Startled, the horse leapt forward, and Elektra hung on with all her might, even as she kicked at its flanks. With no spurs and no whip, she couldn’t do much. But the horse somehow sensed her urgency and soon sped to a gallop, clattering out onto the street, letting Elektra steer it to the nearest city gate.
Several guards had run after her, but gave up as her lead lengthened. It was only a matter of time before they got their own horses and came after her. She had to be well away by then.
Elektra cleared the open gate and came out onto the road before pulling up. Running off was no good if she ran into enemy hands, whoever that was.
The Maximus’s guards were after her, and Princess Viviane would be too, before long. Anton, Karil and Maryna would want nothing to do with her, even if she could catch up. The only person left was her mother.
Elektra turned her horse onto the road leading to Terragand. Much as she hated facing her mother after this terrible failure, she had nowhere else to turn right now.
Gwynneth
Gwynneth enjoyed a friendly squabble with Lennart every now and then, but this time she was truly angry. “I won’t let you sideline me,” she said, fixing her eyes on his, which looked just as determined. “This is my fight as much as yours. What will people say when you relieve Heidenhof and they find out that the prince of the land and his regent were cowering in some peasant hut?”
They had made camp on the west side of the Garsten Gap, well hidden in the woods a mere ten leagues from Heidenhof. Lennart’s scouts were circling the enemy, counting them and getting details on their disposition.
Gwynneth expected Lennart to join battle in two days or less and she planned to be present. On horseback, she and the children could stay near the rear, with a chance to escape if anything went wrong, which she didn’t expect, since Lennart never lost.
“What people say is the least of your worries. Gossip won’t affect you if you’re dead.” Lennart huffed, as though he were losing his patience.
Gwynneth wasn’t intimidated. “The point is moot in any case. There’s nowhere safe for me to go.”
“Yes, there is.” Braeden took a seat beside her at Lennart’s table, serving as command center. “You and the children can go to Birkenfels.”
“Birkenfels is surrounded.” Gwynneth shook her head, “with only the one way in.”
“There’s another,” Braeden said. “Your husband showed me. He used it to get into the castle when Trystan Martinek relieved it.”
Now Gwynneth remembered. “He once told me of a secret entrance and planned to show me. I suppose he never got a chance. He worried it was in poor repair.”
“It was,” Braeden said. “They barely made it in. But Kendryk instructed the garrison commander to make the passage safe afterward.”
“So it’s likely not much of a secret anymore.” Still, it might be worth seeing if she could send the children to safety that way.
“Maybe not.” Braeden shrugged. “But everyone who knew at the time was sworn to secrecy. Might be they kept their vows.”
Gwynneth doubted that, knowing how tongues loosened after a few mugs of beer. “Can we look at least?” She looked at Lennart, who was failing to conceal his eagerness at the prospect of packing her off.
“Sure,” Lennart said. “How far away is the entrance to this passage?”
“That’s the problem,” Braeden said. “It’s across the valley from the castle, near the gap between those two hills,” he turned back to Gwynneth.
“I know which ones you mean.” Her heart clenched, remembering where she and Kendryk used to love riding in happier times. “You’re right, getting there won’t be easy. We must slip past the enemy somehow.”
“Can we spare a day or two?” Braeden asked Lennart. “I reckon we can avoid the army at Heidenhof by going north, then cross the river at a ford I know of. If we can get Her Grace and the children in, Balduin won’t be able to touch them, no matter what.”
“We can do it,” Lennart said, “but I don’t want to take any more time than necessary. Can we go today?”
“As long as you’re ready, Your Grace,” Braeden said.
“I’ll see the children safe,” Gwynneth said, “then come back with you.”
“I think not,” Lennart said. “All three of you must stay there until the battle is over.”
Braeden glanced at Gwynneth. “I have a proposal, Your Highness,” he said to Lennart. “I overheard Her Grace saying someone from the family ought to be present at the battle, and I agree.”
“Thank you,” Gwynneth said. She should have known Braeden would understand.
“I think Prince Devyn needs to be there,” Braeden said.
“Absolutely not.” Panic rose in Gwynneth’s heart at the thought. “We must keep him safe.”
“He will be safe,” Braeden said. “I’ll stay by his side no matter what. I’m far better at defending against soldiers than treacherous princesses,” he said with a rueful grin. “But this victory must be his as much as yours,” he added to Lennart.
Gwynneth’s mouth was dry. “So you want me and Stella to wait in the castle while putting Devyn in harm’s way?”
“Your Grace, he’s not a little boy any more. Princess Maryna is on her way, but until she arrives, Devyn must appear as a strong ruler for Terragand. He’ll want to do this.”
“Of course he will.” Gwynneth snapped, her anger boiling over. “That’s the problem. I’d have to drag him kicking and screaming into that castle in any case.”
“Then why not make it easier on yourself?” Braeden’s voice was soft.
Gwynneth had observed him using that wheedling tone on horses and refused to let him patronize her. “I don’t want it to be easy. I want to win and I want to be there when we do it.”
“I’m afraid you’re outnumbered, Your Grace.” Lennart rose, towering over Gwynneth. “I’m ordering you and the little duchess to go to the castle. Prince Devyn can stay with me and Count Terris.”
Gwynneth stood, though she had to look up at Lennart. “You can’t order me.” She was in charge in this kingdom, or would be soon. Lennart was merely an ally.
“I can.” Lennart grinned, showing his teeth, even as he beckoned a few guards over. They loomed over Gwynneth, their intention clear. “Likely for the last time, but you will do this.”
His eyes softened, but only a little. “Count Terris is making a great deal of sense and we ought to listen to him. Both you and Prince Devyn are important to Terragand, and it’s wise to keep you separate until we're sure of victory. Now go find that secret passage. I’ll send you there in a sack if I must, though I’d prefer it if you went willingly.”
“I’ll go,” Gwynneth said through clenched teeth, “but not willingly.”
Teodora
This time, Teodora took three hundred troops of mingled cavalry and dragoons. She wasn’t sure if she’d slept at all, the nightmare had been so vivid. Dark figures formed out of black smoke, taking all kinds of grotesque shapes, both human and animal.
The worst was a version of Daciana. Though it looked like a charred corpse, distinguished only by a shock of black hair and frightening black eyes, Teodora was certain it was her, at least during the dream. The figure stared at her without saying a word, but Teodora knew.
The old Maxima who’d died during the ritual appeared, even more malevolent and frightening, unnaturally white skin stretched over bone, with pale, inhuman eyes. Teodora feared her, but couldn't say why. She was an enemy, but a dead one. She wouldn’t harm anyone.
Teodora lay in her cold tent an hour before dawn, praying. “Holy Vica, please tell me what it means,” she whispered. “What do you want me to do?” For this had to be a sign from the gods, and now she had no one to turn to for spiritual guidance.
But Vica didn’t answer, and when Teodora got up, the rest of the world lay as behind a translucent curtain. The whole camp looked blurry and partially formed, but everything continued as usual.
Teodora went throu
gh the motions of preparing, though when it came time to eat, she took one bite of porridge and gagged. Spitting it onto the wet ground, she wondered if she was ill. Well, she would rest after her mission.
She led them into the hills again, about ten leagues from where she’d started the day before. She still didn’t have a clue as to the enemy's location, but she didn’t worry. She, or something inside her, would find them soon enough.
They crossed a stream, splashing loudly and turning the banks to mud. Anyone within two leagues would hear, but Teodora didn’t care.
She gasped when thick, shiny black smoke curled out from behind a tree, but then smiled when Daciana’s figure formed out of it. Every bit as grotesque as she appeared at night, Teodora now recognized and didn’t fear her.
“Tell me where,” she murmured, ignoring an officer’s sideways glance.
Daciana grinned, black lips pulling back from black teeth, and pointed to Teodora’s right. A tiny path wound in between the trees alongside the stream.
Teodora smiled, then gave the order to follow the trail.
Daciana turned back into smoke and raced ahead.
“We don’t know where that goes, Your Highness,” the officer said, her eyes wide and frightened.
“We don’t know where any of it goes,” Teodora said. “But I have another good feeling about this one.” She urged her horse ahead. The trail was only wide enough for single file, so Teodora remained alone out in front, but she didn’t worry.
The pounding in her head began again, and a high-pitched whine filled her ears. Two more bits of smoke curled out from behind trees, formed into four-legged black creatures and ran down the path.
Perhaps she was losing her mind. Still, something drew Teodora forward, keeping her from questioning it. Maybe the gods had willed these visions and would lead her to victory. Perhaps her tireless work on their behalf was being rewarded with special gifts. Why refuse them?
Teodora spurred her horse and galloped down the trail, ignoring the shouts of her officers behind her. Of course they feared for her safety, but Teodora understood she wouldn’t be harmed.
The enemy lay ahead, but few remained by the time Teodora crashed through them. Daciana’s figure stood above a body, and she smiled at Teodora once more before disappearing.
The other creatures had disappeared, but they’d done their work well enough. Just in case, Teodora had drawn her sword, but the only enemy soldier was a distant figure now, crashing through the brush as fast as he could go.
Teodora waited for the rest of her troops to arrive.
“What happened here, Your Highness?” The officer’s eyes were even wider now, and horrified.
“I'm not sure,” she said. “It seems someone got here ahead of us.”
“But who?”
Teodora shrugged. “I’m sure Aidan Orland has enemies within Terragand. Perhaps they’re taking advantage of our presence to destroy him.”
“If only,” the officer said, though her eyes told Teodora she didn’t believe her.
Teodora didn’t care. Whatever happened here would only help her cause. She wished she knew of a way to control the monsters. If she found Lennart and faced him, there was no telling what kind of damage these creatures might do to an army massed on the battlefield.
As they rode back to the rest of Teodora’s force, she pondered, wondering how she might make more monsters. With just a few dozen, she doubted anyone could stand in her way, and in that case she’d also have no further use for Brynhild Mattila. Complete victory might be just weeks away.
Braeden
Braeden breathed out and patted Kazmir’s neck.
“Glad that’s over,” he said. “Now let’s get ready for this battle.”
He’d sent Gwynneth and Stella down the passage, waiting on the hillside until the message came back they’d reached the castle.
Getting them there had been the easy part. The enemy was visible only at a distance, the ford Braeden wanted to use unguarded. Everyone knew of Balduin's incompetence, but to leave a vital river crossing unwatched was beyond that. Perhaps his numbers were truly tiny.
The difficulty was Gwynneth, in a complete fury at being sent to the castle. Braeden could sympathize, but only a little. Gwynneth had always been too careless of her own safety, and while she worried about her children, she somehow failed to understand that putting herself in harm’s way did the same for them.
“I can’t allow Lennart to behave like this,” she fumed as they rode across the valley, accompanied by a small group of bodyguards, carefully chosen to be immune to Gwynneth’s charms. “I’m in charge of Terragand, and he can’t order me around like one of his subjects.”
“I know,” Braeden said soothingly, though judging by her glare, she didn't want to hear it.
Little Duchess Stella rode between them, still sobbing. That her brother was allowed to take part in the battle while she was sent away seemed the height of injustice to her.
Braeden sighed heavily and tried again. “He’s used to being in charge, and no one questions him.”
“That’s the problem,” Gwynneth said. “I might have created a monster. I need him to install my son or daughter on the throne of Terragand and defeat Teodora. Once he’s done that, I need him to go home.”
“I’m sure he’s eager to do that.”
“Is he?” Gwynneth turned to him, her eyes wide. “What if he wants to take over? What if he wants to become emperor?”
“I’m sure that’s not what he wants,” Braeden said, even though he wasn’t convinced. Still, it didn’t seem like Lennart to be power-hungry in that way. He liked winning on the battlefield, but ruling a huge empire would likely bore him.
“Well, none of us can be sure, though I intend to find out,” Gwynneth snapped.
They rode the rest of the way in an uncomfortable silence, broken only by Stella’s sniffling and Braeden delivering the occasional order to the small group. All was as he remembered it and they crossed the river and climbed the hillside without incident.
Braeden led them to the passage opening, which took him little time to find. After Kendryk’s trouble locating it, Braeden had emblazoned it on his memory.
Seeing Birkenfels’ towers was both comforting and sad, since Kendryk would never see them again. Still, if the next day went well it might yet become a safe home for his family.
“I’ll see you soon, Your Grace,” he said to Gwynneth before she walked into the passage.
She said nothing, and turned away.
“Run along now,” Braeden said to Stella, chucking her under the chin. “I’ll come get you after the battle.”
Stella scowled up at him, but suddenly wrapped her arms around his legs. “Please be careful, Braeden,” she said, and hurried to join her mother.
Braeden swallowed down a lump in his throat. His own daughter would have been about Stella’s age by now. He waited for the guards to follow into the passage and settled down to wait. Once he received the message from Count Faris that they’d reached the castle, he led Kazmir back down the hillside. It was getting dark, and Lennart planned to attack early the next morning.
Braeden took his time getting back to his troops. They and Devyn had followed him part of the way and made camp in a small wood just out of sight of the enemy outposts. With strict orders to stay invisible, no one lit fires, but fortunately the night remained warm.
Braeden wrapped himself in his bedroll and fell asleep after eating a bit of cold food. Truth be told, he was looking forward to the battle. It had been too long since he’d been in a real one.
He awoke before dawn and a page helped him into his armor. A cool drizzle fell, but that was fine. It would mask sound and make them less visible.
Braeden led a party of eight hundred cavalry, nearly half of Lennart’s force. He planned to attack the enemy encamped at Heidenhof’s western gate from the north, while Lennart swooped in from the east with the rest of his troops and Gwynneth’s force. Fortunately, Colonel Destle
r had been in favor of Gwynneth going to the castle.
Braeden smiled at Devyn, riding on his right. “How did you sleep, Your Grace?”
“Not well.” Devyn’s face was pale in the gathering light. “I haven’t been in a real battle before.”
“Just stick close and do as I say.” It wouldn’t hurt to let the boy have a taste of the real thing, so Braeden intended to let him join in the fight, at least at first. If things turned out hotter than expected, Braeden had given a dozen guards strict orders to get the young prince out of harm’s way.
The enemy camp was just stirring when they arrived. The sentries at the perimeter went down quickly and silently. Braeden dispatched one himself with a swipe of his saber, holding Kazmir at a steady canter. He couldn’t believe no one expected them.
Balduin was either stupid or short on troops to not have scouted the surrounding area more thoroughly. It didn’t hurt that the local population seemed to be opposed to the pretender and hadn’t breathed a word about Estenorian troops in the area.
Now they were in the camp, Kazmir trotting between tents. Braeden drew his pistols, waiting for someone who wasn’t running. A half-dressed soldier lunged at Kazmir with a knife, but Braeden shot him. Another pistol fired close by. That must have been Devyn.
The camp might have been ill-prepared, but by the time they reached its center, someone was mounting a defense. Just ahead, Braeden saw a double line of musketeers. “Get behind me, Your Grace,” he said, pulling ahead of Devyn. Guards gathered around the prince as the first line of muskets fired.
Elektra
Elektra left the main road at the first opportunity, heading deep into the forest and rode until dark, stopping at a tiny inn in an even tinier hamlet in the woods. The innkeep raised his eyebrows at her fancy trappings and the silver she handed him, too much for what he offered. Now she wished she hadn’t taken the Maximus’s cloak; it looked far too conspicuous.
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 17