The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Janna hummed to herself, tried to concentrate on her task and not worry about Braeden or Arryk Roussay. So she was unprepared when the front door burst open, blowing in a gust of frosty air, some brown dry leaves, and Braeden.

  She hardly had time to register his presence when he shortened the distance to her and folded her into his arms. To her mortification, she started crying.

  Braeden chuckled into her hair. “No need to cry, little mouse. I’m here now.”

  Janna tried to pull herself together. “I was so worried,” she said, wiping her eyes. “There were rumors that Arryk Roussay was coming and you would have to fight him and you were outnumbered …”

  “Arryk Roussay? Are you joking?” Braeden pulled her close to him again. “He’s well away, in Fromenberg, last we heard. We even looked for him after Faris gave us the slip and he wasn’t anywhere east of the river Lera.”

  “That’s a relief.” Janna sagged against him. “I was afraid of being stuck in here with you on the outside.”

  “Wasn’t going to happen,” Braeden said.

  “Still,” Janna said, looking up at him. “Promise me you won’t leave me like this again. I want to be with you no matter what happens.”

  Braeden looked down at her, his eyes twinkling. “I promise. Now, where’s my little girl? There’s no way you missed me as much as I missed the two of you.”

  Arryk

  Arryk was having the most delightful dream involving Larisa and another girl who looked just like her. When he awoke suddenly, Larisa was shaking him.

  “Up! Up!” she shouted, already up and pulling on her clothes before he could think. It took him another moment to recognize the noises outside.

  “We’re under attack,” she said, more quietly now, strapping on what armor she could find, grabbing her sword, then ducking outside the tent.

  It still hadn’t registered, but he rummaged for pieces of clothing while shouting for a servant. He didn’t have time for armor, but found a loaded brace of pistols. By the time he got out, everyone in camp was at the perimeter, firing into the trees. A few gave chase on horseback but most returned empty-handed, while a few didn’t return at all.

  The black sky was tinged with grey at its edges, when Arryk found Larisa. “What happened?”

  She sheathed her sword scowling. “Hit and run.”

  “Brigands?”

  “No. These were real, disciplined troops. Maladene, from the look of the helm one of them dropped after I cut off his head.” She produced a silver helmet still dripping blood.

  “Maladena hasn’t entered this fight, has she?”

  “Not officially. But last we heard, Demario Barela was still in the employ of the empress.”

  “But he only has a few thousand. Not enough to take us on.”

  “But he can attack us like this, it seems.”

  It wasn’t until later that morning he got a list of casualties. There were only a few dozen, but far worse, several wagons holding powder and charges had been set ablaze and exploded, igniting other wagons nearby.

  “It’s not fatal,” Arryk said, handing the list to Larisa, who crumpled it up. “But it’s annoying, and we can’t afford too many more attacks like it.”

  “Next time we’ll be ready,” she said. “Or even better, we take the fight to him.”

  When he talked to Gwynneth later, she tried to talk him out of it. “That’s exactly what he wants. He wants to draw you out and distract you. You need to concentrate on recruitment and moving on Olvisya.”

  “I can’t do that while he’s attacking me.”

  “Of course you can. Set better guards and spread the munitions wagons out. Don’t let him get so close again.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Arryk said, though he didn’t want to sit and do nothing.

  But Larisa took matters into her own hands. One day, while Arryk negotiated with Princess Keylinda for a few hundred of her ill-trained militia, Larisa took three hundred cavalry and fell upon an encampment.

  “It wasn’t all of them, by far,” she said, unwinding her long braid from her helmet. “But we gave them something to think about, and we learned it’s Barela.”

  “I wonder why,” Arryk said. “I’d have thought Teodora would want to keep him close since she has no one besides the Sanova Hussars with her.”

  “She isn’t someone who’ll sit and let the fight come to her. I’ll bet she has something up her sleeve.” Larisa frowned.

  “I wish Faris, Falk and Orland had moved faster,” Arryk grumbled. “I wanted to get into Olvisya before winter. There’s no way we’ll do that now. I worry the empress will do something in the months ahead.” Not to mention, the prospect of months of inaction filled him with gloom.

  “Like what?”

  “Raise another army.”

  “Pfft. She has no money.”

  “No, but the Floradias truce is holding so maybe she’ll get more help from Maladena.”

  “I doubt it. Just in case, let’s try to finish off Barela before he can run away.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Arryk grinned at her. With Larisa around, he wouldn’t be bored anytime soon.

  Teodora

  Three days felt like weeks, but Teodora would rather have died than appear too eager. At the end of the fourth, she sent a message to Mattila, informing her the empress was busy and couldn’t see her for at least a few more days. She had to make clear that even though the general might be doing her a favor, Teodora was still her sovereign.

  After nearly a week, Teodora arranged the meeting, in the same chamber with the same attendants. Her agitation was so intense she needed Livilla’s calming presence more than ever.

  “We’ve considered your proposal, and have accepted it, with a few changes.” Teodora was as nervous as a seventeen-year-old recruit standing in front of the illustrious general for the first time.

  “Let’s hear them then,” Mattila said, in that rough way she had. Anyone else taking that tone with Teodora would have found themselves enjoying Kendryk’s tedious company in the Arnfels. But not just anyone could raise forty thousand troops at no cost to the empire. She’d bring the Kronland kingdoms back into the empire, but they would pay, and they would pay so dearly no one would dream of rebellion for five hundred years.

  “I have decided to give you supreme command of the army, but only for the duration of this campaign.” This was a formality, but made it easier for Teodora to stomach. It seemed Mattila understood this as well, for she nodded with an ironical look on her face. “And this campaign ends when you’ve chased Arryk Roussay back into the sea and destroyed his allies.”

  “You don’t wish to make a play for Norovaea? It’s a unique opportunity.”

  “We’d need ships.”

  “I can get those, too.”

  Teodora didn’t doubt it. “No, I don’t wish for Norovaea. If you do your job, Arryk Roussay will be dead, or so completely defeated he will stay on his island for the rest of his life.” Teodora had to admit she was tempted by Norovaea’s riches, but she didn’t want Mattila getting her hands on them. She could deal with a weakened Arryk later.

  “All right then, I’ll defeat Arryk, but let him get away if I must.” She made it sound cowardly.

  “But I want the rest of them, understood? Faris, Orland, Falk, Hohenwart and anyone else leading an army against me is to be killed or brought to Atlona in chains. No one else escapes.”

  “Easy enough,” Mattila said.

  “As to the Sanova Hussars, you can have them. I’ve spoken with Prince Novitny, and he has agreed to serve under you. I believe he’s done so in the past, and it worked out well enough.”

  “Yes, he and I understand each other. Heavy cavalry will be useful against Orland.”

  “That brings me to the other matter. I must keep Demario Barela under my command. He is contracted to work for the Inferraras and no one else.”

  Mattila looked at her long, while Teodora’s heart thudded and she hoped she appeared ca
lm and detached. Under the table, she clenched her skirt with clammy palms. It was bad enough to be parted from Demario for so many months; that he might not return here on her command was intolerable. And if Mattila had even the slightest inkling of Teodora’s feelings, she’d never see him again.

  “All right.” Mattila looked amused.

  Teodora was too shocked at the easy agreement to be relieved. “What else do you want?” Teodora knew the woman well enough to be cautious.

  “Permission to quarter troops in the suburbs and outlying towns, and the use of your parade grounds for training.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” Teodora slowly unclenched her fists. “Do you plan to move out in the spring?”

  “I do.” Mattila stood, pushed her chair in, then fixed her hard stare on Teodora.

  Teodora squirmed, but stared back. She wouldn’t so much as blink.

  “I know how you feel about me, Your Highness. On a personal level, I don’t care. But I’m glad to find you’ve matured enough to behave professionally in this matter.”

  Teodora jumped up so quickly her chair fell backwards. “You forget yourself, general.” The heat rose in her cheeks. “Your opinion is irrelevant. Just do your job,” she snapped.

  Mattila chuckled, sketched a slight bow and headed for the door. Before opening it, she turned back to Teodora. “I’ll do my job, Your Highness. I hope you can do yours.” And the door shut behind her before Teodora could say another word.

  Teodora fell back into her chair, which Brytta had caught and put back into place. “I can’t stand it,” she said. “I’ll kill her.”

  Livilla looked at her across the table. “Perhaps you should,” she said. “But not yet.”

  Anton

  Anton liked being on the move, even if it ended in a boring city where he’d be stuck for months. But after two days of marching, Count Orland received word that Schurtz had failed to take Lerania. It seemed that Flavia Maxima had been booted out of the Kronfels temple and had taken refuge there. Supporters of the old faith filled the city and refused to open the gates to renegades and heretics.

  As usual, the count shrugged at the news. “All right then,” he said. “We’ll give them something to look at when they peep out over those walls.”

  From then on, they flattened every village they saw as they neared Lerania. The baggage train swelled. With the villager’s homes burned, those of fighting age could choose to change their religion and join Orland’s army if they wanted to live.

  The new faith had not taken hold here, and a fair number chose to die rather than join the enemy. Anton wouldn’t have made the same choice, especially if it meant the death of his family. Still, several hundred ill-trained troops joined up and their families added to the horde following the army.

  The rest were killed. A few of the prettier, younger women escaped death, though judging by the noises coming from various tents for days after, they were worse off now.

  It was hard to watch and hear, so Anton looked away and closed his ears. If he let this get to him, he would become a helpless little boy, the way he’d been when his sister and mother had been killed. He would never be like that again. Only a little boy would cry over what couldn’t be helped. He’d already learned enough about war to understand that this needed to be done if they wanted the city to surrender.

  Schurtz had captured a few enemy soldiers during a sortie and marched them through the devastated villages, then sent them back into the city. They were told to spread the word that Lerania faced the same fate if it didn’t surrender.

  After about a week, it did. Most citizens survived if they didn’t resist, but the count let everyone loot as long as they wanted. The recently added villagers were the greediest, whole families running into houses and back out with arms full of everything they could carry.

  Anton didn’t feel like looting. He had a lot of money and didn’t need much, now he had a horse and armor. Besides, if he joined in, he would see things he’d have to ignore, and feel bad about it anyway.

  That first evening, a priest led a service in the temple square. He was one of Edric Maximus’s followers and told the people they must embrace the new faith or leave. If they left, there was no protection outside the walls, and they had seen what happened out there. Almost everyone stayed. Even Flavia Maxima decided she could see her way to making a few changes to keep her position.

  Next, the count chose a place to stay for the winter, deciding on the burgomaster’s house. It was one of the nicest in the city. He sent the family away, but called back the wife when he saw how pretty she was.

  “You will be my guest, Madame,” he said, flashing a smile at her. Upset as she was, the smile worked well enough she stopped crying as soon as her husband was out of sight. All the same, Anton had orders to lock her in the biggest bedroom in case she got any ideas and watch the door so no servants let her out.

  That was boring, but after a few days, the count got her to like him so much she didn’t want to run away. Anton was free to spend time with Skandar and explore the city.

  Janna

  The happiest winter of Janna’s life passed quickly. Braeden spent the days on the parade ground, exercising the horses and drilling his troops. On fine days, Janna sometimes went to watch and loved seeing how precisely the great horses could move. Though she knew little about the military, she began to understand why the Sanova Hussars were never defeated.

  It made her feel better, knowing that when they took to the field, they would be well-prepared. Other troops might get soft in their winter quarters, but not these. Trisa had moved out of her father’s tent and into one that Franca already shared with another girl. Braeden was training her to be his page and she worked harder and longer than everyone else, learning everything she needed to know to help him in battle. That comforted Janna too, knowing that Trisa would be right there with everything he needed. But she wondered about Trisa herself, still a little girl, in the heat of battle.

  “Don’t you worry about her?” she asked Braeden one evening as they sat over supper.

  “No more than I worry about the others,” he said. “She knows the life better than a lot of our recruits and her parents understand the risks. She’s good at what she does and that’s what’s most important. That’s what will keep her safe.”

  Janna looked over at Iryna, playing with some spoons on the floor. She seemed to enjoy the noises they made clanging together, or the dull thump when she hit the wood floor with them. “I wonder if she’ll be a hussar?”

  “I hope so, though she’s not very fierce.”

  “She’s not even a year old.” Janna had to laugh. “I doubt you were fierce at that age.”

  It seemed he’d never considered that. “Probably not.” He grinned. “We must teach her.”

  “You’ll teach her,” Janna said.

  “Oh, I will. And a boy too, when we have him.”

  “I’d like a boy next.” Janna smiled across the table at him, even though she felt a pang at missing Anton. She wasn’t pregnant again, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. “How’s the rest of General Mattila’s army shaping up?”

  “Nearly ready, I’ve heard. She’s a wonder. No one believed she could find forty thousand experienced soldiers in a year’s time, and she’s done it in just a few months. Now she’s equipping them with the best of everything—new weapons, uniforms, everything. It must help she’s so rich.”

  “Didn’t she get most of her money from confiscated Moraltan estates?” Janna asked, remembering the house in Kaleva and wondering who it belonged to now.

  “Some of it.” Braeden nodded. “But she already had a bundle. She plundered Altus in Cesiano back in the day. It’s said that city was made of gold and marble, at least until she took it apart, piece by piece. Carted it all the way back to Moralta, they say. Never looked the same since.”

  “She sounds terrifying.” Janna shivered.

  “Just tough and good at what she does,” Braeden said. “At this rat
e, we’ll be in Kronland by spring.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. I’ve enjoyed the house, but I don’t mind being in the field again, either.”

  Braeden frowned. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Perhaps you and Iryna should stay here. Silbershmid says we can have the house as long as we like.”

  Janna gasped, surprised at the panic that surged up in her. “No.”

  “Why not?” Braeden was unruffled as always.

  “It’s hard to explain to you. You’re never afraid of anything. But I am.”

  “There’s a lot less to be afraid of here.”

  “But I felt safe in Kaleva until the day it fell. My husband left and never came back, and then terrible things didn’t stop happening until you found me.”

  “Atlona won’t fall.”

  “Maybe not, but no one knows. It was a near thing two years ago, and what if Mattila is defeated and Arryk Roussay comes? He has a much bigger army than Korma ever did and we already worried about it last autumn.”

  “That won’t happen,” Braeden said. “Mattila won’t lose.”

  “Dimir didn’t think the rebels would lose, either.” Janna struggled to keep her voice even.

  “Dimir was a brave fellow, but I doubt he knew much about military matters. You can believe me—there’s almost no chance of Atlona falling.”

  “I don’t care,” Janna said. “As long as there’s some chance, I’m safer with you. If you go without me, how long until I see you again? It could be years. I can’t bear it. Besides, you promised.” She didn’t want to cry, but the tears welled up.

  “It’ll be different to be on campaign with a baby.”

  “Senta will be there and a lot of other women do it. Please don’t leave us here,” she ended with a whisper.