The Desolate Empire Series: Books 1-3

by Christina Ochs

  Anton looked for officers, saw none, then dropped his pike as well. They’d have to execute the whole regiment for abandoning their weapons. He pulled out his pistol, hoping his powder remained dry. He didn’t plan to run in the same direction as everyone else. He wanted to head for the city and Susanna.

  Anton battled against the flow of running soldiers, now a huge stream. In the distance, guns boomed, but they seemed far away and no danger at all. Anton did his best to dodge fleeing soldiers, find the direction toward Kaltental, and hope he didn’t run into the enemy.

  He finally reached what seemed to be the right road. It was muddy, the surface churned up by at least one army using it that day, so he walked along the side, holding his pistol, smoke still swirling around him. He walked for a long time, thinking he must be getting closer to the city, but then a commotion behind him made him pause. Enemy troops ran down the road, laughing and shouting, with no one to stop them. They must be heading for the city. The city and Susanna.

  Without thinking, Anton drew his other pistol and stepped into the road. There were at least several hundred soldiers coming his way and he couldn’t possibly shoot all of them.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “You can’t go that way.”

  Now they stood in front of him. “Yes we can.” A musketeer with a smoke-blackened face grinned at him. “The king himself said we’re allowed to plunder the city until nightfall.”

  “No!” Anton raised both pistols, but before he fired, a huge stick rushed at his head, and he heard a loud crack, followed by blinding pain and distant laughter as he fell face-first into the mud.

  Teodora

  “Go away, Your Highness. I don’t want to talk to you.” Aksel Roussay was back in his laboratory, but he was still sullen and difficult.

  “That doesn’t matter.” Teodora took a seat at the table Aksel was working at. “What are you doing?”

  Aksel opened his mouth, but before he could speak she said, “Oh never mind. I forgot—I don’t care.”

  Aksel shook his head, then sat down. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to get ready to go to Norovaea. You will become king soon.”

  “You’re joking. My brother is the king and if something happens to him, my sister will succeed, and her children after her.”

  “Your brother won’t be king much longer. As we speak, he’s likely being overthrown by his own nobility.”

  Aksel looked at her, disbelieving, then said, “I’m sure they’ll want Gwynneth to be queen, if they pull this off, which I doubt.”

  “Perhaps they do,” Teodora said, relishing the moment. “The problem is, Gwynneth is dead, and so are her children.”

  Aksel turned pale. “That’s a lie. They’re safe in Allaux, and even you can’t get past Natalya.”

  “I’ve found a way.” Teodora smiled. “Your sister and her children are dead, and you will be king of Norovaea.”

  “I’ll kill you,” Aksel shouted, and launched himself across the table at Teodora.

  She jumped out of the way, and Aksel tumbled to the floor.

  He pulled himself up using the edge of the table. “You won’t get away with this,” he snarled, wiping blood from his lip.

  “You’d better not try that again.” It hadn’t occurred to Teodora to bring protection, since Aksel was usually not aggressive. She had a better way to control him. “Don’t forget your friend Marcus still lives under Livilla’s protection, but that will change if you cause me any trouble.”

  “I hate you,” Aksel said, though he made no move toward her.

  “Join the crowd.” Teodora walked around to the other side of the table. Best to keep it between them. “How you feel about me makes no difference. You will pack your things and get ready to go to Norovaea. Elektra will join you as soon as she returns and will marry you in Arenberg.”

  “No.” Aksel shook his head, a stubborn set to his jaw. “You will not force her into marriage like you did Zofya. I won’t be party to that.”

  Teodora laughed. “Elektra won’t mind marrying you, I’m sure. It’s a very different situation.”

  “I don’t mind marrying her either, but I do mind having you as a mother-in-law.”

  “Oh, I’ll be far away. I doubt you’ll see me often.”

  “But you’ll still expect the two of us to do everything you want us to.”

  “Of course. But you needn’t worry about that now. Pack your things and get ready to leave for Norovaea in the morning. You’ll sail from Capo since I can’t risk losing you somewhere overland.” With Teodora’s luck, Aksel was likely to disappear just like Elektra had.

  “I won’t go.” Aksel stood up straight now, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

  “You will. Don’t be stupid.”

  “If I’m to be king, I’ll do my duty. But I won’t go until I’ve received confirmation of my brother’s overthrow.”

  “That’s a certainty, and only a matter of time.”

  “Then I’ll hear about it when it’s happened. And I’ll want to speak to a Norovaean diplomat in person, since I won’t take your word for any of this.” He swallowed hard, but still stared at her intently. “And I’ll want the same confirmation of my sister’s death and of her children’s. I can’t believe anything you say, and I will not act until I have independent proof.”

  “Your friend—” Teodora began. At least she still had that leverage.

  “Marcus is doomed already.” Aksel’s voice shook a little, but he steadied it. “If the fate of Norovaea is at stake, I’m afraid I must sacrifice him for the good of my country. I won’t let you manipulate me that way. I’ll do what I have to, but I’ll do it on my terms. I’m not king yet, and I hope I never will be. And I hope you’re lying about Arryk and Gwynneth.” Aksel’s eyes were as hard as she’d ever seen them. Perhaps she’d created a monster. “I hope for your sake that you’re lying. Because if it turns out you’ve had a hand in my brother’s overthrow and my sister’s death, I won’t rest until you’re dead.”

  “Some threat.” Teodora smirked. “You’re still my prisoner and so is your little friend. You can wait if you like.” She got up to leave, but turned back at the door. “But you might as well pack. I’m sure the news you’re waiting for will be here any day now.” She swept out and left him standing there.

  Braeden

  Queen Zofya led Braeden down several long, magnificent corridors, through a maze of rooms, one more fabulous than the last, until they stopped in a small sitting room. She sent all of her ladies outside to wait for the king, with instructions to show him in when he arrived.

  Braeden could hardly believe he was alone here with another daughter of Teodora’s, though Zofya was much friendlier than Elektra. It appeared she had been on very good terms with both Gwynneth and the Duchess Maryna.

  Once the door had closed behind the others, Zofya moved her chair close to Braeden’s and bent her head to his. “I’m afraid Princess Gwynneth and the children are in terrible danger,” she whispered. “Natalya Maxima has gone after them to try to save them, but I fear she’ll be too late.”

  “I don’t understand. Didn’t she go with Natalya?”

  Zofya shook her head. “Natalya didn’t want her to leave, but I learned that Princess Gwynneth was tricked into going by an agent of my mother’s, a Fernanda Vastic. I’m certain she plans to kill her.”

  An icy chill washed over Braeden. “Why does your mother want to kill Gwynneth?”

  “No one knows, and I’m sure that’s why Natalya has gone. She hopes to capture Vastic and find out.”

  “How did you learn all of this?”

  “Natalya spoke with the king before she left. In case she didn’t succeed, she wanted him to know what was going on.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Braeden said. “How did Vastic get close to Princess Gwynneth?”

  “That’s my fault.” Zofya sniffled a little. “My mother sent her along as one of my attendants. I was told she was a distant cousin. She seemed odd, but
I suspected nothing too terrible. I should have known better.”

  “I don’t see how.” Braeden patted the queen’s hand, still lying on his arm. “At least, you found out in time.”

  “I didn’t find out anything.” Zofya sighed. “It was all Natalya. The king told me, even though I can’t do anything to help my friends. But now you’re here.” Her eyes lit up. “I’m sure we can come up with something.”

  “Maybe.” Braeden had no idea where Vastic had taken Gwynneth, and he’d brought only a small escort. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Then the door burst open and the king rushed in. Braeden had never met him before, though he’d seen him from a distance a time or two. He jumped to his feet and tried to bow, but the king came straight toward him, grabbed his hands and kissed Braeden on both cheeks.

  Unprepared for such a warm reception, Braeden blushed and stammered, unsure of what to say next.

  The king quickly noticed his discomfort. “I’m afraid I rather fell all over you, Commander Terris, though I’ve rarely been so glad to see anyone. The queen and I have been so anxious, and all we could do was pray that the gods would send someone to help. I’m relieved they’ve answered our prayers.”

  Braeden sat back down after the king and queen were seated, then said, “I hope I can help, but no one can tell me where Princess Gwynneth has gone.”

  “That’s a problem,” the king said. Braeden noticed that he and the queen sat close together, their hands clasped on the king’s lap. A happy marriage then, in spite of the odds. “Natalya rushed off saying she wasn’t sure exactly where they’d gone either, though she hoped to pick up their trail. I offered to send help, but she didn’t want to make a big fuss yet.”

  Braeden made an indignant noise. “If Princess Gwynneth is in danger, how can we not make a fuss?”

  “Exactly,” the queen said. “I really don’t understand the Maxima sometimes.”

  Braeden wanted to say that no one did, but decided it wouldn’t be politic. He took a deep breath and tried to sort out his thoughts. “I’ll try to find them. Did Natalya leave any information at all? Any direction they might have gone?”

  “Princess Gwynneth was told they were going to Zeelund,” the king said. “Natalya learned at least that much. There are one or two main roads that would send them in that direction.”

  “I need a map,” Braeden said, a plan forming in his mind. “I need every detail of those roads for the first fifty leagues from Allaux. They will need to stop at some point, get food, and rest or change their horses. Someone will have seen something.”

  The king’s face collapsed into a relieved smile. “Of course.” He turned to Zofya. “See? He knows what to do. The gods have answered our prayers.”

  “Maybe they have,” Braeden said. “I’ll get ready to go while you find me someone who’s traveled those roads often to guide me. I’ll do the rest. But I’d keep praying if I were you.”

  Gwynneth

  After dozing in the carriage for so long, Gwynneth didn’t feel like sleeping. So she prepared a simple meal for herself and the children with bread and sausage she found in a basket in the kitchen. She paused as she laid it out, wondering if she ought to trust any food provided by Fernanda. Even though she’d brought them this far safely, Gwynneth still felt uneasy. If anything, her anxiety was worse now than before.

  Something about the way Fernanda had looked at her as they went into the house; something didn’t feel right. And those awful teeth—like fangs. Gwynneth shivered, and took a bite of sausage. She’d wait a few more minutes before letting the children have anything. Likely a ridiculous precaution. The strain of the past few months had no doubt caught up with her and now she feared everything.

  After a good twenty minutes, she didn’t get sick, and the little ones complained of hunger. She fed them and played games with them for the next few hours. The day wore on, and no one was poisoned. Gwynneth shook her head at her baseless fears, and herded everyone upstairs for a nap. Two small connected rooms, each with their own door, faced the little landing. She put the four older children into the two beds in one of them, and laid baby Renata on the single bed in the other. She went downstairs one more time.

  Gwynneth unbarred the front door and stood in the doorway, looking around. The day was sunny, though it was cool here in the shadow of the trees. She saw the little shed in the distance, and all seemed quiet there too. Gwynneth closed the door and slid the iron bar, then went to the few windows to check their latches.

  Upstairs, she went into the children’s room. All slept except for Maryna.

  “You should sleep,” Gwynneth whispered. “It’s quiet outside, and it’ll be a few more hours before we can leave.”

  “I can’t sleep,” Maryna murmured. “I won’t stop worrying until we are in Zeelund and see Papa.”

  Gwynneth smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I won’t stop worrying until then either. But it’s better to rest when we can. We still have a long, hard journey ahead.”

  Maryna nodded, hugged Gwynneth around the waist, and lay back down next to Andres. Devyn and Stella slept in the other bed, the covers kicked off and tangled, Stella lying crosswise over Devyn’s legs. Gwynneth smiled down at them, and checked that their door was latched from the inside, before going into the adjoining room. She latched that door as well, then lay down next to Renata, also sleeping soundly. After the noise of constant traffic outside their windows in Allaux, it was blissfully quiet here.

  Gwynneth slept long and deep, and didn’t wake until she was choking and bathed in sweat. She heard crying in the distance without understanding that it was one of her children for at least a minute. She shook her head to clear the fog, but that made it worse. She squinted. The sun was almost down and the light dim, but there was something else, like fog. No, it was smoke.

  Suddenly wide awake, Gwynneth jumped out of the bed and snatched Renata who whimpered and rubbed her eyes. She ran into the next room.

  Maryna stood in the middle of it. “The house is on fire, Mama.” Her tone was surprisingly calm. “The doors are locked and we can’t get out.”

  “Fire?” Gwynneth looked around wildly. She saw only smoke, smelled it too. “If we hurry, we can go downstairs and out the front door.” The thatched roofs of houses like these often caught fire first.

  “No.” Maryna was struggling not to cry. “We can’t get out.”

  “What do you mean?” Gwynneth shifted Renata onto one hip and ran to the door. She drew the latch back and pushed on the door. It didn’t budge. She pulled, though that didn’t help either. Panicked now, she ran into the other room. That door was locked too. Someone had barred it from the outside. She didn’t want to think about who had done it, though she knew very well. “Oh gods,” she sobbed, watching the smoke rise through the cracks in the floorboards. Even if the doors had opened, the fire burned below them.

  “We must go out the window,” Maryna said. She struggled with the latch; it didn’t open either. It was big enough for them to climb through, but its small panes of heavy leaded glass rested in sturdy frames.

  “How will we—” Gwynneth began, then shrieked as the glass shattered.

  Devyn had thrown a chair at the window. She stared at him, astonished. When had he grown so strong? He picked it up and threw it again, breaking a bigger hole. “You go first, Mama,” he said. Gwynneth stared at him. He picked up a pistol that had been laying on a table.

  Maryna had already thrown a blanket over the jagged edges of glass and wood on the windowsill. “Hurry,” she said. The smoke was thick now, the heat intense.

  Gwynneth hoped the floor wouldn’t break before they all got out. “No,” she said. “All of you first.” She ran to the window and looked down. Two floors up, but the house wasn’t tall. A few bushes against the wall might cushion their fall. Even if they broke a few limbs, they’d survive. But then Gwynneth saw her.

  Fernanda stood below the window, flames from the fire below lighting her face. She smiled up at Gwynn
eth, her pointed teeth looking eerily like wolf’s fangs, her eyes glowing a strange yellow in the fiery light.

  “Can you catch the children?” Gwynneth called down to her.

  Fernanda threw her head back and laughed, a high-pitched shrieking cackle, while she drew a long curved blade from her belt. “This will catch them well enough.”

  Gwynneth shook all over. How could she have made such a terrible mistake? Trusting such a person? And now she’d pay for it with her own death and the deaths of her children. Her knees buckled, but she hung onto the windowsill.

  “Move, Mama.” Maryna snapped at her.

  “I can’t,” Gwynneth murmured, but someone shoved her out of the way the same instant the report of a pistol crashed in her ear. Gwynneth shrieked. Was Fernanda shooting at them?

  “I missed.” Maryna sounded very far away to Gwynneth’s ringing ears. “Devyn, you try.”

  Another crash and a whoop from Devyn. “I got her!” then more quietly, “I think.”

  Gwynneth staggered to the windowsill, while behind her Maryna and Devyn discussed how hard reloading in the dark was. She couldn’t think of where they’d gotten pistols or learned how to use them. When she looked down, Fernanda still stood there, but now one hand held a bloody arm while the long blade lay on the ground. Gwynneth would jump, do her best to overcome Fernanda, then catch her children.

  “Give me that pistol, Devyn,” she said, stretching out her hand toward him.

  “But I haven’t reloaded.” He handed it to her anyway.

  “I’ll use it as a club. She’s not any bigger than I am, and she’s hurt.” Even as she said it, Gwynneth knew she didn’t stand a chance. She climbed onto the windowsill and looked at Maryna. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You were right. I made a terrible mistake. I’ll distract Fernanda and you must jump first. Devyn will throw the baby down, then the other little ones.”