“Now get some rest, Your Grace. The troops won’t arrive before morning at the earliest. It might be you’ll wait a day or two, but no one but you will be at the docks to meet them. I assure you.”
The footman returned to lead Elektra to a chamber that had been prepared for her and she fell asleep before pulling the covers over herself. Knowing she’d have an armed force at her back made all the difference.
A maid awakened Elektra to a gray, drizzly dawn. Elektra didn’t relish being outside all day in this weather, but it was better than the alternative.
By the time she’d dressed and breakfasted, a great group of armed guards had gathered in the palace courtyard, Elektra’s horse already standing at their head.
The Maximus was there to see her off. “I can come at a moment’s notice,” he said, “but better you do this alone, if you can. My guards will follow all your orders and keep you safe.”
“Thank you,” Elektra said again. “I won’t forget this.”
The river was nearly an hour away, and Elektra worried they might be too late. But the town standing on its banks was quiet when they reached it, and the docks showed little activity, aside from mundane merchandise being unloaded from a lone barge.
No one working for the Duke of Lemberg appeared to be near, and Elektra saw no sign of the Floradian agent either. The captain of the guard told her they would keep away anyone trying to bother her until her business was settled. So Elektra allowed someone to bring her a hot drink and sat down on the dock to see what the river brought her.
Trystan
Trystan had thought he’d take the lead in rescuing Natalya, but Louise would have none of it. “The people here won’t listen to an outsider,” she said over Trystan’s protests. “No matter how capable,” she added with a kind smile. “No, this is something we must do. It will also send a message to the king that we don’t hold with the old faith and that we want our Maxima back.
“All right,” Trystan said. Part of being a good general meant willingness to follow a more capable leader, and there was no question of Louise Foret's qualities. It seemed she knew everyone within ten leagues and had done every one of them multiple favors, which she now called in.
Henri took a farm horse into town, and returned two hours later, saying the townsfolk would be ready by nightfall.
“Ready for what?” Trystan asked.
“To free our Maxima, of course,” Henri said, shaking his head as though Trystan were stupid. Dark curls bobbed around his face. Trystan hadn’t noticed them earlier under his farmer’s cap.
Clary had borrowed Trystan’s mule to spread word to all the nearby farms. She returned by late afternoon, flushed and disheveled, but looking much more animated than she had when Trystan had first spotted her working the field. This was probably far more exciting.
Henri looked to be of a sturdy build, so Trystan asked if he might borrow a shirt and breeches. He'd had enough of stumbling around in the long robe.
“If you like,” Henri said. “But how will folk know you’re a priest?”
Trystan wanted to say it would be because of his pious demeanor, but he doubted anyone would believe that. So he said, “I’ll explain to everyone later. I need to be able to move, and I’ll look less like an outsider in Galladian garb.”
Henri’s face brightened. “True.” And he brought Trystan not only a clean shirt and rough breeches, but a little blue jacket and cap. “The evening will be cool, and in that getup, you’ll look like another farmer.”
Even though he felt strange, he enjoyed being back in simpler clothes. If this mission went off successfully, Trystan vowed never to get back into clerical robes again.
The days were longer now, and evening came on slowly. “We’ll have a simple supper, if you don’t mind,” Louise said. “We’ve been too busy to cook up anything good.”
“That’s perfect.” Trystan was too nervous to eat much anyway. He picked at his food, though Louise insisted he drink the weak red wine she poured for him.
“To settle your nerves,” she said with a wink.
Trystan wondered how she noticed he was more worried than he’d ever been before a battle. It was one thing to lead a well-trained, well-equipped army, and quite another to be in the middle of a peasant rabble. He hoped Louise knew what she was doing.
Once it grew dark, Louise said, “Time to go.”
Trystan took his halberd, which Clary had brought in from the stable at some point. Likely she hadn’t wanted to ride all over the countryside with it. The fancy, shiny weapon looked odd against his farmer’s clothes, but he was happy to have it. Louise held a tall pitchfork, Clary tucked a butcher’s knife into her belt, and Henri had a scythe.
The four of them walked down the small road, Clary carrying a torch. As they passed the next farm, six more people joined them, four of them holding long scythes. They climbed the hill together and at the top, Trystan gasped. From here he was able to see the main road.
Torches streamed down it like a river, while hundreds of feet tramped. And they were singing.
“Let’s go join them,” Louise said, with a gentle tug at Trystan’s arm.
“What are they singing?” he asked as they neared the road. Trystan couldn’t make out the words as the music rose into the darkening sky.
“The hymn of the Galladian Quadrenes,” Louise said. “Natalya wrote it for us and asked the greatest composer in Allaux to put it to music. Lovely, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Trystan said, even as he thought lovely wasn’t quite the word. Powerful more like, and rather militaristic. He’d have to memorize the tune and use it for his own army. Perhaps Natalya would help him translate the words into Olvisyan.
They reached the road, joining the stream flooding toward town. The music swirled around him, its deep tones thrumming into his bones. Trystan smiled. This was different from what he was used to, but still a marvelous way to go into battle.
In the dark, and amongst the flickering torches, it was hard to say how many people were here, but Trystan guessed well over one hundred. If the townspeople came out, their numbers might easily overcome the guards.
The crowd flooded through the gates and Trystan wondered if anyone would even try to stop them. They continued to march through the streets, their footsteps ringing on the cobbles, their song echoing from the buildings. Trystan still couldn’t make out words beyond “Father,” “Mother,” “Holy son and daughter,” but the lack of any mention of Vica was clear enough.
They reached the temple square and joined another crowd just as large. The townspeople had come out in force.
“Come along,” Louise said, tugging at Trystan’s arm. “We must be at the front.”
He was happy to go along, and nodded at a tall, thin man Louise introduced as the burgomaster.
“You must take better care of our Maxima,” he said to Trystan, who felt as chastised as a schoolboy.
“I know,” he said meekly. “I apologize.”
“No matter,” the burgomaster said in a stern voice. “We’ll set it right. Now come up to the temple with me.”
They walked up toward the stairs, the torches flooding the whole area with light.
“Mother Lena,” the burgomaster’s voice boomed out. “Show yourself to your congregation.”
As if in answer, a row of guards filed out of the temple, taking their place in front of the door.
Anton
Anton hoped they could sail through the area near Kronfels without attracting attention, though it had to be less dangerous now with Teodora gone. He still had the feeling he could count on Elektra to help and wished Maryna and Karil understood what an unusual opportunity this was. If Elektra remained on Lennart’s side, she might offer Maryna a large escort to help get her safely back to Terragand.
It was a rainy, unpleasant morning, so nearly everyone stayed below decks. But Anton was restless, and paced along the rail, watching the little Isenwald towns slide past. Even without the green hilltops visible, it
was pretty here and Anton wouldn’t have minded taking a few days to explore the area with Maryna. A picnic to a ruined castle would be romantic, and it might not be too difficult to lose Greta somewhere. Maybe Karil would help him out, just this once.
Anton lost himself in a daydream, but came to when he noticed a large party of troops clustered at the docks in a larger town. Someone sat on the dock, someone familiar-looking.
“Stop!” he shouted at the mate, standing nearby.
The mate raised his eyebrows, but gave the order.
“I want to go ashore,” Anton said. “Just for a few minutes.” He glanced around. Even though the boat stopping might bring Karil or Maryna above deck, they hadn't shown up yet and he planned to go before they stopped him.
The boat bumped up against the dock and Anton hurried down the gangplank as soon as it touched the dock. “Your Grace,” he said, as Elektra came toward him, looking surprised. “Is everything all right?”
“Er, I don’t know,” Elektra said. “I was expecting troops from the north, not the south.”
“Well, we’re on our way to Terragand,” Anton said, deciding not to mention Maryna just yet. “Why are you waiting for troops here?”
“It’s complicated,” Elektra said, wrinkling her nose.
Anton decided she looked better than the last time he’d seen her. It might have been because she wasn’t near Princess Gwynneth, or maybe she’d grown taller. Something was different.
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” he asked. He didn’t want to linger, but if Elektra was in trouble and he could help, he reckoned Lennart would appreciate it.
“Princess Viviane has hired an army to overthrow me,” Elektra said, offering Anton a seat on some boxes. She sat down across from him. “They’re coming from Bonnenruck and I'm hoping to intercept them.”
“Whose guards are those?” Anton gestured at the troops clustered behind them.
“They’re from the temple, on loan from the Maximus. He’s trying to help me.”
“Good,” Anton said, looking them over. He wasn’t impressed with temple guards, who rarely saw action of any kind. They might be better than nothing, though. “How many troops does Princess Viviane have, before these others arrive?”
“None, outside her palace guard,” Elektra said. “My mother took all the rest to Terragand.”
“Terragand?” Anton had hoped that rumor wasn’t true. But he was glad he’d heard before taking Maryna into danger.
“Yes, she’s hoping to help Balduin take Heidenhof before Lennart gets there.”
“Oh gods,” Anton said. “This is bad.”
“Tell me about it.” Elektra gave a wry smile.
Anton pondered for a moment, but Karil interrupted him.
“What’s going on here? We’d agreed we weren’t stopping here.”
“I saw troops on the dock and recognized Her Grace,” Anton said, aware of how lame he sounded. “I had to see what was going on.”
“Of course you did.” Karil shook his head and glared at Elektra.
“Hello, Baron Andarosz,” she said with a haughty tilt to her chin.
Karil just huffed and looked away. “Let’s go Captain Kronek,” he said. “Whatever problem Her Grace has, I don’t want to get involved.”
“If you help me, I can help you,” Elektra said, speaking quickly, her eyes wide.
“How can we help you?” Anton wasn’t sure this was a good idea, but he needed a different plan now, some better, safer way to get Maryna where she needed to go.
“You can help me overthrow Princess Viviane before the other army gets here,” Elektra said, shooting Karil a pleading look, even though he refused to look back at her.
“Whose side are you on anyway?” Karil asked. “I’ll bet Kronek forgot to ask you that.”
Anton winced. That should have been his first question.
“I’m on yours,” Elektra said. “I had to pretend to help my mother, but I didn’t want to. I only did it because Count Terris asked me to. You must believe me.”
“Hah,” Karil said. He still looked like he didn’t believe a word.
“If she’s telling the truth, we need to help her,” Anton insisted. Something about the way Elektra spoke made him believe her.
“Help me overthrow Princess Viviane and I’ll make sure you have an army to take to Terragand,” Elektra said.
Anton looked straight into her eyes. If she was lying, they didn’t show it.
“What’s going on here?” Maryna called, hurrying down the gangplank.
Anton sighed. He didn’t want to explain everything again.
“The archduchess wants us to do her dirty work for her,” Karil said.
“Who’s this?” Elektra asked.
Anton bit his tongue. It was better if she didn’t know.
But Maryna tossed her head. “I’m Princess Maryna, ruler of Terragand. And if you’re King Lennart’s ally, you’ll do everything you can to help me regain my throne.”
Gwynneth
Princess Edyta’s hospitality seemed somewhat forced, but Gwynneth didn’t care. Meeting Lennart like this, at a time of great need was one of the best things that had happened to her in recent months. Even better was the news about Maryna.
“Do you understand what this means?” she asked Devyn once they were alone before bedtime.
“I’m not a prince anymore.” He grinned, looking relieved. “This is excellent news. Now I can go do something fun instead.”
“You’ll go nowhere.” Gwynneth smiled back but made sure she sounded firm. “Until your sister is in Terragand, you must continue to act as its leader. I’m sure the rebellious nobility won’t believe she’s alive until they see her. You however, they’ve heard a great deal about.”
“Nothing bad, I hope.” Devyn looked unusually anxious.
“Of course not. You cut an impressive figure in Isenwald and many people saw you in your beautiful armor, riding at the head of an army. You’ve served everyone notice that our line is far from extinguished. But you must keep your momentum, especially now Lennart is here.”
“But he doesn’t have many troops.” It had been disappointing to learn that Lennart merely led a small vanguard, with the bulk of his force headed for Oltena.
“Not here. But that doesn’t matter.” Gwynneth paused as she opened the door to Devyn’s bedchamber, a cramped, messy room, given up by some young Martinek. “He’s got an army at Heidenhof and once we link up with them, no one will stand in our way.”
“I hope so,” Devyn said. “Might I ride with the king when we leave? It seems right I should become better acquainted with him."
“I agree,” Gwynneth said. “I’m sure he’d like that.”
Their party’s arrival meant preparations happened more rapidly than before. It seemed Princess Edyta was eager to get rid of them and moved heaven and earth to arrange for the supplies they needed. So Gwynneth only needed to socialize with the unpleasant Martineks for a few days before they were ready to leave again.
Lennart buzzed with ill-concealed anxiety. Every day lost was one in which Heidenhof might fall. Gwynneth didn’t want to think what might happen to his family if Mattila—or worse, Teodora—got her hands on them. It mustn’t happen. And besides, Gwynneth was full of worry for Edric Maximus. He would receive no quarter if the city fell.
The weather improved as they rode north, though a chill wind still blasted from the Sanova marches. But Gwynneth felt more hope than she had in some time. Her daughter, Kendryk’s heir, was alive and on her way to Terragand. She also had a great deal of faith in Lennart’s abilities, even with a reduced force. As long as Mattila didn’t get there first, he’d dispatch Balduin and his cronies in a matter of hours.
Both Lennart and Braeden insisted on traveling at full alert. “Mattila’s troops are out here still,” Lennart explained. “We can hope that Princess Edyta’s new army has sent them packing, but we can’t count on it. Let’s not be taken by surprise.”
Much to
his joy, Devyn got to wear his armor, and rode at Lennart’s side, the Bernotas standard flying alongside that of Ostberg. Riding just behind the two of them, with Braeden flanking Devyn like always, Gwynneth allowed herself to relax a little. She sensed the tide had turned. Maybe this nightmare would end before she lost her mind altogether.
The road led them north, but there was no sign of Franca Dura. Gwynneth didn’t want to imagine she might already be in Terragand, causing gods only knew what kind of trouble.
A few days from the Terragand border, they ran into Princess Edyta’s force. Once the scouts established the army was friendly, Lennart, Devyn and Braeden rode ahead to meet its leader. Gwynneth would have gone too, but one pleading look from Devyn held her back. He needed to do things without his mother from time to time.
Gwynneth waited somewhat impatiently with Stella, who was upset she hadn’t been invited along.
“There’s nothing wrong with being in the reserve.” Gwynneth smiled at her. “If we’re needed, we won’t be far.”
Stella scowled. “We’ll miss all the fun.”
But only an hour later, the party returned, with a few additions. A tall, thin, dark-haired woman rode at Lennart’s side. They seemed to be on friendly terms. Curious, Gwynneth urged her horse forward.
Lennart was all smiles as she approached. “Your Grace, you’ll never believe whose army this is. I’m sure you've heard of Sonya Vidmar. General Sonya Vidmar.”
Gwynneth smiled back and came nearer. “Kendryk told me all about you, General. He was convinced he owed his rule to your actions. You have my thanks as well.” Her voice hitched a little, as it always did when she mentioned Kendryk’s name, but she refused to be ashamed of that.
The general’s face was like leather from years of sun and wind, but her dark eyes were warm. “It’s good to meet you, Your Grace. I only regret I couldn’t come sooner to help. Unfortunately, I had trouble of my own these past few years. And now I’m finally here, it’s too late.” Her eyes grew sad.
Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5) Page 11
