Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  Teodora had little time to think before she was hauled across the camp, most of the tents burned or pulled down, with goods scattered everywhere. A few bodies lay about and for the first time in her life, Teodora averted her eyes. In spite of everything, she didn’t think she could bear seeing Sibyla dead right now.

  Teodora realized she was barefoot, cold mud squelching between her toes. No one would dream she might be empress, that was certain.

  The general and her suite stood at the edge of camp, surrounded by guards holding torches lighting up the trees surrounding the clearing.

  “We found a prisoner, General,” the soldier said, shoving Teodora toward a tall woman wearing light armor.

  “An Estenorian?” The woman looked at Teodora with interest, then waved someone with a torch over to stand closer.

  “A Terragand ally to Estenor,” Teodora said. “Major Willa Leckner at your service.” She wondered if she should bow, but decided not to. She hadn’t bowed to anyone since the last emperor died. No point in starting now. So she just inclined her head graciously.

  “Your commanding officer and unit number?” the general asked, grabbing the torch herself and waving it in Teodora’s face.

  Teodora blinked and tried to step back, but someone held her. She hadn’t thought to come up with that information, it had been so long since she’d been a soldier. She gave what she hoped was an embarrassed laugh. “Well, it’s complicated—”

  “Shush,” the general said, peering into Teodora’s face rather a little too intently for comfort. With the flames blinding her, it was hard to make out the general’s features, though she seemed familiar. These career military women all ended up looking alike by the time they’d reached any significant rank. Bodies tough and stringy from endless action, skin weathered by the elements and almost inevitably, short hair. Had Teodora actually been a major, her long hair would have been unusual.

  “Holy Mother of Ercos,” the woman said, handing the torch off and turning away from Teodora. “Keep her hands bound and see she’s secured in the prison wagon. Put ten—no, twenty—guards on her. We’re going straight to Berolstein.”

  “I protest,” Teodora said loudly. “This is no way to treat one of your allies.”

  “Allies?” The general stopped short and turned back around. She laughed, a harsh, unpleasant sound. “We haven’t been on the same side in fifteen years, Your Highness. Take her away.” She wheeled around again and stalked off into the shadows.

  Teodora struggled, but it did no good. She held her breath, and while tiny black flames licked at the corners of her eyes, they did nothing but increase her panic. “You cannot do this!” she shouted. “I forbid it.”

  But the general was gone now, and two strong guards dragged her across the mud. They reached a wagon, considerably sturdier than the one Teodora had been in so far, made all of wood, with bars on the windows.

  “You’re lucky there aren’t any other prisoners, Your Highness,” a guard said sarcastically as he shoved her through the door.

  “What do you suppose General Vidmar meant by that?” another guard asked as the door slammed shut.

  “No idea. Maybe this woman looks like the empress did, back when she was young.”

  Teodora managed a smile in spite of everything. She still had that; strength and youth in abundance. She sat down on a rough wooden bench and shivered. A breeze rose, blowing through wide chinks in the wood, and Teodora wore only a thin shirt and breeches, suitable for riding in warm weather.

  “General Vidmar,” she said, wishing she’d been able to get a closer look at the woman. The name sounded familiar, though Teodora never bothered to remember anyone’s unless she thought they could be of some use to her.

  But, the general had recognized her. From fifteen years ago. Now Teodora cursed her youthful looks. This likely wouldn’t have happened if she’d resembled an old lady.

  The wagon lurched into motion, and Teodora, her hands still bound, fell against the wall. She righted herself and did her best to recall what she’d been doing fifteen years ago. She hadn’t been empress yet, though she’d been hopeful when her uncle fell ill for a time. Teodora spent months in Atlona, watching over him, though she was waiting for him to die. But he got better, and as a reward for Teodora’s devotion, he gave her command of the imperial armies.

  She smiled at the memory. That was satisfying. She’d taken Daciana and much of the army to Marjatya, to put down one of the rebellions that constantly seemed to pop up there.

  That was it. Teodora sprang to her feet, banged her head on the wagon’s low roof, and sat back down again.

  There’d been trouble near the border with Briansk. Daciana came to her in a fury, claiming Orician cavalry had killed several of her marauders. Teodora ordered the officer responsible brought to justice. She didn’t recall the name, or exactly what she’d looked like, but the woman had been young and surprisingly defiant, considering the circumstances. Teodora had very few enemies then, so the memory returned fast enough.

  She smiled. The young officer’s defiance ended quickly when she handed down the death sentence. Teodora had never seen someone so tan turn pale so fast. Her smile fled when she remembered what happened next.

  The officer escaped the night before her execution, though no one was sure how. One of Teodora’s officers also went missing, and might have been involved, though his superior insisted he’d been killed while pursuing the fugitive. But she’d escaped and gone gods only knew where.

  Except now Teodora knew.

  Lennart

  “Please darling, don’t go.” Raysa’s eyes were wide and pleading. “We get so little time with you, and you’ll be putting yourself in harm’s way soon enough.”

  “Someone’s got to find out what Franca Dura is up to,” Lennart grumbled. Like Braeden, he was getting antsy, stuck in town all day. Much as he loved spending time with his girls, he was ready for a bracing ride through the forest, chasing Dura, preferably.

  “Why does it have to be you?” Raysa took his hand and pulled him down beside her. She sat at a harpsichord in Edric’s drawing room and Lennart had come in to tell her he was leaving for a day or two. “Surely someone else can do this. Someone like Braeden, for instance.”

  “I hate to send Braeden after Dura,” Lennart said, pushing on a black key with one finger. A high note twanged through the room. “She’s his friend.”

  “All the better.” Raysa smiled. “What if he can find her and persuade her to come over to our side? That would be a real blow for Teodora.”

  Lennart chuckled. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll ask Braeden if he wants to chase her down.”

  He went to Edric’s library and shooed out two temple acolytes bent over an enormous volume at a table. “One of you find Count Terris and send him to me.”

  While he waited, he paced in front of the tall glass doors leading to the garden. The weather had been fine lately, which helped speed the building of fortifications, but Lennart seldom got to enjoy the garden.

  Even though he was outdoors most days, he spent those on horseback, inspecting earthworks and mulling over various battle plans with his officers. He preferred to do this while riding, since he could always think better while on the move.

  Bearing that in mind he said, “Let’s walk out here,” when Braeden arrived.

  Braeden had been getting plenty of sun, his face brown and his hair and beard bleached almost white from all the hours spent coaching Devyn in the courtyard.

  They left the building, crossing a marble terrace bounded by enormous pots of white flowers, then walked down the main path, toward a fountain.

  “I have a job for you,” Lennart said.

  “Thank the gods.”

  “Wait until you hear what it is before you thank me.”

  “I’m guessing it involves Franca Dura.”

  “It does.” They’d reached the fountain, and Lennart dipped his hand in the cool water, looking up at the statue of Vica in its center. S
he held a large jug under one arm, from which the fountain’s water gushed. “It was my wife’s idea,” Lennart continued. “She wondered if there was any way you might talk to Dura, convince her to join our side.”

  “I can try,” Braeden said, staring up at the statue. “But I’ve tried it before with no success. I think she sympathizes with our cause, and she helped me capture Elektra the second time. But she’s bound to Mattila by contract. I was the one to teach her she should never break a contract.”

  “And yet you did.” Lennart hoped Braeden realized he didn’t hold that against him. On the contrary, he respected him for it.

  “I had good reason, or at least thought I did, and Franca didn’t disagree with me. But she’s chosen her path.”

  “It’s been a while since you last talked to her.” Lennart persisted.

  “It has, though her recent actions make me think nothing has changed.”

  “She likes a good fight is all.” Lennart chuckled and turned back to the path to head back to the palace.

  “Always.” Braeden smiled. “I doubt I can change her mind, but I’ll go look for her if you want me to.”

  “I do,” Lennart said. “I’ll make arrangements for an escort.” He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he couldn’t spare any troops, but that had been before he knew Franca was on his doorstep. She was a threat that needed to be dealt with.

  Once Braeden had gone to make his preparations, Lennart sent for Major Destler. Technically, he worked for Gwynneth, but Lennart was sure he could persuade her to let him go for a few days.

  Destler seemed happy to join Braeden. “I’ve always enjoyed fighting at the count’s side,” he said. “At first I was intimidated, with him being so famous, but he’s a very nice fellow.”

  “Indeed he is.” Lennart had to hide his amusement, since the gloomy Destler rarely grew enthusiastic over any topic except Gwynneth and her children. “Prepare to ride out early tomorrow.”

  After Destler, he ought to talk to Gwynneth. He knew how much she wanted to be informed, but she’d be angry that he’d made this decision without her. No matter. It was his to make. He would ask to borrow her troops, but if she declined, he’d use others.

  He sighed. Gwynneth’s prickliness was not making matters easier, though he needed to talk to her anyway. They still had to discuss Balduin Bernotas’s fate and decide what Gwynneth and her family would do during and after the battle.

  “Have you been making plans without me?” Gwynneth asked as she came into the library. “Major Destler has already come to see me.”

  “Sorry about that. I was making it up as I went along.”

  “I’m not angry.” She smiled, looking happier than she had in a while. "It’s a good idea. Braeden needs something to do. I wish training Devyn was enough for him, but it seems not. I’ll have to deal with Devyn shortly. He’ll be upset at not being able to go.”

  “No doubt,” Lennart said, “though I need him here. How about this? While Braeden’s gone, instead of training, Devyn can spend a few days with me. Wouldn’t hurt him to see how a king spends his time while he’s about to be besieged.”

  “That’s a marvelous idea, thank you,” Gwynneth said.

  She was being so easygoing and friendly, Lennart was a little bit suspicious.

  Maryna

  The way became difficult now, though nothing like the dizzying passes and deep snow of the mountains of Tirovor. Maryna still was tired at the end of every day, but the excitement of soon seeing her home and family carried her through. It also seemed she had gained Duke Orland’s respect, at least a little, so Maryna made a point of spending time with him every day.

  Often it was only sitting near him at a meal and engaging him in polite, superficial conversation, but Maryna was determined to make friends. Aside from being the most powerful of the Terragand nobility, he and his son had also been stalwart supporters of her family’s from the beginning of the war. Once it ended, Maryna would make sure to reward him for his loyalty.

  She also made a point of spending time with Emilya Hohenwart. This was a little easier, since Hohenwart was friendlier, and loved teaching Maryna about all things military. To be truthful, Maryna found the talk of artillery and siege dispositions rather boring, though she understood the logic behind it all well enough. But understanding these things was part of being a good ruler. How could she put the right people in the right positions if she didn’t understand their jobs?

  Still, it was all rather exhausting. The only bright side was that Greta had become less vigilant. Perhaps she wasn’t as worried about Maryna’s safety, now she had an army at her back, but something else was going on.

  More than once, Maryna had come upon Greta and Karil riding side-by-side, arguing about imperial politics. It seemed they were on the same side, violently opposed to Teodora, but they seemed to disagree how to take her on.

  “Open rebellion is the best way,” Karil said. “It sends a clear message, and all the rest of the empress’s subjects see at least some willing to stand up to her.”

  “It’s the best way to get killed,” Greta scoffed. “Best to arrange your rebellion in secret, and strike the imperials when they aren’t expecting it. If they come after you, hide in the mountains and ambush them.”

  “That only works if you have mountains.” Karil’s face turned red.

  Anton came up beside Maryna. “I doubt they’ll settle this soon.”

  Maryna smiled at the squabbling pair riding ahead of her. “I don’t think they want to.”

  “You’re right.” Anton grinned at her. “She’s a good match for him in more ways than one. He needs someone he can argue with.”

  It occurred to Maryna that Greta probably couldn’t marry Karil, being too low-born, but maybe Marjatyans didn’t care about that so much. She wished she didn’t. Wished her family didn’t.

  That evening, the combined army made camp alongside a mountain stream, the tents strung out for at least a league by the water. It was a difficult spot to defend, but no one seemed to worry about the enemy attacking here. This was Duke Orland’s land, and the few folk who lived here were loyal.

  Greta arranged Maryna’s tent, then said, “Oh dear, Your Grace, I just remembered something. I didn’t tell Lieutenant Andarosz that Piter Lenz—you know, Tirovor’s great hero—used archers to great effect when the emperor before last ...” She trailed off and frowned, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I forgot. It really weakened my argument.”

  Maryna laughed. “You’d better tell him then. You ought to have time before supper.”

  Greta rushed off, muttering to herself, looking a little guilty.

  Maryna stepped outside her tent. It was nice to have time alone. Her tent sat under the trees, a little apart from the others, right beside the clear stream, the water burbling over black and yellow rocks. Maryna looked around, pulled off her boots and stockings, then sat down on a rock, pulling her skirt up and putting her feet in the cool water. Now they were in a safer area, she wore her riding dress again, so much cooler than armor.

  She startled and looked up when Anton sat down on a rock beside her.

  “I saw Greta and Karil walking around, arguing, so thought you might be alone. Hoped you would be,” he said.

  “Oh.” Maryna didn’t know what else to say to that. She liked being alone with Anton, but it was a little frightening too, though she couldn’t say why.

  Anton turned serious. “If everything goes well, you’ll see your family in just a few days.”

  “I know. I can’t wait.” She was happy about that until she saw Anton’s face. “What’s wrong? I’m sure we’ll still spend plenty of time together.”

  “I’m not. Your mother likes me but she won’t be happy if she knows how you feel. You still want to marry me someday, don’t you?” He looked anxious.

  Maryna found that endearing, since Anton was usually so confident. “Of course I do. More than ever,” she added.

  His smile returned. “Good. Me too. B
ut if your mother finds out, I’m sure she’ll send me away.”

  “I’m not sure she would, if she knew it would make me unhappy.” Even as she said it, Maryna wasn’t so certain.

  “I think she would. And worse, she’ll start looking around for someone else you can marry.” He scooted a little closer and took her hand. “We have to keep it quiet, at least until I’ve distinguished myself more.”

  Maryna nodded, seeing the sense in it, though she didn’t like it. “I’ll still want to see you,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  “I'm sure we can work something out.” He smiled. “But we can’t give anything away. The problem is …” He looked down. “If we can’t ever talk about this, I’ll worry you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I never would!” Maryna was a little annoyed that he questioned her loyalty.

  “I know.” Anton chewed his lip. “But I’ll still worry.”

  “You shouldn’t.” Maryna turned to face him and picked up his other hand, after glancing around to make sure no one was nearby. “I’ll promise you right now, I’ll marry you someday. Once I’m seventeen and in charge, I can do what I want. You can wait that long, can’t you?”

  He grinned at her. “I can, though it seems like forever.”

  “It does, though it’s just a little over two years.”

  His hands were warm under hers, and they sat very close, knees touching. Maryna looked around again. It might be a long time before they got another chance. So she leaned forward, and kissed Anton on the lips.

  Caught by surprise, he didn’t kiss back right away, but then caught her by the arms. “Good idea,” he said with a chuckle. “Now let’s do it properly.” He stood up, pulling her to her feet, still in the water.

  Her feet had grown numb by now, but she didn’t care, and let her skirt fall in the water. She glanced around again. Still alone. So she let him pull her close, melting into his arms.

  He brushed a strand of hair from her face, then tilted her chin up, smiling down at her. “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.”