Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  Braeden decided to ask Gwynneth if he might train in the military arts full-time. With his sister on her way back, Devyn would make an excellent military commander for her if he learned what he needed to now.

  Braeden looked around the camp, and motioned to his officers to gather up their troops. He wanted to make sure that all was clear before calling it a victory.

  A little too slowly, the squadrons formed up again, a few troopers weighed down with loot. That was always the problem with attacking a camp.

  “Clear the area,” Braeden ordered, “and gather up the prisoners. The rest of us will ride the fortifications around the city. We don’t want to leave any pockets of resistance. And if anyone sees Balduin Bernotas, bring him to me, alive if you can.”

  He motioned to Devyn to join him.

  The boy’s face glowed. “I didn’t realize it would be so much fun. Though they didn’t fight very hard.” He frowned.

  “It’s not over yet,” Braeden said. “We have to make sure that all of Balduin’s forces are defeated. This was just the main camp. Lennart will take care of the other side of the city, but we’re responsible for making sure the southern side is clear.”

  “So there might be more fighting?” Devyn’s smile returned.

  “Maybe. Stay ready.”

  Except for those detailed to watch prisoners, Braeden’s troops reformed and headed through the camp at a walk. It wasn’t all that big; Braeden doubted it held more than a few hundred troops; just enough to keep the city sealed up, but no more than that. The odds of conquering a whole kingdom with those numbers was slim.

  But Balduin expected help. And it would come from Mattila and perhaps even from Teodora. Braeden worried about that. They might take the city back, but they couldn’t risk being trapped inside it if a larger force arrived. He hoped Lennart had a plan.

  It rained harder, Kazmir’s hoofs making a sucking sound every time he lifted one from the mud. Braeden stared through the gloom as they walked along the shallow trenches meant to encircle the city.

  A few musketeers still occupied them, but after getting off a few ragged shots, most scrambled out of the trenches and ran. Their powder was probably wet on top of everything else. But Braeden’s would be too.

  He turned to Devyn, riding beside him again. “Expect your pistols not to work. Draw your sword, but don’t use it unless you have to.”

  “But these fellows are all running off,” Devyn protested, even though he did as he was told.

  Braeden scowled at him. “Follow orders, Your Grace. That’s all you have to do.”

  “Right,” Devyn said, “Sorry. I mean, yessir.”

  “That’s better.” Braeden kept his voice stern, but cracked a small smile. Devyn was a quick study.

  “Now, let’s go see what else is out there.” Braeden urged Kazmir to a trot. He had a hunch he knew better than to ignore. The enemy troops were melting off into the rain and all was going as it should.

  This all seemed too easy. But until Braeden knew Franca wouldn’t be appearing out of the mist today, he didn’t intend to let down his guard.

  His cavalry squadrons had spread out to clear the area of enemy, but they still moved forward in good order, with their officers in Braeden’s line of sight.

  The signal for trouble ahead came back fast. They might have run into Lennart or Destler’s outriders, but Braeden had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

  “Get ready,” he muttered to Devyn, even as he signaled the prince’s guards to draw near.

  “Shouldn’t everyone get closer together?” Devyn asked, gripping his sword.

  “Not if it’s Franca,” Braeden said. “She’s best at thundering down hard on massed troops. If we’re spread out we spread her out too.”

  Not that it would do much good. At full strength she outnumbered Braeden three to one, and his barely-trained force couldn't handle those odds. He hoped Lennart wasn’t far away.

  “Where are they?” Devyn peered into the mist. By now his guards clustered close around him. They had their orders. If Franca headed their way, Devyn would go elsewhere. Braeden wouldn’t risk him against such a professional force, though he’d never say so.

  “Just ahead,” Braeden said, nodding toward the open field to the south, the misty rain still obscuring sight, though sound now carried across the sodden ground. The approaching force was big.

  Even at a distance, wearing full armor, a visor pulled down, Braeden knew it was her. First he recognized Skandar, and then the orange-red plume streaming from her helmet. Legend said it was her own hair, and Braeden half believed it.

  “Hold!” he shouted, as one squadron moved forward. “Hold. Let them come to us.” It was hard to wait, but the only way they had a chance. Braeden prayed Franca’s powder was as damp as his own.

  Elektra

  Rolf the blacksmith led Elektra to a little house behind the smithy. “My wife will have lunch ready, I hope,” He opened the door, stuck his head inside, and said, “Elysa, we have a guest for lunch.” He turned to Elektra. “Go on inside and get acquainted while I clean up.”

  Elektra walked in, her mouth dry. But the only people inside were a pretty blond girl near Elektra’s age, and a baby in a cradle against the wall.

  “I’m … Elektra,” she said, realizing belatedly she ought to use another name.

  “Hello.” Elysa looked up from the table she was laying. “Where are you from? That’s a rather uncommon name.”

  “I’m Olvisyan,” Elektra said.

  “How far you are from home.” Elysa smiled, her rosy face warm and friendly, and Elektra relaxed a little.

  “Yes, and going farther every day.”

  “Rolf loves talking to travelers,” Elysa said, finishing the table, then taking off her apron and hanging it beside a little stove. “And we don’t see too many here. Don’t let him delay you though, he’ll talk your ear off.”

  “I’m in a hurry,” Elektra admitted. “But I appreciate him inviting me. I hope it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all. There’s plenty of food and it’s no problem to lay an extra place. Ah, here’s Rolf.”

  The blacksmith looked even more fetching in a clean white shirt, and Elektra would have been sorry he was married, except Elysa was so sweet. It was impossible to be jealous, since of course someone nice and good-looking like Rolf would marry someone nice and pretty like Elysa.

  Elektra suppressed a sigh, wondering what her life might have been like if she’d been born in a village like this one, rather than in the Palais Arden.

  “He went down early for his nap.” Elysa nodded at the cradle.

  “Good,” Rolf said, adding with a grin, “he kept us up half the night, the little bugger.”

  They took their places around the table, set with pewter plates and shiny earthernware mugs and bowls. Rolf said a quick blessing, a Quadrene one. Elektra hoped the Quadrenes would be all right with Princes Viviane back in charge. While Elektra had been there, she’d ignored any measures suggested to convert the people back to the old faith.

  The food was delicious: roast pork in gravy with potatoes and stewed greens, likely from the garden beside the house. Elektra had the fleeting thought that she should just stay here. Change her name, become someone … become what? She didn’t know how to work in a smithy, or even a garden. She'd never cleaned a house or taken care of a baby. She’d be useless here. No, her destiny was elsewhere.

  “How nice you have it here,” Elektra said. “So cozy and comfortable.” The little house was simple, with only one other room visible through an open doorway, but light streamed in through shining windows and happiness radiated from its inhabitants. Elektra wanted something like this so badly, she almost cried.

  “It’s nice,” Rolf agreed, “though it’s all Elysa’s fault. She’s put the whole place right.”

  “It was a pigsty in here, before I married him,” Elysa said.”Tools and metal bits everywhere. How he ever got a proper meal, I have no idea.”


  Elektra wanted to hear all about that. Where they’d grown up, how long they’d been married. She pictured a charming country wedding under the trees. But she didn’t have time for that. She cleared her throat. “You’d said you received interesting tidings from Terragand. I suppose I should find out what’s going on before I head in that direction.”

  Rolf looked uncomfortable. “It sounds strange and wrong, and hard to believe. But the past several days we’ve had a few soldiers come this way. Another reason you ought to have a weapon, which I’ll take care of shortly.” He sighed and pushed his empty plate away. “Anyway.” He fixed his eyes on Elektra’s. “There’s rumors of the Empress Teodora in Terragand.”

  “I heard that too.” That seemed safe enough to admit.

  “Might well be true. I suppose she left the Archduchess Elektra in charge.” Rolf regarded her with a grin, and Elektra blushed. Surely it couldn’t be so obvious?

  “It’s all right,” Elysa said softly, “we know you’re on our side.”

  “Not that I can do you any good.” Elektra struggled to keep from sounding whiny. “Princess Viviane tried to kill me and took over again. I barely escaped with my life.”

  Rolf’s friendly eyes turned grave. “Then it might be better you don’t go to Terragand. Your mother might be there, but something’s gone wrong with her.”

  “I was sure of that already. She’s changed somehow. She was always a terrible person, but now she’s stronger and I suspect she did something awful to become that way.” Elektra remembered the paper in her pocket again, and shivered.

  “These are only rumors, mind,” Rolf said. “But word has come of a powerful sorceress in Terragand. No one can stand against her. It’s said she cut down fifty soldiers all by herself without even trying.”

  “It can’t be true,” Elektra whispered, hoping desperately it wasn’t.

  “Maybe not,” Rolf said, “but it all sounds rather unholy.”

  Elektra shook her head. “My mother and I aren’t on good terms, but I have nowhere else to go.”

  “Don’t go to her, please,” Elysa said. “There’s no telling what she might do.”

  “I doubt she’d harm me,”Elektra spoke slowly now, thinking. “But I want no part of what she’s doing.”

  “Then what will you do?” Rolf looked so concerned, Elektra’s heart clenched. “We’re happy to shelter you here, though I don’t doubt someone will come looking for you soon.”

  “I need to get to King Lennart, but I don’t know where he is.”

  “Oltena, is the word,” Rolf said. “Big army marching through there, on Brynhild Mattila’s heels.”

  “I’ll go that way then,” Elektra said, standing up reluctantly from the welcoming table. Meeting up with Lennart was always preferable to her mother. Hopefully he’d believe her story.

  Maryna

  Maryna was relieved to be back on the boat, heading north. She wanted to be angry with Anton for stopping when they’d already agreed not to, but he’d been quick to handle the situation when it went bad. Still, it had been a close call.

  After sending for both Anton and Karil, Maryna said, “We must talk. We can’t agree on something and then have one of us doing the opposite.” She fixed a stern glare on Anton, and he looked down.

  She walked to another rail so she didn’t have to stand so close to him. That always made it hard to think, and she had to be a little tough right now. “I like the three of us making plans together, but if we don’t agree, one of us has to be in charge. That should be me.” She lifted her chin, and looked at Karil first.

  “I agree,” he said, with a scowl for Anton. “You’re the princess.”

  Next, she looked at Anton.

  He was frowning. “It’s true you’re the princess and should usually be in charge, but sometimes, well, I’m responsible for your protection.”

  “You are.” Maryna struggled to keep her tone and look cool, even as she longed to run to Anton, throw her arms around him and tell him she trusted him no matter what. “But we can all agree that you just made a rather bad decision. I understand it would be difficult to see the archduchess and not stop, but you should have sent for the two of us before going ashore.”

  Anton swallowed and looked down again. “You’re right,” he said. “It was stupid, and I apologize. Getting rid of Princess Viviane seemed like a great idea and I lost my head. But I hope we still have an opportunity to come out ahead here. The army the archduchess was waiting for must still be north of us. If we can intercept it and convince its leader to fight for us....”

  “How will we do that?” Maryna wanted that army. She didn’t relish entering Terragand, knowing Teodora was there, waiting for them. They didn’t have enough troops to face a force of any size if someone decided to stop them. She just didn't know what she might offer an army expecting money.

  “I don’t know yet,” Anton said. “Let’s see if we can get them to stop so their leader can talk to us. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

  Karil rolled his eyes, but Maryna agreed with Anton. “You’re right, we should try. As ruler of Terragand, I can promise payment in the near future. Lennart will help me.”

  “It’s worth a try.” Anton offered a shy smile.

  Maryna knew what he wanted, so she waited for Karil to leave. She walked over to stand beside Anton at the rail and said, “It’s all right. I’m not mad at you. It was crazy, but really brave, what you did. And just think, a heretic Maximus is dead now. If Elektra is on Teodora’s side, she’s in a lot of trouble, which is good for us.”

  “But what if she’s not on Teodora’s side?” Anton still looked anxious. “What if she’s on ours, and I destroyed her chances of taking over Isenwald?”

  “If she’s at all competent, she’ll figure something out. And if she isn’t, well, then she’s not much good as an ally, is she?”

  “Thanks for trying to make me feel better.” Anton’s smile was crooked, the one that showed his dimples and always made Maryna a little shaky. “I believe it’s worked.”

  They made it all the way to Lerania before finding the army they were looking for. Elektra would have waited a long time for them to come. Maryna wondered what the delay was.

  After they'd tied all their boats to the docks, Anton said, “Wait here. I’m going into town to find out if it’s safe. I’ll also learn what’s going on with all those troops.”

  Their boats tied off nearby, soldiers and sailors lounged on deck in the sunshine, as if they weren’t planning to go anywhere for a while.

  Maryna took advantage of the sun, since Greta usually insisted she wear a hat, being convinced that all noble ladies had skin as white as a lily’s. Maryna had the sailors make her a comfortable seat, much like the one she’d had on the Lyra nearly a year ago, and relaxed.

  Anton returned a little later with interesting news. “It's been a mess here in town,” he said. “Princess Gwynneth appointed an ally as burgomaster when she took over. But when Teodora came, he got booted out and Princess Viviane’s man got his spot back. The population wasn’t happy about that, and the moment Teodora left for Terragand, they broke the friendly burgomaster out and put him back in place.”

  “That’s good for us then?” Maryna scooted aside so Anton could sit beside her.

  “Yes.” Anton nodded. “The army Princess Viviane hired was forced to stop once the burgomaster knew why they were here. He’s got their leader tied up with all kinds of paperwork. Their leader is interesting, too,” Anton added with a smile. “You might remember Emilya Hohenwart, since she fought for your Uncle Arryk, or at least tried to.”

  Maryna laughed, clapping her hands together. “I'm acquainted with her personally, in fact. She took care of us after you helped us escape before the battle. She wasn’t thrilled to have us on her hands, but she was kind, and got us to a temple where we could wait for my mother.”

  “That’s excellent news.” Anton stood and pulled Maryna up by the hand. “You should go talk to her righ
t away. She might be happy to fight for the right side again.”

  Maryna hoped that was true as she followed Anton into the city.

  Trystan

  When Trystan saw Natalya again, it was in the king’s private suite. She’d changed into her Maxima’s robes, but her eyes were red, and she seemed more upset than Trystan had ever seen her. While the king and queen worked on shooing out courtiers, Trystan went to sit by Natalya.

  “The queen told me what happened to your daughter,” he said. “I’m so very sorry. But we’ll get her back.”

  “I can’t imagine how.” Natalya dabbed at her reddened nose with a linen square very like the one Trystan had given Zofya. It was probably Louise’s. “With Charlise as Maxima, the de la Tours are now incredibly powerful.”

  “I don’t care,” Trystan said. “We’ve already outsmarted them twice. We’ll do it again.”

  Tears came to Natalya’s eyes. “Now I understand why the gods wanted you with me,” she murmured. “But you’ve already done so much, I can’t ask you to put yourself at risk again.”

  “You don’t have to ask. I want to. I want to make your daughter safe, and I want you to be Maxima again. Until that’s done I’m not leaving.”

  “I am so grateful,” Natalya whispered through tears.

  Trystan had a feeling that if they’d been alone she might have flung herself into his arms. Maybe there’d be a chance for that later, though it seemed unlikely Natalya would lose her composure again anytime soon.

  Now the room was empty of attendants, and the king and queen joined them. They were in the king’s dressing room, a relatively small chamber hung with dark blue velvet. So far it was the only room Trystan had seen in the whole palace that looked the least bit masculine.

  Trystan had to suppress a gasp at seeing King Gauvain up close. He looked unwell, his skin pale and lined, with dark circles under his eyes. He had been under considerable strain, clearly.