Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (20 page)

              Dakota shifted his weight back and forth between his feet as he considered Zora’s plea.  Finally, he reached into the belt secured around his waist and brought forth a small dirk about ten inches long.  He carried it over to her, his leather armor creaking with each step he took to close the space between them.

              “I don’t think you’ll flee, Lady Winnser,” he said in his deep, quiet voice.  “But take this in any case, for your
protection.
”
 

He forcefully placed the dagger in Zora’s small hand and secured her fingers around the hilt.  She quietly examined the weapon he’d given her.  The blade was clean and shiny with crisscrossed patterns along its flat edge.  The grip had been sculpted into an animal Zora had seen only in books.  It was fashioned like a gator with a flat head, long snout, and sharp teeth.  The intricately forged metal scales felt rough in Zora’s hand.

              “I don’t know where you plan on going, but I suggest returning before nightfall.  It’s not safe to wander.”  Zora nodded, appreciative of Dakota’s leeway.  She turned back around and looked ahead of her into the brush.  Dusk was encroaching slowly, as the days were longer in Cara than Samaria.  She needed some solitude, surrounded only by nature.  Only then, in the presence of the setting sun and the deep fauna, could she feel at peace and sort out her thoughts.

              The space Spencer had chosen to set up camp for the night was surrounded by dozens of oak trees with branches that reached out like the tentacles of an octopus.  Some were touching the sky while others touched the ground causing Zora to hop over them as she hiked.  The sweet scent of citrus filled the air and came from short, overgrown shrubs with budding yellow fruits and delicate white blossoms.

Zora continued on a straight path, unsure where she was going, with the dagger in hand.  At this moment she wanted to be far away from Spencer DeVore and his tent of despicable people.  She pushed brush and moss out of her face as she ventured into the surrounding swamp, the stickiness of the air causing sweat to form on her forehead and drip into her eyes.  The bullfrogs that made the marshlands their home began croaking their evening songs as Zora walked.  She looked behind her and noticed that the lights from Spencer’s tent were no longer visible between breaks in the deep foliage.  She hoped she could find her way back.

The ground beneath her was becoming damp and soggy, and Zora stopped abruptly when she realized she was marching directly into a dark body of water that stood still and peaceful before her.  Trees Zora had never seen before surrounded the small lake, and their tangled roots went deep beneath the water’s surface.  It was strangely fascinating to behold.  Curious about the tree, Zora circumvented the small lake until she was wading through the saw grass and was able to use the tree’s twisted roots as grips so she could climb up onto it.  Once settled and sitting atop the massive roots, she ran her fingers across the bark and felt the strong life of the tree pulse beneath her fingertips.  Zora smiled to herself, suddenly enchanted by the gothic beauty of these lands.

As if the tree felt Zora’s delight, it began to move beneath her, twisting and turning itself and lifting its gigantic roots out of the water with a great ruckus that caused Zora to clench her eyes closed in fear.  When she opened them, she saw that the tree had repositioned itself so that its grotesque roots now incased her on every side, and she was able to lean back and prop up her arms and feet.

“I believe you’re a mangrove tree,” Zora said out loud.  “I’ve seen drawings in the books Milo gave me, but never did it mention anything about the ability to move.  Thank you for accommodating me, by the way.”  The tree sighed underneath her as she nestled further back into her tree cocoon and dozed off with the peacefulness of nature all around her.

***

              Someone is watching you. 

Zora awoke to the murmurs of her subconscious whispering to her sleeping mind.  She was still in the confines of the mangrove tree, and the roots had moved again to form a small protective dome over her, blocking out wind and critters while she peacefully slept.  When the tree felt Zora awaken, it withdrew its roots from around her and plunged them back into the water with several splashes.  It was twilight now, the time where the sun can no longer be seen but its remaining rays from the horizon still light the sky.  Zora sat up and looked around, wondering how long she’d been asleep for.

             
I have to get back,
Zora thought.
  I told Dakota I’d be back before dark.

              Zora scrambled awkwardly out of the tree and jumped down the side of it.  She peered around trying to locate the path she’d originally taken amongst the gloominess of the marshland.  Dark moving shadows dotted the swamps in the dimness of nightfall, and the mangrove tree she’d thought so beautiful suddenly looked like a sinister torture device covered in shade. 

Zora began to feel uneasy as she remembered her subconscious warning her while she slept. 
Someone is watching you.

As if a premonition suddenly fell into place, Zora could see, in her peripheral vision, the shadow of a person silently remove itself from the concealment of the surrounding brush.  She held her breath in fright as the shadow began advancing towards her.  

             
Someone else is here.  Run!

              She didn’t want to do it, but she couldn’t help herself.  Zora turned her young face to confront the moving shadow and shuddered at what she saw.  It was a figure clothed in a dark riding jacket, the hood pulled purposely over its head so no human face could be seen.  It wore leather boots with spikes sewn into the toe and leather gloves covered in razor blades along each finger.  In its hand, the being held a scimitar, deeply curved and finely sharpened so that Zora could see the reflection of moonlight glinting across its blade.  Zora gulped down the rock forming in her throat.  She’d seen this being before, lurking outside Madame Fae’s cottage.  It was pursuing her every move.

              “Who are you?” Zora demanded, her voice coming out small and shaky.  “What do you want?  If it’s money you seek, I have some back at my camp.  I can give you whatever you want, just spare me.”

              The being remained silent and shook their head slowly as if denying Zora’s plea.   It brought the scimitar in front of their midsection and slowly began moving their gloved hand along the edge of the blade.  The woman looked around frantically for a way to escape, her heart rate rapidly increasing.  He was going to kill her.  She knew it.

To her right was nothing but thick brush and to her left the lake.  Corybantic and with no other option in sight, Zora charged past the being and into the soggy banks of the lake, sinking up to her ankles in the muck.  But Zora had misjudged the swiftness of her stalker because the muck was no obstacle for him.  He was on her instantaneously and tackled her from behind, forcing her face into the mud with the force of his hand.

Zora screamed as she fell, thrashing her arms wildly as she looked for something to break her fall.  As she began sinking helplessly into the quick sand, her attacker secured his arm around her waist and began pulling her to back dry land.  Zora was wailing at the top of her lungs, hoping Dakota would hear her.  She was swinging her arms trying to break away from the man’s grip, punching and hitting him with every opportunity.  Mud and dirt covered her eyes, and she could see nothing but faint images moving across her vision.

              “Please!” she begged.  “Don’t do this.”  She shook her head, loosening some of the mud caked on her face so she could see what was happening to her.  The man had pushed her down on the ground and was straddling her hips.  Zora screamed and flung her arms, catching the man’s jaw with her elbow.  He grunted out of surprise from the blow but didn’t back down.  Through shear strength he finally overpowered Zora, and he began binding her wrists and ankles together with rope.  When he was done, he positioned the gleaming scimitar under Zora’s chin.  She was staring directly into the shadow of the hood trying to decipher who or what lived underneath it.

              “Don’t do this,” she pleaded, causing the blade to push further into her neck.  “I don’t know who you are looking for, but I’m not them!” 

Her statement must have hit a chord in her attacker, because the hand that held the blade began to tremble slightly, and the person restraining her seemed to hesitate.  Going off of nothing but instinct, Zora looked over her shoulder to the mangrove tree she’d slept in and began hunting for the well of power she’d felt pulsing through it earlier.  With a gasp, Zora connected with it and felt the intensity of the Bond as it filled her veins.

A great rumbling began, and one of the massive roots of the mangrove tree ripped free from the lake with a life of its own.  It swept across the space between them, knocking Zora’s attacker off of her with brutal force.  The man cried out painfully as the root made contact with his ribs, flinging him to the ground several paces away.  As he struggled to stand up, the root whipped back around with a vengeance and snatched the man off of the ground by the ankles.  He bellowed out in surprise as the tree’s extremities curled tightly around his legs and lifted him, upside down, several feet off of the ground.  The man roared in frustration as he tried to squirm out of the root’s grasp, hitting and pounding it helplessly.

With her newfound freedom, Zora crawled frantically over to the man’s abandoned weapon and ran her wrists over the blade to free her bindings.  She wiped the remaining mud out of her eyes with the corner of her cloak.  In front of her, her assailant was dangling impotently in the air, his cloak gathered around his shoulders and covering his head due to his inverted position.  Zora sat down on her backside now that the attacker was subdued.  She was breathing hard and dizzy from fright, but she didn’t run.  Something in the back of her mind told her not to run.

“I’d appreciate it if you let me down now,” her attacker said suddenly.  “All the blood is rushing to my head, and I’m beginning to loose feeling in my legs.”

Zora’s jaw dropped in astonishment.  How could this person have the audacity to say anything to her right now?

“Who are you?” she demanded with a shaky voice.  “And who sent you?  Was it my mother?  Was exiling me was not good enough that she had to resort to a hit man?”

The man tried to crawl up his legs to free himself from the encircled root, but he gave up and fell back down with a grunt.

“I’ll answer your questions if you let me down,” he replied adamantly. 

“First off,” Zora argued.  “I don’t see how you have much of a choice in the matter.  And second, I’m not the one hanging you upside down.  It’s the tree.”  The man sighed in frustration again.

“No,” he began shortly, “you’re the one doing it.  You just don’t realize it.”

“You’re crazy!” Zora shot back.  “Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Just try it.  Please.  You have to release the Bond you created with the mangrove.  Feel it and control it.” 

Zora hesitated then tried to do what the man asked.  She searched within herself, doing as the stranger instructed.  She felt for the core of her soul that was connected to the life of the tree.  She gasped again as the invigorating energy of the tree flowed through her; it was something she’d never felt before. 

She didn’t want to stop it, but she had to, severing the bond that connected her to the mangrove.  A feeling of heavy loss suddenly over came her.  She’d never felt anything quite so powerful in her entire life.  With a snap, the tree root released the man and quickly retracted back into the water as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.  The stranger landed on his back with a plop and swiftly sprang to his feet again.

              Zora looked around anxiously for the man’s scimitar, determined not to let him get his hands on it.  He must’ve been doing the same thing because they both zoned in on it at the same time lying next to the muddy lakeside.  Zora ran towards it and grabbed it from the muddy water before the stranger could.  She cried out in agony as the hilt of the blade burned into her flesh, causing painful blisters to erupt on her palm.  She released the blade is if it was a venomous snake, and it fell back into the mud.

              “
Tsk, tsk, tsk
,” a voice behind her said.  “Curse the man…or woman who dare try to wield
my
blade.”  He whistled loudly, and the blade lifted from the ground and flew through the air landing securely in the man’s open palm.  Seeing the consternation on Zora’s face, the man quickly sheathed the blade and put his hands out where Zora could see them.

              “You have my word I will not harm you,” he promised.  “Now come here, let me see your hand.  You’re hurt.”

              “I’m fine,” Zora snapped, cradling her injured hand close to her chest.  “I can tend to it myself.  I have a lot of knowledge with healing plants.”  The man didn’t argue.

              “I insist you tell me who you are.  I have a faction of soldiers in close proximity who won’t hesitate to take you into custody unless you answer my questions.”

              “Come see for yourself,” the stranger responded.

              Ignoring the smoldering pain in her left hand, Zora brought forth the dirk Dakota had given her, knowing fully well what she intended to do with it.

Zora approached the man quickly with the blade out in the open until she was standing right in front of him.  He stood motionless, trying to show her that he wasn’t going to try and hurt her again.  Zora cocked her head to the side and stared deeply at him, the shadow of his hood still concealing his face.  She ran the blade up the edge of the stranger’s hood, starting from his neck and making her way up to his ears until finally, with a small flick of the blade, she threw back the hood revealing the person underneath.