by Jon Sprunk
Hirsch led her out of the hall into a side chamber where benches and chairs rested against the walls. Iron braziers filled with hot coals were positioned around the room, offering some relief from the castle's chill. Hirsch indicated a cushioned seat, but Josey declined. She was tired of sitting.
Captain Drathan entered after them. “Majesty, Lord General Argentus reports he has found a fording approximately twelve leagues east of the old bridge's position. He asks if he should begin the crossing.”
Josey's heart leapt at the news, but then she considered the situation here. She couldn't leave these nobles at each other's throats. How long would it take to bring them around to a peace pact? She sighed. The way things were going, it could be a long time. “Not yet, Captain. Tell Argentus to make the needed preparations, but not to move the army until I've finished here.”
Josey looked to the doorway as the captain left. Brian stood beyond the shoulders of her bodyguards as if waiting for her. He hadn't spoken much at the meetings these past couple days, nor at the feast his father held in her honor.
“Sir,” she said. “Was there something you wanted?”
Her guards moved aside, but Brian stopped at the threshold as if unwilling to disturb her privacy. “Highn—Um, Majesty. I just wanted to compliment you on your handling of the negotiations.”
Hirsch smirked at Josey. “You think so, lad?”
“No one has drawn weapons,” Brian said. “That's what ended our last discussion.”
Josey put a hand to her mouth to hold back a laugh. “I suppose that is an improvement. Perhaps we have some hope.”
“I've been trying to get my father to forget this old feud for a long time, but as you have seen he can be quite…”
“Formidable,” she finished for him.
“I was going to say pig-headed. Majesty, I was wondering…seeing as we have time before the talks resume, would you like to see more of our lands?” He looked to Hirsch. “Of course, your men are welcome to accompany us.”
“Very nice of you, lad, but—,” Hirsch started to say.
Is he asking to escort me out? Fighting back the sudden flush of heat that rose to her cheeks, Josey considered the ramifications of her answer. If she accepted, she had no doubt that news of their outing would soon be wagging from every tongue in the castle, and she had enough problems on her plate to add romantic gossip on top of it all. Yet if she declined, she could lose a potential ally in these mediations. And he was rather handsome, in a rawboned kind of way. “That sounds pleasant. But Master Hirsch will have to remain here.”
Hirsch frowned. “I will? Ah, yes. I will because…”
“Because you are now officially charged with handling these talks,” Josey said.
The adept's frown deepened. “Excellent. I will, of course, endeavor to follow your fine example.”
Josey crossed the room and took Brian's elbow. “Yes, see that you do.”
She pulled on Brian's arm, forcing the young lord to keep up with her. She couldn't wait to get out of this dreary place. They rode out of the castle surrounded by thirty men of her bodyguard. The day was warm. The sun shone through gaps in the gray clouds. Once they were on the road, Josey loosened the reins and allowed Lightning to gallop. Brian was at ease on his white gelding. He gazed over at her and smiled. He had a kind smile.
“Come on!” Josey shouted, and turned Lightning off the road into a broad dirt field.
She closed her eyes as the cool air rushed through her hair. Lightning appeared to enjoy it, too, running with abandon. As they neared a low stone wall, she reined him in to a trot. The others caught up with the clank of armor and bouncing weapons.
Sergeant Trenor, who was in charge of this detachment, frowned as he rested the stock of his crossbow against his thigh. “Majesty, I didn't know you were practicing for a race, or I'd have brought my riding breeches.”
Josey ran her fingers through her hair. “I'm sorry, Sergeant. It won't happen again.”
Brian didn't look to be out of breath in the least. In fact, a healthy glow flushed his cheeks, which bristled with a fine down of whiskers.
Does he have to be so…rugged? “And I apologize to you, sir. This was supposed to be an official tour, not a free-for-all.”
“I didn't mind.” He patted his horse's muscular neck. “Manfred and I could use the exercise.”
Josey leaned down. “Manfred, meet Lightning. Now, my lord, where are you taking me?”
Brian pointed over the wall. “With your permission, Majesty, I'd like to show you our northern range, but it's a bit of a ride.”
Josey looked to her guard. “Is that all right with you, Sergeant?”
“As you will, Majesty.”
“Then lead the way, Sir Brian.”
They rode side by side along a wide pasture enclosed by trees. Beyond them, low brown hills ringed the land on all sides except to the west, where the plains ran for miles and miles all the way to a faint green line against the horizon. Brian found a country lane winding northward, and they followed it at a leisurely walk. As they rode, Josey caught herself stealing glances at the young lord. Stop it before he notices! And what about Caim? Have you forgotten him? Of course, she hadn't. He crashed through her mind every time she looked at herself in the mirror and saw the growing bulge in her belly, every night when she closed her eyes and wondered how she was going to cope with being a mother. Damn him for leaving us. This is his fault. If he had stayed… What? They would be a happy couple? Even she didn't believe that, not in her wildest fantasies.
They chatted as the sun drifted across the sky. Unlike most of the men she'd met, Brian didn't spend the time talking about himself. He asked her questions about her life, about Othir and what it was like to become the empress. Soon she found herself telling him about Hubert and Anastasia and the goings-on at court, but she avoided the circumstances under which she had gained her crown, and for no good reason that she could fathom. He was sure to have heard the story by now. But it was Caim again. She shied away from anything that remotely touched on their relationship.
“Majesty,” Brian said after they'd ridden a furlong in silence. “You've been quiet.”
Josey forced a smile. “I'm enjoying the peace. This is a lovely place.”
They approached a narrow creek. Beyond the sun-dappled waters, emerald-green meadowlands rose in a gentle slope to the distant hills. The wild grasses waved in the breeze. It was a breathtaking sight.
“These are all your family's lands?”
Brian guided his horse into the creek. “Yes. They have been for generations. One of my ancestors did a service for an emperor—Klinus, I think—and was given this entire range, all the way to the Wolfork.”
“And where does Count Sarrow's demesne begin?”
Brian pointed east past a low chain of hummocks blanketed in cottonwood and elm trees. “Farridon lies beyond those peaks. The river is the property line as my father reckons it. Though the count disputes that, of course.”
Of course. Josey tried to get a sense of the lands they were talking about. It was flat with plenty of sunlight and access to water, but most of it was going unused. “Your family is blessed. This looks to be good farmland.”
“It's one of the reasons I've brought up to my father. This fighting is pointless. We have more land than we can work already. But he's stubborn, as you might have noticed. He'll die before he lets someone else claim a sliver of his property.”
Looking out over the Therbolds' grand demesne, Josey got an idea, but she kept it to herself. She needed to see more of this region and what it had to offer. If there were more lands such as this in the empire, then they had overlooked a vast opportunity.
While Brian pointed out landmarks and unique features of this land, Josey was content to watch and listen to the love in his voice. Growing up in so many places when she was young—Highavon and Navarre, and then the manor in Othir—she'd never felt such a keen connection to the places she called home.
She wa
s relaxed, gazing to the hilltops, as Brian reined up. Josey turned with a smile, expecting another illuminating detail from him. What she saw punched the air from her lungs.
It had once been a village. The outlines of homes and other structures remained, anchored in the red earth amid tumbled stone blocks and blackened timbers. Josey wanted to turn away, but she forced herself to look. There were no bodies evident—thank the heavens—but in her mind's eye she saw the violence that had caused this devastation.
“This was one of our settlements,” Brian said. His voice was low, almost a whisper, stripped of its earlier vitality. “Thirty families transplanted from our western lands to tend flocks here. By the time we got the warning that the northerners had come, it was already over. Only a handful survived.”
The pain of the disaster was etched into his face. His gloves creaked as his hands gripped the reins tight. “Between Sarrow and the northerners, so much blood has been spilt over a parcel of land. This is no way for our people to live. One way or another, these feuds must end.”
Josey nodded, afraid to offer a smile for fear he might misinterpret it. “Then that's what we'll do.”
The clap of hoofbeats sounded behind them. Sergeant Trenor wheeled his steed around to face the lone horse galloping toward their position. Josey recognized Iola in the saddle by her long auburn hair peeking from under the hood.
The girl stopped smoothly before them. “Your Majesty, Master Hirsch sent me to ask you back to the castle. There's news from the north.”
Josey's heart thudded hard against her riding corset. Was it about Caim? Sawing on the reins, she kicked Lightning into a gallop. She didn't wait for her guards or Brian and Iola as she raced back.
She slid down from Lightning the moment they entered the castle's tight courtyard, with the soldiers of her bodyguard rumbling in behind her. A hundred worries crowded her thoughts as she hurried to the oaken doors. Sergeant Trenor and his men had caught up by the time she entered the atrium with its bare stone walls.
“Majesty,” the sergeant whispered. “Please, allow us to properly conduct you—”
But she was rushing past the suits of archaic armor flanking the entry to the long central hall. Hirsch turned as she entered. Sarrow and Therbold were in attendance as well, all of them standing around a man sitting in a chair.
“What is it?” Josey asked.
The man in the chair jumped to his feet and stood at attention, even though he was clearly exhausted. His army uniform was covered in mud, as were his face and hands.
“This rider's just come from Durenstile,” Hirsch said. “He has so far refused to say why.”
The messenger saluted and pulled a round tube of wood from his satchel. “I was commanded to give this directly to Your Majesty and no one else.”
Josey clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. She had a bad feeling. She nodded to Hirsch, who took the tube with a frown at the messenger. He broke it open and slid out a rolled sleeve of parchment, which he handed to her. Josey steeled herself as she opened it. The writer had been in a hurry, as evidenced by the scribbled handwriting and the omission of a perfunctory introduction.
Majesty,
Our position has been overrun. Enemy forces came without warning from the north. Exact numbers unknown. Colonel Restian is dead.
Captain Leoph Fillion, acting commander.
Durenstile Castle
A hard knot formed in Josey's stomach. How could this have happened? Durenstile was a large town with fortifications and a sizable garrison. For it to be wiped out, the attacking force must have been massive, but Hubert's reports had stated that the border was quiet. That the raiders had withdrawn to the north.
Exact numbers unknown.
“Majesty?” Hirsch asked.
“Everyone out.” Josey swallowed. “Except for my council and Lords Therbold and Sarrow.”
Hirsch scratched his beard as the servants and soldiers filed out of the hall. Captain Drathan, who had been conferring with Sergeant Trenor, remained at a nod from her. Sarrow and Therbold eyed her with as much suspicion as they did each other. They have good reason to, though they don't know it yet.
As she read the message aloud, Josey felt the lump in her stomach clench harder. What was she going to do? The northern army was the empire's main line of defense from threats in that direction. She could send for the other armies, but even under the best conditions it would take weeks for them to arrive. By that time the invaders could be within striking distance of Othir. Oh, gods. Am I going to lose my realm?
Hirsch, standing by a window, tapped his chin and remained silent. Captain Drathan frowned at the floor as if he might find an answer in the polished hardwood. Count Sarrow gazed into the hearth fire, looking like he had aged ten years in the last dozen heartbeats.
Lord Therbold rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “The Eregoths have been raiding across the border since before I was born. We've beaten them back year after year, and we'll do it again this time.”
Josey held up the message. “It doesn't mention the Eregoths.”
“Who else would it be?” Therbold asked. “We'll muster the militias and—”
“They sacked Durenstile, you buffoon,” Count Sarrow said. “This is no ordinary raiding party. We'll go south. Take everything of value and burn the rest. The invaders will need to eat, but they'll find nothing here. Before spring, they'll be packing back to the hinterlands.”
The nobles would escape, certainly, but Josey kept seeing the faces of the people in Elser's village. How far would they get on foot with nothing to eat? She looked down at the signet ring on her finger. “No.”
Therbold glanced over. “Highness, I hate to admit it, but it may be the best solution.”
“No.” She knew what she had to do. “I am taking your soldiers.”
“What?” Sarrow and Therbold said in unison.
Josey took a deep breath. “I am hereby commandeering the forces of both your lordships. You will remand every man-at-arms and able-bodied male over the age of sixteen into my custody. And every horse, too. Fully provisioned and equipped. I demand this as your liege lord.”
The noblemen couldn't have looked more terrified if she'd poleaxed them. Sarrow gaped at her as if she were the enemy. “Highness,” he said. “I don't know if—”
“This is outrageous!” Therbold shouted.
She waited without expression while they complained and equivocated, not deigning to answer until both had fallen silent, Therbold red-faced and sputtering, Sarrow pale and petulant.
“My lords, this is not a request, but a command. Our combined forces will go north to meet these invaders before they infiltrate farther into our country. I expect full compliance from you both.”
She left unsaid the threat of what would happen if they refused. “Captain Drathan, please see to the collection of men and materials. And send for a messenger.” She nodded to the nobles. “My lords.”
As she left the chamber heading to her quarters, Josey felt the knot in her middle loosen. Just a hair, but it was a welcome relief. She only prayed she was making the right decision.
She was so lost in her thoughts she almost bumped into Iola. The girl curtsied and turned to accompany her upstairs. “Majesty, Doctor Krav is here.”
“In the castle?”
“Yes, ma'am. And he's insisting you must see him for an examination at once.” Iola smiled. “The way he dotes on you reminds me of my grandfather.”
“Yes, well…” Josey thought of all the things she had to do, and tried to imagine when she would find the time to see the doctor.
Once they were back in her quarters, which were little more than a bedroom and a small maid's chamber, Josey found parchment and ink and sat at the small, worn desk. While Iola packed and chattered about the latest in camp gossip, Josey focused on what she wanted to say. When she pressed pen to parchment, her hand was steady.
Hubert,
Forgive me, but I must make this short. We are inv
aded by an unknown army from the north. Durenstile has been sacked. It is my intention to—
The pen hovered until a drop of ink dripped onto the page and sank into the fibers. Was she sure about this? She bent over the letter.
It is my intention to meet these invaders with what forces I can muster. Gather what reinforcements you can in case our efforts fail and you must defend the capital alone.
Until we speak again.
Your empress and friend, Josephine
Josey folded it up, heated a dollop of wax, and pressed her seal into the stamp. It was done. She had decided her course of action. Standing up, she went to the room's only window, the glass pane warped and pocked with bubbles, and looked out onto the lands of Kistol, lands that would soon be threatened by invasion. Unless she stopped it.
With a sigh, she sat back down at the desk and began composing another letter, the first of many, to her vassal lords and ladies of the northern provinces.
Caim shot upright from a deep sleep, his heart pounding in his chest. Aemon and Dray slumbered beside him, neither stirring. He took deep breaths until his heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm. Fresh snow covered the ground, making everything look new and virginal until he spotted a Northman pissing against a hillside. A few others were moving around the campsite, so he guessed it was morning even though the sky was the same dark shade of gray it had been the evening before. Tendrils of mist twisted across the ground, lending the camp an otherworldly atmosphere.
It had gotten colder overnight. Their fire was out, and Malig sat beside the dead ashes. Tiny clouds of steam emerged from under his hood in time with his deep, laborious snoring. Caim sidled up and jabbed him in the shoulder. Malig pitched backward, almost tipping over.
“Dammit, Caim!” he shouted, righting himself. “You damn near scared me out of my skin.”
