Kazmir trudged along the road, his head down. Braeden wondered if he realized what had happened. At the least he sensed Braeden’s mood. They’d been together a long time. Neither one of them was paying much attention when Kazmir nearly ran into a wagon in front of them. They stopped. Braeden didn’t mind the delay, but after a while, he wondered why they weren’t moving again.
The wagon ahead of him belonged to a family. All of their worldly goods were piled into it, a few little girls perched on top of everything while their parents and a boy walked. The boy ran ahead and came back after a time, breathing hard. “Big wagon. Broke down,” he said. “They’re trying to fix it, but it’ll be awhile. It broke down crossways, so the other side is blocked too.”
Braeden sighed. Kazmir stamped and snorted. Neither of them liked standing around all that much. And Braeden knew another way. He’d learned a lot of the smaller trails in this area while playing cat and mouse with Orland. It would be easy to detour around the broken-down wagon and get back on the road. He knew it was dangerous off the road, but he wore some of his armor and his weapons were ready. On such a short stretch, no one was likely to bother him when there were far juicier victims nearby.
He pointed Kazmir toward the trees, knowing there was a footpath just on the other side, running next to the fields. It was nice to be off the road, though the farms were a depressing sight; last year’s unharvested crops trampled by thousands of military horses that had come this way. In the distance, he saw a burned-out homestead.
When Braeden had passed through these parts for the Landrus trial in Teodora’s entourage, this had been a rich, welcoming country, with tidy villages and farms dotting the fertile farmland. Now it looked like no one had lived here in a long time. It was hard to say where all the people had gone. Fled, most likely, or dead, if they’d been unfortunate enough to take refuge inside Kersenstadt.
Braeden turned his mind away from that city again. He was learning how he might survive long enough to kill Teodora. He wouldn’t die of grief or guilt and they wouldn’t drive him mad either, if he could think about other things. And planning how to kill the empress gave him plenty to think about.
Kazmir picked up the pace, since there was no one to block their path. Braeden thought about Atlona and the Palais Arden, trying to recall every detail. He wondered if he should enlist Brytta’s help and leave Barela out of it. He was willing to die on this mission, but didn’t want harm to come to the general who’d been such a good friend to him. He just wasn’t sure he could do it himself.
“Halt!” A voice came from nowhere and Kazmir dutifully came to a stop.
Braeden looked around. Two cavalry troopers emerged from the trees, one of them holding a pistol and the other hurrying to grab Kazmir’s reins.
Embarrassment washed over Braeden. He’d stumbled into an ambush like a rank amateur. Even Trisa would have had better sense.
He shook his head, banishing the fog that had settled over his mind and looked the troopers over. Familiar—the black cuirasses and Maladene horses. He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” the one with the pistol asked.
“Orland’s Cuirassiers, am I right?”
“We’re the ones asking the questions,” the one holding Kazmir’s reins said.
“Ask away,” Braeden said. For some reason, he wasn’t the least bit worried. He wondered if Arian Orland would kill him. That would be a good way to go, though it would be annoying to think the empress still lived.
“You ain’t one of us,” the one holding the pistol said, “and that armor looks Sanovan. You might as well admit you’re one of Novitny’s hussars.”
“I am,” Braeden said mildly. “Smart of you to figure it out.”
“Where are are the rest of you?”
“I’m alone.”
“Liar.” The pistol-holder advanced on him. “You’re a scout, aren’t you?”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you doing out here by yourself?”
“Headed to Atlona on personal business.”
“You make no sense. We’re taking you to the general.”
“Orland?” Braeden asked, enjoying the surprise on the fellow’s face. “Sure, I’ll come along.” He was curious about the man he’d tried and failed to kill twice. As far as Braeden knew, no one else had ever been that lucky.
Teodora
Teodora’s life was perfect. Or nearly so. She had returned to Atlona in triumph, the victor of Kersenstadt. After what had happened there, the mere mention of her name would be enough to terrify anyone into submission. Now all that was left was to mop up what remained of Arryk Roussay’s army and put Mattila out to pasture.
Though Mattila sent little correspondence, Elektra was more reliable. It seemed her priestess friend, Mother Luca, had impressed upon her the importance of loyalty to family above all else.
According to Elektra, Mattila had chased Arryk to the Zeelund border, where he’d escaped her clutches. “The Zeelunders handed over a great sum so she would leave them alone,” Elektra wrote. “And with that money, General Mattila hired ships in Ummarvik and set sail for Norovaea.”
Teodora was displeased at Mattila again for disobeying orders, but it would be a blessing if she finished Arryk once and for all. There was no one to take his place. In theory, Princess Gwynneth would succeed the Norovaean throne, but she had disappeared. Teodora suspected she had died, or perhaps run off with a lover. No one had heard from her in months.
There was a younger brother, but everyone seemed to think he wasn’t interested in governing. Perhaps he could be persuaded to become her puppet, or he might retire to the country with a nice income. She wondered if Count Ensden might like being promoted to Prince of Norovaea. He would be a loyal vassal.
She was about to call for Ensden when Brytta announced Livilla Maxima. Teodora hoped it wasn’t bad news. Even while things went well, doubt niggled at the back of her mind. Events had a way of turning around quickly.
Livilla entered and sat down right away. “I realize you’re busy, but one of my agents just returned from Sanova with worrisome news.”
“What has my brother done now?” Teodora frowned. Her spy network in Sanova spent most of its time watching Atinos hatch endless plots to overthrow her. They were never workable, but Teodora worried he might get lucky someday.
“Nothing this time.” Livilla looked at the piece of paper she held. “But I have it on good authority that Princess Gwynneth just spent a great deal of time in Novuk, some of it in private with Queen Ottilya.”
“So that’s where the princess ran off to. Does anyone know what they talked about?”
“No one is certain, but there is a rumor she was trying to broker peace between Sanova and Estenor.”
A cold chill ran up Teodora’s spine, but she shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no one more difficult or stubborn than Ottilya, and King Lennart isn’t the sort to compromise. I’m not surprised at the princess trying something, but I can’t imagine that she would succeed.”
“You’re right, it’s hard to picture,” Livilla said, though her face remained grave. “Still, we must stay vigilant.”
“What reason does Lennart have to invade Kronland?” Teodora was sure the King of Estenor harbored no great feelings of friendship toward her, but she didn’t see why he should be actively hostile.
“Nothing concrete aside from the usual wish to expand his sphere of influence.” Livilla shifted in her chair. “But there’s something else that concerns me. I’ve heard rumors that Lennart has gone over to the Quadrene heresy. He hasn’t enforced its practice in Estenor, but that hasn’t been necessary. Most temples turned away from the true faith on their own. It’s possible he would invade Kronland to protect what heretics remain there.”
“That seems rather fanatical, and unlikely.” Teodora refused to be upset by the news. “And if he invades, he can’t have a large force. Where would he get the money? The biggest annoyance is that I’d need to keep
Mattila on longer, though I suppose I can live with that.”
Now that her peace was disturbed, even in such a small way, she noticed another fly in her ointment. Demario had just returned from Kersenstadt, and Teodora was certain he was behaving oddly toward her. She couldn’t decide exactly what was different, but he was no longer as warm and his formerly ready smiles were scarce.
She sat with him in her private study, playing chess. “I have heard from Queen Beatryz,” he said, taking her second knight. Teodora gritted her teeth. “She thinks it unlikely they will extend the Floradias truce. So she might call me back.”
Teodora looked up. “She can’t. I still need you.”
“Not really.” He was looking at the board, not at her. “You are in no more danger. In a few months you won’t even need Mattila.”
“Yes, but …” Teodora made a move, a bad one. “You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He still wouldn’t meet her eye. “But I can’t stay here forever.”
“Why not? I have a plan for Count Ensden once Arryk Roussay is deposed. You could take over as my commander-in-chief. Beatryz can’t give you anything comparable.”
“She says she will make me field marshal.”
“Pfft. Not while old Montanez is still around. She’s just saying that so you’ll come back.”
“I have to go back,” Demario said. “I still work for her, in the end.”
“I will write to her. She really doesn’t need you, I’m sure.” Fear clawed at her insides. He was right. He worked for Beatryz. What worried her even more was that he didn’t seem bothered at the prospect of leaving her so soon. She wondered what was wrong. She peered at him from under her lashes. His eyes remained fixed on the board. Had he tired of her? Was there someone else? Teodora clenched her fists in her lap as he made another move. She wouldn’t allow it. He would stay here with her. She would write to her cousin and offer her whatever she wanted so she could keep him here.
Gwynneth
Gwynneth didn’t wait to see Arryk to Bonnenruck where he could get ships after seeing his banker. Even though he didn’t seem capable of managing bankers and hiring ships, she had to trust that those around him would help. She was still appalled that no one knew where her children were. No matter what had happened to Larisa and to Arryk’s army, these were his nieces and nephews, the heir to Terragand among them.
“Why didn’t you send them to Galladium before the battle?” Gwynneth asked Arryk. “Once you realized I wasn’t coming, you shouldn’t have waited.”
He stared at her, hollow-eyed.
“Didn’t you get my letters?” she asked impatiently.
“I suppose I did, though I was distracted. I’m sorry Gwynn. I’m sure they’re fine. Count Orland arranged for them to travel with a large armed guard.”
“Did you send money to pay that guard? Did you give them orders where they were supposed to take them? Or what to do once they got there?”
Arryk looked at her blankly, then hung his head. She stamped her foot and left the room before she shouted at him. She wanted to be angrier with him, but he was in such a pathetic state, she found it difficult to scold him. So she compensated by abandoning him more quickly than was decent.
Since Arryk seemed to think the children had headed for Floradias, she worked her way down the frontier fortresses on the western side. To her dismay, the first several she visited had no idea what she was talking about. On the one hand, she was glad her children were so well-hidden, but on the other, she worried because they seemed to have disappeared altogether.
After nearly two weeks, and visiting six different forts, she finally received a small clue. “Emilya Hohenwart is in Megen,” a garrison commander said. “Your children might be with her, or she might have news.”
Gwynneth didn’t know why she should, but at least it was something. When she reached Megen, there was little sign of a military camp, though the town was fortified. Gwynneth found Hohenwart ensconced in a grubby tavern, recruiting.
“There you are,” Hohenwart said, standing up as Gwynneth entered the room. “I was hoping someone would show up. I’m getting ready to move out in a fortnight and couldn’t figure out what to do with your children.”
“They’re here then?” Gwynneth could have hugged her, but Hohenwart looked down her nose at her forbiddingly.
“Been here for some time,” she said. “Came flying in from Arcius with Mattila’s vanguard on their heels.”
“Oh Holy Mother.” Gwynneth collapsed into a chair.
“You should have a seat, Your Grace,” Hohenwart said, draping her rangy frame across another chair. Her tone wasn’t at all the thing. “They’re fine now, but they had a good fright.”
“So they’re well?” Gwynneth found her throat was parched.
“Believe so.” Hohenwart shrugged. “They’ve got that Maximus fellow with them and he’s been keeping an eye, thank gods. Never been much good at managing brats myself. Give me an artillery crew any day.”
Gwynneth bit her tongue. She’d forgive this woman her rough manners as long as the children were safe. She took a moment to master herself, then said, “Thank you for your trouble. I’ll see you’re compensated when I come into funds.”
Hohenwart waved her away. “Don’t bother. I didn’t do anything. But I must be on my way soon.”
“Are you going back to Kronland?”
Hohenwart barked a laugh. “Not for anything. I’ll stay well clear of Brynhild Mattila, thank you very much. But the truce in Zeelund is nearly up and they’ll need soldiers again. I plan to have a force ready when that happens.”
Gwynneth told her that Lennart was likely to invade.
“He’s welcome to it,” Hohenwart said. “I’m done with Kronland and northern princes.”
“Perhaps he can change your mind.” Gwynneth stood. “He could use a general with your experience.”
“I doubt it.”
“Thank you anyway,” Gwynneth said, then hurried to the temple where her children stayed.
Gwynneth approached the little temple and realized she was still terrified. What if the children here weren’t hers? Or they were ill, or some other dreadful thing had happened? She would never forgive herself.
The novice on duty took one look at her and broke into a smile. “We’re happy you’re finally here, Your Grace. Come in and I’ll send them to you.”
She led Gwynneth into a small room behind the temple proper and sent another novice after the children. Gwynneth let relief wash over her and smiled when she heard Devyn’s voice echoing off the stone walls of the corridor long before she saw him.
She stood just as they burst into the room and gathered them into her arms. When she sat down again the three oldest piled onto her lap while little Stella looked at her curiously from the nurse’s arms.
“You must tell me all about your journey here,” Gwynneth said. “It sounds like you had quite an adventure.”
“It was very frightening,” Maryna said calmly. “But we made it in the end.”
“Those soldiers almost caught us,” Devyn said. “But I can fight them.”
“I’m sure you can.” Gwynneth smiled. “Is Edric Maximus here?” The priest at this temple was an old friend of his.
“I sent him a message when I heard you’d come,” Maryna said. “He’ll be so pleased to see you.” No doubt he was eager to stop playing nursemaid.
Edric entered the room a few minutes later, interrupting Devyn’s confused account of their journey here.
Gwynneth stood. “I can’t thank you enough.” She took Edric’s hands in hers, returning his smile. It still seemed odd sometimes that they were friends.
“I was happy to escape too, since I doubt Mattila would have dealt kindly with me,” Edric said smiling. “I thank the gods for Arian Orland. At that moment before the battle, your brother had half lost his mind. Orland stepped in and sent his page to arrange the children’s escape. If he hadn’t, Mattila would have caught us far too easily.”<
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“I can’t bear to think about it.” Gwynneth shuddered. “I’m so glad they took you in here. I worried because I knew you had little money.”
“The gods always provide,” Edric said. “And your Maryna is most resourceful. She remembered the names of several distant relatives on the way in whose castles we could stay when we needed to rest.”
Maryna beamed and Gwynneth kissed the top of her head.
“What are you planning next?” Edric asked.
“I must go to Galladium immediately. King Lennart has converted to the new faith and wishes to enter the fight, but he needs money. He hopes I can persuade Gauvain to provide it.”
Hope sprang into Edric’s eyes. “That is excellent news. To be honest Princess, I’ve been close to despair. I had hoped your brother would be able to help, but it seems he was not the one we hoped for. With him defeated so completely and Kronland nearly overrun, I didn’t see how we were to move forward.”
“It will take a few months, but Lennart will be a formidable opponent for Teodora. He’s the only person right now who is a match for Brynhild Mattila. Will you come to Galladium with us?’
“Let me think on it,” Edric said. “I’m anxious to get back to Kronland and continue my work, but I would like to speak with Natalya Maxima further. She has ideas that bear exploring. But I worry about the state of the faith in the areas Mattila has overrun. Livilla has sent many clergy along to bring every temple back in line. I fear that the faith of most is not strong enough to withstand that kind of pressure, especially if it’s backed by violence.”
“I worry about that too,” Gwynneth said. “I wish I had the answer. But know that Lennart will back you completely. Even if some backslide now, you can change that when he comes. You needn’t decide right now. It will take me a few days to raise funds so we can travel. I will send most of my guard back to Terragand, so we don’t need to house and feed them.”
The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3 Page 92
