Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  “Me too.” She twined her arms around his neck, and squealed as he lifted her out of the water and onto the rock she’d been sitting on. Now she wasn’t too much shorter, which made meeting his lips that much easier. They felt nice and soft, in contrast to the rest of his face, which was rather stubbly. Maryna freed one hand to run it along his cheek, and felt him smile against her lips.

  A branch snapped and they broke apart, looking around. Greta stood nearby, flushed and breathing hard.

  Maryna worried she’d shout at Anton, but Greta wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Is everything all right?” Maryna asked

  Greta nodded. “It’s time for supper. You’re both, er, wet. I’ll help Your Grace dry off.”

  “Yes, please,” Maryna said primly, then let her eyes meet Anton’s before he walked off. Maybe it wouldn’t be easy, but she hoped they’d find time to do this again soon.

  Braeden

  “How will we find this person?” Major Destler asked Braeden as they rode away from the city, toward the river and the mountains beyond.

  “Easily, I imagine,” Braeden said. “Most likely, she’ll find us. The real problem is getting her to talk before she kills us all.”

  “And this Franca Dura is a friend of yours?” Destler looked dubious, even as he glanced around, no doubt expecting an ambush at any moment.

  Braeden nodded. “Knew her since she was a sprite. She helped me more than once after I changed sides, so I’m hoping she still feels friendly.”

  The morning had been rainy, but as they reached the river and turned south down the road running alongside, the clouds broke apart and the sun shone through from time to time. Braeden would probably regret his armor before too long, but he wanted to be ready in case Franca started shooting before realizing it was him. Or maybe she wouldn’t care. Maybe she believed the stories about him killing Kendryk and had decided he was a completely worthless person.

  That line of thought was depressing, so Braeden thought about something else. He’d noted the new fortifications as they left the city and reckoned they looked big enough to stop a gun of any size. But Lennart just kept building. Better to be safe, and it kept the troops busy. Nothing worse for morale than having a bunch of soldiers sitting about, waiting for something to happen.

  Lennart had sent a regiment’s worth of cavalry out as scouts so Braeden expected to run into some at any time. He hoped at least a few of them had news about Franca’s last location.

  “Let’s pick up the pace,” he told Destler. “We’re unlikely to find her this close to the city.”

  Kazmir was happy to speed up to a canter. He hadn’t had enough exercise lately, though Devyn took him for a few turns around the inner city walls. Braeden worried that a boy couldn’t handle a charger of Kazmir’s size, but he’d managed splendidly. And so had Stella, when she’d sneaked a ride soon after.

  Braeden was furious when he’d found out. If she'd been his own daughter, he would have given her a good thrashing. “You rascal,” he said, when he caught her coming out of Kazmir’s stall, lugging his saddle toward the tack room. “You don’t go riding without permission. You know that.” He smacked his crop against his leg, and glowered at her.

  Stella shrank back a little, but never took her eyes from Braeden’s. “Kazmir is my friend.” She put the heavy saddle down. “He won’t hurt me.”

  “Not on purpose, but he’s still too big for you to manage.”

  “He’s not.” Stella put the saddle down and crossed her arms across her chest. “We had a very nice ride and you should let me ride him every day.” She lifted her chin. “I order you to allow it.”

  “Hah.” Braeden struggled to keep from laughing. “You can’t order me.”

  “I can. I’m a duchess.”

  “But just a little one, so you still have to listen to me, and to your mother. I’m sure she’d be very angry if she heard about this. Should I tell her?”

  That did the trick. Stella’s dark eyes widened. “Oh please don’t, Braeden. She’ll make me stay inside for days.” She said that as if it were the worst possible punishment. For someone like her, it probably was.

  “All right. Let’s make a deal. You don’t ride Kazmir yourself. At all.” Braeden stared at her until she nodded. “If you do it again, I’ll tell your mother. But if you’re good, I’ll let you ride with me every now and then. How does that sound?”

  Stella pondered, a little too long, considering her position. “All right.” She grinned up at Braeden. “I like riding with you, though it’s not as fun as doing it alone. But it’s better than nothing I suppose.”

  “Nothing? You have your own pony and can ride him anytime you want.”

  “But he’s not a battle charger.”

  “That’s the point.” Braeden chuckled and shook his head. “Now put that saddle away and have the stableboy help you do it right.”

  Something about Stella reminded him of Franca as a little girl. Most likely, she’d grow up to be just as much trouble. Braeden hoped to be retired or dead by then so he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

  A cavalry squadron came down the road toward them and Braeden ordered a halt, riding forward to meet its leader.

  “We’re looking for Franca Dura,” he said. “Any word on her last position?”

  “North of the castle, as of yesterday afternoon. We were sent south to locate the rest of her force.”

  “Did you?”

  “We saw where they’d been, but they’ve retreated. Another unit relieved us to track them further.”

  Braeden swore quietly. If Franca had gone north, he was headed the wrong way. She was likely looking over the fortifications around the castle. Lennart had given Count Faris a fresh garrison, but aside from pulling up the drawbridge, there wasn’t much else to be done.

  “Does Faris know Dura is going his way?”

  The squadron leader shrugged. “I hope so. We all got word early this morning.”

  “We’d better check,” Braeden said, turning Kazmir around. “We’ll stop at the castle on our way north. I don’t want any surprises.” Franca was far too fond of those. The road was too narrow for both units to ride together, so Braeden pulled rank so his troops could go first. “We need to hurry,” he told Destler. “We can’t have Dura getting inside those castle walls.”

  Faris was likely too canny to allow anything to happen, but Braeden always followed his hunches, and he had one now.

  Anton

  Once they got through the pass, they looked down on a broad valley, the Velta River bordering it. Anton was glad they were nearing the end of their journey, but sad that this special time with Maryna would soon be over. At first he worried that Karil would tease him about the kissing, but it seemed Greta hadn’t said a word. Or even more likely, Karil was in no position to criticize, judging by the shifty way he sometimes glanced at Anton.

  “I’m here to talk, if you want to,” Anton said to Karil, as they waited for Duke Orland’s scouts to return. Once they received word the valley was clear, they’d head for the city as fast as they could.

  “Why would I want to talk?” Karil looked more belligerent than usual. Guilty conscience, most like. “I spend all day talking.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Anton said with a smirk. “I’m just saying, if you need to confide in a friend for any reason ...” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Oh shut up,” Karil said, and walked away.

  The scouts returned much sooner than expected, and Duke Orland called a council immediately. It was near evening by now and they’d already made camp, expecting the scouts to be out at least two days.

  Maryna took her usual place across from the duke and Anton sat down on her left. Since their kissing incident a few days before, Greta had stuck to Maryna’s side like an annoying leech. Anton didn’t blame her too much, since her original mission had probably been to keep the princess out of exactly this kind of trouble. Natalya knew what she was doing when she hired her.

  As ever
yone else took their places, someone’s foot nudged his and Anton turned. It had to be Maryna, judging by the smirk on her face. So he nudged back and they stayed that way, their feet touching through the whole meeting. He could handle whatever happened next, remembering that kiss. Even though it had been too short and not very involved, Maryna had been enthusiastic, and Anton still touched his cheek every now and then, thinking of how she'd stroked it.

  “Captain, are you paying attention?” The duke barked at him.

  “Oh yes, sorry Your Grace.” Anton sat up straighter and stared at the duke, making his expression grim and serious.

  “Worrisome news from the scouts,” the duke said. “Franca Dura is operating near Heidenhof. I’d say we slip past her, but it’s impossible with a force this size.”

  “We need to find a way.” Maryna’s voice was soft but firm.

  Anton was proud of the way she stood up to an intimidating person like the duke.

  “I agree.” The duke scowled, the way he always did when he was thinking. “Dura doesn’t appear to have her whole force gathered, so we might overrun her. But she’s a fierce fighter and it will cost us.”

  Anton didn’t mind a fight, but worried for Maryna’s safety. And he preferred to arrive in Heidenhof with this army intact, if at all possible.

  There was silence for a moment, the Hohenwart spoke. “What if we can get Her Grace to Heidenhof with a smaller force? It’s still risky, but a much better chance of getting past Dura. Then we follow with the rest of the army, and take on Dura if need be.”

  Anton liked the idea, especially because he’d escort Maryna himself, and thought he could figure out how to do it. “Can we send for Lieutenant Andarosz?” he asked the duke. “He has information that might help us.”

  The duke raised his eyebrows, then shouted for someone to get Karil.

  He appeared a moment later, looking worried. Maybe he expected the duke to scold him for taking up with a servant girl.

  “Have a seat,” the duke said, waving at a camp chair a servant pulled up. “We need to get the princess to Heidenhof without the enemy noticing and Kronek here says you know how.”

  Karil’s expression was blank for a moment, but then he grinned. “Yes, I can get into Birkenfels Castle through a secret passage.”

  “Not so secret if a fellow like you knows about it.” The duke seemed rather skeptical of Karil.

  “I doubt it's very secret anymore,” Karil said. “But I was there when Prince Kendryk used it years ago. I didn’t go inside, but I'm sure I can find it.”

  “I’d like to try it.” Maryna spoke up. “Getting through with no bloodshed would be ideal. Once I’m inside Birkenfels, Heidenhof isn’t far.”

  “It’s worth a try,” the duke said, then glowered at Karil. “How far is the entrance to this passage?”

  Karil bent over the map on the table. “Ten leagues down the river,” he said. “It’ll be near the gap between these two hills, and we’ll see the castle from there.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” Maryna smiled at him. “Please take us there.”

  The duke didn’t object, and he and Hohenwart made plans to get the army down the river, while Anton and Karil gathered their escort. Anton started with the men who’d accompanied him from Tirovor. They were entirely trustworthy, and devoted to Maryna.

  They took their leave the next morning, the larger force planning to march straight along the river and descend on Birkenfels from the north. If there was any trouble, they’d take care of it.

  “Let’s expect to run into Dura anyway,” Anton said to Karil. “We’ll stay in the woods and be quiet, but we have to be ready to fight if she sees us.” He insisted on Maryna wearing her armor, even though she pulled a face. “Just to the passage,” he said. “Once we’re inside, you’ll be safe.”

  They rode out as it was getting light, single file along a path hugging the hillside, concealed in the trees. Anton sent scouts ahead and ordered everyone to stay on high alert. If he didn’t run into Dura, he’d have Maryna back in her home before the end of the day.

  Braeden

  All was quiet around Birkenfels castle, but Braeden decided to stop in anyway. There was always a chance the watchmen on the castle towers had spotted something.

  The drawbridge came down as he approached and Count Faris waited for him in the courtyard.

  “Is everything all right?” Faris asked.

  “Well enough.” Braeden dismounted and turned toward the count. It was a real shame the man was too disabled for field duty. A fine general was wasted in this tiny castle. “Scouts told us Franca Dura was headed this way and wondered if you’d seen her.”

  “Both.” Faris smiled as he led Braeden to a bench. His crooked leg seemed to make standing uncomfortable for more than a few minutes at a time. “Can you stop for a meal?”

  “Thanks, but I'm in a hurry. I’m hoping to run into Dura as soon as possible.”

  “You just might do that. We received word of her presence in these parts this morning, and shortly after sunup, one of my lookouts glimpsed armored cavalry crossing the ford.”

  “Why would she cross the river? I expected she’d be spying on Lennart’s positions around the city. There’s nothing in the mountains.”

  “That we know of.” Count Faris looked grim. “Duke Orland might be operating on the other side of the river, and Teodora too. Perhaps Dura is linking up with her.”

  “Gods I hope not.” That would complicate matters.

  “Maybe you can stop her before she gets too far.”

  “Maybe.” Braeden stood. “Guess I’d better get moving. Best to keep that drawbridge shut tight.”

  “I plan to.” Faris stood up with some difficulty and waved Braeden and his troops off.

  Braeden hoped he hadn’t wasted too much time, though the information he’d received had been useful. “We’ll head up the river,” he told Destler. “She’ll be hours ahead of us, but the terrain on this side of the river will be difficult. We'll try to catch up by staying on the road and keeping our eyes peeled. If she’s headed into the forest with a force of any size, we might see where they turned off.” It was a slight hope, but all he had.

  They hurried, following the river. The road was good here, though not as wide as on the other side. Braeden pulled Kazmir up short when he came around a curve and caught a glimpse of sunlight on armor.

  “Hold,” he said, as he noticed Destler scrambling for his weapon. “It’s all right.”

  Franca sat on a rock by the side of the road, eating strawberries.

  Braeden dismounted, ordering everyone else to stay put. “We won’t be attacked while I’m talking to her,” he told Destler, hoping it was true.

  “Just the person I wanted to see,” he said, smiling at her, then taking a seat on a neighboring rock.

  “Have some strawberries,” she said. “They’re growing thick around here and ripe in the sunny spots.”

  “Thanks.” Braeden stretched out his hand and Franca dropped several berries into it. “Were you waiting for me?”

  Franca nodded. “I heard you’d ridden out this morning and thought you might want to talk.”

  Braeden chuckled. “You got that right. How are you doing? I saw you at a distance during the battle, and you seemed well, aside from the wet powder.”

  “Very funny.” Franca grinned and shook her head. All girlish softness was gone from her face, her freckles stretching over a nose and cheekbones sharp as a blade. She’d turned out better-looking than Braeden had expected when she was a youngster, but also more frightening. It would take a brave man to approach her, either socially or in combat.

  Braeden got straight to the point. “This is ridiculous.” He popped the last strawberry in his mouth. “We shouldn’t be on opposite sides.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure Mattila would love to have you.”

  “You know that’s not what I mean.”

  “I know. I think about it all the time.” Franca stared toward the riv
er, sparkling in the sunlight. “But it’s hard. You taught me well.”

  “Mattila is going under, and Teodora with her,” Braeden said, more confidently than he felt. “Lennart won’t stop until that’s done. Someone like you should fight for someone like him.”

  “I’d like to.” Franca looked down. “And now I’m actually considering it. Something’s happened.” She turned toward Braeden, her green eyes piercing. “This is valuable information, and I’ll get in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out it came from me.”

  “I can be discreet,” Braeden said.

  Franca hesitated. “It concerns Teodora.”

  “You know where she is?”

  “Not exactly, but I think she’s out of the fight for now.”

  “What in the name of all that is holy are you talking about?”

  Franca gnawed on her lower lip. “We met up with Teodora about a week ago, and she seemed strange. She looks amazing for her age, but not quite right. Something about her eyes.”

  “It's common knowledge she’s not right,” Braeden said. “Always was a bit crazy.”

  “This is different,” Franca said, “and what’s happened recently confirmed it. I received word from an officer I left in charge of my troops down south. Teodora confided in a priest I brought from Sanova, and it’s clear she’s lost her mind.”

  “Is anyone going to do something about it?”

  “We have.” Franca took a deep breath. “My officer acted quickly and had her taken into custody, then sent her back to Atlona with her doctor and a military escort. Once I heard about it, I agreed with all of it, but I worry about the repercussions.”

  “That settles it then.” Braeden’s mind was still trying to absorb that Teodora’s own people had turned on her, but he could chew over that later with Lennart. “You must come over to our side before anyone can retaliate.”

  Teodora

  The wagon jounced along for hours, and Teodora found herself missing the soft bed in her last prison. That one had been better sprung, too. Now every bump threw her against a wall, and once, when the wheel sank into a deep rut, it lurched sideways, sending Teodora tumbling to the floor. Her chin hit the bench jutting from the opposite wall, jarring her head painfully. She stayed huddled on the floor, her knees bruised and aching, tasting blood. She must have bitten her tongue.