The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “Yes, it’s terrible.” Trystan led them into a room that might once have been a parlor. As one of the few rooms with covered windows and a working fireplace, it now served as his study, meeting room and dining hall. “And I’m afraid we’ve contributed to it, though we had little choice.”

  “I would never blame you,” Kendryk said, taking a seat in the best chair as Braeden pulled it up for him. Karil immediately perched on the arm, beaming in spite of Trystan’s frown. “In fact, I wish to thank you for keeping the faith when so few others have. I hope your loyalty can soon be rewarded.”

  “I wish for no reward,” Trystan said, once he and Braeden were seated. “Only to see your rule restored, and imperial troops removed from all of Kronland for good.”

  “Then we have the same goal,” Kendryk said. “And help is at hand, with Lennart in Helvundala and part of his army besieging Kaltental.”

  “He’s here?” Trystan’s eyes lit up while Braeden grinned, relieved. In their isolated position they had heard only rumors of Lennart’s arrival, but had no concrete signs of it.

  “It’s why I’m here,” Kendryk said. “We received word several weeks ago that Lennart himself landed in Helvundala, while sending two of his generals to hold what bits of Terragand shore they can. But Lennart can’t persuade Prince Stepan to ally with him and march on Ensden.”

  “Coward,” Trystan spat. “I know he’s your cousin, but he’s not worthy of his crown. He won’t lift a finger to help you, or anyone trying to help you.”

  “We bear each other no love, it’s true,” Kendryk said mildly, “though his father was loyal enough. But I fear without Stepan’s support, Lennart will get no other in Kronland.”

  “My mother will help,” Trystan said. “She’s not afraid of Teodora or any of her toadies. That’s why I’m here too. But I’ve been pinned down while Mattila’s troops flooded in from Brandana, since I’m not strong enough to break through. I’m happy to meet with Lennart and offer a formal alliance with Podoska.”

  “My plan was to collect Edric Maximus from whichever temple he might be at, and find Lennart in Helvundala,” Kendryk said. “I imagine the lot of us might persuade Stepan. Your resoluteness ought to shame him, if nothing else.”

  Trystan frowned. “Karil,” he said. “Go find a servant and order refreshments.”

  “But—” Karil said.

  “You can return here after you’ve done it. But you must sit properly, and not perch like a monkey on the prince’s armrest.”

  “I don’t mind.” Kendryk smiled after Karil’s retreating form. “We shared imprisonment in the Arnfels for several years, and he’s like a son to me.”

  “How nice,” Trystan said. “But his manners need improvement all the same.” He didn’t miss the grin Kendryk and Braeden shared, then snorted. “Amazing you lot are old friends. You two have some catching up to do.”

  “The quartermaster brews an atrocious cherry brandy,” Braeden said. “We’ll share a bottle tonight.”

  “I look forward to it.” Kendryk grinned. “But hadn’t we best make a plan before you addle my brain with liquor?”

  “I agree,” Trystan said, as a soldier came in bearing a tray with mugs of weak beer and some cheese. “I apologize for the food, but we’re on short rations. If you hadn’t come within the week, we would have been forced to move east to rob provisions off the enemy.”

  “Then we’ll go soon,” Kendryk said. “I must find Edric Maximus. I believe he’ll be key to gaining the support of the Kronland rulers.”

  “Finding him may be difficult, if he still lives,” Trystan said. “The clergy accompanying Ensden’s army are diligent in spreading their poison to every temple, and they’re backed by considerable force. All those preaching Edric’s work have been killed, or gone into hiding. It’s possible a few temples in the east are untouched, but we can’t be certain.”

  Kendryk couldn’t hide the shock on his face. “I see,” he finally said. “I trust the gods will keep Edric safe somehow. But this means we must make for eastern Terragand without delay. Is there any chance we can reach Birkenfels before Ensden takes it?”

  “Perhaps, with luck.” Trystan took a long drink. “Until Mattila’s forces came this way, Ensden couldn’t hold Kaltental, occupy the larger towns, besiege the castle, and deal with me. That’s changed. Now there’s no way I can stop him, although he’s in some disarray until he absorbs Mattila’s army into his own.”

  “We must go,” Kendryk said. “Right away, if you don’t mind.”

  Lennart

  It was already spring, and Lennart had hoped to be well into Terragand by now, but at least there would be no further delays after today. He visited Prince Stepan in the prince’s private study one morning, and was pleased to find him alone. “I’ve come to say good-bye,” he said.

  There was no mistaking the relief on the prince’s face, though he tried to cover it with a gracious nod. “So you have decided to conquer Terragand without me.”

  “Yes.” Lennart smiled. “I’ve decided I don’t need your help to carry out my plans.”

  “I agree,” the prince said, with his characteristic oily smirk. “I’m sure you will have better luck recruiting in the other kingdoms.”

  “Perhaps, though few can match the fine force your father built up, and which you have so well maintained.”

  “True.” Stepan inclined his head, then fumbled with a quill and inkpot. “I wish you luck, Your Highness. I’m sure your campaign will be a great success.”

  “So do I.” Lennart stood.

  Behind him, the door opened, and Princess Rheda entered the room. Lennart stepped aside, so she and the contingent of guards could approach Stepan.

  The prince jumped out of his chair. “What is the meaning of this, Mother?” he screeched.

  Princess Rheda was perfectly calm. Lennart noted with approval that she wore an elaborate cuirass over her starkly cut dress. For all her tiny stature she looked formidable. “I’m removing you from the throne of Helvundala,” she said.

  “You cannot.” Stepan was sputtering. “This is treason.”

  Rheda stood in front of his desk. “I can, and it’s perfectly legal. Helvundala’s charter states that an incompetent ruler can be removed in favor of his heir. Your unwillingness to acknowledge and act on a clear threat from the empire makes you incompetent. Since your heir is only eleven years old, I will serve as regent until he comes of age. You will now go with the guards.”

  Stepan brought his fists down on the desk with a bang. “The only threat to my kingdom comes from this foreigner.” He pointed at Lennart, hatred in his eyes. “As long as he remains, the empress will consider us rebellious.”

  “She already does.” Lennart was enjoying himself. Once he had discovered that Princess Rheda considered her son a threat to the security of the kingdom, it was easy to persuade her to take this step. She had insisted on getting the support of the aristocracy first; hence the delay.

  “After my father died, we engaged in no further acts against Teodora. In fact, I’m on the verge of reaching an agreement with …” Stepan trailed off, as if he realized what he’d just said.

  “Perhaps I was wrong before,” Princess Rheda said, her eyes steely. “You are not merely incompetent, you are also engaged in treason, negotiating with the empress without consulting the council.”

  Stepan opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked so ridiculous, Lennart almost laughed.

  Rheda continued. “Until a moment ago, I was going to handle you gently. You are my son after all, though not a terribly good one. I planned on sending you to live in comfort in the countryside, and you’d have no further trouble if you stayed out of politics. But if you’ve been talking to Teodora behind all of our backs, I’m afraid you will need to be kept in a more secure place.” She nodded at a guard. “Take him to the dungeon.”

  Stepan’s hands scrambled in a drawer of his desk, and he pulled out a pistol. Lennart lunged at him as soon as he
saw the motion, but wasn’t fast enough, and Stepan fired straight at his mother before Lennart could tackle him. The princess’s shriek cut off as she crumpled to the floor. Lennart wanted to go to her, but holding Stepan down until the guards got to him was more important.

  “Someone see to the princess and send for a doctor,” Lennart bellowed. “The rest of you come here, and take this idiot to the dungeon.”

  Anton

  Anton was jumping with excitement. In a matter of hours, Skandar would be his again. The quartermaster had established his office in the back room of a decent-looking tavern not far from the general’s headquarters, and Anton and Susanna hurried straight there.

  They had to wait for three officers ahead of them, but it didn’t take long. Susanna fished a piece of paper out of a little bag she always carried. Anton was well-acquainted with the quartermaster, and didn’t care for the man one bit. He was a corrupt liar who never hesitated to take advantage of someone else’s misfortune. Until Anton had made his own money, he owed him a huge sum for clothes and food that were worth little.

  Anton narrowed his eyes as soon as he saw him. The quartermaster sat at a table, looking much like a smug toad, though Anton doubted that toads had three chins. Behind him stood two heavily armed guards, ensuring the chests full of coin standing against the back wall remained undisturbed.

  The quartermaster beckoned to the one other chair at the table, and Susanna sat down. Anton stood at her shoulder, his trademark scowl in place.

  “Madame Stengel,” the man said, and Anton realized he hadn’t, until that moment, even known Susanna’s last name. “You brought your last deposit only a few days ago. Don’t tell me the Maxima paid you off as well.”

  Susanna offered a half-smile. Anton saw she kept her cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders, even though the room was warm. “I wish to make a withdrawal,” she said.

  “Indeed.” The quartermaster returned Anton’s hard stare. “Would it have anything to do with this young scoundrel here?”

  Susanna sniffed, and sat up straighter. “That’s hardly any of your business.” She handed over the slip of paper. “I’d like all of it please.”

  The quartermaster raised his eyebrows. “All of it? Are you buying out your boyfriend’s contract? I’d advise against that.”

  Anton bit his tongue. Susanna could handle this.

  “I’m not asking your advice.” Her tone remained cool. “I’m asking for my money, with interest.”

  The man hesitated for a long while. Anton never broke his stare, and slid his hand to the dagger at his belt. He wouldn’t have much chance against those guards, but they were there to protect the money. Maybe they’d let him stick the quartermaster if he deserved it.

  Finally, the man turned to a guard, and handed him the slip. “Get it out,” he said, and turned back to Susanna. “I’d have thought you’d be smarter about this by now, Madame. After what happened with your husband.”

  Susanna’s cheeks were bright red, and Anton hoped she wouldn’t lose her temper.

  “I’d prefer not to discuss personal matters,” she said. “My money, please.”

  Anton took a step forward, pulling the dagger slightly out of its sheath with an audible chink.

  “Just trying to make conversation,” the quartermaster grumbled, taking a bag of coins from the guard. “Shall we count it?”

  Anton paid close attention, though he knew Susanna wouldn’t miss a trick. The quartermaster handed it over to her after counting, then she counted again.

  “Eight hundred sixteen Kroner,” she said at last. “Good. But you owe me another thirty in interest.”

  The man’s face turned red, but he waved to the guard, and had him hand over the rest.

  “Thank you,” Susanna said primly. “I’ll be back when I have more to deposit.”

  “I doubt you will,” the quartermaster said to their retreating backs.

  “Is he always like that with you?” Anton asked, once they were outside and walking down the road toward the general’s quarters.

  “He was much better today, probably because you were there,” she said. “Usually he’s very suggestive, and once even chased me around the room. I had to bring a friend the next time I made a deposit.”

  “You should bring me with you from now on,” Anton said.

  Susanna slowed down a little. “How are we going to do this?” she asked. “I doubt we can go straight to the general and ask to buy one of her horses.”

  “We should see her Master of Horse first,” Anton said. “He’ll be able to manage it. If he gives us any trouble, we’ll figure out how to see the general.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Susanna said.

  “I’m going to get my horse, thanks to you.” Anton grinned down at her. “I can’t wait for you to meet him. I’m sure he’ll like you.”

  Susanna laughed. “You talk about him as if he were a person.”

  “He is a person, in a way.” Anton couldn’t stop smiling.

  When they entered the stable yard, Anton spotted the master right away, working with a fine young gelding. He waved at him, then waited until he handed the horse off to a groom. Anton was wearing his best clothes, so he looked important enough to be given attention.

  “What is it?” the man asked, once he came over to Anton and Susanna, wiping his dusty hands on his breeches.

  “There’s a horse here I’d like to buy,” Anton said. “A young Norovaean battle charger. I’m sure you only have the one.”

  “Popular horse,” the man muttered, then said, “I had one, but he’s gone now.”

  Anton’s heart fell into his boots. “Gone? How?”

  “Sold,” the man said. “Last night.”

  Anton’s voice caught in his throat. “Who?” he finally croaked. “Who did you sell him to?”

  “You really want that horse, don’t you?” The master shook his head. “Well, it might be you can still find him, though I doubt she’ll sell him so easy.” Anton’s face must have looked awful, because the man seemed to feel sorry for him. “I sold him to an officer in the Sanova Hussars, a young woman with red hair. Didn’t get her name, though I’m sure you can ask around.”

  Anton still stood there, thunderstruck, when Susanna took his hand and said, “Thank you. We’ll look for her,” then dragged Anton out of the stable yard. “We’ll find her,” Susanna said.

  Anton was still feeling numb, but Susanna asked her way through camp until they reached the Sanovan section. They stood at the edge of camp, staring at the vast empty space that might have once been a meadow. Nothing remained but churned-up mud and a few broken tent stakes. Susanna dragged Anton over to a ragged-looking woman picking through the mud, looking for gods-only-knew what. “Where are the Sanova Hussars?” she asked.

  The woman straightened up. “Gone,” she said.

  “When?” Susanna asked.

  The woman shrugged. “Their vanguard moved out at dawn, the last of their wagons a few hours ago.”

  “To Terragand?” Susanna persisted.

  “I reckon so. You might try to chase them down, though from what I could gather, they had orders and were moving at speed. You’d want a fast horse to catch up to them.”

  Kendryk

  It was dangerous here, on the banks of the Velta river. Kendryk rode next to Trystan, showing him the way. “All we have to do is follow the river north.”

  Trystan shook his head. “Ensden will have people watching the road. They’ll be expecting me.”

  Kendryk smiled. “We won’t need the main road. There’s another way. It might be slower, but we’ll have help from the country folk, and I doubt the enemy will know it.” He turned to Braeden, riding on his left. “I’m sure you remember the gap between the hills across from Birkenfels.”

  “I remember,” Braeden said, his face grim.

  Kendryk still only had a foggy recollection of the battle fought there five years before. He remembered lining his forces up in front of those
hills, watching the enemy—Braeden included—advance through the mist, and that was all. Only a few hours after that, his horse had landed on his leg when Teodora shot it, and he was taken prisoner. He hadn’t regained consciousness for nearly a week, and still had trouble remembering much from that awful time.

  “We’ll come at the castle from that gap,” Kendryk said. “It will be easy for us to hide on the other side to scout out the enemy before we approach it.”

  “What if Ensden has besieged it?” Braeden asked.

  “There might still be a way,” Kendryk said. “I’ll tell you once we get there.” His father had shown him the secret years ago. Kendryk was barely twelve, but became heir to Terragand when his older brother died. Only the ruler of the kingdom was aware of this old escape route, and Kendryk regretted that he’d never shown Gwynneth. She and the children might have gotten away without ever involving her brother in the war. He resolved to show Maryna at the earliest opportunity.

  Following Kendryk’s instructions, Trystan’s forces left the river, and headed into the hill country. The woods grew deep and dark; the only way to pass was along narrow winding trails cut through heavy underbrush. Few people lived here, but those few remained undisturbed by the chaos consuming the rest of the kingdom. In the four days of their journey through here, Kendryk’s party came upon only three dozen cabins and a handful of tiny hamlets. Whenever they passed one, the few folk nearby came and stared. Most had never left these woods, or seen over fifty people at one time. An army of nearly two thousand was hard to comprehend.

  “Are they loyal?” Trystan looked down at one burly young woodsman standing alongside the path, his jaw nearly on the forest floor.

  “As loyal as any in Terragand,” Kendryk said. “I’d be surprised if they’ve ever heard of Edric Maximus, or of any of the changes in the rest of the land. But these woods have always provided refuge and support for the rulers of Terragand. We can count on them now.” He hoped it was true, since they were in desperate straits. They’d left the western frontier with virtually no food, and so far had survived by hunting game, which was scarce and skinny this time of year. One raid on an imperial supply train had yielded enough bread to get them this far, though they’d lost more than a dozen soldiers in the attack. Kendryk had only a stale crust in his saddlebag, and was certain he’d been given more than anyone else. They needed help now if they weren’t to starve.