He looked down at the young woodsman. “We need food,” he said. “Just enough for a meal or two, and we’ll be on our way.”
The young man clapped his mouth shut with an effort and nodded.
“I know who you are,” another young man standing beside him said. This one was a lot smaller, but seemed quicker. His dark eyes sparkled and his smile was ready.
“Do you?” Kendryk asked. He swung down from his horse, and the young man sketched a bow.
“I seen you once, years ago. You was traveling through the forest, on your way to a trial in Berndorf, at the edge of the wood.”
Kendryk had traveled through many forests to many trials, so it seemed likely. He smiled. “Then you must tell me your name.”
“I’m Nik,” the young man said. “And this here’s Stiva.” He elbowed the bigger man in the ribs. “We ain’t got much food here, but if you can wait a day, we can round up fresh game for you. I’ll go around to all my traps. Stiva’s a good shot with a matchlock, but we run out of powder months ago.”
“That’s no problem,” Kendryk said. “He’s welcome to the best of our muskets.” He felt bad, taking food off people who came by it so hard, but he could pay them in coin, and ask Trystan how much powder and shot he could spare.
Nik led them to a clearing where they could make camp, and soon more people emerged from the woods. Word had gotten out that the Prince of Terragand was here, and everyone was curious. Tired as Kendryk was, he held court near an enormous oak tree in the middle of the clearing. He realized these were just about the only citizens of Terragand he’d seen who weren’t terrorized refugees. He hoped they’d stay that way.
The folk here lived crude, poverty-stricken lives, but they shared the little they had with Kendryk and Trystan’s troops. At midday, someone built a large fire, and brought an enormous iron pot in a cart pulled by a skinny donkey. Several country folk along with the camp cooks set to peeling and cutting a mountain of half-rotted potatoes and carrots. A few hours later, Nik appeared, triumphantly bearing a dozen scrawny rabbits. Behind him, Stiva carried still more, in addition to several squirrels and hedge-hogs.
“They don’t taste so great,” Nik told Kendryk after leaving them with the cooks. “But my mother knows how to season a stew. You’ll never know they’re in there.”
Kendryk watched the woman skin a squirrel, and his stomach growled even as he shuddered. He turned to smile at Nik. “I don’t mind one bit.”
The stew was surprisingly good. Trystan sat next to Kendryk at a fire and sighed happily. “I don’t think I’ve eaten this well since I last left Birkenfels. Perhaps we should stay a few days.”
“We can’t.” Kendryk shook his head. “There are only a few hundred folk who live here, and I’m sure we’ve cleaned out their reserves. If we break out of Birkenfels, I’ll see about sending some food their way so they survive to the harvest.”
“You’re right,” Trystan said. “But I’m afraid it will be no better later on. We must accept that many people who haven’t already starved, will do so soon.”
Kendryk stared into the flames. He was still hungry. “I’m sure you’re right. But I don’t like it. And as ruler of Terragand, I’m responsible for everyone, not just these soldiers. I must do what I can.”
The next morning, Kendryk was awakened by several musket shots nearby. He jumped out of his bedroll and hurried out of the tent, pulling on his clothes as he went. Braeden appeared at his side, pistols drawn, but put them away again when he saw Trystan approach them, smiling. “They’re shooting our breakfast,” he said. “Some of the woodsmen went out with my best sharpshooters before dawn. Said they could find wild boar and deer. They’ll be tough and skinny, but there’ll be meat on their bones. They’ll need time to dress and cook the meat, but we’ll have a little something to take along.”
“And we’ll see Birkenfels in another day,” Kendryk said. He almost hoped there’d be a besieging army that might have food they could steal.
Gwynneth
“Gwynneth, is there any way you can help me?”
Gwynneth and King Gauvain sat alone in her library. She had moved back to her own house a few weeks after giving birth to Renata. The king came to her back door with only a few guards, but he was clearly desperate. She sighed. “I can try, but you know how Natalya is. Once she’s decided on a path, it’s hard to make her reconsider.”
Gauvain put his head in his hands. Gwynneth felt sorry for him. He’d come to her after Natalya decided her affair with him was displeasing to the gods, and that it must end. He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “I can’t live without her.”
“She’s not making you live without her,” Gwynneth said gently. “She’ll just no longer share your bed.”
Gauvain made a strangled sound, and Gwynneth feared he might cry. “I don’t understand,” he said in a small voice.
“I don’t understand either,” Gwynneth said. “But surely she knows better than any of us what the gods want. I am certain she loves you as much as ever.” But she wasn’t certain of that. In fact, she was certain of very little right now. Ever since Natalya decided that Edric’s reforms hadn’t gone far enough, much had changed in Allaux.
“She doesn’t show it anymore,” Gauvain whispered, almost to himself. He stared at the wall for a moment, then turned to Gwynneth again. “It’s like she’s turned into another person.”
Gwynneth agreed, though she didn’t say so. The changes had been many and rapid. Natalya started by kicking the king out of her bed, but that was only the beginning. She removed every lascivious painting and sculpture from her palace, and those in the king’s palace were next. She forbade the drinking of wine except for at mealtimes, and dancing at any time.
Natalya herself exchanged her traditional white Maxima’s robes for severe black dresses with high white collars. They did not become her, but the severity of the look ensured no one—not even Gwynneth—breathed a word about it. When Gwynneth mentioned that she missed seeing her favorite sculpture in the garden, Natalya had all but snapped at her. “The gods do not approve of such displays,” she said, her eyes cold.
Later, Gwynneth asked her how she knew the gods disapproved.
Natalya’s tone softened. “I’ve had several dreams these past weeks, and many obscure passages in the Holy Scrolls are now clear to me. I will explain more soon.” Gwynneth wondered if she was using a potion reserved for the higher clergy to lend clarity to their dreams. It might explain her altered appearance and behavior.
“And that’s the other thing,” Gauvain said. “I’m not sure I approve of what she’s about to do to the temples. I realize she is Maxima, and they are in her jurisdiction, but it seems excessive.” Natalya had informed the king that praying to icons directly contradicted the Holy Scrolls, and that all icons in Galladium’s temples were to be destroyed. In a country known for its beautiful temples and fabulous icons, such an act might start a revolution.
Gwynneth breathed out and pondered. In such a situation, the king was within his rights to overrule a Maxima, but it was hard to picture Gauvain doing any such thing. “I can’t advise you on that, either,” Gwynneth admitted. “The last time I told a ruler to override a Maxima’s wishes, as I did with Edric Landrus, it didn’t end well.” Edric was her friend, but in her darkest hours, Gwynneth had more than once wished he’d never been born.
“I can’t do it—I won’t do it. Still, it would all be bearable if only she’d come back to me.”
Gwynneth said nothing to that, but offered a sympathetic smile. It would be good for Gauvain to assert himself against Natalya, but he seemed unready to do so.
“I have it!” Gauvain’s face suddenly lit up. “I’ll marry her. I can’t make her queen unless she gives up her post, but once we’re husband and wife …” he trailed off, his smile fading.
“What about Zofya Inferrara? Surely you don’t mean to break that alliance at such a delicate time.”
“I don’t care about that. I’ll happily retur
n the Dallmaring Provinces. We got Kendryk back, so we don’t need Teodora for anything else.”
“My brother—” Gwynneth began.
“Aksel is a hostage for Arryk’s good behavior, not ours.”
Gwynneth swallowed. “You’re right, of course. But supposing you marry Natalya. How will that change anything she has planned?”
“It won’t. But I’ll have her back at my side where she’s meant to be.”
“Hm,” Gwynneth said, not wishing to encourage him. Privately, she was certain Natalya wouldn’t agree, but she didn’t want to be the one to break it to the king.
Gauvain stood. “I’ll do that.” He already looked much happier, grabbed Gwynneth’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you for your good advice.”
Gwynneth was sure it wasn’t much good at all, but it seemed the king needed to learn that for himself.
It went even worse than she’d feared. That evening, Natalya stormed into Gwynneth’s drawing room, unannounced. Gwynneth had been entertaining a few guests, but excused herself, and led Natalya into the dining room, as far from the others as possible. She hadn’t so much as shut the door behind her when Natalya exploded.
“How dare you give the king advice concerning me!” Her voice was low, but trembled with anger. Her eyes blazed.
Gwynneth backed away. “I did no such thing,” she said, struggling to stay calm. Natalya had never been angry with her before.
Natalya raised an eyebrow and huffed.
Gwynneth assumed she should continue. “The king came to see me. He was distraught about your decision, and wondered how he might sway you.”
“And you told him to propose?” Natalya took only one step, but it was enough to make Gwynneth shrink into a corner.
“I didn’t.” Gwynneth reminded herself that Natalya had no right to speak to her this way. She lifted her chin, and took a step toward Natalya. “He brought it up, and I raised every objection I could think of. I didn’t tell him not to do it, but it wasn’t my idea to start with. I remembered what you told me when you left me to study in Atlona all those years ago.”
Natalya’s face softened just a little. “I told you I would never marry, since men only ever create complications.” She threw her hands up. “And I was right, wasn’t I?” She looked around for somewhere to sit, finally pulling a chair away from the table. She extended her hand to Gwynneth, pulling her down beside her.
“I suppose you were.” Gwynneth had to smile.
“Of course I was.” Natalya tossed her head. “Just look at all the trouble Kendryk’s caused you. If you had never married, you’d likely be Queen of Norovaea right now.”
“Perhaps,” Gwynneth said, “but I’d rather have Kendryk.”
“I know.” Natalya looked Gwynneth in the eye. “But I’m not like you.” She sighed. “I’ve always had big ambitions, and a great vision for Galladium. But you must believe me when I tell you that until recently, I was going about it all wrong. The gods are showing me the right way now, and I must trust them. In turn, you and Gauvain must trust me. Can you do that?”
“I can.” Gwynneth looked straight back. “The king trusts you too, but he misses the way things used to be.”
“All things change,” Natalya said. “Even the good ones.”
Braeden
“It’s here somewhere,” Kendryk said, though he seemed puzzled. He’d been looking for a cave hidden in the woods for several hours now. “But it’s been almost fifteen years since my father brought me here, and the area has changed a great deal.”
Braeden looked around. They stood on a hillside, the same one from which Kendryk’s guns had once blasted at him. They were deep in a thicket of tall fir trees grown close together, making it feel like dusk in here, even though it was nearly midday.
Their party had come up on Birkenfels, and found an unfriendly army camped around it. Trystan had gone to scout the numbers and positions, but their only hope of getting into the castle without a fight was Kendryk’s secret passageway. If he ever found it. Braeden tried not to worry about how they’d get out of the castle once they were inside.
“Should we try a different area?” Braeden finally asked, after Kendryk sat down on a fallen log with a defeated sigh.
“Yes, perhaps. I was certain I had a view of the castle back then, though small trees grew all around, and I thought they might have grown enough to obscure it by now.”
“Might be,” Braeden said. “Or maybe we should try a completely different spot.” He didn’t want to put too much pressure on Kendryk, but they had no time. If they didn’t find a way into the castle today, they’d have to raid the enemy for food, and then everyone would know they were here.
He’d thought he was hungry the past autumn while bringing Elektra to Mattila, but hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been to travel during the harvest time. Aside from midwinter, this was the thinnest time of year in the countryside. Things were growing, but weren’t ready to eat. Berries wouldn’t be ripe for another month or two, and the game hadn’t fattened up yet. Braeden had never been so hungry. And hungry soldiers didn’t fight well, at least not for long.
“All right,” Kendryk said, standing up. “Let’s go over here.”
Braeden went ahead, using one of his older, duller swords to hack at the underbrush. Not even a deer could get through here. It must have been a job for Kendryk’s forces to lug all their cannon up here. He remembered something. “Do you recall where Count Faris put his guns?” he asked. “Back at the first battle?”
“Further north,” Kendryk said, slightly out of breath behind him. “Where it’s more open, with a clear view down.” He chuckled. “Of course. Seeing the castle is easy from that spot. I know where to look now.”
Braeden grinned, and kept hacking away until they reached a clearing. From here, they looked almost directly across at the castle, the tents of the enemy forces spread out below. Braeden wondered how long they’d been there, and how long the castle would hold out.
Kendryk paused and looked out at Birkenfels. “I haven’t seen it in such a long time. It’s the only home I have now, though not a safe one.”
“I reckon it’ll be yours before long.” Braeden didn’t want him sliding into melancholy right now.
Kendryk turned back toward the hillside, and a smile spread across his face. “Over there, on your left.” He pointed at what looked like a wall of limestone.
Braeden turned, and peered at it more closely. Thick brush grew in front of the chalky cliff, but behind that, he saw a long crack.
“Come here,” Kendryk said. “If the gods are with us, the way is still clear.”
What looked like a crack turned out to be one wall overlapping another, with a narrow entry-way leading into the cliff. “We’ll need light,” Braeden said. “And weapons. Who knows what’s inside.”
“You’re right,” Kendryk said. “I’ll wait here and you can get the others.”
Braeden didn’t like leaving him alone, but he was well-hidden in the trees, and their rendezvous point wasn’t far away. By the time he reached it, Trystan had returned from his scouting. “It’s not a big force,” he told Braeden as he led him back to Kendryk. “Only four thousand, and they haven’t been here long, since they’re not well dug in.”
By now they’d reached Kendryk, and Trystan sent a few men into the cave with torches to see if at least the first bit was passable.
“How many soldiers might Count Faris have inside the castle?” Kendryk asked as they waited.
Trystan shook his head. “When I left him, there were only a few hundred. Even if he still has that many, we’ll be outnumbered.”
“We must attack at night,” Braeden said. “It’s the only way we can keep them from knowing how few we are.”
You’re right,” Trystan said, and they finalized plans before Kendryk led three hundred soldiers into the tunnel.
Lennart
Once the guards led—or rather, dragged—Stepan away, Lennart hurried to the princess. By now
a doctor had come at a run, and Lennart broke through a cluster of guards surrounding her. When he’d finally shouldered his way through, he found her propped up, still sitting on the floor.
Lennart took a deep breath and knelt next to her. “Thank Ercos you’re alive, Princess,” he said. “I am very sorry I wasn’t able to stop him in time.”
Rheda turned to him with a thin smile. She was white as paper but appeared unhurt. “Fortunately, I was ready.” She put a pale hand on her cuirass, now significantly dented.
“You expected him to shoot you?” Lennart couldn’t hide his chagrin.
“I considered the possibility.” Rheda’s eyes were sad. “I believe my son cares for me, but he cares for power far more.”
“I am very sorry about that,” Lennart said, and meant it. Rheda was so pretty and sweet, he wouldn’t have minded having her as his own mother. He’d never been close to his, although much as she had annoyed him, he couldn’t imagine ever wanting to harm her. “But now he’s out of your way. You must take great care to ensure he can’t contact his friends and plot against you.”
Rheda shook her head. “Fortunately for us, he has no friends. His personality was such that … well, I believe you can judge that yourself. And I intend to give the citizens of Helvundala no cause to miss him. Will you help me up, Your Highness?”
Lennart shot the doctor a questioning glance, but she shrugged and said, “Her Grace had the wind knocked out of her, and will have a great bruise on her chest. She can try standing, though she should lean on you.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 116