Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  “I was told you were out there right after daybreak. I was excited, but frightened too, since I was sure there’d be fighting. It helped my nerves to plan everything for your arrival. Please tell me you can stay for a while.”

  “I will,” Lennart said between bites. He’d wolfed down a creamy soup, sopped the remnants up with bread, then started on a whole roast chicken. “Mattila isn’t far away, and Teodora might be on her way here too. I’ll spend the next days finding a good place to make a stand, and praying Leyf Lofbrok gets up here fast.”

  “He’s not with you?” Raysa looked alarmed. “You didn’t bring the whole army?”

  “Far from it. I left Tora Isenberg in Richenbruck with a few regiments and had to leave the rest behind in Lantura so I could get here fast. No way was I letting Mattila get her hands on the two of you, or on Edric.”

  “I was a little worried about that.” Raysa looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “But I knew General Kalstrom wouldn’t let the city fall, and knew you would come. We had no news, but I’m sure that was because messages couldn’t get in.”

  Lennart nodded, then took a long drink of wine. “Balduin Bernotas didn’t have a lot of troops, but he used the few he had to make sure no one got in or out of those gates. But he’s finished now. We captured him, and I must discuss what to do with him with Prince Devyn and the Princess Regent.”

  Raysa’s eyes widened. “They’re here too?”

  Lennart grinned. “Long story, but the short of it is, all of Kendryk’s family are still alive .”

  “Oh, thank the gods. It was too awful to contemplate, and it put Edric in the most awful mood. I’ve spent the past months trying and failing to lift his spirits. If they’re here, I’m sure it’ll do wonders for him.”

  “Hopefully.” Lennart put his glass out and the servant poured more wine. It tasted marvelous, and if he got a little bit drunk, he didn’t much care. “The eldest daughter isn’t here yet, but should be on her way. Until she gets here, we’re calling Devyn prince, to have someone in that position. You’ll meet him later. I’m sure you’ll be happy to see Princess Gwynneth again.”

  Something like a shadow passed over Raysa’s face. “Of course. Is Princess Gwynneth still very beautiful? I remember being amazed when I first saw her.”

  Lennart chuckled. “She is, for her age at least.” He pushed the table aside and reached for his wife. “You needn’t worry, I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

  Raysa returned to his lap while Kataryna stared up at the two of them. “I know you wanted to marry her once, and that you didn’t want to marry me.”

  “I considered marrying her.” Lennart nuzzled Raysa’s cheek. Honestly, he couldn’t ever remember being in love with another woman, though he supposed he might have been, a long time ago. “But decided I didn’t want to.”

  “Only because Prince Kendryk got there ahead of you.” Raysa teased. “It’s all right, I just don’t want to share you with anyone right now.”

  “I don’t want to be shared. Why don’t we spend the rest of the day and night together? At some point I’ll have to talk to other people, but I don’t see why we can’t put them off a little longer.”

  Gwynneth

  It seemed like an eternity since Gwynneth had stood at Birkenfels’ topmost tower, waiting for the outcome of a battle. Yet here she was again, though this time she had Stella by her side.

  “Last time I stood here, I was this big, carrying you.” Gwynneth smiled down at her, putting her hand out at some distance from her stomach.

  “I was a baby then, inside your tummy,” Stella said wisely. “I wish we were able to watch the battle.”

  “Me too. But Heidenhof is much too far away. Perhaps we can watch Braeden and Devyn chase off those troops down below.” A small force was encamped at the base of the castle, but only a few people stirred in the rain, which now came down heavier. “We should go inside.” Gwynneth huddled in her cloak, growing damper by the moment. “Someone can tell us if they start fighting here.” She hoped the enemy would simply surrender, so whoever opposed them would be in no danger, since she worried that might include Braeden and Devyn.

  She and Stella spent the next few hours playing cards at a table in one of the tower’s topmost rooms, but ran outside at a shout from a guard.

  “They’re here,” he said, pointing down.

  Gwynneth and Stella leaned over the parapet. The enemy camp was a hive of activity now and through the greyness of the air, Gwynneth saw tiny flames from pistol and musket fire. Shouts went up, and a few screams. She stared hard, hoping to catch sight of Devyn. He ought to be near a Bernotas banner, which should be easy enough to spot. But all was confusion.

  “Where’s Devyn? I can’t see anything,” Stella complained.

  “I don’t know,” Gwynneth murmured. But a few minutes later she caught sight of him, his shining armor unmistakable as he cantered across the drawbridge moments after it came down.

  “We won!” Stella shouted and ran for the stairs.

  Gwynneth hurried after her, the narrow spirals seeming interminable. By the time she reached the bottom of the tower and burst into the courtyard, Devyn had dismounted, standing near Braeden and looking excited.

  “I beat them practically by myself,” he said.

  Gwynneth made a tremendous effort and didn’t fling herself at him, conscious of Estenorian soldiers milling around and staring. “Goodness,” she said, avoiding Braeden’s gaze. She was still mad at him. “You must tell us all about it.”

  “Well, I think Braeden let me do it by myself.” Devyn threw an apologetic glance in Braeden’s direction.

  “It looked like something His Grace might handle well enough,” Braeden said with heavy dignity, betrayed only by a twinkle in his eyes. “I was there to back him up, but it wasn’t needed.”

  “Thank the gods for that,” Gwynneth said, then turned to Braeden. “I’m glad he’s all right. I’d have to kill you otherwise.”

  “I’m well aware of that.” Braeden still looked like he was enjoying himself a little too much.

  “You can take me to the city,” Gwynneth said. “I assume your presence here means Lennart lifted the siege.”

  “We did,” Devyn said. “We overran the enemy camp and chased off Franca Dura. It was marvelous.”

  “Did you get your cousin Balduin?”

  “Yes!” Devyn’s smile was enormous. “Colonel Destler did it. Balduin was trying to escape south, but Destler didn’t allow it.”

  “Good.” Gwynneth meant to ensure that Balduin would never be a problem again. “Let’s go. Stella, you can ride on Devyn’s other side so he can tell us the whole story.” She noticed Devyn practically bursting to brag about his exploits.

  The hour’s journey to Heidenhof seemed to take forever. The rain drummed down steadily now, soaking Gwynneth’s cloak. But she wouldn’t wait for the weather to clear to get to the city.

  Devyn chattered away, while Braeden rode on Stella’s other side. Gwynneth planned to forgive him for dragging her off to the castle, but she’d let him sweat a while. She was relishing his anxious sideways glances too much to let him off the hook easily.

  There was no sign of Lennart when they entered the city, though his troops mingled with the populace in a celebratory atmosphere in spite of the rain. Gwynneth made straight for the Maximus’s palace. Edric waited for her on the stairs and the moment she saw him, she slid from her horse and ran to him. She was sobbing by the time he pulled her into his arms, heedless of her wet cloak.

  For a moment, she stood there, crying into his shoulder, then became conscious of his hand stroking her back, and the curious stares of passersby. She shouldn’t have made such a spectacle of herself in public, but she didn’t care.

  “You must come inside, Your Grace.” Edric’s rich voice rumbled in her ear. “Come inside and we’ll talk.”

  Gwynneth pulled away, wiping her eyes.

  Edric’s shone rather damply as well.

&nb
sp; Now she got a better look at him, Gwynneth was shocked at how he’d aged in the years since she’d seen him. His hair had turned a silvery white and he was thin to the point of gauntness. Of all people, he understood how much she missed Kendryk.

  “The king has already joined his family,” Edric said as he led her to his study.

  “I’m glad.” Gwynneth had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing again, she was so jealous of Lennart and his happy reunion.

  “So am I.” Edric led her to a chair after taking her wet cloak and handing it off to a servant, who disappeared. “Now sit down and tell me how you and the children are. I’m glad at the least that my grief for you turned out to be unnecessary.”

  “At least that. Though I wish … I wish …” she felt a shuddering sob rise up, “I wish it had been me instead of Kendryk,” she managed. Surely Edric felt the same way. She couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “I know it’s hard to understand, Your Grace, but this is the will of the gods and we must accept it.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” Gwynneth could barely speak through her tears.

  “I’m not sure I can either, but for the sake of your children, we must both try.”

  She would, but didn’t know how much good it would do. With Kendryk gone she wasn't sure there was a point. Not for the first time she wondered if she should just let Lennart do what he wanted in Kronland while she took the children back to Galladium and safety. At least they would all be together there. But when she forced herself to look at Edric; recognized the grief and resolve mingled in his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to abandon the fight just yet.

  Trystan

  Trystan rode along a Galladian country road, trying to look carefree. He was back in military garb—an immense relief—and he’d traded his trusty mule for Anton’s battle charger, Storm, who’d appeared bored in the luxurious palace stables. If all went well, Trystan would take him back to Kronland and deliver him to Anton.

  He smiled, thinking of how he’d left the palace. There’d been quite a scene, with Trystan shouting and throwing over a few chairs, Queen Zofya crying, the king looking disdainful and angry. Natalya had nearly ruined it all, laughing at them.

  “We’re supposed to be mad at each other,” Trystan hissed at her, right before servants rushed into the room.

  Natalya’s face turned stern and she gave Trystan a theatrical shove. “Get out of here, traitor,” she hissed. “Go back to your mother and that tiny kingdom, which you will never rule.” And then she laughed maniacally as Trystan stormed out of the room.

  It sounded rather overdone to him, but perhaps the Galladians expected such dramatic gestures. At the door he turned and said, “You broke your promise Your Highness. You’ll be sorry.”

  “You can’t threaten the king!” the majordomo shrieked, making an ineffective lunge at Trystan. He was the only servant in on the plot and Gauvain vouched for his reliability.

  “Out of my way,” Trystan snarled as he stormed down the corridor, scattering servants and courtiers as he went. He hurried to the stables, got Storm, and was on his way.

  Storm was so eager to run, Trystan had a hard time keeping him at a canter. The fortress of Tourane was normally six hours away but they made it in just over four.

  Trystan pulled Storm to a halt as he looked at the massive stone castle, part of its wall straddling the road to the coast. All travelers had to pass under its arches to continue on their way. The de la Tours took hefty tolls from all of them, making them the richest family in the kingdom after the Brevards.

  His heart in his mouth, Trystan urged Storm on. As he rode, he offered a prayer to Ercos for protection. He still didn’t know if prayers worked, but he was willing to try. He needed all the help he could get.

  It was nearing evening, but Trystan had been told the gate would stay open until sundown. So he rode to the gatehouse, then said, “Who’s in charge here?” It was a relief to look like a duke again.

  A surprisingly young woman came toward him. “I am,” she said, “what do you want?”

  “I must see Philipe de la Tour,” Trystan said, looking down his nose at her. “Tell him Duke Trystan Martinek has urgent news.”

  As he had worried, his name already held notoriety here. The guard smiled. “Funny. A lot of folks are out there looking for you. What do you want with Duke Philipe?”

  “It’s confidential business.” Trystan made sure to sound impatient, which he was. “It’s also extremely urgent. The Maxima’s safety might be compromised if it’s not acted on immediately.”

  The guard’s eyes grew round. “You’d better come in then,” she said.

  Trystan was prepared to give up his visible weapons, but no one asked for them and he would not volunteer. So he followed the guard, then waited for an enormous drawbridge to come down over a moat that ran alongside the road. Sensing confinement ahead, Storm wasn’t eager to cross the bridge.

  “Not for long, I promise,” Trystan murmured.

  The guard left him at the next gate and once inside, the bridge raised up behind him. Trystan prayed Natalya’s plan would work, or he’d never get out of here.

  A groom came to take Storm, but before he could lead him away, someone called, “Wait!”

  Trystan turned to see a tall, elegant gray-haired man come down the steps from the castle itself. “Might I have a look at your horse?” he asked, walking over to Storm.

  “Certainly.” Trystan joined him.

  “Extraordinary,” the man said, running a practiced hand over Storm’s shoulder. “I don’t suppose he’s for sale?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Trystan said. “He was a gift.”

  “Aren’t you fortunate.” The man waved off the groom and turned to Trystan with a smile. “I’m Philipe de la Tour, and you are the last person I ever expected would willingly come into this castle. Though I confess I’d hoped to get you here unwillingly.” His hazel eyes hardened briefly.

  Trystan suppressed a shudder. This place was bad enough without being confined to a dungeon, or worse. Though the sun shone, it was cold here in the shadows of the vast walls, and everything was black, from the walls to the cobbled courtyard, to Duke Philipe’s velvet doublet.

  Trystan forced a smile on his face. “I have a problem,” he said, “and you do too. I was hoping we might work together.”

  “That’s convenient, under the circumstances,” Philipe said, his eyes narrowed. “How do I know you’re not an agent of the king’s?”

  Trystan spat on the ground. “If I’d known how dishonorable he was, I would never have volunteered to help him. I’d rather die than work for him.”

  Philipe looked at him long, then said, “Why don’t you come inside?” He turned to a guard and whispered something in his ear, and before the heavy door shut behind Trystan, hoofbeats thundered across the bridge. Someone was going to Allaux to check his story.

  “I have a lot to tell you,” Trystan said. “I hope you’re prepared to move against the king quickly.”

  “Music to my ears,” Philipe said. “Now come. You’ll be my guest for the near future.”

  Gwynneth

  Once she got over her initial upset, Gwynneth enjoyed talking to Edric again. Even though she could barely speak about it, it was nice to know someone here grieved Kendryk as much as she did. Gwynneth decided to distract them both with better news. “Did you know Maryna is alive and on her way here?”

  Edric’s eyes brightened at that. “I didn’t. That’s marvelous. Why is she not with you?”

  “It’s a long story.” Gwynneth settled in to tell it anyway. So much had happened in the past year. “Natalya took her to Norovaea after saving us from Teodora’s assassin. After that, she took her toward Atlona though I’m not sure why. We lost track of them, but a few boys who’d been friends with Kendryk went to Galladium hoping to find a trail.

  “According to the letter Lennart received from one of them, they tracked them into Tirovor; Maladenes were taking them to Atlona after capturi
ng them at sea. The boys fought the Maladenes, rescued both Natalya and Maryna, and now one of them is bringing Maryna here.”

  Gwynneth swallowed. She'd tried not to think much about Maryna, mostly because she was afraid to. Her little girl had been on quite an adventure, and she hoped it hadn’t been too awful. In truth, she was angry with Natalya for putting her into such a dangerous position, rather than returning her to her family after the adventure in Norovaea.

  Maryna was too young to be involved in such intrigue. She needed to be here in Terragand with her family close by to support and protect her. “Until she returns, we’re treating Devyn as Prince of Terragand. Which reminds me, we need to decide what to do with Balduin. My troops captured him.”

  Edric frowned. “It’s uncharitable, but I rather hoped he’d die in battle. I tried to help him when Lennart proclaimed him ruler. It seemed a terrible idea, but I hoped that perhaps being released by me after such a long imprisonment would make him grateful and somewhat pliable. I was wrong. He was angry and bent only on revenge. It was all I could do to keep him from running off to hunt you down, since he held you responsible for his imprisonment.”

  “Well, that was my fault, though I don’t regret it for a second. If I’d been around for Lennart to consult I would have told him to never let him out.”

  Gwynneth paused for a moment. She didn’t want to put Devyn through this, but saw no choice. “We need to get rid of him for good. Aside from our personal feelings, it’s a practical matter. Maryna’s position will never be safe while Balduin lives. Even in captivity he can be a rallying point for the rebellious nobility.”

  “I agree.” Edric looked grimmer than she’d seen him since her arrival. “But will Lennart? Balduin was his idea, after all.”

  “He’ll agree.” Gwynneth gritted her teeth. She had to make Lennart understand that she was truly in charge here. “I need to talk to Devyn about this so he understands what must be done.”

  “Was he close to Balduin?”