Fall of the Titan (The Desolate Empire Book 5)

by Christina Ochs

  She lifted hers in return, then took a long drink, ale dribbling down the front of her dark blue robes. When she’d finished, banging the empty mug on the table so the serving boy came running, she asked, “Where are you headed?”

  “Heidenhof,” Trystan said, sipping at his ale, which was too watery for his taste. “I'm bringing troops to King Lennart.”

  “Lennart, pfui,” the woman said, her face puckering like a dried-up apple. It seemed he was still unpopular in Sanova. “Though I don’t suppose I can fault you young Kronlanders for liking him. Better to keep him occupied here, anyway.”

  “Have you heard if there’s been a battle with Mattila?” Trystan was unable to conceal his anxiety.

  “Not yet.” The woman shook her head, then started on her refilled mug.

  Trystan found his mouth dry and took a large swallow. No chance of keeping up with this woman, no matter what he did. “Thank the gods,” he said, putting the mug down.

  “You’d better hurry,” the woman said. “Heard from a courier this morning that Mattila is headed for Isenwald. No doubt she’ll be in Terragand soon.” She dropped her voice. “Odd tidings about Teodora, too, and Podoska.”

  Trystan, who’d slumped against the table in relief he hadn’t missed the battle, jerked upright. “Podoska! What’s she doing there?” He worried his mother didn’t have the troops needed to defend against a large threat. He’d already considered the possibility that if Mattila wanted to march through her kingdom, Princess Edyta would have to let her.

  “It’s just a rumor.” The woman leaned close enough he smelled the ale on her breath. Maybe she liked freckles after all. “But some say Teodora was captured by Podoskan troops and imprisoned by Princess Edyta.”

  Trystan drew in a sharp breath. If this was true, his mother had suddenly become extremely influential. He couldn’t do anything about it though. The battle had to be his first priority. The possibilities were exciting however. With Mattila defeated and the empress imprisoned, Lennart might wrap things up quickly.

  After that, Trystan couldn’t lounge around anymore, and spent the rest of the day and much of the next morning pacing the Kaltental docks as his troops loaded onto riverboats, much too slowly, it felt like. By that afternoon they were ready to go, and Trystan took his place on the lead boat. He stewed and paced as it made its painstaking way upstream, the wind against them, driving rain into his face.

  In spite of the unfavorable weather, the captain said they expected to make good time, reaching a landing near Birkenfels within three days. Trystan hoped it would be fast enough and drew in a breath of relief as the spires of the castle came into view. They sailed past the ruined village below it and on to another, slightly more intact, which at least had docks sufficient for them to disembark.

  Trystan didn’t wait. The minute Storm came out of the hold, in the worst temper imaginable, he was on horseback, riding toward Heidenhof as hard as he could.

  Braeden

  “You don’t have to do this, you know.” Braeden had escorted Franca to the Terragand border. Word had come that Mattila was getting ready to march into Isenwald, and her scouts could be near. “I’m sure Lennart would be happy enough to fight alongside you and the troops you have.” He felt terrible foreboding, sending Franca back into such a treacherous situation.

  “I have to do this.” Franca took a deep breath. “I made a deal with Lennart, and getting close to Mattila is part of it. If I can help her lose the battle and find a way to kill her, the war might be over.”

  “You’re right.” Braeden glanced at Destler and the rest of his escort, standing at a discreet distance while he said his goodbyes. He’d dreamed for years of getting Franca to fight for his side, but now that she was, he worried more than ever. “Just don’t take any unnecessary risks, all right? What’s more important than killing Mattila is getting your troops out to fight her again, if we need to.”

  “You’re getting soft in your old age.” Franca shook her head, but her eyes gleamed with affection, and maybe a tear.

  Braeden had never seen her shed one, not even as a little girl.

  “You’d best get back before Mattila’s scouts spot you,” she continued. “It won’t do my cause any good if I’m spotted having a friendly chat with you.”

  “Of course,” Braeden said, his voice gruff. He clapped her on the shoulder, then stroked Skandar’s nose. “Take good care of this fellow.”

  “You know I will.” Franca stared straight at him. “I want you to be careful too. You’re much too old to be running around, fighting in battles. When this is over, I insist you retire.”

  “That sounds great.” Braeden had to laugh, which made the next words easier to say. “I’ll see you soon, after the battle.”

  Franca joined the troops waiting for her on the road, then waved at Braeden before disappearing into the crowd.

  “Do you think she can pull it off?” Destler asked Braeden when he returned to his side.

  “If anyone can, she’ll do it.” Braeden still didn’t care for the scheme, but there was no one more likely than Franca to make a success of it. He hoped she wouldn’t push her luck.

  He worried all the way back to Heidenhof, and was surprised to find the mood in the city celebratory. “What’s going on?” he asked a little boy standing in a cluster with his friends.

  “Princess Maryna arrived two days ago,” he said, clearly excited. “There’s to be a great feast tonight in the temple square, and everyone is invited.”

  Braeden had been certain she and Anton were still on the other side of Terragand. “Are you sure?”

  “I saw her with my own eyes when she rode into town,” the boy said, his chest puffed out. “She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She even waved at me.”

  “Thanks,” Braeden said, tossing a few coins at the urchins, then urging Kazmir to hurry to Edric’s palace. He’d be happy to see Maryna, but was more anxious to find Anton, since he had particular news for him.

  The temple square was crowded, huge trestle tables being set up for a feast, and Braeden’s party had to work its way around the edges to get through at all. The Maximus’s palace buzzed with activity as Braeden made for the stables. Once someone took Kazmir he went to the palace.

  “Can you tell me where I might find a Captain Kronek?” he asked a footman. “He arrived with the princess.”

  “I know who the captain is.” The footman looked somewhat offended. “I believe he’s in the armory, seeing to his equipment.”

  Braeden turned back to the courtyard, hurrying along its side. He stepped inside to sudden gloom, though light streamed in from a tall window up high. The place was busy, as it should be, with battle only days away. Braeden wasn’t at all sure that a feast was the right thing at the moment, though Lennart would likely tell him it was good for morale.

  He spotted them at the end of a long bench, sorting through a pile of blades. “Hey you two,” he said, trying to sound stern, but unable to keep a smile from spreading over his face.

  “Braeden!” Both Anton and Karil exclaimed at the same time, the swords they held clattering to the stone floor. They hurried to him, then stood around awkwardly, grinning at each other.

  Braeden would have liked to hug them, but with so many other soldiers about, he didn’t want to cause any embarrassment. “You two look like you could use some ale. Shall we find a tavern?” Inside the palace they could get anything they wanted, but Braeden wanted a more informal setting right now.

  They found a likely place at the edge of the temple square. It was quiet in here, though the serving girl said there was no food.

  “We’re cooking for all we’re worth.” Her pale eyes were wide and excited, “but it’s all for the feast. King Lennart has hired every inn and tavern so he can feed the whole city.”

  Once they were settled, Braeden said, “You’ll have to tell me all about your adventure in a minute. But first, I have news for you.” He looked at Anton. “Your former horse Skandar
is alive and well. I saw him a few days ago.”

  Anton grinned. “You did? Where is he? When can I see him?”

  “After the battle.” Braeden turned serious. “But I’m afraid you can’t have him back. He belongs to a friend of mine, and she’s become attached.”

  “That’s what I always worried about,” Anton said, gloomily staring into his ale. “He’s such a great horse.”

  “True. Though I heard you got another one.”

  Anton smiled at that. “I do. He’s just not here yet. I hope he arrives with Trystan in time for the battle.”

  “It won’t be for a few days,” Braeden said. “Mattila is still in Oltena, so Trystan has time to get here. Now,” he said, taking a swig of ale, surprised at his thirst, “tell me about your rescue operation, from the beginning.”

  Elektra

  Just three weeks after her wedding, it was hard for Elektra to believe she was in Isenwald again, her circumstances were so changed from the last time. Leading an enormous army was very different from fleeing with the clothes on her back and a stolen horse. The horse had been a good one, though, so she kept him. In addition to now being one of Mattila’s top generals, Elektra was also a married woman, something she did her best to forget, at least during the day.

  She and Jozef continued to sleep in the same bed, talking until they fell asleep. But aside from that, they saw little of each other. The mornings found Elektra hurrying to inspect her troops as they broke camp and fell into formation, while Jozef disappeared, presumably to manage his many dogs and horses.

  The morning after the wedding, Elektra had made a point of riding next to Mattila as they moved out. “I’d like to take over Jozef’s expenses,” she said, doing her best to sound firm and meet the general’s eye.

  Mattila’s face broke into a relieved smile. “I take it things went well last night?”

  Elektra looked away as though embarrassed. “Well enough, considering. He’s really a lovely young man.”

  “He certainly is.” Mattila flushed with pleasure, no doubt assuming her son had followed her every order. “I’m glad you’re getting along well. I worried your interests lay elsewhere since you’ve known Prince Aksel so long.”

  “Oh.” Elektra forced herself to sound casual. “Aksel and I are just friends. It's possible he fell in love with my sister Zofya, the poor man.”

  “Indeed.” Mattila shook her head. “Well, I’m glad you’re no longer upset. I’m happy to keep paying for anything Jozef needs, but you might be right. It will be better for his self-respect if his wife takes over his expenses.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Elektra smiled, relieved that Mattila was none the wiser. And with the campaign now underway, hopefully she would be too busy to stick her nose in their business.

  “Then there’s no time to waste in giving you your assignments.” Mattila waved forward an officer. “I'll let Orsino Scarpati command my artillery since I don’t have time to train you up. Do you know him?”

  Elektra shook her head. “I’ve heard of him, but didn’t know he was with you.”

  Mattila chuckled. “I got lucky, nabbing him before your mother could. She was always trying to hire good generals before I got to them. Livilla’s spy network is such that she always knew when someone useful was about to become unemployed. So, Scarpati will have the artillery, but I’ll give you an infantry regiment and Franca Dura’s cavalry.”

  Elektra nearly choked. “Franca Dura? Isn't she already in Terragand?”

  Mattila’s face wore an odd expression, impossible for Elektra to make out. “She was. But something happened there, and her unit returned with rather strange news.” She looked at Elektra carefully. “It’s about your mother.”

  “My mother?” Elektra felt a thrill of fear, remembering the rumors she’d heard.

  “She’s ... ill, apparently.” Mattila said, doing a bad job of hiding a smirk. “She had to be relieved of command and sent back to Atlona.”

  Elektra had to hang onto the pommel to keep from sliding off her horse in shock. “Sent back? Where is she now?”

  Mattila shrugged. “Somewhere out here. Might be she’s been able to go through Podoska, though it would be awful luck if she ran into Leyf Lofbrok.” She guffawed.

  Elektra remembered how much she hated Mattila. She drew herself to her full height and said, “Please remember you are speaking of the empress and my mother. Even if she’s indisposed, she’s still worthy of respect.”

  “Of course, Your Grace.” Mattila’s face turned serious though she didn’t apologize.

  Elektra let that go while she processed the information, shocking as it was. With her mother out of the way, she ought to have defied Mattila. “So you tricked me,” she said, turning to look at Mattila as forbiddingly as she could manage. “You knew very well you weren't able to return me to my mother, but threatened to do it anyway.”

  “It was, hm, unclear at the time.” Mattila looked uncomfortable. “I confess, I wanted you for Jozef rather badly.”

  “Clearly,” Elektra said with a sniff. Well, that decided it. During the battle, at the first opportunity, she was surrendering to Lennart with as many troops as she could manage. “I’ll remember this.”

  “I’m sure you will. Not that it matters.” Mattila’s tone bordered on insolence. “It’s time for you to go.” She waved a stern-looking blonde woman forward. “This is Major Magda Bartnik, temporarily in charge of Dura’s Cuirassiers. She’ll take you to them. You’ll meet your infantry colonel when we make camp tonight.”

  Elektra nodded, relieved that Franca wasn’t there at the moment. She waited until they’d ridden away from Mattila, working their way up the long columns of infantry, then asked. “Where is Colonel Dura?”

  Bartnik looked at her with amusement. She’d probably been present at Elektra’s capture in Heidenhof. “Scouting in Terragand. She’ll join us soon.” She glanced back. By now Mattila and her suite were out of sight. “I hope it’s not uncomfortable for you. After all this time, I’m sure the colonel doesn’t bear you any ill will.”

  “I hope not.” Elektra was sincere in that. “I don’t bear her any. The circumstances were difficult.”

  “Indeed.” Bartnik’s mouth moved in what might have been a smile. “This time, we’ll try to keep you away from Braeden Terris.”

  “Oh yes.” Elektra tried to look pleased, then wondered how she might find Braeden. He’d be near Lennart, surely. If she surrendered to him, that would work just as well. She took a deep breath. “I may have misunderstood, but aren’t Colonel Dura and Count Terris friends?”

  “They were.” Bartnik raised an eyebrow. “But they’ve been on opposite sides of the war for a long time now. That bit of cooperation will not be repeated I’m sure. You needn’t worry. You’re our general now.”

  Elektra wasn’t sure how much difference that would make.

  Trystan

  Trystan had slowed down a little while passing through the outer fortifications. Lennart was clearly ready for Mattila’s big guns if she got them that far. If Trystan had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t. He was also surprised to find a large army camped just outside.

  “Whose troops are these?” he asked a sentry.

  “General Emilya Hohenwart’s in personal service to the Princess Maryna.” The fellow glowed with pride. “We’ve also got Duke Orland’s camped nearby, though they’re peasant militia,” he added dismissively.

  Trystan wondered how Maryna had managed it and reckoned he ought to pay his respects to General Hohenwart, but wanted to see Lennart first. So he headed to the city, its gates standing wide open. Apparently Mattila wasn’t an immediate threat.

  The king had to be staying in the Maximus’s palace, so Trystan went straight there. The city swarmed with troops in the marketplace and the temple square was crowded with soldiers. Trystan rode Storm into the palace courtyard and ordered him taken to the stable. He’d send word to Anton soon.

  He realized he looked a sight, but
couldn’t wait. “I must see King Lennart,” he told the first servant he spotted.

  “And you are?” The woman raised her eyebrows, looking over Trystan’s mud-splattered clothes with some condescension.

  It wasn’t his fault it had rained recently. “I’m Duke Trystan Martinek.” He drew himself to his full height. “And I will see the king right now.”

  The woman looked startled. “Certainly, Your Grace.” She rushed off with an anxious backward glance.

  While he waited, Trystan took off all of his weapons, handing them to a footman who’d crept closer.

  Then another servant came at a run. “You’re to visit the king in his private rooms, Your Grace.”

  They went down a long, graceful corridor and up a broad marble staircase. While this palace wasn’t as ornate as Natalya’s in Allaux, Edric’s had a calm, masculine air to it. Trystan felt immediately comfortable.

  The servant opened a door and poked his head in. “The Duke of Podoska is here, Your Highness.” He jumped aside as Lennart’s bulk filled the doorway and strong hands pulled Trystan inside.

  “You rascal!” Lennart clapped Trystan on the back, steering him toward a chair. “Thought you wouldn’t make it before the battle.”

  “I’m glad it hasn’t happened yet.” Trystan smiled at Lennart as he sat down at his desk across from him. “I brought you five thousand Galladian infantry. They’re disembarking near Birkenfels, though I fear it doesn’t look like much next to Hohenwart.”

  “Nonsense.” Lennart chuckled. “Galladians are well-trained and experienced. Very valuable. I’ll arrange for a bigger command for you. I like Hohenwart well enough, but I’ve worked with you longer, so I want you senior.”

  “Thank you.” Trystan couldn’t hide his pleasure. He had a great deal of respect for Hohenwart’s work, so this was an enormous honor. “Who else is here?”