Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (37 page)

“I’ll do what I can,” he promised Arvil.  “Now, let’s get you on the road.  And quickly.” 

With than, Talan steered Arvil back around and ushered him into the narrow hallway.  Once through the low ceilinged corridor, the pair ascended two flights of stairs, then detoured to an abandoned mining road that continued to lead them underground, until finally, they found their way out through a cave mouth. 

Once outside, they traveled on foot through the daylight to Hazy Creek Trail, which was named for the small creek that ran alongside it for many miles.  Arvil stopped once they reached the empty southern patrol tower where Brutus had left a saddled stallion and rations.  The General had purposely repositioned all of his men along the Nomanestan border, therefore leaving the outlying posts along Rienne temporarily abandoned in order to give Arvil and Talan the opportunity to escape Samaria unnoticed. 

Hazy Creek gurgled pleasantly next to them as it flowed over water worn pebbles before winding around a corner in the distance.  It was shallow and Talan could see straight to the bottom.  Its fluid melody added to the gentleness of Samaria’s mountain forests.  Arvil quickly bathed off in the chilly creek, removing most of the dirt left over from Mizra’s dungeons. Once refreshed, he hoisted himself atop the broad stallion and shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, for the man was so small he looked almost like a child sitting upon the beast.

“I do not want to by implied if this turns out badly, Talan,” Arvil said with a sharp tone to his voice.  “Once this favor for you and Brutus is complete, which only entails bringing Chancellor Leonardo to Alumhy, then I’m out.  I am only doing this as a tribute to Ambrose’s memory and for no other reason. Do not call on me for anything else because I will not follow through.  Label me a traitor or a deserter, it doesn’t matter.  I mean not to return to Samaria after this, regardless of which Winnser woman is Queen.  I will find refuge along the shorelines of the east, away from it all.” 

Arvil paused and fingered the knotty heap of growth hanging from his chin as he thought.  His distracted gaze followed the flow of the creek twisting through the trees.

“My gut feeling tells me to beware the Queen,” he warned.  “She may be beautiful on the outside, but that conniving woman has something up her sleeve that she’s purposely keeping hidden.  And I fear it’s dangerous.”  He inched his horse closer to Talan so that he was looking condescendingly down at him from atop his perch; a look Talan was well familiar with.

“I
know
you’ve been secretly working for her as of late, and I had a lot of time while chained up to think about where your duty lay when it came to all of this.  In the end, I came to the conclusion that you are serving the Queen only out of loyalty, because you think it’s the right thing to do.  Not because you are involved in whatever back alley deals she’s taken on.  You are a good man, Talan, and I apologize for not treating you so in the past.  But, considering all of that, I highly suggest keeping yourself on her good side.  Those whom the Queen can confide in has rapidly diminished, so do what you can to earn her trust, even though in truth you may be doing what’s best for the future of Samaria and not for her.” 

Talan marveled momentarily at the advice Arvil had just given him.  He’d known the scrawny man for years and never had he offered Talan anything of than grief.  The young advisor couldn’t think of any words to say in return to Arvil’s rare display of openness, so he just reached his hand out peacefully.  Arvil clasped it firmly before he turned his horse around to face the road that lead out of Samaria and into Rienne.

***

Following Arvil’s hasty departure, Talan retreated back into mines, this time going north towards the Shoulder.  He was constantly looking behind him, fearing that the Guards had unveiled his release of Arvil and were in route to intercept him, yet the road was eerily vacant thanks to Brutus.  Queen Evangeline had given Talan a short schedule regarding the completion of his fire powder explosives, and the success of such a venture could dictate the outcome of Samaria’s future against Nomanestan. 

              The sun was at its zenith when Talan finally emerged from the mine he’d caught Zora sneaking though only a month earlier.  It was the last mine he’d opened before redirecting his team to focus on mining the azurite closer to the river instead.  Its deep, dark, and silent corridors reminded him of his failure in finding the Anion’s hidden wealth.

              “Master Leatherby!” Salem’s cracking voice broke through the stillness of the tundra.  “Over here!  Come Quick!”  His mop of curly golden hair peaked over a large boulder covered in brown vegetation.  He waved his twig-like arms in an obnoxious manger.  Talan rolled his eyes at the boy’s enthusiasm then stumbled over several yards of gravel and sink holes before reaching the excited teenager.

“What took you so long?  I’ve been waiting forever!” Salem whined.

              “No, you haven’t,” Talan replied tersely.  “And what have you been doing this whole time?  Twiddling your thumbs?”

              “Not so!” Salem insisted.  “I’ve been playing around with the ratios of the fire powder.  To see which ones burn the fastest.”

              “And what have you discovered?”

              “That the one you suggested last week was the best one,” Salem admitted.  Talan just rolled his eyes.

              While doing his research on this newly envisioned explosive substance, Talan had become even more appreciative of his nationality.  Samaria truly was a wealthy country.  The saltpeter was discovered in the damp caves along the river, where decaying organic matter was ever present.  The sulfur mines were located in the central north region where the highest peaks were located, and where at one time in Samaria’s history, the mountains had spewed molten lava.  And the char, the final ingredient, was created by the colliers and used in almost every home in Alumhy.

Woe be to those who try and breech our borders when we have such artifice up our sleeve.
 

Talan thought back to Zora’s statement to him when they had walked together through the cavernous mines.  In fact, he seemed to be thinking about her more often than usual as of late.  It was spoken by the intuitive awareness that only a Samarian ruler would have.  She may not have realized her inference was a premonition of what was to come, but Talan did.  That is why he worked night and day to get as much fire powder made as possible.

“I’ve been here since dawn working on the alterations you gave me, and boy do I have something amazing to show you,” Salem said with a smile. 

“Alright now,” Talan addressed the boy.  “Show me what you got.  We haven’t much time to get this done.”  Salem nodded quickly then pulled his breeches up over his scraped knees before crouching down.

              “I hollowed some small tunnels in several boulders of varying sizes,” Salem began, gesturing to a large chiseled opening at the base of the rock.  “Going off the design of your paper fuse, I was able to create a more durable version and then run it through the tunnels like so.” 

He pointed to all the different boulders he’d run the fuse through.  It started at ground level then ran in a Z pattern up the side of the mountain about thirty feet high.  Salem then picked up one of the fuses and gave it a tug.  Talan could hear the hidden fuses brushing inside the stone around him.  In the short amount of time Talan had allotted him, Salem had constructed a hidden entrapment running along the mountain itself, and it ended where Salam had poured a barrel of fire powder into an open rock cavity.

“However,” Salem continued proudly, “I’ve added a little something extra you won’t expect.”

Before Talan realized what his ambitious apprentice was doing, the young teen had struck a match on the pebbly ground and ignited the fuse in his hand resulting in a great rain of sparks.

              “Wait!  What you doing!” Talan exclaimed as the blaze began race along the fuse and through the first hallowed out tunnel.

              “I’ve spent all morning constructing this, Master Leatherby,” Salem said with childlike chortle.  “Now, it’s time to see how she blows!” 

Talan just groaned loudly as the flame raced along the fuse, running up the mountain in a blinding glare trying to reach its final destination.  Talan watched intently, pleased with both his invention and Salem’s execution, but as he watched, he realized that while the fuse was burning, it wasn’t leaving any incinerated ash in its wake.  Talan pointed out the peculiarity to Salem.

              “That’s what I wanted to show you, Master Leatherby…”  But Salem’s explanation was cut off by a massive explosion above them.  The fuse had finally made contact with the barrel of fire powder, and a chunk of rocky mountain was expulsed hundreds of feet into the air.  The blast caused the air and earth to convulse around them, and both Talan and Salem watched mesmerized as pieces of blue mountain the size of horses came racing back to the ground, gaining momentum with each second they fell.  Salem’s pleased smile began to fade, and he looked over at his mentor with a panic stricken expression.

              “Master Leatherby, we should probably run and get behind something.  There’s going to be more!”

              “More what?”

              “More explosions!” Salem replied, then grabbed his arm like a petrified child and began leading him back towards the abandoned mine as urgently as if wild wolves were nipping at their heels.  Without turning around to watch, Talan could hear another massive explosion behind him, followed by another, and then another.  All around them the earth juddered and shook as if suddenly angered for being disturbed.  Even the sky seemed to be moving and tilting against the horizon as another side of the mountain erupted from its foundation.  Talan and Salem were both thrown to the ground with each few steps, landing painfully on the sharp rocks beneath them.

              When the pair finally reached to protection of the mine, the last explosion had detonated, and a haze of thick indigo dust encircled the injured mountain like a comforting bandage.  Both men were doubled over and breathing hard from their physical exertion, and Talan found that he had multiple scrapes and bruises on his elbows and knees from where he’d fallen.

              “So,” Salem began, breathing in heavily.  “What do you think?”  Talan eyed him suspiciously.

              “You did something to the fuse, didn’t you?” he asked as he stood up straight again.  Salem nodded fervently.

              “I reengineered it so that it doesn’t burn though the first time.  In fact, it burns twice.  The first run through ignited the first explosion all the way at the top, which then re-lite the fuse to come back down the mountain.  I packed each hollowed boulder with fire powder so that as it ran back through the second time, the boulders exploded.  Should have been about ten total detonations, from top to bottom.  I figured it we used the same logic in the mines, expect on a horizontal not vertical plane, then we could reach several locations underground all at once and put less men in danger.” 

He was looking at Talan as he spoke, hoping his teacher wasn’t angry with him for altering his design.  Instead, Talan refocused his gaze to the small hill of rock hundreds of feet in front of them.  The blue haze was now receding, and beneath it revealed an even more misshapen and deformed geographical edifice than what had been there previously.  All Talan could do was laugh out of both surprise and relief.

              “Well, despite the fact that you nearly killed us, I think that the Queen will be pleased with our progress.”  He placed a hand on the teen’s bony shoulder.  “C’mon.  Let’s go present this to Her Majesty.”

Chapter 22

As dusk encroached on Samaria, Evangeline Winnser finally retired from Mizra’s assembly room where she had been conducting meetings all day.  Talan Leatherby had come to her with positive news about his fire powder and a new way to detonate it that would most certainly meet the requirements she’d imposed on him.  She felt slightly guilty about putting so much pressure on young man, specifically since he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, but these were urgent times.

Going forward, she commanded Talan to begin setting up points of detonation unground and have a final blue print ready for her and Brutus by morning.  Talan’s mouth went tight when she asked this of him, but he consented to her requests all the same.  Up in till now, Evangeline hadn’t realized how much she relied on Talan.  He was clever, kind, and loyal, which was a rare combination of traits to be found in any one man.

              As she walked through the wide circular corridors of the ancient fortress, Evangeline stopped at one of Mizra’s open windows and looked down on the city of Alumhy nestled in the valley below her.  In the dimming rays of golden sunset, the tile roofs reflected like dull bronze pieces that needed polishing.  The openness of Center Market, compared to the compacted structures surrounding it, appeared like a stretched out hole in tightly crocheted afghan.  Whereas the market was usually bursting with people, now it was all but abandoned except for the team of laborers who had begun erecting a stage for her to use while addressing the citizens tomorrow evening.  But even their presence seemed engulfed by the massiveness of the large empty space.

              Sorrow overcame the Queen as she observed the forsaken city below her.  To her it felt like Samaria’s glory had died with King Edgar himself.  His untimely death came barely two nights after his wife’s gruesome passing, both due to consumption.  Thinking back, Evangeline always believed a part of her died that horrible day as well, and she did everything possible to repress that part of her memory.  The morning following Edgar’s death, Evangeline and the people of Samaria laid their beloved rulers to rest, leaving the most desired country in the Realm in a state of limbo.  That was the crucial moment everything changed for eleven-year-old Evangeline Winnser who was now forced to trade her childhood for that of political responsibility.

At the time, the Sovereign Alliance had tried to determine who should lead Samaria during the time before Evangeline was actually crowned as Queen.  In such a situation, normally a child ruler is placed in the custodial care of their closet family member until they are of mature age for coronation.  For Evangeline, her custodian would have been Cecelia’s eldest brother, Lucious Bancroft.  Cecelia had many siblings, but her brother Lucious was the most vile of them all.  He especially envied his sister’s marriage into the ruling Winnser line, and Lucious would do anything to take Evangeline’s crown for himself if given the chance.

Knowing what an evil manipulator Lucious was, Evangeline fought with all her strength to remain free of her Uncle’s grasp, involving all Samaria’s advisors in an appeal to the Sovereign Alliance for her to be allowed to ascend to the throne while placed under the strict guidance of Samaria’s advisors until her ‘actual’ coronation at sixteen.  There were loads of people who opposed such a plan: the King and Queen of Brighton, the united tribe leaders of Wayanee, and other monarchs who were unsure that such a decision regarding the wealthy country of Samaria was in the Realm’s best interest.  Yet after months of painful deliberation with the Realm’s rulers and the Bancroft family, Lucious’s guardianship duties were revoked, and Evangeline was allowed to take the throne at age twelve. 

Her experiences with the Sovereign Alliance left a bitter taste in Evangeline’s mouth and she’d never been confident in their decision-making abilities since.  Anyone who tried to keep Evangeline Winnser from fulfilling King Edgar’s legacy was a life-long enemy, whether they knew it or not.  On several occasions the Sovereign Alliance attempted to discredit Evangeline’s competence to lead her country, as both a child and an unmarried mother.  No one was aware of how much King Edgar had taught his daughter while he was sick, knowing he wouldn’t live through the winter.

Beginning the day of her coronation, Evangeline Winnser vowed that she would prove to all who doubted her that she could rule Samaria better than her father.  During her reign, she would make it wealthier, more powerful, and independent of ever other country in the Realm.  In doing so, she wouldn’t entrust the help of any member of the Sovereign Alliance; she would do it all on her own.  So from that day forward, Evangeline shunned those who thought that a young Queen didn’t have the ability to reign successfully.  She put every ounce of her human strength into proving that she made Samaria better, refusing to deal with the rulers of other countries who had originally distrusted her capabilities.  But somewhere along the way, Evangeline’s determination to prove herself to the Realm overshadowed that of Samaria’s welfare.  Her pride became her biggest enemy, and Samaria now faced challenges and adversaries that were beyond her control.

The Queen just sighed to herself and turned away from the depressing view outside the window.  She didn’t want to see anymore of this discouraging token of reality. Once she entered her bedchamber, Evangeline immediately went over the large encircling balcony and pulled close the thick curtains in order to block out the golden sunset that was illuminating her guilt.  She tied the curtains securely together so they would not come undone.

              An unexpected rapt at her chamber doors caused Evangeline to jump in her skin.  She stood momentarily unmoving, trying to decide whether or not to answer the knock since she was alone.  She looked to the portrait of her mother and father above the

fireplace and then right below it to her father’s sword that constantly occupied the display space on the wall.  It was an ancient sword, an heirloom passed on to each generation of the Winnser line beginning with the king who led Samaria through the Sea Dweller war.

It was silver and bright, forged out of an iron and carbon alloy, all mined from the Anions themselves.  The pommel was a faceted blue sapphire the size of a plum, the guard was designed in a traditional T shape made with small circles of iron.  The grip was pure platinum and engraved on two sides with ancient Samarian runes.  Although Evangeline wasn’t very proficient in reading or writing the ancient language, she knew from her father what the message read:
Life cannot not exist without freedom.  Obtain liberty or die trying.

             
After the third persistent knock, Evangeline gingerly removed the sword from the wall and positioned it behind her back.  She unbarred the large wooden door, and it slowly swung inward to reveal the caller. Evangeline carefully kept the right side of her body out of sight in case she needed to defend herself with the sword.

              She recognized the unwelcome visitor by his uniform, and he was covered head to foot in a dark brown riding cloak.  Evangeline just sighed heavily out of annoyance.  With everything going on, attending to the demanding requests of her anonymous benefactor and his insufferable know-it-all emissary was something she did not want to deal with.  She stepped out from inside the door and leaned against the door jam letting her father’s sword hang heavily at her side.  The emissary’s timeless eyes ran down the length of her arm and to the weapon attached to it, not even attempting to suppress the amusement that lite up his eyes and tugged at his lips.

              “Do you even know how to use that thing?” he asked half seriously.  Evangeline cocked her head to one side and narrowed her eyes at him.  She grasped the hilt in both of her hands and lifted the blade up so that the point was angled underneath his diaphragm.

              “I’m not sure…we can find out if you like,” she taunted coolly.  The emissary put his hands out defensively.

              “Whoa!” he said stepping back.  “I just came here to chat.”

              “I don’t believe that.”

              “Well, it’s the truth.  Are you going to let me in or what?”

              The Queen lowered her blade slowly.  “Did anyone see you?”  The emissary gave her another one of his amused smiles.

“I’m pretty good about staying hidden.”

Evangeline just scoffed as she let him inside her chambers, closed the door, and barred it securely.  The messenger peered around her room curiously and watched as Evangeline placed the sword carefully back over the hearth.  The emissary took it upon himself to walk the entire length of the room, examining a handful of her personal belongings in the process, although touching nothing.  He stopped at the portrait of King Edgar and Queen Cecelia and stared at for a while as if committing the details of their faces to memory.

“Northerners have such eccentric taste,” the emissary remarked as he ran his hands over the smooth surface of a polished and richly designed cherry wood chair.  “But I like it,” he added before plopping down.  Evangeline just crossed her arms in front of her breasts and glared at him.

“What is it I can help you with Master…?”  Her voice ended abruptly.  “You know,” she added, “I don’t even have a name for you.  What is it you go by anyway?”  The emissary regarded this half seriously for a moment as he drummed his fingers on the armrest.

“I think I’ll go by Heath,” he stated, initiating a roll of the Queen’s eyes.

“But that’s not your name,” she presumed.  This time Heath just frowned at her.  He couldn’t tell if that was a question or a statement.

“For all intensive purposes, my name is Heath,” the messenger repeated.

“So, we’re still playing the game of secrets then?”  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if becoming impatient with Heath’s unwillingness to be honest with her.  “Well, Master
Heath
…what is it I can do for you today?” 

Heath didn’t answer immediately, intent to annoy her further with his lack of candidness.  He reached over to the table next to him and poured a cup of tea.  Once a wedge of lemon was floating happily in the warm liquid, Heath answered Evangeline’s question.

              “Well is
appears
as though the prediction I made regarding an invasion by the Overlord of Nomanestan has already been set in motion.  His troops are on the move as we speak.  The masses have already advanced past the grasslands and into the hills.  His battalions number in the thousands.”  As he blew the steam off of his tea, Heath watched as Evangeline’s fair face twisted into a scowl.

              “You came all this way just to say
I told you so
!” she demanded.

              “I’m not here to insult you,” Heath quickly diffused.  “But to check in.”  He placed his cup of tea back down on the table and turned to face her.  “I’m here on my Master’s behalf to ensure that his requests are still being carried out faithfully and that your men are still focused on mining the azurite, regardless of your extenuating circumstances.  I know we’ve received two shipments from you already, but we would like to see more.  Much more, and as soon as possible.”

              “Excavation is
not
an overnight process,” Evangeline explained harshly.  “I have men working sixteen hours a day in the mines.  Talan has been unrelenting with his team concerning the goals I’ve given him, and so far his men have performed as instructed.  I will be honest, Heath.  There are dozens of shipments of azurite prepared to go out.  It’s sitting in holding, just until I have men available to move it through the mountains.  But right now, your measly shipment of crystal isn’t what I’m focused on.  I have to get my people ready for war!”

Evangeline stopped talking and sighed heavily.  She truly hoped this businessman could understand her predicament. 

              “I’m beginning to think that working for…whoever it is I’m working for…is not beneficial at this time.  While I am grateful for the opportunity to bring commerce back to Samaria, right now, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”  Evangeline pulled a strand of loose chocolate hair behind her ear.

“Even if you prevail through this war, Samaria will still have limited commerce to speak of,” Heath said.  “The mines are still not producing the source of your wealth.  Am I correct?”  The Queen stiffened up, as if his question had struck a tender nerve in her body. 

Heath quickly continued.  “Is the amount of payment we’ve been providing you not sufficient?  Because I’m sure I can convince my Master to increase your compensation to two, maybe three times the current amount.  With that money you’ll be able to begin reestablishing Samaria to its former glory.  You’ll have the funds to support further mining or continue importing from other countries.  You’d even be able to focus on initializing a different type of industry better suited to Samaria’s current state of economy.  What I’m saying is that mining the azurite will open up more opportunities for you and your country.”

Clearly, Heath’s explanation of their agreement made the flustered Queen rethink her course of action, because she remained silent for several minutes.  She walked over to the burning hearth and placed her hands on the mantle.  The elegant portrait of her mother and father adorned in all their regality looked down on her from above with dark painted eyes.  She wished they were here to tell her what to do, what decision was the right one to make, so that she did not disgrace the Winnser name any more than she already had.  Evangeline was suddenly aware that Heath had left his seat and standing right behind her.  She turned around to face his ageless eyes.