“Landrus implied there might be others. What we need right now is an open discussion of these matters. I must find a way to do that.”
“First we must consider if it’s wise to let Landrus continue preaching,” Count Faris said. “I’m sure you’re aware that you might arrest him and imprison him for life on your own authority. I know you don’t want to do that, but it’s a choice you must consider.”
“Yes.” Kendryk stared into his glass. “I told him it was possible. But even if I decide he’s not wanted here, I don’t want him harmed before we can discover if what he’s saying is true. I just worry that there’s no way to do so without angering the empress. After what she’s done in Moralta, I don’t want to upset her without an excellent reason.”
“I’m sure others in Kronland are interested in what Landrus has to say,” Faris said. “But until you are sure of their support, it would be unwise to go ahead.”
Kendryk was silent, his face grave.
“This is an excellent opportunity if we choose to see it as one,” Gwynneth said, pushing down her impatience. Kendryk never liked to put himself forward, a decidedly odd trait for a prince, though it was also part of his charm. “The Kronland rulers have been restive for years. They tolerated the old emperor’s bumbling, but Teodora is another matter. She’s already shown that she’s not afraid to enforce her rule with a heavy hand.”
“She has far more legal authority over Moralta than she does over Kronland,” Faris said.
“And she must be reminded of that,” Gwynneth said. “She must also be reminded that she will need our troop levies to defend her borders if the treaty with Zastwar fails. Kronland should take advantage of its strong position right now. It’s a shame no leader will step forward and challenge her.” She smiled at her husband. “Although I believe Kendryk could be that leader.”
Kendryk shook his head. “You know I don’t want that role, Gwynn. I more than have my hands full with Terragand. I just want to know if these teachings are being suppressed, and if they are, how that can be changed.”
“We should still see this as a political, instead of a religious problem.” She wished at least one of them would show more enthusiasm. “If a few other Kronland rulers can be persuaded that Landrus’s claims need to be investigated you might be able to pressure Teodora to allow us greater freedom.”
“That’s one possibility. But it would be a bold move, and I don’t believe the prince has decided such boldness is justified yet,” Faris said.
There was a moment of silence, then Kendryk spoke. “You’ve given me even more to consider. But before I act, I’ll take Father Landrus’s advice and spend some time in prayer. I must act as my conscience and the gods command.”
Gwynneth pasted a neutral smile on her lips. Kendryk could pray as much as he wanted. As the largest and richest of the Kronland kingdoms, she felt it was time for Terragand to assert itself, and Kendryk would understand that soon enough.
Janna
As the sun sank lower, the road emptied and Janna found there were no other travelers in sight. The fear that she’d been able to keep at bay during daylight tapped on her spine with its icy fingers.
She’d hoped to reach the crossroads and find a room at the inn but there was no sign of it yet and she didn’t want to still be on the road after dark. Making camp with no friendly faces about didn’t appeal to her either, but it looked like they might not have a choice.
Janna had started looking for a likely spot when she heard voices behind her. All men, from the sounds of them, and different from the diverse chatter of the refugees. She tried to stay calm and urged the donkey off the road. Perhaps they would pass without seeing her.
She just had time to pull off the road and into the grass when they appeared around a bend. They were soldiers, but even more ragged than those they’d seen earlier in the day. Anton bounced on the seat, excited.
“Oh hey, what have we here?” One of them, wearing tattered clothes and a hat with a jaunty red feather doffed the hat into a sweeping bow. “Good evening, fair lady and lovely children.” He sounded drunk.
Janna stifled a shudder. “Good evening,” she said trying to keep her voice calm. “We’ll just stay out of your way so you can pass.”
The whole group had stopped and stared at her in a way that made her very uncomfortable.
“As it turns out, we was thinkin’ of stopping for the night, weren’t we boys?” said the fellow with the hat.
“I was hoping to make it to the Sanova crossroads.” Janna’s hands shook, but she kept her voice steady enough. “Is it very far?”
“Not too far, I don’t think,” another man said.
“Well then, we’ll be on our way.” Janna picked up the reins.
Before she could make another move, a man grabbed the donkey’s harness.”Not so fast, ma’am.” His tone was polite, though his smile was anything but. He grinned, showing a mouth full of blackened teeth. This time, Janna couldn’t hold back her shudder.
“No need to be frightened,” said another man, coming up alongside the wagon.
There were at least a dozen. Suddenly, she realized she’d do anything to get away. “I’m sure you’re hungry.” She was talking too fast and there was no keeping the quiver out of her voice. Anyezka started crying and crawled into her lap. “I’d be happy to share my food with you, although then I must be on my way.”
“That’s most kind,” a man said. “We like kind ladies.”
“If you’ll just give me a moment, I’ll get something out for you.” She planned to give them all the food she had since she could always buy more at the crossroads, or from a farm. She pushed Anyezka into Anton’s arms and jumped down. The man holding the donkey didn’t move aside, and she had to brush past him to get to the back of the cart. He leered into her face, breath sour, and she looked away as she squeezed past him. He smacked her hard on the bottom, and she fell flat onto the grass.
“Now that’s better,” the man laughed. “No use playing high and mighty with us when we’re all of us so friendly.”
Janna scrambled to stand. Another man came up next to her and held her by the arm. Her knees nearly buckled.
This one was older, and perhaps not drunk. She wondered fleetingly where they’d gotten alcohol. “There’s plenty of food.” She willed herself not to cry and looked up at the children, sitting in the driver’s seat, Anyezka still crying, and Anton’s face white and frozen. She had to hold herself together so they could get away. “You’re welcome to all of it.”
“Oho, she gives up her food easy enough. Wonder what else she has for us?” The one who’d shoved her loomed over her, inches from her face.
Janna slid her shaking hand into her pocket for the cheese knife. She felt nothing but coins.
Gwynneth
Unable to sit still, Gwynneth paced in front of the bank of windows, reading Arryk’s letter with mounting excitement.
“Avaron,” she said to her lady-in-waiting, “Please go to Prince Kendryk’s study and tell him I must speak with him urgently.”
He’d be busy with everyday work, but this was important, coming on the heels of the message from Helvundala. Avaron bustled out the door, and Gwynneth went back to her desk.
“Linette, where is Prince Falk’s letter?” she shuffled through a stack of papers, most of them copies of letters she’d sent out in the past week.
“It’s right here, Your Grace.” Linette handed Gwynneth the sheet she’d been holding.
Gwynneth took it and went to the door. “Keep working on those copies, I’ll be back after speaking with the prince.”
Kendryk rose from his desk as she entered. “Is it bad news?” It was unusual for her to barge in on him. Most things could be discussed during their afternoon ride.
“On the contrary.” She could not hold back a smile. “I’ve received two very interesting letters today.”
“Tell me.” Kendryk followed her to a window seat and settled in next to her.
; Gwynneth handed him Prince Falk’s letter first. “I always thought he’d be your strongest supporter.”
“Well, considering he’s married to Aunt Rheda, I would expect that. In fact, I’d rather hoped he’d have a troublesome cleric of his own and be the first to make a fuss.”
He said it with a laugh, but Gwynneth could tell he wasn’t joking. He scanned the letter, then looked up.
“What else?”
Gwynneth handed him the other one.
“Your brother is quite enthusiastic.” Kendryk’s tone was not. “But it’s been a long time since Norovaea had to contend with the empire in any real way. And their Temple has been independent of Forli for a long time.” He put the letter down on a little table. “They are both very kind to be so supportive, but I’m afraid I don’t understand what’s so urgent.”
“Don’t you see?” Gwynneth tried to keep her impatience in check. “I think this is the sign you’ve been waiting for. Both of these supportive letters from powerful men, arriving the same morning.” She knew Kendryk had been spending hours every day in the Birkenhof chapel, praying for an answer to the Landrus problem.
Kendryk smiled. “That isn’t quite what I had in mind. For one, Prince Falk has made no concrete commitment, and as for your brother, well, he’s not in a position to dictate Norovaea’s policy, is he?”
“Not yet,” Gwynneth admitted. “Papa is being dreadfully stubborn, refusing to let Arryk do more for him since he’s so ill, but he values his opinion.”
“I’m sure he does. But I doubt he will promise troops or money based on Arryk’s opinion. Nor would I want him to.”
“What do you mean, you don’t want him to? Wasn’t the whole point of marrying me to get a powerful ally like Papa?”
Kendryk laughed and squeezed her knee. “The whole point of marrying you, darling, was because I loved you, and I wanted a family. I didn’t care who your father was. In fact, your rather exalted position made my suit difficult, as you recall.”
Gwynneth dimpled and squeezed his hand. “I was just teasing, of course. But now you have such a powerful father-in-law, you might as well make use of him.” She wasn’t about to give up.
“I’m sorry love, I don’t agree. I’m sure your father has no interest in getting involved in our affairs. Besides, I would hate for it to look like I’m acting on behalf of a foreign power. These problems are between Kronland and the empire, and we should try to resolve them amongst ourselves.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Gwynneth sighed. “Still, you can’t deny it’s very interesting that both these letters arrived at the same time.”
“There’s nothing magical about it,” Kendryk said. “The letters from Helvundala get put on the same boat that brings the mail from Norovaea. It would’ve been strange if they’d arrived at different times.”
“You’re no help at all.” Gwynneth pretended to pout. Of course, she believed in signs from the gods far less than Kendryk did. Truth be told, she thought he was wasting his time with all of that praying, but she would never say so. She’d always found Kendryk’s piety amusing, but it suited his sweet and earnest demeanor in a most attractive way. Besides, he never let it detract from his reason. Not until now, at least.
“So what shall we do now?” She kept her tone light, hoping it masked her irritation.
“We wait.” Kendryk’s grin meant she hadn’t succeeded. He knew her too well. “It’s only been a week. But as yet, Julia hasn’t made a move. If she doesn’t, I’m inclined to let Landrus continue while we see if his teachings crop up anywhere else in Terragand, or Kronland.”
“I’ve asked all of my Temple contacts to write to me if anyone else says something interesting. Still, I hate for you to miss the opportunity to take the leadership role in this. Just imagine if the Kronland temples could break away from Forli because of what you did. You would be a hero.”
“I don’t feel like a hero.” Kendryk shook his head, still smiling. “In fact, I’m probably a coward for not wanting to give the empress an excuse to march all over Terragand and return to Atlona with my head.”
“I’m certain she would not respond as she has in Moralta. She doesn’t have the authority, and she would have to get through southern Kronland first.”
“I doubt they’d resist. Princess Zelenka worships at the Inferrara shrine and thinks that Teodora is Vica in human form.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” Although Gwynneth had to admit that he was right about Princess Zelenka, who was the most dreadful pious bore. She probably would let Teodora march straight through her lands and feast her every evening.
“No more than you are.” Kendryk took both her hands in his. “Listen darling, I do appreciate all of your work, and your brother’s support. I just don’t know enough to do anything yet.”
“Will you ever?”
“I’m sure I will. In any event, I’d like to speak to Landrus again so he can explain more to me.”
“I wonder why you trust him after speaking with him just once, and yet you refuse to defend him.”
“I haven’t said that. Now that my uncle can’t act, he might not need a defender. I don’t want to cause a problem that doesn’t exists. Besides, I’m not asking you to trust Landrus. I’m asking you to trust me.”
Naturally, when he looked at her so intently with his large, dewy eyes, she found it hard to argue with him, let alone be angry.
“Of course I trust you.” She squeezed his hands in return. “I know you’ll do what is best.”
Kendryk
A wave of heat, then cold and nausea rushed over Kendryk. He wasn’t sick; he recognized the signs. When he’d studied in Galladium, there’d been a few other students known for being touched by the gods. If they felt sick in this way, a vision or divine message was imminent.
His ears rang and black dots danced before his eyes, growing larger and larger until all light had gone. When the ringing subsided, and the spots disappeared, he looked down from what felt like a great height, and saw his horse, and someone wearing his armor. His hair was shorter, the planes of his face sharper and older but he still looked like himself.
His view lengthened, and he perceived a vast army stretching behind him. Banners of various colors fluttered over a sea of spear-tips and shining helmets. He recognized many of the standards, houses sworn to him, and other Kronland princes he considered friends. He spotted the black and silver of Galladium and the Roussay orange. But many more were unfamiliar.
His gaze swung around like the beam of a lighthouse. Great mountains lay to the south and east, and on the plain before them stood another host, larger than his own. He recognized imperial banners and those of Sanova, Marjatya and Moralta. There was even the dreaded golden crescent moon of Zastwar, the empire’s greatest enemy. His whole life and longer, the Inferrara rulers had pleaded for help against that terrifying horde with its strange and awful gods.
He thought he was flying, but he had no body and no wings; just eyes that surveyed endless distances. He observed the enemy’s endless rows of human foot-soldiers with little concern, but his stomach lurched when he spotted the cavalry. There were huge lizards with long barbed snouts, lions with gigantic horned heads, black wolves with strange, human eyes, and above them, great birds of prey. Their riders were creatures who might have been human, had they been more than gray skin stretched over skeletons, with gaping black holes in place of eyes, mouths and noses.
None noticed him, but Kendryk fled back to his army with all the speed he could muster.
“You see they have brought their gods.” Father Landrus stood next to his other, older self. “Where are yours?”
Kendryk swung his far-seeing eye in every direction, but there were only mountains, forests and rivers. “Why have they not come?”
Landrus’s face was grave. “Long ago, I told you why, and you did not listen. Now we are at the final battle and when we are dead, those monsters will finish what’s left of our gods, and the darkness will—”
His words were cut off as a great shadow moved over the land, covering first the army of the enemy, then rolling toward Kendryk. Blacker than ink, it coated everyone and everything like hot tar. Kendryk tried to run, to fly, but the shadow caught him, black tendrils clutching at him. Where Landrus had been there was black. There was no sign of Kendryk’s older self.
The tendrils grabbed him, pulled him to the ground. He reached for something to hold onto but found nothing. The shadow covered everything, and Kendryk still had one eye open to see it. When he opened his mouth to scream, it filled with black. He fought the shadow with everything in him, but he was slipping into it. If there was something he should do or should have done, he couldn’t remember it. A voice shrieked at him in a language he didn’t understand, but it was too late. His eye closed, and his breath stopped …
Kendryk awoke face-down on the freezing stone floor drenched in sweat. His heart pounded in his ears. It took an eternity to get his breath back, to look around and realize that he was at home, in his own chapel at Birkenhof. When he lifted his head he saw a few candles still flickering under the icon of Ercos, the Son. He needed to do something, but he did not know what.
It had never occurred to Kendryk that he might receive a message from the gods, but this dream seemed like one. He rolled onto his back and stared at the vaulted ceiling, most of it lost in shadow. Much as he dreaded revisiting the dream, he forced himself to recall it. Somewhere in there was a sign that might guide him.
When he grew stiff from the cold, he sat up. What he was to do next remained hidden from him. Since he had done nothing in the Landrus matter, he assumed that needed remedying. He just didn’t know what sort of action to take.
He stood up and stretched. First, he must find Gwynneth and tell her about the dream. She might notice something he’d missed. Then, he would speak with Landrus again. He had so deeply studied the Scrolls he could surely tell Kendryk what he needed to do.
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 6
