Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (34 page)

The water pressure from the undercurrent was so strong that white spray pounded the arches of the bridge as it broke across the pillars built to support it.  She could see two of the Guards walking along the bridge, examining the structure for any signs that the men had gone that way.  She didn’t notice, but Vincent had ridden up next to her, and when she looked at him, his face was as white as a ghost. 

“My Queen, you’d better come take a look,” he said.  Heart pounding from his expression alone, Evangeline was lead by her Guard back to the ancient stone bridge that she’d just been staring at.  Standing to the left of it, Vincent pointed a shaking finger to something that had been veiled by a wall of white mist from where the Queen had been standing.  When Evangeline saw the gruesome scene before her, all her deepest nightmares were realized.

Her six unaccounted Samarian Guards had been beaten bloody, their faces unrecognizable through the dirt and gore now covering them.  All of them had been hung from the side of the bridge by a chain noose wrapped around the railing, their necks and spines limp and broken from the deadly fall.  They’d been stripped of their armor, cut and mutilated in their own skin, and their lifeless bodies slapped against the bridge like rag dolls as the water tried to carry them unsuccessfully downstream.  Evangeline forced herself to look away as tears of grief and anger burned in her eyes.  After a moment, she turned towards Vincent.

“Get them down,” she instructed as her vision blurred with the oncoming tears.  “We will not leave their flesh to be pecked away at by vultures.”  Her voice cracked, and she stopped to get her overflowing emotions under control.  “And Vincent…tell all your men to prepare for war.  It’s coming, and we have no choice but to be ready.”

Chapter 20

              Talan Leatherby woke from his deep slumber coughing and sputtering as a mysterious cool liquid violently drenched him.  He sat up in his goose feather bed and thrashed his arms frantically in the darkness, trying to discern what was happening.  He blinked through the wetness in his eyes as the shape of a man holding an empty washbasin emerged.  A small crack of light poured in from the hallway where his chamber door was open, illuminating the finely sewn ornamental rugs that covered his chamber’s stone floor.

              “Blasted dimwit!” Talan cursed.  “Who are you, and what do you want?”

              “Master Leatherby, it’s Major Lowe,” the shadow answered.  “The Queen sent me up here to fetch you and bring you to the council room.  Immediately.”  Talan scowled to himself.

“It’s the middle of the night, Major!” Talan protested angrily as he wiped his soaked hair out of his face.  “And was tossing a basin of water on me really necessary?”

“I tried to wake you for several minutes, Master Leatherby, but you weren’t responding,” Vincent explained.  “And the Queen mustn’t be kept waiting.  Her business is urgent, so I insist you come with me right this moment”

Talan blinked again trying to clear the blurriness from his head, which felt as heavy as a stuffed winter turkey.  He heard Vincent talking but was having trouble comprehending what he was saying.  Talan peered out of his chamber window with one eye open, the other still closed with sleep.

The sun isn’t up yet, therefore I shouldn’t be.  I haven’t any urgent business with Queen Evangeline.  What is this lunatic talking about?  The Queen better not have awoken me just so I could get a head start in the mines, or I’ll give her a piece of my mind!

  For the past couple of weeks, the young advisor had been consumed with exhaustion caused by the countless days and nights he’d spent mining the azurite crystal for his Queen.  Now, he’d been awoken from the limited sleep he was able to capture, and his body screamed in protest.  Talan was about to begin a heated debate with the Samarian Guard about his dire need for rest, but something stopped him. 

Once his eyes adjusted to the dim light of his chamber, Talan was able to see Vincent’s state of dishevelment.  His hands and face were covered with dirt and dried blood, and he was still garbed in a chainmail coat underneath his purple military tunic.  Sweat matted his hair to his ears, and lines streaked his cheeks where tears had recently fallen.  That observation alone caused Talan to become unusually nervous.  Something was wrong, and he was soon to find out what.

              Finally, the advisor sighed.  He struggled out of his damp silk bed sheets and grabbed a shirt thrown haphazardly across a cherry wood chair.  He tugged it over his head and grumbled, “Fine.  Tell the Queen I’ll be there shortly.”

***

              The council room of Mizra had been set up for a meeting, just as it had many times before.  Talan was the last to arrive, and by the time he did, the sun’s pale morning light was already breaking over the mountain peaks and drifting through Mizra’s corridors, which were empty and quiet.  Hot brewed coffee, baskets of apples and pears, and oven baked biscuits grazed with powdered sugar decorated the table of the council room, yet to Talan’s dismay, that’s not what first caught his attention.

Brutus Bludworth, Samaria’s General of Arms, was sitting hunched over at the table looking like a convicted criminal, although he hadn’t been present in the country for weeks.  He was dressed in the traditional Samarian military uniform, which consisted of a purple tunic, a tight fitting and padded long sleeve undershirt, black pants, and boots.  The circle of diamond shapes sewn into the upper right shoulder of his coat bespoke of his rank.

Today, the normally brawny man seemed dazed and confused.  His usually crisp uniform hung off of him as if it had become too big for his body. His skin held a sickly grayish tint associated with illness, or to one who has spent the past month imprisoned in a dark cellar without sunlight.  Vincent Lowe, the water throwing culprit, was also present standing at his place next to the Queen. 

Queen Evangeline stood in front of her dais, pacing back and forth on the blue stone floor with her hands on her hips and her head down.  Her thick chocolate hair was knotted and dirty, with leaves and twigs caught within the silky tresses.  She wore a split riding skirt and a royal blue riding jacket with gold buttons engraved with the Samarian emblem.  The would be dapper riding ensemble was soiled and tattered, showing its wear from the burdensome trip the Queen had taken to and from Nomanestan.  When she heard Talan enter, Evangeline looked up at him with a face he hardly recognized.  Her blue eyes were rimmed with grey circles from her lack of sleep, and her radiant skin looked flaccid across her high cheekbones.

“Talan,” she breathed in relief, stopping her pacing.  “You’re the last one I’ve been waiting for.”  The young advisor closed the chamber doors behind him and looked around in confusion.  He walked closer to his Queen and dropped into a deep, respectful bow then quickly straightened back up.

“Pardon me, My Queen,” he began slowly, “but I don’t understand what’s going on.  Vincent came to summon me without much of an explanation.”  He gave the Guard a sour look before nodding towards Brutus.  “It’s good to see you, General Bludworth.  Hopefully the trip to Rienne wasn’t too exhausting.  Where is Master Pennington?  Did he not return with you?”

“Master Pennington is not joining us,” Vincent quickly interrupted before Brutus had a chance to respond.  “He has been asked to remain behind in Rienne.  The government there has requested that he sit in on their council as an expert on Foreign Affairs for the time being.”

“When will he be back?” Talan challenged.  “He left without a word to any of
us
, and that’s not like him at all.”  Vincent’s thin, swan like neck seemed to elongate when Talan asked this, and out of the corner of his eye, Talan thought he saw Vincent place his palm securely around the hilt of his long sword still positioned by his hip.  Even though Arvil Pennington was a cajoler and a snitch, he was still one of the Queen’s few advisors, and that alone made him special. 

Normally, Talan wasn’t a sneak, and for the past month the Queen had been keeping him far too busy to have a chance to look further into Ambrose, Arvil, and Brutus’s sudden disappearances, but that didn’t halt his curiosity.  Almost a month ago, he recalled telling Zora, right before she was taken away to Montanisto, that he had suspicions about the Queen’s involvement in her advisors’ sudden disappearances.  After seeing Brutus, those suspicions were only growing stronger.

If something foal had happened to Ambrose and Arvil, which Talan was sure it had, then he too was in dangerous position if he dared asked questions that might unveil Queen Evangeline’s ulterior motives.  Talan concluded that it wasn’t the best time or place to bring up the whereabouts of Arvil Pennington, but he made a mental note to seek out Brutus confidentially after their meeting to find out what really happened to him and the other advisors.

Samaria is facing evil forces from both inside and outside its borders,
Talan though despairingly.
  I promised Zora I’d watch out for Samaria’s future, but I can’t do anything until I figure out what Queen Evangeline’s involvement in all of this is.  And why.

“Gentlemen,” Evangeline interrupted sharply before Vincent had a chance to respond to Talan’s persistent inquiries.  She seemed not to have noticed the exchange between the two men, for whatever other worries she was facing weighed far more heavily on her mind.  She’d taken a seat on her throne bedecked with small Samarian gems and golden threaded designs. 

“We need to get down to business,” she stated with an air of sadness.  “And the time has come for me to reveal the detrimental circumstances our country is soon to face.”  She gripped the edges of her throne tightly and shrank down in her seat as she spoke.

“As you all know, Samaria is indebted to the Overlord of Nomanestan because of the contract I entered into with him during the time of the rain storms.  Olger Guttensen supplied our country with food in a time of need when no other ruler was willing to come to our aid.  At the time, my decision to seek out Olger’s help seemed justified, as I was looking out for the wellbeing of my people.  Because of the progress my father had made at establishing peace along our borders, I was confident that Olger was trustworthy to go to.  Unfortunately I was wrong, and the Noman people’s cruel nature still runs in their blood to this day.”

“I don’t know how, but it seems like Olger knew that I would default on the terms of our agreement.  He used this information to take advantage of my state of weakness, and now we are paying for it.”  The Queen had to stop speaking because her elegant, fluid voice had become choked up with forlornness.  Her eyes were red as if she’d been crying yet no tears blemished her cheeks. 

“Olger threatens to invade our beautiful country,” the Queen continued.  “I have personally seen his armies, and they outnumber us by the tens of thousands.  Knowing the nature of the Overlord, at first he will invade the lands outlined in our agreement, but his uncontrollable hunger for power will eventually lead him here, to Alumhy.”

The room had gone deadly silent.  Ambrose Cornwell, who was no longer with them, had tried to warn the stubborn Queen against getting involved with the tyrannical Overlord, but she was foolhardy and didn’t listen.  Brutus, who’d been sitting frozen in his chair, finally spoke up. 

“How long do you speculate we have, My Queen?  Before they invade?”  Despite his debilitated state, Brutus’s nature as the leader of the Samarian Guard still triumphed over everything else.  His character bore the essence of a warrior, and defending his country was all he knew.

“Three days.  Maybe four at most,” she replied.  “Most of Olger’s armies are already assembled, armed, and ready to march at his command.  I don’t expect him to delay any further after our meeting yesterday.”

“Then we must be prepared,” Brutus said more confidently.  He stood up abruptly and walked over to the open window, his hand under his chin in thought.  “My Queen, if you grant me permission, I’ll start assembling the Guard along the Nomanestan border. That way I can have them scout for any signs of Noman preoccupation.  All trails through the mountains will be assigned additional detail, and I’ll buffer up personnel in the guard towers along the roads.  This way our troops will be able to see an army advancing, and Olger won’t have the opportunity to surprise us again.” 

The General turned around from the window looking a little taller.  Evangeline’s ice-blue eyes slid over him like silk on bare skin till they rested on his face, assessing any hidden meaning behind his sudden eagerness to be in her service again.  A brief moment passed, and her weary face softened a bit.  Whatever demons lay between the Queen and her General appeared to be put to rest.

“Thank you, General Bludworth,” she said.  “That is a good place to start, but the main obstacles we face is time and numbers.”  She looked over to Vincent Lowe standing silently with his feet apart and his arms crossed behind his back; a soldier at ease yet still on guard. 

“Vincent, I want you to assign fifteen sergeants to recruit in the streets of Alumhy.  I want every single able-bodied male over the age of sixteen sought out and drafted into our army by sunset.  They will be infantry men assigned to the third battalion; the second to enter face to face combat if it comes to that.  The more experienced Guard and special forces will defend the border and the mountains.  In then end, we will need all the manpower we can muster to fight Olger’s battalions.  If they can wield a sword, they can fight.  I want a detailed report to me by tomorrow afternoon of our new numbers, broken down by special forces, infantry, and archers.”  Vincent snapped into position with his fisted hand across his heart in salute of the Queen.

“Aye, my Queen.  I will have that information to you as soon as possible.”

Evangeline nodded gratefully, and Vincent exited the council room to begin his vigorous recruitment.  Then she turned back to Brutus and Talan.

“Gentlemen,” she began, “we need to warn the Samarian people of the war that’s facing us.  We need to have a public gathering where all the citizens from Alumhy can come and hear the truth from my own mouth regarding what is to come.”

“Have the clerks write up an urgent public announcement and deliver them to every household in the valley,” Talan suggested.  “In the notice, we’ll have it written that the head of each family is required to attend.  No exceptions.  I can also partner with Mizra’s heralds.  They can send out men to the mountain towns who’ll deliver the same information.”

“That’s a start.  Where do you think it would be easiest to accommodate such a mass of people for an assembly?  Mizra’s Great Hall, perhaps?”  Talan took a moment to collect his thoughts then shook his head.

“No, it should be out in the open.  Somewhere in Alumhy where people can observe and listen from inside and outside the surrounding dwellings.”  He snapped his fingers.  “The Center Market will do.  Mizra’s laborers can have it cleared and a stage set up for you in no time.  And it’s centrally located and easy for people to get to.  When do you plan on having this assembly, My Queen?”

“I should have a better idea of our situation after Vincent has completed his tasks,” Evangeline answered.  “We will set the time for tomorrow night, right before sundown.  Make sure all the citizens are aware that attendance at this hearing is mandatory.”