The guards had dragged her down endless stone stairs into the blackness of what had to be Berolstein’s dungeon. To keep the terror at bay, Teodora threw a tremendous tantrum, her screeches and curses echoing off the stone arches. She hoped they carried to the great hall and their roast boar.
Her monstrous friends joined her at first, flickering at the edge of her vision and leaping forward into the stairway. But in spite of Teodora’s efforts, they did nothing to oppose the guards, and disappeared into the darkness. By the time she reached the foot of the stairs, her throat was raw and her head pounded.
The torchlight revealed a heavy wooden door banded in iron and a stone cell beyond. Teodora used her last strength to pull back. If she let them put her in here the darkness might well swallow her up. What if none of her friends and allies knew she was here? What if Princess Edyta left her in here so long she’d agree to anything to get out?
“Never,” Teodora muttered through gritted teeth, trying not to breathe in the sour dampness. No matter how terrible the conditions, she refused to break.
“Have a seat, Your Highness.” Two of the biggest guards dragged her across the chill, damp stone floor, soggy straw sticking to Teodora’s bare feet.
One of them pushed her onto a bench and held her there, while the other busied himself with something at her feet.
Teodora had refused to admit to the idea of real chains until she felt the cold iron of the shackles enclose her ankles. She bit back a whimper and closed her eyes. No matter how impossible it seemed, she’d find a way out of here. Everyone was corruptible, from the princess on down to these guards.
“How dare you restrain your Empress!” Teodora raised her voice. “Surely you understand the penalty for laying a hand on me is death?”
The guard at her feet looked up, grinning at her with big yellow teeth. “Only if you get away. Which you won’t.” He stood and moved to the wall, then clanked at chains there.
Teodora shuddered. “I will get away. You don't know what I’m capable of.” She narrowed her eyes at first one and then the other guard. Then she dropped her voice and softened her eyes. “I can be merciful too. If you help me get out of here, there’s no limit to the honors I can bestow upon you.” She even managed a somewhat flirtatious smile.
The guard holding her chuckled, while the other one fastened shackles around her wrists. These were attached to chains hanging from the walls and allowed her a little freedom of movement. She shook her ankle. She could probably take a few steps, if she didn’t mind dragging the chain, like a criminal.
“Or, I can have you beheaded,” she said sweetly, “but only after cutting everything else off first.”
The guard smirked. “Aren’t you a charmer.”
He rattled at the chains and nodded, so the other one let her go. He pointed to a rusty bucket in the corner.
“You should be able to reach the chamber pot and you’ll get food twice a day,” he continued. “Pretty nice if you ask me.”
He grinned at Teodora again, and then the two of them were gone, the heavy door shutting out all light, the key rasping in the lock.
Teodora leaned her head against the wall and tried to calm down. She’d find someone else to help her, but first she had to rely on herself. Perhaps the gods had sent her the monsters not to destroy her enemies—though that was a nice side effect—but for helping her now, when she needed it most.
Without Sibyla here to keep her drugged, she knew her friends would appear. And now she had plenty of time to make them work for her.
But against her will, panic overwhelmed her and she spent the first days trying to keep from whimpering. Teodora had never seen blackness like this, not even when visiting prisoners in the Arnfels. She’d never even bothered to visit Kendryk in his cell; no doubt it had been something like this.
But unlike him, she didn’t deserve this. So once the terror abated a little, and she learned to manage with the chains, forcing herself to pace the dirty floor for hours every day so she didn’t lose her strength, she turned her mind to prayer. She prayed to Vica the most, but once she’d exhausted the prayers she knew, she turned to the other gods, like a Quadrene.
“Just in case they’re right after all,” she muttered.
Livilla could always absolve her later, but Teodora didn’t want to miss any opportunities to find favor with the gods.
Days went by without speaking to a single soul. A guard came twice a day with food—a disgusting porridge for one meal and an even more disgusting watery stew for the other. The first day, Teodora tried talking to the guard, but he shrugged and shook his head.
So she refused to eat, and to get his attention when he came the next time, she threw the food in his face. The chains hindered her and the slimy mess landed on the floor, right in Teodora’s walking path. She didn’t try that again, especially because a family of rats soon appeared to clean it up for her.
Worse than the rats, without Sibyla’s potion, the nightmares returned, stronger than ever and Daciana was always there.
“Help me,” Teodora screamed at her.
Daciana stared back at her, eyes blank and dark. “I don’t know how,” she said. “You must do it yourself.”
“I can’t,” Teodora sobbed in her dream, and when she awakened, her cheeks were wet with tears. She wiped them away and concentrated. The black now raged in her head but she was finding it hard to harness. There had to be a way and she would find it.
Lennart
Annoyingly, Braeden and Gwynneth had talked Lennart out of chasing Teodora down.
“You can’t just leave when Mattila might be on her way here,” Gwynneth said, her tone a little too commanding for Lennart’s taste.
He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he was getting sick of Gwynneth acting as though she was in charge here. She would be someday, but not yet.
“The princess is right,” Braeden said, though more mildly. “An incapacitated Teodora won’t be able to act against us. We can beat Mattila, then chase down the empress when she has no army to defend her.”
Lennart fell back into his seat. They were right. And he had to figure out what to do with Franca Dura right now. He hated that the rest of her troops had likely rejoined Mattila, but that created a different opportunity if Franca had the nerve.
“All right,” he said, turning to Braeden. “Send out scouts to track down Teodora. I want to know where she is and what’s going on with her.”
Once Braeden had gone, casting an anxious glance at Franca, Lennart said, “I’d like to speak with Colonel Dura alone.”
Devyn seemed happy to go, likely to run after Braeden, but Gwynneth glared at Lennart before saying. “Very well, we’ll leave you to it.” She offered Dura a sugary-sweet smile and said, “It was so lovely to meet you.”
Franca smiled in return, but it was clear she was impatient for them to go so she and Lennart could get down to business.
When the door closed behind them, Lennart said, “I didn’t want the room full of people to begin with. Easier to work this out between the two of us, don’t you think?” He poured more wine for each of them, then settled back in his chair.
“Certainly.” Franca took a small sip. “I’m afraid I won't be much good to you with Mattila controlling my troops.”
“I was thinking about that,” Lennart said, “and I might have a solution, though it’s risky for you. I’ll do my best to make it worth your while.”
“I’m listening.” Franca fixed her hard green eyes on him.
Lennart took a deep breath. “How about this? We sign an agreement that you’re fighting for me from now on. Naturally, you’ll get an immediate promotion to general with an accompanying rise in pay for you, and a bonus for you and your troops.”
Franca’s eyes widened. Perhaps she wasn’t expecting that until after the battle.
She remained silent, so Lennart forged ahead. “Once that’s done, you’ll join up with the rest of your army. You’ll have a story for Mattila as to why you were delayed.
”
“I doubt she’ll be suspicious. Everyone knows I’m spying on you here.”
Lennart hoped that wasn’t actually true, though the last thing he wanted was to accuse her of anything. If Braeden trusted her, that was good enough for him. “I’ll leave that to you. Go ahead as Mattila’s ally for now. Join in her preparations and make your way back up here with the rest of her army.”
“Do you want me to send you information if I learn anything interesting?”
“Maybe, but only if you can send it off without risking your position. Information is good, but you at Mattila’s side is better.”
“I can kill her if you want,” Franca said with shocking matter-of-factness. “I could probably get away with it too.”
Lennart grinned. He’d been wrong to question her nerve; she had more than anyone he’d ever seen. “That’s tempting. Maybe I should take you up on that.”
“I don’t know if I could manage it before the battle.”
“Yes, time is growing short.” He had to pause and think for a moment. What if Mattila survived the battle, even if Lennart defeated her? She’d be back, sooner or later with another army. Franca killing her during or after would put an end to the whole matter. At the same time, he needed the decisive victory above all else. “Let’s manage one thing at a time. Go back to your army, send me information if you can. Then I need you to change sides at the key moment in the battle, and if you see an opportunity to kill her, take it. In the meantime, you can give me Mattila’s typical dispositions and where you’re likely to be assigned.”
“The right flank,” Franca said, “she’s already said as much.”
“All right,” Lennart said. “So I suppose when she gives the order to attack, you turn against her flank and we’ll join you.”
Franca raised an eyebrow. “You’re right, this plan is risky. And treacherous. I’m not sure Braeden would approve.”
“He’ll understand. You care what he thinks, don’t you?”
“More than anyone.” The hard eyes softened. “He was like a father to me, and I’m only doing this because I can’t bear the idea of meeting him in battle.”
“You don’t have to now. And if you pull this off, you’ll be helping him. We’ll work out specifics later.”
That brought a slight smile. “I’d like that.”
Lennart had a feeling all of the honors and money he could lavish on her were nothing compared to Braeden’s approval. Well, that would work too. “We’ll figure that out before you leave,” he said, “though I need you on your way shortly. When Braeden returns, we’ll discuss all the details.”
Maryna
Even in the shade the warm, stuffy air didn’t move. Maryna was roasting inside her armor, though no one else seemed bothered. The way along the hillside, high above the river was slow, traveling single file, up and down the hills, over and over again. She dozed on horseback, uncomfortable as it was, jerking awake when Karil said something in her ear.
“What?” She shook her head.
Karil was smiling and pointing. “Look over there.”
Her eyes followed his finger and then she smiled. Birkenfels stood there, across a small valley, looking close enough to touch in the golden afternoon light.
“Now I need to find the entrance to the passageway.” Karil dismounted and crashed around in the bushes.
After a long time passed and he didn’t find anything, Maryna dismounted and took off her armor with the help of a page. She wore a shirt and breeches underneath, so she could head straight into the passage as soon as Karil found it. But he didn’t.
The sun stood low in the sky when Karil came over to Maryna and sat down across from her. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I can’t seem to find it. It’s possible I don’t remember the spot correctly, or maybe it’s been blocked off. I know your father worried about it being safe.”
Maryna swallowed down her disappointment. “Thank you for trying. Perhaps we can search again in the morning.”
Anton sat down beside Karil. “There’s no place to camp around here. We’d have to go down into the valley. And if we do that, we might as well go right to the castle.”
Maryna was tired and discouraged, so going straight there sounded appealing. “Let’s do that,” she said.
“You must put your armor back on,” Anton said. “Just because there’s been no sign of Dura doesn’t mean she’s not around.”
Maryna made a face, but called for her page. It was cooler this late in the day, though the air was still sticky.
A half hour later she was glad for the armor as she rode up to the raised drawbridge of Birkenfels. Anton had kept everyone on high alert, but their way across the meadow had been uneventful. Still, she looked more impressive approaching the castle this way. Maryna blinked back tears as she looked up at the castle walls, the Bernotas flag flying from the highest tower and above the gate.
“Who’re you?” a guard shouted down from above the drawbridge.
Maryna urged her horse forward. She’d already removed her helmet hoping to be recognized, though she’d been a little girl when she left. “Princess Maryna of Terragand,” she called, her voice thick with emotion. She was finally home.
“Wait, what?” the guard said. “Just a minute.” His head disappeared and there was a small commotion.
Several long moments passed, and Maryna shifted impatiently in the saddle. It was nearly dark by now and camping in the meadow when she was so close seemed intolerable.
Then the drawbridge creaked down and several guards came out on horseback. “Please come inside, Your Grace,” one of them said, an older man Maryna recognized. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you.” Maryna swallowed. “I worried no one would recognize me.”
“You might be all grown up,” the old guard said, “but you have the look of your father and no mistake.”
Maryna was determined not to go all soft, but then they entered the courtyard and she saw Count Faris, leaning on a cane, arranged between other guards with some ceremony.
“Welcome home, Your Grace,” he said.
Maryna couldn’t help herself; she jumped off her horse, her armor clanking and ran to her father’s old friend. She knew it was undignified in the extreme, but she also doubted anyone here would care. Unable to speak, she flung her arms around the count, barely holding back tears.
“Come inside, Your Grace,” he said, gently pulling her along by the elbow. He limped rather awfully, but climbed a few stairs and brought her into a little room right inside the door. “It’s wonderful to see you. Everyone’s been so worried, wondering where you were.”
Maryna smiled shakily. “I have an army further up the river. I worried about running into Franca Dura, so brought a small party hoping to find the secret passage. We had no luck with that, so chanced coming straight here.”
The count smiled at her. “We walled off the passage while we’re repairing it—your mother insisted after she and your sister used it recently—but otherwise your timing is excellent. Franca Dura just changed sides, so the area is quite safe. Shall we send a message to your troops?”
“Yes please.” Maryna was finding it hard to think of what was next. “I suppose I’ll go to Heidenhof tomorrow then.”
“Oh no,” the count said. “You’ll go tonight. Your mother will kill me if she finds out I kept you here overnight when you were so close by. Are you up to another hour of riding?”
Though it was late by the time Maryna reached Heidenhof, the streets soon grew busy as word spread that the Princess of Terragand had arrived. Folk left their homes and lined the path to Edric’s temple, cheering and shouting. Tired as Maryna was, the excitement soon overtook her and by the time she reached the temple square she felt ecstatic.
She turned to smile at Anton, riding at her side. “Thank you for bringing me here safely,” she said.
He smiled at her by way of answer; his dark eyes glinting in the torchlight.
Maryna had to glance away be
fore anyone noticed. So she turned to her other side and thanked Karil. Without the two of them and Trystan, she’d likely be in Teodora’s dungeon by now. She resolved to give them and their soldiers as generous a reward as she could manage.
Now they were crossing the temple square, the temple itself and the adjacent palace blazing with light. Maryna wondered how word had traveled so quickly. It had hardly been twenty minutes since she’d entered the city gates. She was still glad of her beautiful armor, sweaty and disheveled though she was, her hair coming out of its braid and sticking out in all directions.
A moment later she didn’t care about any of that. They all stood waiting for her at the top of the palace steps. First she saw her mother, looking older than when she’d left her, and Devyn clearly grown taller. Edric stood beside them, and another man, very big, who must be King Lennart, with a delicate beauty standing next to him.
Stella, also taller than Maryna remembered, left the group with a shout and ran down the stairs. Maryna jumped from her horse and hurried to meet Stella, drawing her into her arms.
“Where did you get that armor?” Stella asked. “I want some.”
“You’ll have some soon enough,” Maryna said with a laugh, then took Stella by the hand and climbed the steps.
Her mother and Devyn met her halfway up, and Maryna had to make an effort to push any thoughts of her father far to the back of her mind, or she’d cry in front of everyone.
“How tall you’ve grown,” Gwynneth said, tears in her eyes. “And that armor. Goodness, you look as though you’re leading an army.”
“I am.” Maryna smiled at Devyn, grinning down at her, an arm around her shoulder. “Though it’s not here yet.”
She mounted the stairs the rest of the way, pulling Edric into her arms so she didn’t have to gaze into his eyes, so much sadder than she remembered.
He seemed surprised at the affectionate greeting, and when he pulled back his eyes were damp. “Thank the gods, Your Grace. You’ve given us all a great deal of hope.”
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 35