The Forsaken Crown

by Christina Ochs

  He paused while Kolnikov snorted, and went on. “And the port of Eltusk.”

  “What?” Kolnikov exploded, coming out of his chair. “That is our only port on the Northern Sea. That can’t be right.”

  “It seems a large concession,” Faris agreed, “though it’s true you’ve been getting nowhere militarily for some time.”

  Kolnikov slumped back into the chair.

  Sonya didn’t hide her smirk.

  Kolnikov gave her an angry glance, then said, “I doubt very much this is over for good. The Brianski people will not accept the loss of such an important city.”

  “Perhaps not.” Faris was calm. “But for now, most of the Sanovan army has been ordered away from the border.”

  “Where to?” Sonya wondered that she wasn’t more worried at the prospect of demobilization.

  “We’ll speak of that later,” Faris said, and turned to Kolnikov. “Have you warmed up enough to return to your camp? I’m sure you’ll have urgent orders to deal with in the morning.”

  “I’m ready to go back.” Kolnikov drained his glass, then smiled at Sonya, who’d gotten up only because Faris had. “It was lovely to meet you, Lieutenant Vidmar. Should you need employment anytime soon, call on me at headquarters in Sovica.”

  “Thank you,” Sonya said, her tone making it clear she was unimpressed, and deciding not to add that she’d rather starve, or even work on the farm, than accept a penny from Briansk.

  Kolnikov was barely out of sight when Faris said, “Please stay a moment longer, Vidmar. We have a few things to discuss.”

  Sonya’s heart sank. Now he was likely to dress her down for causing trouble during peacetime. She sat back down, realizing her glass was empty again. Best keep it that way for what was coming.

  “I realize this peace must come as a disappointment to you,” Faris said. “It does for me also. I hoped that with the information we might have squeezed out of Kolnikov, we’d set ourselves up for a major victory against Briansk. As it is, I will have to look for other work, since I’m sure the Sanovan queen won’t pay for troops she’s not using.”

  “I’ll go to Oricia first,” Sonya said, her thoughts still somewhat muddled by brandy. “There’ll be trouble with Zastwar, sooner or later.”

  “True. And there’s always use for your quality of light cavalry. I’m thinking of going that way myself, though I’m not sure of your commanding officer.”

  Sonya hesitated. It sounded like Faris was offering her a job, though she didn’t want to leave her captain in the lurch.

  “I’d like it if the two of you came along. I just wanted you to know, I appreciate what you accomplished tonight. If you stay with me, I’ll promote you at the first opportunity.”

  “Thank you,” Sonya said. “I’ll speak with the captain tomorrow.”

  Birkenhof Palace, Kingdom of Terragand

  PRINCE KENDRYK BERNOTAS hurried down the corridor. It was all he could do to keep from running, but he didn’t want to appear undignified.

  Upon reaching the large council chamber he paused to catch his breath. His collar had gone sideways, so he straightened it before nodding at the footman to open the door.

  He stepped inside, squinting against the light streaming through the tall windows, the long velvet draperies drawn back. The corridor had been gloomy by comparison.

  “I apologize for being late,” he said, as his vision adjusted and he saw who sat at the long table.

  Duke Desmond Balkunus, Regent of Terragand, was at the head, even though that was Kendryk’s spot.

  Technically.

  Ranged along the sides were Kendryk’s ministers of finance, military, trade and agriculture.

  “Good morning.” He nodded at each of them.

  Everyone sprang to their feet, but only because they had to, Kendryk was sure.

  “Your Grace,” Duke Desmond said, his tone smooth, his eyes unpleasant. “There’s no need for you to be here. We can take care of everything.” The duke was tall, blond, and nearly handsome but for the reptilian cast to his blue eyes. Kendryk never looked into them for long.

  “I know.” Kendryk resolved to stay calm. Gaining a reputation for throwing childish tantrums was not helpful. Though he hadn’t ever thrown a tantrum—just raised his voice a little—someone had started a rumor to that effect. Kendryk suspected the regent, though he couldn’t prove it. “But it’s time I became involved in Terragand’s everyday affairs.”

  “I don’t see the point,” the duke said. “You’re almost two years from your majority; more than enough time to learn what you need to. Why not spend one more year at university?”

  Kendryk slid into a chair at the foot of the table. He’d see he got his rightful place at the next meeting. He drummed his fingers on the table’s glossy surface. “I’ll be seventeen in exactly twenty months,” he said. “That’s very little time, and there’s much to learn, things they don’t teach at university.”

  Everyone else took their places again and Duke Desmond said, “Surely your mother needs you still.”

  “I spend all of my free time with my mother. I can spare a few hours.” Kendryk did spend a great deal of time at her side. Even though his mother remained unresponsive, he never gave up hope that might change. She was still co-regent and he needed her help, telling her so every day.

  He’d always known the duke would jump at the chance to take over the kingdom, and Kendryk had let him do so while he tried to find his bearings after the disasters that had befallen his family. But now it was time for Kendryk to take on his responsibilities.

  “Wouldn’t you rather go hunting?” Desmond wasn’t giving up. “Count Alden has already ridden out this morning, though I’m sure you can catch up to him.”

  “No, I’d rather not.” Kendryk enjoyed the hunt as much as any boy his age, but went out of his way to avoid Alden, Desmond’s son and an awful bully. “But I don’t mean to keep you from business. Please continue with what you were doing.”

  “Have it your way.” The duke’s voice was calm, though a flush crawled up his neck. He snapped his fingers for his secretary, and a thin, bespectacled young man who’d been sitting at a desk in the corner hurried to his side. “Bring the harvest figures,” Desmond said.

  The secretary brought the ledger, then turned back to his desk. At that moment, the duke smoothly stuck his foot out and the young man fell to the floor, his spectacles coming off and sliding across the shiny parquet.

  Desmond snickered. “Is it just me, or are servants these days more stupid and clumsy than ever?”

  Kendryk sprang to his feet, interrupting the uncomfortable laughs of those at the table. “Excuse me,” he said, glaring at the duke, then hurrying to the secretary, still blindly fumbling for his spectacles.

  Kendryk grabbed them from the floor and handed them to him. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  The young man shook his head, shoving the spectacles back onto his nose. Pale blue eyes regarded Kendryk warily. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he said, getting to his feet.

  Kendryk glared at the duke again as he returned to his seat.

  The duke chuckled and looked around the table, shaking his head, as though finding Kendryk’s kindness amusing.

  Within fifteen minutes, Kendryk was nearly sorry he’d come. Count Emrick, the agriculture minister, droned on and on over the harvest figures that had come in from the big Terragand estates. Kendryk didn’t even know what some of the words meant, and resolved to look for a book about farming in Birkenhof’s extensive library later on.

  When Count Emrick had finished reading off all the figures, Duke Desmond scribbled on a sheet of paper for a while and said, “It’s been a good harvest then. Time we raised taxes.”

  Everyone else nodded their assent, but Kendryk asked, “Why? What do we need more money for?” He knew nothing of the state of Terragand’s finances, but doubted they could be that bad.

  The duke stared at Kendryk as if he had two heads. Clearly, he wasn’t used to being questi
oned. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, Your Grace.”

  Kendryk gritted his teeth. “But it is my concern. What do we need the money for?”

  “The military,” the duke said. “Your father mismanaged everything the last few years of his rule, and our defenses are poor.”

  “Are we under threat?” Kendryk asked.

  “Not immediately. But our army must be modernized, given better training.”

  “Really? I should like to learn more about that.” Kendryk raised his chin. “Please make no further decisions until I’ve informed myself about the situation.”

  In front of everyone else, the duke had to pretend to comply, though it was clear he didn’t want to.

  Kingdom of Marjatya, Olvisyan Empire

  COUNT FARIS’S ARMY left Sanova and worked its way straight south into Marjatya. This eastern kingdom was part of the Olvisyan Empire, but not a happy one. Every imperial ruler for as long as anyone remembered had had to contend with rebels and malcontents.

  “It’s quiet around here,” Irena Tchernak said, riding at Sonya’s side. They rode in the middle of a long column, the Orician 8th and 9th cavalries all traveling as one. “And that grass goes on forever.”

  “Too bad the horses don’t like it,” Sonya said.

  Tough and stringy this time of year, the horses still had to eat it. All the same, Sonya would bring Zeki a little oats each day to make up for it. It was important to keep him happy.

  Sonya didn’t like it quiet, since action meant opportunities for promotion. Those had been scant in recent times, which was why the Kolnikov kidnapping had been such a disappointment. “Want to do some scouting? I can ask the captain to put us in rotation.”

  “So we can be first to lay eyes on the newest grass?” Irena looked at Sonya out of the corner of her eye and laughed. Unlike Sonya, she was all Orician, small and wiry, with black curls springing out of her tight braid.

  “Why not? And we’ll have to pay closer attention to it, which might keep us from getting too bored.”

  “All right.” Irena shrugged. “Might as well. And if we find something interesting, we get all the credit.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  By the time they got worked into the scouting rotation, Sonya was more than ready for action, especially so near the Briansk border. The empire was technically at peace with Briansk, but raiders from both sides liked to trade incursions from time to time, stealing the occasional cow or child.

  Sonya sent out all of her company, spearheading the foremost group herself, but ordering a few squadrons to patrol the flanks of the army. Raiders liked to swoop in that way, grab a few supplies and disappear.

  Two days passed with no sign of life, aside from occasional sleepy villages set along nearly dry, sluggish riverbeds. Sonya hoped it would rain before water became a problem. Count Faris had almost five thousand soldiers and twice that many animals to supply. They easily drank dry every little stream they came across. Clouds hung low in the sky, but hadn’t yet yielded any water, and an icy wind cut across the steppes. But for that, Sonya would have grown sleepy.

  Irena shocked her into wakefulness when she said, “Smoke. Over there.”

  Sonya’s head swiveled around.

  Irena pointed straight east, toward the border. Villages usually left a smudge of smoke against the sky, but this was a column, tall and black.

  “How far do you reckon?” Sonya asked, knowing Irena had sharper eyes.

  “Not more than a league. What should we do?”

  “We’ll report it,” Sonya said. “Go tell Captain Vondran. I’ll stay up here and keep an eye on things. It’s likely just Brianski raiders and we won’t get involved.” Even as she said it, she hoped it wasn’t true.

  When Irena galloped off, Sonya called the rest of her scouts to a halt, then prayed to Vica that this would be an opportunity for a fight.

  Irena returned in a quarter hour. “Captain says we’re to take three squadrons and check it out. Even if it’s just raiders, folk might need help.”

  Sonya didn’t want to play nursemaid to civilians, but hoped to come upon the raiders themselves, which might be fun. So she chose her squadrons and gave the orders.

  They set off at a trot, the column drawing ever closer. Irena had been right; it was less than a league. Buildings came into view, several of them in flames.

  “Draw your pistols,” Sonya said, “but be careful who you shoot. Most likely there’ll be frightened civilians running about.”

  Sonya’s heart leapt when she saw the raiders still at it. At least a dozen of them, mounted on the small, fast ponies famous in these parts.

  Sonya pulled ahead of the rest of her troopers, Irena at her side. She didn’t even have to nudge Zeki with her heel, he was so eager to join the action. Though not a battle charger, he enjoyed a bit of trouble all the same.

  Her troopers drew their weapons.

  “Kill them all, “ Sonya said. She’d be doing the empire a favor, but more than that, it might turn into a favor for herself too.

  She came upon the first raider, dragging an old woman down the street by her hair.

  Sonya fired. He was dead by the time she passed.

  The woman struggled to her feet, looking dazed.

  “Stay down,” Sonya shouted at her. She shoved the spent pistol into her belt and pulled Zeki to the right, toward a cluster of raiders trying to drive off a few skinny cows.

  She fired again at the nearest one.

  He fell off his horse. The cows forgotten, the others turned toward Sonya, who’d already drawn her sword.

  She drove straight for the nearest raider, a woman with a dark leathery face under a shaggy hat.

  The woman held two curved blades, guiding her pony like she knew her business.

  Sonya grinned. She knew her business just as well, and met the woman’s steel with her own. They crashed together.

  The pony backed up, then danced sideways.

  Zeki turned straight into them, and Sonya’s sword came down onto the woman’s shoulder. These sorts seldom wore armor of any kind, and this woman was no exception.

  Twisted in her saddle, the woman couldn’t parry.

  Sonya’s blade bit into her, and the woman screamed. Sonya drove her sword straight down, dragging the woman to the ground, and the pony ran off without a second glance.

  Sonya pulled her blade free of the body and looked for her next target. The raiders seemed uninterested in fighting back once they saw professional troops outnumbering theirs and were making for the open steppe.

  Zeki cantered through the rest of the village, the smoke from burning thatch thick and choking. Sonya pulled her kerchief from around her neck and tied it over her nose and mouth. At the edge of the grasslands, she watched the raiders ride off.

  A woman bringing up the rear halted, turning to face Sonya. She stood at some distance, but close enough to distinguish her features. She was young, with a pale, smooth face framed by dark curly hair. Her eyes were black, and once they met Sonya’s, she couldn’t look away.

  “You will be sorry for interfering with me,” the woman said in accented Olvisyan, her voice scratchy and unpleasant.

  Sonya wanted to say that clearly, the raiders were the sorry ones, but was unable to get the words out. Something about this woman brought a jolt of unwanted, unwarranted fear. Suddenly, Sonya needed air, and yanked on the kerchief, pulling it down.

  The woman paused a moment longer, looking Sonya over carefully. Then she shrugged, turned her pony around, and was gone.

  Sonya shook her head. She shouldn’t let empty threats from a Brianski raider trouble her. The woman looked unnerving, but in her line of work, the more intimidating her appearance, the better.

  Sonya turned back into the village. About a third of the buildings were on fire, with not enough water to put them out. Villagers and some of Sonya’s troops formed a line, passing buckets from the lone well in the village square, but they only prevented the fire from spreading. S
he pulled her kerchief up again, hoping the wind changed before they all suffocated.

  She found Irena and ordered all bodies recovered and brought to the side of the road. Then she went in search of the person in charge here. Her Marjatyan wasn’t the best, but she found a young man standing in the road, looking dazed, and shouted at him. “Who’s your headman?”

  “That’ll be Bela Rad.” The boy shook his head. “Don’t know where he is.”

  “Find him for me, will you? If he’s dead, bring me his replacement.”

  The boy stood rooted to the spot. “Did you see her?”

  “See who?” Even as she asked, Sonya knew who he meant.

  “The wolf woman, her with the yellow eyes.”

  Sonya wondered if she ought to be relieved she hadn’t seen yellow eyes. She’d be considerably more unnerved right now.

  “No one with yellow eyes,” she said firmly. “Now go bring me Bela Rad.”

  The boy shuffled back toward the village, then turned and said, “Black hair and yellow eyes. It’s said she drinks the blood of her enemies and can’t be killed.”

  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.”