The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  She wore no helmet, so he spotted her from a distance, though Anton never even noticed her face. Even from a hundred paces, he was certain she rode Skandar.

  “Oh gods,” he said a little too loudly, so folk around him stared. “Excuse me,” he said, pushing through the crowd. By the time he reached the street, Skandar had passed him. Anton broke free of the crowd and ran. “Skandar!” he shouted. “Skandar!”

  He didn’t watch where he was going. He needed to get up the street to where Skandar had turned a corner, out of sight.

  “Hey!” He gasped as something stung his face. “Mind where you’re going.”

  Anton stumbled to a halt, and stared into the grim face of a boy no older than he was. He sat high on a charger much too big for him, brandishing a riding crop. He must have flicked it into Anton’s face when he ran into his horse. He was already riding on, but Anton caught up and walked alongside. “Can you tell me who your commander is?”

  “Why do you care?” the boy asked scowling, though he put the crop away.

  “I might know her,” Anton said.

  The boy shook his head. “Then you would know Franca Dura commands Dura’s Cuirassiers. She’s famous.”

  “Franca Dura,” Anton said, “That’s what I thought. Thanks.” He slowed down and the boy pulled ahead. He remembered something else and ran to catch up. “Hey,” he said.

  “What do you want?” The boy looked impatient at this point.

  “Where are you lot staying?”

  “We’re not,” he said. “Colonel Dura must meet with the general and learn his plans, but I expect there’ll be a battle in the next day or two.”

  Anton let him go, but followed at a distance. He couldn’t lose track of Skandar now, though he hadn’t figured out how to get to him. Colonel Dura looked like someone you shouldn’t tangle with. Still, he’d come up with something.

  Once he followed the cuirassiers to the large house where General Ensden stayed, he knew how he could find out more. In the crush of soldiers and horses, he slipped into the courtyard and headed for the stables. He didn’t see Skandar, but he saw Franca Dura, going into the house. So he must already be inside. Anton sauntered into the stable as if he belonged there, then peeked into each stall, looking for Skandar.

  He found him near the end of the first row. He stared at Skandar, who stared back. Anton was sure he remembered him. “Hello Skandar,” he said softly.

  “What are you doing here?” a liveried groom came around his side.

  “I, er, work here,” Anton said, staring desperately at his horse. He looked well-fed, his coat glossy. He might have even grown a little.

  The groom looked Anton over. “No you don’t. No one wearing rags works at the general’s house. Off with you now.” He threw a brush in Anton’s direction and Anton retreated. He’d have to think of something else.

  He returned to the courtyard and looked around. Troopers milled in the courtyard, most of them getting their horses put away. Anton didn’t notice the boy he’d spoken to. He needed to find out where they were going next, so he found a dark corner, sat down on the cold ground and waited.

  Elektra

  “How is it going?” Edric poked his head inside the door of Elektra’s study. He’d set up a little room for her to work in. It reminded her of school, though she didn’t mind too much.

  Elektra looked up from her reading. “Quite well. It turns out Livilla was right and the boring bits of the Scrolls really are boring.”

  Edric smiled, then came in and sat down near her table. Obviously he was trying very hard to convert her to his heresy. “That’s true, though at the pace you’re reading, you’re about to get to an interesting part.”

  “Why can’t I skip to it?” For now, Elektra saw no harm in cooperating. She had set up a makeshift altar to Vica in her room, and prayed diligently that the goddess would help keep her on the right path. Besides, she was flattered at being treated like a fellow scholar. Before his fall into terrible error, Edric had been one of the temple’s most promising young priests. Elektra was sure she might learn a great deal from him without trusting everything he said.

  “The context is important,” Edric said. “The interesting parts make more sense when you understand when and why they were written.”

  “All right.” Elektra shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

  “There’s no better way to pass the time. I suppose it’s too soon to ask if you’ve had any change of heart. Doesn’t all of this reading make you want to learn more?”

  “It does, but Livilla always said that reading the Scrolls wasn’t enough. Interpretation was the key thing, and only a cleric authorized by the Imperata might do that.”

  “That’s very convenient, isn’t it?” Edric’s tone was still mild, but his eyes flashed. “The Imperata can make sure everything is explained to her advantage.”

  “That’s hardly fair,” Elektra said, seeing a chance to perhaps score a few points. “The gods speak to her directly. She’ll understand more than the rest of us.”

  “The gods speak to you directly as well,” Edric said.

  “Goddess.” Elektra marked her page, then closed the book. “Only Vica has ever spoken to me.”

  “How do you know it was Vica, and not one of the other gods?”

  “Because I prayed to her and she answered almost immediately.”

  “I was meaning to ask you about that,” Edric said. “Would you mind telling me what happened? I am truly interested.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Elektra hesitated. Since some of the story involved her betrayal of Braeden, she wondered how Edric would react. She chewed her lower lip. “You might not want to hear it, since it starts with your friend Braeden doing something awful.”

  Edric chuckled. “I wouldn’t really call Braeden a friend. He’s a useful ally, though we understand each other well enough. And I’m sure he’s done things in his life I might not approve of. It’s not my place to judge, since the gods will hold him accountable.”

  “I’m not sure about that. It seems he’s gotten away with what he did to me.” Elektra felt her anger rise, looked at Edric’s sympathetic face, and the story poured out, right through the part where she prayed at Vica’s altar for twelve hours straight, hoping to receive forgiveness for breaking her vow.

  Edric listened silently to the end, his expression unchanging, though he made an encouraging noise from time to time if Elektra paused. When she had finished, there was a long silence.

  “Your Grace,” he finally said, “You did not need to spend all of that time in penance. As far as I can tell, you acted correctly, though perhaps not heroically.”

  “I wasn’t wrong to turn Braeden in?”

  Edric shook his head. “Under the circumstances, I can’t blame you,” he said. “I can understand why you felt you were doing the right thing.”

  “Even though it wasn’t the right thing.”

  “Is that what you believe now?” he asked, with that kind smile on his face. Elektra wondered how many people he’d disarmed with that expression.

  “It’s made me so many enemies,” she whispered. “Braeden will hate me forever, and so will anyone who’s his friend.”

  “Likely true, but it’s a valuable lesson. Don’t you agree, Your Grace?”

  Elektra had to smile at that. “I suppose it is. In the moment, I was so angry and wanted revenge, and yet if I’d let him escape, I might be in a very different position right now.”

  “Indeed. But I can’t say I’m unhappy that you’re here. It’s something I wouldn’t have predicted, though it’s surely the will of the gods.”

  “What are you saying?” Intense unease washed over Elektra. “Why would the gods want me here?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” The crease between Edric’s brows grew even deeper. “But I’m certain there is a reason. Few people in the empire are as important as you. And to have you delivered here, at a moment where I might keep you safe from those who wo
uld harm you makes me certain it was no accident.”

  Elektra shivered. She didn’t mind talk of destiny, as long as it involved her doing something glorious. But this was different. “What do the gods want from me? Surely not to become a heretic. That would be the end of everything.”

  Edric raised an eyebrow. “Would it? Or would it be the beginning of something better? Just imagine how quickly you might help end the war.”

  “I’d always hoped to end the war by conquering your heresy.” Elektra couldn’t help but smile at that. If that was the will of the gods they were going about it in a strange way. “But suppose I join you—which I, of course, will not. How will that improve anything? My mother will continue on her path and I’m powerless to stop her.”

  “Are you?” Edric asked. “Truly? No one is better placed to bring Teodora’s ambitions to an end.”

  “Don’t say those things.” His matter-of-fact tone made her nervous. “I told Braeden I wanted to kill my mother, and I do hate her. But doing the deed would be a terrible crime.”

  “I’m not certain you’re right,” Edric said. “But don’t worry about it for now. Keep studying, and I’m sure the gods will show us the right path.”

  Elektra wondered when she and the false Maximus had become “us,” but she couldn’t deny she was terribly curious about the future.

  Gwynneth

  “Mama, please don’t let us go with that woman.” Maryna was near tears.

  Gwynneth smiled at her in what she hoped was a comforting fashion. Her own doubts were barely beneath the surface. “We must leave Allaux,” she explained again. “Papa will meet us in Zeelund.”

  “Why?” Maryna shook her head. “It makes no sense. And something is wrong with that Fernanda Vastic—even Zofya doesn’t like her.”

  “We don’t have to like her,” Gwynneth said, “but she will help us get away from here.”

  “Natalya won’t want you to go.” Maryna’s tears spilled over.

  “No, she won’t.” Gwynneth looked around her bedchamber. Her trunks were packed and now the maids were getting the children’s things together. They couldn’t take everything, just enough for the few weeks it might take to get to Zeelund. Fernanda had assured her she had plenty of money for everything they needed, and had even handed Gwynneth a purse so she could get whatever she wanted for the journey. Gwynneth hadn’t had actual coin in so long she was terrified of spending it, so she hid the purse under her skirts. She sat down on the bed, pulling Maryna down next to her. “It’s too complicated to explain but we cannot trust Natalya.”

  “How can you say that?” Maryna dashed her tears away. “She’s the only person we can trust. Just because you’ve had a fight with her doesn’t mean she’s not your friend. She will always be your friend.”

  “I know that.” Gwynneth tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “But what Natalya is doing right now is not what’s best for our family or for Terragand. That’s why we must go away.”

  “I don’t agree.” Maryna’s tone was stern in spite of the tears. She might be her father’s daughter, but she was considerably stronger-willed. “I don’t believe I’ll come along.”

  “You must,” Gwynneth said. “I’m your mother and you must do as I say. Natalya will agree with that, I’m sure.”

  “She would not agree with us going.”

  “No and that’s why we can’t tell her.” Gwynneth put her arm around Maryna’s shoulders and pulled her close. “You must trust me, all right? I will always do what’s best for you, and you must believe that even if you don’t understand.”

  “All right.” Maryna wiped her eyes. “I will trust you, Mama.”

  “That’s a good girl.” Gwynneth kissed her cheek, wondering how much longer she’d be able to get Maryna to do what she wanted. Her strong will would help make her a good ruler, but she would have to learn to listen to counsel, even when she didn’t agree with it.

  The carriage came to Gwynneth’s back door well after dark. It was a plain black one, though the interior was comfortable enough.

  “You’ll be crowded in here,” Fernanda said, handing up the children after Gwynneth. “I hope you can manage without servants.”

  “I suppose I can.” Gwynneth pulled baby Renata close. She wished for Catrin, but there was no room, and more than one carriage would attract attention. “Are you coming with us?”

  “Oh yes.” Fernanda wore plain black breeches and a black leather coat. “I’ll be driving the carriage.”

  “Can I drive it with you?” Devyn was already climbing out of his corner.

  “Maybe tomorrow.” Fernanda frowned at him. “It’s better to learn when it’s light.”

  “I don’t want him being a bother,” Gwynneth said, shaking her head at Devyn.

  “It’s no bother.” Fernanda slammed the door shut, then looked in the open window. “But first, I want to get far away from here. Close the window now, fasten the door from the inside and don’t open it for anyone but me. I don’t expect trouble, but if any comes, I’ll handle it.”

  “All right.” Gwynneth tried smiling, but she was so nervous she worried she might be sick. It would be too awful to be caught by Natalya again.

  The carriage rolled through the dark streets, stopping only at the northern gate. Gwynneth heard a guard, then Fernanda’s voice, and laughter. A moment later, the gate creaked and the carriage continued through it. Gwynneth allowed herself to breathe. By now all of the children but Maryna had fallen asleep, and even though it was dark, Gwynneth felt her daughter’s accusing eyes on her.

  She held the baby close, and to her surprise, the rocking of the comfortable carriage lulled her into a deep slumber. When she woke up, it was morning, and they appeared to be deep in an unfamiliar forest.

  Before the sun rose above the tree tops, the carriage drew to a halt in front of a small wooden house with a thatched roof. Fernanda opened the door while the children yawned and rubbed sleepy eyes.

  “We’ll stay here for the day,” she said. “If we are pursued, they will look for us on all the roads. We’ll rest here, and I’ll hide the horses and carriage in that shed over there.”

  Gwynneth climbed out and looked at the little building, nearly hidden in the trees. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” She ventured a smile at Fernanda.

  “I told you I had.” Fernanda picked up Stella, who started screaming, so she put her back down again.

  “Will you come in with us?”

  Fernanda shook her head. “I’ll take care of the horses and sleep for a bit, then patrol the area until we leave tonight. Get something to eat—there’s food inside, so you won’t need to cook. There are enough beds upstairs for all of you, since I’m afraid there’s not much to do but sleep. Please don’t go outside. We can’t risk anyone catching sight of any of you.”

  Gwynneth shifted Renata onto her other hip. “Thank you for taking such good care of us.”

  “I do what I can.” Fernanda grinned widely for the first time, and Gwynneth glimpsed oddly pointed teeth. That must be why she didn’t like showing them.

  The children were already running into the cottage, so Gwynneth followed them. When she turned to close the door, Fernanda still stood near the carriage, watching her.

  Anton

  Anton didn’t have to wait long, sitting in his corner of the courtyard of General Ensden’s house. He was glad, because it was chilly in the shade. In less than an hour, Franca Dura burst out of a side door.

  “Get my horse,” she shouted and a groom ran off.

  Anton sprang to his feet. If she left now, it would be hard to follow without a horse of his own.

  While she waited for Skandar, Franca gathered her officers. “That fool Ensden wants to sit here while Lennart starves him out. I won’t let him.”

  “What’ll we do?” someone asked.

  Anton inched closer. So far no one had noticed him.

  “We’ll find Lennart.” Franca pulled on her riding gloves.

/>   “But he’s got a huge army,” another voice protested. “We can’t take him on ourselves.”

  “No one has seen that huge army of his in weeks.” Now a groom brought Skandar and Franca sprang onto his back. Anton stared at him desperately. “We can at least go take a look. I told Ensden I’d report back to him, but he can’t stop us if we want to cause Lennart a little trouble.”

  “That’s more like it.” A huge captain swung onto another charger that had come out with Skandar. “Does Ensden worry he’ll lose?”

  “He thinks he can win,” Franca said, “since he’s certain Lennart has lost most of his army through the winter. And there’s little food this time of year. In another month, he hopes what’s left of Lennart’s army will be starving.”

  “How boring—not to mention cowardly,” the captain said as the officers— all of them now mounted—headed for the courtyard gate. Anton wondered if he might steal a horse somehow, but there were too many people around here. He wouldn’t be able to follow on foot for long, but he’d go as far as he could.

  The officers clattered down the street until they reached a big square where the rest of the troopers waited for them. “We’re leaving,” Franca called out. “We’ll go out the western gate, find Lennart and cause him some trouble.” A cheer went up, and they rode off.

  Anton ran after them for as long as he could, but he was out of breath by the time they reached the gate. He stopped there, watching as it closed behind them, refusing to believe he’d never see Skandar again.

  Two days later, Anton’s regiment was mustered. “Is Lennart out there?” he asked the sergeant when he got a chance. The sergeant had been appreciative when Anton shared what he’d learned about Dura’s Cuirassiers and was friendlier than usual. He wasn’t even mad when Anton was a few minutes late to roll call because he’d been saying goodbye to Susanna.

  “Sounds like it,” the sergeant said. “He’s been waiting for us a while now, about five leagues off. But now Dura’s got herself surrounded and sent a message to Ensden, asking for help. He can’t say no; she’s got the best and biggest cavalry, so he’s got to do what he can to save her.”