Now Sonya knew she was dealing with local superstition, she felt on firmer ground. “No one drank any blood, and from what I can see, we killed a good lot of them. Now run along.”
Bela Rad, the village headman, had been passing buckets, and showed up sooty and breathless.
Sonya dismounted and walked up to him.
“It was the archduchess’s wolf,” he said, his voice cracking. With his face blackened by soot, she couldn’t tell his age. Bloodshot brown eyes stared back at her.
“Oh for Vica’s sake.” Sonya shook her head. “Those were Brianski raiders. Why would the archduchess be here?” Last Sonya had heard, the woman was lurking around the capital, waiting for the emperor to die.
“She patrols here.” Rad looked around furtively.
“Why would she do that? You’re not making any sense.”
Rad took a deep breath. “The emperor has sent the Archduchess Teodora to put things in order here, though we don’t hold with troublemakers in these parts. Her wolf don’t care though. She’ll burn everything.”
“All right then.” Sonya shrugged. It still sounded like nonsense to her. “I’ll report all of this to my commander. Now let’s talk about restoring order here.”
Though the operation had been a small triumph, Sonya felt tired and not very triumphant at the end of the day. She told herself it was just the sight of so many burned huts and dead bodies. It had nothing to do with rumors of wolf women and drinkers of blood.
Birkenhof Palace
The next morning, Kendryk went to the library early. It was just after dawn and overcast, the pearly light insufficient for what he needed to do. So he called for a servant to light the lamps and set to work.
He’d ordered all of his books brought down from his study, save one he’d keep by his bedside. That one was special, the latest work of his Galladian teacher, the great cleric Acon Benet. Thinking about him still put a lump in Kendryk’s throat. He was certain he’d never been as miserable as the day he’d left Galladium behind, along with the two people who’d become closer to him than family.
Acon Benet had been more than a teacher; he became a mentor and father figure to eight-year-old Kendryk, who’d missed his family terribly when he first arrived in Allaux, Galladium’s magnificent capital. As a second son, Kendryk was destined for a theological education. He was bright, and of noble birth, so he might in time become a Maximus, head of all the temples in the kingdom. His parents were practical people, and jumped at the chance to have their youngest child study with such a prominent scholar. That Kendryk wasn’t ready to leave his home didn’t seem to matter at all.
Young Prince Gauvain, heir to the throne of Galladium, had become Kendryk’s best friend. They studied together, practiced at swordplay together, hunted together, and had been inseparable. Kendryk had never quite gotten over the shock of being torn away from those two when he was required to suddenly return to Terragand four years later.
Kendryk could have asked a servant to put his books away, but wanted to picture their place on the library’s crowded shelves. He hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he could get them back out. Once he’d shelved them he turned to the military section.
Kendryk’s grandfather had been a great general in the wars against Zastwar, and had seemingly read every book on military matters available at the time. Unfortunately they were out of date, though several looked interesting. Kendryk pulled himself away from those and turned to the next section.
Although his father had little interest in the military, Kendryk’s older brother Lukan had been different in that respect. Thanks to his interest, a whole shelf held all the most recent works on military theory.
Kendryk grabbed four of them, and sighed. His brother would have been much better at this. He’d been groomed to lead the kingdom, and was interested in just about every aspect of governing.
“So unfair,” Kendryk murmured, as he dumped the books on a nearby table.
Unfair to his brother, to fall off his horse and die during a tournament at only seventeen.
Unfair to Kendryk, being torn away from his life in Galladium and pushed into one for which he was unprepared.
But fairness didn’t matter.
Lukan was dead, their father was dead, and Kendryk was Terragand’s ruler. It must have been the will of the gods, and now he would have to do his duty.
He was still staring at the books with some distaste when the library door opened.
“The Baron Oberdorf,” a footman announced.
Kendryk put a smile on his face. “Thank you for coming, Baron,” he said, showing him toward a chair.
“Not at all,” the baron said, with a friendly smile and bow for Kendryk. Not a large man, his slender figure was erect in spite of his age, his light brown eyes intelligent and sparkling. He’d been an officer under Kendryk’s grandfather, was one of the few living veterans of the First Eastern War, and now served as Terragand’s military minister.
Kendryk sat down across from the baron. He’d chosen a spot near the windows, where it had grown somewhat lighter, enough to see without lamps. He stared out at the garden, still green and damp after the previous night’s rain. “I need your advice on Terragand’s army. I’ve read the most recent reports on our border garrisons, and they seem terribly under-equipped and unprepared.”
“I know,” the baron said. “I’ve read those reports too. I’m sure Duke Desmond has ideas on what to do.”
“I’m sure he does,” Kendryk said, “but I want the opinion of someone knowledgeable.”
The baron chuckled. “I’m flattered you consider me knowledgeable, but I haven’t been in the field in forty years. A lot has changed since then.”
“I can read up on modern methods.” Kendryk gestured toward the pile of books nearby. “But I need to know how to set up an army in a more general sense. The duke believes we should set up a small professional force, and I agree. It’s just that ...” He drew in a breath. “It’s just that, I’d prefer to recruit on my own. I’ll be in charge before too long, and I want officers I know and trust.”
“That seems reasonable.” Baron Oberdorf leaned back in his chair and looked out at the garden. “The duke will want to be involved.”
“I don’t mind him helping me,” Kendryk said, though that wasn’t exactly true. “But I want the final word. I’d hoped you might have contacts, some experienced soldiers who might come work for me. I’d prefer native Terraganders, but it’s not a requirement.”
The baron looked thoughtful. “I can think of a few, though finding them is another matter. With Terragand so peaceful, anyone with a military bent left long ago to find work elsewhere. Some might be happy to return home.”
“That’s what I was hoping.” Kendryk smiled. “Can you draw up a list of names for me, and where they might be found? I can do the rest.”
“Certainly.” The baron inclined his head. “I already have a few people in mind. There’s no great urgency, is there?”
“Not yet,” Kendryk admitted. “It seems before we go too far we must find a way to pay for them.”
“That’s always the problem,” the baron said with a smile. “Let me see what I can do, while you, Duke Desmond and the finance minister figure out how to raise the funds.”
Kendryk felt good about starting this project on his own, but didn’t look forward to telling the duke what he was doing. With any luck, he’d keep it quiet until he’d recruited at least a few people on his own.
Marjatya
After dashing water over her face to wash away the soot, Sonya reported to her superior.
They’d made camp for the night, and the wind rose, rustling through the grass, cutting through every seam and crack in the tents. Sonya shivered and pulled her long coat back on, then made for Captain Vondran’s tent.
“Lieutenant Vidmar to see the captain,” she said to the page sprawled outside the tent, lazily cleaning tack.
He stared at her, open-mouthed.
Sonya star
ed back, wondering what his problem was.
“Well?” she snapped as the boy fiddled with a harness. “Go tell Captain Vondran I’m here. I have to make a report.”
Finally, he dropped the harness and went into the tent. Reappearing a moment later, he said, “You’re to come in.”
Sonya was still rolling her eyes when she entered. It was warm in the tent, a fire crackling in a small brazier.
“Lieutenant Vidmar, reporting,” she said.
“Have a seat, Vidmar.” The captain motioned toward a camp chair. “Sorry about my page. He’s a bit simple.”
Even wrapped in a shawl and sniffling, Katyuska Vondran looked impressive. Her blond hair mixed with gray and pulled back from her face threw her strong features into relief. Her nose, though red-tipped, was monumental, but not too large for her face.
Sonya had to admit to being a little intimidated. She sat down and said, “I wanted to tell you what happened at that village we checked on.”
“Right.” Vondran paused to sneeze rather violently.
“Vica’s blessings,” Sonya said.
“Thank you,” the captain said, the tip of her nose still quivering. She raised her eyebrows, as if another sneeze was coming on, but it seemed the urge subsided. “Carry on,” she said, dabbing at her nose with a kerchief.
Sonya pulled out the scrap of paper upon which she’d scribbled notes. “Village is called Tesk, headman is Bela Rad. Nine civilian casualties, five huts burned. We killed six raiders.”
“Brianski?” Vondran dabbed at her nose.
“I thought so.” Sonya had wondered about passing on the information about the archduchess, then decided it was best to keep the captain informed. “They had that look to them, the shaggy hats and coats, curved blades. But the villagers have another idea.”
Vondran raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“It’s likely just local gossip,” Sonya went on, “but the headman and a villager I talked to are convinced the woman leading the raiders is connected to the Archduchess Teodora. They claim she’s operating in these parts, hunting down trouble-makers.”
“The archduchess?” Vondran frowned. “I suppose it’s possible, though everyone said she’d gone to Atlona to hover over the sick old emperor like a vulture, ready to hop onto his throne the second he dies.”
“That’s what I’d heard too. Maybe the emperor got better, and put her to work.”
“Could be. Well, if she’s around here, I’m sure we’ll learn more sooner or later. Just keep an eye out.”
Sonya nodded and took her leave. She wondered if she ought to have mentioned the strangeness of the woman, or what the locals believed about her, but couldn’t think how that would be useful information. Best to concentrate on making headway south and getting out of this area before she struck again.
Two days later, Sonya still rode at the head of the scouting party when it came upon another set of scouts.
“They don’t look like raiders,” Irena said, squinting into the distance.
“Draw your weapons all the same,” Sonya said, urging Zeki forward. “I’ll find out who it is.” With peace in Sanova, there might be other mercenary companies in the area.
The other scouts drew near, but stopped just out of pistol range. A man wearing a broad black hat with a feather drew a little nearer. Sonya wondered how he kept it on his head in the wind.
“Are you Orician cavalry?” he called across the gap. It seemed their red coats and black hats were unmistakable.
Zeki took a few steps forward. “We are,” Sonya called back. “Who are you?”
“Second Imperial Cuirassiers, serving under the Archduchess Teodora Inferrara herself.”
So the villagers had been right about that part. Sonya urged Zeki forward. “We’re with General Count Faris, recently operating in Sanova.” She shoved her pistol back in her belt when the man did the same.
“Friendly then.” By now the man had drawn near and was smiling, white teeth flashing in a broad, sun-browned face. “Captain Andrei Danko, at your service.” He bowed over his saddle, sweeping the hat off.
“Lieutenant Sonya Vidmar, 9th Orician. We’re heading south, seeing if there’s work on the Zastwar border.”
“Might be before too long.” Danko grimaced. “In the meantime, we’re keeping busy here. There’s word of a rebellion in the eastern villages.”
“Really?” Sonya took a deep breath. “It’s been quiet on our route, though we ran into Brianski raiders the other day.”
Danko looked wary. “Are you sure they were Brianski?”
“I didn’t think they could be anyone else. But we didn’t know you were operating in the area.”
Danko’s eyes were grave. “Did you see them yourself?”
“Yes.” In spite of her mounting unease, Sony kept her chin raised and her stare direct.
“Hm.” Danko shifted in his saddle. “I’d better tell my commander.”
“Why?” Sonya stared at him hard.
“He’ll want to know about any raids.”
“Of course.” Sonya told herself this was all routine. “My commander will be happy to share her report, I’m sure. I’ll send someone to ask her.”
“Thank you.” Danko smiled again, and Sonya noticed his eyes were dark hazel. “Why don’t we stop here until we’ve all had a chance to talk? I’ll report back to my superior, and you can get a message to General Faris, informing him the archduchess will invite him for dinner tonight.”
Riding back, Sonya wondered why the disquiet that had plagued her for days now never seemed to leave.
Birkenhof Palace
“Good evening, Mother.” Kendryk smiled and kissed his mother’s dry cheek, trying to pretend everything was normal. It was normal in a way. He had spent little time with his mother as a boy, then went to Galladium for four years. When he returned, he found her much like this.
Renata Sebesta-Bernotas, Princess Regent of Terragand, lay propped up in a canopied bed. The walls of her chamber were papered with pale blue silk to match the canopy, and velvet curtains of the same hue hung at the tall windows. A thick Zastwar carpet of a darker shade covered the floor, and all the furniture was upholstered in varying shades of blue. Had its occupant been happier, Kendryk would have enjoyed spending time here.
“I’m worried about her,” Kendryk’s father had said, just a few days after his return to Terragand. “She collapsed upon news of your brother’s death, and has never recovered, even though Duke Desmond sent his own doctor to tend to her. She responds to no one and doesn’t speak. Won’t even eat on her own. I hope you being here might make her feel better.”
“I hope so too,” Kendryk said, though he didn’t think it would help. As far as he could tell, his mother had loved her eldest child to distraction, making Kendryk a poor substitute.
He also worried about his father. Prince Edwyn Bernotas still went about his duties, but his face was drawn, his eyes dull. Lukan had been his pride and joy.
Kendryk was just twelve and out of his depth, accustomed only to dealing with the thoughtful Acon Benet, and the cheerful Prince Gauvain. He’d had no experience with grief, and could offer no comfort.
Since Kendryk’s return to Terragand three years before, Renata Bernotas had changed little, except to grow even thinner. She stayed alive only because her devoted companion, the Baroness Engler, fed her and tended to her every need.
Kendryk smiled at the baroness, a woman his mother’s age, and only slightly less faded. She sat in the chair by the bed and Kendryk wondered that she didn’t die of boredom, scarcely moving from that spot for the past three years. But he was grateful for her presence, and felt the least he could do was give her a break every now and then. “Why don’t you take a walk or get some rest? I’ll stay with her until bedtime.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” The baroness got out of her chair by the bed with a rustle of skirts. She paused before leaving the room. “She seemed sadder than usual today.”
“Might
be the weather,” Kendryk said, wondering how she was able to tell, since his mother’s expression never changed.
He waited until the Baroness Engler left, then took her seat beside his mother. Even though she never responded, he always talked to her anyway. He liked keeping her up-to-date on what he was doing. She was still co-regent and it seemed right to consult her.
“I got the list from Baron Oberdorf today,” he said, waving the sheet of paper he’d been poring over since receiving it a few hours before. “Some of the names sound familiar. I’m sure you’d recognize them. I’ll write to as many as I can find.”
He paused and put the paper down on the velvet coverlet under which his mother lay. “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from any of them.”
The door opened behind him and he turned.
It was the Baroness Engler. “Sorry,” she said, “I left my cloak in here and didn’t realize it until I got to the garden.”
“I’ll get it,” Kendryk said, jumping up and grabbing the cloak, laying over the back of a nearby chair, handing it to the baroness.
“Thank you,” she said, throwing it over her shoulders. “It’s a chilly night. I’ll ask the maid to start a fire in here, but in the meantime, your mother needs her shawl. I’ll just get it.” She swept into the next room and returned with a shawl made of the softest wool.
Kendryk tucked it around his mother’s shoulders and shivered. He was dressed warmly enough, but a fire would be welcome. He turned to smile at the baroness, already at the door again. “Don’t stay out too long; we can’t have you catching cold.” Truly, he didn’t know what he’d do without her.
Birkenhof Palace
Kendryk scowled at the mirror. He had just finished getting dressed and found most of his clothes more appropriate for a student than royalty. No wonder everyone treated him like a child.
It didn’t help that he still wasn’t very tall. Both his father and brother had been tall, so surely Kendryk would get there too?
The Forsaken Crown (The Desolate Empire Book 0) Page 3