect of course,” she said, noticing Mattila’s mouth quirk upward. Secretly, she wondered if the general still despised her as much as she had seemed to before her abductions. But a
side from a few small gestures, she treated Elektra far better than anyone on her staff.

  She plunged ahead. “I’m just curious, since I’ve read the empress’s orders. Why are you not following them? Brandana is subdued, and only Terragand and Podoska oppose you. Why don’t you take them on while you are so strong?”

  “That’s a good question, Your Grace.” Mattila waved at her clerk and he scurried out of the room, the door falling shut behind him. Now the weather had turned colder, Mattila had moved her headquarters to a comfortable manor house near Lerania. Elektra spent most days with her in the library, at her own desk, opening correspondence and answering less important letters. At first, she wanted to object to being forced into a secretary’s position, but she held her tongue, and soon discovered that she was privy to all of the information that reached the general, officially and otherwise. Tedious as the work sometimes was, she liked knowing what was going on.

  Mattila laid her quill down and turned to face Elektra. “You may have noticed by now that your mother and I are engaged in a power struggle.”

  Elektra nodded. That had always been obvious to her.

  “If I subdue Terragand now, and hand Kronland to your mother on a silver platter, she will order me to retire to Moralta. I am not ready to retire.” She regarded Elektra with cold gray eyes.

  “But isn’t Count Ensden conquering Terragand for her?”

  Mattila snorted. “He’s taken Kaltental, but doesn’t have the resources to hold the rest of the kingdom. He’ll crumble under any attack by a larger force.”

  “A larger force like King Lennart’s?” Elektra had read intelligence dispatches indicating that the Estenorian king was planning an invasion.

  “Precisely. I expect him to make short work of Ensden. Then your mother will need me a bit longer, won’t she?”

  “I suppose so. Aren’t you the least bit worried about King Lennart?”