The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  “Why don’t you go home?” Braeden asked Trystan as they rode along the forest path. “You can’t run from Ensden forever. It’s only a matter of time before he corners you like Mattila did Arian Orland.”

  “He might not.” Trystan seemed unbothered by the prospect of gory death, hardened perhaps after long experience with the likes of Tomescu. “Though you’re welcome to leave if you’re afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Braeden said. “I just don’t care. Not about this war, not about your cause—whatever it is—not about anything.”

  “We all have those times,” Trystan said, and in spite of his smooth-cheeked youth, Braeden believed him. “What choice is there but going on until someone stops us?”

  “I wish you’d let the Oricians kill me,” Braeden burst out.

  Trystan reined in his horse, then grabbed Kazmir’s bridle so he stopped as well. “I know,” he said. “Karil told me what happened to your family. I understand you still feel awful, but you kept going when things were worse, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” Braeden said. “But I don’t feel anything now. I don’t see the point in all of this; I couldn’t even tell you what this war is about anymore. I consider Prince Kendryk a friend, but I have other, older friends and they’re all on the other side. Even if we win, it means my friends will lose, maybe even die.”

  “If your friends are half as resourceful as you, they’ll be fine,” Trystan said as his horse continued down the path. “Inactivity always breeds despair. I felt it myself in those months after Arryk’s defeat, stuck at Birkenfels, trying to put this force together. But you’ll be happier once you’re chasing Ensden’s skirmishers through the woods on a crisp morning like this one. Just wait and see.”

  Lennart

  The storm’s remnants had passed the previous night, though a bank of dark clouds still hung in the east, concealing the mid-morning sun. Lennart’s scientific advisers predicted at least two fine days before the next storm, more than enough to get Lennart to Helvundala, and General Kalstrom to Terragand. On the docks, Lennart gave his final orders to another general, Tora Isenberg, who would head for northwestern Terragand.

  “Wait for the next storm to pass, and go as soon as you have a few clear days. You must hurry, in case Mattila gets wind of what’s going on. Just hold her off until I get there,” Lennart said. He would get Prince Stepan’s agreement to an alliance when he arrived, and augment his own armies with several thousand Helvundala veterans. Even with all his forces gathered, Lennart knew he didn’t have enough to take on Mattila and Ensden. He’d need help from the Kronland rulers, and he planned to get it.

  Isenberg didn’t seem worried. “I’ll send you a message as soon as I land, and again once I’m in position. I’ll deploy scouts right away to find out what Mattila’s up to, though I doubt she can get her whole army up north before you arrive.”

  “No, but she can send a smaller one. Remember what happened to Arian Orland.”

  Isenberg’s long, tanned face split into a grin. “I’m not that dumb.”

  Lennart shook his head. “Neither was Orland, yet Mattila herded his cuirassiers like a flock of geese to the chopping block.”

  “I’m not a goose either, Your Highness.”

  Lennart laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. “No you’re not, thank the gods. Still, be careful. I’ll send reinforcements as soon as I can.”

  “You needn’t worry about me.” Isenberg inclined her head. “Looks like the queen has come to see you off.”

  Raysa had arrived at the docks with a small escort. The wind was cold, and Lennart didn’t want her getting out of the carriage, so her hurried to her. When he climbed in, only Silvya Meldahl was with her. “I’ll wait outside,” Silvya said, wrapping herself in a long fur cloak and going out the other door.

  Raysa looked after her, frowning. “I hope she doesn’t freeze out there.”

  “She’ll be fine. It’s a brisk morning, but girls from here are used to it. I won’t take long.” They’d already said their real goodbyes the night before, and early that morning before he left, but Lennart was pleased she’d come to see him off. He moved to the bench next to Raysa, and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll be honest,” he said. “When I first agreed to marry you, it never crossed my mind I’d be sorry to say good-bye to you when this day came.”

  She smiled up at him. “I didn’t think you would be, either. And I didn’t expect I’d be sad when you left.” She paused and blinked back tears. “But it’s better this way, isn’t it? Now you have something to look forward to when you return.”

  “That’s a great way to see it.” Lennart had thought that, nice as falling in love with his wife was, it created complications. He didn’t want to worry about her; didn’t need the desire to return to her anywhere in his mind while he dealt with Kronland. He couldn’t afford to have his thoughts pulled toward the queen’s quarters in Tharvik while he negotiated with stubborn Kronland rulers and planned battles. But it had happened, and he was certain it was what the gods wanted, since they were making everything else easy for him, too.

  “I’ll write to you every day,” Raysa said. “Though I don’t expect you to reply,” she added with a laugh, seeing his look of alarm. He’d be lucky to have time to write once a week.

  “I’ll write as often as I can.” He kissed her one more time, then put his hand on her belly, just beginning to swell. “Take care of yourself and this little one, all right?”

  “Of course I will. But you must take care of yourself as well. Promise?”

  He sighed, then smiled. “I promise.”

  Anton

  “That’ll be six coppers.” Susanna put out her hand.

  “What if I don’t want to pay?” The musketeer leered at her. “What if I want extra for my money?”

  Anton pushed forward, and Susanna stepped aside. “No extras. It looks like you’ve had too much already. You’re lucky the lady is selling you this fine brandy. It’s wasted on the likes of you.”

  “Hey.” The man stuck his chest out, but he still wasn’t as tall as Anton. “I ain’t had enough. And you wouldn’t call that little slut a lady, if you had a clue what she gets up to when your back is turned.”

  Anton’s hand slid to the hilt of his dagger. “You can take your bottle and leave, or I’ll be forced to make you apologize.” He took a step forward so he stood almost, but not quite, on the fellow’s foot.

  “Come on, Kreuzer,” a man shouted from a table behind Anton. “What’s the hold-up? You’re supposed to bring the next round.”

  Kreuzer huffed at Anton, but stepped around him, and returned to his card game.

  Susanna grabbed Anton’s arm. “Come on, officers are playing in the next tent. We can sell them the really good stuff.”

  “At terribly inflated prices,” Anton said with a laugh once they left the cloying, smoke-filled air of the tent. “I know what that brandy is supposed to cost. I always got it for the count.”

  “They’re paying for convenience,” Susanna said, patting the purse at her waist. “Most don’t have pages to run errands for them while they’re in the middle of a high-stakes game. You did well in there. I told you it wasn’t hard.”

  It was Anton’s first night working with Susana. True to her word, she’d provided him with a slightly used suit of green velvet. It wasn’t his best color, but the doublet was well-padded, especially around the shoulders, so it made him look bigger than he was. He’d also perfected a mean-looking scowl that seemed to work so far. “It wasn’t hard,” he said. “But what if someone wants to start a fight? What if two or more want to start a fight?”

  “You can handle yourself, can’t you?” Susanna looked up at him, the light from a nearby torch catching the challenging glint in her eye.

  “Sure,” Anton said, though he wasn’t at all sure. It was one thing to be in battle, loaded down with weapons while riding behind the count, and another to exchange blows with Mattila’s burly veterans. “It’s mostly that we
’re outnumbered in there.”

  “We are,” Susanna said. “If things get crazy, we’ll have to leave in a hurry. But most just want their liquor, and to get back to their game. If there’s trouble, that could bring a sergeant, or one of those Quadrene officers who don’t like gambling. They don’t want trouble any more than we do.”

  “You’re the one with the experience.” Anton grinned down at her. “And this beats having to sit around in the cold, listening to Stasny’s stories and drinking his horrible beer.”

  “See the terrible life I’ve saved you from?” Susanna took Anton’s arm after he picked up the handles of her barrow. He felt stupid pulling it in his finery, but it didn’t seem right to let her do it when she was such a tiny thing. She looked up at him. “And you’re quite a good-looking young man, with the right clothes.”

  “I know,” Anton said, giving her his crooked smile.

  Susanna snorted. “Remind me to never compliment you again. Once a fellow has a big head, he’s impossible to be around.”

  “I don’t have a big head.” Anton made sure to show his dimples. “I can’t help it if girls like me.” He wondered if she spoke from experience. It was clear Susanna understood the ways of the world. He thought she might be at least sixteen, and while they’d walked through camp earlier, another girl had shouted something at her about a husband. It was probably a joke, but Anton wondered how he could find out more about her without asking directly.

  “Ready?” Susanna asked. “This lot ought to be more civilized, though it doesn’t always last, once they get into the drink.”

  “Don’t worry,” Anton said, lowering his voice. “I’ll protect you.”

  “You’d better,” Susanna said, giving his arm a squeeze.

  They went back to her tent just before dawn. Anton was shocked at how much coin came out of the little purse when she dumped it onto her table.

  “Nice,” Susanna said, sliding the lamp closer. “With you standing there, they didn’t try bargaining me down as much. Hand me that book over there, will you?”

  Anton grabbed a small accounts book laying on a nearby chair. While Susanna tallied up the columns, muttering to herself, he looked around the tent curiously. Even in the dim light, he noticed it was clean and orderly. He looked back at Susanna, bent over the book, and was surprised at how quickly she added up the columns and how neatly she wrote. “You’ve been to school,” he said.

  She looked up at him and laid the quill down. “Yes, I have,” she said. “Just because I’m a sutler doesn’t make me trash.”

  “Hey,” Anton said. “That’s not at all what I meant. I’m used to most people in this camp not even knowing how to read, let alone do figures the way you can. I don’t think you’re trash. Not at all.” He looked straight at her until he caught her eye, and held it for a moment. The thrust of her lip turned to a half-smile. “I came from somewhere better too,” he said.

  “I can tell,” she said. “My family wasn’t rich, but decent enough. It’s obvious from the way you talk, the way you walk—well, everything—that you come from real money.”

  “Somewhat,” Anton said, realizing that he really had been rich, back in Kaleva. He’d been rich most of his time with the count, too. He didn’t want to think about that. “So, where is your family?” he asked.

  “Dead.” Susanna shoved the book at him. “Take a look at these figures, and then we’ll settle up.”

  Lennart

  It was a beautiful day for an invasion. Lennart leaned against Drekir’s rail and enjoyed the sight of his fleet falling into line behind the flagship. After Drekir, the next ship sailing out of Tharvik harbor was Fifa, holding General Lofbrok, the commander of Lennart’s troops in Helvundala. Once the Helvundala force was on its way, the ships bearing Kalstrom’s Terragand army would sail west.

  Tharvik dwindled into the distance, shining in the weak winter sunlight. Lennart wondered if Raysa was still watching, worried she might catch cold, then shook his head to banish thoughts of his wife. He’d left Silvya Meldahl with strict instructions as to her care, and knew Silvya would follow them, perhaps even improve upon them. She was after all, her father’s daughter.

  Once the city was ought of sight, Lennart turned toward the quarter-deck. The wind was no longer in his face, and the Drekir ran at full sail, the white canvas bellied-out and snapping with each gust. He took the steps to the upper deck two at a time. Captain Brun stood at the rail, peering south through a glass.

  “See Helvundala yet, Captain?” Lennart joked.

  Kelsi Brun turned to him. “Not yet.” She never joked, Lennart had noticed. “But if this wind keeps up, we’ll see land in about two hours. Maybe we’ll reach Helvundala before nightfall.” Captain Brun was new to the navy. Upon Gwynneth’s recommendation, Lennart had recruited her to serve under his flagship captain. When the old fellow’s heart had failed as he stood at the wheel, mid-voyage, ferrying troops from Sanova, Brun had taken charge with not even a moment’s fuss. Drekir’s other officers and sailors had been unanimous in their approval when Lennart promoted her soon after.

  “That’s excellent news, Captain. I’d like to have you back in Tharvik soon, so you can head the fleet taking General Isenberg to Terragand.”

  Brun frowned. “You don’t want me to stand off Helvundala in case you need to leave in a hurry?”

  Lennart laughed. “I won’t leave anytime soon. I don’t expect any trouble just yet.”

  “I hate to say it Your Highness, but it’s nice to be back in action. Business is slow during peacetime, and I’ve missed that little bit of danger we always felt crossing back and forth from Sanova. Not that the Sanovan navy ever gave ours any real trouble.” Brun gave a snort, and Lennart laughed again. She looked funny in her captain’s uniform, since she insisted on wearing her old fur hat with its ear flaps. Because she was captain, no one but Lennart could order her to remove it, and he wasn’t about to.

  True to her word, Captain Brun sailed up within view of a flat Helvundala beach in the late afternoon. “We’ll anchor here and offload you in the morning,” she said. “It will be a nice, calm night and it’ll be easier getting onto the beach in daylight.”

  At dawn, Lennart went ashore in a small boat with a few officers. All was quiet on the beach, but that didn’t last. For the next few hours, the place swarmed with soldiers, pack horses and mules, while mountains of supplies grew out of range of the high tide. General Lofbrok was to organize those, and by evening had hired carts and wagons from villages in the area. He also hired as many horses and oxen as he could find to pull the artillery pieces. Lennart had insisted on using smaller pieces to move more quickly, but it still took a lot of animals to pull them all.

  Once he saw that the situation on the beach was under control, he left Lofbrok in charge and headed for Prince Stepan’s palace. The first order of business was to bring Helvundala into a formal alliance with Estenor. Lennart had hoped to accomplish this through correspondence, but Prince Stepan had firmly refused to commit to anything in writing. That would change now that Lennart was here in person.

  The prince greeted him politely enough. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like, Your Highness.” Stepan Falk was just as unpleasant in person as he came across in his letters. A tall, thin man of perhaps thirty-five years, he had a snake-like look to him, only increased by long black hair he wore slicked back, and watery blue eyes just a little too wide-set. Since his mother, the Princess Rheda was small and attractive, as well as friendly and cheerful, Lennart assumed that Stepan had inherited his looks and disposition from his late father Bronson, a cranky old fellow by all accounts.

  “I don’t plan to stay long,” Lennart said. “My other generals are setting up in Terragand, and I’ll march west with you as soon as you gather up your army.”

  “You want me to go west?” Stepan raised his eyebrows. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I won’t take my army out of Helvundala with both Mattila and Ensden on the loose, with no one to stop them.
”

  “I’m stopping them,” Lennart said, reminding himself to be polite. “And you’ll help me.”

  “Hmm,” Stepan said. “We must discuss it further, I’m sure.”

  “We’ve already discussed it.” Lennart reminded himself to breathe deeply.

  “You’re right. Though I don’t recall we came to any agreement. Well, we’ll talk tomorrow. I’m having a suite prepared for you, and we’ll have a big dinner tonight. Naturally, all the local nobility want to meet you.”

  “Naturally.” Lennart forced a smile. Perhaps the prince’s neighbors would be less difficult. He’d get their cooperation first, and Prince Stepan’s later. For now, he’d be friendly, but that would change fast if the prince didn’t budge.

  Kendryk

  “Lennart’s on his way.” Kendryk rushed to Gwynneth’s side as soon as word came from Natalya. “What an awful time for me to leave.” The baby was due within a few weeks.

  “It’s all right,”Gwynneth said. “We always knew it might be a near thing. And I never have any trouble, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “You’re right,” Kendryk said. The household was in a flurry of activity while he prepared to leave. “But that won’t keep me from worrying.”

  “I know.” She grabbed his hand and kissed it. “You’ll give Edric my love?”

  “Certainly.” He still found it almost humorous that Gwynneth and the Maximus had become such good friends, though he was glad of it. “I’ll find him first, and take him to Helvundala with me.”

  Natalya’s agents in Estenor had reported that Lennart sailed for Helvundala a week before, with another, larger force headed for Terragand. “He hasn’t shared his plans with me,” Natalya had said, “But I’m certain they involve Kaltental. He’ll want to get rid of Evard first. Best you go soon, so he can install you there when he takes it.”