Winter of the Wolf (The Desolate Empire Book 4)

by Christina Ochs

  Blink.

  “Good. Are you able to see?”

  Blink.

  “Can you move anything except your eyelids?”

  Teodora tried moving arms, legs, tried to wiggle her fingers and toes. Blink blink. Underneath the frustration was joy that she lived and could communicate with Livilla.

  She would get better. Must get better.

  “Now, I must tell you what is happening, but first you will promise me you won’t be upset. Is that clear?”

  Teodora dreaded what was coming, but she needed to get this over with. The news wouldn’t be good, that much she remembered. Blink.

  “Good.” Livilla squeezed her hand.

  Teodora felt the pressure, but no sensation. It was as though her whole body had gone numb.

  Livilla continued. “Now, I doubt you remember this, but Lennart defeated and killed Count Ensden at Kaltental.”

  Blink blink. Blink blink. She refused to believe it. No, no... now no one stood between Lennart and Atlona.

  Livilla sighed. “I’m afraid it’s true. And with you incapacitated, Count Solteszy and I took matters into our own hands. I hope you won’t be too angry, but we’ve sent for Brynhild Mattila.”

  Teodora made a choking noise and fluttered her eyelids. There had to be another way.

  “I’m so sorry.” Livilla’s voice was soft. “But she’s already raised an army in Brandana. We must use her against Lennart, otherwise it’s likely they’ll join up together, and there’ll be no stopping them when they reach the gates of Atlona.”

  Teodora lay there, helpless as a baby. There had to be someone else, although she knew there wasn’t.

  But she needed to get better before Mattila arrived. She’d die before she let that woman see her like this. She blinked furiously, wondering if Livilla understood.

  Livilla kept talking, and answered her unspoken question soon enough. “She’s only left Brandana a few days ago, so it’ll take her several weeks to get here. I’ll spend all my time with you, and we’ll find a way for you to regain your strength in the meantime.

  “I’ve made great offerings to Vica, and now you’re awake, I’ll make another in gratitude. You must pray without ceasing that she restore at least some of your strength.”

  Blink. Teodora started praying, harder than she ever had in her life.

  Lennart

  Even with Raysa and the baby along, Lennart kept up a brisk pace until they reached Heidenhof. He’d lingered too long in Kaltental and planned to take Atlona before winter.

  The spring weather was fine, and on most days, Raysa spent quite a few hours riding at Lennart’s side. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

  She wore a dark blue riding dress, her hair piled high under a matching hat, with the posture of a queen.

  There was nothing left of the timid girl who had first come to Tharvik. He wondered if her recent conversion to the Quadrene faith had added to her confidence, since she truly belonged to Estenor now.

  Raysa caught his eye and smiled. “I tried to picture being with you for so long, but nothing I imagined could prepare me for this.”

  “In a good way, I hope.”

  Though spring covered the land, it couldn’t conceal every ruined village and the fields of rotting corpses, left over from Lennart’s victories the previous winter. He’d done his best to shield Raysa from those, but was sure she’d seen some of it.

  “Mostly,” she said. “This land is beautiful and so different from what I’m used to. It’s a shame the war has destroyed so much of it.”

  “It is. But if the gods are good, this will be the last of it. We’ll take the fight to Teodora and folk here can rebuild.”

  Lennart craned his neck to look up at the vineyards hanging on the steep, terraced hillsides. “See? The wine growers are already hard at work. They’ll have a good harvest and thousands of thirsty soldiers happy to pay for the finished product.”

  Raysa smiled at him, then said, “I ought to check on Kataryna.”

  The baby followed in a coach not far behind and Raysa insisted on looking in on her every hour, in spite of three nurses and Silvya Meldahl watching over her.

  “Don’t be long. We’re coming up on Birkenfels. It’s quite pretty at a distance.”

  Lennart didn’t plan to stop there. The castle wasn’t large or comfortable enough to put up his family for even one night. He’d go straight to Heidenhof, where he could impose himself on the Maximus.

  He’d already sent a message ahead to Kendryk at the castle, letting him know his plan, and asking him to meet him in town the next morning.

  Raysa was back at his side, exclaiming over the castle’s picturesque position on the cliff overlooking the river, when the messenger returned, looking uncomfortable.

  “It’s from the prince himself.” He placed a letter into Lennart’s hand.

  Lennart read it, then pulled his horse to a stop with an oath.

  “Oh dear.” Raysa stopped next to him. “Bad news?”

  “Cursed, stubborn Kronlanders.” Lennart hadn’t finished swearing, but didn’t want to horrify his wife. So he paused and counted backwards from fifteen, though he was too angry to get the first few numbers right.

  “It’s Kendryk,” he finally said. “Took off for Galladium a good two weeks ago.”

  “Perhaps he’d received news of his family?”

  Lennart shook his head. “He doesn’t say so here. Sounds like he left because he was tired of waiting for word, rounded up an escort of two hundred, and headed west.”

  “It’s not dangerous is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Lennart sighed and crumpled the letter into his pocket, then got his horse going again. “Brynhild Mattila hasn’t replied to my letters and who knows what she’s up to. I’m sure it’s no good for us. That’s why I need Kendryk here to hold Terragand, while I go south as quickly as I can. He’s left the Maximus in charge, but it’s not the same.”

  They rode in silence for a while, until they reached the Heidenhof road.

  “Gods!” Lennart still felt explosive. “We argued about it for days, and I thought I had him convinced it was best to stay here. It’ll take at least a month for him to get to Allaux and back. I can’t wait that long.”

  Raysa bit her lip, looking uncertain. “Must you wait for him? Perhaps you can confer with the Maximus before you decide.”

  It occurred to Lennart that Raysa had never seen him angry before. He took a deep breath and turned to her with a smile, pleased that she didn’t seem frightened as she might have a year past. “You’re right. The Maximus can tell me how he plans to hold things together here. I’m sure we can work something out.”

  Now he was glad he’d bothered to forge a pleasant relationship with Edric. He’d have a much easier time if the Maximus wasn’t suspicious of him.

  “There it is,” Lennart said as they approached Heidenhof. “The largest town in this part of Terragand. You’ll find the Maximus’s palace as magnificent as any you’ve seen. I’m sure he’ll let us stay.”

  “You didn’t ask first?”

  “I er, sent him a message a few hours ago, so he’ll expect us.” Lennart grinned, only a little guilty.

  “Darling, I hate to be critical, but you should have told him a week ago. There are so many of us.”

  “It’s a big palace, and I won’t ask him to put up everyone. Just the household.”

  Raysa shook her head, but she was smiling.

  Even on short notice, the Maximus provided a fine reception. The city gates opened with great ceremony, then Lennart and Raysa proceeded to the main square in considerable state, with an escort of temple guards and cheering crowds lining the streets.

  Lennart was pleased to see Raysa smiling and waving as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which he reckoned it ought to be.

  The Maximus awaited them at the front door of his palace, accompanied by a young woman wearing the modest dress of a temple acolyte. Lennart racked his br
ain, trying to remember if Edric had a daughter, but caught himself before saying something stupid.

  After greeting Edric, he nodded at the girl, who had turned pale. “It’s an honor, Archduchess,” he said.

  The girl seemed unable to speak, though she curtsied properly enough. Lennart supposed she might be frightened as to what he had in store for her. Nothing too bad, as long as she cooperated.

  Braeden

  Braeden led his party through the woods, along deer trails and creeks, for several days. He put his best scouts and trackers to work, but their quarry had vanished without a trace. No one seemed to live in these parts, so he couldn’t even ask the locals if they’d seen anything.

  Devyn grew sullen and quiet, so at least he didn’t cause trouble. This search was probably much less fun than he’d hoped.

  When they stopped to rest one evening, Braeden went in search of the little duke. Trisa had already curled up on the ground, and was ignoring him, or really was asleep.

  Devyn sat on the ground, his back against a tree trunk, looking tired and forlorn.

  Braeden dropped down next to him. “You’ve had quite an adventure, Your Grace.” He handed Devyn a piece of hard sausage. “You did well, though, shooting that woman. Who taught you?”

  “My friend Anton. Before the big battle Uncle Arryk lost, he made us practice shooting and reloading in case we didn’t get away in time.”

  Braeden felt a pang, but smiled, remembering how Anton always took action when needed, without giving it a second thought.

  “I wish I knew what’s become of him.” Devyn chewed the dry meat morosely. “I suppose he’s dead, though Papa said we shouldn’t give up hope.”

  “I reckon your father’s right,” Braeden said. “Anton was always a tough and lucky little bugger. I’m sure he survived somehow.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Devyn looked up at Braeden. “I’m not slowing you down, am I? It seemed like such a good idea—going along with you—but now I’m not sure. I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

  “It’s all right.” Braeden clapped him on the shoulder, realizing that all of Devyn’s bravado earlier had been just that. “When I was your age I would have done the same. It’s hard to stay put when there’s fun to be had.”

  “I hope it’ll be fun, though I pictured it all rather differently. I thought I’d have my own horse and we’d go galloping through the forest, as if we were on a hunt.”

  Braeden had to smile at that. “Well, this is a hunt all right, but our quarry is more dangerous than a stag. If we see her, I want you to stay with Lieutenant Torresia, no matter what. Can you promise me that?”

  Devyn nodded. “She’s all right for a commoner, isn’t she?”

  “I’m a commoner, and so is Anton.” Braeden shook his head, grinning.

  “Yes, but you two rescued my father, which makes you special.”

  “The lieutenant is special too, and someday when we have time, I’ll tell you why. Now get some rest, Your Grace. We move again at first light.”

  The next day dawned clear, and the forest was bright, dappled sunlight coming through the trees. Braeden sent his best trackers out in front and they spread through the woods, looking for signs that a human might have left.

  “Why haven’t we seen any blood?” Devyn asked. “I shot her in the arm.”

  “She’ll have wrapped it up if she’s smart,” Braeden said. “But she’ll need water, so we’ll keep looking along the streams.”

  They trudged on for a few more hours until a shout came from one of the scouts. He’d located a stream running south.

  Braeden paused, looking first one way, then the other. Most of the larger creeks they’d crossed had run east to west. “What do you reckon?” Braeden asked Trisa. “Which way would she go?”

  “North,” Trisa said. “South will send her toward Allaux and the big southern towns. North sends her deeper into the woods. And if she can make it all the way to the coast, she might get a ship.”

  “I agree.” Braeden was pleased that Devyn was keeping his mouth shut and paying close attention. “We’ll follow the stream north and keep a close eye out for any sign of footprints on either side.” It was rocky here, but there had to be soft spots along the way.

  Braeden ordered everyone to dismount once they’d left the trail, since they’d have to pick their way along the stream, looking everywhere for clues. Vastic could have gone in any direction, and they might never find her. But Braeden had a feeling about this place. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and he pulled off his helmet.

  They had to leave the stream a few times as the ground grew hillier, but they always returned to it.

  After about two hours, Trisa said, “There,” and pointed to a bush.

  “What?” Braeden and Devyn chorused.

  “Berries,” Trisa said. “Someone’s picked a few. She’s got to be hungry, with nothing to eat in these woods. What do you think she’ll do?”

  “In her place, I’d find a house or a farm where I could steal food,” Braeden said, then added “Oh gods. There might be people living along this stream. We’ve got to get to them before she does.”

  “Where would they be?” Devyn asked.

  “Near the water,” Braeden said. “I’m sure this creek meets the road at some point, and that’s where the people will be. Let’s pick up the pace.” Even unarmed, he was sure Fernanda Vastic could be dangerous.

  Maryna

  “It’s too dangerous.” King Arryk said, frowning. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her.”

  Maryna wanted to protest, but Natalya caught her eye and shook her head.

  “It’s a little bit dangerous,” she said, “but the moment these people act, you will have them. Maryna can be well-guarded, so she won’t be in any real danger.”

  “I wish I had my pistols,” Maryna grumbled. She’d feel much better if she could defend herself if anything went wrong.

  “You won’t need pistols.” Arryk smiled at her. Then he turned to Natalya. “All right,” he said. “If it’s the only way.”

  “There might be other ways.” Natalya shrugged. “But if we delay, a rebellion will be well underway before we can stop Teodora’s people. If we catch them going after Maryna, they won’t be able to join the revolt.”

  “I still can’t believe it.” Arryk shook his head. “My own aristocracy. They’ve always been loyal to my family.”

  “For the past fifty years at least.” Natalya gave a wry smile, no doubt because Arryk didn’t remember his history very well. “Your grandfather had to behead a few nobles to secure his crown.”

  Arryk waved his hand. “He was only a boy, and untested. They were sure they could overcome him and were wrong. I’ve been in power for a number of years now. My authority shouldn’t be in question.”

  “It shouldn’t be, but it is, thanks to Teodora. But it will all be over soon. We’re ready to proceed.”

  Maryna bounced with excitement. She was a little bit afraid, but after her encounter with Fernanda, she couldn’t imagine anything else would be as frightening.

  Natalya helped her get ready for the ceremony.

  “You look so much like your mother.” She straightened the stiff lace collar and fluffed the enormous skirt.

  Maryna had received a new dress just for the occasion, and had her hair done in an elaborate, adult style. She was sure she looked at least seventeen.

  “That’s very kind,” Maryna said, “but I doubt I’ll ever be as beautiful.”

  “None of us are.” Natalya’s smile was gentle now. “At your age, I was quite jealous of your mother. I felt so ugly and awkward by comparison, while she never had an awkward day in her life.”

  “You were jealous of her?” Maryna found it hard to believe, since Natalya was so lovely in her own way.

  Natalya nodded, though it didn’t seem to bother her at all now. “All the boys stared at her, would show off, trying to get her attention, while never noticing that I was alive. I
t made me angry, and was part of why I left at sixteen. Your mother was of course nothing but kind, and never rubbed my face in it.”

  “But you became beautiful later.”

  “I learned to work with what I have.” Natalya tucked her hand under Maryna’s arm. “As you are learning to. And it’s probably better not to be beautiful like your mother. It’s led to problems for her.”

  “I can’t imagine it ever being a problem,” Maryna said as the two of them left her chamber and walked down the corridor.

  “She can tell you all about it someday.” Natalya paused after they’d rounded a corner and no one else was about. “I want you to take this.”

  She drew a small knife with a jeweled sheath and handle out of her pocket and pressed it into Maryna’s hand. “I think you’ll be safe right now, but we can expect Teodora’s people to move after the ceremony.”

  Maryna took the knife and tucked it in her sleeve, frowning. “But I’ll have so many guards.”

  “You will. But it’s better to be safe, don’t you agree?”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Maryna smiled. “Thank you.”

  When they reached the corridor outside the throne room, elaborately liveried royal guards gathered around Maryna and someone opened the door.

  “They’re ready, Your Grace,” one of them said to her.

  Maryna took a deep breath and stepped inside, remembering to hold her head high and keep her shoulders back. The room was packed with all of the most important people in Norovaea, but she had to pretend they weren’t here if she didn’t want to start shaking from nerves.

  She walked to her uncle with measured steps, and he rose to meet her, taking her by the hand.

  “I’ve called all of you here today because I’ve received shocking news,” he said, his voice deep and solemn. “The Empress Teodora, bound to us in good faith and by treaty, has betrayed me. She has murdered my sister and heir, Princess Gwynneth.”

  His voice quivered, and Maryna did her best to look sad.

  “By the grace of the gods,” the king continued, “Her eldest child, the Duchess Maryna escaped and has come to us for refuge.”