The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “Never mind about that,” Braeden said. “What were you doing here? I have orders from the empress to search for rebels in these parts. I was told no one else was here.”

  “Word was you weren’t doing a good job of it,” Vlad said. “All these villages untouched, rebels on the loose all over the countryside. We took care of things for you.”

  Miro kicked Vlad in the shins. “Mind who you’re talking to. This here’s a high officer and good friend of Prince Novitny.”

  “Prince who? Never heard of him. Why you kicking me? It wasn’t me who didn’t take care of business. You should thank us for cleaning up your mess.”

  “There was no mess.” Braeden struggled not to lose his temper. “We’d already questioned these people and searched the town. You had no authority to attack Her Highness’s subjects.”

  “We had every authority.” The woman suddenly stood toe-to-toe with him, something no one had dared since he was fourteen. Braeden wondered how she had gotten to her feet so quickly. He looked straight into her eyes, which at first appeared black, but pulsed yellow every few seconds. Reno was right. It had to be Daciana Tomescu, and Braeden was no longer sure if the stories about her were mere superstition.

  “Hand over your orders.” Braeden somehow kept his voice calm and dragged his gaze away from her eyes, which he regretted when she grinned, revealing sharp incisors, long as a wolf’s fangs.

  “I will not.” Her awful eyes turned black. “I receive my orders from Teodora Inferrara herself, and she is never foolish enough to put them in writing.”

  “No doubt she wants to distance herself from this sort of thing.”

  Tomescu threw her head back and laughed, a long shrieking cackle made worse by the sight of still more pointed teeth. “If she could, she would join me,” she said, after stopping for breath. “Unfortunately, her duties keep her from these more enjoyable activities.”

  Braeden finally lost his temper. “You call this an activity? Slaughtering people who’ve done no harm?” He didn’t know why this made him so angry. He was used to killing, used to the blood of dead innocents. His own rule was that he fought only other soldiers, those who had a fighting chance, but there were plenty others who had no such code.

  “Who’s to say they haven’t?” Tomescu was inches away from his face. “That bitch certainly acted like a rebel. No respect at all.” Her gaze wandered to the gate where Zluba’s body had been hanging. “Tried to rescue her?” she cackled. “Believe me, she was dead when I put her up there.” She smacked her lips.

  Braeden’s stomach turned. “I’d already questioned her. There was nothing here. I doubt you found anything in your extensive search.”

  “Who says I didn’t? Any rebels hiding in there will be dead by now.”

  “And so will everyone else.” Braeden thought of the girl who’d brought him strawberries. He wanted to put his hands around Tomescu’s throat and squeeze it as hard as he could.

  Her eyes, all yellow now, were on him, as if she were daring him to try something.

  Braeden wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. He took a deep breath, and unpleasant as it was, looked straight at her. “Since you can’t produce any written orders, I will have to arrest you for engaging in illegal activities on Her Majesty’s lands. I’m going to Atlona, so I will take you there and the empress can vouch for you, if she likes.”

  “You’re a brave man, Braeden Terris.” Tomescu laughed, her eyes turning dark again. “Teodora won’t be happy that you interfered with me and killed my people. Though I suppose that shaggy head of yours will look well enough on a spike above the market gate,” she shrugged.

  Braeden wondered how she knew his name, but didn’t want to ask her. “Lieutenant, please secure the lady,” he said to Miro, hoping his tone made it clear she was no such thing. “And Captain, please see that the other prisoners are tied together and taken back to camp.”

  He turned his back on Tomescu though he could still feel her eyes boring into him. He beckoned to Franca. “I want you to take a few troopers and round up any surviving townspeople. We need to find a safe place for them.” He hoped the nearest big temple would take them in.

  He turned to look at the town once more. The fire was going down although it would be days before it was cool enough to search. It would take a miracle for anyone to survive in there anyway. He walked over to where Zluba’s body lay, and picked it up. She was rather light for someone so formidable-looking. He laid her across Kazmir’s rear and walked back to camp.

  Janna

  Janna had never seen anything as beautiful as the farmhouse in the distance. It looked so tidy and solid, standing in the midst of plowed fields. She would have run toward it if she’d had the energy. As it was, she didn’t know if she would make it at all.

  Four days had passed since the robbery and it had taken the better part of the first just to reach the crossroads inn. None of them had ever walked that far, Anyezka had to be carried much of the time and Anton was too small to help with that.

  “I think you should walk so they can see what a big girl you are.” Janna put Anyezka down. She didn’t think she could take another step holding anything, let alone a five-year-old. Anyezka cried but Janna didn’t care. She took one hand and Anton took the other and they dragged her the last half-league to the house, stumbling and crying.

  She didn’t want to think what they must have looked like to Dimir’s relatives, but she was beyond caring. The first person to spot them was Bora, Dimir’s oldest cousin, working in the field.

  “Janna, is that you? Gods, what’s happened?”

  Janna was so relieved he remembered her, she couldn’t speak.

  “It’s all right.” Bora scooped up Anyezka, crumpled into the grass by the roadside. “We’ll talk inside.”

  He took them to the large and inviting-looking house. It stood two stories tall, with a thatched roof. As they came closer, Janna noticed that the second floor was a hayloft. Bora took them into a tiny front room in which sat Dusek and Irina, Dimir’s aunt and uncle. They were both blind, deaf and ancient, and Janna couldn’t tell if they recognized her, or even noticed she was there.

  Bora introduced his wife Disla, who took one look at them and disappeared into another room. Janna glimpsed smoke-blackened walls through a doorway. She’d heard of chimneyless country kitchens but never thought she’d see one.

  Bora’s younger brother Seko appeared next. While Bora had a friendly, open face, Seko’s was pinched with small close-set eyes that looked at Janna in a way that made her very uncomfortable. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to stay, then?” he asked.

  “Only until we can decide what to do next.”

  Seko snorted and left the room.

  Disla soon reappeared, a loaf of bread in one arm and a baby in the other. Bora cut off a few hunks of bread and handed them out. It seemed there was to be no butter or cheese, but Janna was too hungry to care, and wolfed down the hard dry stuff without complaint. Anton made a face, but she shot him a look and he ate his crust without saying a word. Anyezka fell asleep on Janna’s lap before the bread came.

  Disla stood in the doorway, the baby on her hip, its head lolling at a terrible angle. She was a bony blond woman with colorless eyes and a pinched mouth. When she spoke, Janna saw that most of her teeth were missing.

  “Don’t know where we’ll keep them,” she said over Janna’s head. “We’re crowded enough as it is.”

  Janna couldn’t understand how, in a house that size.

  “They’ll just have to bunk down on the floor in here,” Bora said.

  “Oh, the floor is fine.” Janna wondered if the back of the house was in disrepair.

  “Didn’t you have time to load up a cart with necessities?” Bora asked, sitting down and lighting a pipe.

  “We did.” Janna explained how they’d been robbed. “Fortunately, Anton kept a few coins in his pocket and we could buy food at the crossroads. The innkeeper there was so kind and let us sleep on the pantry floor
when it rained. Then she gave us food to take along.” They still ran out because the walk had taken much longer than Janna expected.

  No one asked about Dimir, which Janna found odd, but she told them what she knew.

  “Idiot,” Disla snorted. “Getting involved in things that don’t concern him. It’s for the lords to decide about the empress, not the likes of us.”

  Janna sensed that Anton wanted to protest and squeezed his knee. She’d have to talk with him about that later. It seemed Dimir’s family didn’t share his political beliefs.

  To Janna’s relief, supper came just an hour later. But there wasn’t enough room around the table for everyone, and the only food was a thin soup with more of the abominable black bread.

  Janna offered to help clean up afterward and Disla sent her to get water from the well behind the house. Then she learned why there was no room. A large chicken coop and pigsty covered at least half of the ground floor. Janna hoped there would be eggs for breakfast.

  Sleeping arrangements were awkward. Bora and Disla slept in a tiny nook off the front room with their baby daughter, and Seko had a little room next to the kitchen that had once been a pantry. The old people slept on a mattress that stood propped against the wall during the day and on the floor at night.

  Janna and the children lay on the packed dirt floor, with just two thin blankets for the three of them. She thought longingly of the piles of heavy wool blankets that had gone with the wagon. At least the weather would warm up soon. And once the people here realized Janna and the children would be no trouble, perhaps their welcome would be warmer too.

  Kendryk

  Kendryk’s party made good time to Heidenhof, but by the time they arrived, there was an excited buzzing at the city gates. They trotted into the courtyard of Julia Maxima’s palace and found a large troop of armed men near the main entrance.

  “We expected as much,” Count Faris said. “But she hasn’t had time to speak with the priest, much less send him anywhere. You must insist on seeing her right away.”

  Kendryk dismounted and handed his horse to a waiting groom. He hoped everyone else knew what to do as he caught up with the armed men at the main entrance to the palace. His heart thudded in his mouth, but he threw back his shoulders, put on his haughtiest expression and kept walking as he reached the back of the cluster.

  “Make way for the Prince of Terragand,” Count Faris shouted, and several of Kendryk’s men put their hands on their swords.

  Everyone got out of his way.

  The main palace door was open, with Father Landrus just inside with his captors. Julia was no doubt awaiting them in her audience chamber. Kendryk caught the priest’s eye as he passed, and Landrus’s friendly nod and composed demeanor helped calm him.

  The guard captain holding Landrus made an indignant noise as Kendryk walked by.

  “Where is the Maxima?” Faris asked him.

  “In her office,” the captain said. “She did not wish for a public commotion.”

  Kendryk paused and looked at the man. “I’ll speak with her now. Please wait here with your prisoner.”

  He didn’t intimidate the captain, a tall, well-built fellow with an arrogant manner. “My orders are to bring the heretic to her straightaway.”

  “I’m sure they are. But I am here on a matter concerning this man, and will speak to her now.” Kendryk turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, hoping he remembered where Julia’s private study was. Years ago, he had received a dressing-down there for getting married in a temple outside the domain of the Imperata. Another state wedding should have been held in the Heidenhof Temple, but not before Julia herself consecrated his bride since the Temple hierarchy frowned upon the Norovaean version of the Faith.

  Kendryk wanted to oblige, just to keep the peace, but Gwynneth refused to budge. She was as well-versed in the Faith as any Temple-educated southerner, and wouldn’t be told that she, or her father’s temple were in any way inadequate. So Kendryk had stood his ground.

  When they reached the study door, Count Faris knocked and Julia’s private secretary, Count Greylen opened it.

  “Prince Kendryk is here to see Her Holiness,” Count Faris said as Kendryk walked in.

  Greylen opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no sound came out. He resembled a trout gasping for air, and Kendryk pushed down the sudden urge to laugh. Before he embarrassed himself, he swept off his hat and handed it to Greylen. Then he stepped further into the room, flinging his cloak back, forcing the secretary to take it as well.

  Julia had risen from behind a gigantic, ornate desk carved in ebony, and Kendryk kept his eyes fixed on hers. “I apologize for bursting in on you, Your Holiness, but it’s important that I speak with you at once.”

  He nodded toward Greylen, who had put Kendryk’s outerwear on a chair, and now stood near the door, wringing his hands. “Alone.”

  “Greylen,” Julia said, “Go out there and see what’s keeping my guard. They should have returned with Father Landrus by now.”

  Greylen scurried out. When the door had closed behind him, Kendryk said, “Your guards and Father Landrus are just outside. They must have arrived right before me.”

  Julia nodded. She stood still for a moment, regarding Kendryk intently. A diminutive woman of about fifty years, her formidable presence made up for her tiny stature. Kendryk had towered over her for years now, but she still excelled at making him feel like a little boy.

  “Please sit.” She gestured to a large padded leather armchair in front of a blazing fire. Kendryk welcomed the warmth after his cold night and cold morning ride. Julia seated herself in a similar chair opposite him on the other side of the fire.

  “Let’s not waste time.” Her voice was crisp as an autumn morning. “I received a message from your uncle after the incident in Runewald, so I realize you might have an interest in this situation.”

  Kendryk leaned forward. “I came because I was hoping to arrest Landrus under my own authority and hold him until a council could be called. As long as you agree to one, of course,” he added.

  “A council? “Julia looked surprised. “Whatever for? Landrus does not differ from any of the other crackpots we are cursed with from time to time.”

  “Given the current state of affairs, it seems unwise to ship Father Landrus off to Forli, leaving his charges unanswered by the Temple.” Kendryk kept his voice steady. “The people, and the rulers in Kronland are tired of the brutal responses to any objections. They feel that the Imperata overreaches herself and infringes on temporal power.”

  Julia nodded. “That may be. And that’s why I’ve handled this case differently. I will not be sending Father Landrus to the Imperata in Forli.”

  This was good news, but Kendryk knew better than to be relieved just yet. “That seems wise. But what will you do with him instead?”

  “Send him to Atlona and the empress.” Julia looked pleased with herself. “I wrote to Livilla Maxima when Landrus’s activities first came to my attention. She agrees that it’s best to deal with this within the borders of the empire.”

  This was the last thing Kendryk had expected to hear, and a moment passed before he could speak again. He took a deep breath. “I agree about handling it locally, but it would be a terrible mistake to send him to Atlona. People here bear the empress and Livilla Maxima far more ill-will than they do the Imperata.”

  “Interesting.” Julia was unperturbed. “Doesn’t the Imperata represent everything that so many here find objectionable?”

  “She used to.” Kendryk was still unsure of how to untangle this new knot. “At least until Teodora came to power. Delivering Landrus to her sends the wrong message to the rulers of Kronland. After what’s just happened in Moralta, Kronland needs assurance that Teodora will not overstep her authority here and sending Landrus to her will do the opposite.”

  “You may be right.” Julia looked thoughtful. “I wish to deal with Landrus without delay, but not at the cost of stability here. Just between u
s, I don’t approve of the way the empress is handling things. While she was within her rights to put down the Moraltan rebellion, she was high-handed and brutal. I am not convinced that she realizes she cannot handle Kronland in the same way. I know that Livilla tries to temper her worse impulses, but Teodora strikes me as hot-headed to the point of being unwise.”

  “As far as the people here are concerned,” Kendryk said, “Teodora and Livilla are two heads of one beast.”

  Julia nodded. “I agree with you and I can see that sending Landrus to Atlona isn’t the wisest choice. But in the meantime, he stands outside this door, and we must do something with him.”

  Kendryk wondered what would happen if he told Julia about his dream and why he wanted to protect Landrus. But that would leave the wrong impression. Bad enough he still felt immature and inadequate in her presence; lending such credence to a dream would make him seem unbalanced. No, better to appear a political realist. He hoped the gods would forgive him a little dishonesty if it served their greater purpose.

  Braeden

  The hussars and their prisoners reached Atlona four long days later. Braeden had wasted one of them on the Olvisyan border, negotiating with a priestess reluctant to take in so many refugees. Nineteen people had escaped both the flames and the raiders though only two of them—Jonni included—belonged to Zluba’s family.

  Tomescu’s captured raiders were dangerous and unmanageable, wounding several of his troopers in aborted escape attempts. They were adept at cutting, gnawing and picking through restraints of all kinds. Braeden had considered either killing them, or turning them loose unarmed, but sensed he might court even more trouble that way.

  Tomescu herself was the worst. She alternated terror and seduction so it was impossible to have anyone guard her for any length of time. Braeden couldn’t even look at her without wanting to kill her. No one but Franca was immune to both her curses and her charm. As a result, the girl was in a foul mood after four days of guard duty with a most unpleasant prisoner.