Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  Emilya Hohenwart did more shouting than usual, when it came to getting all of the big guns unloaded. Aside from those, eight thousand troops took up many boats and took hours to disembark. While they waited, Hohenwart organized scouting parties and sent them on their way.

  “We’ll move slowly until we get the first reports,” she told Maryna. “We have no time to waste, but I also need to find out where everyone is. Rumor is that Lennart is near Heidenhof, so if that turns out to be true, we’ll head that way at all speed. But I want to find Teodora first. If we can surprise her, might be we can kill or capture her ourselves. Wouldn’t that be something.” Hohenwart nearly smiled.

  “That would be marvelous, General. I hope it can be done.”

  “Just as long as Mattila hasn’t moved north. If we can nab Teodora first, we might not need to face Mattila at all. Now that would be marvelous.”

  Elektra

  The sun was far too bright and it was a relief to enter the gloom of the general’s tent. Elektra pasted a smile on her face, hoping she didn’t look too ghastly.

  “Good morning.” Mattila was all smiles as she rose to greet her. “Though it’s rather close to noon. Did you have fun last night?”

  “I can’t remember.” Elektra dropped into a chair, her head still aching. She remembered, but didn’t want to let the general know about her little moment with Jozef. It was too embarrassing.

  “A shame. You looked like you were having a good time. I take it Jozef got you safely to your tent?” Mattila had an odd, predatory gleam in her eyes.

  “Yes, thank you.” Elektra forced another smile.

  Mattila leaned back in her chair. “Jozef was very taken with you. He’s not fond of your mother, but said he found you charming and terribly pretty. He was amazed you were related.”

  Elektra tried to remember how he’d know her mother but gave up. She wasn’t sure how to reply to Mattila and settled on, “He’s very kind. I’m afraid I wasn’t myself last night.”

  Mattila waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you seldom get to spend time with anyone your own age. You should enjoy yourself more.”

  “I can’t,” Elektra said, thinking that getting drunk to the point of illness was not the least bit enjoyable. “I need to make plans and figure out what to do next.”

  “Well, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Mattila shuffled papers on the table beside her, then looked at Elektra, her gray eyes hard and direct. “I’m sure you were worried yesterday, considering how we parted the last time.”

  “I was.” There was no harm in acknowledging it.

  “Yet you sought me out anyway.”

  Elektra nodded. Best to stick to that story. “I’ve changed a great deal. I’m no longer that frightened little girl who ran into Livilla’s arms. I’ve learned that I can’t rely on anyone to help me get what I want. Not my mother, and not Lennart, though he certainly tried.” It was best to appear honest, in case Mattila had heard anything about that.

  “I wondered.” Mattila clasped her hands on one knee, crossed over the other one at the ankle. “His deal wasn’t to your liking?”

  “I’d rather not be a puppet.” That much at least was true. She didn’t want to be Mattila’s puppet either.

  “Understandable. And even if Lennart succeeds, he’ll abandon you sooner or later.”

  “That’s what I worried about. I’m also not sure he’ll succeed.”

  “He won’t,” Mattila said matter-of-factly. “You were wise to return to your mother, though the commonfolk here tell the craziest stories about you.”

  “I know.” Elektra smiled wryly. “They seem certain I returned to spy on my mother. I wish I were that clever.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself,” Mattila said. “You’ve shown yourself to be resourceful, and I don’t blame you at all for going along with the enemy when you had to. You were alone and needed to do anything necessary to survive. But that’s changed. You’re among friends now and can have higher aspirations.”

  “I hope so.” Elektra wasn’t feeling so sick anymore and managed a mostly sincere smile.

  “Tell me.” Mattila fixed her eyes on Elektra’s. “What do you want right now that’s in my power to give?”

  “I’d like a regiment of my own,” Elektra said. “I didn’t manage so well with the last one you gave me, but I’ve learned a lot since then.”

  “You would have done well enough if you’d stayed with me and had proper guidance. And that’s what you’ll get now. In fact, I’d like to offer you at least three regiments. You ought to get experience with cavalry and artillery as well.”

  Elektra gasped. “That’s so generous. But I can’t just come in here and take the command out from under one of your officers.”

  Mattila frowned. “I won’t lie, Leyf Lofbrok has caused me a great deal of trouble, and I’m down two generals, one dead, and another demoted. Putting someone with your lack of experience in their place isn’t ideal, but your rank will impress the officers and be good for morale. What do you say? Do you want to try it?”

  “Well, yes.” Elektra smiled. Mattila’s ‘guidance’ would likely not be much fun, but she’d get what she’d longed for. And taking three regiments over to Lennart would make her a more equal ally in his eyes. She’d have to work out later how she’d pull that off. “Thank you.”

  “I have one condition,” Mattila said, her eyes still on Elektra.

  That was easy enough to guess. “I suppose you’ll want me to swear not to return to my mother.”

  Mattila laughed. “No, I’m not worried about that. What I want is for you to become part of my family. I want you to marry my son.”

  Elektra stared at her, unable to breathe. Then she laughed. “You’re joking, surely. I can’t marry Jozef. I’m sure he’s a very worthy young man, but he’s just a baron. It isn’t proper.”

  “You can marry anyone you want. Who will stop you?” Mattila leaned forward. “And besides, by the time this war is over, he’ll be much more than a baron. Your mother has made promises, and I will hold her to them. When all of this is over, Jozef will be a prince, maybe more, depending on the size of the territory he’ll rule.”

  “I don’t understand.” A roaring grew in Elektra’s ears and she had to remind herself to breathe. “What territory?”

  “Once I've defeated Lennart, your mother plans to carve up Kronland. Instead of twelve kingdoms there will be four or five large ones. I will receive at least two of them, and install Jozef as ruler of one of them immediately. As my son and daughter-in-law, you’ll get first pick, and the others will come to the two of you upon my death.”

  Elektra couldn’t believe any of this. It sounded like one of her mother’s schemes, but she couldn’t believe Mattila thought it possible. “But .. charters ... and rulers ...” She couldn't form her thoughts.

  Mattila waved a hand. “Rulers will be removed and charters rewritten. It’s all arranged.”

  Elektra swallowed, feeling sick again. “I’m not sure I’m ready to marry anyone.”

  “Why not? You’re a lot older than your sister was when she married that old king. And Jozef is young and handsome. Make him crazy about you and he’ll do anything you want.”

  Elektra had no idea how she’d do that, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. “I-I,” she stammered. “Might I have time to consider it?”

  “Certainly.” Mattila bared her teeth. “Just keep in mind that if you refuse, I’m sending you straight back to your mother. I need allies I can rely on, and this is the best way for you to prove yourself to me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Elektra had some difficulty getting up from her chair without staggering, but by now she was gasping for air and needed to get out of that tent.

  Lennart

  “I'm not sure it’s good enough.” Raysa frowned at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

  “Good enough for what? You look incredible.” Lennart came up behind her, resting a hand on he
r shoulder, careful not to disturb the carefully arranged neckline of her dress. Made of billows of seafoam green silk covered in snow white lace, it made Raysa look like a goddess of the waves. He told her so.

  “You say the nicest things.” She smiled at him. They were getting ready to leave for a feast Edric was putting on the second night after his victory.

  “You have nothing to worry about, trust me.” Lennart offered her his arm. He’d put some effort into his appearance too, settling on a brocaded yellow suit, but he doubted anyone would even glance at him with both Raysa and Gwynneth in one room. “Gwynneth is beautiful, but so are you. And you’re nearly ten years younger.”

  “Does that matter?” Raysa steered him toward the door and out into the corridor. Everyone would be waiting for them, but it was proper for the king and queen to make a formal entrance.

  “To some people. I’ll be honest,” Lennart murmured as they headed down the long, empty corridor. “Kendryk’s death has hurt her looks far more than the years.”

  “I imagine so. I feel so dreadful for her.” Raysa squeezed his arm. “I can’t even imagine what losing you would do to me. I doubt I’d show my face in public again.”

  ‘You would.” Lennart didn’t like talking about this, but it seemed wise to discuss it at some point. “You’d do it for our daughter at least. When I’m gone—which gods willing won’t be for many years—she’ll take her place on the throne of Estenor. Even if she’s no longer young, she’ll want your help and advice.”

  “I doubt I’d be useful in that situation,” Raysa said, her voice trembling. “Please, I can’t bear to think about it, let alone talk about it.”

  And then they were at the door of the great dining hall, the double doors opening before them. Everyone already in the room turned toward them and bowed when the footman announced the King and Queen of Estenor, but Lennart flapped a hand at them.

  “Up, up everyone. We’re not at court here, and we’re all friends.”

  Everyone returned to normal, though now they clustered close around Lennart and Raysa, hoping for a word. Lennart took his time, working his way through the crowd. His own officers were here, and so were all of the higher clergy of Heidenhof, all of the prominent citizens, and a few nobles from the area who’d remained loyal.

  Gwynneth, Devyn and Braeden waited for them at the edge of the crowd and Lennart was pleased to introduce his beautiful wife. He knew she was nervous, but she concealed it marvelously. She had kind words for Braeden, gave Devyn her hand and a brilliant smile, making him turn red, then turned to Gwynneth.

  “It’s so good to see you again.” She paused and swallowed. “I’m so very sorry ...” At that, her composure appeared to crack, but Gwynneth had it well in hand.

  “Thank you so much,” she murmured, kissing Raysa’s cheek. “I’m so glad to see you too.” She turned to Lennart. “Might I have your wife until dinner?”

  “Sure,” he said, full of gratitude at Gwynneth’s friendliness. She could be prickly and haughty, and she was angry with him. But he appreciated her kindness toward Raysa. He was planning a gesture in return, but needed to wait for dinner to begin.

  A half hour passed while he spoke with everyone who wanted to meet him and offer their congratulations on his tiny victory. Then he pulled Devyn aside. “Your Grace, I want you at the head of the table, as is your right.”

  “Is it?” Devyn asked, looking frightened. His composure was normally so excellent, Lennart sometimes forgot how young he was.

  “Certainly.” He took Devyn’s elbow, steering him to the table as a murmuring crowd followed them. “You are ruler of Terragand and I’m your guest.” He said this last just as he approached Gwynneth and Raysa, standing together near the table.

  Gwynneth’s eyebrows shot up, so she must have heard him. Her eyes softened toward him for the first time in days.

  Devyn took his place at the table head, haughtiness masking his nerves. “I don’t have to say anything, do I?” he whispered to Lennart.

  “Not at all, unless you want to,” Lennart chuckled. “The Maximus will say a few words, since it’s his table. You’re here to enjoy yourself and get to know your subjects.”

  Lennart sat on his right, with Gwynneth beside him, while Raysa sat across from him, on Devyn’s left, with Edric beside her.

  “Thank you,” Gwynneth whispered once chatter had resumed after Edric’s brief blessing.

  “You have an incorrect assumption about my ambitions,” Lennart murmured back. “I have no wish to displace you or your children.”

  “I hoped you didn’t.” Gwynneth took a long drink of wine.

  “Not at all. My job is to see your children’s kingdom made safe. And to get rid of Teodora.”

  “Then what?” Gwynneth fixed her brilliant eyes on him.

  Their intensity made Lennart uneasy and he glanced at Raysa. But she was absorbed with Devyn, who was telling her about his adventure in Isenwald.

  “I’m not sure. We have to get Elektra back somehow. I’ll need her.”

  “To be empress?” Gwynneth looked skeptical. “She’d said she was your ally, but it was hard to believe.”

  “Not at all. I want a Quadrene on the imperial throne; all the better she’s an Inferrara. Isn't that a good idea?”

  “It’s an excellent idea.” Gwynneth beamed, and he knew he was forgiven.

  Trystan

  They left Tourane long before dawn. Trystan was amazed at how many soldiers the duke kept inside the fortress and wondered what size garrison he was leaving behind.

  In spite of having been rather drunk, Trystan hadn’t slept well. His plan was good, but many things could still go wrong. Getting himself and Joslyn to Allaux was just a first, dangerous step. Just because Duke Philipe had accepted the possibility of exchanging Joslyn for his sister didn’t mean the rest of the plan would work.

  He gave up on sleep, got up, lit a candle and polished his armor until it gleamed. Not that it needed it, having come fresh from King Gauvain’s own armorer only days before. This was only one of the many gifts Trystan received from the king. His rewards for rescuing Natalya were generous in the extreme, even though Trystan hadn’t asked for an army, as he’d told the duke.

  But that made him think. If he helped the king defeat the de la Tours, he could ask for a great deal more. What should it be? Pondering that kept him from worrying about the mission ahead, until a servant knocked, indicating it was time to get ready.

  Trystan asked for breakfast and a page, who helped him put on all of his armor. Even if things went well today, shots were likely to fly.

  An enormous party assembled in the castle’s courtyard, flooded with torchlight. Storm stood ready for Trystan, so he mounted and joined the duke. “Impressive numbers you’ve gathered here.” Always best to start with flattery when fishing for information.

  “I hope it’ll be enough.” The duke’s eyes were shadowed in the flickering light. “If we had more time, I’d gather up troops from my estates, but that’ll take days. Best to act quickly in this case.”

  “I agree,” Trystan said.

  The party moved across the drawbridge, the duke, Trystan, and Count Michel at its head.

  “A messenger came from Allaux not an hour ago,” the duke said. “Fortunately for you, your story appears to be true. Even better, the king thinks you’re headed back to Kronland and has sent soldiers to pursue you. It seems he’s rather worried what you’ll tell King Lennart.”

  Trystan chuckled to conceal his relief. “I doubt King Lennart will be impressed by Gauvain’s inability to keep his country in order.”

  “Indeed. Based on the fact you seem to have burned your bridges with the king, I feel comfortable leaving you unguarded.”

  Trystan was grateful for that, though being surrounded by enemy troops was only a small improvement.

  Hundreds of footsteps echoed on the wood of the drawbridge, and Trystan wished he knew where Joslyn was in the great crowd. “Is all of your family coming?” h
e asked casually with a friendly nod for Count Michel.

  “A few of them,” the duke said. “My wife insisted on coming along, to keep an eye on the Lady Joslyn in particular. They’re riding in a carriage a little further back. I’m leaving my other children and the rest of the grandchildren here. No matter what happens, a de la Tour must always hold Tourane.”

  “Very wise,” Trystan said, struggling not to look back for the carriage right then. He hoped to spot it later, since it would take half the day to reach Allaux.

  He found his excuse after the sun came up, turning in his saddle to openly admire the size and condition of Duke Philipe’s force. “Even if King Gauvain has greater numbers, I doubt they’ll be as well-disciplined,” Trystan said, letting his eyes slide over a small, ornate carriage surrounded by troops. It traveled about twelve ranks behind him, but in a moment’s confusion, he could reach it easily enough.

  “I’m sure that’s the case,” the duke said with a sniff. “Since we’ve caused all of this trouble for the king, he’s been remiss in recruiting and training garrison troops. He’s focused all of his efforts on the war with Maladena.”

  That made sense to Trystan, and he didn’t blame Gauvain for being distracted, with his closest adviser missing for months and his only child in mortal danger. “Have you decided what to do about the king?” he asked.

  “It depends. If he’s already killed my sister, then I plan to overthrow him straight away. We’ll march on the palace and kill him and anyone who defends him. If Natalya survives this, we’ll have a big trial and burning, to impress upon the population the consequences of heresy.”

  “I expect the Quadrenes will be ousted.”

  “Of course. That creed never belonged here.” The duke looked at Trystan sideways. “I suppose you don’t want to hear that, since you’re likely a Quadrene.”

  “My family is all Quadrene, but I don’t much care myself,” Trystan said with a shrug. “It seems reasonable to keep a foreign religion out of a country like Galladium that has such strong native traditions.” He thought of Louise and her family. The plan had to succeed for their sakes as well. Even though she and the other farmers had already returned to the countryside, they’d be in terrible danger if the de la Tours came out on top.