Azurite (Daughter of the Mountain Book 1) (44 page)

              Evangeline’s mouth had gone dry again.  She tried to wet it, but nothing would help.  Despite Heath’s dire warnings, the yearning she had to indulge in the Elixir of Life outweighed all the consequences of not helping to create it.

              “And what of you?” Evangeline asked.  “Are you not part of this deal also?” 

              “I will experience the same end if I fail,” Heath replied grimly.

              “Then I accept your terms,” Evangeline whispered, her head dizzy with both fever and the sudden force of the ancient power as it moved between her and the emissary. 

His tattoo still glowed, increasing in both luminescence and intensity as the lines of magic crossed from his arm to hers, forming a crisscross of sizzling energy like a bridge between them.  Evangeline held her breath as she watched the glowing power settle into to her skin and become completely absorbed till nothing remained except the darkness of her chambers.  She exhaled sharply, as did Heath, and they both looked at each other as if they’d just revealed the most intimate secrets of their lives.

              “Now, Queen of the North,” he whispered, “
this
is where it starts to get hard.”

Heath’s heralding words, in addition to the eternally binding vow she’d just made with him, caused shivers to run up her arms and neck.  The Queen found herself suddenly frightened.

              “My Master requires more shipments of azurite delivered per week than what we are currently receiving.  You claim there are excess shipments waiting to go out but no way to get them to my Master.”  He looked at her, and she confirmed the statement with a firm nod.

              “You want me to use the river, don’t you?” Evangeline asked.

              “Ah!  You do listen!” Heath exclaimed, resulting in a scowl from the Queen.  “But yes.  Transport by waterway is the most logical route, and it needs to start as soon as possible.” 

Evangeline was turning a deep crimson again, this time from anger and not from her fever.  She held the ends of the blanket up to her chin and was gripping it tightly.

              “And how do you expect me to do that?” she snapped.  “Right now my entire army is being slaughtered by the Nomans.  By tomorrow night they will have taken Alumhy!  You’re out of your mind if you think there is a way I can safely sneak shipments of crystal through Noman occupied lands and begin moving them down a Noman occupied river!”

              “I think Olger Guttensen can be bargained with,” Heath said sharply, but the Queen knew better.  She’d witnessed what Olger Guttensen was like, and Ambrose Cornwell’s warning to her reverberated loudly in her head every time she thought about the repulsive Overlord.  

Tyrants cannot be negotiated with!
 

              “I want you to marry the Noman Overlord.”  Heath said it so simply and so casually that at first, it didn’t even register with Evangeline what Heath was asking. 

              “What!” she blew up at him when she finally realized what he said.  “No way!  Why would I even consider doing such a thing?”

              “Because it’s the logical course of action…” Heath tried to respond.

              “No, it’s not!” she yelled back before relapsing into a brutal coughing fit.  Heath stood up and began pacing back in forth next to her bed, taking this opportunity to keep talking while the Queen was busy composing herself.

              “Evangeline, there is very little chance that the Samarian Guard is going to defeat Olger’s troops.  I’ve told you that from the beginning!  So either you surrender to Noman rule or strike a deal with him in order to save your country from being completely destroyed.  In order to protect the azurite mines, I’m suggesting the latter.”

              “Why would Olger even consider entering into a marriage partnership?  He doesn’t need me!”

              “You’re wrong about that,” Heath replied.  “He wants your land, your gold, and your gems.  Yet Olger Guttensen doesn’t know the first thing about mining in the Anion Mountains.  By disposing of you, he is disposing of generations of extremely valuable knowledge.  Evangeline, you are a Daughter of the Mountain.  Olger needs you in order to raise Samaria
and
Nomanestan up into one great, powerful nation, which is his ultimate plan.”

             
We could be good together, you and I.  If you just decide to stop fighting me, that is.  Together our lands could rule this entire Realm. 

             
Olger had expressed interest in ruling with her, although Evangeline knew he’d only be using her to get what he wanted.  That’s what the Nomans did. 

              “How do you know he just won’t kill me when he’s done using me?” Evangeline asked bitterly. 

              “Because I
won’t
let that happen,” Heath assured her.  “Your cooperation is vital to the success of creating the Elixir of Life.” 

They looked at each other for a while, and Evangeline’s eyes were full of hopelessness.

              “I can’t, Heath,” Evangeline said with a tight voice.  “Marriage is a sacred institution.  By conjoining with Olger, I’d be betraying everything that the Samarian citizens have fought so hard to preserve, their freedom.  My people would never forgive me.  I’d be an enemy in their eyes, and they hate me enough as is.  Please…don’t make me do this.” 

As she looked at him, her blue eyes became inflamed with hate.  “You promised me you were going to help me with this war,” she accused.  “You lied to me!  Just like all your kind are liars!”

              “What do you think I’m trying to do?” Heath cried out defensively.  “I’m advising you on how to defeat Olger and keep him from leveling Samaria!”

              “I won’t do it!” Evangeline screamed hysterically, the skin of her body burning through her gown both from the sickness and from her seething temper.  “You can’t make me, you manipulative
Slythos
!”

              “Evangeline, be careful!” Heath advised, but his voice seemed muffled and far away.  “You already agreed to help me.  You already made the vow.  There is no turning back now…

              Suddenly, the room around Evangeline seemed to go dim and cloudy, and the outlines of her chamber furniture faded into shadow.  Then everything disappeared into nothing but a dense fog. 

              “Heath?” Evangeline called out nervously.  The image of him standing before her disappeared into blackness, and her voice got sucked into the void that was pulling her inward.  Evangeline squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her hands into them as fear ransacked her mind. 

She had no clue what was happening.  Everything that she’d just seen and witnessed was suddenly gone.  Had Heath done something to her?  Put her under some sort of enchantment?  Or was her mysterious illness now infecting her mind?  She sat there in the darkness of nothingness for what seemed like an infinite amount of time before shapes seemed to slowly refocus, one after the other like a domino effect. 

She held her breath in anticipation as the cloudy world melted away and was replaced by a light so brilliant Evangeline thought she would go blind just by looking into it.  With her blood rushing to her head and apprehension quivering through her body, Evangeline risked opening an eye to peer into the brightness.

She was standing outside, underneath the shade of a Sugarpine tree, and the pale light of a Samarian spring day floated through the branches.  Evangeline opened the other eye and looked around her, immediately recognizing the patch of forest where she was standing because it bordered the Samarian valley.  Through the trees she could glimpse the rooftops of Alumhy in the distance. 

Next to her stood a group of people with long, bereaved faces, all of them staring straight ahead with fixed gazes.  She thought she recognized them as she studied each face, and her heart skipped a beat when she recognized Ambrose Cornwell several paces away from her.  He was supposed to be dead.  She’d seen his throat slit.  What was he doing in Samaria?

She tried to yell, to get Ambrose’s attention, but no sound came out of her moving lips.  Bewildered and frightened, Evangeline spun around and looked deep into the forest behind her, trying to get a bearing of how she ended up outside in the valley of Alumhy when only a second ago she’d been in her chambers.  She gulped hard and noticed that behind her, traveling along the forest road towards her was a group of Samarian Guards, each one holding up what appeared to be the corner of a litter.  They marched forward, in sync like soldiers do, with sad down-turned eyes like the other people standing around her.  Even more agitated, Evangeline forced herself to face front again, to see what everyone was looking at, and what she saw she recognized instantly.

Carved into the side of a mountain, just like the fortress Mizra, was the Winnser tomb.  It was simply constructed, with stone slab entryway and two large pillars guarding each side of the doorway.  Above the entrance, carved into the blue mountain, were ancient Samarian runes that Evangeline couldn’t decipher.  The large stone door that barred the entrance had been removed, and the way leading into the tomb was dark and shadowed, waiting to except its newest member of the dead.

And then Evangeline remembered, although she’d spent almost twenty years trying to erase this memory from existence; she was reliving the day of her father’s funeral.

The Samarian pallbearers were soon on them, carrying the lifeless King Edgar between them on a wooden litter.  They stopped directly in front of her.  He was draped in royal finery: blue and purple silks and velvets, jewelry, and gems.  Yellow jessamine and white gardenias were placed adoringly around his figure, over his chest, and in his limp hair to help combat the stench of death that hung over the decaying body. 

Evangeline stared dumbfounded at the corpse of her beloved father, and the pain and mourning that came with his loss consumed her entire being.  In her heart she suddenly regretted not spending more time with him when she knew he was dying, and she felt guilty for dismissing him when he tried to bestow his wisdom on her, to prepare her for being a Queen.  But there was nothing she could do to change that now.

She walked gingerly over to the elevated litter, and the people around her, including the pallbearers, stood still and statuesque as if they weren’t even aware of her presence.  She stared down at the face of her dead father and hardly recognized him as the man from her childhood memories.  His skin was dry, cracked, and as white as pure limestone, proving that all of his bodily fluids had been drained from his system to prepare his body for burial.  He eyes were closed, and they were indented deep into his thin face.

Evangeline felt the tears come slowly as she looked down at him, remembering how much she missed him and how much she needed him, until finally she was in hysterics.  She cried over his lifeless body until through her tears, Evangeline saw the eyes of her dead father’s corpse pop open and focus directly on her.  The Queen screamed, but no one around her even flinched.  His decaying blue eyes were gooey and fogged over with cataracts, and his eyelids were like sand paper, but still they bore into hers.               

“You’ve failed me, daughter,” King Edgar said dryly, his corpse mouth frothing with blood as it spoke.

“No…”Evangeline whispered, desperately wanting to reach out and grasp her father’s cold hand in hers.  “I’m sorry, father.  I’m so, so sorry.”

“Your own pride is your enemy,” he continued.  “And Samaria will fall.  There is no turning back now.  Heed my warning, daughter…DO NOT do as the Warden says!”

“I don’t understand!  Please father, stay with me…I need you.  I can’t do this alone…”

As she begged him, all the images around her began to fade into cloudy shadow once more, until the thick nothingness returned.  Evangeline closed her eyes and sobbed into them, her chest heavy with despair at the thought of her loving father being sealed off forever in the tomb for the dead.  Her face was wet with tears, and she wept so intensely that the Queen wasn’t even aware that she was back in her own bed or that Heath was looking at her with an expression of deep pity.

“What evil is this?” she whimpered when she realized where she was.  “What diabolical enchantment have you cast on me?”  But Heath didn’t respond, for Evangeline was still consumed with sobs.  He let her be till her cries died down and her cheeks were stained with the trails of tears.  She gripped her blanket for comfort and looked at the emissary with such a deep sadness that Heath had to look away.

“I don’t ever want to experience such sorrow again,” Evangeline said softly.  “I’ve already been through that once.  What cruelty will force me to relive my father’s death over and over?  If that is only a taste of the punishment for nulling the vow, then I have no choice but to do as you ask.” 

Heath nodded.  He knew she would agree.  She had too.

“Do what you have to do,” Evangeline instructed.  “And have my army bring Olger Guttensen to me directly.  I will seek his consent to a marriage.”  Again Heath nodded. 

“I’ll go and do as you ask,” the emissary assured her.   “There is a lot to do in helping Samaria win this war.”

He reached down to wipe away the remaining tears from her face, then his lips met hers, as soft as a feather but as warm as a fiery coal.  It was a kiss sourced from the pity he felt for her, and sadness for forcing her to see her dead father’s corpse one more time.  But it was a kiss no different.