The Forsaken Crown

by Christina Ochs

  The Forsaken Crown

  A Desolate Empire Prequel

  Christina Ochs

  Also by Christina Ochs

  The Desolate Empire

  The Forsaken Crown

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also By Christina Ochs

  The Forsaken Crown (The Desolate Empire, #0)

  Sanova-Briansk border

  Sanovan Camp

  Birkenhof Palace, Kingdom of Terragand

  Kingdom of Marjatya, Olvisyan Empire

  Birkenhof Palace

  Marjatya

  Birkenhof Palace

  Birkenhof Palace

  Marjatya

  Birkenhof Palace

  Marjatya

  Marjatya

  Birkenhof Palace

  Marjatya

  Briansk

  Birkenhof Palace

  Briansk

  Sanova

  Birkenhof Palace

  The Torner Farm, Terragand

  Birkenhof Palace

  Birkenhof Palace

  Birkenhof Palace

  Birkenhof Palace

  Velta River Road, Terragand

  Velta River Road

  Maxima's Palace, Heidenhof, Terragand

  Maxima's Palace

  Maxima's Palace

  Heidenhof, Terragand

  Maxima's Palace

  Garrison Headquarters, Heidenhof

  The Terragand Countryside

  The Temple Prison, Heidenhof

  The Maxima's Temple, Heidenhof

  Southern Terragand

  Kaltental, Terragand

  Belsar Castle, Terragand

  The Velta River, Terragand

  Belsar Castle

  The Velta River

  The Velta River Road

  The Velta River Road

  The Velta River

  The Velta River

  The Velta River

  Ebenstein

  Birkenhof Palace

  The Torner Farm

  Lujin Press

  Sign up for Christina Ochs's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Rise of the Storm

  Also By Christina Ochs

  Sanova-Briansk border

  LIEUTENANT SONYA VIDMAR, leader of an Orician cavalry squadron, pulled her horse to a halt, knowing the troopers following her would do the same. The enemy unit had passed close to them, but went after another Sanovan patrol set up as a decoy. She waited until the pop of pistols and the clash of swords reached her ears before twitching the reins.

  Zeki, her gelding, responded instantly, stepping quietly into the woods.

  Sonya stared into the dark, making out a pile of rocks to her right. That marked the border of Sanova and Briansk, at least as it stood today. The two countries had been squabbling over it for the better part of a decade, providing employment to vast numbers of mercenaries, including Sonya’s unit. She appreciated that border’s instability. If it remained that way another year or more, she might be promoted to captain by then. If tonight went well, she might see promotion long before that.

  But now was not the time to ponder career advancement. The last Sanovan patrol that made it this far had returned to camp a fraction of its former self. The Brianski watched this path near the border constantly, and even with the guards drawn off, might still watch it.

  Sonya licked her lips, loosened her sword in its scabbard, and pulled out two pistols. Zeki stepped forward soundlessly and the rest of Sonya’s troops followed just as quietly.

  A light wind rustled the dry leaves still clinging to the trees. Sonya would have been grateful for the slight cover, but worried it might conceal the enemy as well. Their camp couldn’t be far off, but getting there unseen was the easy part. Nabbing their prize was another matter.

  Sounds of fighting faded behind her, but Sonya kept listening, every nerve on high alert, unnerved by the silence. A camp sheltering a regiment ought to create a fair amount of noise, even this late in the evening. Maybe it wasn’t as close as she thought. They needed to move faster.

  Sonya pressed her knees to Zeki’s sides, and he increased his stride. She couldn’t go faster. A trot or canter would make too much noise on the hard, dry ground, leaves and branches crunching underfoot. She forced herself to calm while they walked, though her breath whooshed out in relief when flickers of light appeared between the trees. Campfires; hundreds of them. She heard the murmur of voices, the nicker of horses. All sounded as it should.

  At Sonya’s barest touch, Zeki halted again. They’d leave the horses here, outside the picket lines. She shoved her pistols back into her belt and jumped to the ground. From here on, all weapons would be silent ones.

  Her troopers’ blades slid out of sheaths, quiet as a whisper. She knew the strengths and weaknesses of each person in her company like she knew her own, and had chosen only the eight with the steadiest nerves and deadliest fighting skills to come with her.

  Two of them stayed behind with the horses, and Sonya led the rest forward. Her boots trod silently on the forest floor and a sliver of moon lit the way. By now, Sonya could see as well as if it were daylight.

  Her target lay straight ahead, but she’d have to get past the sentries first.The wind rose, rattling the dry leaves, moaning through a nearby stand of fir.

  Two sentries stood ahead, conversing in low tones. Light from the nearest campfire glinted off a musket barrel.

  Sonya stopped.

  The sentry held the musket loosely, the stock leaning against his shoulder, not prepared to fire.

  Sonya waved her people forward. She pounced on the one holding the musket before he could finish another sentence, his cry cut off with a swipe of her dagger.

  Ensign Tchernak finished off the other man. So far, so good.

  Now they had to move quickly, before a changing of the guard. The next watch was a few hours away. But finding their quarry, getting back over the border with him, all without raising the alarm still seemed a tall order.

  Sonya crept to the edge of the clearing until she had a clear view of the nearest fire. Only two men sat there.

  “Go to bed,” she muttered under her breath, not wishing to kill them if she didn’t have to. According to her information, they belonged to Kolnikov’s unit, and he was the one she wanted.

  The men didn’t move, their voices a low rumble, interspersed by the occasional laugh. The rest of the camp grew quiet and one after another, the fires died down. Only this one didn’t, and she needed to get past it.

  The longer she waited, the more could go wrong.

  “Kill one, grab the other,” she whispered to her troopers. “The live one will lead us to Kolnikov.”

  Faber, her sergeant, raised his eyebrows then nodded in agreement.

  Sonya dashed forward, her already bloody dagger at the ready. The men at the fire weren’t looking, had been staring into the flames too long to see well in the dark.

  One man grunted as Faber ran him through. Sonya grabbed the other around the neck, spinning him to face away from her, her hand over his mouth, her dagger at his throat.

  “Not a sound,” she whispered in Brianski. “Take us to Kolnikov, and I’ll let you live.”

  The man nodded, even as he sagged against her. He was only a little bigger than she was, and didn’t struggle. Her troopers fanned out, making sure no one else was nearby.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered to her captive, prodding him with her knee.

  He took a few hesitant steps, then moved faster. Sonya kept pace, making sure her blade stayed against his neck. The camp was quiet, though not completely asleep.

  “Anyone sees us, you die first,” Sonya murmured by way of encouraging him to take them along a quiet path.

  And he did,
past the backs of tents, along the goat pens, right into the middle of the camp.

  Sonya found its size and order impressive, but then Briansk always had the best of everything. Finally, they reached a large tent near the center.

  “Kolnikov?” Sonya asked, and the man nodded.

  Faber slit the canvas with a long knife.

  Sonya pushed through, the prisoner in front of her. A lamp burned on a desk and behind it, a man had sprung to his feet.

  “Try anything and he dies,” she growled at him.

  “I’m unarmed,” the man said, his voice surprisingly soft.

  “What’s your name?” Sonya held her hostage even tighter.

  “Igor Kolnikov, Major in the imperial army of Pyotr, our immortal—”

  “Yes, yes,” Sonya snapped. “That’ll do. You must come with us,” she said in a rush, looking over her prize.

  Kolnikov had been writing a letter, but dropped the quill at the incursion. His face was broad and pale, framed with curly dark hair, black eyes slightly slanted. He wore a white shirt open at the neck.

  “Threatening that man is unnecessary.” Kolnikov sounded so calm Sonya wondered if he had some trick planned. “Please let him go.”

  “Once you’re in our custody, maybe,” Sonya said. “Faber, bind his hands.”

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Kolnikov said. “The war is over.”

  “Hah,” Sonya said, her tone mirthless. “It was still on an hour ago when one of your patrols ran into ours.”

  “All right then.” Kolnikov shrugged. “Take me back to your camp and I’ll prove it.”

  Brianskis were well-known liars, but just in case Kolnikov was right, Sonya didn’t kill her original hostage. Instead, she had him bound hand and foot, and left in the major’s tent.

  Even though Kolnikov’s bulk intimidated her, Sonya would never show it and grabbed him by the arm, just as she had the other man. But she was more cautious this time, sensing a barely restrained violence under Kolnikov’s genial tone. With his right arm wrenched behind his back, she laid her dagger flat against his collarbone, the tip touching his neck.

  “I won’t make any sudden movements then,” Kolnikov said, humor in his voice. Without turning his head, his eyes slid in Sonya’s direction. “Your Brianski is good. Where did you learn it?”

  “From years of fighting scum like you.” Sonya let the tip of the dagger poke into his skin. “Now shut up.” Not even over a friendly mug of ale would she tell him how she’d learned the language: she’d spent nearly two years in a Brianski prison, her superiors judging her too unimportant for a speedy exchange. That proof of her insignificance had rankled far more than the freezing conditions, insufficient food and brutish guards.

  Sonya grabbed Kolnikov even more roughly, then shoved him out of the tents and back the way they’d come. “Go ahead, Tchernak,” she whispered at one of her troopers. “Make sure the way is still clear and that there are no new sentries.”

  “There won’t be,” Kolnikov murmured, as Irena Tchernak disappeared into the darkness. “The guard won’t change for another hour.”

  “Good for us, better for you,” Sonya hissed through her teeth, her senses back on high alert. The camp was even quieter now as her party slipped between the tents. At the edge, she stepped around the body of the man they’d killed, the campfire nothing but coals now.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Kolnikov said, nodding at the body.

  “Shut up,” Sonya whispered again, shoving him toward the trees.

  Tchernak had rejoined them by now. “Coast is clear,” she murmured. “And no sign of that patrol either.”

  Sonya breathed a little easier now. Their horses shouldn’t be far away.

  They reached them without incident, and while someone brought a spare for Kolnikov, Faber pulled out a length of rope and Sonya tied the prisoner’s hands together. The two of them boosted him onto the horse, then Sonya vaulted into Zeki’s saddle.

  “Better hold on.” She threw over her shoulder, as she grabbed the reins of Kolnikov’s mount, and turned back onto their path. She sent Tchernak and another trooper to scout ahead, but all was quiet, aside from the wind, which now blew harder and colder. Sonya wished for the long coat she’d left in her tent. Earlier, she’d reckoned it would get in her way while running around on foot.

  They left the enemy camp behind, and though Sonya kept looking over her shoulder, she heard no sound of pursuit. Kolnikov stayed quiet too, at least until they crossed the border, Sonya noting the pile of rocks with some relief. Still no sign of the Brianski patrol. She hoped her colleagues had led them on a merry chase.

  “Which unit are you with?” Kolnikov asked, his voice still low, but carrying over the wind. “You look like Orician light cavalry. Eighth? Ninth? Do you serve under General Faris?”

  “Shut up,” Sonya snarled, yanking on the reins, making Kolnikov fall forward in the saddle. His guess was annoyingly good. Were they really that recognizable, even without their long red coats and black fur hats?

  “You’re very attractive for an Orician woman.” Kolnikov didn’t know when to stop.

  “Not Orician,” Sonya gritted out, even if it was only half true. She wanted to add that she wasn’t attractive either, though she was less sure of that. Not that it mattered. Beauty didn’t make your aim more true, or your sword technique any quicker or smoother.

  She yanked on the reins again. His horse gave a little hop and Kolnikov grunted as he scrambled to hang on with tied hands.

  They continued in silence for another league, when the lights of the Sanovan camp came into view. The sentries were in place, right where Sonya had left them on her way out, and they let her continue when she gave the password.

  She relaxed, then enjoyed a small thrill of pleasure, bringing an important prisoner to the general with no problems along the way. Not one of her troopers or their horses had suffered so much as a scratch, and the Brianski didn’t yet know they’d lost an officer.

  Once they were well within the camp, Sonya dismissed everyone but Faber to go with her to the general’s tent. She found it easily in the dark, with torches burning in front of it, the general’s standard still flying.

  A page lounging in front scrambled to his feet and took Zeki.

  Sonya dismounted. She waited for Faber, and together they hauled Kolnikov off his horse. He wore only a shirt and breeches, and was freezing to the touch. Well, being a prisoner wasn’t pleasant or comfortable. Sonya wasn’t the least bit sympathetic, though she allowed herself a feeling of triumph as she hustled him into Count Faris’s tent while Faber held the flap open.

  “Thank you,” she told Faber once she was inside. “You can go now.”

  General Count Faris rose to his feet, a smile on his lips. “Thank you, Lieutenant Vidmar, you’ve done well. Greetings Major Kolnikov.”

  Faris came forward, stopping in front of them. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience. It’s possible you haven’t heard, but the war is over. I received a message not two hours ago, after I’d already sent Vidmar to retrieve you.”

  Sonya stared, dropping Kolnikov’s arm. She couldn’t believe her bad luck. She’d just pulled off an astonishingly successful mission for no reason at all.

  Sanovan Camp

  SONYA STARED AT COUNT Faris. “But surely...” She swallowed, not wanting to stammer or show distress in front of either general or prisoner. “Surely Sanova isn’t content with the current border?”

  “Not entirely.” Faris grimaced, his craggy features crinkling. Until today, Sonya had only ever seen him at a distance and found him rather appealing up close. His face was stern and weather-beaten, like that of most old soldiers, but humor lurked in his gray eyes. Unlike many men, he wore his gray hair cropped close, a sensible style when on campaign. Sonya felt the same way about hers, always keeping it well above her ears.

  Faris cut the rope binding Kolnikov’s hands. “Let’s sit, and I’ll tell you what’s happened. In the meantime,
we’ll get the major warmed up before sending him back.”

  “I’m grateful,” Kolnikov said, shooting Sonya another sideways glance. “Your Lieutenant Vidmar is most efficient, unfortunately for me.”

  “I agree.” Faris cracked a smile. “I sent someone after her once I received the message, but she was well on the other side of the border by then. I hope she didn’t do too much damage.”

  Sonya huffed indignantly but stopped herself. It wasn’t her fault the stupid war had ended by the time she started killing enemy soldiers. “I am very sorry,” she said tightly, refusing to look at Kolnikov. “I’m afraid we killed two sentries and one other soldier who stood in our way. It was necessary to complete the mission.”

  “Of course.” Faris’s voice softened, and he waved the page over, who’d come inside the tent after taking care of the horses. “Three glasses of brandy, please. But first, bring a warm cloak for Major Kolnikov.”

  A few moments later, Kolnikov was bundled up, and everyone had a brandy in hand.

  Sonya took a few cautious sips. She’d only had brandy a few times before, finding the stuff worth drinking too expensive for her pay level. The higher officers drank it like water. Both sweet and fiery, it burned going down, though Sonya refused to cough. Her insides warmed up and she took a few more sips, surprised at how much better she felt.

  It was annoying that this war was over, but she could always find employment elsewhere. She hoped she wouldn’t have to take a demotion, though she would if she had to; anything to keep from going back to work on the family farm. That thought made her take a larger gulp of her drink, and she was surprised to find it almost gone.

  “More for the lieutenant.” Faris beckoned the page, and he refilled her glass.

  Sonya resolved to slow down her drinking until she learned what had happened.

  Faris put his barely-touched glass on a nearby table, then said, “Sanova has agreed to let the border stand in exchange for territorial gains elsewhere.”

  Kolnikov sat up straighter. “Which territory?” He took a big gulp of his drink.

  Faris took a sheet of paper from the table and consulted it. “The Bariva Islands.”